#in my head. and like. being unable to read more than a paragraph or two at a time. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queenimmadolla · 2 years

Text

𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗜𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗔’s Masterlist

─────────about me. . .hi, i’m Vivi. I’m black/mixed. Just gonna throw that out there immediately because I don’t want to get blocked for interacting with black!reader content. That being said, my reader is black; however, I try to keep descriptions to a minimum unless I’m describing a fit. I’m in my 20s, asexual, and hyper-fixate a lot. also, my REQUESTS are CLOSED! i’ll be opening them as soon as i catch up, HOWEVER, should you submit a good headcanon or a little good lil thought, i just might have to write about it :) will not write for Hopper, Billy, or the kids (for romance). Oh, and Eden is almost always going to be in reader's best friend trio. I'm too lazy to think of anyone other than my oc and also Eden is so fucking cool and I'm gonna have all the characters in the same town including the Byers fam and Argyle. I'm not tryna map that out, lol. Note about interacting with me, do not come at me with hate of any kind and/or hold me up to high standards because I will always never be the bigger person. I don’t care, lol. I will say something so out of pocket you’ll end up deleting the app even if you sent it as an anon. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ─────────

note: most of my works are over 2k word count wise; however, I am unable to utilize the ‘keep reading’ option because tumblr—for some bizarre reason— will remove paragraphs and repeat lines/paragraphs on anything under the ‘keep reading’ line, so sorry that you’ll have to scroll past them all when going through my tumblr, really wish I could use it.

𝑴 𝑨 𝑺 𝑻 𝑬 𝑹 𝑳 𝑰 𝑺 𝑻 ! 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁. 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 . . . 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗦𝗢𝗢𝗡:

EDDIE MUNSON:

𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 (𝑪𝒀𝑴) . . . you are content watching Eddie Munson from afar, ignoring the giant “what-if” that looms over you. It’s safer that way. But after a shitty party, some weed, and a lot of heart ache, it becomes clear you two share more than a class. If only the rest of the world didn’t just think you were two stupid kids with their hearts on fire for each other. (series ─ ongoing) 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 **Tag list for this fic and its updates can be found here. 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰'𝑽𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑨𝒀 . . . tired of waiting around for something that’s never gonna happen, you head to the last rager of your high school career to get back together with your ex-boyfriend before graduation. Eddie heads to that very same party to stop you. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader, series ─ ongoing) 𝑺𝑯𝑬'𝑺 𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑨 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 . . . After taking a pregnancy test for funsies, you find out that you're actually pregnant. The scariest part isn't even the unexpected pregnancy, it's telling Eddie. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) request. 𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺. . . in which you can't nap because your daughter likes to poke your eye out and Eddie likes to sit back and observe. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, (Penny Verse, the verse that comes directly after CYM events - Can be read as a standalone.) 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑲. . . Eddie helps you out when you're struggling to feed your baby. It quickly leads to fucking. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) ─ smut. 𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑲 𝑾𝑯𝑶'𝑺 𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 . . . in which Eddie takes his three year old shopping. Obviously, cuteness ensues. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) 𝑪𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑰𝑬𝑺 '𝑵 𝑪𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑵 . . . if anyone had told you you’d be having this type of conversation with a four year old while making cookies, you definitely wouldn’t have believed them. and eddie still can’t say no to your daughter. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀'𝑺 𝑮𝑶𝑻 𝑩𝑰𝑻𝑬 . . . just a couple of hours after dropping your four year old off for her first day of preschool, you and Eddie are called back to pick her up. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse)

𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑨 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 . . . you leave eddie to watch your newborn with some ‘help’ (they don’t really do anything) from jonathan and argyle. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) 𝑪𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑷𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑺 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵 . . . Eddie catches you pantsing your 7 month old baby. (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse)

𝑺𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒂 . . . Jonathan's taking your family photos and struggling to get your baby to smile. ─ (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader as young parents, Penny Verse) prompt.

𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 . . . you decide it’s high time Eddie finally meets your parents. Your boyfriend isn’t so sure. prompt.

𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑪𝑯 𝑰𝑵 𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑶𝑵𝒀 . . . in which Eddie and his arch-nemesis smoke a couple of joints and talk about how much they (don't) hate each other. (𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝) 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 . . . in which your nightmares are no match for your boyfriend. request. 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑺 (angst. series ─ ongoing) request.

𝑪𝑹𝑼𝑬𝑳 𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹 - '𝟖𝟓 . . . the year Eddie Munson doesn’t give a fuck about not having graduated when he’s gotta save the girl so he can get the girl. (in which Eddie is in ST3 and reader is basically Heather Holloway, Eddie Munson x Flayed!Reader) 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 **ongoing** 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑺 . . . eddie finds you relieving some stress in the middle of the woods. request. 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑲𝑬 . . . 𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑴𝒀𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭 . . .

𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑲 𝑶𝑼𝑻 ! . . .

𝑼𝑷𝑻𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 . . .

STEVE HARRINGTON

𝑇𝐸𝑀𝑃𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 ─ smut.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑵 . . .

JONATHAN BYERS

ARGYLE

#eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #joe quinn #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fics #masterlist #pennyverse

1K notes · View notes

buglovingbagel · 4 months

Note

hii im not sure if you accept imagine requests through the askbox, but can I get a Harvey with a (preset D) transmasc farmer, who's dyshoric?

My ask box is most DEFINITELY open! And omg, I love writing about transmasc farmer. Thank you for being my first ever request! :]]

Hope you don't mind if it's in third person, I can change to second in the future if people like it better but I find third much easier.

Can be read as platonic or romantic up until the end! If you'd rather platonic, ignore the last paragraph (nothing crazy, it just implies a relationship). <3 Harvey + transmasc farmer.

TW, maybe possible medical trauma?? And also a bit of self destructive behavior, mentions of past transphobia

Summers on the farm were always difficult. Adjusting to all the manual labor compared to an office job was already a huge struggle, but to do it all with the hot sun beating down on him was about a hundred times worse. For the two years the farmer has lived here, he simply wore a tank top and a baggy t-shirt instead of an actual binder, unable to handle the strain of the work, the heat, and the tight fabric around their chest.

This summer was different. No matter what the farmer did, without a binder, he felt like his chest was far too obvious in any of the clothes he had that were fit for this weather. He spent more time inside, alone, away from the people in town whether or not they were his friends. They had to make the most of the season, since it was the only time they could grow starfruit, and yet he found himself unable to get out of bed until ten some days, chest stiff and sore from the day before.

His eyes looked tired on his way to town, holding a basket of starfruit under each arm. He was carefully and slowly walking his way to Pierres, taking in the sights of the season along the way. It was less than a ten minute walk under usual conditions, but with his lower stamina, it took nearly fifteen minutes to reach Pierres door, walking in and thanking Yoba for the cold air that hits their skin.

Pierre immediately waved hello, enthusiastically greeting the farmer. "Y/N!" The mans overly friendly voice filled the air. "Nice to see you this morning. It's quite hot out," the farmer sighed before he even finished, "could I interest you in some sunscreen? On sale, just for you." The farmer knows well that he says that to everyone. This man would never stop selling out if his life depended on it. "Nice to see you too." He didn't bother to address the blatant advertisement, dropping both baskets onto the counter and taking as big of a breath as he could manage without the extra weight.

Pierre seemed surprised, both at what he was selling and the sheer amount being brought to his store. The man bartered with Y/N, eventually settling on a perfectly average price with the reasoning that Pierre would still need to be able to make a profit off of this. Pierre grinned, moving both baskets behind the counter and ringing up the gold he owed the farmer. As soon as the exchange was over, he was out the door, scowling a bit on accident from the familiar sharp pain that jolted through their ribs on the way out.

He hissed in pain outside the door, carefully starting to walk back home. Not even a few steps in, he felt the pain again, worse this time to the point of stopping him in his tracks. "Fuck." Resting would be the best option right now, but he really didn't know what he would say if anyone asked what was wrong.

They put their hand against the wall for support, focusing on the wood grain in order to distract from any pain. His nails caught on a piece of chipping paint, glancing over at the white walls of the clinic. Harveys clinic. Harvey. It felt incredibly obvious now that he thought about it, scolding himself in his head whilst walking through the door.

The clinic was empty, save for the sound of rustling papers from the back room. "Harvey?" He nearly winced at how winded he sounded, stepping further into the clinic. Harveys shoes clicked against the tile when he rushed out, blinking in surprise to see Y/N there. "Oh, good morning!" Harvey smiled reassuringly, now stood behind the counter. "It's good to see you." Harvey and the farmer hadn't seen each other in days, due to Harvey being at work and the farmer shutting in.

The air turned awkward fast when the farmer didn't respond to him, as if expecting Harvey to just know what's wrong. He seemed concerned now, leaning across the counter just slightly as if getting a better look. "Are you okay?" He nodded, walking up to the door. "I just need, like.." He rejected any sort of eye contact, a bit ashamed to be here in the first place. "I need rest."

Harvey nodded, not in the slightest convinced that the farmer was just tired. "Of course, let me just-" He walked through the door behind the counter once again and within seconds, the door in front of the farmer was open. Harvey led him down the hallway, offering support by linking arms with the farmer. Once they had reached the nearest bed, he helped the farmer sit down.

"Are you sure you're okay? You don't need some water or anything?" Harvey held a hand on the farmers should, reassuring for both of them. He nodded, still not looking Harvey directly in the eyes. He knew Harvey was only trying to help, do his job as both a doctor and a friend, but he still couldn't find it in himself to tell the truth. The idea that Harvey would do the same as doctors in ZuZu city, scold him and try to convince him not to wear a binder or present masculine at all, hung heavy in his mind despite knowing Harvey was a kind and accepting man.

Harvey did his best to keep his smile genuine, leaning in to hug the farmer. The farmer immediately melted into the affection, not having felt any sort of affection in multiple days.

Harvey scowled. You immediately recognized the trap as soon as Harveys fingers caught on the back of your binder through your shirt. It wasn't for affection; the doctor had guessed what was wrong and had to prove it before saying anything. Harvey sighed, placing one hand on the other mans lower back and the other up near his shoulder blades, not pulling away from the hug. "Y/N.." He sounded just slightly dissapointed, but mostly concerned. Immediately upon being found out, there was the familiar stinging of tears in his eyes. For some reason, he found it to be beyond embarrassing, even if Harvey already knew. "I'm sorry." He sounded resigned, still not hugging Harvey back and far more tense than before. "I know, there's no need to apologize." Harvey pulled off the farmer, smiling as reassuringly as he possibly could. "At least now I know."

Harvey moved over to a white, sterile dresser laying up against the wall, opening a single drawer. "You haven't done anything wrong, buddy, you just need to get better about your limits." He opened another drawer, humming when he found what he was looking for and removing a couple papers alongside a small bottle of over-the-counter painkillers. He walked back up to the farmer, putting the papers and medication next to him. "Could you please tell me how long you've had that on?"

The farmer hesitates, but Harvey is beyond patient. He understands this is probably uncomfortable. "About a day??" Harveys smile twitched downward just slightly. While the reaction was made out of sympathy, the farmer interpreted it as disgust. "Okay. You're probably experiencing some pain then, right?" You nodded even though the answer was extremely obvious. "The pain you're experiencing is most definitely from your ribs." Harvey cupped the farmers cheek. "That must be hard to deal with. Are you sure you're okay alone on the farm?" The kind gesture made the farmers eyes sting again, blinking away any possible tears. He was clearly vulnerable in this state. He didn't respond, not sure what to say, so Harvey filled the space. "I'll start coming by to check on you, if you'd like." The answer was far quicker that time, the farmer nodding in response. Usually, Harvey would ask someone close to Y/N to handle that task, but Harvey is aware he's the only one that knows the farmer is trans.

Harvey smiled in encouragement, motioning for the farmer to turn around. "Perfect. Just for now, we'll take this off and you can rest until you're ready to go home." Reluctantly, he agreed, turning around, face hot in embarrassment.

Thirty minutes later, the twos arms are interlocked once again, heading down the path back to the farmers house. Harvey didn't understand why the farmer insisted on wearing a binder; he looked just the same without it in his current outfit. But Harvey knew well he didn't need to fully understand to love and care for his friend. The entire time they spent removing his binder, Harvey assured him that he's just as much of a man without it and just as perfectly handsome as before. He simply needed to give the farmer the support and gentle correction he needs to be both happy and healthy, and then hopefully, the two could hang out more often.

The next thirty minutes spent in the farmers home was Harvey giving medical advice while making some tea for them both, upon the farmers request. With permission, of course, Harvey even felt along some of the farmers ribs to make sure everything seemed okay. Lastly, Harvey offered personal advice, gifting the farmer some insight on how he looked to everyone else; handsome.

Once the farmer agreed to stop wearing the binder just for this week and to come to Harvey about alternatives later, they went their seperate ways. The farmer ran their thumb along their mug half full of tea, comparing Harvey to their old doctors in his head. He was one of the kindest men the farmer had ever met. He was eternally grateful; and for the first time this season, he felt far more comfortable looking in the mirror after all of Harveys kind affirmations.

Harvey had made a point to visit every single day since then, offering his hand on the farm, offering a meal and drink, offering affection and the most kind words the farmer had ever heard.

On the last day of the summer, Harvey stayed the night with the farmer, helping him to sleep and then succumbing to sleep himself after the farmer had held onto his t-shirt and asked for him to stay.

And if the farmer purchased one of Pierres lovely bouquets the first morning of Fall, the man said nothing.

#sdv imagines #stardew valley #imagines #imagine request #harvey #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey #sdv #harvey x reader #harvey imagine #harvey and reader #first thing ive written in forever so forgive me if its shit 😁#I LOVE STARDEW #And we all love harvey #harvey stardew #trans #transmasc #trans reader

37 notes · View notes

komaedailoveyou · 5 months

Text

Florist!Nagito x Reader — Like a flower craves for the light of the sun.

#. — an unfinished fanfic so far, more chapters tba in the future!

#. contents! — f!reader , slight komahina, slight chiakixreader, angst with a happy ending, alternate universe, no deaths or violence, depictions of BPD, smut, but, a LOT further into the fic, slowburn, nagito is a florist, reader is socially inept.

#. word count! — 3.8k .

#. <

" Are you sure you're fine with this? I mean, you've never lived alone like this in years, Nagito. " Hajimes gaze flickered over to his friend who was currently sat in the front seat of his car, his hands perched in his lap, his grip on the wheel tightened, before he went back to focusing on the road, he wasn't the best at expressing it, however he was worried for his friend.

" Oh, Hajime! No need to worry over little old me... I've been meaning to get out of your hair for weeks now! " Nagito smiled softly, looking over at the now-focusing Hajime, he studied his face for a second, he wasn't sure if he looked angry or not, his eyes didn't look all too happy, but, then again, it wasn't his place to comment on it.

Chiaki, who was sat in the back of the car, behind Nagito, looked up from her switch which she had been playing on, she was more of a listener in their conversations, but she spoke up, her voice was quiet, and unenthusiastic, but the two knew she was unable to do more, and it wasn't her fault. " You're pretty far from your shop though...How will you get there from.." She leant forward between their gaps in seats, trying to read where the location on the satnav said, but she couldn't make it out. She hadn't worn her contacts today, and her vision wasn't the greatest from all the screen staring she did, especially at later hours when even the sun wasn't out to help them " your new apartment?"

Nagito shook his head, letting out a short chuckle. " You guys are worrying far too much about me! Trust me, I've looked at many places, and this one was the best one. I'll catch the train over to the flower shop, simple as that. " Nagito tried to ease the tension which was building up in the small vehicle.

" I wish you'd told me before...you know! A week ago! " Hajime commented, passive aggressiveness seeping into his words as he stopped at a traffic light, now looking to make eye contact with Nagito now. " If you're not one hundred percent completely sure, we can turn the car around, You can keep staying at my place, it's really not a big deal to me." Hajime and Chiaki both knew he meant more than not a big deal, he meant to say he would want Nagito to stay, Chiaki sighed to herself, Hajime really had to get better at this kind of thing.

" I'm serious about going, I have to be independent at some point, I promise, I'll still visit on the holidays, so you won't die of loneliness! " He spoke in a joking manor, not sensing the serious tone in Hajime's voice.

Without even a beat passing, Hajime replied " You better. " he took a breath. " You know it-"

" Focus on the road Hajime. " Chiaki looked up at the green light in-front of him, and the three of them remained silent until the engine of the car stopped, just Chiaki's fingers hitting her controls and the dumb pop song quietly playing on the radio.

They arrived outside of the block of the apartments, and they looked up at them, Nagito had a suitcase in hand with all the essentials he knew that he would need to live, the other two were empty handed as Chiaki left her console in the back of the car, hidden under a blanket, just in-case.

"...It's big. " Hajime commented

" Its big. " Nagito confirmed, repeating his words. He couldn't deny he was a little afraid of being all on his own, but another part of him was glad that he'd finally taken a step out into the rest of his life after so long, this felt like a new chapter, or at least a new paragraph, he didn't read all too much, not enough to link that metaphor to his situation. He took a deep breath. " I guess that means I'll have plenty of nice neighbours to look after me then, huh? No need to worry guys!" He hummed.

" I mean...I wasn't *that* worried..." Chiaki mumbled, she thought Nagito was a nice friend but she knew she could just text him whenever, plus, she didn't live with him, or see him constantly, so she wasn't exactly in distraught, she was more there as an emotional support for Hajime.

" Don't go depending on everybody else there, they might kick you out. " Hajime tried his best to joke, he...deep down knew he wouldn't complain if that were to happened, as horrible as that sounded. " Remember, I'm always just a call away, So is Chiaki. " The girl flashed a thumbs up as he brought her into it, probably just so that he didn't seem to desperate.

" Well! The building isn't going anywhere, no matter how much we look at it, so, I should probably go in now, thank you for-"

" We can walk you to your room! Just to make sure you don't get lost. " Hajime cut him off.

" That's so kind of you, As long as I wouldn't be inconveniencing you, then..." Hajime would've told him he was never an inconvenience, however, he knew that Nagito just wouldn't believe him, he tried his best to convince Nagito over the years, but, his words just weren't enough for him.

Chiaki reached her hand into the pocket of Hajime's jacket and pulled out his car keys, Hajime tensed up slightly, he hadn't expected to feel Chiaki so close to him, so when he did, it was just a little bit of a shock. " You can feel free....I'd rather wait in the car..." Chiaki unlocked it, and walked towards it with short steps.

" Bye Nagito, I'll remember to text. " She put up her hand and waved for a second, before ducking into the car, Nagito smiled and waved back, he hadn't the time to respond before the girl had already hidden inside of the car, she just wasn't good with goodbyes, although, Hajime was on the other side of the spectrum of not being good with goodbyes.

" Are you sure she actually even wanted to come? " Nagito laughed, turning back to Hajime.

" Of course she did! You're her friend as much as mine!" Hajime frowned a little at him, he knew how much Chiaki cared, even if it was a little less than him.

" alright, alright! " He took a step towards the main entrance of the apartments, looking back as the wheels of his suitcase clacked against the floor, taking Hajime out of his thoughts. " Let's get going, yeah? " he said, as Hajime walked forward uncertainly, this was really it. He wasn't dying or anything, but, it still felt like a bit of him was about to become a lot more unreachable than before, it was just a big change which he most certainly hadn't prepared for, he just kind of assumed Nagito wasn't going to move out at all, maybe he was more naïve than he had thought.

Nagito walked into the apartments, he had received the key two days ago, he would be on the fifth floor, in room 505, he dug his hand into his trousers, where the key was, and he played with it as he walked, making a jingling sound. Since he didn't plan on walking up all of those stairs with his suitcase, he decided he'd take the elevator. He'd just hope it wasn't broken.

He pressed the button on the side of it, and waited for it to come down to the ground floor, where he and Hajime stood in an awkward silence. He'd thought that Hajime was acting a little odd, but, he wasn't sure if commenting on such a thing would be in his place.

There was a DING! as the elevator doors opened, Nagito and Hajime were about to walk in, however, somebody walked out, they were very fast paces, as if they really had somewhere to be, They awkwardly squeezed between the two men, and made their way out, Nagito looked at them for a split second before turning, and stepping into the elevator, with Hajime at his side. He pressed the little "5" icon on the panel inside, and the elevator begun to move.

"....If you ever get bored of this place, my doors always open. " Hajime lowered his voice, he didn't want to seem like he was pressuring him.

" I appreciate it, you can visit whenever you'd like as well, although, my couch may not be as comfy. " Nagito replied, in almost the same tone, with a smile.

The elevator doors opened, and Nagito stepped out first, Hajime was slightly behind him, despite knowing he would be the fifth door along, Nagito still read every number on the front of the doors as he passed by them, or, maybe it was just he felt like he needed something to look at, so that his nerves didn't eat him alive. Hajime had gone back to being quiet as they both walked towards room 505.

Before he could even count the seconds, they were both stood in-front of it, Hajime wanted ever so badly to convince Nagito to just stay with him, but, he knew that Nagito had made up his mind, and there was nothing he could do in this situation which would change that, and he hated it.

Nagito put the key into the door, unlocking it, before turning to Hajime for a final time. " Thank you for walking me here, and, Thanks for letting me stay with you for so long, Now I wont be there to bother you anymore, so don't worry! " He smiled, like he was happy, like he felt relieved that he thought he was freeing Hajime of a weight, but Hajime felt the opposite.

" Whatever you say. I'll miss you. I can come and help you unpack if you'd like..?" He offered him, he must have sounded a little pathetic, but that was the least of his current problems.

Nagito shook his head. " Chiakis waiting for you, I don't want to be holding you up, besides, I'll be okay, please, don't fret over me. " Nagito asked, like it was a request, but Hajime knew he couldn't just free himself of the worry which he was feeling.

" Alright...um, goodbye, Nagito. " Hajime said, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he was not about to cry right now. He stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around Nagito, caging his arms in, so Nagito couldn't even return the hug to him, he just wanted to hold him before he left.

After far too long of a hug time, Hajime let go, and after a few more pleasantries, he started to walk back to the elevator. He looked back over his shoulder, and Nagito was just closing the door after stepping inside.

He was right, he really ought to get back to the car, and go back home.

Nagito looked around his brand new apartment. It was pretty nice, he thought. The living room and kitchen were combined together, but the overall space for them was pretty big, there was a table in the back third, and a sofa in the more forward third, with a TV facing it, in the middle, there was a door to the bathroom, where there was shower attached over a bath tub, and a door to a bedroom, which had one bed, a set of drawers, and a wardrobe. The kitchen had two main countertops, an oven, a microwave, a dishwasher, and also a washing machine, even thought that wasn't a kitchen appliance, it still fit in there.

Nagito put his suitcase down, and went to sit on the couch, he sank down a little bit on it, but, he couldn't have expected the best furnishings in the world, he was just happy with what he got. He had drawn in a long breath, and looked around the room, it wasn't spacious, yet, it didn't feel homely. It just felt like a room. He knew over time that would change, as he got used to it, as he made his own special touches to it, but, it made him feel rather strange. He had wanted to be on his own, to feel like he was the one finally in control of his own life, to not be constantly calling for somebody whenever something went wrong .... he wanted that chance, to not be worthless, just for once in his life. Yet, all he found now, was that he was missing the homeliness of Hajime's house, the warmth, the smell of cinnamon, the way the house hugged him whenever he walked into it. He had taken all of that for granted, god he was just awful wasn't he?

He tied his hair up into a ponytail, before standing up, and clapping his hands together lightly. He needed to start unpacking, then maybe he would feel better, or at least he would be too preoccupied to be busy being a stain.

He dropped to the floor, unzipping his suitcase, and he started to take out his belongings. This wouldn't take that long, as he didn't have much stuff, for Nagito, it didn't take much for him to live, he was a very simple guy. First, he went to the bedroom, as that's where most of his stuff would be going. He first focused on hanging hid clothes up in his wardrobe, as that would take a bit of time, he had quite a few variants of flower shirts, which were a little ugly, but, Nagito saw the charm in them, Ugly didn't mean bad, it just meant unconventional. Nothing was really ugly, Nagito thought. Nagito slept shirtless, but he put his pyjama pants underneath his pillowcase, so he could put them on later. Then he set a hairbrush, some perfume, and an alarm clock on the desk next to his bed, that, and a little plush cat which Chiaki had gifted him when Hajime wasn't looking, just before she'd left. He made sure to set his alarm to 6:30AM, so he'd have enough time to wake up, get ready, eat, and then head out for work with enough time for him to a little lenient if anything were ever to come up.

Inside of the drawers, he put in his socks, his boxers, and any other miscellaneous clothing items which didn't fit inside of his wardrobe, and before he knew it, he was finished with a whole room! Next he went to the kitchen area ... he didn't have much to put there, besides some detergent, and some soap, as well as oven-gloves, a few pans, and two trays, three plates, as he didn't think he'd make anymore friends than the two he already had, and some cutlery. He hadn't brought any food with him, however, he planned to go out and buy some food after he was finished with setting up his apartment. What he did bring, was a vase! He was going to think overnight on what flowers he should bring for this new living space. Hajime had a pollen allergy, so he wasn't able to have any flowers there, so he was overjoyed that now he could display some wherever he pleased. He placed it in the centre of the table.

Next, he went to the bathroom, where he put down some more soap, his hair and body washes, his towels, his toothbrush and toothpaste, and a bottle of bleach, as well as some more perfume.

His suitcase was practically empty at that point, and around an hour had passed, Nagito wasn't the type of person who would rush around if he really didn't need to. He stretched his arms up above his head, before dropping them back down. He was aware he had barely gotten inside, but, he was feeling rather peckish now, He was restless, so, he decided that now he would go out and shop for food to stock up his cupboards, then get adjusted to his new living area later on! Truth be told, now that he had already unpacked, he was a little bored. He just didn't have anything to do there, it was just a new home, the overall excitement dies off pretty quickly.

Nagito grabbed a few shopping bags, and made sure he looked good enough to be seen by members of the public, before taking his first step out of his new apartment. He walked back down the hallway, and to the elevator, looking at it, and sighing, of course this had happened.

In the slim time that he was able to get into his room, and sort things out, the elevator had miraculously broken, which meant, from now on, he would have to take the stairs.

The day had been going pretty well for you, up until your assistant, Peko, had called you to tell you that you didn't have enough material for the dresses which would need to be finished in two days, you'd thought you were just about done with them, just needed to do the finishing touches, but no, life can never be that simple for you, can it? You have this motto, totally never heard before, that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, not just in the fashion world, but just in general in your life, you always seemed to have the worst luck imaginable in every given circumstance, you tried your best to stay positive about it, but god, sometimes it was difficult.

Luckily, in the area which you lived, there was a shop where all of the materials you needed were sold, unless they were hyper-expensive, then you'd have to order them online, as you don't live in a bourgeoisie area, hell, you'd hate it if you did.

You weren't some world famous fashion designer, you just made clothes, and the clothes sold, you didn't have some massively big name, but you made enough money to keep on pursuing your passion, even if you weren't rich enough to quit and move away to some honeypot site. Like you'd want to do that anyway, even if you weren't the best, you generally enjoyed creating fashion, and getting your own art there, it filled you with a joy you hadn't found in many things, if it was your calling, that one thing for you, you weren't completely certain of, as of yet, you didn't feel like you had a thing, just like, you were pretty good at it.

You were wearing a maxi skirt and a blouse out to go to the shops, you were just about to get into your lounging clothes until the call, but now you were walking down the street, walking quickly, but making sure you didn't bump into anybody. You didn't know many of the locals well, but it were better to not start off on the wrong foot, if you had to start off on any. You were quite a shut-in, you just stayed in and created, other than that, you didn't really have a reason to leave, unless you had to meet with somebody, which didn't happen all that much.

You were in and out of the shop in a matter of minutes, you knew where everything in there was, so you could just grab your materials, pay for them, and get out, you didn't like to be in stores for too long, this was mainly because they made you feel awfully claustrophobic, and you really weren't a fan of that, even on less busy days, it made you feel slightly iffy.

Upon exiting, you looked up, and saw that the stars were out, greeting you, it was already pretty late, you would most likely have to pull an all nighter, after realising this, you sighed. Fashion could be cruel sometimes, more often than not.

If you had more time, you would've happily cast your gaze up into the beauty of the moon for a bit longer, but unfortunately you were pulled away from her grasp.

You started to walk away from the shop, back to where you lived, meandering through the people who passed you by, whenever you did happen to pass one, you always got caught up, wondering what in their own life led up to this very moment, it made you grateful for being able to live, weirdly enough.

You got caught up in the idea of getting caught up, because when sewing, you never had the time to think, as you had to focus fully on the task at hand, so when you were outside, you were more prone to getting pulled into the world of your marvellous brain. Or, that's what your mother called it, you'd definitely not say that.

In-fact, you were so caught up, you hadn't even realised that you'd walked straight into somebody. You cursed to yourself, god, you were so unlucky, of course this would have to happen to you. You looked down at the floor for a second, a tad embarrassed, before looking up to see who you'd collided with, you had already stepped back away from them upon the sudden contact, but you couldn't help but gasp as you saw who you'd bumped into.

You could've sworn you had just accidentally ran into an angel, you had never seen a boy so pretty. You couldn't take your eyes from him as you tried to cough out an apology, despite the situation, you had already been horrible and talking to people to begin with, which was part of the reason why you loved your current job.

He had the prettiest white hair, his skin pale to match, and he just looked absolutely perfect, like he were a wax model, and not a real human being. A surge of inspiration was running through your bloodstream, a muse.

You had only just seen him, but you were certain, you had never seen anybody like him in your life, not even in any cartoons, or animated shows. You weren't sure if maybe this was some cruel dream, if he wasn't actually a real person or not, but you didn't have the time to be worrying over such a trivial matter.

Your eyes met his green ones, he looked surprised, you were staring at him rather intently without even realising, god, you must've looked so stupid.

" I'm so sorry, I should've been looking where I was going.." You finally managed to squeak out, you had to keep your cool. " I really need to get going, though, if I ever see you again um...- I'll pay you back! I promise!"

You hadn't given the taller man the chance to reply as you skirted around him, quickly walking off. You wished you had managed to hold s longer conversation with whoever that was, but your work really was a more pressing issue, and anyway, you doubted you'd ever actually see him again.

#nagito #nagitokomaeda #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #alternate universe #danganronpa

52 notes · View notes

lunaekalenda · 2 months

Note

Hi An I hope you’re doing well and I’ve been feeling hurt, sad, depressed, and wished I could disappear due to losing my new job after two weeks and no longer want to find work anymore especially with the repeated rejections in the past year. Can I request a hurt/comfort/fluff one-shot of Eren x Fem!Reader where Y/N shuts herself in hers and Erens dark shared bedroom with the door locked sobbing uncontrollably in bed wrapped in a blanket covering her figure and head/face and wishing she could be erased from the world after repeated rejections from getting a job she wanted. Then, Eren tries to get Y/N to open the door and begging her to let him in despite her refusal causing him to worry more for her safety, well-being, and making sure she’s not hurting herself until Eren finds a spare key in his pocket to let himself in before he stripped out of his clothes and underwear before climbing into bed to comfort Y/N and cradle her in his naked body. As Eren lifted a part of the blanket off Y/Ns face, he tearfully begs Y/N not to harm herself, how he doesn’t want to be alone without her, and reminds her how much he loves her especially reassuring her there are places for her where she can work before showering her with kisses and rocking her to help her feel better. Finally after Eren calms Y/N down, he laid Y/n down on his bare chest and tells her that even if she was let go, there’s still hope she’ll find work again and he doesn’t want her to kill herself before comforting her with her favorite lullaby to help her rest? Thank you -🌼

hey!! i'm sorry you're going such tough times, and i hope it gets better for you soon! i'm sure you'll be able to recover and keep going, and you're strong to do so! never lose hope, i'm sure a lot of people (including me) are cheering for you!! you're very loved and very much capable and talented! i hope this helps even a little bit <3

warnings: non-sexual nudity, mentions of self harm, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, panic attack. be careful with reading the first paragraphs, as they have strong self-consciousness and negative thoughts that could affect anyone on a crisis. if you wanna read the comfort directly, jump to the red dot.

Your house was silent. Maybe that was the trigger.

Eren had the blinds down, as he usually does when he leaves, and the darkness of the room made you sadder. Alone, silent and dark. Your home was exactly how you felt. You really wanted that job, and still, you were unable to get it. Taking the big grey blanket that Eren bought for you some time ago, and getting changed into your sleeping clothes, you let your fluffy bed hug your body sweetly, covered by the soft fabric, but still it wasn't enough. You still felt the cold on the inside.

You felt how the rejection took root on your heart, and a tree of thoughts started to grow from it. What if you were not enough? If they didn't see you capable? If they didn't trust your works? If they didn't like you? Is anybody going to accept you anywhere?

You take the blanket above your head, covering your shining cheeks, where tears run down quickly. Getting rejected more than once isn't easy to assimilate. Your head hurts from crying and you close your eyes. The world feels way too heavy for you right now, and you wish that burden was taken off your shoulders. You don't know how many time you've been crying, and you don't know when you fell asleep during it.

You hear knocks, followed by your name, in Eren's voice. He knocks again, but you don't feel strong enough to stand up and open the door. Your muscles feel tired and your head feels dizzy. Your eyes start to close again, but your hear a key against the door, Eren's steps inside the room, the light from the corridor filling the bedroom. Eren walks quickly towards you, kneeling by your side. He takes a bit of the blanket away, checking your face. Your eyes are swollen from crying and they search his slowly. He smiles softly when your eyes meet his.

"What happened, love?" he asks in low voice, no more than a whisper. You take your body to your side of the bed, and he understands what you mean. Undressing quickly, Eren takes the blanket and slides next to you, taking your body on a hug, his warm skin calming your muscles. You sigh against his body. His hands run over your thighs, your arms ad your back. He caresses you as he lets you speak.

"I got rejected for that work. Again." just remembering it makes you feel miserable again, but you feel his lips pressed on top of your head. His hug gets tighter as his caresses are still sweet on your skin. "I don't know what fails... I have a nice portfolio, I have nice reviews from my past jobs, I always try to answer correctly at all the interview questions for what? To get rejected again and again and again and cry and see someone get the job I've been fighting so hard for." Tears are unstoppable again when he kisses your head again.

"Love. If they didn't get you, it's not your fault. You're incredible, and all your past bosses say the same about you. I'm sure there are a hundred jobs made for you. I know you really wanted this job, but they're the ones losing. Show them who you are. Make them search you. Make them beg you to join. Andm, if that isn't the case, I'm sure you'll enjoy your new work so much you wont' have time to think about the one that rejected you." he takes a tear away with his thumb, feeling how your erratic breath starts to follow his, and he sighs. "You're amazing, and no one, specially an interviewer. should tell you otherwise."

Then, he takes his time to kiss every one of your tears until they stop falling, to rock your body slowly until your breath calms down, to hear every single one of your thoughts and reassure you that there's a lot of people who loves you, who enjoy being by your side, and who feel lucky to have you in their lives.

"And I'm the first one of that list." he whispers. "I don't know where I would be without you, and I'm sure I wouldn't be the man I am today without you. That's your magic. You make people better. You make people happy, loved, cherished. And you should get the same back."

Your eyes feel quite heavy from all the tiredness of crying, and you let your body meet his, more comfortable and more warm. You whisper against his chest. "Thank you. For everything."

As a response, he sings your favorite lullaby for you, keeping the rhythm with soft caresses on your back, until you feel asleep on his arms.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fluff #snk fluff #eren x reaer #eren x you #eren x y/n #tw: self harm #tw: intrusive thoughts #tw: sui mention

7 notes · View notes

demonslayedher · 1 year

Text

More spoilery thoughts and opinions on Episode 1 of the Swordsmith Village Arc

I've seen some opinions out there that the new OP is cheesy, and... you know what, it kinda is. However, this is also a bit of a cheesy arc for how it spoon feeds us the back stories of two Pillars without reaching the height of their arcs, like the previous two did with a focus on a single Pillar each. Plus, Gyokko and Hantengu are kind of the throwaway Moons. I'm sure the song will quickly grow on me and I really like some of the visuals and subtle use of early dawn lighting.

Poor Genya gets shafted though, he's bound to get Akaza come-from-behind marketing treatment, he has to. I had the pleasure this time overhearing an excited Genya fangirl leaving the theater.

Mitsuri really truly is adorable and I love her performance of so many lines, but... I kinda thought her interactions with Nezuko were gonna be cuter than that and I'm still sad I didn't get to hear her singing "Miya-san" so I guess I'll just have to do my best Hanazawa-san impression and sing it myself.

Gotou still steals the show, though. I know this is supposed to be the big flashy Upper Moon meeting in which the Fortress steals the show, but no, this was Gotou's stage. His vocal performance has so much personality and I love it.

Jumping back to non-spoilery territory, I love that scene of Gyutaro bullying Tanjiro, it's got so much impact. They went so hard on that and just slowing it down and letting every action breathe. Also, Daki's death tears me up EVERY TIME.

Also going backwards, I love the AMVs at the beginning, the editing on the Gurenge one is especially chef's kiss. Lining up Tanjiro's line with "terashite" is just wow.

I love Tanjiro banging his head on the floor. I love Nezuko crawling around under tables.

Tecchin's two styles of vocal performance worked so well for me. Also I love hearing all the Kakushi and random swordsmiths, I love how there's so many individuals in this Corp. I do not know what was up with the Kakushi waiting for Mitsuri to follow her, though. In the manga I read her discomfort as needing Mitsuri to hurry and come but being unable to pester a Pillar, but the anime the seemed to take it as the Kakushi being all fluffy in the head listening to to Mitsuri praise Tanjiro and give him advice (and to be fair, I was also fluffy in the head listening to that scene again, I feel all wrapped up and warm in Hanazawa-san's voice in surround sound), but.... it comes off like the Kakushi has a really, really big crush on Mitsuri. I mean, sure, but... it was a touch distracting.

I really don't mind the "Tanjiro is a shonen hero who has encounters with sexy women and he cannot help but be a bit bothered" thing. Tanjiro's as respectful as it gets for a teenage boy with a typical sex drive, what with being able to still carry on a conversation with Shinobu when she gets in his personal space or Mitsuri being absentmindedly provocative. Cover her!! Save the rice balls!! On the other hand, I was annoyed by Zenitsu's one appearance when I first saw this, but on second watch, yeah, what else do we expect from Zenitsu, it wasn't all that bad to just be excited that a girl might be thinking of him. But also, it's so sweet that Aoi got to have a little narration? I feel so bad for her running into walls, though!

Wow, that last paragraph was all over the place.

Kanao is still so timid, with how much she talks in the fight with Douma and even during the fight with Muzan, it's easy to forget she's still barely gotten used to this whole speaking up thing, after years of never saying anything unless prompted. Poor baby is still so fragile. I love how after her startling outburst Kiyo still winds up mothering her by suggesting what they go do next.

I really like Yoriichi's voice, it's similar to Tanjuro but filled with a very different mindset, one that really does make you feel what Tanjiro feels for him, wishes he wouldn't think such lonesome things. I like that he feels like a full grown man and not someone who can be confused with the teenage members of the cast. Also, great editing choice to end the episode on Tanjiro seeing the battle doll, instead of seeing it later on like he did in the manga. Also, baby Sumire has reddish hair, eeeeee!!!

THE TITLE CARD FOR THIS EPISODE HAD A MOTIF OF YORIICHI'S EARRING AND PLUM BLOSSOMS LIKE ON UTA'S KIMONO, EEEEEE

Speaking of previews, I was not happy to see all those previews of settings in the Infinity Fortress Arc. I'M NOT READY TO WATCH MORE PILLARS DIE, OKAY, but I do like that Ufotable is winking at us like, "oh yeah, you're totally gonna get it all, see, we already have models started." I assume they'll add more details once they're animating that season, but speaking of improving on the model in later seasons... HOLY SMOKES, LOOK AT DOUMA'S EYES

You know what? I found Gyokko's awkward/uncomfortable "uhhhhnnn"'s kind of endearing and I'm looking forward to more. Also, seeing him in animation is already making Hantengu grow on me in a "he's a funny little guy" kind of way. It'll be fun to hear the range on how he's performed.

16 notes · View notes

malk1ns · 2 years

Note

1, 3 and 19? 👀

oooh these are some thinkers!!

1. what's the fic you're most proud of?

i'm going to cheat and do two because i'm proud of them for different reasons.

you'll know. is a fic that is almost 20k that i wrote without a deadline or any sort of external motivating factor. it's also a totally different format than i've ever written in, and with each section i tried to loop back to the previous one and make the connections and thread weaving the whole story together obvious, but not like i was hitting the reader over the head with it. i've got no clue how well i succeeded but i really enjoyed the exercise, and the end result is one i'm very pleased with!

wine, flowers, & blood i am proud of because the topic and theme was WAY outside my comfort zone. i've never really done a ton of supernatural/horror-y stuff; my writing tends to verge more on purple prose and lightly contrived problems that are easily resolved, not, like...murder and human sacrifice, lol. and i'm not going to pretend i delved too deep into it at all in this fic, but i so rarely even approach 'darker' themes and i think i really looked at this and didn't blink, and was able to make the atmosphere spooky and sid just the right amount of not-quite-right to keep the fic tense throughout.

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to?

talkin' bout, by far. it's a trope i'm terribly fond of, written for a friend i'm also terribly fond of. it was fun, it was extremely easy to write, and i think it's pretty good and a light, enjoyable read with a slightly unusual kink for spice!

i'm also a big fan of all my kinkfest fics for similar reasons; they were fun and low-stress and honestly i enjoyed the opportunity/excuse to lean into some self-indulgent smut without aspirations at being anything more than they actually are.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

gosh. this one is maybe the hardest one yet!!

ok, so i'm going to try and not be too specific because there are a lot of big projects i've got that i'd love to tackle when i have time and/or the self-motivation to really do some deep writing exercises sans a deadline, and i don't think any of them are more 'ideal' than the others or more of a priority for me.

so...

i think the ideal fic that i could write is one that is emotionally resonant. i'm not necessarily talking about angst (although there could definitely be some of that!), but you know those fics that you read a paragraph and it feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest because it makes you feel so much? the ones where you're reading along breathless, unable to stop even though it's so so late, because you cannot believe how good it is, how complete and rich and well-crafted? the fics that can truly transport you directly into their world and their setting, because the author poured love and time into making everything true-to-life and fleshed-out and real?

you probably have at least one fic in mind when you're reading that--i had a few in my mind when i was writing it. it's that. i want to write that! it would have characters that you feel like you know because they're real people, and a setting that's vivid and visible in the mind's eye, and emotions that make you ache because they're so, so human. that's what i'd like to write one day. i'm not sure i have the talent or the motivation to ever get there! but man, aren't those fics the best to find?

as it so happens, the author in hockey rpf that consistently writes fics that do this to me is the incomparable @sevenfists, so i'm going to take this time to highlight a few that really just kick me in the gut: all the way through and motherland are probably the two at the top. the perfect occupation is just so heartbreakingly sweet and wonderful and does so much in its relatively shorter word count, and if you read just one sid/geno/anna fic and want to feel like you've been repeatedly kicked in the chest with how happysadachyhopeful it makes you, a marriage is the one for you.

thank you :D <3

fic asks here :)

#my writing #asks #fic asks #ask game

10 notes · View notes

theallegedartstudent · 30 days

Text

3/28/24

Well, it's been a while. I forgot I was trying to do daily diary entries until the idea came up again. I want to change the way I do these a bit, and for posterity explain what's changed since. It was interesting reading up on my older entries as there were things I'd forgotten, and I got to try and speculate on how I might have felt at the time. While also realizing I would need to break these entries into paragraphs for easier visibility. For my own sake again. Recently I had a mental episode of sorts, I'd had one during the previous year but it was very different. Both were spurned on by a tremendous loneliness, with guilt, and wanting to absolve that guilt being a compulsion I was unable to ignore. I felt guilty over a time when I was a teenager, or perhaps a pre-teen, I'm not too sure. My grandpa had taken me, and two of my cousins hiking to the highest peak in our local area. St. Mary's peak. We had presumed it would be like any other hike, but it was fairly long and arduous. The mental strain was worse than the physical as we were hopelessly bored. The prospect of a "nice view" didn't entice us to keep going the way it did out grandpa as the thick shrubbery obscured any view we could have of the valley. We also passed a pair of hikers who went on about how breathtaking the view was and how so worth it the journey to the top would be. Alas, it wasn't enough to dissuade my cousins to keep going. They feigned being exhausted and I was split. I wanted to see the top if we were supposedly more than halfway there, but I refused to choose if we'd continue, or go back down. My grandpa ultimately sided with my younger cousins and we descended. Since that day I'd felt tremendous guilt over not trying to convince them to go up to the top. So quite suddenly during February of 2023, I decided to return and climb to the peak. At 2 AM no less. I gathered food, water, snacks, told a few co workers and headed up with little delay by 7 AM. It didn't go well, I got stuck driving up what was likely the wrong road, and my family found out shortly and had to come rescue me, as my Aunt in the fire department was unwilling, or unable to come get me. My Uncle and Grandpa later came to get me, quite cruelly, if I had a shovel in my trunk I could have left just fine on my own. The more recent incident was brought on fairly gradually, I felt more distant with certain friends and the feeling continuously ate at me, until I finally snapped and felt totally and completely alone. Everything felt clear and sensible in that moment and it was crushing. I had just wondered why I like watching youtube videos that take on such an intimate tone, in spite of the fact that I've never felt the effects of a para-social relationship forming and the simple phrase "Because you're lonely" came up immediately in response. Almost as if I had been waiting to affirm that. I mentioned this to someone else and I was ignored, likely due to how late it was but, not getting a reply later in the at a more sensible hour seemed to reinforce that feeling of total loneliness. Even if it wasn't "fair" to feel that way, it was hard to ignore. I did later feel guilty about the way I had treated someone I no longer wanted to be friends with, and I subsequently sent them gifts in the hope that I could atone for my awful behavior. This post has been long enough as is, to make up for a significant event I previously would have written about. I'll try to keep the tradition going and write again tomorrow. The effects of my latest mental episode have brought a lot to light, and I'll jot these thoughts down after I've had some rest.

0 notes

girlfrandletters · 1 year

Text

Flying Through The Air, Trying to Verbalize The Roiling Thoughts In My Head After The Episode From Last Weekend AND Panicking On The Plane (May or May Not Be Deleted)

I’ve been trying to explain the exact thoughts and feelings that I felt from this weekend, and the things that they have made me realize. Speaking the words aloud is impossible, because my mind is running at about 400 miles a minute, my brain cannot process fast enough and just tries to spit out sentences that potentially make sense, and my lips cannot keep up. So writing without thinking, without really allowing myself to read what I’m writing and hear what I’m saying in an effort to just word vomit it all out is possibly the only way to allow these things out of my mind, out of my head, and maybe clear up some space for other, more important things… like the fact that our new TYACK is making weird noises when there is silence in the car.

I should know myself better now than to allow myself to indulge in any form of mind altering substance, whether that is alcohol or THC, when I already feel like I’m falling down a spiral of negative thoughts and emotions. I spent the whole time at your mother’s when your Aunt Tikki (Tiki? Like Tiki Bar? Or Ticki? Tika. Tuna. Turkey) was visiting thinking about how I shouldn’t be there, I don’t deserve to be there. I wasn’t a part of your family, I never feel like I will be able to be a part of your family. Even after we get married, I’ll just be “Anthony’s wife” and I think that feeling comes from the fact that I never feel comfortable around your family, since their views and mine are so far misaligned. Not out of any intention from either parties. It’s just that being as negative as your mother can be, I get miserable being around her and I want to distance myself as much as possible - your sister being her unable-to-determine-the-proper-adjective self, I want to spend the least amount of time with her as possible - Sam and Marc being a slave to their individual woman, knowing there could be some way to change everything (not necessarily leaving them, but setting boundaries and life choices), but not doing it… I’ve been very proud of the fact that, while I was also in their same shoes for a while, I’ve learned from my mistakes and I’ve grown, and I don’t like to be around people who are like that. But at the same time, I know that I love you more than anything and I will have to make certain sacrifices for YOU, so that WE can have a happy, healthy life. I know that keeping my distance makes things strained for everyone involved and I do plan on really reigning myself in and being kinder and more open to the family. But at the same time, I also feel like I don’t want to get closer to them, because by opening myself up to them, opening myself up further to you, I run the risk of one or both parties just abandoning me entirely because of exhaustion of tolerating me.

But we can go into that portion a little later. Because I seem to have found the root cause of that particular feeling. *Cue gif of chihuahua war veteran*

So with that whole paragraph of things in my head, I had one of two choices. I could have not taken any alcohol or weed, allowed myself to feel and process those emotions, then discussed them with you to try to get comfort, and words of encouragement, maybe a hug and a snuggle that would make me realize that you wouldn’t leave me, barring any majorly asshole moves. Or I could drink or take a shit ton of THC to try to block out those emotions and forget they exist, bury them under the age old rug I have in my mind’s living room where all my other pent up emotions live. (For the record, under that rug, there are about 4 layers of emotions and feelings and memories. Maybe more. The ones wayyyy deep deep down are the repressed memories that were never supposed to be uncovered again. More on that later). I had the small glass of wine thinking I’d be fine to drive on a small glass. Was going to sip my wine and make fun of Kyle’s girlfriend with you. I’ll be honest, I completely forgot that I had that drink when Edwards offered me that first cookie. Definitely forgot by the second one. I think the part of me that tries to just block out and cover up the negative emotions took over and just wanted everything to mask the emotions. I used to do that often. I honestly used to drink wine until I was too tired to lift the glass. And that’s how I got through a lot of my earlier years.

I thought the whole drive home you were upset and angry. Maybe not at me - I was able to at least convince myself of that for a little while. But you were stressing about the CT scans and you were upset about that potential risk of increased cancer, which I know health problems are you main concern always. I knew you weren’t feeling well before I took the wine and I was supposed to drive home because you didn’t feel like you would be able to. And I still took all those things knowing that. Even asking you if it was okay was not a good decision, because maybe you said it was okay because you wanted me to have fun and put yourself and your own needs to the side. Which I never want you to do. I’m always afraid that you do things for me or let me do things even though you’re uncomfortable with it because you want me to have fun and enjoy. But you are important too, and I don’t have fun unless we are both having fun. So you were getting upset about the CT scans and I didn’t feel like I was properly doing what I should to help you, or at least provide someone to rage to about it. And I felt worse because I was the one who sent you down that whole path anyway. If I wasn’t so stubbornly ornery about medicine, I never would have mentioned CT scans, you never would have looked into them, and you never would have gotten stressed about it. And the car following us so close was scary too. And then (as stupidly vain as it sounds), I felt like you were upset by the fact that I always say I don’t want you to tell people I’m a veterinarian. I know for me I don’t say it because of the connotation that comes with telling people. But I also know we went there to make fun of Kyle’s girlfriend and passive aggressively show off to them that we both are doing wonderful and you’ve done better than all of them, for all their jokes about you. And I wouldn’t even let you do that. I felt all those mix of emotions - scared, upset, anxious, annoyed - I felt it coming off you in waves and I didn’t know how to process it. By the time we got home, I was certain you would start laying into me about everything. And I deserved it.

There are some times that I feel like I’d feel better if you just yelled at me, screamed at me, told me I was doing things wrong or something, anything.

When I was in the shower, I didn’t realize anything was wrong at first. Just me taking a shower to try to clear my head, breath in the steam, and the smells of the soap and shampoo. I think it was another way for me to try to drown out the thoughts. But they got worse. I could feel the water on my skin, I knew it was hot. But I couldn’t tell if it was too hot and burning me. It was around where I normally put it, but I felt like I was burning my skin off. But when I turned it down, it wasn’t hot enough, so I turned it up more. And I thought maybe I was just trying to burn myself because I had done horrible things and was trying to punish myself. So I turned it down again to stop myself from doing the self harm thing, but it wasn’t hot anymore so I had to turn it up. And somehow, while doing all of that, I lost the feeling of water on my skin entirely. I don’t know how else to describe the feeling other than I thought my literal soul of was leaving my body. I felt myself lifted upwards, out of my skin, out of this reality. And I Panicked. With a capital P. Because I didn’t want to leave this reality. I loved this reality. So I tried to tell myself, “This is real, this is real” over and over and over and over again. While I poured the shampoo in my hand, “This is real.” While I scrubbed my hair and felt the individual strands on my fingers, “This is real.” Frantically staring at the moon patterns on the shower curtain, hearing the water going down the drain, smelling the soap, feeling the water. I tried to ground myself with every sense but none of it seemed to be working.

And then I had a thought that struck absolute fear into me. If I left this reality, I would be leaving you. I would be leaving behind this whole life we have built together, that we had planned together. Your smile, your laugh, your voice and your arms - all of it was about to disappear forever. That’s when I got out of the shower and tried to dry off as quickly as possible. But the whole time I was drying off, I had this scene playing out in my head. Or maybe it was real, I don’t know. But I had this overwhelming understanding that I was not supposed to be here. I was supposed to be in a place that was not this good. I don’t think I was meant to be in a place of absolute hell, but I knew that my real reality was a world where my partner was not so kind, where my job wasn’t as comfortable, where my family and friends were not as loving. But I was put in this reality by accident - whether because of a mistake, or someone was giving me a helping hand, I got placed in this reality where you exist, where you hold me and love me and remind me every day of how much you appreciate me and want to be with me. And I wanted to stay in this one so much. I was sobbing to myself because I thought I wouldn’t get to stay and then… like a final judgment was made, I was back in my skin. Sort of. I knew that my skin was not fully dry from the shower, but I didn’t care at all. I opened my eyes and you were standing in the living room, over that air purifier, arms crossed, one hand on your mouth (I guess this is the point where you were thinking it wasn’t working at all).

That whole scenario I had stepping out of the shower, fighting to stay with you, that all happened probably in about 30 seconds time. Next thing I knew, I was running for you. At least, I felt like I was running for you. I probably wasn’t. But I had to touch you. I had to feel your skin, your shirt, see your eyes looking at me and hear your voice. And just having your arms around me, hearing you ask me what’s wrong, if everything was okay, was like a final damn breaking in my hand. And that’s when I started sobbing out loud. Because you were asking me if I was okay, because you cared about me and you were worried. You were trying to help me, keep me grounded, because you cared. And I couldn’t stop crying because I got to stay with you even though everything in me knew I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know how to tell you to keep talking, that I needed to keep hearing your voice, but you knew, instinctually, that I needed you to continue. You talked to me, you tried to make me laugh, you danced with me, all the things I needed from you that I couldn’t verbalize to you. I felt like I was floating in the air around the living room, watching you help me. All while also looking at you through my eyes and seeing you for my own self.

I thought I was settled down enough to get back into myself, but I somehow went from standing in your arms to sitting on the floor by the table, bookshelf side of the table, holding myself in a ball and sobbing about not wanting to be left alone. And I can honestly tell you that I don’t know how I got there. I thought I was okay. But I wasn’t. And all I felt in that moment was abject terror of being alone. Of being abandoned and left by someone who shouldn’t have left me. I don’t know how to explain that feeling. I was a little girl. Standing on the side of the road. Crying to my mother to not leave me. But I was also in my body, felt myself rocking, heard you talking to me, and I was telling myself, in typical me fashion, that I wasn’t actually feeling this emotion, that I wasn’t reliving a memory, I was just making up a story to excuse my behavior. I felt like I was making shit up to continue getting your attention. But the further into the memory I got, the more I realized that this was not a made up story. This wasn’t some lie I was using to make you look at me, touch me. Because I don’t need to lie to you for any of that. And I’m not that type of person. I think. Or maybe I was in this other reality, which is why I didn’t belong in this one.

If what I saw was a real memory, a real suppressed memory from when I was little, then I can fully understand where my inherent fears came from. The memory was that of a little girl, maybe two or three years old (meaning maybe I really am older than my parents were told. Like when a shelter dog is labeled as “6 or 7 years” so that people adopt them because most people don’t want older dogs. I was the child at the adoption shelter labeled as younger than I was because I hadn’t been adopted yet. Maybe I was there even longer than my parents know). I felt that my family, mother for sure, maybe a father too, were walking away from me. I was told to stay where I was and they were walking away from me. And I was begging them to come back, to not leave me. I remember the feeling of rubbing my eye with one hand that had tears pouring out of it (the way that little kids do, you know what I mean?), and the other clenching my shirt, begging, begging them to come back.

And I remember telling you over and over again, “Don’t leave me, don’t abandon me” or something along those lines. And when I was able to get back into my body enough, I know I was sobbing about the fact that my family didn’t want to keep me, that nobody wanted to keep me. And I heard you, over and over, saying I was kept, I was kept. And I tried to cling to that to bring me back to you. You were going to keep me and I wanted to come back to the one person that I felt was going to keep me. As irrational as that sounds.

Even now, after 3 days, I still have flashes of dissociation. The drive home yesterday I saw the twinkling lights and felt myself leaving my body as I was driving, which was so scary. Driving to the airport today, before the Easton exit, I couldn’t remember where I was going. Was I going to the airport or were we on a road trip drive? I recognized nothing on the road, didn’t recognize the exit signs or the environment at all. I’m not as bad as I was in the shower, but I am still having these moments that make me doubt that this is all real and this is not “the wrong reality.” I hear your voice still talking to me, still telling me you’re keeping me, and I want to keep hearing that but I don’t know how to ask you without sounding stupid. How do I ask “Are you going to keep me” after you’ve already told me seven times that you will? How many times can I say that before you get fucking tired of me. But I think a part of me also hears you when you say that I can ask you whatever, whenever, and however many times, because I still cling to you and ask. Or if I don’t verbally ask, ask least I’m able to convey my need to you in some way. With a touch, or a squeeze. And you know.

To bring this all back to my other comment from earlier (As a reminder: “But at the same time, I also feel like I don’t want to get closer to them, because by opening myself up to them, opening myself up further to you, I run the risk of one or both parties just abandoning me entirely because of exhaustion of tolerating me.”) if this memory was real and this really happened to me, then I understand exactly why I have such a massive fear of abandonment. I’ve always had this fear, by the way, this is a new fear that developed because of my exes always leaving me. I think I always had this fear, at least subconsciously, which made me act in certain ways and made me so scared of people leaving, that I pushed away my previous partners until they left me. And I think that’s why even now, I sometimes will inadvertently try to push you away, or come up with fights in my head or things to argue about, thinking you’ll start getting angry, and then leave. But at the same time, I don’t want to say the same fears and same things over and over again, I don’t want to do the wrong thing constantly because I do not want you to leave. It’s a weird combination. I don’t want you to leave me, but I also try to push you away because if I’m not fully 100% attached, it will hurt a little less when you do abandon me. And I think I’ve had this philosophy my whole life. I remember telling my mother when they first moved to Colorado and I had my first breakdown, that I had on a subconscious level, but so scared and upset when they moved to Colorado and I had to stay in Philly for school, because in some way, I saw that as a type of abandonment.

And to wrap this all up, I was thinking about all this on the car ride to the airport. And had a new flurry of emotions. Because I had all the above going on in my head, no way for me to explain it to you, and then last night (completely unintentionally and I by no means hold what you said personally and I know you meant no harm by it and literally just wanted to help me), you said that it would be better too just try to not explain it. And let it pass. And while it may not have been intended to sound the way it did, I heard that and thought “You’re tired of hearing me stumble about trying to explain it. And it would be better to just not say anything. Let it pass. Let it disappear and block it out just like everything else.” And you were also feeling depressed and sad and I didn’t want you to take up all your energy trying to help me, when you needed help too. And with being so tired going to work, and being depressed on top of it, I felt like I was being an extra burden to you. I should have driven myself because you were so tired. And then I started getting upset because your mother was all concerned about you driving this morning and between that and my natural guilty conscious I have, I felt like I was overtaxing you. And then I thought about everything I’ve done since the beginning of the relationship, driving 1.5 hours all the time to see you, driving that early in the morning to get to work, how often I would come up even if I was bone tired and I suddenly thought about how that was entirely unfair. All those drives I did for you, and then you have to drive this one time for me and she gets worried about it. And then with those comments and my inherent disposition, I felt like I was being forced to feel guilty. Felt like the codependency of your family was rubbing off on us and I should have been disgusted with myself for leaving you, or taking that time away because if I wasn’t spending it with you, then clearly I was up to no good. And I hated that I was “being made” to feel that way. I thought so what if I want to take a week with my family by myself. Why should I feel guilty about that and why should anybody make me feel like that was a bad thing to do. Why should I spend the time with them worried about you and if you’re okay because I’m not there, instead of enjoying the time with my family that I haven’t had in two years or so. It was entirely unfair that you and your family got to spend so much time together while I only get a week, and then made to feel guilty about that week. Because as much as I joke about your family being too close and me not talking as often to mine, I do get upset that they are so far away. I am upset that I can’t just drive a few hours to see them and go out to lunch with my mom whenever I want. I think I get a form of jealousy when you spend time with your mother or your sister because I don’t get to have that whenever I want. And I felt like it was unfair that you get to do that, but I’m forced to fly a plane and feel bad about leaving you for my family. Maybe I feel uncomfortable and unhappy around your family all the time because it’s not MY family and by being friendly with them, I feel like I’m betraying the people who first kept me.

And then I felt even worse because I know you did so much for me in the beginning too and you cared and wanted to make sure I was also okay anytime I was tired and drove up. And I know you are not intentionally making me guilty - that’s all in my head. And that I only ever drove myself into the ground because I never let you see how tired I was, or never let myself acknowledge how exhausted I was, or how upset I was with not being able to see my family and I have only myself to blame for any of this. And I was sad and upset for getting stupidly upset at you for no reason.

And I think that’s the mindset I have with everybody and everything. You’re upset and depressed, so I need to buckle up my own shit and help you. And I don’t resent that. I love helping you and making you smile and being there for you when you’re down. But I think I do it so often to everybody that I no longer see myself and hear myself and take time to understand me. I will ignore the fact that I’ll have worked 12 hours 4 days in a row if I know someone else is exhausted or upset. Because my time and efforts don’t matter, my feelings and emotions on the matter are unimportant when someone else needs help. That is my purpose in life, at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years. My purpose is to help others. And I do. But I push myself too far sometimes and I don’t even realize it. I don’t have to be happy and upbeat at work all the time, but if I’m not, everyone else seems down and angry. I try to be happy so that everyone else can at least know there’s a ray of sunshine and smiles in the building. I have to be happy for my parents because if I show even the smallest sign of being sad or depressed, they’ll find a way to blame it on you. Or if my mother sees me depressed and I try to explain it to her, she’ll tell me I need to learn how to tolerate it because everyone gets depressed like that. Not that she means it in a bad way, she just doesn’t know. And she never will. Sometimes I feel like I have to put on a face even for you, because I don’t want you to be so worried about me that you make yourself ill and don’t care of yourself.

I have this feeling that I never do enough for you - even if you think I’m doing above and beyond. I feel like I’m never doing enough for anybody. I’ve always felt like I’ve let my pent up emotions and past experiences dictate the way I act and speak and that it’s not fair to anybody I interact with because I’m not giving them my whole self.

But my whole self is a small sad girl, curled in a ball on the side of a dirty road, abandoned and alone. My whole self is a black ball of depression and negativity. If I had to put my whole self into an image, it would be that doodling I did when you and Marc were discussing finances and I was using my pen to draw on the notebook. Just a few lines of bad thoughts, which tumble weed itself into a black hole of badness. And why should anybody be exposed to that every day? How could anyone see that whole unfiltered part of me and not walk away disgusted and scared. Why would someone want to dive not that and untangle it, or at least break it up into small pieces and work through it. Why should they?

I think that’s what I’ve always wanted. I wanted someone to untangle me, or just sit with me and break these chunks up, and work with one chunk at a time. And I’ve never felt like I’ve been with anyone, or know anyone who I trust to do that. I have never been around that I thought would take the time for me and care for me the way you do. And I’m slowly realizing, even now, that you are that person. You will take the time for me, you will help me sift through all these emotions, these repressed memories and fears I have, you’ll work with me to get better in all aspects of our life. You will sit with me and hold my hand when I am ready to sob, and you will laugh and dance with me when I’ve cleared my head and my blockages. You will be there for me. You will keep me.

I hope.

~Girlfrand

0 notes

words-dead-to-the-outer-world · 1 year

Text

hi?

I don't know what I'm writing, let alone why I'm writing it. Why did I open my laptop? I should be working on other things. Studying for my upcoming philosophy exam, doing homework assignments that are due before thanksgiving, working on my final paper for philosophy that’s due in a month and I have nothing but an outline and a bullshit summary of that assigned reading. Whatever. I’m journaling. I’m journaling like I'm talking to a therapist I don’t even have anymore. The fucking waitlist’s are frustrating. I wish that the world wasn’t so fucked up and humans were strong enough to not need the help, it’s all understaffed and underpaid anyways. God, I hate humanity. We’re so fucked up, why do I waste my time? Why do i waste my time on dumb little writing prompts for my college’s creative writing club when really I should be doing what I’m doing now. I should be giving someone words to read to fill the time that they would otherwise spend wallowing and diving into the depths of their minds thinking about intrusive thoughts like whether or not to bite someone. I hate this. I hate the world, I hate my brain, I hate my ADHD, I hate my body for being disabled and therefore unable to walk long distances through all types of terrain without falling over. I wish I was like you, or, as I'm the one writing this and therefore the “you” I speak of, I wish I was like any outside reader. I wish I could withstand sitting in a classroom or an office without wanting to bolt out the door and crawl into bed and never have to face the world again. I wish I could walk upright with straight knees and perfect posture like my parents have always yelled at me to do. But alas, I cannot. Hell, I can’t even open my eyes in the morning most days. I want to stop, I want it all to go away. My English professor once made students who showed up to class one day write an attendance check assignment that was two pages about distraction, according to Saint Augustine’s ideas in his book Confessions of Saint Augustine. Now, I was distracted the whole way through writing that assignment. I was in my parent’s house with the TV on and the family dog whining in my ear. I couldn’t focus on the screen in front of me for more than a millisecond without something or someone pulling my thoughts in another direction. I’m surprised. I’m writing this now without looking away. I’m looking at the keyboard and computer screen and typing. I’m not focused on the noise in the kitchen of my older brother listening to a YouTube video. I’m not focused on my dog who is laying next to my bed on a pillow that fell on the floor. I’m not focused on misspelling words or grammar mistakes. I’m just writing. I’m beating my ADHD brain because I can’t focus in class and I'm writing words that mean nothing to anyone and only I can read. Only I can read it, so it can be as stupid as it needs to be. What the fuck? Why is this working? Why is working on something not even remotely close to being concerned with school and studying and is typing without thinking working its way into being something that I genuinely enjoy? Maybe I should publish a book where I just type the random shit in my head without worrying about typing mistakes or grammatical errors until right before the publishing date. Fuck grammar police, man. I used to be one myself, someone who constantly corrects people’s grammar. Being an English major does that to you, you become a bot so obsessed with knowledge and words on a page that you can’t help but let yourself correct people’s speech. Anyways, these are my thoughts. This is who I am whenever I decide to write in this document. It might turn into bullet points, it might remain paragraphs and blocks of text like this, who knows. Fuck the rules, man.

#dead-to-the-outer-world #words #streamsofunconsciousthought #writeblr #welcome to hell

1 note · View note

anyoneseenadam · 3 years

Note

hello! may i request some azriel fluff 🥺 like mornings with him/ cuddling in bed, im in dire need of cute azzy fics. also i love 'home' it's actually the story that got me into reading acotar content!

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: pure fluff with a smidge of angst if you squint, mentions of blood/scars (very brief) but mainly just fluffy lovliness

a/n: okay so I kinda expanded on this a bit but it does have cuddling in a bed and mornings so I hope you like it! I’m always down for our boy getting some much needed love!

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

It had been almost a month since you had seen Azriel. He was away on a mission for Rhys, always willing to follow his brothers orders even when your lip had wobbled at the sound of a month alone when he was in foreign territory undertaking dangerous tasks. A part of you felt guilty as he left, a pained expression on his face as he left you standing in the doorway, waving him off. You knew his job was hard and that he didn’t enjoy being away from you anymore than you did, but you couldn’t help but worry, especially after the missions where he came home with new scars and the darkness that you were working hard to rid him off returning to his eyes.

Tonight you were sat on your sofa, feet curled and a mug of steaming tea next to you as you flicked through a book. You had been reading the same paragraph for at least twenty minutes, the words not processing as your body reacted to the missing weight that would usually be curled against your side by this time of evening. Your gaze flittered over your home; perfectly clean as you had sought things to do while your heart was in another country, bookshelves lining the walls and paintings adorning any clear space on the walls. You closed your book, well worn as in your life you had read it many, many times. The pages had yellowed, and the spine was bent, yet the smell had remained and now as you read through it you could catch the notes Azriel had pencilled in when he had read it to please you. When you went to re-open it, unable to sit still, you smiled as it opened automatically on the most worn page, a quote circled and Azriel’s neat handwriting in the footnote, you traced your finger along the words, reading them with a soft smile.

“No. No one likes being alone. But

I’ve learned to live with it.” – now

I have you I don’t believe I could

ever be alone again. You could leave

me; steal my money, my heart, break

me down and I would still come

crawling back to you. You hold my heart

now, please be gentle.

You felt tears sting your eyes as you read his words, the page already had tear stains from when you first saw the words, but now in the cold of your lonely house they sank in deeper. However, before you could wallow in your self-pity anymore, you heard the door push open quietly and quiet feet pad in, the tell-tale signs of someone who presumed you would be asleep, albeit it was nearing 1am. You quickly put your book down, standing and practically running to the door, grinning widely as you saw Azriel there, tugging off his boots with one hand braced against the wall. He looked up when he heard you and offered you a weak grin.

“You should be sleeping baby,” he smiled at you as you barrelled towards him, jumping into his arms.

“I can’t sleep alone anymore,” you muttered into his shoulder and he shook with a silent laugh, tightening his grip around your waist. You stayed in that position for a few minutes more before you slipped down, grabbing his hand, and tracing a thumb over the dark circles that surrounded his eyes, next to the dirt and dried blood that was drying and cracking in his hairline. “C’mon you stink.” You giggled leading him to the bathroom and turning the tap to fill the bath with warm water, sprinkling in salts that you swore would help, much to his manly grumbling. You turned and found him leaning on the door, eyes watching you carefully, taking you in as you moved to him and started helping him out of his clothes, tugging at the leather until it came down displaying his glorious body to you. Once he was naked you pushed him gently in the direction of the bath and he furrowed his eyebrows and made grabby hands when he realised you weren’t joining him, you just laughed and kissed him gently, promising to return soon as he began washing.

You moved to the living room first, grabbing your mug and taking a tentative sip, smiling when you found it at a drinkable temperature. Then you moved to your shared room, fluffing the duvet and pillows, and changing into one of his old shirts, then grabbing him some loose sweats and walking back to your bathroom, arms stacked. He was leaning his head against the edge of the bath when you re-entered and cracked open his eyes, smiling lazily at you through hooded eyes. You moved to sit beside him at the edge of the bath, taking a washcloth and gently wiping his face clean, before rinsing it off and moving it down his neck and chest, following with soft kisses pressed into his clean skin as he all but purred in delight.

When you finished you leaned your head on his arm, your sleepless nights without him catching up on you as you sipped your tea, breathing in the relaxing smell. You felt Azriel’s gaze on you and turned your head up to face him, he leaned down and pressed a longer kiss onto your lips, the two of you simply revelling in the taste of one another, lips and tongues languidly moving in tandem. When you pulled away he quickly washed his hair as you finished your tea, before standing and wrapping himself in a towel around the waist and draining the pink-tinted water, pulling faces at you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth in silence. Finally you fell into bed together, exhaustion creeping up on you as he wrapped you in his arms, kissing your head and holding you impossibly tight. ‘I love you’ whispered into the dark of the room as shadows settled around you.

When you woke, your legs were tangled in Azriel’s and you felt like a weight was lifted off you. You forgot the effect Azriel had on you when it came to sleep, he had a way of lulling you into a deep sleep that woke you up feeling better than ever and fully rested. You craned your head up to see Azriel still asleep, his face more restful than you remembered, the furrow between his brow smoothed and you couldn’t resist tracing it with your thumb as you admired him.

“Watching me sleep again?” You almost jumped at his gruff morning voice, but just huffed a laugh.

“Someone has to witness this beauty and I’m not big on sharing so…” You trailed off and he cracked an eye open, gaze filled with love. You leaned up and kissed him, neither of you caring about morning breath as you finally spent much needed time together again.

“I need to go see Rhys today, let him in on everything.” He whispered when you pulled away, resting you head on his chest.

“Not quite yet though,” you muttered.

“No, not quite yet.”

You woke for a second time a couple hours later as Azriel returned from the bathroom, slinging an arm over your waist, and pressing his chest to your back as he burrowed himself back under the covers and into the safe haven the two of you had created. He started leaving soft kisses down from under your ear and along your neck, moving over you shoulder with a soft hum as you drew patterns on his arms, clutching his hands in yours as you pressed them into your chest, against your heart.

You opened your eyes to look around the room and saw Azriel had opened your curtains, the light muted due to the fact there was snow falling outside, muffling all sounds except the ones created in your home, the soft whispers of Azriel’s kisses and your gentle breaths. You watched as a robin landed on a branch outside your windowsill, a small twig clutched in its beak. Such a small twig would go on to create a home for this bird, alike the small romance that had bloomed your and Azriel’s deep, unending love, turning the cold house you had been in the night before into the warm home you were in now.

“We should do some baking today,” you whispered to him, “maybe gingerbread.”

“Apple pie,” he muttered, his face buried in your neck.

“Isn’t that a bit on the nose?”

“I love apple pie,”

“What about Rhubarb crumble and homemade custard?” you asked, stifling a laugh at the pout you could practically hear from Azriel.

“Mmm you’re a genius.” He whispered, pressing a longer kiss into the crook of your neck.

“I know it’s a curse.”

“Not just yet though,” he repeated your words from earlier and you smiled.

“No, not just yet.”

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf #rhysand

419 notes · View notes

missinghan · 3 years

Text

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

402 notes · View notes

her-devils-advocate · 2 years

Text

“Sweet dreams.”

♥. Genre: Fluff and romance

♥. pairings: Lucifer x F!Mc

♥. content warnings: None

♥. Word count: 885

It was a rare moment where Lucifer and Evelyne could relax and spend a few hours together without the usual chaos of the others ruining the peaceful atmosphere. A tender moment where they could simply exist near one another without any words needing to be exchanged, two souls focusing on their work in the same calming environment. The only sound which dared to cut through the silence was a small giggle from the woman, currently making herself comfortable in his extravagantly plush armchair. Her legs dangling over the arm while her head rests on the other, her hair creating an inky waterfall over the side. Her D.D.D raised above her head, held just a little too closely to her face, signalling to Lucifer that she had forgotten about her strikingly red contact lenses or her glasses.

“Just what are you getting up to over there…?” he asks, keeping his voice low, not wanting to become distracted from his work. Unaware that Evelyne had other ideas. With another small chuckle, she angles her head to look at him from her current position on the chair

“I’m just reading on my phone, that's all! Go back to work” she mutters, unable to keep the smirk out of her voice as she continues to scroll on the illuminated screen, the contents just far away enough for him to not be able to make sense of.

Silver eyes continue to dance along the screen which had captivated her so intensely. She wasn’t someone who usually read this sort of material, especially not in the presence of another, even if they were in a relationship. This sort of literature, if you could call it that, would better fit someone like Asmodeus and yet here she was, so deeply immersed in the world being created around her. The book wasn’t well written in the slightest which was exactly why she was so captivated with it, the phrasing and language used within made her feel like it was a parody rather than a serious publication. Maybe it was but either way the words dancing along the page had the raven haired woman in a trance, the gentle ticking of the large grandfather clock behind her lulling her into a meditative calm.

Chuckling once more at the story, she goes to open her mouth to share the recent paragraph with her lover, but yelps instead as her eyes meet his. His face mere inches away from her own, “why are you hovering over me and how long have you been lurking there?”

“You should be more careful around demons, my dear. You shouldn’t let your guard down so easily, who knows what could happen.” He whispers, gently lowering his lips onto hers before she could come up with a reply. “Just what are you reading…?”

Evelyne’s face darkens with embarrassment as he parts from her and looks more closely at the literature displayed on her screen.

“Uhh, firstly, it's not what it looks like…it was mostly for entertainment purposes, look at how it's written!” Giggling once more, she stands to show Lucifer her screen more clearly as he narrows his eyes at the screen, squinting in confusion.

With quick movements, he goes to steal her seat. Grabbing her wrists, dragging her down on top of his lap.

Huffing at the man now below her, gazing at her through half-lidded eyes she throws one arm around him, leaning closer as she fidgets in place in order to get comfy, earning a subtle growl from the demon, warning her to stay still.

“If you wanted me here like this, all you had to do was ask me, you know…? Buuuuut since I’m feeling generous, I’ll just stay here and read it out to you instead…But first…” she trails off, eyeing up the demon in front of her before wiggling back on his lap. Giving herself more room as she gently removes the large and fluffy cloak from his shoulders, urging him to raise his hip so she could untangle it from their bodies before softly throwing it over the back of their now shared armchair.

“You are like a furnace some days with that thing on you and the fur was tickling my nose.” She pouts, eyeing the fabric with a mock glare.

Letting his head gently fall into the crook of her neck, he lets out a soft chuckle. His breath makes her shiver as it glides over the exposed skin.

“Hmm, is that so?” He purrs, not wanting to shatter the peace by speaking any louder than a murmur.

“Why don’t you forget the terrible drivel that you were reading and rest here for a bit, you should let your eyes rest after staring at the screen as close and as long as you did, darling.” Closing his eyes, the demon falls into a peaceful sleep, pulling the human perched on his lap closer to him.

“Ah yes, I’m the one who needs to rest.” She whispers, gently brushing aside some of his hair, gazing at his sleeping expression, amused with how quickly he succumbed to the exhaustion which followed him around daily.

With a gentle sigh, she snuggles as close as she can to him, not wanting to wake him as she lets her own eyes drift shut. “Sweet dreams, Lu.”

#♥. writing #♥. Evelyne #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me luci x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer x f!mc #obey me fic #obey me fluff

22 notes · View notes

kusagrasskusa · 3 years

Text

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

#michael myers x y/n #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #michael myers #horror movies x reader #horror movies #slashers #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers x reader #halloween #reader insert #x reader #killer reader #movie villains #aaaaaah #request #i love u #thanks for the request!

179 notes · View notes

hookingminor · 3 years

Text

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #my writing #avs8

227 notes · View notes

glassessence · 3 years

Text

Elriel Hint and Analysis - includes analysis of Feysand & Nessian (ACOSF Spoilers)

I’m pretty new to the fandom, but I am currently obsessed with Elriel. This is my ship and I will go down with it until the day I die. As a fairly casual reader, I honestly had zero doubts the next book would be Elain’s and that the couple would be Elriel.

Then I discovered the existence of the extra POV chapters and Azriel’s threw me in for a bit of a loop. Especially with the ending (which I genuinely believe is a red herring. I lean very heavily into the lightsinger Gwyn theory).

However, stalking Tumblr made me come across this again:

Life and death and rebirth

Sun and moon and dark

Rot and bloom and bones

Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn.

Love me, touch me, sing me.

And then my brain accidentally vomited an essay on the symbolism in each sister’s journey...

Life and death and rebirth so clearly symbolise Feysand’s journey. Feyre leaves behind her life of poverty for a brand new one with Tamlin. She journeys Under the Mountain for love of him and ultimately succeeds in saving not just him, but all of them. In the process, she dies. Not just in the physical sense, but spiritually too. Feyre the human perishes, giving rise to Feyre the High Fae. In a purely physical sense, this is definitely a rebirth. But it’s stilted, incomplete. She’s the newly born phoenix - young, fragile and yet covered in the ashes of its fiery death. Her spiritual rebirth lags behind her newly changed body. Like a bird in a cage, she is trapped in Tamlin’s realm, unable to finish developing, to spread wings and fly.

That all changes when she is whisked away to the Night Court. She learns to read and some of the ash falls from her body. She makes friends and some more ash is brushed away by the Inner Circle. The final remnants of ash are blown away by the taste of freedom and the kiss of wind, and Feyre’s rebirth is finally complete. Spiritually and physically, she is changed. She becomes Feyre the High Lady. From life back to life, she is returned through the power of love. Take note that while love is important in all the sisters’ journeys, it is the focal point and highlight of Feyre’s. She is someone who has never been loved in that wholesome, selfless way Rhysand loves her. Tamlin was possessive and abusive; Nesta was barbed and sharp. Elain was fragile and ethereal. Love was something she had never really known and consequently something she desperately, desperately needed. That’s why the phrase that symbolises her is love me.

Sun and moon and dark refers very much to Nessian. Nesta is the sun and she is burning. Has been burning for a long, long time. She is aflame, nothing but ashes inside, and her words are fire. She scalds anyone who dares approach, just as everything melts before the sun. Like Feyre, she has had her physical rebirth, but not her spiritual one. She is trapped in her own head, locked behind her own self-hatred, her own raging inferno that yields to no one. Like Feyre, she is also a phoenix, but one whose fire never stopped. In that sense, she has never died. Her spiritual rebirth is not simply incomplete; it has never happened.

Until she starts training with Cassian. Until she starts befriending Emerie and Gwyn. This is what marks the death of Nesta the human and the emergence of Nesta the High Fae. (I use the term ‘human’ loosely here, mostly as a way of conveying my point about her spiritual journey rather than the state of her physical being). She loses her solar flare, that inner blaze that was killing her and blackening her soul. She mellows from unapproachable sun to a softer moon. It’s here that she stays a while, seeming to progress and regress in her healing journey as the moon waxes and wanes. It’s not until the hiking scene that she finally breaks. She weeps despite Cassian’s expectations to the contrary. Through her tears, she finally extinguishes the long-raging fire and hatred that has been destroying her. No more blazing sun, no more wavering moon. Only darkness to cradle her, and acceptance. Through Cassian’s ceaseless efforts and her friends, her journey reaches its apex. She finally becomes Nesta the Valkyrie.

Her journey hinges heavily upon the fact that nobody could reach her through the flames. Nobody had kept trying after getting burned again and again. Nobody except Cassian. He reaches out, time after time, even when she hurts him. Even when she burns him. Until he succeeds and touches her soul. That’s why the phrase that symbolises her is touch me.

Of course that leaves only the last line: rot and bloom and bones. I wonder who this could symbolise! Surely not the Archeron sister who is associated with roses and has a complicated romance dilemma with someone from the Autumn Court (rot) and someone else from the Night Court (bones)! Surely not!

Jokes aside, I strongly believe this line reveals Elain’s journey. If we continue thinking of the words as a progression, I think it makes a lot of sense. Keeping in mind the theme of life, death and rebirth, this is how I think of it:

Life / Rot / stagnation, the start of the journey

Death / Bloom / change, the start of healing

Rebirth / Bones / ascendance and acceptance, the start of the future

There are several interesting things to note about the sentence:

The word bloom is nestled among rot and bones

Elain’s two potential love interests both have strong associations with those words

I’ll address each point as we delve into Elain’s analysis.

Let’s start with Elain the human. As previously established, this is when the character is at their worst, blind in the dark before the dawn. I see this as Elain’s forced transformation by the Cauldron. Everything she knows is ripped away from her and her marriage crumbled to dust. She is thrust into a world both unknown and at war. She emerges changed and cursed with powers she cannot control and does not understand. Her life, once a slow-blooming flower, has just rotted into nothing. She is lost, confused and deeply depressed. Her physical rebirth may be complete, but her spiritual rebirth cannot begin until she gathers the shattered pieces of herself back together.

This happens slowly. So slowly, in fact, that it’s hard to notice and easy to dismiss. She befriends Nuala and Cerridwen. Begins gardening again. Talks to the Inner Circle and buys them gifts for Solstice. Slowly, so very slowly, she is starting to piece herself back together. Off-page, she quietly unravels Elain the human and emerges from her cocoon as Elain the High Fae. Like a wilted flower that has dropped its petals, a new season has come, bringing with it new buds. She is blooming, opening herself to new possibilities for companionship, love and for a new self to rise to the surface. But blooms are fragile, newly born things. Elain hasn’t dealt with the full force of her trauma, of her lifelong lack of choice (I’m not going to delve into this as there are so many amazing analyses out there!). She is a trembling fawn, still trying to learn how to walk.

But her spiritual rebirth will remake her. Bones. It’s so different from the previous two words that it really leaves an impact. Blooms rot and fade. Flesh breaks and dies. But bones are strong, the frame that holds up our entire beings. Bones are unyielding and solid, taking no other shape like blood nor bruising like flesh. I see this as Elain standing up for herself, unswayed by external forces that have always governed her life and breaking away from the fragile flower people have always thought she was. By cutting away the rotting flesh, she will reveal the backbone beneath and ascend as Elain the Kingslayer/Seer.

Of course, closely tied to each sister’s personal growth arc is her love interest. For me, I don’t see it going any other way than Azriel.

SJM chose rot not only to represent the ‘life’ section of Elain’s personal journey, but also to represent Lucien. He has connections to the Autumn Court, a season that is often associated with decay and rot, but also with harvest and bounty. Highlighting the negative aspects of autumn invokes a strong sense of wrongness. Lucien is not right for her. Not to say anything bad about his character; he’s just not right for Elain. His presence in the books eats away at her newfound boldness; he rots away the path she is trying to carve for herself.

On the other hand, Azriel is closely tied with death, with blood and bones and shadow. He’s not only Rhys’ spymaster, he’s also his torturer. His association is with bones, a word that invokes a sense of everlasting, of persevering beyond death. Bones is also used to describe the ‘rebirth’ section of Elain’s personal growth arc, the final aspect that leads to ascendance, and acceptance of one’s past and present. Meanwhile, bloom represents Elain herself and the ‘death’ portion of her story, the aspect that heralds change and healing.

Rot, bloom and bones represent both her personal journey and her love interests. It’s all intrinsically linked. Lucien is ‘life’ and stagnation, Elain is ‘death’ and change, and Azriel is ‘rebirth’ and acceptance. As a progression, this is how I interpret the sentence:

By rejecting the bond with Lucien, she is stepping into herself and forging something everlasting with Azriel.

Lastly, let’s not forget that the phrase symbolising her is sing me. This didn’t make much sense to me until I read Azriel’s bonus POV. In it, he confesses to Gwyn that he does sing. Why include this if it’s not a subtle callback to this prophetic paragraph in ACOMAF? It feels like a treat to hardcore fans who like finding all the little connections (since they’re the ones most likely to have read the bonus chapters). The fact that Gwyn also sings signals to me there’s an important plot point regarding song. Maybe homegirl Elain will be forced to throw a hardcore metal concert to save Az XD Wouldn’t that be a plot twist HAHAHA.

I don’t know when SJM started planting seeds for Elriel in any serious capacity, so perhaps I am reading WAY too much into this. Either way, I am super keen for the next book!

Please feel free to comment and let me know your thoughts! I am desperate for Elriel right now hahaha. Thanks for reading!

OH, BUT ONE MORE THING.

The greetings are really interesting. Sweet thing obviously refers to Feyre. Lady of night and princess of decay are clearly meant for Nesta.

Fanged beast and trembling fawn are left for Elain. It’s easy to write this off as being about her LI and herself, respectively, but I don’t know. The sentences build upon each other. A single moniker grows to two - the first separated by a comma, the second expanding to use an and. It’s something you see a lot in poetry, generally used to emphasise a point. I’m not entirely sure what the point is; it might just be a nice writing flourish, but wouldn’t it be interesting if both those statements were referring to Elain herself? Wouldn’t it just be juicy?

218 notes · View notes