#it still kept me held in my depression doing it consistently

[weixuldo]

Enigma// ch 16

anakin x reader

a/n: this chapter is a longer one, i have so many plans for the future of this story and there’s gonna be a looot of angst (hope that’s good w u guys hehe)

You finally tell Anakin the news you had been dreading

warnings: cursing, cannon disabled character, insecurity, mentions of pregnancy, arguments, verbal degradation (not the fun kind), slut shaming, alcohol abuse, relapse, mentions of alcoholism, just heavy chapter all around

_______________________________

“Anakin…I’m pregnant” 

He froze.

If you hadn't spent so much time together, you wouldn’t have even noticed the shift in his demeanor, but you knew him and you knew something was wrong.

“What did you say?” he responded stiffly.

You took another deep breath and repeated.

“I’m pregnant, Anakin”

He stood from the couch, blankly staring at you.

“I don’t know how, I thought you said you didn’t- you couldn’t… “ you started, hoping to alleviate his unsettling aura.

“I cant.” he cut you off.

“I don't know what to do, I’m scared!” you cried.

He was still just standing there.

“Please, Ani-, Please say something!” you begged.

“Get out”

“What?” 

“Get out of my house” he repeated.

“Ani-”

“Don’t fucking call me that”

“Anakin, what- why are y-”

“get the fuck out!” he shouted as he pointed towards the exit. 

“You and I know damn well I can’t have children, so that's just heartless to even bring that up to me.” his face held a viscous scowl as he yelled at you. 

“But It’s true! I’ve been to the clinic, I have the-” you pleaded with him. 

“And it wasn’t me, so who the fuck got you pregnant? You aren’t the fuckin’ virgin Mary, so you have to be fucking someone else?” he spat.

“I swear, I have only been with you Anakin, I’ve only been with you” you cried

“Don’t fuckin lie to me, Y/N!”

“I trusted you...I shared myself with you and this? This is what you do?” he yelled as he began to breathe heavily. 

“I’m not lying” you pleaded with him.

“I don’t wanna hear it”

“I’ll get a test, I-I’ll show you all my messages, I-i’ll do whatever, please, PLEASE! I’m telling the truth- You have to believe me!” you were full on sobbing on his living room floor. 

His breathing was becoming jagged and he stumbled back to reach for his inhaler.

“I don’t have to do shit” he said venomously before grappling with the small device in his hands. 

“Ana-”

After he took a large puff of medicine he shouted for you to leave once more.

“I told you to leave, don’t make me throw you out” he said with such disdain.

Even with his limitations, you knew he was strong enough (and angry enough) to do just that. So, weakly, you gathered yourself from the floor and stumbled out of his apartment onto the sidewalk where you collapsed once more. 

You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that. You clutched onto your shirt and sobbed, not only were you pregnant, you may have just lost the man you loved.

_____________________

The next few days consisted of you floating in and out of reality as you sat absent-mindedly in your classes. You were only getting one meal a day and spent most of your time cocooned in your bed, facing the standard dorm-beige wall.

You didn’t have the energy or the will to do anything…you could feel depression creeping up on you.

Even if you got rid of it, your relationship with Anakin was basically over. But if you kept it you would be stuck as an undergrad student with a baby… not exactly a great way to start your adulthood. 

Ahsoka stopped by to check up on you after she hadn’t heard from you for three days; she came with your favorite snacks and some other stuff to cheer you up. 

The two of you had a self care night and you told her what had happened over the weekend with Anakin (Of course keeping out the fact that he is the one who knocked you up). You told her how angry he was that you were pregnant and not because you were young, instead he was just mad that you had been in a situation to get pregnant.

“Ash, he threw me out… h-he literally threatened to physically throw me out” you cried as you recounted the traumatizing fight.

The tears spilled over as you struggled to breathe, “I jus-st don’t u-understand why he-” a loud sob cut you off.

Quickly Ash gathered you into her arms and coached your breathing.

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be ok… Let’s breathe, ok?” 

You nodded and sniffled.

“Ok, Deep breath in through your nose… good. Now out through your mouth” 

Once you were calmed down she responded to your news. 

Her older friend’s behavior disgusted her, “Y/N im so sorry. Truly, I have no idea what has gotten into him…He has no right to talk to you that way.”

You thanked her for being there for you and tried to move on with the girls' night, you needed to focus on the small bouts of happiness you could find.

The next day, you went ahead and told Ben and Satine, because they were the last two in the friend group you hadn’t told and it covered up the reason you told Anakin (Instead of letting them know you told him asap because he was the father).

Even though he was a total ass, you still wanted to respect the privacy deal the two of you struck back in the beginning of your relationship. Though honestly, you were starting to not give a fuck about the secret; a part of you wanted everyone to know he got you pregnant and was now being a complete asshole about it. 

Days went by and then weeks where you silently hoped for an apology from Anakin, but you knew it wasn’t coming.

Since the confession, he closed himself off from everyone; he no longer attended dinners, texted in the group chat, and you hadn't even physically seen him since then. 

Everyone still got together for the routine dinners, the only difference was that Anakin was a “no-show”. The four of you discussed his recent absences (of course you knew that it was probably because he hated your guts right now, but that was no reason to cut off everyone else), you all worried that he may be drinking again.

Ben explained back when he was first struggling with drinking, he’d disappear like this for days or even weeks, going on unhealthy and reckless benders. 

The more Ben told you about Anakin’s past patterns, you felt more and more sick to your stomach. What he described was wildly unhealthy and you hated that you could be the catalyst that turned him back down that path. 

At the end of the dinner the four of you agreed that Ahsoka would go over to Anakin’s and confront him; Ben and Satine both had work and they thought it best not to send you, incase he was drinking and became violent (plus you didn't think he’d react well to you showing up at his door).

Also, Ahsoka had lots of experience calling Anakin out on his bullshit- she could stand her ground against him drunk or sober. 

Hopefully the group would finally get some answers out of him. 

_____________________________________

Ahsoka arrived and noticed that all of his blinds were drawn and the mail in his box was piled up. 

She took a deep breath; she could already tell this wasn’t going to be good. 

Anakin hollered an aggressive,  “Who is it?”, when he heard the knock. 

“Snipps. I’m comin’ in Sky guy, alright?” she said as she pushed the door open. 

Anakin squinted as the light from outside shone through the doorway; he was lying on the couch in a shirt and a pair of old army shorts and wasn’t wearing his legs. 

Ahsoka gently closed the door behind her and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. It was a mess; dishes all around, dirty clothes scattered on the floor, TV on, and sadly… bottles…all around. 

He relapsed. 

Everyone knew he had been doing really well about keeping his drinking under control, but there were worries of a relapse when no one had heard from him. 

Anakin glanced over to his friend, “I like the new hair, Snipps”.

Ahsoka had her hair rebraided and added more white and blue a while ago. 

“Thanks, It's not that new though, I got them done like two weeks ago. But you wouldn’t have known that, right?” she passive aggressively said.

His blue eyes glared at her as if to say “what the hell did you just say?”.

“Well hello to you too” he huffed as he brought the bottle of rum in his hand to his lips. 

Beside the couch was Anakin’s wheelchair; he usually avoided using it at all costs.

“I didn’t feel like going through the hassle of puttin’ my legs on” he said when he noticed Ahsoka looking at his chair. 

Ever since he could stand to have his legs on, he always wanted to have them on; he never wanted to feel “helpless” and for some reason he was ashamed of his wheelchair. But the fact that he had it out now was a major concern. He wasn’t doing well. 

“Anakin, where have you been?” she sighed defeatedly.

“Uhh, look around, then tell me what you think?” he shot back at her with a patronizing laugh. 

“That’s not what I mean”

“Then enlighten me, what do you mean?” he was getting defensive and irritated, but she was not leaving until she got to the bottom of his sudden absence. 

“We haven’t seen you in weeks. Ben and Satine are worried, so is y/n, and so am I”

“Why would that bitch be worried about me?” he snapped as he tossed the empty bottle into the trash bin beside the couch.

“I know you aren't talking about y/n right now” Ahsoka became defensive and was starting to lose her patience with the man in front of her. 

“Maybe I am, why the fuck would you care if I was?” he said as he cracked open another bottle.

“I heard how awful you were to her”

“Yea. And who’s to say she didn’t deserve it?” he annoyedly stated, rolling his eyes.

“Why are you so upset that y/n is pregnant?! I mean sure she’s young, but it's her life!” Ahsoka yelled at the half drunk man on the couch.

“You wouldn’t understand, Snipps,” Anakin said, resting his head on one of his gloved hands and taking a swig of rum with the other.

“Maker, sometimes you're such an asshole.” Ahsoka huffed. 

“I am not an asshole, she’s the one who fucked up, ok?” he snapped back

Ahsoka narrowed her gaze and watched angrily as Anakin tilted back his bottle once more. 

“You gotta stop with the drinking Anakin.”

“Add it to the list of shit I gotta fix” he huffed out a laugh.

“You were doing so well-”

“Do you not think that I know that? I fucking know I fucked up my sobriety, you don’t have to remind me!” he yelled.

She sighed, “I just don't understand where your aggression is coming from”

“I’m not being aggressive, I’m treating y/n how she deserves to be treated, like the whore she is.”

Ahsoka stomped up to Anakin and snatched the rum out of his mechanical hand.

“What the fuck Ahsoka!?” he yelled.

“You have no right call her a whore, I don’t fucking know what your problem is Anakin Skywalker, but i’ll be damned if I allow you to talk about y/n that way. After all she’s done for you?’.

The color drained from Anakin’s face and he froze.

“Yea. I know she’s come over here to help you, I know she offered to help you when you had to be in your chair that week, I know she helped you when you fucking fell out of bed cause you were too wasted to get up and go piss!! You will not disrespect her like that!! Do not EVER say that again, do you hear me?! ” Ahsoka barked at the man in front of her.

His eyes widened and he shook his head, “Get out”.

“No, I’m going to find out why you’ve been acting like such a dick”

“I said OUT!” He shouted pointing to the door; not that he could really enforce his wish because he wasn’t coordinated enough to get out of his seat. 

“ANAKIN, I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU! YOU ACT LIKE SHE WAS COMMITTING A DELIBERATE ACT AGAINST YOU WHEN SHE GOT PREGNANT” Ahsoka yelled back.

“SHE WAS” he practically screamed.

“What are you talking about?!”

He staid silent and looked away.

“wait…. Anakin…. Do you- do you have a thing for y/n”

Anakin let out an annoyed laugh and rolled his eyes. 

“Anakin, she has a boyfriend”

“I know”

“Then why are you upset? Is it because she’s with someone else?”

“No” 

“Then what is it?” Ahoska pleaded.

“The doctors said I couldn’t have children”

“I know that Anakin, what does that have to do wi-”

“I'm her boyfriend… well was.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, “what…”

“Yea, fuckin surprise. So it is a personal attack on me ‘casue how the fuck did she get pregnant if I cant have kids?” he lamented with a sad smug look.

Ahsoka shook her head, “Anakin, I think you should get your fertility checked again-”.

“Are you serious right now Ahsoka? Do you even hear what you're asking?”

Ahsoka’s face was serious as she spoke, “yes, it has been years since-”

“Do you not remember what happened last time? What happened with P-” his voice began to waver as he remembered the heartbreak of his last relationship, “Padme”.

“I remember, but I know for a fact y/n has not been with anyone else. She loves you. So much Anakin, and honestly I don’t know how she deals with you”. 

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes I fucking do, I was there to see how much your words affected her. I was there to help her breathe when she was choking on her own tears. I saw a girl whose heart had just been shattered. Why would she be that upset if she wasn’t committed to you?”

Anakin’s heart fell.

Fuck.

A wave of guilt washed over him, maybe he was too quick to judge… but the doctors.. They said..

“I-I don't know what to say” he managed.

“You've said plenty, Skywalker.”

“Could you please tell her-”

“No Anakin. I’m done running interference for your fuck-ups” she said as she headed for the exit.

“Ahsoka…” Anakin called, attempting to follow her; in his drunken haze, he must have forgotten he didn't have his legs on. 

She turned as he landed on the floor with a thud. He groaned and he tried to get upright.

Ahsoka was still angry, but she knew he needed help. 

When she sat him up, he was sobbing.

“Fuck. Snipps, I loved her. I-I just felt like- like she- fuck!” he cried.

“You’re drunk, Anakin. I’m going to put you in bed and spend the night on the pull-out, but we’re done talking about this until you sober up and get a test”

He was shaking, but nodding his head “o-ok-ok o-ok” he repeated.

Ahsoka was drained, on one hand she knew why he was like this and as she helped him to bed all she saw was the kind hearted boy she grew up with. She saw how emotionally damaged he was, she knew how hard he had it. But that was no excuse to act the way he did; the other half of her was disgusted by his behavior and the fact that he spoke to you that way. 

She decided that she was making him an appointment tomorrow morning. No excuses.

___________________________________

The ride to the doctor’s office was silent, the only sound was Anakin’s occasional ragged breath from a night of crying. They arrived and Anakin was taken back to an examination room, but not before Ahsoka insisted he ask for a fertility test.

Anakin hated medical facilities, whether it be hospitals, doctors offices, orthotics offices, or the physio center; he had spent almost half his life in those goddamn places. He sat patiently for his examination and was compliant with his doctor's inquiries. 

“Do you have any more questions, Mr. Skywalker?” the doctor asked as he straightened his wiry glasses.

Anakin debated asking such an odd question at the moment, but he wouldn’t have peace of mind unless he asked (plus Ahsoka would kill him if he didn’t). 

“Yea… you know my results said I wouldn’t be able to have kids”

The doctor nodded as he met his patient’s eyes, “yes… are you inquiring about children?”

"Not really, but is it possible that some of me is still…viable?” his face was surely red with embarrassment.

“If you are asking me about the fertility possibilities for your sperm, we have a test for that, but you’d have to make an appointment at our clinic for fertility and It’ll cost a bit extra but we will be able to get the results back to you in a few weeks.”

“Could I-”

“Of course” the man in the white coat said as he promptly left the room.  

Anakin leaned back against the wall and exhaled a large breath. Fuck. Was he really going to do this again?

He could remember the anxiety he felt when going into that clinic for the first time with Padme all those years ago; the fate of his relationship was on the line back then. 

Now, he had ended his relationship with you but deep down he prayed that he would be able to have kids because the possibility of you cheating on him was tearing him apart. He wanted to believe you wouldn’t do that to him, but he wasn’t really counting on his viability– but after years of no activity, why now would they choose to become active?

But also he didn’t know how he would face you if he were viable…how would he make it up to you after treating you like…that?

***

a/n: next chapter comes after this in the theme line then imma do a small time jump to get to another plot point haha- i hope you guys are still enjoying!!

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimon

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #vader #anakin x reader #sw darth vader #anakin #darth vader fic #star wars #star wars x reader #anakin x you #enigma fic #enigma #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x fem reader #anakin x y/n #sw x reader #star wars? #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #anakin imagine #modern au #sw modern au

[chad-chungus]

There is something so appealing about season 4 Hange. 

Like I mean yes, I fell in love with their character practically within moments of meeting them. Seeing them so full of life and comedic in such an unforgiving world as AOT was such a needed breath of fresh air. I think Hange’s character really balances that aspect out and it really draws you into them. Especially their other characteristics; their determination to lead; consistently following their morals; and their want to uncover the secrets of the world they were born into. But when Hange was given their new role as being the commander, their character takes such a drastic change.

They become riddled with the idea of living up to high expectations as a leader like Erwin, but still they continuously accept their responsibilities as commander and took accountability in areas where they felt like they had failed as a leader. They were someone everyone looked towards for the answers. And all through that noise and dreadful thinking, they kept persevering through their depression, their guilt, and their emotionally draining position as commander. As much as it kills me to see Hange unhappy, the added depth to their character and how they develop after Erwin’s death just really excelled my love for them. There is something so raw and genuine about their character I can’t quite describe.

There are so many nuances to their character and I truly do love to pick them apart and dive into their thoughts. Because I think many people can see themselves in Hange - someone who is so weighed down by other peoples expectations that it becomes so draining to keep on going. Some persevere, and some don’t, but Hange did. They followed their morals until the bitter end and held what they believed to be most important close to their heart, they sacrificed their life for their comrades to survive and to uphold their responsibility as commander, and they continuously fought an up hill battle against their burdens and other peoples expectations. Now that is truly inspiring. 

#aot #discussion #aot analysis #hange zoe #character analysis #there is a reason they are my favourite character

[miscfandomwrites]

Mama: Chapter Six

A/N: I’ve started on summaries for the chapters so they don’t run too long, but this should still suffice. School’s doing well, and BSA is kicking up again. I think I can steadily post a chapter of Mama every week, and if I end up having extra time then I’ll post some more. Please keep in mind that I do take commissions and requests! Also, the ending collage is for the reader after her mood switches. I thought It’d fit well for her.  One more thing to clear up: Reader and Reader’s late wife did have Lillith in the service, but they went back as soon into the Marines as soon as they could, for reasons later chapters will explain. 

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of self harm, language, depressive themes, angst

Words: Roughly 1.5k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~~

After helping Wanda clean up, Lillith wanted to help put the workshop together. She’d always worked with me in my other workspaces. Whether it was a garage or an aircraft hanger, she was always around somewhere doing something. 

Almost everyone dissipated for lunch, and as I learned that Lillith already ate I didn’t bother to get any food for myself. I put away the Creedmoor, taking off the bipod and double-checking that it was unloaded. 

Natasha had disappeared, along with Wanda to who-knows-where, leaving just Lillith and I in on the floor. 

“What should we do first?” I asked Lillith, who was currently sitting on one of the benches, going through a box that looked like it consisted mostly of newspapers. 

“Mommie, look” she said softly, holding what looked like a picture frame in her hands.

I did a double take, before gently taking the frame as she held it out to me. It was a photo of my late wife with Lillith and I. We were at the beach, I was holding Lillith and my wife held her phone out to take the photo. We were all smiling. All happy. I turned the frame around, looking at the date etched in the back. 

“When did we get the photo?” 

“Around your third birthday. We went home that night and ate cupcakes.” 

“Was that the time you smashed a cupcake on mama’s head?” She giggled at me. 

I laughed, “Yeah. I told her she was a unicorn. Then she did it right back to me.” 

She kept giggling as I put the photo back into the box, setting the lid upon it. I was shoving it under a bench when I heard Lillith call me over. 

I finished shoving the box away, then turned around to face her. 

“What’s up baby?” I asked. She said nothing, her arms wrapped around herself. She took a deep breath before speaking. 

“I miss mama.” she said softly. Her eyes were glistening, full of unshed tears. I quickly wrapped her in my arms as she started sobbing, holding her close and rubbing my hands over her back. 

“I know baby. I know.” I whispered into her hair, squeezing her tighter. “I miss her too.” 

We stayed like that for a few more minutes, until Lillith started squirming. I let her go, and wiped off the tears on her cheeks. “It’ll be okay.” I told her. She nodded in reply. 

“Ms. (L/N), Ms. Romanoff is heading down here in the elevator.”  JARVIS spoke over the intercom. 

The elevator doors pinged open, and Natasha headed our way, holding a tray. She stopped at the threshold of the main workspace, before saying “I hope I’m not interrupting something.” 

“You’re fine, Nat.” I replied. She walked in, minding the various boxes still on the floor and set the tray next to us. 

“You haven’t eaten lunch yet, so I got some.” She told me. 

“Thank you, Natasha.” I replied. I sometimes forgot to eat or do other important things. I don’t mean too, I just don’t realize it. 

“I’m gonna go bug Uncle Clint.” Lillith said, hopping of the table.

“Punch him for me, will yah?” I called after her as she ran towards the elevators. 

She waved a hand in the air as a sign she heard me. 

I looked back towards Natasha, who was sitting on the table now, removing the lids from the food. It was just sandwiches and some chips, along with a pair of bowls of mixed fruit. 

“You didn’t need to bring me food.” I told her, walking towards the reloading bench. 

“You barely ate your pancakes this morning. As a matter of fact, I have barely seen you eat!” she yelled after me. I shook my head at her, grabbing my coffee cup. 

I walked back over, staring at her as she daintily held a fruit bowl in her hand, a fork in the other. 

She pointed that fork at me, finishing her mouthful of food. 

“You are going to eat. No questions. Eat.” She told me.

I glared at her, but picked up half of my sandwich and took a bite anyway.

“You’re like Barnes and I, and we need to stick together. Well, you’re more like Barnes, but still.” She said as she dug around in her bowl. 

I hummed in response, taking another bite of food. 

We ate in silence for a bit, before my need to occupy myself with something took over. 

I grabbed the box I tossed under a bench earlier, and took another bite of my sandwich as I set it on top of the table across from Natasha. 

I opened the lid and set it next to the box. I finished my sandwich, washing it down with some of my (now cold) coffee. I dusted off my hands, wiping them on my overalls before I went through the box. 

Inside were photos of my wife, Lillith, and some of my time in the Marines. I wanted to toss these out years ago, and now I’m glad I kept them. Even if looking at them dredged up the blackness in me. 

I kept my composure, taking deliberate deep breaths as I took out photo after photo, memory after memory. 

It was like that for nearly ten minutes, and I didn’t notice Natasha taking my fruit bowl and setting it next to me. 

I paused, holding the photo of my wife and I on our wedding day. 

Natasha gently laid a hand on my arm, and I looked over to her. Her eyes held nothing but softness.

“I am here if you need me. Even if you won’t talk to me, I am here.” she spoke softly. 

She nodded towards the food. “Eat.” she told me.

And with that, she left. 

I still stood there, until I reached in and grabbed another photo. It was her...with Lillith. Lillith was only a few months old at the time, and my wife was trying to soothe her to sleep. 

I felt the tears before the sobs hit, painful and shaking my entire body as I sunk down to the floor. 

I held the photo as I sat on the floor, tears hot and heavy running down my face and sobs making it hard to breath. 

“Please.” I whimpered. 

“Please come back to me.” 

I stayed there for several minutes-or hours-and stared at the photos. After awhile the tears stopped, and I was left with the feeling of nothingness that I knew that I could not let Lillith be around. 

I stood up, setting the photo down and collecting all the food back on the tray. I got into the elevator, heading up to the main floor. 

I dropped the tray next to the sink, ignoring Sam’s greeting as I walked towards the gym. 

As soon as the door opened, it started to hit me. The feeling of anger.

I changed quickly, wrapping my hands and heading out, barely having sense to slam my locker shut. 

I immediately went to the punching bags. I calmed my breathing, and let my brain and muscle memory take over. I let my head go empty, hitting the bag again, again, again. 

“Is this normal?” Bucky asked Clint. They were leaning against the second gym floor’s railing, staring at the female who was currently mudering a punching bag.

“As normal as she shit she’s been through. This is her way of coping. It used to be worse.” 

“Worse?”

“Alcohol. Self harm. I don’t know about the last part, if it’s still happening or not. Everytime I ask her about it she almost rips my head off.”

“It’s private stuff, even for you, Clint.” 

“I know. I'm just worried.”

“I’ve only read about her, but I know that half of the things she’s gone through-especially for being as young as she is-is something that not even Steve and I can compare too.”

“She’s something.” 

“She’s strong.”

Clint nodded his head in agreement, before leaving the floor. Barnes stayed a bit and watched her, her shoulders heaving up and down as she took deep breaths to steady herself as she paused for a second, letting the bag go still. 

Then, she got back into her fighting stance, and kept going at it.

Bucky shook his head, wondering if she’d still be there by the time dinner was ready.

~

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Again. Again. Again. No. No. No. NO. NO!

I stopped, taking a breath as memories kept flooding back to me. I was angry, angry that she left. I knew I couldn’t have prevented it, but that did nothing to the anger that raged inside of me. I hit the bag. Again. Again. Again. Thinking about the fact that she got ripped away from me so quickly. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. 

I deserved a better goodbye. 

#avengers x reader #miscfandomwrites #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #mama #marvel #marvel x reader #natasha x reader

[i-myeoni-blogs]

THE CREEPY BOOK GIRL

Pairing - Non-Idol Hongjoong x Reader x Non- Idol Yeosang

Word Count - 2599

Warning - Break down, depression, illusion, emotional transport, hurt, heartbreak

Genre - Angst, Delusional Reader, For general audience

Summary - She wanted him to stay but he was slipping off her mind. When you had your world properly constructed, it came crashing down with twice the pain and hurt. But what if he's not actually gone?

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

He was leaving, not just for a few days like he used to, but for good. Slowly slipping away from Y/N's life, Matz, her strongest support and unwavering pillar, was leaving, and for reasons she couldn't fathom or maybe she didn’t want to. He insisted it was the right thing to do, but Y/N longed for him to stay. Desperation filled her as she clutched his neat white collars, attempting to halt his departure. Perhaps, if she held onto him tightly enough, he wouldn't go. However, Matz managed a painful smile and delicately wrapped his fingers around her wrists.

"Don't cry, princess. I hate it when you cry, I don't want this either.”

"Then, don't leave," Y/N's voice barely audible, tugged at Matz's heartstrings as she pleaded for him to stay.

“You have no idea how badly I wish I could stay with you, but it's not possible," Matz whispered, gently moving a palm to cup Y/N's face.

“Why not, be with me like you had been always?”

"That's not how it works, pretty. Even if I wanted to, I can't stay here with you," he explained, softly stroking her cheeks as if she were a delicate, fragile thing that might shatter if he wasn't careful. "You know, when I first saw you, I just wanted to keep you to myself in this library, your library. You accepted me no matter what, welcomed me into your heart. But now I’m slipping out of your mind, I’m not sure how long I'll stay there, but I can't stay with you."

As the realization of their impending separation settled in, the library, once a haven for their shared moments, now echoed with the silence of goodbye.

Y/N remained silent, not uttering a word. She simply sat there in hushed stillness, gazing into his eyes. Within them, she caught the shimmering reflection of the crackling fire in the nearby fireplace, casting a gentle radiance upon their shared space. As she held onto the quiet moment, she attempted to etch his image into her memory – the contours of his face, the distinctive nose, and the strands of his beautiful hair that gracefully framed his features.

No matter how peculiar it might have seemed to others, she cherished the way he consistently dressed himself in a suit, whether it was day or night. His fingers adorned with a simple silver ring became a source of comfort for her, a small, tangible connection. She often found herself idly toying with it, a ritual that brought a subtle ease.

His distinct features and the almost otherworldly, angelic glow he emitted were things she found hard to believe at times. Amid their shared silence, a wave of sadness swept over her. The familiar details that once brought Matz now carried a bittersweet weight, an intense reminder of him slipping away.

"Look at me," Matz gently raised her face to meet his gaze, the one she usually kept hidden behind glasses. Her eyes held a world of emotion that he cherished, as if they carried the weight of the entire universe. "I wish I could wrap you in my arms, feel your warmth, and share a love that lasts forever, but I can't. I long to be yours and have you as mine. The sound of your infectious laughter, the sparkle in your eyes, the way your hair danced in the breeze—they're all etched in my mind like memories from a bygone era. Yet, destiny has other plans for us. The moments we shared are confined to the pages of the past.

Your genuine smile tugs at my heart, making me imagine a life we could build together. Unfortunately, things can't work out for us. It hurts to admit that I can't give you the happiness you should have. You're worth more than just existing in the limits of these pages; you deserve something authentic, something real." Matz sighed, a heavy feeling in his chest as he accepted that they had to part ways. The unspoken sadness stayed in the air, like the echo of a sad song that couldn't find its end.

Matz gazed at Yeosang, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “Yeosang is the right person for you. He'll always be there for you; offering the love and support you deserve. He's ready to cherish and love you in ways I cannot. It's strange how I felt a bit jealous when I sensed Yeosang getting closer to taking my place in your thoughts. Now, I get it – he's the one who truly complements you, not me. He's the one who should have you, not me. I love you deeply, my princess, more than I can express in words. I wished so much for our story to be real, for us to exist in the tangible world. But how can it be real when I'm just a creation of your imagination? How can it be true when I'm not even real? A character in the novel of your thoughts, unable to break free into the reality I yearned for. But the cruelest irony lies in the fact that I am a shadow, as much as I long for it, our love can never be more than the beautiful illusion it is.”

"What do you mean, Matzy?" Y/N asked, tears streaming down her face.

Matz took a deep breath and gently held her face, their foreheads touching. "I hate to say this, my love, but the beautiful story that we created for the past 10 years is a dream. And it's not fair for me to keep you trapped in these pages. You deserve a fantastic life, and I can't give that to you. I've held onto you for too long; it's time for me to release my grip. It's time for you to move on, Y/N. Please, allow me to go. Please.”

"No," Y/N whispered, clinging tightly to Matz's collar. Her heart ached with the weight of his words.

"Please, allow me to go," He whispered quietly, slowly disappearing like a distant memory, leaving Y/N holding onto just a book. Her sobs resonated in the emptiness as she tearfully bid farewell to the once-beautiful world she inhabited. In a methodical manner, she tore pages from the book, letting them drift into the fireplace while expressing her grief through anguished screams.

Each tear marked the removal of the shared moments with Matz, erasing his presence from her life. The flames devoured the remnants of their story, turning his existence into ashes. She observed with pain as the pages turned to ash in the fireplace, fulfilling Matz's wishes. Eventually, she surrendered to despair, releasing the final remnants of her feelings for him.

Her eyes filled with tears until she couldn't see clearly, and she crumpled under the weight of sadness. Even though she felt crushed by sorrow, she never actually fell to the ground. Yeosang, who saw Y/N releasing her love, gently pulled her close, holding her in his arms and taking her to a more comforting place. Y/N had to make a tough choice, and Yeosang understood that. He promised to never let her get lost in her own illusions. He vowed to keep her safe.

It's been a year since that tough time when Y/N had to say farewell to her first love, whom she cherished for a decade. Moving on to a new life without Matz was a real challenge. Being alone was hard, but Yeosang did his best to keep her safe.

Y/N went through therapies for a few months, crying at night over the love she had lost. With multiple sessions, medication, and constant support from Yeosang, she slowly began to heal. After eight tough months of rehab, she finally started to let go.

She kept reading new books and stories, mostly written by Yeosang. Maybe it was because of that one incident that happened recently, still vivid in her memory. Panic set in as she desperately searched for Matz everywhere, calling his name with no response. Yeosang, who had just intended to visit her, discovered her in a terrible state. He abandoned everything to hold her, attempting to offer comfort. However, she cried loudly, flailing her arms to escape his embrace.

Yeosang, patient and gentle, took control, firmly holding Y/N's shoulders to make her look at him. His eyes betrayed fatigue and pain; all he wanted was to provide Y/N with the comfort she once had with Matz, but he was failing.

"I’m forgetting him, Yeosang. I don’t remember how he looks anymore," Y/N cried and whispered. It shattered Yeosang's heart to witness her in such agony.

The memory of Matz was fading from her mind, the world she had constructed within her head crumbling. Yeosang found himself in a state of turmoil.

On one hand, he was relieved that Y/N was emerging from her emotional transportation and the world of illusion. On the other hand, he felt a deep sadness observing her shattered state – her swollen, red eyes, unkempt hair, and malnourished appearance. She seemed caught in a cycle of self-inflicted pain.

"Y/N, please, hear me out," he spoke gently, his own eyes filled with tears, but she remained silent, tears flowing down her face. Yeosang tried to console her with kind words, but she stayed unresponsive.

"Yeosang, I'm forgetting him. I can't recall his face, his voice, or how he felt. Why, Yeosang?" Y/N cried, questioning. Yet, how could Yeosang respond when the person she spoke of never truly existed?

He gently let go of Y/N's shoulders and hurriedly pulled out some papers from his bag, resembling a rough draft. Silently, he handed them to Y/N, pain evident in his eyes. Yeosang, in every way, was beautiful, with a birthmark on the right side of his head adding to his charm.

Then, he spoke, "Y/N, I can't bring back what you've lost. I know Matz was your solace, your escape from the harsh realities of this world. I can't change the world, but I promise to run away with you, to shape the world as you desire. I'll stand by you as your support forever, even if it means living with Matz's memory. I will." Y/N stopped crying and looked at him intensely, as if etching his face into her memory.

As Y/N gazed at him, she could feel the pain within him. Yeosang had been by her side since the difficult incident, never leaving her alone. Even during moments of overwhelming fear, he clung to her as if his life depended on it.

Inside, Y/N blamed herself for not realizing Yeosang's kindness. Why hadn't she valued the efforts he had made over the past five months? Maybe she had been too focused on Matz, but Matz had encouraged her to find her Matz.

"But Y/N, all I want is a chance. Let me be in your world, let me be the one to protect you. I want to be the person you see every day, the one who becomes a part of your story and helps create our own. I want you to remember my face when you read again." His voice carried a silent plea, begging for her to say yes, and Y/N could sense that. She didn't know if her happiness was with Yeosang, but she nodded, desperate to give a face to her soulmate.

"Will you read to me every day?" Y/N asked softly, her voice slightly rough from crying, as she gently touched Yeosang’s features. A faint discoloration on her ring finger was visible, a mark left from keeping the tied thread that she had called the ring Matz had given her.

The thread was gone, but the mark remained. Yeosang looked up, searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation in Y/N's eyes. Finding none, he nodded slowly, offering a brief smile, and tenderly embraced her in a comforting hug that conveyed, "I'll always be here for you."

Now, they walked quietly along the pedestrian path, Y/N cherishing the peaceful silence with Yeosang. He was different—quiet, yet his gaze suggested a willingness to navigate whatever connection they shared. Y/N responded with equal enthusiasm, her ring finger adorned with a beautiful band with Yeosang and her initials.

Gradually, memories of Matz became a distant echo, a cherished relic tucked away in Y/N's mental keepsake box. She found happiness and looked animated, even drawing people to her library who appreciated her newfound vibrancy. True to his word, Yeosang read her his own stories every night, holding her close as she drifted off to sleep, comforted by his presence.

Y/N seemed to be moving forward. She had created her new world with Yeosang, she gave a face to the soulmate she craved for and he was Yeosang.

But for how long?

"What's on your mind?" Y/N inquired as they strolled together, holding hands. Yeosang grinned to himself and chuckled before gazing at Y/N.

"I was thinking about our next date."

"Yeosang, our first date isn't over yet."

"I know, but I keep pondering about us all the time." Yeosang shared, gently squeezing Y/N's hand. A warm blush colored both of their cheeks. "Alright, what do you feel like having for dinner? Maybe some chicken?" Yeosang suggested, scanning the endless street. However, he received no response; they had slowed down. Perplexed, he turned to find Y/N in a state of shock, gazing ahead and walking with a slow pace.

Y/N gazed at a man along the sidewalk carrying a guitar on his back, handing out flyers and shouting, "Come to our show, it's tonight." Yeosang noticed Y/N frozen in shock, stopping in her tracks. She simply stared at the man, her eyes welling up with tears. Unsure of what to do, Yeosang stood in front of her, gently taking both her hands and asked, "What happened?"

"Matz," Y/N uttered, a name unheard for the past eight months. It was a name Yeosang never expected to hear again, but he was wrong. As the words left her lips, Yeosang's heart shattered. He had worked hard to help her move on, but now it seemed they were back to where they started.

"Y/N, Matz wasn't real. He isn't here," Yeosang insisted with determination.

"Yeosang, Matz…" Y/N said, pointing at the man who now looked back at them with a puzzled expression. Yeosang felt helpless; Y/N was calling a random man Matz. What was he supposed to do when he had never seen Matz before? It was merely Y/N's imagination. Lost in his thoughts, the man approached them, extending a pamphlet. Y/N stared at him intently but remained silent.

"Come to our concert tonight, it's happening in the nearby park," the man said with a smile. Y/N recognized that smile—it was Matz's. Same face, same voice, same smile. How was this possible?

"We'd appreciate it," Yeosang said, taking the pamphlet and leading Y/N away. She allowed herself to be pulled, glancing back one last time. No, she couldn't be mistaken. It was him, her Matz.

The man continued to stare at her with a puzzled expression. A taller man joined him, noticing Y/N's reaction. "Who was she?" he asked.

"I don't know. She just kept staring at me, so I gave them the pamphlet," the man replied, chuckling sadly.

"Weird people," the taller man mumbled, sporting a tattoo on his neck. Turning to a group of passing teenagers, he invited them to the show. "Hey, come to our performance tonight. We'll rock the metals."

Curious, a boy took the pamphlet. "By what name do you guys go?"

"We are Matz," they said in unison.

#creative writing #my writing #writersofinstagram #short story #love story #betrayal #literature #hongjoong #park seonghwa #atz #ateez #yeosang #jongho #kpop fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3fic #love #books #illusion #freedom of mind #life goes on #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x reader #yeosang x reader

[sonofanumbranwitch]

How Bayonetta Inspires My Craft: Dancing, Fighting, and Physical Fitness.

I get writers block a lot which is why it’s taken me so long to make to this next post talking about my craft. Today I’m going to be discussing what not a lot of people may think about when it comes to witchcraft, physical fitness and exercise. When it comes to typical topics of witchcraft the focus tends to be on the metaphysical, and the spiritual. But I have always found that taken care of my physical body has always been paramount to how I conduct my craft.

There is a direct link between the health of our physical bodies and our own mental well-being. Regular exercise release endorphins which help to power our minds and can help with the negative effects of mental illnesses like depression and anxiety. And I’ve found that those effects are even more effective when I incorporate aspects of the craft into my exercise routine. And a lot of that, again, is thanks to our girl Bayonetta

Bayonetta is pretty unique in the world of pop-culture when it comes to depictions of witches. Most witches, and magic users in general, are portrayed as scholarly types. They use their magic from a distance and focus on increasing their knowledge base of magic over prioritizing their physical bodies. But Bayonetta takes this trend and stomps it into the dirt by being a magical witch who is also a brawler. While her guns are capable of doing damage from a distance her primary form of fighting is through kicking and punching. And she does this with such style it almost appears as if she’s dancing on the battle field.

Dancing has a lot of relation to spiritual practice in many cultures. And dance movement therapy has been formally recognized as a therapeutic practice since the 1940’s.  Many cultures practice spiritual dancing for prominent life events such as the mourning dances practiced by the Yolngu people of northern Australia. Dance can be an emotional release when words fail us. Allowing ourselves to be lost in movement and to embrace our bodies moving in a way that we don’t usually let them.

One of my favorite ways to exercise is just to blast Bayonetta’s soundtrack and just dance. And recently I’ve been wanting to sign of for a pole fitness class (unfortunately there are none even remotely in my area).  Bayonetta’s pole dancing is empowering because it’s something she choices to do for herself in much the same way that many more people are picking up pole fitness as a form of healthy living and body positivity.

But Bayo isn’t just a dancer, she’s a fighter. This is actually where she inspires me in my fitness journey the most as I’m a martial artist myself. I’m currently first degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do and Bayonetta was a huge inspiration for me reaching this point. Bayo’s fighting style is a heavy mix of powerful punches and kicks much like Tae Kwon Do. And whenever I was feeling depressed or frustrated during my training, watching the beautiful way Bayo moved helped me to stay motivated. My journey to being a black belt was actually very challenging as I was moving around a lot during this time. I had to find new schools every time I moved and often had to start back from white belt under that school’s system. But Bayo kept me inspired to keep going, and Moon River, and Fly Me To the Moon are some of my favorite training tracks to this day.

Now while we never see Bayo practicing this form of exercise really per say, I would be remised if I didn’t bring up this exercise in a post talking about my craft. I’m currently in the process of getting certified as a yoga instructor. Yoga has so many ties to the metaphysical and spiritual that I could literally do a whole post talking about all it encompasses.

I’ve developed a lot of my own spiritual practices around my yoga practice. The highlights for me as far as my practice is how yoga has helped me with my flexibility training. I’m still working on my splits training and yoga with its use of stretching helps to open the body. I do a lot of yin yoga witch consists of a lot of long held deep stretches. It’s the slow and healing that balances my martial arts practice’s fast a destructive. I also love to do balance work like handstands because balancing forces you to ground yourself in the current moment. Yoga helps me find balance in my craft between the nurturing and restorative with the defensive and loud aspects of my craft.

And all of this is wrapped in how I see bayonetta as a character. She is someone who is power exceptionally powerfully, but she is not without her softer side. She can come off as imposing because of her strength and the air of confidence she carries herself with. But she has shown to be nurturing and protective of those who need it. She has shown moments of vulnerability, but remains resolute through out her trials. She encompasses all I want to have in my own self-image. That balance of the strong with the soft.

#witch #witchcraft #witches #coven #bayonetta #mystical #withcblr #yoga #martial arts #dance #taekwondo #my muse #satanic witch #male witch #gay witch #pole fitness

[thehealingplum]

Stress and trauma can and will fuck up your view of the world.

I have depression and anxiety. Mental illness, substance abuse, and trauma run rampant in my family.

I was mainly just. Consistently sad. I tried my best to have fun and enjoy life, but I had my parents telling me I was doing everything wrong. I was confused and they kept telling me that family is all I should trust, despite both of them having poor relationships with their family. So despite my efforts to build relationships, there was an underlying feeling of "they probably hate me because that's just how people are" because that's how I was raised.

The only way I was able to get away from that mindset was to cut my parents off. Both of them had bad habits of manipulation. Both of them were alcoholic. Both of them were condescending. Both of them held past mistakes over my head.

When the pandemic hit, I had less exposure to the outside world. Meaning I was left with my dad and his wife. Thankfully I spent a whole lot less time talking to my mother but still. All of them were there. In my head. Messing with my perception of the world. Along with the shitty Christian radio station that made a lot of hurtful statements about lgbtq folks and us younger generations. They broke me down. I was surrounded by negative feelings and all I could do was absorb it.

With no proper outlets I just leaned on friends and acquaintances constantly to the point of craving their validation. Anyone who paid attention to me. Anyone that allowed me to be myself. I wanted to make sure they'd be in my life forever.

This caused people pleasing. Keeping the peace. Constantly asking if people thought I was an okay friend. Constantly talking about how worried I was about how people felt about me. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. I didn't realize how stressful it was until it was too late.

I'm rambling now but. I guess I just like to tell people about my personal struggles cuz I don't want people to have to go through the same hurt.

Be kind to one another. Try to keep encouraging each other. You don't know what people are going through. They could be completely broken because of a shitty family or an awful job.

I'm not saying completely sacrifice your own time and sense of self for someone. I did that and I fell apart.

Just. Do your best to be kind to people. No harassment. No malicious intent. Live a life of love.

#thinking aloud #these rambles are a sign that i should go the fuck to sleep

[slyvieselkie]

Johnny Depp - Bad Boy Cliche

Hi Lovelies! This is my first posting on Tumblr and the first addition of my Cliche series with real life actors. Hope you enjoy!

This work is purely fictional. Please take it with a grain of salt and as a form of entertainment.

Warning; alcohol abuse and implicit drug abuse, violence, depression, please notify me if there are more

Johnny Depp was a bad boy.

The whole world knew this and so did you. And you as a small actress receiving her first roll on the big screen wanted nothing to do with it. Even if the role was just a minor reoccuring character. Your plan was to interact with him if necessary, and get the fuck away when it wasn't.

So you walked onto the set for the first time and bounced about with energy, giving everything your best shot. Immediately matching with Leonardo Dicapro, or Leo as he told you to call him, the two of you always enjoyed yourselves with games and pranks behind the camera. Leo reminded you of a comforting younger brother, there was something homely about this innocent boy that just melted your heart. However, he was still a boy, and a mischievous one he was. And sometimes it influenced you as well, the supposed goody two shoes of the cast. Sometimes, the staff loved you two and other times you guys were the biggest pains in the butt. But oh well, you two were still youngsters and it was nothing they couldn't handle.

You and Leo were crouching in the dirt, in the middle of arguing about norts and crosses when a shadow towered over you.

Confused, your eyes turned up to the figure. And you sucked in a breath speechless. Standing there was a gorgeous man; long pale locks illuminated by the sun on his back, deep eyes, and such gentle features. 'Woah', was all you could think and held yourself back from saying anything stupid aloud.

Then his eyes hardened, "Shut up, dumb brats", and suddenly your heart eyes shattered, "What?", you asked mouth slowly turning to a sneer.

Leo then jumped up, "Sorry Johnny!", the older boy scoffed and walked off, "Whatever."

You glare at his parting figure and began stabbing the dirt with your stick, pissed off that a bastard like him could be so handsome, 'I hate this world, so fucking unfair.'

"What the hell's wrong with him this time? Or is he just consistently an asshole?", the blonde boy beside you shrugged, "Who knows? But at least he's not causing trouble for us."

Johnny Depp wasn't too different from his character in 'Cry-Baby', he was a real bad boy. He had a temper which sometimes led to a physical outburst, he was snarky, he was always too touchy with the other female actresses, there was always a scent of alcohol lingering around him, and no one would be shocked if more was happening in his hotel room.

As you promised yourself, you kept away from him. Interacted with him when needed and stayed away from him the most you could. You stuck to Leo and a small group of extras, wishing the simple days would last forever.

Yet, every time you saw Johnny...there was something about him which always caught your attention and eyes. Was it the mask that he wore? Or the turmoil in his eyes? The way anger radiated off of his figure? Or the way the atmosphere fell whenever he appeared? You liked to watch him, especially while he was acting. He truly embodied the emotions of the 'Gilbert Grape', every joyous moment and every painful part.

"Gah!", everyone turned to the cry and found Leo on the floor, "Hmm?", Johnny who was walking away looked back and clicked his tongue, "Should've gotten out of the way then", your jaws dropped to the ground.

Desperately, you tried to swallow the words but it was impossible by now, "Hey!", your voice rung through the silence and regret instantly attacked your system.

Freezing, the pale brunette turned around with a raised eyebrow, "Hey?", you took a deep breath and walked up to him, "You should've apologised since you were the one who ran into him", Leo immediately jumped up and beamed brightly, "It's all good! I'm perfectly fi-"

Johnny shoved him away and you tensed up as the man towered over you, "Why should I? If he's dumb enough to not move, then he can deal with getting pushed around a little bit", smelling the alcohol on his breath you shook your head calmly, "He would've moved if you'd just as-", "Shut the fuck up, ugly bitch."

Your eyes widened in shock as Leo frowned stepping in front of you, "Johnny-", "Little shitheads like you don't fucking listen unless they get beaten up, don't they?!", suddenly growing aggressive the pale brunette grabbed the younger boy's collar, "Johnny! Hey! Hey!", the panicked staff ran over to intervene as the director massaged his temples.

Finally stable from his insult, you reached out shouting, "Let go of him! He's a fucking child!", "Fuck off, bitch!"

Then there was a dull thud and you grunted falling back onto your bottom, that was followed by a small trickle down your face, "Blood! There's blood!", someone shouted horrified.

Leo and Johnny stopped dead glancing down at you. Watery eyes trembling, you tried to smile pass the swollen red cheek and the small trail of blood from your nose. The blonde screamed your name and knelt down cradling your face, you whisper reassurance in a shaking tone trying to stay calm. Staggering back, Johnny glanced around before running off and muttering to himself. No one cared since they were busy taking care of you.

In about twenty minutes, the doctor in town was finished and smiled softly, "The injury is minor, nosebleeds happen often due to the fragility of the nose. Since the inside of our noses isn't covered with tough skin, the blood vessels can easily be broken and cause bleeding. For the swollen cheek, you have to consistently ice your cheeks and gently massage the area every now and then."

And like that, he was gone.

You turned to the golden puppy beside you and chuckled, "What's with that pouty face?", Leo huff as his invisible ears flopped over, "Why would you interfere? It's not like he would've done anything bad to me", with a warm smile you poked his frown, "Hey, how can an actor spouting such nonsense? Your face is the most important asset, sir. Take care of it."

Leo crossed his arms, "What about you then?", he glared as you sighed and leaned back relaxed, "My situation is different, excuse you. I have four more scenes to film before my job here is basically to have fun and make sure you don't annoy anyone else."

The blonde boy still wasn't satisfied and you rolled your eyes, "Come here, you little stubborn brat", pulling him into a gentle hug you sighed, "Things like this happen all the time, and we as small actors can only deal with it...So make sure to become famous enough that no one can bully you in the future."

He spent the rest of the afternoon with you until his manager dragged him away for his scene, you chuckled waving. 

The rest of the day was easy for you, essentially wasting time in the hotel room. 

Boredly staring up at the ceiling, you massage your cheek and think about the perpetrator. Annoyed your eyes sharpened, 'It’s been several hours since he did this to me and he has the audacity not to visit me?!', you snarled at the ceiling, "That's it! I'm suing that bitch for property damage!"

"Don't bother, it's not like there was any property for me to damage", instantly recognising the dead tone voice you slammed your door open, "Really, then what the hell is this?!"

Johnny winced at the bruise and held out a plastic bag sighing, "Fine fine fine, I'll cover for your plastic surgery costs", you huffed angrily and snatched the bag, "Die in a hole!"

Looking inside your eyes blinked at the bottles and patches, "Pain medicine and swelling patches, I heard from the doctor", the pale brunette glanced away scratching his neck.

A small smile grew on your face, "You’re a fucking asshole you know?", he snorted, "Sure do."

Deep eyes stared at your small injury, "Does it...still hurt?", 'Of course it fucking does', but you giggled and cupped your swollen cheek, "Well, it's better than it looks. After two weeks, I should be back to normal", the older boy nodded and the two of you began to stand there in silence.

Then he cleared his throat, "Well, take care of yourself then...bye", you stared at him for a second before nodding, "Yeah. Thanks for the stuff", "All good."

As you watched him walk away, you whispered realising something, "...He didn't say sorry, that fucker."

A week later and everything returned to usual, in fact things were a little bit better than before. Things meaning Johnny. It seemed that the incident had been a little wake up call to him, he was using less alcohol, acting less grumpy, and overall improved his acting. Everyone was shocked to the core by this transformation. You leaned on your non-swollen cheek watching Johnny and Leo film an emotional scene. The whole crew was enamoured by their skills, this wasn't acting anymore, they were intruding on a family.

"Cut!", the director's voice rang out and he beamed, "Perfect! Perfect work you two!", Leo beamed while Johnny showed a small smile before walking off.

It was during lunch when Leo kept trying to steal your fried chicken that Johnny's manager held out a tabloid mangazine for you two, "Hmm?", your eyes peered down and read the front page.

Your blood ran cold.

'JOHNNY DEPP SEEN BUYING MEDICINE FROM SMALL SHOP IN AUSTIN, IOWA! WORKER SAID HE WAS BUYING FOR A WOMAN! HAS HE ALREADY GOTTEN OVER EX-FIANCE WINONA RYDER?!'. The picture below showed the clothes he was wearing the day he knocked on your door, and the small box he held was also in your room.

"Oh god", they nodded grimly and Leo frowned, "Has Johnny seen this?", the silence answered everything.

"How could they do that?", you whispered horrified and thought of the poor man, "How is he?", "Locked up inside his room. I saw him walk in with a bottle of booze half an hour ago, but he probably has even more inside. He doesn't answer me when I try to talk to him. I have no idea what to do anymore. And it sucks since it seems like he was just starting to get better."

Leo glanced over at you and asked his manager, "What do you want us to do?", "He seems fond of you guys, maybe you two could coax him out?", the blonde raised an eyebrow, "You want us to disturb a drunk Johnny? Do you not remember the last time we did that? Look at her cheek to jog your memories."

Lips pursing you stopped Leo, "Alright, I'll try and see what I can do", eyes popping out Leo jumped up, "Are you crazy? What are you trying to do?! Get a matching bruise on the other cheek?!", you rolled your eyes and held his hand, "I'll be fine. The only one whose getting a bruise is you for that snarky mouth!"

Like that you followed Johnny's manager to the door of death and smiled as they left wishing you luck, 'Alright, let's do this'.

You knocked once, twice, and thrice before calling out, "Hey Johnny? It's me...I saw the magazine, would you like to talk about it?", there was no answer and you frowned, "Johnny, drinking alcohol all day won't help you. Please stop hurting yourself", and you received a growl, "Leave me the fuck alone! I don't wanna hear it!"

Clenching your hands tightly, you called out leaning your hand on the door, "Joh-", but stopped when the door clicked open and slowly moved, 'He left it unlock? Did he forget?'

With a gulp, you pushed the door open further until the dark abyss was revealed and you took a step inside. Immediately, the scent of strong booze attacked your nostrils and your heartbeat began picking up.

"Johnny", the older boy cooped up the corner.

His head snapped to yours and the man staggered up, "You, what the fuck are you doing here?! Who told you to come in here, huh?!", eyes widening you felt paralysed under his cold and insane glare, "I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF!"

And then you screamed as glass scattered against the wall beside you. Terrified, you fell down to your knees and muffled the sob. Leo was right. This was a mistake, this was a terrible mistake and you needed to get out of here. Before there was a repetition of last time, or before something worse happened.

"What would you know?! What would you fucking know?!", your eyes squeezed shut as he stumbled towards you, "Johnny please-", "I hate you, I fucking hate you and everyone in this shitty world! Because of all of you, I lost her!", you gasped as he grabbed your shoulders, "Look at me! Are you happy now?!"

Suddenly everything sounded as if you were underwater, your erratic breath and pounding heart filled your ears. 'What do I do now? Push him away? What if that makes him even more angry?!', tears flowed down your cheeks as you watched the crazy man before you. You realised why you found Johnny so interesting, the "something about him" which caught your eyes was the flickering between Johnny and this beast.

Then there was a sob which didn't come from you, it came from Johnny who sunk to your level and leaned on your shoulder, "I hate everyone so much", it was silent after that.

You continue to stare at the empty space he used to occupy as the drunk man slept on your shoulder, "...Me too, I hate you the most", lips sealed shut to stop your cries from escaping.

Johnny was dragged to an armchair as you began to clean up his room. Your trembling hands picked up the shattered glass, threw all of the bottles on his bed and floor into a trash bag, and cleaned the table free of white powder. Every now and then, you'd have to  take a break to wipe away an astray tear. Soon enough the room was clean and boozy scent was escaped through the open window. Hauling Johnny back to his clean bed, you wiped down his miserable face and placed a glass of water on his night table with some pain killers.

You entered his bathroom to clean your hands and noticed a small cut on the non-swollen cheek. It was little, but still enough for you to break down into tears and bitter laughter. Leo was right, and so were you. You should've stuck to your stupid plan and left Johnny to drown in his sorrow and booze. Why act like a good person now?

Exiting the bathroom, you stared at the dead man on his bed before walking out and closing the door behind you.

Leo was right outside your door, anxiously waiting. He fell silent upon noticing your red eyes, then the boy flared up with anger. Instantly you reached out and tightly wrapped your arms around him, you sighed and hummed softly. The blonde only gritted his teeth and squeeze you to death.

Two days and Johnny was still unseen, the director was getting tired. They had less than ten scenes left to go until the filming would be complete, yet their lead was nowhere to be seen.

You sat in the diner of the hotel eating pasta when a brunette woman approached calling out your name, "Hey! How's it going so far?", you smile confused as she sat down, "Hello? Sorry, do I know you?", she frowned, "Oh? We met at the beginning of filming, you didn't forget me did you?"

Sighing you smile softly, "Sorry it's just so much has happened recently", "Oh no, is everything okay?", the woman frowned and leaned in, "It wasn't anything to do with Johnny, right?", you tensed up and laughed, "No no, Johnny's always off in his own world. He hasn't got time for small actresses like me."

She nodded before asking, "But wasn't he going out to buy medicine for you though?", then her eyebrows wriggled, "Clearly there's something going on between you two, right~?", you gave a smile but faltered, '...It couldn't be', "Hmm? Why would you think it was me?", "Come on, you got injured and then a few hours later Johnny was buying medicine. What a reeeally big coincidence, right?"

'Maybe she isn't', "How's your injury going so far?", you hold your cheek and answer, "It's okay, it was much better than before", the brunette woman glance at your cheek, "So it was the cheek? How did the injury happen, I heard Johnny had something to do with it."

Your suspicion flared up again, "...I'm sorry, how did we met again?", the woman laughed confused, "What? Are you okay?", "Were you an extra? I don't quite remember?", "Yeah, I was an extra-", "For what scenes?", her smile slowly died away, "Just small ones, part of the crowd. Oh, I heard the injury caused quite a big commotion, so what happened in the end?"

The chair creaked as it was pulled out, "I'm sorry, but I need to be leaving", you stand up and grab your stuff when a hand reached out gripping your wrist tightly, "Hey! Where are you going?!", she sighed frustrated and ran fingers through her brunette curls, "God, this fucking bitch."

And your heart dropped. It never feels nice to be called a bitch.

"Oi, are you the little rat the tabloids sent?", both of you turned to see Johnny.

He wore a white button up beneath a brown jacket and blue jeans, and unlike the last you saw him, he wasn't drinking away in misery. There was a small curse from the woman beside you, somehow these two knew each other. Johnny's sharp eyes glanced between the two of you before looking down at your forcefully joined hands. 

His tongue clicked, "I heard from Leo and the others there was a strange woman snooping around, it must be you then", the brunette woman stopped her act and answered curtly, "What of it then? What are you going to do?", he raised an eyebrow before smirking, "Well, you'll find out right now."

Panicked you stepped in between them, "Let's not do anything harmful to each other!", you smile nervously placing your hands on his chest to stop the man, "Okay?", Johnny stared down at you blankly before moving back, "You have one minute before I'm stepping in."

Turning to the tabloid woman, you frowned and she sneered, "What, got a problem with me?", "Yes, I do", you walked up to her until you two were face to face, "I have a problem with you hurting a man who is already beaten. I find you so pathetic that you are willing to prey on a person in their weakest moment. And it's embarrassing the things you will do to achieve a front page for a single day."

Her face scrunched up in anger, "You-", you grew angry remembering Johnny's broken state, "And it's laughable that you're offended by these words when you've destroyed the lives of people who were in need of help", then you reached into her bag and pulled out a voice recorder, "Hey-", "And this, this is a crime."

The woman's stunned eyes then turned to the man right behind you who smirked and mouthed 'Bye bye bitch', she quickly stormed off.

Instantly you let out a big breath and slowly calmed your heart down, "Are you okay?", a gentle voice asked and Johnny moved around to show his worried expression, "Yeah."

Suddenly the pale brunette then pulled away as if he was electrified, "Johnny?", you asked confused and he looked to the ground uncomfortably, "I-I...I'm sorry for what I've done to you, all of it. I have no excuses and I'll take all of your anger, you can punch me or tell that woman everything I've done if it makes you feel better."

A smile spread across your face, "Oh Johnny, even if you were my worst enemy I would never run to the tabloids", he gave a shy laugh, "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't after that speech."

With a giggle you asked softly, "How are you feeling?", he answered sincerely, "I'm working to be better. After that...I really hated myself, but I thought of you. Something clicked inside me, and I just wanted to change. To make sure I won't make the same mistakes", Johnny reached out again but quickly stopped, "Can I?"

You nodded curious to what he would do, then your eyes widened and your breath hitched as Johnny cupped your cheeks and ran his thumbs around your bruise and cut, "Thank you for saving me", he smiled warmly.

"That woman...is around the corner", he chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, she's taking a lot of photos. Want me to destroy her camera?", you break out into a bright laugh, "Please don't", and looked into his mellow eyes, 'Ah, this look...'

Your hands landed over his hands, "Nice to meet you, Johnny", he blinked in shock before chuckling, "Nice to meet you too, girlfriend."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled away but the man wrapped his arms around your shoulders, "Come on, let's go and bully Leo-oww!", "How about we don't do that", you raised an eyebrow when he leaned in and pecked your temple, "Sure, whatever you want", and your face beamed red, 'Lord save me.'

He cackled leading you away. Was this what they meant by bad boy?

#young johnny depp #90s icons #real person fiction #reader insert #angst #fanfiction #gilbert grape #profanity #lengthy

[sanstropfremir]

Why are the theatre/film schools like that? 💀💀💀

In mine most profs were complete idiots. One of them, a well know actor and the president of the Academy at that time, did absolutely nothing in class. He bailed most of the time due to “shootings” and the few days he came we practically did nothing, just some chats with him about his job. To grade us he asked us to write in a paper what we thought we deserved. I kid you not.

Another one, who was a tv producer, was most likely very mentally ill and undiagnosed cause he would have the most random shitty ideas that we had to comply with and a lot of mood-swings. The day of the final exam he came 40 mins late because he was smoking week in front of the back door and then proceeded to give us the weirdest exam ever that kept us a minimum of 3 hours there. We had to make a plan of how to shoot an event and he kept adding snipers, famous people and animals to the mix.

There was one that I deeply hated cause we had 3 classes with him that were practically the same. He was more on the sociology side but did not know at all how to be a professor. His classes consisted of spiting facts and giving 10+ random bibliography per day. I learned nothing and I still have murderous waves every time someone mentions his name.

There was a couple who were married and had the sane vibe of old and way to classical. They were harmless until the end, when we learned that they blocked A LOT OF THINGS to make the space and curriculum better. Like, requesting funding to take a paid intern for their research lab of 3d shit, choosing the one (a friend of mine), signing the contract and then NEVER DO ANYTHING NOR SPEAK WITH THE CHOSEN PERSON. She had to go crying to the dean for a response and even then they were not held accountable. The school employed her as a paid intern in another department to make up for it but the rest never got resolved.

Other profs were alright, just very weird characters. The screenwriter prof was a very funny man but deeply depressed and had us all worried at first hour on Mondays (his Very Bad Day).

And on top of that was The Building™️. You see, ours was made by a very famous architect and it won several awards. Every couple of weeks we had someone taking photos of it. However, it’s the most impractical building ever because it was built as at a museum and not a school. The chairs are absolutely demential. So uncomfortable and very easily breakable BUT they cannot be replaced until 20-30 years from now because they signed a contract with the architect that said so. There is one (or two if your lucky) power plug per class but millions on the corridors. The bathrooms stalls are so narrow that if you want to enter with a bag/backpack you cannot close the door. In fact, some of those doors barely close without anyone inside. The editing rooms have gigantic windows where you cannot block the light so you can’t see shit on the computers. Well, windows are a thing in general. Classrooms have them but only one of them can be open partially with a button and let me tell you it does not help to ventilate properly 🙊. And the doors, boi, most of them had the handle broken so someone was always at risk of getting trapped there. You taught that they would fix this but it’s been more than 6 years since I finished and it’s still the same. There’s a twitter account that posts the shenanigans that are going on and most shit is the same.

So yeah, wild shit is always happening I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️

✨🎥 anon

literally all film/theatre schools are same shit different channel slkdfjsldkjflskdjflskdjflsdjflsdkjf oh i feel you for all of this. most of our profs did actually know what they were talking about thank god, but a lot of them were old bastions and hadn't worked professionally in AGES so they were sooooo out of date to how the scene actually operated in the modern era. we had a couple of real characters and one of which was the director for my thesis show, who was five foot zero inches and thin as a twig, wore leather pants frequently and called everyone 'lovey'. and like i previously said, was somewhere between 65 and 85 and nobody could tell bc she occasionally went to switzerland to have some crazy type of botox done to her face. we did have potentially maybe two sexual abusers?? i never got confirmation on any of it bc it was kept sooo tightly under wraps but in one case i'm not sure if there was any evidence brought forward (he was just a regular abuser though, that guy fucking SUCKED), and the other guy i only found out about from a former student bc the whole thing got swept under the rug bc his wife ALSO worked in the department. also the whole staff was like. so racist. the year after i left one of the shows that went up to committee for season suggestion was a show written in the 70s that had a bunch of racial slurs in it (and no people of colour in the script) and almost the entire student body put a petition up to remove it from selection but the director wouldn't stand down so they did it anyways 💀💀💀 i was fucking glad i was out of that hellhole by that time.

and oh my god the building architecture.....never before have i been so glad that there's no famous architects from anywhere near my hometown bc fuckin YIKES. we had a designated separate building from the rest of campus that was built in the 80s specifically for the theatre department, so we rarely left bc all the rehearsal rooms + class rooms were all in there with the theatres. and almost no non-theatre students came in bc there was only one 'theatre' class that a non-registered theatre major could take, and that was a public speaking class, so every time that class happened once a week we'd all give eyeballs to the lost looking business and sciences majors coming in. also there were signs on like every door that said 'no non theatre personnel beyond this point' (bc the building also had the box office and held audiences for when the shows were running) so anyone who was lost always looked extra lost. plus the whole thing was a huge maze bc there were upper level catwalks and corridors that connected the grid + fly systems between the two theatres, so the techies sometimes would go up to the upper levels and not come down for the entire day.

oh and there was a tradition where if you had sex in the building you would mark the spot with a black 'x'. in my first year we did a show with a big coffin as one of the setpieces and on one of the last nights of the run two of the actors fucked in it

#i literally do not know why they did bc it was not a nice plush coffin. it was literally a plain wood box #and there were a TON of wood shavings inside it so i know someone got splinters in their ass #someone also had sex in the upper level of the costume loft and i have no idea y bc 1) dusty 2) mothballs 3) the floor was a fucking GRATE #OH and two actors fucked on the upper level of the fly tower WHILE a bunch of ppl were still in the theatre. that was funny #i dont actually think this happens anymore it fell a bit out of vogue in my fourth year bc as a year we were so fucking boring #and when i say boring i mean we all were very dedicated to working and were not big partiers #but the year under us was a MESS. but im not sure if they ever got told about the tradition or not #its so nice to know that performing arts schools are always the same no matter what country theyre in lskdjflks #im literally in shock at the one about the three hour exam like what the fuck...?????????? huh?? what???????? #thank fucking god we only had tests in our theatre history classes holy shit #moral of the story: DO NOT GO TO THEATRE SCHOOL #text #answers #non kpop questions #✨🎥 anon

[justanothergaymess]

Every Arcane mystery solved at once

So I’ve been listening to the OST of the Netflix show Arcane a bit from time to time on YouTube, there’s some okay stuff in there. And I usually make a huge detour to avoid this fandom, but the algorithm still suggests lore videos to me. And not a few of them have titles like “Why did character X make Y decision? Why did they say/do that? Such a big mystery” and I am here to solve every one of those I have encountered so far at once in one sentence:

It’s because this show’s worldbuilding is a ludicrously overt class allegory and character motivations and actions are consistent with the centrist writing navigating that allegory.

Before I move on, I should mention that this is not to say that Arcane is good or subversive or a revolutionary masterpiece. It’s a mediocre centrist class allegory with nice pacing, a nice animation style, and a decent OST. For all intents and purposes it is entertaining. On high pain days, I just need entertaining mediocre bullshit to keep some of my brain occupied with something else than ouch. And the show neatly does that. Also the show has Shohreh Aghdashloo as a VA and her voice does activate the lesbian happy chemicals in my brain.

What also is important to note is that this show neatly fits into the category of capitalist realism. It is an incredibly marketable class allegory that acknowledges some of the violence of capitalism but concludes that the armed resistance of the proletariat ultimately fuels the violence they face and that if we all just held hands and trusted in the benevolence of the existing power structures everything will be fine in the end. Also I don’t know about the show itself but the IP it is based on is produced by one of the worst companies when it comes to workers’ rights on the games market so there’s that. Anyhow. On to the big fucking mysteries.

1. Silco was offered a seat at the table of power simply in exchange for handing his daughter in to the police. Why didn’t he do that?

Silco is a villain written by centrists that fulfills, within the class allegory, the role of a marxist revolutionary leader. He doesn’t want a seat at the capitalist table. He wants to turn that table into firewood. He understands that nothing will change for the people of Zaun simply because he gets to vote in Council decisions. Furthermore he is not the worst dad imaginable and he does love his surrogate daughter somewhat and he hates the cops so there’s that. The show makes this seem like him giving up everything he fought for just for his daughter. This is not the case. He never fought for a pretend recognition of Zaun, he fought to completely erase the power and violence that is Piltover.

2. Why does Jinx say that Vi has changed?

When they were children, Jinx looked up to her big sister as a heroine fighting the people that kept them oppressed, poor, and starving. The people that killed their parents. And for all intents and purposes Violet did that! In a very teen way but still. Post timeskip, however, Vi has changed. She is depressed and traumatized and so convinced that her oppressors can never be removed that she starts working with them out of spite. She cooperates with a Council member to destroy infrastructure used by the Zaunite resistance. She starts falling in love with a cop that is a daughter of some of the most influential capitalists to ever sit on the Council. In a sense, then, Vi and Jinx have comparable trauma that leads them to opposite sides of the revolution.

3. Why does Jinx blow up the Council?

She is a lifelong member of the proletariat, deeply traumatized by growing up in the depths of the undercity. The Council ordered the cops to commit the massacre that killed her biological parents. Her sister, the only living member of her family both found and biological, has decided to assimilate into capitalism and date a cop. She is desperate and alone.

4. Why does Vi say that Cait and her are like oil and water? Why does Vi break up with Cait? Why are the hot women not kissing????

Look. I like it when women kiss each other on the mouth. It has to be one of my favorite things ever. But do you know what happens when you mix oil and water? One floats to the top and one sinks to the bottom. It is a fucking class allegory. Cait is a cop and a capitalist at the same time. Her mother and father have directly influenced and lead the decision that lead to the massacre that killed Vi’s parents. These households are utterly and integrally opposites in dignity. So long as Piltover stands, no matter how much they love each other, the violence that surrounds them will make their interactions fraud. Cait is structurally and by choice part of the oppressor class that oppresses Vi so much. It is a fucking class allegory.

#venting

[shepardsleftboob]

My mom (the only family I had) died, my cat died, and then my mom’s house got burglarized and vandalized

Hi, I’m Yas, I’m a biracial disabled lesbian and my girlfriend got outted, I had to put my cat to sleep, and then my mom died all in the same week. If that wasn’t enough, my birth father tried to hide my moms death from me because I live out of state. I got physically and verbally assaulted at the funeral home by my uncle and my dad refused to help pay for anything because I got my mom cremated like she wanted. When my father and my brother and everyone else realized I was the sole next of kin that was of age and in full control of everything, they started harassing me and sending me death threats, along with my godmother and a bunch of other people. They think there’s some kind of money to be inherited by my mother’s passing, but the sad truth is that we were extremely poor and my moms disability check wasn’t even enough to cover rent, and I had to pay for everything else like groceries and medical bills with my credit card and my only savings.

If that STILL wasn’t enough, as soon as a family friend I had stupidly trusted ratted to my father and brother that I was on my way back to california and was almost there, they broke in and stole anything of value (furniture and TVs I had worked really hard to buy for my mom) and destroyed the place causing upwards of $5,000 in damages, my landlord estimates. I’m going to be held financially responsible for it since my name was still on the lease. The police would not let me make a police report in my home state, so I had to drive 8 hours and make a police report, I had witnesses, my brother even called the landlady (who is willing to testify) and ask her if she could “open the window so he could get in AGAIN and get the wires to the tv and couch he was trying to sell” which was a full confession. The police really aren’t taking it seriously considering when I called to correct some information they told me the detective that’s been assigned to my case was “on vacation”. I had to change my number due to the death threats (police won’t do anything about them, I’m in the process of at least getting a restraining order), and within hours my father sent a “well check” to my door as a subtle way to let me know he still knew where I live.

I already had 5k in credit card debt from taking care of my mom because I couldn’t work anymore, I kept having breakdowns and my body was deteriorating and it seems like I have Crohn’s but I have no insurance to get it treated or checked out. I haven’t even had a second to grieve my mother, who was the most important person in my life and I worked an extremely physically demanding job 50 to 60 hours a week (usually more) for years just to make sure all the bills were paid since I was 15 to make sure she was ok and I was trying to even go back to work and damage my body even further just to save money to move her out here with me when she died. I’m really broken. I’m angry. I’m only 24 and I feel completely alone and any “family” I had left is threatening to kill me over money that doesn’t exist. My girlfriend had to put the $2200 of cremation expenses on her credit card. I’ve had to make 3 separate 8 hour trips so far to my homestate to get this all situated. I lost everything when my mom died and somehow I owe even more after her death. Right now I’m looking at owing a minimum of $12,200 and that’s not counting the gas and expenses of consistently driving and getting everything filed and such. I have severe anxiety, depression, PTSD from the abuse my father put me and my mother through, my body feels like it’s dying every morning I wake up and I just want to give up. I keep having panic attacks and manic episodes. It’s been really hard to hold it together to get all this done. I’m just really struggling, I miss my mom, and everything is adding up and I’m scared that my father and/or brother will try to break into my apartment here.

My mom was a really sweet and open minded person and deserved better than being harassed to death by my dad and brother over a child support case she didn’t even have control over. There’s even more shit to this but I’m not gonna make this post even longer. I’m not even asking for money for a memorial because I just don’t have the money. I have negative money at this point.

If you can spare anything, I would really appreciate it. My PayPal is @jessaminewaters cash app is $YasRose96 and I have a Venmo and zelle too if that’s easier, you can message me if you have any questions. Signal boosts are appreciated ❤️

#just please spread this if you can. if you want me to make a shorter post let me know #I’m sorry if this is long. I don’t know what to say or how to summarize this bc it’s just been blow after blow #I’ve lost 15 lbs since my mom died and I wasn’t that heavy to begin with. I was already in really bad health before this #if it wasn’t for my girlfriend I probably would have just killed myself and been done with it but I wouldn’t do that to her or my friends #I’m just. I’m really torn up. I’m exhausted. the abuse is never ending and it’s like it wasn’t enough for me to just lose my mom #suicide tw

[fawnandshadows]

After The Ceremony - Chapter 1

Hey Guys!

This is the first chapter of a mini Elriel fanfiction that I'm working on. You can also read it on AO3

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony.

Words: 1,847

Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony has long since been over, but Elain couldn’t bring herself to go back to her room. No, Elain had too much restless energy to even attempt to fall asleep tonight, and instead of tossing and turning in her bed all night, she decided she may as well be useful and start to clean up. It took only ten minutes of laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, before silently walking downstairs to the ballroom. Nuala and Cerridwen offered to help her, and Elain knew that they wouldn’t have minded staying up all night to clean with her, but she really just wanted to be alone. So, the twins like everyone else went to bed, and Elain stayed in the ballroom of Feyre and Rhysand’s River House putting herself to use.

There was something about being alone in the middle of the night that just seemed right to Elain, when everyone else was sleeping, she didn’t have to worry about putting on a face for everyone to see. She didn’t have to plaster a smile on her face while her heart was cracking in her chest. It was a test of her resolve today, Elain thought, as she pretended, yet again, that everything was alright. It took everything in Elain, every ounce of will power and restraint, to not break down and cry in the middle of the ballroom as she saw a familiar rose necklace around somebody else's neck.

Elain wanted to cry, scream, and cry some more whenever she looked at Gwyn, or Azriel, or even Mor. Especially Mor, when Elain saw her dancing and smiling with Azriel. It just felt so wrong. It should be Elain wearing his necklace, and it should be Elain in his arms as they spun around the room completely oblivious to everyone else.

After seeing Gwyn wearing her necklace, Elain immediately turned to leave the room because all she wanted was to be alone with her feelings and not worry about someone seeing through her fake smile, but as soon as she turned she caught a glimpse of the sun and a shadow dancing across the floor.

Elain had never seen Mor and Azriel dance together, and she never wanted to, especially when watching them smile at each other ruined whatever was left of her heart. They looked so incredibly beautiful together, and Azriel was smiling down at Mor with a warmth Elain hadn’t seen since the last solstice when she made him laugh. And Mor was smiling up at Azriel with an ease Elain had never noticed between them.

Confusion danced in her chest with every other emotion she was feeling.

Elain was only forced out of her staring from a heavy arm that fell across her shoulders. She blinked and a drunk Cassian appeared in front of her face, a stupid grin strectched across his face that was the result of unadulterated love and copious amounts of wine.

“Dance with me!” Cassian pulled her onto the dance floor, snapping her out of her imminent depression and into a crowded dance floor.

Elain let out a sign and continued sweeping the surprisingly messy floor. It seemed like most of the cake she and the twins had baked for the party ended up on the marble floor somehow, but she supposed that drunken fae couldn’t be expected to be tidy. The full moon illuminated most of the room, but there were still some faelights along the wall that added just enough light for her work. After sweeping, and picking up a surprising amount of glasses from the floor, Elain collected the bouquets from the tables.

It took her months to craft five bouquets for the ceremony, one for Nesta, and four for the women standing beside her. The core of Nesta’s bouquet were red carnations, pink roses, with bursting dahlias. Every bouquet held pink acacia’s - the flower of friendship. Feyre’s bouquet consisted of blooming magnolia’s and eye-catching violets. Her own was made from magnolias, nightshade, and a sprinkle of periwinkles. Emorie’s held vibrant hyacinths with white jasmine, and Gwyn’s bouquet was crafted from lavender, morning glories, oleanders. All the flowers were grown and cultivated by Elain herself, and she felt a shimmer of pride as she looked upon them.

Elain was getting ready to move the bouquets and their vases from the ballroom into the dining room, thinking they would look nice in a room where her family spends most of their time, when a familiar shiver floated down her spine. She didn’t look up as she said, “Hello, Azriel.” She knew he would reveal himself to her.

“It’s late. You should be sleeping.” His deep voice blended in with the night, causing her knees to weaken slightly and her eyelids to relax. What she wouldn’t give to fall asleep with that voice whispering in her ear while his fingers slid against her skin. What she wouldn’t give to stay awake all night with his voice in her ears and his fingers on her skin. Elain lost count of how many times she lost herself in thought as she tried to imagine what his lips would feel like against her throat.

“So should you,” Elain said, turning her body slightly to see him walk further into the room from where he leaned against the doorway. “I thought everyone was asleep. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Do you normally spend your nights cleaning up after drunken fae?” Azriel asked as he approached her. He stood maybe two feet away, but Elain could still feel the warmth radiating off his body. Another shiver made its way down her spine. Her skin felt so sensitive in his presence that it was hard to focus on anything besides him.

“Normally just Cassian,” Elain attempted to joke. Her chest felt slightly lighter as she noticed the twitch of his lips. It was a mistake looking at his lips. Her tongue brushed against her own that suddenly felt dry. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Azriel nodded. No words, no explanation, no attempt at conversation.

“You’re a lovely dancer.” Elain said, unable to stop herself, but she wanted him to know that she noticed him. She wanted him to know that she wished it was her in his arms dancing in front of everyone else.

“Thank you. You didn’t dance much at all.” Azriel noted and Elain felt the warmth of a blush on cheeks.

She gave a small shrug and said, “I was only asked by Cass, Rhys, and Lucien.”

Rhys was the first to offer her a dance, and she loved her brother-in-law too much to say no. Rhys was a lovely dancer, and she fought to keep a smile on her face under his prying eyes. Her dance with Cassian involved mostly her propping him up so that he didn’t collapse on the floor. Her dance was Lucien was non-existent.

“Why didn’t you dance with him?” Azriel asked softly. If it wasn’t the dead of night she wouldn’t have heard it.

“I don’t want to give him false hope,” Elain said, taking a fortifying breath before she continued, “It’s wretched to think you have a chance, a connection, to someone when you don’t.” She prayed to the Mother that Azriel didn’t notice her shaky breath, her racing heart, or how it took all of her bravery to say that.

In the soft glow of the faelights Elain saw a flinch run across Azriels face. It took him a moment longer than usual to school his features into their usual mask, but he couldn’t hide the pain that shimmered in his eyes.

The similarities weren’t lost on Elain. How this night resembled that of the solstice. Azriel and Elain being the only two people awake in the house. Her mate sleeping upstairs. The same crackling excitement rushing through her. The hope that maybe she would finally feel the brush of his lips against hers, and she wouldn’t have to speculate about what he tasted like anymore.

“Elain.” Azriel said her name as if it pained him.

“Why did you do it?” She whispered hotly. “Why did you give my necklace away? Why did you dance with Mor and look at her as if she were the only female in the room?” Before her bravery completely ran out she took a step forward, grabbed his hand, and placed it against her heart. “Did you feel this break tonight?”

His hand was hot against the thin cotton of her nightgown. She could just barely feel the traces of his scars. Elain wished there was nothing between them.

“Because it did,” Elain continued. “It broke every time I looked at you. It broke when I saw the necklace, and it broke when I saw how beautiful you and Mor looked.”

“Elain,” Azriel said, his voice harsh, his hand pressed further into her as if he too wished there was no nightgown separating them. “I want to, but I can’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Elain stared at his churning hazel eyes. She couldn’t help the lonesome tear that slid down her face. She was about to wipe it away when he beat her to it. His large, warm, wonderful hand brushed away her tear before cupping her cheek. Despite the pain that was growing in her chest, she would feel it all again if it meant his skin on hers. She would withstand any pain if it kept them together. “Make me understand.”

“I want to kiss you,” Azriel said. Elain felt each word as it brushed against her face. “I want to rip this nightgown from your body, lay you on the table, spread your legs open and feast until I’m drunk off the taste of you. I want to slide into you until I’m the only thing on your mind, and then I want to bring you so much pleasure you’ll never want to be away from me. And once you found your pleasure, I’d take you upstairs and do it all again. If I ever got a hold on myself I would make love to you the way you deserve.”

Elain, loving the warmth and wetness that flooded her core, felt as if she was about to combust. One tiny spark and she would erupt into flame.

“And why can’t we do that?” Elain asked quietly, as if she were afraid of ruining the moment. As if she were afraid he would slip away from her yet again.

“Rhy’s pulled rank on me.” Azriel replied. The only sign of tension was the muscle that contracted in his jaw. Elain ignored the urge to run her tongue over it.

“Huh?” Elains brain was too hazed with desire to form a proper sentence.

“He forbid it.” Azriel replied, tilting his head forward slightly, and brushing his nose against hers. The breath that floated across her face threatened to knock her over.

“Forbid what?” Elain managed to get out - too absorbed in him to think clearly.

“Us.”

Elain didn’t have time to think about what Azriel said as his lips descended on hers.

#elain archeron #azriel #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar

[spenciegoob]

How to Never Stop Being Sad

A/N: Yes, this is another song inspired fic I am OBSESSED with them. If you’ve listened to how to never stop being sad by dandelion hands, are you okay? If you haven’t and you do because of this I would like to formally apologize. Okay so I started writing this and I just want to say that every single one of you is so beautiful because like wait hold on I’m getting flustered... Anyways, everything about you is beautiful that I just got so overly flustered and hot THINKING about it. Okay that’s all carry on.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer shows Reader how to stop being sad in tiny ways.

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: mentions of depression, loneliness, body image issues and self deprecating thoughts

Word Count: 21K

Masterlist

____

Time has proven that fooling yourself into believing the lies is the most effective way to deal with the things you have no control over.

She sat there, for too long if she was being honest, staring at a reflection that couldn’t have been real. The mirror in her bedroom had to have been replaced with one from a carnival, distorting the image as a sick, twisted joke.

Your thighs are huge.

Your hips are too wide.

Your stretch marks are disgusting.

She had enough, finally letting the tears that welled in her eyes escape, falling down like raindrops on a window as she sat back and rested her head between her knees. She couldn’t bare to see anymore, all the early morning jogs, gym memberships and diet remedies were for nothing. 

Her body had a mind of its own, and she couldn’t control it.

But then her front door clicked as Spencer all too excitedly used his brand new key, expecting to see his girlfriend sitting on the couch he fell in love with her on. The first day she invited him upstairs, the door was opened and his eyes immediately fell to the obscure, bright purple sofa that oddly enough went well with the rest of her simplistic, white furniture. 

“I saw it once at a thrift shop and it was too perfect not to buy it,” she said, noticing the way he was eyeing the couch. He let a smile break across his face, knowing in that moment that he may just be in love.

But she wasn’t there, and when the door clicked shut, she was also made aware of the presence in her home. 

Quickly, she pulled herself off the floor, wiped the tears that accumulated under her eyes and down her cheeks, and avoided looking at the reflection in front of her.

“Y/N? Are you here?” Spencer called from the living room. She knew he was slowly taking steps that he attempted to make as quiet as possible, just in case, towards the hallway that led to her. 

“Uh, y-yeah I’m here. Just a second!” She called back, rushed and stuttering as she looked for the biggest sweatshirt and sweatpants she could find. Deciding on gray sweats and a Caltech sweatshirt, both belonging to Spencer, she took one last look at her face hoping he won’t catch what her previous activities consisted of.

When she walked out of the bedroom, Spencer saw it. He always did.

But what she noticed was the fact Spencer was dressed up, even after stopping home from the office before coming to her. They had a date, and it wasn’t that she forgot, oh no, she remembered clearly, but in her attempts to find something to wear that would be enough, her spiral had begun.

“Come here,” was all Spencer said, opening his arms for her to waltz into, and she did, slowly dragging her fuzzy sock clad feet over to the man in front of her that held both the warmth and answers that she needed.

“I’m sorry, I just... I can’t-”

“I know, it’s okay.” His reassurance calmed the nerves she had for the past hour over if Spencer would be mad that she flaked on a date. “Usually I’m the one to cancel dates. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He wasn’t prying for answers, she knew that, and she also knew that if she said no, Spencer wouldn’t push it. That was the thing about Spencer; he didn’t need to know what was wrong, but he always knew how to fix it.

“Not yet,” she mumbled, her words muffled by his chest that she pressed her face into the moment she had the chance.

Spencer cradled the back of her head, forcing it off his chest softly to gaze down at her with a face full of worry, curiosity, but most importantly, adoration.

“Come on, sweetheart. I wanna try something,” Spencer said before grabbing her hand and leading her to the purple velour couch. He sat down first, pointing away from him with his free hand letting her know he wants her facing away.

The second she sat down, Spencer let go of her hand and replaced both on top of her shoulders.

“Spence, what are you doing?” She giggled slightly when his fingers brushed near her neck. Spencer will never quite get used to how ticklish she was.

“I’m giving you a massage, I could feel how tense your muscles were from across the room.” She knew it was a lie. He also knew it was a lie, but neither had the want to say anything about it. 

His hands caressed her shoulders before moving down to her back, his fingers resting on the sides of her body as his thumbs did all the work. She let her head lean back as a sigh left her body with the tension.

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer whispered just loud enough for them to hear, and even though they were the only two in the room, the admission felt natural as a whisper like if he said it any louder, it may have broken the bubble they were in.

Slowly, she looked down to the left of her, watching Spencer out of her peripherals. The second her eyes started to glisten, he abandoned the massage altogether to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her directly against him.

“I’m sorry I don't know why I’m crying,” she said between gasps for air and soft sobs. Spencer simply shushed her, and held her close to his chest, brushing his fingers through her hair.

He tried to turn her body to face him, but in her stubbornness, she stayed with her back to his chest.

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart.” Spencer put a finger under her chin, delicately lifted her head to lock teary eyes with his loving ones. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world, and I promise to remind you that every day for the rest of my life.”

And Spencer Reid kept his promise.

Keep listening to the mixtapes they made you, overanalyze every single word you hear. "Was this a sign that things were going wrong?" No no, you were the one that cared too hard, not them.

The couple had impulsively decided to spend their two free days together in an impromptu vacation to New York City. Spencer never actually cared for the city, but when he watched the way she lit up as she suggested they go “be one with the New Yorkers,” how could he say no?

That’s how he found himself in the passenger seat of her broken down Volkswagen beetle listening to her sing along to the words of a song he’s never heard. Most of the songs she’s played so far he hasn’t known, but after watching her get lost in music she has no shame in showing she loves, he knows every line.

And when the song changes, his ears perk up because he knows this song. Spencer is aware that it doesn’t quite conventionally fit in his usual music library, but nonetheless, it’s adored just the same as Beethoven or Bach.

But then the channel is changed, the force used to push the button on the radio much stronger than needed. It was quiet for a second before Spencer spoke up.

“Are you okay?” It was simply put enough that if something was wrong, which evidently there was, she wouldn’t feel interrogated about it, only comforted.

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s cool,” she said in what could be the most unbelievable faux cheerfulness Spencer had ever heard. “That song just brings up some bad memories.”

“Oh,” Spencer whispered. When it didn’t look like she was going to elaborate, he continued. “Do you want better ones?”

“What?” She took her eyes off the road to look at Spencer like what he just asked was absolutely preposterous. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he changed the station on the radio back. Time was on Spencer’s side this morning, because the peak of the song was about to play once he settled back.

She's a, she's a lady, and I am just a Line Without a Hook

BABY, I AM A WRECK WHEN I’M WITHOUT YOU

Spencer loudly sang along to the words, throwing his head back as he yelled and using his hands as he sang. She looked over at him with wide eyes that slowly shrunk as her smile grew.

The ice the song caused to freeze over her mind and heart slowly melted from the warmth Spencer’s love spread. Together, they sang the rest of the song, and when it was over, she still had a smile on her face.

“You’re a terrible singer, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

Stay up every single night staring at your phone either attempting to gather up the courage to turn these demons, these constant reminders of your loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream, or praying just for one second you could feel the warmth of equally returned love.

There are many reasons one doesn’t answer their phone.

She could be on the phone with another person, but no that’s not possible. Her hatred for speaking over the phone ensued she never answered anyone but him.

Maybe her battery died, but that would mean she didn’t charge it overnight. Spencer watched her plug it in around midnight, even after he’s told her the dangers of doing that.

His mind unfortunately went to a darker place, because what he didn’t know was that hers did too.

She had watched her phone on her dresser vibrate insistently all three times until it fell to the floor with a deafening crash. She hoped that it didn’t crack, but that hope wasn’t strong enough to get her out of bed to check. 

Spencer in his panic never expected to walk into her apartment to find everything in its place. Her car keys sat where they always did, in the bowl by the front door. The boots she usually found an excuse to wear with everything were sitting where she struggled every day to get them off by the couch, and there wasn’t a single sign of a struggle.

And then he walked into her bedroom to check one last time before he called Garcia, and while he found signs of a struggle, it wasn’t the one he was dreading.

It was the one she was.

They made eye contact the second the door opened, and upon seeing her safe, Spencer bit back a sigh of relief. There was no relief flooding his veins when the sadness in her eyes traveled to his, creating a sick equilibrium.

Spencer’s mind no longer cared about the missed phone calls, there were more important matters at hand.

“Hi, sweet girl,” was all he said as he shuffled into the room. “I got to go home early today, so I was thinking I could cook dinner for us.” Spencer had started to pick up thrown clothes off the floor, securing them in the dirty hamper. He was about to start putting books back on her bookshelf when she called out.

“Spencer.” It was only a whisper, because anything louder would’ve been too much work.

“I know, I know. My cooking skills aren’t the greatest bu-”

“Spencer,” she said again, much louder this time, even if it was just a hoarse excuse of his name.

He turned to her this time, stopping his cleaning. She had sat up only slightly to catch his eye. Regret filled her veins when they met, but upon gazing into pools of honey that held no pity, but an understanding, it melted.

“What are you doing?”

Instead of truly answering the question, Spencer held up the books that were in his hands. “Do you organize by last name?” When she just gawked at him, he continued, “We’ll do last name.”

She had no energy to fight him, he was right about the last name at least. Instead, she just watched him organize the book shelf in record speed, her mind clearing the fog that laid dangerously close to her thoughts.

When Spencer picked up the last book to be put away, she called for him again.

“Can you read that one to me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Go out for coffee four times a week by yourself, always bring your notebook, never stop writing. Leave little comics and thank you notes with your tip, watch them smile as you get in your car.

She always sat alone. It was the first thing Spencer noticed about her because he too enjoyed his coffee at a table with only one chair. He would watch her every day when he got the chance to go to this cafe, so much so that his brain associated her with the place. The small mismatched couches that gave it a homey feel would always remind him of her, even if she were not sitting on them.

Who she was? Spencer did not know, but he was going to make it his mission to find out.

He always sat alone. A man like that, one with features perfectly sculpted, and an aura of comfortability so strong she didn’t have to follow the jingle of the bells on top of the door to know it was him who entered. She would look up from her notepad filled with doodles of everyone who walked by her, and comments about the day. He would always be reading, it being a new book each time. 

One day when she looked up at him, wondering what he could possibly be reading now, their eyes met. She felt herself get lost in his eyes, like running through a forest, charting unknown territory carefree with no reason to turn back. Everything about him was so soft that she feared if he came any closer to her jagged thoughts, he may find himself ripped to shreds.

For the first time in Spencer’s life, his mind seized its constant running, the relief so strong he felt his limbs follow suit. She had paralyzed him with her stare, green meeting honey, mind numb except for the begging to get up and introduce himself.

In all the times he watched her, Spencer had never seen her smile until that moment. If there was any doubt that he shouldn’t talk to her, it was quickly washed away with the realization he would stop at nothing to see it again.

“Uh hi, I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.” When she looked up at him from where she went back to writing, his heart faltered. Her gaze was so cathartic that it leaves his brain fuzzy and his heart giddy.

Spencer never believed in a god, but if there was one, she was sitting in front of him.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Giddy and fuzzy.

When his phone rings, Spencer swore whoever dared interrupt the moment he’s been dreaming of every night for 4 months was going to feel a wrath unparalleled. He reached into his pocket, and upon reading ‘Hotchner’ in bold letters, his face fell. 

“It’s okay. We’ll see each other again,” she reassured him before he had the chance to queue her in on his need to leave. She just knew, the same way she knew it wasn’t going to be the last time she saw his face.

“Until then.”

“Until then.” She smiled as she watched him leave, and once the door shut behind him, she returned to her notebook. The smile never left.

Talk down on yourself whenever possible; my life is shit because I deserve it, right? You must have done something real bad, it’s nearly impossible for you to cry now.

It was always the little moments that Spencer let it slide. When he brought her coffee on the off chance he found a free day, and surrounded by her appreciation for his kindness was a mumbled ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he let it go. 

The time they walked by a small boutique, and a dress in the window caught her eye. It was short, purple silk loosely hanging off the collarbone of the mannequin, only to tighten at the waist. 

“I couldn’t imagine wearing something like that,” she told Spencer before the two continued to walk. He could.

Spencer thought she would look rather beautiful in it.

And now, they sat on her purple couch while Spencer attempted to pay attention to the TV show she was binging. He kept all his comments to himself, she liked to talk about what they watched after, and he vowed that this time, Spencer would actively participate in the conversation.

But when he looked down at the girl laying in his lap, he found she was no longer following the storyline, and instead looked a million lightyears away.

“Hey.” Her attention snapped to him instantly. “Where'd you go just now?”

“I was just thinking about you,” she admitted. Looking away she continued. “About us.”

She didn’t continue with that thought, but with the sadness that filled her voice, Spencer knew there was more than what she was letting on. He also knew that if she really wanted to share her demons with him, letting them dance circles around them in the dark until the sun came up, she would release them. So instead, he tried to shoo them away.

“You know I love you, right?” If reassurance was what she needed, he would be more than happy to grant her that.

“Why?” She whispered back, so softly that Spencer could’ve missed the way the room no longer just held the two of them. She could not find a singular thing she loved about herself in that moment, so what was Spencer actually seeing?

Spencer sat with that question for a moment.

“You make me smile, even when you’re not with me. When I’m away, thinking about you is the highlight of my day. You’re beautiful, it kind of knocks me off my feet for a second, and you’re so kind, even when people don’t deserve it. You’re a light in the dark. Plus you make really good cookies, but that’s just an added bonus. Does that answer your question?”

Spencer looked back down at her, finding a smile and tears, and somewhere in his mind, he knew to make a mental note of this image.

“Yes,” she whispered before reaching up and cupping his face. “But now I really want cookies.”

Avoid your friends for weeks even though they're the only sense of consistency you have left in your life, if they really wanted to see you they'd come, but they won't.

She could feel herself slowly closing off, and no matter how much she willed for the isolation to find its way out, it still crept in at night. Without care, she let it consume her, taking more and more time during the day to dissipate to inevitably crawl back at the first sign of dark. It infiltrated her mind like a parasite, latching on to the first vulnerable thought.

Spencer did nothing wrong, he was sure of it. What he wasn’t sure of, however, was the reason for his girlfriend’s abrupt distance. He knew that in relationships, sometimes space apart from one another is important, but that knowledge wasn’t enough to stop the nagging feeling.

Something else was wrong, he was sure of it.

Alone she sat staring out the window at cars that drove by and people enjoying the day in each other’s company. The sounds of the world were not enough to drown out her mind’s racing, the thoughts so loud that she could’ve missed the knock at her front door.

It happened again when she refused to move or make a sound that could inform whoever was on the other side of her door that she was home. By the third round of knocking, she grew irritated and stormed over to give whoever interrupted her self loathing a piece of her mind.

But she opened the door and there stood Spencer, and whatever obscenities she planned on yelling were forgotten. In their place, guilt flooded through her because Spencer didn’t storm in angry, or yell at her for avoiding him for a week. Instead, he just stood there, no anger, just unapologetically Spencer.

“It’s been a week,” he said, no heavy emotions in his voice, just very matter-of-factly. “I hope it’s okay I stopped by.”

No one had ever just “stopped by” before. 

“It’s more than okay.”

Allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love, watch as you begin to take a backseat to the world around you, don't fight it. Become a secondary character in your own motion picture.

Spencer wasn’t particularly snooping as he was curious. She was in the shower, and he spotted it. Before he even had the chance to force his eyes anywhere but the leather bound journal, it was too late. His mind was already too curious for any other decision besides to read what was inside.

It was the same journal she was so engrossed in every time he looked at her in the cafe.

The first few pages were simple sketches of people he recognized as regulars from the cafe. On the fifth page, what looked to be an unfinished drawing of a man was found with a little note next to it that read ‘My art doesn’t do him justice.”

Spencer could’ve sworn he had that same haircut 7 months ago.

Moving on, he flipped to a page with a drawing of a sunflower on it, the stem growing up the side of the page with a small flower on the top, leaning over what he suspected was a poem. It read,

with striking precision, my mind is full of thoughts

only i have not a soul to voice these nags

the episodes of Self Growth and Actualization that i long to not be

my reassurance alone.

if only my being was of a sunflower’s,

to sit in a field surrounded by those who are

Just Like Me.

Spencer read it over and over, scouring his brain for the poem’s author. He was trying so hard, his brain going into overdrive that he missed the sound of the shower turning off.

She walked out of the bathroom to find Spencer sitting on her bed, journal in hand.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, although no matter how hard she tried to sound serious and authoritative, it more or so came out joyous with the giggles that followed her question.

“Who wrote this poem?” Spencer asked, finally looking up at her. There she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, bright pink fuzzy pants and a white t-shirt on, drying her hair with a towel and she has never looked more beautiful.

“Which one?” She walked over and peaked at the page Spencer landed on. “Oh, that’s mine.”

It was so nonchalant that Spencer had to repeat it over in his mind to fully grasp what she said. 

“You wrote this?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you have more?” She laughed at his eagerness, but when she looked over at his dead serious face, her smile dropped.

“You can’t be serious. Spencer I wrote those so long ago. Eventually I realized it was going nowhere and just gave up. They’re really not that special.”

“They are to me.” The couple held eye contact, a silent standoff between the two. One of them had to back out eventually, and then the thought that no one in her life had ever told her that her art, whether it was huge painting or little doodles, long written out memoirs or tiny poems, was special. 

So she threw the competition, and sat down next to him on the bed.

“There’s another one on the next two pages.”

You don't need other people to drive away your loneliness, you just needed to find a way to talk to it.

______

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

Taglist: @the-girl-who-writes-fanfiction @haylaansmi @masumiyetimziyanoldu @cielo1984 @rexorangecouny @username2002 @calm-and-doctor @pieceofried @mermaidshmari @everythingbutnormal @seasonfivereid @no-honey-no

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #spencer reid Criminal Minds #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer x fem!reader #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid insert #Criminal Minds #criminal minds angst #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds insert

[cloveroctobers]

i was wondering if you could do an imagine where olivia is sexually assaulted and after her behaviour around the house drastically changes until she eventually tells jordan + her parents? i just wanted to see a protective, baker family imagine that focused on her :))

TW: mentions of s******* assault, trauma, bodily fluids, college parties, panic attacks, depression, etc…

A/N: took me a minute to decide if I wanted to write this piece since it’s slightly triggering for myself and can be to others. Not overly detailed ofc but I hope when I do fully get back into writing we’ll have some happy moments to come! Especially for my girl Liv.

SOMETHINGS WRONG — O. Baker

Olivia Baker felt like she could make a list of what she can now label herself as which held negative connotations:

The pill popper

The drunk

That mixed girl

The other twin

The girl with no solid friends

The boyfriend-stealer

The wannabe woke girl

And now the victim

She couldn’t get her mind to grasp that. That this happened to her, that she let this happen to her. If she was in her right mind she would realize that this isn’t something she could ever blame herself for but she knew others would, if she ever let them know. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t.

What was supposed to be a fun weekend in Atlanta turned into a moment she wouldn’t forget. It was all fun and games, it actually felt like the one true moment in time where she felt free and happy. Surrounded by good people with good intentions, which only consisted of Spencer, Jordan, and Simone. These were her main people, her right hands, and her go-to but that seemed to fade the night her life drastically changed—yet again.

The events that occurred that night were burned into her mind in spurts. Olivia couldn’t piece them all together but she knew. She knew something was wrong with the way that she felt even though she was dressed as if nothing occurred. She knew the moment she pulled herself off the floor in her own drool to look at herself in the mirror that something was wrong. She knew it in her appearance and in the way that she felt. Her confirmations were proven correct when she decided to use the bathroom, what she felt, and what she saw.

She was gagging and struggling to breathe. Olivia Baker knew something happened to her when she realized she woke up alone on the cold bathroom floor. She was doing so well and thought she was stronger than this, how could this be added to the things of what happened to her or what she allowed to happen to her? Her mind was weak, somewhere in the night she let her guard down and now she was here. It all felt like her fault.

What will they say about her now?

Olivia’s experienced a handful of trauma in her teenage life before but THIS…this was something else. She felt like she was going to pass out again until she found the strength to let the anxiety take its course in subsiding. Pushing herself up with a huge whimper and wince, she began searching the bathroom for her phone as it was not on her body. She remembered the first thing she wanted to do was document this because as soon as she got back to Simone’s aunt’s house she was going to wash away the filth she felt.

Perhaps that was another mistake but she couldn’t erase what she felt beneath and on her skin. It felt like Olivia was moving in slow motion searching the fancy bathroom, stumbling and shoving items out of the way in search of her device. When she slipped on something in the bathroom, she failed to catch herself, her cheek colliding with the tile floor, she knew that would leave another bruise along with the rest on her body. Her eyes connected with the object which looked to be covered in what appeared to be blood.

With a shaky finger she reached out to it, and recoiled back as her finger became coated in the copper stench. That’s when the tears began to cloud her vision and she wanted to cover her cries but she felt frozen, like she did hours prior. So she cried until her body ached internally and furthermore externally, and with a shaky breath those came to a halt when she heard something rattling.

She moved painfully slow, ripping the shower curtain back to see her phone tossed in the stone shower face down. Swallowing, she picked the phone up to see that the now missed call was from Jordan. She had over thirty missed calls and fifteen text messages. Blinking Olivia unlocked her phone and opened up her camera and angled her phone before hearing multiple shutter speeds.

At least that part of her mind was still functioning. She thought to herself bitterly as she went over to the mirror once again, setting her phone down on the counter to call a Uber back to Simone’s aunt’s house.

This was just another scar in her story, she guessed. So she rinsed her face, and gave Simone a call first…feeling as if this was the best option out of the three…when all she really wanted to do was call her mom.

“Olivia!” Simone greeted, “Girl, where the hell are you? Last night was so crazy and Jordan was trying to stalk you but realized you turned off your location, which he said is something you’d never do but I figured since you went off with Othello and them you would be fine.”

It took a minute for Olivia to respond. Her vision still locked on her reflection as that name sent something through her. Making her eyes close shut as she heard the voice introduce itself with that name but she couldn’t connect the face to it. However it seemed like Simone was familiar with who Olivia disappeared off with.

“I’m in a Uber on my way back to your aunt’s house.” Olivia knew she sounded like herself to Simone but her face was stoney and she did not feel like herself…as to be expected.

Simone nodded, “okay…cool! I’m glad you got back to one of us because we were getting a little worried.”

“Worried I’d relapse?” Olivia stated but cleared her throat knowing Simone didn’t deserve the brunt of her trauma, “Please tell me Jordan didn’t call our parents.”

Simone chose to ignore that, wishing later that she didn’t—however her and Olivia were still trying to build their relationship as in-laws so they were still feeling out each other’s temperaments and personalities, “No. I persuaded him not to…although I know that would have changed if you didn’t show up at some part today and I don’t blame him. Him and Spencer are getting a little stir-crazy without you. So please bring your butt here so my aunt can take us to this flea market she keeps going on about.”

“Alright,” Olivia breathed out a laugh that felt humorless to her, “I should be there in ten according to the ride but we all know down here in the south it’s really thirty minutes.”

“Tell me about it! It’s always ‘oh, it’s right down the street!’ But why we still driving tho?!” Simone laughed, “see you soon. I’ll let the boys know you’re on your way.”

And with that they ended the call.

Olivia shoved the clothes she worn that night back underneath her bed, still unwashed and out of sight. She went searching under her bed after her black oil pastel pencil slid off her bed. It was always in the back of her mind that the clothes rotted underneath the place where she lay her head. Sleep no longer existed to her but it’s not like a good portion of concealer didn’t help hide her puffy bags.

Olivia was violated going on about three weeks now and she was expected to go on like everything was okay. That was the challenge. And it was exhausting and moments throughout her day felt like someone would hold onto her throat and squeeze for minutes at a time.

She kept up with her therapy so that nothing about her seemed suspicious. She had thoughts about her pills and the thoughts about sipping alcohol made her stomach turn—so perhaps that part was a good thing. Her dad moved back into the house so the family dynamic was shifting yet again, her mom made it her mission to not have any booze in the house and any over the counter medication that was addressed to any of them in the house would be under only her and Billy’s care.

Those wouldn’t be strong enough for Olivia anyways, and that thought alone made her laugh bitterly but she was glad someone was taking the initiative to her health. Liv was not to have any access to it. It might not have been said but Olivia Baker always paid attention to everything.

She was doing well at hiding, almost flawless in her mind; that something had changed her life for the worse. Whereas with her pill popping/partying had been out in the open and her drinking was slightly undercover, Olivia thought she was doing well acting like her assault didn’t take place—yet the signs were there however it was cautious on how to approach. She had been careless, leaving her phone unlocked when she went off to the bathroom and with iPhone’s broadcasting your memories with photo’s was what lit the flame.

Laura was sitting at the island previously with Olivia while the boys were seated on the couch watching some game. She was sipping her voss water when Olivia’s phone let out the alert, which was closer to Laura’s view. At first Laura thought they were nudes but when she picked the phone up to click on the photo’s, she felt her heart drop to her stomach. A gasp unknowingly left her lips, causing Billy to look over his shoulder at his on-again wife.

“Laura, baby? Are you alright?”

Before she could say anything else Olivia walked back into the room, rubbing the hand cream further into her hands as she made her way over to her mom. When Laura snapped her head up to stare at her daughter, Olivia immediately stopped in her tracks feeling her mother’s eyes almost stinging her skin.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Olivia tilted her head to the side, wondering why the blonde woman appeared distraught.

Laura wanted to hold the phone up but felt a protectiveness come over her not wanting to gain the attention of the two men in the house, even though Billy already had his body turned sideways at the exchange.

“Olivia, what is this?” Laura whispered, pointing at the phone.

It didn’t dawn on Olivia right away what her mother could be possibly be talking about, in a sense she tried to forget but when she looked back at her art pieces, once she completed them in her sketch book, she realized unconsciously it’s not something you can just forget.

Laura swiped against Olivia’s phone at each picture making Olivia sharply turn her head to the side and swallow the lump that formed in her throat.

“Who’s in these images, Olivia?!” Laura didn’t mean to raise her voice, but she wanted answers.

Now she gained the attention of Jordan who broke his eyes away from the commercial playing on the television.

Olivia chewed on her chapped lips not wanting to say anything. She didn’t want anyone else adding this to their list of things to worry about when it came to her. It was ironic really, Olivia Baker was always involving herself in everyone else’s issues but pushed her own pain to the side. She vowed with Spencer that they would start to only worry about themselves this senior year and yet Olivia seemed to not do that. In a sense…she going to therapy, she was picking back up her old hobby to ease her mind but the huge problem about this was she wasn’t talking about it. To anyone.

“Olivia—

Laura seemed to take a different approach, using what she learned in family therapy to level her tone and to not make her daughter feel cornered. However she was highly concerned and she wanted to hear what she already suspected from these pictures. She kept her eyes trained on Olivia who reached out to the island to balance herself, now feeling the room spin. Laura pushed the bar stool back and went to Olivia’s aid but she flinched, ripping her body away from her mother which made Laura let out a small sob.

“What’s going on?” Billy asked, now getting to his feet.

Laura didn’t want to show Billy the pictures but with the way she was clutching Olivia’s phone to her chest made the man snatch the phone from his wife’s grasp.

Billy on the other hand was furious. He rubbed at his face and Olivia didn’t want to see the expression on his face so she kept her back to the both of them now. It was when Jordan towered over Olivia, hoping that he could get an answer out of her opposed to what their parents were failing to do, he didn’t touch her but he paid close attention to the way she was acting right now and how his father was trying not to scream in the kitchen.

Something was wrong. Jordan could feel it more than sense it from what his parents were demonstrating, and yeah they were twins but they haven’t radiated the same energy off the other since they were kids. And who’s to know that might have just been in their heads like many people tried to argue but Jordan and Olivia were extremely close as kids, they shared a whole womb together so they had to share more connections outside in the world too? Their bond was much stronger as children but they were making their way back to each other as they got older. Yes they were their own people but it’s undeniable if they said energy was never a factor in their relationship as twins.

Jordan was calm as he peered down into Olivia’s for eyes, patient, waiting for her to say what she willing to say. Everything was silent to her ears, Olivia blocked out Billy wheezing out his frustrations as he crouched down in front of the island and Laura’s cries.

Olivia felt so small.

Jordan knew before Spencer said something that Olivia was acting a little off. He tried to be better as a brother in paying attention to her as she always did for him. He was worried when she disappeared off with some kid named after Shakespeare that Simone used to spend summer’s with as a kid. Sure Simone said he and his friends were good people but they were also a year or two older, settling into the toxic part of college life. He was the last one with Olivia after they watched some performances with Spencer and Simone already on the dance floor with other people.

“You let Liv go off with these people we don’t even know?” Jordan remembers Spencer saying to him after he got off the dance floor.

Jordan didn’t like how Spencer said this to him so he replied back with, “you were just on the dance floor with someone you don’t know. None of us control my sister, Spence. She’s allowed to hang out with whoever she wants. Plus Simone says Oscar is good people.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know that man,” Spencer tried to come correct, “Simone said she only spent summers with othello,” He informed Jordan of the guy’s actual name which Jordan sucked his teeth at, “so that doesn’t mean she really knows him all that well either.”

“Are you trying to question my girl, right now?” Jordan furrowed his brows, always looking for a fight due to his impulsiveness.

Spencer raised his brows, “I’m not questioning nothing. I’m just stating the obvious. We don’t know nobody out here, we not from here. We just have to be smarter is all I’m sayin’.”

Jordan didn’t like to be wrong but he felt like he wasn’t completely wrong? Sure his big brother instincts should have kicked in stronger but he was too focused on some corny dude pushing up on Simone. That was a little foul now that he thought back on it, Olivia should have been just as important—and she is. Which is why he wanted to do right in the present.

He noticed before Layla pointed out a couple of times that Olivia was bringing out the darker fashion choices and that it was nice to see sometimes, since she “did it so well.” He noticed before Simone told him to tell Olivia that she would be over to help her straighten the back of her hair out and he noticed that she was wearing eyeliner in her waterline again.

He noticed the long showers and staying outside in the rain, he noticed she’s been slacking on her podcast and scribbling in her old sketch book. He noticed her listening to nothing but Fiona Apple, Billie Holiday, old Alicia Keys songs, and Fefe Dobson instead of her usual song choices like: Aaliyah, Jorja Smith, Billie Eilish, H.E.R., Doja Cat, and Mereba. He even fought with himself at night standing outside her closed door to say something. He did remember asking her one night at dinner, which she barely ate, if she was okay and with a smile that didn’t reach her rimmed eyes…she said she was.

To Olivia it was silent as she admitted her truth about what happened to her in Atlanta, but to the rest of the Baker’s it was loud and clear. Over the course of three weeks, she gathered it all. The memories came back when they needed to and the fact that he reached out to her twice since she returned home was appalling. Olivia didn’t know if it was the guilt—that might have been a stretch…she didn’t know the piece of shit of a person at all, the audacity, or the curiosity on his part to see what she was going to do about this. If anything. She gave no information away in the DM’s, in fact she barely sent anything back.

There was no weight that lifted from her chest as she spoke her secret into the air, she still felt pain that she tried to numb down but it just felt like another burden she inflicted on her loved ones and she hated that idea. That she caused this. Most days she felt numb but she knew anger was brewing along the horizon.

Jordan went to Olivia who stepped back, which felt like Jordan just got punched in the gut. And he’s taken a lot of hits before in his eighteen years of life but this one might have been the worse blow he’s experienced. And that’s coming from a guy still healing from a concussion.

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Liv I—.” She heard Her twin say to her but it sounded like she was under water.

Life has been that way for awhile now, if you truly asked her.

‘I don’t want pitty.’ Her inner thoughts hissed. That was last thing she wanted. She was now coming to terms that she wanted this emptiness to vanish, if that was what this even was. She wanted to be back to where she was or at least as a kid where she didn’t have to worry about a damn thing. She didn’t want to endure what she’s been feeling since she entered her teenage years. Olivia Baker wanted so much more out of this life but lately it seems as if her purpose was to only be handed out shitty lessons instead.

What lesson was this? To showcase how the world can take away anything it wanted and leave you to deal or not deal with the aftermath afterwards?

The anger was indeed setting in.

Olivia didn’t realize that eventually Jordan put his arms around her and she gripped onto him for dare life. Her body didn’t shrink into itself like it commonly did weeks after what happened whenever someone touched her.

Her parents kept their distance picking up on the fact that she didn’t want to be touched but her other half held onto her and that seemed to be a step in the right direction for now. Instead Billy and Laura held onto each other too, their heads whirling around with how to further provide the best possible care for their daughter.

#all american #all american imagine #all american fanfiction #all american cw #Olivia Baker #Olivia Baker x reader #Jordan baker #Jordan Baker x reader #Billy baker #laura baker #spencer james #Simone hicks #Layla keating

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders

Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson x Female Reader 

After getting yourself into a rather tragic incident, you are reassigned to work elsewhere to protect your young career as a detective.

Your life would sure but slowly change when you meet a bright journalist named Jed Olsen, always looking to get inside information from you regarding the murders in Roseville. Seeking Jed Olsen’s help in finding the Ghostface, a spark ignited between the two of you.

Chapter One: Roseville

Y/N rubbed her eyes, tired from the long car ride you just endured. It was a long car ride from your old home but at least the day was nice. It wouldn’t be long until dusk came. In a way, you were glad. You often thrived in the nighttime and took it as an opportunity to wind down and finally rest. It was a large rental truck that you had taken on your journey to your new home, Roseville. You didn’t necessarily choose the location; you were assigned to go there. After the incident, you were assigned to help in the investigation regarding some gnarly murders. This piqued your interest since you had an interest in crime and journalism, more so crime.

It was quite the strange time, being a junior detective, or that’s what they called you anyways. Your time in the police academy was short-lived, it didn’t take long to become a detective in the nineties. Even so, you managed to impress some detectives and officers. You also had an eye for stuff that would normally slip other people’s mind, the small details were more or less important to you. Admittedly, your interest in detective work stemmed from the fact you loved horror movies and shows. Even books. It would be a silly idea in the eyes of others but you figured you could do some good. You were also extremely annoyed at how incompetent other officers could be, not writing reports in detail or straight up refusing to do a full investigation. It was ridiculous and you figured you’d try and change this.

Johnathan Stevens was the name of your supervisor, an older gentleman. He formerly investigated murders and unsolved crimes in the fifties and sixties, his prime. Some would even consider his work to dabble in the supernatural. You weren’t sure if you believed such things, not that you were a skeptic since there were small things you couldn’t explain growing up. His work was great nonetheless and he saw the potential in you. You admired him and he gave a good word to others on your behalf. He was the reason you got a job in helping the investigation in Roseville. Ah yes, Roseville.

You were excited in a way. Johnathan was able to get you a role in the investigation of the Roseville Murders. The prime suspect was a man in a costume who went by the name Ghost Face. They ultimately branded the series of murders as the Ghost Face Murders. Y/N read the files and you began to think of your own theories on who this mysterious murderer could be. The murders were premeditated and were always executed in a similar fashion. Y/N saw some photos left behind by the Ghost Face, he enjoyed posing and took pride in his work. Your train of thought suddenly ended when you saw the town’s sign.

“Welcome to Roseville.” You subconsciously mumbled. There was a slight feeling of regret and worry that itched at you from the inside but you brushed it off. No going back now, you wanted to be a good detective and help those in need.

Your hands brushed towards your turn signals. The apartment you rented wasn’t too far and you didn’t have too many things you brought with you. Roseville seemed like a quiet little city, very peaceful and tidy. A part of you had trouble even imagining that such grizzly murders could take place in what people would consider a perfect town or city. This seemed like a place where somebody would want to raise a family or live a quiet life, it pretty much had everything you needed. You didn’t blame them, the big city life was horrendous, as were the crimes there committed. Y/N sighed deeply as you pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building. It was red and looked somewhat old. Not that it mattered, you were happy with anything at this point. You rubbed your eyes again before resting your forehead on your steering wheel, putting your car into park.

It was about 6:00 PM, you didn’t have to be at the station until 7:30 PM. Much to your dismay, it was enough time to talk to your landlord. You had met prior on a phone call and you got the apartment rather easily. You saw pictures and were instantly keen on getting a lease for it. You checked your mirror to quickly fix your hair up and refresh yourself. After a moment or two, you got out and walked towards the door. Y/N pushed it open and caught a glimpse of the lobby. It was well-furnished and tidy. It was a lot better than your old apartment building in the city. Your mood lightened up, looking forward to a somewhat quieter life. You figured you had your share of the city bars and nightclubs, other shenanigans you encountered when you were slightly younger. You took a few steps in and walked towards the main office. Your shyer tendencies made you hesitate but you knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open.

“Hello?” You called out as you made eye-contact with a blonde woman.

“How can I help you?” The woman asked you, putting away some papers into a filing cabinet.

Her hair was actually kind of long and seemed natural. Her skin was fair and her eyes were a darker shade of blue. The woman’s dark eyebrows helped in bringing out her beautiful features. She was a thin but tall woman. Her attire consisted of a white turtleneck with a cardigan, dress, and black dress shoes with long, white stockings. It was a healthy mix of coziness and business. Y/N smiled kindly and extended her hand out.

“I’m Y/N L/N. I assume that you’re Deborah?” You asked as she quickly returned the smile, a more charming one. She shook your hand, her touch felt welcoming, something that was needed in Roseville.

“Yes, I am. Lovely to finally meet you! How was the trip?” She asked as you shrugged slightly.

“A bit boring but I made it.” You replied as she giggled a bit.

“Take it from me, Roseville is happy you decided to come. The rumors and murders have driven a few people away. We’re happy to have another officer to help.” Deborah said to you.

“Yeah, well, if anybody ever gives you trouble then you’ll know where to find me.” You said as she perked up. Deborah quickly walked towards her desk and grabbed a set of old, somewhat rusty keys. With a sweet smile, the woman planted the metal in your palm.

“Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate you choosing here to live. If you need help unloading your stuff, my brothers are one call away.” She said. With that voice and attitude, the woman would have made an excellent commercial woman.

“I should be fine.” You assured the woman before exiting the office space.

You swiftly walked out towards the parking lot. It was a rather nice evening so far. The sky was a mixture of pink and red with a nice breeze. You held your forehead for a second, having small flashbacks of a man grunting and swearing. You shut your eyes tightly for a moment before sighing stubbornly. Y/N didn’t want to waste anymore time remembering what happened, it was pointless. A part of you felt gross and weird. Your eyes narrowed in an annoyed manner, looking at the stuff you had to bring in. 

Maybe you didn’t want to bring in that stuff anymore. You looked around, there was a bakery and a coffee shop nearby on the beautifully constructed sidewalks. Each shop had a small garden or some sort of plant in the front. Roseville was old in an industrial sort of way but the shops, houses, and plant life made it have a rather beautiful aesthetic. Not only that but you enjoyed the weather. You sighed softly, deciding that you should just walk to the police station. Ignoring the lazy and depressing feeling you had, you decided to just walk to clear your head of the memories. And so, you locked the doors to the rental truck and began your little adventure.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” Jonathan questioned you, his nostrils flaring slightly. In his eyes were a deep stare of concentration. You felt numb but remorseless, you kept your head down. 

“He was going to hurt me, Jon.” You mumbled to him, your eyebrows tightly knitted as you looked for any sort of agreement within his eyes. The man sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. Jonathan seemed tired.

“I know he was, kid... but you shot a man. You took a mans life. I understand you did it to defend yourself but the court might not see it that way.” He said.

“Well, I’m glad I did. He would’ve hurt more women. Innocent women.” You replied with bitterness in your voice. He sighed before sitting down, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes met yours as you looked away.

You thought about the incident a lot. You replayed your own screams in your head before the distinct sound of a gun fired in your ears. Before you even realized it, you were staring dead ahead, reliving it with intense focus. It’s not like you wanted to, it was automatic and you still didn’t process most of it. In fact, it felt like a dream. Y/N shut her eyes, exhaling sharply before looking at the man in front of her. Your eyelids rested, the numbness overcoming the raw feeling of the flashback you had just endured.

“There’s... a case in a city. A smaller city. If I talked to the others and reassigned you somewhere far, would you do it? We’ve known you for years and we care. I know that man could’ve hurt my wife, my daughter, my sister... we understand. Not many people know about this. We could help you.” He said.

“What do you mean? Won’t I be charged for it?” You asked him.

“Np, not if we... sweep this under the rug. But, if we do this then you have to do something in return. Do you want this?” He asked you. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as you pondered his offer for a moment, you looked around the room.

“I-I do, but... will they actually do this? For me?” Y/N asked as he nodded. He seemed a bit gruff, just tired from the paperwork.

“We’ve discussed it but listen to me. You can’t tell anybody about this. We’re doing you a big favor, a huge one. The director said that more officers and detectives are needed in Roseville, he said they’d be glad to accept you. This will be a lot better than telling the court what happened.” He said.

“I, yeah, yeah.” You said, nodding in slight anticipation. Nonetheless, you were very grateful for this opportunity. 

“Whenever you’re ready then but it might have to be in the next week or two.” Jonathan said to you as he looked around, somewhat nervously.

“Thank you...” You replied a bit awkwardly, not sure how to display your gratitude for him. He only nodded with a small smile, patting your head. 

“Go home, kid. I’ll handle the guy.” He said as you nodded.

You sighed as you looked upwards, the sky was a mixture of purple and blue. This was your favorite type of weather. It brought peace and calmness. A small smile curled onto your lips when you thought of the old times, when you first experienced freedom and happiness. Your hands slid into your pockets as you continued to walk down the sidewalk, your gaze averting to the large building ahead. The Roseville Police Department, your future workplace. 

The building looked rather strange for a police department. It had gates and vines around it, it almost looked like a school. Then again, school was indeed prison. You didn’t think about school much, in fact, you hated it. You never could relate to the other teens. Aside from writing and art, you really enjoyed watching horror movies. Anything horror intrigued you, books and movies alike. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you were a horror fanatic. Strangely, it sort of inspired you to pursue this career. You were always pretty tough, blood and gore never bothered you. Even when you went to a morgue, it brought a small feeling of peace knowing the deceased were at rest.

You got closer and closer to the station, quickly since you were so lost within your own thoughts. The doors to the station were wooden yet grey, very large. Y/N looked around, there were very few police cars. Maybe being understaffed wasn’t the problem, it’s the fact that they seemed to be very poorly funded. You pushed the large door open, looking around the inside of the station. It was very eerie and quiet but seemed very cozy. A perfect image of the nineties. With your arms crossed, you walked up to the front desk. There was a cup of coffee, you assumed it was cold and took another look around. There were medical beds and tons of chairs stacked together. Not only that but there were statues and paintings. The paintings seemed old but the faces were creepy. Upon staring at them, you soon found inspiration in their haunting gazes.

This was going to be an interesting job, you thought.

Jed Olsen sighed deeply as he looked through different piles of papers that were piled together. It was rather stressful to have to proof-read his coworker’s work. Some of the work he looked over was really badly written. No wonder somebody of his talents got that job really easily. Ever since he arrived at Roseville, he thought he made a good impact on the city. Roseville lived in fear and that’s how he liked it. 

As the young man’s thoughts turned towards his other line of profession, he smiled widely and rested his eyebrows. His name wasn’t actually Jed, it was Danny Johnson. Jed Olsen was the alter ego that Danny created when he came to this place. Aside from killing, writing was one of his professions. Danny was good at it and he even got to write about his own murders. It was exhilarating, to say the least. It brought excitement to this city, it brought excitement into his own life. The journalist façade was a great gig, he needed a job anyways. It was very convenient nobody questioned him or invited him to the bar. Then again, he was a bit younger so his coworkers didn’t bother to hang out with him much.

Danny looked around cautiously before pulling his bag towards him. He only carried around his camera. In his office, there weren’t any cameras and his door actually had a lock. There wasn’t anybody around since it was the evening and he decided to stay late to proof-read papers. His camera was black yet worn out and scratched up. Still, he chose to ignore it since that thing was his prized possession. Danny pretty much checked on it everyday to make sure it wasn’t broken and to just simply admire his work he did on it. 

“Hmm...” He hummed to himself as he clicked through the photos on it. He smirked looking through his work. 

His next murder was going to be perfect. Danny planned on getting more photos of Ghostface doing his heinous crimes. Jed Olsen managed to get photos of the serial killer taking pictures of his murders in rather cocky ways. And of course, the police had no idea that it was him who did it. The police here were amateurs that didn’t do their job right. It was incredibly easy getting away with the murders and surprisingly, the FBI didn’t get involved.  Oh well, the law enforcement probably had other things to deal with right now.

As he clicked through the photos, thinking about his next murders, his thoughts were interrupted when he heard the familiar chime of the front door open. Maybe it was his boss? Danny quickly put his camera away in his desk drawer and rushed to unlock his door. The Roseville Gazette was usually a quiet place. He looked up as he noticed a young woman at the front desk of the gazette. 

“Hey, how can I help you?” He asked, immediately switching to his Jed persona. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N. I was wondering if there was a Jed Olsen around here? I didn’t realize it was quiet here.” She said with a smile.

For a moment, Danny focused on her smile. It was a beautiful and genuine smile. Strange but not everybody was as shallow as his victims or the people he met. His gaze averted to her eyes and then her face. She was indeed a very beautiful person. A pleasant surprise, not that Danny ever indulged in romance. 

“You’re speaking to him.” He replied with a playful shrug.

Y/N stared at him for a second before raising her eyebrows in surprise. 

“Oh. well nice to meet you, Mr. Olsen.” You said as you extended your hand.

“The pleasure is mine.” Danny replied as he shook your hand.

The touch of your hand was rather soft. He didn’t know it yet but he felt slightly flustered. Danny never really met anybody that he considered attractive. Maybe he did but he never paid attention to that sort of thing. 

“Do you have time right now? Or wanna schedule a date to quickly go over your work?” You asked him.

“A date?” He asked blankly. Danny didn’t know what you meant but his brain took it in a romantic way since he thought you were pretty. Your eyebrows furrowed awkwardly in confusion as you nodded slightly with a small smile.

“Um, yeah... I can come back sometime or we can meet at a coffee shop. I’m a detective so... yeah.” You say, automatically getting awkward around people your age. Danny nearly facepalmed himself but his mind quickly went to darker places.

A new detective? A detective who wanted to talk to him one-on-one? None of the detectives decided they wanted to question him. Did this woman find something? Did she suspect him? She looked like she could be a psychologist or something so maybe she wanted to see how he’d react when explaining the Ghostface articles he wrote? He’d have to get her last name and see where she lived. Y/N looked like she’d be easy to kill.

“Jed?” She asked in concern.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely... I have time right now. Sorry, I just get zoned out when I think of the murders and the sick photos he took.” He apologized.

“Don’t be sorry, that type of stuff is something nobody can get used to.” You reassured him. Jed was actually quite handsome.

“Yeah, you’re right. Come into my office.” He said, signaling with his head where his office was. You followed him in.

The office was old. It seemed rather boring at first but that’s what office jobs are for, anyways. His desk was quite clean. Jed seemed to be a very organized person. It would make sense considering his work on the Ghostface murders. You took a seat across from his desk and smiled a bit as he sat down. You were a pretty diligent worker so got straight to the point.

“So, Jed... as you know, there’s an ongoing investigation on the Ghostface Murders that I was assigned to.” You began. Danny nodded, leaning back in his office chair comfortably. He stared at you intently, watching your expression as he worried.

“I took on the liberty of reading your work on the murders. You write about him in a very peculiar way... admirably, almost.” You said to him. Danny tried to hide his worry but he was trying to figure out a way to kill you quickly. Maybe you were FBI? You were already sharper compared to the other officers/

“Anyways, I really love your work, Jed. I’ve taken a personal interest in the Ghostface. And as a detective, I’d like to get to try and get to know him as best I can.” You said with a hint of excitement in your eyes.

“Get to know him…?” He replied, slowly reaching for the knife taped under his desk.

“With your work and your input, I could put together a psychological report on him. If we want to catch him, we should figure out what type of person he is first.” Y/N said.

Danny’s fingers stopped right above the knife. His hand slowly backed away from the bottom of the desk. So, she didn’t suspect him? Danny almost laughed out of relief and at her. He was stupid for thinking she could’ve found out he was Ghostface. Y/N only seemed to be interested in his work.

“Oh, I see… yeah, that would make sense.” He said to you as you crossed one leg.

“I’m glad you agree. I’m determined to catch him and maybe even see his motivation.” You replied to him. Danny’s eyes sparked for a moment as he stared at you.

“His motivation?” He asked as you thought for a moment.

“Probably sounds strange, I know but… he must have a reason, right? And I find it so interesting how he goes about his murders. I actually have a theory about him.” You explained.

You seemed to trust Jed Olsen. The other officers and detectives said he liked to bug and probe them all the time for more information regarding the murders and what their progress was like. And truth be told? There was very little they could go off of. Ghostface was too methodical and careful, left absolutely no trace of himself besides the pictures Jed retrieved. He was a hard-working journalist and you had a good feeling about him, anywyas.

He was also pretty cute.

“I don’t think it’s strange, at all. I’ve never seen any of the detectives so passionate about the case. They always brush me off… so, what’s this theory?” Danny asked you, watching your expressions.

“Well, I only just saw your work today but I thought about it when I walked here. Ghostface seems to be rather cocky, a common trait in younger men. But, since we never caught him or anything, I know he’s really careful with what he does. The murders are also premeditated. They’re too… clean and carefully executed even if it is a bloodbath.” You sort of rambled on.

A weird feeling tingled inside of Danny as you continued to explain your theory.

“He’s really cunning and methodical. And based on my other observations, I think he uses the murders as a way of expressing himself. I’ve read about other serial killers caught… they usually leave marks, take trophies, and know the victim in some ways. Or they’re just cold-blooded but not in his case. I think he sees the murders as a form of art or something along those lines.” You said to him.

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Who the hell was she? Danny thought for a moment. She was right, he did see his murders as art and something beautiful. Did she see it that way too? This woman was strange, indeed. As as young detective, he admired her naive nature.

“That would actually make sense… he does seem to make an unnecessarily big mess when killing and yet, the police can’t find anything on him? It makes total sense.” Jed replied.

“Right? Anyways, I was going to ask if you can type of a report or something along those lines. Give me every single detail you know about him and your analogy. Your input could be vital to solving this case.” You said, standing up.

“If you don’t mind me asking, detective, why are you so interested in him? You’re really passionate about this.” He said to you.

“I wanna understand him and see more of his artwork… it’s pretty fascinating. Also, you can just call me Y/N. Have that report ready in a week?” She asked him.

“Yeah, definitely.” Danny replied to you.

“See you then, Jed.” Y/N said as she nodded with a confident smile.

Y/N was indeed young and naive. Although, she didn’t share anything confidential, she placed a lot of trust into the journalist. Then again, why should she be untrusting of him? The young woman was so passionate, intelligent, and seemed to have a very strong sense of independence. Danny assumed she came here without any authority, taking matters into her own hands. A by-the-book cop? Maybe, maybe not. Danny found that strangely attractive. However, she might even hinder his efforts and catch him. He couldn’t let that happen, yet…

There was something so intoxicating about her. Danny never met anybody that was so compassionate and understanding to his cause. Maybe, he saw her motivation in his own twisted way. This woman wanted to understand him, to see things as he does. Nobody has ever went to that length for him. Not only that but, she had no problem talking about such grimey things in a way that she didn’t get disgusted. The man had a bit of a crazed stare in his eyes as he began to recall her features.

Detective Y/N, just who were you?

And so, the obsession begins.

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight #dead by daylight fanfic #dbd fanfic #ghostface #ghostface x reader #jed olsen x reader #danny johnson x reader #dead by daylight x reader #danny johnson #jed olsen #the ghostface

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 12

chapter 11

Warning: kidnapping

A/N: I hope y'all are ready for a very heavy chapter because toward the end our Greed boi is going to go to a very dark place with his real thoughts on Cyrus.

“Do you think he does?” Belphie asked as he watched his older brother feed the baby.

“It would make sense.” The second-born shrugs. “I think Lucifer realized it too ‘n that’s why he was in such a big hurry for Beel and him to leave.”

The seventh-born only nods in response. “Hey I heard you three are going up to the mortal world after the term... Is that true?”

“Yeah... ‘Rella says she wants to go back to her home in York. I like the idea- been there a couple times with her after Solomon taught her to summon us. It’s nice. Hardly anybody stops by so it should be relaxin’ ‘n maybe it’ll do the baby some good to get away from the house for a bit.”

“More power to you, since we don’t know a whole lot about what kind of nutrients cambions need to begin with, it’ll probably be good for him to get some sunlight, I guess. Hey, why’re you holding the bottle that way? Doesn't it make more sense to hold it higher so he finishes eating faster?”

“Nah, any higher and he could take too much and inhale it while he’s eating. Learned that out the hard way with Satan. Plus, lowers your chances of gettin' spat up on.”

“It’s crazy that you stepped up like that for him... How did you do it?” The Avatar of Sloth leans his head against Mammon’s shoulder.

“Lots of sleepless nights and lots of coffee- I swear, m’blood probly consisted of just coffee back then,” Mammon pulls the bottle away from Cyrus after he had finished eating and started to burp him, “at least for those first few months anyway.”

“I’m not surprised,” Belphie hums.

“S'why our rooms are right next to each other. That way I wasn’t having to risk poppin’ my stitches runnin’ through the halls just t’get to him before he could wake any of y’all up. Man, that thing took forever t’heal. Not t’mention it kept getting infected since between watchin’ out for the lil’ ball of wrath that was our brother ‘n school, ‘n plannin’ Lilith’s service, I only had the time t’really take care of it when I showered save for the rare moments I had to change my bandages...” Mammon is silent for a moment, “I don’t regret it though. Gettin' to see him grow up to become a strong demon and knowing I made that possible, makes it all the reward itself.”

The younger brother only nods as he notices the infant’s eyes were glued to him- more specifically at his face. “What’re you staring at, kid? Do I have something on my face?”

“Nah, it’s just a thing babies do around this age. Its more about learning faces and facial expressions right now,” The older brother explains.

“Considering what you went through, you seem awfully calm now when you deal with him.”

“It's parental instinct and nothing more right now. Think of it as your body moving on its own. If I’m being honest with you, it’s still kind of hard- especially when he gets clingy like this but I think I’m gettin' better with him- acceptin' reality for what it is and learning to bond with him. Believe me, Belphie this isn’t how I wanted to have my first kid, but,” Mammon lets out a depressed sigh, “I’m a father now... and that means I have to suck it up and get my shit together. It’s what he deserves at the very least.”

“Wow, I guess what they say is true, huh? You really do change your ways once you have a kid.”

“Whatcha mean by that? I feel like I should feel insulted...”

“Sorry, it wasn’t meant to come out that way, Mams... It’s just that it feels like you’ve changed. Before all this, there wasn’t a single day where you went without thinking of easy ways to make a quick grimm, not a day where we didn’t have to take inventory of our stuff in fear that you had stolen something valuable of ours, went on massive shopping sprees whenever you could, but now... now, you don’t do any of that. It’s like you grew up somehow... like you’re back to how you were when we were angels and how you were way back when we had just fallen and your sin hadn’t quite settled in yet, you know?”

“Let’s just say priorities have changed...”

“Well, whatever the reason, it’s a nice change. I’m going to head to bed now. See you around.” Belphie smiled as he got up and left.

“See ya, Belphie.”

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

He doesn’t remember how long he sat with Cyrus until the little one fell asleep against his chest, but once he placed the infant in the crib, he just stood there, lost in dark thoughts.

“It’s funny...” The white-haired demon’s voice was hardly above a whisper, “I should resent your presence in my life- wish you were never born, hate you. The worst part of me- the scummy part of me- does. You took everything that I was reserving for my child with Arella and you’re a representation of everything your birth mother did to me but... I can’t- and that’s what I hate most about you. Maybe my reason for keepin’ you comes from a fear that I won’t have the guts to risk my mate’s life that way so I just took the closest alternative I could ever get to that... I know... I know I’m being selfish by keeping her for myself as long as I can and not giving her that family with me she wants so badly and it makes me angry to watch her give a child that’s not even hers so much love when you shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place... Now it's far too late to get rid of you without hurting her.... I made the wrong choice for me even though I know ultimately it was the right one for you.”

He bit his tongue as a snarl formed on his face. Here, with no one to hear him, Mammon would let out his true feelings as wrong as it was. As if letting them out would somehow change his feelings for this child.

“For now, I’ll lie and pretend for your sake and everyone else’s. No one will ever know the way I wish Lucifer just would have done away with ya and part of me wonders... if a lower demon were to attack you and none of my brothers or Arella were there to spur me to action, would I even bother to protect you or would I dare to act selfishly and just let you die? Let the problem resolve itself? Ya better prove that you were ever worth what I’ve been putting myself through in the first pla-”

A sudden bout of clarity strikes the demon, the weight of what he had just said hit him like a stack of bricks and suddenly he can’t breathe. Oh devils, he can’t breathe under the weight of it all. Was he really that messed up in the head that he would do this to his own child? That he would force Cyrus to earn his love when he knows he should just give it to him unconditionally? What happened to all that progress he thought he’d been making? What kind of father would that make him? His eyes widened in horror at the thought as he broke down in silent tears.

How unfit of a father am I? He thought, He’s my son and I can’t even bring myself to love him? I really am the worst scum of the devildom. I’ve been holding some kind of grudge against a baby for crying out loud! Is this how I would act if Arella and I had a kid and they killed her?! The thought terrifies him. He wanted so badly to be a father and now that he was, this is the way he reacted to it? Unforgivable. Mammon remembered how it felt to fight for his father’s love and how he felt when Arella told him about her horrible mother and he felt so disgusted with it but wasn’t he just the same?

As he sank down to his knees, he felt a tiny hand grasp one of his fingers and his head snapped up. There was his son who had managed to wiggle his way closer to the edge of the crib, watching him with eyes full of what appeared to be fear. It froze his blood to see that look on anyone, let alone his own child. Without thinking, the Avatar of Greed rushes forward, scoops the child up and holds his son close to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as fresh tears begin to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Apologies tumble from his mouth in between choked sobs. “I said all those terrible things to ya. I don’t mean them. I don’t.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince more at this point. Was it himself or his son? “I love ya. I love ya. I love ya. I’ll change. I’ll do anything I can for you- give you everything ya deserve.”

The baby only cooed softly, trying so hard to lift his head up, but with the way his father was held his head to his chest left no other option but for Cyrus to pat his hands against his father’s chest.

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

Over the coming years, Mammon held true to his word on that dark night. He embraced his son fully and finally formed a deep bond with him. There were some good days, some bad, but never once had the demon let his mind wander back to that dark place of hate and malice. At some point, the Avatar of Greed was even able to move past the rape all together and he felt completely at peace with everything that had happened to bring his son into his life. He and Arella had even decided to take the chance to bring a new life into this world and were now expecting a set of twins. Everything felt right. But peace is never lasting for demons and Mammon has always been unlucky.

It was five minutes. Five. Damn. Minutes. Mammon should have known better. Cyrus had gone with his father to one of his photoshoots. Typically, he kept the boy in his sights at all times but this time he allowed his director to turn his attention elsewhere for a better shot from a different angle. When the demon turned back to check on his child, Cyrus was nowhere to be seen and the Avatar of Greed panicked. It was only five minutes but he was gone. He hoped the little one had just gone off to use the bathroom and would be back shortly, but after a few minutes of nervous waiting, Cyrus never reappeared.

The whole set went into a frenzy searching for the child but he was nowhere to be found in the building. Mammon wanted to scream. How could he have let this happen? His child was taken. The white-haired demon couldn’t even finish the photoshoot as he dashed out the door searching- looking for any possible trail that would lead him to Cyrus, but there was nothing. Not even a scent trail to follow. He feels his heart break as horrible thoughts ran rampant through his head. That crushing weight from five years earlier was back.

With shaking hands, he pulled out his D.D.D. from his pocket and called his older brother. Told him everything that happened. How he let his child be abducted because he got careless, how he’s searched every conceivable place he could think of. After that, the entire family mobilized. Levi ordered his Navy to search for the boy, other smaller search parties were formed as well but nothing ever came of them. They even asked Solomon to search the mortal world and there were some leads but that too led to dead ends.

Mammon, Arella and the rest of the Avatars were left heartbroken by the loss. Not even with the birth of their twins were the parents able to find peace. Six months went by, then a year, then three- after five, the searches were called off. His body was never found, which left everyone with hope. It was hope that Mammon would hold onto until he was left with no other choice.

———————————————————————-

Next

There’s one more part left: an epilogue stay tuned folks.

Find more on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me angst #mammon angst #obey me mammon #om! mammon #obey me belphegor #om! belphegor

[t4tdexter]

house of mirrors

2.5k word mlp fanfic. dont judge me >.>

summary: rarity and twilights visit to the crystal empire is more eventful then either had hoped. somethings wrong with the castle, and more importantly, somethings wrong with shining armor...

content warnings: fear of transphobia (no actual rtansphobia bc this is the colorful horses show)

Rarity held back a whinny of delight as she trotted off the train and into the crystal empire station. Everywhere she looked she was dazzled by gleaming crystals of every color refracting rainbows on every surface while somehow remaining the farthest thing from gaudy. Starting to feel faint from excitement, she leaned on twilight's shoulder as her eyes fluttered.

“Rarity come on!” The alicorn laughed as she helped her friend upright. “We’ve hardly been in the empire for a minute! Save your fainting for the ceremony.”

The white horse perked up immediately at the reminder of what she had come here for: she was to assist Cadence and Shining Armor in the preparations for the newborn princesses presentation to the public! She cantered in place with excitement, lifting twilight's luggage with her magic and running off to their suite in the castle with twilight hot on her heels.

The suite was spacious with generous decor in simple light colors. the main focal point of the suite was the giant bay windows which cast giant swathes of warm light across the room. upon closer inspection rarity was amazed to discover that the windows were made entirely of cut crystal rather than glass. the faint color of the gemstone created a slight cast on the light coming in, giving a view of the city below that was ever so slightly tinted. this realization recontextualized the furnishing in rarities mind: it wasn't dull and plain, but simply a blank canvas for whatever the crystal windows brought in. a strange method of decor indeed. or was it a response to the material conditions of living in a house of crystal?

When the two had almost settled into their apartment, they were startled from their rest by a brisk knock at the door.

“A summons for princess twilight sparkle,” a booming voice called from behind the door. “You are needed urgently by princess mi amore cadenza for matters concerning his highness the prince.”

Worry flooded the purple alicorns features. “Urgent? Then I guess I had better go now.” She magically gathered a few items into her saddlebag and gave a parting smile to her friend as she was rushed away by royal guards.

Shocked by the suddenness of it all, rarity let out a chuff and sat squarely on her quarters. Was shining armor alright? she wanted to put her anxieties to rest, but it was plainly obvious that she hadn't been invited. would the entire trip to the empire consist of her sitting alone in her room while twilight attended to all matters of actual importance?

Trying to shake the thought from her head, rarity got up and left her room to explore the castle. It truly was extravagant, with pillars of crystal stretching to the high vaulted ceilings spreading refractions of glittering iridescence that made the whole space seem somehow both extraordinary glamorous and warm and homey. Inspiration flooded her mind as she trotted the decadently decorated halls. She just couldn’t wait to get back to her studio and put this inspiration to good use.

She was halted in her exploration when her ears picked up familiar voices talking from behind an ajar door. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help but listen in...

"-i don't know what to do twilight, he hadn't seemed this off for years, and now flurry is here and hes completely absent!"

"i don't know cadence, he hasn't said anything in his letters-"

“- all I’m saying is maybe you could get through to him! He won’t talk to me, or anypony else here. you're my last hope. maybe hell listen to his best friend”

“i've never been able to help him in one of these episodes before. if he’s not ready to talk then confronting him will only make him more defensive.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take. I’m worried for my husband twilight.” Rarity leaned on the door to hear better as the princesses voice dropped, “please, if not for shining armor, or for me, then for flurry heart. She deserves to have a father who can dedicate himself to her, not one who’s so preoccupied that he can hardly look after her.”

There was a sigh, then rarity heard twilight speak “very well. I’ll do this for her. Maybe that will get through to my brother.”

Sudden approaching hoofsteps started rarity out of her reverie. She stumbled backwards just in time to miss the swinging door as twilight entered the hall. “Rarity? I thought you were still in the room? Oh well, I need your help anyway." She looked over her shoulder as if to make sure they were alone. "I think somethings wrong with my brother. It's possible that one of the unreformed changelings has taken his place to try too take advantage of the upcoming love boom from flurry hearts royal presentation."

Rarity was taken aback by her friends leap of logic. "Doesn't that seem like an extreme suspicion? Having a baby is stressful enough for normal ponies, I cant imagine what kind of pressure would be on a royal prince."

"I don't know rarity, after what happened at the wedding we can't be too careful. I hope its just nerves and parental stress, but we have to expect the worse if we want to be prepared to handle it."

rarity nodded. "alright, then let's find your brother."

The two ponies galloped down the halls in search of the princes chambers. the crystal walls seemed to burn with energy, the warm cast of light from earlier having turned harsh and almost too bright. rarity wondered absently if this was a product of the changing time of day or a trick of the mind. could the walls of a castle really know how somepony felt, and shine it back at them like a diamond mirror?

a distant commotion pricked the two mares ears. "this way!" twilight called as she rounded a corner, dashing after the sound with rarity at her side.

the two skidded to a stop when they reached an open doorway from which the sound seemed to emit. with a flick of her ear twilight motioned for rarity to follow her and the two cautiously made their way into the room. twilight emitted a small light from her horn, then lit the rooms lamp once she could find it on the wall. with the room lit rarity immediately got an impression of drabness and depression, the tightly draped windows letting in no light and the gemstone walls shining the same dim echo back and forth across the space, almost seeming to beg for the light to go out again.

twilight gestured with her chin to the curtained bed at the center of the room, grabbing one edge of the curtain with her magic and indicating for rarity to take hold of the other. once the unicorn had secured the curtain, twilight gave a sharp nod and both ponies tugged their curtain aside, revealing a stallion-sized lump that spectacularly failed to live up to either mares fearful imagination.

the blue-maned unicorn sat up at once, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. he seemed to calm down slightly when he recognized his sister, but he remained guarded. "twily? rarity? what are you two doing in my private chambers?"

"well to be fair," rarity gestured back at the entrance, "you did leave your door open."

"cadence must have done that when she left." shining armor gruffed. "that doesn't answer my question though: what are you doing here?"

twilight stepped forward with a cautious expression, ready to fight if this really was a changeling. "were just here to check up on you, see how youre handling the upcoming princess presentation" it was clear that twilight was being reserved with her supposed brother.

then, shining armors eyes met hers, and her suspicion evaporated. that peculiar sadness that had haunted her brother in her young filliehood, then she had thought he'd escaped when he found happiness in cadences arms, was burning hot tears from shining armors eyes. she had never seen a pain like that before or since. if there was anything twilight was certain of, it was that this pony was the same one she had known her whole life. but the question still lingered, was he the real shining?

completely without her permission, tears began to well in twilight's eyes. "oh shinning, whats happened to you?"

her brother choked on a sob. "I'm sorry twily, you were never supposed to see me like this. no one was. i should be able to hold it together for you... for cadence... for my daughter..."

"shining nopony wants you to hide any part of you! we want to know when you're hurting so we can help. i had thought you'd healed from whatever's causing this pain but it seems to be back and i wont let you hide it from me this time!" the purple alicorn sniffled as tears streaked down her muzzle. "please shining, tell me whats wrong."

The stallion nervously rubbed his hooves together and cast his gaze to the ground. "i don't even know where to start."

"the beginning," twilight proposed. "i want to know everything. you cant heal until you let your wounds be seen."

shining nodded and took a deep breath, "its just that, when you were a fillie, everyone expected me to be the perfect big brother, and i never measured up to that expectation. it was like being thrown into the ocean with no idea how to swim, and everypony kept insisting that i was a fish and i should know how, but i didn't. then in the royal guard it didn't matter how i felt as long as i followed orders and played the role, so that's what i did. i don't know if it actually quieted the pain or just forced me to ignore it, but for a few years i thought maybe i could live with it. cadence was the only pony i've ever met who could make that noise in my brain silent; with her it didn't matter if I wasn't brother enough fro you or stallion enough for the military. i was always enough for her, no questions asked. i was so happy when we got married that i could almost forget about that feeling, telling myself it was a phase i'd outgrown. but now with flurry heart, all that anxiety is back. its like no matter what i do ill never be able to be a good father for her. i love her more than anything, id do anything for her, but it isn't enough. i'm not enough." the white unicorns neck gave way as he succumbed to quiet sobs, his once proud chin quivering and brushing his chest.

"shining... i..." twilight was speechless. what could be said? her brothers pain went far beyond anything she knew how to mend. at that moment being the princess of friendship meant nothing; she couldn't even move herself to speak in the face of her first best friends deep sorrow.

"i hope im not overstepping here," a timid voice chimed in, startling both siblings as rarity cleared her throat. "but i think i may have an idea as to the source and solution of your distress."

"rarity?" shining choked, "how could you possibly know how i feel?"

the mare nervously flicked her mane with an idle hoof. "there's a lot you don't know about me." turning to twilight, she asked "would it be alright if the prince and i could have a moment alone?"

Twilight nodded and bowed out of the room, and the two remaining ponies listened to her hoofbeats echo down and again further down the labyrinthine crystal hallway, which now seemed to glitter coldly like a sterile knife where it once had gleamed so warmly. rarity shivered at the thought of living in a place like this, which could transform before your eyes depending only on ones own emotion. that was, she mused, the property of crystal. it created nothing, only reflecting what was cast onto it. in a dimly lit cave the finest diamond was often mistaken by novices for a common quartz, but at the heart of a kingdom built on a foundation of admiration it gleamed on every surface like the morning dew on a freshly budded rose. this castle wasn't a cold cage or a warm embrace, it was an endless hall of mirrors, each perfectly angled to show you the deepest darkest crevice of your heart.

"i understand why it tortures you to live here." rarity whispered. "each surface gleams to a pristine chrome finish, yet the face it reflects is fundamentally and inconceivably wrong."

shining armor appeared startled, "that's exactly how it feels. how do you know? is it that obvious how miserable i am?

the mare shook her head, "only to those who have felt the same misery. shining armor, i once lived the same life as you, albeit in a much more drab estate. I felt that at every turn i failed at the very task of existing as myself, my relationships suffered because it pained me to view myself as a part of them. mirrors became my enemy because i couldn't face the pony looking back at me. the stallion looking back at me."

a small gasp escaped the taller unicorns lips "what-"

"think about it shining," rarity pleaded shakily, " everything you cant stand to be: brother, father, soldier, prince. they all have one thing in common." tears welled in her eyes and choked her throat "you cant run from it shining. it never stops. you only make yourself more and more miserable. you can cover as many mirrors as you like but eventually you're going to look around and realize that you're still the same pony you hated, standing alone in complete darkness."

something clicked behind the other ponys eyes. "no, it cant be... what about cadence? flurry? twilight? i cant throw all of them away because i have some twisted dream of living as a-"

"-you're not sick shining. maybe a bit different, but there's nothing wrong with you. you'll find that the friends worth keeping don't care at all. they're suffering by watching you suffer; freeing yourself will only free them too."

"i have no idea where to even start though. aren't i a bit too old for this?" shinings eyes were wide and scared.

"i would love to personally see to all the aesthetic changes you wish for, if you'll have me. you really couldn't ask for a more qualified personal stylist. and as for the social shift, you've got the princesses of love and friendship in your corner."

"but that's just it: they're not in my corner. they may as well be on the other side of equestria, or a gaping cavern. how can i even know that they'll still see me as me?"

"i know how scary it is, especially in the early days, but i can personally account for twilights acceptance. and as for cadence, i'm pretty sure they don't go around giving titles like the princess of love to ponies who cant accept others for something so harmless as gender." her smile faded and her face grew a bit serious "i can be there with you if you want. like i said, i know how scary it is." she placed a hoof on top of the other mares own.

She smiled. "I think id like that."

#mlp fanfic #mlp fanfiction #rarity #twilight sparkle #shining armor #princess cadence #mlp trans #trans shining armor #transfem shining armor