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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

request: some christmassy idea where marcus moreno brings presents he bought for missy to the shop to get wrapped up bc he cant wrap for shit. And he wants to flirt with reader whos the one whos gonna wrap the presents but for the love of the above he cant. hes stuttering and hes flustered and its cute. And reader is like okay mister "i can use the force", heres my number, call me so we can shedule a date. And hes so shocked about it 😄😭😭😭 thank u patricia! 🌟

I see it's time to write for Mr. Moreno? Excellent 😌 Enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he reluctantly returned to the store, the bag of presents in his hand a sign of defeat. How hard it could possibly have been to wrap a few presents? Apparently too hard for someone like Marcus Moreno. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, oh no, he’d spent several hours the previous evening after Missy had gone to bed attempting to wrap the clothes and other oddly shaped boxes perfectly. But instead of success, all he gained was frustration.

Instead of another vain attempt at the wrapping, he gave up and threw everything back into the bag and made his mind that he would go back to the small department store and ask...beg if you required it, for you to wrap the gifts.

He might have been able to save the world on several occasions, but apparently his talents ended at Christmas gift wrapping. Well, he huffed to himself as he pulled open the door, the soft twinkling of bells meeting his ears, everyone had a limit. His just happened to be a little more pathetic than others.

Super Hero, he reminded himself with each step, he was a fudgin’ super hero for fuck’s sake. But alas, when it came to more domestic things, such as cooking, and wrapping apparently, he was far from super. He was working on it though - spending time each day to make sure he was learning - doing enough - to be the father Missy needed. For her, and himself. Things weren’t always easy, but they were always getting better.

Although tired from a long day at the office, throwing swords around, as Missy had dubbed it, his face instantly lit up when he spied you behind the counter, an almost bored expression on your face. The last of the Christmas rush was almost over, which meant business had slowed down, which was both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Marcus would have been a liar if he said he didn’t have an ulterior motive for coming back; sure - he wanted the presents wrapped, but let’s be honest, the man was smitten with you. Any excuse to come back and chat with you, even if it was just five minutes was good enough for him.

He’d known you, casually, for a few years now. You had been Missy’s teacher at school last year, and he knew that you worked the summers and holidays at your parent’s store to give them a hand with the rushes. Sometimes, being the sneaky Heroic he was, he’d made up excuses in the past to come into your classroom to spend a few minutes here and there talking to you. It was hard to believe that anyone could make him nervous, to make his heart flutter and beat like a nervous schoolboy, but there you were. Managing to do it every time.

But he’d never act on it. No, no, no. That would be downright outrageous. After all, why on earth would you be interested in Marcus Moreno? He couldn’t even wrap a present.

Almost as if you sensed his presence, you looked up from the counter you were organized and offered him a dazzling smile, accompanied by a small wave. He was positive his heart stopped at the sight as he had to remind himself to breath. After a quick inhale and exhale, he marched over to you, ready to be firm, and hell, maybe today he’d finally ask if you wanted to get dinner sometime. Why not, after all? But then he took a good look at your eyes, those soft eyes and that gentle smile and he came undone.

“Hi Marcus,” you beamed at him as he did his best to give you a normal smile in response, “what a pleasure to see a friendly face. How are you?”

“Hi,” he managed to choke out as he calmed himself. How did you have this effect on him? He was a grown man, a man with plenty of experience in dating and love, and yet this one he couldn’t seem to nail down, “I’m fine - you know what, why lie? I’m tired and I can’t wrap presents for shit. I hate to ask, but could you help me out? I’ve seen you do it for other people and I’m afraid if I try again, it’ll be worse than the first time. It’s been awful - oh my God, I’m so rude. I’m rambling - you look pretty - nice - how are you?”

“Marcus,” you giggled at him, watching as a nervous tinge of pink flushed his cheeks. You put your hand on his, effectively getting him to calm down and shut up, “slow down. It’s okay - I’ve got you covered. I assume work is busy?”

“That’s one way to put it,” he was instantly relieved as you took the presents from and grabbed some wrapping paper to display to him. He nodded at your choice and watching in awe as you made quick work of grabbing the first present and getting to work, “I was about ready to just leave him in the bag and give them to Missy like that.”

“Ahh, it’s not a big deal,” you shot him a quick wink, “it’s easy once you get the hang of it. But then again, I’ve been helping my parents with this stuff for years. Maybe sometime I’ll show you how.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he exhaled as he leaned against the counter and tried to pay it cool. His heart was thumping in his chest so rapidly, he was sure you were able to hear it as well. If you noticed anything out of place, you didn’t show it, “I’ll pay you - whatever you want.”

“Marcus,” you waved him off, “there’s no need. Besides, what are friends for?”

“Friends,” he almost choked on the word as he grinned at the delicate look of concentration on your face. Your brow was furrowed, your tongue peeking out from between your lips as you made sure to get all the measurements just right, “how’s everything been? It’s been a while…”

“I know,” you agreed as you started some ribbon to start curling it, “I miss you coming into my classroom all the time, I miss Missy - it’s not quite the same without the Morenos.”

How much could hint at it before he finally got the bait? You’d harbored a crush on the man for years now, even before you became Missy's teacher. He was a Heroic after all - handsome, funny, smart, and kind. Who wouldn't fall in love with him? You'd hinted at your feelings a number of times and you thought he reciprocated a few times, but you could never be quite sure. And neither of you ever seemed to make a move. You'd come close a few times, but somehow just hadn't...quite gotten there.

“I miss it too,” he agreed quietly, turning his attention to his hands, “Missy doesn’t like her teacher as much this year.”

“That’s because I’m pretty cool,” you teased gently, “you look nice too, by the way. The all black thing - pretty sexy.”

Marcus was sure his heart stopped at your words; you couldn’t seriously have said what he thought you said. Right? Right. He looked at you with wide eyes as you refused to look up from what you were doing in case you had completely overstepped any remaining boundaries.

“I, umm…” he paused for a moment, chuckling at his own nerves as he moved to stand in front of you, “I’m shit at this. But I, umm...I like you.”

“Marcus,” you stopped what you were doing and set the scissors down to meet his soft brown eyes. He had a small smile on his face, nervous as he watched your expression to try and get a read on the situation. Honestly? He’d rather have taken down another horde of aliens than wait for your response, “it’s about time you said something. I was beginning to think you never would.”

“Oh,” he let a nervous chuckle as your words set in, “oh. Oh?”

“I like you too, Marcus,” you admitted as a warmth flushed over you, “I just...I didn’t know how to say it. I was…”

“Nervous,” you both blurted out at the same time as you both laughed. At least you were on the same page.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he confessed as you nodded in understanding, “I feel like an old fool more than anything...but I’d like to take you out. On a date. A real date. Like you know not just...this, and I’m sorry if this is awkward. Missy’s been telling me to ask you forever and I just feel like -”

“Marcus,” you grinned at him as you reached up and held up a finger to his lips, “you’re rambling again, silly. I’d love to. I’d love to go out with you.”

“Seriously?” his eyebrows raised in surprise as you just nodded. Needless to say, he was not expecting this - any of it.

“Seriously,” you confirmed, “come on, Mr. Force Hands, give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

“Okay,” he looked at you with nothing but soft hope in his eyes as he fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You let your hand brush over his as you took it and quickly saved your number for him, “I...yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “but don’t actually forget to text me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed out easily, “besides, I owe Missy twenty bucks now and she’ll never forget it. We made a bet - she said I’ve never get the nerve to ask.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” you grinned at him, “now come on. Come around the counter and I’ll show you how to wrap properly.”

Marcus shuffled around the counter and you pointed to the spot you had previously occupied. Moving behind him, you paused for a moment before reaching around him to put your hands over his and help guide him. He swallowed thickly at your tender touch, trying to keep himself composed.

“Now,” you said softly, “do it like this.”

It was definitely not what Marcus had expected to come out of this evening - but he was so glad it did. Finally.

Maybe not being able to wrap presents wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #wcbh #we can be heroes #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ahhhhh here we are

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tiny-slasher · 4 years

Text

Billy Lenz x Reader | Therapy Intruder

My friend and I came up with the dumb idea of Billy just busting into the reader’s therapy session, and just...not leaving. That’s all.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

When you'd begun therapy you were skeptical of its effectiveness, but to your surprise, it had proven itself useful. While you were not making progress as swiftly as you would've preferred, you'd finally picked up on the slight improvements in your speech and mannerisms. Your hands no longer shook quite so violently, and you could maintain eye contact just a tiny bit longer before it grew uncomfortable. The fear of disappointing your therapist was always there, in the back of your mind, but she always smiled so warmly at you. Sometimes, you found yourself opening up to her a bit more, and when you didn't, she never pushed you.

Finally, after so many sessions, you'd finally begun to feel like it had all been worth it. Some days were still horrible, but you found yourself smiling more during the better ones.

Still...it wasn't easy.

"You remember what I told you when you first came in here?" your therapist asked.

You frowned, unsure what she meant.

"I told you that therapy gives you the tools you need to cope, and that it's up to you to use them."

You sighed, remembering. It felt like so long ago.

"You've been doing very well. Even small progress is progress," she smiled at you.

"I just thought I'd be farther along by now, is all," you murmured.

"When you set unrealistic expectations for yourself, and for others, you will more often than not be disappointed," she said. "This isn't a game you can win or lose, and slower progression doesn't equal failure."

"I know..." you said. "I just-"

Your heart lept into your throat when the door slammed open, rattling the painting hanging on the wall beside it.

"Billy, your session isn't for another fifteen minutes. Will you wait outside, please?" your therapist hadn't so much as flinched at the intrusion.

Shock overrode your anxiety as you stared at the man. He was fairly tall, with fluffy, brunette hair, and a somewhat outdated fashion sense. His brown eyes zeroed in on you, piercing your soul like a sword. His lack of expression revealed absolutely nothing, while he stood eerily still in the doorway.

"I want to come in now."

Warmth filled your belly from the deep tone of his voice, a bit hoarse as it met your ears. You tore your gaze away from his, discomfort finally catching up with you. Yet, there was a telling prickle on the back of your neck as he continued to stare at you.

"I'm with someone else, right now," your therapist calmly explained. "You need to wait your turn."

"I want to come in now."

Your therapist leaned back in her seat, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, how you wished you could've been anywhere else during the silence that followed. The sound of Billy's shuffling was extremely loud- almost as loud as your heartbeat. You swallowed just as he let out a loud, impatient sigh.

"You need to wait outside. Just for a few more minutes, alright?"

Your shoulders eased when the door slammed shut, until some air caressed the side of your face as Billy took a seat next to yours. You heard a sigh from your therapist as she told him that he needed to leave, but neither you nor Billy were really listening.

His eyes were no longer looking at you, but down at his hands as he picked at his fingernails. Still, your neck prickled, and you suspected he was watching you very intently from his peripherals. His face was still blank, almost eerily so.

"Billy, you can't sit in on someone else's session-"

"Can't sit! Can't sit!" Billy blurted out, sharply turning to you. "You should leave."

His eyes glanced down to see your mouth open in incredulity, a bit frightened by his outburst. He winced.

"Billy! Out!" your therapist sharply, but calmly asserted.

His knuckled grew white as his fingers dug into his palms, trembling in what appeared to be frustration. You knew how hard it could be to show up to therapy sometimes, but it was even worse if you were early and had to wait. Fifteen minutes might not seem like such a great length of time, but you knew that it felt like years when you had something on your mind.

"It's alright, I'll just cut it short today," you said, standing. "It's just fifteen minutes."

Billy's eyes widened as he watched you. His breathing was heavy, while his mouth was shut in a tight, thin line.

"You can talk about a lot in fifteen minutes," your therapist frowned.

There was a bewildered expression on Billy's face as you glanced back at him, giving him a small smile.

"Yeah...you can," you said.

As you shut the door, you heard Billy quietly say, "Yeah, you can."

~*~

You were early to your next session, having to sit in one of the waiting room chairs outside of your therapist's office. You briefly mulled over what you wanted to talk about, trying not to dwell too long on those thoughts. Otherwise, you'd risk overanalyzing everything, and just giving yourself more unneeded stress.

You were so deep in your thoughts, you almost didn't notice someone sit down in the chair beside you.

Curious to see who would choose to sit so close, despite all of the other empty seats in the room, you turned to see the man who'd interrupted your last session - Billy. He was facing down at his hands once again, his eyes frantically glancing over you every now and then. Unsure what to say, you just adjusted in your seat and went back to your thoughts.

"Hello, Billy!" the receptionist greeted, giving Billy a warm smile.

"Hello," he replied gruffly, turning to them.

"Do you want any candy?" they asked, gesturing to the small bowl in front of them.

"Got any red ones?" Billy asked, getting up and walking over.

"I think I see a few."

Clearly, Billy had been seeing your therapist longer than you had. Or maybe, he was just more sociable than you were... While the receptionist had greeted you when you walked in, she didn't do so quite so familiarly. And while that didn't bother you, it made you wonder just how long Billy had been in therapy.

Your therapist walked into the room as Billy grabbed a lollipop and shoved it in his mouth. She greeted you, and then him, to which he replied by loudly slurping on his candy. She just smiled, almost endearingly, and then gestured you to follow her for your session.

You passed by Billy as you made your way to the door, and jumped when you felt what you could only assume was his hand on your wrist. However, when you turned to him, he wasn't facing you. He was staring down at the bowl of candy in front of him, his expression blank and distant.

"You coming?" your therapist asked.

"Yeah...sorry," you replied, spinning on your heel and following her again.

Later, when your therapy session had ended, your therapist had asked you to tell Billy that it was his turn.

You found Billy standing at the window, still sucking on a lollipop. He immediately turned to you when you opened the door, both eyes burning into yours. You swallowed, feeling bare, and made your way to him.

"Uh...it's your turn."

Billy stared at you for a long moment, and then held out a lollipop, "Want one?"

You blinked, taken aback, "U-uh..."

Instead of waiting for an answer, Billy shoved the lollipop into your hand.

His hand lingered a bit too long on yours, his grip firm, and his eyes staring into yours. It was near impossible for you to look away from them, until you felt his fingers run across the back of your hand. You gently pulled away, thanking him, and then left.

You didn't notice the way he watched you.

~*~

The same thing happened the next few weeks. You hadn't intended on showing up early again, but life had other plans, and it would appear Billy was dealing with a similar dilemma.

On one particular day, he chose the seat beside yours once again, despite you sitting in a different spot. He leaned back in his seat, this time, drumming his fingers against the armrests. It only took a moment for you to smell his cologne, which you were positive he hadn't been wearing the last two times you'd seen him.

"Do you like it? It's Brut," he said, answering your unspoken question.

"Uh, yeah it's nice!" you nodded, taken aback. "It suits you."

"U-uh yeah, it suits you," Billy replied, in tone eerily similar to yours, and then shook his head. "Sorry."

"Oh, it's alright," you assured him.

"...It bothers most people," his face contorting.

"Well, it doesn't bother me," you assured him.

“It...doesn’t?”

You shook your head, “No. Why would it?”

"Why would it- SHUT UP, BILLY!"

You jumped at the sudden harshness in his tone, and were a bit frightened by the dull, haunted look in his eyes. They were cold, and angry, but were directed inward towards himself.

"STUPID BILLY, YOU'RE CRAZY! SHUT THE HELL UP!" he yelled in a voice that sounded nothing like his own, before slamming his mouth shut.

Abruptly, he stood and strutted over to the candy bowl at the front desk. The receptionist was watching him, but didn't seem too surprised. Billy grabbed a lollipop from the bowl, almost toppling it over, and then shoved it into his mouth with the wrapper still on. His cheeks were red as he turned back to face you, eyes not meeting yours when he went to sit back down.

"Is that what people say to you?" you asked quietly.

Billy didn't reply, only continued sucking his lollipop through the wrapper.

"Here," you gently reached over to turn his chin towards you, tugging the lollipop out of his mouth.

You felt his eyes on you as you unwrapped his lollipop, trying not to show too much disgust at the drool covering the wrapper. You handed it back to him afterwards, with a smile.

"There, it probably tastes better now."

"Uh huh," Billy murmured, not even moving to put it back in his mouth.

You squirmed under his gaze. His eyes spoke differently than his silence, with several surprised emotions flickering through them. He seemed like he had so much he wanted to say, and yet he clenched his jaw shut.

"People can be pretty nasty, you know?" you said, looking away. "It is hard to ignore...but try not to let them get to you."

The door opened, and your therapist greeted you, gesturing for you to follow.

You turned to Billy just before leaving and said, "For what it's worth, I don't think you're stupid, or crazy."

Billy's eyes widened, surprise settling over his features. He grabbed your wrist as you turned to leave.

"W-wait-" he cut himself off, muttering lowly to himself.

"Yes?"

Billy stood up, trembling all over.

"I don't think you're stupid, or crazy," he echoed, looking directly into your eyes.

You felt your cheeks heat up, and couldn't help but huff out a small laugh. Your surprise only amplified when you felt his chapped lips kiss you on the cheek. He pulled away, his own cheeks red, looking at you for any signs of complaint. When you gave his hand a squeeze, you could see the tension drop from his shoulders.

"Thank you," you whispered.

He didn't reply, but squeezed your hand back before you pulled away. Seeing the mischievous grin on his lips as you left, you wondered what on earth you'd gotten yourself into.

"Billy," your therapist playfully chided. "It's not your turn yet."

You were so flustered you didn't notice that he was less than a foot behind you. He smirked at you when you glanced back, and you had a feeling this was going to be a common issue.

#billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #slasher #slashers #I had no idea where to go with this so #yeah #slasher x reader

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letteredlettered · 3 years

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Absolutely no pressure to answer if u don't want to but how did u and ur girlfriend meet? U guys seem really cute together.

We are insanely cute together.

This is a long story that doesn’t need to be this long, but whatever. I love my girlfriend and you asked, so here you go.

Last spring I was writing That Lesson Alone, which was making me rethink a lot of things I’d already thought a lot about before. That rethinking made me promise myself to be more open to new experiences, which I try to be, but I do let my social anxiety drive quite a bit of what I do.

So, when I got an email from a fan who said she was going to be in what she thought was my hometown, and she loved my fics, and was I interested in meeting, I said yes. She mentioned she had left a comment on one fic and that we had had a little conversation; I remembered this comment in particular because the personal story in the comment was rather sensational and quite interesting. Still, I might not have agreed to meet, because it could be very awkward. I don’t like talking to strangers with faces. However, because of That Lesson Alone, and because she was fannish, I agreed to the meeting. (I like meeting strangers who are fannish far more than strangers in any other circumstance. At least you can talk about fandom with strangers who are fannish, and I’m very interested in fandom. You can talk about work with work strangers or the bus with strangers you meet at the bus, but most real things bore me so I struggle with these conversations.)

This person sent me another email in another language, which stymied me for a little while about how to reply, but then she quickly sent me another email saying the first email was meant for someone else; the someone else also sounded sensational. When she got to my hometown, she emailed to say she had arrived, but only had a vague idea of when she was leaving, and she had no concrete plans so could meet any time. I began to get the impression that this person was, how do you say, A Ride, by which I mean one of those people who is interesting and clever and sensational but also extremely non-linear and flighty and difficult to understand. I mean she was halfway around the world and didn’t know when she was leaving; she sent the wrong people emails; the people she told me she knew were sensational; she was perfectly bilingual; she was totally down for meeting random strangers. I have a friend who is A Ride. She is what the Sisters at the Abby would call a flibberty-gibbet, a will-o-the-wisp, a darling, a demon, a lamb.

I wanted to meet on a weeknight (I don’t know if you know this, honey, but I told you I wanted to meet on a weeknight because I was busy, but although I can always be busy, so it wasn’t strictly a lie, this wasn’t my main motivation. I wanted to have an excuse to only have a small window of time to meet so that I could get away if it was too awkward), but on the night we arranged to meet, I was unwell. I was in fact entering the worse part of what I have now learned is a chronic illness. Usually this would be enough to convince me to cancel altogether, and to this day I’m shocked that I didn’t. Is it becoming clear that I don’t like meeting anyone and never ever date? Anyway, because of That Lesson Alone and my determination to be open to new experiences, we rescheduled.

I bused to the restaurant where we met after work and then walked from the bus. I remember this walk. I remember doing the thing that I do to prepare myself for social situations I don’t like, which is not letting myself dwell on it too much, reminding myself that I am actually rather good at making other people feel comfortable when I make the effort, reminding myself to ask questions, reminding myself I could get away, reminding myself that people actually find me quite personable and even vivacious, because I am, but if it’s with strangers, only if I fake it hard enough. These little reminders get me into game face, the face I use for dealing with other people.

Anyway, when I met her, she was very tall. This immediately made me more comfortable, as I am very tall and often feel awkwardly large around other people. And then the first thing she told me was that she had been watching something happy and queer, which meant we could not only talk about fannish things but also queer things. But was she going to be one of those people who just went on about straight things being dull? That always makes me uncomfortable.

Luckily, she doesn’t talk that way, and it was such an amazing conversation, the kind of conversation you dream about having with the love of your life, but the one you doubt you’ll have when you actually meet the love of your life. You imagine when you meet the love of your life you’ll have a conversation that goes, “Pass the salt,” and maybe you’ll talk about the weather, and then a few weeks later you meet them again and talk a little more about something equally uninteresting. Not until months pass by do you realize how much you have in common and how much you like being near them, and then you will start to talk about the things that truly interest you, and after years, you realize they’re the love of your life.

Most of the time, when you have a really stunningly good conversation, you don’t assume you’re talking to the love of your life. You assume it’s a once in a lifetime conversation, with a once in a lifetime person, and you never see them again, because they are too smart and too cool and too tall for you. Or, you do see them again, and you keep seeing them, because they are so mystic, so magical; they are so stunning and intelligent and intellectual; they make you feel so much, you just want to talk to them and talk to them and talk to them. And the more you talk, the more you find out that behind the magic, there’s actually not much that you have in common. Sometimes you find out that they trot out the same sensational stories on every occasion; they make the same jokes you found so witty over and over; you find out that everything that was glossy and new about them is something old that has been polished to shine, with very little you can hold on to and firmly understand underneath. Other times you just learn that your moral centers diverge, or you don’t actually like them. There is no fire beyond the initial spark.

This is just not true of my girlfriend. She is still smart and still cool and still sensational and, very importantly, still tall. I would not describe her as A Ride. She’s not one of those people who makes you feel like you have to sit back and hold on; though she’s endlessly clever, she can explain her thought processes and likes to; she thinks deeply about herself and others and listens. She’s so thoughtful and interesting and clever and also deeply passionate and exuberant about so many things that when you’re with her you can create a ride together that both of you drive or both of you sit back and enjoy. (She didn’t know when she was leaving my hometown because her flight back wasn’t for a long while, but she was traveling down to Oregon and California, and hadn’t bought train tickets yet, and we solved how the mistake was made on the email. We are guessing it was an autofill accident, since the person she was trying to email has a name that starts with the same letter).

She is reliable. She has a whiz-bang, knock-you-flat kind of memory, that not only remembers facts and conversations and locations but that remembers how you are feeling, and remembers to ask. She has the kind of broad-yet-also-piercing intellect that can follow an abstract conversation and build on it, even when you’re in the territory of feelings and concepts without names. She always wants to talk about her feelings, which makes me want to genuflect with gratitude, and she’s so hot she’d probably light a candle if she touched its wick. Like definitely keep her away from flammable substances. She’s creative and theatric and theatrically creative. She has big dark hair and curvy hips. She’s generous and accommodating and care-taking in a way that doesn’t negate her own self-interest. She’s gentle. She’s kind.

But anyway, so we got to talking, and it was one of the best conversations of my life, and I got on a bus and went home, very proud of myself for having accomplished A Social Thing, and telling myself, “See? Social Things are not always bad.” She had mentioned that she would be in town a little longer if I wanted to hang out again, but that would just be crazy, as having to do anything social twice in one week is a strain for me, much less with someone I don’t know. But the truth is, I already felt like I knew her, and leave yourself open to new experiences, said That Lesson Alone, and when else was I going to meet a magic person?

Also, I should mention, which I’m not sure I’ve mentioned to her, but I am suspicious of magical people. When I meet magical people I assume they are vampires underneath, by which I mean they are putting on an act, as I said above, or they are one day going to get you in a very difficult situation, because they are A Free Spirit, which, eventually, you find out means they think crime is fun, or something. I’m just a suspicious person, okay.

But we did hang out again. And that was also magical. And I invited her to my apartment, something I’ve barely done with anybody and never ever ever in my whole life with someone I’ve just met. And then I thought about having sex with her, which is something I basically never think about. And then she left town and said she might be in love with me, but at this point I still A LITTLE BIT thought she might be A Ride, in which case she probably fell in love with people all the time.

Usually when I meet someone very cool I assume they don’t want to pursue friendship with me, because they probably have way too many other friends. I think we’ve all been in the situation of knowing someone very popular and realizing that we do not mean as much to them as they do to us. I am always wary of investing too much emotion in someone who does not have the capacity to equally invest in me. However, because investing time in people I don’t know well is such a commitment for me, I’m also frequently guilty of just ghosting people. I often don’t respond to texts or emails. I often just drop people, without ever really meaning to. Part of it is how intently I focus on things—it’s difficult for me to be pulled in many directions at once, so it’s easier to have a few good friends rather than many casual ones. But part of it really is self-confidence, assuming people don’t want to know me.

However, writing That Lesson Alone reminded me that I am allowed to pursue friendships. It made me realize that a lot of my assumptions about people not wanting to know me are my own self-confidence issues, and not actually other people not wanting to know me. Writing That Lesson Alone reminded me I was worth knowing.

So, we kept talking. I was still late to replying to some emails, but I eventually did reply. I even got a new messenger app just to talk to her. We both have an interest in theater. I was directing a play. She expressed interest in seeing it. She was going to be in Canada when it opened. I told her if she wanted to see it she could stay with me if she wanted. I’d never really done anything like that before. She said yes. I still didn’t really think it would happen—but it did. She came to stay with me for a week that summer. I remembered thinking about having sex with her. I remembered thinking she might be open to it.

One of the things I wanted to be open to when I was writing That Lesson Alone was the idea of dating. I used to think that if I was open to dating, I would have to be open to dating lots of people I didn’t want to date; I thought dating meant you had to give everyone “a chance” and suffer through a lot of “pass the salt” just In Case. That’s why I didn’t date. I have actually been happy being mostly single most of my life. I never really felt a strong need for a partner, except in some sadder lonely moments, and even then, I wanted to be alone more than with someone who was just “pass the salt” okay. But one revelation I had writing That Lesson Alone was that I didn’t have to give everyone “a chance.” I didn’t have to give anyone a chance. I could just be open to dating, and look at what was out there (OK Cupid), but if nothing appealed, I didn’t actually have to do anything, since I already knew I was happy being alone. So, I thought more about what would be appealing, so I could know what I was open to.

I realized the person I wanted was tall (natch). With big dark hair. They like reading and talking about fiction and fictional characters. They can have abstract conversations about philosophical topics. And they are caring and accommodating in a way that can deal with an acerbic nature like mine, but they are also self-aware enough and assertive enough to be honest when I’ve hurt them. And they aren’t acerbic back.

This is a tall order. (hahaha) I thought about it a lot, because I really am harsh sometimes. I try not to be. I try very hard. I just get snappy when I’m tired or stressed, and even though I think about it deeply and put measures in place so that it won’t hurt other people, and I reflect on my own behavior and make apologies, I still hurt people. And despite all of this I’m still hurt by anyone that acts like me. I can deal with it! In fact, lots of times I like it, as lots of people like that (myself included) tend to be blunt and I love blunt, because I love knowing where I stand with people. But I also know that, as a rule, I just cannot be extremely close and spend my life with someone who will snap at me. I’m just too sensitive.

Anyway, over this week she stayed with me, I realized she actually was the only person I’d ever met who fit all of these qualifications. She was someone I would date if she was local. Meanwhile, she made it pretty clear she was really, really into me, which was also something that had never really happened to me before. If people have been into me before (which I still doubt, but who knows), they haven’t made it clear. If they thought they were making it clear, they didn’t realize that I am someone who needs heavy, heavy hints in order to understand flirting, even when I see it happening to other people. But luckily my girlfriend is pretty great at making what she wants clear. She made it really clear she wanted me.

So, well, things happened. I told her I wished that we could date and she could be my girlfriend. She asked why we couldn’t. I told her I thought the distance thing was an obvious problem. She didn’t think it was. So then I had a girlfriend, and she did too.

The end.

PS I love her.

#z #i love you!!!#Anonymous

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babysizedfics · 4 years

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I need to know about doctor mama lo taking care of a sick baby Virgil if you would like pretty please. I dont wanna ask on the in character blog cuz I feel like it would be weird to ask for details and lo seems kinda busy anyway lol.

hey tumblebee!! yeah yeah lets do this, Im gonna write it so that ppl who dont follow the other blog can understand too

WARNING IF U HAVENT ALREADY BLOCKED THE TAGS ILLNESS TW AND VOMIT TW THEY ARE VERY PREVALENT IN THIS

also this is a VERY long headcanon!!

so last night vee got ill, he had been regressed in the afternoon with patton and he was acting much more fussy than usual - not being entertained by his cartoons, not having the energy to play with his rattle, pretty much constantly whining and pouting and he gets very wriggly when he's fussy

patton assumed it was because vee had been upset earlier that day. at one point vee started gripping his stomach, and patton assumed its because he was hungry and could smell the food roman was cooking

but when dinner came around no matter how hard patton tried he couldnt get vee to eat a morsel - he kept turning his head away from the food and whining. at one point patton and logan both managed to convince him to eat a spoonful but his face crumpled with a wince and it looked almost painful for him to swallow it. it was at this point logan noticed he had a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead

things fell into place quickly after that - logan checked his temperature and it was indeed slightly higher than was healthy, they noticed vee's hands were trembling and he was constantly on the verge of tears :(

while patton cleared away dinner and excused roman who wanted to go and craft in his room, logan took vee to his bedroom and tried to check for more symptoms, since vee was non verbal and unresponsive totheir questions. he tested his tummy by pushing it a little to see if the pain got worse when he released it (this is a test for appendicitis) but there was no reaction thankfully except vee being upset by logan not cuddling him. he checked his throat for any redness or infection, nothing.

vee's crying became more pronounced and eventually he was in constant tears, occassionally pleading 'mama mama' through sniffles and hiccups and whines of pain :(( Patton brought him a baby bottle of cooled tea made with fresh mint leaves since that is supposed to help stomach pains. though he left the room again since logan thought it was best not to crowd virgil. Vee's crying had dissipated but he was strangely silent and seemed almost loopy now. he only drank a little of the tea before he pushed it away with a gag.

logan immediately took him to the bathroom knowing what was coming, and sure enough vee threw up into the toilet, crying between gags. logan dutifully managed to keep vee in his lap the whole time and held his hair and rubbed his back, telling him he was such a good boy the whole time

Thankfully it didnt last long as there wasnt much in vees stomach to be emptied. he was shivering and sweating and flushed and had lost all energy. he wasnt even crying anymore, just whimpering under his breath. with a bit of a struggle logan managed to show him how to rinse his mouth out with mouthwash - though he had to hold vee over the sink and pat his back to make sure he didnt swallow it

during all of this patton wasnt able to help because of his heightened empathy, if he sees someone throwing up the likeihood is he will too and that wiuldnt be very helpful! so instead he drives to the store to pick up some medicine and ice pops - and comes back with half the store including some actual baby medicine smh - ((im actually begging u to read that linked post i think its so funny))

it was originallly meant to be logans night to put roman to bed but understandably patton took on that task instead. after roman was drifting off patton pokes his head into vee's room. he had hoped to find lo and vee asleep but they werent. they were lying in the dark with an in the night garden audio story playing on a portable speaker and with vees salt lamp and star night light lighting up the room in a soft glow.

logan offered a strained little smile and nod to patton as he stroked vee's hair and cuddled him close. vee was completely out of it honestly. his body was wholly lax against his mama, his lips were in a permanent pout and his eyes were puffy and wet. he barely even acknowledged his papa coming in, his teary eyes just settled on him for a moment then dropped back to the bedsheets without a reaction. he kept lifting his thumb up to suck on it but logan kept capturing it and apologising as he brought it away. Vee shouldnt suck on his thumb and logan doesnt want to give him a paci while he's ill. understandably, baby vee was completely miserable.

patton asks if logan thinks vee could handle a popsicle or plain crackers at the moment but logan disagrees. he doesnt expect either of them to get much sleep so he will make sure vee eats something in a few hours. with a gentle kiss on vee's forehead patton goes off to bed, confident that logan will be able to look after vee and will come get him if theres any issues

logan and vee really dont sleep much at all. Vee drifts off for a few minutes at a time then gasps awake from vivid fever dreams. logan keeps ice cubes in a bowl by the bed for vee to suck on if he needs to cool down and wraps a couple in a flannel to press to vee's head when his fever rises in the middle of the night.

around 3am logan jolts awake and realises he had drifted off. and vee isnt anywhere in the room. he panics momentarily, bolting up from the bed and dashing to the closet to see if virgil is in there - which he tends to do when he is overwhelmed - but then he hears sniffling from the bathroom.

he finds vee, no longer regressed, curled up against the side of the bathtub with his bangs clinging to his sweaty head. vee is the palest person logan knows but he looks positively grey at the moment

'can i help in any way?' he asks, aware that he doesnt need to baby talk at the moment but still eager to look after this bundle of miserableness

virgil just groans under his breath and clutches his knees to his chest. 'i.. i didnt know what to do with the..' he gestures vaguely to something on the floor

logan notices virgil, being not regressed anymore, had obviously wrestled off the diaper he had been changed into the night before and not known how to dispose of it

'its ok, ive got it' logan wraps it up in a bag and puts it in the trash can they have in the room for just this purpose

'sorry.. m stupid' virgil croaks

'You're not stupid.' logan says firmly as he washes his hands 'You're ill and probably delirious from the fever. it's alright virgil'

theres quiet for a bit longer, virge's head pressed against the porcelain edge of the bathtub likely in an attempt to cool his fever. logan stays there with him for a while just waiting. then suddenly virgil starts sobbing and buries his face in his hands.

'sweetheart, tell me whats wrong please' logan hurries to kneel beside him, lifting his hands away from his face. that wouldnt help the fever

'i dont feel well' virgil cries pathetically, tears rolling down his face.

logans heart breaks 'no, you dont. i'm sorry little one, i know its not nice'

at the nickname virgils thumb raises to his lips again, which logan hurriedly intercepts. 'i'll make you a deal, okay? you're allowed to use a pacifier, but you have to use the same one everyday until you are better. we will need to sterilise it every night too.'

vee sniffles and nods, then chokes 'm not a baby right now though'

'that doesnt matter. you dont need to be regressed to want one of your pacis, vee'

vee is unresponsive and starts scratching at his pyjama pants. logan gets a feeling he isnt saying something. then he notices virgil's pout is much more infantile than his adult ones. 'are you feeling little, baby?'

with a harsh shake of his head vee starts crying again. he whispers 'dont wanna be a b...' then cuts himself off and whimpers

logan cards his fingers through virgils damp bangs. he knows what virgils mind has jumped to. 'were you going to say you dont want to be a baby?' he lifts virgils chin up to look at him 'or that you dont want to be a burden?'

virgils pale lip wobbles 'same fing'

'no sweetheart, no no no,' logan sits on the tiles beside vee and pulls him into his lap. virgil goes willingly. logan rocks his baby as he says 'youre always always allowed to be a baby and its never ever going to upset your family. even if you're an adorable wonderful brave baby boy alllll of the time' he scribbles his finger on virgils rosy cheek and delights at the tiny smile it earns him. 'but especially when you're feeling yucky. you feel a bit yucky today dont you, little one?'

vee nods with a pout

'but yknow whats not yucky? softies and pacis and diapers and lots and lots of cuddles with mama' he holds virgil tighter to prove his point. vee sighs and drops his head to nuzzle against his mama's neck. logan feels he still has a slight fever. 'i know what might help you feel less yucky. does my sweet baby want a sweet ice pop?'

thankfully vee nods against his shoulder and grips tight onto his pyjama shirt, preparing for when logan lifts him up

he first makes sure to change vee into another diaper and even decides that he should wear one of mama's t-shirts as a light dress so he doesnt get as overheated by his pyjamas. at this point vee actually giggles for the first time pretty much all day as he feels the tshirt swish lazily around his legs. logan makes a mental note to observe whether little vee might want to try wearing dresses if the feeling sparks this much joy (at this point logan is unaware that vee has secretly been trying skirts and dresses in his room for months, and roman found out a few weeks ago, but vee isnt ready to tell the cgs yet)

by the time vee is in his diaper and mamas tshirt dress and has a paci and jiji clutched to his chest he is a lot calmer and happier. he's still very ill and exhausted and teary, but theres a tiny smile on his face instead of a pout. in the kitchen he picks a strawberry ice pop and it goes down well, logan convinces him to have a cracker too though vee is in such a young headspace by then that he is just sucking on it, which logan supposes is fine too

by the (real) morning vee is still regressed and has managed to have a couple hours undisturbed sleep. its not much but its better than nothing. logan didnt fare much better. by then vee misses his papa and asks for him and logan hands the responsibility over to papa patton, trustinf the other caregiver enough to catch up on a quick power nap himself

but yes, the main thing is vee thought being ill was a burden enough that he shouldnt be regressed too, but logan makes him see that its okay. vee is regressed pretty much the whole time he is ill over the next few days because its stressful and painful and its a lot easier to feel comforted when ur a baby

yeah! gosh that was long, theres probably a billion spelling mistakes! feel free to ask follow up Qs if i missed anything u wanted to know abt this event

#little/big concepts #illness tw #vomit tw #food mention #long post #asks #tumblebee the smol bean

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wkngsnds · 3 years

Link

So remember when I published “Whether You Fail or Fly”? I rewrote it! Well, some parts of it; I tried my best to reach the dark tone I was aiming for, fixed some things I thought were awkward, and so and so forth. I hope y’all enjoy it all the same.

I’ll post it on here too under a read more.

Title: Your Side

RATING: Teen and older audience

Two weeks ago, he never wanted a tool. Tonight, he’s grateful to his hitwoman.

Fuyuhiko had not been the type to black out during his fights; in fact, he savored every cut and bruise that he could take before Peko eventually intervened. He exists in a constant state of irritation with his anger never falling far behind. Despite being a yakuza, or perhaps that is exactly why, his anger was his weak point— almost as blinding and fervent as Kabukicho during the night. Just like his parents, he got hot under the collar relatively quickly and chose to focus all his energy on his victim, so he’s an extremist in his own right too. Fuyuhiko preferred to handle things “a man’s way”: being direct as possible instead of exhibiting a passive aggressive attitude. He believed he could smash his way through his opponents as he refused to lose sight of his goal.

Tonight was no different.

Peko never got hit during a fight— she was fast, strong, and cunning. However, it would be more accurate to say that she couldn’t afford to get hit; a thousandth second too slow, a single hair strand out of place, and it would all be over. She exists in a hypervigilant state even within the confines of the Kuzuryuu manor. It is not that she lacks trust in her “coworkers'', per say, but protecting Fuyuhiko is the only thing she finds herself capable of doing. Truth be told, even with a small army of guards roaming the grounds it does not guarantee his safety, but by acting as his shield he’s all the more safer. It’s why she keeps her mind blank, but never loses focus; that is not to say she does not think at all— if anything, she is the type to overthink matters more than someone in her position should. These constraints both forced upon her and self practiced are why her rage is restrained. She’s not the type to anger easily, but when the emotion visits her it must be leashed and kept within bounds.

Tonight was no different.

An ocean of alarm and disquietude drowned the underground of Tokyo, and nearly flooded the overground the day after Fuyuhiko confirmed Natsumi’s corpse. It had not been long until civilians heard of the misfortunate incident, and they took it upon themselves to go home earlier than usual as a precautionary measure. Even if they did not know Natsumi, her surname carried all the weight it needed to: it was not just a member of the clan who died, but someone with a direct relation to the leader. This action of avoidance, of course, did nothing to deter the Kuzuryu clan from their own private investigations; they were a 24/7 kind of business, after all. Each family belonging to the Kuzuryu-gumi had crawled out of their own holes-- those who supported Natsumi above Fuyuhiko worked especially hard to find their princess’s murderer. Then there were those, in their true yakuza nature, who wanted to take advantage of her death to strip the Ultimate of his inheritance. For them, it had not been a simple preference of the younger sibling, but instead a dissatisfaction and disfavor for their patriarch’s son. By extension, Peko received the same condemnation if not to a worse degree. Those in Natsumi’s faction who were slightly sympathetic to the heir blamed the bodyguard for his physical weakness and lack of will; her entire presence caused his spoiled and rotten nature. Put simply her existence, they thought, hindered his bloodlust. Others argued that the main family was not meant to kill as they were an ‘invisible hand’ which directed them all. A minority thought Peko to be a better yakuza than him, but they were smarter than to voice that opinion. There were also a few who thought him cursed— a way of karma for all the blood the clan spilled since its early days, and that blood most certainly flowed like a river. Nevertheless subsidiary matriarchs and patriarchs respected him as their heir at best, but they would not hold their breath for him either.

The funeral service would bring out the worst in the family.

Nastumi died in less than a week of attending the academy, so the two knew their investigation was limited to this timeframe. After confirming her corpse’s identity, the next step was to speak with the custodian who found her; if he had decided to keep information from the police Fuyuhiko had no qualms in using extensive methods of extraction. Meanwhile, Peko worked to address the rumors of a supposed pervert who was thought by the students to be the perpetrator. The mysterious figure had stolen one girl’s swimsuit, and then planned to violate the young mistress (the disgusted rage she felt momentarily dulled the pain in her wrist as her hand formed into a tight fist). Peko knew she needed to focus, so she took a deep breath and went to look for the first girl whose swimsuit had been taken; if the two were both victims to the degenerate, then it was important to establish a possible connection or a pattern. On the hand, if the attacks were random, it would have been hard to track down a possible suspect with the incredibly vague information. They also did not allow Fuyuhiko, understandably, to enter the crime scene, so her chances of success in that area were virtually zero. On the other hand, if this were a targeted attack, then there was a greater problem to be dealt with, and this girl might be connected.

She could not recall any subsidiaries with the name Sato, but it was also possible her mother married out of the respective family. Furthermore, Peko had not been ignorant to the clan’s...favoritism, but she would not be convinced by the apparent blind adoration; it could have been the start of a coup d’etat, and her young master would be the next target. Peko already failed both Fuyuhiko and Natsumi by not protecting the latter, failure to aid him in apprehending her killer or letting him die meant she truly was useless. Therefore, finding this girl and ‘speaking’ to her took over all her priorities. The kendo athlete scans the morning cafeteria until she spots her suspect (someone had kindly described her appearance) sitting at an empty table near the large windows. Like a tiger, she moves carefully to disappear from the girl’s direct line of sight and peripheral vision; she intended to take her by surprise— using that confusion to assert dominance in the conversation and as momentum for a potential confession. However, before Peko could get any closer Mikan had unfortunately bumped into her; like always, the nurse made a scene whenever she apologized to someone, and blew Peko’s cover. To make matters worse, she spotted the injured wrist she acquired from punching the wall yesterday, and became shockingly insistent on treating the wound. Mikan did not yield to any of her protest, and all but dragged her out of the cafeteria to the nurse’s office. For a weak willed clumsy girl, the kendo athlete did not expect her to be as firm in her handling.

True to her sensitive nature, Mikan noticed Peko’s state of irate despite the latter having a stoic face, and began to apologize once again. Stuttering throughout her explanation, it appeared as though she hardly slept the prior night. Mistaking the red eyed girl’s neutral, if not apathetic, question for sympathy the super high school level nurse rambled on about doing an emergency shift at a nearby clinic. Yet, even for Peko who was only half listening something felt off.

‘What you just said...was a lie, wasn’t it?’ A tit for tat question.

‘H-Huh?! You w-were able t-to tell?’ She focused on the splinting for a moment, ‘U-Um...Pekoyama would it be too presumptuous to ask...if I could c-confide in you with s-something? I-It feels like my chest is going to explode if I can’t g-g-get it out.’

She’s weary of agreeing, but slowly nods her head nevertheless.

‘I...I saw the body. Kuzuryu’s little sister...W-We found her in the music room l-last night.’

‘What did you say?!’

‘Eek! I..I’m sorry!’

‘Tsumiki, you need to explain to me exactly what happened. What do you mean ‘we’?’

At 7:30 pm, both yakuza convened at the heir’s off campus apartment to consolidate all the information they gathered. After deeming that he had nothing left to hide, Fuyuhiko “convinced” the custodian to allow him into the music room. There’s a tight feeling in his chest at the sight of the white tape— he had seen it plenty of time, but knowing it was his sister’s outline made him lightheaded. However, he knew there was no time to be distracted by his grief; he needed to devote all his energy on finding her murderer. Fuyuhiko mentioned to Peko that he saw the broken glass from where, according to the police report, the criminal had escaped.

‘It also said a nearby guard heard the sound of the glass breakin’ but never saw or heard anyone runnin’.’

‘That’s suspicious.’

‘Yeah, and there ain’t any security video footage of a shady person walkin’ ‘round campus. Not to mention, that hole in the window don’t look big enough for someone to jump through. None of this fucking shit adds up!’ He viciously kicks the low table before falling onto the couch behind it, rubbing his eyes and groaning loudly as he did, ‘Either this sick bastard is crafty as hell or...or someone who knows this fuckin’ school’s layout did it.’

She assumes a pensive position, ‘So, someone within the school is the culprit...? I believe that is an accurate deduction. There are even suspects to support your theory.’

‘W-What? Suspects?!’

‘Tsumiki, Koizumi, Hiyoko, Mioda, and a person by the name of Sato were at the crime scene. As it were, those five were the first to encounter the young mistress, and most likely—’

‘The ones who started the rumor of a pervert going around.’ His fists tightened to the point where his fingernails cut his skin and he began to bleed, ‘Those cunts...those goddamn fucking cunts...if it turns one of them killed Natsumi...I will never fucking forgive them. If all five of them were in on it...I don’t care how much blood is on my hands I’ll slaughter them all.’

Peko could not bring herself to calm him down; she shared his sentiments, after all.

The next day went by in a blur. For the first time in a long while, the two yakuza were on the same wavelength: Peko advised him to avoid confronting any of the suspected girls without enough proof less he scared them away losing their only lead. Conceding to her counseling, he keeps his distance from them and their own classmates in general. However, he did not stand by, and instead went to question a few of the students in 77A. In return, he asked her to monitor the behavior of those four— they were citizens who, more than likely, had never dealt with corpses or killings in their life which he thought gave Peko a great advantage. Bluntly put, it takes a killer to know a killer.

At the end of the day, when all was said and done their respective tasks were successful enough to narrow down their suspect list quite considerably. Fuyuhiko learned that not only was Sato with his sister on the day of the incident, but the two often bumped heads with one another. Concurrently, Peko overheard an anxious Mahiru mumble about needing to meet with the same Sato during their lunch break, so she messaged him those details when Koizumi had left the classroom. Although he didn’t find them in time to eavesdrop on their conversation, he had caught a glimpse of someone (he assumed to be Sato) throwing away what looked like paper into the garbage. At first he made sure to stay out of sight, but as soon as the coast was clear he made a beeline for the trash bin.

And just like that the number of suspects dropped from five to two to one.

In hindsight, investigating Sato and Koizumi should have been their first thought, but both were neglectful towards Natsumi’s own complaints and scheming. They had not noticed the particular animosity she held towards the photographer, and instead considered it yet another part of her antics. With Fuyuhiko constantly running away from all criticism and Peko mindlessly chasing after him, they never once considered looking behind them to see if she needed help. However, why would they need to? She was strong, probably stronger than the both of them combined and more than they’ll ever be. It is why she had been so reverend throughout the clan-- the reincarnation of a legend or perhaps something even greater than that. Where they both lacked brutality, bloodlust, and pride Natsumi made up for it a thousand times over. Fuyuhiko could still remember the day his father scolded him right after Peko rescued him from the man’s chokehold; it was a heated argument over something senseless the teenager had done earlier that week which left the patriarch a mess to clean up.

‘This is why you need a fucking tool and your sister doesn’t. Maybe if you had your act more together like her, you would be half the fucking yakuza she is!’

Whether or not they moved forward is debatable, but they left her behind to fend for herself. Natsumi was a tough girl in a league beyond their own, and they were too wrapped up in their selfish problems. Truthfully, Fuyuhiko and Peko knew they were as responsible for her murder as Sato was.

‘I will NEVER FORGIVE YOU!’

When the two finally returned to Fuyuhiko’s apartment they sloppily kicked off their shoes, and collapsed from exhaustion in the seats of the sleek black dining table. True to their upbringing, they had chosen a seclusive section of the nearby riverbank as the dumping ground. The route from the school to the river was relatively light, but the combined weight of the corpse, adrenaline, and guilt made it all the more treacherous to walk. Initially, Peko suggested contacting one of the nearby families who worked in construction to place the cadaver in concrete, and then toss it into the river. After a few moments, however, he refused. Fuyuhiko did not want to hide the body; he wanted her to rot for as long as possible before she was found— maggots crawling in and out of the holes they made of her. Normally, he wasn’t the morbidity type, but it would be a lie if he were satisfied with her death alone. Again, it was the first time in a very long while that they were on the same wavelength.

Fuyuhiko could only watch as Peko stood, unsurprisingly, before he did; she had greater stamina and...experience than he did in all of this. She left his direct line of sight, but kept herself in his peripherals. For him, once the adrenaline of killing passed, the soreness dropped upon him like a ton of bricks, his muscles were tense, and it felt as though the slightest movement made his joints crack. He could feel the phantom force from swinging the corpse back and forth before throwing it down the bank. He rested his forehead on crossed fingers as his eyes briefly crossed over; part of him felt ashamed for feeling so weak-- what did that say about his future as a patriarch? He only did the killing, but Peko, like always, ended up cleaning his dirty work. In this case, she was the one who quite literally carried dead weight on their walk to the river. He did not argue when she picked up the corpse like a sack of rice and arranged it to fit in her kendo. The angles were awkward, but after breaking some joints here and a few bones there the corpse fit perfectly. All he could do was watch her. What could he say that would not end with him being in her way? He knows he can trust her to handle this, but what gave him the right to sit back and do nothing? He can do with expressing gratitude towards her or, at the very least, express a greater sense of gratification at avenging his sister.

But all he felt was exhaustion.

“You need to bathe.” It is rare for her to speak with a semblance of authority in her tone towards him, so she captures his attention quickly. On any other day, he might have told her kick rocks for treating him like a child, but he can only put up half a fight tonight.

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, it cannot.” He heard her reach into a separate duffel bag she left in his apartment earlier this morning, “The stenches of blood and death are ones that linger if you do not remove them immediately. I am sure the doorman noticed, but kept his mouth shut.”

From the bag, she first pulled out a loofah and an antibacterial wash set. Next, there was a roll of black bags, a bottle filled with what he assumed were cleaning chemicals for the bat, and a cardboard box. He handed over the baseball cap at her request; she placed them in one of the aforementioned black bags along with her own and instructed him to throw his personal trash in there as well since she would burn everything later. He could also hear the crinkling of the paper that was used to wrap the corpse being stuffed into the bag. Watching her fix the box and line it with another black bag— the way her movements were quick and sharp nearly gave him vertigo, but it’s her calm demeanor (as if doing everything from muscle memory, which was most likely the case) that causes all his hairs to stand. This...this was her true speciality, wasn’t it?

Still not being able to raise his head, he asked if his own clothes needed to be burned as well, but the kendo athlete reminded him of the suit’s hefty price tag, thus intended to send it back home to be thoroughly cleaned. However, in all her fretting of his needs the realization hits him,

“What about your clothes?”

“Please do not worry about that.”

“You just said we have to get rid of the stench, so do you have clothes of your own--”

“Young master. Please go bathe.” Her voice initially sounded strained, then slowed down as if she were controlling her breathing. Not only was this a part of her speciality, but it was clear she had a method for her work that she hadn’t been too keen on straying from-- it was the same inflexibility (one not so different from the blond) that would get her killed on Jabberwock Island. For all the exhaustion Fuyuhiko felt, Peko silently masked her oncoming mental fatigue whilst also trying to ignore the ton of guilt weighing on her. From her perspective, she had just failed for the second time in a row: first, by allowing Natsumi to die and second, by allowing Fuyuhiko to kill by himself. It was not as though she could rid herself of any culpability, because she has disobeyed him in the past for the “sake” of his protection. So why didn’t she refuse him now? He had instructed her to act as if they were fellow high school students, so she would have been well within her orders to randomly check on her-- if not as the young master’s sister, then as a member of the Kuzuryu family she was owed the respect of being welcomed. What made his order so particular this time around that she found herself unable to deny? To make matters even worse, she allowed him to sully his hands with death while she stood and watched the bat crack Sato’s skull open. If she were forced to make an excuse, then it was as if some external power prevented her from interfering. Maybe it was a part of her, the human part, that understood it had not been her place to interject-- that she knew him well enough to know this revenge and avenge was to quench his heart from the sorrow plaguing him. No, perhaps this humanity of hers knew from the very beginning that he would not have been satisfied if Sato died by anyone's hands but his own, so she took the extra precautions to protect him throughout the conspiracy. Taking this into account, it was only natural that the tool she considered herself to be would come into conflict with the meddlesome human she actually was.

As per usual, his movements drew her out of her spiraling thoughts; his stumbling did not go unnoticed, but before she could reach him to help stand, he had already taken the wash set, grabbed his nightwear, and headed towards the bathroom.

“There’s a washer-dryer set in this closet. Wash your clothes.” The door shut promptly behind him

Normally, it took him 15 minutes to get himself clean, but the falling of hot water on his back kept him in for five minutes longer. For five minutes longer, he mulled over his ambivalent thoughts— remembering how Sato’s face contorted into shock, and then overcame by dread and terror at the sight of him...it elevated him. The way she tried to run from him, but Peko threw her to the ground; kept down by an elbow between the shoulders, yet her head kept up by her hair. He’s never felt that kind of power: having everything and everyone in his control. For once, they feared him and not her. For once, someone begged at the feet for his mercy and not his father.

Did Natsumi beg for her life?

Was she afraid?

Did she call out for him?

Then came the boiling rage once again; the jarring reality that it didn’t matter if he killed one person or left an entire town to die, he still had to bury his little sister. He knew her death wasn’t his fault, he’s not that delusional, but he thinks he could have stopped it. If he stopped running away from being compared to her, would she still be alive? He could have been a better brother if he had not been such a damn child. Would she have come to him for her personal problems if he was? If he had convinced their father that she needed a bodyguard if only to keep her out of trouble would that have kept her safe? If he let Peko go check on her, she would still be here, wouldn’t she? He watched as the blood from his hand (there’s only a crack on the tiled wall) washed down the drain, and then turned the faucet off altogether. As he dried himself, he noticed the basket he left in the washroom before the shower had almost been emptied save for his underwear and socks. He only rolled his eyes at this; she did this every once in a while when they were at home, and he grew tired of chastising her to let the maids do their jobs. Fuyuhiko could not begin to understand why Peko did these silent and small acts for him-- her only “job” was to follow his commands; going beyond that just seemed unecessary. It only dumbfounded him more when he realized, at some point, that she’d done more for him in a single week than he’d seen his parents do for each other since he was born. Of course, it was twice as aggravating when she opposed him returning those small acts every once in a blue moon.

He exited the bathroom with his pajamas on and towel over his head as he found her meditating in the same clothes she arrived in. Everything around her had been prepared: the box of his clothes was closed ready to be sent home, the ‘burn bag’ was placed into her kendo duffel, and her black yukata was folded neatly next to her.

Truly, that was what a professional looked like.

“There’s an extra clean towel in the washroom. ‘Left the soap and shampoo inside the shower for you.”

“Thank you.” Her weakened voice does not go unnoticed by him-- in fact, much of her behavior and mannerisms are more observed than she thinks. Though Peko believed herself to have spoken in perfect monotone, Fuyuhiko was able to hear the falter in the middle syllables*. It had been easier for him to count the days they were separate than together, so it would be highly alarming if he couldn’t pick out some difference in her attitude. Of course, recognizing the problem and doing something about it were two different objectives; furthermore, doing the obvious by asking her what was wrong didn’t seem like the right answer either. How many times has she asked him, and he’d brush her off at best and yell at her ‘to leave him alone’ at worst. What right did he have to interrogate her when he wasn’t the talkative type himself**?

Besides, the yakuza heir knew the kendo athlete well enough to sense that she would also brush him off in return just so that he would not worry about her. In this regard, he understood how she felt: just like him, she hated when people fussed about her or gave her any more attention than what she could tolerate. Peko was simply better at masking her disdain than he was; not that Fuyuhiko tried, of course, but still better nevertheless. In fact, this had been one of the many traits they had in common; regardless of surface level differences, Peko and Fuyuhiko were more similar at heart and at will than other people, or themselves for that matter, tended to realize. It’s why they were able to coordinate manslaughter so well.

She cleared her throat which snapped him back to reality; it’s clear he had been staring at her for far too long causing her to become both concerned and uncomfortable. She tried not to express the latter, but, again, he’s well versed in her micro expressions.

“Is there something you need, sir?” Now it’s her turn to watch his movements as he made his way to his bedroom, hands fumbling with the towel still on his head as he slid it down to his neck.

“It’s nothing. Go bathe while the bathroom is still warm.” And with that she disappeared, the door shutting quietly behind her.

Fuyuhiko released a tense sigh as he sat heavily on his bed. He could feel the conflicting twitch of his nerves; his muscles ached now that the adrenaline passed, but the near state of silence save for the hum of the shower relaxed him. If he has access to a mass fortune (legality of said money’s source notwithstanding), he might as well spend it on a condo away from the loudmouths that inhabited the Hope’s Peak Academy student dorms. Slowly, he picked his feet up onto his bed and laid down on his pillow; it felt like his head would explode with all the pulsing in his veins.

2:20 AM.

In three and half more hours, he will be awake for twenty four hours— nothing unusual for him, but worth noting in silence.

He breathed.

Shuffling was heard in the background.

2:36 AM

Fuyuhiko was half asleep when Peko finished showering, and caught her trying to leave quietly. He slowly got up and made his way to lean on the doorframe, hand lazily stuck in his jinbei, and watched her. Despite all her yukatas being black, they had subdued patterns on each of them if one looked closely enough-- the blond was trying to discern whether it was her plain one or one that he bought her. He had gotten two of them for her birthday and Christmas last year, and all but screamed at her in an attempt to convince her to keep them.

He speaks up “That’s the birthday one, right? Your yukata.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you greatly once again.” With a towel in hand, she continuously wrung out the excess water out of her hair, “The material is incredibly comfortable and breathable.”

Recognizing his semi consciousness, Peko seemed more relaxed under his watch; though it wasn’t her place to understand, she remembered him doing this when they were children. On the worst days (i.e the patriarch and matriarch endangering his life during their fights), he would not fall asleep despite being put to bed first by the maids. Instead, he would watch her nestle into her spot beside him, and only then could he fall asleep. She just like then, she told him to put his worries aside, sleep for the rest of the night, and advised him to take today off as no one would dare pester him over his absence. Though, for as long and as well as she knew him, it was ironic how concerned Peko was for Fuyuhiko yet remained oblivious to his deeper troubles. It’s why she mistook the worry in his apprehension at her leaving for a sense of weariness and exhaustion to which she promised she’d quickly leave him to rest. Of course, her words only inflamed the expression on his face (that was not ironic, but instead typical) while his arms crossed in a defensive position.

Even if she knew her heart to be kind, she could not comprehend why that kindness would be extended to herself, a tool, and therefore she could not understand why he protested her leaving.

“I-It’s the middle of the night in Tokyo; there’s some pretty drunk bastard roaming out, no doubt.”

“I will avoid confrontation.”

“Didn’t you say the lock at the girls dormitory is super loud? Wouldn’t you cause a scene entering this late?”

“I can move quickly before I am spotted.”

“Gh-- Your hair is still wet, and then you’ll get sick dumbass!”

At this she looks at him directly with a raised brow, but he doesn’t meet her gaze. Her hand rested on the string of her sword bag, “Please do not worry me. I will be fine.”

He seemed to have no more arguments.

“Then, if there is nothing else you need of me, I shall leave you alone now.” Just as she headed to the door and reached for the handle, Peko paused. Perhaps what he needed now was...comfort, though the bodyguard is not confident enough in doing such a thing-- at least, not in the way he may need it, if at all. Who could fault her hesitation? The last time she tried to ease his worries she let too much of her own weakness show and it worsened the situation.

But if she could provide him some closure...

“What?”

Her posture straightens to face him, “Sato deserved to die-- no, she deserved a fate worse than death. Even Koizumi should...” She stabilizes her breath and unclenches her hand, “I digress. You did it: with your strength and your wits, you killed Sato. That being said, accepting the fact you’ve murdered another person is not without trouble. Regardless if they deserved to die or not, regardless of how strong or skilled you are, regardless of premeditation or in the heat of the moment. Someone’s blood is now personally on your hands.”

“And there’s going to be more in the future.”

“Yes...I suppose that is inevitable. Please forgive my impudence, young master. Sleep well.”

Just like that she messed up again; she wonders when she’ll learn to just keep her mouth shut instead of trying to comfort him...or whatever that pathetic display of encouragement-- if one could call it that. Peko reckons that life would be easier for the both of them if she were a simple yes man. As per usual, being so wrapped in her worries of offending him she failed to perceive the true problem he was facing at hand. When the yakuza heir said there would be more bloodshed, he did not intend to brush her off, but meant that the responsibility and weight of killing was something he needed to adjust to sooner rather than later. Of course, his usual poor communication which fought with a trepidation he tried to hide from her did nothing to help her understanding.

Sometimes, Fuyuhiko forgets that Peko isn’t a mind reader, so there’s no possible way she would know he feared losing her the same way he lost Natsumi if she walked out the door this instance unless he spoke bluntly.

“Stay with me.”

The blond wasn’t sure if the words even left his mouth, and if they did he had not been sure if she heard him. Even though he had always been told to command her, he could never bring himself to do it-- there schools lives notwithstanding as he convinced himself it was for both of their sakes. It wasn’t like Peko’s...circumstances were unique to her; in fact, there were plenty of subordinates throughout the gang who shared her position, her ‘status’ as an object. The self-justified feudal system the clan upheld made bile rise to his throat each time he thought about it. Fuyuhiko has witnessed firsthand the horrid treatment of those people (tools, as they were denoted): the fear in their eyes, the way their bodies are thrown like rag dolls, and the absolute aura despair surrounding them. He doesn’t want that for Peko, he doesn’t want her to be his victim anymore than she already is.

In the end, it seemed that she did hear him, but not in the way he expected when she kneels with her back to the door placing her shinai on her lap.

“I don’t mean guard my door. I meant that I want you to spend the night with me.”

So much for speaking bluntly.

“Young master...?”

“Fucking hell-- look, what I meant was,” He exhales forcibly, “What I mean is...remember when we were really small, and I had those shit fucking nightmares? How I wouldn’t sleep until you climbed into bed next to me?”

He relaxed when he saw her relax.

“I understand.”

He speaks slowly hoping to regain some composure, “I know this kind of thing is inappropriate even if we’ve done it already. I-I mean, we’re high school students now, ya know? Even if it’s just sharing the same bed space, this isn’t something teenagers should be doing. But I...I just--”

“It’s fine. You do not have to explain yourself to me.”

“So you’re okay with doing it? Sh-Sharing the bed, I mean. And don’t say just yes because I asked you, got it?!”

For the third time, “I understand.”

Now it was Fuyuhiko’s turn to overthink their conversation; he knew neither of them were the ‘heart on the sleeve’ types, but he wonders how much exactly she keeps to herself. Whether she thinks him pathetic or weak, but wouldn’t dare tell him directly to his face. Whether she truly hated his existence, and put on a front because she had no other choice. Theoretically speaking, it was a silly thought to worry about. He knew she all but worshiped the floor he walked on-- excused his behavior when it shouldn’t have been excused, took all the cursing he threw at her without blinking, and so on and so forth. But knowing all this and hearing her curt responses did nothing to ease the tension of his nerves.

If Peko thought him incompetent, was there truly any hope for him?

It doesn’t take him long to set up a makeshift divide on his queen size mattress with an extra pair of flat sheets. Fuyuhiko was in bed before Peko as the latter made sure to lock the door; just like earlier, all he could do was watch her move about doing her own security check. He doesn’t think he’d ever find a justifiable reason for all his starring-- perhaps hypnotism would be the closest explanation. She does everything from opening and closing the window (checking it’s bullet resistance and angles for assassins, no doubt) to leaving the room to make sure the front door and balcony door were properly locked. When she returned, Peko looked over the bedroom; with a small sigh, it seemed her rigid inspection was finally finished.

Seconds after this, the lights were turned off as now the soft glow of his bedside lamps filled their portion of the room. The mattress dipped when she sat down, and Fuyuhiko heard the faint sound of the silver haired girl fixing her bamboo sword between the bed frame and the nightstand. Her glasses were the last to leave her body, and joined the lamp on said stand. However, before she could lay down Fuyuhiko stopped her with a sudden jolt that even caught her off guard. The yakuza heir reached under the pillow to find the tanto knife he always kept hidden. She had lent it to him long before they arrived at Hope’s Peak Academy— when they went to different high schools; if she were to be separated from him, then at least he could use it to defend himself. Obviously, there were no qualms of ‘packing’ in the estate, but no one bothered to give him a weapon in the first place-- he even had to use part of his allowance to buy his favorite brass knuckles. The clan members assumed with her by his side she was the only weapon he would use. Nevertheless, there had been a sense of satisfaction for Peko that he had kept it with him for the past two years. She had selected the knife from her collection based on what she assessed of his skills and strength. Once he placed the weapon beneath his pillow, their bodies collapsed on top of the blankets— each letting out an exhaustive sigh. It was the kind of exhaustion that made it impossible to sleep despite a long day of physical labor. Neither of them could be bothered to switch off the lamps, so they laid in silence for a few moments, eyes facing the smooth ceiling above them.

“Hey, Peko. My bad for cutting you off like and saying shit like that.”

Peko was never sure how to take his apologies; she was not the type to hold grudges, and she had never done so with him. They were unnecessary, as she thinks she would forgive him no matter what he does (to her or otherwise). Therefore, she took a moment to choose her words carefully; perhaps if their relationship were better, she would be able to speak more comfortably around him.

“You needn’t apologize. You are correct: once you ascend to your role as the patriarch, you will have even more enemies.” Her tone becomes more assertive, “Rest assured, I will be the one to dirty my hands and cut them down if they oppose you.”

“I still should let you speak.” He stared back at the ceiling, “You said something like that before, ‘Someone’s blood is my hand now’. What were you gonna say after that?”

“Simply...that it would be wise to detach yourself from what you’ve done. Regret is futile, but to associate this with any kind of pleasure is dangerous as well. If you let Sato haunt you it will be as if you never killed her at all.”

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko eyes darted across the roof above them as if looking for something that wasn’t there. She was a child the last time she gave too much thought into her first assassination; she’s more ashamed for allowing her emotions to seep through than the killing itself.

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”

“When was the first time,” Why does he keep pushing her about this, “That you killed someone?”

How could she forget, “When Mr.Hiromitsu notified Lord Raiden that his team identified our kidnappers, I was instructed to dispose of them.”

He could only stare horrified at her. How does one respond to that? To be told that the person laying next to you, who you grew up with and were closer to anyone else in this world, had been turned into a murder at the age of six. He knew his father wasn’t a saint and in fact might have been the devil himself, but there was something particularly putrid about involving children with his bloodthirst. What was the point of having a code if the boundaries were blurred altogether? Sure, Peko had stained her hands with blood now, but what was his father hoping to accomplish by sending her out to do something so dangerous at the age of six? What if Peko failed and died? Did his father, or his mother for that matter, think they could just replace her without him noticing or caring? His parents should be smarter than that. His parents should know...

He might have been foolish enough to fear her as children, but they should have known how worse everything would have turned out if they let her die.

“Young master, I am sorry for my failures on that day.” Her voice brought him back before he spiralled into an abyss.

“Huh?! Peko, what the hell are you talking about? We’re both still alive ‘cause you were the only one who had any sense left.”

The swordswoman sat up, feet swinging onto the floor— he couldn’t see the expression she was making, but he didn’t need to know she was blaming herself. Again.

“My inability to control my emotions worsened our predicament. If I had controlled myself as I was supposed to,” Her fingers gripped the yukata, red eyes dulled and downcasted, “Then perhaps we would have returned to the manor sooner. If I kept my head clear…it is my fault we were lost in those woods for so long.”

He quickly sat up, “Peko, we were six! I’m pretty fuckin’ sure any normal six year old-- hell, any normal person would have also been scared out their fuckin’ wits. Weren’t you just on my case about letting shit go?”

“That is…” What he didn’t expect was for her to turn to him with a pained expression; somewhere along the lines of pleading, regret, and shame all bundled into eyes that once, unwillingly, struck fear into him, “I’m...not...a normal person, I’m-- I am my young master’s tool, a tool to protect you and to kill for you. That is my only purpose. I should never make you doubt your safety. This also means that I must protect what is precious to you, and Lady Natsumi...if I were not so useless she would still be alive and you would not have dirtied your hands.”

It returned again: the heavy feeling in his chest that was filled with remorse and his self-loathing. He knew she was right, but not in the way she thought. How many times had he pushed for her to be independent of him, to express her opinions and insight? Then, the one time she did as he asked he proceeded to not only dismiss her altogether, but brushed off her rightful concerns for Natsumi’s adjustment into Hope’s Peak. He knew his sister better than anyone, knew the type of trouble she would get into in a normal high school; sure she could throw her weight around ordinary bastards, but this school had its fair share of freaks and superhumans. He also knew that she had Peko run her a few favors (both normal and yakuza related), so it would only be natural for the swordswoman to investigate her transfer even if had no desire of doing so.

“You...you can’t blame yourself; you were just following my orders. Natsumi was my responsibility and mine alone, and I fucked it up by not checking in on her.”

But Peko, as stubborn as Fuyuhiko, would not hear it.

“Sir, you mustn’t blame yourself. If I were a tool capable of being trusted, then I am sure your orders would have been different.”

“Why don’t you get it already? Out of everyone in this world, you’re the only person I can trust. Everyone else is willing to kill me without a second thought.” It felt like he was suffocating, “You’re always putting my life first with no damn regard to your own. You're not invincible, Peko!”

“That is exactly why I intend to fulfill my purpose as your tool until I am a corpse at your feet.”

“Goddamnit, we are done with that crap!” He’s grateful that the room was sound proof, “I don’t want a tool! Tools can’t die. They become dull, they break, and you replace them, but they definitely cannot die. If some fucking rotten cunt smashed your skull in you’d die!”

“I-I wouldn’t let that happen, I assure--!”

Peko’s eyes widened when he suddenly gripped her shoulders; shaking her not violently, but almost desperately as if she would have disappeared into thin air if he didn’t cling onto her that very moment. She had not realized the full look of anxiety and fear on his face until she fully met his stare for the first time that night.

“But you can’t know that,” His voice broke, “You can’t possibly fucking know that! What the hell’s the point if you’re dead?! Natsumi thought she was untouchable, that’s why she was all starting shit with everyone around her. And now what? Now we have to cremate her.”

Finally, his guard breaks and he rests his forehead on her shoulder,

“So, please...stop saying you’ll protect me until the day you die. I don’t...you can’t expect to keep going with whatever life you give me. It’s not worth it, because if I have to bury you too—”

“...Young master?” Peko remained as still as she could; his voice was so weak that she feared he’d fade away from existence if she made any sudden movements. He was so close to her she was sure he could hear, if not feel, her erratic heartbeat-- not that he fared any better than her at the moment, of course. Since neither were the hugging type (at least not openly), the silver haired girl thought to support him through a light touch on his arms.

“Please don’t leave me. I’m so afraid. I can’t do this on my own, Peko, I need you.”

Suddenly, his confession sparked a fundamental shift within the two. From her shoulders, Fuyuhiko’s hands now clung onto the fabric of her back leaning into her more, and Peko welcomed him without a second thought. Relying more on her instincts, one arm supported his weight while her other hand rested below the nape of his neck. An outsider looking in may think it a fond scene: two high school sweethearts expressing their love for another in the middle of the night. However, that sort of naivety could only last so long. What the outsider misunderstood was their embrace had not stemmed from affection or intimacy, but possession and obsession as they clung to one another.

In other words

“I will never leave your side, young master. There is no other place for me than by your side. If you wish for me to stay next to you for all eternity then that is where I shall stay no matter what. Even if the world turns upside down, I will stay beside you.”

“Good.” He pries away from shoulder just to meet her ever intensive stare; it doesn’t affect him anymore (he welcomes it), “Peko, from now on it’s just you and me. Not as master and tool...just together, okay? We live together and we die together.”

“Then let us die of old age and nothing else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Finally, they laid down embracing each other and fell asleep.

———

#kuzupeko #peko pekoyama #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #pekoyama peko #kuzuryu fuyuhiko #kuzupeko fanfic #danganronpa #danganronpa 3 #danganronpa anime

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bloopbyoop · 3 years

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ayo. ive read my scheduled email and its time for freewriting shit again. lmao. I want this post to be like a small light from a lit match stick inside a very hollow, icy, and numbing cave. (sounds cartoonish right? I know. Im obsessed with Adventure Time.) I want all people to be genuinely happy. Spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Upon reaching my 24th anniversary in this world, I finally learned how to truly embrace all my emotions. Some are more overwhelming than the other, but we have to heed in our treacherous yet perplexing minds that everything is fleeting and we are in control. The feeling of extreme sadness fades, but so does joyful states. Everything can change in a matter of minutes or years. You are in control of all your emotions. You are in control of all your life choices. Your actions. Your words. Your perspective. It feels weird to actually write about it. I've wanted to talk about it. I never wanted help from anyone as I firmly believed that I was alone. Sure, I have a family and friends, but it is hard to see that when your head is clouded with negativity. I've even come to the point where I was too overwhelmed, I found being physically hurt less painful. The pain I felt distracted me from what I was thinking. My mind tended to go bonkers. lmao. But bro, I was so good at concealing my bonkers mind. It's easy to fake any emotion that you have. Slap anything sunshine-y or happy to anything and people would believe you. It went on for years. Long story short, thousands of bracelets collected, it became worse. The physical pain could no longer withhold the emotional pain. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't stop thinking. And voila! I found a good amount of self help books (from tumblr) and novels. Novels that brought me to different places. Self-help books that made me understand what I feel and what to do. I've read that taking the easy way out will leave everyone sad. AND IN THE FIRST PLACEEEEEE, I NEVER WANT THATTTTTTT. I want everyone to be happy. I would act foolish and do dumb shit to make everyone happy in a heartbeat. So, that idea made me push a few more years. Later on, the crippling shit came crawling back again to my head, sooooooo I needed new shit to keep me distracted again. Films, series, music, and short clips from YouTube helped me out a lot. Every single time that my mind is going to think like anything that can think of, even to the point that I was just going to think that I might be hungry, I'd watch something. There's just something about silence for me. Because of this new habit of mine, I've learned more about myself. I love different types of things. I like horror. I like thriller. I like comedy. I like romance. I love all types of films, but there is something about the horror genre that interests me. I still can't point out what, but I love watching horror films. With regards to music, I've learned that I love Indie, Punk Rock, Rap, and Pop. We all can't like a specific genre. It's stupid to ask "what genre of music do you like?". It's not actually stupid-stupid, it's just stupid. Ya know? Anyway, passing this phase, I needed to find something again because it's not doing the shit that it was supposed to, I tried investing more time on video games. By investing more, I mean a whole shit lot. I love video games since I was young cuz.... u know.... they keep u... try to guess it! oh yeah. you got that right! distracted! I love the aggressive plays and trashtalks that my friends and I make. The short stories we tell one another. The rants. The lame jokes. The late night we sound drunk but we are not drunk jokes. The roleplays. The lame jokes. The memes. And once again, The lame jokes. Something about lame jokes and the laughs and curses after that always gets me every single time. Oh shoot. Yup Yup. Few years later, I finally noticed the pattern that my sadness is temporary. I got over it one way or the other (or another. depends on how you wanna read it. i dont wanna say another cause i might write about one direction like what im doing now so-). Happiness is temporary as well. But, we are the ones who are actually in control of our emotions. If you wanna feel sad, be sad for a while. You're getting too sad? Try hanging out with your funny friends. Can't do that? Find an alternative. Watch a movie, knit a sweater. Anything your mind could think of as long as it will keep you mentally distracted from being physically and mentally hurt. I do have a few notes though. We cannot and should never assume what people are going through. It may be petty for you, but it may be very crucial to them. So never everrrr say things like: -Some people have it worse than you -At least you have ..... These sheetsss are annoying as heckkk and could really down someone. I know it is not your intention to annoy but people react differently. alsooooooo, it is not okay or normal to hate on things for bandwagon. that is just plainly crazy and stupid. let people enjoy things. anddddddd never suppress your emotions. admit what you feel inside and try to think of a way to resolve ittttt. keeping it to yourself will just make it worseeeeee. find your own outlettttttttt. hihihi ️ alsooooo. being more spiritually full with God's words and ideas really help me to be spiritually happy. ps. im christian but i dont discredit other religion and even applaud other religion's ideas and beliefs. this is a really long, selfish post so i might as well recommend some things I like : Songs with their lyrics that made me go through life. “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier” -All These Things That I've Done, The Killers “It's not too late, I'm still right here” -Breaking Your Own Heart, Kelly Clarkson "And the salt in my wounds / Isn't burning any more than it used to / It's not that I don't feel the pain / It's just I'm not afraid of hurting anymore / And the blood in these veins / Isn't pumping any less than it ever has / And that's the hope I have / The only thing I know that's keeping me alive" -Last Hope, Paramore “There is not a single word in the whole world / That could describe the hurt / The dullest knife just sawing back and forth / And ripping through the softest skin there ever was / How were you to know?” -Hate to See Your Heartbreak, Paramore "It's holding on, though the road's long / And seeing light in the darkest things And when you stare at your reflection / Finally knowing who it is / I know that you'll thank God you did" -1800, Logic "Did some things you can't speak of / But at night you live it all again / You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now / If only you had seen what you know now then" -Innocent, Taylor Swift (My bb) "10 months sober, I must admit / Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it / 10 months older, I won't give in / Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it // Rain came pouring down when I was drowning / That's when I could finally breathe / And by morning gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean" -Clean, Taylor Swift “I guess I always knew / That I had all the strength to make it through.” -Believe in Me, Demi Lovato "I'm addicted to the madness / I'm a daughter of the sadness / I've been here too many times before / Been abandoned and I'm scared now / I can't handle another fallout / I am fragile, just washed upon the shore / They forget me, don't see me / When they love me, they leave me" -I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me, Demi Lovato “I'm overwhelmed / I need a voice to echo / I need a light to take me home / I need a star to follow / I don't know” -Nightingale, Demi Lovato "I'm a walking travesty / But I'm smiling at everything. // Arrogant boy, Love yourself so no one has to." -Therapy, All Time Low "I tried it once before but I didn't get too far / I felt a lot of pain but it didn't stop my heart. / But maybe I'm alive 'cause I didn't really wanna die / But nothing very special ever happens in my life / Take the blade away from me I am a freak, I am afraid that / All the blood escaping me won't end the pain / And I'll be haunting all the lives that cared for me / I died to be the white ghost / Of the man that I was meant to be" -Ghost, Badflower "Are the pieces of you / In the pieces of me? / I'm just so scared / You're who I'll be / When I erupt / Just like you do / They look at me / Like I look at you" -DNA, Lia Marie Johnson Movies and series to try : -The Perks of Being a Wallflower (The book is bomb af. if yall havent tried, ur missing out) -The Kings of Summer -Never Let Me Go -The Art of Getting By -Silver Linings Playbook -Winter’s Bone -The Lovely Bones (The script. The words) -Me and Earl and the Dying Girl -American Horror Story -Black Swan

pps. remember that every one has their own pace and point of view. don’t push yourself too hard, and don’t overthink. give yourself time, and respect all your emotions. analyze them but not more than like 5 minutes as anything beyond that might cause you to overthink and be sadder. and sad is not rad. hehe. you got this. you got you. self love is the best even though it can be tricky to do. nobody else is like you. you’re the only one of you (i just remembered me.......... i might have hummed it while typing it mid sentence). consider other people’s opinion but do not let it cloud your own judgement as you know yourself best. dont let other comment’s define you. spread love. vibe people you vibe with. ayeeee lets go!!!

ppps this is my last post bc im happier now and know myself better. i no longer limit myself on the age that I want. I want to live as long as how God wants me to be. hehe.

x :D

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autisticangus · 3 years

Text

anyway im so out of the loop on the mcelboys

i pretty much only keep semi-up to date with Sawbones at this point, not cuz i dont still LIKE everything else, just a lot has been goin on in my life

if anyone wants a long and rambly update on All Of The Bullshit im gonna stick a read more down here, asks are open and its cool to message me abt any of it if u want cuz i have some really nice and cool followers/mutuals here that make me comfy talkin abt that shit

as far as the future of this blog goes i wanna start using it more again! the mcelroys have gotten me out of some really dark places before so i hope having more connection to this community and the people here and their content again will help me like it has in the past! ill probs post more general mcelroy content here than previously rather than just taz btw i just gotta fuckin uhhhhh,,,, catch up on a bunch of shit again before this blog is even semi active lmaoo but im like alive and on tumblr regularly again!!

Wow u clicked on this and wanna hear me talk? Ur awesome and sweet, thanks for caring!

These past two years have been extraordinarily tough. This is gonna be a pretty long and detailed post that deals with the sensitive topics of emotional abuse, abusive relationships, and alcoholism. Please read on with caution.

Back in March of 2019, so this was about 3-4 months after i left tumblr, I got a new boyfriend and things started out really good, he was kind of a "bad boy" and it was fun at first. Im kind of a goody-goody so it was very interesting for me at first to be with someone so different who had such different life experiences than me. I liked hearing his stories of living in a traphouse, and running with gangs, and selling drugs, and knowing people who had killed people. I assumed a LOT of it was lies, obviously, who just brags about that shit u know? I just rolled with it, didnt take it seriously, and found the imagined scenarios interesting to listen to. So much of it was obviously played up to make him seem cooler, and I shouldve seen that as the red flag it was, and all my friends did but I didnt.

He had a serious alcohol problem, I mean I had coffee in the morning and he had 2 four lokos before noon. it was bad. about 6 months into the relationship he decided i was cheating on him with my ex who i had recently reconnected with, we missed being friends and things were really going well talking and being friends again, he was really important to me! but my boyfriend saw this as yet another thing i was doing wrong. when he decided i was cheating, that become his focus of alcoholic rage. nearly every time he got drunk, which was several times a week, he would accuse me of things, he would yell and scream, he would call me horrible names and make me cry for literal hours, he never hit me but that shouldnt even matter, i was emotionally battered and mentally bruised and everything hurt. he gaslit me into believing i said and did things i never said or did, i admitted to things that were not real, and then i was yelled at for admitting them. i didnt know what to do.

he was threatening my ex too, he would get drunk and say he knew where he lived (he didnt) or he knew what car he drove (he didnt) and explained to me many times that although he had never killed someone, people had been killed before at his command. he said a bullet in the back of my ex’s brain was just a phone call and $500 away. somedays he would tell me he was just going to do it himself, with a hammer, or a kitchen knife, or whatever weapon he could get his hands on during his explanation of how he would do it. my only option was to agree, to say it didnt matter to me what happened to him, i had to pretend my on

/ly concern was him going to jail for the crime, if i showed any sign that i didn’t want my ex murdered, it clearly meant i was cheating on him.

i pretended to block my ex on social media to get him off my back and it worked a little bit but he still brought it up. and even if he didnt directly mention him, he would always tell me when he was drunk that i was the cause of all his problems, i was why he was so self conscious, i was why he drank so much, i was why he had to work so hard, i was why every single issue he had was happening. logically i knew it was wrong, but i was so conditioned to it by then that i just went with it. i knew that agreeing and apologizing made the fighting end quicker.

things spiraled this past summer. his job needed us to relocate so we moved like 4 states away, away from all my family and friends, and lived in a tiny hotel room for a month. during this time, his drinking was somehow worse. he was drunk literally every night but he was passing out so we didnt fight and i was relieved. i was depressed being stuck in the hotel room all day alone, but thankful i wasnt being abused at least. then he started getting into drunken fistfights with his coworkers in the hotel parking lot. one day he came home just in time to find one of his drunk coworkers trying to break into the room with me there desperately trying to keep him out. i was terrified and wanted to go home but he convinced me to stay. a couple weeks after that we travelled for his work again several more states away. his drinking got a little bit better here, but i was so depressed and lonely, i was so isolated, he was all i saw day in and day out besides his coworkers and i was nervous around them. one day the guy who tried to break in on me, purposefully, while drunk, hit another coworkers car and totaled it and tried to run the guy over and i saw the whole thing. a week later my boyfriend was also fired because he got so drunk he passed out in the hotel parking lot and the company needed to save face with the hotel after the whole car incident.

so we travelled back home, but not my home, to his where we lived isolated on a mountain with no phone signal or wifi. the house was old and not well kept from being empty for several years, half the appliances didnt work. i was more isolated than i have ever been in my life. for 4 months i stayed there and just dreaded him coming home because i knew he would be drunk again and he'd yell or accuse me of things or otherwise belittle me. it was horrible. my friends all said to leave and my parents said to leave but i was so brainwashed into thinking that if i was just a good little housewife and if i just stayed home and did the dishes and the laundry that he would be nicer but he still found things to point at and say i was cheating. he was also becoming really controlling about my food intake and weight and i already struggle with an eating disorder so that just made me feel even more like i had to stay, my brain felt like if i wasnt under his watchful eye id gain weight again, like somehow it was thanks to him i had lost weight and not my own choices.

one day last week i expressed to him wanting to leave, saying how unhappy i was, i told him how sad i felt and how i didnt think we were such a good match. he didnt take me seriously, so the next day when he got sloppy drunk before 5 pm i packed a small bag and went to my moms. i was just gonna stay for a night or two but he called and screamed at me for leaving without telling him, i told him he just didnt remember me telling him because he was so drunk, and he accused me of not caring about his feelings and made me sound like the bad guy for leaving without his permission. i told him it was just for a few days but the angrier he got the more i knew i was in the right and told him i was done. i told him we were breaking up and id come get my stuff soon.

i got my stuff while he was at work this past weekend and moved in with my best friend. im safe and happy now. things are looking so much better for me and im so thankful to my friends and family who supported me all the way to the end.

i just wanted to make this post because, i know its not mcelroy related, and a lot of ppl probably dont care for stuff like this on this kind of blog, but i think its important.

its important to friends and family of people in abusive relationships to be steady. dont give up your ground. even if the person keeps pushing back and wont leave the person, keep being there for them, it can take a long time, it took me almost 2 years to leave, it takes some people even longer, but just stay there for them and be there for them when they finally make that step. dont give up on them.

and to those who have been in these kinds of relationships, and especially those who are there right now: it is not your fault. it is so, so hard to leave, i know, but please try to find help and support and resources to do it. if all your friends dont like someone, theres a good reason for it. please dont fall into the trap of thinking your friends dont have the best intentions for you. there are so many things you may overlook in the moment that others can see from a mile away are horrible. especially if you have been abused in the past. its incredibly hard to tell what is a red flag when your gut instinct is that anything and everything is a red flag. surround yourself with people who you can trust and listen to them

and trust me, i know how hard it is when youre stuck in that spot of KNOWING you should go but fearing that first step away. its scary. its difficult. but it is worth it. find someone safe you can be with. and if you arent sure, find a reason to leave for just a few days, an excuse, anything. give yourself space from the abuser, tell yourself youre going back in a couple days, just get out from under the thumb long enough to clear your head and things will make more sense with the fog lifted.

when i first got in my car and put my kitten on my lap and told her we were going to my moms for a couple nights, i didnt know if that was the truth. i planned to come back and i knew i didnt want to. i only took enough stuff for a couple days. i couldnt imagine my life changing so drastically. where would i live? how would i make money? who take care of me? i had no clue about any of those things. but after a couple days away I realized i would take care of me. i remembered that i had worked jobs before i was with him, i could do it again. i remembered that i had options of where to live. all of those things were so clouded when i was with him, they felt like impossibilities. once i was away, even just for a short time, things were so much easier to parse.

and i know i had many privileges in this journey not everyone is afforded, and my heart goes out to those who read this and are in this situation and the options i had just arent accessible to you, i am so sorry, i wish i had something more to offer you but all i have is my story, and a wish that it gives you some hope at the very least, and a promise that if you need someone to talk to, im here, i will listen, and you will be heard and loved.

i just want everyone who reads to take something small but important away from it. love your friends, love yourself. please stay safe. please dont give up. remember love should not hurt.

#angus.txt #getting deep in here but it felt good to write #i love u all so much ok pls be good urselves

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pinkykitten · 5 years

Text

INHALER

Marvel

Peter Parker x asthmatic! female reader

Warning: asthmatic symptoms

Specifics: fluff, romance, comedy, one-shot, race neutral reader, asthmatic reader

People: peter parker / spider-man, mj, ned, mother

Words: 1,198

Request: By anon Hi!! 💕 Could I please request a Peter Parker x Reader who has Asthma? Something where they’re in the cafeteria and Pete sees the reader take her inhaler and he is like “!? What !?” So now he makes it a mental note to make sure she’s okay and one day when they’re hanging out he sees a Spider-Man sticker on her inhaler and he’s all ☺️💘? Thank you for your time and consideration!

Authors Note: i loved this so much! its so fluffly its fluffier than cotton candy yall!!!! i put what i personally have to go thru in this story because i have asthma so im sorry if its not what u were looking for it was kinda more personal. tysm again for ur request i love writing for peter cuz hes someone for some reason i dont write about alot but i adore him

It just became. It was never a starting point that you remember. It was not recent either. You had asthma since you were little. Your mother would make sure you had your inhaler with you at all times. Sometimes, when the asthma got worse you would have to take a puff everyday but recently you were feeling better. Your breathing was almost normal and barely had you felt a shortness of breath.

Peter wanted to know everything about you. Everything. And you assumed telling him about your asthma was not of great importance. Its not like you had a killing disease. It was only asthma.

You were sitting in the cafeteria with Peter and his friends, Ned, MJ, when you felt the harsh feeling of breathing again. It was as if your lungs were getting constricted, like you couldn’t breathe; almost the feeling of drowning.

Their conversations were muffled as you quickly got your inhaler out of your pocket, shook it and breathed it in twice. Your heart settled and you felt at ease knowing this would help you.

You didn’t know a certain doe brown eyed boy was peeking at you. “Are you okay y/n?”

You didn’t realize he saw the whole thing and you were one who never enjoyed the attention or wanted sympathy. “I’m fine Pete, thanks.” You smiled.

Peter gently guided his hands to yours and took a hold of them. He wore a look of concern and worry. “No I saw you take a puff out of...” Peter knew what it was but he had forgotten the name. It was on the tip of his tongue. “That.” He points to your inhaler.

“My inhaler?”

“What? Thats kinda cool if you think about it.” Peter squinted his eyes as he shrugged.

“It’s amazing to have to keep something close to you cause if not then you might die by having an asthma attack,” you said sarcastically, closing your lunchbox.

Peter messed up with his wording. “I’m sorry y/n. What I mean is you don’t need to hide it from me. I think it makes you stronger knowing you feel pain and not at ease sometimes yet you always have a smile on your face. And that you worry so much about others instead of yourself. It’s cool.”

“Yeah you’re super cool y/n,” Ned chuckled, proceeding to eat his food.

MJ pointed her finger at you, “I and the rest of the dweebs here are gonna make sure you always have it with you and if you don’t I will personally run all the way back and get it for you then slap you so you will never forget it again.” All was silent as she opened up her book to continue reading.

“You’re all drama queens!”

You understood they loved you and wanted you safe and protected but it got a bit out of hand. You forgot your inhaler once and MJ did indeed slap your face. You were afraid this time because once again, you forgot your inhaler.

“Why don’t I learn?” You thought as you scrambled over to Peter in an empty science class. “Peter I need your help.”

“Whats wrong y/n? Is it your asthma again? Do you have your inhaler?” He was very much anxious. His arms wrapping around you almost as if to keep you safe. All he wanted, he needed in his life was you, safe, in his arms, with him.

Twiddling your thumbs you scratched the back of your head, “well. The good news is no I’m not having issues right now with my asthma. The bad news is I forgot my inhaler.”

“Oh, don’t tell MJ this. She will not like it one bit.”

“I know Pete! Thats why I need your help. Can you please get it for me?” You fluttered your eye lashes to entice him.

Peter smirked, crossing his arms, “depends. I need a little something before I get you your inhaler.”

“What is it?” You genuinely asked. Not getting the hint it was supposed to be romantic.

“Silly, you gotta give me a kiss.”

“Oh okay, like this one,” you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and landed your lips upon his chapped ones. You and Peter were still young so the kiss was a little sloppy but you two were inexperienced. You gave little pecks to his lips. His eyes were closed and so were yours. You always enjoyed kissing your boyfriend. You two parted, giggling.

“That was a surprise. I always love when you kiss me.”

“Me too,” you felt flustered and a bit bashful.

“Alright I’ll get your inhaler baby girl,” Peter kissed your forehead and ran ahead super fast.

“He’s always so fast?” You shook your head. How dare this boy leave you feeling like this? All putty because of the nickname. It was a sin.

Peter swung around New York as Spider-Man to get to your house. It was quicker that way. He still hasn’t told you about his secret. (i know ur secret ur dirty little secret srry i just recently watched it 2 if u seen it u’ll understand) He was afraid to. What would you think? How would you react? It all made him nervous.

He lifted your window up and crawled on your ceiling. He flung his mask off to get a better look at your room. It was cute and very much fit your personality. Peter sniffed the air, grinning widely. The room smelled of your beautiful scent that Peter could not get enough of. “Alright y/n,” clapping his hands together, getting to work, “lets see where you put this thing.”

Peter looked on your dresser, on your nightstand, in your bed, in your drawers and still nothing. Finally as he twisted his body he saw it on your desk in a mason jar. There was a sticky note on the mason jar that read “INHALER’S HOME.” Peter laughed out loud. He was totally going to bring that up to you. It made him love you more if that was even possible. He saw you as someone so cute and adorable. But something caught his eyes.

Dipping his hand in the mason jar to retrieve the inhaler he spotted a Spider-Man sticker on it. His heart pumped loudly, hard. He had butterflies, fireworks all of it in his stomach. You were so precious! You meant so much to him and it made him almost fangirl to know that you loved not only him as Peter but you also were a fan of Spider-Man. Now he had to tell you.

He cradled the inhaler in his arms and just stared at the sticker. Completely in love with you. “My y/n,” he whispered as he gave a kiss to your inhaler. He swung back to school to give what you had lost. He promised himself from now on he would always make sure you had it with you no matter what. No matter if he was fighting bad guys, Thanos it all wouldn’t matter to him, not just yet because you had to come first. In Peter’s life you would always come first and he will always make sure you are safe and protected.

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @marwantr, @divaanya, @wassupitschloe, @idontknowwhattocallthisworld (wont let me tag), @spycii, @eminemsgiraffe (wont let me tag)

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

#marvel #marvel fic #marvel imagine #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #spider-man #spider-man x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #spider-man imagine #tom holland #peter parker x asthmatic! reader #race neutral reader #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #requested #inhaler

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izukult · 4 years

Text

this is the end {chapter two}

summary / things couldn’t get worse than this. but, they did. the chapter in which everything in your life goes wrong.

warnings / cult, kidnap, actual foRCED cannibalism (if that’s too much it’s under the first break and ends after the second break!), stalking, death, angst, angst, angST, not much peter this chapter, swearing. idk bad stuff man. i use the word silence a million times just call it motif. didn’t proof read.

word count / 2015

notes / wow this is hard to write. PLEASE read my disclaimer. sorry there’s not much peter. this is filler. coolio. this will be like the last chapter that only focuses on what they’re doing to u, i promise this will get momentum

disclaimer / please don’t support or romanticize the abuse in this fic! this is something i’m simply writing to help me deal with trauma and/or my mental health to try to give it a positive spin. i apologize if it is dark, i needed an outlet. :))

the white cotton stuck to your skin with the water, leaving your breath to moisturize the air as you gasped. you lifted your chained hands as far as you could, trying to brush the hair that clung to your face. you looked at the cracked porcelain of the lonely bathtub, nausea going to your throat as you saw how your blood mixed in with the ice and the water. your cough was scratchy, burning your throat further as you leaned over, gagging, water spilling up.

“son of a bitch.” you let your head fall towards your chest as tears formed in your eyes again; the sob that left your throat stung almost as bad as the cold. you knew you could get out of this. you weren’t chained to the tub, and they weren’t holding a gun to your head if you dared to move an inch. they wanted you to move, to see if you really could fight the way your personality said you could after what you’d endured. you wanted to lift yourself, heave your body up and make your fragile knees bend, but you didn’t know how to do that without making them shatter. you didn’t know how to breathe without your ribs piercing your lungs. they were killing you and every day you felt your soul disconnecting from your body.

the metal of the handcuffs on your wrists clanged against the tub as you tried to push yourself up. ice pressed against a gash on your stomach (that you didn’t know you had) through the fabric of your dress, evoking a short scream from you. your body racked with sobs that hurt you so much more and you grit your teeth as you continued to try to get up. your body sunk down, trauma holding your bones back.

“god dammit,” the words came out like a desperate prayer and you slammed your hands into the side of the vat. “god fucking dammit!” you were sobbing harder, your cuts pruning along with your skin, but your energy to fight had completely vanished. you knew you’d be in there until someone came for you, and you knew when they grabbed you out it would be a whole lot worse; so you might as well try to enjoy getting clean.

—————

your eyes widened, head shaking rapidly. you jerked your body against the hands holding you, tears welling through your disgust. “no, no, no.” your body thrashed as your eyes stayed trained on the plate in front of you. “no.” it was simple, white ceramic with a silver fork and knife on each of its sides. the white was splotched with red- blood. you gagged slightly, the smell reaching your nose. “fucking no!” you twisted yourself, almost moving out of their grasp. you desperately attempted to stumble away, not caring what kind of beating you would face, but they pushed you forward.

“you have to become accustomed to it,” one of them started as they moved to shove you into the chair. “the queen should have no limits, no weakness.” once you were sat, they were clamping your shoulders. you pressed against the wood of the chair enough to try to tip it, but they simply brought you back up.

“please,” the word was croaked- choppy and sickly and raw. “don’t make me do this, i’ll be good. i promise i’ll be good.” you didn’t typically beg them, and you felt as if any integrity you held was gone. but you’d also never had what you could only assume was a human kidney (you remember peter telling you the shapes of organs one time while you studied for biology, which caused you to tell him he sounded like a serial killer.) in front of you on a fucking plate.

there was silence around you. typically, you would’ve begged for silence. a moment without their heavy breathing or the sound of your pain, but now it was just eerie. they watched you and waited and when you refused to move for the cutlery, they did it themselves. and, for some reason beyond them, you didn’t seem to enjoy it nearly as much as you did when your mother would feed you as a baby.

—————

his fingers traced your arm, nails forming a temporary tattoo.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

he was vile to you. they all were. your temples ached as he pierced your skin with what could only be described as his claws.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“i missed you, pretty girl.” a scowl found its way on your face at the name they’d all become accustomed to calling you- although it was a name only peter should call you. and, quite frankly, his praises of longing for you go unnoticed at the fact you can’t remember which one he is.

you have about thirteen comebacks to each of his phrases of want, but you’d learned that silence was the biggest killer to them.

your eyes filled with tears (like they always did) when his hands slid under your top, which didn’t cover much to begin with.

“but now it’s just you and me,” the animation of his voice was scratchy to you and you wanted nothing more than to rip the voice box out of his mask.

you continued to count in your head, eyesight trained on the wall in front of you rather than the situation presented in front of you.

your eyelids started to hang heavy. you were tired. of all of this. you were tired of pretending you were okay.

maybe if you fell asleep, this would go quicker. maybe, if you slept well enough, you wouldn’t even remember he was here.

—————

you watched as they set up the camera, feet burning against the cold cement. since that day of exhaustion, the feeling had been perpetual. you wanted to care about how you looked if you knew the world was going to see you (or was that another lie?), but it was the least of your concerns.

‘how did the phrase go? if peter couldn’t handle you at your ugly state during your kidnap, he didn’t deserve you at your best. something like that,’ you thought as they moved you to the middle mark for the perfect angle.

you were certain the recording was trivial. some dumb black market snuff film type shit that honestly no one would end up watching, but more time in front of the camera meant less alone time with them. peter had sworn that you deserved stardom, so maybe this was it.

your eyes darted from the man in front of you to the one who pressed the button on the camera (a riveting job, honestly) and then forward, to the lens.

you didn’t pay much attention as they droned on about you until your loves name got mentioned. your head snapped quickly, eyes widened and gaze afraid.

“and, peter parker, this ones for you.” his head tilted towards you and you became fascinated with the way the inside of your bottom lip tasted.

you shook your head slightly hoping peter would understand you desperately meant this wasn’t about him. you didn’t speak up though. silence was key.

he continued to talk about you, about your glory, and your hands, and your lips, and the way your face felt when they’d hold onto you.

that’s when you realized the smell. you hoped it hadn’t shown on your face, but it probably had. poker had never been your strong suit. and then you were scanning the room again and they could tell and you knew that they wanted this and that they wanted you to know something was up and they wanted to record you finding out and your stomach started to fucking churn.

a sob left your throat as a light you didn’t know existed shined behind you. there had been a curtain between you and the wall that had now been moved and you saw it. the reminiscence of a series of girls who looked somewhat like you.

“oh my, god.” it was a quiet prayer for a being you couldn’t say you believed in as you stared at the heads with hair just like yours, eyes a shade so close to your own. “oh my fucking god.” you were louder this time, your knees wobbling as you struggled to keep your balance.

you couldn’t see their faces but you imagined the men around you were smiling. you didn’t recognize the tears falling until they hit the ground but you ignored it, disgust covering your features as you turned from the girls to the man who had been talking.

“what the fuck have you done?” your voice was raw. you were furious, you were sick, you were sorry. sorry for the people who’d never be able to go home.

“don’t worry, sweetheart, they didn’t come close to you.” you lifted your chained hands to your mouth, retching out a sob.

“you’re- you’re all monsters.” you felt vacant. you felt empty. you felt useless. they had died because of you. they had died because they looked like you.

“oh my god.” you repeated yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were recorded by the long forgotten camera.

“oh, sweetheart, no reason to cry.” he moved towards you, placing a hand on your head, tangling his fingers through your hair. and, you realized, this was the first time you’d truly wanted to kill someone.

you continued to cry, not following the urge to do any harm to him as you stood in your spot.

“did we go too far?” your mind screamed yes. yes you’re evil and you’re bad and i hate you all. yes you went too fucking far. but you stayed unspeaking.

“what do you want, pretty girl?” your eye twitched. you felt it. you felt the physical change in you. you turned your head, eyes meeting the eyes of his mask and you smiled faintly.

“do you really want to know?” your voice was sweet, sickly, and he moved his hand from your hair to your shoulder.

“of course.” your smiled turned to a scowl as you raised your hands to place them atop his own, fingers digging into his hands.

“i want to rip the skin from your fucking hands so you never had the fucking luxury of touching me or those girls.” you moved your hands to his throat, but none of the other men moved to his rescue.

“and then?” you simultaneously leaned into him and brought his head to you, where your nose was against the nose of his mask. “then, i want to blow my brains against the fucking wall.” even though your words came through gritted teeth, each of them were over enunciated.

you shoved him away by his neck, continuing to stand tall as you did so. “and, unfortunately for me, i plan to get what i want.”

your gaze finally found the camera lens again and you let out a small breath of realization. your hands were shaking. you knew there were the girls behind you, and the man you’d been threatening was gasping for breath now. maybe you looked like the monster.

you looked down at your hands, teeth slightly chattering, and you could only imagine how peter felt. he probably hated you. this was your fault. this was your fucking fault. all of it.

your mouth parted slightly and you gulped. “i-” nothing else came out and you bit your lip again, shutting your eyes as tight as you could.

you wanted to sob. to fall apart. to break. but, you had just made a commitment to your captors. you were going to give them hell, and then find your way there. you just hoped peter would understand.

the camera turned off and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

unbeknownst to you, peter was sat at the tv with wide, glossy eyes, praying you’d get out of there as soon as possible. just not in the way you planned.

tag list: @greenteavee @jacksnoodlez99 @sarahalkhalifaa @lilsxtan @honeymarvel @awaywithtime @5secondsofpeterparker

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman angst #peter parker angst #mcu #marvel #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #marvel cinematic universe #this is SO DARK IM SORRY #TBH I WOULDVE DROPPED THIS IF THERE WERENT REQUESTS #COPING WEIRD #THANKS

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moonlight-breeze-44 · 4 years

Note

Ooh, do you think you could do a malec prompt based on this quote? “yea sex is cool but have u ever been treated like a priority instead of just an option”

Hi there, anon! Hopefully you’re still around. This probably isn’t exactly what you meant when you sent in this prompt, but I hope you like it anyway! This features Alec coming out as asexual, some angst because Magnus likes to blame himself when he shouldn’t, and eventual fluff w/ sleepy cuddles. Hope you like!!

~ ~ ~

The love I have for you knows no bounds

Read on AO3

It was a slippery slope at first. For Alec, talking about heavy things always was. But Magnus was patient and seemed to understand that Alec couldn’t just share, that there were connotations and insecurities and outright anxieties that plagued him when he tried to. Magnus was better at reading Alec than Alec was at reading Alec, and it scared him. He was used to being ignored, dismissed, or even belittled. He wasn’t used to someone listening to him.

Alec bit his lip, avoiding Magnus’s expectant stare. He’d been silent for too long.

He knew he should just tell Magnus, that Magnus would take it in stride and they would figure it out just like they always did. But the fear was paralyzing and they’d come so far. Alec didn’t know that he could handle it if he lost the one good thing in his life because he was fucking defective. Images of other times, other people, swam in his mind. He knew that Magnus wouldn’t care, knew Magnus would love him even if he couldn’t satisfy everything Magnus desired, but then coming out was always a little terrifying.

“Alexander,” Magnus said, and it was a prompt and a comfort all at once. Alec took a deep breath and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the look on Magnus’s face when he told him the truth. What if he was wrong? What if Magnus didn’t want to be with him anymore? What if -

Magnus placed a gentle hand on Alec’s arm. He’d noticed Alec’s breathing pick up. Alec smiled and squeezed his boyfriend’s fingers gratefully.

“I, uh…” Alec cursed himself and his anxiety, digging his teeth into his lower lip. Magnus wouldn’t care. They’d been through worse things.

“I’m bad at this,” Alec confessed needlessly. Magnus knew he was bad at this, bad at talking and communicating like a normal fucking person.

“That’s okay,” Magnus reassured him immediately. “Take your time.”

Alec sucked in a deep breath and willed his hands to stop shaking. He had to do this. He couldn’t keep evading and hiding from Magnus’s advances for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want to. Concealing such a huge part of himself from the person he loved the most made him feel terrible and he hated it. He didn’t have a choice. He had to tell Magnus if he wanted to be fully honest with the man who’d given him so much.

Almost as if he had read Alec’s mind, Magnus spoke up, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’d like to know, but that’s up to you. My actions obviously made you uncomfortable, and you know that I won’t do it again now that I’m aware of how it makes you feel. You don’t have to explain, Alexander. A simple ‘no’ will always be good enough.”

Alec swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and mumbled, “I know.” He took a deep breath. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

“Okay, Alec. If you’re sure.”

Alec nodded. He squeezed his hands into fists and inhaled shakily. It was now or never.

“Idon’tlikesex,” Alec rushed out. Magnus, to his benefit, looked rightfully confused.

“Er, what?”

“I don’t like sex,” Alec repeated, much slower this time. His hands were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. “I’m asexual.”

The loft was quiet for a minute, and Alec witnessed a slew of emotions cross Magnus’s face - confusion, denial, anger, understanding, and finally, sharp guilt that made Alec wince.

“I - how long have you known?” Magnus asked incredulously.

“Uh, all my life?”

Magnus’s eyes flashed. “You’ve known you’re ace this entire time and you didn’t tell me?!”

Alec cringed guiltily, looking away. “Yes?” He tangled his fingers in the fabric of his slacks. He hadn’t expected this. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t for Magnus to get angry with him. Fear crept its way up his throat, threatening to strangle him. Oh god, what had he done?

“For Lilith’s sake, Alexander,” Magnus cursed. He shook his head and focused his gaze on his lap. “I’ve been hurting you for months and I didn’t even know.” He caught his lip between two teeth and bit down hard, and Alec suddenly understood. Magnus wasn’t angry with him. He was angry with himself.

“That’s not your fault, Magnus,” Alec hastened to reassure him. “You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve known,” Magnus persisted. “I saw that you were a little awkward, thought you might be uncomfortable, but I didn’t think - ” He groaned and ran a hand down the length of his face. “I thought you were intimidated by me,” he confessed. “I assumed you were ashamed of your own lack of experience. I tried to make you comfortable with it, with the idea of sex.” His bottom lip trembled, and that was the last straw for Alec.

He got up from the armchair he was perched in and moved to join Magnus on the couch, wrapping an arm around him and hushing him softly. “Magnus, it’s okay,” he promised the warlock. “You didn’t know.”

Magnus blew out a hard breath, choking on something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. A few tears dripped from his golden, unglamoured cat eyes. “That’s just it, Alexander. I should have known. I should have checked on you and communicated with you like a good boyfriend instead of coming onto you and making you feel uncomfortable with all of those unwanted advances.”

He turned and cupped Alec’s face in his hands, staring at him worriedly with guilt-filled, wet eyes. “Are you okay, Alexander?” The raw concern and genuine care for Alec’s wellbeing made tears rise to his eyes, and Magnus began to panic. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - ”

“Magnus, Mags, it’s okay,” Alec said hurriedly, curling his hands around Magnus’s own fluttering ones. “It’s fine, I promise. It’s my own fault for not telling you.” He kissed each of Magnus’s cheeks tenderly. “I promise it’s okay. I told you, didn’t I? Back there? I was uncomfortable, and I told you to stop. And what did you do?”

“I stopped,” Magnus answered immediately, without thinking. “Of course I stopped. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Exactly,” Alec said softly. He pressed a gentle kiss to Magnus’s forehead. “I know you’d never continue with anything sexual after I said no. I knew the moment I said to, you would stop. And you did. You’ve done nothing wrong, Magnus.”

Magnus huffed and wiped at his eyes, smearing kohl across his cheekbones. Alec thought it gave him a rugged, handsome look, but he refrained from saying so.

“You know we have to talk about this, right?” Magnus said, clearing his throat. “About what you just told me.”

A spark of anxiety shot through Alec’s heart. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Magnus scoffed, looking mildly offended. “I’m not with you for your body, Alec. I couldn't care less.”

Alec smiled, letting out a long sigh of relief. “Thank Raziel.”

“Did you really think I would?”

“No, I mean - no,” Alec replied. “No, I know you. I knew you wouldn’t care. I just - I’ve had bad experiences in the past, and I, I was just nervous, I guess.”

“Is that why you waited so long to tell me?” Magnus’s voice was soft, free of judgement.

“Yeah,” Alec croaked out. “Yeah, that, and I just wanted to make absolutely sure that I was.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Alec sighed and curled closer to Magnus, who slipped an arm around him and pulled him into his side. “I mean, like I said, I’ve had some, ah, bad experiences.” He sighed and began to fiddle with Magnus’s rings, the mindless activity soothing him as he began to recount the event that had haunted his adolescence.

“When I was younger, I told Izzy and Jace that I was asexual and they, uh, they laughed.” Magnus’s hand tightened around his. “Izzy said I’d change my mind when I was living a ‘boring, sexless life’ and Jace said that I just hadn’t found the right person yet. That I’d understand when I found someone that could make me feel good.”

Alec sighed and stared at his lap. “So when I met you, I thought, I mean, I assumed, that they were right and it’d be wonderful.” He cringed and worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “But it’s been months and it still makes me uncomfortable. And you’re, you know, you, so it’s not like partners have anything to do with it.” Magnus chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to Alec’s knuckles at that. Alec sighed and rested his head on Magnus’s shoulder. “I hope you aren’t too mad at me.”

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” Magnus reassured him quietly. “You were scared and unsure. I understand. I just wish I’d been more perceptive and realised something was wrong before now.”

Alec smiled and planted a soft kiss to his collarbone. “Not your fault.”

Magnus didn’t say anything, and Alec decided to count that as a win, relaxing into his boyfriend’s arms.

“We’ll talk about this, right?” Magnus questioned, running his fingers through Alec’s messy black hair. “You can tell me what you are and aren’t comfortable with, so we can avoid a situation like the one that brought us here in the future. Maybe it’d be good to have a list?” He bumped Alec’s shoulder with his own. “You know how much I like to be organised.” He placed a soft kiss to Alec’s forehead. “Would that be okay?”

Alec chuckled and hid the goofy grin that erupted on his face at his boyfriend’s words in Magnus’s jacket. “That sounds perfect.”

“Great,” Magnus said, shifting slightly to accommodate Alec, who had slowly moved closer and closer until Magnus was abruptly met with a lapful of Shadowhunter.

“Mmm, later, though,” Alec mumbled against Magnus’s shoulder. “Not righ’ now.” This elicited a chuckle from his boyfriend, who stroked a thumb along the creases of Alec’s forehead with care.

“Yes,” Magnus agreed, brushing his fingers through Alec’s hair and scratching over his scalp, “Right now, it seems like someone’s a little sleepy.”

Alec gave a low hum of protest at the statement but made no effort to move. Magnus chuckled and flicked his fingers, transfiguring the couch into something a little more comfortable and closely resembling their bed. He maneuvered Alec into a resting position, laying down with him and pulling the unresisting Shadowhunter back into his arms.

“M’cold,” Alec whined, burying his face in the crook of Magnus’s neck. Magnus felt like his heart might explode. Sleepy Alec was his absolute favourite Alec, not that he’d ever say so to the other man. He flicked his fingers again and covered them both with a blanket from the bedroom, tucking the sides in around Alec until he was fully wrapped in the quilt. He made a noise of contentment that sounded something like a purr, and Magnus felt his heart skip a beat. By his Alexander’s Angel, he loved this man.

Before Alec drifted off to sleep, Magnus carded his fingers through his hair and said, “Is this okay?” He was fairly certain it was, based on Alec’s reactions and how much they’d cuddled in the past, but after their conversation, he wasn’t taking any chances. He wanted to make absolutely certain that Alec was comfortable.

“Mmhmm,” Alec hummed, and when Magnus squeezed his hand under the covers, a prompt for more, he said, “Yes, this is perfect.”

“Good.” Magnus placed a soft kiss to Alec’s forehead. “Go to sleep, Alexander.”

Not even two seconds had passed before Alec’s soft snores filled the apartment, and Magnus had to smile. He was the luckiest man on this earth to have Alec Lightwood in his arms.

With that, Magnus snuggled closer to the warmth his boyfriend's body provided and promptly fell asleep himself.

#asked and answered #anon #anonymous #malec #prompt fic #fanfiction #malec fanfiction #shadowhunters #ask #asked #answered #malec fic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #my writing

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knightowl725 · 4 years

Text

Healing in a Graveyard, Ch. 4

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. I make some important notes about really the whole fic on the ao3 post. Short version: Landlords dating tenants is not cool, at all. I’ve been writing this with the knowledge that Caduceus wouldn’t abuse that power dynamic. But in the real world? Everyone should make their own choices, but I, personally, do not condone it.

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57397261

Chapter Four: Pink Blossoms

He awoke in the morning to the sound of metallic clanging.

“It’s breakfast ti~ime,” Jester’s cheery voice sang from outside his door as she banged - what? Pots and pans? - together. “It’s time to wake u~up!”

He heard distant, high-pitched cursing from the direction of Nott’s room, followed by a giggle from Jester and her thudding back down the stairs.

Fjord threw himself out of bed, slinking into the bathroom for just a few moments to wake himself up. He’d slept like shit. Hadn’t he set an alarm to wake up early? Caduceus had said he could help out later in the day so he could sleep in, but he’d still wanted to be up for meditation.

So much for that.

Fjord made his way downstairs and through the kitchen into the dining room, where everyone but Nott was settling around a wide array of breakfast foods. There were tall stacks of pancakes, waffles, piles of fruit, syrup in different flavors, breakfast sandwiches, bagels, and more laid out, all in their vegan varieties. Fjord wasn’t sure about the vegan version of some of these items, but after everything else he’d eaten that week, he was willing to try.

Caduceus stood nearby, having just set down the final plate of food. He looked rather pleased with himself in his purple apron. A bit of light from the window was falling on his face just so, and Fjord thought that he looked rather handsome in that image.

Which was a weird thought, and one he squashed back down. He didn’t need to get into that weird admiration-crush area right now. In fact, it might be the exact last thing he needed.

Fjord took his seat, Nott following shortly after. They all tore into the food, shockingly quiet for a few moments as everyone was lost to the joys of breakfast. What had seemed to Fjord like a ridiculous amount of food turned out not to be, as the Nein neatly polished it off.

“That was so good Caduceus,” Beau said, slouching a bit with a hand on her stomach.

The others echoed their thanks to a pleased Caduceus. Fjord couldn’t help the thought that Caduceus was the kind who needed people to fret over. He supposed the Nein was about as perfect a match as any.

Fjord considered spending his day studying, maybe trying to look at job postings. The thought reminded him of his rough night, of regretting ever leaving The Champions’ house even temporarily. But now, in the light of day and with a stomach full of pastries, he wondered if maybe it wasn’t the right choice. Maybe, if there was such a thing as fate, he was meant to be here now. Surrounded by friends, with the only stranger becoming a fast friend as well, in a beautiful nature escape, under the eye of a goddess that asks you to protect and preserve rather than consume and destroy.

Any of his plans for the day were dashed by his friends, who coaxed him into joining them at a pop up carnaval. It was a day full of Jester-levels of chaos, spurred on by Nott that he gave up trying to contain after about an hour. At one point, Caleb had gone off to read, Beau was trying to impress Jester by winning her a giant unicorn plush at a game, Nott was on top of a popcorn stand, and Yasha was showing a juggler how to actually perform.

He took a deep sigh, pulled out his phone, and recorded a clip of all of his friends in their shenanigans to send to Molly. Then, on a whim, he sent it to Caduceus as well. He was kinda part of the group now, right? That was the impression Fjord got, even if Caduceus couldn’t join them today. Visiting his sister, he’d said.

By the time they made it back to the Xhorhaus, everyone still laughing and jostling one another, it was nearly sunset.

Caduceus was sitting in his rocking chair, wearing an endearing straw hat that made Fjord smile instinctively.

“Caduceus~!” Jester called out. “The carnival was so much fun. Look what Beau won me!”

She raised the over-stuffed unicorn plush high overhead with pride.

“You should join us next time,” Fjord said.

He smiled wide, eyes crinkling. “I’d like that.”

He stood up, a little slowly as though he’d been sitting for a while. “Would you all mind very much if we fended for ourselves for dinner? I’m rather tired today.”

There was a chorus of, “of course!” and “no problem!” from the group as they poured inside.

“Ah, Fjord? Could I speak with you for a moment?” Caduceus asked. Fjord paused, then stepped out of the way of the others. Had he done something wrong?

Ah, shit. He’d forgotten.

“Right. I still need to earn my keep for today,” he said with a little laugh. “What should I work on?”

“It’s not that,” he said, distracted and gazing off across the Grove. “Actually, I’d like to skip our project work today, if you don’t mind. We can call it even.”

“Caduceus, are you alright? I mean, it’s not that I’m not grateful for a break, but you seem...tired.”

He met Fjord’s eyes to smile. “I am a bit worn out today, I’m afraid. But just tired. Calliope’s gym is very busy on the weekends. Too many people.”

Ah, that made sense. Fjord wasn’t bothered by crowds too much most days, but it was obvious that Caduceus, while sociable and friendly, was a more introverted man. In fact, it was a little strange to imagine the towering pink firbolg anywhere other than in the Grove.

“Of course. Is there anything I could do to help?” Fjord asked. “I could try making you something to eat? I’m, uh, not familiar with much vegan cooking, but I’m sure I could put together some of those sandwiches you left out the other day? The moss ones?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose--”

“I insist. We could call it my work for the day, if need be.”

Caduceus considered it. “Well, alright. I would appreciate it, Fjord.”

Fjord stepped towards the door. “You get settled again. I’ll bring out some food and tea, and then we can talk.”

“Right, thank you.”

Fjord disappeared indoors, suddenly daunted by the idea of cooking anything for Caduceus. And he offered to make tea? Caduceus was the type to make tea properly, to brew it at the perfect temperature for the exact amount of time that particular tea required.

He ventured into the kitchen, carefully sifting through the shelves so as not to upset Caduceus’s inscrutable system. He found the sandwich ingredients easily enough - it was the kind of recipe you could piece together just by looking at the meal. The tea he relied on the Internet for. A search told him honey lemon tea might be an easy one to make. He watched a quick tutorial and made himself meticulous notes.

After a bit of time, he had two plates of sandwiches, neatly cut in half, and two cups of tea. He placed them strategically on a large tray with a little saucer of honey, a tiny spoon, and a sliced lemon. He’d noticed Caduceus often added them to his teas, so hopefully that would be enough if he hadn’t gotten the flavor right.

Caduceus was still outside, his empty tea cup on the little rounded table, slightly unbalanced. Fjord set down the tray, shifting it so Caduceus’s half was closest to him, then sitting on the bench.

“Thank you, Fjord,” Caduceus said.

“I hope I did it justice.”

“I’m certain you did. You’re a quick learner.”

They enjoyed a quiet moment, the warmth of the day beginning its shift into a cool night.

“Did you enjoy the carnival?” Caduceus asked after a few moments, his sandwiches gone and tea between his hands. He always held it up to his chest like that, especially when he was sitting idly. It was a little cute.

“Yes, though it was tiring in its own way,” Fjord said. “You may have seen the video I sent.”

Caduceus chuckled. “I showed Calliope, and she got a good laugh out of that. Still can’t puzzle out why Nott was up on the popcorn stand.”

“I think the vendor said something that offended her? I don’t know.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Caduceus said, straightening a bit. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Right.” Fjord felt the pit in his stomach return.

“Calliope runs a gym, and she has a few people she’s brought on staff,” he said. “She’s very proud, we all are. She normally spends her time between all the tasks, training, running the business, working reception, and the like. But she’s gotten a bit overwhelmed with the gym’s success.”

“Understandable,” Fjord said.

Caduceus nodded. “She told me she’s been having a hard time finding people she likes to help her out more. She really wants to find a part-time receptionist. I think she had one already, but she needs another. I mentioned I knew someone looking for work, and how you’d been helping me all week.”

“Oh,” Fjord said, unable to form any words beyond that.

Caduceus tilted his head thoughtfully. “She asked a lot of questions, most I couldn’t really answer, but she wanted to know if you’d like to speak with her about the job.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.”

“I told her I would ask, but that you might have other things planned. I don’t want to assume or push anything on you, but I do think you would like working at the gym. And it’s important to Calliope that her employees be, at least, accepting of the Wildmother, and I know you’ve been respectful of Her.”

“Of-of course.” Fjord took a deep breath. A job? The pay couldn’t be worse than it was at the cafe, so as long as he got the same minimum hours...Which it sounded like the gym was doing well enough to need him around a bit...And wasn’t it close by?

“I, um, I’d certainly like to talk to her more about it,” Fjord finally said. “I can’t promise anything, but I am interested.”

Caduceus brightened. “Good! I know it’s far from decided, but wouldn’t it work out just so nicely? I’d like for Calliope to have trustworthy folks around her, and she could use someone who is good with people on her staff. She’s a little rough, but she’d be much better to you than some of these other folks have.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Fjord had always had some level of charm, even in his more awkward moments. It wasn’t a surprise to hear, but somehow hearing it from Caduceus made him flush.

“Here, let me get you her number.”

Fjord entered Calliope into his phone after a few attempts at getting her name right.

“I’ll send her a text tonight. Unless you think I should call her?”

“I think a text is fine. I’m the technology-challenged one of the family, not her.”

Caduceus smiled at Fjord’s laughter. They finished up their tea, talking a little more about their day. Soon it was dark, with speckled stars overhead and invisible crickets chirping away. They said their good nights, and Fjord breezed through his nightly routine. Wash his clothes, brush his teeth, file at his tusks, check that his assignments were all in order, plan what he might need to study tomorrow, finish laundry, then crawl into bed.

Lying in the dark of his room, he pulled out his phone and stared at the new contact.

It didn’t hurt to ask about the job, right?

In the dark of night, all alone, he felt those familiar hooks dig into his chest, like something weighed him down. Avantika would be so angry if he took another job. It was as good as saying he wasn’t coming back. He might lose all his other things. All that time invested. All the comfort in having someone else to make his decisions.

But it was so damned warm here. The Blooming Grove, the Xhohaus, it was like a dream. Was it even possible that it would stay? If he reached for it, would it just vanish?

Mind shifting between possibilities, the cold comfort of pain well-known versus the warm but terrifying unknown, Fjord fell asleep with his phone on his chest and a single text message he didn’t quite remember sending.

Hey Calliope, this is Fjord, the guy Caduceus mentioned. He said you might have an opening for a front desk role at your gym, and that I should contact you. I’ve got a few years of experience in customer service, and I spent years on various ships doing all kinds of odd jobs. If you still have that opening, I can send you over my full resume if you’d like to talk more.

He dreamt of the ocean. He was standing on the edge of a rocky outcropping, staring out into the softly turning waves. They stretched out before him, intimidating. Awe-inspiring. Eternal. Powerful.

He looked up into a bright blue sky, watching as it shifted. A cloud, or a face? A face made of a cloud, maternal, grew to encompass the sky.

When Fjord awoke his mind raced with the...conversation he’d had with the cloud, the promise he’d made. His heart raced with his mind, and he took a moment just to breathe. Process.

The sun was just beginning to fill the room. Fjord looked around. It was the same room he’d woken in, what, six times now. It was his seventh day in the Xhorhaus. It was his last day in the Xhorhaus.

He planted his feet on the wooden floor, seeing his phone discarded face-down on the floor. He ignored it for now, facing himself in the mirror as he had done merely days ago. Days and yet a lifetime.

He looked disheveled. His hair was still too long, too gray for his age. His face was clean, fuller. His eyes were clear, his slouch more natural and less burdened. He looked...stronger. Somehow. Maybe not physically. Those kinds of changes didn’t happen overnight, after all, but still.

A flash of pink caught his eye, and he looked to the houseplant sitting on the dresser. It had flowered overnight, from nothing to a vibrant pink, pointed sort of flower. He stood and approached the plant, barely grazing the flower with his fingertips. He knew that shade of pink.

It was surreal. He didn’t know if he was still dreaming or experiencing a mental break, but some deep, certain part of him knew it was neither. He dressed and went through his morning routine with a strange calmness over him. When he returned to his room, another shock awaited.

He turned back to his bed, intending on gathering his phone and making his bed, but more color caught his eye. Outside his window, that large, beautiful tree he’d come to admire had burst into color. It’s usually vibrant green leaves were now overwhelmed by bright pink flowers.

Caduceus stood beneath the petals, dressed in the long teal-pink robe-esque coat he’d worn earlier in the week. His back was to Fjord, a staff in one hand while the other extended out to catch a falling petal.

Fjord pried open the old window and leaned out. “Caduceus!”

Caduceus turned at the shout of his name. “Fjord? Look at this! I’ve never seen--”

“It’s amazing! Wait a minute, I’m-I’m coming downstairs.”

Fjord hurried from his room, leaving his window and door open in his haste. He tore out the front door, leaping down the porch steps to jog to the tree.

Caduceus was waiting, smiling with childlike delight as he was gently showered in pink. Petals had caught in his hair, a near-matching color. He laughed.

“I’ve never seen this happen, never heard of it happening,” Caduceus said. “I… I should take a picture. At some point. For my family.”

“I think I--” Fjord caught himself. Who was he to act as if he might be the cause of this? A minor miracle amidst another family’s home for centuries, where they had all worshipped a goddess he stumbled across in a dream, and he was going to try and claim it was about him?

“Do you know something, Fjord?” Caduceus asked in sincere curiosity.

“No, I couldn’t possibly. I just…”

Caduceus watched him expectantly, wise eyes waiting for him to come clean.

“I… I had a dream last night. About the Wildmother.”

Caduceus straightened, leaning towards him in intense interest.

“She asked me… To serve her, I think. Like you do, but different?” Fjord relayed the dream, the vision of the ocean, all that the Wildmother had told him, the promise he made, even the flower on his houseplant.

Caduceus’s smile slowly widened until it looked like it might split his face in his joy. “This is wonderful, Fjord!”

“Is it?” Fjord said. “I’m a bit nervous, if I’m honest.”

“You’ve been lost to this darkness for some time, I understand. Something drew you to it.”

Fjord looked down for a moment. “I...wanted guidance, I suppose. Purpose. Not to figure it out alone.”

“The Wildmother can give you those things, if you’d like for her to. And from what you’ve shared, I think some part of you might.”

“I’m sorry,” Fjord said. “I don’t mean to make this about me, I’m sure--”

“It is about you,” Caduceus said, almost confused. “She has chosen you to join her following, to take under her wing and her protection. There are no coincidences Fjord. This tree did not burst into flower for the first time in my life the night after you accepted its goddess by chance. She gave you a sign, several of them. First, when you were brought to her temple here, then when you met me, and more this morning.”

Fjord didn’t know what to say. He looked up at Caduceus. The man was smiling down at him, brimming with joy and pride. Was Caduceus proud of him?

He felt something push at his eyes.

Caduceus looked up into the tree. “This is a blessing, Fjord. I sensed you were meant for greater things than serving destruction, but it seems She has surprised me once again.”

Fjord managed a laugh. “She is certainly surprising.”

“Today is a special day,” Caduceus said, still smiling. “Would you help me finish breakfast? I think I’d like to bring it out here.”

“Of course.”

#my writing #fjorclay #critical role #teahaw #multi-chapter

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onsgiftexchange · 5 years

Text

This is for Sav ( @awildsavvy )! I hope that you enjoy it :) __________________

“WE HAVE TO JUMP!”

“ARE YOU CRAZY!?”

The yells could barely be heard over the loud explosions, which were seemingly endless, along with the very insistent alarm that was blaring loudly. The next explosion was close enough that they stumbled, almost knocked off of their feet from the force of it.

“We can make it! I know we can!” The blonde male urged. The female that was with him looked away, uncertain. “Mika I don’t –” She wasn’t able to finish her sentence, because the man - Mika - had already grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up. They were rapidly declining, the burning helicopter approaching the ground faster and faster, steadily gaining speed.

“Come on, come on…” the male mumbled, oblivious to the obvious fright on the girl’s face. Her lilac hair - which had originally been pulled back into a tight bun - was flying everywhere, wind whipping it back and forth. Now. Mika thought as he watched the sandy clearing draw nearer. Without a second thought, he jumped out of the helicopter, holding on tightly to the girl in his arms.

There was a moment in which the only thing he could hear was the roaring of the wind in his ears, and the only thing he could feel was a sudden weightlessness, before he crashed into the sandy dune. The impact ripped the girl from his arms, causing them both to go rolling in the hot, grainy sand with grunts and moans.

Before Mika could even think to get up, the helicopter crashed and erupted. The two figures were flung backwards like ragdolls, unable to move their limbs properly as the shockwave hit them. This time when he hit the ground, everything went black.

Regaining consciousness was not fun. His limbs felt heavy, his mind sluggish and all he could hear was this damn ringing noise that seemed to get louder and louder until his mind couldn’t take it anymore. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the harsh light of the hot sun. A giant mushroom cloud had formed over the sight of the crash, and all he could smell was ash and fire. If he looked closely enough, he could see pieces of the helicopter that appeared to be ablaze.

He somehow managed to drag himself into a kneeling position and slowly wiped some sweat off of his forehead, but when he pulled his hand back, instead of clear liquid, his hand was covered in smeared blood. He looked down at his body, ignoring the headache that exploded in his mind from that simple movement.

Bruises had already started to form on his arms and what little he could see from the tears of his military uniform. Then he was struck by a single, sudden thought:

Shinoa.

Immediately he shot up, and staggered from the pain that erupted in his head. His body shook and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him, but after a moment he held steady. He looked around, but didn’t see the girl anywhere near him. “SHINOA!”

He couldn’t hear his shout. The ringing noise had gone away by now, but in its place was complete silence. He could feel blood trickling out of his ears and grimaced, hoping that his hearing wasn’t irreparably damaged, however unlikely it was. He stumbled forward, calling out Shinoa’s name over and over but didn’t receive a reply. Either she wasn’t able to hear either, or… or… he didn’t want to think about it.

Eventually, finally, he saw her. Shinoa’s tiny form was completely limp, but noticeable, in the sand. He ran over to her and collapsed next to her, lifting her upper body into his arms. There were noticeable cuts on her face and arms, and a giant bruise on her forehead, but other than that she didn’t seem any worse than Mika himself. Blood was trickling out of her ears as well. The only difference between them was that she was unconscious while he wasn’t. He shook her helplessly. “Shinoa. Shinoa. Shinoa!”

She jolted and took a deep, rattling breath. Her eyes were wild and looked everywhere before finally settling on Mika. Her lips moved. Mika still couldn’t hear her, but he could see what she said. “Mika?”

He nodded rapidly and pulled her closer, burying his face in her shoulder. She smelled like blood and sweat, and her hair was tickling his face, but at that moment he couldn’t care less. She was alive, that’s all that mattered. He pulled away when she placed a hand on his arm, looking down at her. At that moment he wasn’t quite sure how he felt. Love, fear, relief, anger, anguish, happiness… somehow it was all there. We survived. Was all he could think, then a darker thought hit him. But for how long?

They were in enemy territory, alone, no weapons on them with explosions raging around them. Their mission had failed, and now they were stuck here. He had no idea if his previous transmissions calling for help had gone through, because as the helicopter fell all he could hear was static.

Shinoa seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because her jaw was set and her eyes focusing on a spot left to Mika, looking pensive and worried. She looked back up at Mika and he gave her a small nod. I understand.

He let her go and she slowly sat up on her own. They stared at each other for a moment, before Shinoa grabbed him by the cheeks and pulled him into a hard kiss. So many emotions went through that simple touch of the lips. Love, relief… it was palpable, and by the time she pulled away he wanted to cry.

His hearing was starting to come back now, and even though the sounds of explosions were muffled, they were still there. “We have to go,” he said eventually. “Can you stand?”

Shinoa frowned, and nodded. Mika didn’t miss the wince as she did so. Shakily, she started to rise to her feet, only to collapse back down with a cry of pain. Mika cursed and quickly caught her, worry rushing through his body. She didn’t seem to notice as he gripped her tightly, her eyes were far-away and she looked dazed. “Shinoa? Hey, look at me,” he slapped her cheek gently, and she seemed to snap out of it. “Mika?”

“Yeah, okay, walking isn’t a good idea… here, let me…” he went to pick her up, but his weight could barely support him, much less holding an extra 39 kilograms, and the two of them went down again with groans of pain.

“A-Alright… we… we’ll just… we can…” he was at a loss. Neither of them could walk. They were both hurt. Help likely wasn’t coming, and Shinoa… Shinoa was already looking at him with a sort of sad acceptance. Acceptance of their fate.

“Talk to me?” She requested, eyes never leaving his. Distract me so I don’t have to think about anything other than you before we die, was left unsaid, but they were both thinking it in their heads. Mika stared at her for a moment, before nodding slowly. “Okay uh… what… what do you want to talk about?”

“… Us.”

___________________________________

“Fight me!”

“Would you stop telling everyone to fight you?” Mika rolled his eyes, sucking on his lollipop as they walked to school.

The purple haired gremlin next to him seemed to puff with indignation. “My height doesn’t affect my ability to snap your neck or gouge out your eyes!”

At that the blond laughed loudly, scaring away some pigeons who’d been on the ground looking for breadcrumbs nearby. The old lady on the bench who’d been feeding them shot him a dirty look. “You can’t even reach my neck!”

“Uhhh do you really wanna test me, Hyakuya? Because there’s a fuckton of step ladders at our school and I’m not afraid to get on one of those to punch your stupidly pretty face.”

That had Mika stopping, causing her to crash into him. “Pretty?” He rose an eyebrow. Shinoa froze for a moment, as though she hadn’t meant to say that, before laughing. “Alright yeah, you’re pretty. Everyone knows it.”

“What? I’m not.”

This time it was Shinoa who rolled her eyes. “Oh I’m sorry, you’re not pretty. You’re super manly and butch.”

Mika frowned at that, starting the walk back to school with Shinoa prancing beside him. Pretty?

She thinks I’m pretty?

_____________________________________

“Come on, Mika, you’ll enjoy it!”

“I won’t. I really won’t. Yuu-chan, please don’t make me go to this stupid party.”

Yuu rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a baby, Mika. Besides, I want you to meet my… uh…”

“Aunt?”

“She is NOT my aunt!” Yuu fumed, and Mika laughed. “I just want to prove to you how annoying she is,” Yuu continued in a whine, “come on, please?”

Mika sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips. “Alright Yuu-chan, anything for you.”

Yuu had to be exaggerating about how bad Shinoa was. Yuu was a drama queen after all, everything set him off and he was always coming up with wild stories when it was usually something simple. There was no way Shinoa was as bad as Yuu made her out to be. Right?

… He was right. She wasn’t as bad as Yuu made her out to be. She was worse. The first thing that the drunken girl had done was fling herself onto Mika when he walked through the door. “I’ve decided that you will be my princess from now on,” she stated, not even saying hi. Even Yuu looked horrified.

“Ummm… but I’m a guy?” Maybe she thought he was a girl? It unfortunately wouldn’t be the first time someone made that mistake after all. However, Shinoa didn’t seem to care what he had to say, because she simply pet his fluffy hair like he was a cat, then his face. “Shhhhhhh. Princess.”

Mika gave Yuu a bewildered look, who - although still looking horrified - also was starting to look pretty amused. Mika narrowed his eyes at his best friend. Traitor.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other~” Yuu said, before swiftly leaving to go mingle with the rest of the party.

“Yuu-chan wait –”

“Oh good he’s gone,” Shinoa removed herself from him, all traces of her former drunkenness gone. She beamed at his bewildered face. “Name’s Hiiragi Shinoa.”

“U-Uh… Hyakuya Mikaela.”

“Oh I know who you are, Mika,” Shinoa said. “Yuu talks about you all the time. And… the others.”

By the others, he assumed she meant the rest of the Hyakuya’s, who’d died when the orphanage burnt down. He tried to ignore the pang of sadness. “Does he?”

“Yuuup,” she popped the ‘p’. “I’m sure he talks about how absolutely stunning and perfect I am all the time~?”

“Uh…” he thought back on all of the numerous rants and complaints Yuu had about her. “Something like that, yeah.”

“So, Mika, want a drink?” She asked bluntly, and he scratched the back of his neck, debating. He’d never drank alcohol before, and Krul would skin him alive if she found out, but it might be the only way to deal with this party…

“Sure.”

By the end of the night, Yuu found the two making out on the couch.

Mika would never forget the scream and the “Oh god my eyes!” that came from Yuu that night.

___________________________________________

“Starbucks is amazing,” Shinoa moaned, drinking some more of the coffee she’d ordered. They’d just sat down in the newest addition to their town, when someone behind Shinoa caught Mika’s eye. “Look behind you,” he murmured. “But don’t be obvious.”

Shinoa, in typical Shinoa fashion, immediately WHIPPED around and practically shouted, “Where!?”

For fucks sake.

He’d been hoping not to attract the attention of Ferid, the person he was trying to warn Shinoa to stay away from. However, the silver-haired male - along with every other goddamn customer in the store INCLUDING THE BARISTAS - all turned to stare at them. Ferid’s face brightened upon seeing Mika, and the blond let his head fall onto the table. Just kill me now.

“Mika-chan!”

Mika glared as the male came running over. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” the tall male said, looking positively ecstatic.

“You saw me,” Mika said bluntly. “Bye.”

“Eh? That’s not a very nice way to talk to your step-father…”

“You’re not my step-father.” Krul and Ferid had been divorced for almost two years now - thank God, Ferid was horrible to both of them - but in his mindset he seemed intent on it being “oh we just took a break, we’ll get back together soon” instead of “we’re totally done”.

“Ahaha so rude, Mika-chan~”

“Don’t call me that.”

Shinoa was starting to look concerned. “Um…”

“Oho~ Does Mika-chan have a girlfriend?”

“Okay, we’re going,” Mika said, getting off of his stool. Before he could grab Shinoa and leave, however, Ferid snatched his arm in a bruising grip that made Mika flinch out of instinct. “I’m not done talking to you,” Ferid growled, a complete 180 from his previous, happy demeanor. And then he wondered why Krul left him.

“Hey!” They both turned around to see Shinoa standing. “The only person allowed to touch my boyfriend is me,” she said sweetly. Then, before either of them could even blink, she kicked Ferid so hard in the balls that he went tumbling to the ground. Mika stared at him, along with everyone else, mouth hanging open in shock as the older man groaned in pain.

Not seeming to notice, she stepped over him and laced her arm in Mika’s and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Now we can go.”

That was probably the moment Mika fell in love with her.

____________________________________

By the time they were done exchanging some of their memories, the two were laughing, for a moment forgetting about all of the death and destruction around them. Forgetting about how soon enough they would be the ones to die, if not by an enemy then by the heat, or dehydration, or hunger, or all three. Forgetting for a moment about how these might be their last goodbyes. How they will never be able to see their friends again.

They forgot until they heard a helicopter. Until they looked up. Until they saw Yuu, Mitsuba, Yoichi and Kimizuki jumping out of it. Until they were being fussed over and carried into the helicopter, where Yoichi and Mitsuba immediately got to work with their med skills, patching the two fallen soldiers up.

They forgot that a few minutes ago, they had given up.

#onsgiftexchange #OnS Gift Exchange #Owari no Seraph Gift Exchange #Owari no Seraph #OnS #Seraph of the End #SotE #submission

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unproduciblesmackdown · 5 years

Text

posts about things with absolutely no introduction but it's because i was reminded of the topic the other day

this one's for those of us in the lifelong isolation no friends society, i know sometimes there's other people out there!! anyways i've been thinking about how like, personally, obviously, b/c idk how other ppl do it b/c we aren't friends with each other lol, its just a fuckin wild thing to deal with in part cuz its one of those answers to which there's not necessarily any Right Way to handle things or Answer or Solution or anything. isolation p much = more isolation and plus not having friends makes ppl less likely to socialize with you so that's rough; anyways yknow, the point is just oops you can't Choose to like, obtain a friend. u can try to get ppl interested but you can't control it beyond that, so, yknow

anyways what am i getting to? yeah so i've never had close friends in that i was never able to share personally honest things anyways for the longest time for a couple reasons, and also, people just didn't like me. the double whammy of "oh no its abuse" and "oh no you're lowkey socially ostracized by your peers from preschool on without end" is like, good luck to little me getting friends! i had sort-of friends in like a couple ppl who'd hang out with me regularly and on occasion we'd go to each others houses or smthing but it wasnt able to be like, the normal fun event it should. oh well. middle school was a little better and a little worse but i didnt keep up w ppl cuz i went to a different school later and its that situation where you're friends-ish Because you're at the same school right...smh...didnt thrive in college magically, but one essential thing was i was away from home more often than not so, that was real important ultimately. but anyways in the end i had like a handful of college friends-ish (accepted by other friends groups lol) and theres a couple of them i still talk to now and again

so like, yknow, friends, mostly friendly acquaintances, my siblings i'd classify as friendly acquaintances, i'm very glad about all of them really. just unfortunately i've only just started to have friendships that are like a decade old and the "longtime close" friendship is nonexistent b/c college is just four years and then you go other places, and i'm not at the heart of friend groups and not "good" at communication in other ways so its hard to keep in touch in ways. smh!!

funnily enough i'm also not good at internet stuff though it's been absolutely essential, god knows. that's why i'm able to talk to anyone rn!! but i can't do group chats and i only like approaching things "one on one" aka i don't like feeling like im in the midst of a group even outside group chats. if you get what i'm saying. like even back being in the small early mh fandom of like, three dozen ppl, in retrospect i didnt like having to be in the entire Group yknow. lemme just be over here. which is what i do now.

anyways for additional reasonsl, communicating has been trickier these past few years and for the most part its been kind of a situation where i wasn't necessarily going to get to talk to someone every day, though usually it'd maybe only be like, a gap of a day or two. and anyways, the thing is that, over the past ten years especially its started to be Distressing like wanting friends, not as much having them, and also having it be more obvious that there was some kind of deficiency keeping me from having (and having had) friends like other people did. not fun! but what i'm getting around to here, whats been wild, is just this like, decade-ish (or two decade-ish if you want) Personal Effort to just figure out how the fuck to stop having to feel like shit about it all the time right? then you're lonely AND stressed and probably self loathing also

so like yeah, the thing is that the other day something was going on about like, yknow, the idea of the longtime close friend with a steadfast presence in your life, and that's just always like, lfjdglmao what!!! sounds nice. i had a friend for a week in second grade and im not sure we ever spoke and then the teacher made us sit on opposite sides of the classroom and it was too embarrassing to be friends anymore. that's kinda close but lol for real......it's not only the lack of friends to tackle but also like, i don't assume to have friends in the future. it's something that like, i would obviously theoretically want, and be happy if it happened, but i can't say i hope for it, because that implies too much being expectant or whatever. and it's weird!! its a weird time just kind of presuming friendlessness until otherwise occurs. and it's not great, i'm definitely still unhappy about all this shit. its just that i've also like, been able to shave off how distressing the issue mightve been in earlier years yknow

like it sounds all depressing to say like, i've just had to be less emotionally invested in the whole thing, but it's kind of true. not by ignoring it or ignoring the feelings so much as like...just acknowledging that this is how it is and there's only so much i can do but not hating myself about it is a start. and yeah it's like "oh, feeling less, depressing" but also frankly when i decided also that its less horrible to be friendless than to feel stuck w crap ppl / ppl who you aren't too important to / etc, i figured that i'd also rather be friendless and just enjoy being myself than try to make myself easier to talk to. i'm not like intimidating or anything, i just can't hold a conversation. but i'm not very interested anymore in trying to convince ppl to like me, yknow, i'm out here, and if i'm ever going to have friends i'd like them to be people to like me For Who I Am, wipe tear. what i'm just saying is "a weird dumbass" b/c its just vague social weirdness that ppl don't necessarily like, loathe, but probably they'd rather talk to someone else. i'm not great at socializing stuff, like i said, hence social rejection since age 4

oh and i meant to say!! i've been able to turn up my emotions by turning down my investment in the idea of Needing To Always Be Trying To Make Friends b/c, as anyone might know, all i like to do is talk at great length about whatever weird, niche shit i'm into at any given point. and that's pretty much it. i'm not pretending to be deep by not really knowing how to do small talk. lmao you guys know what i'm talking about. and obviously not everybody is into Getting Enthusiastic or super focused on whatever weird thing at any point, and i'm not Into getting my passion all fired up and being brushed off or anything, so we can all avoid each other, and i get to continue entertaining myself

so that's a way i've been able to turn my feelings up actually lol.....dunno how to segue into it so i won't but it's also just like, not saying that i Truly Don't Care about not having friends, or that it doesn't hurt that i've had this relative friendless past and the futures looking bleak, b/c it does!! it's still distressing. but like, its turned down. the whole general issue can be a very Bitter one for sure!!!! and it has been in the past sometimes and like.....it's still there basically, i've just been able to turn down the volume a lot on a bunch of these shit feelings like "that's upsetting" or "i'm bitter about that" and just kind of calmly let it simmer back down b/c i'm sort more familiarish with what sets it off and more familiar with Dealing With It Always overall

no idea if i've made the point i was setting out for there. dealing with the No Friends Isolation Life society life is not fun but we're out here, sometimes. it continues to be not fun. "oh well," is an often relevant sentiment. c'est la vie. c'est ce que c'est? i think. and i think it's nice that after years and years of just like, struggling to figure this shit out myself, and probably feeling like shit most of the time, i've at least managed to go "shh" at some Bad Feelings. definitely still there. but this time it doesn't heap extra shittiness on top b/c of having to deal with the intensity of it and feel bad about that too etc etc. it's all weird! getting more familiar with dealing with some shit which is just, the way that it is in part because of bad luck and of course i'm jealous of everybody who does have friends. but oh well. b/c c'est la vie. im also glad for everybody who has friends, obv. it's all complicated!! which is just part of why this post exists. it has no real point, i'm just kinda going like, weird, huh? and kind of good, and kind of a bummer. oh well

also im aware this is a suddenly long, technically depressing post at like circa midnight for a lot of people, but basically this is just me in normal mood. sometimes it's depressing posts time out of nowhere, but i'm not especially depressed!! nighttime is just more of my Peak Hours. night owl 4 life. thanks

oh and ps. another thing i would think about (with more distress in the past, and like, no distress now) is that its also funny cuz, one thing i’ve generally had to do is be aware that it’s a bigger deal for you (me) to get a new Friend than it is for them to be getting you as a friend, b/c math says so. and so i’ve had to push myself to not be overly hopeful or invested in order to be both fair to them and myself. and nowadays that’s just kind of how i view the no-friends-ness of it all, like. i’m not mad that i’m not for some reason way closer to anybody i know. why would i be. and i don’t expect anybody to think like “oh my god we have to be Good Friends” because like. not in a self deprecating way but like, why would any random person want that. and i dont expect to be better friends with ppl im just casual friends with, which is great, cus like Friendly Acquaintances and other lite friendships are fantastic and im very grateful. but i am aware there’s plenty of reasons making it difficult to just like, pick up a Close Buddy and i’m not like “oh i demand one from somewhere, from some reason.” so what i am trying to say is that keeping my expectations honestly realistic is an effort to be fair to both other ppl and myself and i think it works. no friends!! we out here!!!!

#long post ////#long and incoherent lord knows. whatevs #its midnight...the no Purposeful Writing hours.......#(bat emoji)

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