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reneejuliet · 3 years

Text

Only Human

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Rating: T (cursing, mention/description of blood, kissing without consent, a slap to the face)

Word Count: 1,188

Genre: Angst, Idol AU (I seem incapable of writing anything else, I know)

Author’s Note: Another drabble! This one is angsty, sorry in advance. I can’t help but love to make people hurt. And as much as I love Yoongi (which is a LOT), it was just too easy with this. Anyway! I hope you like it, and as always, please let me know what you think!

You grunted under his weight, heaved haphazardly onto your shoulder as you dragged him through the halls toward the dorm. It wasn't that he was heavy - on the contrary, he weighed less than you did, for goodness' sake. It was that he was wasted, completely beyond offering any sort of aid in getting his own damn body through his own damn front door. And despite how many times you have had to do this, it never gets any easier. Especially when arms keep throwing themselves around various parts of your body like a drunken squid.

"Damn it, Yoongi, enough," you hissed through your teeth as you finally managed to free a hand long enough to twist open the doorknob, allowing your foot to kick the door open. It ricocheted loudly against the wall before swinging back to collide with your shoulder, but you didn't care. If anything, maybe it would wake up one of his six roommates and they could drag their hyung's inebriated ass to his bed. Though, given his current level of cooperation, you doubted anyone would get him further than the couch.

His response was slurred as you heaved your body forward, dragging him with you. He rolled from where he had been propped on your shoulder, and if it weren't for your quick reflexes, he would have crashed onto the ground. Luckily for him, this was not your first go at this, and you were well-versed in all the warning signs. You felt him slipping, his weight shifting away from you, and you dove. Your hands scooped up under his arms, hooking around his shoulders, and you threw your body weight behind you to counteract his momentum. The result - Yoongi did not crash onto the floor. He did, however, suddenly shoot forward, crashing the back of his head straight into your jaw.

"OW - Yoongi, what the actual fuck!"

You immediately dropped any grip you had left on him, crouching down between your knees as your hands flew up to your mouth. The hot taste of iron swirled on your tongue from where your teeth had smashed into your lip, flooding your mouth. You ran for the kitchen sink, throwing your face down into the sterling silver and pulling your lips up over your teeth to let the blood fall free from your tongue. The smell surrounded you, and you fought back a gag as you spit out crimson.

"Fuck," Yoongi's voice sounded behind you, tinny from where your ears were framed by metal. He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly very awake, and watched as you curled into their sink. The muscles of your back tensed each time you gagged, spitting out more blood, and he found himself reaching out without thinking.

His fingers brushed over the lines of your back, tracing your shape as he stepped closer, trying to soothe you as you coughed. For a moment, you let it be. His touch was hesitant, tender, and you could almost pretend it was under a different context. That he knew what he was doing, that his intentions were purposeful. That he hadn't just drunkenly smashed his head into your face, leaving you the bloody mess you were now.

It wasn't until his palm pressed flat against your back that you snapped, turning and shoving hard against his chest. No, you scolded yourself. This isn't real. It never will be.

Yoongi stumbled back into the island counter, eyes wide in surprise at the sudden burst of violence from you. You didn't spare him a glance before turning back to the sink, turning the water on and rinsing out your mouth. He could hear you hissing in pain with each mouthful of water you took in, and guilt pooled in his stomach.

"Shit, Y/N, I - I didn't mean -"

"Doesn't matter what you meant," you muttered, words thick through your swollen lip. Each time your tongue pressed into it, your face twisted in pain. But at least the blood had finally stopped.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, voice low and raspy. You gripped the counter against the unwitting shiver it sent down your spine. Once it passed, you flung open a cupboard and pulled out a glass, filling it with water before shutting the tap off. Thrusting it out, you turned, free hand covering your mouth as your eyes finally met his.

His stomach only flooded worse with guilt at your offering. Despite your injury, you were still taking care of him. He wrapped his fingers around the glass, gently grazing your own while doing so, and raised it to his lips with a slight bow in your direction. His vision swam as his head tilted back, cold water sliding down his hot, parched throat. It took a second for everything to straighten back out once the glass was empty, and he squinted hard to be sure that when he set it down, it was actually on the counter. Then he looked back at you, eyes drawn to where your hand still covered your mouth.

"Couch, now," you ordered, raising a finger to point into the living room behind him. Thankfully, those two words didn't require the use of your bottom lip, so they weren't as disfigured when they came out. Gulping, Yoongi obliged, turning slowly and walking for the couch. You followed him, albeit at a safe distance, to make sure he made it there alright. He only bumped into the table once before his legs hit the cushions and he dropped.

His body automatically laid out across the couch cushions, knees curling up into his chest and hands tucking between his legs. The room blurred again at the change of altitude, and he was vaguely aware of you throwing a blanket over him. You walked away, your form dark in the swimming lights of his vision as he tried to watch you. When you came back, you set another glass of water on the table before him along with two pills.

"For tomorrow morning, when you wake up," you instructed, your words soft as you favored your injured lip.

You were walking away again when Yoongi called out. "Do you think this is why she left?"

Your heart stopped just a second before your feet, trapping you between rooms as his words echoed brokenly in the quiet. This wasn't supposed to happen, you reminded yourself. Of all the trainees and idols you had helped through the years, all the drunken confessions you had heard out of sheer compulsion from the nature of your job - none were like this. Like him. Min Yoongi.

"Yoongi -"

"I know it's my fault," he babbled, vision no longer obscured only by a drunken haze. He blinked, and the hot tears cut down his pale face. "I wasn't home enough -"

"You were working, Yoongi," You offered, careful to make your words come out clear. The pull on your lip was painful, but it felt important he hear you.

"Not always," he exhaled, eyes fluttering against the exhaustion setting in now. "Sometimes, I... I just couldn't, go home... to her..."

Gooseflesh rose all along your skin, and you nearly bit your lip before remembering the pain, sucking in the side of your cheek instead. Just walk away, you urged yourself. He won't notice, he's too far gone now. Besides, you really did not want to hear more about his failed relationship, or how heartbroken he was over it. It had been hard enough to see him happy with her - seeing him broken over her was so, so much worse.

When he didn't speak again for a few breaths, you believed you were in the clear. Your feet carried you two more steps to the door, heart pounding hard in your chest. You'd just reached for the key you would have to deposit back in its emergency spot as you left when his voice stopped you again - because it was right behind you.

"Do you know why, Y/N? Why I couldn't bring myself to go home to her some nights?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, cold and cutting against your lip. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel his body heat, and that meant he was too close, he was much too close, but you couldn't move. Your body was pulled taut in that moment, and you feared that if you made any move, you would snap.

His fingers brushed over the curve of your neck, where it met your collar, and you inhaled sharply. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch for a moment, your nerves buzzing heavily where his fingers trailed. Then his breath was on your nape, stirring your hair, and your throat was dry.

"Because she wasn't you."

Your eyes shot open in surprise just as he tugged you around, crashing his lips to yours. You inhaled sharply again, pain searing through your mouth where he pressed against your wound, but he didn't hear. Or he didn't care. It was hard to tell, with the way his hands snaked around your waist and up under your shirt. His lips were soft but firm as he pressed into you, kissing you with a heavy desperation that left you gasping.

Maybe it was the pain in your lip, or maybe it was the taste of alcohol on his tongue. Maybe it was the way your body seized up to prevent yourself from making the biggest fool of yourself. Whatever it was, it was enough to spur you into action. Your hands came up to center on his chest, and as his tongue ran along your lower lip, sending a violent shiver through your entire body, you shoved. Hard. He stumbled away from you, gasping as your warmth was torn from him, his hands grasping at air. His eyes flashed in surprise, and you reeled back to slap him.

"How dare you," you seethed, on the verge of a sob. "How fucking dare you-"

"Y/N-"

"No, you... you are an asshole, Min Yoongi!" Despite the anger on your face, the hurt was clear in your voice. The tears bright in your eyes. "You don't get to, to just - kiss me like that! After all these years!"

Whatever drunken stupor had still been clinging to him sobered up in that instant. His heart leapt into his throat and he choked on the words he wanted to say, his tongue too thick in his mouth. All these years...? You... you couldn't mean...

He opened his mouth around the shape of your name and you moved away, toward the door. "No, no. I'm not - I am not doing this. Not now, not with you. Fuck you, Yoongi -"

His fingers wrapped around your slender wrist, stopping you for just a moment more. The sheer pain on your face at the contact paused him, and you yanked yourself free the very next moment. "No," you whispered, voice full of tears. "I don't love you, I don't."

You slipped out of the dorms just as the first light flickered on in the hallway, sleepy footsteps stumbling their way toward him. And your words echoed in his head, hollowing everything else out until he was left with just one realization, one truth.

You very much did love him. And he was so screwed.

©reneejuliet 2021. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

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bittybattybunny · 3 years

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I hope your not feeling down on your writing skills because I haven't caught up and commented on your latest releases. It's not you it's that I pick too many fanfics to follow and they all update a lot and I've been so busy and I've fallen behind on so many fics from various authors and sometimes my depression just makes me want to lie in bed all day doing nothing and it doesn't help I have to spend my limited spoons helping family everyday. I know these aren't good excuses, but I do sympathize with the lack of energy feeling at least. But your work really does bring a lot of joy to my life. It's so fun keeping up with your various AUs, and your latest one that features Kaya as Spider King has me really hyped because I want to learn more about Kaya, she's so fun! And Ruclipse is such a good comfort ship that just hits all the things I like seeing in a ship. You're so amazing and creative and it's awful that anyone would try to make you feel otherwise! Like your newest OC, Justin Tyme seems like such a lovable dumbass bastard. I love his wild, curly hair and his dapper outfit. I can't wait to see what dumb shit he gets himself into! I know this is really long and rambly, but I hope you know you have fans who genuinely love your work. I don't know if you're still thinking about that one comment you mentioned that got you really down, but honestly, fuck that guy. I don't know what they said but it must have been pure BS to have you doubting your hard earned art skills. I wish I could do more to prove you're awesome and that your fans really admire you, I just hope you don't stop sharing what you love because some rando was nasty for no good reason. Because we love what you do!

It's not like anyone one person nonny so please don't blame yourself. This has been an ongoing thing for a few months actually...

it's just a general thing over all lately like. I mentioned this in dm's with a friend but overall past few months I've had lower engagement overall with my works and it really does a number on my confidence. More so because like your latter point.

yes, I am still very much thinking about that one negative comment. Because that person also has the need to comment on other things and I even had a thing asking why I took a few weeks to update (when reality I posted to another ongoing fic and my TLC chapters are long chapters) and just the fact they could tear into a character (yes it was a comment on a character specifically and not even a main character it's a side character who has an important role for Snatcher's growth as a person down the line) then go saying "why didn't you update" when I posted a double update that week---

Like it lives in my head rent free and I want to literally cry because like the character is a focal in an upcoming chapter and I can't deal with another "why are they back" type thing. because "everyone finds them annoying"

And I'll be honest. it was Kaya. Like I've been trying to have fun with my BCU stuff with her as Spiderking because it's engaging for me and me and @/doodleimprovement even came up with a b-plot involving Kaya and Hattie trying to hook Nell and Marcus together and it's one of the best things as well as Kaya and Nell having a really good relationship.

but because of that one comment it makes me hesitant to do anything with Kaya despite she's one of my oldest ocs, my most thought out ocs and I adore her beyond anything. Like yes she's over powered and such and in TLC rn she comes off as a know it all, but upcoming chapters will show she's just a spacey kid who's trying to fit into a role others decided for her and isn't really as all mighty as she seems. Snatcher even ends up thinking of her as a little sister more than anything. Like fuck I'm even hesitant to share anything on her actual story despite how much work is in it. Like she's my favorite Oc (that's why shes my discord icon, and I'm pretty sure she's my twitter icon as well)

And like the points in the comment just. IDK they didn't fit to her, if anything the points are more suited to be shot at Eclipse.

Which is another thing I just get iffy on. I love RuClipse and everything with it. I love writing and drawing the dorks. But I'm now so afraid if Kaya could be attacked for only showing in a handful of chapters that don't even touch on who she is, when is someone going to finally tell me off on my wolf? who's going to tear into a character I pour a lot of personal shit into to try and comfort myself?

I use Ruclipse to deal with my own romantic heart, they are what I wish I could have so I love to write them, I hurt them but i like to make them happy in the end. Someone who can deal with your highs and lows. No ones perfect but you can still figure it out and love even the negative parts (I am a heavy romantic OTL)

he is in fact a lovable bastard. i have fun plans and he gives me an excuse for why Cel is so tired and having to be the brain cell and how she even wound up working with the time kids when she's so much older than they are. Currently I'm trying to think of how to use him and honestly I think he's gonna wind up hella comic relief fun guy who's just making a mess and do his own side story while Hat and Bow are busy in subcon----

thank you, I don't mind the rambly it kinda gave me a chance to get this off my chest... like I've typed this kinda response up time and time again and I always delete. I feel like I'm whining because I get upset but it's just, I spend so much time making things, I use all my spoons on either working or creating, I just want to know if it means anything but then negativity lives in my head because what's a functioning meat cube??? I try to stay positive but it's hard. Like another thing is Moon Guardian; the reason I haven't updated? because I have had someone bothering me about it. weekly I get asked about how I'm doing on it but it's not from a place of "want to read it" it's because I told them they couldn't post a certain thing until the chapter is done so it feels pressuring to constantly get asked because I feel the only reason they want to post is to boost their thing and I'm just the machine to boost it with my characters and comic.... like it feels they've taken the comic from me and it sucks because I have so many fun things planned. Like I accidentally went off on Nina about a thing with Alpine skyline and Eclipse as well as a thing with a Time Rift and a Jelly ghost.

Sorry kinda went off, just I've sat on this thought train since like early april. I've done my best to ignore it and just keep going but it's gotten really hard with the fact my health hasn't been really great. I've spent a lot of time lately bed bound because I just hurt so badly. if I'm not resting, I'm at my day job which is incredibly stressful rn as I only really work mornings and I see things that are being missed so then i report it and it still gets missed and i can't get it fixed after a point cuz we're back to full service and need the people so I can't nitpick but just.... I'm bitter okay like if I left this shit when I worked I would have gotten yelled at but now we just let it slide??? and this stresses me out which then causes my body to freak out because I'm stressed which puts me in more pain. and then like at work have people acting shocked I have my cane or soemthing and just skfdslkfksdf

so my energy is so tanked. and then the negative comment in my head, no idea if people like things cuz I have no idea if I hear nothing, just has had me doubting why post. Like I should go back to just not posting my stories and sketches or w/e and slink back to my hole like I was before.

idk Its just. a bad night in the house of bun. I've had these thoughts festering and I guess today was the dam breaking. It's probs cuz I'm nervous posting Chimeras because it's a very dark au.

#ask #anon #not art #long post #sorry im just in a bad spot tonight I guess #like i started my day pretty okay but somewhere along the way it nose dived and I'm just trying to not cry in my room

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feralrunaway · 3 years

Text

A New Day

CHAPTER 4

Summary: Captain Syverson finishes his latest tour and returns to his hometown only to find that things have changed since he’s been gone.

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Questionable consent (non-sexual)

Word count: 3,092

Chapters: 1 , 2, 3, 4

**Hi. This is my first fanfiction ever, so bear with me. I don’t know what I’m doing or how to tag things. Also, I’ve never shared a story before it’s finished, and I’m doing this chapter by chapter and it’s giving me hella anxiety. I’m sorry if this sucks! I don’t own anything related to the SandCastle movie or its characters. However, this is my original writing and I do not give permission for use of the idea or reposting without credit.**

*Two days later*

Duct tape. Cable ties. Pliers. Return home.

Olivia wandered the aisles of the hardware store, list in hand, trying to memorize it.

She always forgets.

Blake had trusted her with this errand, she didn’t want to mess it up.

Duct tape. Cable ties. Pliers. Return home.

Fixing his home office, he’d said. But she’d have to help him, since he was busy. Normally he didn’t let her go out on her own, she was so forgetful and he worried. But today he needed to be at home for an important delivery and he needed her help.

So thirsty. Maybe Blake will have water for me.

Duct tape. Cable ties. Pliers. Return home.

So thirsty.

She looked for the items, one by one. Her anxiety ratcheting up the more she struggled.

Cable ties.

She went down the next aisle, hoping desperately she would find them before she lost her focus.

“Liv?”

Sy stood at the other end of the aisle. Eyebrow raised, he approached.

Sy. Sy could help. Was he a friend? He was a friend. Right?

“Duct tape. Cable ties.” She blurted out awkwardly.

He looked a bit crestfallen. “You need some cable ties darlin’?”

He grabbed a pack off the hanger. He approached her like she was a wounded animal, slowly and gently setting them in her hand and waiting for her to grasp them.

“Cable ties.”

“Yeah, Liv. Cable ties. What else you got on your list there? I could help you.” He offered hesitantly.

She immediately thrust the list at him.

“Duct tape. Pliers. Return home.”

“Um…Ok. How’d you get here, Liv? You need a ride home?”

She nodded emphatically. Yes, return home. That was part of her job.

Sy helped her gather her items and check out. Yes, he raised an eyebrow at her list, but he was happy just to have the chance to have her alone for a bit. Maybe he could glean a little about what had happened to her. He carried her bag to his truck and loaded it alongside the paint, tools, and wood he had procured for a few projects in the new house. Liv followed obediently behind.

How had she gotten here? She couldn’t remember. Return home. Sy would take her home. Yes. He knew things. He would get her back. Maybe she could have some water.

Sy glanced sidelong at Liv as he pulled away from the parking lot. “You mind lettin’ me know where you live now, sweetheart?”

“Return home.” She said firmly. She was getting visibly squirmy, obviously fighting her own mind to remember the right words.

Sy tried for a soothing tone. “Yes, I will take you home. No worries. Just need you to tell me where home is, Liv.”

Home? How did she get here? She knew what her house looked like but she had no idea how to get there. Panic started rising in her throat.

“Do you know your caretaker’s number? Should I call Blake?” Sy asked, wondering who had left her alone at a store in this state.

Blake? Home. She had to get home to finish her task or he would be mad. God she was so thirsty! She looked around frantically, hoping to see a bottle of water. Sy was smart like Blake. Why didn’t he have water?

“Thirsty! Water,” she said in a rush, curling in on herself when she seemed to realize she’d raised her voice at him.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I take you back to my place and we get you some water, okay? I’ll call my brother and figure out how to reach Blake,” he said, attempting to soothe her panic.

Water? Yes. Please water. Sy knew where the water was. He would get her some.

She visibly calmed at his suggestion, leading Sy to believe she was really just that parched. Maybe once he’d gotten her to drink a little she would be able to tell him where she was supposed to go. His heart cracked again to see her in this state. What the hell had happened to his Liv? Miss Full-of-life-Sunshine-Incarnate had been reduced to a mumbling child. When he’d left, she had been applying to colleges. She had wanted to be a doctor someday. Now, in her current state, she would be lucky if she didn’t get put in a home. The thought broke his heart further, and they rode the rest of the way to his home in silence.

__________

“Yes, I know it’s double the dose. She’s too agitated lately. It’s like she’s fighting the stuff.”

“But, Sir, she’s already on more than most of the town. She’ll be a drooling mess if she has much more.”

“Don’t question me. Temporary measures. I just need her to be more docile. At least until the wedding. Her father too. Hell, you can wheel him to one of the pews for all I care. So long as he keeps his mouth shut. Once she gets through it, we can taper off some. Now go get her. She should be nearly done, it was a short list.”

“Yes Sir.”

____________

Liv eyed the glass warily.

“It’s safe, promise. Well’s been chlorinated and it’s filtered,” Sy said, proffering the glass of water again.

She was only supposed to drink from bottles. The bottles Blake gave her. Those were safe. That was why Blake was in charge. He knew the right thing to do. But she trusted Sy, didn’t she? She didn’t know why; she couldn’t remember why she trusted him so much. But she knew, deep down somewhere, in memories she couldn’t access, that he wouldn’t hurt her. Sy was smart.

“Drink…Drink?” She asked him.

“Drink up, darlin’. I’ve gotta make a few phone calls.”

Sy left her standing in his new kitchen, rivulets of water now running down the sides of her cheeks while she greedily drank down his offering, and dialed his brother.

Jonah didn’t answer, so he left a voicemail. “Hey, it’s Sy. I’ve got a bit of a situation here. Call me soon as you can.”

He returned to the kitchen to find Liv on her third glass of water, the front of her dress wet from the drips running off her chin.

“I know water in town’s been hard to come by, Liv, but damn,” he handed her a towel. “You hungry? Have you eaten today?”

She looked at him, her brows scrunched together, clearly trying to remember. Finally she shrugged.

“Well isn’t that dandy,” Sy muttered. “Have a seat,” he said, indicating the small kitchen table.

He quickly assembled a couple sandwiches, plated them up, and set one down in front of her. Sitting down across from her, he winked. “Eat up, peach. When we’re done, I’ll try calling my brother again.”

It seemed all she needed was the command. After taking a hesitant bite, her eyes widened and Liv attacked her sandwich like she’d not seen food in days. Every few bites, she would look up at him and smile. Lord if his heart didn’t burst at seeing her happy. Despite whatever had happened to her, she was his friend, and he was glad he could still make her light up.

She finally settled back in her seat, her belly now poking out a little, seemingly satisfied. She watched him eat. Studied him, more like. She clearly understood when she was spoken to, even if she had little ability to communicate. An injury maybe? He’d seen men in his company have similar outcomes after head injuries. Discharged home to live out their lives trapped in their own heads. What a terrible fate. He’d gotten so lucky.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about over there, Sunshine?”

She smiled at him. “Lake.”

She remembered? Sy could have hugged her. Every summer as teenagers they’d sneak off to the lake whenever they could. Swim, camp, walk through the fields and trees nearby. It was their own secret spot they’d run to whenever they wanted time away. Whether it was just to have fun or if one of them needed to hide from home for a while.

“Oh man, Liv. The lake. Hell, I haven’t seen that place in a decade. Is it still the same?”

She nodded and smiled. She seemed so much more calm and lucid once she’d had some food and water.

“Maybe once we get you settled back home I’ll ask Blake if he minds if I take you there sometime. Would you like that sweetheart?”

She nodded again but seemed much more subdued at the mention of her caretaker. Sy didn’t have much time to contemplate that before his phone rang.

_________

“What do you mean she’s not there?!” Blake screamed at his assistant.

“I waited exactly where I had told her I would. When she didn’t come back out, I went in to look for her. The cashier thought she had seen her leave with a man.”

“There’s not a damn person in this little shit town who would take her somewhere without my permission. Did the cashier see what they were driving?”

“No, Sir. She said they seemed friendly so she hadn’t thought anything of it.”

“Dammit Michael if you don’t find her right NOW, there will be hell to pay.”

“I’m on it Sir.”

___________

“Jude. What’s going on? You said a situation?”

“Uh, yeah man. Ran into Liv at the store but she was alone. Said she needed a ride home but she can’t remember how to get there. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is would you?” Sy asked his brother.

“She lives with Blake, I could give you his address. I’ll let him know you’re bringing her.”

“Thanks man. And Jonah…do you know what happened to her? I had no idea she had been like this. Did she have some sort of accident?”

“An accident? No. She’s fine. Maybe a little quieter than most the women around here since her father got sick, but that’s probably a good thing. She’s just doing as she should. Blake’s a lucky man.”

“Jonah Syverson, what kind of filth did you just spill outta your mouth? Doing as she should? The poor woman can barely string a sentence together. She’s not fine. And what do you mean Blake is a lucky man?” Sy asked, his stomach dropping a bit. He truly hoped his brother wasn’t implying what he thought.

“Jude, Olivia is Blake’s fiancée.”

______________

Once Sy had obtained Olivia’s address, he returned to the kitchen, where she sat patiently, watching the floor and waiting to be told what was next.

He crouched down into her line of sight.

“Liv, darlin’. I got your address. I’m gonna be taking you home now.”

She nodded.

“Listen, I know you can’t tell me much, but I’m here for you, okay? I don’t know exactly what’s goin’ on in this town, but you’re not gonna catch me expecting silence outta you or any other person here.”

Her eyes found his, her brow furrowed. He wanted her to speak? She liked talking to Sy. She felt more focused than she had in a very long time. Sy smiled a lot and he had water that didn’t taste like chemicals. He said nice things. She didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay with Sy. Sy was her friend.

“Friend,” she said, smiling at him.

He smiled back at her. “Yes, Liv. Friend. Always have been, always will be.”

Sy knew he couldn’t keep her there forever, and he couldn’t intervene without more information.

“Can you read okay? Use a phone? I wanna give you my number. You ever need anything, you call me up,” he quickly wrote it down when she nodded. “You keep this with you, okay?” He folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her sundress. He didn’t have high hopes that it wouldn’t get lost, but he had at least done something. He had enough tactical experience to know that charging in without good intel would end badly, but he also wasn’t a man of inaction.

Liv still seemed pretty well settled on the drive back to her home. Sy tried not to let himself get too angry about her situation while they were on the road. It wouldn’t do any good to have her interpret his mood as directed at her.

She looked out the window as they drove. She didn’t remember feeling this clear-headed in months. She liked this. Sy didn’t make her feel like she was messing up when she forgot things. He made good sandwiches. She giggled.

He glanced her way. “What’s got you tickled over there?”

“I like sandwiches.”

He chuckled, surprised at the sentence and at her expressing something about herself. “I like sandwiches too. Happy to make you one whenever you want.” He reached over and squeezed her hand.

She smiled, but the mood seemed to pass as they pulled up toward her house. She withdrew into herself again. His face fell, but from what he’d seen so far, he wasn’t surprised.

He let himself out of the truck and went around to her side, opening the door and helping her down. His gaze took in the massive house, wondering what exactly this “business” was that Blake ran. Fuckin’ suits.

The front door opened to reveal Blake standing there. For a brief moment, the look on his face was absolutely livid, but he quickly recovered into his smooth demeanor.

“Captain Syverson. Thank you so much for bringing her home,” he looked to Olivia. “Don’t you ever disappear on me again. I was worried sick about you.” Olivia stared at the porch under her feet.

“Now, listen. She didn’t mean anything by it. Just got a little confused is all,” Sy defended, earning a glance from Liv. “Can we take a moment to talk inside?”

Blake’s face didn’t change, but a muscle near his eye twitched slightly. He hesitated for a moment, then smiled. “Of course Captain. Right this way.”

He led them inside, past the entryway, and toward the back of the house to the kitchen. He immediately opened the cabinet and removed two bottles of water, handing one to each of them. Olivia robotically grasped hers, but didn’t open it. Sy thanked him before taking a swig.

“What is it you need to talk about, Captain?”

“Call me Sy,” he began, irritated by the formality. Yes, it was his rank, he’d earned the respect that came with it, but he was here on leave, and this wasn’t one of his men. Right now, he was just Sy. “Is there a place we could talk privately?”

Blake didn’t even look at Olivia, just said over his shoulder, “Leave us.”

With that, Olivia turned and obeyed, making her way out of the room and up the stairs.

“Now see, that’s what I’m wondering about. My brother tells me you plan to marry Olivia.”

“I do.”

“Just seems to me she may not be in the right state to be agreein’ to such things,” Sy said.

“There’s nothing wrong with her state, Captain. Olivia agreed to be my wife. We will be married at the end of the month. I will provide for her and her father as I see fit,” Blake’s tone had taken on an edge. Sy could tell the man damn well knew what he was doing. He took a few more swigs of water, trying to decide what to say next without making things escalate. It tasted like shit. Too many chemicals or additives or something. He briefly wondered how bad the water situation was in town that this is what they had resorted to.

“Listen, I’m just sayin’ you need to give some deep thought to her level of consent in this,” Sy said. He felt exhausted by the day all of a sudden, the fight going out of him.

Blake’s mood seemed to shift, his demeanor once again easy and smooth. “I’ll take your suggestion to mind, Captain. Now, if I can see you out?” He led Sy to the front door. “Thank you for returning her home to me.”

Sy tried to hand the water bottle back to Blake, but Blake waved him off. “Take it. You really can’t trust the water around here. You shouldn’t be drinking anything from a tap. Here,” he procured a couple extra bottles from what seemed like nowhere and handed them to Sy. “Take these. And do make sure you make it to the church this weekend. The congregation knows how much the town has been suffering during this mess. They’ll make sure to set you up with a case of water to get you through the week. One for every man, woman, and child who comes. They’re really doing God’s work there.”

Sy nodded without replying. He got in his truck and went back to the house, wondering what he’d been so angry about earlier. No mind, he’d get some sleep and get back to work on the house in the morning.

Olivia watched from the bedroom window as Sy’s truck pulled away. She hoped she would see him again soon. The water bottle in her hand crinkled as her grip tightened, drawing her attention for a moment. Why do I need this? I’m not thirsty. I liked Sy’s water better. She went into the bathroom and dumped the water down the drain, setting the empty bottle on her nightstand. As she undressed to change into her pajamas, a paper fell out of the pocket of her dress. She opened the note and read:

Anytime you need me, Sunshine.

His phone number was listed at the bottom of the note. She smiled. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. She quickly stashed the note in her drawer and slipped into bed.

Blake entered the bedroom, satisfied when he saw the empty bottle on the nightstand and his fiancée already asleep. This situation could be handled. He’d already laid the groundwork to ensure the newcomer had a supply of water. Pretty soon the Captain would no longer be an issue; could even be put to good use once he was docile enough. He returned to the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with water from the tap. He took a long drink, already contemplating how satisfied his superiors would be with him for his success in this venture. Pretty soon, they would be able to send in a replacement for him, and he could take himself and his pretty little docile wife back to the city.

#a new day #captain syverson #fanfic #fan fiction

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lokidiabolus · 3 years

Text

Last Resort - Chapter 2

Fandom: The Maze Runner

Pairing: Thomas x Newt

Warnings: ex boyfriends, AU

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Thomas, Newt finally thought the past of hating each other was behind them, until Thomas asked him for a favour - pretend they got back together for a week while staying at his parents’ home. Because it was an absolutely dumb idea, Newt was inclined to refuse, but then found himself in the house he used to visit when he was in love and happy and the bitter reality of only pretending for people he always liked made him miserable. But it was nothing against dealing with Thomas himself for a week straight and trying not to fall back in love that hurt them both.

Or: Prompt ch. 192 with added spice. Or something. I just needed to write for a while :’)

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think I never did so much rewriting like I did with this chapter. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I swear my brain just can't come up with anything else. Scrapped like 6 pages asdfjslfjslfjsdl. Now it's short :c

Anyway, guess I just wanted a bit of Thomas' insight for it. He's complicated lol. Or maybe not really, just trying to keep up. Don't we all though lol.

Oh and @izzymultifan (actually remembered)

Unbetad!

EDIT: (17. 5. 2021) I edited the ending with a lil continuation of the scene I previously deleted, because I thought it was unnecessary, but then I returned to it after few days and thought it should stay. It's not very long but I guess it's kinda important.

***

Thomas woke up disoriented, thirsty and definitely not rested enough, like when his alarm goes off on a workday and he only slept for four hours. But here was no alarm, no work, just him waking up with a flinch and realizing he wasn’t in his flat, and he wasn’t alone either.

The blond hair right in his face immediately pushed him into realization he was holding onto Newt like he was his lifeline, one hand under the shirt on his belly, other on his chest clutching the fabric, and an unmistakable morning hello tenting his pants, digging right into Newt’s backside. In retrospect there wasn’t much worse Thomas could have done to him, except maybe having a hand down his pants (which admittedly he used to do sometimes when they were together, but then again, that situation definitely didn’t scream murder like it would now).

In a sleepy confusion that hazed his just-woken-up-brain he searched the foggy memory on how this situation came to be, no matter how familiar it felt to him. Newt made himself pretty clear about sleeping together, so the sudden closeness – well, more like an absolute merge, unless he’d slip in – no, no dirty thoughts, bad Thomas, bad – didn’t make much sense.

The night came back to him embarrassingly slow – he got drunk because for some reason his dad decided to decimate his super precious whiskey, even though normally he hoarded it like a dragon his gold. He could only think of Newt being the incentive, drinking the whiskey so fast in his dad’s eyes, while Thomas downed it all to save him from barfing (Newt’s alcohol tolerance never existed in the first place, he disliked about any kind of it, and as far as Thomas remembered he got drunk only once with vodka mixed with orange juice on Aris’ wedding, because he could barely taste the vodka in it until it was too late). Then the world started spinning, Newt dragged him to his room somehow… which sounded farfetched, so maybe dad helped, he drew blank around that area honestly, probably because he stood up and all the alcohol began circulating faster. Then they talked… probably, and then Thomas fell asleep, since that’s all he could recall.

And now his hard-on was trying to get some, and he held Newt against himself with sheer ferocity of an obsessive hugger off his meds and the realization dawned on him like tons of bricks. Was he going to wake him up if he let go? Newt always woke up at the slightest noise before, there was no way of going to pee at night without getting back to the blond blinking owlishly at him, asking what happened. Was this Newt he barely knew anymore still the same? Still twitchy and light sleeper and grumpy and slow to rise when getting up?

Thomas didn’t have much choice anyway, did he. He just had to let go either way, and preferably remove his hips from Newt’s back and act like it was no biggie to be hard when in bed with his ex. He slowly untangled his hand from the front of Newt’s shirt and retreated from under the shirt as well with the other hand and managed to roll onto his back without Newt visibly stirring, which was a success. Unless he pretended to be asleep to avoid talking to Thomas about pushing into him like a horny teenager, which also worked.

Not like he hadn’t been doing that in the last month of their relationship anyway, just... ignoring the problem until it went away (a problem named Thomas) and well, ultimately it succeeded. It would work now too, and Thomas refused to poke the wasp nest this early in the morning – judging from the clock at 8:04 – and just went with the flow.

Need coffee, he thought unhappily when the headache set in. And water. Maybe some alone time in a bathroom first.

Newt didn’t stir until Thomas slinked out of the bedroom, which was a complete lie.

***

“Dad, just drop it,” Thomas repeated for fourth time when his dad couldn’t stop haggling him about his childlike alcohol tolerance the moment he appeared in the kitchen, asking for black coffee. He couldn’t tell him he drank Newt’s portions and without that argument nothing would sound plausible anyway, so he just dodged it with an increasing headache. Newt got up about half an hour later and didn’t speak a word to him – Thomas would even say he avoided his eyes several times, which meant he was absolutely awake in the morning to witness all of Thomas’ struggle to even exist around him peacefully. Which he couldn’t for years, really, so this only proved it.

It was fine. Thomas learned how to deal with it, despite taking him two years to come in terms of being hated by a person he loved since he was 17. Well, everything around the breakup took a lot from him, but he dealt with all eventually, right? He could finally look Newt in the eye without having all the incoherent anger and frustration pile up and he could talk to him fine as well unless they breached one of the thousand forbidden topics. Like them. Like family. Like love. Like sleeping. Like breathing, existing and fucking just trying to live.

Anyway. All dealt with, of course. No hard feelings.

(Lots of them.)

“You dealt with the drunkard just fine, right Newt?” his dad chattered towards the blond, patting him on his back and Newt forced a smile and a nod. Thomas saw this particular expression too often to not recognize it and huffed while sitting down at the counter with his own coffee.

He was used to being a bad guy anyway, no matter how much of the blame he genuinely deserved. They both knew he didn’t get drunk because he wanted to get wasted enough to drop unconscious on a spot and Newt would be a hypocrite to badmouth him when he was pouring all his whiskey to Thomas’ glass with thankful expression yesterday. But then again, not even he could tell Thomas’ dad about it, so they just had to have this unspoken oh yes, Thomas is a real piece of work as always.

Which sort of sucked. But Thomas couldn’t care less what his dad thought about his alcohol tolerance, it wasn’t like he threw up everywhere or broke mum’s precious bowls set (again). Not that he expected Newt to defend him anyhow, but he could at least say nooo, he was fine, he just fell asleep or something. Not that it surprised him he didn’t, but…

“He used to drink majority of guys from my work under the table and now look at him,” his dad delivered his fifth Thomas can’t drink for shit jab. He sure loved to milk that. “At least he has you to look after him, huh.”

Thomas stared at Newt’s back with mild annoyance the more the blond refused to elaborate on anything, just smiling at his dad while making himself a cup of coffee, and then Thomas’s eyes suddenly fell on the nape of Newt’s neck with a vicious, red mark near the hairline, and his whole body seized up like he got paralyzed.

A hickey? Since when? From who? What? Wait, was Newt already dating somebody else?

Saying already like three years were short amount of time… Thomas mentally scolded himself and his body raised up on its own volition, like being pulled in by some invisible force towards the blond. He had no clue if it were a twisted need for revenge or vindication or just him being unable to come in terms of not being told or warned, or maybe all of it together, he just couldn’t stop and plastered himself all over Newt’s back, trapping him between his body and the counter, circling his thin waist like a vine (he got thinner for sure).

“Of course I have you, don’t I,” he purred into Newt’s ear, loud enough for his dad to hear perfectly, and felt how Newt’s whole body froze, his hand mid-stir of the coffee. Thomas could see how his Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. “Looking after me when I get hammered into unconsciousness.”

“Yeah.” Newt’s voice sounded small, and Thomas wanted to bite down at that red, angry place on his nape like an animal. His dad probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but his ego sure would. He let his hands slide lower, to Newt’s hips, grabbing a handful, and the habitual movement made him restless. He did it zillion times during the time they were together. He did less, he did more, naked, clothed, lying, standing up, in whatever situation, touching Newt was his privilege.

And some fucking horny prick just took it?

Just marked his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend, Thomas, ex-boyfriend for three years, pull yourself together, you’re not 17 anymore – like a property and he didn’t even fucking notice?

Newt’s breath hitched and the spoon he was holding dropped into the coffee, splashing the black liquid around it, dribbling down the drawers under, making the blond curse under his breath.

“Sorry,” he immediately said towards Thomas’ dad who was handing him a cloth to wipe it with, and started squirming. “Thomas, leggo. Can’t reach.”

“Don’t wanna,” Thomas refused, squeezing Newt even tighter. “I’m hangover and miserable and you’re supposed to take care of me.”

Thomas’ dad snorted but took the hint and retreated while calling at his wife the boys are being rowdy again, Anna! And the kitchen fell back into silence, except of their breathing, with Thomas plastered against Newt’s back like he wanted to topple him over (he sort of did).

“Do you enjoy being a bloody prick?” Newt finally broke the spell, pawing at Thomas’ hands to get them off, his voice an angry whisper. “What’s your deal, for fuck’s sake!”

“Hangover,” Thomas huffed, not letting go and to be completely honest, Newt wasn’t really trying as much, just slapping his hands half-heartedly. “Could’ve at least said I didn’t give you any trouble, I covered for you the whole night.”

“You gave me loads of it!” Newt started wiggling, and Thomas had to fight the urge to just bite down, mark any piece of skin available, to make the restlessness go away. “You were heavy as fuck, I had to carry you all the way to your room!”

“Yeah, and?” Thomas grabbed him lower, and Newt pinched his hand in revenge, which finally made him let go with sharp breath.

“Fuck you,” the blond barked at him with fiery eyes. “I don’t know what you are trying to prove but groping me is not on the bloody table, get it?!”

“Mhm,” Thomas rubbed the place Newt pinched him at. “Sure. No fun allowed, got it.”

“Fuck off!”

Thomas hated how Newt turned away and the hickey was so visible it made his insides churn. He used to talk about his problems a lot these past few years, so he could finally let go of whatever was holding him in place, unable to forget, and he thought he reached that point, that he was free.

Looking at Newt marked by another man… no. He was not. Still stuck, still the same.

Still angry and miserable.

Still… there.

***

The fact Newt refused to talk to him completely was an understatement. Thomas blamed his unsteady approach on the alcohol, because what else he could blame it on – his own feelings? He sodealt with those already, there was nothing that would make him see red.

Except of a hickey on his ex-boyfriend’s neck, that would do it. Apparently.

But still – it was the hangover that made him stupid, right. If he’d be completely sober and not aching anywhere and his mind clear, he would just… shrug at it. It was Newt’s business who he slept with or not, or who he let bite his nape like a dog (some young fucking idiot who thought hickeys are still sexy? Stupid shit).

Not Thomas’. Not anymore.

The more he tried to push it away from his mind, the more his mind pushed back, just pointing it out loudly every time he glanced towards the blond sitting on the couch in the living room, bundled in a fluffy blanket, fiddling with his phone.

He was fiddling with his phone a lot actually. Texting somebody?

The guy who left the mark?

Thomas felt the irrational anger seep into his consciousness again and he forced it back down with a frown. He knew asking Newt to help him to get his parents off his back wasn’t exactly a great idea (asking ex to be your bf again for a show just screamed trouble), but at the same time asking anybody else just felt… wrong.

Thomas had to admit he’d be able to go along with this only with Minho, probably. Because Minho was a born actor, he’d be able to breeze though this with ease and Thomas’ parents would like him for sure, because, well, everybody liked Minho, honestly.

Asking Teresa or Brenda was just… desperate. Because other than them it would be Newt and getting back together with Newt… well. Thomas could tell from the moment he saw him getting into his car in front of Newt’s workplace it was going to be tough for both of them.

Not much of a surprise so far climbing Mt. Everest would be easier than keeping his chaotic feelings under control.

“You need some fresh air,” his vision of Newt got obstructed by his mum in a frilly apron she wore unironically and he looked up to her with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I need chicken soup, actually,” he offered in response, because dragging himself through the snow outside now sounded like a death penalty.

“Air first,” she insisted, adamant, and turned towards Newt like an executioner. “Right, Newt? A walk would do him good.”

Newt looked at Thomas and Thomas just knew. He was doomed. Newt was going to betray him like Scar did with Mufasa and he’d enjoy it, he could see the glint in his eyes, just shining there, spelling revenge in big, neon letters.

Please, he mouthed at the blond in desperation and Newt tilted his head to the side and then his mouth curled up.

“Sure, that’s a great idea, Anna,” he signed the death certificate without an ounce of shame and relished in it.

Fuck you, Thomas mouthed again, and Newt sent him a condescending smile. Fuck him especially.

***

“You’re unusually quiet,” his mum casually pointed out like she didn’t just drag him out to cold ass weather while holding a knife (butter one, but that’s what made it scarier), despite his very vocal (or vocal sort of, too loud and his brain wanted out of his skull) protests.

“Hungover,” he reminded her bitterly. The snow under their feet crunched sharply and the noise was tearing his brain to pieces, like walking on a broken glass and he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to act like it wasn’t killing him.

“Well, it was nice of you to cover for him,” Anna shrugged like she didn’t just blew their cover with a killer one liner and Thomas probably shouldn’t have been as surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink.”

“That’s cuz he can’t drink for shit,” he mumbled with a frown. “Did dad notice?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He was too busy boasting about the partnership. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so happy, you know how he hoards the whiskey otherwise.”

“Yeah, cheapskate,” Thomas snorted, and the noise sliced his brain painfully, like an instant karma.

“Think he was happy about Newt being back too,” she hit the nail on the head a bit too close to home and Thomas hated how his stomach lurched at it. “Well, you know him.”

“Sure is happy for not getting any grandkids,” he just grumbled and Anna patted him on his back.

“We still have Hannah,” she reminded him sweetly. “Maybe one day she’ll feel like having kids and force you to babysit for her two times a week.”

“Me? You’re going to be the grandparents, it’s your obligation to babysit!” The idea of taking care of Hannah’s kids made him scared for life, and they didn’t even exist yet.

“Pretty sure Newt wouldn’t mind,” she chirped happily, and Thomas loathed how right she probably was. Newt never really showed any kind of real interest in having kids or anything, but he never minded babysit for his own sister, and generally all the kids liked him.

Not that thinking about that had any merit anyway, since they split up with a point of no return. Maybe Newt already planned kids with the new person who left the distasteful hickey on his nape, or the person who he kept texting, and the more Thomas thought about it, the more his chest burned.

“Cherish him a bit more, would you,” she poked his arm. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you have some beef between you. Had an argument before coming here?”

Why the fuck is she so perceptive?

“A bit,” he answered quietly. “No biggie.”

“Set things right,” she plainly ordered him like he was ten again and had do her bidding. “I don’t want another sad Christmas.”

There isn’t going to be any Christmas for us, he wanted to tell her, but kept his mouth shut. At this rate, there wasn’t going to be anything for them, at all.

I really need some sleep.

***

Not very often did the morning come so peacefully, like a gentle spring washing over tired soul, leaving it invigorated. Thomas basked in the pleasantness of it, a quiet, warm and relaxed moment where he slowly woke up from a dream into reality still welcoming and soft like he never left the fantasy realm.

He took a deep breath, stretching, slowly coming to realize of contours of another body pressed into him, and under his hands and around his legs and under his chin. The soft blond hair came to view when he opened his eyes, with Newt draped around him needily, and his heart melted.

The first night in their flat. Their home. A place that only belonged to them, these walls and floors, and small kitchen and big windows, for them together. It came true, finally, inevitably, for Thomas to have Newt all for himself, to share his mornings, his evenings, his life with him. Nothing else could make him happier.

“You already up?” came a sleepy rumble from Newt’s chest, the hands holding Thomas’ waist slowly moved up, to his back, pushing them even closer together.

“Just woke up,” Thomas kissed the top of the blond strands, his own hands traveling over Newt’s back, right onto his butt, kneading it.

“Mmmm.” Approving sound doubled his endeavour and then Newt was slowly grinding to him, lazily, his lips stretched in a smile, reaching to pamper Thomas’ neck with small kisses. “This sure is nice, huh.”

“Love it,” Thomas agreed with the sentiment while grabbing Newt’s thigh and hiking it up over his hip. The blond softly moaned at the contact and Thomas pushed more into it, completely awake and needy and allowed. There was nobody that could hear them, scold them or gasp in shock like a puritan at them making out – just them, two lovers in their home, free to make love any time they wanted.

And Thomas wanted too much.

***

He never stopped wanting.

He woke to his room bathing in shadows, with the blanket twisted between his legs, his headache still present, even though in weaker state than in the morning, and his body wasn’t any less sluggish. The walk with his mum didn’t help him much, just added to his misery with freezing cold and nagging reality he couldn’t play this game any longer, which made him feel empty and unhappy.

He didn’t feel this unhappy in a while, it usually only came back when he heard of Newt about a year after the breakup. Every time his ex came back to his life, even when somebody only mentioned him in a passing conversation, Thomas’ chest set off that painful pang in it, like a trigger just waiting to be pressed, and he fell back into hollow kind of depression.

He got rid of it, somehow. He built walls around himself, he locked all of his twisted personality traits and pushiness and hateful behaviour away, he spent years searching for more he could fix, for all that made Newt unhappy with him, what made him leave Thomas after seven years without really talking about it.

He thought he managed to become a better person. He believed he could change the way he acted. He hoped if he ever talked to Newt again, at any point of their lives, he would be at least able to show him he wasn’t that ungrateful, lousy boyfriend anymore, that they could at least be friends. Somehow. Just talk normally. Just… exist in the same room without… Newt making that anguished face, like it hurt him still.

Thomas tried. But failed. Maybe it was just recurring theme of his life – to touch something wonderful, to taste true happiness, just to fuck it all up and lose it.

Maybe he was just obsessive. Suffocating.

Maybe making mistakes were rooted too deep in him to get rid of.

Maybe… it was simply impossible.

***

Newt was playing games with Hannah in the living room when Thomas came back down. Hannah made fun of him for sleeping all day like an old guy and his mum said something about hoping he didn’t catch a cold and gave him a bowl of chicken soup.

The strange, unattached feeling stayed with him since he woke up, and only doubled when he saw Newt’s neck marked by some fucker on display. His stomach churned at the implication there was this unknown guy waiting for Newt to come back home, who kept impatiently sending him texts that made Newt frown and smile in turns, like he just slowly sunk back into the problem they never resolved. Thomas felt disgusted with himself, and angry, and, when it came to it, immensely tired.

“Oh, you have the whole week free?” his mum asked suddenly, breaking Thomas’ bubble of trying to eat the soup like a mental case of lobotomy, and he realized there had been a conversation going in meantime and he didn’t catch any of it. Newt wasn’t playing the game anymore, though Hannah still furiously pressed buttons on her controller, and instead of it sat on the couch, turned towards Thomas’ mum at the table.

“Yeah, thought getting out of the city might do me good,” he answered her with a soft smile and the idea of another week like this sent Thomas into desperate mode. Even though it was him who forced Newt to take whole week off, because… he only had bad ideas, obviously.

“But there’s bit of a rush now, right?” he entered the conversation impulsively and Newt glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “At work. Christmas and all that being close.”

“Yeah, it’s… a bit hectic,” the blond admitted, making Thomas’ mum go aww. “There’s lots of people taking vacations they didn’t spend yet, so we usually work crunch time.”

“Yeah, kind of same,” Thomas added. It wasn’t really a lie. But not the truth either. “And I know I said a week, but I’ve got some texts from work already, thought of going back tomorrow instead.”

Newt stared at him with an evident confusion, but Thomas knew at this rate they were going to crash and burn again if they stayed, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t even trust himself to keep it civil when his blood boiled like in a bull taunted with red flag.

Except the red flag was an unknown nobody on the other side of the line of Newt’s phone.

And bed.

“Uh,” came from the blond. “No, wait. What? You…”

“We can visit again during Christmas,” Thomas offered a big fat lie, he almost bit his tongue at it. Christmas were a taboo, he knew mentioning it were already risky, but it gave him an out with his mum, so that worked at least. “When it’s calmer.”

“When is what calmer?” Newt still stared, Thomas said almost disbelieving, and he just prayed for him to play along and not act like he knew nothing about it.

“Work,” he answered stiffly. Too stiffly, he realized, since Newt’s eyes narrowed.

“Uh oh,” he heard Hannah interject, which meant he already failed in the mission to make this believable. Fuck.

“I need a smoke,” the blond announced instead of reacting and stood up sharply. Then shot Thomas a badly masked glare. “Keep me company?”

He wanted to say no but couldn’t when his whole family watched them like during tennis match. So he just nodded and followed Newt outside of the house while feeling like slapping himself.

***

“Care to explain or am I supposed to guess.”

The cigarette was lit, its fiery tip shone bright in the darkness of the porch once the automatic light shut itself because they weren’t moving like they rooted in the wooden floor. Newt was wearing his coat and Thomas only stood there in the long-sleeved shirt, which in retrospect was probably a mistake.

“I did explain,” Thomas said. “Just thought about work-,”

“No, you didn’t,” Newt stopped him immediately while crossing one of his arms on his chest while other held the cigarette like a weapon. “You said a week, so I took a week off. I’m not bloody leaving now. It’s my vacation.”

“I also said three days would probably be enough,” Thomas asserted. “And they are. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Why?” the blond demanded. “It’s not like I suffer here. I like this place. What’s your problem?”

That kind of question had no easy answer and Thomas held Newt’s eyes only for few seconds, before looking away.

“Am I the problem?” came another question, even sharper. “You just can’t stand me anymore, so you want to leave?”

“You know that’s bullshit,” Thomas scoffed. “Since when did I ever-,”

“No, I don’t know!” Newt interrupted him with raised voice and Thomas flinched. “I don’t bloody know anything about you anymore! You brought me here and expected what? War? Did you want us to fail?”

“Why would I want us to fail?” Thomas’ eyes widened in a shock. “What kind of fucked up logic would that be?!”

“I don’t know!” Newt barked. The cigarette he was holding was slowly fading away, the ash falling everywhere how he moved his hand. “But something’s up since this morning, so obviously you’re lying about work and I want to know why!”

Well, finding out his ex-boyfriend had a lover, or a sex friend or whatever the other person was definitely served as a wake-up call. Thomas couldn’t overlook it – he thought he’d be fine with anything, it had been years, but one fucking hickey and some fleeting texts and he just had the rising urge to tear the walls he built down and get angry and make Newt inevitably miserable, which he despised.

He fucking loathed it. And himself. And everything around him.

“Why did you even agree to come here?” he couldn’t help but demand. “Why did you even bother playing this stupid game when you have somebody home? You trying to make him jealous or it’s just your thing?”

Accusing – stupid Thomas, fucking idiot, just talk normally, what’s wrong with you – as always.

“What?” Newt’s eyes shot up, wide in honest surprise. His cheeks were red from the cold, or maybe embarrassment, Thomas didn’t know. “What are you talking about?”

“About that hickey on your neck?” Thomas pointed towards the incriminated spot and Newt’s whole body went rigid.

“A hickey…?” Newt’s free hand was touching the place now, his voice shocked. “You… ugh.”

“Look, it’s not my business, clearly,” Thomas rubbed his eyes tiredly, desperately trying to make an excuse for his own consciousness why he couldn’t look at Newt. “But obviously it’s causing you trouble with him, so. As I said. Three days are fine, we can leave now. Go back home. Forget about this.”

And forget about me trying to corner you, and me getting hard in the bed with you this morning, and me sounding jealous and lame, and me… just for being me.

“Are you fucking with me?” Newt’s voice sounded disbelieving. “Are you bloody serious right now? A hickey from some random guy appeared over night here? That’s what you’re saying?”

Overnight…?

“Overnight?” he asked a little dumbly, which forced him to look Newt in the eyes, where he saw hell unleashed. It made his throat squeeze almost hard enough to suffocate him.

“You think I just popped back home for a quickie, then back to your bed in the morning like a bloody Cinderella?” the blond seethed, the cigarette in his hand morphing into a protentional weapon of choice. “Where did that even came for, for fuck’s sake? You’d been seeing me for two days, never noticed anything, and then suddenly your Esmeralda syndrome got cured or what?”

“But-,”

“You bloody drunk fucker,” Newt took a step towards him and Thomas found himself hitting the entrance door with his back, when he automatically tried to back out. “Should have known your bird brain won’t remember anything.”

The realization hit Thomas like tons of bricks right in his face, able to cause heavy concussion if it were real.

“I did this?!”

“No, the bloody sucker behind you, who the fuck do you think?!” Newt’s voice was harsh, but Thomas could only hear the bare fact he made a hickey of size of Texas on his ex-boyfriend’s nape while spending the next day being jealous… of himself.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out with an ugly relief flooding his veins, which was all sorts of wrong. Being relieved over attacking his ex at night definitely did not count as a good point in anybody’s book. “What the fuck.”

“Calmer now?” Newt sighed in exasperation and Thomas couldn’t say he was. It just opened door to another set of bad he had to deal with.

“I attacked you when drunk?” he asked quietly, and Newt blinked in surprise.

“Attacked?” he repeated and then barked out a laugh. “No, you really didn’t. You were drunk out of your mind, for fuck’s sake.”

“I see.”

“Didn’t think it left anything,” the blond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if in memory, which was kind of hot – no Thomas, it was not hot, but embarrassing, shut up -. “I mean you just munched on me a little, then fell back asleep. No harm done.”

“You made a fuss about us sleeping in one bed but it’s no biggie when I leave a hickey?” Thomas couldn’t help but laugh a little and Newt’s face showed signs of hesitation.

“Look…” he tried after a moment, the cigarette in his hand nearly gone. “I… don’t know, you were just sleeping while holding me, it doesn��t mean anything-,”

“And that’s fine with you?” It was Thomas’ turn to interrupt him, and Newt looked a little lost for a moment.

“I suppose that’s fine with me, yeah,” he admitted slowly.

Thomas looked at his shoes, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t deny the knot forming in his belly over the day already started easing off, for purely selfish reasons he had, but at the same time his head became even a bigger mess than before.

“So what does it mean?” he asked after a while. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, I thought… you’d rather leave than stay with me longer, after today, but…”

“I want to stay,” Newt answered immediately. “Unless you really don’t want me here. Then no, of course. I had the same problem the first day, feeling all kinds of weird and jumpy. I guess I just sort of dealt with it. Stepped out of my comfort zone and all that.”

“Sorry you had to.”

It wasn’t like Thomas wanted Newt to change anyhow by doing this favour for him. But he’d also be a hypocrite if he didn’t admit he wished Newt to feel good here. With him. Selfishly, hopelessly. Like before, like they were okay. Like they still… liked each other. At least a little.

He knew that kind of hope was self-destructive and harmful, but he didn’t stop loving this man three years ago, after going through an immensely rough patch, so he wouldn’t stop loving him now for no reason either.

“No need to be sorry,” Newt interrupted his thoughts with much softer tone than Thomas expected. “I mean even despite it’s you, you didn’t really do anything bad yet.”

“Wow,” Thomas snorted. “Way to ruin the mood, boyfriend.”

“I try,” Newt grinned, and it seemed like the tense mood dissipated and they both relaxed enough to breathe easier. Thomas possibly wouldn’t even notice he had been so strung up until now, if the huge boulder of irrational fear of fucking up didn’t fall off his shoulders with a bang.

“And just for the record,” Newt added while finally inhaling the last puff from the already burned-out cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I noticed you digging into me in the morning.”

“Of course you did…” Thomas banged the back of his head against door in utter shame. “Because universe hates me, and you had to fucking wake up.”

“Yeah, well,” Newt let out a small shrug. “I got hard at night, if it makes you feel any better. Let’s call it even.”

“What.”

“Had a real nice dream,” the blond casually announced like he was ordering pie with no filling and Thomas was a stupefied cashier at Costa Cafe. “Woke up with you being handsy with me. Tried to scramble away, cue for you to make the hickey and fall back asleep.”

“Uh.”

“1:1, right?” The sly smile Newt’s mouth produced did things to Thomas’ underbelly and before he even caught himself, he automatically reached out and grabbed Newt’s side.

Fuck.

“Pretty lousy score,” he just said – bad Thomas, stop making a pass at your ex -, “That’s no match whatsoever.”

Newt glanced at his hand resting on his waist and then back to Thomas with a thoughtful hum.

“I’m not that good at sports,” he just said, looking back into Thomas’ eyes. “But you might be onto something.”

Thomas took a deep breath and risked the second hand grabbing other side of Newt’s waist, pulling him closer. The layers of clothing made him dissatisfied, no matter how cold it was and how his skin already felt like ice, he just wanted to get under the coat and the sweater and the shirt and make Newt react somehow. The blond just silently watched him, let him do whatever he wanted, and somehow it felt like a test and Thomas was scared of failing it.

“That’s it?” Newt broke the tense silence around them when Thomas just stood there, holding him.

“Thinking,” the brunet mumbled with a frown.

“About?”

“How to touch you without it being classified as groping,” he moved his hands a little lower as an experiment, getting no reaction. “Since it’s off the table.”

“Pfff.”

He hesitated, then gingerly let go of one side and reached for the zipper lodged under Newt’s chin, keeping the coat closed like a fortress. His hand barely cooperated with how frozen it was, but Newt still didn’t stop him and that encouraged him unfairly.

“Newt.”

“Yeah?” the blond’s voice was quiet and close to his face.

“What’s with all the texting?” He kept holding the zippier between his fingers like he couldn’t decide, and Newt made a soft huh? noise in the back of his throat.

“You were on your phone the whole day,” Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Is there somebody…?”

A sigh. Thomas let go of the zipper.

“That’s Alby,” came a reply and if Thomas wasn’t already propped against the door, he’d take a step back. There was nowhere to run now, so he just let go of the blond completely, nodding.

“He’s my partner,” another string of words Thomas comprehended but wished he didn’t. “A bit demanding one.”

“Sounds like it,” he just commented, staring at his feet until Newt’s shoes came into view as well when he stepped closer.

Seriously testing me. That’s-

“A bit cruel,” he breathed out with a puff of white smoke and Newt pushed further and pressed his mouth against Thomas’. His cold lips lingered for a moment before parting, their breaths mingling, and Thomas’ heart fought really hard to get out of his chest and run away. The proximity was non-existent, Newt stood so close their chests were touching, and his eyes were so dark, and pupils blown wide Thomas got easily lost in them.

He always did. Nothing had changed.

“You look cold,” Newt whispered to his lips, hovering so close their mouths gently touched when they took a breath.

“Freezing,” Thomas answered in daze, holding back only by a miracle. He wanted to reach out and pull the blond man flush against him, to grind into him, to kiss him so deep his toes would curl, and he’d buck up, he just wanted so much it made him suffer.

“Alby’s my colleague,” Newt dropped quietly. “Funnily… you weren’t wrong about work being in a rush now. He’s struggling a little. Wanted to know my opinion.”

A colleague. And nothing else?

“Nothing else,” Newt answered like he could read his mind and then sagged against Thomas’ body like the energy just left him, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I thought I can handle being this close to you,” he heard him mumbling into his shirt. “But the more I am, the less I can fight it.”

“I thought I can handle you dating somebody else,” Thomas added to it while letting his head fall back against the door with a dull thud. “But obviously not. It’s scary. I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed with him. “Me neither.”

He wasn’t sure if this had been some sort of consensus they reached, or just a fling that happened because they were both lonely, but Thomas didn’t want to let go – even though he should have, logically, to protect them both. The pain they caused to each other three years ago was still there and festering under their skins, but the more Newt was pressed into him, breathing softly, the more Thomas noticed his reason slowly creeped away, like a thief in the night disappearing with loot.

But he wanted. For fuck’s sake how he wanted to just hold him close and promise him love and eternal happiness, and the scary part was he couldn’t promise shit. His love was real, but not unconditional, happiness was fleeting and simply relying on both of them and the rest of the world deciding whatever to fuck them up or not.

But…

“I give up,” he mumbled, weary to the bone. At Newt’s soft hm? he just sighed. “It’s fucking cold.”

The blond barked out a laugh, but nodded and let go of him, immediately taking all the warmth away.

“Then shall we assure them we’re not breaking up again?” he nodded towards the door and without waiting for Thomas’ reply he already reached for the handle. “Or not leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” the brunet conceded. “Hannah’s going to be milking this for the rest of the week…”

“Serves you right,” Newt laughed quietly while opening the door and Thomas kept the answer to himself.

We’re not breaking up again rang in his head like a bell, deafening his reason even further. Newt didn’t protest when he reached for his hand on their way inside, and he wondered if his heart was ready for another trial.

He ignored the uncertainty and took a leap of faith.

#newtmas #tmr #the last resort series #the maze runner #izzymultifan #edit 17. 5. 2021

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headfulloffantasy · 4 years

Text

How to cure a soul

Disclaimer: heavy illness, near death experience, heavy angst Pairing: Reed900 Setting: Human!AU, Hospital!AU, sickfic

@definietlynotsatan inspired me with a headcanon about Doctor!Nines and Patient!Gavin a while back and I just had to write something for it. Thank you so much for the inspiration! This is just something like a draft, but I hope you all like it.

Nines is the best doctor in his hospital. His reputation is widely known, they say nobody has died under his care before. What they don't know is that it's because he is ruthless and only focused on his statistic. He seems really friendly on the outside, but he doesn't really care about his patients or their fates. When he notices that a case is hopeless, he will ditch it and let somebody else take over so that it doesn't show as a death on his record sheet.

Then one day, he gets a patient whose healing potential isn't that bad, but the idiot is really stubborn and uncooperative, a Detective injured on the job. Gavin looks right through Nines' facade and sees that he isn't really invested in Gavin aside from curing him. So he avoids some of the treatment and sabotages Nines along the way, refusing to eat or pulling out tubes because the beeping is getting on his nerves. His only agenda is to piss off Nines as much as possible. Gavin himself just wants to be left alone, he feels lonely and hopeless despite Tina visiting sometimes. Nines is furious of course, how does this jerk dare to act against the best doctor's advises?! It's almost like he doesn't want to get better!

Nines tries to ditch Gavin's case at some point, but he isn't allowed to.

"Jeffrey, how am I supposed to heal someone that doesn't want to be healed?! This is just pointless!"

"I don't know, come up with something for god’s sake! He is the Cyberlife CEO's brother, we are paid a shit ton of money, but for that I have to assign him my best doctor! That's you, Nines. I don't care how you do it, but do it. Heal his soul first, convince him. Make him want to get better."

"Heal his soul, are you kidding me, Jeffrey?!"

"Do I look like I am?"

Nines has to continue looking after Detective Reed. That asshole is really getting on his nerves, if he won’t get better soon, he will fuck up the doctor’s record.

One time, Gavin refuses to eat again and Nines yells at him to shove that food in his mouth already.

"What are you going to do, doctor? Force me to? That wouldn't be good for my healing process, would it?"

Nines desperately tries to calm down and not strangle the stubborn idiot with his stethoscope. When he is outside, he tries some of the hospital food and finds out that it tastes horrible. No wonder Gavin was refusing to eat that shit. When he sees Tina visit someday, he notices a special brand of chocolate bars she brings with her. So the following day, Nines buys one of them and gifts it to Gavin, who at first is really suspicious but then he accepts it.

As the time passes, Gavin manages to open Nines' eyes for the situation of his patients more while Gavin himself becomes calmer and more cooperative. They establish this habit of Nines smuggling in food from outside and he will spend his lunch break in Gavin's room, number 87. At first it is to monitor his patient's eating habit, but soon it becomes his favourite part of the day. They spend their lunch together, sometimes with sushi because Gavin loves it, sometimes with something else, trying out all food opportunities around the hospital. Gavin starts to get better, he eats and accepts treatment. One day, Nines is on his way to a meeting that could be important to him and his career. But as he walks down the hallway, he passes Gavin's room and sees that the man is crying. Silent and it's not obvious at first sight, yet Nines knows him by now. When he enters, Gavin quickly sniffles and wipes away the tears.

"I... have an allergy."

Nines just sits down on the edge of his bed.

"I know your clinical record, Gavin. You don't have any allergies."

That gets both of them smiling a bit.

"Don't you have to be somewhere?" The doctor thinks about it, but then he surprises himself. "Nothing important. Now tell me what's up."

Gavin opens up to him and tells him that he feels lonely. He has a hard time falling asleep due to anxiety. Nines had noticed the dark circles under the man's eyes. Gavin just rambles on and Nines listens, but when the man tears up again, he can't help but reach out and pull Gavin into his arms. He probably shouldn't be doing this as the man is his patient, but fuck it. To distract him, Nines asks about Gavin's life and he gladly tells about his cat and life outside of the hospital and his past. After some time, the Detective gets tired and falls asleep under Nines’ watch. The medical leaves, but he comes back the next day. He works way over his shifts anyway, so he can spend the evening just as well in Gavin's room and it isn’t unusal anymore to find the doctor in room number 87. They will talk and Nines stays until his patient falls asleep, so he doesn’t have to be alone anymore. Every time Gavin wakes up, there is a chocolate bar or a note next to his bed.

Every now and then they will go on a walk outside, though never far as Gavin is still weak. Nines starts to worry, because yes, he accepts Nines' help now, but somehow he isn't really getting better. Losing weight instead of gaining. Gavin doesn't seem to mind, he's just happy to get out of his hospital bed from time to time. They get closer and closer until one day, Gavin decides to kiss Nines.

“Stop frowning and kiss me.”

The medical complies gladly and leans down for their lips to meet, clinging to Gavin with his dear life. He has fallen so hard for that stubborn idiot, the man is the first person he is genuinely worried about. Nines knows he has to find a way to heal Gavin, this time for him as a person and not as a number on Nines' record sheet. But he feels like his repertoire is at its end. Gavin tries to calm him of course and Nines wants to believe him, but there still is that feeling in his stomach. He feels so guilty because he knows that a few months back, he would have ditched Gavin's case now.

The next day Nines comes to work and wants to visit Gavin in his room to say good morning, though when he enters, he immediately sees the red alarm in one of the rooms. Number 87. The blood freezes in his veins.

Nines runs there as fast as he can and when he enters, the room is already full of medical staff trying to revive the man he grew to love. The doctor almost can't bear the sight of Gavin's limp body getting electroshocked and that horrible sound of a heart flatlining.

Nines rushes towards Gavin and pushes away the people standing around the bed. He takes over and while trying to revive Gavin, he screams at him that he isn't allowed to leave, that he can't leave Nines behind. Tears run down his face and cloud his vision.

“Open your eyes, Gavin, please! You- you can’t leave me like this! Come back to me, I beg you!”

And Gavin does. He comes back to life with a sharp inhale and coughs while the screen slowly goes back to steady beeps. Nines can't hold himself back from pulling the man into his arms and he weeps like a child. There are shaky arms wrapping around him, drawing soothing circles on his back. Of course Gavin would care for him, even though the Detective just barely escaped death.

At a control screening, they find out that Gavin has a tumour that had been unnoticed before. That's what impeded his healing process and ate away at him. The other doctors offer him a chemotherapy, but it's his decision to make. Gavin asks them to leave Nines and him alone, because he sees how stunned the other is looking. He knows the percentages for recovering from cancer. He has treated this condition all his life.

"Hey Nines, you okay?"

Nines can't suppress the small sad smile. Gavin is always caring for others first, although it should be Nines supporting the Detective now and not the other way around. He can’t help the panic creeping up in him though and his hands are shaking. Immense guilt rolls over him, mixed with overwhelming fear and sorrow. The medical knows he would have ditched Gavin's case here a few months back as he would see it hopeless. A hopeless case not worth looking into more. But now he wants to stay and fight and he begs Gavin to fight as well. The Detective hugs him tight when he starts crying again.

"Nines, I want to go home-"

"No, Gavin, no, please don't do that to me, I almost lost you once, I can't ... I just can't-" Gavin interrupts him with pressing his lips on Nines’. The contact immediately soothes the taller man and he melts into the kiss, salty from his own tears.

"I will fight, don't worry. I will do everything you say, no matter how much it sucks. But I want to get home, Nines. I am sick of hospitals."

That is something the doctor can accept. They decide that with Nines’ help, Gavin can get back home and come to the hospital to get his treatment. Nines stays with him and basically moves in to assist the Detective with his daily tasks. Gavin introduces him to his cat he had told him so much about. Nines takes time off to care for the Detective and help him at home and to get to where he has to be. As he never really took a vacation before, the doctor has a lot of days left and Fowler helps him get off from work for the duration of Gavin needing help.

So the treatment goes on and Nines stays.

They become a real couple, going through good phases and really shitty ones. But Gavin doesn't have to go through them alone anymore. Nines cooks for him, cares for the cat, they will watch movies all day snuggling in bed and of course Nines helps him when shit gets bad and Gavin gets sick. But they make it through it together. And slowly but steady, Gavin gets better, becoming stronger and gaining weight day by day. Despite puking and the side effects that freaking suck, Gavin is the happiest he has been in a long time. There is someone holding him at night, someone he wakes up to in the morning, snoring next to him. He is so in love that he feels like he can get through everything. Yes, the rest sucks and sometimes he doesn't stop cursing at how miserable he feels. But Nines is right there with him.

They are on a good way and Gavin gets better and better, beating the cancer. His hair is slowly growing back and Nines is really fascinated. Yes, he knew the man used to have a beard, but he never knew how HAIRY Gavin was. Scruff along his jaw and cheeks, soft fluff on chest, arms, legs, head and a bit on his stomach. Nines adores it, always letting his palm caress over the flimsy hair when they lie in bed. It makes Gavin laugh and he tilts his head to place a gentle kiss on Nines’ lips.

"Yes, I am prickly, not as baby butt smooth as you are." the Detective teases with a weird wink.

Nines has to admit that this was exactly the side of Gavin he fell so hard for. His rough but kind personality, the charm of all his sharp edges. With a swift move, the Detective turns them around, arms pulling Nines closer. He has regained a lot of strength over the last weeks and Nines feels himself blush at how easy the man shifts him around. He lets his fingers roam through the short strands of hair on Gavin's head and the Detective closes his eyes with a pleased hum.

"I know." Nines whispers as their hands lace together. "And I love it. I love you."

#reed900 #gavinreed #nines rk900 #dbh #my writing #heavy angst #sickfic

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years

Text

So Glad

kirishima eijirou x pregnant!reader

warnings: cussing, alcohol, pregnancy, bakusquad

word count: 1,654

a/n: AHAHA i hope yall arent tired of me writing a pregnancy scenario for everyone, because have another one. also the one in which we stan the softest boy in class 1-a, kirishima eijirou as a new dad :,) ENJOY ANON

You were thirty-four weeks pregnant.

So it was safe to say you were ready at any moment to tap out to what felt like a demon sucking the soul out of you from within, that was currently sucker-punching your lungs.

Being pregnant was something you didn’t necessarily enjoy, yes you were excited for the baby girl you would be having, but you hated how pregnancies were just the worst. Pregnant women were such liars sometimes.

Kirishima, your ever so loving and doting husband, was honestly the only reason you hadn’t flipped out at this point. The past eight months he had been by your side, providing for every single weird request you had, every craving, and every massage. It went as far as the two of your realizing that his quirk was actually incredible for massaging, weirdly enough.

“Eijirou, I swear, I will kick your ass if you don’t go out right now!” You threaten as you clutch your stomach, the contractions were hitting you on insane pain levels, but they were still too spaced out to mean anything. “I’ll be okay!”

Kirishima looks at you, his face clouded with worry and unwillingness to go out with the self-proclaimed “Baku-squad,” a name that Bakugou hated.

“Yeah, Kiri, y/n isn’t gonna have the damn baby on the one day you let loose!” Mina cheered as she places a warm hand on your shoulder, “Besides it’s just for a few hours of drinking!!”

“We’re getting wasted,” Sero informs you, and you can’t help but laugh, Kirishima needed to let loose and this may as well be the last time he had the opportunity.

“Well, Kaminari was pre-gaming in our bathroom, so I figured that was your plan.” You tease laughing at the blonde who another ashamed chug of his flask.

“It’s important to pre-game…” Kaminari mumbles as he doesn’t reach anyone’s gaze.

“Hurry up and decide already, Kirishima,” Bakugou sighs his eyes rolling as he seemed to be the second most ready to ditch this night, but you knew better about your husbands best friend. Bakugou enjoyed these outings.

“Go!” You shove Kirishima, waddling him to the door as everyone cheered alongside you. Kirishima needed to let loose tonight, and the Baku-squad was the way he was going to get it.

“Okay but if you need anything, or want me home, let me know!” Kirishima yells over his shoulder as Kaminari and Sero have him by the arms, and you nod your head in agreement. “Let me kiss my wife, guys!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes as Kirishima comes back, his hands on your swollen belly as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. Tender and sweet and not ready to let go. “Come on lover boy! The honeymoon phase was supposed to have ended three years ago!” Kaminari joked as Kirishima continued placing soft sweet pecks on your lips until he was now forcibly removed from your lips.

“It’s not over because I treat her right!” Kirishima claps back, but the wink and a large smile on his face make everyone laugh as you eventually close the door.

You smiled to yourself as you were home alone, and waddle back to the bedroom to watch some horror movie, they were weirdly super funny to you while pregnant. So there you sat an hour later, watching The Ring when you find yourself peeing yourself, no not pee but—

“Oh fuck, my water.”

You could feel the contractions now truly hitting you between the approved time intervals and you resisted a cry of pain as you called your husband, to which was put immediately on voicemail. You sighed, those guys truly didn’t waste any time getting wasted.

“Hi, baby, I know you’ll answer this soon, but I’m heading to the hospital! Our baby’s coming soon!” You chirped despite the heavy pain in your voice.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

Kirishima was drunk. It was only truly thirty minutes into the night and he was plastered. These past eight months he hadn’t been going out during bar nights because he had been so busy with you, and it seemed during that time everyone else’s tolerance shot go drastically while his lowered significantly.

Kirishima was intoxicated to the point that he has no idea where his phone was just in case you called, spoiler alert, it was in his left pocket jean instead of the right.

“Guys!” Kirishima slurred as he put a cheek onto Bakugou’s shoulder, “I’m so happy to become a dad! Bakugou will be its best friend, and all you guys will be like the fun uncles!”

Mina was howling over the fact her childhood friend thought she was going to be a fun uncle, “I’m going to spoiler that baby so much, you’re going to have to keep her from wanting me to adopt her.” Mina says with a cunning smile on her face as she takes another shot.

“The baby’s gonna find you fucking terrifying on first glance, raccoon eyes.” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he took a drink from his beer, “As Ei, said, I’m going to be the BEST FRIEND!”

Okay, so maybe Bakugou’s tolerance was still shit. But the comment at the very least caused Sero and Kaminari to howl with laughter as the pounded the table in an attempt to ease their laughter as Bakugou yelled at them.

“Hold on!” Sero cackles, “Y/n is calling me? Y’ello?”

Kirishima’s concentration is on Sero, why would his beautiful wife be calling Sero? Maybe he taped the door shut as a prank like that one time in high school. But Sero’s face was quickly drained from color, his nods serious, and it was by far the most nervous Sero had ever appeared. What was y/n saying? Kirishima wondered.

“So, uh,” Sero mumbles after the phone call ended. “Y/n is at the hospital, and she’s nearly ready to give birth.”

Silence.

“OH MY GOD, WE HAVE TO FUCKING GO!” Kirishima roars at a Bakugou level as he stumbles off the chair running towards the wrong exit.

“I told you we should’ve gone yesterday!” Mina hisses at Sero as Bakugou and Kaminari race off to capture the redhead.

“How was I supposed to know she was gonna come too early? Isn’t Todoroki’s wife past her due date?!”

“Baka, everyone’s different!”

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

You were quite literally crying, the pain was disgustingly overwhelming as you sat on the hospital bed. It wasn’t like you were resisting the baby’s arrival, because as much as you wanted Kirishima here, you weren’t too sure if you could just lay there.

“How are you feeling, Kirishima-sama?” Your doctor asks, a mask on his face as gloves are administered to his hands.

“So b-bad!” You cry as sweat flushes through your body, why did this hurt so much.

“WE’RE HERE!” A voice screams and you watch in slight horror as your beloved five idiots walk into the delivery room. All of them in scrubs, and all holding up Kirishima who was bawling.

“I’m so sorry love!” Kirishima says as he puts a kiss against your sweaty forehead. “I didn’t mean to miss your call! I am drunk!”

Your eyes soften the slightest amount before they’re clamped in pain. “It’s okay baby, I KNOW THAT—OH MY GOD!” You shriek as the doctor nods.

“Okay, Kirishima-sama I’m going to need you to start pushing. You’ll do it five times for ten seconds each, okay?”

“WHY DO I NEED TO PUSH!” Kirishima panics stupidly his eyes widened as you grab your idiot husbands hand, “Y/n should be—“

“He’s talking about me, my love.” You pant in pain as your grip against his hands starts hardening significantly.

“Oh! Ow, your grip is like my quirk right now!”

“Push!”

And Kirishima can only watch in the tiniest drunken gaze as you begin screaming, your face flushed, death grip on his hand, body quivering. He watches as the hospital scene around him slows drastically, his wife is biting her lip to keep from cussing, nurses running in slow motion, and his friends shaking slowly in excitement.

“Y/n I… I think—“

“The head is out!”

“I… I think imma…”

“You’re almost there!”

“I… I…”

A soft cry is resonating into Kirishima’s head, it’s a newborn cry, and a small baby girl with y/h/c is lifted slightly from behind the medical wraps. It’s all too much for Kirishima as he promptly faints, a smile on his face.

⋆✭⋆✭⋆⋆✭⋆✭⋆

When Kirishima comes through, he panics. “Y/n!” He calls out, his eyes searching as he sees his wife sitting on the bed across from his, she looks tired and worn, and entirely beautiful.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” You whisper teasing your husband as you show off the sleeping bundle in your arms. “Come say hello.”

Kirishima feels like every step he takes towards the bed is like he’s traveling through cement until he comes and peers at his daughters face. “Oh… fuck.” Kirishima can only say as you gently move to hand the sleeping baby girl into his arms.

“Say hello to your manly papa,” You mumble to the baby as tears fall down Kirishima’s face.

“Hi, Hinata-chan.” Kirishima sniffs at his baby girl, tears shamelessly falling down his face and he comes to meet your own ready eyes, and the next thing he knows his lips are on yours as he thanks you softly. Over and over.

“Thank you, I love you so much.”

bonus!

“I want to see her first!” Mina whispers shrieks as she manages to get into the room first after Kirishima walked over to the waiting room to let them know the baby was ready to meet them.

“Oh Kiri, she’s so adorable!” Mina cooes as she stares at the baby in the cradle.

“We have a question for all of you,” You confess as Kirishima comes to sit on the bed with you, an arm over your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Would you all become Hinata-chan’s godparents? We know it’s four of you, and you’re not obligated to!”

“Yes!”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Yeah!!”

“Of course!”

Tears fall both Kirishima parents as they smile at their friends their hangs gripped together, “We’re so glad.”

#kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima imagine #kirishima scenario #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bnha kirishima #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha headcanons #mha kirishima #kirishima fluff

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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I think the issue with death as a happy ending (to a story, I should point out - death can be many things in many places, but I’m specifically talking about it in fiction) is that it’s usually written so badly that it doesn’t feel like a happy ending and it just feels like shit. There’s a very limited number of fictional works that I’ve seen actually manage it well - though in saying that, I have a very limited range, and I don’t really enjoy new things because (reasons). The ones I do recall, it’s because they were just that good and bittersweet is exactly the way I would describe them as a happy ending.

Firebringer was a novel I read when I was 12 or 13, and I still recall it. It was about a deer and it was his entire life - birth to death - and it was a happy ending. I cried through the last few chapters. Then I reread it and cried some more. It was good.

There’s also a fic I want to mention, because it’s on the topic. It’s called The white whale. and it’s by an author named orange_crushed. The entire premise of the fic is that Dean (and Sam, but it’s a destiel fic) is already dead. He died years ago. The title itself should say a lot, and the fic itself is about finding peace. It’s brilliant and beautiful, and I love it.

My perspective on death is a bit. Odd, maybe? I grew up somewhere between Christian (mum and dad and church, a mix of Baptist and Anglican) and animist (local indigenous spirituality), and while bit of both inform my interpretation, I’m very nearly atheist.

I don’t really believe in an afterlife, or rebirth, or anything like that. I believe that this is it. We get one shot at being who we want to be and acting as we choose with what we’re given. (“And isn’t it so wonderful, that we were alive at the same time?”)

I first heard the Freedom From vs Freedom To argument when reading the handmaid’s tale in my English class at school. It wasn’t even presented as an argument, everyone just seemed to agree that freedom to is better. I believe that, too. But freedom from has structure. It’s not “peaceful” and it can’t be when it is enforced, but it is informed by rules, and there it has expectations and is reliable (where reliable means we know what the consequences are, even if they’re awful). Freedom to is anarchy (which I have come to appreciate more). But neither freedom is peace.

There’s a quote I really love, and I can never recall it properly and it goes something like this: “War is an ugly thing, but it is not the ugliest. The decayed and degraded state of moral feeling which thinks nothing is worth war is much worse. A man who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing more important than his own personal fucking safety, is [the worst thing]” clearly I don’t recall it very well. It’s from an old bit of hp fanfic, of all things, a very violent and disgusting version of civil war - as war is. It was the beginning of why I’m not a pacifist.

I dunno. I guess I really feel like peace - true, genuine peace - can’t be done. It’s certainly worth striving for, worth trying, but peace is either isolation and loneliness or death. Peace is knowing you’ve done everything you can, that it was enough, and being able to let it go.

Any way I think I had a point somewhere in this, maybe something about being unable to put down a fight while you’re living, maybe something about how death can be kind, maybe something about how good writing can make sad things happy, maybe that bittersweet is still sweet. Idk.

Feel free to reply to this mess of ideas or not - or pick and choose what you want to reply to, if you’d like to reply to specific parts. I mostly just wanted to share (I can do discussion, but idk if I’m still gunna have any focus later to do so, or if I’ll even see a response) some thoughts and you’re usually the only person I see on my dash with this sort of ~vague philosophy things~.

Woah when did anons get to let someone submit something so long.

Either way, a few points on this.

1. a thoughtful piece, this is a philosophy piece I will gladly entertain. However, if we are entertaining philosophy we must

2. acknowledge this is a nihilistic piece contingent on your personal world views, that while valid, and I will not take any effort to undermine on a personal belief system level

3. do not have much to do with (dependent on fringe atheism or, perhaps, agnosticism) a piece that is far from secular and atheistic while also

4. relying on the idea that “I really feel like peace - true, genuine peace - can’t be done. It’s certainly worth striving for, worth trying, but peace is either isolation and loneliness or death.”, which is itself the very nihilistic idea imparted by Chuck’s matrix but, whether you believe it in the real world, is the active target of subversion within this fantasy world, (eg, a heaven revolution where the doors are opened just like they were in hell.)

5. Finally, presumptuous that it would not be ‘well written’ and predesignating a potential discontent with the delivery that would sour it, especially with the previous points.

That said, while I’m not going to argue directly with your real life belief system -- even if they clearly disagree with my own -- I do remind you--falling back to your point that you do not believe in an afterlife: we know this fictional story does not hold this belief, ergo using that as a judgment for how it would deliver the concept of eternity is itself already wounding oneself to receiving the moral of the canon. One can not suddenly expect SPN to become a secular show just because a viewer has secular and atheistic beliefs. It is inherently asecular, theistic, and gnostic in its bones and the story will thus tell itself within that structure, which then begs if one is willing to suspend a personal belief system for a fictional canon setting they are digesting the story of.

Similarly-and-so, this is contingent on believing that the heroes’ journey will end with them maintaining the current status quo, rather than making a world where--in this fictional world in which an afterlife exists--death does not itself mean loneliness, but rather reunion.

If we can suspend our beliefs in some shows with fighting dragons or farting lightning bolts (after all, nonnie references HP fanfic), I would hope people could suspend them in regards to a moral telling of found family and the sovereignty of man in a divine and moral play.

If one were to demand SPN have entirely atheistic storytelling, the only real way to handle an ending would be to have one of the characters wake up from a 15 year coma where none of it was real and it was all a dream or something to that affect which--lol, we’re not doing, I promise. I’m sorry, but we’re not. We’re not taking the “none of it mattered because none of it happened” angle. We’re not going to a world where angels and the afterlife don’t exist, we’re not going to collapse it where suddenly death IS the true end and life sucks and then you die, it’s just not going to happen.

So the point then is an active choice on the part of the viewer: is this suddenly the line you draw after watching a theistic show for 15 years, doubling down that this specific theistic point is the one thing we can’t accept (despite it existing in the past already), or do we continue to watch a theistic show and interpret its theistic points as the story is trying to depict? And if it’s the “drawing the sudden line,” that is, quite frankly, a personal choice to have spontaneous discontent with a critical part of a canon story’s telling at a very sudden drawn line in the sand.

The point to exit would have been pilot 1.01 if we were going to have fundamental problems with spirits and an afterlife as crucial elements of a story. And if not then, 4.01 with angels. And if not then-- you see where this goes on. There were multiple exit ramps if the idea of an afterlife, which became more and more directly explored, was going to be an issue in reception of or enjoyment of a text. So now we’re 15 years later, and we can’t expect the highway to reroute just because we didn’t take the other 100 ramps.

SPN will tell the full spread of its moral and divine play within the full spread of its moral and divine sandbox, which someone has--to reach the ending--accepted for fifteen years at this point. If one has a fundamental problem with the entire premise of the show, it is not an obligation to any writer to cater to someone who intrinsically disagrees with the entire structure of the body of work to fulfill something within a completely different paradigm. It’s not.

Am I lucky in that it matches my beliefs? Maybe. Also cursed. Very very cursed. Because it’s led to being Through The Looking Glass for two years to the point there’s a segment of fandom that treats me as a magic 8 ball--and sometimes rightfully so, not to sound like I’m tooting my own horn or whatever. It just knows I get the structure in play to a fault. But cursed knowledge aside -- and trust me, it’s cursed as FUCK most of the time -- in the end, even when I watch shows that don’t match my personal theology, I don’t sit here and suddenly expect them to do so. There’s plenty of shows I completely suspend my beliefs in to enjoy within the sandbox they were designed in the constraints of so I find it very weird to project a discontent with a body of fictional canon presenting ideas within its own rule set based on personal beliefs in a real life lens. I mean, I don’t believe dragons exist, but if I watch the Dragon Prince for many seasons, I can’t suddenly expect the ending to have nothing to do with Dragons?

I mean, the show is literally called Supernatural. It's right there in the name. There are going to be supernatural elements about the show. My banner image is literally a reborn soul floating down the aisle. This isn't gonna suddenly be irrelevant at the end.

#supernatural #fandom #meta #pagan life #my meta #philosophy

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graphicabyss · 4 years

Text

?人 NEWS

I wrote an enormous post, or rather an essay, concerning NEWS, Tegoshi, and everything that went through my mind in the past month. Honestly, it’s mostly my way of coping, getting it out of my system and sorting out my thoughts and feelings. But I decided to also post it here for those who might want to read.

It was a long time coming. The rumours were lurking around for years and a month ago they bloomed. And yet, the full realization is yet to dawn on me. When something devastating happens, our mind tends to shake off the pain by either exonerating the beloved person who hurt us, or blaming them and distancing away from them. It's really hard to stay objective. But I'll try.

Coming into this fandom, I prepared myself for disappointment. Once I was a TVXQ fan. You know, the 5-nin TVXQ that was going to be "together forever" and all that. So I wowed never to get that invested in a pop band. When NEWS came along, I tried not to get too attached. I knew it would hurt me, sooner of later. And for awhile, it worked. But, as years went by, I knew I lost the battle. We humans need to cling to something. Thus, nearly 7 years have passed.

To me, Tegoshi has always been a key component. He was the one that led me to NEWS. Or rather, how pretty he looked in a dress. Tegoshi always kept me interested. Sometimes he excited, sometimes he annoyed, but he was never ever boring. He was made of contradictions, both in words and in actions. Nothing ever adds up with him. He made me want to understand him but I could never quite grasp it. Thinking about it now, perhaps it was because he doesn't really understand himself either.

In these years, I had several crisis points where I considered leaving the fandom, all caused by something shitty Tegoshi said or did. But every time I bounced back. Of course, I didn't do it for him. I did it for myself. However, his selfishness has always been offset by his kindness. The last time was him crying at the end of Neverland tour and how sorry he looked. Till the end, I wanted to believe that his common sense and loyalty won't let him do something reckless and stupid. Yet, here we are. The interview he gave to Bunshun led me to believe that he would do the right thing. He said he would show his gratitude to JE and would definitely make his fans happy but now it's the furthest thing from the truth. The fandom is disappointed, confused, angry.

Some people say to get over it, that Tegoshi was meant to leave or some shit. But I think those people fundamentally misunderstand the heart of the problem. It's not that he left that infuriated the fandom. It's how and when he left. Most fans would support his decision to leave if the transition was done properly. He owed us that much. A proper apology. A proper gratitude. A proper farewell. The announcement had me in disbelief. I expected him to at least finish the contract, do the Story Tour, no matter how long it takes, and show the members, staff and the fans the respect they deserve. To cut it short feels like a violation. At the very least, we need a closure. The last goodbye. The last concert. The last something. He just left JE after 17 years like it was nothing.

More than anything, what he did seems so stupid. He had it so fucking good. He was always in the spotlight, both on stage and in TV shows. The other members did most of the offscreen work allowing him to shine. He was supported by endlessly patient members and staff. He had the freedom to choose and all the work he wanted for each of his passions - ItteQ, Soccer Earth, OpenRec. And he had fans that always supported him, no matter how many scandals he had.

What was so important that he had to give up on all the amazing benefits he had? To betray all this trust? And on top of it, at a time like this? When all world is going through so much shit? When the fans need moral support more than ever? What were the "dreams" that he talked about?

The ability to rant on Twitter? Making duckface selfies? Fucking around? Assembling a shitty rock band? Performing with strippers? Some kind of unique business opportunity? He talked for years about wanting to perform overseas or hosting fan events but right now these things are offlimit anyway. Why couldn't he at the very least explain his decision properly? Just that alone will definitely hurt his further career in the long run. The press-conference lasted 2 hours but it answered none of the questions that really mattered and there was no remorse. Though at this point, I can't trust anything he says anyway. He created his Twitter account the the evening it all went down and didn't bother explaining himself. He just jumped off the ship and let other people deal with the damage.

Even now, it all seems like some kind of bad dream. Then again, all of the 2020 does.

When I first saw "手越退社" trending on Twitter back in May I felt like I was spinning into a downward spiral, like all air was sucked out of me. And it wasn't the "oh, no! what will the band do?" I never went to a NEWS concert and never brought any merch. To me, it wasn't really the feelings of a fan whose band faces a crisis but rather that of an entrepreneur who invested too much money into one asset and watched it plummet.

Fandom stuff is a currency that can devalue in a blink of an eye. Its valuable as long as its core message is intact. This is why I can't stand people being petty over scans or videos. I share when I can knowing it will make someone happy because I know that tomorrow that someone might move on. When I stumble upon old closed journals with password-protected downloads they feel like ancient abandoned temples. The treasures in them turned to dust.

4nin NEWS were based on unity, the combination of 4 unique characters. Four components, each of them essential. Now that concept failed. It's like standing in front of a collapsed building. I try to assess the damage. How much of it can I salvage? Repurpose? How much is lost and needs to be cleaned up? Should I even bother?

What do I do with hundreds of live performances and TV shows, in HD, lovingly downloaded and stored?

What to make of thousands of scans, magazines, pamphlets, almost each image edited and sorted? Thousands more stored neatly in folders, waiting to be posted. Countless screens and gifs.

What of the member ai fanvideos that gained over 100k on Youtube bringing joy to so many people? I already got the first heartbroken comment saying "we won't ever see them like that again, will we?"

What to make of my unfinished stories? Honestly, it's one of the things I'm most proud in my entire life. Now their future is uncertain.

Do I take down the poster on my wall? The CDs on my shelf? Soon I will have to looks at my enormous stash and decide for each item. Things that once brought joy now cause pain.

NEWS weren't selling music, they were selling ideas and dreams. The cute band photos now cause hurt and anger. The uplifting songs about unity won't be convincing. All the concerts lost their charm.

Am I being too dramatic? Probably. Perhaps the issue itself may seem trivial to an outsider but our grief is real.

Tegoshi keeps saying he loves NEWS and adores the members. But to me, loving is doing everything you can to avoid hurting the ones you love. Perhaps he means it, but that love will never compare to the love he has for himself. Despite what he says, I doubt we'll even see them together again and I'm not even sure I want to. I knew apart from Koyashige, the members aren't really that close personally. Tegoshi is shallow and seeks popularity more than anything. I'm sure than now he'll hang out with even shadier characters than before. The members used to provide him with the much needed tough love. Now, with nothing and noone holding him back, he'll give in to his overblown ego.

I'm not sure how I feel about NEWS continuing as 3. I mean, I support their decision and that's probably what most fans want but to me, I don't know if it'll work out that well. They were already a band with a lot of luggage and now, just like in 2011, they are a band that induces pity. They would have to rearrange so much to try and fill this huge gaping hole. Not to mention they will struggle vocally. No songs, no choreography can be unaltered. It might be better to go on within the agency doing their own things. But then that would just mean Tegoshi was indispensable and all the work they put in will be wasted. The Story must be competed.

In the past week I went through various stages of grief. The anger was strong and so was disbelief. Now it's finally subsiding, giving way to acceptance. It won't come soon but I'll let all the emotions run their course. The fact is Tegoshi remains very entertaining and the temptation to keep following him and rant about him is strong. I probably wouldn't even fight it if he were to leave with at least a shred of dignity. But with the way things are, I refuse to support him in any way. And I will at least try to phase him out as much as I can as I realize that even my anger is playing into his hands as he wants nothing more than attention, good or bad. Instead, I'll try to focus on those who do deserve support.

I'm not yet sure how to proceed with the blog and everything else but I'll take my time and figure it out. The truth is Tegoshi was one of the two major things that have kept me here for so long. And no, the second reason is not Shige. It's the people. Out of all the fandoms I've been in over the years this one really felt like home. I met so many amazing people here, even though many of them have since moved on. I felt accepted and appreciated.

This week has been an emotional roller-coaster. But today I feel fine. I have a dozen reasons to be depressed. But I'm not miserable right now because of the fandom. I've had about 10 people write to me within several days. Some of them I haven't talked to in months, some I've never talked to before, and some from other fandoms. They reached out to share their thoughts and feelings, and I appreciate it so much. I felt less alone. I felt a sense of solidarity, a sisterhood. Many agreed with me and it was touching but even more touching were the people who didn't necessarily agree with me and still wanted to hear what I had to say.

Perhaps it's patronizing but I feel like right now the best I can do is stay connected and go through this together. If I can help others, through informing, making someone smile, or supporting emotionally, it's all worth it.

#musings

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lilyshadowwriter · 4 years

Text

Augustus’ Story Summarized

As there’s a story summary for Gemma, I figured I’d go ahead and write one for Augustus too, so here’s what’s happened up to this point:

While Augustus and Gemma are twins and two of the closest people you’ll meet, they are also in many ways opposites. Whereas Gemma is known for her cool logic and has difficulties putting herself in other people’s shoes, Augustus is all about the heart- both empathetic and compassionate. They do, however, share a tendency to be introspective and introverted, so rarely will you see either of them surrounded by friends or frequenting large gatherings.

Augustus has a much easier time talking to people and has several casual friends, but rarely does he let people into his own private world. He finds it difficult to completely let down his guard, which is why it was so significant when he met someone he was willing to let go for completely. That person, of course, was Isaac Santiago Taveras.

The two met when they were 15 (So, What Are We Now Pt. 1 and Pt. 2) and had an instant connection despite outwardly seeming like two very different people. Isaac was athletic, cool, and popular, whereas Augustus stuck mostly to his sister and was more interested in art and doing well in school, but it didn’t seem to matter because they each thought of one another as if they’d hung the moon. They spent all of their time with one another, but were always unsure if the other felt the same for them- whether they were seen as simply a good friend, or whether they too, felt something more.

This confusion was made even worse by the fact that Isaac wasn’t out- not even his parents knew that he was gay and because of events that happened when he was quite young, he was terrified of them finding out- terrified of anyone finding out. After a messy debacle in which Isaac’s best friend Elena kissed Isaac in the middle of the school hallway and Augustus saw though, he chased after a hurt Augustus and told him everything.

The two shared a sort of secret, shy, and “unofficial” relationship afterward, sneaking glances, fleeting touches, and even surprise ambush hugs, haha. It was precious, and it was good, and despite the need to hide, they were happy simply being with one another.

This all changed quickly though after one fateful afternoon, when under the orange hues of the setting sun, Augustus attempted to kiss Isaac. Isaac panicked and pulled away, suddenly pointing out some random turtle on the bank. Augustus was thrown off and embarrassed, but as he tried to fumble through an apology Isaac received a call from his parents that he needed to come home immediately...and he left, but not before promising Augustus that he didn’t do anything wrong. Augustus lets him go, still embarrassed, but hopeful at least that he didn’t mess things up between them.

It turns out to be the last time they ever spoke.

Isaac moves away and never speaks to him again, save for some generic text message informing him that he was moving out of state and that he didn’t think he would be able to keep in contact with him anymore. Isaac’s phone gets disconnected, any emails sent to him get bounced back undeliverable, and no one ever hears from him again.

It leaves Augustus devastated because he loved him. It leaves Augustus devastated because it leaves him with the conclusion that despite everything, Isaac had clearly never felt the same as him.

Years later and Augustus had never really dated anyone. There were some half-hearted attempts, a mindless first kiss from a guy who’d kissed him at his junior prom who he’d had to awkwardly turn down, and that was about it. He never thought much about it though, simply chalking it up to having not found anyone he particularly liked.

This changed his sophomore year of college though (A&G I) when a certain purple-haired young man, Patrick O’ Doherty, manages to get through to Gus’ heart after literal months of failed and awkward exchanges that usually left Augustus perplexed and confused, lol. Eventually though, Augustus realizes that maybe he liked Patrick too, and so he gives him a chance, surprising Patrick with a sudden kiss in the middle of the campus grounds.

Ever since, they’ve had a rather sweet and happy relationship, often spending time with one another and never failing to make the other smile. However, even within its sweetness it’s also remained quite superficial, with Augustus clearly keeping Patrick at arm’s length for unknown reasons, and Patrick too nervous to rock the boat and risk losing him.

This begins to cause issues for them, particularly as Augustus’ worries grow about his twin sister, Gemma, who more and more seems to struggle to get through the days. It makes him feel like he’s failing, like he’s wholly lacking, because no matter how hard he tries to stop it, he keeps seeing Gemma slip. Augustus keeps this to himself though, never sharing his fears and worries with Patrick.

Then, during his junior year, Augustus bumps into someone he never thought he’d see again: Isaac (A&G II). It sucks, abruptly bringing back everything Augustus thought he’d forgotten years ago. He honestly tries to forget this brief encounter, but then Augustus sees him again (A&G III) and this time instead of cutting the conversation short and running off, Isaac insists that they talk. Augustus doesn’t want to hear anything that he has to say, but eventually gives in and learns the truth of what happened all those years ago.

The truth was, Isaac did feel the same for him. The truth was, Isaac did want that kiss, but despite wanting it, panicked when the moment came, not as ready as he thought he’d been. The truth was, that night, Isaac was so frustrated with hiding that he came out to his parents, and it went worse than he could have imagined. They accused him of ridiculous shit like being ‘tempted by the devil’ and threatened to kick him out of the house, and when Isaac bit back that he’d just go to Augustus’ place, they concluded that Augustus was the problem, and moved the whole family away.

They took his phone after he snuck a message to Augustus and his friends, they took his computer, they had him on a 24/7 lock down and they told him if he ever spoke to Augustus again, that would be it. And Isaac, hundreds of miles from anyone he knew, cut off the world, and scared out of his mind, gave in.

It would be another 3 years before Isaac confronted his parents again, and this time firmly stated that they could either accept him as he was, or they would never see him again. He was 18 then and had had enough. His parents shocked him by asking him to stay and promising to try and do better, but it’s been a rocky process.

Augustus feels awful for what Isaac went through. He forgives him, much to Isaac’s surprise. He still hates what happened, but doesn’t blame him. He was 15 and it was an impossible situation he never should have had to go through. They part on awkward, but mostly good terms. They agree to maybe try to be friends again.

A&G IV Pt. 1 finds Augustus quite shaken by all he’d learned, and annoyed with himself for being shaken in the first place. It was all in the past, after all. Why should it have mattered anymore? It didn’t, and yet Augustus can’t stop thinking about it.

That’s when he finds out that Gemma is doing worse than ever, and discovers her practically unresponsive with a knocked over bottle of sleeping pills lying on her bedside table. He panics, and even after he discovers that she’d only taken a few and that she was fine, just tired, he can’t get that image out of his head. He can’t rid himself of the horror he’d felt when he’d thought he’d lost her. He can’t forget Gemma’s tearful, mumbled words to him as he tried to comfort her, “I don’t want to kill myself, but sometimes I do wish that I’d never existed.”

It has Augustus throwing up because of the stress and feeling worse than ever, but it’s then that Isaac happens to text him some light-hearted, silly thing. Augustus texts him a thanks for the laugh and Isaac asks what happened. He debates not saying anything, but reveals he had a shit morning and that he can’t get it out of his head. To his displeasure, Isaac calls him, but they end up talking and little by little Augustus shares with him what happened. Afterward, he feels a bit better, maybe even happy that he got to talk to Isaac, that maybe they really could be friends again and that could be a good thing.

When he later admits to Gemma that he’s been talking to Isaac though, his sister has a negative reaction, shaking some of his previous confidence. She points out that Isaac probably could have done more to reach out to him despite his situation, and Augustus counters that Isaac feared losing his family and that the risk was too great. Gemma reluctantly relents, but still expresses some concerns, worrying that Isaac might hurt him again. Augustus reveals that he’s really missed Isaac, and that he wants to give him a chance again- that they would only be trying to be friends, after all. Gemma lets it go, but not without advising that Augustus should reflect on why this meant so much to him.

Later, when Augustus is talking to Patrick and on his way to having lunch with him, Isaac texts him a simple follow-up and asks how he’s doing and Augustus replies that he’s fine now and that he’ll talk to him later. It’s a rather nothing exchange to Augustus, but Patrick happens to see the texts and asks him what happened. Augustus evades, giving a general answer about Isaac happening to catch him after something occurred that morning, but that it was all fine now and that’s why he hadn’t mentioned it.

To his surprise, Patrick abruptly announces that he forgot he needed to go to work early that day and ducks out of their lunch date, but before he goes, asks Augustus if he’ll come over to his place after his shift. Patrick assures him that it’s nothing bad, but that he has something important to talk to him about. Augustus has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but agrees...

...and that’s where we catch up to him now- sitting on Patrick’s doorstep and wondering what it is that he wants to say......

#Augustus Winters #Long post #Different Winters #Sims 3 Stories #DITFT Legacy #DW Summary #BonusCharacterFacts #Queue will start soon!

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trenchcoatkitten · 4 years

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So I’ve been reading Temperature of the Heart, and you’ve mentioned how you have the whole thing written already. Can you describe what that’s like? What’s your writing process? How long does it take for you to write everything start to finish? Do you plan it all out or just kind of wing it? How long do you sit in an idea before you start?? Sorry about all the questions, I’m just so curious >_

bro!!! are you sure i will scream about writing for days omg

first of all THANK YOU its so freaking cool that you came to ask your questions and that you like my writing, im still sort of getting used to my writing not just being garbage that i read in the dark at 2am and never share with anybody, and i am always excited to answer questions waaaah

(THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG I APOLOGIZE IM PUTTING A READING BREAK IN CAUSE I WENT OFF BRO, IM THE WOOOOORST)

my process is pretty weird, it’s kind of all over the place? I’m kind of a halfway planner halfway pantser. I have an idea and usually make some disjointed notes about character and the main idea, in my phone or maybe on a google doc, and then a pinterest board maybe? Something to get excited about, a visualization. I ALWAYS tell myself im going to make an outline first and then i ALWAYS just jump right into writing because I’m too excited/impatient to wait. give me words on a page. give me dialogue.

Usually when I’m a little bit into the project, when i know that I’m not going to abandon it to the depths off where my WIPs go to die (rip like literally over 300 individual and unique works, this is NOT an exaggeration, you should see my document bank its gross) Ill say “ok fuck you sami its time to actually know where you’re going” and I’ll sit down and make the grossest outline you have EVER seen. like im talking, my outlines are littered with memes, me yelling at myself, actual stuff thats going to end up in the final project, and just general random garbage? its so gross. Ive literally only showed one of my outlines to one person ever (hi akira!) bc im super self conscious of them and hate the way that i write them. making an outline usually sucks up an entire day of writing. they’re pages and pages because some parts will be INCREDIBLY specific and other parts will be so vague you dont even know

From there, when im done with my garbage outline, (after going back through what I’ve written and fixing the shit that was just me going off like a psycho) I usually start writing in earnest. I’ll highlight the parts of the outline that I’ve done and I’ll go back and check it often to make sure im following through on my plans and the character arcs and such, making sure that everything ties in and such. This section is me like. every day getting home from work or whatever and sitting down at the computer and not moving until 2am, this is the section where i forget to eat and I dont sleep enough and i forget to drink water or take my vitamins and I do word sprints with myself and have days where I write 10 thousand words in one sitting. (very not healthy and also terrible i do NOT recommend) this is the section where I’ll handwrite anything i can in the back of classes and at rehearsals because im pouring out words.

during this section I go back and edit ENDLESSLY. i cannot write something and just let it be. I go back to the section I wrote the night before, I go back to the section I just wrote, i go back to the very beginning. I generally dont have to do 1st 2nd 3rd draft this way, but it is much more time consuming as Im just writing. i dont know if i reccommend this its a MESS

THeN once i finish writing the whole thing, i sit down and reread/edit the whole thing once through. this makes sure i have good flow, the paragraphs go together well, the prose feels right to me, timelines make sense. during this time i make ENDLESS paper notes with calendars, section notes, additions, drabbles, thoughts about my own shit. i have notebooks full of just garbage. im not kidding. full notebooks.

Once I finish that read/edit through I’m usually happy. only once something is completely finished will I consider posting. I go back too much, I add shit, I can’t let go of shit, not until it’s done. While I’m posting - I go through the chapter I’m going to post with a fine tooth comb, try to catch any tiny little mistake, add words here and there, but never change anything large if I can help it. Then i format it on Ao3 (this is literal hell, fuck the HTML editor it wants me to die) and then post it. Deciding to post a chapter to actually hitting ‘post’ usually takes me 1-4 hours, depending on the length, the difficulty of formatting, and how many goddamn links i wanna put in the chapter notes cause im the worst~ (insert jean ralphio voice)

~~~

LISTEN im probably super extra but I’ve been writing since I was in sixth grade (thats twelve years! time is an enigma and i hate it!) and so I have a bit of practice, i have a bit of experience and while I’m not the best me that I can be, I KNOW myself, and this is just what works best for me.

As for timing - it depends on the length of the project and how motivated I am. It took me about a month to write Royal (~50k), just a little over a month to write All Might’s All Night Shop Stop (~75k), and just about two months to write Temperature of the Heart (~115k). I try to post every few days, because as a person I hate waiting and I don’t want to do that to my readers!

~~~

As for the ‘how long do i sit on an idea before writing it’ it really depends. Some things I will receive inspiration or a sliver of an idea and start writing it in the next ten minutes, even if I have to stop working on something I’m already working on, because that was Brain Has Decided. Sometimes I will consider an idea for like. months before actually doing it. I’ve had the idea for FBoW (the newest thing im working on oops? have i told anybody about this NO cause that will make it REAL) since before I started Royal, which was like. Last november. But I just couldnt quite do it for some reason, and it wasn’t pressing. My brain is super broken, and a lot of times I get sick over ideas. I can’t sleep or eat until I’ve written, and I will repeat phrases to myself until i can get them out of my head by writing them down. (Sometimes this is something nice or poetic - “The golden hour lights up the whole world, wiggling its fingers into every nook and cranny, lighting up two people lounging on a bench-swing, someone leaned onto porch stairs with a mug of tea, the space between those walking down a dirt road, a couple of dogs laid out on the deck.” and other times its literally “Ranch Fiddlesticks.” I’m not kidding. i have a note in my phone that says ranch fiddlesticks because I was actually going to Die if i didnt write it down.)

I do wish my brain didn’t do this - but I guess it makes some fun art, doesn’t it?

WOW OKAY THIS WAS SO LONG im so sorry jesus christ. SOrry i will ALWAYS go off about my process and what it’s like to write. Writing is so so important to me, I LOVE it with every tiny atom of my weak, alcohol-infused, overworked heart. Despite how scary it is sometimes I am very glad to be sharing my work with the world, seeing peoples’ reactions and hearing things about my words, hearing how this little picture in my mind has gone into yours.

okay jfc im done now im so sorry. thank you again and again and again, a thousand times over, for reading my work and enjoying the worlds that i enjoy building. It makes me feel like I’m worth it. It makes me feel like I’m doing something good.

ily :’)

#my writing #dont open this unless you're ready #its like 1.5k words long #I WENT OFF #i have so many feelings ok #i have so so so many feelings #thank you so much for sending me an ask #i love you nonny #sami answers

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aelinbitch-archive · 5 years

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You've probably said this before but what's your favorite aspect of the TOG series? I've only read like ten pages of the first book lol

aaaaa thank u for asking!! this sort of leads into something i’ve been meaning to talk about for a while so i hope you’re prepared for An Essay No One Wanted By Me. anyway this is a two-part answer, read below:

1. Aelin. Celaena. The main bitch, whatever you wanna call her lol. Without her I probably wouldn’t have cared about the series at all and wouldn’t currently be trapped in ToG tumblr hell reluctantly stanning a racist and homophobic series, but unfortunately when I was like twelve years old or whatever and read the first book I literally imprinted on Celaena like a baby duckling. To the extent that she became, like, the default avatar for all my maladaptive daydreaming and If I Don’t Project On Her At All Times I Will Die. It’s not like she’s the only thing I like about the series (I loooove a lot of the other characters, especially the gals, and the writing can be really great and engaging and cinematic) but Aelin has always been the supermassive black hole at the center of it all for me. I wouldn’t know how to even begin untangling her character from my psyche at this point. It’s honestly a little disturbing. Anyway.

2. Part two is a quality of the series that I feel was unprecedented in its strength in the first five books of the series (ToG-QoS plus the prequel novellas) and really really disappointingly weak in the last two books (EoS-KoA). Like I said above, Aelin has always been my main interest in tog so I read and enjoyed the last two anyway, but I definitely felt the loss of this - “this” being the detail and attention paid to all different types of relationships between characters, and how rich and unpredictable those relationships were as a result.

That sounds like kind of a broad, vague thing, but what I mean is that (in my opinion) rarely are romances and friendships and rivalries explored with such nuance, complexity, drama, and realism in most YA as they are in ToG. I remember reading Cassandra Clare’s books (lmao.) as a pre teen and loving those as well, but totally being able to predict who was going to end up with who, and finding the character dynamics to be pretty cut and dry.

In ToG that’s not the case at all. Like, you’ve got Celaena and Sam, a really complex example of enemies to lovers to….. Tragically Dead Boyfriend Whose Demise Fuels My Guilt and Self-Hatred For Seven More Books, Lysandra and Aelin, two girls pitted against each other by their abuser who team up a year later to unlearn their internalized misogyny and kill him, and Aelin and Chaol, who… how do I even describe the ups and downs (and downs. and more downs) of their relationship.

And that’s just three pairs! Pull the names of two characters out of a hat and I can almost guarantee essays worth of material could be written about them. Arobynn and Aelin? Aelin and Nehemia? Chaol and Dorian, as much as I hate both of them and feel that their relationship as been widely mischaracterized? All fascinating!!! No two people in those first few books are just friends, or just lovers, or just enemies. It’s always more complex, there’s always a history or tension or competing agendas or viewpoints that Fuck Shit Up.

And benefit of that is twofold: one, everything that happens between the characters just…. lands so well. The betrayals and triumphs and losses and victories of The Assassin’s Blade and Crown of Midnight and Queen of Shadows (especially TAB) are fucking heart-stopping. It’s great character-driven entertainment!! Gripping and engaging and vivid to the point of being painful.

And two, there’s no way to predict where a relationship is going to go. Aelin and Lysandra teaming up in QoS instead of returning to their rivalry? Who would have thought! Ansel and Celaena’s summer fling (they were in love. fight me.) ending like That? Holy fuck. Nesryn and Chaol breaking up in ToD? Oh shit! I fell for it again! Rowan and Aelin ending up together after everyone swore they were brotp in HoF? Hell yeah! Chaolaena seeming like endgame and then ending forever, with Chaol and Aelin realizing that the rift between them that began in CoM was something that would never sufficiently heal? Unprecedented. Fucking badass for a YA book to curve everyone like that. Tween me was shook out of her mind.

(Important to note, though, that the downside of this style was that SJM couldn’t tell where ~unpredictable relationships and characters~ ended and fridging began, and as a result, not one but two woc were killed off to make white characters sad and it sucked beyond belief).

Aaaaaand then QoS, the peak of literature, turned into EoS, and SJM just… gave up on all of that. I remember the first time Dorian and Manon met, and I was like oh, okay. So they’re going to end up together. And I was right. I remember that on this site, before EoS came out, before Lorcan and Elide ever fucking MET, people predicted the existence of Elorcan!! And they were right!! Like how fucking boring? Everyone is just paired off into completely predictable heterosexual ships and those are now the only relationships we get to read about (with a few exceptions, like Aelin/Aedion, Aelin/Fenrys, etc.).

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: my least favorite thing about Manorian is not that I find the relationship to be shitty (although I do, I really do). It’s that Dorian is suddenly the only character Manon gets to interact with in any meaningful way.

Like, are you kidding?! I want to read about Manon and Elide, Manon and Asterin, Rowan and Lorcan, Aelin and Lysandra, Aelin and Nesyrn, even if it’s not romantically (although some of them, like Manon and Elide, absolutely should have been, and the fact that not only was that ship very thoroughly sunk, but also they didn’t even get to TALK after QoS, felt like a real slap in the face to gay fans, but I digress), because those pairings previously had hella complexity and drama. But we don’t get to.

And this trend that’s so painfully present in the last two books Sucks for two reasons: one, every relationship that isn’t romantic (which were previously some of the most interesting ones) is abandoned so that more time can be made for The Hets™ and two, the relationships that are romantic, now the only ones left, are totally fucking boring and predictable!! If two characters are interacting at any point (if one is male and the other is female, of course) then you know for a fact that they’re not only love interests, but endgame.

And that makes me not care even when there is drama between them. Elide giving Lorcan the cold-shoulder for three hundred pages, and Manon and Dorian arguing, and Aedion being cruel to Lysandra weren’t compelling narratives to me like they should have been, because the whole time I was just thinking “but it doesn’t matter. I know it’s still endgame. There are no stakes here whatsoever; it’s a done deal.” Whereas Chaol and Celaena’s devestating breakup in CoM felt like (and was) suuuuper Real. An all-in bet on the wrong person. Crazy shit.

And not that I think two characters should never have a happy ending together (I really like rowaelin and nestaq and I would have loved malide!) but imagine how much cooler and subversive and entertaining it would have been if Elorcan, which seemed soooo totally cute and endgamey and borderline like fanfiction throughout all of EoS just ended forever right there and then on the beach, with Elide turning to Lorcan and saying “I hope you spend the rest of your miserable, immortal life suffering. I hope you spend it alone. I hope you live with regret and guilt in your heart and never find a way to endure it” - and BAM. She never speaks to him again. He’s dead to her.

I mean, talk about shock value! (See, Sarah, you can have shock value without killing of a person of color to make a white character sad 🙃). And I totally get that relational twists like that alienate fans more than just going the expected route and having them kiss and make-up does (I mean, the ending of Chaolaena in QoS certainly did, Jesus Christ) but I, Bella aelinbitch, personally live for that shit, and isn’t it only fair that all media cater directly and specifically to me? Lmao. But seriously, I do think it’s objectively more interesting, and that it keeps readers on their toes (I was on my ASS in EoS and KoA. Like. I was flat on my back sinking into the Earth).

And there are still sort of… glimmers of the old way she wrote in the first few books, but it just feels like a tease rather than something that’s really explored and indulged in the way it was before, and it just ends up being more frustrating (like what was the point of Manon and Dorian not getting married at the end of KoA if I would bet my life savings that in World of Tog it’ll be confirmed that they’re either married or still together) and sometimes downright problematic? Like to return to a previous example, I think all the drama between Aedion + Lysandra was a result of Sarah’s previous (good) instincts to shake stuff up and complicate the character dynamics, but it backfires because when they end up together, it’s not ever… worked out? Or addressed? If you create really intense drama between two people, then that needs to show up in their relationship, no matter how happy they end up together. It doesn’t just disappear.

And despite the fact that her understanding of that concept (that shit between two people doesn’t just disappear like magic) is one of my absolute favorite things about the first few books, Sarah even went as far as to use the last two books to retcon some of the original complexity away, which makes me want to rip out my hair!! Like Aelin at the end of KoA just going “Love you Chaol and Love you Dorian xoxoxoxoxox best friends forever!!!” instead of having, like, any type of mixed feelings about the way these boys treated her? I mean, come on! 100 pages earlier Chaol was openly saying she should die instead of Dorian! Why is everything just peachy-keen instead of fraught with tension!! (I know why. I know. It’s because she introduced way too many characters/POVs/storylines as the series went on and didn’t know what to do with them all besides sideline the nonromantic ones and pair off everyone else boy-girl boy-girl down the line). Or if it has to be peachy-keen, why is the peachy-keeness never critically examined as, perhaps, a repressive mechanism for Aelin to avoid dealing with painful truths from her past? Now that would be interesting.

(My ideal World of ToG would be just a transcript of the characters’ therapy sessions where Aelin realizes that her insistence that “Chaol and Dorian Are Her Friends!” is actually a way to keep herself safe emotionally and that she has plenty of reasons to hate them, and Lysandra realizes she should divorce Aedion lmao).

Anyway tldr: The variety, complexity, depth, and unpredictability of the relationships in Throne of Glass was simultaneously the most realistic (sometimes relationships of all kinds fall apart or veer off in unexpected directions and love is temporary and the boy you met in the first chapter isn’t actually your soulmate and it doesn’t mean he’s a villain) and the most gripping and dramatic (I would have been totally chill if maeve and erawan weren’t a thing and tog was just like a medieval soap opera, that’s how entertaining the character dynamics were) thing about the series, and to lose that in the last two books because of Heterosexuality (and introducing too many POVs and not knowing what to do with them all)…. kinda devastating.

This ended up being waaaaaay more complaining than it was talking about what I loved, but the only reason it bothers me so much is because it used to be so good!!! So just imagine the inverse of all the frustration I just vomited into this ask and you’ll have a good idea of how much I loved the series when things weren’t this way.

#im SO sorry for how shittily worded/ranty/emotional/long this is but *antoni from queer eye voice* a shitty YA series is actually something #that can be so personal...#greatest hits: hot takes

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cawthelesbian · 6 years

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Have you ever just met someone who you could understand so easily and not constantly feel like a huge burden to them all the time? Sure, there are times when you do feel like a burden but that's usually when you're alone because they're working a on project or asleep but when you're talking to them and spending time with them? They make your heart nearly burst, your cheeks flush, and your laugh so loud that it's hideous but you don't care because that joke was just so bad that the laughter couldn't help but flood out of your throat. You don't fight a lot, not nearly as anyone would think given the fact you're like complete opposites, in fact you haven't in the 13 months that you've known them? The closest you've ever gotten is jokingly argue about how supernatural stuff isn't at all weird and they hardly have to worry about being possessed by a demon because they definitely don't exist and why would they want you as a vessel but you both just end up cracking grins and releasing blubbly laughter instead across the entire conversation. You know when something is wrong and for the first time in your life, you don't feel the shame well up inside and you can admit freely without anxiety crawling at the pit of your stomach, "I feel bad" or "I think I'm having an episode" knowing that the judgement won't arrive or happen and instead they'll say, "baby, come here" and "its okay, i love you". How about constantly talking and joking about one day moving to their city to live with them and attending college with them and how you can just see the future with them in it without a doubt? You don't even have to hope, you just know. Do you have someone wholl cuddle with you on the couch and watch your favorite show with you despite it sometimes having violence and they can't stand that but they'll try it just for you? Have you ever met someone who was willing to spew constant support and loving messages to you when you feel absoutely horrible about yourself? Or someone who is determined to make you love the parts of yourself as you beg to differ, claiming you're a horrible person undeserving of them but they'll shit you up with "I'll fight you" every time you begin. Have you had someone get on skype with for two hours and a half to complain about someone who is ruining you both from the inside out you turn it into a conversation full of laughter and silliness? And then you continue to skype call after that and you can't help from smiling and laughing and rolling your eyes once their voice floods through the headphones you have in? Have you met someone who was flying to a place with a 6-hour timezone difference for two weeks and you both are constantly saying "I miss you" because god darn it, you do! Have you tweeted about you missing them because you hate being away from them?

You can't exactly explain how much you mean together in words or help people understand how important they are to you because they aren't you although you wish they knew what it was like. But there's one word to explain what you are.

Soulmates, that's what you are.

And I can't believe I have all of this with @danerkuu and I'm so incredibly grateful and in love with her, you have no clue. She's my soulmate and I want to spend every aching second with her because we're so intertwined in each other lives and if we moved too far apart, I'm pretty sure the Earth would start to rip apart.

I just wanted to make this post so Dan could see it in a little bit so she knows how much she means to me even though she surely understands that just like I understand how much I mean ti her but I just wanted to say:

Dan, Mahal kita.

You're beautiful just the way you are, I accept you as just as you are because who you are makes you the person I love. I never thought I could look at myself in the mirror and like myself but I did, you made my self-confidence slowly blossom in my writing, in my looks, in my jokes, and so much more I can't begin to list on this site because it would be far too long. You were the reason I stopped self-harming and while I constantly think about giving it all up and relapsing, I think about you and the promise I made and how much I hurt you when I tell you I did it again like I did last time. I'll spare you all the pain I can, honestly I'll do anything in my power to make you happy and smiling freely without hesitation.

I hated myself and I constantly wanted to die because of my past, because of my family, because of every torturous thing that was happening but then you pop up and change my world. No, you didn't pop up. You were there, for a while but we grew closer once I said I had a crush on this girl in our groupchat who half a year later dumped me and admitted she never felt such a way for me but you were there, then and now, constantly wanting to help me begin to love myself. It's a slow process but you're here for it all, you constantly say that. You see me as some luminary, as if I'm some hero who changed your life and while I constantly can't believe that, you'll say I'm wrong and you're right.

But you help push me towards my will to live and I had it back all thanks to you and I began to live for myself because I wanted a life with you, with someone I love and cared so much for who I have no doubt in my mind cares just as much about me. I'm not good at loving myself, frankly I suck at it and you know this but people can change and I can try, expections is what I will define. I'll learn to love myself, even the aclaimed ugly and dirty parts about myself.

Darling, your heart is all I own but it's all I'll ever want. You are all I'll ever want because I love you so much, sometimes it's a little overbearing but I love it either way. Honestly, sometimes I ask myself 'What do I do with a girl like you?' But I know, we're our own love song and story and no one can beat this. I'm happier with you, this is the most fun I've ever had, love. Sure, we fell in love in a mysterious way but I can't help but fall in love with you over and over and every single day again and again. So please, take me into your loving arms and place your head on my beating heart and I'll be thinking, 'Maybe we found love just right where we are.'

We'll never be water under the bridge because I'm the one for you and you're the one for me because after all, why have we've been through what we've been through if we weren't? We'll never pretend like we don't want anhthing and we don't let each other down which I'll admit is rare in a relationship. But it's no life to live on the run, I just want your love and I have it dearest.

I always thought that I might be bad and sure, that might be true because maybe some of your real life friends or family might come to hate me but when I'm with you, constantly wondering 'what makes me special to her?' but I feel like I'm doing something right with you. The red flags look so much more fun with you and I can't help but want to share my love ever since you ripped that cellotape off of my heart.

But I wanted to ask you something so here it goes:

Darling, would you be so kind as to go on a date with me on a lovely night under the City Of Stars?

I'd love to take you one day, afterall, we are planning to live with each other one day.

So say yes, bugger because there's no one I'd rather be with. Slow dance with me underneath the twinkling lights in the dark sky so why don't you take the chance? I've got the moves that I'd like to prove. Because honestly, I'm such a fool for you.

x Caw

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unproduciblesmackdown · 6 years

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tfw hating life enough for a reeadmooore

‪yesterday afternoon i’d blocked out 3 pgs in my sketchbook & by that night i was thinking like well i’m so close to finished the sketchbook finally (ive been using it about a yr and a half by now) that i could just stop drawing when i hit the end there‬

but i’d mentioned the impending end of my sketchbook space a friend is already in the process of sending over some they havent ever used so that will at least mean if i stop drawing it’ll just have to be because i want to lol

like in this case it’s special b/c of course i’ve had periods where i’m like smh what if i just don’t draw anymore, but that’s tended to be about being frustrated w some element or other of it all. this time it was mostly just that every day of my life i have a tiny bit less motivation or energy or etc. yesterday i was thinking all day about offing myself, which i’d done the day before, and done today too

like, it’s nothing new, i’ve been hating being alive and wanting to kms and only moving in the direction of less disappointment to more disappointment and having to care less about things i previously cared about because for one reason or another things get to a point where it only adds frustration to my life anymore

but despite depression and wanting to die and life being miserble all being Not New, that doesn’t mean that it doesnt matter anymore, because after day after day after day after day after day of it for years and years, you’re in a worse place than you were a while back, even if you do feel the same. even a single day of wishing you were dead the whole time is shitty enough. feeling overall like even if you’re in a good mood now, you know your life is trash and you’re going to go back to feeling bad soon, is also shitty enough

like the thing that drawing had going for me is that, like reading and writing sometimes and even some other shit, it’s something i like to do. i do it for myself, really. but it helps that its the way i trick ppl into being here in the first place to see anything i’m talking about. i have really crap appeal. i mean i’m bad at being appealing thru shit i draw, but it’s still way more of something anybody wants vs like five yrs worth of my text posts. like...i have over 10x more followers than i did on a blog where i rarely drew anything ever

but anyways despite me drawing b/c i enjoy it, i enjoy enjoying things less. always in the middle of that “loss of interest in pleasure” life lol.......it doesn’t really matter how long i do or don’t keep drawing, b/c i mean, it doesn’t much matter to me whether i’m having fun or not. i can be enjoying drawing and still wanting to die, because that’s whats happening lol.....nothing that’s a personal factor of my life is all that important to me, because my personal existence is not that important to the person living it

also it sure hasnt helped that my sense of things like whether my life can get better or i’ll have the opportunity to pursue my nonexistent dreams or live an ideal version of my life that also doesn’t exist are all at all-time lows and only just getting lower day by week by month by year. the only way i can even look at cheering myself up is from a day-to-day perspective. and i can have a slightly more fun day than usual and then be extra down on the very next day b/c of how being a bit less numb means you’re crap-feeling emotions are now game too. and i’m very aware of how, if you’re not in a position that insulates you enough, if things get worse for you, that makes “things getting worse for you” more likely, and it’s an exponential drop that gets harder and harder to climb out of, and even if you move back up a notch out of good luck, you’re still just as likely to be knocked back down to where you were. the odds of me suddenly not only not fucking hating being alive but also having a life that doesnt fucking make me hate being alive? that’s a funny joke

‪also it’s frustrating that whether i feel good or miserable on any given day only really exists if i say something about it in a post like this lol... like i might feel awful one day but if i dont have it in me to spend ages writing about it, which is difficult also b/c putting feelings into words where ppl will only fully Get It if they’ve felt that way too, anyways if i dont write about how shitty i feel and post it then maybe later on when i’m feeling a little better or feeling a different kind of shitty, i also won’t be interested in being like “oh btw i felt awful the other day.” and if i don’t mention it, as far as everyone in the world knows, it was never a thing that happened, so it might as well not have. i mean, as a person i might as well not be happening, especially since i don’t want me to be happening lol‬

and like i was saying to someone the other day, its a lot harder via text to talk about shit b/c like, if you’re with a friend in person, you can talk abt boring or silly things and its easy and makes a good conversation. whereas talking via twitter means it would be clunky and time consuming to layout exactly had empty and depressing my existence is, and silly shit isn’t even worth the energy when you’re having a convo w lengthy gaps in it, so you can only really talk about the broadest, most interesting shit. which i don’t have much of, oh well

i do like talking and talking to people actually, it’s just rough when it’s all a few ppl online, even though i alsp extremely appreciate those people and enjoy the talking. it’s like, chatting to ppl online is like a piece of chocolate cake. it’s delicious and you love it, but it would be amazing if it was the extra bonus on top of getting solid meals every day, instead of it being the only thing you have to eat and you get it maybe once or twice a week and it’s still wonderful and is all the more valuable for it, but it isnt the same as getting enough to eat always, or Knowing you’ll keep getting enough to eat

anyways my social life is always its own special kind of depressing, even when i AM in the same place as friends. you’d have a hard time finding a situation where the concept of What I Have To Say seems interesting or even relevant to other ppl. and im not sure i’ve ever been in groups where i feel totally comfortable with everyone there and don’t feel out of place. so talking about the idea of knowing you always have access to someone to talk to or be with in person or having friends who you know you can hang out with and they actually like you and you still expect to have them a few yrs down the road—all that’s always been a “well, in theory i mean” or “at least, i imagine it would be like that” issue for me

tbh i generally feel the most comfortable enjoying myself when i do something alone; maybe it’s because i have more experience of ppl im around treating me really shittily than treating me well

ohhhhhh wellllllllllllllll what else do i have to talk about. hmmm the fact that feeling like i wanna die only seems to be regarded as an issue of “well are you gonna or not,” aka if you havent its a Victory and a happy situation instead of it being a matter of EVERY DAY I’M A CONSCIOUS ORGANISM I WISH I WAS DEAD AND MY EXISTENCE HAS BEEN HEADED IN THAT DIRECTION FOR AT LEAST THE LAST HALF OF IT

like how heartwarming that i’ve been actively suicidal for how many years? 6? 8? but i havent yet!! i always want to but just never get around to it and so this time for sure lol no more fooling around!! oh dammit and there goes another birthday still alive. like this is some elusive new years resolution or novel i mean to write.

funny i mention it because there’s practically nothing anymore that i want to do. even if i THOUGHT my life would ever become okay, i want fuckall out of it. i only exist, baby............and it’s like i said earlier, whenever i try to come up with a sad amount of potential motivations NOT to die, i have to realize that none of the shit is actually for me, or directly about me, or centered on me. like, this shit lost its charm ages ago.

well anyways. i suppose thats all i can think to say now. and it doesn’t make a difference whether i talk about my shitass existence and how crap i feel or not. it just gives the chance for a bit of it to exist in the world via a few other ppl being aware of it for a few minutes maybe, because who DOESNT want to thoroughly read a shit essay by some random weirdo about how everything sucks. the end

#i was innovative and typed this in twitter dark mode so my phone could have a break from me embedding the keyboard in the screen #anyways i wanna dye 😂😂😂

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thoughtcock · 3 years

Text

Post breakup reflection

1. What was my role in the demise of this relationship?

Many times, he has expressed to me that I am not fulfilling his needs enough and that he’s way more giving than I am in the relationship.

For example, he expects sex at least 3-4 times a week, and uses sex as a way to destress himself. For me, working full time with irregular schedules makes it pretty difficult for that to commit to this much sexy time. Plus, when I’m stressed, sex is the last thing I would think of. As such, I felt guilty and pressured whenever I can’t seem to satisfy him physically. It’s like I’m expected to still give a blowjob and whatever after a long, hectic and possibly even traumatising day at work. During the whole period of dating I felt like I partially lost interest in sex. Not just because of work stress, but I’m sure he played a role in making me feel like this as well. As a result, sometimes our times in bed can feel "boring” or I just seem to feel pain/discomfort from sex. To him, being unable to satisfy him made him feel upset, and he would be meaner to me as a result. Honestly, 1-2 times a week is more than enough for me, but sometimes he made me feel like I never tried, and that hurts but I guess that disinterest has caused the downfall. He said so much hurtful things to me in retrospect, and I can’t believe I just took in everything he said and thought we could work this out again.

He thinks I’m too passive and quiet, always being unable to speak my mind and engage in deep conversations with him. But again, I always felt like I am trying my best, its just I’’m so tired from work and I physically just dont have the energy to keep having deep philosophical conversations over and over again. Sometimes I would just like my downtime to be chill, making dumb jokes and just doing mindless stuff together. I would admit that it can be difficult for me to speak my mind at times, but I really really really did try my best to open up as best as I can. I am not sure how else I can be open already to be honest. And the more he demands that from me, the more emotionally tiring it is for me. Because I really am not sure where I have gone wrong in that regard, but I just know what I’m not doing enough to him has caused the downfaill of our relationship.

The nature of my job has also caused a lot of friction between us as well. There were times where I would unreasonably make him translate a lot of sound bites for me, lots of last minute OT days that left him waiting for me, lots of anxiety on my end that he can’t seem to help me with. In all honesty, he has never been that respectful to my job, and questioned my skills as a reporter. But for me, I just wished he couldnt understand why I felt like this and just be there for me (without making fun of me) when things got tough. It is my fault to an extent because I sometimes cannot control my emotional outbursts during work and that work always seems to throw me a curveball and that I am constantly seeking help from him.

It fucking sucks but I guess its really our needs clashing against each other, and it feels so fucked up to admit that I let myself be treated like that and I question myself if I will ever be enough.

2. What can I do differently in my next relationship?

Writing this out made me realise that all these demises are really out of my control. But I know there’s some aspects of myself that i can change. I agree that I’m a passive and less giving person, in which I swore to myself that I would change when we patched back again. I guess it was too late because you broke my heart really soon after that.

I would do so much differently. I would never ever let myself feel small, belittled or get fucked over by a man again. I would find someone who can compliment my lifestyle and needs, and vice versa. I would find someone who makes me believe that I am enough, that I don’t have to fight so hard just to maintain the relationship. I would be more guarded, as I now realise that even the most unexpecting of people can do horrible things like cheating, but not too guarded that I lose my ability to be vulnerable and have trust issues with the guy (I should never feel like i have trust issues if I’m with someone who truly loves me). I would never settle for men who are not willing to commit, or second guess their commitments halfway through the relationship. I will never be with someone who has cheated, or are still in contact with their toxic exes. I would not be with someone overly religious. I would never be with someone who pressures me for more sex.

As for myself, I want to be more giving to the person who is deserving of it. I want us to plan for our goals and future together. I want to be more communicative even when the times are tough. I want to shower him with more loving words, little handmade gifts, acts of service to show that I’m thinking of him more. I want to be more appreciative of their presence and love, never to take them for granted. I want to spend more quality time with him, while doing my best to balance my work well and not unload shit on him too much.

3. Have I been realistic in my expectations?

I realised that by being attached to someone, I tend to let my expectations go down without even realising, as I think my needs are not as important for now. For example, I would prefer to rent a house together and have a chat on how we can align our life goals together, our financial goals. If marriage is on the line, sure I am open to it. I would prefer to have pets over children anyday as well. I am also willing to move out to anywhere, like a bonnie and clyde do or die moment together. Our lives didn’t have to be stable exactly, I just needed a stable person that can do life with me even with all the crazy unexpected adventures ahead.

In hindsight, my ex was suddenly unwilling to do all of that with me. He gave me excuses like him still finding a job and not thinking of the future, and later just outrightly admitted that he didn’t want a lifestyle like that. And here I was, being naive enough to accept his words, thinking that we can talk about this again in the future, when his career is more stable bla bla bla. And in the end, that caused us to break up.

I would say at my age, my expectations are pretty reasonable, its everything a long-term couple would have to face eventually. It just too bad I’ve been dating people who seem to have commitment issues or “cannot give me what I want”. But what I want is pretty ordinary in any healthy relationship,.........

4. Would I date me?

I would say yes, I think knowing myself, I am a more fun person who can live a life free of guilty conscience. I am not exactly a morally bad person I think? I think I am a mentally strong person despite all of life shits thrown at me, and I am a committed person once I think I am the person for me. Just look at me in my previous relationships, trying to stick by the people I thought who loved me until they told me they couldn’t. Also, my looks ain’t that bad if I take care of myself well

Of course, there’s some aspects of me that may not be dateable. For example, I’m messy, disorganised, overly emotional at times. I may be passive at times as well. I am not exactly the kindest person as well, I take more than I give. Oh well, no one is perfect right?

5. Who was he really?

Wow... a miserable, narcissistic, cynical and all round horrible person. I might be biased because he cheated of me and broke my heart, but I really never expected him to be this heartless. To be asking me “Why are you so upset since its not your fault”?/?? Like hello are you dense or stupid or just fucking ruthless? I am upset and heartbroken because I LOVED YOU. Yes, you warned me this is the kind of person you were, but yet I am so dumb to love you and accepted your flaws. I thought my love was enough for you. Oh well, at least when the next person tells me that, I would gladly fuck off next time, because who knows when they will use that against me. Thank you for showing your true colors again and again. I think I was just blinded because I accepted the fucked up person as you are. Fuck you, you miserable shithead and for telling me all these lies at the start of our relationship. fuck you for rushing into this, and pressuring me to date and have sex with you even though I had my reservations and I would have taken things slow. Fuck, typing this out just made me realise how much I gave in to you. And that makes me sad because I comprimised so many of my beliefs just to get together with you. You really did make me feel like a fool in the end, fuck you.

6. What is my limiting belief?

Living in this city can be such a lonely thing. When I was single, I let myself do situationships and FWBs and hook-ups, but all these just served to make me feel empty in the end. I thought I could be happy on my own, but thinking about it now, I had the help of many passing men in my life to distract things. Now that I’m not about that lifestyle anymore, it really does make me feel small and empty and lonely here. I guess my limiting belief would be that no matter how hard I try to want to be okay with being alone, I am still scared that I would actually end up alone, even though being alone may not be such a bad thing.

My limiting belief is also that I think I might never be able to find someone who 100% compliments me. Idk why that scares me so much and its such a sad thought, which is why I tend to settle and comprimise for people who may not be so good to me. Will I be able to find someone that aligns with my life goals, while being able to understand and connect to me? Whoever you are, I hope I can find you someday.

7. What are my plans for me?

It does seem tempting to jump back to dating apps in hopes to find someone again, but I know that is not going to help in the long run. I guess i have to use the next couple of months to really re-evaluate my life and what I want next. Perhaps it is to focus on my career while learning how to manage the hectic-ness that comes ahead, and to form healthy habits like exercise and regular therapy to improve on my well-being. I also want to take the time to connect with my friends and meet new ones again, they have been so helpful to me, being there for me at my worst when I felt like this pain was just too much to bear. I realise now I do have a very good group of friends, and I want to be there for them even if I get into another relationship.

It kinda sucks having to go through this process of breakup again, not going to lie, but I want to take the time to have a clean slate of mind before jumping back to the dating game. and this time, I am not playing any games or taking shit from people who don’t matter. I want to learn how to respect myself enough to walk away from shitty people and situations, I want to learn how to protect my heart better, I want to be a better person for me. I want to love myself more so I can eventually love someone else just as much as I love me. And if that someone never comes? I want to learn to truly accept being on my own. I thought I had that nailed down previously but I guess some lessons need to be re-learnt again.

If time goes well, I should be able to date again in a few months. I dont really think I have to take many months again to see if Im ok with a relationship again. Because I know its something I want to pursue at this point, and this process may take a long time anyway. So in the meantime, I will just learn how to take everything with a pinch of salt while I put myself out there again.

I am proud of myself for trying to take the healthy way out and trying to heal healthily from this, even though this path feels so lonely at times. But I have to do it for me...

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