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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years

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“I wish I knew how to help you” - Batsis x Batfamily

Synopsis : Everyone has tough times at some point in their lives. Bruce Wayne most definitely knows that. But when his own daughter is going through a really rough patch, he finds himself not really knowing how to fix things...

This particular subject has been requested so many times (the earliest request dating from August 2018....mmmm..), so watch me butcher it with bad writing. I thought, given how I feel lately, it was the perfect time to finally write it. I hope you will like it (runs away to hide) :

TW : Anxiety, depression, mention of suicide.

My Masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives.

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There hasn’t been a lot of time in his life where Bruce Wayne felt so completely lost. Of course, he would be lying if he was saying he never got confused, or if sometimes, he wasn’t quite sure what to do, what to say...

But if there was one thing he was great at, it was problem solving.

Even in desperate situations, he could always trust his analytical and collected mind to help him out.

In fact, Bruce Wayne could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times he felt utterly lost, defenseless, and couldn't figure out a solution to his troubles. Not even a questionable one, like bottling up all of his feelings and pretending he doesn’t care while he’s screaming and dying inside.

He recollected exactly five times of such an event occurring in his life :

The day his parents died.

The day he realized he couldn’t save everyone.

The day Dick came to live at the Manor, and Bruce realized he had no idea how to raise a child.

The day Jason died.

The day he saw Damian kill.

And now, spilling onto another hand :

...The day he realized he had no idea how to help his daughter, you, with her mental health struggles.

Each time he had been completely lost, there was someone to help him.

For his parents’ death, it was Alfred.

For the day he realized even as Batman he would never be able to save everyone ? It was Commissioner Gordon, and his years of being a cop in a city like Gotham.

Dick himself, and Alfred of course, quickly helped Bruce to understand what it meant to be a father.

Tim’s arrival helped him grieve Jason.

And all his children, from Dick to Cass, and the experience he acquired trying to raise them helped him manage Damian’s problems. It was a plus for sure, that the boy wanted to be helped.

But with you...Any attempt of his trying to breach the subject would result in you brushing his concerns off, getting frustrated, or sighing “I’m fine” and leaving to isolate yourself in your room.

Sometimes, it felt like you really wanted to talk to him. Like you wanted to vent, and tell him what was wrong. But you always seemed to decide against it, maybe in fear of bothering him ?

Most of the time, it felt like you were living with your anxiety in peace. Like you greeted it like a good friend. Bruce had always known you were a rather stressed individual, but you always held yourself up so well ?

Most of the time, it felt like you were perfectly fine. How could he have known ? How could he have known you weren’t ? Ah...but maybe the signs were all there all along...

And Bruce just didn’t know how to help, when even you, didn’t seem to want the help...But maybe that was the trick ? To keep trying no matter what ?

At first, it didn’t seem to him like this would be an issue that could render him absolutely lost like this. And he hated the fact that he thought that.

Because it stemmed from one pervasive thought that made him despise himself : “Her fight with her own mind aren’t as bad as Damian’s, Cass’s, or Jason’s trauma. Aren’t like what Dick went through. It will be easier to fix.” And maybe you felt that, maybe that’s why you wouldn’t let him help ?

Why would it be easier anyway ?

Because you had a calmer childhood. Of course, being Batman’s daughter meant you definitely went through things most children will never experience. But compared to your siblings, you had a somewhat normal childhood.

The biggest trauma of it being the fact your mother, Selina Kyle (author’s note : I’m not particularly talking biological child here by the way, just to make sure y’all can all identify to this. Thought I’d mention it), decided to leave you in your dad’s care and had a very little part in your upbringing up until you turned 12 or so, which is the time she came back. You never seemed to even be mad about this. It always felt like you knew your mom had her own battles to win, that she wasn’t quite ready to have a child, and you forgave her as soon as she came back into your life.

But maybe that was the problem ? The fact Bruce always thought you were strong enough to handle things ? You always seemed to hold your own. You’d always been fiercely independent. Like you never needed help.

When Dick had fits of anger, you’d just stay quiet and withhold it.

When Jason was sometimes overzealous, you’d just stay calm and collected.

When Tim had massive freak outs at times because he felt he wasn’t enough, you’d just reassure him and stay grounded.

When Cass would have nightmare at night and be so scared she couldn’t find her voice again, you’d stay up with her and make sure to soothe her back to sleep, even if it meant not sleeping yourself.

When Damian would realize how much he missed out in life, in his childhood, and how little he knew about the real world...You’d be there, holding his hand while explaining in details why he felt the way he felt.

Even Duke, who arguably was the “sanest” of them all, had times where things were too much for him, and you’d magically appear by his side to help him through it.

You always seemed to be the one everyone relied on.

The one that has it all figured out, that has it together. The one most like Bruce, able to control her emotions. But the one even better than him, because you could also help others understand how they felt.

And that was why Bruce never really noticed your every day struggles.

Come to think of it, the fact you were always so on point and great in your explanations as to why someone felt the way they did, probably meant you felt like them before...

Oh god. God, Bruce hated this. Hated himself, even.

Hated the fact that he thought your fights with your own mind weren’t as bad as what Damian or Dick went through, as bad as Cass or Jason’s traumas. As bad as Duke witnessing what happened to his parents, because you...Well you still had both of them. And they were on good terms, now.

He hated the fact that it took you almost dying for him to realize you had a real problem too. For him to realize your apparent “I can handle my own” attitude was all a fragile facade that could break any time.

He hated the fact that he had to witness you almost letting yourself die, to realize this...The scene kept replaying in his mind.

A night out as vigilantes. Part of a building collapsing. You pushing a woman out of its way, but then just staring up at the crumbling wall that would crush you, not moving. And the state of daze you were in, when you found yourself in your father’s arms as he saved you in extremis from a certain death that you were clearly letting happen.

You later said it was a mistake. It was a simple mistake.

But Bruce, from that point and on, knew better. There had been a time, not long after his parents’ death, where he wondered what even was the point in living anymore. Where he found himself in a similar situation too, where he could save himself and yet stayed in front of the death threat. Alfred saved him at the time, gave him a good scolding which Bruce didn’t even register.

He recognize that look in your eyes.

Because he had the same one, many years ago, before he had a chance at having a family again. Before you, Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, Damian...It was a look that meant : “What if I just let it happen, what if I end the pain by ending it all ?”.

And Bruce hated the fact that it took him witnessing this look in your eyes for him to finally realize you needed help. It tore his heart apart.

He hated the fact it took him so long to finally act upon it, to finally do something for you. No matter how lost he was as to where to even begin.

And so here he was, on a calm night in Gotham, sitting on a roof and researching on the internet what can be done to help people riddled with anxiety and such. He knew you enough to know you’d never accept to go see a therapist. But maybe...maybe he could help just as good ?

He knew how he got rid of his own anxiety.

The same way he got rid of many other things...He submitted himself to a strict training allowing him to control all of his emotions, shutting some away when needed.

But he couldn’t even imagine making you go through the things he made himself do. Not his daughter. Not any of his children.

There was a reason, the training he gave all of you wasn’t even 10% of what he used to do. Because he had nothing to live for except becoming strong enough to bring back justice to Gotham. Because he had nothing to look forward to except the fact that he was going to make sure no kid in that god forsaken city would go through what he went through ever again...

He gave himself the ability to turn into a machine. To shun all feelings away. Because he had a mission.

He would never, ever want any of his children to feel like this. Even if he managed to, in appearance, make himself feel nothing...It would always cause him tremendous pain. He knew how this felt, to force yourself to control everything.

No. His method was most definitely not fit for his daughter. He did not want her to become like him. And so, scrolling through forums, websites and blogs, he tried to find the best way he could to help his kiddo. It seems like there was almost like a “list” of things every person suffering from anxiety went through every day...

Wondering if your loved ones are upset with you.

“Are you mad at me ?”

Is the text you send to your oldest brother, Dick, immediately regretting it.

Because now, you were sure he’d find you annoying, pushy or anything of the like. Of course, Dick would never. But your mind was telling you he would.

He hadn’t responded to your text in a day, while he would usually be very reactive, and you didn’t need more to think he hated you, now.

Knowing there is no reason for you to feel that way.

Knowing for Dick to be “mad” at his little siblings, it would take a lot (you weren’t even sure you’ve ever seem him mad at any of you, except maybe the times you put yourselves in danger while he’s your team leader, but then it’s more a problem of being mad at himself than really at you.

Yet you cannot control it. You cannot. You are sure now, that he hates you.

Your father doesn’t understand why you’re so morose that day, and why you snap at everyone. He doesn’t understand, and you don’t tell him. And Bruce just ends up thinking you’re in a bad mood and leave you alone, while you desperately want to talk.

You want to tell him that you think Dick hates you. You want to hear him reassure you, even if technically, there is no need for reassurance. Of course your brother doesn’t hate you, he’s probably just busy, he just started his new job in Bludhaven, and moved in a new apartment and...Yes.

Rationally, of course you knew your brother, who has always been there and never shied away from saying he cared about you and love you, doesn’t hate you.

Yet you cannot help but think you did something wrong. You cannot help but think maybe he does. And you want to tell your dad, and have him reassure you, even if you don’t need to.

But instead, you snap at him. Instead, you push him away. Because you couldn’t handle your dad too thinking your annoying. Of course, he would think you’re annoying, a nuisance, if you told him you think Dick hates you...because obviously he doesn’t.

It was a vicious circle. So instead of possibly-but-probably-not-but-still-maybe be hurt, you pushed the one person you wanted close away, snapping at him and isolating yourself in your room.

TING ! Your phone, it’s ringing ! Oh please god, please be Dick !

It is your brother. He answered !

“Of course not ! Why would you think that ?”

You analyze every single word, and how he didn’t use an emoji, while he always does ! And the way he said “why would you think that ?”...he’s for sure mad at you now, and he thinks you’re the most obnoxious little sister that ever walked this Earth.

But you answer :

“Oh no reason lol. Hey wanna binge watch Gilmore Girls with me this week end ? Only you understand how a true masterpiece this show is.”

He doesn’t reply that day, and you think about it the entire night. He doesn’t come at the patrol of course, as again, he just settled in Bludhaven. And it starts. The spiraling of overwhelming feelings, the impossibility to let go of something.

You cannot think of anything else but sending another text to ask if he’s really not mad at you. You decide against it, because you don’t want him to think you’re annoying. Because you understand he has his own life now. Now that he moved from the Manor.

You understand he must be busy. That he has to settle in. That he doesn’t have to be available whenever you want, and that the fact he had always been up until now proved he was the best big brother anyone could ask for.

But you can’t help it. You think it must be you. That he’s not answering because it’s you.

And all of a sudden, you question every relationship you have. What if none of your siblings love you, and are just polite ? What if they’re lying because you’re really the only sibling out of all of you they don’t like and they’re just too nice to...Oh god. Your dad must hate you too.

Because you keep needing him to reassure you about stuffs. Ah yes, today you shunned him away, but sometimes, you guilt trip him so he says he cares about you. Or so he tells you nice things.

And suddenly, one of your biggest fear, the one where you ask for too much out of the people you love is back. And you cry. You cry all night. Because you have too many mood swings. You isolate yourself too much. But you don’t know, you don’t know how to make them see your fear of not being cared for...

And so you cry. Wondering over and over again “why am I like this ????” as you think all of your loved one are upset with you, and will never want to talk to you again.

Later in the day, Dick answers that he would love to watch GG with you, and there’s an emoji this time. Ah. So maybe he doesn’t hate you...

So many people wouldn’t even think this was a big deal, but for you...for you, it was...

Every small decision feels like it has life or death consequences.

You want to tell them. You want to tell them that’s why you couldn't choose what you wanted at the drive through fast enough. Why you stumbled on your words, and ended up blurting out : “Whatever Jason took !” because your taste in food was the closest to his.

You want to tell them, that even such a small issue, in your head, took a huge place. That you rehearsed what you were going to say when it would be your turn to speak to the waiter. That you got all tangled up, and didn’t ask what you actually wanted.

You want to tell them that sometimes, even the smallest “yes or no” question haunts you for days. That “what ifs” won’t let you alone.

You want to tell them, but instead you take the meal you didn’t really want, and eat it in silence, listening to everyone talking and enjoying this family moment. You stay quiet, your mind focus on how clumsy, dumb and useless you are.

Just because you couldn’t order something at the drive through.

You stay quiet, but your mind is racing about how much you suck. How you should get out of everyone’s way. Because you can’t even order food properly.

You feel guilty, because this is one rare family moment when you’re all together, and your siblings all have fun teasing each others, laughing and talking, while you just nod sometimes, smile, and die inside.

Just because you couldn’t order something at the drive through.

You think you’re absolutely insane. That you should be checked in in Arkham. You-

Bruce notices you’re quieter than usual. He notices you didn’t take your favorite burger. He wonders why, because he knows you really REALLY like that burger. Sometimes, he goes out of his way to go get you guys’ favorite food, and he knows that this burger is one of yours...

But he doesn’t dwell on it. Maybe you just wanted to change for once (which wasn’t much like you but oh well). And the fact you’re quiet ? Maybe you’re just lost in your own thoughts and day dreaming. After all, you do like to have some quiet and alone time, and this family dinner is happening on this time.

So Bruce doesn’t say anything, even if his guts tell him something is wrong.

Overthinking. Fearing something could go wrong.

You are in constant fear of what's going to happen if and when something happens to your dad ! Or your siblings ! What if you become homeless for some reasons ? What if you have no friends or family to return to ? What if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if what if...

Intrusive thoughts, they call them. And they don’t want to leave for sure. They’re persistant. They stay up until you overthink them to the point nothing makes sense anymore. To the dissociation.

And it makes your every day life a living nightmare.

Bruce, as he reads this part of an article on the internet, about how people suffering from anxiety are in a constant state of worry, feels his heart tighten at the mere idea you are going through this.

He knows you are. And he hates the fact it took him so long to realize because...

Not being able to control what's happening now or in the future.

Bruce could recollect so many times where, even as a child, you’d ask him questions like : “What happens after you die ?”, “What will happen to me when I get old ?” etc etc.

At the time, of course, he dismissed it as questions every kid asks. Wondering about the world around them. He never saw how much those questions would haunt you, how much sometimes, you couldn’t let go of things you perfectly knew you had no control over...

The signs were all there though.

You weren’t lost in day dreams, you were lost in nightmarish scenarios about what could possibly happen in the near future.

You were, every minute of every day, worrying about something that was currently happening, something that happened recently, or something that might happen in the next few moment, later the same day or in the future.

It was something you had to live with, and it never been just a child curiosity. As you grow up you stopped asking those questions out loud, didn’t mean they weren’t haunting you...

Making a mistake that will result in someone judging you.

You always had to be irreproachable.

You were a perfectionist.

A lot of time, people passed it as : “like father, like daughter.”

And Bruce should’ve known better...Why was he like this ? This part of him certainly didn’t stem from anything good. Yet he ignored the fact you acted exactly like him. The fact you were turning into him, on that front...

My brain is a TV and someone else has the remote.

... ... ... ...

************

Bruce had enough. He knew. He knew how you felt, and why you acted the way you did sometimes. And it was time. It was time to finally take action.

But he couldn’t do it alone. And he wouldn’t. In fact, they’d all be so mad, if he executed this plan on his own...

Because you. You were their precious sister.

They loved you, so much. And it would kill them, if they knew you really meant it, when you asked if they were mad at you. If they hated you. If they...

They always think you’re joking, or that you’re tired or something. That you have “mood swings”.

You don’t.

For you, all those issues are very real. But they don’t understand, because you’re always there to catch them, and they never expected you needed to be caught.

So when their father expose to them what he thinks is going on with them, and when they realize he’s right...

They feel crushed.

How ? How could they not notice their beloved sister was suffering so much ?

And so that day, they all swear that they are going to do everything in their power to help you. No matter what.

They will never give up on you.

No matter what..

************

“Why am I like this ? Why am I like this ? Why am I like this ?” You repeat to yourself, over and over again, as you feel your heart beat like crazy while it has no reason to.

While your chest hurt, and you feel the weight of anxiety on your shoulder, without even knowing why.

You keep telling yourself you suck, you keep being too harsh on yourself, and oh, oh if you only knew that your entire family right now, was plotting to help you feel better.

Unfortunately...

************

Dick’s antics soothe you for a bit, but as soon as he’s gone your heart goes wild again, refusing to stop, and your mind repeats bad thoughts to you.

The next day, Dick planned the PERFECT sister/brother day. Planning things to spend time with you, just like when you were little and it was just you and him.

It’s a perfect day indeed. Everything makes you forget your anxiety. You smile, for the first time in months since this weird extreme anxious state started.

Dick always knew how to make you laugh, and how to tease you just enough so that you wanted to show him what you were made of !

But once you’re home...

And Dick can try, try and try again, but no matter his effort, he can only relieve your pain when he’s around, and unfortunately, he isn’t always around.

************

Jason is patient, with you.

He listens, he empathizes and does not patronizes.

He’s there when you need him. He celebrates every small victory from you (like finally being able to order the burger you want). He encourages you, gives you all the hope he can. And it means a lot, coming from him.

Because Jason suffered a lot. He went through a lot. His death, and his traumatic return...

He tries to keep you hopeful. He is patient. Available. But he does things too well. You’re afraid he spends too much time with you, and forgets his own mental health. You know he loves to meditate, but haven’t seen him do it in ages.

Because he’s also keeping an eye on you. Your father probably told him the crumbling building debacle...And now he makes sure you’re ok.

But to the detriment of his own mental well being ?

You feel like you’re weighting him down. And slowly, he notices you’re avoiding him. And he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to push you, or force you to do anything...

************

It has always been easy, to talk to Tim.

Your brother is the only one in the family that did not become a Robin for personal reasons. Sure, he was struck with tragedy later in life (or he would never be your brother now...), but at the core of it...He was just a kid who wanted to help.

He was a fan of Batman, who really REALLY wanted to make himself useful. He became Robin, not because of any personal motivation but because he was just that selfless.

And so, it has always been easy to talk to Tim.

Which is why he’s surprised, when he realizes you’ve never told him about your anxiety. About your depressed thoughts. You vent a lot to him, but about small things. About things you can both laugh about.

It has always been easy to talk to Tim, and the fact you cannot address your anxiety problems tells him all the extent of it.

Tells him you’re truly suffering, and that he needs to get better.

To become an even better listener, for you. And as you witness him, just like Jason, sort of forgetting about his own well being, you cannot help but feel even worst...

They mean well. They mean so well. But you cannot stand them putting their own health on the line just for you. After all, you’re just a loser who doesn’t deserve any of those wonderful brothers and sister...

************

Duke tries to help you “temper your thoughts”.

His mom used to do that to him, as a child. He was always rather active, suffering from ADHD and such. In a lot of ways, his trouble resembled the ones you had with anxiety.

And he thought that maybe, helping you tempering your thoughts would be the best.

What does that even mean ? Well. Whenever he felt like you were anxious about something, scared or stressed, he would ask you if you were alright up until you’d finally tell him what was making you anxious.

And then he’d ask you the series of question his mom asked : “What’s the worst that can happen ? What’s the best that can happen ? What’s most realistic, or likely ?”...At first you didn’t really understand the point.

But soon enough, you got it. This was helping you turning your intrusive thoughts against themselves. Helping you see the good sides of things.

Unfortunately, just like with Dick’s technique of making you laugh and such, when Duke wasn’t around to remind you to consider the best, worst and most likely option...you forgot that trick.

************

"Let’s go to a quieter place, or go for a walk.”

Cassandra tells you, whenever she sees you get overwhelmed by something. And it works. It does.

You two just walk in silence, hand in hand.

Your sister’s presence reassuring, and warm. Her care for you sipping out of her very being, from her hand to yours.

“Let’s go to a quieter place, or for a walk.”

You go outside, and you don’t speak. She’s just here for you.

But she can’t always be around, can she ? She can’t always just magically appear next to you in moments of need, and say :

“Let’s go to a quieter place, or for a walk.”

But when she can. She does.

She knows when you get overwhelmed by sounds, by smells, by anything. And she brings you to places that makes you feel at peace.

Cassandra was never one to speak a lot, but she always understood.

************

Damian can’t help but feel sad that he, and the rest of the family, aren’t enough for you to feel better. That they can’t win against your depression and anxiety, no matter how hard they try.

And Damian. Oh Damian tries.

He makes sure you have everything you need. He makes sure to be there when it feels like you’re not feeling well, he follows you like a shadow and...

You both get more and more frustrated.

Damian puts a lot of effort into making you feel better, and you keep snapping at him, or pushing him away.

It’s because YOU’RE the big sister. YOU’RE the one who’s supposed to take care of him. But it seems like lately, Damian is obsessed with your well being, and he doesn’t even let you tuck him in anymore...He’s the one that comes tuck you in.

And deep down, you feel like it’s exactly what you need. You want to let your baby brother take care of you. And his worries are so sweet, and makes you feel all warm inside by how adorable this kid can be. How far he came back from.

Deep down.

But you’re not ready to admit you need help. Especially not from your 11 years old brother. No. He’s the one that needs the cuddles and the reassuring words. He’s the one that had it way tougher than you. And him taking care of you, although it feels nice, doesn’t feel right.

And it hurts, to see your little brother get sad because he can’t help you like he wants to. Because he thinks he’s not enough for you, and that’s why you’re feeling the way you are...

************

Nothing goes how they think it was going to go.

You do not get better right away. It doesn’t even feel like you’re getting better at all. On the contrary.

It feels like you push them away even more, that you become even more irritable, that...that...that you go further and further away from them.

And they don’t understand.

Even you, don’t understand.

Why do you feel so bad ? So Sad ? So anxious all the time ?

You don’t know. You don’t know. You don’t know.

“Why am I like this ? Why am I like this ? Why am I like this ?!”

You repeat this to yourself every day, without being able to find an answer.

And Bruce...Oh, your father came to the conclusion that the last and only option is that you need to go to therapy, you need professional help.

************

“What ? Why ? I’m fine dad !”

You say, anger pointing in your voice, as he tells you that.

“No you’re not, (Y/N). We can all see it. And there’s so much we can do we...I...”

There’s a silence. A heavy one. And it breaks Bruce’s heart, to see tears welling up at the corner of your eyes :

“It’s fine. I get it. I’m too much, aren’t I ? That’s why right ? I ruin you guys’ life ? You know, I noticed a shift not long ago. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, and I know you all get frustrated because you can’t. I swear I try dad. I swear I try to not get those bad thoughts. To not think you don’t love me, for whatever reason. To not think like I’m a burden. I swear I try to not be anxious. I try to not worry, about every little thing. I try so hard ok ?! But it doesn’t work ! And I know it’s wearing all of you down. I know it. But...I’m...It’ll be fine ! IT’LL BE FINE !!”

You scream those last few words, and a silence installs itself between you and your father.

Bruce just looks at you, and you cannot stand the pained look in his eyes. You never wanted your burden to transfer on your family like that...why ? Why did you get worst and made them notice you weren’t ok ? Why ?

Maybe it would’ve been better, if your dad didn’t see you about to get crush by this building, and hadn’t saved you. They’d have a-

“I won’t stop trying.”

Your father’s voice cuts your terrible thought, and you look up at him. He walked slowly to you, carefully, as if afraid to scare you. As if afraid you’re gonna “tt” him, and run to lock yourself in your room.

But for some reason, you don’t move. And you let him come close.

He brushes a few fingers on your cheek, as he used to when you were a child and unable to sleep. Him softly humming to you and brushing your cheeks slowly always made you fall right asleep...

“Until you feel better. And I will tell you over and over again that I love you and that I am here for you, if it’s what you need. I am your dad. I am here for you.”

And he understands your pain oh too well. It’s not because he managed to be able to shut his own mental health problems out, that he never feels them.

You are your father’s daughter. Unfortunately in that case.

Oh. Oh he wishes he could take on your pain. He could take on his shoulders your entire burden. He wishes it was only him, that felt that way. That you would never, ever feel anxiety, or depression again.

He knows it is not that easy. He understands.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Something breaks inside you. Something that was on the verge of shattering for years, but snapped only now.

“I just...I just wish I could help you. I just wish I knew how. I am trying too, (Y/N). And I won’t give up on you. No matter what you think. I will never give up on you.”

Those words. Those were so simple. Yet what you needed to hear for so long.

Because no matter your siblings’ effort, or Alfred’s, or your dad’s. Your friends at the Young Justice. Anyone you ever cared for...You always were afraid that one day, you’d be too much for them.

That one day, all your mood swings, pushing them away, venting and complaining often...would be too much. And that they’d leave you.

Alone forever.

“I’m not giving up on you.”

Coming from your dad. You knew he said the truth. You knew.

There’s a short silence. You look at your father, and even Queen Anxiety couldn’t make you think he wasn’t being genuine.

“You...That’s...I...”

Getting chocked up, you weren’t able to say anything, but he understood.

And he was there to catch you. You went right into his arms, and he held you tight, trying to convey to you all the unconditional love he has and will always have for you, no matter what.

No matter how much you push him away, how broken you get, how much you hate yourself and think you don’t deserve any kind of love...he’d always, ALWAYS love you. And would never give up.

“I’m here. I’m here. I will always be here.”

His voice was soothing. It has always been soothing. And he was there.

He was there.

“Thank you...”

You manage to whimper out, as he holds you against his heart.

And, finding it hard to reign his own emotions in (his children have always been the only ones who could cross all his walls and find the vulnerable Bruce who feels everything), Bruce repeated as much as you needed to hear that he was here.

He would always be here for you.

Always..

And the path to your recovery was now open.

__________________________________________________

Here we are. I am sorry if this is sort of...bluargh. Or not what you wanted. But I do hope you liked it. Haha I feel like this story is so ridiculous...I guess this feeling is in the theme eh..........Maybe it’s also because as usual, I wrote very late into the night, and sleep deprivation always make me feel like I do stupid things. Write terrible stuffs.

Reblogs and feedbacks are always welcomed ?

Haha. Convincing.

See you soon with another story, much lighter than this one for sure haha...

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rohanrider3 · 4 years

Text

Brace Yourselves, I have THOUGHTS on this guy

Okay so I just watched Wizards (Tales of Arcadia) and I, along with many other folks, adore one (1) wizard in particular--Hisirdoux Casperan, better known as Douxie. I’m sure you’ve seen the art, the posts, and, well, the internet lately.

BUT HERE’S THE THING. One of the (many) reasons I love this guy. He’s not what one typically gets in a main character, AND he’s very different than other protagonists we’ve met in Arcadia.

TLDR: Protective, kind-as-summer, ultimate “good older brother vibes” wizard who simultaneously 1) doesn’t think much of himself, 2) tries his hardest, and 3) is actually SUPER FREAKING POWERFUL is unique and I love him for all those reasons and more!! (Details (and spoilers) below the cut)

1: He’s young, yes, but he’s extremely experienced. He looks 19, but is 919. As the first episode shows, he’s been doing his best to live a good life and master magic for NINE CENTURIES. All the while looking like a kid! Douxie lived through the fall of Camelot, has seen technology blossom and evolve, AND has seen countless people come and go, all the while completely on his own except for Archie.

2: He’s extremely humble. He’s apparently been working odd jobs FOR ALMOST A MILENNIUM--so he can work from the shadows to protect people from terrors they don’t even know about--and works hard AT ALL OF IT. Menial jobs AND demon-fighting. First episode, he clearly WANTS to use magic to clean up the cafe (and as a former customer service worker I would have sold my wisdom teeth for magic, LET ALONE magic clean-up help!) but he refrains from doing so, because he really took Merlin’s advice to heart.

(Side note: IMO, Merlin’s an ASS. But the advice he gives in the beginning of “Wizards”--along the lines of “Relying on magic alone isn’t enough, first you have to master how to live well and THEN you can master magic, hard work is extremely important and not to be skipped”--is good. AND DOUXIE STICKS WITH IT FOR OVER 900 YEARS. OF HIS OWN VOLITION. Merlin’s in a tomb, he hasn’t been glaring over Douxie’s shoulder all this time!) Which brings me to-

3) Douxie, although a hard worker, sincerely good guy, and all around badass wizard, doubts himself a LOT (thanks Merlin’s endless snarking and yelling.) BUT, instead of always fighting/planning to get Merlin to approve of him, Douxie instead focuses on doing the right thing. But it isn’t easy and Merlin’s dismissal of him/his ideas/Merlin’s constant disparaging put-downs hurts him. But he doesn’t let it stop him.

4) Douxie CARES. A LOT. He’s patient, kind, eager to help, works hard, and has protected humanity from horrors it didn’t even know about for CENTURIES. While he was still an apprentice, with no master, and no other magic users (that we’ve really seen) that could teach him more about his own magic or how to use it. The hedge wizards are cool, but we don’t get to see much of them and it looks like they’re more of a side society in Arcadia than something Douxie’s strictly a part of.

5) Douxie protects whoever he can whenever he can. To him, all life is precious, and he gives off major “is anyone else protecting this person or trying to make things better okay cool cool cool, I’m gonna try to do that as much as I can for as many as I can right now!” attitude. Which gives off major older sibling vibes to me.

(To emphasize, he cares about EVERYONE. He’s distraught at the thought of Arthur’s death, HE’S the one who uses his magic to remind--not enchant, REMIND--Arthur and Morgana of their old love of the forest and of Gwen (apparently the glue that held their trio together) and how, each in their own way, they miss her and still love each other. HE’S the one who’s constantly checking the time continuum, and keeps trying to tell Merlin that it doesn’t have to be Arthur vs. Morgana. But Merlin outright pushes him aside/ignores him, and events take their course. Interesting note: Right during the big fight scene in the past with Arthur vs. Morgana, just before Arthur cuts off Morgana’s hand with Excaliber and she falls to her death, you’ll notice the time continuum is blue. Which means it’s fine. The future is good. Douxie could go back to his future no problem. BUT WHEN HE SEES MORGANA’S DEAD FORM as part of the repaired timeline, HE SHOUTS AND RUNS TOWARD THEM TO TRY AND STOP IT. Morgana being DEAD didn’t mess up the timeline. Excaliber being broken did. But Douxie was still trying to save Morgana AND Arthur, and only the blast of magic from their fight knocked him back. And he still grieves her death as one of the parts of his failure, even while Merlin pushes him aside and focuses on Arthur and Excaliber in the aftermath of the battle.

6) Does anyone else think Douxie has a major guilt complex/super messed up self esteem? Because Douxie tearfully shouting “I’m so sorry! This is all my fault!” to Merlin, AS DOUXIE’S OWN LIFE IS IN DANGER AFTER HE TRIED TO SAVE HIS FRIENDS and keep the Arcane Order from destroying the world...that hit hard. His life is on the line and (most likely) his last words are a plea for forgiveness to the Master that routinely dismissed him as an incompetent idiot and was more than happy to leave teenagers (!TEENAGERS!) who’d fought and risked everything to protect the world to die horribly at the hands of his enemies. Douxie--caring, kind-hearted, I-get-my-ass-rountinely-handed-to-me-but-always-get-up-again DOUXIE was the one who ran back to get Jim and Claire. Not Merlin. Merlin was *this close* to leaving to protect Nari for the greater good, and only reconsidered because Douxie had thrown himself into the fray (and despite his best efforts got thrown hard into a rock wall by The Green Knight. And then volleyball spiked into the (equally hard rock) floor and crushed by MindControlledTrollJim.

7) Douxie DOES NOT GIVE UP. Merlin writes Jim’s injuries off as hopeless and him as a lost cause, but Douxie relentlessly tries to figure out ways to fix things. Arthur and Morgana’s relationship, Jim’s injury/worsening curse, all the scenarios where they (it looks like) have to choose between saving their friends AND the world. He doesn’t just shrug and write off losses the way Merlin does. Douxie keeps throwing himself at problems and putting himself at risk to solve them.

8) He’s honest. (Certain Lad of Fortune bowl games aside ;) ) Merlin only told Jim the problem with the wound and left it at that. Douxie makes sure that Claire knows the reality of the situation and promises he’ll find a way to fix it. He knows their situation isn’t ideal, but he refuses to just shrug and leave things as they are. He’s more than willing to throw himself wholeheartedly into finding a way to fix things and refuses to let defeat stop him. Which leads me to, finally--

9) Douxie willingly, without flinching or making a big deal about it, walks into the jaws of death for his friends and the world. For Pete’s sake, he does it with a SMILE. He KNOWS getting his friends back is a long shot. He KNOWS the Arcane Order cannot get Nari AND the Seals, or else the world is doomed--AND he could easily have chosen to go on the run, with the Seals, for the rest of his life. His friends would have died (or worse), Nari would have been trapped with the Order for the rest of time, but the world (and Douxie) would have been safe. Why? The Order doesn’t know he has the seals. Merlin said they could be FOUND if his staff was destroyed, he didn’t say they were STORED there. (And yeah, I wanted Douxie to trick the Order with fake Seals too, but after some thought I’d argue that they’re ancient and powerful enough where they probably wouldn’t have been fooled by or chased after a fake.) Also, going on the run with inanimate objects your hunters don’t know you have and having the kind of magic Douxie does--he could have had a niiiiiice life. Maybe a little mobile, but arguably MUCH easier than constantly making sure a small forest spirit doesn’t get snatched up by her angry brethren. In any case--

Douxie’s plan included--and even hinged on--his willingness to die buying his friends and Nari time to escape. He BUILT IT INTO HIS PLAN. And that bravery, courage, and matter of fact heroism--along with that defiant smirk he gives the Order when they threaten to kill him--is why I love this guy so much.

#douxie #wizards #tales of arcadia #toa spoilers #wizards spoilers #long post #but its about DOUXIE you guys #heroism #protectiveness

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themarydragon · 3 years

Note

Director's Cut: Calm Waters Run Deep!

The Director’s Cut of that story is probably not what you think it is. TW: Cancer TW: Death TW: Brutal honesty

I started writing Calm Waters out of a desperate need to process something terrible that was happening.

I had a friend - a very dear friend, a more-than-friend - who had lived through some pretty incredible traumas. She met a man named Steve that I instantaneously had an incredible bond with. He was SO MUCH LIKE ME. It was amazing. I adored him immediately and thoroughly. We lived 1000+ miles apart but we had the internet and text messaging and he’s the reason I’m even on tumblr. I’m not sure I’ll ever deactivate, because this is where I was With Steve. We sent each other trashy, disgusting, hilarious Valentines every February and when it pops up in my fb memories it breaks my heart.

I didn’t have Steve long. He started losing weight without meaning to, and the doctors ran some blood tests and found some weird results and pushed a little harder and found a monstrous tumor on one of his kidneys. It had already spread, it was rare, and it was malignant in every sense of the word. They removed one kidney and I drove out to help him - I was a home health nurse, I knew what we needed to do to get him home, and I spent a week getting him set up in his house. I taught him how to shower from a bench, because (for the first time ever) he was too weak to stand.

It is hard to explain what that does to a friendship, physically bathing someone who has suddenly had the ability stripped from them. “Naked” has several meanings in that instance.

We sat in his living room while the rest of the family was at work or school, and he told me all his thoughts and fears and dreams and nightmares about his cancer. I crawled into the overstuffed recliner with him and we held each other and cried.

I told him I loved him. Thank god, I told him I loved him.

Six months after they removed his kidney, six months after the week I got to spend with him almost solely to myself, he was in the ICU with a series of complications. He has three contradictory problems - meaning, treating one would exacerbate the other two. His wife, my dear friend, called me and told me what he was being treated for and my heart sank. I didn’t speak to him then.

I should have.

He went home after a couple days. Had his first cigarette in months. Tucked his (4) children into bed (ages 4 to 13). Some time in the small hours of the morning, he started to cough. His cough (they think) tore loose one of the tumors that had metastasized to his lung, and he bled out in his bathroom. His wife texted me at 4 in the morning, and I somehow woke up - I never wake up - and I got a live feed of my friend dying. I got up, got in my car, and drove 1000+ miles in 29 hours, stopping for barely 8 hours to sleep before getting back on the road. I spent 2 weeks in his - full of people but so goddamn empty - house, helped the women of his life get his affairs in order, scrubbed his blood off the bathroom tile, kissed his lifeless cheek before he was sent to be cremated, and never properly grieved.

Calm Waters Run Deep was my way of bleeding Steve’s story out of me, through my fingertips. After those two weeks, I drove home, and left my dear friend, his widow, alone to continue the job of raising the children, of putting one foot in front of the other and crawling out of bed alone every day. I went home to my home and my husband and my life, to my mother’s cancer and my father’s cancer and my mother’s heart attack and my father’s cancer resurgence and a pandemic that Steve would have made so fucking much easier to bear. And my dear friend...?

She never spoke to me again.

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joonsrack · 4 years

Text

+Pairing: Namjoon x fem!reader, Taehyung x fem!reader (one-sided),

+Genre: Angst, humor, fluff, two-shots, sfw

+Word count: ~8.5k

+Warning: Mention of past recreational drug use (weed), blood mention (nosebleed), lot of pinning

+Rating: Pg13

+Summary:

Your roommate and long-time one-sided crush disappears one morning, leaving behind only a post-it note stating two things:

1. He’s off to finally meet the love of his life whom he met on the internet, might take the whole summer;

2. He’s sub-renting his room while he’s gone, don’t worry it’s all taken care of;

+A/N: Just six days late, nothing too major. This is the first part of a two-shot I’m writing for the bangtanscenery collab: April Shower & May Flower. This didn’t turn out as expected, but it is what it is lmao. Thank you to @gguksgalaxy for helping me brainstorm, and @spicykoreantatertots and @starlightseoks for reading over my stuff, fixing my mistakes and giving me the validation I needed to carry on 💖

The first day of summer vacation is supposed to be a good day, a great day even. No more finals, no more studying; just warm weather, lazing around, and maybe picking up some shifts at the grocery store.

Today is all of that, but it’s also the worst day of your life.

It had started as it was supposed to; no alarm clock, just your body waking up by itself. You had messed around on your phone for a while, not caring about the time you were wasting. After the last three weeks of nerve-wracking deadlines and exams, you had deserved a break. The next thing on your schedule was work on Thursday, meaning you had two days completely to yourself. You had big plans for these two days; doing absolutely nothing.

But then, as the day was slowly shifting from morning into noon, the stillness of the house cued you that something was… not right.

As you have come to learn, your roommate, Taehyung, is not one to go about his summer day without his 20 minutes of morning stretching on zen nature sounds. Sometimes you join him, sometimes you don’t. He has a morning routine that he sticks to a T, and in a way, you find the sound of him doing his routine comforting.

Two years you’ve been living together now; or well, almost two years.

You had met in your first semester of freshman year, both residing in the same co-ed dorm. The horror of shared bathroom, kitchen, and living areas had prompted you two to throw caution to the wind and start living together, even if you were both still technically strangers. Two years later, the concept of being a stranger with Taehyung is so far fetched, it’s like you’ve never not known each other.

Which is why this comes as a slap to your face.

After finally making it out of your room and to the kitchen, you find in lieux of your roommate, a single post-it note, stuck to his old fashioned shelf stereo.

There are barely fifteen words on it, but that’s enough to destroy your post-final, beginning of summer haze:

Going back to Korea for the summer, I’m finally going to meet Busan_baby!

I sub-rented my room, he should get here soon :) xx

Objectively, Taehyung doing spontaneous things is not out of character. But this… Leaving for a whole summer, without even hinting at it...

You had plans for this summer. Plans that consisted of spending quality time with him, and maybe, possibly, finally confessing to him. Him leaving kind of put a wrench into that.

Plus.

Busan_baby…

The mysterious internet friend that’s been plaguing Taehyung’s mind since they met during an Overwatch raid, whatever that means.

Your two-year crush had only evolved in the time you were living together, and a part of you had become possessive overtime. So these days, only the mention of Tae’s friend’s username was enough to put you in the worst of moods. And now you’re going to lose your summer with your roommate to her? To a perfect stranger living on the other side of the planet?

And the whole sub-renting situation...you’re boiling. He just... rented his room. To someone you might not know, with whom you’ll be stuck all summer.

The first day of summer vacation is supposed to be a good day. This, this is not a good day.

Your first reaction is to, well, do nothing. You feel tears of frustration welling up in your eyes, and you recognize the burning sensation in your chest as anger. You feel a little ridiculous; you’re always factoring Taehyung into your plans, always have, but clearly he isn’t giving you the same kind of courtesy. You grab your phone, knowing he hasn’t sent you any text, but checking anyways. You have no idea what time he left, he could already be in the plane for all you know, but you send him a message anyways.

Me 1:27pm: Is this a joke?

You wipe a tear away, trying to breathe through the negativity. He must have had his reason, he does have his whole family in Korea, maybe they’re the real reason he left and he’s just joking with you.

Just as the thought is starting to make sense, you hear the key in the lock, and your heart starts beating double time.

It was all the prank, he’s not leaving for real, it’s him coming back to surprise you. See? You had nothing to worry about. The smile grows on your face, and you quickly dry the tears track on your face, not wanting Taehyung to tease you about them.

But doubt quickly sets in your mind when it’s clearly taking too long for whoever on the other side to open the door. The bolt is old, and it had taken you and Taehyung weeks before you had been able to know the right way to unlock it without struggling.

You can hear them struggling with the key, rattling the doorknob, until finally the bolt clicks into place and the door swiftly swings open. Obviously, whoever is on the other side wasn’t expecting it to give, and they stumble past the doorsill, barely missing the floor by a few centimeters.

You’re shocked into stillness, watching the catastrophe unveil.

Mystery man then trips on the entry mats, throwing him forward once again until his head gets dangerously close to the kitchen table; but like a seasoned tripper, he flips his body mid-plunge, landing hard but cushioned by the shag carpet of the living room.

He groans, rolling on his side holding his head in between his hands, and you’re too shocked to do anything but stare in both horror and wonder.

The living trainwreck on the floor doesn’t seem to have noticed your presence yet, and you’re inclined to just lay low and wait until you can observe more accidental gymnastics, but you realize that would be weird. Would it be weirder than everything you’ve just witnessed though?

You clear your throat to announce your presence, and he freezes, opens one eye, spots you, closes it again, and groans even louder.

“Is there any chance you just materialized now and missed all of that.”

You shrug emphatically.

“I can lie if that makes you feel better.”

He sits up, smiling grimly and resigned, like this is not the first time this has happened.

You would go offer him a hand but you also have no idea who this man is, what he’s doing in your apartment, with a key, and seemingly enough bad luck to bring this whole building down by himself.

“So… Who might you be?”

He looks up to you in confusion, and for a second you think you also see hurt flicker across his eyes, but it disappears as fast as it appeared.

“Taehyung… didn’t tell you?”

Right, sub-renting.

You grab the post-it off the stereo and wave it in his direction, letting him connect the dots.

“He just did.” You say, voice dripping with sarcasm, and he winces, noticing how you’re clearly unhappy with the whole ordeal.

“I thought you knew...I... fuck. I can leave if you want? You don’t look like you agreed to this.”

You sigh, feeling bad that you made him feel bad. It’s not his fault after all. Plus, him sub-renting means he most probably doesn’t have a place to stay right now.

“No, no. Of course not. It’s not your fault, I’m just… he didn’t even tell me he was leaving. It’s a lot.”

Silence fills the room, and he smiles awkwardly at you before dusting himself off. You take the opportunity to finally properly look at him.

He looks vaguely familiar now, with his tall body, long limbs and soft brown hair. He’s wearing grandfather clothes, but it’s strangely fitting with his energy. The glasses perched on his nose are slightly crooked, but it doesn’t like it’s from the fall. It looks permanent.

If he’s Taehyung’s friend, you probably saw him around Uni or something.

“So, I still don’t know your name?” You finally break the silence, and he looks startled by the question, pushing the glasses up his nose.

“Kim Namjoon. Well, Namjoon Kim here.” He finishes with a faint blush on his cheeks, and you nod, well aware of the whole last name difference. You’ve been living with Taehyung for two years after all.

“I’m going to try calling him, you can...get your luggage in I guess.”

“His plane was leaving 3 hours ago, I doubt you’ll be able to reach him.” He says sheepishly, as if that was his fault.

You pinch your lips in anger containment, not needing Namjoon to watch you slowly lose your sanity. You feel a surge of dark emotions invading your chest, so you have to make your escape swift.

“Cool, nice. Ok. Well, I need to... be in my room. If you have any questions just knock on my door. Or call my name.”

You’re already off into angst world, making your way to your room, so you miss Namjoon’s parting words;

“But... you haven’t told me your name, y/n.”

You feel the need to grieve the summer that could have been, so you do.

The first stage is denial.

It’s a little hard to deny though, with Taehyung gone and Namjoon currently moving into his room, so you jump straight to anger.

You would feel bad for Namjoon, you didn’t even show him to Taehyung’s room, and your welcome was pretty cold. But you can’t be blamed, this was sprung on you. You were blindsided; betrayed; fooled.

You try to remember your chats with Taehyung in the last few days, but everything is covered by a mist of confusion. The last few weeks are blurred and blended together, a mess of studying, late nights, nervous breakdowns; so you and Taehyung were not exactly talking. You were more...existing in the same space. Or crying in the same space, really.

But still, you know that if Taehyung had mentioned his plans to disappear for the summer you would have surely remembered.

You write an angry text a hundred words long, fueled by the horrible feeling of having been wronged and a need for vindication.

You don’t send the text because you know at the bottom of your heart you’re being overly dramatic, but it’s still therapeutic to act like you’re going to send it to him.

Then comes bargaining.

You write another text, this one more conciliating. You promise to be a better roommate, to stop bunching up your socks and leaving them in the cracks of the couch (although he does that too, the hypocrite), to stop stealing the Korean snacks his mom sends send him once a month (which is a big commitment; they’re just so good, you can’t find this quality in your uni town), and to stop using up all the hot water in the morning.

You also do not send this text. There’s a little too many promises in it you just know you won’t be able to hold.

You’re transitioning into the depressive stage when you hear a crash coming from the living room, followed by a few curses.

With the whole thing you witnessed earlier, you’re surprised that nothing fell victim to Namjoon’s long limbs sooner. He clearly has coordination issues; you would be worried, except pretty much everything decorating the apartment belongs to Taehyung.

Everything except…

There’s a bad feeling creeping up in your stomach. You don’t have the worst luck in life, but you also don’t have the best. And bad things usually happen in a group of three.

Taehyung ditching you for the summer, Taehyung clearly being fooled by some internet catfisher, and….

You jump to your feet, following the sound to the living room. There, your new roommate is kneeling on the floor, gathering the pieces of dried macaroni scattered around him. You can see the picture frame on the floor, the glass cracked in the middle.

The first day you had moved in together, Taehyung and you had taken a picture together with a single-use camera. You were both exhausted from the move, boxes laying all around, but beaming with satisfaction.

You had gotten a frame for it but Taehyung thought it was too bare, so one time, completely high as a kite, he’d decorated it with macaroni and hot glue.

You hold it very dear, and it has a central place in the living room. Or well, it did.

The macaroni remains on the floor is probably the saddest thing you’ve ever seen, and you can’t bear the sight of them, so you give a parting blank look to Namjoon, who’s looking up at you pale as a ghost, and you walk back to your room.

Alright, so stage one of grief; denial.

Belting your heart out to Italian music is usually your way of dealing with sorrow, but with a new and strange presence in your home, it probably won’t be happening for a while, so you settle for laying in your bed, with your curtain pulled closed and some Andrea Bocelli blasting from your earphone. It works for a while, until your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten all day.

You sigh, bracing yourself for yet another reminder that you’ve been basically abandoned by the possible love of your life. You come out of your room dragging your feet, only to be basically assailed but the unmistakable smell of frying garlic. You’re both disgusted and intrigued, so you pick up your pace to the kitchen, finding Namjoon there, sweat on his forehead, with a concentrated look on his face. His glasses are hanging at the tip of his nose, probably having slipped there from the sweat, and you find yourself endeared by the sight. Only for a quick second though.

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to be left alone in the kitchen?” You ask, and he whips his head towards you, clearly startled by your presence.

“Well…” He says, followed by a deprecating laugh, and you kind of feel like an asshole. He probably broke the frame by accident, and it’s not like it’s his fault that Taehyung bailed on your summer plans to go run off to who knows who the fuck busan_baby really is.

“What are you cooking?” You ask, trying to change the subject, and he looks grateful but also very nervous.

“Hm, well Taehyung told me once garlic pasta was your favorite, and since I was trying to apologize for, well the frame but also just being sprung onto you so suddenly, I figured I could cook your favorite dish...”

You nod, but you can’t contain a snort, and Namjoon’s expression becomes worried.

“Taehyung thinks that because that’s the only thing he can successfully cook, and the first time he did I didn’t have the heart to tell him I can’t stand garlic.”

Namjoon looks at the dish, then back at you, then back at the dish. You see all the energy drain from his body, face falling as he groans in frustration.

“It’s fine you didn’t know.” You try to sound as apologetic as you can, but it doesn’t seem to be helping, and he moves the pan from the burner, closing the heat, plastering a hand on his face.

“This is going all wrong. This day is just mess after mess. I’m so sorry I’m usually much better at human interaction, I’m just very nervous right now, I guess.”

You want to ask what he’s so nervous about, but you feel like it might not help his distraught state. “Ok so, clearly this was doomed from the start.” You say, and his face falls even more, so you hurry to finish your thought before he can jump to conclusions.

“You showed up while I was having a horrible day; I had no idea you were coming; you...tripped and fell in front of me, probably making you feel embarrassed, then all this nervous energy lead to you having another clumsy accident, and I probably didn’t help with my overall coldness… and now, this, which again, is totally not your fault…” You let the silence hang for a little longer before you finish your thought. “ I think we should start over.”

“...What?”

“Yeah, I think we should start over. Like, come here.” You wave your hand in a motion for him to follow after you, and he does, albeit definitely looking reluctant.

You lead him to the front door, opening it, waiting for him to get the cue. He stands there, looking a little dumbfounded, glimpsing down at his slipper clad feet.

“Come on, only for a second.”

He finally follows your directions, stepping outside in the hallway, and you close the door behind him. After a good 30 second of silence, you realize he might be dumber than he looks.

“You’re supposed to knock.” You say just loud enough for him to hear on the other side, and there’s a split second before he finally does.

You throw the door open with the biggest smile you can muster, and he stares at you in actual worry.

“Hello Namjoon Kim, nice to meet you! Taehyung totally told me you were coming! Come on in!”

Namjoon finally catches up, pinching his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“Nice to meet you,-” He greets back, taking a step into the apartment, but the sole of his slipper gets caught on the doorsill, ripping it off.

He stares down at his slippers in betrayal, and you have to bite the inside of your cheeks to hold back a cackle.

“At this point, I don’t know how to convince you I’m not like this 24/7.” He says, and he looks a little bit more relaxed than before, which is good.

“I’m sorry to say that ship has sailed.”

Going to sleep at five in the morning is never the right decision, even when you have nothing planned, but the prospect of watching Hannah Brown finally eliminating Luke P off The Bachelorette is just too good, keeping you wide awake until you finally get the satisfaction of seeing the smug smile being wiped off his face. Taehyung was so looking forward to this, cursing out the man after every episode, and not having him by your side, yelling incoherently at your computer screen, definitely made you sad.

There's also the whole waiting-for-a-text-that-never-came thing.

You know his flight landed, you looked at the flight time between where you are and Incheon airport. The realization that you weren’t even worth an “I’ve just landed” text is enough to ruin you Luke P elimination afterglow, sending you straight to sleep.

So being rudely awoken at 9 a.m., eyes sore from the lack of sleep and maybe some possible tears of frustration, is not the best feeling.

At first you think you dreamed it, a loud crash from somewhere in the apartment, but then the groans of pain that follows are sounding pretty damn real.

You throw the comforter off, jumping out of bed in the same breath, trying to locate the source of the commotion but still woozy with sleep, and you find its origin in the bathroom;

Very naked, save for the shower curtain draped over the figure.

Namjoon squeals at the sight of you, making sure all the important bits are covered with the curtain that he probably dragged in his apparent fall, half of it still hanging off the pole.

Your sleep-deprived brain slowly catches up to the situation, and you slap both hands over your eyes, turning around with the intention to get out of dodge, only to walk straight into the door frame. The impact makes you lose your balance, the unforgiving tiles making contact with your ass at the speed of light. There’s a throbbing pain in your backside and there’s definitely something dripping from your nose. Another beautiful start to your summer vacation.

It’s your turn to groan, holding your head back to stop the blood from dripping all over your PJs. There’s wet fumbling in the general area of the shower, the sound of the water being cut off and then a moment later, a very naked man appears in your field of vision.

“Hum.” Is all you say, as he snatches his boxer brief from the counter, slipping them on in a flash. But you’ve seen. You’ve witnessed. You’re a changed person now.

“I forgot my towel.” He answers back, face so red it looks like it must hurt. There’s still shampoo suds in his wet hair, dripping down his forehead, neck, and shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to care as he grabs the toilet paper roll, offering it to you.

“Are you ok?” he asks with concern in his voice. He’s kneeling in front of you, skin glistening, and the sight he makes doesn’t help with your blood pressure. His handsomeness didn’t escape your notice, but this….this is a little overwhelming.

“I’ve known you for less than 24 hours and I’ve already seen your junk; I’m great.”

He looks a little thrown by what you’ve just said, but you can blame it on a concussion later, so you’re not too worried.

“Lean forward and breath through your mouth,” He says, choosing to ignore your comment. You follow his recommendation, pinching your nose.

“You seem familiar with nosebleeds.” You tease, knowing full well he’s clearly the clumsy type.

“I’ve had my share of encounters with flat surfaces.”

“So are you gonna tell me what possessed you to shower in the middle of the night?”

“Is 9 a.m. the middle of the night?” He asks, a grin playing at his lips.

“It sure is during summer vacation.”

Namjoon chooses to ignore your admission of being a living, breathing, couch potato.

“I wanted to go get a new pair of slippers, maybe a new frame as well. I obviously need to add a new shower curtain to the list.”

You look up at the way his tone goes slightly somber from irritation, and you’re having none of that; it’s 9 am, middle of the night, and all you want right now is everything to be happy and breezy.

“Do you mind if I tag along? I wanted to get a corkboard for all my pictures, so I won’t need a new frame actually. We could go get some middle of the night breakfast too.”

His eyes light up, a new energy filling the room.

“Of course! You can, totally.”

His metaphorical tail seems to be wagging, and you’re a little confused about the source of his sudden excitement, but he seems to be in a good mood so that’s the important part here.

“Alright then, I’ll let you finish your shower- oh my god, wait. Are you ok? I heard you fall; that did not sound like a painless descent.”

Namjoon winces, rubbing at the back of his head like he’s suddenly reminded of the pain.

“I’ll survive with only slight bruising, it’s all good.”

You nod, relieved he didn’t hurt himself seriously.

“Let’s get you some bubble wrap while we’re there.” You tease, and he rolls his eyes, probably having heard that one before.

There’s this moment of silence where neither of you are moving, and you’re wondering what he’s waiting for to go back in the shower.

“So...are you waiting to get another peek at my junk, or?” He teases.

You blush, staring at him dumbfounded. Your sleepy brain says yes, but your pride says no.

“Right, let me get out of here.”

You take your roll of toilet paper with you as you leave, pride almost intact.

Both of your loudly growling stomachs make the decision for the order of things, and your first stop is the cheap dinner a few streets down. The usual grumpy waiter that you’ve grown fond of is on shift, and his eyes zeroes straight on you two the second you step in.

His regular glare is already pretty intimidating, but the intensity of his stare is enough to make you want to take a menu and hide behind. Instead you walk with Namjoon to the table you usually sit at with Taehyung.

“Hey Joon.” Is the first thing Yoongi says, throwing the menu on the table with all the lack of grace in the world. Namjoon salutes him back with the ease of someone who’s used to being the target of Yoongi’s laser focus. You deduce they’re friends, by the way they seem to have a silent conversation with their eyes.

He switches his focus to you after a beat, and you gulp loudly, confused by the inquisition in his stare.

“Hi Y/N, where’s your tragic love story?”

Your jaw drops to the table, shocked by Yoongi’s blunt call out of your unrequited love for Taehyung. You two often come to eat here, but clearly you come too often if Yoongi figured you out so accurately.

“Jesus am I that obvious?” You mutter, picking up a menu to avoid looking at either man. You don’t need to see Namjoon's reaction when learning you’re crushing on your roommate who’s also one of his friends.

Yoongi snatches the menu out of your hands, having none of that.

“The usual I presume?” He asks snapingly, throwing one last unimpressed look at Namjoon before walking away.

Namjoon waits before he’s out of earshot to sigh. “Who pissed in his cereal this morning?” he scoffs, trying to lighten the mood, and you’re grateful for his attempt but you’re also feeling pretty shitty; why do your feelings for Taehyung seem so obvious to everyone but Taehyung himself?

“Well, I guess the elephant is out of the bag”, you say with fake enthusiasm. You want to be mad at Yoongi for his brusque ways, but Namjoon would probably have figured it out one way or another. This is kind of ripping the bandaid in a way.

There’s another beat of silence before Namjoon clears his throat, and you brace yourself for what he’s going to say, which is why what he asks comes as a surprise.

“Are you ok?”

His voice is empathic, genuine.

You look up to him, eyes a little glossy.

He’s got a kind face; a dimple here, soft corner smile there; eyes searching but not judging, the crooked glasses giving him a nerdy look. Yet, you’ve...seen. There’s nothing nerdy about the rest of him.

You smile sadly, biting your lips while looking back down at the table. You’ve known him for less than 24 hours and you already feel like Namjoon is the kind of person you can confide in, and before you know it, words are tumbling off your tongue.

“I guess… It just sucks that I was not even worth a ‘I’ve just landed text’. Or even better, him telling me in person that he was leaving for the summer, completely ruining all the plans we made together.” Namjoon nods along with your confession, and once you open your mouth, you just can’t shut it. “Like I’m always making sure he’s included in all of my planifications, and I always go beyond to do stuff that he likes… Like I’m sorry but I hated doing pottery, like, I suck at it. All I made always ended up having a vaguely phallic shape and I’m pretty sure the teacher was judging me, but I still put through three months of pottery class, which were very expensive by the way, because I knew Taehyung would love that. And the Pasta! I hate garlic, I can’t stand it, but I still told him it was my favorite since it’s the only thing he can cook!”

Namjoon clears his throat, looking around at the people starting to take notice of your meltdown. You were getting increasingly louder, you realize, so you sigh, letting the tension escape your body with a deep breath.

Yoongi stops by the table to drop two cups of coffee, raising an eyebrow at you, to which you answer with a glare of your own. He walks away with an evil glint in his eyes, and you already know what’s about to happen. You still risk a small sip of the steaming coffee, only to spit it back into the cup, face void of emotion.

Namjoon winces at you, offering you some napkins for the drops dripping down your chin.

“He put mustard in it, didn’t he?” He asks while you wipe your mouth, then taking your water to wash down the acre taste.

You nod slowly.

“He’s got a weird way to comfort his friends.”

You nod again, but grabbing his cup at the same time. “Do you mind?” You ask, and he agrees enthusiastically, only to frown when he sees what you do with it next.

You grab the table syrup, dripping some all over Namjoon’s coffee cup handle. You put it back on Namjoon’s side of the table, smiling warmly at him.

“Where were we?” You ask cheerfully.

“I think he might just ban me from the Dinner.” Namjoon says in a daze, looking back at where Yoongi is throwing daggers at the both of you from the window, wiping his sticky finger on his apron in vain; You know this stuff is impossible to get rid of.

You knew Yoongi would expect your handle to be sticky after the stunt he pulled, which is why you did it on Namjoon’s cup instead. You make sure to send Yoongi your most radiant smile as you walk away, waving. You should probably avoid the dinner for a few weeks.

But now, belly full of good food, mood lightened, you can go on your productive day of buying stuff. You take the bus to the closest Target, a comfortable chatter between the two of you, when something suddenly hits you between the bedroom aisle and the bathroom aisle.

“Now hold on a second; I just realized I never properly introduced myself. I mean obviously you already know my name, since Taehyung seems to have talked about me, and well, Yoongi used my name earlier too. But still... Wow, I’m so sorry I'm the worst new roommate ever.”

Namjoon shakes his head no, fiddling with the brand new slippers he picked up on the way.

“It’s...fine. Actually, well. I was hesitant to tell you since I don’t want you to feel bad about it but... we’ve already been introduced. Also we shared like, three classes so far. I’m minoring in languages.”

“Oh… Oh my god.” You say, stopping in your tracks. You look up at Namjoon with wide, confused eyes.

“It’s ok.” Namjoon says, pulling you after him into the bathroom aisle with a light touch to the arm.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,”

“It’s fine I swear.” He reassures, steering you until you’re standing in front of the shower curtains.

“Wow, all this time I was acting like we didn’t know each other-”

“Y/N...” He tries to stop you.

“I’m sorry I have the worst memory.”

“I think it was more your complete and utter lack of interest for anyone but Taehyung that did it.” He teases, not unkindly. There’s more an air of resignation to it.

You drop your head in your hands, feeling flustered and embarrassed.

“Wow everyone really knows, huh?”

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

Maybe your friends were right; maybe you need to take a breather. Maybe this summer away from him is a good thing.

“So… Namjoon Kim, how long have we ‘known’ each other?” You question, quotation marks and everything.

“Well…” He trails off, thinking about it for a second before answering, scratching his head as he seems to be wracking his brain for the exact information. “Taehyung introduced us during one of the first dorms get-together, so I'd say as long as you’ve known Taehyung.”

You groan, pulling on one of the displayed shower curtains, hiding your face behind, doing your best impression of an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

“I’m a horrible person.” You state to no one.

“To be fair though, I was not on the same floor as you guys, so we probably didn’t see much of each other.”

God, he’s such a good person, trying to make sure you don’t feel bad with yourself for basically ignoring him for two whole years. It literally took him moving in with you to notice him. You peek from behind the curtain, not ready to come out completely.

“I feel horrible, I’m really sorry I didn't mean to ignore you for two fucking years.”

“You’re good, y/n, I understand. Actually I think that you-.” He says, but cuts himself short, mouth slamming shut.

“You think that I...?” You ask, curiously, eyebrows going up.

“No, nothing. It’s nothing.” He answers, but it’s hurried, the look on his face borderline frantic. He doubles up on the fiddling with the slippers, the price tag close to coming off with the way he’s tugging on it.

‘Curiosity killed the cat’ they say, but you’ve never listened to that; when you feel like something is being hid from you, you’re like a starving shark smelling blood. You can’t let go, you need to know what’s putting Namjoon in this state; what he was about to say about you.

“Namjoon, it’s ok, you can tell me.” You try to go for a reassuring smile, but the look in your eyes must give you away because it only serves to make Namjoon look more worried.

“I- I think that.” He clears his throat, looking around nervously. “I think that you’re holding the ugliest shower curtain I’ve ever seen.”

You frown, looking down at the aforementioned curtain you're currently still half hiding behind.

It’s truly atrocious; it’s a solid ugly grey color, the top part bare of anything, but starting from the middle, the bottom part is layers of ruffles over ruffles, hemmed by some white lace. It’s truly horrifying; very hard to look at.

“Namjoon.” You say, and his eyes finally settle on you.

“Namjoon, if you don’t tell me what you were going to say I'm making you buy this truly horrifyingly ugly curtain.”

There’s a look of pure unadulterated horror passing through his eyes, before he composes himself, looking perfectly neutral.

“It’s your bathroom, I'll buy whatever you want.” He says, voice void of infliction, and you smirk, pleased.

“Amazing, I’m so grateful you’re willing to spend seventy bucks on this curtain.”

“Seventy bucks?!” He exclaims, choking on air. You know he’s a student; students are usually poor. Simple math.

“Or… you could tell me what you were going to say, and I can settle for this beautiful plain white curtain,-” You entice, coming out of hiding to grab the other curtain on the display, stretching it out and showing it off as if you were in an infomercial. “yours for only…” You pause, checking the price tag, “ $9,99.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he mutters something so quickly you can’t catch any of it.

“Come again?” You ask, turning on your heels to hug the monstrous grey ruffle disaster to yourself in a threatening manner.

“I said…” He looks about ready to take a bite out of the slipper to avoid your questioning. “ I think that you’re- I think that- It’s cute.” He stammers.

Of all the things, you were not expecting that.

“What?”

“I think it’s cute, ok? I think that you’re cute for focusing all your attention on him like that.”

You’re shocked and confused. This is not the words usually used by your friends to describe your relationship with Taehyung.

“It’s like the rest of the world around you fades away when you’re with him or you think of him, and I wish-...I wish I had someone who liked me that much too.” He finishes, the tip of his ears burning scarlet.

You take him in at that moment, this broad and tall human, with the nicest set of dimples, the soft eyes hidden behind his glasses, the overall grand-father look that he somehow rocks; The way he’s so big yet he’s got this whole gentle vibe going on; how he’s so involuntarily destructive but he also has this calm aura surrounding him.

Suddenly, you’re kind of glad Taehyung is not around. You probably would never have noticed Namjoon if he hadn’t left. It’s only been 24 hours but you already know Namjoon is the kind of person you want to befriend. And he seems to want to befriend you too, so maybe, this summer won’t be so bad.

This summer is terrible.

You get a text from your boss first thing in the morning asking you to come in early, someone else having called in sick. Your bus shows up late, making you late, and you barely have time to catch a breath before Karen, the manager, is on you, lecturing you for your tardiness. Yes, maybe you’re often late, but you can’t really help it if mother nature skipped you when handing out punctuality.

You’re barely clocked in when you’re handed some cleaning tool, a customer having made a mess with some jam pots, meaning this is going to be a sticky disaster. Then you get screamed at because some prick disagrees with the pricing of a jar of pickles, as if that had anything to do with you; You hate pickles.

It just gets dumber from there on, and when the end of your shift comes around, you can’t wait to just be back home, with nothing to do but finally watch the finale of Hannah Brown’s season and maybe stuff your face with whatever you got from the grocery haul you did yesterday.

You wonder if Namjoon is cooking anything; a part of you hopes that he isn’t, worried for the state of the kitchen; another part of you would definitely be pleasantly surprised. As long as there’s no more garlic on the horizon.

It’s kind of weird how this is technically day 3 of you being roommates and you’re already used to his presence. Of course there’s still some awkward moments, but they never last too long.

Namjoon is such a sweetheart, and there’s a part of you that is mad for basically depriving yourself of his friendship for so long. Another part is happy that you did so, or his arrival in your life wouldn’t be the perfect distraction from Taehyung abandoning you. Not that you consider him a distraction, but he’s definitely distracting.

When he’s not falling in showers, he’s singing in them, apparently. Completely off tune, his voice not the most graceful, but still very, very endearing. A shame that you had to rush to go to work while he was having his very own concert, or you would probably have gotten out your phone to gather some blackmail materials.

There’s also his possible inability to cook anything other than pasta; it’s been three days but you’ve already seen him cook some kind of spaghetti at least thrice.

You’re not the most accomplished cook, but you can manage. You have a feeling that next to Namjoon though, you probably look like a professional Michelin decorated Chef. You’re thinking about taking over mealtime when you’re home, maybe assigning him the sous-chef role. A risk that you’re willing to take so you don’t have to see what would probably be a hurt expression at being completely dismissed from the kitchen.

There’s also his ankles. He’s got such pretty ankles, you’re kind of jealous. They’re all dainty and pretty, which is not what a man probably wants to hear when talking about his body, so you’ve decided to keep this compliment to yourself.

You’re not sure exactly what he does during his day. So far you’ve observed that he spends a lot of time in sweatpants, on his computer, earphones cutting him off from the world. He had spent a few hours on the couch yesterday, a focused look on his face as he was clearly working on something, but you didn't want to bother him to ask him what he was doing.

You get home, sighing deeply as you finally take off your shoes after nine hours of standing. It’s dinner time, your stomach is growling, there doesn’t seem to be any action in the kitchen, and you don’t have the strength or patience to cook anything right now, so you grab your phone, pulling up the UberEat app.

You plop down onto the couch, bouncing slightly before properly melting into it, but you can't fall asleep now, you’re on a food-oriented mission.

You’re about to pull up the page of your favorite pizza place when something in your peripheral vision catches your eyes.

It’s Namjoon’s laptop, open on the side table, earphone hanging from the side; The screen light is dim, but you can easily recognize the face on the paused screen.

It’s John Paul Jones.

You can’t believe your eyes, and you’re so shocked, you don’t hear the bathroom door open. You jostle when Namjoon appears in a flash, slamming the laptop shut, looking particularly distraught.

“You did not just see that.” He says, hand still on his laptop, frozen in position.

“I sure fucking did.” You exclaim, eyes sparkling. This is the best thing ever. “You’re watching The bachelorette. Alone. Because this is something you actually enjoy.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He whines, dropping into a low squat, wiping his face down with one hand. “I swear I’m a feminist.”

“You’re a romantic, you love love.”

Namjoon groans.

“That’s why you don’t judge me for my crush. You’ve seen worse.” You marvel, and he looks up shyly at your tone.

“You don’t have to worry, I won’t tell anyone...” You linger on the pause for a moment, keeping him guessing. “As long as you promise to do your marathon with me.”

He frowns for a second, searching your face for the teasing or ‘just joking’ that he thinks is coming. But it’s not.

“You’re...a fan of The Bachelor franchise?” he wonders aloud, and you laugh out loud at the bemusement on his face.

“If by fan you mean slowly but surely making my way through all the seasons, all the series, all the content I can, then yes, I would say that I’m a fan.”

There’s a shy smile growing on his face, his dimple going the deepest you’ve ever seen them so far in your three days of co-existing. You’re on the verge of popping out a ruler and verifying once and for all how deep those really are.

“Then yes, Y/N, I will accept your offer of being your bachelor buddy.” He chuckles.

There seems to be a lot of marathons on this summer’s horizon, and you love the idea.

Going to sleep at 5 am is never a good decision, but when it’s because you were binge-watching Bachelor in Paradise with your new bachelor buddy, then you can forgive yourself.

You step out of your room, yawning, at the same time as Namjoon does.

“Hey” You greet him, to which he answers with a small wave, squinty eyes avoiding the light.

“Hungry?” You ask, scratching your head as you make your way to the kitchen, Namjoon following behind.

“Ravenous” He croaks, morning voice ten tones deeper. But it’s not affecting you. Not at all.

You open the fridge to browse the content, pulling out some milk to make yourself some cereal, going to sit at the table so you can both eat and scroll through your phone comfortably.

Namjoon sits on the other side, buttering up some toast with an impressive amount of Nutella; but you’re not judging, being an ex Nutella-addict yourself.

You pull up your text like you’ve been doing for the past few days, checking if you received any messages that your phone failed to notify you about, sighing when you still have no answer from Taehyung. You would worry, except there hasn’t been any newsworthy event about planes or Korea or anything; you’ve been following the news just to be sure.

You peek at Namjoon, who’s staring blankly into his slice of bread with the air of someone who didn’t get enough sleep. You clear your throat lightly to get his attention.

He raises unfocused eyes on you, and you have to bite back a coo at how adorably soft he looks, with his soft brown hair a mess, eyes still half-open, a light stubble slightly apparent, and his mouth hanging slack.

“Did you...did Taehyung send you a text or something? Since he left?”

It takes Namjoon a second to register the question, frowning for a split second before shaking his head.

“He hasn’t, but I wouldn’t worry. His family would have reached out if he hadn’t made it safely.”

“Hmm good point.” You nod, going back to your cereal. You’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Taehyung seems to have completely forgotten about you. It hurts like a bitch, but it’s getting bearable. You’re not sure how it’s going to be between the two of you once he comes back from his summer spent chasing his internet girlfriend, leaving you in the dust. You’ll definitely feel awkward around him, at least for the first few weeks. You’ll have to have a talk with him, maybe ask for an apology. So many of the plans you made together are now definitely not happening.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“The other day you said that you always plan stuff factoring in Taehyung’s interest and choices, and that kind of bothered me.” Namjoon mumbles, looking suddenly very awake but also very shy.

“Aw, don’t be bothered. In a way it’s kind of my fault you know. I could easily just do my own things, but I choose to plan around him because I want to spend time with him…” You pause, wince. “It’s kind of sad now that I’m putting it this way.”

“I know that he considers you his best friend, though, and relationships, even platonic ones, go both ways.”

You smile into your cereal, pushing them around the milk.

“I appreciate you defending my honor, Namjoon.” You tease lightly, a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

“Actually I was wondering-,” He cuts himself off, scratching his head, before carrying on, “I was wondering, is there something you’ve always wanted to do? But you haven’t since it’s not something Taehyung would appreciate?”

The question takes you by surprise, and you wrack your brain, trying to think of something.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to do a road trip to the future birthplace of Captain Kirk in Iowa, but Taehyung’s not really into SciFi, so I never brought it up.”

Namjoon’s face is the one of someone who was not expecting this answer at all, and he stares at you for a long moment, something akin to wonder sparkling in his eyes.

“You like Star Trek.” He marvels, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “How are you so perfect.”

You freeze, he freezes; everyone freezes.

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“Erhm, well, hum,-” He stammers incoherently, face growing red, before finally getting control of his tongue again. “I mean, your cinematic taste; they’re perfect. How is your cinematic taste so perfect? I just woke up, my brain is still half asleep.” He laughs, but it sounds forced, and you take pity over him.

“Sure.” You answer, dragging on the syllable. ”Anyway, that’s what I would do. I’ve always wanted to visit there, and I’ve always wanted to do a road trip, so, yeah.”

Namjoon looks grateful that you’re not insisting, taking a big swing from his glass of milk, and you’re scared that he’s going to choke and splurt milk all over the table and you for a second. Knowing his track record when nervous, it wouldn't surprise you, but he manages to keep it all in without incident.

It’s been a while since you’ve practiced your reanimation techniques and Heimlich maneuver, and you make a note to review some videos, just in case. You have a feeling that living with Namjoon is stressful

“The reason I’m asking is, well, I’ve got nothing planned this summer, and I would love to try new things. I know we’re basically strangers at this point, but, if you want we could, you know, do some stuff together. Like, I would love doing a road trip to Captain Kirk’s future Birthplace. Only if you want! I don’t want to impose myself either. If you want to save that for friends you know better, it’s perfectly fine. I’m just saying, like, I’m open to doing stuff with you. Like, I think we get along well and,- Now I’m just rambling.”

You giggle, finding this whole thing quite endearing. You’re tempted to torture him a little, but you decide to take pity on him; it’s morning after all.

“Namjoon.”

“Yes.”

“I would love to go on that road trip with you.” You state simply, and your words take a moment to register, but he gives you a beaming smile, the dimples making yet another noticed apparition. The joy is short-lived though, a frown making its way on his face.

“There’s just one thing; I don’t drive.”

You snort, extending your hand to tap lightly on his, comforting.

“It’s a good thing if you ask me.”

“...Do you?” He asks tentatively.

“Yeah baby,” You exclaim, pulling out your best southern accent. “I'm a licensed driver and everything. ‘Haven’t drove into a wall since 2016.”

“That's not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Are you questioning my driving abilities?” You ask, leaning forward in a threatening manner.

“...No.” He gulps.

“Then let’s set a date!”

There’s a new air of excitement taking over the kitchen, the prospect of a road trip making you feel giddy like a child going to Disneyland.

“Wait, where would you get the car?”

“I can pull some strings.” You shrug with a taunting eyebrow raise, aiming for mysterious. There’s a certain someone who owes you one, and this is the perfect occasion for him to pay his due.

Before Namjoon can question you further, someone starts knocking on the door incessantly. You turn questioning eyes to Namjoon, who mirrors the look, and he stands up, hurrying to the door as the onslaught doesn't seem to be stopping.

There’s a flurry of movement as whoever is on the other side of the door jumps into Namjoon’s arms, sending him swaying back from the weight. There’s confusion and shock on Namjoon’s face, and you quickly understand why.

“Tae?!”

#btswriterscollective #btsboulangerie #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #magicshopnet #bangtanscenery #btswritersnet #plotsofpastel #bangtanscenerycollab #armysource #Bangtanidx

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stars-around-my-scars13 · 3 years

Text

my fav evermore lyrics!

WILLOW

I come back stronger than a 90′s trend

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night, rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

life was a willow and it bent right to you wind

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

You booked the night train for a reason

your heart was glass, I dropped it

I dropped your hand while dancing

“This dorm was once a madhouse” / I made a joke, “well, it’s made for me”

one for the money, two for the show, i never was ready so I watch you go

GOLD RUSH

eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting, I almost jump in

I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush

I don’t like that falling feels like flying til the bone crush

it fades into the gray of my day old tea, cuz. it could never be

my mind turns your life into folklore, I can’t dare to dream about you anymore

the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it

‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON

the road not taken looks real good now

time flies messy as the mud on your truck tires / now i’m missing your smile, hear me out, we could just drive around

the heart I know I’m breaking is my own

it always leads to you and my hometown

you can run but only so far

I’ll go back to LA and the so-called friends who’ll write books about me if I ever make it and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I’m faking

TOLERATE IT

I know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky, now I’m begging for footnotes in. the story of your life

What would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins, took this dagger in me and removed it?.... believe me I could do it

NO BODY, NO CRIME

That ain’t my merlot on his mouth, that ain’t my jewelry on our joint account

no body, no crime, but I ain’t letting up until the day I die

Good thing my daddy made. me get a boating license when I was 15, and I’ve cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy... they think she did it but they just can’t proe it

she thinks I did it but she just can’t prove it

no body, no crime, I wasn’t letting up until the day he ...died

HAPPINESS

when did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

all the years. i’ve given is just shit we’re dividing up

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise dappled with the flickers of light from the dress I wore at midnight

I can’t face reinvention, I haven’t met the new me yet -> you haven’t met the new me yet

I can’t see facts through all of my fury

DOROTHEA

do you ever stop and think about me, when we were younger?

you got shiny friends since you left town, a tiny screen’s the only place I see you now

if you’re ever tired of being know for who you know, you know, you’ll always know me

are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? Well, I guess I’ll never know

When it was calmer, skipping the prom just to piss off your mom & her pageant schemes

the stars in your eyes shined brighter in Tupelo

CONEY ISLAND

do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

Did I close my fist around something delicate, Did I shatter you?

Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray, a universe away?

We were like the mall before the internet, we were the one place to be / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring

IVY

I just sit here and wait, grieving for the living

I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland

How’s one to know I’d live for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time?

COWBOY LIKE ME

I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve, takes one to know one, you’re a cowboy like me

eyes full of stars, hustling for the good life

The skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

forever is the sweetest con

LONG STORY SHORT

I tried to pick my battles til the battle picked me

the knife cuts both ways, if the shoe fits, walk in it, til your high heel breaks

I fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole, long story short, it was a bad time

I always felt I looked better in the rearview, missing me at the golden gates they once held the keys to

pushed from the precipice, climbed right back up the cliff, long story short I survived

your nemeses will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing

MARJORIE

never be so kind you forget to be clever, never be so clever you forget to be kind

I should have asked you questions, I should have asked you how to be, asked you to write it down for me

I know better, but you’re still around

what died didn’t stay dead

CLOSURE

Seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain

it cut deep to know ya, right to the bone

don’t treat me like some situation that needs to be handled

guilty, guilty, reaching out across the sea that you put between you and me, but it’s fake and oh so unnecessary

EVERMORE

I was catching my breath, staring out an open window catching my death

I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter, catching my death

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost

Oh can we just get a pause? / to be certain we’ll be tall again?

#taylorswift #taylor swift #taylor #swift #taylornation #happybirthdaytaylorswift #happybirthdaytaylor #evermore #evermorealbum #willow #music #lyrics #evermorealbum ts10theories #tst10 theories #ts10 #ts9

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real-fanta-sea · 3 years

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Cutscene after mission in Kortz, but its 52/66 👀👌

First of all, thank you for the prompt, dear! Second of all - I'm sorry it took me 5 months to get my ass to write it 👉👈 but, I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. TW: profanities, lots of horny (because the internet is for porn, duh), and overall NSFW (that's why it's hidden under "keep reading") Without much further ado, here's your fic 😊

********************* "Well, that was fun..."

Michael's been itching to light a Redwood ever since he's shot down the damn Merryweather chopper. His whole body was screaming for a hit and amplified the need by sending adrenalin-induced shivers down his spine.

Who was he to fight with his vice? He took the packet out of his jacket's inner pocket with a precise, smooth move and pressed it firmly with cold fingers, trembling with need. He earned a first-class ticket to hell many years ago, so who the fuck cares if he gets there sooner than later?

Despite his loud self-loathing telling him otherwise, there was someone who cared after all. "What are you doing smoking, huh?" Michael's eyebrows raised slightly in disbelief as he watched Trevor bounce off the wall he was leaning on, latch the Redwoods from his grip, crumble them and toss them aside. The eyebrows raised to his hairline when Trevor overstep all the boundaries they had and lightly slapped his cheek in an almost motherly manner. "No, no, no, that's bad for ya, don't you know?"

Michael's heart started racing again upon the uninvited touch, and he felt the pang of something he hoped to have killed and buried years ago, and that particular something stunned him for a couple of seconds. The mere eye contact was unbearable, and Michael quickly turned his gaze to the remains of his cigarettes and let the rage weight him down to earth again.

"Yeah, well, maybe it's got a little something to do with being caught in the middle of a three-way fire fight between two government agencies and a private militia. You know it gets me a little stressed out..."

As soon as he finished the sentence, he regretted the snarky tone he chose and turned away from Trevor's hurt expression. Fuck, he felt as if he kicked a puppy. His head twitched sideways as it usually did when he was overwhelmed, and he couldn't help but bounce on his feet a little.

"Okay, but we still need you alive, Mikey boy." The remorse was gone, replaced with dread. What the hell did that even mean? "I mean, ya know, at least for now." That didn't help Michael to ease at all. He shot a mild menacing glare Trevor's way and squared his shoulders, awaiting the worst. "Unless, of course, you have another surprise for me, huh? Maybe somethin' to do with another inappropriate friendship?"

Okay, the exchange was getting ridiculous at this point, and Trevor got back to his annoying, suspicious self he knew too well. "Yeah, that wasn't exactly Dave's fault..." Trevor mirrored his gesture as if he tried to show Michael how futile his effort to explain the connection to Dave really was and slowly came closer to Michael, who just tried to look calm and smirked. "No, no, he's just a friendly face of a corrupt government agency, looking to further his career by dealing with an equally corrupt and full to the fucking brim with bullshit low rent hood!" Great, the last thing he needed was an angry Trevor slitting his throat open in a nameless back alley in Morningwood.

"Listen, Trevor, I've been meaning to thank..." but it was too late for friendly gestures. Trevor's eyes already spew fire as he started pacing back and forth, eyes glued on Michael. "Oh y'know, I've been meaning..., Yeah, I've been meaning to tell ya, y'know..." he mocked, and caught Michael off-guard. "What, homie? What have you been meaning to tell me?" Trevor turned around and stepped closer again, but this time, his eyes gave away a different kind of fire - the kind Michael remembered to have kindled heat during cold North Yankton nights.

Without any warning, Trevor grabbed him by both shoulders and threw him against the wall so hard Michael's face cringed for a split second before he remembered to collect himself and glare at Trevor. But it was too late to appear menacing, now that Trevor held both of Michael's wrists in his rough hands and pushed them above Michael's head, grating them against the facade. "What have you been meaning to tell me, Mikey?" Michael gulped and looked back into Trevor's eyes and fought with the sudden idea to reach out and kiss the lips hovering above his own. Trevor's deep growl sent shivers down his spine, and he allowed his head to fall back onto the wall, closing his eyes and easing into the sensation of Trevor's breath on his neck.

"That you stabbed me in the back?" Michael bit his lip hard to stop himself from moaning when Trevor gently pressed his lips against the pulse point on his neck and nibbed on the tender skin, lingering there, breathing Michael in. "Or that you were... and always will be... a worthless wretch who deserves to be put under?". Michael's eyes shot open as his heart skipped a beat, and instead of aroused anticipation, he woke into beast mode. The rage rush put him back on his feet as he sent Trevor stumbling back into the alley, where Michael tackled him against the wall on the other side, and while pinning him down with his whole weight, his hand shot up instinctively and wrapped itself firmly around Trevor's throat.

If he were honest with himself, he would say he felt betrayed, helpless and dangerously aroused by the thought of Trevor's lips and fingers touching him and didn't quite know how to process it all at once. Trevor's grin drove him crazy, and not only because of the plump lips curling up. Michael growled and squeezed harder against the soft, pulsing skin.

"THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU COME BACK FOR?"

Trevor gasped as he fought for breath, but that didn't stop him from grabbing Michael by hips and yanking him closer. "Oh, you know why..." Puzzled, Michael let go for a second, but it was enough for Trevor to take advantage and roll Michael against the wall and rest his thumbs comfortably against his jaw. Trevor's sight lingered on Michael's lips for a moment before he met his eyes again, this time conveying a whole different message. "Shut the fuck up and kiss me..." Trevor's whisper was still hoarse from being choked, and as he leant closer to Michael, the latter found himself easing up into the heat of Trevor's body, tuning out everything else but a beat of his racing heart.

It wasn't exactly like in the movies - there were no fireworks, no oblivious clip montage, no orchestra in the background. It was just the feeling of surprisingly soft lips nibbling on Michael's own, the heat, the sweet buzzing of excitement and sparks setting his skin on fire where Trevor's fingers have wandered under his shirt. Trevor pulled back for a second to slide down Michael's jaw and tease M where he knew was his weak spot - and got the muffled moan out in answer to brushing the tip of his tongue all the way down his neck.

"Fuck, T!"

Michael's whole body was on fire, and all he wanted at this point was to fuck Trevor through the wall if he wasn't pinned down by his friend, who showed no intention to stop kissing him. The least he could do was to grab Trevor's hips, pulling him closer and thrusting forward while holding onto handsful of T's ass. "Be careful what you wish for, Mikey..." was the only answer, followed by a low moan as T pushed back and brushed his hard-on against Michael's. Trevor took advantage of Michael's parted lips to seize them again, but he was awaiting an invitation to deepen the kiss this time. He was not prepared for Michael clinking their teeth and brushing his tongue against his with such hunger and greed. He could not wait any longer.

Michael's fingers yanked impatiently on Trevor's grimy jeans, almost tearing them apart, to get hold of what was throbbing inside, and laced around the girth of Trevor's cock. A gentle stroke was all it took to make the tough guy tremble and moan - and Michael enjoyed the power he now held as well as grieved the broken kiss. Slowly, he built up the pace while rolling Trevor over against the wall again, but this time, it was Michael who kissed Trevor's neck and playfully bit his tanned skin with every stroke. Somehow, in between the moans and curses, Trevor could still unzip the fly of Micheal's jeans and free his cock out of the tight pants with shaking hands. He has always been skilled in pleasing him the way no one else could, Michael thought as the other hand unbuttoned his pants and sent them falling down to his knees. Gently, Trevor slid one finger along his balls to his perineum and pressed it up while brushing up and down.

The pressure building up inside Michael was barely bearable - Trevor's lips, Trevor's smell ("what the fuck, has he showered or what?"), his hands working him up slowly; all of it was suddenly too much and too little at the same time. Aroused, Michael broke the kiss and let go of Trevor's cock to look back at him with a predatory glare - and T immediately understood what was about to happen. All it took for Michael to set off was the tip of Trevor's tongue darting out of his mouth and a cocky nod of his head. Michael grabbed Trevor, turned him around and pressed him back against the wall face first, with such hunger it made Trevor moan upon impact. With one hand pushing Trevor against the wall by the scruff of his neck, Michael kicked his legs apart to make the entering easier for him.

"Fuck me already, Mikey!" Trevor trembled under his touch and wiggled his ass against Michael's erection. "Oh, look who's a cheeky bitch now!" Michael spat onto his fingers, not even bothering to check if it was enough. He just couldn't wait any longer. "Be careful what you wish for, T..." and slid himself inside of Trevor, his knees turning into jelly upon the tightness and heat of his lover. "M...Mikey! Jesus, you're bigger than I remember..."

Instead of answering Trevor, Michael pushed his lover's head harder into the wall, grabbing a fist full of hair and rocked his hips faster while holding onto Trevor's side, gripping hard. With every move, every cry of pleasure, he felt more at home, and all the frustration and fear melt away to make place for Trevor. "God, Mikey, harder!"

Fuck, he almost tripped over the edge right there with Trevor's needy moan. Michael instead pushed deeper and leant forward to bury teeth into Trevor's shoulders, as well as used both hands to keep Trevor steady in place and thrust forward as hard as he could, getting crossed, rolled back eyes and flushed cheeks in return.

Michael felt sweat pearling on the small of his back as he pumped in harder, desperate to enjoy what T had to offer, feeling the pressure building up within. He didn't want to come so soon, but anytime he attempted to slow down, Trevor pushed back and made him keep up the pace. Slowly, the world around them dissolved into a smear of colours. With each move, he felt he was getting closer to the edge: just one more move, just one more moan - Michael pushed as deep as he could and clawed his nails into Trevor's soft belly, looking for support as the whole world shivered and trembled with him, and somewhere far away there was Trevor saying something about loving him and his voice moaning out the same response over and over again.

When he came down from the high, Michael was happy to collapse onto Trevor's back and let his breath even out while still stuck inside his lover. "Fuck, T... that was..." but words have failed him. Instead, he decided to latch on the exposed skin of Trevor's neck and shoulders and plant kisses there when a slight shiver of muscles around his cock reminded him of painful truth - T hasn't cum yet. Michael smirked for himself when he slid his hands down from Trevor's hips to find him rock hard and ready. Without being reminded about Trevor's preferences, Michael gripped his cock firmly and squeezed just right to get a hiss of pleasure in response. He didn't bother with starting slowly and just pumped his fist up and down fast, with teeth planted into Trevor's shoulder. "Mmmikey!"

The shaky breath escaping him and his whole body vibrating in the rhythm of Michael's fist gave Michael signs Trevor is near the point of no return. He slid out of him and let Trevor lean onto him for support instead - he remembered too well the leg shaking orgasms of the past when T could barely stand. "M.. Mikey! Mikey!"

"Cum for me, baby..."

"Tell me... fuck! Tell me you love me, please, Mikey! I need to hear it, please, M!"

Michael squeezed Trevor harder and, leaning closer to T's ear, almost touching it with lips, M let out a hoarse whisper, "I love you, T."

************

Lester sat back in his wheelchair, trying to even out his breath, and brushed sweat off his forehead with his left hand. Fuck it, he thought, I'll have to clean under the table for the third time this week, and threw and an oblivious couple of crumpled paper tissues into a black plastic bin next to his desk. With a sigh, Lester proceeded to clean himself up and wipe his right hand into yet another tissue and input a command to stop recording and download the video onto his hard drive. With a happy little huff, he turned the wheelchair around and decided to take a piss and then crack a cold one open to even out the liquid levels. As he steered away, whistling, a window with a flickering low-quality image from a security camera showed two familiar men kissing and fleeing out of sight in separate directions to disappear back into the depths of their denial and misery.

#fanfic prompt #kissing prompts #real_fanta_sea.txt #birthday fic yay!#am I actually getting shit done here? it's more likely than you think.#am I going to update my first fic? probably

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rydenstories · 4 years

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Wholly Unnatural Beings: The Monsters I’ve Written!

Hi, guys! It’s obviously been a little while since I’ve posted a new story - though not for lack of still CONSTANTLY writing. The past several years have been quite different for me and, as you can imagine, my attentions have been all over the place elsewhere. Through that time, though, I’ve had mountainous opportunities to re-read some of my favorite works I’ve written and analyze the monsters/demons/ghosts I’ve written/created. That has led into introspection on who these beings are and how they’d function in this little universe I’ve built. That’s when I decided I would write little backgrounds and descriptions for my monsters! They even have names now - which is something I have only done for my Sixes.

If you’ve read many of my stories, of course, some of my stories are 100% human motivated horror - meaning there is no paranormal/supernatural element so those stories will be left out of this series. HOWEVER, I am open to the idea of writing criminal profiles for each entirely human evil I’ve ever written about. That’s for another time, though!

I decided to start with three stories - I heard my friends voice again. I almost immediately wished I hadn’t. // Mom’s biggest secret lived in the attic. // My imaginary friend wanted me dead. If you haven’t read these yet and you do not want the stories spoiled for you, PLEASE READ THEM FIRST! Spoilers ahead!

I heard my best friend’s voice again. I almost immediately wished I hadn’t.

- This story is about a young girl who loses her friend to illness at a young age. Her grief is replaced with fear when she finds a monster resembling her friend, Whitney, residing in her abandoned television. This is an example of a type of inhuman entity called a Ziya that preys on grieving children. They are inherently created through massive amounts of human grief - mostly during small to moderate tragedies throughout history. They retain the ability to impersonate dead people but, before the technological age, Ziya were much less successful hunters. In the physical realm, they can only hold a false form outside their own for a minute or two. This meant they would have to lure children into the shadows with only a mere glimpse of their loved one from a distance. Once radio and eventually television was invented, these entities realized their true potential. They could manipulate their presence onto television and radio waves and maintain their false form for anywhere between ten minutes and an hour. This brought them from pouncing on their prey from the shadows to manipulating their prey right where they wanted them. This method proved to heighten the grief and overall emotional state of their prey, which makes them a much more flavorful meal. Once they have their meal close enough and entranced enough in their scheme, they reach out and grab their prey. Using black tar-like saliva, it immobilizes and burns it’s meal before devouring it. The older the Ziya, the better the hunter. Newly created Ziya are generally poor hunters and will often reveal their true nature too early to catch their prey - such is the case in this story. They cannot be killed; destroying their point of original contact only slows them until they find you’re near another tv/radio. Your only hope is to stay away from technology until the entity loses interest, though the young Ziya lose interest easier. It is less common, but there are some Ziya out there existing solely on the internet, though little is known as of now about their behavior or hunting methods. It IS rumored, however, that these entities can hold their forms almost unlimitedly online.

Mom’s biggest secret lived in the attic.

- A father recounts his childhood with his talented but neglectful mother who’d found wealth and fame suddenly after a stroke of bad luck. All is not as it seems, however, as the luck comes at the cost of human lives. This is achieved at the hands of a type of demon called a Lukain, though it does not require a vessel like most demons, as the human life force it consumes give it a corporeal form. These are some of Lucifier’s earlier low-level demons, before the concern of Hell’s population of souls. It creates luck out of greed but embodies gluttony - appearing almost always as a black and hateful man-shaped void with white eyes. It will always be hungry, so the luck will always wear off. Regardless, once they’ve granted you luck, it’s near-impossible to get one of these demons off of your back and if you stop providing for them suddenly, they’ll likely eat you instead. The interesting thing about the Lukain is what they truly seek. While they do pull much of their sustenance from the people sacrificed to them, they secretly truly want to feed on the greed of their human provider. It is the highest delicacy for them. The greed of trading any human life for your own wants is pretty much like a big fancy cake for the Lukain. Being demons, they can only be sent back to hell via exorcism or destruction of the vessel and considering the fact that these beings create their own vessel, you’d be better off trying the latter. If you’ve already fed it a few times, though, you’ll likely find yourself dying shortly afterward - demonic luck bounces back threefold. The bounce-back is additionally worse with each sacrifice so while even the most emotionless evil individual could continue to sacrifice human lives for their own happiness, bad luck would eventually place them in prison or in a coffin.

My imaginary friend wanted me dead.

- An imaginary friend quickly is revealed to be a malevolent spirit and spends a span of several years attempting to end the life of a young boy. This is an example of a spirit who has become twisted by the nature of their life and death. Mean and cruel children that meet a sudden and dramatic fate will often be angry about their lot in life and that contorts them into what is known as a Killchild. They latch onto other happy, healthy children who’s lives they envy and drain them of all their happiness in the simplest of ways - physical and psychological torture. Much of their power is drawn from the attention they receive from the child - whether it be negative or positive. Theoretically, a Killchild could be entirely kind for it’s full existence and still be as powerful if they weren’t so spiritually twisted by their behavior in life to think to try, which is what sets them aside from similar benevolent creatures. Their ultimate goal is to either kill the child or push them to do it themselves. They, while evil, are still lonely children and somehow believe the evil they’re committing will bring their living subject where they are, but forget about them altogether once they’ve killed their subject and eventually move onto a new child. They lose a significant amount of power over their victim when they’re seen by anyone besides the child they’ve latched onto but they’re only really vulnerable when they are killing. After they lose that power, their behavior becomes much more like a regular haunting and once the attention is fully off of them, they fade back into the veil until they happen to find another child they can latch onto. Can also be destroyed like normal spirits (destroying human remains) but only after they’re seen. Interestingly - there are a few souls who have truly aged out of their Killchild out of pure grit and determination. After a certain age, even if they’re never seen by an outside party, mostly any Killchild will lose interest.

#my writing #mine #nosleep #short horror #monster #cryptozoology

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theindigomillennialchronicles · 3 years

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Blog Entry 6

08/30/2021

10 days ago marked the 2 year anniversary of the death of my best friend of 11 years. She was born 03/11/1996, died 08/20/2019, right before the pandemic started rampaging. Writing that word, “died”…it’s hard. Harder to say. It’s been a rough time since then. I went into the pandemic already severely depressed, anxious and grieving for her loss. Then I got reinjured at work and fell behind on bills because my doctor didn’t properly fill out a document so my 7 months worth of worker’s compensation claims were denied. A lot has happened. I mean A LOT. I know nobody actually reads this blog. I use it more for a place to vent and make order of the emotional soup and rampaging mess that are my thoughts. I’ve spoken to 3 therapists in that time and all of them recommended I should go to a psychiatrist, that I might need to be medicated. Unfortunately all of that is expensive and I fell so far behind on my bills from the 7 months of no income that everything I started earning once I got cleared to return to work, I used to catch up as much as I could. I ended my marriage in 2019 as well. The loss of Lash (my bff) made me realize how short life is and how one day I could die, seemingly out of nowhere and have never cared about my happiness. I had to be selfish for a time, I had to choose me and in that process I realized something about myself. I’m polyamorous. Maybe I’ll get into all that in the next blog entry.

Not everything that has happened has been negative, however. After 7 year of destroying my body and mental health, I quit my federal job and decided to start over somewhere new. I’m moving to the country and am going to start my dream of building a self sufficient homestead. Getting into all those details would entitle an entirely different blog so I’ll move past that to the biggest blessing I have received. Sometime through my time being separated and decide to focus on me I met her. We met at the club, she asked me for my number, and for someone severely introverted that gets you points. Anyway I gave her my info that night and six months later, I asked her to be my girlfriend on a camping trip. Being polyamorous is weird sometimes. To experience the heartbreak of ending a marriage while experiencing he high of falling in love with someone new made me feel like I was going insane. At times guilty as if I was wrong, but after all this time to be home and do research, educate myself and speak to others like me, I learned that it was normal and it would all fall into place with time. Spoiler, it did.

Fast forward to today, I’m writing again, my mental health is still a struggle but I’ve cleared the mind space enough to remember my passions. I have project ideas and new ways to share infinite consciousness with those around me. September 1st we are leaving on our long road trip north to a new adventure, and the best part is I for once feel safe and like I’m not carrying the weight of the world and it’s responsibilities alone. She showed me a new kind of love. I’m beyond grateful to have her in my life.

So that’s what I have been up to…anyway, now that we got that over with I have some of those random thoughts to share. I started reading a revised version of the Gnostic Bible and it pushed me to these random thoughts. See, I’ve always felt this weird fear with religion. I mean apart from the trauma of growing up in a aggressively Pentecostal household, as an adult religion makes a weird dark feeling crawl up my spine. According to the Gnostics, the god of the christian bible is actually the bad son of the actual real life force energy and this planet was created out of envy and jealousy. Making it the reason why this world is so full of darkness, pain and anguish. They say we were imprisoned in this physical form by a him as a way to try and harness the energy our souls carry. The way to salvation being knowledge, not as in book smart but as in true infinite wisdom. The knowledge of ourselves, past present future all connecting us to the real creator.

I’m still working on finishing the book but just the bit I read opened up a whole new can of worms because lately I’ve been feeling off. My existential crisis has been flaring, I find myself disassociating a lot or going about my days in a fog. I hear things when nothing is there and I’ve been absorbing people’s emotions too much for my own good. I get random moments of extreme sadness on days when my morning went great. Idk how my gf deals with it but she’s been keeping me grounded. She has bpd, and adhd so she has her own battles to fight and I always help her as I should, we keep each other above water, yet I feel most days she’s better of without me, not because I’m no good but because I feel like I wont ever feel normal, like I don’t belong in this reality. There’s a darkness about this dimension. IDK wtf is going on but people are walking around empty eyed, I guess a pandemic will do that to us.

I’m not giving up, don’t worry, but I keep feeling like a huge change is coming and if I don’t do something about my noggin I’ll miss out on being a apart of the shift that is nearing. In my opinion we’ll either be the generation that changes this planets course or, we’ll let the dark forces win and cause us to be so busy fighting with one another to try and stop the train of humanity which is barreling down the tracks towards a cliff that will toss us right off the edge of existence. Millennials and GenZ are creating a lot of noise currently, I’m proud. I just wish more of us would stick to it instead of just posting when it’s viral. I’ve decided that being as my social anxiety is so bad, I’ll start working on my grain of salt by using my creative energy. I’ll try to build a platform, a stage where I can express myself and educate through the communication noise of 1s and 0s that is the internet.

I’ve been told that the best thing to do to fight low frequencies and pain is to produce alot of love energy. So I’ll start there. As always remember I am here. If you need an ear or someone to tell happy things to. Maybe that’ll help. Maybe hearing your good will help me appreciate mine more. I’ll be back tomorrow. I have a project to get started. I have dreams of an audiobook series. I decided to stop letting it stay a dream.

Much love. Day

#millennials #boricua #lesbian blogger #blogger #living with anxiety #supernatural #lgbtqia #living with depression #gnostic #love energy #homesteading #i quit my job #rat race #amwriting #audiobook #audio series #scifi

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nothingeverlost · 4 years

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Fic: Holding Hands (Benoit/Marta, Knives Out)

I was going to write a flash fic based on a prompt I got ‘he meets her mother. ha! Flash fic. In actually a little more than 3000 words that is clearly not only a first attempt at Cablanca, but also an attempt to deal with stress.

WARNING: fic deals with Covid 19, which might be too much for some people at the moment.

Takes place about a month after the movie. _____ Benoit grinned when his phone rang. It was Marta’s phone calls in the middle of the day that made his isolation bearable. He was not a man well built for quartine, no matter how resolute he was to write a book, and no matter how many push-ups he did in his free time. He couldn’t stand more than an hour of tv a day, and there was only so much news he could read before wanting to pull the plug on his internet. A week ago Marta had called him during her break; hospitals needed extra help and of course she’d been one of the first to answer the call. The first time she’d had an actual question about a subpoena she’d recieved, but after that the calls had continued each day at the end of her shift. They had talked of nothing in particular and everything except the virus for a half-hour while she sat in a park and he sat in his apartment.

“From my window I can see a flowering quince. The whole bush looks like it’s on fire with the most vivid of red flowers. I shall attempt to send you a photograph if my neighbor’s cat ever decides to move off the fence. He is rather blocking my view.” He liked to have some pretty thought ready when she called, a reminder that not everything was as grim as respirator shortages and sore feet.

“Is this Mr. Blanc?” The voice on the other end of the phone was not Marta, though there was a similarity in tone and accent. He looked at the display on his phone; it did say Marta Cabrera.

“It is. May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“This is Elena Cabrera. We’ve never met but my daughter has spoken of you.” Her voice broke, just for a moment, barely more than a pause to draw in a breath, but it was enough to give him a clue. Benoit sat on the closest surface, which happened to be the edge of his bed.

“Something’s happened to Marta.” Talking with Marta every day was a delight in its own right, but it was also an affirmation that she was alright. Tired and sore and worried, but whole and healthy despite the risks compounding daily.

“She was going to stay home today because she wasn’t feeling well, but this morning she started coughing and couldn’t catch her breath. There’s an oxygen tank at the house and she thought that might be enough but it wasn’t helping. She needs a ventilator.”

“She’s at the hospital?” He closed his eyes, almost able to feel her small cold hand in his as they sat in plastic chairs in a waiting room, waiting to hear a prognosis. She wasn’t Fran, though. It wasn’t the same.

“She’s on her way. We had to call an ambulance.” For a moment there was no noise; he almost thought he could hear Elena’s heartbeat. Maybe it was his own. “I thought you should know. Marta told me that you two had been talking.”

“You have raised a very intelligent daughter, Mrs. Cabrera. A very kind and compassionate woman, not that I need to tell you that. She is also strong.” He was reminding himself more than her. “Thank you for calling me.”

“I have to go now, Mr. Blanc. I don’t want her to be alone.”

“It’s Benoit, please, and if there is anything I can assist with please don’t hesitate to call.”

He spent a full minute staring out the window; from his seated position he could only see one flower on the bush. The next minute he was on his computer, and relieved to find that despite so many businesses being shuttered he was still able to find a flight that left in a little over two hours. He could be at Marta’s side by tonight.

He always kept a bag packed, never knowing when he might be called out on a case. There were no plants to water, no pets to worry about. He took a few minutes to find his copy of Chandler’s Farewell My Lovely because he’d told Marta about it, but other than that it was ten minutes from the end of the phone call to locking the door to the apartment. He hadn’t been outside for three days, except for late-night runs.

The roads were virtually empty, an eerie sight that he was grateful for as he headed for the airport. It only took him fifteen minutes to drive, which wasn’t an accident. He traveled enough that proximity to the airport had been one of his apartment requirements. Likewise he flew enough that it was worth his time to pay for TSA preferred. He made it to his flight with time to spare.

There were only a few dozen people on the flight, everyone sitting in their own row unless they traveled together and the flight attendants wearing gloves and masks. He was glad that the amount of conversation that was required of him was minimal. Usually he was glad to talk to a neighbor or exchange pleasantries with the attendants. Since the New Yorker article he’d even had a few requests for autographs. Today, though, his only interest was on getting off the plane, as if his added focus could somehow make the plane land just a little earlier. He politely refused a drink and pretzels.

The sky was just shading to dusk when he drove his rental car to the hospital. It was the same place he’d been to before, the same place where Fran had died. Marta wasn’t Fran, though. She hadn’t been poisoned. No one had tried to kill her. No one he could fight, at least. No enemy he could put his hands on and pummel to the ground.

“I’m looking for Marta Cabrera, please.”

“I’m only allowed to give out information about patients to family members.”

“I am working with the police on an investigation. Detective Blanc.” If he thought he could have gotten away with calling himself family he would have, but he didn’t know if they would check with Marta’s mother. Lieutenant Elliott, though, could probably be trusted to lie for him if necessary.

“Just a moment Detective.” The nurse’s hand shook a little as she used the computer; too much coffee and not enough sleep was his guess. She told him the room number and a moment later was answering the phone. She probably didn’t hear his thank you. Rather than waiting for an elevator he sprinted up three flights to stairs.

A woman who looked too much like Marta to leave any doubt that she was Elena Cabrera was sitting next to a hospital bed talking in a low voice. The only other person in the room was Marta herself. Benoit didn’t know how a twin bed could make anyone look so small. He knew she was only a few inches below his own modest height, but in the hospital gown with blankets pulled up to her chest she looked delicate and too pale. On her left a machine beeped with proof that her too-big heart was beating. On her right a machine assisted with her breathing. From the doorway he couldn’t tell if she was conscious.

“Can I help you?” Elana Cabrera stepped around the bed, standing in front of it with all the fierceness of a mama bear protecting her cub. She all but obscured his view.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I had hoped…”

“You’re Benoit Blanc.” She tilted her head to the side, looking at him. “I didn’t expect you to come here.”

He had been so focused on getting to Marta that it hadn’t occurred to him what it might look like when he showed up. He had seen her a few times in the week after Ransom’s arrest, but then he had gone home, working two more cases in the past month before it had become obvious that he needed to stay at home. They had talked about the case a few times over the phone. Outside of this past week he wasn’t sure most people would call them friends even.

He couldn’t get her out of his head, not since that first moment he’d seen her foot bouncing on the floor, this woman with a kind heart so obviously grieving for a friend more than anyone in the Thrombey family grieved. His first instinct, even after seeing the blood drop on her shoe, had been to protect her from a wake of vultures.

“I thought I might see for myself if you or your daughter needed anything.” As if he’d just come across town to visit, not on a plane from eight states away. “How is she?”

“They gave her something to help with the fever but she needed the ventilator to help her breathe. She’s awake sometimes, but can’t talk. You sit with her, I’ll go find another chair.”

“Please, let me go. I did not mean to deprive you of either a chair or time at your daughter’s side.”

“I need to stretch my legs a little and get some coffee. You’ll stay until I get back at least?”

“I’ll stay.” He had no intention of leaving, not anytime soon. After Elena left he dropped his travel bag in the farthest corner of the room. He stopped long enough to take out a book before slipping into the only chair in the room. Marta’s eyes were still closed. Her hand rested against the blanket close enough that he could take it in his own if he dared.

“I believe I mentioned the other day a need to take care of yourself. You said you were safe with your masks and your gloves.” He had barely dared mention his concern for her safety. “This is not what taking care of yourself looks like.”

An overwhelming need to touch her drove him into taking her hand. It was cold, but her hand was always cold. She wore sweaters even in the summer, she’d told him. His own hand was far from cold and he wrapped it around her fingers, willing his heat into her hand. His life force too, if need be.

“I hoped to see you again, but it was my intention to ask you to dinner. Someplace nice, where I would hold out the chair for you and tell you how beautiful you looked.” She always looked beautiful, even now with the medical tape on her cheek and the shadows under her eyes. He wondered how much was being sick and how much was working too hard. Would he ever get to see her when she was simply relaxed and happy? “Truth be told I was working on an excuse to come up here. It would have been only polite to call if I was to return to the area for a job. Someone offered me a case in Connecticut and that’s practically next door.”

Marta’s eyelashes fluttered; he held his breath to see if she would open her eyes. She didn’t.

“You’ve had so many changes these last weeks. I didn’t want to complicate things but dinner wouldn’t be too much, would it?”

“I’m afraid the only dinner she’s having today comes in an IV drip.” A nurse, mask over her face and gloves on, came into the room.

“How is she?”

“We’ve been able to bring down her fever, and that’s a good sign. We’re pushing fluids, since there was some dehydration. That could be the fever or it could be that she’s been worrying hard and not taking enough breaks for food and water.” The nurse changed the nearly empty saline bag for a full one. “If she fights half as hard for herself as she does her patients she’ll be fine.”

“Did you hear that darling? You’re a fighter, and you need to beat this thing.” When the nurse was gone he squeezed Marta’s hand, talking to her in a low voice.

“I need…” He needed her. It was as simple and as complicated as that. His life was a nomadic one, going where the cases called him. The last time he’d sat beside a hospital bed had been more than ten years ago when he’d bid adieu to his mama, the last solid tie he’d had. He’d dated occasionally but never anything serious enough to look at jewelry. At some point he’d just assumed that he was past the age of considering marriage.

And then he’d met Marta. He wanted everything with her. He wanted to pick up his entire life and move it to wherever she wanted to be. He wanted to court her like she deserved, wanted to hold her hand, wanted to know what it was like to kiss her. Now he just wanted her to breathe. “You just keep fighting, like this blasted virus is Thrombey kin, you hear?”

He spoke to her of the flowers he’d seen from the window of his apartment and the woman who walked her small dog every day no matter the weather. Nothing of consequence, but talking was easier than silence. When Elena returned she carried two coffees and offered one to him.

“I have sugar and powdered creamer if you need anything. Someone will be in shortly with a second chair.”

“Black is fine, thank you.” Reluctantly he let go of Marta’s hand and stood up. “I do insist you take the chair, Mrs. Cabrera.”

“Elena please.” She didn’t argue, collapsing into the chair. “Did she wake up at all?”

“No, but the nurse was in to change the IV and said her fever is improving.” He wanted to pace but only allowed himself to walk to the other side of the bed.

“Thank God for that.” Elena fingered a medallion hanging from a necklace. “She was never sick very often as a child, not once we figured out her unique response to…”

“She is a very honest person who does not handle deception well.” Honest. Kind. Perhaps it was the fact that she was so different from the people he met during the course of his work that drew him to her. Or perhaps it was just her.

“She’s a good girl.” Elena’s voice shook. Benoit scrambled for something to say to help her steady herself.

“I bet you have a few good stories to tell about her childhood. I would be indebted to you if you told me one or two; I do so love a good story.” With perfect timing an orderly brought in a chair and he settled in. “Nothing that would embarrass her, of course.”

“You and my daughter…”

“Friends, ma’am.” For the moment it was the only truth, but that didn’t stop him from resting his hand over her fingers, keeping away from the IV needle at the back of her hand.

Elena told stories, and he added a few from his own childhood in exchange. By the time the hospital was quieting down he was able to convince her that she should go home and get some sleep. He could be trusted to sit with Marta.

“Where are you staying while you’re here?” She asked as she stood near the doorway, looking at her daughter and having trouble leaving.

“I am well used to sleeping in chairs. I’ll get some sleep when I need it.” Staying up for a couple of days wasn’t uncommon in his line of work.

“When I come back in the morning you’ll go get some rest at our house. Marta’s house. You know there are plenty of rooms.” She touched his arm, reminding him for a moment of his own dead mama. “You won’t help her by exhausting yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Benoit was four chapters into Fairwell My Lovely when he looked up to find Marta looking at him. The book almost fell from his hold. “Hey there sleeping beauty.”

When she struggled to speak he leaned in, touching her cheek lightly with his fingers. “You have a ventilator, which is why you can’t talk. Your mama was here with you all day but went home to sleep and report back to your sister. You missed our phone call today so I thought I’d drop in and see how you were doing. Everyone is fine. You’re going to be fine.”

She looked confused, but he didn’t know if it was his presence that was the issue or her location. “Do you need me to find a nurse?”

Slowly she shook her head.

“Call your mother?” Again a shake.

“I was reading that Chandler novel I told you about, shall I continue?” The nod of her head was barely perceptible. He settled back in, holding the book higher so he could look at her and the page. His free hand touched hers and after the first few lines he could feel her squeeze his fingers.

It was three days later when the doctor decided that she was responding well enough to treatment that she should be able to breathe on her own. He waited outside the room while they took out the tube, frowning at the coughing and listening for the sounds of breathing even though he was too far away to distinguish her breathing from anyone else in the room. When he returned she had a cannulas in her nose for oxygen.

“You’re here.” Her voice was raspy and dry. It was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Did you think I would make my exit without letting you know?” In the last three days he’d only left the hospital twice, both times to sleep in a guest room of the former Thrombey mansion.

“No, I mean you came here.” Elena quietly got up from the chair beside her daughter’s bed.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need something,” she said vaguely. Benoit moved closer to the bed.

“I couldn’t be anywhere else. You mean a great deal to me, Marta Cabrera.” It was as much as he dared to say.

“I thought I dreamed you. Your voice…” she coughed, seeming to have trouble catching her breath.

“I don’t believe anyone has confused me for a dream before.” He held a glass of water for her, letting her take a small sip. It seemed to help.

“I missed you.” Her eyes closed for a moment but then opened again. He could look at her eyes forever.

“I missed you too.” There were a million other things he wanted to say but they could wait. They had time. When he sat down beside her bed she held his hand and for the moment it was everything.

#Cablanca #benoit x marta #benoit blanc #marta cabrera #my fic #knives out fic

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unproduciblesmackdown · 6 years

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here’s me talking about the month since i was last online

firstly it was/is depressing not to be able to talk with ppl or hear from them. or just to be able to talk somewhere i know people CAN hear. i also mentioned being completely detached from the news. i like to be current about the news. anyways i was like “well not like this is anything new” as its technically unusual for me to NOT be cut off both irl and from the internet. but, shockingly, that doesnt make it not depressing. and having something for even a bit makes it more frustrating to lose it even if its “normal” for you not to have it. also by depressing i mean i was going like hmm i sure am even more tired than usual and i am less interested in my few lingering faint interests. whats up with that! and then i was like oh yeah thats called Even More Depression

it is funny because im someone who has never really had that many friends and when i do we often end up separated one way or another. Very Close friends &/or Very Longtime friends are a foreign concept. basically the heights of my “what i wish it was like” for life involve having a group of friends with whom you can have fun in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night just talking and hanging out and messing around. friends that you feel comfortable being yourself around and like they appreciate you as much as you do them. i do not think this is ever going to happen, but oh well because in reality i can be very picky about people because i am weird, to put it that way for now. my social landscape and language is not always considered normal or even tolerable. and i have a lot of standards for who i want to have around me in terms of traits and personality. theres a lot of things im not interested in. anyways. i also just, in the way things actually are, often prefer to be alone, so that i can be myself and do things i feel like. i dont have to worry about being strange or feeling like i need to please people. anyways. unfortunately i dont ONLY like being alone. i actually really like to be with people and talk with them but i rarely can, and i figure this is bad for me. isolation isnt good for anyone obviously. not being able to be around friends in person depresses me. not being able to talk online either depresses me further.

i think sometimes about how much i dont say. its a funny place to say it, in an overly long text post. but one of the reasons they can be so long is because irl i dont really talk much to people. so it builds up and can come out through writing. sometimes it comes out in talking. i think that in conversations, when i do talk, i talk too much because of this. so one of the reasons i dont talk much is to prevent this, which obviously is like “well that would just cancel out” but there are other reasons i dont talk. but i have loads of thoughts and things to say. i end up keeping so much of it to myself and wonder sometimes if i’ll ever get to say some of it. sometimes i’ll have something to say and bite it back. i’ve been “quiet” all these past twenty some years of talking and i know the reasons i dont talk. i was thinking about the feeling of biting something back in an individual occasion feeling like the cumulation of all the years worth of keeping my own voice running in my head alone. it kind of feels like what you want to say is in your chest and throat and the roof of your mouth.

speaking of the roof of your mouth, theres a weird sensation i can feel sometimes, seemingly at random but mostly in strange times like trying to fall asleep. it is so transient and unlike any actual externally caused sensations that its been difficult to try to get a grasp of how to describe it, but i think i have it thanks to ongoing effort and an unusually long period of it a few days ago during which i was especially alert about it. it’s like having a pressure radiating out from inside your mouth. like an orb pushing outwards against the teeth and roof of the mouth. which i’m fairly sure isn’t anything that would ever happen, so i am assuming its some little neurological hiccup that happens to align every now and then, but maybe a previous life cycle has put something weird in their mouth. or shot into it, because i would be like, well not much has changed.

anyways. words sitting like a pressure in your mouth. i was seeing a thread about how grief is ongoing and reoccurring which also mentioned that people who specialize in knowing how grieving and living with it works often consider it to be a form of grief when someone’s life is affected by something like trauma. they have to grieve themselves because of the possibilities taken away from them. i feel that, sometimes. thinking about how i wish i had a life where i felt free to speak and where my identity mattered and i got to feel like i could be myself and it was important and it was important what i thought and wanted and who i really was. and where i got to have friends and do things and realize what it was to actually feel happy, not try to understand an unhappy existence as what must be okay. its not just what couldve been in the past, but also how that couldve affected the present and future. im not sure who i’d be if my life didnt have to be about survival and escape. i say i never had dreams, which is true, but in retrospect i DO think that when i was fifteen and really bearing down in trying to figure out what i wanted to do, i was already seeing activism as the answer, which made sense why it wouldnt register as a dream or ambition and why it was also impossible to pursue. i still dont think of anything like personal fulfillment through a career/job or anything. but i also dont think of what i want to do as very relevant to anything at all anymore.

anyways. i’m “used” to things, but they still depress and hurt me. i actually have a lot of sadness and anger about some of these things, like never getting to have the friends i wanted or never being able to speak and it not mattering who i really was, and how long it took me to realize this really wasn’t okay and it wasn’t because of some personal deficiency which made me deserve it somehow. also the abuse. i remember i had this how-to book about weaving friendship bracelets which i got sometime in elementary school, and it even supplied some twine and stuff. i had always wanted to have occasion to use it, and i never did, which is just symbolic. the twine/potential friendship bracelets can also be things like positive social connections that feel real and open, or my ability to feel secure in expressing affection because it seems mutual. but anyways. i also just go along.

i was thinking about the Being Gone For A Month thing and the not-talking and holding all my words back even though i think so much about all sorts of junk and thus have too much to say, and about a week ago i just spent like six hours writing about myself. i was debating doing so in the first place because i figured i wouldnt post it. i did write it, but i won’t post it. its just good to talk to myself in the form of writing. getting thoughts into that form requires an extra level of analysis and coherent flow that can help put even things you already knew more in order. so here’s this stuff instead.

there’s not much to say about this past month. the worst of it was that discovering my weird tooth is all janky and broken has made me on edge about teeth. i mean, i’ve already all but stopped worrying about the broke tooth, because i kind of do that sometimes when i can. just worry hard and then stop, because what can you do? might as well try to avoid stressing even worse. and in this case i dont have money and doubt i will ever have a job w dental coverage, so i cant do anything about it. but im always worried about my teeth because, fittingly, my parents dental genes seem to combine into that of a tasmanian devil. i think im in some Dental Report b/c i had this weird situation that needed basically a root canal but it wasnt the normal kind of root canal situation and the dentist said he hadn’t seen it or heard of it even. special. i was horrified about needing the root canal, because of the clichés. but it ended up being fine and i really just sat there for an hour thinking about whatever. dental procedures are truly not what theyre hyped up to be. on account of local anesthetics. anyways. when i left my parents house i was specifically worried about leaving my access to a dentist, but obviously it wouldve been far from worth it. but that doesn’t mean i dont worry about my teeth. so i had these few days where i just had a spontaneously sensitive gum spot and another one which im guessing i caused by jamming corn shards down in there by eating corn on the cob. that happened sort of last year, i got really worried about an angry-looking spot on my gums and finally realized something was just up in there that needed to be flossed out. anyhow. the point is i got overly worried about everything that always worries me even though it used to worry me even before going to the dentist and they’d say the stuff was fine actually. but still. i got

very worried for a minute there and i realized very easily that if i start getting any really serious tooth problems i am out of here. i have no motivation at all to live through it. i don’t want to have to deal with that. it’s way too much. i dont even have motivation to be alive now. but when i was worrying i was thinking about not using my handful of cash to change locations, but instead to get some fancy Dying Equipment. there are still some methods by which im not sure i could try offing myself. but if things got a lot worse, like teeth problems, i could probably lower those standards. i COULD obtain some items for one method, or by necessity do it for free. im less worried about the tooth stuff now. it was just an unfortunate convergence of a couple tiny things. but ive still got a sensitive spot or two, and im always a bit worried. if something bad happens i cant do anything about it except get tf out of this life cycle, right.

there was something else unfortunate i was going to talk about. maybe just the depression.

there were nice, small things. i always knew how to enjoy those kinds of stuff. i like the sky, and i appreciate that its summer. theres a lot of fireflies sometimes and i saw kittens chasing them one day. one of those kittens mightve gotten killed by something since. i got to hear rain on the roof a few times. i like corn on the cob even if it betrayed me. i was wanting some last summer. i also got to make sweet tea and lemonade for the first time in forever. i’d been wanting that for a long time too.

the nicest surprise was that i had been writing extra hard since the start of june. i sort of really pushed at it and got to the dividing point between the section and the next, and i was sure it was shorter than previous sections. but actually it was just over 1000 words short of being 140k, and i’d written it all in about five weeks, and it was abt 22.5% longer than the next longest section i’d written. i’ve since gotten to a point i’ve been writing towards since this whole time, and im right on the verge of another long awaited one right now. it’s nice, but writing has been fun, and i hope i dont get depressed if i hopefully do finish it. i can just write some more, but doing so on my phone isnt the most efficient. it doesnt seem sustainable.

anyways thats it for now before i can think of anything else to say am i right

#talking abt being nervous abt it has made me a bit more nervous abt it...im trying to simmer down...dont have to die just yet...But You Know #also i could.

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camachameleon · 6 years

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Cam’s Voltron Fic Rec 3/∞

VLD Rec Lists: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Here’s a Fic Masterlist for my other fandoms. ( ** = favorites )

**Recoil/Release by Cheshyr

Word count: 22,387 (13/13)

Summary: When Keith is bitten by an alien creature with venom that causes your dominant emotions to be amplified, the team is ready for a day of dealing with an incredibly angry paladin.

Which means they’re not ready at all for what actually happens.

Comments: The almost stream-of-consciousness writing of Keith’s parts are really gut-wrenching because it’s as if you are experiencing it with him. (Warning for panic attacks- if you are triggered at all by that sort of thing you may want to sit this one out, it gets pretty graphic). A couple good song pairings for this fic to set the tone are Broken Crown and World Gone Mad.

**Synergy by Kokochan & Spanch

Word count: 74,064 (10/10)

Summary: The vines were large, stiff, gnarly, and thick-stemmed, with blue leaves as big and round as dinner plates, but Shiro’s battle-arm was able to sever several long straggles with ease. The vines draped easily enough over the shuttle and hid it quite handily from view. “Good enough, I suppose,” Shiro said, glaring at the empty greenish-blue sky. “Come on, let’s… Hunk? What’s the matter?”

Hunk was staring at something behind him. “Shiro, don’t make any sudden moves just now, but there’s a really big lizard thing standing right behind you. Um. Two of them.”

Surprised, Shiro turned, albeit carefully. He’d never even heard them approach. That was rather impressive, considering the size of the beasts. It was as though someone had taken a pair of Arizonan horned lizards and rebuilt them more on the lines of a tiger without leaving out any of the spikes, then expanded them to about the size of an Indian elephant and added six large, intelligent blue eyes. Understandably, Shiro froze in place.

Comments: OH. MY. GOSH. OK. SO. This bad boy is Part 1 of 3, so far, with a total series word count of 241,404 at the moment. This beautiful titan of a series is named Of The Pack, and it updates with great speed, considering it has two top tier authors working on it. The several OCs in this story are so lifelike and realistic and fit so well into the universe that I forget that they aren’t actually canon and I kind of miss them when I’m reading other Voltron fics. My favorite part is the world-building it does. Everything about this fic is so dynamic and multi-dimensional, from it’s characters to the epic plot - this is the exact opposite of lazy writing. I am so here for badass Pidge, and the matriarchal Galra culture and the dragons. I👏LOVE👏THIS👏FIC👏

Also there’s magic! (with a scientific explanation, of course)

A cool song that I think goes nice with this fic is Heroes by Måns Zelmerlöw.

The Kids Are Alright by pugglemuggle

Word count: 10,430 (3/3)

Summary: Three Garrison Cadets Missing After Freak Satellite Crash

By Mara Garrett, News Editor | The Guardian | Monday, June 13, 2103 7:40 A.M. ET

Two seventeen-year-olds and a fifteen-year-old went missing Friday night after a rogue satellite crashed into the desert a few miles away from the Galaxy Garrison Training Facility, reports say. Garrison officials were quick to cordon off the area, claiming many of the remaining satellite fragments were dangerous and unstable. Government search parties have been sent out into the surrounding desert areas. Details are forthcoming.

—

Her brother is missing. Lance’s sister isn’t about to sit quietly while the Garrison keeps lying to the press. No—she’s going to get to the bottom of this.

(Or: The paladins’ families team up to find their kids and overthrow the corrupt Garrison regime. Told through news articles, prose, the internet, and art.)

Comments: The format of this is very intriguing and fresh. We get to see scenes of our favorite paladins through the eyes of their friends and families, from before they disappeared and the aftermath. The open ending is still satisfying and leaves you with a sense of determination and hope for these characters that you just couldn’t help but get attached to. If you’re big on government conspiracies then this is the fic for you!

**Patty Cake by Froldgapp

Word count: 7,829 (6/6)

Summary: Quiet, aloof, and alone, Keith is distant from the rest of the team. Hunk begins to suspect why, and it’s only when the red paladin pushes himself too far, the Voltron gang realise he’s just as vulnerable as the rest of them.

Comments: Aaaaahhh this fic. Something about this one has me coming back to reread it all the time even though I always cry. It is just so angsty but in a more poignant, sharp, breathless kind of way. Some of the things the characters say send painful stinging jolts into your chest and you can feel your heart cracking and then you get angry because how dare (I mean ch4 tho holy sh*t). I just want to hug Keith so much ugh. Hunk’s protectiveness of Keith gives me the strength to finish this masterpiece every time. Also, this can kind of be Sheith if you squint (or not, if you don’t).

The Message by Shipstiel

Word count: 132,787 (45/45)

Summary: (4:07) okay, but considr this, and hear me out here (4:08) so like, a photobooth u can do with ur pets like there’ll be lil costumes that u can dress them up in, and u can do liek, period costumes and shit with them (4:09) omg, can u imagine, u and ur cat/dog, and theyre in a lil 1800s dress and one of those lace umbrella things omg so cute

(4:15) Why the FUCK are you texting me at four in the morning with this

—

Keith is texted by accident by some idiot one day, and honestly he’s not even sure why he responds. Or why he keeps responding. Yet somehow he finds himself drawn in, and okay, so maybe this fool is mildly entertaining after all. Who would’ve thought.

Comments: Slowburn Klance Wrong Number AU. These two are so cute I just can’t. This is the perfect story if you are looking for something effortless and relaxing to read. Even though this contains some softcore Langst, it is still a very cute and heartwarming story about two dorks slowly falling in love. It features Lance’s mother who I fell in love with here, and the kind of supportive nosy best friends that everyone wants in real life (i.e. Hunk, Pidge, and Allura).

**The Quiet by MilkTeaMiku

Word count: 66,700 (32/32)

Summary: Does he not realize he’s dead?

Keith can see ghosts. As a part of his Garrison training, he’s sent to a hospital to do one year of medical clerkship - it’s there that he meets a charmingly irritating chose who definitely needs to learn what boundaries are.

Comments: Modern Ghost AU with eventual Klance. This fic is the most suspenseful story I have ever read in my life. Idk if it’s just me, but I just have this feeling building up paragraph by paragraph of an impending… something. And it has my heart racing which is crazy because it isn’t even particularly fast-paced. There’s just a heaviness to the words that have the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. I literally have to take a breather from reading sometimes to calm down.

A couple cool songs I think set the mood for this fic is Smother and Mirror.

Finding Home by spacegaykogane

Word count: 26,966 (6/6)

Summary: After the wormhole collapses, Keith finds himself stranded on a strange planet. Alone. Until Lance comes along. With their lions dead and resources limited, Keith and Lance need to put aside their differences and work together to get home. Wherever that may be, now.

Comments: Klance. I love Stranded fics where they have to work together to survive and bond over that. So yeah this one has some whump obviously, bc you know, crash landings aren’t very fun. This one is angsty but its balanced out by the fluffiness in the end.

Cuddle Puddle by nothingwrongwiththerain

Word count: 46,782 (6/6)

Summary: Unexpectedly, Shiro’s hand landed on the top of his head. Apparently with Lance and Hunk taking up all the shoulder real estate, Shiro would settle for ruffling Keith’s hair.

Keith was fairly certain his soul was about to detach and abandon his shaking body on the couch. He was surrounded, in the complete and total sense of the word, by other people. Not once before, not in his whole life, had he dealt with a situation like this one.

Or, five times Keith found himself too close for comfort and one time he couldn't get close enough.

Comments: Klance featuring ace!Keith. Don’t be fooled by the fluffy summary, this is a very angsty fic with lots of Keith whump. Basically, as stated by the author, this story is about ‘Keith struggling with physical contact and learning to accept people care about him’. I love touch-starved Keith stories, like this one. I love the scenes with Kidge bros, featuring a super supportive Pidge.

At the Beginning by Sakuraiai

Word count: 64,203 (12/12)

Summary: Inspired by Anastasia

King Zarkon of the Galra empire lost his only way in to the Kingdom of Altea. In his anger, he put a curse on the royal family. The young, adopted half Galran prince Keith disappeared when the palace was overrun, never to be seen again -- or so it seemed. The only surviving princess, Allura, grieving for her child, offers a reward for Keith's safe return.

Con artists, Lance and his best friend, Hunk plan to pawn off a phony to the princess, hoping to reap the rewards. They hold auditions and choose an orphan man who has a remarkable resemblance to the missing prince -- all the way down to his fluffy Galran ears.

Comments: Can anyone say Anastasia AU?! I waited with baited breath for each chapter to come out and I was not once disappointed. I love the integration of the different alien races in this timeless story, it all works out so well. Keith just wants to find his mommy and I just want to cry. Also Kidge bros are still my fav as always.

out of orbit by rbillustration

Word count: 78,135 (19/19)

Summary: Dragged apart by Haggar’s attack on the wormhole, the paladins and Alteans struggle to survive and find one another again. Luck has placed them all within the same galaxy… but their fortune ends there. Lance is stranded with a badly-injured Shiro and his relief at finding their leader still accompanying him soon turns to terror. Keith may be the only who can rectify the situation - but the Galra have him in their grasp, and they don’t want to kill him. They want him as one of their own.

Comments: ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. A brainwashed Galra!Keith plus a Possessed!Shiro. This is the perfect recipe for disaster if I ever saw one. If lots of blood bothers you proceed with caution. I love stranded fics.

A good song rec for this one is Darkside.

VLD Rec Lists: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Here’s a Fic Masterlist for my other fandoms.

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kanrakixystix · 6 years

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F, K, Q, V for the ask thing!

F: What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

Hard question. Like, active? Making content and always reblogging things? A year and a half. But like, collectively? I’ve been in the Digimon Fandom since I was in middle school, and I’m well out of high school now, so… 20 years? JFC. I’ll see myself out.

K: What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Since these days I mostly post FFXV, I’ll answer for that, and I have to say Noctis. Sure, we all joke that he’s sleeping beauty and needs a hug (which, I mean, isn’t a lie), but he is so strong. He loses his father, his home, his kingdom..all in one night. We see him grieve for all of one chapter. He’s angry, and rightfully so. He has a destiny that was thrust upon him that he wasn’t ready for because Regis didn’t prep him for it. So he goes on this 70 gameplay hours long quest across Lucis. He meets new people, helps them with their own livelihoods, protects them, does what he can as the “fallen” prince. He connects with his people, and yeah, he’s afraid. He has every right to be. He is, in every sense but actual age, still a child. He suffers so much, questions if he is able to do what he needs to, comes back after ten years of darkness, and, quite bluntly, is there to kick names and take ass.

You didn’t ask for this. I’m so sorry, lol!

Q: A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

Hoo boy. I’ll probably get some flames for this one, but Tiger and Bunny. Let me preface this by saying that I definitely had a good run with it. I had several RP blogs, was actively writing for the fandom, made a ton of friends, some of which I still talk to, and I met my best friend through that fandom because she liked one of my fics. It was good, for a little while.

And then the elitism took hold. If you weren’t a part of the clique, you were trash. If you stood up to the clique, you were trash. Sometimes, you were like me, and ended up in that small middle ground where you weren’t a part of the clique, but you were respected for your content and were grandfathered into being “cool.” They ran that fandom under their thumbs for months. They drove people out because they staked claim to characters and plots that didn’t belong to them in the first place. Anything that remotely resembled something they wrote for their over-the-top expansive AU, they dragged you for. It was disgusting.

I also couldn’t stand the merch fiends. Because Tiger and Bunny merch is so rare, (at least, it used to be), there were internet wars over who had the best merch, who could get it first, etc.

Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE the series. If anyone hasn’t seen it, and you want a character/story-driven anime that pushes representation of all kids (POC, queer, pansexual, trans, gender fluid, etc.), PLEASE WATCH THIS SHOW. It’s only 25 episodes, and has two movies. Do yourself a favor and enjoy the fuck out of this show.

JUST STAY AWAY FROM THE FUCKING FANDOM.

V: Which character do you relate to most?

Man oh man. What a question.

Sticking with the FFXV theme, because that’s the fandom I’m most active in at the moment, I will again have to say Noctis. No, not just because I cosplay him, but because his personality and mine are very similar. Doesn’t open up a lot to people, but cares all the same. Finds a good group of people and holds onto them. Loves video games. Passionate about very specific hobbies. Quiet, until he knows you. I could go on. But I’ve already super chatted your ears off, lol!

Thanks for asking!

#question meme #ask #ask meme #kanra answers #about kanra #riotbrrrd

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morethannotenough · 3 years

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...there we were.

Well, I ruined it! Within about 7 months of meeting my goal I have gained every. single. ounce. back.

Frustrated, disgusted, disappointed, angry... these don’t even begin to explain what I’m feeling. The back pain, the shortness of breath, the fatigue, it’s all back too. What’s killing me is my mind is still obsessed with that goal, but I can’t motivate my body to do anything about it. That’s not to say I’m not trying. Things are just going to be a little more complicated this time, because clearly the whole “well I’ll just not eat for 6 months” approach to weight loss ISN’T WORKING, and I understand why now, which helps, but also means I have to address some gigantic, well-established thought processes. That ish is hard.

That being said, I do think I’m making a little bit of progress, and I’d like to kind of track it here if I have the willpower to keep writing. I use to write in a journal every day, but I felt like it kept me stewing in my negative emotions too much (because what else would a 16-year-old girl write about except her emotional turmoil?!), so I stopped and have been hesitant to pick up the habit again. Also... I’m an adult with responsibilities now, so spending hours a day pouring my soul out to the internet isn’t really an option anymore. I’ve thought about doing some sort of daily or weekly blog/journal/whatever during this whole process, but like everything else in my life, I put it off. What a great self-deprecating segue!

So the first thing I think I’ve figured out is that I have **undiagnosed** (that’s important, I’m not trying to claim anything here, it just all makes too much sense to not be at least a possibility) ADHD. I remember wondering this in high school. I even remember telling my mom once that I thought I had it. She immediately offered to get me tested, and I refused, thinking there wasn’t really anything they could do to help me. I kinda want to go back and shake that girl now. What I didn’t realize then, and wouldn’t realize until just a few months ago, is that ADHD is SO MUCH MORE than just an inability to pay attention to things and being easily distracted. It messes with your entire life. Your productivity, your executive function (the part of your brain that tells you to start the thing you want to do), your relationships, your time-management skills, your hyperfixations that take over your entire life but only last for a finite period of time, your dopamine reception, all of it. That last one is especially important. If I’m correct, and I do have ADHD, it means that my brain doesn’t produce enough dopamine, so I am constantly looking for more. You know what gives an awesome, instant dopamine boost? Eating carbs and sugar.

I think I’ve had this for a long time and I subconsciously learned from a young age, both from the midwestern food culture (celebrating? food! grieving? food! stressed? let’s get some food! bored? food!) telling me that any kind of emotion can be improved with food, and my sneaky little ADHD friend compounding the comfort/reward aspects of those food solutions, that food will make me feel good, no matter what else is going on. Throw in the fact that I’ve been slightly overweight my whole life, and while I was not actively bullied persay, I was passively bullied (by myself and others) enough that I was already insecure (it was called “shy” at that time) by the age of about 7. We’ll go into all of that later because it played more of a part than I originally gave it credit for. Anyway, ADHD has a lot of what are called co-morbid disorders, which are basically conditions that are likely to occur with an ADHD diagnosis. These can include depression, anxiety, OCD, oppositional defiant disorder, learning disabilities, executive function disabilities, aaaaand eating disorders, especially binge eating disorder. Binge eating disorder (BED) with anorexic and bulimic tendencies is what my current diagnosis is, I think. At least the BED part. What a coincidence.

Now, I’m not trying to say that my current weight is all due to my potentially existing ADHD. I clearly made some choices along the way to get here, but I have spent so many hours and sleepless nights wondering WHY I can’t just ‘eat healthier’ or stick to a diet and lose the weight. Why do I struggle so much with these things that other people are totally capable of? Having an explanation is such a comfort. Knowing that there’s a reason why this process is so hard for me, when it seems so easy for others keeps me from falling into depression and helplessness. Prior to talking with my therapist and my dietitian, I would sit and think about what it would take for me to be a healthier, fitter version of myself. I would picture myself years from now eating salads and veggies while my family ate pizza, like my mom use to do while she was on weight watchers. I would picture just wanting to take a lazy day but I needed to get my 4 mile run in first, and that future looked miserable. But the only way I had ever been successful at losing weight was by literally starving myself and pushing my body to the extreme with exercise, so clearly that was the only way to do it. I’m learning that this all or nothing thinking is deeply flawed, and honestly a big part of the reason I’ve been so unsuccessful in the past. Restriction (especially extreme restriction) is not sustainable, and studies have shown that it actually causes people to gain more weight back than they originally lost. Because diet culture is a huge money maker and they need a way to have repeat customers. Once you fall into the binge/restrict cycle, it is very difficult to get back out. That’s where I am now.

Even though I want this thing so bad, and I have a path that’s going to be easier this time, I’m having trouble actually making the small changes I need to start with, because my body literally does not trust me anymore. Every time I eat a food I like, I have to eat as much as I possibly can, just in case this is the last time I’ll let myself have it for months. If I make a small change, eat a healthy snack, do a quick workout before work in the morning--the little voice in my head says, good, we’ve started, now don’t eat anything else the rest of the day so we can keep up our progress, and more often than not I listen. Moderation is not always easy when you’ve lived in these extremes your entire life.

I don’t think I’m alone in this. I think there are a lot of people who can identify with these same struggles, even if they haven’t recognized these issues in themselves yet. So I’ve decided to try to chronical this journey to healthier thought patterns, and see where that takes me physically. You always hear the stories of the successful people after they’ve been successful. Let’s get through the gritty part together. I’ve been in therapy about weight loss for almost 2 years now, and I’ve made some major shifts in my thought processes already, I still have a lot to do. If I can help even one other person escape this cycle, it will be worth it.

I’m going to end today with an assignment my dietitian gave me, which is finding other reasons to fix my relationship with food other than weight loss. Some of these still have to do with losing weight, but don’t focus on a number on the scale. Hopefully I can check these off and more over the coming years!

1. I miss riding horses, but I don’t feel like I can fairly do it right now at the weight I am.

2. On that same thread, there are a lot of activities I’d like to try that look like a lot of fun, but my weight holds me back both physically (weight limits) and mentally (fear of judging, looking stupid, failing and deciding it’s because of my size, associating a severely negative emotion with the activity and giving up interest in it before giving it a fair shot, etc.) Some of those things include, aerial silks, pole dancing (not stripping, but like, the exercise classes), kayaking, rock wall climbing, dancing, and a bunch more that I’ll think of later. I love doing outdoor activities, but I don’t because my weight makes me so uncomfortable.

3. Losing the stress of going to an unfamiliar restaurant, and the judgement around ordering the same, bland thing every time. I have been chastised for being a picky eater my entire life, so I have a lot of stress around choosing foods in front of other people. This is also something that formed, unknowingly to me, at a young age. It results in an almost panic-like state of mind if the trip is sprung on me and I don’t have time to prepare (like the time I started my new job and another employee was assigned to take me to lunch, and almost chose a sushi restaurant before we realized we wouldn’t have time to get there and back. I don’t do sushi, I had no idea what to order, and I barely paid attention to the rest of my orientation that morning because I was panicking about lunch.), or, if I know it’s coming, I will binge on something I do like and that I know will keep me full before I go. Then I can order a small side salad or something, tell the person I’m with that I’m “just not that hungry today” and not have to worry about my stomach growls giving me away. This also spills over into places that I really like to go to. If I know we’re going to Old Chicago, for example, and I can easily put away one of their individual pizzas in one sitting, but I’m scared the people I’m with will judge me for that, I’ll binge before I go there too, so I can eat half of it, ask for a box, and finish the rest on the way home or later that night. It’s not healthy, and I didn’t even consciously realize I was doing it until a few months ago.

4. Having a truly open mind about trying new things. I hate being so picky. Hate it. But textures and certain flavors activate my gag reflex and I cannot eat them. There are some foods that are ‘okay’, or “I’ll eat it, but I probably wouldn’t make it for myself.” but for the most part it’s I LOVE THIS SO MUCH (read: anything made of bread and cheese), or I HATE THIS SO MUCH I CANT EVEN SWALLOW IT. Because of those extremes, I don’t try a lot of new foods, because history shows I don’t like most things. When I do, I try to have an open mind, or try to look and sound like I have an open mind, but I’m already prepared to spit it out before I even take the fist bite. I want to more more foods into my “its okay” range, and maybe eventually form a “hey, this is pretty good” range. I want to be able to go to my boyfriend’s parents’ house and eat what his dad cooks (he’s always trying new recipes with a lot of different foods and spices. He takes great pride in his cooking, which he should, and I feel like I constantly offend him with my 6-year-old tastebuds. I avoid going over there if I know there’s going to be food because I’m so stressed about not hurting his feelings.

5. I want to be able to have options about where to buy my clothes. Right now I’m limited to a few things at Walmart (which are sometimes super cute, but are usually very not cute), and Torrid which is always cute but sooooo expensive. I’d love to see a cute shirt in a store window or even online and think, hey, I should try that on! Instead of, “well that will never fit me.”

6. I want to want vegetables. I want to be able to choose foods based on how they make my body feel instead of the taste. I want to crave a lunch that gives me energy to get through the rest of my day, instead of something that tastes delicious (hello giant bowl of ravioli), but leaves me in a carb crash and not wanting to do anything the rest of the day. I want to see my food as fuel.

7. I want to not feel so guilty about eating the things I do like! It isn’t so bad when I’m by myself (hence my continued secret eating), but even if I’ve been good (or put up a facade of being good) all week, if I’m the one who asks to order pizza or make pasta for dinner, I feel heavily judged. I do it to myself a bit as well, but especially if there are others, and especially if they know I’m trying to lose weight.

8. I want to have kids one day (part 1). My doctor told me at my last appointment that she wants to see me get to around 200 lbs to give me the best shot at a healthy pregnancy. That’s not unreasonable, and I think she’s right. I’m in my 30s and my window to have kids will close sooner rather than later, so I want to get my body to a place where I can confidently make that choice when I’m ready.

9. I Want to have kids one day (part 2). I want to teach my kids to enjoy healthy foods so they don’t have to go through this same struggle. How am I suppose to expect them to try vegetables and healthier foods if I wont?

10. I want my life to stop being about food and weight all the time. It literally never leaves my mind. I want to be able to stop obsessing about it and just live and know that I can trust my body to make the right choices and maintain my optimum lifestyle without stressing and obsessing over food every single day.

I think that’s a start. I want to start diving into this more and doing more frequent entries so these aren’t all 10 pages long. I don’t have a great track record with that, but I want to try. I want to be able to look back on the work I put in while I celebrate reaching those 10 goals I just listed. I want to help other people reach their goals too without having to go through the mental anguish I’ve been experiencing for the last 20-something years.

One day at a time, one meal at a time. I’ve got help, I’ve got goals, I’ve got time and ability. I’ve just got to do it.

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maychorian · 7 years

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Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #43

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

What Happens on Youtube Stays on Youtube byIdidntsignupforthisshit (Oliver_Ravenwood) Words: 7,471 Author’s Summary: Keith’s break into the YouTube community was an odd one. One he wasn’t planning on making. It was all for this wildly popular group of vloggers, and his close connections to them all. He didn’t expect his “big break” to be all because of a crashed vlog and a close shave. Partnered with @sirensantics!! My Comments: Fluffy modern AU in which the paladins all room together and constantly end up in each other’s YouTube videos. Sweet friendship and childish humor all over the place.

The World Is Wide Enough by thegalrahobbitofplantetgalilfrey Words: 1,633 Author’s Summary: So, basically, I wanted a “paladins grow up together and are buddies for life” AU without A.) Shiro as Keith’s adopted dad/brother, and B.) That didn’t end in Klance. Starts when they’re small and then progresses, because guess what it’s time for another series! Just when you thought I was done. My Comments: Just a cute fun, fic with all of the paladins meeting as children and having fun together. A nice spot of uncomplicated fluff.

Winging It by Engineer104 Words: 2,187 Author’s Summary: Recipe for fun: 1 notebook 5 Paladins 1 Princess 1 Advisor 7 paper airplanes Or, what happens when several Earth teenagers are lightyears away from home and have an entire notebook and a free day My Comments: Adorable bonding fic in which the team makes paper airplanes and races them. It’s a simple concept, but very fun to read, and I liked the focus on Coran.

Something Small and Precious by Karee_the_wise Words: 30,435 Author’s Summary: Tensions were already building within the team; with the revelation of Keith’s Galra heritage, Allura’s entrenched prejudices, and Lance’s supposed “rivalry” with Keith. But following their latest mission, they’ll all have to face their problems head on. Because now they have a Galra toddler on their hands. So, Team Voltron needs to make a decision as they move forward with their Grand Plan to defeat Zarkon once and for all: will this latest challenge be what bonds them or what tears them apart? My Comments: Team Voltron dealing with a kid is always a treat, and this is an interesting take on that concept, with some rewriting of canon that doesn’t come off as a total retread. Mild Klance at the end.

Spectrum by Engineer104 Words: 9,562 Author’s Summary: When Allura set out from her devastated homeland to search for the Dragon Reborn, she did not expect to also find three young Paladins and a missing war veteran in an Arusian backwater, anymore than she expected the Galra attack right after. My Comments: Very fun fantasy AU based on the Wheel of Time series, though you don’t have to read that to understand what’s going on. I loved all of the characterization and I’m very intrigued by the set-up. Though the story ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, it’s enjoyable as is.

Alone Together by Ninja_Librarian Words: 8,936 Author’s Summary: Day 8: Free DayFive times the scar on Shiro’s face messed with his health and made his friends worry. And the one time he gave in to doing something about it, and his friends freaked out… My Comments: Aww, this is SO sweet. Everyone just cares so much about Shiro, even worrying that they might have pushed him too much by insisting he get treated by something that is, yes, a serious medical condition. The last scene was the cutest way possible to end it, too.

Rats, Cats, and Nosy Neighbors by hufflepirate Words: 17,937 Author’s Summary: Animal-loving college student Keith Kogane has a one-bedroom apartment, a job as a bike messenger, and 6 quirky neighbors with boundary issues. In the months following the loss of his beloved cat, a series of run-ins with other animals helps him heal - and so do his friends in the apartment building. When another cat comes along, will he be ready to move on? My Comments: Holy crow, everthing this author writes is SO good. I love Keith’s slow progression through the grieving process, how he gradually becomes closer with his friends despite their irritating ways, and all the animals they meet and help along the way. Extremely satisfying fic with perfect pacing and characterization and adorable scenes. Everything is wonderful.

Beach Day by Bandity Words: 3,885 Author’s Summary: The Paladins finally get a break. Lance always finds trouble though… My Comments: Gosh, poor Lance. It sucks that he gets hurt on vacation. His protectiveness of Pidge is lovely though, and her struggle to get him back to the group and to medical care was wrenching. And afterward, he still says he likes the beach, aww.

The Kids Are Alright by Pugglemuggle Words: 10,427 Author’s Summary: Her brother is missing. Lance’s sister isn’t about to sit quietly while the Garrison keeps lying to the press. No—she’s going to get to the bottom of this. (Or: The paladins’ families team up to find their kids and overthrow the corrupt Garrison regime. Told through news articles, prose, the internet, and art.) My Comments: Well-written and realistic exploration of the paladins’ families struggling in the aftermath of their disappearance. Everything came together in a very satisfying way at the end of the fic.

When the Wolfbane Blooms by a_fearsome_thing Words: 20,055 Author’s Summary: Shiro never makes it back to Earth, instead crash-landing on a planet filled with what seem to be giant wolves. Injured and without a ship, he needs to find a way home to warn the Earth that the Galra are coming. (the one where Shiro gets adopted by a wolf pack in space) My Comments: Despite the fraught circumstances, it was pleasant and relaxing to see Shiro join a family of wolf shapeshifters before meeting up with Voltron. He got some much-needed recovery time after escaping the Galra, and the worldbuilding for the alien race was interesting.

In the Hands of Hatred by Haleykim84 (tristen84) Words: 22,917 Author’s Summary: After saving an alien race from the Galra, Team Voltron sets down on the planet for repairs. They are welcomed with open arms – until the aliens find out that Keith is Galra. My Comments: This is an intense and suspenseful fic, with the other paladins racing against time to rescue Keith while a violent faction prepares to execute him for the accident of his blood. The ending recovery period was very well-written, too.

Every Waking Hour by Cocopops1995 Words: 1,002 Author’s Summary: Lance has been dosed by a drug that doesn’t allow him to sleep. It’s left him absolutely wrung out, confused and sore all over. Hunk does what he can to help until the drug wears off. My Comments: Yes, perfect. Give me that good platonic cuddling with Hunk and Lance.

Darkness and Danger by Bandity Words: 2,545 Author’s Summary: Keith should have never tried to wake Shiro up that day. My Comments: Great exploration of Keith and Shiro’s relationship after Shiro accidentally harms Keith during a flashback. They are both very persistent, and very protective of each other, so sometimes they work at cross purposes. I’m glad they found a solution in the end.

Tail that Wags the Hound by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 5,436 Author’s Summary: Shiro adjusts. Comments: Sequel to a previously recced fic, and I am so very pleased to see more. Post Season Three, Shiro has returned to the Castle of Lions and unexpectedly discovered a new twin brother, Ryou, in the body of his unasked-for clone. There’s a lot of adjusting to be done, but I love the new relationship these unexpected twins are forming with each other. They can challenge and encourage each other in equal measure, and they don’t have to hold back. Not a bit.

Fish Out of Water by isabeau25 Words: 5,380 Author’s Summary: Keith is going to get Shiro back, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him. (I bumped the rating a little because Shiro is little, and Honerva wasn’t gentle with him, but nothing is described, and nothing will be.) My Comments: Sequel to a previously recced fic, but stands alone, and I am so utterly DELIGHTED to see more of this! Merbaby Shiro is rescued and safe, but big brother Keith doesn’t know that, and he travels into the surface only to run smack dab into Pidge. My favorite parts were Lance and Hunk in the background spoiling merbaby Shiro absolutely rotten. (Lance calls him CUDDLE FISH, can you believe this cuteness.)

Where did the Party Go? by Ninja_Librarian Words: 1,530 Author’s Summary: Fun fact: Alteans can’t get food poisoning. Not-so-fun-fact: Humans can, even in space… My Comments: Ack, poor kids! Good thing Allura and Coran are able to take care of them, though it ends up being a pretty exhausting trip for everyone.

Day 6: Poison by GemmaRose Words: 1,486 Author’s Summary: They really should learn to listen to Hunk. My Comments: And now for a lighthearted romp through food poisoning! No, really, this fic is remarkably humorous, though Keith and Pidge really should learn to listen to Hunk’s gut, especially when it’s about food.

Foolish Fragile Spine by ardett Words: 1,600 Author’s Summary: During a day at the beach, Lance finds himself trapped beneath the sand. My Comments: Aww, my poor boy. He was just trying to relax and found himself fighting for his life instead. I’m proud of him for fighting through.

Don’t Rush by Agapostemon Words: 1,472 Author’s Summary: It’s almost dusk when the Holt Family Van pulls into the McDonald’s parking lot where Keith is waiting with his bike. Shiro comes stumbling out the second the automated door slides open, despite Colleen’s suggestion for him to stay put. His right arm (which now ends just above the wrist, Keith notes with a sinking feeling) is in a sling, and his face is bandaged to hell and back, but… he’s walking and breathing and here. He’s here! He’s alive! My Comments: Ahhh, poor kids. Everyone is going through a rough time, but at least Shiro and Keith are reunited.

Hope Doesn’t Grow Overnight by HotAndColdAF Words: 6,194 Author’s Summary: Shiro’s year with the Galra, as told from Ulaz’s perspective. Not really shippy, but I wrote it as a person who does ship it so. Read it as you will. My Comments: Tagged as possible romance but reads entirely platonic to me. This is a rough read, as fics about Shiro’s missing year usually are, but Ulaz’s perspective is a fresh take, and it’s interesting to watch him slowly move from trying to keep logical and disinterested to eventually going all out to help Shiro escape.

Miss Missing You by Ninja_Librarian Words: 3,174 Author’s Summary: When Lance is sniping in battle, he always has his friends’ backs. But who has his? My Comments: The damage to Lance is pretty brutal here, but there’s some really great comforting afterward. I thoroughly enjoyed this one.

Day 7: Head Injury by GemmaRose Words: 1,558 Author’s Summary: There’s a reason you’re supposed to wear your seatbelt. My Comments: Shiro bangs his head in battle and kind of loses the plot for a few minutes. Fortunately everything turns out okay, but definitely scary to read.

Pidge Versus Aliens by Diremop Words: 2,917 Author’s Summary: Now, though, she was sitting with her laptop at a kitchen table and watching an alien eat breakfast. An alien that looked straight out of Star Trek. “Allura,” she said, leaning forward over the table and trying to get a better view of Allura’s ear, “why do you look like us?” My Comments: Fun and funny fic with some worldbuilding and action and Pidge being awesomely smart and curious.

Change and Holding On by ozbian Words: 3,255 Author’s Summary: The paladins and Coran undergo a potentially dangerous bonding rite to secure an alliance. My Comments: Such fun worldbuilding and action. Great bonding fic for the entire team, and the alien race was fascinating and adorable.

Cold in My Bones by Cocopops1995 for Rangergirl3 Words: 2,076 Author’s Summary: Keith wakes up cold and alone, and finds that he’s been reduced to nothing more than an interesting specimen in a couple of wealthy aliens’ collection. My Comments: Absolutely horrific scenario, but the team comes through at the end.

The Noise That Echoes by Cocopops1995 for Rangergirl3, Haleykim84 (tristen84) Words: 1,595 Author’s Summary: Shiro comforts Keith, who is extremely sound sensitive and recovering from days of torture by the Galra My Comments: Short and sweet and focused on the comfort, which is how I like it. (If it it can’t be long and drawn-out and focused on the comfort, of course.)

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

The Field of Blood (18654 words) As Color Fades Away (121589 words) Scattered (72915 words) In Sickness and Health (16552 words) The Machinations of Perception (46188 words) The Wounds We Heal, and Those We Don't(19181 words) The Ones Who Were Left Behind (40545 words) Ten Days (51153 words)

#voltron legendary defender #weekly voltron fic recs #fic rec #vldgen

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