#talk about breaking cycles in Bleach | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

f1letters · 1 year

Text

maroon | cs55

"how the hell did we lose sight of us again? sobbing with your head in your hands, ain't that the way shit always ends?"

summary: they both knew their relationship would ruin them both, but they couldn't stop themselves from running back to each other every goddamn time

warning: angst, toxic relationship, mentions of a vicious cycle of breaking up and making up, right person wrong time, suggestive language, swearing, a bunch of references to older classic rock bands and albums (and CAS because they are my fav band of all time haha), open ending

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

word count: 4.3k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

spanish words used: hermosa = beautiful; corazón = heart

hey everybody! honestly, this song is the one I've been looking forward to writing the most since the beginning... I worked so hard and I gave everything I had in me to this story (hence the story being the longest so far, something about writing for Carlos just makes me write so much more every time, haha), I couldn't be more proud of what I did! haha, hopefully, you guys love it as much as I do! happy holidays to everyone! 💜

masterlist

When the morning came

We were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf

'Cause we lost track of time again

Laughing with my feet in your lap

Like you were my closest friend

Dozens of voices echoed through the crowded room, engaged in different conversations and dialogues.

The crowd seemed to have a life of its own. Old friends catching up on the latest news in their lives. New friends being made unexpectedly. The sharing of the latest gossip and rumours among the most curious souls. The sound of endless, genuine laughter through the halls.

In the middle of the glowing lights, the shiny clothes and the loud music, hidden in the shadows, there she was.

Y/N had escaped the huddled bodies until she found refuge in an empty room. With the door closed, the noise of the party was now muffled, leaving the girl alone with her thoughts as she searched through a vinyl shelf she found there.

Led Zeppelin. Pink Floyd. Radiohead. The Clash. Their owner had taste, she thought, fascinated by their timeless records. The young woman also appreciated these older classic albums, although she couldn't find many people like her.

With her hands roaming over the vinyl without much care for the party happening, Y/N nearly dropped a Nirvana album on the floor when the bedroom door burst open.

"Oh." The unknown man said, stopping in his track when he came face to face with her. "Sorry, but do I know you?"

"Hmm, I don't think so." The girl frowned in doubt. Her eyes widened as she realized she was clearly breaking into someone's room. "Oh my god, is this your room? It is, isn't it? What was I thinking going in like that-"

"Hey, don't worry! It's okay! I just wasn't expecting to see anyone in here." He chuckled softly, extending his hand to the girl. "I'm Carlos, and you are...?"

"Y/N, nice to meet you!" She shook his hand back. The girl could have sworn she felt a spark run through her veins as soon as she felt his touch.

"Hmm, sorry for going through your stuff. I- I'm a huge music lover and I- Just couldn't help myself." The girl continued, half choking up, half laughing at herself, lifting the album in her hand to show Carlos what she was doing.

"I don't mind." The driver responded, approaching her and taking the vinyl from her hold. The warm skin of his hand contrasted with her cool one, letting his touch linger. "So, are you a Nevermind fan?"

"More of a Bleach girl myself." Y/N said smugly, her eyes glazing over the boy's charming figure before returning to the shelf. "You have an incredible collection. I wish I had this many records."

"How'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" you say

"Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how"

I see you every day now

Hours passed, and both lost track of time as they talked about everything and anything.

Y/N and Carlos were instantly attracted to each other, bonded not just by their shared love of music but by a soul connection neither could explain.

It was profound in ways that were beyond physical attraction, it had to be experienced to be truly understood.

Almost like their souls knew each other from the past.

The couple stood there, only a few hours after they met, sitting on the floor of his bedroom. They laughed with her feet in his lap, with a cheap-ass screw-top bottle of rosé beside them.

It was like an enchanting enigma how much they felt like each other's closest friends, like they had been part of each other's lives forever.

A Fleetwood Mac song was playing from Carlos's red vinyl record player when the woman spoke. "Isn't it crazy that I ended up at your house party and didn't even know who you were until you walked into this room?"

The two chuckled softly as their eyes locked and the driver's hand ran along the top of her thigh. "A bit maybe." He bit his bottom lip, a little unsure and nervous. Deciding to take risks that night, he continued. "But it was totally worth sneaking in here and skipping the party just to meet you."

Y/N could feel her cheeks heat up as they flushed. The girl tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and looked away from him to the floor.

"I don't know about you," Carlos again captured the attention of the girl beside him, approaching her little by little. "But I don't think I've ever felt this chemistry with anyone in my entire life, hermosa."

Driven by her impulsiveness and by the tension that hung in the air, the young woman made the first move and closed the space between them, letting her lips rest on his in a much-desired kiss.

It started out soft and slow, their hearts beating faster and faster as the adrenaline grew. Y/N let her mouth open a little, and the driver took that as a sign to let his tongue swirl in her mouth. Her hands found their place among the brown locks of his wild hair, as he pulled her body towards him until she was on top of him.

Y/N was never one for one-night stands or sex on the first date, but that moment felt different for her. None of it felt sudden, ill-considered, or a mistake.

In fact, Y/N had never felt like anything was so right as pulling the Spaniard onto his bed mattress that night.

And I chose you

The one I was dancing with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

For the next six months, Y/N and Carlos were inseparable.

Their feelings for each other continued to grow stronger and stronger with every passing day. However, the two kept them secret from each other, hidden in the privacy of their own minds.

During those magical months since the night they'd met, they'd given themselves to each other, body and soul. But they both knew there was something more between them: something impossible to ignore, something special.

So special that the two feared they would ruin it by putting a title on their relationship.

They were… Friends with benefits, lovers, soulmates? All options were honest and sincere, but they were only attempts to escape the term "boyfriend and girlfriend".

Painting New York City white, snowflakes fell from the skies while shimmering under the lights like jewels bestowed by winter.

The couple could already see their destination, such was the way the girl's maroon apartment building stood out among the snow-covered sidewalks.

Carlos hugged her waist from behind, squeezing the girl's body and picking her up off the ground.

"Carlos, stop! You're going to drop me, you idiot!" Y/N squealed playfully, being immediately put down again in front of her door.

The driver placed a tender kiss on her forehead and then adjusted the black beanie that covered the top of her head. "I would never let you fall, corazón."

Except I already fell for you, she thought to herself, making her heart ache.

The two hurriedly climbed the building's stairs, eager to return to the warmth of her home. They had barely passed the front door when the two started taking off their cold and damp shoes in search of some relief from the discomfort in their feet.

The Cigarettes After Sex album that they were listening to before leaving her living room continued to echo through the walls of the apartment. Immediately, Carlos grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, wrapping her shoulders with his arms as he started to sway their connected bodies gently to the music.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked, caught off guard by the driver's movements.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Carlos asked playfully, running his hand through the young woman's long hair. "I'm dancing with you to your favourite band."

Just when she thought it wasn't possible for her feelings to grow any further, Carlos seemed to challenge her, proving her wrong all over again. Her heart could explode at any second with how much love for the Spaniard she kept in it.

"Carlos?" She asked in a whisper.

"Yes, hermosa?" He replied in the same tone.

"I'm so glad I chose you."

In the end, what mattered to them was seizing the moment before it was over, being happy with each other before the inevitable end came.

Both Y/N and Carlos couldn't help sensing that they were doomed to end sooner or later.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was

Eventually, the first signs of the end of their honeymoon phase began to appear.

Their flaws seemed more noticeable, their patience thinner, and their problems more difficult to solve.

All of a sudden, the illusion that their relationship was perfect started to fade with time.

The two began to see themselves as opponents with their backs turned to each other instead of the hopelessly in love souls they were in the beginning.

On a random spring night, the two were getting ready for another one of their dates, in the privacy of his house, like they did so many times before.

The two naturally assumed their tasks without much dialogue at this point: Y/N was leaning over the stove as she finished cooking dinner for them, while Carlos was in the dining room setting the table.

After completing what he had to do, the driver went to the kitchen in search of a wine to serve with the pasta that his lover was preparing. He opened the pantry and took out his favourite red wine from one of the bottom shelves.

Carlos walked to one of the drawers, removing his corkscrew from it, and opened the bottle without knowing that Y/N was moving dangerously close to him.

By accident, his sudden movement caused the bottle to splash onto the once-white t-shirt the young woman wore, now leaving a huge burgundy mark on it.

"Are you fucking serious?" Y/N complained, disgusted with the state of her outfit. "This t-shirt is new, Carlos. For fuck's sake, this stain is never coming off."

"Calm down, it's not like someone died. It's just a fucking t-shirt, Y/N." Carlos replied, in the same aggressive tone. "I'll buy you a new one. Don't let this night be ruined for something so small."

"You'll buy it?! You always think that your money solves everything, don't you?" The girl spat, starting her way to her room to change her clothes. "I just wish you would be careful for once in your life and not be so fucking clumsy."

"It's a piece of fabric, oh my God." Carlos followed her, not ready to give up. "Get over it!"

"You know what? Enjoy your dinner alone. I'm out of here."

And so their new routine began: they argued, they fucked, they made up, they repeated.

The rooms they'd once set on fire with their burning, sizzling passion were now left in ashes, burned by the flame that brought them back to each other's arms, time after time.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

Fight after fight, the two kept finding their way to each other every single time, like two individuals relapsing on their favourite addiction.

The young woman had been dragged by the Spaniard to another one of his races, though as a very discreet and unknown guest.

Nobody knew her in that world, not even his closest colleagues, and Y/N couldn't help but feel hurt by all of Carlos' secrecy.

Okay, they weren't together-together, but the fact that she wasn't even mentioned to his best friends still seemed like a red flag to her.

Y/N had managed to escape to his room without anyone noticing, coming face to face with the shirtless figure with his back to her.

"Hey, handsome." The girl approached him, placing her hands on his chest as she leaned against his naked back.

"Corazón, you are here." The driver turned towards her, placing a kiss on her lips and down along the side of her neck. "I missed you so much. These weeks without you have driven me crazy."

"Hmm... Were you missing me or having me?" Y/N questioned, trying to pretend to be unaffected by the way his mouth sucked on her collarbone so sensually.

The boy turned his eyes to her gaze and cupped her face gently in his hands. "You, hermosa. You."

Their moment was interrupted by a member of Ferrari knocking on the door, warning Carlos that he would have to prepare for the driver's parade. Both of them slipped from his room and the motorhome, coming across two other drivers she recognized from watching other races.

"Well, well, well," Lando announced, messing with Carlos and his mystery companion. "What do we have here? Sainz, you don't even introduce your 'friend' here to your boys"

"Pfff, friend." The Spaniard's teammate, Charles, replied, also joking. "At least her fresh hickey tells me otherwise."

The girl immediately looked down at the neckline of her shirt, where she noticed the love bite near her neck.

And when her gaze rested on her lover's annoyed face, she realized how unhappy he was that they got caught.

When the silence came

We were shaking, blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

Sobbing with your head in your hands

Ain't that the way shit always ends?

"Since this muppet here doesn't want to introduce us, I'll do the honours. I'm Lando, this is Charles." The McLaren driver said, pointing to his Ferrari friend, followed by his outstretched hand towards the girl.

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Y/N." She greeted the British, and then the Monegasque.

"So why are you hiding your beautiful girlfriend from us, Sainz?" Charles asked curiously.

"She's not my girlfriend, I have to go." Carlos replied, turning away and leaving behind two shocked friends, a hurt girl and her heart broken into little pieces.

After hearing a thousand apologies from the two nice guys for meddling in matters that weren't theirs, Y/N decided to walk to the exit of the circuit and skip the race altogether.

Hours passed and only silence came to her hotel room, with no sign of Carlos.

The girl sat on the floor, back against the bed covered with a maroon duvet, shaking, blind and hazy, until he eventually appeared.

How the hell did we lose sight of us again, she thought to herself over and over again.

The driver entered the room, shoulders slumped in regret, expecting to find an upset Y/N he had to apologize to.

Never did he expect to find the girl he loved sobbing with her head in her hands.

Carlos knelt down in front of the young woman, placing his hands on her knees, which provoked her to look at him with eyes smudged with mascara.

"Sorry, hermosa." The boy apologized, letting his forehead rest against her knee.

"Sorry for what, Carlos?" Y/N asked, determined to get the truth out of him.

"I shouldn't have turned away and left you alone with Lando and Charles." The Spaniard confessed. "I understand that you didn't see the race, but it's done now, you don't need to be like that..."

"The discussion is over, yes." The girl spoke, getting up from the floor and looking at the image of him still kneeling. "But us, this, whatever it is, that is over too."

"Stop, Y/N!" The driver also got to his feet, trying to stop her from leaving. "This is just another argument. We always come back to each other, that's the way shit always ends."

The woman released her wrist from his hold, opened the door and glanced at him over her shoulder before walking away.

"Not this time."

You were standing hollow-eyed in the hallway

Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

I feel you, no matter what

The rubies that I gave up

A day passed. Then two days. Three days.

On the fourth day, the doorbell to her New York apartment rang and her heart just knew that he was going to be the person behind the door.

Y/N opened the entrance to her house and there he was as expected: Carlos, standing there, hollow-eyed in the hallway, flowers in hand.

"Before you interrupt me, I beg you: please, listen to what I have to say. Then you can send me away if you want and I'll go." Carlos begged her, his hands gripping the red flowers more tightly. "I love you. I'm sorry I came to that conclusion so late but I do, I love you. So much my chest hurts whenever I'm not with you. And I know I've been an asshole to you, especially on this last race, and I know I don't deserve you but I'm not ready to give up on you, on us."

The young woman remained silent, listening to the words she'd been waiting to hear all these months.

But they were too late.

"These roses are for you, corazón. I know they are your favourite flowers." The driver held the flowers out to her.

"Carnations," Y/N replied, leaving the Spaniard more confused than ever. "These are carnations, not roses."

The two kept their eyes together until a tear ran down the girl's eyes. And both of them knew.

"I'm sorry, Carlos, but you should leave." Y/N sobbed. "I loved you all this time but I had enough."

And I lost you

The one I was dancing with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

Maroon

It took six months for them to end their perfect, magical honeymoon phase.

Followed by another six months of endless fighting and pain inflicted on each other.

Perhaps in some poetic way, six months passed from Y/N losing him until they saw each other again.

Nothing hurt more than being away from the one person she loved more than anyone. Especially when she knew the passion and the love between them were still there.

She couldn't help feeling that they were two cursed souls destined to suffer for their love.

Without Carlos, even music seemed to sound different.

Since the day she saw the boy walk out the door, her vinyl had remained exactly in the same place, gathering dust, as she didn't have the courage to listen to them again without being consumed by memories of them.

Trapped in her thoughts on yet another sleepless night, Y/N looked up at the sky and thought to herself: I can't die from a broken heart, but I can't help but feel like a part of me did that day.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was

Maroon

Tired of brooding over the excruciating time away from the driver, Y/N relented and agreed to leave the comfort of her home to go to a party for the first time in a long time.

Dressed to the nines, the girl found herself in a crowd in the middle of an unfamiliar house.

It was the same as always: old friends, new friends, gossip, rumours, laughter, shining lights, loud music.

The young woman simply couldn't enjoy that life as she did before. All she wanted was to go home, lay under the covers, with the fire burning on her fireplace... But the memories that place held of him began to feel like they were too much for her to bear.

Alcohol in her hand, as usual, Y/N escaped the noise to a random room in the house, much like the night she met Carlos.

This time, the girl found herself in the middle of a guest room, with nothing more than a bed and some basic furniture, where she sat enjoying a sweet drink.

Mirroring that night even further, Y/N was stunned when the white bedroom door opened to let in the tanned, handsome boy who was consuming her head.

"Oh," Carlos said, unable to contain his feelings when he saw the woman again after so long. "Hey, I- I was just looking for the bathroom. I- I'm going to go."

"No, wait!" Unconsciously, Y/N stood up, grabbing the driver's wrist without giving it much thought until she felt the blood rush into her cheeks. "Sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. I just- I don't know... I miss you."

The Spaniard let her words sink in, all emotions on the surface. "Y/N... Please, don't do this. I don't know if I can survive another heartbreak."

"You're right, I'm sorry. Forget this ever happened." Y/N got ready to walk out the door until it was the boy's turn to grab her arm.

Carlos pulled her towards him, grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her into a so-desired kiss filled with longing, pain, and lust.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

His lips brushed hers, allowing him to inhale her breath and feel the warmth of her mouth, until he let his lips mash against hers in a rough, heated kiss.

She opened her mouth quickly, pushing her tongue past his teeth and meeting him in an electric and passionate battle.

Both lay on the bed, her straddling his body like she did a million other times, her lips still glued to the ones she used to call home.

They both pull away, panting with their gazes focused on each other almost as if they were afraid the moment would suddenly be over.

"I still love you, hermosa." Carlos confessed, letting the words slip out. "There wasn't a day that I didn't think of you, or that I didn't want your body next to mine just like this."

For one more night, Y/N gave in to her most intimate desires and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of belonging in the arms of the man she loved again, as she removed her dress and her lips returned to where they belonged - his.

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy, legacy

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy to leave

Such was the girl's amazement when hours later she woke up in the same bed, alone with only his memory over her.

The wrinkled sheets on the right side of the mattress were the only sign that the driver had been in that room the night before.

Not a note, a discarded piece of clothing, a stray hair.

Just crumpled linens and the marks of his love smeared across her soft skin.

Once again, Y/N was left with only her regrets and her sorrows for being so weak and so naive to think this time would be different.

That was the legacy he left every time: his touch on her remained, as did his absence.

The burgundy on my t-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks

So scarlet, it was maroon

Back at home, the girl went straight to her room, wanting nothing more than to get out of her dirty clothes from the night before.

Her hands started their work of removing the dress, until she stopped in her tracks, naked in front of her bathroom mirror, when she saw the marks left by Carlos all over her for the first time.

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, as she stepped into the shower.

The hot water ran through her hair, over her shoulders, and down her back, until loneliness overcame her and her eyes wept and wept away all the hurt she felt.

How could I have been stupid enough to fall again, she wondered.

After a few minutes of crying and showering, Y/N left the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body, and went to her dresser in search of an old t-shirt to wear.

Among the dozens of her neutral shirts, one stood out. It was scarlet, and it was his.

Without thinking twice, she grabbed the t-shirt and draped it over her body, ready to give in to the sadness. Her arms hugged her own torso, seeking physical comfort in a place where she was the only person left.

Or so she thought until she heard the familiar doorbell ring later that night.

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

The only light on the dark street that night was the street light that lit up the star-crossed lovers ever so slightly.

There he was, standing outside of the door of her maroon building, red roses in hand this time, face pleading for forgiveness.

Although their lives might not have fit together, they were just two broken souls who had found solace in each other's hearts, unwilling to give up on the greatest love they had ever known.

And just like that, pulled back into their vicious cycle, all she had consuming her mind was him all over again.

"Hey, corazón."

It was maroon

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @scuderiamh @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

535 notes · View notes

ughkat · 7 months

Text

bleach - c.t.h

part one

calum x fem!reader

basically y/n and calum broke up bc of her mental health but they still see each other, and y/n suspects calum is already seeing new people and is jealous

tw: mental health talk, depression, anxiety, self image, eating, dissociation, breakup talk

over all cw: angst, smut, kissing, petnames, ex!calum, smoking, drinking, swearing,

not proofread

My mind grew numb and the sounds around me faded slowly to white noise. I glared blankly at my bedroom wall ahead of me following waking up fifteen minutes prior. I listened to my shallow breaths rise and fall as my few moments of peaceful absentminded dissociation shifted itself into an anxious pit in my stomach. A feeling I was all too familiar with. I let out a breath while the routine numbing emotion and inevitable dread slowly fell over me, blinking out of my trance.

All I could think of to aide my overwhelming sense of drowning was the boy causing it. I felt stuck in a cycle knowing my low wouldn't be so catastrophic if it wasn't for my "break" with Calum. He believed our 2 year relationship was taking a toll on me mentally, saying I needed time to care for myself and so did he. I've had my own share of mental health struggles prior to him, of course, though the sudden change of direction with the two of us didn't help the fire. I could tell it was almost just as hard for him as it was for me, being he still comes and sees me frequently. He never ended anything on bad terms, thankfully.

However, I can't shake the feeling that Calum only part ways with me because I was too difficult to handle, not for my best interest.

I reached for my phone beside me, checking the time. I scolded myself mentally for how long I let myself sleep through the day. At the top of my notifications, a message notification from Calum lit up the screen. I perked up slightly at the sight, his presence giving me an ounce of life back into my veins.

"Are you up yet? I wanna come see you today."

I half smiled at the message, it's words momentarily distracting myself from the sinking feeling inside of me. I slid open the notification before responding.

"I'm up. Give me 10."

I tossed my phone back onto my bed, letting out a sigh. I lolled my head to the side tiredly, unmotivated to leave my spot on my bed. Using every inch of power in me, I sat up from my bed, skipping the shower and head to my closet.

I rummaged lazily thought clean clothes, grabbing another pair of sweat pants and a large t shirt. Briefly checking my face in my mirror, I ignored my appearance, unwilling to battle my self conscious thoughts at the moment.

I flopped myself back into my bed, opening my phone once again to a message from Calum.

"Omw."

My stomach fluttered at the thought of him alone, him being one of the driving factors motivating me to be a functional person. All I wanted was Calum. Everything in my mind was him. Every second of my day, I was thinking about Calum. I shamed myself for the amount of self awareness I had about my feelings towards my ex boyfriend, yet choosing to not move on.

I had my suspicions that Calum felt the same, knowing if he didn't, there was no way he'd still be so kind, let alone come see me so often. We knew as a unit that we weren't together, and had no intentions of being back together, yet we couldn't seem to stay away from each other.

I scrolled aimlessly on my phone awaiting Calum's arrival as I heard his signature three knocks at my door. I jumped up pathetically quick at his presence, heading to the front door. I looked up as I opened the door, revealing Calum with a half warm smile.

"Hey, kid." He greeted, bringing me in for a hug. I smiled uncontrollably at the name he so often used for me as he wrapped his arms snugly around my neck, rubbing his hand on my head. I embraced him around the waist, burying my face into his chest with an exhausted whine. I pulled back and stepped to the side, inviting him in before shutting the door behind us. He had a generously sized grocery bag filled with various snacks and drinks. I motioned with my hand towards my room, guiding his way to where we most frequented. I repositioned myself at the head of my bed, criss crossed as Calum took a seat in front of me.

"I brought some snacks." He set the bag down, motioning with his head, "Those candies you like." He looked up at me with a cheeky smile. I giggled softly, shaking my head.

"Thanks." I spoke, "I'm not that hungry.". Calum furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head with suspicion.

"It's 2 PM, when was the last time you ate? I know you're hungry." He urged softly. I rolled my eyes playfully, brushing off his concerns quickly. I tried my best to play off my sinking feeling to avoid feeling like a problem. Calum looked at me deeply before scooting in closer.

"Really, though. How are you?" He asked genuinely. I looked up at him, studying his expression. His eyes squinted as he patiently waited for my response.

"I don't know." I shrugged, "I'm okay." I began to anxiously fidget at the plastic bag between us, avoiding his eyes.

"You don't look okay." He replied in a serious tone, "I've been worried about you.". I let out a sigh and let my eyes wander the room aimlessly, I tried frantically to seem nonchalant.

"I don't know, breakups can be hard, Cal." I muttered, trying my best to excuse my elongated low period. Calum shook his head, sitting up slightly.

"No, this is more than that." He spoke, moving his head to meet my eyes. I glanced up to him, biting the inside of my cheek.

"You're not sleeping, when you do you sleep until the late afternoon, you're barely eating, you look exhausted..." He rambled, talking with his hands. I began to feel a lump form in my throat, the feeling of being a problem starting to take over. I darted my eyes to my hands fidgeting in my lap, blinking tears away from the corners of my eyes.

"The breakup was supposed to help you work on this, not make it worse." He watched me closely, hesitant with his words. I tear quickly escaped my eye before I brought a fast hand to my fast, wiping it swiftly. Calum's posture softened.

"Hey." He spoke softly, placing a hand on my knee, "I'm sorry." He sighed. I shook my head, already feeling embarrassed for letting myself cry so easily.

"I just want you to be okay." He placed a hand under my chin, moving my eyes to his. I blinked quickly to rid of any tears trying to fall. Calum moved his hand to the side of my face, brushing his thumb on my cheek softly, "That's all I want.". I looked at Calum briefly before falling into his chest dramatically, his wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled into his chest. Calum shook his head.

"You're okay." He reassured, caressing my back gently with his hand. I let out a sigh before sitting up, wiping my face. Calum flashed me a warm smile before tilting his head.

"Will you at least eat snacks with me?" He sarcastically jutted his bottom lip out slightly. I uncontrollably let out a giggle, rolling my eyes.

"Fine.".

Calum and I were halfway through yet another terrible comedy movie after hours of pitiful laughter. We had made a dent in his haul of junk food and spent our time lazily in my bed.

My head turned between us at a ding ringing from Calum's phone. He moved quickly, silencing the phone's ringer before flipping it face down. I glanced back up to Calum, who had resumed his eyes to the screen in front of us. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, though telling myself to ignore it. These things shouldn't bother me anymore. My impulse took the best of me as my words flowed uncontrollably.

"What was that?" I asked calmly, gesturing to Calum's phone. Calum looked at me, then down to his phone before forcing a fake expression.

"...Oh! Yeah, that was just a work message." He spoke, failing a "cool dude" attitude as his phone vibrated silently once more. I raised my eyebrows.

"Well shouldn't you check that?" I urged, tilting my head. My suspicions growing bigger and bigger by the second. Why do I care?

"Nah, I can get it later." He brushed off, glancing at the phone quickly. I hummed quietly as I watched his shifting body language. My mind began to race at the mysterious texts and who they could be from. Petty jealousy took over me, filling me with anger.

"What if it's important?" I pushed. Calum looked at me cross.

"Fine." He muttered, flipping the phone over. My eyebrows furrowed at the name which very obviously was not work.

"Rose?" I exaggerated, sitting up in my seat. Calum let out a sigh and looked to his side before speaking.

"Yeah, she's a coworker." He explained loosely. I narrowed my eyes, not buying his story.

"Right." I started. Before I could gather my thoughts, Calum stood up from my bed abruptly.

"I gotta head out, kid." He sighed, avoiding my eyes. I scoffed in disbelief.

"Really?" I argued. Calum paused at my door.

"I'm sorry. I'll see you later, okay?" He spoke genuinely before exiting my room. I stared at my door blankly until I heard the latch of the front entrance, indicating his exit.

75 notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 5 months

Text

Author's Note: This is a second person POV story based on a very real experience in my own life. At 19, in 2001, I got pregnant and had an abortion. I have zero regrets about that decision. This is the first time I've sat down and written about this experience from start to finish. Originally, I thought I would turn this into a fanfic, but it didn't feel right.

TW: Unwanted pregnancy, vomiting, abortion, fear, pain, uncertainty, and loneliness. Am I forgetting something? I hope not. This is not an easy read, but please read it. We need more real stories about abortion in the world.

*Do not send me hugs. Do not tell me you're sorry. | ~5K words

---

“You ok, Chicken?” Your mom’s voice echoes in the narrow bathroom, barely muffled by the hollow laminate door. “I can get you some water or Pepto.”

“I’m ok. I’ll be out in a minute.” Bile slicks up your tongue while you squeeze the words out of your mouth. You swallow it back. And then again. You’re suddenly very grateful to be in your mother’s bathroom where it still smells of bleach from frequent cleaning rather than the mouse infested apartment you’ve been staying in for the last year. Just a short stopover in your childhood home that happens to coincide with this personal hell you’re living in.

The vomiting is not what clued you in. It’s not the reason you made that trip to the pharmacy, despite never keeping track of your cycle like a “normal” woman. You just knew. Your body began to feel alien at some point, you felt held captive by something. Everything smelled. The water pouring from the tap in your kitchen, acorns scattered on the back patio, his skin sweat slicked and heated. You could smell everything so much more, as if that small cluster holding court in your gut was reaching through your senses already.

Yesterday morning while you hurled up the coffee flavored stomach acid into your mother’s toilet, a daily habit you’d happily break if you could, you heard her in her bedroom talking on the phone. Your aunt Deanna called, and your mother’s whispered gossip could easily be heard by your overly sensitive ears. “Poor little thing, she’s been so sick lately. I think she might need to see a doctor…. What? No. No, absolutely not that.”

Sorry, mom, but it can be that. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the thing that your aunt had suggested over the phone line. The woman living 500 miles away could see the thing so plainly, and yet you and your mother refused to acknowledge it. But that was the thing that pushed you to the pharmacy. The idea that it would be found out, and very soon, if you didn’t get a handle on it.

Two pink lines. Dark pink. Unmistakably two of them. You shoved the plastic test back into its wrapper. You opened the drawer of your dresser and shoved the test behind the dust rose colored Bible. You threw a bra on top of it. You looked down into the drawer and examined it closely. Nothing intriguing that might make someone, your mother, look twice and fiddle around. You’ll take the evil thing to work with you tomorrow and throw it into the giant metal dumpster where only the neighborhood racoons might stumble upon it.

As if it matters. That thing only tells you the truth of the situation, and throwing it away won’t change it. You rest your hand on your stomach and close your eyes. You try to make yourself feel something. You try to conjure images of bottles and stretchmarks. You think about him and wonder. None of it reaches you in any meaningful way, and your mind is suddenly resolute. You’re going to get an abortion as soon as possible, even if it means you max out the only credit card you have to your name.

Brrrrnnngg

You jump at the sound of the phone on your bedside table ringing. The digital clock reads 1:24, and you already know who will be on the end of the line before you pick it up. You’ve been putting him off for over a week. You plan to continue to put him off until the thing is done. You want him away from it, you don’t want him to see any of it. It’s not for him.

“Hello.”

“Hello. How are we feeling today?” His voice has an immediate effect on you. It does every time. It’s too perfect to be contained in a memory, so when you hear it, it’s always a shock to your system. It zings through you.

“Oh, feeling like a dried husk. Not great. I’m sorry. Maybe next weekend I’ll be up for something.”

“Mmm. You said that last weekend. I already told you, I don’t mind just hanging out at your place. We can watch movies, and I can pretend to not notice when you go puke your guts out or whatever.” His words come out in a whine. It’s a technique that often works with you, and he knows it.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment next week, I expect to feel better by the weekend.” These things are both true and a lie. Not quite all of either. And you know that an appointment on Thursday morning will mean that by Friday evening you’ll likely feel like shit - but it will be over. And that’s the only thing that matters.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, but it’s not meant as anything more than a silly thing. He misses you, and that’s sweet. He’s sweet. You want to keep him that way.

—

“You know, women my age fought for your right to do that. I support you completely,” your boss looks up at you from the chair in her tiny office carved into the center of the coffee house between the dining room and the kitchen. “Just this one time, though. Don't let this happen again.” Her hand finds yours and she squeezes it.

“I won’t, Nancy. Thank you. I should be able to work by Monday.” You back away, letting her hand drop. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

She waves her hand and assures you, “I know. I will never say anything about it again. Like it never happened.”

Like it never happened. You think about that while you make your way to the front of the coffee house, slipping on the wet tile as you pass the espresso machine. You see them sitting at a table in the center of the dining room and make your way towards them. You’re wishing for more privacy, and hope that, for once, the people in this place will focus on the conversations happening at their own tables. Keep their minds on the books held up to their noses. You sit in the uncomfortable vinyl covered chair and smile weakly at the two women in front of you. Barely friends, but the only ones you know will help you.

“Tomorrow morning. It’s supposed to be at 11, but they want me there at 9. We should leave by 8.” You’re just rattling off information while Bri, the person that’s taking you to your appointment the following morning nods along while her pen glides across the small notebook in front of her. “It should really only be a couple of days before I’m pretty much back to normal.”

“I need you to understand that this is a serious medical procedure,” these are the first words that Tesa has spoken since you sat down. She’s older than most of the people in this circle of friends, and a med student. “You’re going to need some care.”

You look down at the wooden table and nod slowly, considering. You’re going to need some care. That’s true, you’re sure, but also not something you can worry about.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got the weekend off. I’ll do everything they tell me I need to do, don’t worry.” You keep doing this. You keep finding yourself reassuring people around you while barely holding yourself upright. You want to shrivel up. You want someone to cradle you and brush your hair. Instead, you reassure - yes, I know what I’m doing. Yes, I’ll be careful. Yes, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

“I really think you should tell him what’s happening. He should be the one to take you tomorrow, and take care of you. You don’t want this to be a secret you have to keep from him.” Tesa continues in a worried tone. You open your mouth to respond, to explain again that you’re not going to do that, when Bri breaks in.

With a hand on your knee and a small scowl on her face aimed at her girlfriend sitting beside you, she says, “I support your decision completely. You don’t have to tell him anything if you don’t want to. It’s your choice, and I’ll take care of you.”

—

Bri picks you up in her small, black Ford Escort promptly at 8 in the morning. You nod at each other and say nothing. It’s quiet, and the highways are empty. Bri doesn’t turn the radio on, she just allows the quiet to stretch and expand. You let it swallow you up. You let your ears focus on the sound of the car bumping along the ridges in the road. You let your ears focus on the hum of the engine. It’s already getting hot on this early September morning, but neither you nor your driver reach for the window cranks.

You’re halfway to your destination when you first wonder how Bri knows the way. It’s not a common destination, a clinic in one of the larger outskirt cities that circle the big one on the lake. She must have studied a map, you assume. It should feel strange to be in this situation with her, someone you’ve only known from behind a counter or at your sister’s monthly board game night, but it doesn’t. She is a force of steady calm, and your heart aches with it.

After exiting the highway, it’s only 3 short turns until the car is facing the very ordinary looking office building. No signs out front to announce the purpose of the place, just a building next to dozens of other buildings that look nearly identical. Except for the man standing alone with a cardboard sign hanging out of his hand. He has a lazy stance, and you close your eyes. You hope against hope that he doesn’t clock the fact that a car is pulling into the parking lot beside him. You’re going to have to walk back across his spot on the sidewalk to get to the front door of the building.

Bri pulls her car into a spot as far from the sidewalk as possible and turns to say, “I want you to walk on the inside, ok? It’s going to be fine.” Her voice never wavers, and you believe her. It will be fine. You barely even hear his voice when he finally realizes he’s missing his opportunity. Baby killer and whore are weakly lobbed in your direction, ineffectual to a mind already numb from the thing set out in front of it.

You walk, side by side, up two flights of stairs and find the door you’re meant to go through. It’s shocking to see the waiting room already half full. This is the only clinic in the greater metro area in a state that’s less than friendly to the needs of women. You sign in while Bri takes a seat opposite a very pregnant woman with, you’re assuming, her husband. You don’t let yourself think about what that means. And then you wait, both you and your chaperone with paperbacks to pretend to read.

“I told him,” you can’t help but listen to the woman sitting in the corner seats. She’s older than you by at least 5 years, and sitting cross-legged in the plastic chair, “I ain’t payin’ this time. I can’t afford it. He can either pay for me to come down here, or he can pay for another baby.” Her friend is nodding in agreement.

The thought of having to make multiple trips to this place makes your stomach lurch. You look up to see the very pregnant woman looking at the one speaking in the corner. There’s no expression on her face, she’s just looking for something to focus on outside of the hand she has rested on her swollen belly.

The very pregnant woman is the first to get called back. You hold your book up to hide your face, despite the fact that no one’s looking at it. The minutes pass like hours, and the hours like days. Time becomes meaningless, and the woman in the corner never deviates from the conversation that she keeps with her friend. Time becomes meaningless, so when your name is finally called 5 hours later, you’ve nearly forgotten why you’re sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair in this too cold waiting room. Bri offers you a smile and a nod, and returns to her paperback while you’re led back through a door.

The first stop is the counter just inside the waiting room door. A young woman with a pixie cut has you read papers and sign them. Injury, sterilization, death… just things that may or may not happen at the end of your day. You sign without a second thought. You get out your credit card, and don’t think about the $500 you don’t have to pay for this today. You just swipe it, and sign again.

The lady that escorted you from the waiting room leads you down to the end of the hallway. “First things first, we get a picture, ok?” You say ok without understanding what you’re agreeing to. You’ll agree to anything to get to the end of this thing.

You sit in a chair that closely resembles the one you sit in at your dentist’s office. A small woman comes through an open door next to the chair, she has a radiant smile on her face. “Hello, how are you?” Her heavy accented voice is sweet and calm. Everyone here is calm. “Sit tight for a minute, ok? This won’t take long.”

She moves your shirt up in a quick move, tucking it under your bra, and pushes down your sweatpants a little. “A little cold,” she says as she squirts a bit of gel on your low abdomen. It’s something you should have noticed, the fact that there’s a machine against the wall next to the big chair. You’re too focused on existing moment to moment, you can’t be worried about things that other people will worry about for you.

The woman runs a wand attached to a cord that leads back to the machine at your back. “Oh, look at that. Almost nothing there at all,” the woman pulls the machine up so you can see the monitor. A black and white image is in front of you, “we have to do an ultrasound, that’s the law. But you’re maybe not even 6 weeks. Nothing there, not really.” She’s right, you can’t even see the thing that she’s talking about, and she doesn’t bother to point it out. She just puts the wand away and wipes your belly.

The other woman, the one that led you back to this place, is suddenly at your side again and ready to take you through another door. This one is an office. No one tells you where you’re going, and that’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Each place is another step closer to the end of this thing.

“Take a seat, this will only be a few minutes.” A new woman sits behind a desk and points to a chair in front of her. You sit obediently. “So, why are you getting an abortion today?”

Your face must have given something away, some sort of concern or frustration because she’s quick to add, “a counseling session is legally required before you can get an abortion in this state. I promise, I’m not here to judge you in any way.”

You nod your head in understanding and decide that this is someone you can tell the whole truth to. She doesn’t care, and this is the work she does. So you tell her, “I don’t want a baby. I can’t afford it, and I don’t want it.”

“You know the risks involved in the procedure? You read the waivers?” The woman asks while looking down at a piece of paper in front of her. It’s some kind of checklist that needs to be completed before you can move to the next room.

“Yes. I know the risks, and I understand them.”

“Does the father know you’re here?” The woman asks, and it’s the first time someone’s managed to break through the wall you built up around yourself since you entered this building.

“No. I’m not telling him.”

“Well, we really recommend you tell the father. It’s not something you should go through alone unless there’s a really good reason.” She looks up at you, sees your face, and looks back down to her paper. She makes a couple of notes and says, “as you know, abortion access is at risk, now more than ever. We ask that you consider volunteering your time in some way to help the cause if you can.” She stands and hands you a brochure before heading to the door to let the first woman, your guide, back into the room. “Good luck, you’ll be fine.”

Your guide leads you back down the hallway, past the door to the waiting room, past the chair with the ultrasound, and into a room with lockers. “You can put on a gown. Everything comes off, but you can keep on your socks” she points to a stack of hospital gowns on a shelf on the far wall, “and leave your things in locker 12. Once you've changed, head through that door, “she points to a door opposite the one you’re standing in, “and the nurse and doctor will be in for your procedure shortly.”

She leaves and you head over to the stack of gowns. Small, medium, and large. You grab the size you think is right, and realize you’re still holding onto the pamphlet that the last lady, the hippy, handed you. You look at it for a second and wonder what to do with it before remembering locker 12. It’s fast after that. You walk over to your locker and set the paper down before stripping off your clothing and donning an all-too-familiar paper gown. Your feet are immediately cold when they hit the tile floor with only a thin piece of fabric protecting the bottom of your feet. You move quickly through the door to the dark room and instinctively move to take your spot on the exam table.

You don’t notice the instruments. You don’t notice the machine. You just sit and wait. Those are things that you don’t need to worry about, and you’re thankful for that. A woman comes in, a new woman, with a surgical mask over her face and pale pink scrubs. She says something and you nod. You don’t know what she says, and it doesn’t really matter. She encourages you to lay back on the table and begins to move things around on the table at your side.

And then he comes through the door. A tall man in green scrubs, a surgical mask over his face. He introduces himself, but you won’t remember the name he gives you. He’s just the doctor, and that’s fine. You’re surprised to find how quickly things go when he enters the room, but his time is probably at a premium in a place like this.

The doctor is positioned at your feet when he says, “this will pinch a bit. Only a little, and it will be quick, ok?”

What does he know about it? Nothing, you realize, as he works inside of you. It’s loud, the machine at your side, and it doesn’t pinch. It hurts. It’s painful, and you’re no stranger to pain. Pain has taken up residence in your body many times over the years, but this is a new one. This is a cousin to the pain that you’ve come to know, something stranger than you’re used to. A deep ache inside of you in a place that you don’t know well at all.

“It hurts,” you say. You don’t mean to say it, but you do anyway. It’s as if you need him to know that he’s wrong, and that it does hurt. It’s not a pinch, it’s a pull. The nurse finds your hand, and holds it tightly.

“Oh, nah. It doesn’t hurt. You’re fine.” The man in the scrubs says back to you, oblivious to the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. He’s too busy probing and scraping and sucking with that thing in his hand. “It’s almost over.”

You don’t bother telling him again that it hurts. You close your eyes and sob. You let tears roll down your face, and wail. You release the pain, the fear, the uncertainty, along with that cluster of cells that would have - if left alone - changed your life completely. You will leave these things in this room, and find that you don’t miss them.

10 minutes. That’s how long you sit on the exam table with a doctor between your legs. 10 minutes and you’re led to yet one more room. Three other women sit in big recliners, packs of ice sitting in their laps. You’re handed your own when you gingerly rest yourself on your own chair.

A young woman hands you a paper cup full of water and 2 pills. “For your pain,” she says, “You can take 2 more Advil in 6 hours. You should do that for the next couple of days to stay ahead of it.”

The time in the recovery room moves faster than the time in the waiting room. You don’t think about Bri sitting alone with her paperback in her hand. You’ll never really know how long you sat there before they finally let you get up and move back to the changing room. You’d forgotten about the pamphlet hiding under your bra, but you take it. You don’t even consider putting it in the wastebasket on your way out, or simply leaving it in the locker for the next woman to find.

Leaving the clinic is quick compared to entering. No hurdles. No credit card machines, ultrasounds, or counselors. Just stairs and a door. The pain is worse than you thought it would be, and you think about the way that Tesa had looked at you in the coffee shop yesterday. She tried to prepare you for a thing that can’t be prepared for. You don’t notice the small group of people that have joined the lone man with the cardboard sign, too tired and sore to hear their poisonous words.

Back in the car, you speak the first words to Bri that you’ve spoken today. “Can we stop at a gas station? I’m out of smokes.”

“Sure, Honey. You wait in the car and rest.”

—

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He’s asking the question before he’s even fully entered your room and closed the door.

You’re laying in your bed, waves of pain traveling through your gut and pelvis. He was so easy to convince, you didn’t even have to lie well. Seeing a smile sit sweetly on his face fills your eyes with tears.

“I’m ok. Just hurts.” You tell him. He climbs into the bed with you, and wraps you up in his arms. It’s a mistake, letting him come over so soon afterwards. Hormones compound the pain and trauma. He reminds you that your loneliness is a self imposed thing. He reminds you that you didn’t even let him try to do the right thing.

So, while he has you wrapped tight in his arms you tell him. You feel his arms go slack while he takes in your words. He says nothing. He listens with loose arms that hold you lightly. He doesn’t say a thing for the rest of his time with you. You stay in his arms, and the silence ricochets off the walls of your childhood bedroom.

#writerblr #second person pov #short story #nonfiction #abortion #bodily autonomy #thanatos writes

51 notes · View notes

chipped-chimera · 2 months

Text

Today in fish nonsense! 🐟🐠- Tank is good to go! Cool wood piece is cleaned and time to spend way too long on a plan painting.

More below the cut.

Tank has been set up, leak tested so it's good to go (after I overhauled the layout of my office ... still dealing with the fallout of that though lol) and the piece of jarrah/mirra? wood that my Dad grabbed from the tree he cut down on a farm (noting this specifically because it's actually now illegal to commercially harvest Jarrah in my state - this was on private property so it's legal) has had the absolute crap scrubbed out of it - I mean literally, in the process I found yet another interesting hole in it so that's cool, then high-pressure blasted with water so I am finally ready to think about scaping.

Which apparently means spending longer than I should drawing a plan lol. This piece is super awkward to work with I think - while functionally interesting it has a silhouette that makes me oscillate between 'boring' and 'awkward'. After talking to some artist friends, generally it was agreed I'd need to put more stuff in there to actually make it look better, right now naked glass is super harsh. Problem is, rocks and wood? Well in the aquarium hobby that shit is expensive. We're talking 60 AUD+ for pieces of wood. I mean they are fully cleaned and treated (?) and selected for being interesting, but I have a budget and I'd like to save as much of it as I can for more than just harscape sooooo planning is just the right idea here.

Thinking seiryu stone because I looooove the white veining through it, and then for the branches to break up the shape it's probably going to be spiderwood or something (as much as I love mopani wood I don't think it usually sells branched like this - but I will watch out for it) but the good part is these pieces are all probably going to be on the smaller side since I have my huge hunk of feature wood for free.

I don't know how this piece of wood will interact with inhabitants, I've soaked it for probably a month at this point to get a large amount of the tannins out (and I know it waterlogs, which is great because I won't have to play 'how long will this take to sink') but also to help the looser material come off so all I'm left with now is the hard stuff. It's also now sitting in the sun (and I mean sun - it is going to be 40C today and the next few days so that shit is gonna bake 💀) but prior to that has been sitting in the sun either here or the farm for a total of about idk ... at least a month? Maybe more?

I've struggled to find information on whether Jarrah or Mirra wood is safe beyond one post on a forum where someone-who-knew-someone at a local fish shop had put a piece of this in his store tank and all the fish died. Beyond that? no more context. According to my freshwater ecologist friend I caught up with, she thinks it's probably going to be okay given the amount of time/work put in. I have not done a bleach soak and I don't think I really need to given the amount of time it's been soaking in regular tap water (so already contains chlorine) and sun exposure. There will still probably be tannin leakage into the water but I'm okay with having a mild blackwater tank after seeing one in my LFS, I actually like the slight tannin tint of water and how it makes everything a little 'softer'. But I do ACTUALLY want to be able to see though lmao. I've also seen Jarrah seed pods sold locally specifically for blackwater tank setups so it might be fine?

Either way the plan is going to be: Scape, plant, cycle and then introduction of some cheap shrimp as my poor guinea pigs to see if that wood actually is awful.

Right now I'll just have to painstakingly go through plant choices and placement and making sure it lines up with the planned parameters for the community. I absolutely will take suggestions btw.

More soon. Fish nonsense will contain fish ... at some point. I swear lmao.

#kerytalk #aquablr #fishblr #my art #I guess even though this is a grossly overconfident doodle #aquascaping #yes that is a sandpit for enrichment #though I'm debating corydoras #I worry tetras + corydoras might be too much schooling happening for the eventual last edition - Betta fish #if not then it'll be tetras + one pleco #... I swear I saw a video of a pleco thoroughly enjoying burrowing in sand - I'd love that #yes all of this is primarily because I want a betta #but if I only get one tank ... go hard or go home right?#ngl considering getting a small 5-10 gallon for my bedroom for shrimp breeding so that could be a feasible second plan #in case the betta is an asshole #do not tell my parents lmao #I'd love a male in the tank but know it's probably not going to work so female is more likely - or at least plakat type #it's got quite a bit of height to traverse so I don't think anything with super big fins would be great - especially with age #even if I basically have a stepped up network of holes in this wood right to where it nearly touches the surface

22 notes · View notes

sugartitzblah · 11 months

Text

spines.

pairings: stan marsh x gender neutral!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

synopsis: you’re in love with your best friend but he doesn’t seem to notice about your feelings.

warnings: angst, no comfort.

“i want to get back with wendy.” the boy who lays next to you says in a whisper tone as if he was to scared you would hear. being friends with stan since kindergarten implied you going to his house every friday night, being friends with stan since kindergarten meant that you had to listen to him complain about her, breaking up with her and then getting back with her. you felt bad for wendy because she’s the sweetest girl you have ever met but also you were jealous of her. why? because she was able to be with stan and to proudly say that she was dating stanley marsh, she was also able to kiss him and to hold his hand in public.

“you said that this time was definitely over.” he always said that and every time he did you believed him. god, how could you be so stupid? you thought to yourself… maybe because you were madly in love with him. the room went completely silent when you talked, he knew you were right but he felt the need to keep going back to her. you sat down on the bed, the teen with bleached hair looked up at you in confusion, you were already taking your stuff.

“where are you going?” he asked while sitting down next to you to grab your wrist tightly, he didn’t wanted you to leave but you were already loosening his grip to get out of the bed. he was selfish, he never asked you about how you felt and it was always about him and wendy, he didn’t even knew that you have been feeling like shit these past days because he never asked about you, about how you were feeling. you looked up at him, parting your lips slightly to talk but you felt this tight knot in your throat. your lips left a shaky sigh, shaking slightly your head while looking down to avoid his piercing gaze.

“it’s always about you and wendy, you and wendy this you and wendy that… when is it going to end, stanley?” you never call him stanley, he knew you were upset. but jesus, you needed to understand him! he was going through very difficult times, he sure was but… what about you? it seems like he doesn’t even cares about you. after putting on your jacket you looked up at stan one last time before leaving the obscure room who’s only source of light was the brightness of the moon peeking trough the window.

“i’m sorry… please don’t leave me, y/n.” he pleaded while getting up from his bed to walk towards you, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders so you wouldn’t take a step forward, you tried to get away from him but even if you tried you didn’t want to separate from his tight embrace. your mind and body wanted to pull away from him but your heart wanted something completely different and your feelings for him were stronger than what you wanted… that’s why you decided to stay.

it was an never ending cycle. you always ended up staying with him even if it felt like diving into a big pile of spines.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

#stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #south park #south park angst #south park oneshots

72 notes · View notes

wetkiwis · 2 months

Text

𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂

Summary; reader works in office, Ichigo is a doctor who travels for his jobs sake. He comes back home for new years to see his wife. Expressing long sweet words in the process.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲: not smut, soft, loveable

♡-𝓬𝓱𝓽; ichigo (bleach)

There. I was sitting down shielding my head from the noisy world surrounding me. I was in a work environment, which it’s an office full of employees who work in the same space as me. It was almost 5 minutes before I officially clock out, and leave. Which is what I’m looking forward to tonight. It’s new year’s eve, meaning I have one full day to rest being tomorrow and then I’m going back to work all over again. As much as it sounds nerve wrecking, I don’t think I can do it at all. Everyday feels like I’m opening the same envelope. Time, and time again. I sleep for 6 hours at night, barley get breakfast in the morning, or even a lunch cause there’s never a break. Just an endless cycle that won’t end. But tonight I also get to see my husband. Me, and him have been married 5 years in the making. He’s became a doctor which was 4 years ago, he moves one place to another. One week it’s Africa, next week it might be Europe. We call often, which he’s always the one checking up on me all the time. I remember the last time we were united together…was last year at Christmas. There wasn’t much to say, or talk about cause we genuinely don’t know what either are up to at this point.

TICK TOK TICK TOK! The clock screamed to 6pm. Which it was my time to clock out, and leave. There were many things to prepare for especially tonight. Which I was in a typical rush. I got up from my seat, wrapping my cotton clothed flannel coat around my upper body, practically hugging my waist. Scooting my chair in the empty space I was in, grabbing my white tote bag. Ichigo bought me bags alot from his trips back home throughout the years of us being together, or often sent them as a gift. Somehow this one managed to be my favorite one from last year around my birthday. He wasn’t here to give it to me, but he wrote his trips single handily of his adventures around the globe, He’s a great storyteller, when we first met all he talked about were stories of him conquering evil spirits. That I’ve never believed obviously, he’s always had those silly made believe fantasy’s running through his head. If he told anyone else he’d probably be diagnosed schizophrenic, and sent to an facility. I rubbed the bag motioning my hands on the diligently bold fabricated letters. Which I loved the design, and material.

My hands stroke the bag as I’m walking slowly through the building to enter the elevator. My phone begins to ring. BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ!!! I look down at my vibrating purse, stopping for a second. Freeing my phone from my bag, Inching it to my site to see what it might be. Clutching my superbly sharp phone, I see it’s Ichigo. I guess my thoughts synced, we both thunk about each other at the same time??? He never calls me when the sunsets, it’s more when it rises over here in Karakura. I hit a green circular button on my phone, choosing with my own free will to answer it.

“Hello,” I muster to say.

“Hi baby, how was your day.” He says asking a question.

“My day was pretty long, about you?”

“My day was pretty wild. I’m still at the airport…I-“ his phone breaks up due to bad cellular reception surrounding him.

“-I miss you, what are we eating tonight?” cutting back on to finish what he was saying before.

“It’s a surprise, you’re just going to have to find out.” I chuckle into the phone at my noticeable joke. He dislikes when I make these jokes, always with a disgusted mugged face. My mind flashes from a while back, when we were close.

“Seriously??? Aw man, I’ll be there in a few love.” He said. You honestly love it when he called you pet names it had a ominous chokehold over your neck, and heart. If it took a breath a day out of your lifespan you would die from suffocation.

“Okay bye, I love you.” Your face widened and so did your grin. Even after a long time of not seeing this man he still managed for you to feel nervous. You had this man the same way. But you already knew that.

“I love you more.” He said, as you could hear his face, and heart twittering around like a mad bird who’s been chasing around for a worm.

You hung up ending the call. As you open your car door.

Driving into the crowded city, people were posted everywhere. Bars, restaurants, even some of the streets were closed due to the parades tonight. Making some streets not able to enter, and being shortened.

Once you made it to the store you knew what you were getting. Pasta, bread, and dessert. Maybe even wine, or flowers if they were even in stock. Alot of people celebrate with their loved one on new years, wouldn’t it be exactly silly to believe those last things were even available??? That wasn’t my mindset at the moment, I just had to get in and get out.

I make my way home, it’s practically dark in this uptown apartment. It takes about 30 minutes to drive here but it’s worth it, seeing all the beautiful countryside surrounding it. Especially in your house, outside you got the perfect view of the city, which was spectacular. All the flashing lights, celebrations. You could see anything, as if you were superman in the air staring down on humanity.

You decided to settle down for awhile, the tv on in the back. As your head marinated with your back pressed on the bed. The cloth protecting your skin was pure silk, and light pink like a flamingo’s feathers. Delicacy. This whole week was a stress it was infant horrible. The paper piling up more, and more. Your boss keeping you late Tuesday. Workers being fired mandatorily for slacking off, you were grateful enough not to be one of the unlucky. Almost every then and now, you’d flicker and open your eyes back up and repeat. Your lack of sleep was also needy, it wasn’t like one day would fix all of your problems though.

Lost in your pervaded thoughts. You couldn’t help but not hear the door creak. With your back on the soft mattress, head turned to the left looking at the ponded view, and mind filed to the brim of whatever war you’re battling against in your head. Ichigo placed a spot right in the door way, snugging his abroad shoulder against the wall.

“Cat got your eye?” scaring you off the bed, and scanning the room.

“Ichigo! You couldn’t have said something sooner??” you said yelling in a high pitched tone showing your fear.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to make you scared. I’m hungry now c’mon.” His hands motioned to the kitchen which was behind the living room.

I unpacked the bags, warmed the stove, got out pots and pans, and decoded the table. There wasn’t anything wrong, ichigo often set up the table when he came back home for dinner. Always placing a fork, and knife of the places we’d eat. It was honestly his specialty, it’d look like a great rated restaurant when he was done.

The food was done everything was stable, i lastly poured wine in our cups. We quietly sat down with the news playing the parade on the tv.

“Isn’t this sight beautiful? A night with a lovely girl, and a great night of love.” He said as he bit into his garlic bread.

“It is indeed beautiful, I’ve reminisced on this night almost every way possible. Things are lonely, and colorless without your energy. I guess you can say, after this week I feel free. I mean, I got to see you after all.” I confessed. As much as I loved ichigo I never said this in our 9 years of marriage.

Ichigo touches my hand, turning my palm around to staring deep into my soul with his melinated eyes.

“I love you Y/N. There’s not a way I would be happier without you. All these years, I still look at you like it’s the first time again. For your voice is all I need to have a happy day. Which I hope it’s the same for you. I can’t imagine a day you are not within me, I’d crumble. Cause nothing would give me motivation to do anything at all. I truly love you with all thats in me till the end of my days.” He sobs in heartfelt words coming from his heart. Feeling human emotions, like any other person. He’s truly feel engraved with you.

“I love you too, my love.” You scrunch your face, finally hearing words of comfort and relief. Letting the chains off of your neck from any negativity, and all that intimacy with your one, and only.

8 notes · View notes

rinusagitora · 7 months

Text

I'll be the villain you blame.

Fandom: Bleach Characters: Momo Hinamori, Sousuke Aizen, Nanao Ise, Izuru Kira, Shuuhei Hisagi, Renji Abarai Pairings: badship AiHina, minor RenShuuKiraHina Words: 2.5k Summary: A study in invisible labor, gender inequity, & rage. Warnings for abusive relationships, cannibalism, & mild gore. AO3: works/50610688 A/N: I forgot what list I used for this & can't keep a schedule worth shit, so I'm just posting it now lmao I used various black metal, In This Moment, & Otep songs as inspiration. There are so many good ones.

"What do you mean you won't make dinner?"

It's not a question, but a demand for a damn good answer. Momo is elbow-deep in a wash basin bubbling with soap and waterlogged shitagi. Sweat pours down her sides from her pits.

"I have shit to do," he replies.

Her teeth grind. "And I don't?"

"You're washing laundry."

Thank you, Captain Obvious, and here she thought her hands were cramping from doing nothing.

"These stains are going to take hours getting out," she says, "so unless you want dingy laundry or dinner late, I need you to make us some food."

"I'm going to an Association meeting. I'll be eating there."

Momo's seen the Shinigami Men's Association. It's an excuse for officers to goof off.

"Okay. And what am I going to do for food after washing the laundry? It's going to be late when you finish."

Sousuke rolls his eyes. He doesn't even shut the door behind him when he fucks off.

It's times like these Momo wants to take his skin and put it through a wash cycle while he cries for help from their bed. See how he likes it.

Momo ought to, at least, lock the door behind him. He'll have to sleep on the engawa and explain to a passerby why that it. Briefly, it makes her smile thinking of it. My wife locked me out because I'm a piece of shit who dicks around while she scrubs my house clean. What a bitch, right?

It's pipe dreams. Even if someone catches him sleeping on the engawa, he'll make her look like a hysterical cunt.

---

He's home at three. Wakes her up to regale her with the fun he had while the Men's Association sang songs around a campfire.

Momo groans. "Honey, I need some sleep before we go into work."

He snorts. "You've slept for hours."

She really hasn't. There's maybe four hours under her belt. The bottoms of his socks took hours to whiten completely. Part of her was tempted to leave it, but picturing her husband in gray laundry just reminded her how bad his feet smell, and she couldn't bring herself to neglect it the way he's able to.

"I'm really tired, Sousuke, laundry took forever."

His face scrunches. "God, is it such a chore for you to listen to me?"

Momo wants to laugh, but knows it would start an argument she's much too tired for. "Fine. Go on."

She tries to sleep while he blathers, but he doesn't stop talking until the blue light of morning peeks through their window.

---

Sousuke takes a sick day. If Momo joins him, nothing will get done in the office, and he'll bitch about it for days like it wasn't something avoided easily enough by just having made dinner.

Nanao sometimes visits during lunch breaks. Momo thinks their friendship spawned of their mutually useless men. Her uncle can't even be bothered to wear socks or spit out poisonous reeds he chews on.

At least his feet don't smell as bad.

"Oh my god, you look exhausted."

Momo hums. "Sousuke was out late and woke me up when he came home. I couldn't go back to sleep."

"On a work night?" Nanao says while she scowls.

"It was a Men's Association gathering."

"Well, that's stupid," she says while unpacking bento. "I brought goodies, though, if you'd like to take a break."

The smell of soup and steak wafts to Momo and it makes her misty-eyed. When is she ever cared for? How long have she and Sousuke been married, and what has he done for her?

Momo wracks her brain while she and Nanao eat but can't think of a single chore he's done, or even a single thank you he's uttered.

---

All she wants to do is sleep when she comes home, but Sousuke has other plans.

"The irori is full," Sousuke says. Sure enough, the pot is laying on coals. "I have some paperwork to finish. Can you clean it out before dinner?"

Momo's teeth grind. "What's this paperwork?"

"November's budget."

"Wasn't that due yesterday?" she says.

"Yeah, but I was busy,"

"Busy goofing off with the Association members."

Sousuke scowls. "Can you just clean the fucking hearth?"

Her teeth grind. "Fine. Please run a bath for me."

"I told you, I have to do the budget."

"The budget that was due yesterday. Yesterday, which you spent hours goofing off during, instead of working."

"Will you stop nagging me?" he snaps. "Just clean the fucking irori."

Momo takes a deep breath. There's a beat of silence between them. "I'll clean it... please run me a bath so I can wash off when I finish."

"I just told you I'm fucking busy," Sousuke says.

Another beat of silence. "You can't take ten seconds to turn a fucking faucet?" she says.

"You can run it yourself. You're a big girl."

She curls her fists and utters a long groan. Her teeth grind. A headache radiates into her skull. "Indeed. I'm also a big girl who hasn't slept since three in the morning, am very tired, and would like a bath after cleaning the irori. I'm fairly certain your budget can be turned in twenty seconds later than it would be without you running a bath for me."

"What the fuck is this martyr act about? Seriously, you're behaving as if I've shot you."

"I don't know how to explain it anymore clearly than I have already!" she snaps.

"You haven't explained shit, Momo!" he returns with equal vitriol. "You're blathering on about nonsense like I'm some fucking criminal. What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?"

Something inside Momo snaps like a dry twig.

"You fucked around last night instead of doing the budget, and now it's overdue, then you woke me up, chat for hours about how much fun you had procrastinating the budget so I've gotten no sleep, then you called off work because you fucked around too late to get any meaningful sleep before we're supposed to go to work, which left me to pick up your slack, and when I come home utterly exhausted, you can't even bother to turn a faucet for me while I get filthy cleaning out the motherfucking hearth. Is that fucking clear enough, Sousuke?"

His hands slam on his desk and he flies to his feet. It rattles Momo like he's going to hit her. "I don't have to fucking listen to this shit, Momo. I'm your superior officer and you will treat me with respect I'm owed."

"You're my husband! You asked me to marry you because you loved me!" Her scream is so shrill that she wonders if the windows will shatter in its wake. It would be nice to be validated. To have some fucking control. To turn Sousuke into a pin cushion of glass shards. Maybe then he'll listen. Maybe he'll tiptoe around her instead and give into her whims so she can fucking rest.

He spits on her instead.

The glob of saliva and mucus rolls down her cheek. It leaves a trail like a snail. She's stunned while he storms out. It's like there's a delay between her and reality. Like time decompresses. When it returns to normal, there's an explosion.

Momo throws her fist into the wall. It gives underway. She's bleeding and full of splinters when she frees herself but can't bring herself to give a flying fuck. Instead, she storms out like Sousuke, hearth be damned.

She needs a fucking drink.

She doesn't even know the name of the bar she storms into. Momo thinks she scares the bartender because he doesn't make a peep when she asks for a pitcher of beer, just places it in front of her a few moments later. She doesn't even use the provided glass and tips it into her open mouth instead. Some of it dribbles onto her collar but she doesn't fucking care because it doesn't even begin to wash down her outrage.

"Hinamori?"

Beer goes down the wrong tube when she hears her name. Izuru takes a seat like nothing happened. For a moment, his fair face has semblance to the wall she put her fist through, and her brain feeds her an image of his skull exploding around her right hook. It makes Momo want to throw up.

Izuru pats her back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's fine, I'm just a little absent-minded because I haven't slept well."

Momo hates that she's making excuses, that she's covering for her husband, but she isn't sure she has it in her to be told she's making mountain out of mole hills, even if it's by a dear friend.

"I can tell," he says. "Hey, Abarai and Hisagi are with me, why don't you drink with us? It's been awhile."

Momo kind of doesn't want to, but isn't able to concoct a reasonable excuse to decline, so she follows Izuru to their booth.

"Hey, it's been awhile," Shuuhei says while she slides into the booth next to Renji. "How's it going?"

"Fine," she fibs politely, then sips beer like she isn't a ravenous, vexed alcoholic.

Renji looks her over but he doesn't say anything. Momo wonders if he's clocked her exhaustion. He's always been good at reading people.

Shuuhei laughs. "Good to hear. We thought something was wrong when we saw you pounding your drink."

Momo groans. "It's fine. My husband and I just got into an argument and I wanted to blow off some steam."

"Makes sense," Renji replies. He reaches under the table and rubs her leg. It makes her head fall onto his shoulder. For now, she'll chalk it up to exhaustion.

"Marriage seems... hard," Izuru says.

"I can imagine so," Shuuhei says.

"It's just..." Momo trails off. She pinches her sinuses so she doesn't start bawling her eyes out. "I just don't get why he can't do simple things. Like, I was cleaning the irori when I asked him to run me a bath, but he threw a tantrum over it for some reason."

Part of her expects them to shrug it off, to call her hysterical, but Izuru says, "I don't understand why that would be a chore for him."

"Thank you," she says with wry laughter.

"Yeah, it's not hard," Renji agrees.

Momo takes another drink. "I'm sure all couples argue about chores." She hates herself more for bitching about him and then covering for him. It feels wishy washy. It feels like malicious lies.

"Sure, but... I don't know. It doesn't seem hard to just run a bath while you clean," Izuru replies.

It's times like these Momo wishes she married Izuru. It makes her sad she thought poorly of Izuru's intentions. For now, she'll chalk it up to exhaustion, like the day dream she has of being facedown in her pillow with Izuru's fist around her neck while he rails her slick pussy.

She laughs. "I thought so too. Alas, I'm the insane one asking for a simple favor."

"Why'd you even marry him?" Shuuhei asks. "He's unpleasant to be around as, like, a whole. He's pedantic."

"He was different not too long ago." Alas, this is her punishment for fucking her superior. Blow up the relationship and the squad blows up. Her career blows up. Everything blows up. The shrapnel will only go into her face, and he'll be unscathed, even if she screams about his incompetence from the rooftops.

Momo should've fucking married Izuru. He isn't an asshole even if he doesn't put his socks in the hamper.

---

In the lulls of her contributions to their conversation, Momo daydreams of each of them kissing her sore limbs and making love to her. Of being passed around them. She doesn't say anything even after taking her home around eleven. It's later than Momo would've liked but she didn't really want to escape their company after Izuru bought them a round of tequila shots. They took her home because she could hardly walk between exhaustion and intoxication.

Momo knows she passed out the second she covered herself in her quilt, but it's like she hasn't slept a wink when Sousuke shakes her awake and kisses her.

She's expecting an apology, but then he unties his obi. He's hard.

He's an asshole and expects her to fuck him at three in the morning when she's exhausted and angry. Somehow, his sobriety makes her even angrier, like this shit would be better if he was wasted.

Momo throws a right hook into the center of his face. Bones crunch under her fist, like the wall, and he squeals like a stuck pig.

"You wanna fuck after everything you said?" she screams in disbelief. "You can't even be bothered to fucking apologize?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sousuke howls while he clutches his face. He's like a petulant child. It makes her cunt recede into her pelvis.

"What's wrong with me? It's four in the morning! I haven't slept hardly five hours since yesterday morning, but you wake me up after a huge fight when I'm utterly fucking exhausted to fuck me like you weren't a raging fucking asshole earlier!

Sousuke doesn't get a word in before Momo is on her feet and knees him. He's pushed into a fetal position, grunting and crying, and it's oil on fire.

"You're the most neglectful fucking asshole I know!" she screams. "You can't do anything! You're seriously a fucking baby and you expect me to fucking spoon feed you! If I wanted to marry an infant, I would've robbed a fucking cradle!"

Magic coils in her hands. Her rage is consistently underestimated, the same as her labor is unappreciated and unreciprocated. She could spend months cleaning his home-- his home, because it's not hers, its not theirs, she's just a maid-- without so much as a thank you or a finger lifted to help.

It coalesces as fire in her palms. It barrels into Sousuke's face and roasts his hair and his skin. The smell is acrid, but there's no air for him to scream. She can see him trying to but all it's doing is burning his insides. There isn't enough oxygen to scream, not when its eaten by fire.

Sousuke wheezes when the fire stops. Momo assumes his vocal chords are fried. It's pathetic and blissful.

Momo recenters and sends fire to his crotch. She'll find better cock.

---

She's quite bedraggled and the floor is blackened once she finally finishes. Sousuke's top layers are charred to shit. The smell of burnt hair is long gone, and there's just the smell of seared meat now.

It makes her belly rumble.

There's the issue of the body, of course, and the most horrific epiphany occurs to her while her chest heaves.

He can't make dinner. Why can't she make him into dinner?

---

Momo sends a courier to Izuru, Renji, and Shuuhei inviting them over for dinner when she goes to work in the morning. She sliced Sousuke's buttocks and thighs into steaks, rubbed them with chilis and spices, and served them over potatoes, onions, and asparagus. There isn't a clean plate in the house before the night ends. They even help with the dishes.

#bleach #badship aihina #renshuukirahina #momo hinamori #sosuke aizen #izuru kira #renji abarai #shuhei hisagi #goretober 2023

10 notes · View notes

bookshelfdreams · 2 years

Note

Thoughts on ofmd, I've seen you talk about it a lot (I haven't gotten ar to watching it yet!) and he's wanted your opinion on it! Also hope you're having a nice day! 💖

OKAY well, that's complicated since you haven't seen it (do u need links?) but

hmmm

I think I want to talk about historical accuracy a bit. ofmd's complete refusal to adhere to the general aesthetic of modern vaguely historical/fantasy media is probably one of the most refreshing things about it, and something that immediately stood out to me.

This show isn't historically accurate, doesn't claim and doesn't want to be. Oluwande wears crocks; Stede reads the crew a book that won't be written for another 150 years or so; if you're stabbed through the stomach and it's on the left, you're fine because there's no important organs in there. This show uses every opportunity to say fuck reality, we do what we want, and it's so freeing?

Because. Look the thing is, every piece of media does this. Everything. Even things that claim to be historically accurate. Historical aesthetics, especially early modern or premodern look weird to us. It takes some getting used to, and the aesthetics being just a little "off" to your eyes don't make you more likely to watch something if you're undecided about it. Producers play it safe; I get it.

But the problem is that visual media usually doesn't own this inaccuracy the way ofmd does. Some even brag about accuracy when they're anything but, and it all leads to the general public having a completely wrong impression of what the past was like. It's a self-perpetuating cycle: Someone does something cool, everyone copies it, adds their own little twist, updates it to be pleasing to modern audience's eyes, unusual enough to be interesting but not so much to be jarring, cool but never weird, and before you know it, people actually think that all vikings looked like they were in a biker gang and had the same shitty undercut.

ofmd doesn't really fight this, it goes in the complete opposite direction. It uses the historic precedent as a backdrop to tell the story it wants to be and it doesn't really care about being truthful. Which is fine; we know so little about the actual historical figures, to tell any story at all requires massive amounts of interpretation. In a way, that is being more honest with the audience; ofmd doesn't pretend to tell the objective truth.

This is anything but extraordinary. But because it also refuses to adhere to the kinds of aesthetic (and I don't just mean visual, but also in terms of plot and characterization) that we have come to expect from the genre of vaguely historical/fantasy, it seems like it is uniquely unconcerned. It is not; it's just colourful and open minded, kind-hearted in a way these type of movies/tv shows usually are not, even when they are comedies (have you seen Norsemen? Take the Vikings aesthetic & make it a comedy, every time I think of this show I want to soak my brain in bleach). It's just that it refuses to be gory for gore's sake, bleak and miserable and pass this off as "just the way things are were!".

At it's core, I believe, ofmd is about decolonization. It's about breaking free from oppression, finding and being your authentic self. It's about finding community and healing in others, about being unapologetically weird and strange.

And you know what? I think that's way more truthful. In real life, we love and cherish each other, we accept each other's idiosyncrasies, we are friends with each other, even if we are a little weird. In real life, you don't need to be the coolest, most competent badass to get others to respect you. In real life, you will be loved for all the ways in which you are unusual, and in real life, being unusual isn't even that big of a deal.

Yeah, that's not what clothes looked like in 1717. Yeah, phrenology wasn't invented yet. Yeah, the historical Stede Bonnet was an asshole, and so was the historical Blackbeard. But in the end, does that really matter? ofmd doesn't pretend to tell the real events that happened; all it wants to be is a queer romcom with pirates.

There's something so lovely about stories that are unashamedly themselves, isn't there.

#thank you! i hope this was somewhat interesting for you #i tried to not be overly spoilery #anonymaus #message #our flag means death #thoughts

67 notes · View notes

sungbeam · 1 year

Text

[𝟖:𝟑𝟐𝐀𝐌] — nonidol!eric sohn x gn!reader

0.7k words, comfort, college au

in which you're sitting on an airplane, sad asf, but the cute guy next to you let's you know that you're not alone

a/n: low-key come back with my first tbz fic :') if i tagged u and u don't wanna be tagged for future tbz fics, feel free to lmk ; and yes, i'm literally sitting at my airport boarding gate writing this

"First time?"

A voice from beside you drew you from your mind space, and away from the airplane window. The sky outside had barely lightened and remained a moldy-gray sort of color that it often was in the early hours of the morning.

You turned to see who had spoken, and was met with a guy who looked around your age sitting in the aisle seat of your row. He wore a dark colored bomber jacket and a backwards white cap, his bleached blond hair tucked under said cap. There was a small smile seated on his face, yet a kind of sympathetic crinkle in the wrinkle by his eyes.

You realized that he had been talking to you. "First time on an airplane?" You asked him, uncertain about what exactly he meant by first time.

He chuckled, his smile widening, and the thought crossed your mind of how pretty people looked when they smiled—namely, him. "No, silly. First time flying back so early for school."

Ah. Your mood dampened just a little and suddenly, it was like gazing back out the window, wondering what you might have been doing had you not needed to go back to college so early. Out of all your friends here, your school gave you the shortest winter break, with the new quarter beginning just a couple days after the new year began. It meant that you were leaving on New Year's Day. You hadn't gotten to stay up and party last night, and you wouldn't be able to spend any of this week with family. You were to go back to your little dorm, alone, and start the grueling cycle of the new quarter.

You nodded, pursing your lips. "Yeah. What about you?"

"I'm a second year," he told you in response. "Promise I'm not a creep, but which school do you go to?"

You named your university for him and you watched recognition flash across his face.

"Oh hey, same! I'm Eric by the way."

A small, yet genuine smile graced your features. "I'm Yn. Nice to meet you, Eric."

"Hey," he said conspiratorially, leaning over the empty middle seat between you two, "I know it's really depressing to go back so early while everyone else gets at least a week longer, but—everything will be okay. Trust me; I went through it last year, and it's always rough at first, but I believe in you, Yn."

Somehow, his words hit you with the weight of a freight train. You wondered how he had taken one look at you, sulking in your window seat, and understood exactly what had been running in your head. He must have seen the way your eyes shone with familiar emotions—all the fear and sadness for the future—but the appreciation and hope, too. You wondered if he saw himself in your eyes.

You swallowed and choked back tears. God, you felt so pathetic sometimes. "Thanks," you rasped, clearing your throat when your voice came out hoarse. "That's… that's really sweet of you."

"It's no problem." He shrugged, returning to his own aisle seat space. "Just know you're not alone, okay? I mean, I'm assuming you're out of state right?"

You nodded.

"Then it's… kinda lonely, huh? I get that." Eric suddenly shuffled around his pockets until he fished out his phone. He held it out to you over the empty middle seat with an encouraging smile. "Here, put in your number. We can keep in touch when we get back to school."

You grabbed his phone and swiftly inputted your information into the new contact section. When you handed him his phone back, he sent you a text back so you could save his contact number and name.

Both you and Eric stopped to listen as the flight attendant announced that the plane's doors were closing now.

He lightly nudged you with the back of his knuckles, and you had a feeling you would never tire of seeing that boyish smile on his face. "You know what that means? We get the middle seat open!"

You chuckled at his child-like excitement (and maybe even envied it). "Lucky us, huh?"

"For sure. Now I have an excuse to bother you," he said. "As long as that's okay with you."

You'd never thought he'd ask, to be honest. "I wouldn't have it any other way," you mused, and relished in the way his eyes twinkled back at you.

You had boarded the plane with nothing but melancholy, anxiety, and bitterness—but as the plane began its take-off procedures and Eric Sohn talked to you about his friends back home whom he was leaving behind, you could put those negative feelings away and start the New Year right.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @ethereal-engene

#the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #eric x reader #sohn youngjae x reader #the boyz drabble #the boyz timestamp #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #eric sohn drabble #eric sohn imagines #eric sohn timestamp

132 notes · View notes

devoutlywished · 1 year

Note

the sun bleached flies tell us about the sun bleached flies

“Sun bleached flies sitting in the windowsill” <— insect motif right off the bat. flies are prey to spiders and harry views himself as a victim of spider-man. “sun bleached” on the windowsill implies they’ve been there a long time.

“Waiting for the day they escape” <— the flies are already dead and decayed but still dream of escape. harry’s fate is already sealed from the moment he appeared on screen, and yet he still has hope of escaping the cycle.

“They talk all about that money and how their babies are always changing” <— the people around harry are only interested in money. meanwhile harry, peter and mj, who are just teenagers, are going through life-changing events as they grow up.

“While they're breathing in the poison of the paint” <— according to mother this line is a reference to lead poisoning from lead paint. this type of poisoning is invisible and silent and only felt after living around it for an extended period of time. outsiders cannot see that the inhabitants of a house with lead paint are being poisoned, just like outsiders cannot see that harry’s father is abusing him, or that harry’s mental illness and trauma are slowly destroying him.

“What I wouldn't give to be in Church this Sunday” <— i don’t really see harry as religious, but church can be a universal sanctuary, a place people run to when they’re alone because they seek guidance and a sense of community. harry is completely alone and wishes he could be surrounded by people who love him. we actually do see him in church at the end of sm2, at mj’s wedding, and he does look rather happy.

“Listening to the choir, so heartfelt, all singing

God loves you, but not enough to save you” <— ohhhh my favorite ethel cain lyric of all time. it doesn’t matter how much harry’s friends may care about him or, if we’re to break the fourth wall, how much the writers may care about him. it’s always his fate to die because he’s not important enough to live.

“So, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself” <— after his father dies, harry is left to fend for himself at a young age. he’s suddenly thrust into a world he knows little about and is expected to just take over oscorp despite being only around 19-21. “baby girl” is inherently patronizing too: the people addressing ethel in the song are treating her like a child who they doubt can take care of herself.

“So I said fine, 'cause that's how my daddy raised me” <— ethel and harry are both victims of their fathers abuse and yet still love them and take pride in the way they were raised, despite how their fathers may have hurt them.

“If they strike once then you just hit 'em twice as hard” <— norman and ethel’s father both encourage their child to respond to violence with violence and stand up for themself and take control.

“But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me

Then this heart would break and fall as twice as far” <— harry and ethel both feel they’re too weak to survive on their own, in the dangerous world of adulthood, without their fathers. “the weight that they gave me” brings to mind the responsibilities harry has been left with, and he worries he’ll be too weak to handle them and will break and fall.

“We all know how it goes

The more it hurts, the less it shows” <— pain isn’t new and everyone has experienced it. despite harry’s pain he still goes on with running oscorp and at least at first attempts to maintain his friendships with peter and mj. in sm2 he can be almost too cheery and friendly and excited (like the scene where he introduces peter to otto) because his happiness is very forced and he’s covering up how miserable he is.

“But I still feel like they all know” <— everyone around harry knows something he doesn’t and he can sense that he’s being kept out of the loop.

“And that's why I can never go back home” <— harry can never go back to his life before his fathers death and can’t just live a normal life with his friends. he also couldn’t return in NWH and reunite with his father and friend and perhaps get a second chance like all the other villains did for arguably the same reason ethel can’t go back home: because of the reprehensible actions of a predatory man. ethel is killed by an evil man and harry is played by one and both these men prevent them from having a happy ending.

“And I spent my life watching it go by from the sidelines” <— harry has been a side character in his own life for so long. he’s the second choice to everyone and is repeatedly forgotten and pushed aside.

“And God, I've tried, but I think it's about time I put up a fight” <— harry realizes he finally has to stand up for himself and fight back against the tragic circumstances he’s in rather than succumb to his fate.

“But I don't mind 'cause that's how my daddy raised me” <— same as before. harry prides himself on how his father raised him and thinks the violence and aggression he encouraged in him is comparable to strength.

“If they strike once then you just hit 'em twice as hard” <— harry tries repeatedly to kill peter but is doomed to repeatedly fail.

“But I always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me” <— despite his best efforts, harry knows he was doomed from the start. there is no way out of the trap. spider-man “saves” people, but not harry, not in the end. after he’s stabbed by venom and is lying there dying, mj offers to get help and he rejects it, asking her instead to stay with him. peter tells him he’ll get through this and harry says no because he’s accepted that his fate is to die.

“So I just prayed and I keep praying and praying and praying” <— praying is sometimes all one can do when they’re stuck in seemingly inescapable tragic circumstances, even if you’re not usually religious.

“If it's meant to be then it will be” <— harry’s descent into villainy and eventual death are “meant to be” in every universe. it doesn’t matter how we adapt the story, there is only one ending and harry can’t change that.

“So I met him there and told him I believe” <— harry decides to help peter against sandman and venom and accepts that peter didn’t kill his father.

“Singing if it's meant to be then it'll be

I forgive it all as it comes back to me” <— harry forgives peter as he dies. he accepts that his eventual demise is partly his own fault because he didn’t make the effort to get out of his downward spiral. at the end of his life he realizes he always had a choice, but by this point, it’s too late.

“I'm still praying for that house in Nebraska

By the highway, out on the edge of town

Dancing with the window open” <— the only thing harry really wants is to be with his friends again, to return to when things were easy. he misses something as simple as hanging out at peter’s house in queens or dancing in the kitchen with mj.

“I can't let go when something's broken” <— harry can never let go of the belief that his father is a good person who truly loves him and refuses to acknowledge how broken their relationship was.

“It's all I know and it's all I wanna know” <— harry doesn’t know any kind of life except the one he was given, and the only relationship with a parental figure he’s ever known is his abusive father. however harry doesn’t want to be made aware of his reality, that his father was evil and abused him, because it’s easier to live with the lie that norman loved him.

#<3 #harry osborn #ethel cain #ask

8 notes · View notes

tuliharja · 9 months

Text

BLEACH: Thousand-Year Blood War - The Separation episode 4 review

Gotta love how at the beginning of the episode Bambiette's girlfriends were trash-talking about her...such a 'lovely' friendship they've, wouldn't you agree?

Anyway, seeing Bambiette's maniac pleasure in destroying things and trying to destroy Shinji, Momo, and Sajin somehow made me smile. I don't know, but the fact she seemed to be so thrilled when her 'bombs' landed and how pretty those were? There was almost something poetically beautiful in that whole thing. Then again, Bambiette's reckless (stupid) nature is something I really dig as there is almost this murder-like child glee in her...

And yes! Finally! We got to see our handsome wolfman as a man! Though, just like Bambiette I felt a bit disappointed. After all, doggies (yes, I know Komamura is a wolf, but calling him 'doggy' isn't that far off, considering thanks to the evolution once upon a time dogs too were wolves...so, in a way, Komamura went backward with his new technique?) are much cuter~.

I kind of wish we would have learned more about the whole ordeal behind Komamura's clan. What exactly were his people (in the past?) do, that made it so, they had to live in shadows? Not to mention, the way Komamura's grandfather speaks, implies once upon a time they were all humans? So, what kind of 'sin' they committed, that made it so, they were turned into beasts? And it seems that cycle hasn't been able to break, because Komamura too was in his beast form... not to mention, I'm now wondering if given enough time, would Komamura one day turn out to be as big as his grandfather? Or, because he used Jinka Technique (basically used up all his powers), it's impossible. After all, before that he was a werewolf, but now he is just a small wolf...so yeah. A lot of questions, which I kind of hoped would have gotten answered or at least touched one more.

They really went with Komamura's Bankai 'this is GCI, take it or leave it'. Kinda impressive that they didn't even try to tone down that fact, but at the same time...I don't know. His Bankai looked okay in the manga, but now...it's an artistic style choice and easier to animate like that, I get it, but even so...it personally wasn't my cup of cacao. But at least the fight between Komamura and Bambiette was a very good one. I bet if they had animated his Bankai differently, doing Bambiette's flying attacks around it would have been trickier to pull. But at least now it went smoother till the end.

Bambiette's biggest mistake against Komamura was her fear that he managed to install in her. Then again...most living beings are scared of death, so it was somewhat natural Bambiette would freak out when she found out Komamura was like a dead-dead. I mean, aren't all shinigami technically dead? But because we see them walking, talking, etc. it gives this illusion of them being 'alive', but...they really aren't. They're like echoes of living that can bleed. Hmm. Then again, Komamura could be different, because he is a werewolf. Or not. Like, where goes the line between being shinigami and not being one goes? Does having an education that allows you to use Zanpakuto make you shinigami? Because Komamura's grandfather seemed to view Komamura as not being one of them, but in the end he was? Because of his "wolf spirit". So yes. Where does the line between being shinigami and non-shinigami (not soul in this case) go? After all, I feel like Komamura blurred that line and in the end owned both 'worlds' if we can talk about 'worlds'...

Even so, it doesn't make it any less sad Komamura turned into a tiny wolf in the end. He gambled it all and managed to take down only one Quincy. Now imagine his transformation had lasted much longer? Yeah, he would have belonged to those big threats Yhwach warned his Sternritters about.

Komamura's whole little arc was very emotional and I feel like despite the fact his grandfather 'helped' him, in the end, his grandfather also used Komamura. (This could explain why Komamura's grandfather is so big and old because by eating other werewolf's heart/revenge/soul, he manages to keep going on and grows bigger.) But like Komamura realized, the path of revenge will only lead to one's destruction. His lieutenant's words sounded almost hollow when he tried to reassure Komamura. But, maybe this truly is Komamura's clan's curse? The need for revenge, but against whom or what? Because Komamura's revenge was to avenge Yamamoto's death...and shinigami aren't above such things as revenge, so what made Komamura's clan so special they were consumed by the werewolf curse? Because they were willing to burn so brightly for their revenge?

Somehow, this whole episode was about Komamura, even though there were little parts about others here and there. Next time...hmm, I wonder if we'll see Rose and Kensei against that Superstar and those two 'mysterious' lights. Manga readers will know what those are~.

Oh my gosh, that ending! I just loved, loved that ending clip of Senjumaru waiting for Ichigo! She looked absolutely stunning, in the middle of her clothes, with a wicked smile on her lips.

My my. What does she indeed want about little Ichigo? ;D

Also, did Ichigo just become Soul King's spare vessel in case of emergency? ^^'

6 notes · View notes

seokiloquy · 2 years

Text

Seven Days Pt 1 - Kuroo Tetsurou

AU: Regular – Based on Seven Days (Monday → Sunday)

Tags/ Warnings: slight swearing, ooc Kuroo??

Word Count: 3.6k+

Monday

Kuroo Tetsurou had a reputation.

You heard more about his love life than you experienced your own. You wondered, not being friends or even speaking terms with him, if he knew he had a reputation. When you saw him in the hallways during school, he always looked the same.

He would hang with his volleyball teammates and have a lazy smile on his face. Only a smirky kind of grin was reserved for a shorter boy with bleached hair that he would stick together like glue.

You gathered all of this information and then some, just by hearing your classmates talk about him because there was something that everyone seemed to know. It lingered in the air like smoke after a fire. An unspoken rule.

The first person who would ask Kuroo out Monday morning would be in a relationship with him until Sunday. From the rumours and whispers you heard, he would close off their last date, look the person in the eye, and say a variation of: “I don't have strong feelings for you. Let’s break up.”

The cycle would start again that Monday.

Surprisingly, you rarely heard a bad word about him. He would be invested in his relationship for the week – wouldn’t look at another person and he was kind and respectful. All of your classmates knew what they were getting themselves into or thought they did.

If people did hate him after, you never heard of it.

You heard every version of “It was enough just to get a week with him” and “I wish I could turn back time and start the week over again”. You didn’t know which one sounded sadder to you. You thought that the people who said the first were just telling themselves that and the people who said the second were in denial.

You understood the appeal of him, why everyone would want to date him or wanted a chance. He was captain of the volleyball team, friendly and kind to those he knew and didn’t, and handsome in a rough kind of way. He seemed like a person who knew what he wanted and went to grab it without hesitation.

On the outside looking in, it was hard not to think he was a player. Who dates a new person every week? Who can move on with their relationships as fast as skipping a song on your playlist? Even though it was a week, you would still form a bond with that person, right? It had to mean more than that.

There were an endless amount of questions you had. But despite all of them, it never took away your curiosity of what it would be like to be Kuroo’s relationship of the week. Nothing stopped you from asking him out, but you didn’t know if you could handle it, being in a relationship for a week and going back like nothing.

You weren’t that type of person. Maybe you’d consider it more if he asked you out without the measured time weighing on you but that wouldn’t happen.

Whenever he snaked his way into your line of sight and stayed there — his arm around someone new, smiling and talking like no tomorrow — there was a loneliness that hung around him like a single cloud on a sunny day.

Which is why you didn’t know how you got here: standing across from Kuroo Tetsurou on opposite sides of the hallway outside of the teacher’s lounge in awkward silence for the worse part of five minutes. Hushed voices came from behind the door and you couldn’t discern if it was about either of you.

Kuroo cleared his throat. “How much longer do you think they'll make us stand out here?”

You raised your eyebrows. “However long they decide to be sadists.”

Kuroo laughed. It was deeper and more playful than you thought it would be. “Why were you called here?”

You shrugged. “Who knows? All I do know is that when your teacher sends you here, you don’t question it unless you like suffering.”

“Such happy thoughts in the morning.” He nodded, a smile lingering on his face.

“I am known to be a ball of sunshine.”

Still grinning, he said, “You’re (L/N) (F/N), right?”

“Yup.” You hesitated. You were 99% sure that he was acting out of kindness. Teasingly, you asked back, “You’re Kuroo Tetsurou, right?”

Kuroo smiled half-heartedly and looked down. You could feel the cloud of loneliness blocking out the sun. You frowned. Did you cross a line?

“We were in the same class during the first year,” he said.

You blinked. “You sure?”

“You were class representative,” he said, his voice airy, almost far away. Kuroo looked back up at you. “You had the highest score in the class. I remember, one time, the teacher had gone back to the teacher’s lounge one morning cause they forgot something, so everyone started talking and shouting at each other. You looked like you didn’t sleep or something the night before and after a minute of the loudness you told everyone to shut the fuck up and they did. It was kind of scary.”

You remembered that. Your little brother had a nightmare and wouldn’t go back to sleep so you read him stories until he could close his eyes without flinching in his sleep. You only slept for two hours that night. Your brother stayed at home and you went to school. But you didn’t remember Kuroo being in your class. You would’ve remembered him. He was very memorable.

Kuroo smiled. “You also gave a really good presentation of the history of Japanese swords for one class.”

“I did.” You smiled. “It might have been good, but five minutes before that I felt like I was going to throw up.”

“In middle school, I actually threw up before a presentation.”

You laughed and he joined you. After catching your breath, you asked, “Do you get nervous before volleyball games? I feel like throwing up before them would be bad.”

He hesitated for a moment and then shook his head. “Volleyball is different. I do get nervous, but it's a good nervous, like the feeling before you drop on a roller coaster.”

Did he mean the fall? “I don’t think there’s a good nervousness.”

“Then you haven’t found something you want enough that you’re excited to be nervous about.”

“Maybe,” you said. From all of the things you’ve heard about him, Kuroo Tetsurou made you nervous — the bad nervous — but talking to him like this was easy and light. You hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Free. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Please do.” Kuroo looked past you, to the door of the teacher’s lounge. “I’m missing math…” he said, more to himself than you, so you didn’t comment.

You weren’t in the same classes for your final year. Right now, you were missing Japanese Lit, but that subject was a breeze. You thought mentioning that would be rude.

You didn’t want your conversation to end. You looked up to the ceiling, counting the specks of dust that could only be seen when they were close to the light.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

“(Y/N)?”

Your eyes snapped back to Kuroo who was already staring intently at you. You flushed. How long was he looking at you and you were counting pieces of dust?

“Yeah?”

“Will you go out with me?”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

He hesitated and coughed. “I mean for the week. Will you go out with me for the week?”

Oh.

You swallowed. Trying to make your voice as light as possible, you said, “I thought someone would have asked you out by now.”

He smiled painfully, like he was forcing himself to. A grimace. Maybe you wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't been talking to him. He was relaxed but now he was tense. Maybe he was aware of the things that people said about him — that all he was good for was that one week.

“You’d think that, but not today. Sometimes they wait by my train stop to ask me but I woke up late this morning.”

Woah. You didn’t know it was that extreme.

“But,” he continued, “I’m asking you.”

“Is that against the rules?”

This time he let out a genuine laugh. “I didn’t know there were rules.”

“I think if anyone knows if there are rules it would be you.”

Kuroo pushed off the wall and took slow steps towards you. “Is that a yes?”

The door to the teacher’s lounge slide opened and he stopped abruptly. “Could you two come in please?”

Kuroo looked back at you. “To be continued.”

You were asked to deliver papers to another classroom, which was extremely anti-climatic. You couldn’t focus for the rest of the morning. You kept replaying your conversation with Kuroo in your head, searching for anything that might tip you off that him asking you to be his week date was a joke.

You were glad you had a different classroom than he did. It made avoiding him that much easier. You know those people who faced their problems head-on? Yeah, you were not one of those people. You waited for things to go away until you physically couldn’t put it off anymore and this was one thing that you knew you couldn’t avoid for long.

Why did he have to ask you out for the week? Why did he have to add that on? Relationships were one of the things that you had no experience with and knew that Kuroo had a lot.

You walked to the in-school convenience store with your head in the clouds.

“Have you made a decision yet?”

You jumped and let out a small scream. People were looking at you and then looking past you.

You turned and glared at him. “Geez, don’t you knock?”

He furrowed his eyes as an amused smirk appeared on his face. “We’re in a hallway at school. You do know that right.”

“Yeah.” You looked around you and people were still staring. You cocked your head in a direction, any direction to get you away from people. He followed you. “You could still knock.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

The both of you strolled in silence, bypassing chatty students and silent, judgy teachers. Kuroo occasionally saw one of his volleyball teammates and did this weird handshake. When you reached an empty stairwell, Kuroo stepped in front of you.

“You’re not leading me to a non-crowded place to murder me right?”

“At school? No. I’d take you to the woods, more secluded.”

Kuroo snorted. He covered his mouth with his hand, but his grin peeked behind it. “Thanks. I appreciated it. I’d rather no here people hear my high pitched scream of terror.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” This was the second time today that you were up close with him. Is this what it would be like to date him? Is this how other people felt too? A mix of dread and excitement went through you.

In that moment, you hated that your first thoughts while looking at Kuroo were about the other people he dated. Did he do this with other people? Did he enjoy…chasing people? But you couldn’t help but smile when he smiled and you didn’t have another explanation for the flutters in your stomach.

“So,” he began, “Do you have an answer from this morning?”

This was unfamiliar territory. You didn’t know what you wanted, but a week? Would it be enough? Would it be too little? This was putting your hand over the fire and letting the heat consume you.

“Are you sure?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you want to date me? I mean, I know that you say yes to the first person who asks you, but do you like any of them?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. Since his hair stuck at odd ends — in a constant state of bedhead — you imagined it to be rough and spiky. You didn’t know what you wanted to hear him say or if there was a right or wrong thing to say. He didn’t answer for a moment.

Kuroo’s face was blank. A slow emotion formed in his eyes like honey dripping down a wood dipper and it was gone in a minute. A small smile formed on his lips, almost a smirk. You suppressed a frown.

“What’s not to like? The people at school are pretty nice.”

You sighed and shook your head. “Look, I don’t want to date you if you have no interest in me at all. It would be a waste of my time. I’ll see you around.”

You glanced at him and began to push past him to the doors. One step away from the exit and you could put this in the back of your mind.

Kuroo turned and grabbed your hand gently. “Wait.”

You started to pull away and he let go just as quickly. Kuroo’s eyes were wide and desperate.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to waste your time and I won’t.”

In a steady voice, you said, “Then I want a real answer. Did you like any of the people you’ve dated?”

Kuroo looked at the ground. “Honestly? I did like some of them but it just didn’t work out. With people who I don’t know, I try to see if there could be something there. A spark, a common interest. But by the end of the week, I can’t imagine myself with them. To me, it’s better to break it off quickly than to hang on until there is really nothing left. We’d both deserve better.”

You nodded slowly. Your hands were sweaty and suddenly aware of how alone the two of you were. “Okay.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay? Okay to the explanation or okay to dating me?”

The explanation. “Both,” you said.

Kuroo’s look of confusion morphed slowly into a soft smile. His eyes darted quickly to the wall behind you and then looked into yours. “I should go back now, but I’ll see you after school?”

This might be worse than fake dating and all of the other love tropes. This was only getting half a cup of water when you’re dying of thrust. You nodded.

He took your hand again and squeezed it. “Great! Bye!”

You watched him…skip? Run? Through the doors. You raised your hand and waved to him when he turned and looked back at you.

“Bye.”

Did Kuroo Tetsurou have magical powers? Much like that morning, when you were talking to him in the hallway, after your second encounter with Kuroo, your head was in a daze. What were you doing? What did you do?

Just earlier, you thought that you’d never agree to date him for a week. This would hurt you, you knew it would. Now, it was just a matter of when.

You didn’t answer any questions during class, which meant that the class was unusually silent that day. Packing up your things was through muscle memory and so was saying goodbye to your classmates.

You passed the cubbies for your shoes and exchanged them. The sun was gone, covered by clouds and there was a slight breeze in the air. Just as you were passing the gates, someone knocked on your back as they would a door.

“Can I walk you home?”

You turned. Kuroo’s signature lazy smile was on his face, his eyes beaming. “Did you just knock on me?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re the one who told me to.”

You chuckled. “I didn’t mean it literally. I meant just let me know you’re there.”

Kuroo stuck his tongue out at you in a childish way that was both endearing and made you want to punch him. “So can I walk you home?”

“Sure. I take the subway though. Are you going the same way as me?”

“I take it too so we'll see once we get there.” He gestured in the direction of the closest station. “Lead the way.”

You started walking and he kept a brisk pace beside you. There was a bounce in his step like he couldn’t wait to get the subway and ride the train. It was cute. Up close, there was a lot to see. You wondered what else you would see just by doing little things like this with him.

By this time next week, he would be walking by someone else's side and you’d be walking home alone again. You pulled on the strap of your bag and looked at the pavement and your feet carried you forward. Now you understand why the people at school would constantly say that the week was enough to have a week with him, like they were convincing themselves.

This was only for a week. You weren’t sure how many times you’d have to say that to remind yourself or if it would ever stick.

The walk to the station was silent. A comfortable silence.

“Are you okay?” he asked once you got to the station. You went first to scan your pass and began towards your usual train platform. When he followed you without hesitation, a giddy feeling filled you.

You nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“No reason. You just looked like you were on autopilot.”

“Autopilot?”

He nodded. “Like the way you do things was just because you knew to do them, not that you were thinking about it. If that makes sense. It gave me the feeling that you were thinking about something else. Made me curious.”

Kuroo could tell all that by looking at you? His eyes were hazel, intimidating and steady. You wouldn’t want to be on the opposite end of his volleyball net. His eyes were intense and opened. You felt that he was listening and understanding everything you said. “Oh. It’s just that I’ve never done this.”

“Gone on the subway?” he said with a smirk.

You glared at him. “Dated anyone.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The train platform was mostly empty except for the few school students who didn’t linger after school. Everyone was in clubs or teams or expected to stay late and study, but you didn’t. You had other things to do.

You froze. “Wait. Don’t you have volleyball practice?”

“We get Mondays off.”

“Oh, good.”

A moment later, the train buzzed through the platform and you and Kuroo found two seats together with your backs facing a window. His knee touched you ever so slightly that you couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or by accident.

In a low voice, he asked, “Are you nervous that you’ve never dated anyone but I have?”

You stifled an incredulous face at him. Was it written on your face or something? “Maybe a little.”

“Okay.” He looked through the window on the opposite side of the train. After a minute, he leaned closer to you and said, “How about this. You can ask me anything you want — anything you’re curious about and I’ll just answer you so that you don’t have to worry about not knowing something. Would that make you more comfortable?”

Your mouth gaped open. “It would.”

He smiled. “Great.”

You picked at the strap of your bag. You looked at him and his gaze was already on you like they had never wavered from you. “Only if you do it honestly. I don’t want halfhearted answers.”

“Can I ask you things too?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I don’t see why not.”

Kuroo’s smile only grew. He untucked his hand from his jacket pocket and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

Your hand was shaky — and probably a little sweaty — but you tried to relax it and grasped his outstretched hand. “Deal.”

You waited for him to pull away but he didn’t. Maybe he was waiting for you to pull away, but you didn’t want to. His hand was warm and rough, you could feel the calluses on his hand from volleyball. You looked away from him but didn’t let go.

You sat in silence the rest of the train, hands interlocked. Once your stop came, you stood up and let go. His hand fell to his hand. You were tempted to reach for it again. “I get off here.”

He stood up too. “Okay.”

“Do you live here too?” You asked, walking off the train and onto the platform. You swore that you would have seen him before if he did.

“Nope. I live in the opposite direction.”

You choked. “What? Then why did you come this way?”

He ruffled his hair with his hand. “Does that honest answering start now?

“Yes.”

“I wanted to spend time with you.” He grinned at you again before taking a couple steps backwards, towards the stairs that would lead him to the opposite side of the tracks. “Until tomorrow.”

Everything came to you slowly. The way the corners of his lips curled up when he smiled. The mischievous glimmer in his eyes. The way he walked backwards so naturally and how his hand waved to you as he faded down the stairs.

You were so fucked.

This one was really fun to write :( Writing has been weird for me lately… This was supposed to go out last time (sorry about that) but it didn’t feel right so I took more time on it. I don’t know if I want to keep making my writing really consistent or put more time into it to make it something I really like. Maybe I can do both one day :(

As said early, this was based on Seven Days (Monday → Sunday) by Venio Tachibana and Rihito Takarai. It’s a great manga to read if you’re interested.

I hope you enjoyed! Until next time - Kiwi

Posted: 10/07/2022

#Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #Haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #anime

13 notes · View notes

unaloquita · 1 year

Text

"If there is something that doesn't change...I'm sure it would be my helplessness. I can see spirits. I can touch them. I can talk to them. But that's it. Sometimes they disappear like this. I don't know why they disappear. Sometimes they leave behind bloodstains that only I can see and feelings close to pain. No matter how much I train, I can't protect them. Whenever I think about it, my heart feels like a blade. It's revolving." [Note: Ichigo is saying his fate is revolving, meaning it repeats itself again and again, unless he breaks the cycle. He still hasn't broken or crushed fate, meaning that he may still feel helpless.] "It's revolving...If fate is a cog wheel...We are...grains of sand crushed between those cogs. There is nothing we can do. We just want power. If it's something we can't easily protect, we want to grab a sword beforehand. The power to crush fate surely resembles a swinging blade. Is my strength the power to crush fate?" —from Bleach 109

#bleach café

1 note · View note

myluciddreamer · 2 years

Text

Dreams of the Death of the Sun

I’ve had dreams of the end of the world before but none quiet like this…

*****

I stand in the nearly empty office staring out the large windows at the skyline. Everything has been bleached white by the sun long ago, even the colors in the office didn’t last long. Outside, the sun is so bright that it’s near impossible to see anything without some form of sunglasses. This was normal… yet… today was special.

Humanity has conquered so much in its years. We found cures for the impossible, developed technology that you can’t even see, unlocked the secrets of quantum mechanics… yet we still couldn’t stop this. We’ve watched it happen slowly but surely, unable to fight against it year after year. Maybe if we had more time… if we hadn’t wasted so much of our early years in petty squabbles between each other over trivial things like race and religion… maybe then we could have saved ourselves from this calamity. You’d think humanity had more than enough time. Five billion years SHOULD have been more than enough time… yet here we are facing our final days as the sun begins it’s cycle of burning out. The death of a star, up close and personal.

It feels so stupid to come to work today. I didn’t have to but I didn’t have anything better to do. Today’s the day. The day everything will become too hot to bare for those of us who lasted this long. We’ve put off the heat as long as we could but even the nights have cut us no break. My boss, Laurence, walks in, interrupting my thoughts. “They’ll be here soon. Thanks for coming on such short notice. You won’t regret it.”

A voice piped up from across the room. Another coworker who had nothing left for them either, “Who is coming?”

“You’ll see”, Laurence nods before turning his attention towards me, “Come along. I’ll need your help downstairs “. He gestures for me to follow after him. As we ride the elevator down several tens of stories Laurence gives an exhausted sigh, “The company managed to secure some…. medics … for us”. His eyes lock with mine, trying to read if I understand his meaning. I unfortunately am not catching on. “We’re meeting them downstairs. They’ll brief us on what to expect before we guide them up to everyone else”.

“What will they do?” I ask, clearly lost.

He seems to choke on his words as he spits them out, “Help us… find peace. As painlessly as possible”. My heart drops I realize his meaning. They are here to euthanize us with drugs so we don’t suffer through the end.

“Well uh…” I try to find words of encouragement, “… that’s very kind of the company. It sure beats boiling alive in my own skin!” I give a weak laugh. To my surprise he cracks a smile.

“I’ve always loved that about you. You find the good in the worst of things”. He sighs through his quickly fading smile, “I’ve always loved… you”. His hand holds my cheek as his eyes seem to be studying me one last time.

I hold his hand in mine, not moving them from the warmth of my face, “Laurence… I’ve loved you since I knew you”.

He looks stunned. “I… never knew”. He becomes flustered.

DING

The elevator doors open to a nearly empty lobby. A few men in white jumpsuits seem to be rushing about. It was pretty clear these were the medics. A short squat man comes lumbering over to us. He is drenched in sweat yet stil extends his hand for pleasantries, “Laurence, I presume?” You don’t usually find people this obese these days. He didn’t look like most of the other medics running about.

Laurence shook his hand firmly, “Yes. Yes that’s me”. He was beginning to stammer over his words. He was still bright red and flustered from our conversation in the elevator.

“Right. So I’m Max. I’m the medic that will be assisting your team today”. He rocks back and forth on his heels as he talks. He seems to be very confident in himself despite the tension in the air. “ So this is going to be a simple procedure. I have everything already set into separate dosages to help things go quick and smooth. Everyone will be put into a deep sleep first along with of course pain killers. Then into phase two where the lethal dose gets injected. All very painless!” He begins to shoot a questioning look to Laurence who hasn’t taken his eyes off me for most of the explanation.

“I.. am sorry”. Laurence finally sputters, “I’ve been distracted. Do you mind meeting us upstairs? Floor 41. We have some unfinished business to attend to first”.

“Oh sure sure! Not a problem! We’ve got…” Max checks a screen at the corner of his vision, “a good half a day left before the inevitable!” He gives a hearty laugh.

Laurence’s hand grips mine tight, he is already pulling me away from the man before he is done talking. I see Max shrug and lumber off to the elevator as I am dragged along. Finally, he stops at a conference room, locking the door behind us. Before I can ask his lips slam into mine, his suit jacket already on the floor. It is an unexpected but welcome display of affection that we shared for the next several hours. This would be our first and last chance at any semblance of a romance together and we both knew it.

As we finally return upstairs we find that many of our coworkers have already opted to start the procedure. We are reassured that Max had gone over all the details with the group as well. As he finished hooking up the last few people he turned his attention to us, “So who’s first?”

I raise my hand. Max comes over with the first vial. The painkillers and sleep medicine. I feel it enter my bloodstream rather quickly and am out like a light. Max turns his attention to Laurence, “so… uh… I’m sure you know I was supposed to have a partner today”. Max fiddles with another dosage of painkillers and sleep aid. “but as you can see… it’s just me”. Laurence remains silent, unsure of where he is going with this. Max continues, “Have you ever wondered what was going to happen to ME after the procedure was done?”

“I assumed you’d do the process on yourself with special equipment so you have. Painless death as well.” Laurence stated.

“Yeah… that’s what they want you to think” Max sighs, “but no. You see… MY company… we were never stationed on the planet. Our founder created FTL technology and sold it to the military…”

Laurence looks confused, “FTL?”

“Ah… Faster Than Light…” Max gives a serious look, “anyway what I’m trying to say is… I have room for 1 more person in my ship. If there is anyone you want to save here… I can take them with me”.

The room was so quiet Laurence could hear the beating of his own heart, “Are… are you serious?! His mind begins to race. There was a way to save people all this time and no one was told?! Typical! But wait… he could save himself. Start a new life… he looks over his now sleeping crew. “I… only one… right?”

Max nods. “I can save you. Or maybe you’d prefer if I saved your girlfriend?” Max motions over to my sleeping body.

Laurence seems lost in thought for a bit. Finally he speaks, “Yeah. Yeah save her. I couldn’t bare to live without her but I think I can die knowing I have her another chance”. He extends his arm for the dose.

Max looks impressed, “You’re a good man”. He says as he injects the solution into his arm, “Humanity is worse off without you”. Laurence gives a little smile that wears off quickly as the medicine hits.

Max gathers his things and starts packing up his small space ship. He wasn’t lying about only having room for one other person and even then it will still be a tight squeeze. He unloads the second phase of the medicine from the vehicle, the lethal dosages. He gets a few of them set up before picking up my unconscious body and bringing me over to the ship. He looks into his ship and back to the screen in his vision… then back to his ship. “Maybe… I can make this work. Fuck, I’m gonna be in trouble for doing this anyway. I may as well go all out”. Max rushes back to the office and sets up the last lethal dosages. All expect for one. He begins to drag Laurence towards the ship as well.

I feel groggy and numb as I wake up. The smell of sweat and grease lingers in the air. I groan and look out at the stars from the window… the stars? Wait… am I alive?! My heart begins to race as I look around. I see Max in a seat across from me, reading some sort of article on a virtual screen. He realizes I’m awake and sees my panic immediately. “Whoa.. hey.. take it easy! I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions”.

“What happened? Where am I?” I stammer, trying and failing to calm down.

Max reaches out towards me as if ready to hold me down should I try to fight. “Easy… easy… Laurence ask me to take you with me”. Max goes into detail about there company he is from and how their station is well out of range of the dying sun. He finally finishes by saying, “I am already going to be in so much shit for bringing you with me but… the way I see it.. I’m helping humanity survive in the only way I can”.

I choke back tears, realizing that I have somehow been spared through everything… “and what happened to Laurence?”

Max sighs, “Look… this is … incredibly illegal but…” he motions to a spare space suit strapped to the wall next to me. “I managed to fit him in there. It’s technically not a seat… but it was a spot a human could fit. Let’s just pray it’s not needed or we’re fucked”.

I peek into the visor on the suit and manage to see Laurence in the suit, fast asleep. I give an overwhelmed sigh of relief and the tears just won’t stop flowing. “Thank you… “

Max nods, “Don’t thank me yet… we’ve got a long way to go still” and he returns to reading his article.

#my lucid dreams #lucid dreamer #lucid dreams #dreams of #i dreamt #last night i dreamt #dream journal #dreams of the death of the sun #my dreams

0 notes