#I am sick and miserable and will not apologize for trying to heal myself with this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cosmicangel888 · 2 years ago

Text

When the Disregard of Divine, God, The Woman is beyond repair ~ 5D new earth

There are things that you cannot move into, or repair when such deep and harmful damage is and was done - to never dismiss your experience and the pain, suffering, damage, trauma, and ill that was done with intention, by anyone of the past and when they awaken to what has been done, what they had chosen out of ego, fear, and dominance - the karma will be what is needed to deepen their own soul healing while you move on -

You are not obligated to return to anyone when they are ready -

Some with such grave and damaging arrogance of what and who they are to play whatever field they think they have entitlement over like an energetic pimp-daddy, or play in whatever fields they want to, and although in years, realms past - they give themselves such false sense of importance and how ugly and low vibrational the ego will be - when such grave and impossible damage is done; they still will never have any idea; the brazen abuse of those that have no idea who you are, speak such gross negligence and twist truth, twist honour, respect of source, spirit and light and think that you have your legs and pockets open to keep taking and stealing -

I know what I experienced and what was done;

I will not prove, I will not go down fighting to defend what is naturally just truth;

Damage is done and any person that thinks they will return to me, my space, or simply pick up - where it was never really there to begin with - for you cannot have something great and real when there was no truth, no time, no divine sacred effort - nothing but falseness and deceit to build an entire life behind, under, what you were told, what was said to be 'truth' and then pull the innocent into lies, nefarious torture of spell work, illusions, and made out to seem as if you are the crazy one to supplement the ego of someone that cannot nor will not take account and nor the family of false entitlement of big pockets earned and fooled the many to achieve -

I know who I am

I know truth

I know what I experienced and who did what - your lies and false, fake last second apologies mean nothing to me;

I bring myself justice.

I never needed you - it was false and fake and miserably wasted my life in trying to heal and help those that simply only cared to take, misguide and mistreat, and harm -

Deceit is deceit. Manipulation is manipulation -

All I want, and if anyone cared; is to leave me be so I can heal.

I have said such for years -

Return monies stolen, taken and called your own -

Heal and know you are forgiven - I release you all -

When you chip away at the truth, the luxury of what is heaven sent, the loving grace of energy, song, stories, and what is in our future of celestial oneness, and profound healing of any and all disease, when you chip and ignorantly bring injustice to what is a gift, damaging the soft and so tender heart, tease, bully, stalk, run out of town with corrupt and malice intent; there is simply no ever walking back in.

When the corruption, correction, healing, making right, never taking account, never making any wrongs right because it would upset the apple cart of ego, title and community false status when the damage of an earth angel was already done- how noble and how honourable - no thank you - I will not fight to keep what is simply broken, corrupt, ugly in intent, and filled with illness, backstabbing poverty intended for anyone of truth or that seems to be more, know more than the elite - again - keep what you think you knew about me or what I wanted; that is not aligned with me; keep it - keep whatever you think you stole -

All is forgiven - you will never be in my space - nor my hearts of the torture you dished out to me that I managed on my own and left for dead;

that is not a friend, that is not anyone I would fight to be around - it was simply sick, torturous and I hope you all got what you fought and competed for -

youtube

Keep the honour of who you think you are - I saw it all - great life, great health, and great relationships are not ego based; they are honouring, sacred, gentle, having another's back no matter what is said - especially by those that have no idea about energy, God, Source, or healing - truth or higher realm ranking -

Thank you for the soul lessons; Gods divine plan in this case got lost in the greed, envy, jealousy, what was meant to be a plan of coming together and uniting the children; some simply choose to want winning and competing - to be what feeds their sick ego -

I was never competing.

I never wanted anyone of the past - that is why I chose divorce which has been delayed for years - for the lies and support of lies that my children and I were unnecessarily Brought into to feed anothers lack and wounding -

youtube

All so unnecessary and forever has damaged me, my light, my purpose

I need none, which being here now has proven.

I need no apology - again I am here and living well without it

I give myself justice

As my story - the same for my life - for I know my life, and I know who I am - those that have told Stories of me - and some have never even spoken to me and do not know me -

celibate for 13 + years, estranged for 7 years and seeking still divorce - after delays of the falseness those involved choose for ego, greed, and games

no partner, boss, person in my life nor have a need until all closures are done - make clear, crystal clear the past will never return - image damaged, damage done, losses beyond what any of the past even care or consider nor will know - for they know me not

there has never been any signatures of my own on any document other than with my lawyer - in the divorce - no medical, no will, no inheritance and no other signature of my has been done by me of me

All else has been falsified for those in their ego, greed, and entitlement of malicious selfish intent - I know who I am

No agreements, no approvals, no permissions, have ever been given and I have no creative partners in my business and none are my agent nor business partner - period.

When you play in another's lane, another's life and pretend that you are owed when you have not honourably earned or even are in any alignment with truth, honesty, integrity and spirit - how is any gain of collective leadership even a thing; all have a choice - I hope all got what you eagerly and greedily demolished for

Never underestimate anyone and who they are - the child before you and the divine woman that is soft loving, kind and weird or strange -

I need not prove nor explain who I am -

I know who I am and that all that matters.

The past is closed, done and forever severed.

Be love no matter what - no one can deter you from simply being love and sharing it - that is evolution and you will be supported - allow others their path - while you move on your own

Repay what you owe me and leave me be

Let me heal.

Joanna

#ascension #joannaLRoss #Truth #ascensionbooks #ascensiontools #healinghumanity #newsystems #5Dearth #5Dnewearth

#Youtube

0 notes

whentommymetalfie · 6 years ago

Note

You are the north star by which I sail the HMS Tommy/Alfie! HC for Tommy being so happy about something (Alfie related in one way or another) that he actually cries. I love me some angst, but every now and then these boys deserve abundant joy, and every now and then Tommy needs to be overwhelmed by a positive emotion.

A/N: You’re to sweet

-Tommy doesn’t cry often. During the first few years of their relationship, Alfie can probably count the times on one hand. And it’s no surprise really, he’s got most emotions bottled up so tightly it’s a wonder they all fit in that slight frame.

-Alfie jokingly points this out once and is rewarded by one of the few expressions Tommy displays on a regular basis: a deadpan stare.

-But as time goes by and Alfie slowly chips away at the thick wall of stony indifference that Tommy has built around himself, that begins to change.

-Tommy doesn’t know how to feel about it at first. It’s honestly quite terrifying. But he can’t keep it from happening: he finds himself laughing more often. Smiling. And yes, occasionally crying.

-The first time Tommy cries, it as usual involves alcohol. In the beginning, that’s the only thing that breaks down the walls enough for that sort of thing.

-They’ve spent the evening at the Garrison with the rest of the family (except Polly –who honestly takes every opportunity to have the house to herself and finally get some well deserved peace, and Finn, who despite his protests is still too young) And now they’re walking home.

-Alfie sees Tommy shivering and hangs his coat over his shoulders, a gesture which normally is met by an eye roll. But now, Tommy stops in his tracks and looks up at Alfie, bottom lip quivering and eyes suspiciously moist all of a sudden.

“I’m so lucky to have you.” The words are quite slurred.

��Oh, don’t mention it love.” Alfie gives him a smile, and that just about does it.

-Tommy buries his face in Alfie’s shirt and sobs in that way only drunk and overly emotional people can.

-Alfie gives the quite astounded family a dismissive wave. “You lot, trot on. Nothing to see here.” Then he wraps Tommy up in a hug and listens to a very incoherent, sobbing declaration of love that is mostly muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

-The morning after, Tommy hides completely under the covers in the bed, in a futile attempt to escape the humiliation.

-Alfie tries coaxing him out, telling him it was very sweet, the whole thing, and nothing to be embarrassed about. Forgoing any teasing he usually would’ve made Tommy endure.

-Tommy solemnly swears never to drink again, a lie no one believes.

-A little ways down the road, it actually happens when he’s sober.

-Alfie goes away on a business trip for a few days, and despite normally being attached to him by the hip, Tommy stays in London to oversee things there.

-They’ve been together nearly two years now. They can be separated for a few days. It’s… fine.

-Tommy keeps telling himself that. When he’s lying in bed at night and there are no warm legs to dig his icy toes in between. Or sitting by the kitchen table without hearing Alfie mutter incoherencies over the morning paper. Or accidentally turning to Alfie’s empty desk in the office to tell him something, only to remember that he’s not there.

-It’s fine. Completely fine.

-Alright. It may not be completely fine. Usually they can at least speak on the phone on the rare occasion they’re apart for this long, but apparently whatever shit hotel Alfie is staying at doesn’t believe in that kind of technology.

-After nearly a week without even getting to hear Alfie’s voice, Tommy has to admit that he misses him so much he might be going just slightly insane. Nothing helps. Not sleeping in Alfie’s shirt, not burying himself in work…

-Alfie is due to come home Sunday evening. So Tommy waits up. Or at least attempts to; when it’s approaching midnight and Alfie still hasn’t showed up, Tommy falls asleep on the couch

-He wakes up from the feeling of a kiss on the forehead.

“Sorry to wake you up, love,” Alfie smiles, not looking the least bit sorry. “Thought about just carrying you upstairs, but I’ve missed you too much to not get at least one look into those blue eyes of yours tonight.”

-Tommy just smiles. It’s all he can do right then. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until he sees the crease between Alfie’s eyebrows, and he ducks his head in an attempt to hide the sudden onset of emotions.

-Believing something is wrong, Alfie cradles his face between both hands. “Something happen, love?” He knew leaving Tommy alone for so long was a bad idea, and immediately begins beating himself up for it.

-Tommy quickly wipes the tears away with the back of his hand. God, this is such a stupid thing to cry about. “No, I’m… I’m just happy you’re home.”

-He blames the late hour –strange things happen to the head at night. Though really, he’s just so overwhelmed suddenly, by how incredibly happy he is to have Alfie in his life.

-Alfie gives him one of his warmest, brightest smiles and wipes away another tear with his thumb. “Me too, love.”

#alfie x tommy #Alfie/Tommy #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #peaky blinders headcanon #wtma au #headcanon #tooth rotting fluff #I am sick and miserable and will not apologize for trying to heal myself with this #One day back at work and I get sick #working with children... you need the immune system of a 14th century farmer who survived the fucking plague #I am feeling very sorry for myself

55 notes · View notes

forzalando · 4 years ago

Text

Lessons | George Weasley | Pt. 2

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Royalty!AU Word Count: 3.2k (approximately, OOPS) Warnings: mentions of sibling d*ath, a very rude knight grabbing the reader, mentions of bruising on reader, reader sl*pping aforementioned knight, aggressive language and behavior

A/N: hello friends! here is part 2 to this George Royalty!AU! I actually quite like this two-parter. the easy banter between George and the Reader is adorable, if I do say so myself! I hope you all enjoy :) thank you for your continued support and love!

Summary: After the tragic loss of his twin brother, George Weasley finds himself using his talents to secure a job as the new Potions Master and Healer for the Royal Family. Unbeknownst to you, he takes a particular liking to you knowing that you have more in common than you realize. When a chance encounter results in the promise of more time together, both George and Y/N deal with intense nerves and several revelations.

here is part one in case you missed it!

***

“Luna, I think I might be sick,” you groaned, reaching for your stomach full of fluttery nonsense.

You heard her lilting giggle from across your bedroom as she pressed the wrinkles from your dress. Amidst the commotion of the morning, you took a moment to silently hope that George liked the color purple.

“You’re not sick, Y/N, you’re nervous. If you don’t calm yourself down I don’t think you’ll be able to walk to his workshop!”

“Nervous? This can’t be nerves, I’ve been nervous loads of times and it’s never been like this.”

“Well, when’s the last time you were nervous to spend time with a boy? Or a man?”

“I…never? I don’t think I’ve ever been nervous because of someone.”

Luna smiled cheekily as she handed you your dress, a look you knew far too well.

“Not even Professor Lupin?” She asked while laughing at the stunned look on your face.

“Oh god, Luna, I thought we would never mention that again. He was my tutor, it was a schoolgirl crush, end of story.”

“Alright, alright, no more mentioning Professor Lupin!”

She helped you slip on your dress and stood back while you admired yourself in your mirror. Something was missing, and Luna knew exactly what it was as she handed you the dainty, single pearl necklace your brother Aiden had gifted you for your most recent birthday.

“There. Now you look perfect. Plus, that beautiful necklace will have Mr. Weasley’s eyes wandering to your decolletage every time you lean forward.”

“LUNA!” you scolded, though you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped with your shout.

A moment passed before you turned around and grasped Luna’s hand in your own. She could sense that your demeanor had shifted a bit, and a serious tone replaced the previous lighthearted one in your room.

“Luna, how…how did you feel when you first met Neville? Did you feel like this? Am I being crazy?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re being crazy at all. It wasn’t an instant connection, if that’s what you mean, but the moment I realized what we had was special, I felt that I might take flight with the way my stomach and heart fluttered at the sight of him.”

You noticed her hand leave your grasp to trace the wedding ring on her left hand; she and Neville had been married last spring and although you had been to many royal weddings, theirs outshone them all.

“Neville knows George quite well, you know. He sees him all the time while working in the garden, says he’s one of the nicest people he’s ever met. Quite funny, too.”

Smiling fondly, you turned back to your mirror and smoothed your dress one last time.

“I’d better be going,” you said softly, the beat of your heart growing faster every second.

“I’ll be right here when you get back, waiting for you to tell me everything,” Luna said smiling. She pushed you softly towards your chamber door and with a newfound determination, you walked briskly towards the East Wing, careful to keep an eye out for anymore trip wire.

You had almost reached your destination when you felt someone grasp your arm from behind.

“Excuse me – ” you began to say, but you were cut off when the stranger turned you around.

“Sir Cormac, I hope you have a very good reason for putting your hands on me.”

His grip tightened as he pulled you further into the corridor, grumbling under his breath about something you couldn’t make out.

“Sir Cormac,” you shouted. “I’ll ask you again what you think you’re doing putting your hands on me.”

“I know it’s you leaving that wire around for me to trip on. I saw you laughing yesterday and I see the way you look at me with disgust and disdain. I deserve to be treated with respect for serving your family as diligently as I do.”

You shoved his hand off of you and promptly smacked him across his cheek.

“How dare you speak to me that way? I’m not the one making a fool out of you, but I wish that I were. You are vile, and I would rather face Lord Riddle’s army on my own than rely on you for whatever protection you may think you provide me and my family. I suggest you walk away and resign from your position, because you won’t like the outcome if I tell my Father what transpired here today.”

“Why you little – ” he started to say as he lunged forward, but a shout from down the hall interrupted him.

“Sir Cormac! I believe it would be in your best interest to step away from the Princess, immediately.”

You smiled as you recognized the voice and then internally scolded yourself. You were never one to want or need a savior, but the sound of George Weasley coming to your aid didn’t seem quite so bad at all.

“This is none of your business, Weasley,” Cormac sneered as he kept his gaze on you.

“I do believe it is, Sir. The bruise forming on the Princess’s arm is my concern as a Healer, and seeing as there’s no one else around, I’m quite certain it’s from you.”

George stepped forward when Cormac made no indication of leaving, but you put a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“I’ve got it George, but thank you.”

You turned your attention back to Cormac, bile rising in your throat just having to look at his face.

“I won’t repeat myself, Sir Cormac, and due to your hesitation, my offer has changed. Mr. Weasley will be escorting me to my Father’s chambers and he can decide your punishment.”

George moved closer to you and told himself it was for your protection, but the nagging voice in the back of his head told him otherwise.

You gently took his arm and began walking briskly away from Sir Cormac, satisfied with the final look you caught of the red handprint on his cheek.

“Are you alright?” George asked softly. “I didn’t mean to offend you by trying to help, I just know how he can be and I – ”

“Please don’t apologize, I’m…I’m quite glad you came to my rescue, Mr. Weasley.”

“Have you forgotten my name already, Your Highness?”

You shuddered at the formality and George burst into laughter, the sound of which made the fluttering from this morning come back tenfold.

“My apologies, George,” you emphasized.

Soon, you reached your Father’s study and relayed your encounter with whom, he thought to be, one of his most trusted knights. You excused yourself quite quickly after your Father thanked George for “coming to your rescue”, as he so aptly put it, and you would have to have been blind to miss the wink your Father gave you at the sight of George following you like you were the Sun and he was a mere satellite.

“I guess I’ll have to find a new target,” George mused as the two of you walked down the corridor together.

You stopped abruptly, causing George to crash into you roughly, but he had no time to react before you screeched.

“It’s been YOU? You’re the infamous castle prankster? All this time I’ve been trying to figure it out and I had absolutely no idea.”

“Well, you didn’t really know I existed until yesterday, did you?” He teased.

Although his tone was lighthearted, you couldn’t help but look down in embarrassment. You were ashamed that you hadn’t tried harder to meet him before your chance encounter, if not to thank him for helping your Mother but to comfort someone who you knew was still facing the same sorrows as you. It was the thought of confronting that grief that selfishly held you back, but that excuse didn’t make it any less difficult to deal with.

“Hey, Y/N, I was only joking. We wouldn’t have met any other way, our paths hadn’t ever intertwined.”

“I know you’re right but I should have made more of an effort. I wanted to, after I heard about your brother, because I thought maybe you might want someone to talk to who can relate, but I wasn’t ready to talk about Clara.”

George stayed silent, sensing you had more to say after your pause. You fiddled nervously with your necklace, wondering if Luna had magic powers as you watched him struggle miserably to avert his gaze from your chest.

“Actually,” you began thoughtfully, “yesterday was the first time I’ve spoken about her since she passed. Of course, people ask how I’m doing or my Mother, Father, or siblings will reminisce, but I never…I never bring her up on my own.”

“That’s how it was at first for me. My family is very close, and I know they all loved Fred just as much as me, but it was different. I lost my twin, my best friend, my other half, and when they started healing and moving on, I stayed stagnant. It took me so much longer than my siblings and my parents, but once you take that first step it gets easier.”

You smiled and reached for George’s hand, praying that your palms weren’t as sweaty as you thought they might be.

“George and Fred…a nice ring to it, I think. I’m sure you got up to all kinds of mischief together.”

“Oh, no one ever called us George and Fred. It was always Fred and George,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, I may be biased, but I think it sounds better my way.”

Feeling bold, you winked at him before slightly tugging his hand toward his workshop, eager to start your lessons and spend the day locked away with just George.

If you had turned around only slightly, you would have seen George’s cheeks flushed as red as his hair and a dopey smile on his handsome face.

The door to George’s workshop swung upon with ease, and you gazed with wonder upon the many cauldrons, ingredients, and tools laid out on the nearest table.

“Welcome to Potions 101,” George bellowed comically. “Today, we’ll be making a remedy for nausea to start out simple. I brewed my own batch earlier this morning, and everything you need to make yours, including instructions, is right here on this table. When you have finished, we’ll compare yours to mine.”

“So I just…get started?” You questioned.

“Exactly. My Mum always told me that the best way to learn is get thrown right into it. I’ll be sitting right here if you have any questions, but I’m not going to assist you in anyway unless absolutely necessary.”

You furrowed your brows as George sat down in an armchair across the room. While you weren’t sure exactly how he was going to teach you, you definitely weren’t expecting him to sit in silence while you stumbled your way through his chicken scratch directions.

After thirty minutes of no noise except for the roaring fire underneath your cauldron, you huffed and hoped it sounded as annoyed as you felt.

“Is there something bothering you, Y/N?” George smirked.

“Well, yes. How come you aren’t speaking to me?”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to. You’re here to learn and conversation is distracting.”

“I thought we could, I don’t know, get to know each other. I mean, if I have to brew remedies for stomach problems in silence every day I might lose my mind and it’ll be entirely your fault.”

You heard George chuckling and looked up to find him looking at you, eyes alight with a playful glint.

“Ms. Y/L/N, did you have an ulterior motive when you asked me to teach you? Did you maybe just…want to spend time with me?”

“That is very bold of you to assume, George,” you stammered, accidentally dropping far more peppermint than needed into your bubbling cauldron.

George remained silent, the teasing look still on his face as you scrambled to save your mixture. Since it was impossible to separate liquids, you angrily sat down and blew a stray hair out of your eye with an aggravated sigh.

Now that your face was covered by the cauldron, you felt more inclined to answer George’s question.

“What if I did have an ulterior motive? Would that…would that change what’s happening here? Are you the Potions Master teaching an eager student? Or…or is this something else?”

You heard no response except for approaching footsteps. George stopped in front of you, taking your hand and pulling you from your seated position.

“I have a confession to make,” he said quietly. “I know we officially met yesterday, but I’ve known who you are for quite a while now. Not just in the “you’re the Princess of the Kingdom I live in” way but, I’ve been…watching you I guess I could say.”

You raised an eyebrow, eager to hear how he would explain that away.

“Not creepily watching you, no, not at all, I just…I saw you one day in the gardens. I knew who you were but I wasn’t sure if I could approach you, you’re the Princess, and then I saw you talking to Neville. You were so kind and treated him like a friend, like an equal. When you left I asked him about you and he told me how you and your family weren’t like other Royals. He told me about your sister and how he was so sad that he hadn’t seen you genuinely smile since she passed and I felt, I felt connected to you.”

He paused and tentatively reached for your face with his other hand. You gladly accepted and placed your own on top of his, relishing in the way his calloused fingers delicately traced your cheek.

“Before Fred died, our business was…unconventional, I guess you could say. We sold gag gifts, joke items, pranking seminars, anything to do with causing mischief, in the surrounding villages. It was wonderful and we got to do something we loved and were passionate about, together, but when he died that passion died with me. Until I came here, and I saw the way your eyes lit up when one of your little brothers chased the other with a spider or jumped out from behind a pillar to scare one of the castle staff. You didn’t smile, but I saw the twinkle in your eyes and it made me want to explore that part of myself again, if only to make you laugh.”

“George,” you whispered, “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

“I know, I know, it’s creepy. I’m creepy. I shouldn’t have said anything – “

“George!” You cried, interrupting him. “I think you’re incredibly sweet.”

“You…you do?”

“You spent your free time setting up things in the castle to make me laugh for the most selfless reason I can think of, why would I not think you’re sweet?”

“I thought you would think I was absolutely mad but, I just wanted to do whatever I could because I could see and relate to how you were feeling. It wasn’t entirely selfless, I admit, it helped me too.”

“Well, I’m glad that it did. You could have talked to me, you know. I don’t bite and I would hope that you realized my parents don’t believe in castle hierarchy.”

“I realized it straight away but…you made me nervous. Every time I thought I had the courage to say something I felt as if I’d throw up everywhere. Honestly, some of the times you knocked on my workshop door I was in here, I just didn’t know how to talk to you.”

You burst out laughing at his admission, trying to picture George Weasley hiding behind his bookshelves of potions or in a broom cupboard because he was too nervous to speak to you.

“That’s how I felt this morning,” you said quietly. “I woke up and thought I must be sick, but Luna informed me it was just nerves.”

“You were nervous? Over me?”

“Well, you are quite handsome. And maybe I was worried I wouldn’t be any good at making nausea remedies which, as it turns out, I’m not.”

“Eh, you just need a bit of practice. I say you come here every day, twice a day until you can make every potion, draught, remedy, herbal supplement, and tonic in existence.”

You tilted your head back to laugh, and when you looked back up at George you became irritatingly aware of how close your faces were.

“I think there’s something else I’d like to practice…” you whispered as you leaned in.

Your lips brushed his, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that if anyone had looked away, they would have missed it.

You backed off slowly, worried that you had misread this entire situation, but the instant you leaned away George grabbed your face with his hands and kissed you with such fervor you stumbled backward. Your hands snaked around his neck to hold yourself steady and his nose bumped yours clumsily as you navigated the unfamiliarity of one another.

He tasted of peppermint and tea, like the flames of a fire that currently roared to life in your stomach and your chest. He was soft and rough, warm and inviting, and your senses could only know George. George. George. His name, a mantra in your mind as your fingers tangled in his messy hair and he let out a breathy moan.

“George,” you whispered against his lips, breathing deeply to ease the burning ache in your lungs.

He opened his eyes slowly, pupils blown and searching for your own. You must have looked a sight, and the thought of anyone walking in to your current predicament caused laughter to erupt from you.

“What’s so funny, love?” He asked with a small smile.

“I was just thinking about what might happen if someone walked in at this very moment.”

George ran quickly to the door and locked it while you stood laughing at his distress. A look of annoyance was clear on his face as he staggered back to you, confirming that your kiss had affected him just as much as it had affected you.

“Oh come on, George, it’s not like you’d be banished from the Kingdom. You’d just have to explain to my parents why you were snogging my face off without asking their permission to court me first.”

Now that you said it aloud, you could understand his fear.

“Well,” he breathed out as he slid an arm around your waist, “now that I’m certain there can be no interruptions, what do you say we get back to practicing?”

“You’re absolutely right, George,” you said cheekily as you turned away from him. “I do believe I have a nausea remedy to restart.”

“Aye, that you do.”

***

taglist: @thoseofgreatambition @theboywhocriedlupin @theseuscmander @fortisfiliae @carolinesbookworld @starssayhello @finnofamerica @swellwriting @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy @marauderskeeper @wildfire-whizbangs @woakiees @claclary @love-peachh also tagging some mutuals who maybe might want to read! if you do not, PLEASE let me know and I apologize profusely!: @ickle-ronniekins @hollands-weasley @weasleytwinswheezes @theweasleysredhair @sleep-i-ness @barnesjamcs

#george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley oneshot #george weasley fic #george weasley #tw: death #weasley twins #lumosbarnes #lumos barnes #moonlitfam #moonlit family #moonlit coven

120 notes · View notes

himikiyo · 3 years ago

Text

cityscapes turn to dust // himikiyo week day 1

Himikiyo Week Day 1: Folklore + Magic

“Trying to defy death, hmm? You’re choosing to take the hard road just as I did. If I don’t have enough time left to change your mind, all I can do is wish you luck.”

Korekiyo's actions taking care of their sister catch up to them.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut

They had to travel light these days. With the city so ravaged, it was common to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice, and there was only so much Himiko could carry. Kiyo was much stronger than her of course, but even the essentials weighed a fair bit. Most of her possessions, along with theirs, remained at their house, still locked up tight for the time being. Someone determined enough would still be able to break in, but she tried not to think about that.

Material possessions weren’t as important as a life anyway.

Despite traveling light though, Korekiyo seemed to be getting weaker. She told them they just needed rest, but they both knew that wasn’t it. The last time they visited their sister, she put up a fight. Perhaps she knew what was coming, and recognized the sickle in their hand. Either way, she bit them again. Maybe that was the final exposure their body could take after holding out so long.

Their arm was wreathed in broken veins, a sickly purplish crown centered on the bite mark. The imprint of each and every tooth was still clearly visible over a week later whenever she checked under the bandages. She picked her opportunities carefully, when they were half asleep or in a particularly good mood. That way, she hoped, they wouldn’t be quite so upset about how cold it was to remove any layers.

She checked every night to make sure they were still breathing. It was getting harder to tell.

---

People still tried to avoid saying the word zombie. Euphemisms were used: infected, changed. Sometimes there was no more than an indirect reference, like the grandmother who told her that “some of them” drove her out of her home. Maybe it was a foolish desire, since this elderly woman had clearly done well enough for herself to escape that, but Himiko wanted to help her.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” she asked. “Just for a little while. We don’t have much, but it’d be safer than traveling alone.”

“Thank you, dear,” the woman replied, adjusting her shawl. “But I like my chances. I’ve made it this far. If you’ll accept some advice from an old woman...” She trailed off momentarily, casting a meaningful glance at Kiyo. “You may want to consider striking out on your own too. There’s something not right about that one.”

“They’ve just been a little sick lately. Once we find somewhere safe to get medicine, they’ll be fine.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she couldn’t stand saying anything else. Without Korekiyo, she was sure she’d be long since dead.

“Sick? Or changing? Sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is when there’s nothing more to be done.”

“No, that’s not—” She broke off, swiping miserably at her eyes. Kiyo still sat in the corner. Wearing three sweaters to fight a mild early autumn chill, they gave off the impression of an especially gangly marshmallow. It seemed like they were oblivious to the conversation, but Himiko knew better. They always observed more than people gave them credit for.

“Don’t let your friend suffer, dear.” After pressing a small, paper-wrapped package into her hands, the grandmother left. Himiko watched until she vanished from view, hoping she arrived safely to wherever she was headed.

---

“So,” Kiyo said some time later. “When are you planning to kill me? She gave you everything you need to do it, didn’t she?”

“What? No, I’d never. You know I’d never do something like that.” Perched on the edge of the couch they were laying on, she combed a hand through their hair. It helped her fight the urge to rest it on their forehead and see how much their temperature had dropped.

“Yet you encouraged me that putting my sister out of her misery was the right thing to do.”

“That’s different. She wasn’t herself anymore.” As always, she bit back the part about how even with her full mental faculties, that would have been what she deserved.

“Any day now, you might come to find that I am not myself anymore either. Then I will no longer be able to cooperate with your attempts to do it painlessly.”

“That won’t happen,” she argued, fingers involuntarily tightening in their hair for just a moment. “If it was going to happen, it would have already. That was, what, the fifth time she bit you or something? It’s like you told me that first day I found out the truth. You’re immune.”

“Immune.” They scoffed, face contorting into something between a grimace and a scowl. “That was never anything but a lie I allowed myself to believe. I’m not immune. I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not,” Himiko mumbled. She inched closer to them on the couch, laying her head on their bony shoulder. Through sweaters and blankets, it almost felt soft. “I won’t let you.”

“Trying to defy death, hmm? You’re choosing to take the hard road just as I did. If I don’t have enough time left to change your mind, all I can do is wish you luck.” Numb fingers tugged their mask down to press a kiss to her forehead. The old, scarred-over bite wound on their neck was taking on the same purplish hue as their arm.

---

She woke up the next morning with her head resting on their chest. She couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

Shinguuji Korekiyo was dead.

After she came to that realization but before she could figure out what she should do about it, they stirred, feebly trying to shove the blankets off.

“Too hot,” they mumbled, rolling over (or trying to — the attempt wasn’t very successful with half her weight still on them).

“Kiyo?” It had been weeks since they had anything temperature-related to say that wasn’t complaining of being too cold. Not to mention the bigger issue of their lack of vital signs. Straightening up fully, Himiko leaned over them to meet their eyes. They were groggy and unfocused, but they clearly seemed to recognize her.

“What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I guess I have in a way,” she responded, choking out a shaky laugh. “You.”

They sat up slowly, giving her a perplexed look. Did they not even realize what was going on? Surely they had to feel different. She reached out and laid a hand on their chest, just to be certain. Was she so exhausted that she just missed it before? After flexing their wrist, stretching their arm — stiff, maybe from the lack of blood flow? — they overlapped her hand with their own.

“I see. I didn’t imagine becoming a zombie would feel so pleasant.”

“Pleasant? How can you be so calm?”

“I actually feel better than I have in quite some time,” they admitted. “It’s rather comfortable. I do seem to have a certain degree of numbness, but it’s a worthwhile exchange to be free from all the recent pain and discomfort I’ve experienced. Considering my mind seems to be intact, at least as much as I can tell from my own biased perspective, death might not be so bad. If nothing else, it gives me something new to study.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I don’t know if it’s normal to accept something like this so quickly.”

She was forgetting, of course, that Kiyo had never quite been normal.

---

Over time, it became clear that them saying they had “a certain degree of numbness” was a bit of an understatement. If she happened to touch them when they weren’t looking, they only seemed to notice about half the time. Their pain tolerance, already high, had increased to such an extent that it was very possible for them to sustain serious injuries without noticing. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they were in any danger of dying again.

They were still capable of healing, just at a slower rate than a living person. The bite wounds were gradually becoming less evident, flesh repairing itself in defiance of the laws of biology.

That didn’t save her from the unpleasantness of acting as their doctor.

Her first lesson in zombie surgery was a jarring one. The glass shards embedded in their leg likely could have been avoided if they had as much feeling as they used to, but there was no point in agonizing over could have beens. The good news was that they barely seemed affected, glancing down at the heavy wounds with little more than bemused intrigue.

“Ah. I thought something stung a bit. We should probably take a moment to deal with this,” they said smoothly.

“Um, yeah, probably. It really doesn’t hurt? You’re bleeding a lot. What if you run out or something? We don’t exactly know all about how this whole zombie thing works.”

“It’s alright,” Kiyo said. “I think. If I can heal from injuries, it follows that I must still be capable of regenerating my blood supply. However, leaving broken glass there could cause problems. You should remove it.”

“Me? Why?”

“You should get used to tending to my wounds just in case there comes a time when I’m unable to do so myself.”

---

She got plenty of practice. Most of their injuries were minor, but she dutifully took care of each one nevertheless. When she really thought about it, sometimes she wondered if they acted a little carelessly on purpose just to give her experience. They’d always teetered dangerously on the edge of masochism, and now there was the added temptation of learning more about zombie physiology to boot.

Sure enough though, that time Kiyo mentioned did come eventually. So far, it seemed nearly impossible for them to die again, but that didn’t do much to diminish the dread that flowed through her when she saw the exposed muscle and bone of their arm, flayed open like so many of the other shambling zombies they’d seen over the past several weeks.

They grimaced when she started to clean up the wound. It was barely a flicker of pain, but even that was significant considering how much they were able to get through without batting an eye.

“Apologies, dear,” they murmured. “Continue.”

“Sorry. Kind of weird how quickly this has become normal.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to their lips before continuing.

Pulling the edges of the wound together and stitching it up nice and securely...She wasn’t the neatest with her sewing, but she was getting better, and Kiyo always insisted they didn’t mind.

“Beautiful work, my love,” they praised, smiling down at their rather Frankenstein-esque arm. “That’s much better already.”

Himiko just smiled, wrapping the arm up again in their usual bandages.

“I’ll always be here to sew you back again. For now, we should probably both get some rest.” They were only a day away from the village of their hopes.

#himikiyoweek2021 #himikiyoweek #himikiyo #korekiyo shinguji #himiko yumeno #danganronpa #dr #drv3 #m

5 notes · View notes

notapaladin · 3 years ago

Text

you just gotta let it go (redux)

What makes a sickfic better? More snarky bitching about being sick, of course! Poor, poor Acatl.

Also on AO3.

Original version here

The second day of an illness was the worst.

Granted, the first day had been no garden of roses either. Acatl had gone home at the end of his long working day (two vigils, several hours’ worth of investigations into a nasty murder near the markets, endless accounts to square away) to a hastily-put-together dinner and the comfort of his own mat, but he’d barely lain down for an hour before his guts had begun to cramp and the first swelling of nausea had begun to travel up his throat. He’d thought—hoped—that it would pass. He’d always had a reasonably strong constitution, after all. Perhaps it was merely the heat.

And then he’d started vomiting. Poison had been his first thought, and he’d wiped his mouth and tried to stagger to the door only to faint after a single step. Praise the gods for Ichtaca; the man had heard him groaning as he passed and had leapt into action, sending runners for a healing priest before he could even think about protesting. Not that he’d been doing much thinking by then, honestly—whatever he’d eaten had come back for revenge, and he’d been far too busy trying not to completely disgrace himself.

Or at least trying not to faint. Fatigue had dragged at every limb, threatening to pull him under entirely; he’d collapsed on the floor next to the basin Ichtaca had fetched for him, unable to rise even to his knees as bone-breaking chills had shuddered through him. He’d barely even had the strength to continue throwing up, though his stomach had left him little choice. Dull, twisting pain wormed its way through his guts, and each blink had lasted an eternity. He been so exhausted that he hadn’t wanted to open his eyes again. He might not have if fear hadn’t compelled him, if a cold spike of terror hadn’t whispered if you close your eyes you’ll never open them again, and then where will you be? Do you want so badly for Teomitl to weep for you when you leave him behind?

He’d thought of Teomitl’s smile, Teomitl’s warm words and steady hands, and forced himself to remain conscious. Ichtaca stayed by his side and that helped, but when the man had helped him wipe his mouth—and gods, how humiliating had that been—he’d been sick all over again at the question that hissed through his mind like an arrow. Am I going to die?

He served Mictlantecuhtli with all his heart, but he did not want to meet Him yet. Not with so much left unsaid. The thought that it might be entirely beyond his control had been terrifying; in a brief burst of energy he’d thought of asking Ichtaca to summon Teomitl, but fortunately he’d thrown up again before he could voice it, and that had erased such rank stupidity from his thoughts. It would only make things worse if he survived.

He’d still been retching when the priest of Patecatl had arrived.

At least it wasn’t poison, he’d thought bitterly when he’d gotten the diagnosis. But the sort of illness you got from food that had gone off was downright humiliating, and to make matters worse the only cure was rest and plain meals. Plain. No chili. No other spices. Barely even any salt. If he’d been able to contemplate food without feeling nauseous again, he would have been miserable; as it was, he was waking only to drink water and drag himself to the chamber pot.

Because apparently, even when whatever had been in his guts was now quite comprehensively out of them, it had left its mark behind. He was exhausted. Even his experience with the plague hadn’t left him feeling quite this flattened; each limb felt like the Great Temple had come down on top of it, and he could barely rouse himself from his mat. At least he wasn’t afraid of sleeping anymore. When he spoke, he slurred his words like a base drunkard.

And of course he was forced to speak, because he had visitors.

He was awoken shortly after dawn by the arrival of not one but two more priests of Patecatl. Their cloaks marked them as part of the upper echelons of their temple’s hierarchy, and so he managed not to actually snap at them when they entered. It felt like an achievement just to speak coherently. “Thank you, but I’m feeling much better—”

The older one gave him a stare so full of judgement that he shut his mouth with a pang; it reminded him too much of Ceyaxochitl. “We have to monitor your condition, Acatl-tzin. You are our High Priest for the Dead.”

There were times he truly took pride in being High Priest for the Dead at all hours, whether at a feast or standing by the side of a pyre. This was not one of them. I don’t stop being High Priest for the Dead, no matter how sick I am. He made a face, but grudgingly sat up a little straighter. Or how much I’d rather be left alone.

At least submitting himself to a full examination didn’t require him to do much except be manhandled, and the healing priests were coolly professional and not inclined to make small talk. It still tired him out, and when the younger priest—Cuetzpalli, apparently—began casting a spell to strengthen his stomach, he actually found himself dozing off. The cut-grass smell of Patecatl’s magic was remarkably soothing when you were more than semi-conscious for it.

“Acatl-tzin?”

He blinked awake. Cuetzpalli had stopped chanting and was eyeing him with mild concern as he offered a hand to help him sit up again. He ignored it; he was not so far gone that he couldn’t manage that, even if the motion made his muscles ache. “My apologies. What’s the verdict?”

Cuetzpalli didn’t seem fazed by his curtness. No doubt he’d seen much worse, though he was barely a few years older than Teomitl; healing priests saw people at their very lowest, after all, and an irritated High Priest probably wasn’t even worth noting. “No poison nor magic that we can detect. Your dinner seems to have simply...disagreed with you. You’ll feel...ah, reasonably terrible for a week or so, but you are in no danger.” His face twisted in singularly unhelpful sympathy.

Acatl’s fists clenched in his lap. A week? Duality, I cannot afford to be laid low for that long! Horrible visions of his temple in disarray and the boundaries crumbling like old paper flickered through his mind, and he fought a grimace. No. It would be fine. He would return to his duties tomorrow, suffer through bland food until his guts settled, and everything would be fine. “Hrm.”

“You’ll be alright, young man.” The older priest—Necalli—didn’t smile, but his eyes softened slightly as he looked him over. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

He couldn’t make any promises, but he was spared from having to lie; their visit apparently being over, Cuetzpalli was packing up their supplies. Soon they had both left, bowing very politely, and he’d collapsed on his mat again. Some vague twinge in his belly suggested he should attempt food, but even fetching one of the bland flatbreads Ichtaca had left for him seemed like a monumental effort. No, he would just lay here for now until he felt...well, not better, but at least more alert. The angle of the sunlight shifted through his one window, and he watched it blankly.

He slept. He woke, found the ache in his stomach had progressed to actual pangs of hunger, and choked down a few mouthfuls of dry flatbread and a cup of water before his gorge rose in protest and he had to set the rest aside. His stomach had been emptier than this for longer. He’d be alright.

He slept again. Time ceased to have meaning. There was only the sunlight moving across his floor, the humid air laying on his skin like a blanket. He lay like a lizard on his back, gently baking in the heat.

And then the entry curtain jingled. “Acatl?”

Oh, gods. Mihmatini’s voice. Groaning, he heaved himself upright, muscles protesting. “Ngghhh...” At some point he’d closed his eyes, and once again it seemed to take real effort to keep them open. Duality, he hoped the healing priests had been right and it was only an ill-chosen meal, and not something more serious. Last night’s panic had faded, but it was far too easy to bring to mind just how very inevitable—how very immediate—his death had felt. Lord Death, he prayed, do not take me into Your arms yet.

She sounded concerned. He was sick of concern. “We brought soup.”

...We…? The thoughts floating through his head were slow to arrange themselves into a semblance of order, but finally he realized that she wasn’t alone and managed to wedge his eyes open properly. There was Mihmatini, brow furrowed, holding a clay jug in both hands. And beside her, face twisted in worry, was Teomitl. “...Oh.” Oh, no. Not you. He felt vaguely nauseous again, and not just from the effort of sitting up.

She didn’t wait for him to invite her in, or even to rise; he watched, still feeling three steps behind reality, as she set the jug down on his table and went looking for spoons. There was a degree of bustling involved that made him dizzy to think about. “I really can’t believe I had to hear from Ichtaca that you were ill, Acatl, really—do you know how worried I’ve been? Food poisoning is nothing to dismiss!”

“It’s passed.” It had. Mostly. He had decided against making any sudden movements.

“Nobody gets over food poisoning that fast.” That was Teomitl, leaning in the doorway and frowning down at him. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

He frowned back, even as some part of his heart felt unaccountably warmed; Teomitl’s concern might be touching, but by the Duality it wasn’t as though he’d tried to get sick. Besides, he was a grown man. He didn’t need to be fussed over, especially not when it might make him start hoping. “...I take care of myself just fine.”

Teomitl turned his face away, glowering at the wall as though it had insulted his honor. Acatl knew by the face he made that he was probably chewing on the inside of his lip plug again; he wondered, not for the first time, if Teomitl had ever realized he only did that when he was agitated. He hoped he didn’t. It was oddly endearing, and he’d miss the sight. “What did the healing priests say?”

He grimaced at the reminder. “Very plain fare. And sleep.”

Mihmatini uncovered the jug, and the odor of plain, hot, and—suddenly most important for his stomach, which growled loudly enough that he blushed—salty turkey broth met his nostrils. “Do you think you could keep this down?”

For his sister, he’d try. Slowly, he nodded. “...Thank you.”

He hadn’t expected them to linger, but—evidently realizing that he absolutely wouldn’t be able to finish all of the soup by himself—they took their own seats at his table. It was pleasant not to eat alone in his own house for once. Teomitl was uncharacteristically quiet and kept glancing at Acatl out of the corner of his eye; before he thought of commenting on it, Mihmatini spoke up. “How is it?”

He looked down at his bowl and realized with a start that he’d nearly finished it. Each lift of the spoon to his mouth had been like trying to move a boulder, but he’d clearly been hungrier than he thought. He briefly had to struggle to remember how to speak; even the muscles in his tongue felt tired. A blink lasted longer than he liked. “...It’s good. Did you make it?”

Mihmatini snorted, shaking her head. “From the palace kitchens. I’m not this good a cook.”

Teomitl huffed, “You’re a wonderful cook.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And you are a shameless flatterer.”

“I am being perfectly truthful—tell her, Acatl!”

Acatl blinked again, discreetly pinching himself to stay awake. Passing out in his soup bowl wouldn’t convince his family he was hale. True, Mihmatini was a skilled cook—but it was equally true that no priest of Patecatl would prescribe her food for him. It had entirely too much flavor, and the way she made soup would put meat back on the bones of a corpse. “...He’s right. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m in no state to appreciate it at the moment.”

She looked supremely unimpressed. He could actually see the moment she swallowed a sharp retort and picked up her spoon again. “I can see that. You look awful.”

He had to admit she had a point; he felt awful. Eating had helped briefly, but as soon as it settled in his stomach he had to battle another spike of nausea. If he stopped leaning on the table, he had a feeling he’d fall over. “Thanks.”

Mihmatini sighed, pushing her now-empty bowl away. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get back to the Duality House.”

“Guardian lessons?”

She made a face. Acatl couldn’t blame her; she hadn’t told him much of what her unexpected ascension to Guardianship had entailed, but what little she’d let slip suggested it was unpleasant. If nothing else, she was having to learn in weeks what took most women years. He did not envy her. “Guardian lessons.”

Teomitl reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, and for a moment Acatl was concerned. Had they had a fight at some point? But then she smiled, warm as always. “You’d better. Remember what we were talking about earlier.”

Teomitl swallowed hard and nodded. “Mm.”

And then she rose gracefully, favoring Acatl with that same narrow-eyed assessing look. “And as for you, you’d better take it easy. Ichtaca told us you collapsed a few times last night.”

It wasn’t like he’d made a habit out of it. Besides, the floor had been comfortable even with that nagging, irrational concern that he might fail to wake up. On a full stomach and with something approximating sleep under his belt, that fear felt ridiculous now. He glared back at her. “I’m not that sick. I’ve no intention of fainting on anyone.”

“Don’t worry.” Teomitl smiled, and the brief flash of radiant warmth made Acatl’s face heat. “I won’t let you.”

She sniffed, unswayed. “Hm. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

And then Mihmatini left, and they were alone. Acatl found, suddenly, that he couldn’t quite manage to look Teomitl in the face. The gods knew Teomitl had seen him injured before—had taken care of him, even, and Acatl knew he’d never forget confident hands bandaging his wounds or strong arms helping him to safety—but battle wounds were an acceptable form of weakness, one that struck down even the greatest warriors. It was entirely different to be ill and run-down in front of Teomitl, who valued strength so highly; a man who thought limits were for the weak surely couldn’t still respect him when he could barely muster the energy to stand. In a moment. In a moment I’ll get up and clear the table. I don’t need a—a nursemaid, Tlaloc’s lightning strike me. He just needed to brace himself and move slowly.

Teomitl beat him to it. He was already on his feet and clearing away the remnants of their meal when Acatl set a hand on the table to heave himself up; when he caught sight of the movement, he shot him a savage glare. “Stay still. I’ll handle it.”

He could force himself to his feet; he’d worked in worse conditions and through much greater pain. Nothing would ever be as bad as the plague had been. But somehow, it didn’t really seem worth it to argue. So he stayed where he was and prayed for patience, staring at the knotted pine grain of the table. It needed a wash. “...So you’re to keep me company, then?”

Teomitl turned to look over his shoulder at him, eyes dark and serious. “Someone should.”

He took a slow breath. Even through his exhaustion, the reminder of his state—that Teomitl looked at him and thought he shouldn’t even be left alone—stung bitterly. Even though he could be weak, came the treacherous thought. Even though Teomitl would let him. Would help him lay down, put his arms around him...no. He shook his head firmly, banishing those thoughts before they could make him remember what had come to him in the dead of last night’s pain. It was still hopeless, and he would not plead his way into Teomitl’s heart. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

“I know you aren’t.” And then Teomitl smiled, teasingly innocent, and Acatl’s heart skipped a beat even as he continued, “But isn’t it the job of the student to tend to his master’s needs?”

His eyes narrowed. Irritation was starting to revitalize him; in some small part of his mind, he suspected this was Teomitl’s plan. “...And you aren’t my student anymore.” He hasn’t been since...the courtyard? No, before that. It just took me too long to see it. He is my friend, my brother-in-law, and one day he’ll be my Revered Speaker. But he’s not my student, and he shouldn’t have to take care of me even if he was.

The table clean, Teomitl sat down by him within arm’s reach but not touching. Acatl found himself glad for that; he wasn’t sure if he was alert enough not to give in to the absurd urge to lean against him. His former student’s shoulders looked appealingly solid. “And we’re all glad for that. But that doesn’t change the fact that you could use some company, if only for a distraction. I’m good at that.” A smile still tugged at the corners of his lips, warm eyes looking Acatl over. “Please?”

Oh, no. Not the please. It struck him harder than a physical blow, and he had to look away. Duality preserve him, he’d been right. Teomitl would let him be weak. And he’d thought his feelings would fade? That he’d be able to bury them forever? Gods, he was such a fool. It was a terrible time to be proven wrong. I should be stronger than this. “...I won’t...” He yawned, suddenly almost too tired to make his tongue work. The soup had only been a temporary boost after all. “I’m sorry. I won’t be a very good host.”

“...That’s alright.” Teomitl was gazing at him with fond exasperation, and he couldn’t bear it. “Rest, Acatl. I’ll be here when you wake.”

He couldn’t let that pass without comment, no matter how much that same small, treacherous part of him was warmed by the thought of companionship. “You have a job. Your own duties...”

Now Teomitl did reach over, putting a hand gently on his shoulder. It warmed him to his bones. “Over for the day. Lay down.”

He couldn’t do anything but obey. Even the simple act of sitting up and eating had wrung him out like a damp rag; he could have passed out on a bed of obsidian shards. His thin mat was a miracle in comparison, and he managed to keep his eyes open just long enough to watch as Teomitl settled down on his haunches and swept him with a slow, considering look. The thought that slid through his mind like a snake—gods, you could kiss me if you wanted—still wasn’t a match for the tides of dreamless sleep pulling him under.

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Teomitl’s back. It was, he thought idly, a very nice back; Teomitl had shed his cloak for the sake of the heat, and so Acatl had an excellent view of the line of his waist and the curve of his spine. There were no scars upon it, for he would never be one to willingly turn his back on a foe. The knowledge lifted his heart with a kind of soft pride. My fearless man. You who will lead Tenochtitlan to glory. I cannot wait to see what kind of Emperor you’ll make.

Then Teomitl stretched, back arching, and the affection curling gently through him sparked into something hotter and darker. Gods, he’d almost forgotten. He could go days now without thinking about the warmth of Teomitl’s voice or the strength of his hands, but here he was being viscerally reminded that they couldn’t be ignored forever. That the feelings which had sustained him through many long nights wouldn’t melt with the dawn. That not even what he’d thought with sharp terror would be his actual death could successfully smother them. Duality curse me.

He must have made a noise, because Teomitl turned to look at him. “Acatl? Ah, you’re awake. Do you need anything?”

His mouth had gone dry at some point. Swallowing didn’t help. “...Water.” If nothing else, it would be cold. He could use the cold.

Teomitl rose to fetch water, and he busied himself with trying to sit up. It took a few attempts as his heavy limbs fought his control, but by the time Teomitl returned he’d managed the disgustingly difficult task of rolling over. Teomitl’s hand between his shoulderblades steadied him as he heaved himself up the rest of the way, and for a long moment he drank in silence. His stomach felt better, but his heart didn’t.

It wasn’t until Teomitl took his hand away and sat down next to him that he found words. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”

Teomitl jerked away, glaring at him; for all that he’d only spoken the truth, Acatl still felt himself flush as he snapped, “Did you think I would leave you alone?!”

“It must be late.” It was. The afternoon sun had turned dim and gold, sinking into Teomitl’s skin and hair. Sunset couldn’t be far behind, and he would be well enough to properly offer blood to the gods again. There was no need for Teomitl to watch over him like a mother jaguar with cubs. But he wants to, because he cares about you, whispered his mind, and he took another sip of water to cool the heat of his skin.

“I don’t care.” Duality, and he growled like a jaguar, too. Though he huffily turned his face away, Acatl saw his hand twitch; it was all the warning he got before it came down to rest atop his own free one. “You stayed with me when I was ill, and that was contagious. Do you think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”

He couldn’t think. Teomitl’s hand was on his, callused and warm, and he was fairly sure all sensation in his body had been rerouted to that single point of contact. He was surprised he hadn’t dropped the cup, and managed to set it down before he could. “I...uh.” He was unconscious, deep in his delirium. I didn’t think he’d remember. Gods, I was so afraid he’d never even wake. But he did...and…

It seemed to take an eternity for him to dredge up a full sentence from the mire of his thoughts. “You don’t...have to...”

Teomitl’s voice held nothing but certainty. He might as well have been making a royal proclamation. “Yes. I do.”

“...Oh.” It seemed to be all he could say. There was more locked behind his teeth—you are the best of men, I don’t deserve you, you’re a reckless fool sometimes but that’s alright because you still hold my whole heart safe in your hands—but he didn’t dare open his mouth and let it fly out. If he started down that road, he’d never stop. And Lord Death had not seen fit to take him into His embrace last night, so a sudden and fatal relapse wouldn’t save him either.

For a long while, Teomitl was silent. Though he sat as still as a statue, the fingers covering Acatl’s own twitched as though he wanted to curl them around his hand. Finally, still without looking at him, he spoke. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I learned how sick you were?”

“I was not that sick—” he began.

Teomitl didn’t let him finish. “Yes. You were. Ichtaca was shaking when he told us you were finally keeping down liquids.”

He dropped his gaze to his lap. Mired as he’d been in his own terror, Ichtaca had felt like a rock beside him. He’d had no idea the man had been frightened too. “...Oh.”

“Oh,” Teomitl mimicked, a spark of nastiness in his voice that faded almost instantly to that tight, flat restraint. “You terrified us, Acatl. You terrified me.”

Storm Lord’s lightning blast him. He couldn’t even attempt a reassuring smile, for Teomitl’s words struck him to the core. Still, he mustered up the energy somewhere to make an effort. “I’ve felt worse than this and lived. You needn’t have worried.”

Teomitl swiveled around to glare at him, eyes hot and suspiciously bright. “Don’t say that! Don’t you know how important you are to me?”

“Ngkh.” He knew he was blushing again, but he couldn’t have torn his eyes from Teomitl’s face if his life had depended on it. It was one thing to be pretty sure Teomitl cared about him, but another thing entirely to hear it confirmed. “I...” I am High Priest for the Dead. His teacher. His friend. That’s all he means. “But...”

“No buts.” Teomitl shook his head, squeezing his hand tightly. There was a terrible tremor in his voice. “You have to take care of yourself, Acatl. Understand? I don’t...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I can’t lose you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, and for a dizzying moment he thought he was going to faint again. “I know how you feel.”

“..Do you?” The bite of skepticism couldn’t quite hide that moment of hopeful hesitation.

He inhaled. “...Last night...” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t. But Teomitl wasn’t saying anything; he was giving him the space to find his words. That made the difference, in the end. “Last night...I thought I was going to die.” He still wondered idly at the possibility, but it no longer filled him with heart-clenching fear. There was only one thing he would have regretted, after all. Now Teomitl was staring at him in horror, but he made himself press on. “And I thought of you.”

Teomitl’s eyes were wide, his fingers trembling. Now Acatl knew the expression on his face, that stunned sort of hope that didn’t quite dare to step into the sunlight yet. “Me?”

He nodded. Yes, you. Always you. “I thought—if I died here, I would never get to tell you that I—” But courage failed him, and he swallowed with a dry click.

Teomitl was still staring at him. Unfortunately, this didn’t let him off the hook. “That you what?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It was a coward’s move, but then he had always been one, hadn’t he? Or else it wouldn’t have taken the fear of death to force the words out. “I love you,” he blurted out, and when Teomitl didn’t immediately react in rage or disgust he added, “I wanted to be sure you knew.” Even if you don’t love me back in the same way. Even if you’re about to break my heart, I’m giving it to you to break.

He heard a slow, deep breath. A shaky whisper of “Acatl,” more shock than outrage.

And then Teomitl kissed him.

His mind went entirely blank. There was only the soft pressure of warm lips on his, slow and careful and gods, so gentle. He had no idea what he was doing, but Teomitl clearly did; he tilted his head just so, parted his lips just a fraction, and Acatl was lost. Gods, he thought dizzily, I love you so much. Teomitl slid strong arms around his waist, and for a moment he thought that hold was the only thing keeping him upright. He wondered if it was possible to swoon just from a single kiss. Well, he was still ill. It might be.

When Teomitl pulled away, his eyes were shining. “I can hardly believe...Duality, Acatl.” He gave a little shake of his head, as though to express the utter impossibility of their situation. A wry little disbelieving smile tugged at his lips. “I was halfway to convincing myself to give up.”

Acatl blinked at him as the words rearranged themselves into something that made sense. His brain clearly wasn’t up to its full capacity yet, because Teomitl couldn’t have said what he thought he said. “You what?!”

Now it was Teomitl’s turn to blush. “I have wanted you for—gods, for years. I knew it was hopeless, but when I thought I would lose you...”

Things clicked slowly into place in Acatl’s mind. Passing glances, lingering touches, a hitched breath. Years, he said. Years. “...Does Mihmatini know?” He remembered her hard-eyed stare, the way Teomitl had looked almost nervous at whatever she’d said, and ice gripped his heart again. He wouldn’t be the cause of strife between them, no matter how much Teomitl made his heart race. He wouldn’t do that to her.

Teomitl drew himself up, glaring at him. He was still flushed, but Acatl judged it more embarrassment than guilt. “She does. Do you think I’d go behind her back, especially after the last time?” He didn’t have to elaborate. Things between him and Mihmatini had been so frosty for a few weeks that she’d practically spat when mentioning his name. Acatl wasn’t sure how they’d reconciled, but he was starting to get a few, somewhat embarrassing, ideas.

The ice was starting to thaw. He took one deep breath, and then another. If she knows, then... “Then...what she mentioned, about you two having spoken earlier...”

“You know how she is. She...suggested I consider the possibility of mentioning my feelings a while ago.” Knowing Mihmatini, suggested was probably far too polite a word. Teomitl quirked up a smile and added, “But I wasn’t expecting you to beat me to it.”

He found it much easier to breathe when he knew he wasn’t ruining his sister’s marriage. “After last night...I had to let you know. In case fate saw fit to separate us. I didn’t want to die without telling you how I feel.”

Teomitl’s gaze had softened like melted wax, and it was just about as hot. “Maybe you should tell me again.”

His heart kicked within his chest. Feeling suddenly bold—he’d come this far, after all—he shot back, “Why don’t I just show you?” Even raising the possibility of what such a demonstration might entail made him blush all over again, but...well. Teomitl deserved to know the full truth of his feelings, and honesty had already brought him great rewards. I took vows of chastity, of celibacy. I would break them all for you if you asked. Gods, I would break them all if I thought you might ask.

For a moment, Teomitl simply stared at him—face flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes heated—and Acatl knew he was going to be kissed again. Knew it and welcomed it, lingering illness be damned. He would figure out a way to be kissed by Teomitl if he were dead.

And then he grinned teasingly and murmured, “Then you’d best focus your energies on getting well again, hadn’t you?” and Acatl had to stifle an urge to groan.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #mihmatini #paladin writes stuff

4 notes · View notes

zuffer-weird-girl · 5 years ago

Note

A Scenario where kai and his s/o have a really big fight He says some very hurtful things and she disappears for 3 days or something (she's at her grandparents in the hills) Ande the others are like oh shit are they gonna break up? Fluff ending tho ny heart can't handle too much angst

It feels great to write again, just got out from a writing block

"You're being irrational." He sighed in pure annoyance and rolling his eyes at his lover, whose scoffed and crossed her arms in disbelief at hearing his words.

"Am I? Or is it you that is so hard to stop being so damn arrogant for once?"

He let his pen go and hit his office's desk to send her a glare, clearly displeased by her choice of words. Normally, if it was anyone else, they would be quivering in fear at only one look of his; but this was (Y/n) whose he was talking with.

The girl was just as stubborn as him, and never once trembled neither widen her eyes in fear of him. Which caused at first for him to be extremely annoyed.

"Don't give me that look." She scowled "You know that you're in the wrong side this time."

"Sure." He scoffed sarcastically while returning his attention to his papers "Like ever argument that we have right? Oh, my bad." He send her one glare while arching his eyebrow up "You never once was right in neither of those, so what makes you think that this time is different?"

"Because it was wrong from you!" You said in exasperation "Just because a guy touched me asking for information you overhauled the poor man! Why?!"

"He was sick." He said through gritted teeth, after half of a hour of this nonsense he was getting way too impatient "Apologies if I was trying to prevent the same happening for you dearest." He said in venom sarcasm.

"Kai this is not even protecting, this is madness!" You exclaimed while his eyes grew darker and darker by the minutes it passed.

Half an hour later it passed with you two discussing and the words only got darker and offensive. His skin was already interrupting in hives while you at least tried to reason with him, but he was not having it.

"For crying out loud why can't you listen to me for once?!" You were almost ripping your hair out while he coldly stared at you, but the red spots growing on his skin showed you that he was just as fed up as you were.

"Because apparently I am dating a fucking idiot who can't even know when someone is sick or not." He said while glaring daggers in your eyes before he sighed more to himself "Why did I put myself so low to be with you?"

The moment those words left his mouth he immediately widened his eyes in realization before he looked at your hurt yet shock expression. He knew already all about your insecurities, he knew that sometimes you thought you were too little for him even if it was the exact opposite... yet he said those things.

"... (Y/n). I didn't meant that." He tried to extend his hand but you quickly took a step back away from him.

"Sorry." You said between gritted teeth as you tried to hold back the tears "But I don't want to hear it. Not anymore."

He didn't even blinked and you were already out of his office, even despite his shouts for you to come back, you didn't.

He growled out loud before propting down against his chair and resting his forehead on his gloved hand with a sigh.

You were just being childish. You knew already all about his personality and such. He just needed to give time for both of you to calm down to later sorta this thing out... maybe if he sended a precept to buy something for you would ease his issue a bit...

Returning to his work was a struggle since the only thing that sticked to his kind and made his heart clench in a horrible way was seing the hurt in your expression and the tears threating to escape from your lashes....

He growled in displeasure as his worry grew at seing another room of his house without even the sign of his lover.

No one in the base neither saw you after that petty discussion. And he was almost even expecting the damn rooftop to see if he could find you at this point.

Normally he would think that he would sound pathetic at calling your cellphone, but he was actually worried at this point.

It ringed for a bit as he walked around in the house and shortly after he scowled at hearing the ring of your cellphone coming from you guys shared room... so you were going to do that huh?

He growled again, scratching only a bit his arm before placing his cellphone back on his pocket. Noticing Chrono walking towards him he immediately arched his eyebrow, demanding answers from his commurate.

"She left."

"How and why didn't that good for nothing stoped her?" He growled while Chrono shrugged. "Where?"

"We... have no idea." He gulped a bit at the way those golden orbs darkened at his words while he turned and walked away.

He was close to his own room before he saw Pops enjoying a cup of tea on the living room. The elder, noticing his sucessor looking at him, mentioned with his hand for Chisaki to join him on the living room.

"My boy you surely surpassed yourself this time." Teh elder commented while chisaki took a seat, the young man stoically watching his eyebrows "It takes a lot to anger my daughter in law." He sipped a bit on his black tea with a serious face "And considering that I know her less than you do... I can tell you didn't measure your words. At all."

He furrowed his eyebrows before scoffing and looking at the ceiling in annoyance.

"She came talking with you then? So mature..."

"Well, I came to her actually. After all, poor thing was crying rivers alone."

His chest tightened at hearing his mentor saying such things as he hesitantly looked back at the elder, eyes closed and cup still on his hand.

"So I take it you know where she is.." the elder nodded, still eyes closed.

"You got nothing to worry. She went to spend sometime on her grandparents house, so her safety is assured."

"You can't be sure of that." He hissed while Pops sighed, finally opening hiis eyes to look properly at Chisaki with a sympathetic frow on his forehead.

"Chisaki. I take that this girl is important for you. But you also dont measure your words and actions and even if by accident hurts her deeply." He grunted a bit to lift himself "My advice is that you don't just go barging onto her family's house demanding her back. I know you. Just give some time."

The young man glared daggers at the ground while he interlocked his gloved hands together, tensing up a bit at the hand of Pops on his shoulder.

"I know how much you value her, and didn't meant those words... But you always take things way too far Chisaki." He patted Kai's shoulder a bit before lefting the young yakusa boss alone on the room, alone with his thoughts and nothing less.

Three days. Three miserable days and you still didn't even dare to send him some message if you were even alive or not.

He took Pops advice, secretly hoping that by the next day you would appear amd apologize for being long for ao long... but that didn't happened.

He was way too prideful also to admit he was fucking wrong and to look after you like some desperate dog... he felt miserable and even more less patience with his subbordinates than ever, so much that he almost overhauled Rappa for only calling him 'overjerk' on his back... something that normally he wouldn't even mind to care neither bother to be irritated with.

With your absence it came also his longing for sleep. He wouldn't admit out loud, but you were the main reason he had so many good nights of sleep; without any warnings at nights or the constant night terrors he at the past chosed to ignore it.

The guilty was slowly building up after this, he only felt disgusting shivers and scowled when he remembered those words he spoke to you and even if he sat on his office chair he would see the image replaying like a damn broken CD....

He was rubbing his temple with both hand s as he tried to concentrate on reading the tax in front of him before a knocked interrupted his actions.

"Say your name and business. And I hope is something important." He growled before the door opened slowly, the minute he went to argue with teh poor soul entering he widen his eyes a bit when he saw you entering a bit hesitantly and closing the door from behind you.

"Hey..." you said awkwardly, eyes more interested om his bookshelf than anything as you rubbed a bit your arm.

He blinked a bit before he gulped the thick air stuck on his throat.

"Y... you're back."

"I guess." You said with a bit of discomfort in your voice, probably because ever since you entered he didn't took his eyes out of you.

He slowly pushed himself up to walk towards you, some inches apart from you as your eyes were still locked with the bookshelf.

"I... I am..." he scoffed at hearing himself talking "Apologies... I didn't meant any of those atrocities, but it doesn't either erase the pain you must have felt on that time... neither me admiting will heal this, I know..."

You finally looked at him and this time it was his turn to avert his eyes from you, ashamed of his actions and the way he made the person he cared for deeply feel.

"... I should have at least told you where I was expending, I heard taht you were worried-"

"No, no." He interrupted, lifting one of his palm in gesture as the other one rubbed a bit his temple "You at least told Pops about it... neither was a obligation."

"... you mean that?" You asked, while.he looked at you in confusion "Your apology, you mean it?"

"... of course." He looked a bit down, eyes furrowed while glaring at the floor "The last thing I want is to dissapoint or hurt you... yet, I did and do thsi constantly without even noticing it...

You sighed a bit, opening your arms to wrap them around your lover carefully, feeling his body tense at the contact immediately but surprisingly relaxing shortly minutes after.

When he felt your slung coming in contact with his he swore he could feel his heartbeat almost exploding and body erupting into flames... he didn't had noticed that after three days he came to crave to feel again that angelic touch of yours on his rough skin, merely taking all of his discomfort and unpleasant nights as only annoyance of your actions...

"For you to apologize it takes a lot..." you squeezed him bit while he let out a rather shaky breath and awkwardly wrapped his arms around your midsection "I thought that you were just simple going to ignore or let go of it.."

"I couldn't." He said while brushing his fingers through your hair as he rested his head on yours "Yet you even accelt this apology...?" He frowned at feeling your nodding on his neck as he tightened his embrace on you "I will make it up... trust me angel. I will."

"Looking forward to it..." after what felt like years, he felt at ease at feeling your lips in contact with his bare skin, forming that sweet smile he came to love.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #overhaul headcanons #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai imagine scenario #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #my writing #zuffer writings

221 notes · View notes

13-nastin-13 · 4 years ago

Text

The Previous Year Summary

A little about my mental health, traumatic losses and another sudden insight... If you're wondering why I have been so quiet and barely active lately, I highly recommend reading this.

Sorry my english is terrible when it comes to big posts ahah.

Here we are...

It hasn't been that long since I last mentioned anything about 2020, but somehow I find it hard to believe now that I'm still alive and finally sitting in my chair and writing this big post! Finally, the time has come to explain to you all the oddities of my behavior (especially if you are my friend or acquaintance) and the silence that lasted for several months. As usual, I was supposed to write this post at the end of the last year, which has passed a long time ago. But it so happened that the last year ended much later, despite the calendar. I apologize in advance for the scarcity of the language, because now I will try to put everything as briefly as possible in order to forget about it as soon as possible, as if it were just a terrible dream and free myself from all the agony that has been dragging on since 2020 once and for all.

Do you remember those golden days when I complained about 2019 due to the creative crisis? Ahaha how could I know what would happen later! Yes, 2019 was terribly monotonous, dull, but calm. And I'm really sorry that I didn't appreciate those moments of peace before you know what. The beginning of 2020 was not so bad, almost perfect, but it was only the first half of January... Some time later, some wild shit began in my life (and not only in mine), there were very big problems with aggressiveness and, in general, with defining my own self (but let's talk about this sometime later). All this time I felt as if I were a time bomb, which could ruin everything at any given moment, as if I were in a deep lethargic sleep from time to time. Life began to resemble a very stupid dark comedy or some kind of hella weird soap opera, but all this was nothing compared to the event that almost killed me after numerous attempts to get out of this abyss...

Last November, I had to say goodbye to my beloved grandmother forever in this life. We met periodically since my childhood, and all this time she was the only person in the family who understood me better than anyone else and always knew what to say at any moment. I am very grateful to her for everything, because without her I would never be the person I am now...

You know, my grandmother managed to save my life many times and I really wish I had anything to save her too. After she passed away, for some reason I began to feel guilty about everything, began to think that I had no right to make mistakes, laugh at some silly things and practically do anything that makes me alive or happy.

But then, at some point, I realized one thing...

Does my grandmother really need something from me now, other than just my happiness only, regardless of what is happiness for me personally? Isn't that what she herself always wanted from me? I realized that when people leave this world, they really don't care what their relatives do on Earth, as long as everything is fine with them. No judgment, no shock or questions, there is only love and nothing more, no matter how pretentious it may sound for some people.

And I thought about my life once again. I wondered why I was so attached to the 2018 memories. All my life I was miserable and only that year I felt good, but why? For some reason, after 2018 I suddenly stopped following my own important advice, but it was simple: "take care of yourself". And this literally meant "don't let yourself be under control of your own limitations that make you unhappy, don't deceive yourself". And really, if we go back 3 years ago, then there was nothing of all that I imposed on myself during 2019-2020, except for "that very" long-lost madness, when you regret nothing and just do what you like. Freely, without trying to please anyone, even if it seems to them that you are "childish", "sick" or "contradictory".. It just felt good to be strange, to be myself. And I will do my best this year and next just to come back to that balance!

If what you are doing is not a crime or bullying, humiliation of someone, then you have every possible right to do it. Everyone also has the right to learn from their mistakes.

Well, it seems like this year, 2021, will be the year of healing... I want to thank everyone who read this to the end! I am truly grateful to all of you who are going through this confusing story of personal development with me. Whoever you are, you deserve the best and I wish you to achieve your goals, be on good terms with yourself and have a good time for the rest of 2021. I love you all very much!

And finally, as I once said to myself 3 years ago,

"take care of yourself"

#results of 2020 #big post #Nastin talks

3 notes · View notes

chiefnooniensingh · 4 years ago

Text

it’s in our blood, in our veins (a The Old Guard one-shot)

Rating: G Pairings: JoexNicky and Joe&Booker Characters: Joe, Booker, Nicky, Nile Summary: Over the shared worry for one of their own, Booker and Joe hash it out, a year after the Merrick debacle. A/n: I need this family back together so I fucking wrote it. Also on: ao3

This had never happened before, to any of them. The team was huddled in a hospital waiting room, looking around nervously, aware of the cameras that were hung up everywhere, but they’d be damned if they were leaving. Nile was the only one who looked remotely put together, her immortality still so new that she hasn’t forgotten what it was like to be wounded, in need of professional care.

Nicky was handling it the worst of them all. He was pacing through the waiting room, continually running his hands through his hair as he muttered about what if’s and we should have’s. For once, Joe was unable to get him to calm down. Because Andy was in the hospital, gravely injured and fighting for her increasingly shortening life, and there was nothing any of them could do.

Joe knew his love and Andy had an incredibly special relationship, not unlike brother and sister. She and Nicky were the most attuned to each other of all, barring Joe himself. In battle, Andy and Nicky were the level-headed strategists (until it became time to bring hellfire), while Joe and Booker had always been the rash, impulsive ones. Andy and Nicky shared a love for baklava unparalleled even by Joe’s own. When Joe and Booker would split off to watch a game, Andy and Nicky would sit together, pouring over books, laughing over tv shows they would watch together, or sparring.

Joe was worried as hell but seeing his love so distraught brought him even more pain than his worry did. He felt absolutely useless, unable to soothe his Nicky and unable to heal Andy. Joe kept flexing his hands, which were itching to do something, anything. “Nicky, please,” he tried once again. “Nicolò, amore mio…”

“It’s Andy,” Nicky croaked, sounding for all the world as if it had been him who got shot in the chest.

Joe stood up and halted Nicky’s frantic pacing by taking hold of his arms. “I know, my heart, I know,” he said, then hugged him close to his chest. “But, sweetheart, you are driving me absolutely insane with your pacing.” He kept his tone just shy of teasing, knowing that Nicky would pick up on the lack of heat behind his words.

Nicky sighed and wrapped his arms around Joe’s frame, burying his nose in his shoulder. “Scusi,” he said softly, “I’m just so worried.”

“So am I, Nicky, so am I,” Joe muttered, then pulled back to kiss his Nicky’s forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

“Yes, it will,” Nile said, from her spot against the wall. She looked worried and anxious but had the most faith in Andy’s chances of survival. “She’s strong, guys. And this hospital is the best at what they do. She’ll pull through, I’m sure of it.” Nicky and Joe smiled at her, but while Joe took his seat again, Nicky still couldn’t stand still, and he went over to the coffee machine to get them more terrible hospital coffee.

Joe looked across from him and felt a surge of emotion as his eyes locked with the man who had brought them here. Booker. It had been nigh on a year since they’d last seen each other, since they’d banished him, but here he was, looking apprehensive and scared and worried. He’d been too late to warn them of the attack but had helped them fight their way out of it. The revelation that Quynh was not only alive and freed from the bottom of the ocean, but also hell-bent on destroying as much of Andy’s life as she possibly could, had shook the entire team. Andy had gotten a glimpse of her during the fight, and in that moment of distraction, had taken a bullet straight to the chest.

And now here they were. Joe and Booker in an intense stare-off while also worried out of their minds for their oldest friend.

A year was nothing to them. Like an hour to mortals. Joe was still pissed off as hell at the man whom he used to call his brother, the man who had betrayed them, had put Nicky in danger. If Joe hadn’t been strapped to a medical bed, he was sure he would’ve ended Booker’s life right there when he first learned of the betrayal. Their exhaustion, both physical and emotional, had prevented him from doing it after they’d reached a safe house. Joe now felt that urge to snap Booker’s goddamn neck again.

“Just say what you want to say, man,” Booker said, breaking Joe from his thoughts. Nile looked up from staring at her knees and Nicky turned sharply, his eyes on Joe. Joe read the warning in his eyes but knew he wouldn’t be able to heed it.

For a moment, Joe said nothing. Then the dam burst. “I am so angry at you, Booker,” he said in a low voice, and Nicky closed his eyes briefly. But Joe focused his attention on Booker instead, who looked miserable as hell. “Why?”

Booker shook his head. “I never meant for it to get so far, I just wanted…”

“You just wanted it to end!” Joe spit, jumping up, too charged to sit down any longer. Booker stayed in his chair and couldn’t meet his eyes. “So you sold us out to a sadistic maniac for the chance of relief, knowing full well how much pain you were going to put us through!”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Joe!” Booker said, and Joe could hear tears threatening in his voice. Joe would feel sorry, but he could still hear Nicky’s pained groans as that woman did her sick experiments on him. “You and Nicky, you always had each other, meanwhile I just had the memories of those who loved me, dead, while I continued to live!”

“But you had us, Booker! We were your family, too! We loved you, too! You threw us away like we were nothing!” Joe yelled.

Booker rose now, too. Apparently Joe had struck a chord. “And what would happen if Nicky were to die right now, huh? Would you stick around?”

It was a thought too horrible to process, and Joe shook his head to clear the image from his brain. The thought of Nicky dying without him… “I wouldn’t betray my family,” he said quietly. At that moment, he felt Nicky come up beside him, squeeze his hand for a second, then moved off to the side. Joe felt a rush of absolute love for this man, who knew Joe had been on the bring of absolutely falling apart and gave him the reassurance that they were both alive.

Booker shook his head, tears now visible in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Booker said, and it startled Joe. This hadn’t been a conversation heading anywhere near an apology, yet the Frenchman was looking more miserable than ever. “I never meant for any of you to get hurt, I swear. I was so blinded by my grief and pain that I didn’t see…didn’t know…”

“What,” Joe said, almost astonished, “that we love you?”

Booker nodded, tears falling in earnest now, and he fell back in his seat, burying his head in his hands. Nile was about to get up, join him and comfort him, but Nicky put a hand on her shoulder. This was something Booker and Joe had to work through themselves. Joe stared at Booker, mouth agape as the weight of what Booker had just said crashed over him. He hadn’t known… Stumbling backwards, Joe’s back hit the wall and he slid down it, still trying to process. “How could I have been so blind…” Joe muttered, and Booker looked up, surprised to see all the anger having drained out of Joe. “All those times you made those self-depreciating jokes, jokes about ‘misery loves company’…I thought you were just joking, but it was real, wasn’t it?” He looked up at Book, his best friend, his brother, who he was now seeing in a completely different light. It was like the last 200 years were being rewritten in his mind. “Book, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there for you…”

Booker shrugged, wiping furiously at his eyes, trying to stem the flow. “I didn’t want to come between you and Nicky, you two were always so happy…”

“So you let us believe you were fine, meanwhile you were just dying a little bit more inside every day?” Joe put his head in his hands and felt tears burning in his own eyes now as well. “How did I miss it, Book? What did I do wrong?”

“What?” Booker said, his head snapping up to look straight into Joe’s eyes. The Frenchman and the Egyptian stared at each other, seeing each other differently, but really seeing each other for the first time. “Joe, you couldn’t have done anything…”

Joe shook his head and jumped up, starting to pace, trying to understand the new host of emotions he was feeling. Anger was there, sure, but it wasn’t directed at Booker anymore. It was directed at himself. “Jesus, I’ve been so blind. I considered you my best friend, my brother, even. What Nicky and Andy have, that’s what I thought you and I had…but now I see that I have been the worst brother you could’ve had. I should’ve seen, I should’ve known!” Joe dropped to his knees in front of Booker, who looked like he was about to either laugh or cry uncontrollably. “Book, I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

Booker let out a watery laugh. “Me forgive you?”

“I called you my brother, considered myself yours, yet I completely ignored all the signs that you were in pain. I missed every part of it. And somehow I made you belief you couldn’t come to me, couldn’t confide in me, with your pain, your loneliness. I should’ve been the one to be there for you, but instead I was the one who made you think you were alone…that is a crime far worse than yours.” Joe felt the tears spilling over and could feel Nicky restraining himself from coming over and either hugging or punching the pair of them. Nile was staring at them, open-mouthed.

“Can you ever forgive me for betraying you?”

“It is already done,” Joe said, and simultaneously the two men stood up and wrapped each other in a bear hug. Joe felt his anger drain away as the bond the two of them had had, seemed to mend between them. Joe still felt the pang of anger, but he understood now. And pushing Booker away now would only result in more pain for both of them.

“Y’all need some therapy,” Nile said, which broke the silence as Nicky burst into laughter, and even Joe and Booker managed to laugh. “No, seriously, nobody noticing Booker was clinically depressed for 200 years is a problem.”

Joe laughed, but nodded his head as well, because he knew. He knew it was a problem, a problem they needed to fix very soon. Booker released Joe and went over to Nicky. Joe watched, intrigued, as his other half watched with open and kind eyes as Booker stood in front of him. “Nicky, I’ve apologized to Joe, and I feel like I also owe you an apology. What that woman did to you, and Joe…I never thought they would go that far. I am so sorry, and I’ll do whatever it takes to win back your trust.”

Nicky gave him a small smile. “It might take a while to win back all of my trust, but saving our asses today has brought you a lot closer. I just hope in the future you will tell us when you are in pain.”

Booker nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Then I forgive you,” Nicky said, and he wrapped Booker in one of his signature hugs that would solve all the world’s problems, Joe knew, if he could just hug everyone.

“Nile,” Booker continued, but Nile cut across him, “Nah, I don’t need your apology, I need your ass in therapy.” Then she hugged him, too, because she’d never been that angry at him to begin with. They all laughed, and soon they were wrapped in a group hug, Joe and Nicky holding hands on Booker’s back. Joe felt something in him heal that he hadn’t realized was broken. His family was back together.

“Family of Andy Smith?”

They all broke apart hastily as a doctor entered the waiting room, who looked slightly bemused at the touching scene in front of her. She had no idea the amount of pain and anger had been worked through in the past half hour, and Joe smirked slightly, revelling once again in the fact that there was so much information they all held, without anybody knowing it. It gave him a sense of power. “Yes,” Booker said quickly, stepping forward, “that’s us.”

“She’s out of surgery, awake, and asking for you.”

A feeling of absolute relief washed over them all, and they hugged again before following the doctor out of the waiting room. Before they left, Nicky grabbed Joe’s arm and held him back. Joe looked at his love questioningly, but Nicky just pressed his lips to Joe’s in a tender, loving kiss, into which Joe immediately melted. “I’m proud of you,” Nicky said softly, touching his forehead to Joe’s. Joe brushed his nose against Nicky’s and kissed him again, because one kiss was just never enough for him. “Let’s go see Andy.”

Joe nodded, linked his hand with Nicky’s and together they walked to Andy’s room.

#the old guard #immortal husbands #sebastien le livre #yusuf al-kaysani #old guard ff #my old guard ff #my fanfics

24 notes · View notes

trashinaglass-archive · 6 years ago

Note

please make a part 2 for the last ask!

Read part one here

. . .

You woke up feeling exhausted, wanting to believe the events of last night were just a dream. The ache in your shoulder assured you, however, that it was all real. The argument, the yelling, the shove, the pain; it was all real.

You turned in the bed to see the time on the clock- 10:24a. You shook your head and walked into the bathroom where you checked your shoulder again. A delicate bruise lay on the surface, a spot that wouldn’t let you or Tom forget his actions from last night. After showering and dressing, you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to face the man downstairs and opened the door.

You slowly made your way down the steps, stopping when you heard his voice.

“I fucked up, man, and I don’t know what to do about it. How am I suppose to fix this?”

You peeked your head around the corner to see Tom sat on the couch, head in his hands as he spoke to Harrison through speaker phone.

“How about starting with an apology?” Harrison said.

“Yeah,” Tom scoffed. “‘Sorry I pushed you.’ Harrison, I fucking harmed her. I put my hand on her and she’s physically harmed from it. It’s going to take a lot more than an apology to make up for what I did.”

Harrison sighed at the tone in his best friend’s voice, “I know that, Tom, but you have to make sure she understands that you feel bad about it. You didn’t mean to do it, and it won’t happen again. You can make as many drastic, amazing gestures you want, but I can almost guarantee she wants that conversation before your actions.”

You couldn’t agree more. As much as you appreciated the things he did, all you wanted right now was to be assured that he loves you- that he won’t hurt you anymore. You let out a cough, alerting Tom of your presence before continuing down the rest of the steps, rubbing your eyes as if you had just woken up.

“Y/n,” Tom said as he saw you, hanging up the phone. “Hey, good morning, um.” He took a deep breath to compose himself before trying again. “How did you-“

“We need to talk,” you interrupted him. You needed to get down to the nitty gritty so you could build from this moment.

“Yeah, that we do,” he mumbled, dreading what was going to happen. He motioned for you to sit on the couch with him. You moved forward and sat on the opposite chair, further from Tom than he’s used to. “Okay, um. I’m sorry. I know sorry doesn’t cut it, but I don’t know what else there is to say.”

“Why?”

Confusion crossed Tom’s face. “Why what?”

“Why did you do it?” You waited for a response, not able to look him in the eye.

“I don’t know- there’s no excuse,” he started. “You know I grew up with brothers, we get rough with each other and I’ve definitely pushed them around, but you’re my girlfriend. It’s not okay to treat you like that, and I don’t want you be afraid of me.”

“How do I know you won’t hurt me again?”

“I can’t guarantee anything other than my word. I hate myself for doing that to you. It made me sick to know that you were hurting and crying because of what I had done to you. I don’t want either of us to go through this again.”

You nodded at his words, thinking about them before speaking again. “I can forgive you, but I’m not going to be able to move on easily.”

“I know, and I don’t expect you to,” Tom said quickly. “You need time to heal from this- I know that, and I’m willing to give you that time, but I don’t want to lose you. Just tell me that we’ll be us again.”

You looked at Tom. You could tell he was holding back tears, and he looked miserable. He was so desperate to right the wrong he did. “We will be us again, but only if you don’t fuck up again. I love you, Tom, and I don’t want to believe that you’re that kind of guy, but if something like this happens again, I will walk out. I’m not going to be someone’s rag doll they throw around when they’re angry.”

“I agree- you deserve way more than that. I’m so sorry, y/n. I promise you it won’t happen ever again.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“Can I please hug you?” Tom asked desperately. You took a few seconds to think about it, still a little afraid to be touched by him, but you nodded your head. He stood up and made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you. He held you tightly while also being super gentle with you. It reassured you to feel how tender he could be and that it was just a terrible mistake. You closed your eyes, praying that you don’t have to see that side of Tom ever again.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader

199 notes · View notes

aliceslantern · 5 years ago

Text

Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 15

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3

Chapter summary: Even realizes he can no longer live in isolation, and attempts to mend the bonds with those around him.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Stuck.

Like a record, he repeats the same things over and over again. None of his experiments are promising, none of the reports he writes insightful. He’s getting purely nothing done. Months are passing, he’s losing time--he fears he’s losing more than that. Is this depression? Insanity? Something isn’t right.

He’s trying to distill a compound one of these nothing days when the beaker suddenly shatters, spattering his arm with caustic materials. Despite precautions and gear, he’s rather injured. As gently as possible, he picks the glass out of the wound, washes away all of the compound, wraps it securely. It stings terrifically, adding to his patchwork of burns. Could he stitch this himself? Absolutely. Should he, when someone else could fix it easily?

He meets Demyx in the hall near their apartment; the young man is toting a laundry basket. “Good. You’re here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? What did you do to yourself?”

“What indeed. Either way I need your help.”

Something like smugness leaches into his green eyes. Even regrets coming down; but he’s already here. “Come on. Sit down.” He brings Even inside, reaching for the medic bag by the door. “Is it bleeding? Can I see it?”

What about sterility? “Aren’t you going to wash your hands first?”

He huffs a little. “I already cleaned them with magic.” He takes Even’s hand and examines the wound. “Ouch. How’d you do that?”

He watches with something like fascination as the boy heals him, easing the pain and chemical burns without even touching it. He’s sure the boy’s hands are actually clean (or hopes) but there’s something disquieting about the lack of gloves. The wound doesn’t scar; not that it would’ve been noticeable anyway. “A beaker got too hot, and burst. These things happen. All the glass I work with is so old, it’s only a matter of time. I would’ve tended to it myself, but…”

“I’m sure you would’ve,” Demyx says. “How’s that feel?”

“Better. Faster than what I could’ve done. You have my thanks.”

Rather generously (and petulantly?) the boy adds, “It’s not too late for you to learn.”

He scoffs. “What, old dog, new tricks?” Even asks. “I’ve studied enough medicine. This might surprise you, but I don’t exactly have… the proper countenance.”

He laughs. “It’s okay.”

He rolls down his sleeve. “I’ve enough of bodies, I think.” Enough of the physical sicknesses, the injuries, the neediness.

“Yeah?”

“The human body is so… fragile. So fallible.”

“I know,” Demyx says. “Preaching to the choir.”

Even considers the boy, the drollness of his expression. He knows he’s changed, but is Demyx really passionate enough about this to go through with it? It’s a lot of draining, thankless work if one’s heart is not truly in it. “You’re still… gung-ho, about this, then?”

He blinks. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I recall once upon a time you were quite flighty.”

His expression hardens, and his tone is somewhat sharp when he says, “Then isn’t now.”

Great. The last thing he needs is to alienate one of the few people who can tolerate him. (To think, there’d be a day when he’d value Demyx’s presence.) “I… apologize if that remark offended you.”

He kneels by the hearth and begins building a fire. “It didn’t.”

He’s absolutely lying. “Yet your tone is rather cold.”

Demyx doesn’t miss a beat. “As is yours. As is all of you, actually.”

“Cold like ice?” Arguing, volatility, is so easy. Why isn’t anything else?

He looks up. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“I think we’re far beyond tailoring responses for tact.”

“Are we?” Demyx asks. He crumples some paper and lights it with a match. Even flinches, fighting hard against the memory (Buh-bye.). The boy’s still talking. “For a while I thought we were getting closer. But you’re still hiding yourself away, so. I don’t know what that means. You can go, if you want. Your arm should be fine.”

So he’s noticed. Someone’s noticed, and cared. But this doesn’t make him feel any better. Because like everything else he’s tossed this boy aside too. “...Quite. Thank you.”

“Sure,” he says dully, still in front of the fire.

Maybe he can salvage this. “All these… words about the linearity of progress, of healing. You must realize that this isn’t as easy for me as it is for you.”

His head snaps up. “It’s not easy. It’s never easy. Not for a minute. You don’t know the half of it.”

Made it worse again.

His eyes are so piercing. “You know I take meds? We both do. Otherwise the trauma literally makes me unable to function. And I’ve heard Ienzo talk about what happened in the basement, and what happened at Castle Oblivion. I know, Even. I know what you did to him, and to Ansem.”

A sharp pain shoots through him, the first in a long while; but it quickly withers. Of course. They’re so close… Ienzo must have told him everything. A wave of shame eclipses the pain. “You must be very angry with me, then.”

“Ienzo forgives you. So I do too.” His tone is not at all forgiving. He keeps building the fire.

“You must understand, then. How difficult it is to move on. I see the reminders of it every day.”

“You think I don’t?” Then, a little less harshly, “Even, you can’t keep living like this.”

He feels caught. “I know.” He sits, the weight of his body too much. “I’m aware this is not healthy. Physically or mentally. What am I to do? Burden that boy with the weight of these things I supposedly feel?”

“What about Ansem? Or Aeleus or Dilan? Aren’t they your friends?”

So sharp, yet so naive. ““Friend” is a loose term.”

He’s facing Even now. “What about me, then? I’m not... I’m not him, Even. I’m not Demyx.”

Another pain comes back. Just as suddenly, “Yet you wear the same face and have the same name.”

“You know what I mean.” He bites his lip. “Do you want to get better? Or are you just running from anything meaningful?”

Even feels his face flush. (He’s right.) “Part of it is… I hope… practicality,” he admits. “I recall that, for you… the intensity of your returning humanity pushed you to the edge. I do not wish to experience that. I do not need my existence to be so… precarious.” No need to worry anyone about a wretch like him.

The boy sighs. “Is this about Ansem? About when he tried to--”

“I do not wish to be a burden. On anyone. I do not crave… pity.”

“You can’t stay in this middle state forever, though. You need to let your heart grow.”

He looks away.

“I can help you,” Demyx says. “I know how it feels, Even. I think I might be the only one.”

He has a point. He realizes he’s been avoiding asking Demyx about that experience. But why? To spare himself pain? “Was it moreso… memories, or feelings?”

He shrugs. “The memories came… later,” he says. “It was… anxiety more than anything. And nightmares. And then… I…”

Fear so like Even’s own. “You fell in love?” he asked dryly.

“Well, yeah. It’s about… seeing and being seen, or whatever. When I realized he loved me back, it… it hurt. I thought I was having a heart attack. But I don’t think it necessarily has to be romantic. You have to… decide to be human.” Even’s just asking himself the question when the boy adds, “Don’t you want that?”

“I like to think so.” But does he? Is it worth the pain? It’s already so potent. And if the trauma makes them unable to function… what will it do to Even? He needs to be of use. He can’t fall apart.

“It’s better than being numb all the time.”

“Worth the anxiety that makes you unable to function?”

Irritation flickers across his face. “Even, I don’t know, okay? I can’t make this better for you. I can’t convince you to want something when you so clearly don’t.”

The anger surprises him; but why should it? Demyx is being so earnest, and he’s stepping on it.

He lifts his chin. “You want to be miserable and alone, that’s fine by me.”

Even isn’t angry in return; he’s just tired. “Well. If that’s how you feel.”

---

He drags himself back to his lab. That bastion. There are still shards of glass on the table, but he doesn’t sweep them up. He sits, heavily. Shivers. Debates giving into this growing urge to break down. What good would it possibly do?

Even can’t live like this.

Vexen could live in isolation, could thrive in it. So could Even-of-the-past, to a lesser degree. But now?

Now.

He wants to change--or claims to want it, anyway. Again that boy--so underestimated--managed to gut him. He’s running away, hiding, closing himself off. How can he possibly make things better doing this? Not for himself, but anyone? He can’t do high quality work if his mental health worsens. No wonder he’s gotten absolutely nothing accomplished.

He needs someone.

It’s a cold realization, colder than the room he’s in. He needs connection. He is not special, not an outlier. He stands, as though physically propelled by this thought, and crosses over to the window. It’s snowing. A full year gone by and… nothing. Something in his throat aches.

To give in, or not.

The lab door creaks. Even knows without looking who it is. “Hey,” Demyx says. “Listen, I--”

The words fall from him. “You were right.”

“What?” he sounds shocked. The pain is worsening. He feels something like a helplessness, viewing a storm on the horizon. It’s going to happen whether you want it to or not.

“Does your hearing need to be checked? You were right.” He crosses his arms as though to physically keep it together. “You can’t do algebra, yet you have a better understanding of humanity than I after years of study. It is… galling.”

“Uh… sorry? I guess?” He hears Demyx take a few steps.

“I’ve been making excuses. I’ve been… lazy. I’ve been trying to save myself from this… remorse, because I don't want any of you see me fall apart. Why is it you care, Demyx? After all my belittling of you?”

“That was years ago.”

“Does it matter?” Abuse is abuse is abuse.

Even hears him sigh. He feels a hand touch his arm and is immensely grateful for the curtain of his hair.

“I feel… stuck. I didn’t realize… that this feeling is not productive.” It’s hard to say this out loud.

Gently, “You can change that.”

So certain. He nods.

“Besides, we’re… we’re sort of family, right? What other reason do I need?”

It’s this that breaks him, that forces the as-yet-fought tears in his eyes to run over. Even doesn’t deserve kindness.

In his periphery, Demyx leans against the windowsill. “It’s hard to be vulnerable. I know. Especially after what we all went through. It fucking sucks, right? That to survive all that, now we have to deal with this…”

“...Psychological consequence?”

“I was going to say “bullshit”, but that works too.”

He tries to collect himself. “I forget what it is to… care,” Even says. “But isn’t that what’s been missing? From this… atonement? I can feel passionate about numbers, about the science, but I haven’t seen beyond that. So you’re right. It’s time to shore up. I should at the very least be the bigger grown-up than you.”

He laughs. “I know you didn’t have many options, but… thanks for letting me be the one to deliver the replica.”

“Thanks for following through. For once.”

“I’m going to hug you now.”

“I’d rather you didn't.”

“Too late.” Demyx squeezes him once, lightly, around the waist. It’s so unfamiliar, to be touched; he almost doesn’t know how to react. Then, equally as overwhelming, “Come have dinner with us.”

Perhaps it is for this reason that he says, “...Alright. I… it is rather cold in here, isn’t it? I should get that looked at.” He turns his face away, mops at his eyes. “You’re not half-bad.”

“Back at you.”

---

Let the heart grow.

How?

He’s rebuilt this tenuous connection between himself and Demyx--but it’s the newest, has undergone the least stress. There’s so much more he has to deal with.

Decide to be human. As if it’s so simple.

Isn’t it? Embrace these feelings, rather than reject them, even if it’s pain. Would it be so bad to come apart? To let himself be helped? It’s going to be necessary. All this repression does not bode well for him, physically and mentally. He can’t afford to die young (relatively speaking), not when he has so much to make up for.

He takes it in turn to try and socialize again, to spend time in the communal spaces.

“It’s good to see you here,” Aeleus admits.

“I’m afraid my pride’s taken a good beating,” Even says. “Ienzo’s miscreant gave me a talking-to about isolating myself. I figure he’s right.” He shakes his head.

“Demyx was always perceptive,” he says.

“As I’m finding out. At least there’s that. I suppose Ienzo could have done much worse for himself.”

He chuckles a little. He’s still working on some kind of puzzle, spread willy-nilly on the floor. “The constellations,” he says. “I’m struggling to remember them. They’ve been different for so long.”

“You and your astrology.” Even rolls his eyes.

“Many things impact a heart.”

“Apparently.”

Aeleus places his piece at last. “I found that little cat of theirs up here and nearly panicked. I thought it had messed it all up. Ten thousand pieces--I might’ve cried.”

“Only to start again?” Even asks dryly.

He shrugs. “It’s a good way to use the mind. My work has been so physical lately. And so tedious. But at least if we can get the heating fixed, we’ll be warmer.”

“Is it work you enjoy?”

“I like being of use,” Aeleus says. “What is it you’ve been working on?”

Even shifts a little in the chair. He’s almost out of practice with conversation. “A fool’s errand, I suppose,” he admits. “I… am trying to develop something like an antidepressant. Something to lessen the way trauma impacts the body.”

Aeleus looks up. “That’s hardly foolish. The people here could use that.”

“I hope so. But there’s the sad truth that it must go through clinical trials--and who would trust me?”

“I’d trust you,” Aeleus says. “I’ll be your guinea pig.”

Even scoffs a little. “That’s hardly necessary.”

“I… could use such a thing,” he says quietly. He picks up another tiny piece; in his hands, it’s comically small.

He frowns. “Was Castle Oblivion very rough on you?”

“It wasn’t… easy. I…” He hesitates. “I do have very intense nightmares.”

“...About what?”

“Any number of things.” Aeleus keeps his eyes on the puzzle. “I was not able to protect Zexion, or you. I do not know how he passed--but my mind likes to torture me with the possibilities. That scar…” He shudders. “Nor… you as well.”

“I’m not sure if it would help--but I have both answers.”

Aeleus looks back up.

As gently as possible, Even explains.

For a moment, there’s a crack in his normally stoic expression, something like shock and horror; Even’s again unsure if he’s caused yet more damage. But then Aeleus nods slowly. “I… see. That must’ve been terrifying for you.”

“I suppose. I’m not sure if my mind is not yet prepared to process it… but I do not nightmare much. Perhaps because I don’t sleep so deeply.”

“You were always a restless sleeper,” he says dully. “Thank you for… telling me. Knowledge is closure.”

Even nods. “I do hope yours wasn’t nearly so brutal.”

Aeleus shrugs. “Brutality is relative, I think. We… we unsure of why you were so injured.”

“Yes, well. The scars aren’t so pretty, but I never cared much about outward appearances.”

Aeleus considers the puzzle in front of him. For a moment he says nothing.

“I… suppose I am softening,” Even says. “We must… have to be here. Otherwise, why would we have all pulled through?”

He gives a small smile. “You’ve made progress.”

“Very, very slowly.”

Aeleus takes his hand. “Better than not at all… unlike some people here.”

It’s unusual for Aeleus to be so suggestive. “You mean Ansem?”

“I’m not sure what it would take to reach him. I… have tried.”

“I have too.” Even frowns.

“But you can’t help those who don’t want it. No matter what you do.” He admires his handiwork. “Shall we go get some lunch?”

---

It’s this Even thinks about later that night, his head pounding. He scans textbooks, trying to understand. Perhaps it’s not a loss of will to live in the literal sense--but rather, the emotional or spiritual. Medicine can’t touch it. Only determination and a careful hand.

He hears his door bang open. It’s much too late for visitors; something must be wrong. He looks over his shoulder. There’s Ienzo, in pajamas and a dressing gown. In the poor lighting, it’s hard to see his face. “Out for a nighttime stroll?” he asks. “Or did you have a lovers’ quarrel?” Things seem much too perfect between the two boys. It’s only a matter of time.

Ienzo’s voice has a jagged edge to it when he says, “You lied.”

Oh.

Of course. He’s processing.

Gently, he asks, “What is this about?”

He’s breathing hard. “You lied to me. About Ansem.”

This is going to hurt; Even can feel it. “Yes, I know. I thought you did, too.” He swivels his stool.

Ienzo comes into the light. He looks manic, his face pink. “I want to know why. Why did you all do it to me? Did you think I would not understand? That I--” He’s tearing up.

Where to begin unraveling? How to help this boy? Slowly, he gathers his words. “It is… handy to blame it all on Xehanort. Truthfully, I like to think that it came from a place of protection. But that is all bunk. It we were to separate you from Ansem’s influence, then we could continue our work, unfettered. Simply… if you had nothing but us, you would rely on us, and comply with us. I cannot overstate it--as soon as it happened, I regretted it, Ienzo, because I saw how devastated you were. But by then it was too late to undo the damage. And I was a weak and selfish man. I really did believe we were better off without him.” No point telling him about the bungled escape. It will make no difference.

The boy says nothing; he seems stricken. Even’s never seen him this upset; not in a long, long while.

“It is one of my biggest mistakes,” he admits. He clucks his tongue. “I cared, but I didn’t care enough, in the right way. I should’ve--as soon as we did what we did, I should’ve tried to retrieve him. Or at the very least, tried to take you out of that situation. Let you grow up normally, and not become a stunted husk. But I didn’t. I… I held my work above all, and in the process, destroyed what was most important.” Called, tempted by darkness, a temptation that severed all. “Does that answer your question?”

He’s still breathing hard, tears running disjointedly down his face.

“I do not expect your forgiveness,” Even says softly. “I do not deserve it, either, after all the suffering I’ve retroactively put you through. But know that I… I am trying to atone. To grow. It is so… difficult--Ienzo?”

A sob escapes him; he seems surprised by it, and covers his mouth. Even stands, to console him, but Ienzo flinches away from him. “You are not well. Sit.”

He obeys, perching on the cot and hugging himself tightly. Even takes a deep breath and chances sitting next to him.

“Pain hides in pockets,” Even says. “Compartmentalizes. You knew of our betrayal, but for whatever reason, only now are you processing what it meant to you.” He exhaled. “If you wish for us to have no further contact--” Though how will he go on?

Ienzo unwittingly solves this dilemma. “I don’t wish that,” he says. “I… I want to trust you. If only because the thought of holding onto this is too much.” His voice is full of glass.

How woeful, to see him like this again. Even feels a dull pain of his own, mirrored in his chest and throat. “Then don’t.”

“You’re all I knew.”

“...I know.” This is stirring up all the guilt, already so close to the surface.

“I wanted to please you. I would've done anything to impress you.” He shakes his head. He’s trembling. “Once it all started… I never wanted people to get hurt.”

He sighs. “Nor did I. But then… I convinced myself that it was all alright, not only because it was in the interest in something greater, but because our victims supposedly consented. To be more colloquial, denial is one hell of a drug.”

He’s still so distraught. But he hasn't left. That has to mean something.

“The only person you owe forgiveness is yourself,” Even says softly, trying to meet the boy’s eyes. He takes Ienzo’s hand and, when he doesn’t pull it away, gives it a squeeze. “Remember that.”

Slowly, Ienzo nods.

“He…” His words are failing him.

He blinks. His eyes are swollen.

Knowledge is closure. Lying won’t help. “He threatened you.”

He squints. “Ansem?”

“No. Xehanort.”

Ienzo doesn’t seem sure whether or not to accept this; Even can’t blame him.

Tell the truth. He was aware it immediately contradicts what he's just said. “He… if I did not do what he said, he was going to…”

A mixture of surprise and apprehension fills his face. “But he always--” A pause, then realization. “I was a tool to him.”

“It’s what I was afraid of.” He tries to collect himself. “In that moment you gave him what he needed. I feared he would mold you into what he wanted.”

“Didn’t he?” A pause. “Didn’t he do the same to you?”

“Not quite. It was easier to be numb, to let the darkness take hold… than to claw my way out. I’m so selfish.”

“You did it for me.”

“There was still no need to lie to you. No need to retraumatize you. Those lies took over your heart, your mind. I am… I’m so sorry, Ienzo.”

“Thank you,” the boy says softly.

Even offers him a handkerchief. Ienzo wipes at his face.

“I suppose I always sort of knew,” he admits. “I remember… I remember you tried to save me.” He crumples the cloth in one hand. “When they took our hearts.”

“He’d promised me he wouldn’t touch you. I should have known better. And then…” It’s hard to admit these things, harder still to keep them inside. “When I woke as Vexen… all my ties to everyone were shattered. I felt nothing for you.”

“I felt nothing either.”

“And because I felt nothing… all the easier to not do anything. But that doesn’t justify it.” He can feel his own emotions rising, something like pain. “Child, I--”

“It’s alright,” Ienzo says softly.

“It isn’t. It will never be. You have to carry these things with you for the rest of your life. You could’ve--”

“Don’t you?” He’s still crying. “Suffering for me will not negate it, Even. For either of us. But we have… we have one another. We have time. I do not… want to spend much longer agonizing about my past. Not when I have a future. Which… because of what you did… will be a long one. Without darkness.” His voice is a bit steadier now. “Don’t forget I pushed you away too. I am not innocent in this.”

“You were a child--”

“No. I am so frustrated. You and Ansem both believe I can do no wrong. Even, you were in meetings with me. You know the things I did, the things I set in motion. The people who’ve--died because I decided it must be.” He touches his breastbone. “That will always weigh on my conscience. So, I’m sure, will your own offenses. But…”

“It can be fixed,” he says, to himself.

“Yes. Much… like us.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them. “I am… rather tired. I believe I gave Demyx a fright, running out like this. We can discuss this further when we’ve had some sleep.”

“...Sure.” He feels something rising in him. “You’re… so young to be so wise.”

Ienzo turns a little. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. Some would say too much. Good night, Even.” He shuts the door behind him.

For a moment Even sits reeling. He feels something tighten in him, harsh and sharp and painful, like those moments of collapse but far worse. He wonders, briefly, if it might be his time--the years and years of stress and malnourishment wreaking havoc on his body--before he remembers what Demyx said.

He isn’t dying. He’s becoming.

---

Even wakes suddenly, unaware he’s blacked out. He’s slumped awkwardly on his cot, his neck wrenched painfully. There’s a film of sweat on his skin, his head is pounding, and the muscles in his chest ache like he’s been kicked there.

He sits up. Considers.

Things feel… odd. As though they’ve shifted. It’s not completely unpleasant. He supposes it may be considered a wholeness, despite the guilt still remaining.

He’s done it, then.

Humanity lays over him heavily, leaving behind it a sort of determination to set things right.

He gathers the hair out of his face. Wipes away the sweat.

It’s time to begin.

#beyond this existence: atonement #even (kingdom hearts)#demyx #aeleus #ienzo #beyond this existence

3 notes · View notes

doryishness · 5 years ago

Text

Prepping myself for this years NaNo, by writing drabbles of my swtor OCs and friend’s. Please forgive all the spelling and grammar errors - I was/am very stoned while writing this and was just trying to reach the word count. Summary: Buster is grief stricken and alone to deal with his comrade Jurella’s brutal death by the republic. But he’s not alone as he thinks.

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Jurella. It could never be her. The brutally assaulted body in front of him could never be his vainglorious comrade. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and gave a brief nod to the medical examiner across from him. His eyes burned but no tears would come. He was far past that. With her…the last of his fortitude was gone. The boot smashed face and slit throat surrounded by dirty disarrayed black hair was mercifully recovered by the examiner. Sound faded and his vision glazed over as he tonelessly answered the procedural questions in identifying her body. He could hear himself talking, but what he said he would never know. All he could think of was that he was that he was completely and utterly alone. He had never felt so cold before. His homeland and all other ice planets he had been on in his life were tropical paradises compared to the numbing he felt down to his marrow.

“Sir?” The medical examiner startled him out of his revere and he snapped his eyes up, locking onto the examiner. “I asked who shall receive her remains?”

“Her fam- I will deliver them to her family.” Buster responded mutedly. He tried to think of the details needed to take the white covered body back to their home world, but all he could think about was last time he had seen her alive. Iokath. The cursed planet. He should have let the planet be destroyed along with Scorpio. Then none of this would have ever happened. Empire and Republic wouldn’t have clashed on and over the forsaken planet, and he wouldn’t have lost everyone he loved to the Republic on it.

It was getting harder to breath. The Empire and Ascendency meant nothing to him. But he had been fighting the Republic all his life. He couldn’t just change that. But without even conferring with him or anyone else, Slaffid had immediately allied with the Republic. The man he had begrudgingly come to see as a friend and confidante…had made the choice for him before even letting him speak. To side with the enemies he had known since he was born against his past life and loyalties.

It had only hurt worse from there. Reeling from Slaffid’s decision and the immediate escalation into war, his beloved husband, the only man he thought he could love, had defected to the Republic as well. He must have known that Buster would object; would want to talk about it first – so Noxass had simply left him without a word. Simply vanished as if he were a force ghost. Buster struggled to take in a breath, the weight of the hurt so heavy on his chest.Everyone he had loved: Dolphelia he had anticipated and expected. His meek adopted sister was much more suited for the healing lifestyle of a simple jedi then a lord of the sith. He didn’t begrudge her for taking her son and husband and fleeing to the less terrorizing Republic. He knew that she would be safe and protected there and even thrive, but her apology had still hurt him. He closed his eyes, remembering her tear-rimmed eyes pleading to come with them, and then begging his forgiveness for her choice. He could still feel the softness of her forehead when he had kissed her goodbye, murmuring that she had nothing to apologize for, that she was finally free and he simply wished for her happiness. Only Dolphila and Slaffid begged him to join the Republic with them. Ixaci – his dotty cybernetic adopted sister – had merely sneered at Slaffid’s announcement, spat some mandoa insult at him, given a rude gesture and strode from the area on the spin on her heel. When he had gone to find her after he finished reeling from the news himself, he found that she had simply left the planet in her ship. Nothing said to him at all. He had tried to get her by holo dozens of times, but she refused to answer. Normally her eccentric behavior and oft radio silence didn’t bother him, but he was blind-sided and growing increasingly desperate for some answers and stability as his world started to crumble beneath his feet.He had then tried to seek out the youngest of his squad, the shoeless sniper who loved his mouse droids. But Elmer too was gone. The only thing left in his place on their ship was a datapad with a single word programed in. SORRY.

“I’ll leave you alone to say goodbye.” The medical examiner said with professional sympathy. Buster nodded mutely, and the examiner left the room.

Buster finally broke the breath he had been holding and sucked in a ragged gasp, vision refocusing once more. Iokath had broken the ground beneath his feet and left him scrabbling for answers that were unclear. But Jurella had remained with him. She had been the only anchor as his world fell to darkness. Buster reached a trembling hand to slide along the cold metal table until his fingers bumped into her sheet covered ones. “By the stars, I’m going to miss you, you bitch.” He croaked in a whisper. He bit the inside of his lip, swallowing another hard lump as his red eyes burned with unshed tears. He had often butted heads with her the most of his team, only slightly less than with Slaffid but he had never predicted losing her as well, after everyone else. He gritted his teeth, trying to block the wave of memories trying to flood his mind.

His team had come on such a journey. From meeting his husband, to banding together, to battling to the controller that had tried to use them for his own sick gains; they had stuck together like glue, despite all obstacles and heartache thrown at them. He had thought nothing could tear them apart. How wrong he was.The Republic on Iokath…and then the whole planet, would burn. He would find who had so brutally murdered Jurella and then they would pay. And after that, he would destroy Iokath. His fingers clenched into a fist and he punched the metal table next to her hand.

Pain radiated up his arm but it was nothing compared to the ache in his head and heart. Friends...no, he had considered them all family if he was truly honest with himself, had all left him. The grief and despondency was nothing compared to the dull ache he could feel in the bones of his hand. Physical pain meant nothing to him – he had been tortured so many times that his body could resist it. But nothing could ease a broken heart. He punched the table harder, placing both fists on the table next to her body and hung his head, eyes closing. What he would give to be able to talk to any of his loved ones again. To go back to how things had been before this accursed planet. Memories tried to creep in and he shook his head furiously. He wouldn’t think of the missions and operations he and his team had taken on for Slaffid. He wouldn’t think of the times that he had been back to back to the Republic Hero, Leader of Havoc Squad and Breaker of the Battle at Corellia. He wouldn’t think of his sisters and the time they had spent growing up on Ziost, all trapped in a miserable situation since childhood but had bonded together to survive until the chance to leave had presented itself.

Damnit…he punched the table a third time. His knuckles ached and were started to bruise as he squeezed his eyes closed harder. He was so focused on suppressing all the emotions inside that he didn’t hear anyone enter until a hand gently rested on his shoulder. Eyes flying open, Buster peered over his shoulder. Zoni was behind him, arm outstretched and he squeezed Buster’s shoulder briefly. The other chiss’s eyes were sad but understanding. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Buster’s eyes closed again and he dropped his head again, heaving a deep sigh.He felt Zoni step closer and another reassuring squeeze. Swallowing the lump of a sob that threatened to burst forth, Buster reached up to gently grab the hand on his shoulder, grasping Zoni’s fingers. They stood there in silence for several minutes, Zoni patient as Buster fought his emotions under control. Finally, with a deep shuddering breath, Buster drew himself up straight and turned around to face his fellow chiss.

“Lord Zoni. You honor me. Forgive my sentiment.” Buster greeted him with a gravelly voice. He still held Zoni’s fingers in his hand on his shoulder, reluctant to let go.

Zoni rolled his eyes but then smiled sadly. “I know you two were close. I’m sorry for your loss.” The House Inrokini noble stepped closer, until he and Buster were toe to toe. “If there is anything I can do…” The handsome ascendancy agent tilted his head, studying Buster’s face. “I mean it.”The demons that haunted Buster whispered cruelly to him not to trust Zoni, to let the attractive man go and destroy himself in grief in private, but the warm and comforting smile Zoni was giving him prompted to break his stone cold act. Tears still wouldn’t come, he would never let them but he couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer to Zoni and wrapping his arms around his middle. It surprised both men. Both were known for their stoicism in public, being the ideal agent and soldiers and in Zoni’s case, noble. But after a moment’s hesitation, Zoni’s arms wrapped around Buster’s shoulders. Buster dropped his face to bury in Zoni’s shoulder and breathe in the noble’s scent.

They were never coming back. He had been left and abandoned by those that he had loved. He would still love them no matter what. And although he would never admit the irrational hurt and anger, all he wished was he had a chance to speak to them one last time and get closure. But in Zoni’s arms, warmth started to seep beneath his skin, chasing away the icy loneliness and for that he was grateful beyond expression.

#@autisticanakin #swtor OC #Bust'e'run #Jurella #Zoni #Imperial Agent #Iokath

8 notes · View notes

ananxioussheep · 5 years ago

Text

My Miscarriage Journey

Today: Tuesday, October 1st

On October 1st, 2019 our journey of parenthood was put on an indefinite pause. What started as a routine check-up for the day became our worst nightmare. The second you find out you're pregnant is the most exciting and terrifying moment. You immediately change everything you are doing to ensure your baby is healthy. For me, unfortunately, our baby was not going to be. When I met my midwives that morning I went in for a Doppler check. My midwife was going to look around to find our baby's heartbeat. We couldn't find it the week before. She told me before she had even started last week not to worry if that happened since the baby could be behind my pubic bone or could still just be too small. When we didn't hear it we scheduled a recheck for next week once the baby grew a little more and I kept my bladder full for the check so that my uterus would hopefully be in a better position to finally meet our baby. Three midwives tried with no success. They told me a number of things could be happening, maybe I'm not as far along as we all thought, maybe my uterus wasn't shaped the way it was supposed and baby is just in a different spot, or maybe I was experiencing what is called a missed miscarriage. I left their center and headed to get an ultrasound. Jacob was at work for the day because we thought I was going to be having an easy check-up and I would be leaving with a video for him so he could meet our baby. When I got to the radiology center and saw what was happening I immediately knew this wasn't good. I spent a long year as a vet tech and have seen lots of ultrasounds. I had lots of pregnant friends and knew what I should see. I have a biology degree and have studied a lot of reproduction. When the tech turned the screen my way I saw my uterus. And I saw where my baby should be and wasn't. She decided she wanted to do a transvaginal ultrasound to be sure. If you know what this is then you know this is the last thing you want to be doing as your fighting back tears waiting for the inevitable. We found that although I was past 12 weeks, my baby stopped developing around week 7. My body still thought (and still thinks as I write this) that I was pregnant. I now have to walk around for who knows how many days still being pregnant and waiting to labor this child. Jake and I spent the day sobbing. Wondering what we could have done differently. I spent my time talking with God. Asking him if he had changed his mind about thinking if I was going to be a good mother. We told our family and friends and bosses that we would be missing for a while. That we were not going to be meeting our sweet baby in April. That our dream was ending for now. And that we wanted some time and space to process. Right now it's 6 am. I've fallen asleep for 2 hours. My mind can not shut off. I can't stop thinking about how this fight isn't over and I still have to “have” this baby. I can't stop thinking about the fact that we already announced because things were good. I was really sick for weeks so that must mean we have a healthy baby. My body still thinks I'm pregnant. I spent 4 hours last night having reflux and puking. But I still have not had a bit of spotting. We haven't taken a step toward “having” this baby. Part of me wonders if I just keep going along like I'm pregnant maybe God will perform a miracle. But most of me doesn't want to hold onto any hope because that would hurt more. It's crazy how quickly the best season of your life turns into the worst.

72 Hours Later: Friday, October 4th

Take day 3. It's been over 72 hours since we found out we lost this baby. I haven't made any progress in “having” this baby. I am angry. And I'm drinking and I'm almost entirely dependent upon my anxiety medication. My husband who never cries is crying a lot and I don't know how to help. I'm ready to have this child, bury this child, and begin to move on. This is the most challenging, devastating, and world-altering. I have so many doubts? Will I ever be able to be a mother? I want to try now, as soon as possible, but Jake's pain is too much to get there now. Will I ever heal from this? Am I capable of going on?

6 Days Later: Monday, October 7th

Yesterday I called my midwife sobbing. I just can't wait for my body to do this anymore. I can't keep walking around like everything is fine with my lifeless angel inside me. Help. I'll get the pill on Tuesday. I'm reading the same scriptures over and over and over. Jake finished a 1000 piece puzzle in 8 hours and didn't sleep last night. I hid in the office at work all day because I can't afford to not be there. Worship music non-stop. Jesus as much as possible. And literal devastation. How can you miss something that's still inside you? We decided to name our baby even though we don't know what it is. Our baby deserves a name. Emerson, it means brave and powerful (I just keep referring to her as Emmie because I had so many dreams about it being a girl). Exactly what our angel is. And exactly what we will have to be these next few months. I'm planning a tattoo of rosemary their purple blooms which signify love and remembrance and I've decided our baby is a honeybee. All my dreams and plans during this pregnancy have been around bees. When I looked up their meaning I found that they extract sweetness from life, and represent abundance, brightness, and personal power. Because of our sweet little baby bee our family will learn all of these things this season. And now, we wait to finally do this tomorrow; have this baby.

Tuesday, October 8th, 11:55 PM

Preparing for a long night ahead as I FINALLY started bleeding. As absolutely devastating as this moment is I'm so relieved to finally let this baby move through my body naturally and I'm it's timing. I was scheduled to pay another $300 tomorrow for another ultrasound for confirmation to get the medication. I am praying to God and have been asking him to let this be the way this happens. So now. At midnight Jacob and I are running to Walmart for freaking incontinence pads for old people. All because we decided we wanted to love each other a little tonight and I guess that's all baby needed. To know Jake and I still love each other. (He will literally hate me for that but guess what most happy marriages have sex lives, it's totally biblical y'all). Part of me feels terrible for celebrating right now and I know it won't feel like this as the pain and bleeding continue but right now, I'm proud of Jake and me for getting through this and so proud of our baby for trying as hard as it could in this short little life.

Wednesday, October 9th, 10:00 AM

Well, I barely bled at all so to the Dr. we go to get this process rolling for real. Last night I held my tummy and told my baby how proud I am of him or her. It fought so hard for this life. And it's fighting so hard to get to the other side of this life. I'm so ready for us all to be at rest and be ready to heal. Jacob and I are realizing how perfect God's timing is. Although we were pretty annoyed when we didn't get to go on our Labor Day cruise I can now see that God perfectly planned this time away for us. I'm believing it's going to be so healing. And it also helps give me perspective that God knows exactly what he's doing with this little babe. They were just too precious to be earthside. I find a lot of comfort knowing we have a personal angel caring for us from above.

Wednesday 5:30 PM

Here we go. Pain. Cramps. Aches. I'm tired already and it hasn't even begun.

Thursday, October 10th, 1:00 AM

3 pills in. I'm finally losing my mind. I just woke up Jake with my crying because I officially feel like I have lost at the game of life. I currently feel insufficient as a wife, a friend, an employee, and especially as a mom. I'm looking back on this year and honestly, it has been the most miserable and lonely year of my life. And this moment has been by far the hardest. There is no pain that can compare to watching pieces and clumps of cells that should have been your child fall out of you. And having to force your body to do it with pill after pill because after 7 weeks it still won't understand that it's not going to have this baby. I don't recognize myself or my life anymore. For the past 8 weeks we've known about this baby I finally felt purposed again. I was working toward a goal. A life that I saw so much fulfillment in. And all of a sudden it's just gone. Nothing can prepare you for these moments. I'm so deeply pressed for anyone who has ever and will ever do this and I'm trying to imagine how I will dig myself out of this. Here's what I know, one, I will not apologize for doing the things that are best for me and two, I will speak up about this experience as much as possible because this baby deserves a memory and this experience deserves to be de-stigmatized. My head is throbbing, my back is throbbing, the pain is so deep in my abdomen that I am nauseous yet nothing else is happening. I'm just exhausted. Physically, Spiritually, Emotionally. I'm fried.

Thursday: 8:30 AM

I was wondering why everyone kept saying you would know when it happened because I really didn't think I would know, but then it happened. Feeling dizzy, nauseous, and a little more empty. I love you little babe.

Friday, October 11th

Today we took what remained of our little and planted a tree. It’s the first thing I see every day when I walk in the door.

Sunday, October 13th - Sunday, October 20th

Time for “vacation” In the photos we took and posted are beautiful mountain ranges, conquered fears, crystal clear oceans, and lots of smiles. On the other side of those photos was a lot of time spent mourning and grieving. While I'm so thankful to have the opportunity to have moments like these it does not change how hard these past few days/weeks have been. I'm so proud of the steps Jacob and I took to enjoy this vacation as much as we could. I'm happy to say we have learned so much and are a stronger couple now than we were just weeks ago. But I would be lying if I uploaded all those smiles and didn't share the tears that were behind them each and every day. At the dinner table. On the beach. At the top of a mountain. There's no convenient time to suffer loss. While others might forget, Jacob and I will not. While others might feel it's time to move on, I'm not ready to. While others think we are supposed to smile, we have to cry. Don't mistake this for a pity party, but understand that miscarriage is excruciating on your mind, body, and soul. It's time we start being more honest with ourselves and others with the state of our hearts. I wanted to shed some light on our week. I wish I could say our vacation was all I hoped for and that I experienced so much healing during this time as I wished I was going to, but I didn't. I hope this encourages someone else today to know that it's ok to not be ok for a while and to be a little more honest with themselves and others about the state of their heart. I'm confident God has a plan for this as he works all together for good.

Monday, October 21st

I went back to work today and spent the night before sleeping a total of 2 hours and having panic attacks all night long. I spent my lunch break having one of the worst panic attacks I ever had, my breathing was so stifled I almost called 911 I was sure I was going to pass out. I walked away into the back office and cried for over an hour because someone asked me if I had kids… I’m feeling like it’s impossible to live in this world now. This whole process and loss hurts more now than it did when I found out or as I was living the miscarriage itself. I am literally dragging myself out of bed day to day as a necessity and 3 times my normal dose of meds still aren't doing the job. So I guess the whole gist of this whole story is… It’s ok to not be ok...

...I struggled with where to end this post because truly the end of this post isn’t the end of this process, but I hope this gives you insight into the brokenness of this process for so many women. I’m happy to answer any and all questions surrounding this devastating situation. Education is power, in all circumstances.

#miscarriage #anxiety #anxious #depressed #depression #hurt #pain #loss #death #hope #Help #jesus

4 notes · View notes

sleepyfan-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Cold Cuddles

continuation of this and this

Discord request from @izzy-the-bizzy

fandom: dreamtale

characters: Dream, Nightmare

pairing: dreammare

word count: 1,334

summary: Dream comes home from a chilly walk and cuddles with his beloved

Dream shivered a little as he walked into his and Nightmare's home, having just come back from the village, as a half-dozen monsters and humans had fallen ill, in part because of the very cold weather that had afflicted the area for the past couple of months. While the snow was beautiful, it seemed to pile up heavily overnight, making it difficult to traverse - and Dream had teleported straight to the center of the village, once he'd gotten the message asking for help. He was the most experienced and powerful healer that any one of the villagers had encountered - or at least that's what they told him. There was a healer in the village - two actually, as well as a young human Green mage, who was apprenticed under both of the monster healers.

Dream had taught both of the monsters everything that he could teach them - but there were certain aspects of what he could do that they... Couldn't. Part of it was that he (when he was fully rested) had a lot more mana than they had at his disposal, another was that his positivity magic allowed him to heal injuries to a monster or human's mind and soul, which the mortal healers were unfortunately unable to do with magic. But by the time that he had finished healing the people who had fallen ill - as there were more than the half-dozen who he had been told about - Dream was too low on magic to teleport home. So he had walked, waving the villagers' concerns away, promising that he'd be able to get home easily on his own, and that he was just delighted to enjoy the winter's walk.

The bad dreams he'd been suffering from were still just as intense as before, but he was having them less often. Dream still couldn't get a full week's rest and was still low on magic, but with his beloved's warm reassurances and gentle touches, the positivity guardian felt as if he was getting better. Nightmare was reading a book on their couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he just looked so adorably cozy and warm, that Dream couldn't resist walking up to the other and wrapping his arms around the other from behind, resting his head on one of the other's shoulders as he said cheerfully "I'm home!"

"Ah! Please don't startle me like that, Dream! and why have you decided to wrap your arms around me like this all of a sudden?" Nightmare grumbled, though there was a warm smile on his face as he pressed a light kiss to one of the other's cheeks.

"Because I just got home from helping the villagers... There's been an illness running through the monsters and humans and the healers there weren't able to heal the sick without it spreading further, so they called me in... Do you mind if I sat in your lap, please? I want to cuddle..." Dream asked, sighing a little as he leaned further into the other's touch.

"I was just about to go check on The Tree - not that I think that there's anyone ridiculous enough to come all this way in this weather to try to steal a golden apple." Nightmare responded, shaking his head a little. "Is there a particular reason why you want to cuddle? You should probably try to sleep, I can barely sense you, and you're literally draped around me."

"But it's cold outside and you're warm! I walked back from the village and the cold soaked into my bones..." Dream cajoled, golden eye lights hopeful as he looked directly at his beloved, enchanted by the other's gentle expression and amused violet eye lights.

Nightmare hummed for a moment before setting aside the book he'd been reading and took off the blanket he'd been sitting beneath "Oh, alright... Although I do wish that you hadn't used so much of your magic helping the villagers. What if you'd collapsed? I... I wouldn't have known unless one of them would have accused me of hurting you somehow."

"I... I'm sorry, Nighty. I... It's just most of the beings who were sick were kids and I... I didn't want them to suffer." Dream confessed, fidgeting a little with his hands and ducking his head, looking away from the other as he made his way around the couch "I promise to be more careful with my magic, while I'm low, okay? I hadn't mean tot overdo it, I promise. There were... It's just there were more sick than the number they said there were when the messenger came."

"I see... You should have came and got me - you know that we can share magic, and though they hate my presence, at least you wouldn't have been quite so drained, and I would have been able to teleport us both home. Even if they might have accused me of being the one to bring the illness on them somehow..." Nightmare pointed out, gently pulling the positive guardian into his lap and wrapping the blanket around the both of them.

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have gone to get you." Dream earnestly apologized, gently pressing a loving kiss to the other's teeth, closing his eyes as he started to warm up, a smile appearing on his face as he relaxed into his mate's embrace. "I love you so much, Nightmare."

The negative guardian smiled in response and pressed a gentle kiss to the other's lips as his arms wrapped more firmly around Dream's waist, his weight and warmth comfortable "I love you very much as well, Dream. I always will."

Dream beamed at that, slowly starting to drift off to sleep, certain that he wasn't going to have another series of miserable dreams, not with his beloved so close and the both of them happy like this. "Thank you, Nighty... I'm really glad that you've been so patient with me though all of this."

"Always, beloved... I know that you try your best to help mediate between me and the villagers whenever they get really... Rude and unfair about me existing and how that is something that they don't think should be..." Nightmare responded, a little bit of a tremble in his voice.

Dream was suddenly wide awake, golden eye lights searching his lover's face as he asked quietly "Have... Have they been after you again?"

"No, not more than normal. None of them have noticed that you're not sleeping well - and I know that they'll blame me for it, if they do ever figure out that you're not at your best." Nightmare responded, a worried frown appearing on his face as he held Dream a little bit closer "... Sorry about bringing that up. I really shouldn't have, and I'm sorry. You should rest. I'll watch over you and the tree."

"Nightmare, listen to me. I'll never show them the slightest bit of weakness, or that I'm not feeling as good as I was before the bad dreams started. I've been able to keep up the cheerful, energetic mask, and I'd never do anything that would put you in danger. I will protect you with everything I am, and everything I have." Dream responded, his voice serious and full of care. "You are the most important person or thing in my life. I mean it. I know what we were crated for, but if you... If something awful ever happened to you, I could never forgive myself for not being there to stop it, to... To try to help you through it."

"I... Thanks, Dream. I love you so very much as well, and you'd tell me if something was bothering you too right?" Nightmare asked, still holding him gently.

"Of course." Dream promised, yawning a little bit as he snuggled into his beloved, starting to drift off again "I'm going to sleep on you, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't. Sleep as long as you need, starlight." Nightmare murmured, voice warm with love and affection.

#dreammare #dream #nightmare #dream sans #nightmare sans

20 notes · View notes

kileyking1985-blog · 6 years ago

Text

I Wanna Be Different

Sometimes we find ourselves in the midst of storms; storms we just don’t seem to understand in our lives. In the midst of all the storms, we often lift prayers up to Jesus and ask him to change those things, to stop those things, to prevent those things from happening. I found myself doing exactly this; asking Jesus to just change and stop the things that were hurting me and tearing my life apart. When those things didn’t change, I found myself with a hardened heart and very angry with the Lord. Recently, I have realized that I was praying the wrong prayers. I shouldn’t have been asking Jesus to change the things, I needed to be praying to God that he changed me so I could handle the storms, the things He wanted me to walk through.

Life has dealt me quite the hand these last few years. I went through heart surgery, lost my biological father in an very tragic and emotional way for me, separation, finding myself and my son without a home of our own and very little money, still loving my husband and trying my best to salvage such a miserable marriage and finally just giving up, then the divorce-one of which I wasn’t ready for and felt extreme guilt because I couldn’t find an answer in the Bible for why the divorce was okay; I lost relationships with my step-children that I raised, I felt myself wondering if I was being the best mother I could be for my own small son, my career even took a beating for a short time, I felt lost and I certainly was. I always heard the saying, “Hurt people, hurt people” and that was something I had become a pro at. I also had this internal battle with the Lord. I was mad, angry, hurt; I had become a person even I didn’t recognize anymore. I tried many times to go back to church and find the healing I needed. I of all people knew that healing was not something I would find on my own. I knew I needed God to help me; but I was so brutally hurt and angry. I was upset with God for promising me so many wonderful things in this life, giving them to me, and taking them away. I felt like He had tricked me and let me fall. In the midst of all my most recent storms, God would knock on my heart, but I wasn’t letting him in. I didn’t want any part of his false promises. As I write this, my heart breaks even thinking that I felt that way even for a short time. See I was raised Christian and was saved many years ago and I knew the truth; I was just in denial and shut God out.

Two weeks ago, I found myself home alone with some time to really just relax for the first time in a long time. I turned on the t.v. because for at least that night, all I wanted to do was “Netflix” and chill. I don’t know how or why, but I came across a movie called Christian Mingle. It was a story about a woman looking for love in all the wrong places. She was dating all the wrong people and none of them represented anything her heart truly longed for. I could relate so well to that movie because I had been there and done that, especially recently. Once I was done watching the movie, I realized it was a message God was sending to me. You will find “the one” when you find Him (the Lord) first. It meant even more than that to me though. I haven’t really desired to be in a true relationship with a man for a while now, but I was missing my relationship with Him (the Lord). I went to bed that night with that movie and Him on my mind.

The next day I had intentions of doing what any normal single Mom does on a Saturday; the dishes were piled up, the laundry overflowed, my toilets needed cleaning, I could almost see the dirt on the floors of my kitchen that needed to be swept, toys were flung from one end of the house to the other, but this Mom needed a break. Something in my heart said, “Slow down Mamma and go get yourself a mani-pedi.” Needless to say it didn’t take much convincing because an hour later I was basking in the aroma of fresh acetone with my feet in a piping hot bowl of water, enjoying the automatic massage chair at a nail salon I had never been to before. If you are a woman reading this, you know when you find a good nail tech, you don’t stray; but for some reason that day I did. After my pedicure was complete, I sat down to get my manicure. The woman sitting beside me sparked up a conversation about how she just got home from New York City because her father had been sick and almost lost his life. She was telling me how truly exhausted she was but how she couldn’t wait to return to her church the next day. I must admit, I was thinking, “Well if I was that tired I wouldn’t worry about church, I would just sleep in.” But as our conversation continued, and she told me more about her personal story, I knew exactly why I was at that particular nail salon, on that particular day, at that particular time. God was again trying to speak to me. I was getting a little annoyed at how many times He was knocking on my heart that weekend but I was remarkably intrigued by this woman’s faith. When I was finished and was leaving the salon, this woman gave me a card with an invitation to attend her church. I mean I have had my own church that I had attended for years and loved, but the last five times I tried to attend I felt nothing during the sermons; my heart had been so closed I felt numb. I smiled and thanked her, and left the salon. As I walked next door to pick up the sushi I had ordered for dinner, I literally stopped and looked up and said this, “God I hear you. I get what you are trying to do. I will go to this church tomorrow, but you better make it good.”

As I entered the church on Sunday morning, I walked in feeling like I was about to waste an hour of my life because I hadn’t felt God touch my heart in a long time. I have never been more wrong in my entire life. The Pastor’s message was about Jesus healing a man with a withered hand. Jesus had called the man to come to him so he could heal his hand. Jesus called the man to open his hand and use it. This man could have doubted God, but he obeyed and the man was healed. I learned so many things that day during the service. I learned that as long as your are trying to conceal it, God is not going to heal it. You can do anything if you have the WILL to do it and you give it to God. I also learned that anger is actually biblical, and feeling anger is okay. What is not biblical is acting on that anger. The Lord certainly knows my own personal struggles with that one. Proverbs 28:14 says, “Happy is the man that fears the Lord, but he with a hardened heart, shall fall into mischief.” I had found myself not fearing the Lord anymore, but instead being completely angry with Him. See people who are aware of their disabilities are the ones who truly feel the real power of God. Disabilities come in many forms; drugs, alcohol, adultery, stealing, lying, physical or mental disabilities, sexual addiction, pornography, etc. Whatever we struggle with and keeps us from having a personal relationship with God, that is a disability. When we confess our disabilities to God, and invite God into our hearts for the healing, the disability loses its power over us.

That church service and the message that was brought unraveled my skin. Until that morning I hadn’t went to the alter to pray in almost 5 years. I will be the first to admit that I was probably one of the biggest hypocrites you had ever met. I would pray and teach my young son about God, I would even attend church sometimes, but I myself wasn’t truly letting the Lord in. I knew God, I believed in Him and his power, but I was so upset with Him. The Pastor gave a call for people to come to the alter to pray if needed and I literally had no control over my own two legs getting up and walking to that alter in front of all these people I didn’t even know. The only way to explain that experience was me feeling like I saw a long lost loved one and I couldn’t run to them fast enough. I got to the alter and tears poured. I could feel the Lord’s presence in my heart for the first time in years and I knew He was with me. He was calling me to come to that alter, and His arms were open so wide. Chills ran down my body as I prayed and let it all go. Someone must have known the pain I was setting free because they came and laid a white cloak on me and prayed with me. It was a very heavy burden I set free to say the least. I apologize to whoever was in that service because the Pastor didn’t dismiss the congregation until I was done praying, and heaven knows I had a lot to pray for. I asked God for many things that day but the most important thing was asking him to forgive me for being angry with Him and shutting him out. I asked him to please come back into my life and for me to feel his presence more than I have ever felt in my life. I am not a crier by any means, but every single day since that day I can’t seem to stop the tears when I hear a certain Christian song or someone tells me their own personal story. The world also looks so different to me; it looks like a beautiful place to live and I see the good in everything. I got up from that alter a different woman, a happy woman, a woman who once again had a purpose. I also rose from that alter with a desire to grow my relationship with the Lord, and put my relationship with a man on hold until God puts the right one in my life and my faith is strong enough to be a good wife to a man.

See people don’t come to know the Lord when they are trial and tribulation free. They come to know the Lord when they have hit rock bottom and allow their heart to feel His presence. The moment someone comes to God and professes, “God, if you are real I am telling you I can’t do this alone. I need you God and I need you right now.” I don’t know why God called me so strongly that weekend, but I am so thankful He did; I am even more thankful that I was obedient. I never want to get back to the place I was without the Lord. It was a lonely, empty place where I didn’t even recognize myself. The Lord knew the perfect message that needed to be preached for my heart to let Him back in, and I heard Him loud and clear. I am not a perfect Christian, I sin just like you do (yes you the person reading this message), but I know I am a child of God and I have began a new journey to grow my relationship with Him.

For the person reading this, know that the Lord is real and He loves you. He wants and desires a relationship with you. In order to feel His presence, you must let those walls down, drop the pride, and just start by praying. He will lead you but you must allow Him to do so. Figure out what your “disability” is, and give it to God. Give it all to Him, and be healed. You will never have a life better than the one you will have with God part of it. And remember, when you pray ask God to change YOU to be strong enough to handle the things He asks you to walk through. “If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.” I promise.

#LifeRededicatedToTheLord ImDifferent SomethingChanged ImFree JesusLovesME

1 note · View note