#I’m sorry but it’s late at night and my palpitations are giving me grief so I’m going to be cranky for a bit

[kicksnscribs]

I like learning about companies like Game Freak being all hush hush about their programming language for “privacy” reasons

Girl you ain’t doing shit with the stuff you have!! Let someone else give it a go, won’t you?

Literally everything that’s been put out (with the exception of maybe ScarVio) has been a basic rehash from Gen 6 onwards with the exception of new models and UIs that need to be made (obviously)

Hell there are people out there that are trying g to make their own version of Pokémon using the handheld assets but I guess the Pokémon Company doesn’t want anybody to see what Pokémon could be so they shoot them down as soon as possible which is incredibly unfair

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Philip | Lean On Me | Romantic

Struck by faintness and anxiety, you find comfort with the man you’re secretly sweet on.

Requested by Katie & Nina (merged similar)

The starry sky above is visible through the roof and it casts a gentle ambiance over the dinner table. It is clear that Nathanael has put a lot of love and effort into designing this year’s hut for Sukkot and you observe it with awe as you take slow sips of wine, enjoying the food and atmosphere. Diagonally across from you sits Philip, causing you to be very much aware of your own movements. What has caused this sentiment of bashfulness around the man in question lately has been a mystery as of now.

“We are so lucky to have an architect in our midst.” Mary of Magdala muses next to you, a soft smile over her lips as she takes a few grapes to eat. “I’ve never sat in such an elaborate sukkah.” 

“Me, neither.” you agree with her. “Our father used to build them in our backyard, but it was nothing like this.” 

Across the table, your brother Andrew snorts a laugh at the mention of abba’s tents during the Feast of Tabernacles. Your eyes glitter with amused nostalgia as you look at him. 

“That was something else.” Andrew breathes, smirking behind his cup of wine. “Remember that one time that it collapsed on us in the middle of the night? Simon had the biggest bump on his forehead the day after.” 

You huff a laugh at the memory, Mary smiling at the idea. 

“I have rarely seen abba so guilty before. Or after, for that matter.” you remark.

“What is that about me?” Simon quips, trying to join the conversation halfway through as he swallows a piece of bread. “I heard my name.” 

For a second, you and Andrew look at one another before bursting out into laughter.

“Nothing— Nothing, just that one year during the Feast of Tabernacles, that we were all sleeping in our hut, when one of the posts suddenly gave way and caused that awful—” You point at your forehead as Simon cuts you off.

“—I thought we agreed to not mention that anymore, (Y/n).” he hisses, directing an annoyed frown your way, “Especially not while in company.” 

You show your palms in defence, Andrew snickering at the scene. Simon glares at him before turning back to his previous conversation with Thomas, clearly not in the mood to talk to his younger siblings anymore about the embarrassing moment in question. 

Mary smiles. “That sounds like quite the experience. My mother tried her best in making our Sukkot feasts good memories, but every time we had a celebration, I just realised how much I missed my abba.” You put a hand on her shoulder and softly squeeze. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

She shrugs and gives a soft hum. “I’m feeling better about it, now. Grief eases overtime, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” you mutter, “But it never fully goes away.” 

For a moment, the part of the table you’re sitting at it silent. You are the first to break said quietness by clearing your throat. “I’m going to get some water. Does anyone want some?” 

“Me, please.” Philip raises his hand. He hadn’t been part of the conversation, but now you are forced to face him head-on. Trying to keep down your shyness, you give him a gentle nod. 

“Anyone else?” you ask with a voice pitched higher than usual, causing you to once again clear your throat. 

The others shake their heads and you wiggle back on the bench to get up.

The moment you arise however, everything tilts on its axis for just a second. Your head suddenly spins as you close your eyes, irritation furrowing your brow together at how you could have forgotten that you shouldn’t stand too quickly—

“—(Y/n), is everything alright?” Mary asks worriedly, looking up at you. You hold up a hand for her to remain seated before using it to balance yourself a little. 

“I’m— I’m fine. I… I’ll be fine.” 

Andrew gives you a concerned one-over. “You look shaky. I— I thought it was under control somehow. How often has this been happening again lately? The dizzy spells? The heart palpitations?” 

“I said I’ll be fine.” you reassure them, “I’ll be right back.” You step over the bench to head outside, walking towards the table where Thaddeus and Little James had displayed all the beverages quite nicely, and grab the jug of fresh water as well as two cups to pour it into. The first cup is filled up easily, but halfway through the second one, you feel your vision suddenly blur a bit, a faint feeling coming over you. 

It causes the cup to spill over, but when you don’t respond to the water pouring all over your hand, you hear Andrew concernedly call out for you somewhere behind you. “(Y/n)!” 

You don’t even hear his footsteps approach you as your blood rushes inside your ears, your heart starting to pump painfully inside your chest. You drop the cup and step away from the table, only barely caught by your brother. “Oh— Easy— Take it slow— Don’t panic— Get—Get Jesus— Get Jesus!” 

Andrew’s panic only fuels your own as you sit in the grass, disoriented with a spinning head. Short of breath, you gently push him away. 

“Andrew, just— Don’t hold on so tight—” 

“Here, let me.” Simon urges, crouching down in front of you in order to get you to look up at him. “Can you hear me, (Y/n)? Hello? Can you stand up? Answer me.” He waves in front of your face and you slap away his hand, trying to focus on your breathing for your breast aches the quicker your heart beats. “Can you try to stand up? See if your legs work?” 

“—Guys.” A voice way calmer suddenly sounds, although it does not belong to Jesus. “Give the poor woman some space, will you?” Philip steps into your peripheral view as you look up, your head spinning so badly that you’re seeing double. A few gasps are heard from the tent and you realise that you’ve likely got an audience. “Don’t gawk,” Philip tells them, “Just stay inside and we will be back whenever she feels better.”

He silently sits down in front of you, not touching, just kindly keeping an eye on you.

“(Y/n), it’s Philip. Try to calm your breathing, alright? In through the nose, out through the mouth. You’re having a dizzy spell again. Don’t say anything, don’t stand up. Just sit here for a while. I’ll continue to speak to you. Try to focus on my voice, okay? Andrew is fetching Jesus for you. I believe He is currently on a walk with His mother.” Philip gives your brother a look, who gets the hint and rushes off, Simon in tow. “He will be here shortly. In the meantime, focus on your breathing. In… Out… In… Out…” 

You can hear him standing up, seeing his feet walk past you as he reaches the table behind you. You move to turn around and face him, but Philip already speaks up. “I’m here, don’t look at me, just keep looking down. I am getting you some water.” He grabs the cup you had originally filled for him and sits down on the ground again, gently bringing it into your hands, making sure to wrap your fingers around it so it sits snugly inside your palms. You try to take steady breaths, slowly sipping from the clay cup. The water is cool and eases your nerves somewhat.

“There you go. Nice and slow.” 

The timbre of his voice is pleasant as you smile gratefully, daring to let your eyes flicker up to meet him sitting in front of you. He gently smiles, patiently waiting for you to gather yourself, not rushing you in the slightest. Your breathing calms slowly but surely as you watch him. He mirrors a breathing pattern that works for you, making it easier for you to follow. In through the nose, out through the mouth. A blush spreads over your face at how kindly he’s looking after you without anyone asking him to.

“How are you feeling?” 

“A little better.” you say, still slightly out of breath. “My heart is still beating very fast.” 

Philip hums. “Just stay down for a while longer, then. Give yourself time to recover. Do you have any idea what caused your sudden spell of dizziness and panic?” 

You give a small shake of your head. “No. I was just having a good time at the feast, getting some water, and… It suddenly happened without warning. Perhaps I stood up too quickly back at the table, that sometimes causes these sudden attacks of faintness and heart palpitations. It’s not the first time, as you know.” 

A brief silence as Philip registers your words and thinks about what to say next. 

“I know you take good care of yourself, (Y/n). Out of your siblings, you’re the most reasonable and responsible.” You chuckle at his lighthearted comment. The knot of panic in your gut is starting to loosen up, disappearing slowly but surely as you speak to Philip. “Would you be comfortable with it if I checked up on you more often, to make sure you don’t put a strain on yourself?” 

Smiling softly, you nod at him. “Please. I’d… I’d really appreciate that, honestly.” 

Philip gives you a curt nod. “Of course. Your wellbeing is important to me.” You feel a sense of peace at the notion of him caring about you. 

The longer you sit with him, the more you calm down, feeling your panic melt away as time goes by. Your heart slows back down into its usual rhythm. When Andrew and Simon run back with Jesus right behind them, you already feel way more at ease. Philip stands without saying a word, giving the Messiah some space to tend to you. 

The two of you meaningfully look at one another for a brief moment, your heart pleasantly swelling at his smile, until the sight of Jesus’ soft eyes meets you instead. He hums knowingly, cradling your face in His hand as His other comes to rest on your shoulder. “Are you feeling better, My child? Your brothers came to me in quite a panicked state.” 

“I think they’ve got it worse than I do.” you admit in spite of your earlier anxiety. 

“You had someone looking after you very kindly.” He says, his grin growing a bit. “So, how are you doing now?” 

“I’m doing fine, Teacher. Thank You for coming to check up on me.” 

Part of you wants to ask — to request Him to heal you — but part of you is hesitant about it. It’s not that you’re afraid that He would deny you, but you still feel like a burden doing it. You have the privilege of travelling beside the Messiah and have spoken to Little James about the topic of chronic illness quite a lot, and part of you had already made peace with it to begin with. 

“I understand,” Jesus tells you as if He can read your mind; you are convinced that He actually can, since He is the Messiah and all. “I know your thoughts and feelings, (Y/n).” 

“It’s alright,” you whisper, “I’ll be fine regardless of it. What You said to Little James actually helped me, too. Even if not in this life, this is just a speck, right? And in spite of this, I will follow You.” 

Jesus hums, a thoughtful look shining in His dark irises. “I know it isn’t easy for you regardless.” He tells you. 

“I have a good friend to look after me.” you muse. Jesus smiles gently. 

“Just a good friend, huh?” He says. Of course He knows your heart and Philip’s just as much. “It is good to see the two of you be friendly with one another. Keep each other close and let the Father do the rest.” 

Your heart rears inside your chest. 

“Now, take it easy.” Jesus tells you before standing again. Instead of reaching out for you to help you stand, He steps aside to look at Philip. The man in question takes a moment to piece together what the Messiah’s intention is, until Jesus nods towards your still-seated form. Philip takes a deep breath and approaches, holding out a hand in your direction. With clammy palms, you take it, allowing him to help you up. As he hoists you to your feet, you nearly lose your balance again, causing him to gently grab your elbows to steady you. 

“Oh!” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m way better. Thank you.” 

Philip clears his throat. “Would you… Um… Would you like to take a walk? Maybe some fresh air, away from the crowd, will do you some good.” You breathlessly blush, look at your brothers, at Jesus, back at Philip as they all await your answer. 

“I’d really like that, actually.” Philip lets out a sigh of relief as you accept his offer.

Jesus smiles as He watches the two of you walk off. Simon leans towards Andrew, his voice reduced to a whisper as their eyes focus on you and Philip head to the outskirts of camp to enjoy a nightly stroll. “Do you think we should prepare for… You know?” 

Andrew hums. “Honestly, I think Philip is doing a better job than we are in supporting our sister. I think we would be quite lucky to have him as our brother-in-law, to be honest.” 

Simon can’t argue with that, crossing his arms as him and Andrew observe the two shadows strolling past the horizon, feeling a sense of peace come over him at the sight. 

[we-survive-endlessly]

Word vomit about my poor mental state below, feel free to ignore 😬👍

I have literally been so stressed lately that my skin picking is out of control and I’m having heart palpitations. Dealing with grief, my dog being sick again, work stress, life stress, stress and sadness about the state of the world, like my body just can’t take it.

There’s so much I could say about my job. I recently went to my supervisor about the fact that my coworker who I share an office with sleeps all day. Which was really scary and hard for me, but it’s damaging my uncle’s company and the stores she is supposed to be paying the bills for are super behind because of it. Like getting three to four vendors a DAY reaching out about past due bills. Anywho my supervisor said she would take care of it but now our hr person is leaving which will dump a lot more work on everyone and I doubt anything is going to change. They’re also training me on payroll with the expectation that I’ll be able to do it by myself when the person that trains me goes out of town in like a month. Meaning that NO ONE that will be there will know how to do it or help me if weird situations come up. So now I’m stressing about that.

I was just given a promotion that came with a $4 raise which is amazing. Like I’m now making $6 more than when I started and I haven’t even been there a year which should really excite me but all I can think about is the fact that I still don’t make enough to live on my own and that the average salary needed to live comfortably alone in California is $80,000 a year which I am nowhere near. I’m almost 28, and I still live at home with no expectations of being able to move out anytime soon. Every Sunday night I want to cry because I can’t believe the weekend is over and I have to go to work again tomorrow and I’m going to have to do this probably for the rest of my life because retirement seems like a pipe dream if we even have a society or liveable world when I get to that age anyways.

I see what is going on in the world both in other countries and with people I care about here and I cry every day because while I do what I can to help it never feels like enough and I have to listen to family members with just the most awful thoughts and opinions. We live in a world where the people in charge don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything so long as they get paid and I’m TIRED.

My future, the future in general, feels hopeless. Utterly and completely hopeless. And yet here I am. I’ll go to bed early tonight to try to calm the panic in my chest and escape into my dreamland, even though going to bed early just makes tomorrow feel like it comes even faster, and I’ll go to work. Just like I do every weekday. I’ll pretend like everything is fine. Like my coworker sleeping all day doesn’t infuriate me to the point of feeling physically ill. I’ll come home and take care of my dog and then instead of cleaning or exercising or doing any of my hobbies or anything else that I want to do, I’ll just scroll my phone because I’m too tired to do anything else. Maybe I’ll eat dinner, maybe I’ll just go to bed because I’m too nauseous to eat. And I’ll repeat. For the rest of my life because this shit is never ending.

Anyways, if any of you read this, I’m sorry it’s so negative and depressing. I’ve really been trying to tell myself the things that I would tell a friend who felt this way but it’s just not working. I’m just in a really awful hopeless place and I’m sorry.

[bipolyjack]

so a while ago ari sent me two prompts to choose from for karek and valinder, and i wrote the first one myself. the second one ended up being a collaboration between me and giddy, since aal valinder is his character (he wrote all of valinder’s bits, i wrote all of karek’s). both of these take place after this one. they’re kinda sequential, so read em in order if ur confused. the prompt, i believe, was  “No. Don’t you dare shut me out!”

Not many people came to the Room of a Thousand Fountains this late in the night cycle.

That was why Karek liked it, particularly when he wasn't looking for the company of his peers. Valinder didn't count, of course, but the other apprentices tended to put out so much energy, and Karek was tired. Down to his bones, he was tired. Too tired to sleep.

He had wedged himself in among the smooth roots in the assari grove, back against the trunk, eyes closed. Breathing. Trying to match his pulse to that of the tree, to be one with the flow of its life force. Anything to take his mind off of his Master's hand cooling and stiffening in his grasp.

It had been only a few days since her death, and in that time he had spoken to hardly anyone other than Valinder, and to him only briefly. It took so much effort. Everything did.

It was not often in their enduring friendship that Aal had to wonder where Dav was.  Perhaps that was because they had very few secrets between them.  No, that wasn’t entirely true.  They hadn’t hidden a single secret from each other, ever.  Not one.

So even when Dav was as a ghost - silent, pale, willing himself to disappear - Aal wasn’t long to find him.  Master Tor’ath at told him to let him be to meditate on the matter as he had also instructed Aal to do, but...Dav had never been alone before.

Also in the throws of grief, Aal was unsure what to say.  Instead, he watched his brother’s face a moment, hovering at the edge of the glade.  After a moment he spoke softly ��...brother?”

It would have been difficult for Karek to miss Valinder’s approach, attuned as he was to the assari grove and everything in it, but as the other boy spoke to him, his sense of connection to the tree’s roots, its leaves rustling in the artificial breezes, the other trees, all narrowed and shrank until only Valinder’s voice was left, his warm pulse.

He didn’t want Valinder to see him this way. Tired, a faint crease between his brows and at the corner of each eye, and each eye darkly bruised underneath from lack of sleep. Tracks of long-dried tears on his cheeks. He looked bad, and he knew it.

Although if he were honest with himself, it was he who didn’t want to see Valinder. Didn’t want to be treated gently, to be looked at with the pity he sensed from the other Jedi in the Temple when they looked at him. Iridan Solai had been well liked and respected as a Master and a kind teacher; many grieved her loss, and Karek knew he shouldn’t resent them for it. But they didn’t know her like I did, he thought again, and again reminded himself, it is not your place to deny them their grief.

“Does sleep elude you as well, my friend?” He kept his voice calm, pitched no louder than it would have been if Valinder had stood at his side. He knew Valinder would hear.

“Not if I did not will it to be so.”  Aal matched his comrade’s tone.  An odd, dissonant thing it was when both their bodies were sending off strong signals of distress.  Though Aal was working to sooth his heart, every syllable he ventured was triggering nervous palpitations.  Why did he feel as though he were on the verge of misspeaking, of Dav scolding him?  He’d never felt an ache from the other boy like this, nor the possibility that Dav would not want his company.  “I haven’t seen you since...well, all day.  I thought I might find you here.”

It took a moment of uncharacteristic length for Karek to formulate his response, for there were many things he could say that would hurt his friend, and he was determined to never do that. You know very well you can find me here whenever I am unable to find sleep. I came to be alone. I came to forget, if I could, that I watched my Master die in front of me because I could not save her. Because you might have been able to save her, but you were not there. For her, or for me. Not your fault, but all the same, she is dead and I do not want to see you at this moment and I have never not wanted to see you and I hate it.

Karek drew in a breath - not a steady one - and tried to imagine the exhaustion and irritation flowing out of him along with the contents of his lungs. “I’ve been practicing meditation,” he said simply, in the end, because it was both true and not strictly an invitation.

The repulsion Aal was feeling from Dav was so palpable, it was almost physical.  Nevertheless, Aal had planted his feet firmly, his stance confident he should be there.  Though his discomfort was telling him otherwise...leaving Dav alone did not seem right.  Tor’ath did not know him the way Aal did, and...despite the Council seeming sure Dav would be ready to face the Trials, how could they not see he was still in need of guidance?

There was still so much they had to learn: things they did not know.  It was not fair Dav should have his lifeline cut so suddenly.  “I shall join you.”  Dav wouldn’t like that, but Aal didn’t care.  Why should Dav have to be alone?

Well, he couldn’t stop him. Once Valinder decided something, Karek’s protests never seemed to matter. He closed his eyes; he didn’t need his sight to know Valinder’s exact position among the assari roots, or the way he folded his legs beneath himself as he sat and arranged the long skirt of his tunic.

“Did Tor’ath send you?” As soon as he spoke the words, he realized how accusatory they sounded. Did he send you to watch me? To calm me, to distract me from my grief? Am I not allowed to grieve?

Aal could feel the resonance in his chest from his low laugh.  “And when has my master ever sanctioned my midnight wanderings, eh?”  The laugh faded from him a little faster than normal at his brother’s antipathy.  “Don’t direct your anger at him, brother.  I am the one who missed your company.”

Despite himself, Karek smiled. “I suspected as much. Forgive me. I would have thought my company would be less than desirable at present.”

“Am I to care less about you because you are in mourning?” Aal asked quietly.  “You shouldn't say such things.”  Because they stung.  “I would have hoped you did not think so little of me, brother.”

“Forgive me,” Karek said again, softer this time. And, after a breath and a pause, “You know there are few beings of whom I think more.”

“Forgiven.  For your flattery.”  Aal smiled, and gave Dav a gentle shove on the shoulder, then his hand stayed there.  “Dav.  How are you?”

“Well enough. I did not drink the poison.”

He should make Valinder take his hand away. He didn’t want to do what he knew he would inevitably do, which was let all his focus fall onto the warmth of his friend’s palm and let that awareness chase everything else out of his mind. Karek wasn’t sure when he had formed this dangerous habit, of focusing in absolutely on Valinder’s touch, his vital warmth. It must have been sometime recent - perhaps that moment in the medbay of their transport ship, when he had pulled Valinder up onto the cold metal bed and clung to him and cried, and then ultimately turned his face away and fallen asleep with the heat of his brother’s body at his back.

Karek did not ask Valinder to take his hand away.

Such a biting comment was unlike Dav, and it unnerved Aal slightly.  “Yes.  And I am glad you did not.”  Why would he say such a painful thing?  “You know it was not an exchange for your life or your master’s.”

Karek shook his head, impatient that Valinder would misunderstand him so entirely. “I tried to do what you did. When I was poisoned. I couldn’t do it, Aal. I felt her dying, and I couldn’t stop it.” His voice had started to waver, and he sprang to his feet, pacing away from the tree and its embracing roots.

Opening his eyes, Aal watched Dav go.  He could give him that much space, at least.  “Most venerated masters can't achieve stasis.  You know that, too.”

“I know, but you can, you could have - if the Council hadn’t separated us, you could have been there, if the pirates hadn’t come, if we hadn’t been on comm silence, if -”

Aal stood up slowly, closing the space between them while Dav was talking.  “It doesn't matter if I could have or not, brother.  That's not what happened.”

Karek wasn’t sure why he had bothered with the what ifs when he knew how little patience Valinder had for them. “I know. I’m - sorry.” He didn’t turn around as Valinder drew up behind him. He could feel the beginnings of tears pricking at his eyes again, and while Valinder had certainly seen him cry plenty of times, this time, for some reason, Karek was ashamed.

Feeling Dav on the verge of that emotional brink was stabbing Aal, too, and he wrapped his arms around the other boy, resting his head on his shoulder.  “Dav.  Dav, I'm so sorry,” his voice was quivering, he was shaking.

Karek didn’t want to turn around and see his own pain reflected in the eyes of his dearest friend, so he bore the one-sided embrace, hands clenched into fists at his side, head bowed. My friend, I cannot comfort you too. I cannot even comfort myself. “What do I do?” he whispered, and a tear fell from the end of his nose.

“I suppose we'll take our trials now,” Aal mumbled into Dav's tunic.

He shook his head. “You may be ready, Aal, but I’m not.”

“Is the Council giving you time?” Aal lifted his head.  “They say patience is my virtue.  I can wait.”

“I don’t know.” Karek made an effort at leveling his voice, helped along by the comforting weight of Valinder’s arms around him. “I have yet to be summoned.”

“Solai was a second master to me,” Aal continued, choked, and tightened his arms, “It is as a large window left open, wide, and I cannot close it.  So cold.”  In every way that Tor’ath was stringent and unyielding with Aal, Solai had been warm and understanding; she had been their mother.  He had wept bitterly when Tor’ath had given him the news, though the man had not left him to it long.

Valinder’s aching grief swept over Karek with the strength of a summer storm. He knew exactly the feeling his brother described, and when he turned at last in Valinder’s arms, he saw the exact mirror of his own grief, just as he had expected. Why should he have thought, even for a moment, that he and Valinder might feel differently about something they so closely shared.

Karek opened his mouth, his fingers flexing against Valinder’s upper arm, but it took him several attempts before he could speak. “I know. I’m sorry.”

At this, he felt a resurgence of the sorrow both of his own and from his empathy.  Aal wept openly on his brother's shoulder, taking a moment to give Dav a half-hearted nudge on the chin and said, “You should have let me see you sooner, you fool.”

Perhaps the only thing Aal could offer was his eloquence, or his slightly more apt ability to give name to his feelings, but he knew he would have done his brother more good than naught.

Hiding his wet face against Valinder’s neck, Karek nodded miserably. I know.

Hadn’t it always been this way for them? On every one of the rare occasions that Karek mistakenly decided to shut his brother out, for whatever reason, it hurt both of them and made things worse. Why hadn’t he learned that lesson by now, with both of them on the cusp of Knighthood? Assuming they both passed the trials, they would be separated far more often, flung to the far corners of space on whatever missions the Council chose for them. One day they could very well both have their own Padawans to train and care for and take with them out into the vastness of the galaxy, and they would have to rely on their bond within the Force to stay connected to one another.

Clinging to Valinder now, with his face in the other boy’s neck, Karek could not even conceive of separating himself from this, his lifeline. “Aal,” he said in a voice rough from crying and shaky with the weight of what he intended to say. “What if neither of us attempt the trials? What if we just - leave?” Then the life of the Jedi would not keep us apart.

Even as he spoke, he knew he asked the impossible.

“Dav, we - ” Aal began, astonished, but stopped when he saw Dav's face.  He was serious.  He meant that.  Forgo all their training and comrades and abandon the purpose behind it all.

“Brother.  You aren't in your right mind.”  With a knuckle, Aal altered the course of the stream running down Dav's cheek.  “Wait before you decide.”

Why he said this rather than refusing the boy, he couldn't say.  Perhaps Aal would do it later.

“Here.  You must be exhausted.  Come.”  Taking Dav's hand, Aal guided him back to the roots of the tree and settled down with Dav beside him, a secure arm around his brother's shoulders.  They had slept like this on occasion many years ago as younglings.  It had been quite some time and the fit was far more snug, but it was familiar and comfortable.

“You won't spend a night on your own until you're ready, brother.”

How had he known? How had Valinder guessed that Karek had yet to sleep through the night since Solai’s death, alone in the quarters he and his Master had shared, lying awake on his side and staring at the space where the second sleep couch had been? Yes, the cloud of fatigue that had settled heavily over him would be noticeable to anyone, but Valinder had, as always, guessed the exact thing that had been bothering him immediately. Karek sniffed and drew his sleeve across his face, smiling a little. “What does Tor’ath have to say about that?”

“Peh,” Aal waved a hand, “Something stern, I’m sure.  But he will forgive me, of this I am equally sure.”

“Yes, he always seems to.” Valinder had never shown much remorse when scolded, by Tor’ath or anyone else. He genuinely believed, in most things, that the action he had taken had been the most just, the best he could have done under the circumstances. The only time Karek had seen a scolding touch him was on the ship back from the mining conflict, after he had put Karek’s poisoned body into stasis - a forbidden technique. Then, Valinder had been miserable, more upset than Karek had ever seen him.

Karek could feel his mind slowing down, his tense muscles relaxing, with every moment he spent in his friend’s embrace. His eyelids began to fall shut. “Thank you, Aal,” he mumbled, letting his head rest against Valinder’s. Time enough to think on the future later.

Aal put a hand on the back on his brother’s head, listening to his breathing growing steady.  His gaze was upwards, staring at nothing in particular, lost in thought.

Perhaps it was best the two of them postponed that discussion for a time.  They were both emotionally vulnerable, and could be tempted to decide...rashly.  It was important to consider all the years they had spent disciplining their minds and bodies, and the good they were meant to uphold.  There were going to be many battles they would face to advance the cause of the light, and there were so many lives depending on them following through.

Yes, there were more lives than the one belonging to the boy - well, he supposed they were very nearly men now - on his chest.  He had to remember that.

Postponing that conversation wasn’t entirely for Dav’s sake.  Aal knew his own mind, and if he had made it up that night, he wouldn’t be swayed by later logic.

And he couldn’t help but wonder at the fact that when Dav had pondered leaving, he had envisioned them doing it together.  Aal could not have seen it any other way.

[swtltlmrvlgrl]

Love and Let Love (Part 2)

Love and Let Love Masterlist

Warning/s: Angst (?), Break-up, Betrayal, A few fluff moments, Panic Attack, Language, Mention of death

A/N: Part 2 guys! So this turned out longer than I thought. A little trivia for you: I tried to incorporate the five stages of grief in this story. (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression then Acceptance) The first part had a tinge of denial there, now for this part, it’s anger. This part is kind of difficult, but I’ll be happy if you read to the end. I’m also excited to let you read the next parts (Probably 2 – 3 more parts)! I promise you they’re way better than this one! (Y/N = Your Name; L/N = Your Last Name)

Number of Words: 1,939

It suddenly became quiet. The rain stopped and the light from the street lamp turned dim. A voice breaks the silence.

“Hi.”

His voice sounds tired, it sounds as if he’d been running the whole day. You move your head up to acknowledge the man. And for the third time that day, you find yourself gazing at the familiar set of blue piercing eyes.

He is looking down at you, while holding an umbrella in his right hand.

Oh.

You realize that the rain didn’t really stop - he was sheltering you from the rain, and on the process he also covered a part of the street lamp. The two of you were just staring at each other, and in an attempt to break the awkward silence, he started to speak.

“I – I’m – uhm – I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

You blink – confused and uncertain.

What? Who in the right mind would introduce himself to a lady, crying in the middle of the park?

He clears his throat. “We’ve actually met - a while ago. Technically, we didn’t MEET. But we bumped into each other twice today.”

Annoying.

“Look. Uhm. Steve Rogers” you wipe the trail of tears on your face and gaze at the umbrella he’s holding. “I appreciate the gesture, but you can go now. Thanks.” You return to your position before he disturbed you - your body curled and cup your face in between your knees.

Your rudeness didn’t even make him budge. He remained standing there, planted like a tree in front of you.

He sighs.

He’s giving up.

But he isn’t.

You feel a cold metal touch your shoulders and your knees. He placed the umbrella on top of you and then proceeds to sitting beside you.

You’re too tired to move and look up at him again. But he has to leave – you want him to leave.  So putting a lot of effort to sound annoyed, you speak up. “What are you doing?”

Silence.

“Leave me alone.”

“Look. You’re crying and you’re clothes are wet from the rain in the middle of a PUBLIC park.” He paused. “You’re not in the mood for small talks, okay, I respect that. But I’m also not in the mood to leave you here. Alone. So whether you like it or not, I’m staying here. ”

Annoying.

You don’t even want to care anymore. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Apparently, what Steve wants was to talk (Why are you not surprised?) For the first few minutes, he talked about his old neighbor who owns plenty of cats, and that sometimes the old lady would ask him to take off the cat fur all over her sweater. Then he talked about how weak he was as a kid.  He was so weak and frail that one doctor told his mother that he’d die at the age of ten. But then, a strange miracle happened, and his still living at this time at the age of 27.

He kept talking and talking, and most of the time you didn’t bother to listen. But one story caught your attention.

“I had a dog once, when I was a kid.” He starts. “Every day at exactly 6 o’clock, he would wake me up. My mom can’t... because she has work. You know, late nights and early mornings – I was usually left alone at home.” His voice sounded so lonely, it was sorrowful – it was longing. “One day, he didn’t wake me up. I looked at the clock, it was 10 a.m. and I was extremely late for school. I dashed out of my room and I was actually planning to scold him. But then, all the anger that I had disappeared when I saw him lying there a few steps from my bed room door – dead and motionle -  ”

You shoot your head up and your sudden movement cut him off. The umbrella covering you a while ago is now on the ground

“Name.” you demand, as you look intently into his eyes.

“What’s the dog’s name?” you said - suddenly aware of your abrupt movements, you take your eyes away from him.

Steve chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” You look at him.

He stops laughing, but you can still see how amused he is. “I’m sorry. Benedict. The dog’s name was Benedict.”

“Oh.” You motion towards the umbrella to pick it up, and then you realize something.

There’s only one umbrella.

The whole time that Steve was talking to you, telling stories (more than half of it you didn’t even listen to), Steve was literally under the pouring rain – and you were under his umbrella.

The rain slowly came to a stop. As your vision became clearer, the image of Steve shivering from the cold weather and his warm smile became clearer too.

Annoying.

While folding the umbrella, you can feel Steve’s eyes searching you – you can feel him observing you. And you were sure that beneath the puffy red eyes and the visible trails of tears on your face, he can see that you feel guilty.

With your eyes still fixated on the ground, you apologize. “I’m sorry. I was too consumed about my feelings ...” You pause to look at him. “...that I forgot about yours.”

“You know, it was my choice to stay here and give you the umbrella. So you don’t need to - ”

“Still!” You look down. “I’m sorry.”

He sighs. “It’s getting late, and we’re both soaked.  Let’s just call it a night. I’ll take you home and make sure you’re safe”

Home.

The sound of it made your heart ache – you place your right palm on your chest with the hopes that it could patch up the pieces of your broken heart.

“I don’t have a home.”

He paused for a moment. “Okay. How about a hotel?”

That sounded like a plan for you, but you only had your phone and your keys in your pocket – no wallet.

Steve raised an eyebrow when he saw the look on your face after you inspected your pockets.

He scratches his nape.

“Some luck we have here.” He exhales. “I only have a few spare changes with me right now, and I don’t think this’ll be enough for a hotel. This may sound really awkward, but... Do you want to stay at my place?”

Steve is a complete stranger, but you can’t see the reason why you can’t trust someone who had been nothing but kind to you. His voice was stable but you can see his hands quivering, if he doesn’t change his clothes soon, he’ll definitely get sick.

“Let’s just go to your apartment.”

A few minutes passed, and you found yourself standing in front of an apartment door.

Room 315.

“We’re here.” Steve unlocks the door and leads you inside. “Welcome? I’m sorry. I didn’t expect a visitor, so everything’s a mess.” He points at the wooden stool by the dining table “You can take a seat there. I’ll just fix things up for you.”

You stride to the chair, and sat down.

Then, you realize.

You’re alone again.

You feel it again - the void in your chest.

But this time, there was no more Steve and his stories – no more Steve and his warm smile.

It’s just you.

Alone.

You try to relax, but you can’t. You’re chest feels like it’s about to burst open, your heart is burning and holding won’t make it feel a bit better. You can’t breathe. Inhale. Exhale. But something’s blocking the air’s pathway – it’s as if your lungs suddenly decided to stop functioning. Inhale. Exhale. You can hear your heart beating. You’re palpitating and your vision’s turning blurry. No air. It won’t enter. The air.

Is this what a broken heart feels like?

In your struggle to find air, you fall from your chair.

Thud! You hit the chair with your right foot. Thud!  The chair hits the table. THUD! Then it hits the floor.

Steve went out of his room. “What’s happening there?”

Then, he saw you gasping for air. The sight of your pale face, made him throw the things that he was holding and dash towards you.

His voice was inaudible, but you can see his lips moving and you can vaguely feel his grip on your shoulders. His grip felt protective and secure.

“Hey! Hey!” He was shaking your limp body.

“Look at me. Look at me!” He was moving your body, he was desperate. “Come on, doll. Talk to me.”

Your eyelids were becoming heavier and you can feel that Steve was looking more desperate, by the second.

Bright. His eyes are bright.

And yet again, you found yourself gazing at his blue eyes – it was bright and calming. Steve might’ve notice your change in demeanor – your color less pale and your body more steady.

“Doll. Can you hear me?”

You nod.

“Good. Good. Good. Okay.” He fixes your position, his hands still on your shoulders. “I want you to breathe with me. Okay?”

He inhales.

You inhale with him.

He exhales.

You exhale with him.

And soon enough, your vision became clearer and heart is beating slower. With Steve’s help, you try to stand and sit on the chair.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You take a deep breath.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” You pause. “Sorry about that.”

Saying that Steve is always looking at you, might be the biggest understatement of the century. But it doesn’t seem like he wants answers to his questions, he just seem genuinely worried. You feel bad. You were extremely rude to him and quite frankly, out of all the people in the world, he deserves an explanation to all of the things that’s been happening. But you’re scared because explaining to him also means reliving the things that happened. Explaining to him will open fresh wounds.

The clothes that suddenly appeared in front of you cut you off of your thoughts. “You can change to these.” He then hands you a blow dryer. “You might also need these to dry. The restroom’s that way”

The way he smiles at you, and the way he worries for you. How can someone so kind exist? You grab the clothes and you start to walk to the restroom.

“Doll.”

You look back. “Doll? Is that supposed to be me?”

“Breathe in.” He inhales, and holds his breath. Then he exhales. “Breathe out.”

He smiles. You smile back.

A few minutes later, you step out of the restroom wearing an all-blue ensemble of sweatshirt and pants. You find Steve, now wearing a different set of clothes (blue fitted shirt and gray pants), sitting at the stool opposite the one that you were sitting on a while ago. Two cups of coffee lay on the table, one of which, Steve was already drinking.

You sit in front of him and grab the cup of coffee. He slowly looks at you.

“I’m sorry you had to wear that.”

You clear your throat. “Steve.” You take a sip from your hot coffee. “I’m sorry abo – about all of this.”

He finishes his cup. “You can take my bed for the time being.” He stands up and started walking towards the sink behind you. “I think we should rest now. It’s been a long day.”

He pats your head, and you are taken aback. You are in awe.

Annoying.

His kindness is annoying.

He stops and pulls his hand away. The suddenly urge to hold him, made you grab him by the wrist.

He deserves more than this.

“Y/N” You pause and let his wrist go. “My name’s Y/N L/N”

Next

A/N: You can expect deeper conversations between the reader and Steve. Since I like writing deep dialogues, I love writing that part! :D

I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @smilexcaptainx @lowkeybuckytrash @imperialnova @sebbys-girl @harleyqueen7@brighterlights @lilasiannerd @bellastellaluna @violentlyfarts @imyourliquor-youremypoison @sarahwroteathing @knitting-nerds @sailorchibimoonunicorn @ilovebeingjoyful @ballerinafairyprincess @natalienicole12347 

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[drjammz]

Hello, we haven't talked much lately, but I admire you so much for continuing to survive, I've just recently broke up with my boyfriend whose relationship had been going on for almost 4 years and it feels like the world doesn't make any sense, but seeing you keeping on surviving gives me hope that grief is temporary and that even though it hurts, we keep on healing, and I hope you're healing too

I just want to start by saying this is one of the sweetest anons I’ve ever gotten. Next, I’ve written just a way in-depth thing to peek at at your leisure. It’s a lot because I can sometimes be a Talky Tim, but I hope you read it.

I’m sorry you and your boyfriend broke up. I know that seems really weak, but know when I say it that I mean it. A human connection and an entire lifestyle have been ripped from you, and I absolutely 4000% know how absolutely garbage that feels.

I know people usually end up giving unsolicited advice around this point, and if it’s OK I’d love to try and help with some empathetic advice.

First and foremost, it’s going to be incredibly, INCREDIBLY easy to wallow. The situation sucks, your new one sucks, and,as you said, nothing in the world makes sense right now.

That’s OK. It is going to next to impossible to tell yourself that, but it is. You’re not this infallible Metatron, you’re human and it’s absolutely OK for something to suck beyond any reasonable meaning and you can let it without letting it consume you.

Another thing I wanted to address is the grief is temporary. It’s not that it’s temporary, it’s that the intensity of grief is temporary. It’s said a lot, but every day does make it a little easier to accept. There are a lot of days where some situations for me still hurt, but, again, I try not to let it consume me.

Something that definitely helped me that might be worth trying is that for a lot of it… I suppress a lot of things, so usually when the situation’s happening or it just happened I don’t end up addressing it or it doesn’t really strike me until much later.

I’m not suggesting suppression, just trying to give you an idea of my coping mechanism in case yours is similar. Whenever the situations resurface, I kind of let it hit me completely and then, as hard as it sometimes is, I try and address it like I think a therapist would.

Would a therapist be hard on me and give into my self-validating of self-destructive behaviors? Probably not. They would probably ask me how it makes me feel, even if it’s obvious outwardly, walk me through why, and then try and refocus it into something productive.

Something like… you WANT to tell yourself… OK, let’s say you’re blaming purely yourself for the break-up and it’s really easy to focus on all of the bad and suddenly the relationship just seems like it was one big mistake and waste of time and you’re just in THAT headspace.

A therapist probably would let you purge until it became cyclic, and then stop you and ask,”Can you tell me five good times, no matter how small?” You have to break the cycle, because, if you let it, it’ll keep going ‘round and ‘round.

It’ll probably seem silly, but essentially fighting yourself on,”I feel bad and nothing is good,” with,”I feel bad, but I would like to not feel bad,” could possibly help. You deserve to be happy, and when things like a break up happen it’s really hard to accept something like that. And I understand, but I think it’s worth trying because it’s helped me get through really bad days.

Speaking of fighting yourself on bad habits, don’t self-isolate. You’ll think you don’t want to bother your friends, or be a Debby Downer, or all that other self-validation to then self-isolate to then wallow. Break the cycle, reach out to friends. You don’t have to focus on the problem when you’re with them, and people are USUALLY down to help if they can.

Go out to a restaurant you’ve never been to before, go to a freakin’ park and reminisce about old times in the friend group, play some game you’ve been meaning to play but put off, watch some dumb show or movie on Netflix and have a laugh, but do something. And fight all the thoughts that it’s not OK for you to be doing it, and all the thoughts that you’re being a bother, or wish you were in a relationship again and all of it.

It’s OK to be selfish about feeling better, and you’re worth it. No matter what anyone says to you, no matter what you say to yourself. You don’t need to completely believe it at first, but definitely humor it if you feel like you can.

You messaged me on Anon, so I completely understand you didn’t wanna go too nuts about sharing you completely. Get that, too. If you want to talk about anything, you can always message me and I’ll keep trying to help if I can/you’ll let me. And again, I hope literally… any of this helps.EDIT: I just wanted to add this to give you some more context to where this is all coming from.When I was 21~22, things were really rough. I was living with two drug-addicted friends and I was working in customer service for the first time, but ultimately I didn’t know what to do with myself or my life. I’d broken up with my then girlfriend months prior and made a slew of mistakes, but through my friend and I met another friend who I felt like I bonded with on a deep level. I feel now like she just has that effect on people, maybe, but anyways.While I was living with my friends, I was also helping this other friend out of a really bad jam. The same day we got her, who we’ll call L, out of the situation, everything kinda went south.My friends were always zonked, so I never really had anyone to confide in, and it’s that age where everyone has shit going on, right? So I ended up watching Leaving Las Vegas and decided to go out like the main character did, except I didn’t really internalize that it took MONTHS of binge-drinking to get there.I had a lot of times where I thought I got close, heart palpitations and all of that. Every time I thought I was close, I’d message L. I did this to the point where it was practically crying wolf. L responded every single time.On the last time I made an attempt, L came over. She fed me, and got me in bed, told me she was worried. I thought I was close, going on a two week streak with almost no food or water, just alcohol. I started saying shit I was regretting while saying it, basically damning her for helping me and asking why she even bothered.L said a friend of hers had attempted and succeeded, and she didn’t want to go through that again if she could help it. After that, the next morning I made it my mission to not do that shit ever again if I could help it. L really meant a lot to me, and I could tell she was genuinely hurt from my lashing out. I wasn’t sure if she would come if I cried wolf again.I’d also realized I couldn’t put that on someone like that. It felt terrible, L deserved to live a life that was worry-free after what she’d been dealing with. She was trying to get to a point where she was happy and I was taking up a lot of her attention for selfish reasons.But the point of all this is that I learned that even if it seems impossible, you can take responsible for your own happiness. I still sometimes hit up L if it seems like it’s too much and I think she would know better, because she’s amazing and absolutely someone I wish I was better friends with, but that night is just branded into me.Even at my absolute lows, I try and remember L just wanted me to be OK, too. That at MY absolute worst, she stood by me. And that the least I can do is meet her half-way, and to never generate a situation where she might even feel the slightest bit responsible. Maybe you have someone you confided in this deeply, too. Even if not, I’m sure there’s someone. When you can’t believe in you, try and believe in the people who believe in you. And again, if it’s all too much and you think none of your friends would get or something I will more than happily take a stab at trying to help.