#and it wont always feel like there's a gaping hole inside of me its just some temporary melodramaaaaa

[unheavenlybody]

just like. having all of this love inside of u that u want to give a person but they clearly don't want it and also don't share those feelings for u but its platonic so ppl think you're crazy for even giving a fuck HA. my chest feels like its gonna explode this is so unhealthy

[setsureadsshit]

Lost At Sea: A List of WIP’s I am finally letting go of [ Part 1 ]

Finally going through my subscriptions on AO3 and clearing out the fics that haven’t gotten an update in too many years or have been orphaned since the last time I looked at them but what chapters were posted are worth reading as long as you don’t mind being left frustrated. Could also be considered a final plea and/or thank you/love letter to the authors for having written them at all, I don’t know how many parts this will take because I have like, 7ish pages of subscriptions on AO3 lmao so just, you know *hand waves* settle in the ride with me.

With the Bodies in the Gutter by TriDom

Summary: Derek works with the FBI to dismantle sex trafficking rings from the inside out. It's grueling, but he never believed that the wear on him outweighed the good he and his team did. Until he finds his mate with a new group that had been taken. He jeopardizes everything to get him out, only to have to turn his back on him before his mate is even awake.

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: At 16 chapters it gives you enough progress to kinda feel satisfied. It dropped off at a kind of lull before ramping up into the next crisis action which also helps I think. Only mildly unsatisfying for not getting to the true “happy ending” but I’m not mad about it.

Where Is My Bright Future by Steamcraft

Summary: au: Derek and Stiles meet at a German camp.

“My name…” The boy trails, then grimaces. “Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek’s eyebrows rise. “Stiles. Nickname?”

Stiles nods. “You English, how is it… Butcher.”

That surprises a laugh out of him. Stiles looks startled at the sound, heart racing, before he tentatively smiles.“You laugh, but its true.”

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: I read this a long time ago and I remember it being both really good and really heavy but also getting a little lost in the middle. It’s got 14 chapters though so, like the fic above I feel like it’s a satisfactory read even if there isn’t a real ending.

When Sparks Fly by LunaCanisLupus_22

Summary: “Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek's head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

Or the one where spark!Stiles moves into an enchanted apartment block owned by a grumpy alpha and is completely oblivious to the building's efforts to matchmake them.

Last Update: 2016

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: This one is a little harder to categorize because it started out as a like, 2 chapter completely completed fic - and then the author came back and added more? So it’s unclear if they plan on coming back and adding more again since they’ve left it uncompleted but you know *hand waves*. In any event, it’s a definite good read, one of my favorites, highly recommended.

Where A Mask, Be A Hero by A_Whistful_Writer

Summary: Oliver Queen had started a crusade in his father’s name, alone. It was bitter, harsh and unrelenting. He was left with scars and bruises that only seemed to double with each passing day. But then he found companions in his fight. Laurel, Diggle, Felicity, Roy. They made things more bearable, and for a while, he was happy, even though there was a gaping hole in his heart. Something was missing.And that was when Oliver met Barry Allen.

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Arrow/The Flash ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: It’s honestly just a retelling of the first however many seasons of each show but with a little more OTP filling. The later chapters kinda lost the plot and I was hoping it’d pick up again and really start rolling but I’m throwing in the towel on this one. 

The Fault Is Not In Our Stars - Orphan

Summary: After a long and wretched campaign, Asgard has conquered Jotunheim. To ensure King Laufey's cooperation and later friendship between the kingdoms, Asgard takes home the apparent heir to the throne, Loki Laufeyson. Loki is, unfortunately, anything but complacent.Based on the art by stunningly talented Wantstobelieve: http://wantstobelieve.tumblr.com/post/18102496999/guess-who-just-watched-troy-again-yup-that

Last Update: 2013

Fandom & Main Pairing: Thor ; Thunderfrost

Personal Notes: I had hoped this would be a case of the author regaining their writing inspiration with a new Thor movie on the horizon and promptly forgot about it for...a long time, lmao. I’m glad that the author chose to orphan the story instead of simply deleting it because it may only be 8 chapters but they’re very well written and the story is compelling, even unfinished.

Time Will Crawl by coldhope

Summary: Inspired by one of kaciart's amazing drawings: the Winter Soldier faced with a pre-serum Steve Rogers and--conversely--1940s Bucky Barnes coming home to find Captain America lurking in the kitchen.

Last Update: 2014

Fandom & Main Pairing: Captain America (MCU) ; Stucky

Personal Notes: It’s only two chapters which isn’t long enough to *really* get attached to something but the concept was interesting enough to hold my attention/hope that it’d get continued. 

The What’s And How’s of Raising Werewolves by kit_cat

Summary: Stiles is twenty-five and shares his bed with a five-year-old werewolf who calls him mommy. This isn't how he expected his life to turn out.Or in which Derek is a kindergarten teacher, the Hales are alive, Danny is overly romantic for a five-year-old, and Stiles has somehow Magicked his way into being the legal guardian of three werelings all under the age of ten... and may or may not be on the run from a league of werewolf kidnapping hunters.

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: So I’m...technically not giving up on this one since it’s gone 3 years between updates before and really like this story so I’m going to hold onto this hope for a little while longer but it’s a very very slim hope. This is a fic that does NOT leave off with a satisfactory feeling even though it’s 9 chapters in, those 9 chapters really are just the place setting and maybe a charcuterie board or two while guests mingle but you could start smelling the main course from the kitchen. 

Trust by trufflemores

Summary: "Barry reels Oliver in for a hug. Oliver grants him three seconds, pulling back with his own irrepressible smile, knowing he looks like young-and-in-love which is ridiculous because he's not. Maybe, a tiny, impulsive part of him argues, he wants to be."

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash/Arrow ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I have spent I don’t KNOW how many months on and off trying to find this fic again, only to discover I’ve had it the whole fucking time! Specifically, the way trufflemores describes how they interact - giving words to all of the silent conversations they have, how they translated Barry and Oliver’s body language to so perfectly into writing. Like, even after I stopped watching The Flash (and had long since stopped watching Green Arrow), I still watched the crossover episodes because watching Barry and Oliver (and later Kara) interact was always my favorite thing. Honestly, watching both teams together was always so much fun - the episodes were just fun, but I digress. I don’t honestly remember where this fic leaves off but it was fairly episodic so I don’t really know that it needs an end per say, reading it shouldn’t leave you too dissatisfied. 

The Propinquity Effect by SwiftEmera

Summary: Oliver Queen pretty much ignored his bisexuality, until he clapped eyes on Barry Allen.Unfortunately, Barry is a social pariah, and Oliver's mother is currently running for governor, so Oliver is pretty much trapped in the bisexual closet, unable to come out and associate himself with Barry for the fear of tarnishing his mother's campaign. However, when their teacher pairs the boys up to work on a Psychology project based around the subject of sexual attraction, Oliver's willpower to keep his distance is strongly tested.

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash/Arrow ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I’ve been re-reading most of these as a final send off but this one I’m just not in the mood for unresolved angst. It’s really well written, the characters are really well adapted for the AU, but just knowing it isn’t finished and probably wont ever be I don’t want to invest my energy into something that doesn’t have a conclusion - for better or worse and this is the kind of fic I *need* to have an end. 

[final-fantasy-mama]

Moonlight Ballistics (Ch.3)

Emet Selch X Mature/Wol

Emet tries to coerce some information from the WOL, things get heated, things backfire!

“Perhaps a clear and unambiguous act of kindness will serve to win the trust you seem so determined to deny me. “ ~Emet Selch

A hand grabbed her shoulder, shaking her out of her stupor and jump starting her fight reflex. He was lucky she didn't pull a gun on him. Thancred Waters was always pulling dumb pranks on her so it was wont of him to startle her out of her daydream.

"Had a bit too much wine love?" He smirked as she gasped and held a hand over her heart. Night had returned to the Raktika Great woods with the destruction of its light warden, the light Aether absorbed into the warriors body and now they celebrated with the Night's Blessed. A large pyre burned into the center of the village, where music blared and people danced. Wine flowed freely to all their cups and the night was filled with a merriment that it had not seen in over 100 years. The Hero too had been celebrating with them but she felt as if something had pulled at her mind, some far distant memory that bit at her but stayed just out of her reach. Her head felt buzzed from wine and also from a sensation that was unfamiliar, not from the Aether that swam through her, but something else. Something heavy that was pressing against her psyche but would not show itself.

She shook the feeling away and smiled at her friend. "Definitely too much wine and too much dancing."

"Mayhap you need to clear your head for a moment. Go take a dive into the lake." He laughed.

"You going to join me for some skinny dipping?" She teased back with a coy smile.

"Wish I could but I’ve got a kid now so I’m off limits." The gunbreaker joked back.

The hero had to laugh too as she knew all too well the pressures of being a good parent. "Thancred, be sure to tell her...Minfilia…tell her everything she does good and don't be afraid to tell her you love her. In fact, tell her so much that she'll hate hearing it."

He sighed and his expression was solemn. "You're far more adept at this whole parenthood thing than I. How the hell do you do it?"

"Lots of coffee in the daytime and wine in the evening." She joked and he chuckled while walking back to the camp.

That lake idea wasn’t half bad. The hero hadn’t bathed since the battle with the light warden and the revival of her dear friend Y'shtola at the hands of Emet Selch, her skin was caked with dirt and sweat and dip into cold water seemed like the closest thing to a bath she would get. So, she forced her legs to carry her away from the encampment and towards the nearest body of water as the din of the celebration grew fainter and fainter.

But as she reached the lake edge and gazed at moonlit waters she was bothered. What had she been doing in those few minutes she had been daydreaming? She had been drinking and dancing and then there was a hole in her memory, a chunk of time unaccounted for as if her mind was neither here nor there. She was not drunk, slightly tipsy but not drunk enough for a full black out, and as far as she could tell, her Aether was still intact and holding well despite having absorbed three light wardens. Come to think of it, when Emet was regaling them tales of Zodiarks birth inside the Qitana Ravel she had felt the same thing. Looking at the cave murals of the two gods, she zoned out, completely blanked and spaced, for just a few minutes before snapping back to reality. She was never one to space out during missions as every moment usually meant life or death. What on Earth was going on in her mind?

The hero knelt by the water’s edge and began to strip off machinist leathers that felt too cloying, too tight against her skin in a way that was unnatural. She had worn those clothes for ages and yet right now, they felt foreign and cumbersome and she just wanted room to breathe. Stripping down to her white loose blouse she dipped a handkerchief into the cold waters and sponged her face and neck, staring at her own reflection on its surface. It felt foreign to her, like she was not really looking at herself and then she looked up at the moon, stood up and stretched her arms up trying to cup its radiance in her hands as if it were a child’s toy she could pluck from the sky.

Emet Selch’s eyes widened and he clenched his fist at his side while he watched her from the shadow of a nearby tree. Her sudden despondent behavior had not gone unnoticed and he made to watch her closely. This was all going according to plan after all and weather she slayed the light wardens are not was of no consequence. Either she was going to die trying or the light would consumer her in the end, both outcomes worked to his advantage weather she realized it or not. But knowing her, she most likely knew. So, then what was her angle? What was she planning to do about it? This cunning, this cleverness was what kept him coming back for more and it’s what most resembled her.

What a fireball Altima had been, her perceptive eyes, her burning heart, her anger, her love, her rage, her courage….he had been a moth to her flame and weather he wanted to admit it or not, he still was. They were two great and powerful minds always trying to outwit each other weather it was in the audience halls of the convocation or in the privacy of their own rooms, when they’re two bodies would intertwine with such ferocity and passion one would not know where one began and the other ended.

Emet gritted his teeth and shook the memory away. He had spent the past few Eons avoiding any and all her shards and now here he was “cooperating” with one. It was infuriating on one hand to see her so reduced in power but she retained enough of herself that it almost made him uncomfortable. If she ever knew what she really was and regained those memories, there was no doubt that she would destroy him. He was far too curious to let the opportunity slide even though he was breaking his own rules by contacting her but when had he ever followed the rules?

The hero groaned out loud as she rubbed her sore shoulders and yawned. “Emet Selch, did I not say that I prefer you where I can see you?”

“Indeed, you did.” He remarked as he stepped forward and joined her by the lake side. “But old Ascian habits are hard to break especially around someone as…renowned as you.”

“Ohhhhh I’ve become an Ascian boogie man!” She cheered and fist pumped the air. “One life goal fulfilled!”

“Oh don’t get ahead of yourself hero.” He rolled his eyes.

She laughed gently and looked back up at the moon, its light illuminating her face and sparkling in her eyes.

“You didn’t strike me as the type who cared for moon gazing.” He mentioned noting how entranced she looked.

“I don’t know why….it’s just tonight it looks exceptionally beautiful.” She explained. “I just want to reach out and grab it in my hands. Keep it in my pocket like a treasure and give it to my daughter….”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m musing.” She corrected and wagged a finger at him

“You muse when you get drunk, trust me dear, we’ve bantered like this before.” He said with a heavy sigh and then put a hand to his temples, messaging the flesh as if warding off a headache.

"I wonder if its made of cheese, The moon. My daughter always asks me that. What do you think? Would it be swiss or guda?"

"Now you're just being silly."

"Brie?"

"Do you want me to snap some food into existence? Is that what you want?" Emet asked in a annoyed voice.

"I'm just playing with you." She reached over and pinched his cheek. "I know the moon is basically a rock that revolves around our earth due to gravity. I may be silly but i'm not and idiot. It would be nice to get a closer look though."

Emet groaned and slumped in exasperation. “Zodiark....If you vomit on me, I’ll be intensely and irrevocably pissed off and try not to scream either. I can’t stand the shrill voices of damsels in distress.”

“What in Thal’s Balls are you talking about?” She asked. as a strong arm grabbed her waist and hoisted her off the ground. Soft fur tickled her nose as Emet’s strong body pressed up against hers and up they shot into the air.

Luckily for him, she didn’t scream, but she put a death grip around his neck that could have chocked the life out of a chocobo as she clung to him. He thanked his human body for being so resilient as they continued up and up until finally stopping. Her face was buried in the fur lining of his jacket as he spoke into her ear. “Look up hero.”

“WHATTHEEVERLOVINGFUCKWEREYOUTHINKING?!” She cursed into his chest in a muffled voice.

“Just take a deep breath and look up.” He said gently and firmly grasped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. The fear in her face from the unexpected inertia was evident as her eyes seemed to quiver in their sockets and her hands refused to loosen their grip on his collar, but after a few seconds she realized how close they were and cleared her throat. She took a shaky breath and finally looked up. Her eyes went wide and mouth slightly gaped open as she audibly gasped. The fear giving way to fascination when she noticed how close they were to the jewel in the sky.

Every detail, every crater and dune could be seen with the naked eye as a full moon greater than anything she had ever seen and closer than she ever thought possible, hung before her in the sky. They had shot up so far into the atmosphere that she literally felt like she could reach out and touch its surface. Its light washed over the both of them as they simply hovered there, basking in its glory. In all her life she had never seen anything like it, and that was saying a lot, for as the warrior of light life often handed her a barrage of surprises both good and bad.

“By the Twelve…..” She said in a shaky voice, her eyes refusing to blink or turn away from it.

“Does this satisfy your childish curiosity?” Emet finally asked after a time, keeping a firm arm around her.

She finally teared her eyes from the moon and settled on the man holding her. “What is this for?”

He raised a brow at her query.

“Why would you do this for me?” She couldn’t finish her sentence as she averted her gaze and felt heat on her cheeks.

He smiled at her discomfort. “You have slain no less than three light wardens and seem to be faring well….more than I had anticipated…. You have accomplished what no other could ever hope to. Such heroic deeds deserve appropriate rewarding do they not? Consider this a gift for entertaining me.”

“But I should be thanking you for bringing back Y’shtola.” She said as she squirmed in his arms, trying her best not to look down.

“That was a token of trust.” His smile turned sultry as he squeezed her waist and put a hand to her cheek. “I said what I meant and I meant what I said when we first met. You have no reason to doubt me but if you wish to reward me…..”He purred into her ear. “I will not reject any favor you show to me….and this time you don’t have your little guns to protect you.”

Her heart nearly stopped. By the fury she had left her gun by the lakeside and was too distracted by him and the wine to put back into her back holster! She shoved her hands against his chest. “Don’t you even think about it!”

“I’m thinking of nothing, sweet hero. “His lips hovered over hers mockingly. “Whatever has you nervous is the result of your own lascivious imagination.”

“Them’s fighting words, Emet Selch.” She growled against his lips.

“It would wound me for eternity if you choose falling to your death over sharing a small moment of intimacy with me.” He pouted but amply reminded her that they were a few good malms floating above the raktika great woods.

“You always twist something good into something nasty!” She cursed.

“Well I am an Ascian after all.” He chuckled, not giving her any room to escape.

“Ass is definitely part of it!” She agreed as she struggled but after a few moments she forced herself to relax in his arms and gave a very big exasperated sigh. “Oh for the love of…..okay…alright.” She said in a defeated voice and swallowed her pride. With her face burning she looked him over and tried to focus on his lips. They were nice shape, slightly pouty and moist, with all his eons of experience he was probably a fantastic kisser but this was uncharted territory for the Hero, she hadn’t kissed anyone in years and a certain atmosphere was needed for such things.

Her eyes moved up to his and she locked gazes with his yellow orbs. He was an enemy and yet he talked to her as if they were old friends, he grinded her gears, sassed her, chided her, goaded her in a way that only someone close to her could. He seemed to know all the right buttons to push and how to make her squirm with his words where other men could attempt the same thing and not get any reaction from her whatsoever. Who is this man?

Without thinking she reached up and cupped his face, studying him intensely, and in return he studied her. How her eyes seemed to cloud over for a moment, lids closing halfway as her mouth halfway parted as if in a trance. She leaned in slowly and pressed her lips against his and he graciously received them, surprised at her boldness and that she had managed to make the first move.

Their lips moved against each other’s slowly and gently until she bit down slightly on his lower lip. He grunted in surprise and allowed her tongue to slip into his mouth, caressing his and when the subtle warmth of her Aether mingled with his, he felt it. Power. So much power that her body could scarcely contain it all and yet it did, by either the grace of her Goddess or something else, it burned through her like a star in her core.

He pushed harder against her, his mouth dominating hers as he laced fingers through her hair, he wanted to see how deep that power went, what lay at its center and unlock all of her secrets. His darkness pushed through her light causing her to gasp and jolt in his arms but he held her still.  Their kiss bridged the power between them as he reached the peak of that burning star within her and caressed it with his own Aether.

People? Visions? Phantoms flashed behind his closed eyes as he traversed her soul, faces of several people, her own shards, friends and family revealed themselves to him. But when he tried to push further, his mind whited out, something blocked him and he could see the spirit of a man, who was not any of hero’s shards, standing like a sentinel at the gate of her inner psyche.

Emet had never seen him before, this tall elezen male with a sharp face and light blue hair. His eyes were closed as he simply stood there with a sword and shield in hand, a guardian knight who stood sentry within her against creatures like the Ascian who might try to invade her mind. The shield the knight held gave away his identity, a red unicorn head sitting atop a royal vine. Ah yes, the Ishgardian Family Crest for House Fortemps. This must have been Haurchefant Greystone.

The shade of Haurchefant spoke. “Does my lady know you are here?”

Emet eyed him suspiciously and could see that over the knight’s shoulder, he was shielding someone. For a brief moment he saw the familiar hue of silken hair and a crown of gems and flowers before Haurchefant stepped forward, hiding his ward from view, and opened his eyes.

“If she has not given you permission to come here, then I must ask you to leave. Your presence upsets her.” And with that he lifted his sword and swung it down hard and Emet was cast out of her mind with such a force he cried out.

His eyes snapped open as he broke the kiss with the Warrior of Light and they were as before, only the hero’s body was limp, her head thrown back, eyes closed and groaning as if in pain. The Ascian had probed too deep, causing the hero’s aether to repel him and most likely she felt the snap of him being cast out as keenly as he had. In her case though, instant unconsciousness was the result whereas for him it felt more like a slap in the face. Oh how frail these Hyuran creatures were.

Looking down at the Warrior, something possessive and inconceivable overcame him. “It couldn’t be, its simply not possible!” He growled in a low voice. A million thoughts crossed his mind at this revelation, for within the warrior lay a sliver of the one soul he both desired with all his Ascian heart to see again, but feared what would happen if he did. He had found Altima and this posed a myriad of problems to his well laid out plans.

He cradled the hero in his arms and floated back down to the earth, landing amidst the celebrating colleagues and startling them all into silence. The music stopped, everyone turned to watch him and Thancred ran forward at the sight of his friend limp in the Ascian’s arms.

“Dare I even ask what you did to her?” Thancred said as he took the hero into his own arms, Emet did nothing to protest and handed her over without a fight.

“She simply had a bit too much to drink. Her poor head couldn’t take much more “stimulation” this evening. A bit of rest should do her well.” Emet said cryptically. “See to it she is well cared for, considering how you rely on her so.”

Thancred scrunched his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

Emet turned to go and gave a haughty imperial wave of his hand. “Never you mind. I bid a good night to you all.”

[mirohed]

kim seunghun | love me, love me not

pairing: kim seunghun + gender neutral reader

wc: 3.7k

genre: hanahaki au + angst 

synopsis: daffodils represent unrequited love. is that why you keep coughing them up?

warnings: implications of suggestive content, descriptions of illness (and mention of surgery), mention of alcohol

playlist: love me, love me not.

a/n: happy birthday to me!! im glad i finally got to finish and post this (its,,, been in my wips since at least february LMAO) !! they prob wont read this but i wanted to thank my irls for dealing w me and my kpop bullshit (esp bc none of them stan ygtb 😔)

It's getting worse.

Your knuckles turn white, gripping the porcelain of the toilet. Tears and blood alike fall into the bowl, disturbing the gentle peace of the water. You pound at your chest, the action causing you to hack up yellow daffodil petals stained suspicious red. It's a monotonous process at this point. Pound. Cough. Pound. Cough. Repeat until the damned coughing stops.

It takes ten minutes before you return to normal. Or at least as normal as you can get. You got lucky this time.

You watch the petals spiral downward into the gaping hole in the toilet and get flushed away.

Being with Seunghun wasn't always accompanied by a tightness in your chest and petals tickling your throat.

june 19, 2005; 2:52 PM.

"I wanna grow up," you had grumbled, your hands squeezed around the chains of the swingset. You and Seunghun had been riding your bikes for the first time since getting the training wheels off. You had sped down a hill ("First one down’s a rotten egg!") and lost control, falling off and scraping your knee on the pavement. He rushed you to your parents' house, supporting your weight with an arm around your waist. The two of you had settled for playing on the swingset in your backyard instead.

"Me too," he said. "I think." He'd been rocking forward and backward on the swing, eyes focused on the blades of grass underfoot.

"You think?"

"I don't know." You stayed silent, trying to gain as much height as possible with your uninjured leg. "I don't wanna grow up and stop being friends." That got you to stop right in your tracks, your leg planted on the ground.

"What?" You sent an incredulous look his way. "Why would we stop being friends?"

He had let go of the swing, his hands finding his lap. "Some of the older kids stopped being friends when they grew up," he mumbled. "I don't wanna stop being friends, but neither did they..."

You got off the swing, limping over to him and wrapping Seunghun in the biggest hug your six-year-old arms could muster.

"We're gonna be best friends forever. Don't forget that."

"Best friends forever." If he wrapped his arms tighter around you then, you didn’t pick up on it.

[09:54 PM] huniebee🐝: i had fun today :^))

[09:54 PM] huniebee🐝: i wanna adopt a puppy!!

[09:55 PM] huniebee🐝: will you promise to help me take care of it

You brighten as the messages come in, your phone's vibrations distracting you from the way your throat clogs.

[09:56 PM] you: ofc

[09:56 PM] you: well be the best puppy parents the worlds ever seen

[09:57 PM] huniebee🐝: wait i need to send the pics from the pet shelter

[Attachment: 8 images]

You save each picture, cooing over the puppies you got to meet. This time, you only get a precious few minutes of relative clarity before things get too distracting to ignore. You return to the bathroom with a resigned sigh that devolves into a fit of coughs.

You cough and retch and cough some more. By the time you're done, there are less petals and more blood in the toilet bowl. Your chest still feels full of something you can't quite spit out.

Then you hack up something new: a bloody stem with wet flowers still attached.

There's nothing left to do but cry, your whole body wracked with pain both physical and emotional.

august 29, 2011; 3:15 PM.

"Today was fun," you said, making yourself right at home on Seunghun's bed. Your new backpack hadn't lasted more than a couple minutes in his house before getting neglected on his carpet. Your best friend hummed in acknowledgement, already sitting at his desk with his workbook out. "I'm glad we got to meet some new people," you continued, "but that Hyunsuk guy? Seems like a major pain in the ass."

"Give him a chance."

"I know, I know. I will. But still," you huffed, “it was his first day too. No need to act like a know-it-all."

"I know. But it's the first day. Maybe he'll even himself out with time."

The conversation ended there, and you spent some time staring at his ceiling fan, the blades going round and round in a big, beautiful blur. Before long, you had grown bored, looking over at him only to see his pencil flying across the paper.

"Hey. Let's go to the mall and get pretzels." Seunghun spun around to face you, a foot stopping his chair from going too far.

"Sure," he gave a placid smile. "Do your work first."

You groaned as loudly as you could, sounding much like a petulant child straight out of elementary school. (Which was more or less the truth, but you thought you were better than that.) After a few minutes of uninterrupted whining and failing to get Seunghun to break, you spoke up. "Why do I need to do my work? You're Mr. Hardworking, Mr. Teacher's Pet."

"We're in middle school now," he had said, and you remember thinking you were in for a long lecture, "and pretty soon, we're gonna have to go to high school and take entrance exams and decide which university we want to go to and..." He averted his gaze, put down his pen. "We need to start growing up."

"We're still young," you reasoned, sitting up and letting your legs dangle off the side of his bed. "If anything, this is our time to experience things and, you know, make mistakes before we become adults!"

He was silent for a few long, agonizing moments, long enough to make you think you'd won. The pretzels were within reach; all you had to do was ask for them.

"I call a compromise."

Shit. Compromises were common in your friendship. Seunghun was always a little too good at stopping you from making stupid decisions. The worst part was that you could never argue with them. "We go to the mall to get pretzels—my treat—if, and only if, you do your work. We don't go until we're both finished. Deal?"

You opened your mouth, determined to pick the proposal apart, but his reasoning was (unpleasant, yet) bulletproof. Instead, you reached for your backpack with a heavy sigh. "First of all, fuck you. Second of all," you said, tugging your own workbook out, "you're impossible."

"I know. Do your work."

"Fine."

The math problems had been difficult, definitely harder than you were used to, but doable. If anything, the greasy mall pretzels that were way too salty to be healthy made it all worth it.

Seunghun gets understandably very worried when you text him from the hospital, but he comes to see you nonetheless. In his arms is a bouquet of daffodils.

"They symbolize friendship," he says, setting it down on the table next to you. You stare at the pristine yellow petals and flatten your lips in a tight smile. How ironic, you think, that he doesn't know they also symbolize unrequited love.

"The doctors wouldn't tell me why you're here. Classified information, they said." That much is true; nor much is known about the disease outside of shitty romance movies with unrealistically happy endings. Seunghun always believed in them. You never did.

You don't think your story's gonna have a happy ending.

You didn't want him to know anyway, lest he worry. (And you don't want to think about what would happen to your friendship if he found out he was the cause of it all.) "You don't have to tell me," he begins, sitting himself down on one of those rigid hospital chairs, "I just wanna know if it's bad. Like, well...you know.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Terminal."

"Like if I'm gonna die?"

"Yeah," he rubs the nape of his neck, a bit abashed, "more or less."

"I don't know. Sure hope not," you chuckle. That brings on a coughing fit, and Seunghun looks on, brows knit together. He moves close to offer what little comfort he can, but you hold your hand up to stop him; having him near will only make things worse.

Petals threaten to spill out of your mouth, and panic bubbles in your chest when he asks if you're okay. Your doctor, bless her, chooses that moment to enter. She shooes him out "to speak to you in private." Seunghun, to his credit, obliges and flashes you a smile and a thumbs-up as he goes. You try to mirror his expression (and hope your smile isn't more of a grimace).

The door closes behind him with a soft click. "Friend of yours?" the doctor asks.

You spit the blood-stained petals into your hand, your doctor graciously looking the other way as you toss them into the trash. "You could say that."

october 4, 2013; 5:11 PM.

You tugged at your clothing, feeling more than a little uncomfortable as you waited for your best friend to show up. The DJ, a former student, was already hard at work inside the gym. You heard the bass-boosted beginning of the Cupid Shuffle and shot a frantic text to Seunghun.

[05:11 PM] you: holy shit theyre playing the cupid shuffle can you PLEASE hurry up

[05:12 PM] you: idc if this is our first homecoming you better get your ass over here

[05:12 PM] huniebee🐝: give me like two minutes!!

[05:12 PM] you: THE SONGS GONNA BE OVER IN 2 MIN

"Are you waiting for Seunghun?" Hyunsuk had asked, tie already loosened. You two had gotten close—not as close as you and Seunghun, of course—this year as a result of having classes together. You wondered why you ever hated him.

"Yeah. He won't be too late, thank God, but I'm pissed we're missing the Cupid Shuffle. What about you? I remember you bragging all week about 'flexing your dance skills in front of the ladies.' Or are you all talk, as usual?"

"You know, it's almost like you don't want me to wait with you."

You had laughed, knocking your shoulder into his. The chatter kept up for a minute or two before he made his leave. ("Well, it's time for me to flex my dance muscles in front of the seniors," he chuckled, giving you a salute as he walked off.)

"I'm here! God, I can't believe I missed the Cupid Shuffle," Seunghun said, head hung low. You began to feel a little self-conscious; you were feeling out of place in your semi-formal outfit, yet he looked right at home in his dress shirt.

Chasing those thoughts away, you grinned. "You're here now, aren't you? Come on." You took his hand and dragged him into the gym.

You don't talk to Seunghun or to Hyunsuk after that. You're not sure if you should tell Hyunsuk about the whole situation when he texts you. Seunghun must have told him something was up, of course, and he's insightful enough, sensitive enough (when he wants to be), but you worry. You're afraid he'll open his big mouth. Instead, you send a few messages to your best friend.

[04:29 AM] you: hey

[04:29 AM] you: i just wanted to say in advance that im sorry

[04:29 AM] you: im so so sorry for everything ive done and for what im about to do

There's one last message in the text box, daring you to send it. "I'm sorry I love you," you whisper instead, deleting the message before you do something you’ll regret. To seal the deal, you tap through a few menus until you reach his contact. The picture you've assigned to him is one you took; he's about to take a big bite of cotton candy bigger than his head.

With a heavy heart (though you hope it’s just the weight of the daffodils in your chest), you block his contact. It's better this way. It has to be.

Your doctor said you could get rid of the thick, thorned vines with a vicegrip around your heart and lungs, could pluck the flowers that threaten to spill out at the mere thought of your best friend.

The biggest side effect of it all, she told you, was that you'd forget all about Kim Seunghun. So you steel yourself.

The last thing you think about before they insert the thin needle of anesthesia in your veins is Seunghun's smile, and how you'll never see it in person again.

And how even if you did, you wouldn't remember it as the grin from the boy you love.

october 4, 2013; 9:16 PM.

The frenetic strobe lighting in the gym slowed to a stop, having been replaced with a spotlight making lazy rounds through the gym.

You knew that marked the beginning of a slow song, and dragged Seunghun off the floor in search of some punch. He seemed to have different plans, tugging you back on the floor and pulling you flush against him.

"Where are you going?" he had asked. "You're the one who wanted to dance the night away." His hands found your waist, yours instinctively folding behind his neck. You had wanted to say something about how that claim was void now; he was the one that made you miss the Cupid Shuffle, but the words get extinguished when you look at him.

It was just like that time you practiced in fifth grade, but you swore there was something different about tonight and the way you swayed. You thought back to your practice session in fifth grade, how you had stepped on each other's feet, how you spent the whole time laughing. (For the record, it wasn't for any lack of balance; you started it, laughing as he cried out before he stomped on your toe.)

There was no laughing during the song. Everything was vibrant and deafening and there all at once. But at the same time, it was like everything had been stripped away. Everything but you and Seunghun.

Things changed after that. You were left with a dizzying, free-fall sort of feeling that picked up with each glance at your best friend. Almost every butterfly in the world was taking current residency in your stomach, making you feel light as your body moved to the music. Before long, there was something lodged at the back of your throat, nudging its way forward.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," you said, a particularly heavy cough bringing the mysterious lump to your mouth.

Running your tongue along the smooth texture of the lump (okay, so not phlegm), you spat the offending object into the sink: a single yellow petal, coated in saliva.

You blinked.

Blinked again.

"Oh, what the fuck," you muttered, unlocking your phone. One quick Google search later—why the fuck am i coughing up flowers—you found an answer.

Flora mortem. You were loath to believe WebMD, of all things, but you found yourself tapping the link regardless. There was another term for the rare disease: Hanahaki.

Revising your search query was a mistake. The first result was the "hanahaki" tag on Tumblr, which showed nothing but models with tears in their eyes and bloodied flowers in their mouths. Yikes.

You made your way back to the party after that, but lingering in the back of your mind was the cause of the disease: a severe case of unrequited love.

There is only one definite cure for Hanahaki Disease: having the object of the afflicted's affections return their feelings.

You almost manage to purge the petal and the stupid WebMD page from your mind for the rest of the night.

Almost.

You wake up hours later. It's a little disorienting, sure, to come to with little memory of what landed you in the hospital. You peek under the oversized hospital gown to see bandages over your chest, get tempted to rip the IV drip from your arm. The doctor comes in right before you make a move on the needle. She tells you all about how the flowers in your lungs are gone for good.

"You're saved. But the final test," she says, pulling a phone from her pocket, "is this. Do you recognize the people in this picture?"

You recognize yourself next to a boy you don't know. His hand's around your waist, pulling you close. You wear matching grins. Given the way you're both dressed, you suspect the picture's from your freshman year's homecoming dance. Weird. Memory's kinda fuzzy from that night.

"Yeah. Myself. I don't know the other guy. Am I supposed to?"

"No. You're not. Congratulations," she smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're cured."

You look through all the old messages and pictures when you have some time to yourself. You reach out for the memory, the feeling of knowing Kim Seunghun. You get nothing, and while your brain knows something's wrong, you're more concerned about being able to breathe easy.

You move to a new city, far, far away from the place you grew up in. You finish your last year of high school, get a job, start college. You make new memories with new people. You forget all about Kim Seunghun.

It gets easy to forget that you weren't born with the ugly faded red scars that run up and down your chest. It's your only remaining tie to the man you loved so much you almost let yourself wither away. You think it's a good thing you cut him off; why stick around, why force yourself to suffer, for someone who doesn't love you back? Why be with someone if it physically hurts to stay by their side?

But sometimes you wonder. What happened? What happened to him after his best friend walked out of his life for good with no explanation?

Those days are never good. You distract yourself then, often with the familiar kick of alcohol burning in the back of your throat. You've never been much of a drinker, but you figure it's never too late to start.

Sometimes, the distraction comes from being in the arms of another.

(One of your favorite distractions, a young man named Byounggon, had run his fingers along the angry lines one night, jotting them down in his map of your body.

"Do you regret it?" he asked then, eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. You cupped his cheek, ran a thumb along the planes of his face.

"I wouldn't be here if I regretted it, now would I?" He let the corners of his mouth turn up just so, pressing his lips to yours.

You don't talk to him much nowadays, your interactions reduced to likes on Instagram, views on Snapchat. He's moved to a bigger city. "More opportunities," he said. You keep up with his dream of being a musician, always. There was a time when you were his number one supporter, after all.)

"Will that be all?" the cashier asks, jotting your order on the plastic cup. When you nod, he asks for your name. He jots that down too.

But then his eyes widen and he looks at you with renewed interest. "I'm sorry?"

"Is there a problem?" you asks, peering at your name (spelled correctly) on the cup. His eyes search for an answer within yours, some sort of explanation you can't seem to give. He averts his gaze, shakes his head, places your cup in the queue of orders.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Just thought you were someone I knew. Have a nice day." You parrot the phrase, catching a glimpse of the young man's name tag.

Seunghun, it reads in cheerful yellow. There's a doodle of a puppy in the top right corner. You think it's rather cute.

Two weeks later, you meet Seunghun again. This time, you're out for a morning jog. The crisp autumn air greets you as your feet meet the pavement and let out a satisfactory crunch under the burnt orange leaves on the sidewalk.

You both get stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. While you catch your breath, you don't miss the way he flinches, as though he didn't expect you to show up. He schools his expression into something friendly within no time, and you wonder if you imagined the whole thing.

"The weather's nice, isn't it?"

"It is," you pant. "On your way to work?" He raises a hand to tug at the strap of his backpack with a small smile.

"Yeah. You should come by, give us business," he grins. "On mornings like this, I recommend the hazelnut latte." You hum in agreement, not yet recovered enough to converse. "Tell you what, you come and get one when I'm working, I'll make sure it's on the house."

"Really? Maybe I'll swing by." The light changes, and you leave Seunghun behind, waving goodbye as you do.

You come in later that day, ordering a hazelnut latte as promised. Seunghun's manning the register, same as two weeks ago, and when he takes everything down, he smiles. You miss it as you pay, but there's something extra on your cup.

As you take a sip of the (delicious; his coworker Yedam must be some sort of brewing prodigy) latte, you catch a glimpse of the extra writing.

Along the side of the cup is his phone number.

[10:58 PM] seunghun!: more than anything i want to adopt a puppy

[10:59 PM] seunghun!: or rather another one

[10:59 PM] seunghun!: i named this one after an old friend

[Attachment: 1 image]

The picture of Seunghun and his dog brings a smile to your face. You've been spending more time with him recently, whether it be going on coffee runs ("Are you sure you're not just using me for my employee discount?") or complaining about life as a broke college student ("My card got declined trying to buy a bag of chips last night...").

It's nice. Spending time with him is...nice.

It's more than a simple distraction, somebody to hold close on nights your decisions try to haunt you. It’s friendship, something to hold onto when you lose your way in the dense forest of your mind and to cherish when you manage to make it to a clearing and bask in the sunshine.

You've caught a cold recently (probably from that bastard Seo Changbin in your communications class). Seunghun's given you some homemade tea, swearing on its usefulness. It certainly tastes good, the sweet honey chased by tangy lemon. Unfortunately, the tea isn't able to stop the persistent cough you've been plagued with.

Feeling phlegm start to come up, you turn the bathroom lights on, hacking it up and spitting into the sink.

Huh. That's weird.

There's no phlegm.

The only thing in the sink is a single golden petal, coated in saliva.

[nancywheelxr]

Winn wakes up in the DEO.

Or at least, it looks like the DEO- it’s so cold, to begin with, and it was never warm in the first place. And when he walks up the stairs to take a look out of the balcony, there’s nothing to look at, and everything’s just a little too… shimmery? Shiny, maybe, or glossy- it doesn’t look real. It’s kind of blurred at the edges, too, like a filter was placed over it, or maybe the filter is over his own vision.

But as much as he rubs at his eyes, it doesn’t go away, and though that on its own is concerning, the worst part is that there’s nobody else there. The place is completely empty, though all the electronics are intact- but there’s no J’onn, or Kara, or Alex, or even the agents who’ve helped him that he always thought quietly resented him just for being there. Not even the Legion is present, there’s no Mon-El, or Imra, or Brainy…

Their absences leave a gaping hole of loneliness inside him, that spreads through this whole place- he’s been away from it for too long, he wishes it were real but it isn’t and it won’t stop reminding him of that- and it certainly isn’t helped when he calls out, “Hello? Anyone home?” and his words just echo like he’s hearing his own shadow talking back to him.

Or his own ghost.

“Hello, Winslow.”

Speaking of ghosts…

“Dad.” Winn says, voice flat. It isn’t even a question, because that’s his father’s image, recreated flawlessly in this- well, Kara wanted to call it a mind-palace, but that term is far too nice for what he’s experiencing.

It’s his personal Bad Place, or as he’d first referred to it, his mind-prison- and there’s no better prison guard than the one he’d grown up knowing was behind bars.

Only a matter of time before you’re in a cage, too, he thinks, but he’s been caged since he woke up, and all he wants is for his father to get it over with and put him in one for real.

It would at least be preferable to this. To his father looking at him, staring and judging, as Winn sees nothing in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Winn asks. “I mean- how are you even here? You died in the 21st century, I saw your body- it exploded, your protégé carried out your last request and she got what she deserved too. Haven’t you tortured me and my family enough?”

“More like you have tortured mine.” Winslow Senior- or the being that looks like him- says. “I am your father, and all I wanted was to keep my family together. Especially you and I. And I was willing to do anything to make sure of that.”

“Yeah, I know!” Winn insists. “You were willing to send us both to prison, for that- and now we’re both here. In my mind- where I thought I was finally free of you.”

“This is your mind.” Winslow Senior says. “But you know you will never be rid of me. My genes are still within you- what was it you said, the gruesome way you described it- ah, yes. A ticking time bomb. And they have already gone off, you know. Your friends hate you, for what you did to them.”

“At least I didn’t murder anyone.”

“Not yet.”

“But perhaps you will- who knows, Winn, what the body is willing to do if it’s controlled? Especially by such sophisticated machines. It’s like pulling puppet strings, making it look so real- as if the Winn that your friends all know and love truly is the one destroying the Legion from the inside out.”

“I can stop it.” Winn says. “I’ll escape you somehow-“

He looks around the room, trying to will himself away… trying to imagine something, some kind of key to a door he can’t see yet. Kara didn’t go too into depth about her own experiences, but he knows that Brainy helped her realize what was really important to her. Who she really was, despite what had happened to her and what had caused that.

Winn wishes Brainy was here now, despite how he knows he’d probably be far less helpful for him than he was for Kara. He could tell, from their first meeting, that Brainy had a crush on Kara- even though Brainy probably didn’t know that word himself- and though they’d become friendlier to each other over time, he and Winn still hadn’t been on the best of terms. They hadn’t even really talked one-on-one, before switching places, but if he had to admit it, he hoped he was doing okay, and that Brainy thought the same of him.

How disappointed he would be, if or when he found out the truth…

But the point was that Brainy already had helped him. Before, just by showing him his own design, he’d given Winn the confidence to do what he had always been ready for, what he’d been doing long before the Legion came along.

What he had done, in fact, at another DEO base, with another Brainiac, a month and a half after his father broke out of prison.

“I will escape you- Brainiac.”

He can’t deny it. It’s the only explanation, Brainiac’s been messing with his head- no better way to stop a threat to your plans than attack its mastermind, right?- and he’s only mad that he didn’t figure it out sooner.

Because wasn’t he trying to do the same thing, really? Wasn’t he working on figuring out a way to get at Brainiac himself, get into his head and shut him down just like Indigo?

Were he and Brainiac really any different?

“I know everything about you, you know.” Brainiac says, in his father’s voice- but it sounds deeper now, almost ancient. His eyes are surrounded by shadows, like he’s been punched, and dark veins stand out on his neck. When Winn looks him in the eyes, they’ve gone completely black, and he could swear he’s slowly turning blue- although maybe that’s just the lighting.

Or he’s still going crazy, even inside his own mind. It’s hard to tell.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“You have constantly been underestimated, but you were far more of a threat than even I foresaw.” Brainiac answers. “Capable of far more- for a human, of course.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I am aware.” Brainiac continues. “But people underestimated your father, as well- they expected much from him, took advantage of him, and when he got justice for himself, they didn’t understand. Did you not feel underestimated, when you worked at this very place? When you told them you were moving on, did they not try to convince you to stay?”

“I guess so, but they did that because they were gonna miss me.” Winn says.

“You are lying to yourself.” Brainiac says. “They do not care about you- only your work. And when they save the day, do they ever thank you? Do they give you credit, for what you’ve done?”

“…”

“You deserve justice.” Brainiac answers. “You should make them see what kind of person you really are.”

“I’m not like my father.” Winn says. “That’s what you’re implying, isn’t it? Well, it isn’t working. I know who I am, and I know I’m capable- but that comes from me. Not him. And I certainly don’t need you to remind me of that.”

Brainiac glares at him.

“You will not stop me.” He says. “I am prepared for anything you might do- and unlike you, I am not afraid of my enemy.”

“Does this look afraid to you?” Winn asks, raising his hand. He wills it to be sharp, to do what he hopes it will.

Then, he plunges it into Brainiac’s head.

[shadymultiverse]

I used to pove christmas but now.i.live with people who dont even care enough to pretend to try. Its so hard. I love the magic of the flittering tree and shiney presents. I wake up before the dawn just to watch all those pretty colors and wonder whats inside the packages. Since they didnt get me anything for my biethday, I imagine they wont be getting me anything for christmas either. I dont expect much. I got them each a one big thing and one small thing.

They keep reminding me that they fixed my car for me and that should be enough. I know i should just be grateful for that, but after having already dumped 3k into that piece of shit in my stupid brothers behalf, 600$ doesnt seem like much of an investment. Its more of the same shit every day. I dont do enough and what i do isnt good. Im guessingbsomeone talked to them because i can see them struggling to act better. I just... christmas was the only time i got feel special as a kid. That and my birthday but after greatgrandma died and we found out on my birthday that became a thing of the past. To this day i think that side of the family timed telling my father until my birthday just to taint it. They did shit like that a lot. Not just to me.

But christmas. I know my father did a lot to make christmas hard on my mom but jt was the one time of year she didnt care. She did everything she possibly could to make sure that everyone git something they really wanted. And what i wanted was to be spoiled. It didnt matter what it was, as longvas i got to open it. I love opening presents. It makes my whole body feel like its running through the universe, loved and safe and protected.

I want others to get to experience that too, i want them to feel that happy for a little while, but i want to get to feel it too. Maybe its selfosh to want presents on christmas. Maybe its a stupid desire that comes from being neglected and trained that the only time i mattered was on christmas but i really want to feel like i matter this year. I want to feel like i have something waiting for me tomorrow. Like when i wake up, there will be a tree and lights and shiny presents just for me. I just dont think there will be.

I guess its because this year has been so fucking hard. Losing my job and my home and my car and having to come back to my abuser because no one would hire me no matter how hard i tried, realizing just how abusive my sister was and how manipulative my mom and how little i acyuallybmatter if im not willing to let them veat me. I just want some fucking shiney presents under that stupid fucking tree. I wanna watch the pretty lights and look at all the nice colors. I want to tear open the paper and be happy to see whats inside.i want this gaping hole in my chest to stop hurting so fucking much. Is that so much too ask? Because if it is then i should just die because i am too much and everyone has always said so. I dont want to be limited any more. I just want to get what i want.

[ty-dyed]

This is the first short story ive ever written so i figured i would post it here. Hopefully whoever decides to read this enjoys it.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       “Hope"       

     I've been sitting here for years, untouched, unloved, starting to wither away. I see people pass everyday, living their lives happy and fulfilled, wondering if I will ever feel the same. I'm cracked, splintered, and falling apart, yet I remain hopeful that someone, someday will see the worth I possess. I used to be strong and secure, keeping whoever lived within protected. I'd give them a place to feel safe when it felt as though the world was caving in around them. I helped them and they helped me, giving me the love and attention I needed. But now no one has paid me the least bit of attention, but that's okay, I know there will be someone to come along. At some point. Each day I try to stay hopeful, I try to remind myself "Someone has always been there, they'll come back just give them time." Though, as the days go by and days fade to nights I begin to feel more and more hopeless. Rain is constantly falling on my head and I can feel it seeping into my every pore, soaking me and making me feel the weight of every drop. The world has never felt more bleak and empty, but one day someone comes along. Her sleek black car rolls up and slows to a stop. She steps out looking very professional with her clipboard and business suit, and takes a look at me. She looks me up and down marking things down on a piece of paper and then continues to stare at me. I start to feel panicked. What's happening? Is this my end? Have they finally sent someone to tear me down? I just want to live a happy life, cant they see that? All I need is someone to care for me and I can bring them so much joy and happiness.     

         The person in her navy blue suit walks up to me following my broken stone path leading up to the porch. She very carefully steps through the porch avoiding my missing and broken wood planks; she makes more marks in her notepad. I can see her marking more things down as she walks through the mess I once was happy to call a foyer. My chandelier fallen and shattered, my hall tables covered in layer after layer of dust and dirt. My second floor has come crashing down exposing me even further to this stranger of whos motivations I am uncertain. She keeps making her way through my insides, passing by my dining room to her left and the large living room to the right heading into the kitchen. I used to be so happy about this specific room, one family that lived here would have wonderful breakfast feasts right before the children went to school, one father lingers about after dinner was done to help out the mother clean the dishes when the kids didn't want to, one child often snuck in to steal leftovers out of the refrigerator. It was a place for the families to come together after each of their long days and trade stories and just be in each others company. But no one has been in here for so long, this stranger is the first person to step foot inside me in I don't know how many years. She finished making her marks in here and continues down to the basement, Its never been much, mostly just a storage space for most families. The basement has always been very untrustworthy, flooding more times than I can even count . There's not much in here just concrete walls and a small room that contains my water heater and another small room for storage. She makes a mark or two and makes her way back up the stairs.    

       She heads back to the back door and opens it up carefully so she doesn't accidentally harm herself. She steps out under the awning and takes note of my backyard. I have always loved my backyard, so spacious with plenty of room for a dad to play catch with his son, or brothers to play hide and seek. The large oak tree to the right near the fence provides the right amount of shade for the kids to relax and take a breath. The tire swinging gently in the breeze reminds me of the mom that helped her son hang it up. He was so happy to finally have one after seeing them on TV so much, he would be on that thing all day never getting off until his parents called or he got so dizzy he fell off. The memory helps give me a slight bit of happiness, but I'm drawn back to reality as the woman makes more notes and walks back in. She heads to the stairs in the main hallway but cant get more than halfway up because all the stairs have either fallen in or have been waterlogged by a large gaping hole in my roof. As she looks up and back down to the fallen staircase I cant help but feel embarrassed. I know its not my fault but I have to believe that there's something I did wrong to deserve this. Did I not provide enough for the families that lived here? Is there more that I could have done to help and support them? I only want the best for anyone who decides to call my house a home and this feels like karma for some reason.    

      The mysterious suited woman now walk to the front door trying to look through the hole in my second floor to make any marks she can before leaving. She marks down what she can before heading out of my door less front archway. As she walks down the path from the front door to the sidewalk she goes over what she wrote down. She takes one last look at me before stepping into her car and driving off, leaving me to wonder and worry about what her visit meant.    

        A few days have passed and once again I've begun to feel as though the strangers visit meant nothing. what good could her coming to me even do? At most she was taking inventory so she could have anything of value removed out of me before scheduling my destruction. Maybe that's for the best, I mean nothing has happened for me in so long. I don't know why I have kept my hopes up for anything to happen, no one cares about me anymore. I just need to face that. My insides are ugly, dilapidated, broken, shattered. No one would want to live here anymore. I cant provide warmth, or protection, or a place to feel safe anymore. Maybe demolition is the best case scenario for me, at least I wouldn't have to sit here wasting away anymore, hoping for anything anymore. But as I've begun to make my peace with everything that very same black car come rolling along down the street. I half expect it to dive past but it stops and the same woman steps out and grabs something from her backseat. Its a sign. I cant quite make out what it says but she walks around her car and steps off the sidewalk onto my unruly lawn. She impales the sign into the ground and that's when I'm finally able to make out what it says. But that cant be true, the sign reads "For Sale! Call this number for inquiries."   I'm completely taken off guard. Why would anyone want to buy me? I'm useless as I am and no one is going to want to put in such a large amount of work when they could just go and buy a perfectly fine house that doesn't require nearly as much work. I wont get my hopes up. I'm not going to trick myself into hoping anymore. This might as well be another piece of trash that's blown onto my lawn again. I'm not going to pay any attention to it. But as time passes and my weariness grows, a small voice in my consciousness argues that I need to have hope.    

     "Why?" I respond, "I've been hoping for years ive got nothing to show for it. Everyone has left. No one cares. Just look at me, I'm falling apart! I wish a tornado would just blow through me shredding my soul into a million pieces sensing them in a thousand different directions."  

     "Without hope we don't have anything to live for." the tiny voice responds, "We need to have faith that someone will come along and see the potential in us. We need to believe that. Hope has gotten us this far, if we stop now the rest of our days will be spent in agony and suffering. You don't want that. I can tell deep down in your foundations that you want to hope. You want to believe. So just give me that. Hope for just a little while longer."   

  I don't want to hope anymore. I want it to just end.          

       As the days go by, my exterior shell gets weaker and weaker. I'm being tortured, being forced to stand here seeing my body decompose and die while not being able to so anything about it. Its a nice clear day so the sun is beating down on me. The warmth is the only thing that I have ever truly been able to feel and it feels especially nice today. Its and average day, nothing too out of the ordinary when I notice a van driving down the road. I don't think anything of it, cars drive past everyday but this one comes to a stop at the curb near me. A man steps out of the drivers side door and comes around to open the back door. Two children and a dog come running out, then the passenger side door swings open and a woman steps out. Its the woman from before but this time she isn't wearing her business suit, instead she's traded that in for a pair of beige shorts and a teal shirt.     

     "Are you sure about this place?" the man says, "It looks like a death trap. I'm not sure I want the kids running around In there."   

     "Trust me," she looks at the man "all this guy needs is a little love and caring." She looks me up and down and I feel that warmth again but this time its not because of the sun.   

    She goes into the back of the van and grabs two sets of tool belts, "Come on, we've got some work to do if we want to turn this house into a home." she says with a smile "Kids, you can go play in the backyard. There's even a tire swing for you Sam, I know how bad you've wanted one of those."     

     And as the kids take off towards my backyard I feel that bit of hope lift back into me. Someone has taken a chance on me, I don't know why but they have. I feel like crying, but I'm a house, so I cant. But I am able to feel every bit of happiness that this young family has been able to give me. This family has saved me from an endless torture. I'm just so happy they've decided to believe in me. The End.

[ashleymariieee]

stages

i haven’t posted this anywhere and theres no where i feel exactly comfortable doing it other than tumblr so here you go tumblr world! enjoy

maybe it was something about the way my mind didn’t wander to unhappy places, or maybe it was because i felt uncontrollably stable. i had control over my breathing and i always knew exactly what to say, never knew exactly what the response would be. it had me itching for the future, i wanted more of it and i didn’t even know what it was yet. my stomach didn’t ache for something that wasn’t there anymore, it ached for the feeling that would be there when everything would be gone. maybe i was disoriented enough to convince myself that things would be clear for forever, that i’d hardly see another cloudy day again. or maybe it was the magic in the air every time i was within the same breathing area, maybe it was the way the word baby sounded in my ears, or the way fingertips felt on my thighs, hands on my back. maybe, just maybe it was how i had been made to feel invincible and now i felt vulnerable and subject to any type of wreckage it’d turn out to be. maybe it was because for the first time in my life i felt like the loneliness had disappeared and it’d never come back. the way my hand fit perfectly with the fingers of another, or the way hot breath felt down my neck as his breathing evened out and we fell asleep. i always waited a little longer because i kept anticipating waking up to that familiar face. the way my car felt complete when my passenger side wasn’t vacant, and we’d sing to each other while driving down old back roads and telling stories. maybe it was the way my sister laughed the first time she met you and you laughed along with her. maybe what really sets me over is remembering that day we laid in my bed and the sun was shining on us and you kissed my face as if you’d never get enough, but the truth is i never got enough. i didn’t get enough of everything i imagined we would be, not nearly enough of the dreams that had disappeared from my grasp. i didn’t get enough walks through the park, i didn’t hug tight enough, i didn’t appreciate the arms around me while watching water flow down the river banks as we sat and talked abouht the earth and each others lips. i didn’t pay enough attention to what i should have, and i almost could put the blame on myself for letting you go. i gave up so easily, i saw defeat and ran towards it because i was already scared of what had been building up inside of my soul, so it seemed easier to me to let it go and live through this pain than to let myself think anything i felt on such a magnitude could ever be reciprocated back to me. i didn’t extend the help i had growing inside of me as i needed to, and i never showed my capacity to feel in the correct ways. you running was an excuse for me to grab ahold of and take off into the darkness with, so that i could convince myself into believing it really wasn’t my fault you were heading in the opposite direction. but lets face it, looking at the facts, i might’ve ran as well. If someone asked me why i am still so brainwashed over one human being, i would not have a groundbreaking answer. i dont want to still be stuck in this broken record of feeling like a coward every time i see you because a double train head on collision takes place. where my throat closes and my eyes shoot to the floor and my feet immediately move in the opposite direction and my mind goes into a million different places and recreates a hundred different situations then reimagines thousands of different scenarios and some of them being where you might have stayed and you would have loved me and i would have never felt this abandonment and loss at a ripe 19th year in my life. i’m too young to not believe that theres someone else out there for me, that there is someone who will treat me so much better than you ever did and wont place their own ego above having feelings for someone. where someone could form the realization within themselves that having someone love you might help you love yourself just as much. i think the answer i’d give would be that, maybe it hurts so bad because he made me feel something that i didn’t know i could feel in so many different ways. he made me feel wanted, and beautiful. i didn’t know that i could miss something i barely held with both of my hands, that i had barely experienced with my entire soul. maybe it hurt so much because i didn’t realize what i had grasped so tightly and let go of so easily. maybe what rammed into me head first was the realization that everything i thought i’d ever felt for anyone else could never match up to the magnitude of what i’d felt for you. the effort to try and be strong when I am bent, from love not meaning what i thought it’d meant, and leaving me to question everything i’d thought it was to begin with. i have to pretend like there isn’t this gaping black hole in the center of my chest where my heart used to be, because you told me i was a sweet girl and you never meant to hurt me and how you should have known. It was me, who should have known. because every second you reminded me of my own hearts location, made me feel its presence with every single inhale and exhale of my breath. i have to continue on like it doesn’t still hurt and act like i’m not bitter because i know you don’t care, and somewhere down the line you were searching and searching for a justified reason to hate me so that you could ease the blame on your shoulders for the very reason id love to go to sleep and not wake up. the day you found a good reason to never want to speak to me again was the day my mental would never be at balance again, how could you leave, but then decide to hate me for something that was out of my own hands and never let me get the reassurance that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. how could you turn the tables so drastically around and point the gun at my temple. your finger rested on that trigger but it faced towards yourself, the bullet you blasted through my heart went in one side and has been bouncing around hitting every thing in its path. i have been slowing bleeding out ever since. remember? you said you never meant to hurt me? but my blood is a puddle on the floor and the gun is in your hands.

i never asked for you to be the most beautiful creature i ever had the chance to feel with my own finger tips. i never asked you to leave. i would have never let myself feel something so big for someone so small, had i known. its almost as if it isn’t real when i look at you i don’t remember when you caressed my cheek with your thumb i don’t remember when you wrapped your arms around me so tightly that i thought id explode i don’t remember when you kissed my nose or told me it would be alright. i can’t even remember when you made nasty sandwiches and made me kiss you after. i won’t let myself remember when your finger tips dug into the skin around my neck as your poured your lips into my mouth. and i definitely won’t let myself remember how you whispered my name and held me in a sunken dip in your bed. no matter how tightly i slam them shut and try to focus on the darkness behind my eye lids, i can’t let myself forget how happy i was. and i also can’t let myself forget how happy i was before you as well, my world wasn’t a huge mess. i was just fine, i didn’t need someone to justify my presence and i surely didn’t need someone to hold my hand while i drove. when i look at you now wonder, pain, and fear you are the biggest mystery life has ever laid in front of me, and i think that goes to show something for you. i never got to completely figure you out, so it feels as if i climbed half of a mountain and a godly force came in and blew me to the ground. I’m sure for a very long time i will continue to imagine what could have grown from what you planted in the dirt, such a small seed torn from life because a direct water source was cut off. wonderment is a devil in its own entity, something that can tear your apart when explored too deeply, this i know from experience.

i haven’t gotten upset over you lately. i think i have finally let myself come to terms with the fact that what is done is done. it is what it is. you used to tell me that you hated when i said that, because you knew its what i said when i didn’t care. i have detached my feelings from my brain at this point. i don’t let myself think about how i felt or remember how blinding it was. now when i walk past you under forced circumstances i feel nothing. my blood turns to stone and my body moves on instinct, to further myself from you. i still wish i would have reached out to save you before i pulled away, letting you shatter onto the ground and consciously watch your shards shoot into my skin, wedging themselves into my blood stream. i think about other boys again. i have let myself try to move on recently, but i realize now more than ever after you, nothing is what it seems to be. i know that every step i take has to be measured and trust is earned, not handed.