#and sometimes you wake up in a situation that is not your fault but theres nothing you can do to get out of it

[kabutone]

like not to sound like some edgy piece of shit but that is also why horror is like such a breath of fresh air to me lmao like in almost all the horror media i've seen

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.

[theshabozengine]

Rank the mainline persona and SMT protags by skill in bed.

Alright finally I can make my opinions about SMT sex known

So right at the bottom of the fucking list is Yu from Persona 4

any fucking dipshit that dresses like this is is 100% bound to expect you to do all the work in bed while he lays there like a dead rotting fish. The only fucking fingerbang this man is aware of is the fucking South Park one because he thinks its edgy and cool to watch South Park. He also friendzones you immediately after he pump-and-dumps, riding off into the fucking sunset expecting you to be happy about this outcome.

Never EVER get you a man like this.

Next up is Boy With Earring from Persona 1

This man just does not fuck, plain and simple. He looks at you, see how you’re dressed and scoffs at the idea of getting dirty with you. This man has no human drives whatsoever. This creature is barely sapient, yet still a better more considerate lover than Yu. Has a weird thing for ice play though.

Third worst is Flynn from SMT4

Now its not his fault, unfortunately. See he’s friends with two other dumbasses and theyre constantly interrupting whenever he tries to get things started. Sometimes youll even be gently kissing Flynn, looking deep into his eyes when suddenly his gaze goes behind you, eyes filling with worry and you dont have time to brace yourself as you hear the shout: “ILL END IT THUS” and then your asshole is on fire because his dickhead friend didnt use any lube and its just an overall bad experience cuz then you have to keep trying to start the night with Flynn over but Walter keeps fucking showing up so you have to keep pray for the love of God that Isabeau escorts this dumbass out but then because you thought of God suddenly Jonathan’s there now and he’s just a mood killer and the night’s ruined and its just...

Its really not Flynn’s fault, but he will never be able to satisfy his partner.

Next up is the Tamaki duo from If

They really wanna try their best in bed but just look at these two, they have no idea what theyre doing. They can be redeemed if you feel you can teach them the ropes, but thatll be a whole long drawn out process and itll take them a very long time to understand the concept of an orgasm.

Kei Azume from NINE is next on the chopping block

This dumbass is just high, constantly, and the sheer reek of weed nugs permeating through his sheer existence deletes any and all desire a person could ever feel around them. Look at this Shaggy-looking mother fucker. This dumbass lives in a van and fucks his dog. However, unlike Yu, the dog at least gets an orgasm from Kei.

Unfortunately next on the list is Joker from Persona 5

He really really wants to fuck good, and boy he sure does try, however he always talks about how adults suck which brings up too many questions while his dick is inside you, an adult, and he always tries to finish you off with some sort of unexpected sex move which is always 100% predictable and obvious as he telegraphed it the entire time. Not only that, but this whole time hes been acting weird and you try to enjoy what he really has been doing well his fucking cat just walks up and sits with his asshole directly next to your fucking face, and Joker refuses so shoo the cat and now you just keep glancing to the cat asshole every once and a while by accident whereupon you become very conscious of its existence every so often, and having that sight paired with getting pleasured the whole time leaves weird echo effects in your mind like Pavlov’s Cat Taint ringing through your brain.

Then it turns out his cat was fully aware of how awful it was being the whole time and doesnt apologize and in fact expects you to apologize for waking it up with all your stupid moaning. Bad experience overall, evne if Joker himself is very good at sex.

Next is Tatsuya from Persona 2.

He’s really eager to try and help you out, but ultimately his fingers just cant reach the way you want them to, his tongue’s just a bit too slow, and he cant thrust his hips well enough to hit the spots you want. Always out-shined by the people from beyond this point, but a nice enough guy that you wouldnt mind at least trying with him a few times.

Next is Nanashi from Apocalypse.

This absolute fucking retard has no idea what’s going on at any time during his entire life, however his big brother Dagda who’s always creepily standing behind him even when youre trying to fuck can at least guide him through it. With his guidance he can fuck like a champ, however you have to deal with Dagda watching intently the whole time and just muttering “ You've got a lot of work ahead of you, kid... And you're going to learn firsthand just how pathetic gods, demons, and humans are. Remember one thing, my Godslayer: You have no choice but to obey me.“ every five fucking minutes. Good sex but HORRIBLE experience overall.

Bit controversial this next one, but Demi-Fiend from SMT3 is next on the list.

Now his kicks are fucking great, he always listens to what you have to say, and hes a great partner overall however...hes way too rough in bed. Like there’s being rough and then theres getting donkey punched and a neck sprain and massive internal bruising. Itll be really good for a while, but unless you can stop it real quick hes gonna get really rough. This man has no control once he gets going. He will continue to escalate the situation and unless you can yell your safeword louder than an undead monk screaming he aint gonna hear. Dangerous, but youll definitely cum.

Next is Protag from SMT1

Bold choice, I know, but he will always try and pay attention to your tender areas and watch your face carefully for any reaction however slight, and then log it all in his stupid fuckin Google smart watch. Itll be a good fuck, really, but youll also have to deal with him taking a break every once and a while to fucking log it all. Does have a very big dog too, if you’re into that kinda thing I suppose.

Aleph from SMT2 just squeaks ahead of Protag

This man is just the exact same person with the exact same flaws and everything, except minus a dog. However, he knows hes packing some fucking meat in his factory. Every single other character on this list has absolutely no fucking crotch protection except Aleph. Aleph here knows hes got a fucking pool noodle packed away and hes gotta fuckin protect it. He will create a water park in anyone’s pants once he drops trow and shows off. Astolfo’s Monster cock? Nothing compared to this man.

As with Aleph, Maya also fucks like a champ.

She knows what she wants out of her sexual experience with you and what she wants is 15 simultaneous shared orgasms, and by god shes gonna fucking get it. She will run at you like a fucking Terminator and clothesline you so you hit the bed stunned as she takes absolute control of the situation. You will not be able to move a muscle once shes done, and it will be as though your Mara ran entirely out of MP. Only real flaw is once she’s done, she gives you a temporary tattoo of hearts around your nipples like her dumb fuckin shirt to mark her territory. If youre into it, then she’ll make it permanent.

Next up is SMT5 protag holding the copper trophy. Game isnt ever going to come out but you just know how nasty this slut is.

Look at this idiot, this absolute fucking baboon. This fucking man who fought Sweeney Todd to death and won barehanded gives no fucks. Look at his awful fucking outfit and his garbage fucking haircut, then realize that even with all this he is confident. He’s a chad even with all this stuff that everyone else would tear to shreds. Why? Hes one of the best in bed. He’s fucked everyone who tried to step to him out of house and home. Once this monster’s engines rev up he will force you to see heaven. “Oh, hon, I just want one orgasm tonight” you might try to say before he can make you see white but then he just fuckin looks at you and smirks. That one orgasm you have is so fucking powerful you become dehydrated for a month.

With the silver comes Makoto Yuki from P3

Similar to SMT5 above, this man should be bullied into oblivion but hes not. Why? Sex god. This man is so fucking powerful at sex he literally gets a clay golem and a robot to fawn over him for the rest of their eternal lives. This man fucked so hard his friends all got mindbroken once he moved on and they foguht each other to the death for the right to his dick. This man fucks so well that he defeated fucking death with the power of how much everyone loved his dick. When this man died from fucking too much you know what he did? He went on to fuck concepts and evil gods instead. This man literally ascended to a higher power through the sheer power of dickening. Also when he fucks you his music choice is the best for breeding.

And with the gold: Doomguy from Strange Journey

This absolute perfect specimen has literally everything a person could ever ask for: His cock fits snug, virile, fit, handsome, and best of all hes independent. He doesnt need to rely on an tricks or anything to get your orgasms flowing, hes just the pinnacle of sex. This man marches into your father’s house, and just through sheer presence without a single word said makes your father beg him to take your hand in marriage. Marriage whereupon he will be the perfect husband and always treat you with respect, and even if you mess up he will forgive you and help you through any difficult periods in your life.

Literally everything and anything you could want in a man: If you like it rough, he can do it. You want it gentle he can play ball. Whatever hole you want him to stick it into hes got the perfect way to arch his hips to fit what you wanna feel at any point in time. Ooh baby, absolutely get you a perfect man like him. The planet Earth itself tried to woo him, but he said no since he knew the person reading this post was out there, and he wanted to make sure he was there to love you.

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Discord pt 98

[Date: 19/03, 06:01 AM GMT - 19/03, 06:50 AM GMT]

[CW for unethical floral experimentation, injury mention]

kateza affectionate: “mona, don't be so hard on yourself, ok?”

Maxwell: “....i....think we should tell her about the other stuff

mona”

Little-K1ng: “............theres more????”

Marcus: “.........heh”

Little-K1ng: “uh. heh?”

Maxwell: “I saw syds observation post from yesterday...it had a scrrenshot of something I said, and jack and them told me thats what you didnt want me seeing yesterday....”

Marcus: “Oh that

....yeah”

Little-K1ng: “O_O

uh..........................................................”

Marcus: “...that’s kind of what the argument was about”

Little-K1ng: “,,,,,,,,,,,,um

oh fuck. i

max...”

Maxwell: “im not upset”

Little-K1ng: “i just...”

Maxwell: “i took some time”

Little-K1ng: “you're... not?”

Maxwell: “and i get why you did it

yeah

but”

kateza affectionate: “you're in an unprecedented situation. a situation that keeps getting worse and worse with seemingly no reprieve. I don't blame you for slipping up here and there- there's so much stress involved that it's almost expected for you to be upset. i don't think anyone blames you for doing these things. that's all i wanted to say.”

Maxwell: “its gotten worse

baroness has images of more times where i've slipped up

at least twice during my argument with her”

Little-K1ng: “oh christ”

Maxwell: “and then I switched back to ender for certain words....”

Little-K1ng: “i.....”

Maxwell: “and....i sent prince an ask on faer blog....”

Little-K1ng: “you... did?”

Maxwell: “saying i was sorry for upsetting faem and i hoped i could see faem again soon”

Little-K1ng: “oh no oh no

oh max....”

Maxwell: “fae said "see you soon, page"”

Marcus: “...max signed the ask as page as well”

Maxwell: “no no

the was the second one”

Marcus: “..there was one before??”

Maxwell: “after he answered the first one i closed my eyes to breath”

Little-K1ng: “how can i be getting worse so much faster....”

Marcus: “.....I don’t...remember”

Little-K1ng: “unless...”

Marcus: “...huh”

Little-K1ng: “oh fucking christ no non on ono nonon ono nonono.....”

Maxwell: “and when I opened them like three minutes had passed and I had sent an ask as page apparently”

Little-K1ng: “did..... did crown do something? did he get in? did he get in when i left the door open??? and make it worse???????”

Marcus: “...I don’t

...max i don’t remember you sending an ask

Only page”

Little-K1ng: “is it my fault? did... did i do that? did i really.... i..... left you vulnerable....... i....”

Maxwell: “no it isnt your fault”

Little-K1ng: “i just....... this doesnt.... this doesnt hurt me nearly as much as it should.... im not... im still not upset..?”

Marcus: “Mona, Crown didn’t come in...I would’ve seen him. It’s not your fault”

kateza affectionate: “this isn't your fault mona

you're probably emotionally tired”

Little-K1ng: “but i just... i still just feel empty about it. i feel fully justified about this and i know i fucked up but im not hurt”

Raeva: “oh...”

Maxwell: “uh....I have marigold tea if you want some”

Little-K1ng: “i cant even fucking apologize right”

Marcus: “You didn’t mess up

...max what”

kateza affectionate: “you're emotionally burnt out, Mona. This is a bad situation”

Little-K1ng: “wh. where did you get marigolds?”

Maxwell: “oH

uH”

Marcus: “max”

Little-K1ng: “....;max????”

Maxwell: “hm.....well....

Little-K1ng: “max i dont have any tea except dandelion root

you're 16 you dont have money or a car

where the fuck,????”

Maxwell: “fetch was hurt....and i wanted to make sure I could help him tomorrow if he came back home tomorrow”

Marcus: “.....arent the flowers on your laurel...”

Maxwell: “.....”

Marcus: “max you didnt”

Little-K1ng: “mAaAaAaX??!!!!

what the HELL”

Marcus: “Don’t yell at him!”

Little-K1ng: “ahhhhh??????????????

im ??? not yelling on purpose im just????????

what the hell ??????”

Maxwell: “i wanted to help and it works?!”

Marcus: “you tested it???”

Maxwell: “yes”

Little-K1ng: “thats such a silly idea max of course it worked??? magic is like that sometimes??? but why would you have even thought about it ?????????”

Marcus: “max”

Maxwell: “i...”

Little-K1ng: “thats so silly how did it taste wh”

Maxwell: “i knew marigolds have the ability to help heal wounds...they can help speed up the process sometimes by a couple of days”

Marcus: “Are you okay??”

Maxwell: “they can help with blood flow”

Marcus: “Which ones did you cut off? Did you only cut one?”

Little-K1ng: “are you???? ok max first of all. heavy metal poisoning speedrunning. nice one. but also. dude cmon they double when you do that”

Maxwell: “and can sometimes even be used to treat infections...

i only cut one but it workss”

Little-K1ng: “one flower for how much ??”

Marcus: “...”

Little-K1ng: “like. did the water change color? bubble strangely? make fucked up ender noises at you??”

Maxwell: “i got a scrape on my arm when I was pacing outside waiting for fetch and I dipped a paper towel in it and put it on the wound”

Little-K1ng: “god maybe i am emotionally exhausted”

Maxwell: “it almost fully closed instantly”

Marcus: “...I kinda hope it made ender noises that would be funny”

[Maxwell: “it almost fully closed instantly”]

Little-K1ng: “hUH”

Maxwell: “it healed the wound faster than normal

not completely but enough”

Little-K1ng: “oh you better hope you dont do that too much and find out once your laurel wilts the wounds just open wtf”

Marcus: “I don’t think normal marigolds do that”

Little-K1ng: “thats like. supremely fucked dude??? thats weird.”

Maxwell: “.....”

Marcus: “...interesting”

Little-K1ng: “if you only used one did you??? just use the one i cut?”

Maxwell: “i wanted to help fetch

no the...one you cut was a bud

i needed one with petals that was bloomed...”

Marcus: “Y’know Max, I don’t think anyone else would’ve tried that”

Maxwell: “also the bud hasnt wilted despite being cut off a day ago...

but yeah i needed petals”

Marcus: “....”

Maxwell: “i tried to take em off when it was on my head but it felt like I was pulling out my hair so i stopped and just....”

Little-K1ng: “no, i understand the need. i get it. i want to help fetch too and honestly? i would have done the same”

Maxwell: “took a whole one”

Marcus: “...are you okay?

How did that not wake me up”

Little-K1ng: “im. i just. i feel so screwed up about this whole thing.”

Maxwell: “i didnt yell”

Marcus: “...”

Maxwell: “i numbed it with ice and grabbed the scissors

fetch wasnt happy when i told him”

Little-K1ng: “well of course not”

Maxwell: “jack saw it as an experiment”

Marcus: “...you talked to fetch?

Like directly?”

Little-K1ng: “you told him???”

Maxwell: “no he was messaging her”

Little-K1ng: “i dont even tell him when i hide a pill in some cheese for him

wait dont tell him that i said that”

Marcus: “I thought he just gave an update and that’s how you knew about stuff”

Maxwell: “to let us know he wouldnt be home tonight

yeah and i said i knew a way to help heal him”

Marcus: “...”

Maxwell: “he...knew i was gonna do something I shouldnt have

theres still quite a bit left”

Marcus: “....i can see why he would think that”

Maxwell: “it's in a bowl....

....you can use some if you need it”

Little-K1ng: “...........ok. would it be weird. if i drank it

like a little bit

maybe itll?? pick up my mood or something”

Marcus: “What if it cures your migraines”

Maxwell: “i dont know if it works for moods”

Little-K1ng: “god i WISH”

Maxwell: “uh give me a sec”

[Marcus: “What if it cures your migraines”]

Little-K1ng: “MARCUS IF IT DOES THAT IM GIVING YOU TWO THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE”

Maxwell: “you could try but as far as i remember it wont work

it works for wounds and inflammatory stuff”

Little-K1ng: “damn”

Marcus: “Why would you give it to me-”

Little-K1ng: “yeah ill be honest i maybe do not want the weird rat juice . at least not right now”

Maxwell: “its...flower

i put the petals in a pot and boiled em”

Little-K1ng: “Brain Flower of the Rat is not exactly the most appealing tea flavor, max. with all due respect”

Maxwell: “then i strained them”

Marcus: “Juice of Brain Flower of the Rat then”

Maxwell: “actually tastes slightly like normal water...

if anything slightly sweet

jack said it might taste like rose water”

[Marcus: “Juice of Brain Flower of the Rat then”]

Little-K1ng: “sick new lacroix flavor”

[Maxwell: “jack said it might taste like rose water”]

Little-K1ng: “.....rose water?”

Maxwell: “yeah you boil the roses then strain em into a bowl

like i did with the marigolds”

Little-K1ng: “i like rose water... :/ guess maybe i do want the fucked up rat brain plant water”

Maxwell: “you could try some its not like I cant make more”

Little-K1ng: “....hm !!! dont like that

do not make more rat water”

Maxwell: “....”

Little-K1ng: “i will try some but do not make more”

Marcus: “...please stop calling it rat water?”

Little-K1ng: “marcus?? do you want to try some (Patent Pending) Maxwell Ratatouille's Funky Fresh Brain Tea™️?”

Maxwell: “....

im too tired for this shit”

Little-K1ng: “im coping max.”

Marcus: “....”

Maxwell: “ fair”

Marcus: “I don’t have any injuries?”

Maxwell: “im.....i might go to sleep soon....

who?”

Marcus: “Who?”

Little-K1ng: “we dont have injuries

basically

okay so uh?? bottoms up i guess”

sip sip

sip

Marcus: “..oh wait

My elbow?

Does it work on old injuries?”

Little-K1ng: “uh. hm

it tastes good?”

Maxwell: “oh yeah its burned! it wont get rid of the injury but it might help with any lingering pain?”

Little-K1ng: “it tastes nice actually, the rose water thing was actually accurate

........................................huh

wtf”

kateza affectionate: “I’m gonna head to bed. Stay safe y’all. Much love /p”

Little-K1ng: “gn Kate !

uh

hm. okay”

Maxwell: “hm?”

Marcus: “What Mona?”

Little-K1ng: “so. i may have forgotten to mention out loud to yall but i have some pretty bad joint pain

like, typically, its a mid level pain all the time

and its jsut? less

less pain

thats nice”

Maxwell: “told ya it works!”

Little-K1ng: “it.... does !

dont make more though

ill enjoy this for as long as it lasts but for gods sake max dont pick the laurel for tea”

Marcus: “Please don’t make more rat juice max”

Little-K1ng: “gonna do a rat juice high five marcus

try it??”

Marcus: “I’ll..try just applying it to my elbow”

Little-K1ng: “something something dab joke”

Marcus: “Man you really are tired huh?

Little-K1ng: “i am so tired

work was hard

and i came home, expecting like, the remnants of a fight”

Marcus: “Okay- oh”

Little-K1ng: “only to realize that like, just about every problem for the last 2 days are probably entirely my fault”

Marcus: “Mona”

Little-K1ng: “and i dont actually have it in me to think i actually did anything wrong and i keep getting angry and snapping at people who dont deserve it”

Marcus: “Mona it’s fine

I promise”

Little-K1ng: “<:(”

Maxwell: “you okay marcus”

Little-K1ng: “^this is an incredibly forced frown. again, i dont feel bad”

Maxwell: “the water didnt hurt you right?”

Marcus: “Huh?

Oh

No it’s quite soothing actually”

Little-K1ng: “yeah weird right ??”

Marcus: “A bit”

Little-K1ng: “i WILL physically fight you max if you try to make more though

i will get mad. dont”

Maxwell: “....sorry”

Little-K1ng: “i mean dont be sorry for trying it, that was a good idea

but you've done it once, thats enough”

Marcus: “Please don’t make more max”

Little-K1ng: “for safety reasons”

Marcus: “Yeah”

Little-K1ng: “i dont know how easily those stems get infected

and with how deep they run i really dont want you to find out

i already endangered you all this far, please dont help me do that

guys... you both look so tired”

Maxwell: “you wont endagenr us its fein”

Little-K1ng: “maybe you should go to bed”

Maxwell: “im fien”

Little-K1ng: “sounds like it ,':)

head to the tulips, dormouse :)!”

Maxwell: “fuckign what”

Maxwell: “awwwww i love emas”

Little-K1ng: “do you guys want to sleep in the living room? my bed is pretty huge”

Maxwell: “oh iv emafe a neast on the fllor”

Little-K1ng: “oh perfect, and it looks like marcus is already asleep :) thats okay!! goodnight you guys”

Maxwell: “nihgtn”

[jaeminlore]

Worlds Apart | Ten

summary: we don't have a choice, the curtains have closed. i’m making a point, but you'll never know.

words: 7.8k+

category: fluff, angst, twd au

warnings: death, guns, knives, blood, violence?, the works, not that detailed so it’s p chill

a/n: i am, and i cannot stress this enough, so sorry

The barn is nearly empty. It used to be full of cows. Same with the chicken coop out front. Ten can see the farmhouse through his binoculars — knows that people live there. Humans too, not whatever undead creatures have been popping up everywhere. He wonders briefly if the farmers are even trying to ration their food. After all, their chickens are disappearing at an alarming rate. And, really, he can't see how two old people can eat so much. Sometimes he thinks of sneaking over to the house while the old farmers are on one of their weekly runs. But then again, he steals a lot of apples from their orchard already, and he's pretty sure they know. And he wouldn't even know how to prepare a chicken, so there.

He really hates the taste of apples.

There's an entire basket of the fruit hiding under his bed. He would almost rather starve then force himself to eat another apple. He glances out the window of his R.V. and sighs again. Where are those old farmers anyway? By this time, they're usually home, patching up that chain link fence they installed behind their already-sturdy picket fence. Ten knows its good to be prepared but sheesh, he's been hunkered down in this R.V. for months and he hasn't had a problem.

Seriously though, the convenience store is only three miles away. They almost always leave at dawn. Ten knows their pattern like the back of his hand. They are always home before sundown. That's when it's safest. There has to be a reason they aren't back yet. Something happened. Something bad.

Ten groans and sets his binoculars down. The old red cap that hangs above his sink is snatched up and set over his already-matted hair. He slips on a coat and grabs the only weapon he has: a pocket knife.

He sets for the farmhouse, just as the sun begins to go down.

"Hello?" He knocks three times on the screen door. Cupping his hand around his eyes he peers in, trying to figure out why they kept the front door open and the screen door locked. Not the best call, in his opinion. "My name is Ten! I live in the woods, just outside of your back paddock! I wanted to make sure you guys are safe! Hello!"

He knocks again. Nothing.

There's no activity inside. It's a big house, he knows, but it's also old, and any movement from inside would certainly let off a string of creaks and groans from the old foundation. Plus, these people aren't afraid of anything. He knows that. They're careful sure, but they aren't stupid. They know who Ten is, and they wouldn't leave him out here like this.

Ten makes a split decision and breaks the lock.

"Hello?" He calls again. Sweat forms at the back of his neck as he begins to look through all the rooms. The house is eerily normal. Every bedroom is clean, every bed is made. He reaches the kitchen and finds it strange that the table is set. His eyes drift over to the open dishwasher. The dishes inside are clean, which can only mean one thing.

Ten grabs the faucet handle and turns. When water pours out, he finds himself cheering aloud. This house must have a private well or something, if the farmers are still using a dishwasher.

"Hello?" He calls upstairs. They creak as he climbs up, and paranoia fills his chest as he realizes that no one is home. 

No one is coming home.

-

"Welp, the gas station was completely empty." You drop the empty gasoline can at Taeyong's feet. "This is the third one this week."

Taeyong ignores your whining, but you can't help but let your frustrations out. The three of you — Mark is out — have been traveling for days, hoping to make it to the shore, and yet you keep running out of gas. And yeah, you're thankful that you guys broke down near a baseball field, so you aren't completely vulnerable, but you feel so trapped.

This entire situation is just one big disaster after the next. You need a break. Taeyong needs a break. The poor boy has been trying to start a fire all day. You sit beside him and sigh. "Where's Mark?"

"Scavenging," Taeyong grunts, angrily lighting another match. "There's s rec center near here. There's no way it didn't turn into a safe place. There should be blankets, food—"

"—Walkers," you finish. "There's a higher risk at places like that."

"I know, but he insisted. ' Feels like he isn't doing enough or whatever."

"He's doing plenty," you say. You scratch the dried clay off of your boot and try to blink away the tears. "What if he doesn't come back? What if he's like Yu—"

"Don't," Taeyong whispers. "It's just us now. The others are gone. We can't dwell on the past."

There's a long silence for a moment until... "Guys! You'll never guess what I found!"

"Was it a way to call every walker within the mile to our hideout?" You quip, quickly unlatching the gate to let a flustered Mark in.

He has a duffle bag on his back, and it's filled with stuff, so you let him talk. "Theres a farmhouse, a few miles away. There was a whole list of historical landmarks at the rec center. Apparently, the farmhouse was the first house built in this town. Maybe the people who own it will let us stay."

"Or maybe they'll be gone and we won't have to ask," you mutter, unzipping his bag and extracting a stained blanket. "We should go. First thing in the morning. You remember the directions?"

"Yeah." Mark begins to help Taeyong with the fire, a small expression of pride on his face. 

You hope the farmhouse isn't a dead end. For Mark's sake.

-

Ten doesn't get any sleep. He stays up all night, waiting for the couple to return. Hoping, more like. Once dawn hits the farm, he begins to move his stuff from the R.V. to the house.

Now it's nearly nighttime again, and while he wants to sleep, he can't help but feel unnerved at the thought of being alone in such a big house. He's barricaded all of his things into one room on the second floor. He bides his time by checking the pantry's inventory. There's tons of food here: fruit preserves and frozen meat that Ten realizes the farmer's had prepared early, just in case.

He's hungry, but he can't bear to eat any of their food, so he grabs an apple and sits in the living room, waiting for a couple who won't return.

Except they do. And it's not a couple, it's three people he's never seen before. He notices them when the reach the chain link fence and begin to climb, so he knows they aren't undead. Sometimes that can be worse, though.

He scrambles to his feet and makes way for the front parlor, where he saw a gun cabinet coming in. He grabs the first one he sees — a pistol — and heads outside, a shaky bravado in his voice. "State your names and your business!"

There are three of them. The tallest one raises both his arms, and the others follow in suit. "I'm Taeyong. This is Y/n and Mark. We're looking for solace."

"Obviously," Ten mutters under his breath. Then he raises his voice. "How can I trust any of you?"

"We don't have guns," Y/n speaks up. She passes Ten a wary glance. "Just blankets and food. We were on our way to the shore when our vehicle broke down. The gas stations are empty and we have nowhere to go."

Ten eyes the three of them and notices that they all look a little malnourished. Dark circles are noticeable under their eyes and someone's stomach is definitely 

growling. "The couple who live here haven't returned. I'm waiting it out. You're welcome to wait it out with me. But—" he eyes the bag, "—you have to give me some food. All I have — that's mine — are apples."

"I've got strawberry wafers from the convenience store we looted on our way here. Two old walkers were guarding a whole stash of snacks," Taeyong says, hands still in the air.

Ten lowers his gun, gaze softening under the brim of his hat. He recalls seeing a lot of wafers in the pantry. Maybe that snack was a favorite. "I think you met the owners,"he says. He turns his back on them and makes his way up the steps. "Come inside. We can all wash up and eat something."

Mark is the first to follow him in, and Ten figures he must be the youngest, all eager and lively. Taeyong is next, and Y/n stays in the front yard, surveying the ground.

"What is she doing?" Ten questions, setting the gun back in the cabinet. "The entire yard is fenced in. And there are paddocks surrounding it. We're safe, really."

"Y/n is just making sure," Taeyong says. "Last time we didn't secure the borders, we lost people. I think it's compulsory now."

Ten feels a pang in his chest. He's been on his own for so long that he can't remember the last time he lost someone who actually meant something to him. "How long ago?"

"A month." Taeyong whispers as he eyes the front room. "It's only been a month."

The four grab whatever food they think will comfort them the most and eat in the room Ten filled with his stuff. It's obvious that no one really wants to be out of each other's sight. Ten is blatantly outnumbered, but he doesn't feel threatened. Not when Mark begins telling him a funny story, as if they're old friends.

-

You wake up feeling grosser than you did when you fell asleep. You're not tired anymore, so that's good, but your clothes are caked in a layer of sweat and dirt. You make for the bathroom and locks yourself in, hoping to get at least one shower out of this experience before disaster strikes.

Somehow you fell asleep around the stranger. Your only assurance was that he left the gun in the cabinet and didn't make any threatening moves at all. And Mark seems to trust him. Mark has the seventh sense of a dog, and can always tell when someone is untrustworthy, so you find no real fault in becoming vulnerable for an hour or so.

You find all kinds of hygiene products and refresh yourself liberally. You wash, rinse, and repeat enough times to make conservationists mad, but Ten mentioned a well system, so the water isn't going to run out any time soon. Besides, you don't plan on taking a shower every day, so this is a luxury you think you deserve.

Once every nook and cranny is free of blood, dirt, and sweat, and replaced with the warm scent of vanilla body wash and dandruff-free shampoo, you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a cotton robe hanging on the back of the door.

You wrap it around yourself and tie two knots before you feel secure enough to approach the small, yet rambunctious group in the kitchen.

Taeyong has found eggs and a pan, and that's obviously enough for him to revive his love for cooking. Three omelets are already stacked onto Mark's plate, while Ten in tucking into what looks like his last one. "Have you eaten yet, Taeyong?"

"No," he answers. There's a warm grin on his face like he couldn't be more content if he tried. "There were like, two dozen eggs in the fridge, and Ten collected a dozen more from the coop."

"That's wonderful." You ruffle Mark's hair and laugh as he shoves your hand away, whining about being treated like a baby.

Ten looks up from his food and chuckles. "There are clean clothes upstairs if you, uh, don't want to walk around in a robe all day."

You stick your tongue out at him, finding it easier to banter now that you don't feel so gross. "If you want a turn with the robe, just ask." 

Ten rolls his eyes and returns to his omelet. "Smart-ass."

"That's me!" You holler, already halfway up the stairs. The farmhouse is huge, so there are certainly enough rooms for each of you. You find the one with the least amount of windows and decide to claim it as your own. After a small search, you find underwear, shorts, and a t-shirt to cover you. 

You bound downstairs to see that Taeyong is now sitting at the table, a couple of omelets ready for the both of you. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

Ten leans chin on his palm. "Everyone takes a shower, I guess. To be honest, we can fill the upstairs bathtub with water and use it to wash clothes. We can use it a few times before the water gets too dirty, and it'll save more water than the washing machine."

"And no more using the dishwasher," Taeyong notes. "We can wash them by hand, too."

"I can take inventory," Mark says, swallowing a mouthful of eggs. "See what we need to go on runs for."

"I'll help," you take a sip of your water. "We could go out before sunset and load up."

"I know the land," Ten says. "I should go, too."

Taeyong purses his lips. "So Ten and Y/n go on a run. Mark and I will wash clothes and make sure the animals are fed."

You clean the dishes while Mark makes a list of supplies. Most of it is paper products: toilet paper, paper towels, and pads. A few things are added on, like socks, soap, and sponges. Chicken feed if you can find it. 

With the list tucked into your back pocket and a machete clipped to your belt, you follow Ten's lead into town. Ten has a gun holster in his belt, but you're pretty sure he has no idea how to use it. His posture is nervous: shoulders tense and steps quick. "So... come here often?"

Ten snorts. "Not really. I used to steal food from the orchard — we should go picking soon, by the way, before the fruit gets rotten — and I'd go a few miles north for paper products."

You pause. "So, why aren't we going north?"

"I cleaned that place out. There's a general store just a mile up that I want to try. No one ever really went there, so it's possible not many people thought about it during all the panicking."

"Alright," you try to match his steps. "But what if there isn't any there?"

Ten shrugs. "There are a few burger joints around. Supply closets have to have something."

You're about to reply when a growl cuts you off. Ten spreads out his arms and pushes you back. "It's coming from the woods."

"And I have the melee weapon," you say, grabbing his forearm and moving it out of your way. "Watch my back."

The walker joins you both on the road, and you grimace at the way its jaw seems unhinged from its skull. "Disgusting," you mutter, bounding forward and stabbing its head in one quick sweep. "I hate doing that."

Ten holds his hand out and eyes the machete. "I can do it, if you don't want to."

You glare at Ten. "I don't need you to do things for me."

Your outburst quiets Ten. The entire trip to the general store is spent in silence, save for when you kill two more walkers, and Ten kills three with his pocket knife. There's now blood on your crisp white t-shirt. Ten has a few splatters on his jacket, but he wipes his knife on his clothed thigh and keeps walking. 

The road is quiet and long. It's so poorly paved that you can't help but wonder just how small this town actually used to be. Without actual people around, it's hard to tell where the town starts and ends. The other fact is that the place seems to be free of walkers. Or at least herds. The random straggler is welcomed, compared to how many herds you've had to fight to get here. 

You wonder if it'll last.

"We're here," Ten stops in his tracks and points to an old wooden cabin hidden by the overgrown branches of the roadside forest. 

You follow him in. It's more of a gift shop than anything. Maybe a welcome center — the type of place people stop in to pick up a map and nothing else. It's filled with little knickknacks and frivolous clothing items like thin fashion scarves and gloves. The entire place seems heavy with the farm theme, and there are a lot of souvenirs that suggest a historical museum somewhere near here. "I wonder why people didn't come back here," you say.

Ten grabs a hanging keychain with Mark's name on it and pockets it. "No one liked this town before. It's the kind of place everyone dreams of leaving. Lots of old people retire here, but obviously they didn't make it that long."

The two of you pocket whatever seems useful. Luckily, the place has a lot of locally curated goat soap and other hygiene products of that nature. This is a farming town, you think as you find a spare jar of harvested honey. 

There are paper products in the supply closet, so the two of you load up as much as you can. "We should check the bathroom, too," you say. "Sometimes they have cabinets of stuff."

Ten finishes filling his bag while you head to the bathroom. It's a one-person bathroom with the door closed, and you aren't stupid, so you grab your machete. You wiggle the knob. Locked. Someone is — or was — in there. You bang your machete hilt against the door and hastily press your ear to the splintered wood, hoping to hear some kind of growling. Something that'll tell you what you're up against. 

Instead, you hear what sounds like a whimper. 

"Ten," you hiss. "Ten, c'mere."

He hurries over, leaving his bag on the ground and extracting his knife. "What's wrong? What's in there?"

"Ten, I think it's a kid," you hiss. "Like, a human kid."

Ten purses his lips and raps his knuckles against the door. "Is anyone in there? We can help. You have to open the door."

They start crying. It's definitely a child.

You glare at Ten. "You scared them!" You turn to the door and press your palm flat against it. "We aren't here to hurt you. There are two of us. My name is Y/n. My friend's name is Ten. We came to find some supplies and return to our house. We have a house, if you'd like to come..." You trail off as the crying continues. There's really no way to go about this situation. You'd like to open the door and talk to them face to face, but you can't. And breaking down the door doesn't sound like a good way to gain a child's trust. You look to Ten for help.

Ten sits down and leans his head back against the door. "My name is Ten," he starts. "I have a farmhouse down the road a bit. It has cows and chickens, and I think there's a cat that hangs around in the barn sometimes. Do you like cats?"

Silence hangs in the air. Then: "... I like orange ones."

Ten grins at you, a break of relief on his face at the sound of a little girl's voice. "Me too! They're my favorites. What's your name?"

"...Scarlett."

"That's a pretty name," Ten compliments. He eyes a walker as it strides past the windows, and you think about getting back before dark. "Scarlett, would you like to visit the farmhouse? We can find the cat, and my friend Taeyong makes the best omelettes ever."

Scarlett's voice suddenly appears closer to the door, as if she's trying to look through the keyhole. "Does he make cakes?"

"I bet if you come with us, the two of you can bake a cake together!"

The lock clicks. You and Ten scramble away from the door just in time for a little girl to step out.

It's clear that she's been trapped in there for awhile. The bathroom smells like waste, and it's littered with empty cans and wrappers. Scarlett herself is severely malnourished. Her purple overalls hang off of her body. Her short brown hair is matted, and there's dirt and grime on the lens of her turtle shell glasses. She can't be older than seven years old, and her state makes her seem even younger.

Ten is on his knees in an instant, eye-level to the child in an effort to seem comforting. "Are you alright, Scarlett?"

She nods, blinking at the two of you. "I'm hungry."

"Right," Ten grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder before offering his hand to Scarlett. "Then let's hurry. I bet you and Taeyong can bake that cake tonight."

-

The entire house smells like vanilla. The generator-operated oven was put into overdrive as soon as Taeyong met Scarlett. Together they baked a cake, and while it cooked, Scarlett took a bath and was given clean clothes. You had to hem a pair of underwear to get it to fit, but you found that a grown man's t-shirt worked just fine for a nightgown.

Taeyong found an old copy of The Princess Bride to read to her, and you can still hear Scarlett and Mark's laughter as they listen to Taeyong's exaggerated princess voice. 

You sit at the kitchen table, alone with a slice of cake and a mug of lukewarm water. The cake tastes like too much vanilla and even more love. You wonder where Scarlett's parents are, and if they would ever return to that bathroom for their daughter. You wonder if they were the ones who told her to hide in the first place. The day flashes through your mind and you feel regret pool in your stomach. It's uncomfortable as it settles, and you're unsure how to process everything.

Footsteps sound from upstairs, and Ten comes down. He sits across from you and steals your plate. 

You let him. 

He takes a bite of the treat and stares at you for a moment, perhaps studying your expression and the way you won't look up from your water. "What's wrong."

You shrug, but it's unconvincing even to you. "I just... Why didn't Scarlett answer me? I didn't sound scary, did I?"

Ten cards his fingers through his dark hair and gives you a smile. It looks full of pity. "I don't think it was personal. I think she just liked talking about the cat."

"How do you think she got in there?"

"Could be anything. If I had a guess, I'd say her parents told her to stay there until they came back. And then they didn't."

You frown. "How are we gonna raise a kid?"

"I dunno," Ten shrugs. "Two days ago, I was living alone in an R.V. Anything can happen."

"I guess that's true. And I think Taeyong is happy," you mutter. "Maybe Scarlett can be happy here, too."

As if on cue, a happy giggle is heard from the living room, followed by Taeyong's loud laugh. 

Ten grins at you, and his eyes seem to sparkle in the candlelight. "I think she will be."

-

As it turns out, you and Ten make a really great team when it comes to scavenging. Ten is quick and good at sneaking around, and you have a knack for finding uselful things that seem to hide it plain sight. There are no problems with the two of you, other than the occasional argument. 

You load a pistol and stick it in your belt. "Okay, so medicine."

Scarlett comes down with a fever, and Taeyong is nervous about letting it run through without any medication. Ten mentions a pharmacy a short drive away, and the two of you head out.

Ten's hair has grown out in the past weeks. You've reminded him that the farmhouse has clippers, but he seems to like the way his hair curls under his ears. 

Secretly, you like it to. You study him as he focuses on driving. He's wearing his usual red cap, letting it come down over his eyes so that it looks almost as if he can't see. Lately, he's taken to tucking his t-shirts into his jeans, and you aren't sure why he does it, but it looks nice on him. It makes him look even more handsome. 

As winter is approaching, you've taken to wearing whatever coats and sweaters you could find. Right now you're wearing an old university sweatshirt you found a few scavenging trips back. It's loose on you, but it's warm, and you feel somehow safer with your arms covered. 

The pharmacy — with it's clear doors and windows — seems fairly empty, save for a stray or two. The streets: empty as well. It feels wrong, like there's some looming threat around that neither you nor Ten can see.

He parks on the curb, and, list in hand, the two of you climb out of the car. 

You glance around and notice a large white church just across the street. "That's weird. Why is it in the middle of town?"

Ten looks up at the steeple. He shrugs. "It's a small town."

You check the release of your pistol for what feels like the hundredth time since you've been given the damn thing. You hate guns. You hate what they do to people, and you hate that you need one to survive. It doesn't help that you barely know how to use the thing. You're clumsy at best, and that's not good enough here. The amount of times Ten has covered your ass because you're not good with firearms is too many to count.

You holster it and grab your machete instead, more comfortable with hand-to-hand combat. 

Ten follows your lead and takes out his knife. "Okay. Ready? Stay close to me."

It's something he says before every raid, and you find it more reassuring than anything. "Got it." 

The two of you open the pharmacy door together and begin your walk, back to back through the store. Your first concern is clearing it, so when the first walker comes at you, growling and snapping it's jaw menacingly, you nail him between the eyes. Ten gets the only other one you can see, and then it's a dive through the empty aisles for some medication.

"This whole place looks empty," you mutter under your breath. Indeed, white metal shelves are bare, save for a few random items here and there. You watch Ten inspect a few and tuck them away, into his bag. 

He picks up a bag of cough drops. "I mean, some of it is useful. Not against a fever, though."

You sigh and make your way towards the back of the store. "Shouldn't there be a place where all the storage is? Like shipment boxes and stuff?"

Ten follows your lead towards the door with an "employees only" sign.

"It's our best shot."

It's the same ritual: Ten covers your back and you cover his. The two of you luckily don't find any walkers, but it's not exactly a room of shipping containments. It's a storage closet, it seems. It's equipped with cleaning supplies, but nothing extraordinary. 

"Wait," you say, reaching for a white tin box that hangs just above the light switch. "It's a first aid kit. Look! Aspirin — that's something, right?"

Ten yanks the entire kit off of the wall and shoves it into his back. "Better than nothing," he grunts.

"Let's take this back. We'll try somewhere else tomorrow."

He swings the storage room door open, only to yelp in surprise at the sight of walkers, all crowding the store. They catch sight of him and turn, all headed for the two of you.

Ten pulls the door closed and locks it just in time to hear the banging and growling of walkers. He curses. "We're trapped. What do we do, we're trapped..."

"Ten," you sputter, fear creeping into your chest. "Ten."

He looks at you, eyes wide, mirroring your own fear. He lunges forward suddenly and wraps his arms around you. "It's okay. It's okay. The longest we'll be trapped is a day, right? Taeyong and Mark will notice. They'll drive out."

"They don't have a car," you cry. Your arms circle his waist and you hide your face in his chest. Your body is shaking from fear, fully aware of how loud it it outside of the door. "Where did they come from? How did they sneak up on us?" Panic sneaks up your throat like pile and you squeeze Ten even tighter. "What if they bust the door down?"

Ten lets out a shaky breath. "They won't. They won't. It'll be okay, we just have to think." He lets go of you and paces around the small space. 

You reach out for him and his eyes focus on your wrist. 

He grabs your wrist. "Your watch. Does it work?"

"It does," you say, hesitantly. "I don't think it matters what time it is, Ten."

"We left the house at nine." He says. "That means it should be noon soon, right?"

"I guess? Ten, what are you saying?"

"The church," he says, "I completely forgot until I saw your watch, but it has a timer that rings out at noon. If we wait, we can make a brake for it."

"How long?" you ask. You whimper  at a particularly scary bang heard outside.

Ten glances at your watch. "Any minute now..."

As if on cue, church bells begin to ring from far away. The growls begin to grow quieter, more distant. "Okay, on my cue we go. Stay close to me, and we'll make a break for the car."

"Got it," you whisper, holding your machete in front of your chest. "On your cue."

"Okay, three, two, one..."

-

The aspirin helps take the fever down, and Scarlett falls asleep in Taeyong's arms that night.

You have a bit more trouble falling asleep. You don't want to feel weak, but it's hard to forget how close you were to death just hours ago. You feel embarrassed at how frightened you got, and wonder if Ten thinks of you as a weak link.

It bothers you so much that you find yourself at the entry to his bedroom. "Hey, Ten?"

He's sitting at the foot of his bed in only pajama bottoms, reading some book he found. But at your voice, he dog-ears the page he's on and sets it aside before looking at you with a gentle smile. "What's up?" 

"What happened earlier... At the pharmacy... You don't— You don't think I'm weak, do you?"

Ten furrows his brows before standing up. He shakes his head in disbelief as he walks over to you. "Y/n, I was terrified. You were terrified. That doesn't make us weak, okay? It makes us human, and since that's the only think separating us from the walkers, I think it's a pretty good trait, alright?" He brushes your hair back from your face in a brief moment of reassurance. 

You lean into his touch. "Yeah. Alright."

-

Mark finds a board game in the attic, and he spends the entire afternoon trying to teach it to the rest of you. Scarlett is invested, ignorant to the present events. Taeyong is playing half-heartedly in an effort to keep Scarlett invested. 

You're too busy staring out of the window to care about the game. "He's not back yet. He said he's be back." You couch into your hand and groan. Your head is pounding and your throat burns with every cough, but you're too worried about Ten to care. "Mark should've gone with him."

"He wanted to go alone," Mark says. 

"He shouldn't get the choice," you snap. You cough into your elbow again and grimace. "We're a team. We can't be separated like this. He has no one to cover him."

Taeyong helps Scarlett move her game piece. While she's distracted, he stands up and makes his way to your perch on the window seat. "You know Ten's fine, right? He worked alone for a long time before we met him."

"I know," you say, "which is why he shouldn't ever have to do it again. Last time we went on a medicine run, we got trapped. It was a stroke of luck that alarm still worked. What if he's trapped now and he needs our help?" 

"He's quick. Smart. He'll make it back. Now please go and rest. Your fever isn't going to reduce if you're on your feet, worrying yourself to death." Taeyong doesn't give you a choice, though, as he wraps his arms around you and helps you towards your bedroom. "You'll want to be awake when Ten comes back, right?" 

"Right..." You climb into your bed and allow Taeyong to tuck you in (not that you would've had the strength to fight him, anyway.)

"I'll keep a look out," Taeyong reassures you. "If he isn't back in two hours, Mark and I will head out."

"Thank you," you mumble sleepily, already falling into a deep slumber.

When you awake, it's nighttime, and Ten is looking over you with an amused grin. "Miss me?"

"Never," you answer with a cough.

Ten hands you your medicine and you take it, watching the way he worries over your figure. "I'm sorry I left alone. I didn't mean to worry you."

You close your eyes when he rest his cool hand against your forehead. "Just don't leave again, M'kay? Not without me."

Ten smiles softly, and when he speaks, it's a gentle and sincere promise. "I won't."

-

Winter comes, and you find yourself wishing you were up north, where the walkers would be slowed down by the snow. In the south, winter is chilly at most, and it's nothing a coat can't fix. Walkers keep their same pace.

You, Ten, and Mark find any blind spots in the fences and patch them up. Luckily, the farmers who owned the house beforehand were prepared for this sort of issue, and stored a lot of supplies in the barn.

The barn is now empty. None of you knew how to prepare a cow for eating, you used it as bait to draw a particularly troublesome herd of walkers away from the farm. That wasn't easy either, but at least it was in your range of skill.

The chickens are still lively, and Scarlett does a good job of collecting eggs every morning for Taeyong to cook up. Ten and Mark secured a coop closer to the house, though. Just in case. 

You and Ten keep up with your frequent runs, especially now for blankets and other supplies to keep warm in a house without heat. The wells are checked every day by Mark, while Taeyong takes care of the animals and Scarlett.

Any shops near the farmhouse have been cleaned out by the two of you well before winter, so you both decided to go a few towns over and check there. It's a small town with barely any stores, but it has a few rich neighborhoods that Ten wants to loot.

He parks on the curb of the cul-de-sac and laughs at your awed expression. "They're nice, right?" 

"Who lived here? Millionaires?"

"Yeah, actually," Ten giggles. "Each of these houses are three stories high. We'll spend the day looting each one, and then we can spend the night in our favorite before heading back."

"Let's hit the one with the in-ground pool first." You push the door open and give Ten an over-the-shoulder smirk. "First one to the door wins."

Ten grabs his knife and bag and follows you across the street, struggling to keep his laughter quiet, lest the two of you draw any walkers in.

When night falls, the trunk of the car is filled with enough supplies to last the farmhouse for a long time. Neither you nor Ten can contain your excitement over the find, so Ten sneaks some wine and glasses into one of the master bedrooms. 

You jump on the unscathed bed while Ten locks the door and pushes an armoire in front of it. "Can you believe we found a handheld console? Do you think Taeyong will let us keep it?"

Ten laughs and grabs your hands, pulling you into a sitting position. "Calm down, dummy. And yeah, I'm sure Taeyong will let us take some batteries. Although he might make us give it to Scarlett."

You pull a face. "Why should she have all the fun?"

"We could hide it," Ten whispers, leaning closer to you with a wicked smile painted on his face. "No one has to know."

Tens face is too close to yours. He does this all the time, mostly when he's excited about something. His natural response is to lean into you while he speaks, but right now it's too much.

You're both high off of adrenaline, his nose is brushing against yours, and if you lean in just an inch or two you could kiss his lips. Just one kiss would hurt, right? At least, that's all that can run through your mind at times like these. Then again, it's sort of the end of the world, and maybe you're just lonely.

Or maybe you like Ten a lot, and this is the time to let him know.

You press your lips against his for a split second and move away, afraid of his rejection. Afraid he'll think you're weird. 

"Y/n," Ten whispers. His lips are close to yours, and his eyelashes are fluttering against his cheekbones as he struggles to keep his eyes open. "Please don't stop."

He holds your chin between his thumb and pointer, and lifts your face. His lips meet yours once again and they're soft, softer than you think they should be. 

You think he shouldn't be this skilled at kissing. Not when the two of you aren't even drunk yet. He nips at your bottom lip; you sigh and grab onto his hair, twirling the ends with your fingers.

Ten gently pushes you until you're on your back, and the plush mattress welcomes your weight. You tug at his hair, eliciting a soft moan from the back of his throat. He grabs at your hips and lifts your shirt, circling the skin with his thumbs.

You sigh against his mouth, and soon he's moving his lips; pressing kisses against your jaw and neck and collarbones. "T-Ten..."

"Yeah?" He whispers, lips still against your neck as he does.

You shiver at the feeling, but try to calm yourself down anyway. "We should... I mean, not that I don't want to, but we should wait."

Ten laughs against your skin and turns his face away, clearing his throat. When he looks at you, there's a smile on his face, now accompanied by a soft blush creeping up his neck. "Want some wine before we tuck in?"

So the moment is forgotten — put on hold — and the two of you let yourselves get drunk off of expensive wine, if just for one night. 

And you fall asleep, side by side, content.

-

You're jerked awake to the sound of someone busting down the front door. You ignore the pounding in your head and sit up, slapping a hand over Ten's mouth. "Ten, someone's in the house."

He sits up; grabs his knife off of the nightstand. "Walkers?"

"Humans," you hiss. You slip out of bed and peak through the blinds of the window. "There's one guy outside — looking through our car, the bastard. I heard at least one in the house."

Ten stands up and winces. He probably has a hangover too, but neither of you can afford the luxury of resting right now. This has to be dealt with. "Do we kill them?"

You look at the man outside. "I don't know. This one seems malnourished. They're probably on their own. No one would come looking for revenge. But also, I don't want to kill a human. Not if I don't have to."

"They make one wrong move," Ten says, gesturing to his weapon, "They're out. No info about where we live or who we're with, either. We tell them that's our car, we take it and leave."

"What if they put up a fight?" 

Ten pulls the armoire away from the door. "We fight back."

-

"We're almost home," you say, trying to hide the shake in your voice. "Stay awake for me, Ten. Please stay awake."

Ten rests his bloodied hand atop yours. There's a stab wound in his side, and you're reaching over to try and apply pressure to the wound as you drive back. 

You have no belt for a tourniquet, no bandages in your car. Of all the things the two of you found, you couldn't find any damn bandages. You squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears trail down your cheeks. You didn't know the stranger had a knife. He pulled it out of nowhere.

"We're almost there, Ten. We're almost there."

He pats your hand and lets out a strangled giggle. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine..."

You pull into the yard, outside the secure gate and shout for help. Taeyong and Mark run out, and you notice Scarlett peaking through the window. "Please, I don't know what to do!"

Taeyong opens the gate. "Drive up to the porch. Mark, set up the couch and bring me bandages and antiseptic. Bring me a needle and thread, too."

"Stitches?" you whisper, pained.

"Just drive him up!"

As Ten is placed on the couch, he passes out. From shock, Taeyong says, although you really don't care about the reason. You brush Ten's bangs up, away from his eyes as Taeyong applies the medicine and tries to stitch up the wound as best as he can. 

"What if he doesn't make it, Taeyong?" You lean in to press your forehead against Ten's. "What do I do without him?"

Taeyong winces as he pierces through Ten's skin. "He lost a lot of blood, and I don't know how to do a transfusion. Hopefully he didn't lose enough to kill him. But that's all we have right now, okay? Hope."

You grab Ten's hand and press your lips to his palm. "I'm not leaving him."

Taeyong presses his lips together. "I'll get a rope, then."

"What?"

"Y/n... If he... If Ten doesn't make it, and he turns, it'll put us all in danger, okay?"

You can feel the tears again. Just the thought of Ten dying makes you want to burst into tears. Still, you nod. "Okay." You kiss Ten's forehead. "Okay."

-

Ten wakes up feeling like he just bathed in a bucket of sweat. And his side is burning. And his nose itches. 

He reaches down to scratch it, but his hands are tied up behind his head. He grunts and tugs on the restraints. His eyelids are heavy, and he doesn't want to open them for lack of strength, but at the same time he really wishes someone would release him from whatever is holding him. 

"...Ten?"

He hums at the sound of a new voice. It sounds like you, and it makes him want to open his eyes. Makes him want to reach out and touch you, assure you that he's okay, but he just doesn't have the strength. So he hums again.

"Ten... Ten, please tell me you're alive."

Ten groans again. Tugs at his restraints. He yanks hard, and hisses at the pain in his wrists.

"Ten, please..." you begin sobbing. It hurts Ten's chest. It hurts him so badly because all he wants to do is reach out and touch you; hold you, but he can't. He can't reach out with these stupid restraints on.

He tries to call out your name, but it comes out as a strangled moan. He can't manage anything other than meaningless noise, but he's trying. He's trying to tell you that he's alive, he's just struggling to wake up fully. That's all, that's all, that's all.

He yanks on the restraints again. His wrists ache. His side aches. His heart aches as your crying grows louder and he wishes he had more strength than he does.

He hears a gun safety click. Wait... 

No, no, no, he's not dead. He's not dead and he hasn't turned, he's just weak, for goodness sake.

He yanks on his restraints. He tries to open his eyes. He's not dead. He isn't. He isn't. He isn't. 

"Ten, I'm sorry..." you sob. He feels your fingers brush through his hair and then there's a cold barrel placed against his temple. 

He struggles and tries to scream, but it comes out as a frustrated growl which only scares you more. He can't comfort you. He can't even comfort himself because he's comprehending that this is the end. This is the end of his life if he can't wake up, and you're going to be his murderer. You're going to put a bullet through the future you two could have together and there's nothing he can do.

"Ten, I love you," you whisper, hand splayed over his chest. "I love you so much."

He groans again. It's all he can do. He feels weak... so weak and he's starting to think that maybe you're doing him a favor. Maybe he's already dead. Maybe he actually is a walker, and this is just his subconscious, still living on.

Maybe he's just trying to justify his death. 

Your crying gets louder, and Ten can hear other voices around you. They don't matter as much as you, though. He needs you to know that you're the only one he cares about. Before he goes, he needs you to know that.

He wants to say it back. He never said it out loud and now he's gonna die without you having ever heard him. You're never going to know how much he loves you and there's nothing he can do about it.

He thinks of your lips on his, and the way wine tastes on your tongue. He thinks of the warmth of your embrace and the bravery in your actions. He thinks about the softness of your hands and how cute you look with your hair up. He thinks of your heart in his hands and nothing else.

I love — he thinks to you, and then his mind is blank. 

And he is gone.

[angrylizardjacket]

time’s arrow {Roger Taylor}

Anon asked: Hi, I love your roger/ben imagines so much and was wondering if you could do some angst with Roger x female, maybe they are good friends and she sees him with another. Whatever you would like! Thank you x :)

A/N: 2727 words. A story told through Seasons. I took a little bit of liberties with the prompt, if that’s okay? This hit me like a lightning bolt and I had to write it. Angst with a happy ending. (I’m just trying to show I’ve got versatility in writing, okay?)

Warnings: Implied sex.

You meet him in Spring, before it all begins, he sits up the back of your Intro to Head and Neck Anatomy lectures, the only class with open spots available by the time you were looking for a science credit. You find out he’s in a band three weeks into the first class, finally going to the local bar, sick of cramming your brain full of information you’re not even sure is necessary for your degree. He grins at you and wow okay, you didn’t even think he’d recognise you.

“You’re in, um,” he’s leaning against the bar next to you in this dimly lit pub, grabbing a drink between sets. Faltering for a moment, his eyes travel down before you clear your throat, angry at yourself for blushing, but his smile widens, “my class.” He finishes, taking a sip of his beer. You agree, rolling your eyes at him, but even that seems to amuse him. He asks your name. The guitarist is calling him over, setting up for the next set, but you tell him before he leaves. Something tightens in your chest when, later that night, he catches your eyes mid-song, his look of intense focus shifting for a moment as he grins, giving you a wink.

He takes to sitting next to you in lectures, chewing the end of his pencil and taking occasional notes in a falling apart notebook that looks as though he uses it for every class. You catch lyrics in the margins and at the bottom of some pages, but he’s cagey about that in a strange way, just says you’ll have to come to a gig to find out what they’re about. So you do.

Gigs become a regular for you, and you start to become friends with the girls who frequent the shows, often hosting predrinks in your dorm room for Mary and her friends on a Friday night. You learn on one of those nights that at least two of the girls have hooked up with him, and there’s a strange, sinking sensation in your chest. You’re not sad, or at least, you tell yourself you shouldn’t be. You and Roger are just friends, it’s not like there’s anything going on there, sure, sometimes after a really good show he’ll give you a pash, but it’s- that’s just him. 

It’s not like you’ve never thought about it, but you also know his reputation, and that it’ll do more harm than good to get involved with that. He’s the one mistake you don’t think you want to make.

It’s Summer, a few years later, when they trade in the van to get money to hire the recording studio. Roger had really loved that van, and he lay on your sofa for a solid hour grumbling about it, about how Freddie had some kind of nerve. You roll your eyes at him, call him a drama queen, which he takes offence to, but moves obligingly when you sit down, letting him rest his head in your lap.

When you raise the point that it might be worth it, he looks frankly aghast, griping about how he has to catch lifts everywhere now. He calms down somewhat when you start carding your fingers through his hair, though he still pouts.

“If it comes to it, I’ll buy you a car, you baby.” You snort, despite the fact that you’re currently barely making a living wage on some retail job, it’s not where you’d thought you’d be after university, but sometimes that’s just how it is. He looks up at you, and when you look down at him, he’s looking very intense. Perhaps he might say something poignant about your offer, you think, but instead he reaches up and pokes your nose.

“I can see up your nostrils.” He tells you, and you smack his hand away, scowling. You stand abruptly, ignoring his complaints, smoothing your pants out against your thighs.

“Come on,” you offer your hand, which he regards with both confusion and a bit of disdain, “you can’t mope around my apartment and complain about the band again. We’re going out.” That gets his interest.

You’ve been to bars with him before, and usually you go home alone while he gets the pick of the prettiest girls of the night, or he decides to wingman you, which hurts your heart a little, but you won’t decline. You were attractive in your own right, you won’t deny that, you didn’t technically need his help, but a selfish part of you likes the way the attention to you, even if it’s to help you get with other people.

Tonight is different, tonight he doesn’t leave your side, he slings an arm around you as the two of you stand by the bar watching the truly mediocre band they had on that night. 

“You know why they aren’t recording an album?” You ask as the set ends.

“Because they didn’t sell their van?” Roger mused, vaguely bitter, but not melancholy as he swirled the last of his drink in his free hand.

“No, it’s because they’re terrible.” Turning, you smile at your own blunt remark, and when he looks back at you, he’s grinning with a little disbelief. There’s very little space between the two of you, but that doesn’t make your heart race anymore, he’s your best friend, close contact was part of the bargain. But he kissed you, quickly, without warning, and when he pulls back, he turns away to order another drink like nothing had happened.

Your mind is spiralling, this isn’t post-gig excitement, this wasn’t something you were expecting. The selfish creature in your chest that you tried to deny for so long was crowing with victory. Taking a quick look around the bar, you don’t recognise anyone, though there are a few girls who look like they’d be his type- but his hand is moving to wrap around your waist as he turns back.

“What was that?” Voice quiet, you take his drink and have a sip of it yourself, the movement done from muscle memory alone. He raises his eyebrows at you, not regarding the drink, that was a usual occurrence, but at the question. He doesn’t seem to know how to answer, baffled at the question. Dropping you gaze, you take a sip of your own drink. “Why me? Why tonight?” You asked. Looking incredulous, he stepped back, looking you over.

“Have you seen yourself tonight, love? Couldn’t help myself.” You’ve heard him talk like this before, to other girls, not as blunt, but with you he can get away with it. The creature in your chest is elated, and you find yourself smiling, actually blushing. He moves closer once more, his arm around you, voice low as he spoke into your ear. “Trust me, you look very fit tonight, any man would be lucky to have a crack at you.” Heart in your throat, you hope you’re reading the situation right, at the same time ignoring the part of you that knew this was a bad idea.

“Even you?” You turned to face him, watching the way his smile shifted to a smirk, and he pulled you a little closer.

“You know I’m always feeling lucky.” 

You kiss him, feeling your blood thumping in your veins, selfish and excited in equal measure, but with his hands on you, you can’t find the focus to care about the former. 

Once the bad starts up again, Roger pulls away, making a face at them, asking if you wanted to get out of there. You do, and the two of you are elated on the quick walk back to his apartment, stopping only when he pressed you up against the wall of an closed shop to suck a hickey into the skin of your neck. You catch sight of it in his bedroom mirror, but he’s pulling off your jacket and you have better things to worry about.

It’s not weird, like you thought it would be, when you wake the next morning and he’s curled up, fast asleep with his back to you, but your chest aches just a little. He avoids eye contact over breakfast, though you chat like normal. The gripes about his van have died down, though he makes an offhand comment about things are changing that you read enough into to realise what had happened.

“You’ll always have me, Rog.” You reach across the table to take his hand, and he finally looks you in the eye, he looks so relieved, not that he’d ever say it. Afraid of losing another thing he cared about, he had panicked last night and tried to keep you close in the only way he knew how. He certainly loved you, but not in the way you wanted him to. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s not his fault.

Bohemian Rhapsody airs in Autumn, you’re regional manager now, and you’re sitting in your office when you hear for the first time; you almost scream when the first harmony comes in after the radio host introduces the song.

“You’re a star, Rog!” You gush over the phone on your break, unable to wait until that night when the band was having a celebratory get-together to talk to him.

“Of course, I am, you think I sing that high to be paid in peanuts?” You can hear the smile in his words without even seeing him, and being able to hear his voice warms your heart.

“That was you?” You laugh, the ‘Galileo's playing back in your head, and you try to picture him singing it, which only made you laugh harder.

“Oi,” he bristled, indignant at your laughter, “I’m the only one with the range to execute Freddie’s vision.” You could see him in your mind now, proud and stubborn, standing tall to defend the decision.

“I’m proud of you.” Suddenly sincere, you find your smile turning to something more genuine as you think back on far he’s come.

“Thank you.” His own voice has become less animated, more sincere, though you can still hear him smiling.

“Love you, Rog.” You tell him, just as you always did when you parted ways.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

He’s grinning, draped with casual confidence in an armchair in Freddie’s living room when you arrive, and you feel like you’ve been taken back five years, the casual enthusiasm he’s exerting. Smile brightening, he stands when he sees you, striding across the room to enfold you in a hug.

“Good to see you!” He practically beams at you, holding your shoulders as he looks over you, as if assessing you, seeing if anything has changed.

“Of course, you’ve been holed up for weeks, I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Though he’s in front of you, you’re words address the room as a whole, and when he steps back, Brian moves in to hug you as well, asking how you’ve been.

The boys are your friends, all of them, you’ve been around for most of their big band moments, and it eases something in your chest to be here for this one too. But then the ease sharply tightens as a woman you’ve never seen before sits on the arm of Roger’s chair, and he rests a hand on her thigh, smiling up at her.

Mary follows your gaze, and her smile is sad as she pulls you down to sit beside her, asking you about your thoughts on the single. You answer, though your heart’s not in it, and the selfish creature in your chest rears it’s ugly head after such a long slumber. 

The monster has shifted, changed and grown, it hadn’t cared about him running around with any pretty girl he could find for the past few years, but this was different. Roger had made it clear that he was far from sacred, but this was the band, this was Freddie’s home, this was the place of some of your happiest memories; this was yours. 

You stay well into the early hours of the following morning, despite the interloper, but Roger still stopped you at the door.

“I’m really glad you could make it, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” He’s smiling at you, but you don’t smile back. It’s been a long night of being kind and pretending that you’re heart didn’t hurt.

“Well, you’ve very busy.” You shrug, punctuating it with a yawn. His expression turns confused, and you open the door.

“Y/N.” He tried to get your attention, but you left, throwing a goodbye over your shoulder to him. “Love you.” He calls through the door, but you stay quiet, refuse to say it back, just keep walking. You’re too tired to be upset, but maybe you’ll get there tomorrow.

Things change, and you’ve grown to accept that, but sometimes old aches don’t heal like they should. Or at all.

“I’m getting married.” He calls you at the end of Winter.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” 

Your relationship’s been on the mend in the years since the Bohemian Rhapsody launch night. You two smile and laugh like you had when you were younger, and you’ve learned to listen to his exploits and his gripes about women, offering your own about your partners, though they’re few and far between. He’s still your best friend, and you learn to act like it. 

“Congratulations.” Your voice is flat. It had been a shock, you’d heard about his latest on-again off-again girlfriend, and had even offered advice in certain situations, actual advice, no malice at all.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t seem to know where to go from here, and silence stretches out between the two of you.

“I should go.” You finally murmur.

“What? Why?” He spluttered, and you sighed deeply.

“Was there something else you wanted to talk about?” You asked, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead against the wall.

“I- no, but I want you to be there.” He paused. “And I wanted to be the one to tell you.” Clenching your jaw, you make a snap decision.

“I can’t-”

“Why not?” He actually sounded angry, which was perhaps warranted, though your next words shut him up.

“Because it hurts, Roger.” After a beat, your voice is quiet. “Because I love you.” Taking a breath, you let yourself relax. “I want you to be happy, but I can’t watch you marry someone else.” There’s silence for a very long moment, but you hang up before he can respond. You take the phone off the hook. You need to be alone, just for now.

“After everything, you still-?” It’s the first day of Spring, and he’s on your doorstep, seemingly unable to say the word love. You’re wearing your pyjamas and he looks like he’s just walked out of a Rolling Stone cover shoot, though he just sort of looks like that now, you supposed.

“Don’t worry about it.” You try not to betray how much his visit shocked you, or the way his very presence after your recent conversation hurt you.

“You’re my best friend! Of course I’m gonna worry about it!” He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. Sighing deeply, he stepped forward. “I thought I fucked everything up when we hooked up, I’m sorry, I panicked.” He was looking at his fidgeting hands, rather than your surprised expression. “And then... I thought I fucked it up again when I chose the band over you.”

“You never-” You tried to protest, but he smiled self-deprecatingly.

“No, I did. I loved you, and I thought that would get in the way of the band.” Clenching his jaw, he looked up and you could see the regret in his eyes. “It was easier to fuck around that tell you I love you.” Your breath stopped in your throat as he finally walked closer. “And I thought after everything, that you deserved better; you know what I’m like, why would you-?” But you cut him off with a kiss.

“You’ll always have me.” You murmured, finally letting yourself smile. Nothing about it felt selfish, in fact, it felt as though the sun was finally shining on you, warming you from the inside out.

“I know,” he agreed quietly, wrapping you up in a hug.

[iiimber]

All might A-Z

A= affection 

Toshinori is a very affectionate man; he tends to keep any displays for when he’s alone with you. He would love to show you off to the world– hold your hand or give you any and all kisses in public, but sadly, being a high profile hero prohibits him from doing that. So when you’re at home together, there’s hardly a moment when he’s not touching you. You’re either in his lap, you he has his arms wrapped around you in any position. It’s very comforting. 

B= best memory

He doesn’t like choosing, because there are so many memories that he cherishes. But if he had to, he would say it was your first date. He remembers being so nervous, and you hadn’t been any better– but he had been able to gather up enough confidence to ask to hold your hand. He’ll never forget how flushed your cheeks were, or the giant, pretty smile that overtook your features. To this day, he still tries to make you smile that big again.

C= cat or dog person

Honestly, All Might screams ‘dog person’ to me. He probably has a fondness for big breeds, often charmed by the ones who are too big to be lap dogs but act like one anyways. He doesn’t mind cats, and actually likes them quite a bit, but owning a cat would come after getting a dog to him. 

D= dreams

Toshinori had already fulfilled his dream of being a hero, but his more domestic one is to have a family. He’s a good man, and loves children, so it’s only natural to want some of his own. Sadly, he had always been so busy as #1 and the danger of being that high profile and having a kid was much too great…he hopes later on in life he’ll be able to, even if he has to adopt.

E= evenings

If he’s not working, then his evenings are very laid back. He’ll eat dinner and either watch a show or read. If you ever happen to be over, he actually likes play board or card games with you to pass time. If he doesn’t have work early the next morning, he’ll often ask if you’d like to go to dinner, and treat you at an expensive restaurant– before taking you home and falling asleep in each others arms.

F= first date

Your first date was very simple and low-key, but it still made him incredibly nervous. He thought it would be nice to take you out for breakfast on a day where it wasn’t so busy– taking you on a long walk through the park. He had been so scared to ask to hold your hand, but he was glad he did– no matter how little the gesture was. It was you that kissed him by a pond, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t red for the rest of the day.

G= giggle

In muscled form, Toshinori has a booming laugh– it’s loud and deep, definitely heroic and manly sounding. In regular form, he laughs with more of a soft chuckle, which is very cute and gentle. It doesn’t take a lot to make him laugh; he really could giggle at anything you say that’s supposed to be funny. He’s a pun man, and always gets a kick out of them, even if he’s the one saying them.

H= hugs

Oh boy does he love hugs, and man is he good at them. Toshinori hugs with his whole body, both arms squeezing you tightly enough where you feel protected, but soft enough that it never hurts. He never gives side hugs, always goes all the way– even with fans, but it’s of course less intimate than when he’s with you. His favorite way to hug is with you in his lap, arms around his neck while his are around your waist, holding you close.

I= instrument 

He’s never had time to really sit down and learn how to play one, no less keep up practice– but while his time in America he had learned how to play a few chords on an acoustic through David. He doesn’t remember much, but once he’s retired he’d like to get back into it, to give himself a hobby.

J= joy

A lot of things bring joy to Toshinoris life. Being a hero was one of them; saving people and gaining their love and trust was something he’s never give up, and it made all the hardships worth it. Midoriya and his heart of a true hero made his so proud and happy always, and that feeling seemed to grow each time he saw the boy improve. Having you in his life to love makes him calm and gleeful; you bring a domestic simplicity he’s always craved a bit; he’d never give that up.

K= kisses

Toshinori’s kisses are always passionate. He’s a passionate man, so his love has to be too. His lips are very soft, and they always feel just perfect against yours– holding you close and pecking yours softly when he leaves for the day, or a hand threading through your hair while he kisses you slow and heavy while pressed up against him on the sofa. They’re never too wet or overbearing, he knows how to move his lips just right.

L= love

Despite being handsome and well-liked, he’s very modest and a little shy when he likes someone. He’s a gentleman, but he tends to act more nice and soft towards you in particular; a clear sign he feels different. While he can be shy with his crush, he’s not above showing off a little too. During school, he’d always rise to the top of any fight or lesson– often turning to you with a smile to see if you noticed. He’s a bit like a puppy, it’s cute.

M= memory

His favorite personal memory would have to do with his master. He had never been incredibly close with his birth parents, so Nana had been a mother to him. He recalls one night after extensive and draining lesson, she invited him to her place for dinner. She cooked, stew that was hearty and thick, and talked to him for hours about his life outside of becoming the next OFA user, and what his dreams were. He’ll never forget the look of fondness on her face, or how intense her listening was. It made him wonder if she had consider him like a son.

N= no

By no fault of anyone else, Toshinori hates getting stuck. In his muscle form, he’s bulky and takes up a lot of space, so it’s hard to maneuver himself sometimes. Walking in the halls after school or trying to get to one destination on a busy sidewalk is hell in his muscle form, he’s too nice to push by and a little embarrassed to excuse his big self past anyone.

O= occupation

A given. Toshinori had always wanted to be a hero, so I imagine he was much like Midoriya growing up; not one to give into his fate of being quirkless, and always looking for a way that he would be able to achieve his dream. It all worked out, thankfully.

P= parent

Toshinori would be a fantastic father. He’s very caring and excitable, he’d be a fun and supportive dad. He had actually always wanted to someday have a child of his own, so if it were to ever happen he would absolutely shed tears. He’d be very hands-on during the pregnancy, no matter how tired he would be from hero work. He’d be secretive though, careful to not let any information on his child being his slip into public hands.

Q= questions

It’s not something he actively discusses since he doesn’t think about the topic too much, but he believes in aliens 100%! He finds it a little odd to think that we are alone in the universe (especially in the kind of world they live in, come on). Toshinori doesn’t partake in any religion, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t think there was a higher power up there.

R= romantic

He is so romantic in a relationship. He’s very busy in his hero life, but that never stops him from showing up on your doorstep after a patrol with flowers and dinner (no matter how tired he is). He says lots of fluffy things, mostly compliments that are so sweetly honest it could give you a cavity.

S= smile

In his line of work, the fact that he can save someone and hear their thanks never fails to make him smile. He loves that fact that people are willing to lean on him; put their trust into him. Toshinori was born to help people, and being able to live up to that makes everything worthwhile. In a romantic sense, being around you and just being is enough to make him smile. He feels most at peace when he is alone with you.

T= together

If he has the time to be, he can be very clingy. He’s an affectionate man, so if he’s able to he can lay with you wrapped in his arms all day. When the two of you share a free day, you never leave each others side. He’ll wake up with you in his arms, run around town holding your had, sit at home with an arm around your shoulder while you rest your head on his chest. Even while making dinner, you’re around each other. It’s very domestic and blissful.

U= unbearable 

After his accident, Toshinori begins to always look down on himself, and talk very negatively. It’s unbearable in the sense that you hate to see your joyful and beautiful man so self-deprecating. When he’s like this, he hates when you fret over him. He feels like he doesn’t deserve it, so he often pushes you away. He never snaps, but he’s cold and blunt; it’s hard for the both of you.

V= Videos

Toshinori isn’t the best photo/video taker, but god forbid if he doesn’t try. His album is full of pictures of you; whether it’s one you posed for, or one he took while you were doing mundane things. Any selfies of you two are a little blurry if he took them, otherwise he has all the ones you do. He’s not much of a video taker, but if the situation arises (a surprise for you, or if the two of you ever have kids) he tries.

W= wedding

The wedding was actually small; only your family and some of his + Gran Torino and Dave. Any news of it was kept from the public in fear of it being ruined, so it took place out of the city in a small but pretty church. It was truly one of the best days of his life, and he cried when you walked down the isle. Most of this pictures are hanging up in your shared home, and he loves to gaze at them when he feels off.

X= eXtra

Toshinori likes to read and write poetry. It started as a hobby when he was younger, a way to release any pent-up emotions; and continued on throughout his life. His vows to you had been a short yet sweet piece; flowing beautifully and smoothly to the point you had also cried. If he did not become a hero, he very well could have been a famous poet.

Y= yuck

He likes baked goods and any edible sweets, but artificial sweet smells are a no for him. They smell fake and much too strong, often giving him a headache if he’s around a candle or perfume for too long.

Z= zzzz

Toshinori sleeps heavy, but he doesn’t get the chance to very often. He works shifts and on-call, so he’s often interrupted from a deep sleep. If he’s able to, he can sleep for ten hours interrupted, and it’s incredibly hard to wake him when he’s that far gone.

[keenerparkerstark]

All I see is green (5/?)

All I see is green (4/?)

Ship: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Summary: Peter Parker feels on top of the world! Getting good grades in high school, spending time with Tony Stark (!!!) on his weekends, and at night, he roams the city as the hero known as Spider-Man! Everything changes when a new student shows up at Midtown who seems determined to take it all away from him.

AO3 | FF.net

“Slow your roll, asshole, unless you want some extra holes in that body of yours.”

Harley put up his hands, immediately without turning around, and stopped walking, remembering what Tony had told him about the dangers of walking around on your own in New York. He couldn’t help but glance down at the, most likely, ridiculously expensive jacket he was wearing, which Tony had insisted on buying him. Combine this with his lithe, youthful appearance, and you basically had a bright neon sign over his head that says: ‘Rob me, please!’

“I don’t want any trouble,” he states for good measure, and turns his head slightly to try and catch a glimpse of what his attacker is doing. He barely caught sight of a figure with a hoodie drawn over his cap, casting an impenetrable shadow over his face, with a black-clad arm reaching out to the back of Harley’s head, when he felt a harsh cold pressure to the back of his head, and flinched away when he realised that it was the barrel of a handgun.

“No funny games,” the figure behind him grunted. “Just slowly reach down, take out your wallet and phone and hand them to me. Don’t even think about turning around, screaming, fighting or running away, because I will put a bullet in your brain before you can finish the thought.” Harley shivered, a lump in his throat making it difficult to breath. His hand trembled as it reached into his jacket pocket, and took out his phone, reaching back to hold it out for the figure to take. It was yanked out of his hands without warning.

“Your wallet,” the voice pressed urgently behind him, “and hand over your watch too.” His watch… Harley’s heart skipped a beat as he was reminded of the elaborate smart watch that sat on his wrist, equipped with all kinds of applications and gadgets, and a panic button that sends a distress signal straight to Tony. Of course!

“M-my wallet is in my backpack,” Harley stuttered out, raising his hands up again. “Let me take off my watch.” Keeping his hands in the air to show that he wasn’t taking out anything else, Harley started fidgeting with the claps of his watch. With as much subtlety as he could muster, he pressed the tiny red knob on his watch, which vibrated gently in acknowledgement. Just as he finished unclasping the watch, another voice echoed through the alley, this time from up high.

“You know, most people don’t really appreciate being held at gun point. You might want to stop that.” Harley let out a sigh as relief washed over him, making his knees buckle under him. He knew that voice… He had heard it hundreds of times before in YouTube videos and the like. Immediately, an arm wrapped around his neck in a choke hold, his own hands involuntarily flying up to desperately grasp at the grip, and he was drawn backwards until his back met the figure’s chest. The cold pressure of the gun has shifted to his temple, and he squeezed his eyes closed in fear as he gasped for breath.

“Get the fuck out of here, Spider-Man, or I’ll put a bullet in this fucking kid!” Harley heard a thud as Spider-Man landed in front of them, but didn’t dare open his eyes, his world narrowed down to the metal against his temple and the arm around his throat. He felt the chest behind him rapidly moving up and down as his attacker takes in one panic breath after another.

“Okay, hey, slow down, there’s no need for that.” Spider-Man’s voice had lost its earlier lightness, and sounded almost stern. “I ain’t looking for trouble if you’re not making it. You got what you wanted. Just let the kid go, and walk away.” Suddenly, Harley felt the gun being taken away from his temple as the figure behind him shoved him aggressively, and he stumbled forward, eyes snapping open and only seeing red and blue as a pair of spandex clad arms caught him gracefully. He looked up at Spider-Man’s mask, but it was facing forward determinedly, as he helped Harley stay upright.

“Stay here, Harley,” he spoke firmly, and he was off, a web slinging him to the furthest end of the alley, where, as Harley now noticed, the perpetrator was making a quick escape. He did not get far, however, as Spider-Man made quick work of webbing up his feet, and dragging him by his lower body towards the wall, continuously shooting webs at him to make the robber stick to it.

Harley let out a shaky breath as all adrenaline seemed to rush out of him simultaneously, and he could barely make it to the wall before his knees gave out entirely, dropping down on the concrete below, which emitted a strong stank of urine. He felt tired beyond belief, and wanted nothing more in that moment than to close his eyes, and fall asleep, be unconscious for a while and wake up in his bed in Tennessee by his sister jumping on his bed, and the smell of freshly fried eggs. He didn’t notice when the tears started falling, but soon enough there were wet patches on his jeans where his face was pressed against his knees, which he had drawn to his chest in an attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible.

A sudden presence beside him startled him, but he calmed down when he realised it was none other than New York’s wallcrawler, sitting on a urine-flooded alley next to a crying teenager who felt home sick. He didn’t even say thank you… Harley started furiously wiping at his eyes, and sniffed a few times before he managed to find some form of composure. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was cut off by Spider-Man, who spoke first.

“I got your phone back.” It was then that Harley noticed the hand that was holding out the phone to him. He took it with a grateful smile, and an unreadable mask with white lenses glared back at him. Say thank you, say thank you, say thank you…

“I’m sorry.” Wait, what? Spider-Man’s head cocked in confusion.

“What are you sorry for, Harley? None of this was your fault.”

“I know, I know, but I should have known better than to- Wait a minute… How do you know my name?” Harley suddenly remembered Spider-Man calling him ‘Harley’ earlier as well, although he had been too out-of-it to notice at the time. Suddenly, the mask was not as unreadable as it had seemed earlier when the white lenses gave away the widening of the eyes underneath. “Uh, I mean, I know all the names of the citizens of New York!”

“What, like Santa Claus, or something,” Harley laughed incredulously, both curious, worried and amused about the situation.

“I mean, would you believe me if I said yes?” Harley just raised an eyebrow in return, slowly feeling the weight on his shoulders lift some more. “Yeah, I figured as much. Okay, so, here’s the truth. Mr. Stark told me about you.” Of course!

“That makes sense. Tony mentioned you to me before too! But don’t worry, nothing about your identity, or anything. Just that you had needed his help.” Spider-Man let out an awkward laugh at that.

“Yeah, Mr. Iron Man and I are what I like to call co-dependant. He needs me as much as I need him.”

“I really don’t, Underoos,” a voice from beside them spoke, uncharacteristically quiet. Both Harley’s and Spider-Man’s heads snapped up at the sound of Tony Stark’s voice, and stared at him as he stood before them, the Iron Man armour only a couple steps behind him, opened up. “I think of it more as a mentor-mentee relationship, where you screw up sometimes, and I try to help you not screw up.”

“Mr. Stark,” Spider-Man laughed, but he was cut off by Harley getting up and launching himself at Tony, trembling from head to toe, the impact of the evening hitting him again at full force at the sight of his pseudo-dad.

“Shh, it’s okay, kiddo,” the older man whispered in his ear, as he pressed him close to his chest. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.” As Harley stood there, tightly wrapped up in Tony’s embrace, a soft thwip was the only thing indicating Spider-Man’s quiet departure from the scene. Distant police sirens could be heard approaching.

“You, my friend, have had the craziest week ever, and that including the one where you were bitten by a radioactive spider and gained superpowers.” Peter groaned pathetically from his position on Ned’s lap, the latter of whom simply ignored him for the sake of stealthing his way across whatever video game he was playing, his hands holding the controller resting on Peter’s chest.

“Tell me about it,” Peter whined. “At least getting bitten by that spider and everything that followed was just facts, you know? This all involves feelings and social behaviour and puberty-”

“As much as you’re my best friend, and I truly sympathise with you,” Ned interjected, as he casually took out at least four other players as he was talking. “I think you’re overthinking this. Be honest with yourself! The answer to all your current problems is right there: just talk to Harley! God knows he could use some friendship after what he went through, and by the way he was hunting you down in school today, it seems he’s really eager to talk to you too.” Peter groaned again, opening his eyes and absentmindedly glancing up at his best friend, who’s full focus seemed to be on the TV screen in front of him. “Something’s holding you back from talking to him though, am I right? What is it?”

What was it? Honestly, Peter wished he could answer that question. Harley genuinely seemed to want to talk things out with him, and after his conversation with Mr. Stark, there was no real grudge that Peter found himself holding against the other teenager. It sounded like the boy was going through a lot, and in his own way, he was standing up for somebody he loved, or, at least, he thought he was. What had happened that evening was intense, much more than anybody should ever have to go through. Peter had been held at gun point more times that he could count, a job hazard, you could call it, but he never got used to the feeling that the person holding the gun could end everything in a split second, no questions asked, no going back. All they had to do was pull the trigger, and it would all be over. Peter squeezed his eyes closed again as his mind flashed with memories of his uncle, lying there surrounded by a puddle of his own blood…

“I don’t know, Ned,” he responded, a slight tremor in his voice giving away his current emotional state. Ned, ever the graceful friend, did not look away from the screen, but dropped one hand away from his controller, and onto Peter’s chest as a sign of comfort. “I want to talk to him, especially after what happened tonight… Mr. Stark will be there for him, but I just want to know if he’s okay, you know? But then again, I wasn’t there. Spider-Man was. And Spider-Man didn’t get into a fight with him about Tony Stark.”

“Having a secret identity is not easy, Peter.”

“I never thought it would be,” Peter sighed in response. “I just want to know what’s holding me back from talking to Mr. Stark and Harley. I want to, I really do, but every single time I think about it, I feel like some freaky disembodied hand is trying to choke the life out of me.”

“Of course, you’re going to feel anxious about it, Pete,” Ned responded, his hand pressing down slightly. “You feel hurt by both of them. But the only way to get rid of that anxiety is to communicate. Hell, even telling them that the idea of talking to them makes you anxious is already better than the radio silence you’re giving now. Harley’s not stupid: he knows you were avoiding him yesterday.” Peter nodded in understanding, letting his friend’s words sink in.

Honestly, knowing that Harley probably wanted to talk to him about something was both dauntingly terrifying and infinitely comforting. The situation was a chip on both of their shoulders, and they seemed equally eager to move past it, but Peter had no way of knowing how. After all, Harley still seemed awfully friendly with Flash, who hadn’t let up on bullying Peter constantly since their last year of Middle School. He doubted Harley could change his mind about that. But not giving him a chance to redeem himself seemed wrong too, and he could almost hear his aunt in his head, telling him to ‘never write of strangers at first sight, because strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet’. Naïve, but not necessarily wrong.

Tomorrow, Peter promised himself. Tomorrow, he would set aside whatever was holding him back, and talk to Harley.

[the-marvel-imagines-blog]

Madness | Chpt. 5

Requests are Open

Chapter Title: “Thunder in the Rain”

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Word Count: 7,968

Warnings: angst (I mean, when is it not angsty?), new character alert, also some kissing :*

Name Pronunciations: Hjalmar: “He-all-mar” | Aaldir: “All-deer” | Ephinea: “Eh-fin-ee-uh”

A/N: Y’all are my favorite people in the universe. Thank you so much for reading and enjoying what I’m writing. Even if not every chapter is you cup of tea, it means a lot to see that people are leaving likes, messaging me, reblogging, etc. I love you all so much! Also, please note that I have taken and will be taking a lot of creative liberties pertaining to these characters. This will be shown in excess during the upcoming chapters, so I just wanted to give a bit of a warning.

Tagged: @teddyboobear @alledeglyfunny (anyone who wants to be tagged can message me and ask. It’s not a problem at all)

As I walked away from him, a part of me hoped to hear some kind of regret in his voice or anything at all, even. Instead, I heard nothing. He was silent. Maybe I had to do what everyone had been telling me to do all along: let him go. In my heart, I knew what would have been best for me. I knew that I would have been safer and filled with less grief if I let him go and went to Midgard to be with the Avengers and her. I knew that she would undoubtedly fill the void in my heart that Loki left there, as she had been the one to fill it ever since he fell. Still, I felt responsible for him as well as the Nine Realms. I saw the damage he had done to the world we knew as our second home. His suit was black (the absence of light), gold (what had once been my favorite color), and green (his favorite color-the color of my eyes). He attacked the part of Midgard we had last been to together. It was a night of laughter and happiness for both of us and a memory that was now clouded with pain and darkness. He still used the daggers I had given to him before he left for a battle with Thor-a battle Thor talked the Allfather into keeping me out of, as I was still recovering from the last one.

A piece of me wondered if he had a reason. Maybe he truly didn’t care for me anymore, maybe he lied to me all those years, but for what? What did he have to gain from an orphan girl? He was a God, and I was just another Asgardian. There was nothing extraordinary about me. If he wanted to manipulate someone for so long, why wouldn’t he choose someone with more power? I had to believe that it was more than that. I had to believe that there was something else that I just wasn’t seeing clearly. He was still in there. The man I knew was still holding on and fighting back this new version of himself. I didn’t know what happened or what made him turn on me so quickly, but I had a few theories of my own. Perhaps he found out about my secret from Odin that day, but I still didn’t even know how Odin would know in the first place. Maybe he fell out of love with me quicker than I had ever anticipated he could. I didn’t understand, but it wasn’t for me to try to figure out in the middle of the night when I was still sick from the ale that evening.

I made my way up to the training grounds, casting the illusion just long enough to make it past the guards. Once my eyes were dried, I dropped the illusion, finally visible again. I lifted a dulled sword from the rack and walked over to one of the training dummies before taking out every ounce of anger, frustration, and pain on it. I didn’t need to build my skills with the sword anymore. However, I knew to practice regularly to stay nimble. Tonight, however, was simply to hit the dummy as hard as possible to make my muscles sore. I just wanted to make myself tired enough that I could fall asleep for the rest of my life, and if I couldn’t achieve that, I at least wanted to be tired enough that when I laid down in bed, I could fall asleep immediately. I didn’t want to think of his harsh words or the way he glared at me like it was my fault he fell in the first place. I didn’t want to think of the mistakes I had made or the grief I felt over the loss of a man who meant so much to me.

Listening to the loud crack as my sword hit the dummy over and over again helped drown out the sorrow in my heart and the voices in my head that were even more cruel than Loki could ever even hope to be. As I growled, I thought of every moment in my life that I felt anger, every moment I felt alone, every moment I felt weak. I thought of the night he told me he hated me, the fall, when I saw him on Midgard, when I left her, when Tony Stark shed a tear for me, when she cried. There were so many moments, but they all came rushing back as the wall I had built up to keep them away finally broke down and crumbled into nothing. Suddenly, I heard a loud crack and opened my eyes to see that my last swing of the sword had been too successful, as the blade lay broken on the ground.

“For a woman as peaceful as yourself, you sure like breaking swords when you’re angry,” Thor’s voice rang out from behind me.

I whipped around, surprised by his presence. I hadn’t heard him coming, and I certainly didn’t feel him because of my clouded thoughts. As soon as I looked at him, my mind quieted once more. He was a peaceful soul with eyes as deep as the oceans. He leaned against one of the pillars with his arms crossed over his chest. His robes cascaded over his broad shoulders, and he wore a slight grin upon his lips. I shook my head, dropping the handle of the sword, which would be of no more use, “I apologize if I woke you,” I murmured, attempting to walk past him. I was in no mood for speaking as my frustration had not been washed away completely.

He caught my arm before I could pass him, and as my chest continued to heave, he spoke, “you did not wake me, Lady Eva. I figured that after you visited Loki, you would come here,” he said, hinting at the fact that he already knew what I had been up to that night. My mouth gaped open as I searched for any possible explanation other than the one he proposed. Before I could lie, he continued, “my brother has been playing tricks on me since we were children. Do you not think I can tell? Plus, I’ve known you since we were children, and I knew you would go down to see him at some point,” he shrugged.

“I had to. You can be mad, you can tell the Allfather, you can do whatever you need to do, and I won’t be upset. All I ask is that you continue fighting for him the way I have,” I said, straightening my shoulders, “I will accept whatever punishment my King sees fit.”

“Your King will never know,” Thor replied in a hushed but stern voice, “I will not be speaking a word of this to my father. You did what needed to be done, something he doesn’t believe is worth the time or energy. You’ve looked out for my brother since we were kids, and I would’ve been ignorant to believe that you would just stop because of what happened on Midgard. You still see the good in him, and I admire that because I still love him just as much as you do,” he added, “how was he?”

I stepped back over to him, and he released my arm from his grasp. I motioned around the training grounds, “well, I’m out here, so it didn’t go as well as I had anticipated. He’s still hurting, and it continues to break my heart every time I see him. I can feel his pain just as I could before, but it’s amplified.I just don’t know if I can keep doing this to myself, Thor. I don’t know if I can keep trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. It would kill me to abandon him like this. His mind is chaos. He needs a moment of clarity, of peace, but...maybe I can’t give that to him,” I answered the best way I could.

“Who better to show him that moment of clarity than you?” he asked, gazing down at me with eyes that shined like the sun on my darkest day. While every other love I felt paled in comparison to that which I shared with Loki, Thor brought something else into my life, something more beautiful than life itself. He reminded me that life was not about power or status, it was about living. He had a love for all living things that matched my own, and I loved him all the more for it. Thor never pushed me away, “you have done so much for him, Eva. You may not think you’ve done enough, but you’ve done more than everyone else put together. You have sacrificed more than anyone else. All I know is that you need to take fate into your own hands sometimes. Maybe you find that you don’t want to wait for cooperation from Loki or the Allfather. All I know is that you have allowed others to control your destiny for too long, and it’s time for you to take your control back,” he added, “and if you need to talk or cry or scream, you know that I’m always here.”

My eyes filled up with tears, and I pushed them back, having cried more than enough over the situation. It felt like I couldn’t stop since the fall. It was that moment that I made the promise to myself: I would be weak no longer. I would weep over my situation no longer. I could mourn for the man Loki once was or give him no other option other than to accept my help. As my chest continued to heave due to the unchecked frustration, I grabbed the back of Thor’s neck and attacked his lips with my own. It was the only thing that felt right. It only lasted for a second before the shock forced him away from me, and he held me at a short distance. He cleared his throat, color filling his cheeks, “why did-what are you...we can’t do this when you’re still a bit drunk, Eva. I don’t know if this is you or the ale from earlier, but...you aren’t in the right state of mind for this right now,” he noted, chuckling to lighten the mood.

“Does that really matter anymore?” I asked, closing the space between us once more, and he allowed me, “I want this. Do you want this?” I asked, gazing up into his eyes.

He sighed, “you know I do, and you know I’ve wanted this for a long time. There’s a reason I haven’t done anything since we were young, though, Eva. You belong with Loki, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. I love both of you too much to ruin what you have,” he whispered, his arm snaking around my waist, telling a very different story than the one spilling from his lips.

“What do you think you would be ruining? The rubble of our love? Do you think you can shatter heart we shared anymore? Could you kill a flower that was already dead?” I asked, realizing that, while I loved Loki more than life itself, he loved me no longer, “I will love your brother until the day I die, but he has hurt me so much, I think I deserve a moment of happiness. I deserve to remember the sweetness of love, which is something I have forgotten the taste of for so long. Remind me...please,” I begged, grasping onto his robes in a desperate attempt to let him know that I would not hold anything against him.

He searched my eyes for any hesitation that could have been lingering there, but he found none. He found only loneliness and grief. Perhaps he felt sorry for me, or perhaps he was giving into urges that had lain dormant since our childhood. Either way, he kissed me. I threw my arms around his neck as he lifted me off the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist, grunting lightly when he pressed me against the pillar he had been leaning on only moments ago. His lips were smoother than I had remembered them, and I could feel the areas he bit when he was nervous. As his left hand grasped my thigh, offering me an extra level of support aside from the pillar, his right hand steadied my face as he kissed me with more passion than I’d ever anticipated.

To my disapproval, his lips departed from mine, and he began to sprinkle kisses along my jaw and down to my neck, a place Loki always loved. As I squeezed my eyes shut, I forced the thought of him from my mind and focused on Thor. When he grazed his teeth against my neck, I arched my body into his, feeling a shiver run through me. As I arched into him, his arms wrapped around my body, squeezing me against him hard enough for me to feel every muscle and every crease even through the clothes. For the first time in such a long time, I felt small in someone’s arms. Aaldir, Hjalmar, and Loki always made me feel that way, like I never needed to worry when they were around. However, she had the opposite effect on me. I was the one to make her feel small, the one to protect her. Ever since her, I had not felt like the small one until now.

With one arm still draped over his shoulder, balancing myself, I grabbed his face with my other hand and turned his head so that he was looking into my eyes. I saw joy and desire and so much anticipation. I pressed my lips to his once more before pulling away and trailing kisses along his defined jaw and down to his neck. His hold on me tightened as I ran my lips along a sensitive spot. As I kissed him, he walked us down the hallway toward his chambers. He opened the doors with his back and shut them with his foot. When we were finally in the comfort of his room, he peeled me off of him and pushed me down onto the bed. I chewed on my bottom lip and laughed as his eyes scanned over my body.

Before I could react or speak, he joined me on the bed, nestling his body between my legs and proceeding to kiss me once more. As soon as I felt his warmth, Loki’s face flashed behind my closed eyes. I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes, but it was like he could feel my hesitance. He pulled away from the kisses and pushed himself off of me in an attempt to figure out where he had gone wrong. I shook my head, trying to collect myself, but I was failing miserably. The promise I made to myself such a short time ago was already being broken as I began to cry, “I’m sorry, Thor. I’m sorry,” I broke down, hiding my face in my hands. I felt so much guilt in that moment, so much anger at myself for being so stupid as to believe that I could just replace the love I received from Loki.

As soon as I began to cry, Thor crawled over to me and wrapped me up in his strong arms, “I know that you don’t want to hear this right now, but as your friend, I need to say it,” he stated as my body quivered and trembled in the arms of the man I wished I was meant to be with. If I was destined to be with Thor, my life would have been so much easier because he would have loved me from the very beginning until the very end. I wouldn’t have felt this pain. Maybe I was just cursed, though. Maybe it was my fault that Loki was hurt the way he was. Maybe I was at the center of his pain. Before my mind could continue down the darkened trail any further, Thor spoke, “I love you, Eva. I have loved you since before I can remember, and I’ve never stopped loving you. For a long time, I wished that you chose me instead of Loki. I wished that you would find happiness with me, but I always knew that you two were meant for each other. Even though it kills me to say it, you and I don’t belong together. You belong with Loki. You always have. And I can’t let my love for you ruin your relationship anymore than it already has,” he said, grief clear in his deep voice.

I shook my head, wiping my tears away as I found the strength to gaze up at him, “you didn’t ruin our relationship, Thor. You had nothing to do with this,” I murmured.

He sighed, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

*Thor’s POV*

I had been more surprised that she stayed after I told her the story of that day, more surprised than I was that she didn’t try to hit me. Instead, we shed tears together, and I sat with her until she fell asleep. After I told her what happened and apologized profusely, she lessened my guilt by being adamant about how it wasn’t my fault. Still, I could see the pain the truth brought her. She was heartbroken, and she went to sleep that way. A piece of me wished I had kept it from her, but it had been two years of her questioning why Loki turned his back on her, and I knew the truth.

Unable to sleep, I found myself with Heimdall in the Bifrost. Though even looking at the Bifrost brought Eva a sense of misery, she spent much time in the very spot I was standing, and I knew that it was because the her fear and sadness over that fateful day paled in comparison to love she had for the Midgardians and...her. She asked about them often, and Heimdall would always fill her in on the health and well-being of each of them. She was always the most concerned about Tony, the two of them having a special connection that I could not understand. Steve also held a special place in her heart, which I could understand much more. He was a soldier and always put the needs of everyone else above his own. He didn’t like to fight, but he did so that others could know peace. Eva did the same.

As I stood next to Heimdall, staring out at the stars, I felt his gaze shift over to me for a fraction of a second, “you told her,” he noted, clearly having cast his gaze upon us when he felt her distress. The two of them were connected the same way her and I were connected. It paled in comparison to Loki’s connection to her, but we could feel when something wasn’t quite right.

I nodded my head, “I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t keep it from her any longer. She deserved to know the truth,” I insisted, feeling guilty that I brought her to an even deeper level of grief but feeling hopeful that it would help her see the truth, that she had done nothing wrong, “she’s become far more destructive since Hjalmar’s death, and I sensed that she was spiraling. She’s lost so much. She blames herself for Hjalmar’s death, and she blames herself for Aaldir’s sorrow. She blames herself for Loki’s turn and believed it to have been her fault, like she could’ve stopped him from wreaking havoc on Midgard. She had every right to know the truth,” I added

“You are not wrong,” he stated, gazing back out at the stars, “she sacrificed so much for Loki, but I fear that she will now try even harder to free him, even if it means committing treason. She has no reason to show the Allfather anymore respect, for she now knows that he played a pivotal role in pushing your brother over the edge,” he added, and I gazed over at his solemn expression. He lowered his grief-stricken eyes, “I fear for her safety if she tries to disobey the orders of the King.”

“You have my word that I will do everything in my power to keep her from doing anything reckless, but she has never listened to me the way she listened to Hjalmar,” I said, thinking of one of my dearest friends, “how is he?” I asked, hoping for some words of comfort about Hjalmar’s new home in Valhalla.

Heimdall sighed, “I...cannot see him,” he confessed, hesitant to speak the words to me. I furrowed my eyebrows, confused as to how the gatekeeper and the guardian of the Nine Realms could lose track of someone. Before I could ask any questions, he turned his haunting gaze upon me, “I have searched for him, hoping to regale Eva with some stories of him when she came; however, I have not found him. I have searched every realm, every planet, every moon. I have searched the entirety of Valhalla, and I even looked for him in the Realm of the Dead. Still, I have found nothing,” he said, turning back to the stars, “I suggest keeping this between us for the time being. There is no need to put her through anymore pain right now,” he stated, strongly.

I nodded my head, “but what if she comes to you and asks about him?”

He frowned, the mere thought of it bringing a sour taste to his mouth, “then I will be forced to break the heart of a princess.”

*1 week later*

After another night spent watching over Eva and getting barely any sleep, I found myself standing beside my father, the man who was the cause of so much of her grief. She knew it now. She knew what he had done, and while I was surprised that she didn’t hate me for the role I had to play in Loki’s downfall, I was unsure of how generous she would be with my father. The two of us watched her as she practically danced around the training grounds with Sif and Ephinea. She hated fighting, but there was a side of her that came out when she fought that I had never seen before. She was skilled in battle the way no other man or woman could ever even hope to be. She blocked the attacks from each of the goddesses, and the two of them pulled no punches. Sif and Ephinea never went easy on Eva, so for Eva to hold her own against the Goddess of War and the Goddess of Strength, respectively, said so much about her skills.

As gracefully as she blocked what would have been a “finishing blow” from Ephinea, she began to take the offensive, swinging the dulled swords and moving like the ocean. I had gotten the chance to see her on the battlefield so many times throughout my life, and it always left me in awe. She had a plethora of her own weapons, many of which Aaldir had crafted for her or helped in the crafting process. He had given her two short swords that she used on occasion, and he also gave her the greatsword she used most of the time. Loki had gifted her a set of daggers, which were delicately crafted but stronger than anyone could anticipate due to their beauty. She danced around Sif and Ephinea, fighting both of them and successfully knocking them down and finishing them. After her success, she helped them back up onto their feet before starting again. I glanced over at my father, “she has grown far more skilled in the art of battle than even you could have anticipated,” I smiled, gesturing to her.

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips underneath his beard, “if this is how you plan to sway my mind on the matters she has brought up time and again, it will not work,” he reminded me.

I shrugged my shoulders, “it wasn’t my intention, but it would’ve been nice,” I stated, gazing upon the girl who was so strong but so broken, “she has a point, you know...about Loki,” I murmured, wanting my words to be between us. I watched as his eyebrows raised in shock, which was understandable as I had always been fairly quiet on the matter, never explicitly taking anyone’s side, “I don’t believe you to be delusional, which is why I think you know-as well as she does-that Loki doesn’t belong in the dungeons. He is far more dangerous around people who think like him. His mind was corrupted far more after he fell. Even if we could get him back to the way he was before, when he was only trying to take over the throne, instead of killing hundreds of innocent people on Midgard, it would be better than leaving him down there,” I explained, hoping that he would listen to me with an open heart and open mind, unlike when he listened to Eva make the same case about Loki.

He gazed over at me, the icy blue eye as solemn as ever, “so, you are proposing the same thing? I release Loki into Eva’s care, knowing that he is a weakness for her? Knowing that she could never do what needed to be done if it came to it?” he asked, “I simply implore you to think through every scenario,” he added, sensing that he had offended me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing that he was not completely sincere, “no, you are asking me to doubt her. You are asking me to trust her less, but you don’t know her the way I do. You didn’t see her on Midgard the way I saw her. You have no idea what she has done-the sacrifices she has made-for the good of the Nine Realms, for the good of Asgard. You don’t see what she has given up, but I have,” I growled under my breath, angry that he would try to plant the seed of doubt in my mind.

He shook his head, “I do not wish for you to doubt her, but I do wish for you to look at this from a place of objectivity. If you did, you would have the same doubts I do,” he replied, a voice as calm as the breeze that morning.

“I can look at this objectively, and that’s why I believe she could take on this task. While we cannot go back and rewrite the past, she can turn the tides in our favor. If she were somehow able to turn Loki back to our side, think of what our strength could be with an ally like him! We would be much stronger with him as our ally than with him as our enemy,” I exclaimed, gesturing out at her, “look at her, Father! Truly see her for what she is! She’s no goddess, but she possesses the same skills as one. I don’t think this is coincidence. I truly believe that she is meant to be much more than another Asgardian woman.”

“You have much to learn about her, my son,” he frowned, trying to force a smile and failing. I watched as the look in his eye became distant, like he was revisiting a memory that brought him pain. He tried to push it away, but it lingered there.

I shook my head, “I know all there is to know about her. I know her better than I know myself most of the time,” I chuckled, gazing out at the woman I was in love with. For a long time, I fancied Ephinea and Sif. The two women were stronger than anyone gave them credit for, but I couldn’t talk to them the same way I could talk to Eva. Eva was just...special. I knew every little thing about her, even though I was sure my brother knew far more, things I couldn’t even imagine. I glanced back up at my father, “there’s nothing I don’t know,” I assured him, thinking of the many secrets she had hidden from him, secrets he would never even know.

“There is so much you don’t know about her, so much that you need to know,” he said, a sad smile spreading across his lips as he gazed out at her once more before stepping away from the railing and turning to face down the hallway, “walk with me and learn,” he motioned, and I obeyed, falling in step with him and casting one final glance back at Eva. Once we were far enough away from the prying eyes and ears of everyone else, he began speaking, slowing his pace, “before you or I, before my father and his father before him, Asgard was created. Where once there had been nothing, we received a land of beauty, peace, and salvation. This was the place where the Asgardians could call home, a place that was more beautiful and rich with life than any other, and we took it all for granted,” he explained.

“The land began to dry up. Where there had once been lush forests and beautiful mountains in the distance, it was barren. The Asgardians who lived her long ago took from the world but never thought to give back. They built this city upon her natural beauty, hiding the plentiful gifts she bore to them. The creeks and streams began to dry up. People believed that it was the world’s way of grieving. She had always provided for them, always gave more of herself than they could possibly take, but they did not rejoice as their ancestors once did. They took the gift of life for granted, and they took this realm for granted. They did not thank the world for her blessings, and they did not live their lives the way we were meant to,” he continued.

“The drought of the world continued. Food was more difficult to come by, and we were running out of fresh water. We began sending people to various realms to acquire what we needed and bring it back here. We had already stripped our world of all she had to offer, and we were doing the same with as many others as possible. Life was dwindling, and we were unsure about the future of Asgard,” he said before letting out a long sigh. When I cast my eyes over to his face, I saw that he was reliving a memory that haunted him, and a sadness came over him that I hadn’t seen before, “I had an older brother growing up, a man I’ve never spoken about, a man no one speaks of anymore,” he confessed.

I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering how it could be that an entire piece of Asgard’s history was lost to me, “I forbid his name to be spoken, and there are not many who remember him, not the way I do,” he frowned, “Cul was older, stronger, and much more capable than I was. He believed himself to be the rightful King of Asgard, and when my father-your grandfather-died, Cul took the throne for himself. My father had groomed me to take his place after he died, but my brothers and I allowed Cul to rule because of his promise to keep us as his close advisors, a promise he broke shortly after his coronation. He picked from a group of his loyal followers to be his advisors. It wasn’t until he took the throne that we saw just how twisted he was, how his desire to rule festered into a madness we had never seen before.”

As we walked into the throne room, he stopped and stared up at the golden throne for a long moment, “he ordered that we strip the other planets of their resources, and if we were met with hesitation, we were to take the resources by force. He wanted to make it clear that no one would stand in his way. A part of me wants to believe that he had good intentions, that he wanted to show the Nine Realms that Asgard was still a powerful seat. However, the more he took from other planets, the faster ours was dying, so my brothers and I did what needed to be done. We stopped him,” he said, frowning at the memory. I could tell that it brought him so much pain even recalling it, so I couldn’t imagine the pain he went through when he lived it so long ago, “there was a bloodbath in this throne room. My younger brothers fell that day along with so many others, and it came down to just Cul and I. He had sent his followers away to spare their lives because he knew I wouldn’t kill him, that I would spare his life because of the ancient rules, rules he never followed but rules I couldn’t break,” he explained, glancing back over at me.

I furrowed my eyebrows, “but you broke them on that day?” I guessed, hoping it to be true.

He shook his head, a few strands of white hair falling out of place, “I couldn’t, and it wasn’t because of the ancient rules. I couldn’t kill him because he was my brother, he wasn’t the King of Asgard, not to me. I couldn’t kill him because I could still remember running around the palace with him and getting in trouble for fooling around for too long when I should have been studying battle techniques. Instead, I banished him to the Realm of Death, hoping that Death would be able to do to him what I could not bring myself to do. It was where he belonged. He delivered so many souls to Death that day alone that he deserved to face them all once more,” he said, glancing back over at the throne and narrowing his eyes, “but if I could go back with the knowledge I have now, I would have killed him when I had the chance because-”

Before he could explain his reasoning, a booming voice caused the entirety of Asgard to quake beneath our feet. It was the first time in my life I saw pure fear in my father’s eyes, “Odin!”

*Eva’s POV*

I stood in the courtyard that overlooked the Rainbow Bridge. Thor and Odin stood side-by-side in front of Sif, Ephinea, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and I. Behind us were members of Odin’s kingsguard. While I had not wished to even wake up at all that week-let alone see the Allfather-I stood there out of the love I had for Asgard and my willingness to protect the people from any intruder, including the one that stood before us with his battleaxe strapped to his back. He stood the same height as Hjalmar once did, only slightly taller than the God of Thunder himself. The man before us all held himself like a King with his shoulder straightened and his head held high. He looked massive, like he was a force to be reckoned with. I had never met him, but he looked so oddly familiar to me, like a face I had seen only once before.

Dark brown hair that matched his short beard fell in waves nearly as long as mine, but he pulled the strands from his face and fastened them behind his head to see clearly. Even from our distance, I could see myself clearly in his piercing green eyes. Those eyes were filled with so much anger, so much hatred, but they were still so beautiful and pure...a green that matched the colors of spring. My breath hitched in my throat, and it felt like I was going to suffocate. I knew those eyes. I knew them from somewhere, and when he spoke, I began trembling with unchecked fear, “I am Ezra, son of Cul, and I have been sent here by my father, Cul, son of Bor, the rightful heir to the throne of Asgard. I have been instructed to deliver a message to the usurper, your false king,” he spat out, grimacing at Odin. I was shocked by his words, unsure whether or not they were truthful. I had never heard of Odin having any brothers aside from Vili and Ve, and neither of them had any children of their own. It was clear by the looks on the faces of my comrades that I was not the only one who was confused by his claims.

Even if he did, Odin was our King, and for an outsider to show up in Asgard and insult the throne, it was unacceptable. While I was angry at Odin for justifiable reasons, I did not hate him, and I would still fight to protect Asgard and her people. As I made a motion to step forward, Ephinea put out her hand to hold me back. When I tried to pass her still, she grabbed my arm, making her movements as small and unnoticeable as possible to keep from gaining the attention of the the outsider. She gave my wrist a gentle squeeze, trying to remind me without words that this wasn’t the right time. The small motions still pulled the attention of Ezra, and he glanced over at me in particular. His green eyes scanned over my body, and he smirked, “you’re just itching to kill me, aren’t you?” he asked before glancing back at Odin, “I see why you keep some of your best warriors chained up in the dungeons-like your son. It must be terrifying to have this one roaming around,” he said, gesturing to me.

A fury erupted in my chest as he mentioned Loki. I gritted my teeth, my chest continuing to rise and fall at an alarming rate. Still, I remained silent, not wishing to escalate the situation. Odin spoke up, “did you come here to discuss the population of Asgard’s dungeons, or do you have another motive?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow with a mischievous grin. He was pulling a page out of Loki’s book, smiling in the face of danger. It was one of the things that made me love Loki even more, and it made me see Odin as so much more than I had been willing to in the past. In that moment, he became so much more three-dimensional than ever before. While he had forsaken Loki in the past and made his own mistakes, there was a piece of him that still loved the young trickster. When I saw him find his confidence the way Loki did, it made me think of the impact Loki’s actions must’ve had on the Allfather. While I wished to speak with Odin about it, I knew that this was neither the time nor the place for such discussions.

Ezra cast one more glance over at me with a smirk that made me sick to my stomach, but he turned his attention back to Odin when I grimaced at him, “my father sent me with his demands. In his exile, he has been building allegiances with many people within the Nine Realms and beyond, and I can assure you that none of them are particularly fond of Asgard. They would be willing and able to tear Asgard apart at my father’s command, but he is willing to go about this peacefully,” Ezra stated in a menacing tone.

“And what does Cul want in return for his promise of peace?” Odin inquired.

Ezra chuckled, stepping forward, “he wants the throne back, the throne you stole from him,” he growled, pointing a finger at the Allfather, “he demands you hand over the throne of Asgard, and in return, you will be exiled to the Realm of Death just like you did to him. As I see it, you have two options: you can surrender and meet his demands, which will lead to a peaceful life for your people; or, you can resist, which will lead to our return and the subsequent bloodbath that will take place. Either way, we will take the throne of Asgard, but your decision could save thousands,” Ezra said, offering Odin the ultimatum as if he was in any position to do that. He came to Asgard with no supporters behind him and threatened a King with the entire Asgardian army at his disposal.

Odin smiled at the man in front of him, and I saw the condescending undertones, causing me to smile as well. While I harbored some ill will toward him upon recent news, I could not bring myself to hate him or declare that he was a poor king. He held himself with strength and dignity, which was something that would not work in the strangers favor, “you forget the third option,” he smirked, and Ezra cocked his head, clenching his fists, “it’s where I let your armies come, and I defeat Cul just like I did all those years ago. I had no problem doing it then, and I won’t fail now. You do not look for peace, but I pity you if you try to fight us. We know much about what must be sacrificed to maintain peace, and I do not wish for a war. However, I will do what needs to be done should your father attempt to wage a war against Asgard and her allies,” he explained, “so, you can tell my brother that his proposition was met with resistance.”

Ezra chuckled, stepping even closer to Odin. As soon as he was too close, the entire army behind us drew their weapons, but Odin raised a hand, wishing to entertain the boy for even longer. I listened to the warriors lower their weapons, but they did not put them back in the sheathe. I glanced down at Thor’s hands that were balled up in fists. Ezra leaned in close to Odin and spoke, “well, I came here for your surrender, and I’m not about to leave empty-handed,” he murmured before stepping away from the two of them and pointing at me. Once more, his eyes trailed along every piece of my body before locking eyes with me, “I’ll take that one,” he dictated, closing the space between the two of us.

Before he could stand directly in front of me, Ephinea stepped between the two of us, “try to take her, and I will rip you in half with my bare hands,” she threatened, rage clear in her voice. She had always been like an older sister to me, so it didn’t surprise me that she would react like that to someone who was threatening my safety.

Ezra glanced over at her but then back at me, “call off your dog, pet,” he instructed, cocking his head to the side with a smile filled with false admiration.

I scowled at the nickname he decided to give me, and I felt a chill run down my spine at the thought that I could be traded off to ensure peace, even if that peace would be short-lived. Odin’s stunned silence was not helping ease my troubled thoughts, but I had to act with strength and grace just as I always tried to, just as my father taught me all my life. I raised my hand and rested it upon Ephinea’s shoulder as I stepped out from behind her. She gazed over at me, horrified and flustered because of my actions. She had no idea what I was planning to do or why I was planning to do it, but I offered her a short glance that I hoped would set her mind at ease. When I stepped between her and Ezra, he didn’t break eye contact with me. He smirked, one of his eyes twitching ever so slightly as he narrowed them at me.

He searched my eyes-for what, I didn’t know-and when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he grabbed my chin and brought his face impossibly closer to mine, “tell me, what is it you want, pet? Do you wish for acceptance? Strength? Power? A real family? A place where you belong?” he asked, “I’m sorry to break your heart, but you won’t find any of that here, not with the current ruler. And, what about Loki? I’m sure you want him back, too, don’t you?” he asked, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. How did Ezra know about Loki? How did he know about my deepest desires? As I stared up at him with wide eyes, terrified that he was able to pick me apart so easily. He raised his eyebrows, sympathy crossing over his face, “you have so much to learn, beautiful, and if you cooperate, we’ll give you the answers you seek and the opportunity to live out the rest of your life with Loki,” he murmured before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling me even closer to him, “but should you fail, I will find your girl on Midgard and tear her apart in front of you just for fun!” he growled, my heart twisting and shattering into a million pieces before he pushed me down onto the ground.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Thor’s loud voice boomed, almost like thunder itself. I could barely think of anything aside from Ezra’s threat. I was paralyzed with fear at the very idea that enemies of Asgard knew about her, that they could use her against me. Thor spoke as I tried to collect myself, “you are sorely mistaken if you think we’ll just hand her over to you. Now, we have entertained this madness for long enough. If you try to take her, you will not live to see another sunrise,” Thor promised, glancing down at me and nodding his head. I knew that I would have nothing to fear with Thor by my side. Even if Odin, for some reason, wanted to send me away, Thor would betray his father just to keep me safe.

Ezra chuckled again, laughing in the face of the God of Thunder, “I haven’t seen a sunrise in nearly 300 years,” he confessed, and a piece of my heart broke for him. I couldn’t help but see small pieces of Loki in him, the anger, the pain, the hate. I had nothing to compare Ezra to, though. I knew the man Loki used to be, so I knew that pieces of him were still alive. Still, everyone could be saved, and that included the enemies of Asgard. Ezra continued, “no matter! I’m used to taking what I want by any means necessary, and I don’t lose,” he said before unsheathing his axe in one swift motion and swinging it down toward Thor.

In the split second it took Ezra to begin the attack, I jumped up to my feet and drew Hellbreaker, one of the many swords my father had helped forge for me. Right before his blade could graze my prince, I stepped in front of it, catching the handle of his battleaxe with the blade of my sword and stopping him from hurting Thor. His eyes widened in clear astonishment. I was sure someone like him didn’t anticipate anything extraordinary, especially not from the person he nicknamed “pet” only moments prior. I pushed him away from the Thor and I, “you don’t lose?” I asked, grinning up at the intruder, “well, neither do I!”

[abtoddler]

A little melancholia for the day

It’s interesting how far we come and sometimes

Its no where near far enough. When i was younger, I couldn’t tolerate my mother. When shes oh hey, im goin to be a bitch for days, then expect me to talk to her. Its already bad enough shes super dismissive or hateful, and then super concerned so she can ear another tick in her caretaker personality.

Which explains why i need a daddy so much. I al thankful to mine, and my big bro champ, the two of them create a world where i dont have to worry about what occurs outside the front door. - a bit of backstory, and the strings of complaints, spoonie comments, support groups and things like that: i have a chronic pain condition with compression and the slow approach to parapalegia while on the medication, the norco and muscle relaxers to help the sensation of walking on nails, and endless buzz, this is a gift from 14 years ago, that keeps taking the feeling and control of my legs & feet. I also have an inflamatory bowel disease, so its like shitting hot lava. This has been occuring more regular then a ladies period, and has been occuring since longer then I can remember.

Growing up, i would throw up while shitting at the same time for hours ans hours. Get up in the middle of the night and just let it go. Ive turned memory of this shit to another thought. Right now its about how much time i have left, 20 years? That wouls make me 54, if i go out then, or even in the next 35 years wouls make me younger then my adoptive parents.

Now heres a funny thing, since my dad doesnt really keep up with me, mostly my fault because i hate talkin on the phone, and cant exactly travel at the moment. The point is, “oh you still have to go through that, i hadnt heard so i assumed it went away”, its not that” oh i assumed you just stopped having a horrible mutiple times a month for my entire life stomach pain, just stops, because nothing is said about it. Or the trying to convey that i just do not have the means to emotionally handle it, and so cant make effort to do stuff that hurts my heart. The same is whether or not my mother means it. But shes always been cunty when shes not put first, or in control. It’s interesting she abused drugs and alcohol when i moved into my own house the first time. Then the abuse from her starts, getting mad, being dismissive, just down right fucking horrible for no good goddamn reason.

This then causes me to have an emotional shut down, this abuseive crap, this shit makes me not want to be around her. She cant “do” being alone, and it makes her really mean. The more mean she gets, the more i have no desire to fuck with that. The endless complaints, rudeness, snide comments, endless streams of just foulness. Thank you to everyone whose not like this, is what i want to say. Thank you to daddy and champ. Those who “choose” us, and so help up the folk like me who have all sorts of shit to deal with. Its nice having an insulation.

I do not want contact with people who are sneaky and will put someone else under a bus, i do not want folks who do not give more then lip service to”bdsm full exchange” and “demands” that put them ahead of what they want to do with my daddy. Theres so much in this life that i wont be able to do. I have less then most folk i wager. Going by the wayside, posting to the empty vaccum where the internet remembers.

I can do this. I can do one day at a time forever, one moment, that is an endless cycle of sleep. And meds, and pains. The reason i can do this. Family. Good people raised me, but im home for the first time with these last 6 months, 50 or 60 years ahead of me is not enough time for my daddy, for my big bro. There is a ton of the world to see.

These are the thoughts, and feelings ive had since loosing my hope on handling something just a bit better. Its been super dark, with looking at end of life affairs, looking into kinds of burials, and assisted suicide. Everything that would mean i miss everything i want with my family. I do not mind a death I choose. I do not mind my final wishes. What i mind; the knowledge of folks with my kinds of stomach shit dont really see much longer to the older age brackets. It scares the piss out of me, that it could just be done, i wont be able to wake up and work on my grimoires, i wont be able to tell my daddy I love him. Anytime i feel it, i have to say it. That way in all the tiny moments of time, and if folks can remember me. He will know i would always love him, thank him, appreciate him. He is the scope of my world. Anything less then forever is an unacceptable amount of time. The thought of leaving him early scares me. Its my greatest worry, that i will never know enough, or see enough of his life to only see it really start.

Its hard, it sucks. So thats why my grimoire projects will not, end. My desire to be little, and safe and cared for, must be followed right back into daddies arms, and the worlds hes helped build. I ve been trying to process this, its taken a few months, in suspected truth, probably it will be always there. But, i try and focus on projects, on the little things that can be done in a day. I cant care about my mother demanding i go and see her. Or her being a bitch when i do, and leaving her with a “see you whenever” i said “what ever” and just walked out of her apartment the other night.

So, while she feels i should be doing what ever she asks depite my lack or to too much sleep according to her. Not the exhaustion i get subjected to after the fire of hell erupts from my asshole, and causes me to throw up anything left in my stomach. Yea, between that 1-4 hour production of “this is your life” in food I attempted to eat earlier. Shes got stupid questions that have no bearing on day to day shit, and now that shes done fucking making threats at me, she can shut up, while I sort out how to handle her ass, while being with wonderful people, for what will be the rest of my life. However long i can make it. Daddy, makes it worth it, i want to see him and champ be their best selves. I can instead only do everything that i am able to set their roads up, even if i wont get the chance to see how it ends.

I cry, at night, most nights pooh bear has earned his keep as the cuddle surrogate to daddy. My barking dragon doesnt bark, it would randomly do it; making it hard to sleep with. I know that this internet void, is a public place where people will know, coo!. But I need to post this, i need to put it into the world while I think about how i am going to master the coming years, and not let shit get between daddy and champ and all our dreams.

So, while i get word vomity, and sad. The horizon has this light of the future, the single moment of now, stretching on to the morning. The linear path of all actions, thoughts, life and the experiences, its easy when in thinking of daddy, that i can just aim to make the most of the moments with him. That they know he is the best man i have ever known, the range of his character. His way of dominance, his love and zest for life. The way he steps one foot a time to get the big picture. I will walk with him til my story ends. But, daddy i love you, and thank you. I loves that we have forever and ever. Its not long enough.

But anyway this isnt something i can stop thinking, so my hope is putting just this stuff here, will get it out, and lets me sleep tonight. I am trying to post more, to have a place to unload my thoughts. Thank you for anyone who reads this, its just hard to identify the situation at hand, so many moving pieces. I will try not to post to much of this philosophic ramble, and depression.

I will figure on how to deal with it but tonight, it did it’s job and has cleared my head, and given me a look at what i feel is going on. Night tumblr. Thank you for this medium.

[weabbynormalblog]

Childhood trauma=Adult Survivor

The things we tell ourselves. Be careful for what you wish for. Its really important to stop crying over shit you can't change or control.

I know its hard. Don't do this don't do that etc. Suffering is necessary especially if your a Buddhist and certainly if your human.

The Sercret, The law of attraction, the latest buzz words, you'll catch more bees with honey, that's a fact. Act now! Try this! Find the easy way out? Is there an easy way? No decision is still a decision. Stay, go, turn in circles, pondering the all of its entirety. All vying as your solution. Yes like attracts Like. FACT Belief overules like. Thats why "This shit of attracting is all wrong!". " Hello? Belief is everything!" Its our level of personal experience that is my "now" domain. I'm the God here in my life in this body today. I believe what I believe till I believe otherwise...I say the human experience should be all-inclusive, empathetic, understanding and supportive. Most people and humanitarians would agree. That's not how nature works. Survival of the fitess. Do or die. Like attracts like and I get tackled and body slammed to the ground. Why? Am I a bad person because of "xyz"? Nope. Did I do something to someone else? No. This time it was all because I was mad, triggered and I exploded; had a verbal melt down. The neighbor was disturbed by my authentic emotions. No nukes were sent, no one is getting hurt here. Just venting and trying to work out my anger. Not to hold shit in and to stop the rings of abuse. Clearly the other person in the room was overwhelmed too. Im trying to solve some issues instead I get yelling and fuck yous. I know this is not my fault!!!??? I know the whatever happened to me. "Insert major life changing event here" I am changed there is no doubt...nothing worked out as I hopped or wished it. Even so I took all steps necessary and just the same outcome. Still void, suffering and unremarkable. Yet I am where I am. No further along or better or worst off. Cha cha cha! And I must do without and put up with injustice. Denied!!! All my emotions are tied up in a neat, tight, the most perfect, best ball of raw ugly emotions on a kitchen timer ever ...I can't talk to anyone about anything, thier shackles get up and they go on the defensive, then arguing and me walking away because again I am unable to communicate what I need and overwhelmed again by my situation. Unable to communicate what is necessary for us solve our issues to move on together or apart. Grrrrr This is so common for us with brain injury, PTSD and many other host of mental health issues. There is so much that needs to be said that it gets left unsaid. Often its too late for those in need. Its very difficult to relate and communicate effectively beyond our frustration with others. We don't have the copping tools or vocabulary to express it in times of great frustration or in dire situations specifically. Am I doing something wrong? How do I change it? I must also learn to protect myself as well. So I try to diffuse with humor. So hey dial it back a thousand buddy, calm down~ me im doing my breathing exercise "listen I got high blood pressure" in hopes they back down and talk calmly and nope. Another deep breath counting on the in to 5 hippopotamus hold 6 out 7 or 9 hippopotamus depending on my stress level at the time. Look I got a Brain injury, cant we get along? Meet half way? Can we talk later? When were not angry? No? Then just leave me alone and finally I get to walk away having dealt with someone within conflict as effective as possible. Progress for me even though nothing was resolved ~ yes theres more pain and more frustration. Live and try again tomorrow or move on. When being in a place of anger thats all you can relate to, you are not able to understand anything else? Some can some can't. Im working on my flexibility, trust, bettering my health, down to my now moment. They want some kind of resolution and they end up dragging me back under again with things that aren't helpful for me, no truth, no resolution and just more critism and blaming. Not productive. Toxic people thrive in thier emotional power. Next step then. If they can not find the same patience you need to work on "issues" then work on improving your boundaries. Refuse to discuss issues when angry, make time to talk to suit

everyone. Agree to listen and then be heard. Set a timer. Be open, be reserved to be more distant from other people emotions and be more grounded with your own. Recognize and hone in on your own emotions. Practicing mindfulness, meditation, a healthful regime, socializing that benefits you too is necessary to being a good human. Im so tired of the fucking ripples that keep all my family apart already...All of it stems from the abuse and damage to the core of my soul that left rings on my childrens' lives as well. My Maternal Grandmother was in the Holocaust that tends to mare your parenting skills and the ripples expand. 3 to 4 generations of children no longer speaking to thier mothers. Im sure thier mothers were not to blame. No one protected me either. I was given up for adoption. I was abused. It happens.Thats ok I'll work with what I got. It can end there. No need to add to a bad situation. Maybe the 1person I sent off had my back. All because I promised Daddy Warbucks to make sure my best friend got on that plane. I understand I haven't been as good a friend to myself than I have to others. I was very self sacrificing like everything was my fault. Ive turned that bus around. At the end of the day you may think nothing matters. You matter! This world is nothing without your unique personality in it. Yet here you sit alone in fears with tears streaming down into rivers...I don't know about you but Im tired of wet feet. A lifetime of abuse and suffering very often at the hand of others. I over compensated for everything. Even my language supported it. It did surprised me on the face of Oliver that day. It was painful and it revealed more of the abuse of self to me often forgotten in the past similar moments of thier upbringings. Aha! PTSD, ADHT, me with Dyslexia no doubt I suffered along with my children. 11 years later we are finally starting to do the work that should of been done back then. No one was ready. I would of made my son sit at the table during dinner. Pressured my husband to enforce our agreed rules. Took time to feel and deal with the loss of Pearl, our marriage and business ...trying to understand our feelings, deal with our mental health issues Before seemed impossible, I never gave up on my family. i gave them the space they needed. Now theres Covid restrictions and passports. This stupid ass greedy human world. And now geography is still in our way. Its a lot and still only a fraction of what some humans suffer from the hands of other humans. Very sad. Friends will come and go. I know its what needs to happen. The toxic people have to learn thier lessons too. Next step is slow down give yourself some space and peace. Deep breathing till you feel you can respond when dealing with conflict. Or make another time to work on it. Do things at your own pace, no excuse needed they will wait, they feed off of it. Practice beneficial things. Like being self sufficient, its a struggle worthy of the time and effort. Im working to overcome my issues. I now know that's not the way that love or friendship should work. I ask why me what did I do to deserve such torture? I remind myself, it's only 1 part of the journey. Everyone hurts, cries and dies. Love should bring out the best. Not the worst. They are a lousy mirror right now. Thats ok we can still move forward. I can forgive them for what they were not capable of. I love them inspite of it all. As is, as it always has been. They were only capable of showing the negative even when I worked so hard to stay positive and be a good example. If not me then who? Critisim everywhere. No solutions only problems. They beat me down at every turn...I'm still breathing. Everything's a contest and no one ever wins. If you can't do this, then how are you going to do that? Why are you judging me and why do I care so much? I care not to be in conflict and this is what is driving or rather coloring my reality. I avoid conflict like Covid. My childhood trauma that I thought I dealt with years of therapy and moved on from was rearing its ugly head yet again. How

do I slay the beast for all time? My limiting behavior needed more help. So I needed to build a better foundation for myself. One built on everthing in its own time with practice, patience,acceptance, learning and more growth. So I won't have to walk away from conflict ever again. I can lean in and help us grow together as a couple or as a family or be what the other human needs positively in thier now moment. Sometimes its not about us, its about giving back with what we have learnt. I know it sucks that we have been thrown to the odds of fate to do better apart. Its not thier fault, or mine either. Yet heres me litterally paying for all of it. With my resources, energy, health and sanity. History has a way of slapping you in the face. Yes Im woke as fuck! Your opposition yes they too pay with thier blood, sweat and tears. Perhaps never on the same page or kiss or moment. At times my heart is so broken. Doubting thoughts need correcting. Like I want nothing much to do with the whole entire human race right now, I mean you no ill will. The Talliban kill with impunity, chaos and destruction in thier wake. Do they have no wants or desires but only destruction for what they can't have? Cant we teach them how to live, love and listen? Do they not want the same as others? A healthy family, a roof over ones head and food in our bellies? Are we not all from this world? I was told this duality is healthy. The human condition needs to see destruction to appreciate growth. I still don't know how this all will help that woman with the gun pointed at her head or to watch your family be slautered in front of your eyes. No human should know this. Violence has always been a part of being human. We are a human animal. I protect my life and those that I love. Life and death I choose to fight for my life and thiers. I also choose to fight for others ...when in reality we are just fighting ourselves. I appreciate everything I lost and have. So I sit in what will be my art studio and den...I know my worth and how lucky I am. I look about all the things that are still here. Stuff holds space. Illusions fade. Love can hold space for others. Did they loved me enough to say your beautiful or even I love you? Or cared enough to be by your side during your worst moments. Perhaps a we'll get through this together? Good thing I never needed any of that. I was always able alone. I did need kindness, empathy, support and understanding. It was devastating to be met with violence. Everthing was a fight in my life. But isn't that the nature of living? Personally Im tired of the abuse. They throw it back in your face every chance they get. So it seems the lesson is to look at who Iam or are. After reflection its our belief of who they are and who we are in conflict that decides the winner. Can they learn to look beyond winners and loosers? Meet us half way? Walk a mile in my shoes. I know I can. Its going to take lots of patience, proactive support and some serious housework and cleaning to shape up humanity on this world. I'm doing my work. Im not on this rock to police or please others. What about these toxic people? Where are thier lessons? They need help too, no? Society and my answer to that, is you have to go! Then the police say no. Due to Pandemic Conditions; I am in utter disbelief but I do understand. Past abuse that was not legally recorded. Yadda, Yadda shwing shwing. What about my rights and issues? Legal up Baby! Money and the boys club is still king. Harsh as it was, there are many other moments in my life that hurt me way more. I will survive this and move well beyond. I will not let others narrow mindedness change who I am. Openess, understanding, no judgements here. Yet my generousity was used against me and in the worst way by people I love like no others. Betrayed again. 》Tip off here. Recurring themes. Betrayal can be healed. At the time you could have punched me in the stomach, I wouldn't, couldn't even feel it. There was nothing but numb and delayed reactions. "Let's face it, the best is never good enough when you

have suffered abuse and neglect." Its a deep riff and or trauma that someone else may be responsible for in your psychological makeup that makes and moulds us too. It happens a lot. Unfortunatly its more common than not. Childhood trauma. I get that. As an adult I know it's my cup to fill. Unknowingly I may have inflicted it onto others, for that I apologize. I'm still a work in progress, working on myself here. I'm the one falling, stumbling and then I get back up. The damage has been done. Please walk away, I got this now. They had affected everything I did. At the sink, the powder room, the work, the garage.....mess here and there, important things left undone...here's me trying to get them all done and save the world too in one breath. No wonder its too big, too heavy and we all need to lift. The first step is admiting ill be ok, I've got my back. I'll get through this like everything else with tears, journaling and a hot beverage. I send strength and courage to those in need. You will find a way to cope, help and move on. Believe! I'll leave that guitar right there as a reminder of my shit and thiers. Along with the 7k check and your ego at the door. Let go of all expectations, broken words and promises. The stuff they said they would do...that they never did. You want something done? Do it yourself. Can't do it all then get the professional that you need.

I understand you are broken, we all are. The catch is you have to fix it and fill it. Talk to someone you trust or write it down, talk it into a recording app...whatever help you need you deal with it in a positive way 7f you can't then look that shit up. Own your shit and get on with living! You can do this! If you live in fear find a way to empower and protect yourself. Just remember we are just human here, right now. No super powers, no agents for the world or our times. Be humble, be open, heal yourselves and then help heal others. 1 person and 1 step at a time. Like the green grass that's brown in the spring, with water, care and nutrients in the fall it will be a sea of green. Small steps add up to big changes over time. Break it down. Carve out time for happiness practice. 15 minutes a day just you sitting in peace and quiet. Every step you take from here on will go in a positive, proactive solution oriented manor or not at all. It's what you choose to do《Tip. Choose better thoughts and food choices. Work on 1 thing at a time. This is what micromanagement is good for; on yourself. Yes we can be success and happy in life without anyone, that doesn't mean we should. We need to trust eachother and work together. We learn so much from conflict so don't fear it. Its what helps us grow and learn when we become stagnant.

[craftedcoils-blog-blog]

A Room With A View

Not only is the floor hard but its covered in wires.  The empty cigarette packs make a nice cushion if they're in the right position.  Theres a vent high above me that almost touches the cement ceiling but stops short.  I like to look at it like it's some bond villain; more powerful than the wall but not quite as collected and austere as the ceiling.  Like it's waiting at the bus terminal with a bomb.  Waiting for a certain bus with a certain passenger but is to distracted by it's own motive and doesn't read the right sign and ends up missing the bus because he isn't sure which passenger is on which bus.  Always he misses the bus.  Will always miss the bus.  Theres no two ways about it.  

There are pipes.  One is in a perpendicular erection to the wall but straight forward like the penis had a muzzled dog nose.  Another pipe behind it, thicker and spray painted for some reason, was burrowed into a drywall box in one corner on one end and painted the same color as the drywall box in the opposite corner.  This is weird to me.  Fucking weird.  Like an ironic mistake.   It occurs to me that I have to think about these things if I ever want to fall asleep.  Especially in this place.   Unless I am comfortable, my mind will devour me and I will eat reality like I'm starving and it's a delicious hamburger, until the daydream becomes a nightmare and I become comfortable because I have picked certain things out to help occupy my brain with meaningless information.  It has to be this way.  Things have to bear absolutely no importance on my waking life, it has to be random, arbitrary, stupid…otherwise my mind will eat it up and I cannot handle the digestion because my metabolism is too quick.  And insatiable, never filled, always hungry.  Like there is a tunnel inside of the mind and at the end is a slight glimmer of something you can barely touch and despite how much you want it and how obsessed you become with it, it just becomes a part of your dream or twisted nightmare.  And then you fall asleep.  

I have been in this room for an indeterminable amount of time.  Its part of an experiment, I have agreed to.  I cannot leave, it is part of the experiment, and if I do, everything will fall apart somehow and I will loose what I have been trying to obtain and in one fell swoop become exposed again to the fucked up world outside and my mind, the frailest of organs, will once again become diluted by society.  It will give me information that I do not need or want and it will reduce me proper.  Like vermiculite to soil, like sand, like the croppings of beetle wings, sawdust and basil that, in some mad scientist's version of  an antidote to some disease I do not have, is somehow connected to the panacea that I need but can never bring myself to ask for.  

I have a friend that comes by and brings me things.  Survival elements;  Food, beer and cigarettes mostly.  The later two without question, the former can momentarily be substituted by meditation and further drinking.  The food is usually dim sum.  I didn't ask for it but I don't really care.  I'll eat shoelaces when Im drunk and the MSG makes me feel like i'm sparkles and helps me sleep so I go with it.  Sometimes he brings me trinkets which I usually throw into a corner somewhere but then rearrange them quickly if I know he's coming to establish a perception that maybe I am ministering these stupid items as if they mean something to me.  Maybe they should.  I just don't seem to care.  My friend's name is Fred.

Sometimes Fred comes by, and for reasons I can only explain to myself, I can tell he is afraid.  Maybe it's the awkward look on his face and the darting glances that shoot out like an estranged chrysalis atop an asparagus high on lightning and forcing itself into every conceived corner of non-space, but it frightens me back actually, seeing a human being so offensively perturbed by another.  Or maybe its not me he is afraid of and if its not then that scares me even more.  I guess it's a sort of symbiosis that we have.  A collaboration in fear.  

I hate to say it, perhaps because I rely on him so much and have known him for so long but, sometimes I sense something almost sinister in Fred.  A betrayal;  but not from him in particular.  He is a good person, I can sense it.  I wouldn't have begun this whole thing if he weren't.  But I feel as if he is some kind of a henchman, perhaps even for this whole situation, this weird experiment that we have agreed to.  In the beginning it was more jovial, I had it under control, or at least I thought I did and that was good enough to keep me happy or whatever.  But at this juncture I am no longer sure who is in control of what or if there is any control to be had at all.  Sometimes its like I have become not mine or Fred's but some other force's twisted experiment.  Like I am a prisoner.   I think I have to imagine these scenarios because I have no contact with the outside world.  In this scenario I have created I can imagine him driving away from this room in silence as some dark overlord pats him on the back, appearing out of nowhere in the backseat and congratulating him on a job well done.  He resists the accolades because he hates what he has do to but has no say in the matter regardless.  At least this is what I see in his eyes as he hands me the half rack and bags of dim sum and seems to be begging me to be the one to stop all this.  He handles it all like he's fucking poisoning it and I look at him.  I try to tell him that I've poisoned myself and that he has nothing to do with it, but my eyes are not so revealing, forgiving.  

Yesterday, I think it must have been, I wrote a a small bit about altruism on the wall next to a strange hole that only goes as deep as my longest finger will allow.  I think I love this hole.  I don't understand it, and it makes as little sense to me as a monkey on a tugboat, but I don't seem to want to know why or how this hole is here either.  I just want to love it as it is.  It is a beautiful thing when you can choose not to care about what you love because you know it just is and will always be what you think you love.  But I wrote this thing on the wall and I was thinking that it doesn't matter if you do nice things at all.  Assholes do nice things all the time.  I think you have to be afraid to be an asshole.  Fear is the overlooked cousin of empathy but balancing fear and empathy is too difficult for most of us to imagine.  Fear makes you sensitive and through the introspection that is created through your own knowledge of it you become empathetic.   False confidence does not breed sensitivity, that much I am sure of.  The gift shop is what we cant help but expose to the rest of the world.  The gallery is what we have inside that people are constantly trying to figure out.  I used to think that I was a nice person until I realized that having these kind of thoughts make me an asshole.  

Anyways, I have to let myself breath sometime and sometimes I miss people because, despite all their annoying faults and beautiful problems, they are at least interesting.  I miss being downtown and looking at some random guy 's head lesion after I establish eye contact and then they look away right before I do.  I miss catching a fearful glance from someone dressed in a halloween costume that is slightly more outgoing than their comfort can allow. I miss sitting awkwardly in a stairwell with a cigarette, watching the people go up and down wondering if it's normal or not.  I miss the mystery of whether or not  things are normal because right now I have no idea.  I guess I need that self proclaimed vindication.  I need some kind of reference point, I need something to see so that I can at least see through it.  In this room I cannot bring myself to see anything let alone see through anything.  The only faults I can identify are my own and they have no reference.  I guess the only thing you can actually see through is yourself and once you pass through that and into the other room all there is are one way mirrors.  

I miss little interactions with people that don't matter.  People that don't matter say the most interesting things because they don't care and they don't care because no one has ever cared about them.  Their thoughts are only their own.  I miss the homeless superheroes, riding that electric rainbow into foreverness.  I miss talking about things that I don"t give a shit about just for my own therapy.  I miss calculating the time it takes for grocery clerks to bag your groceries.  Some of them are really good, but i'll never tell them.  I guess I just miss slipping on the slime that coats the city.  It has a strange cushion when you fall.  It's like a lillypad, you might fall in but you can't expect anything.  In this room I have my shoes in a small duffle bag in the corner and all I use are flip-flops.

What I don't miss is the planing and strategy that comes along with interacting with society,  contorting my face and personality to match an assumed perception of some female, hobgoblin or whatnot that I see on the bus, looking off with squinted eyes and lips pursed like an asshole.  Im definitely an asshole, at this point i've relaxed to this fact.  I don't really miss sex all that much.  At least not as much as I miss talking to women and kissing their faces.  I masturbate about once every 4 hours but I don't have a clock in here.  There's also that thing that happens when your talking to people and you weigh their personality and react to them accordingly.  People will tell you they don't do this but they all definitely do, its just that some people are not very self aware or too much so, at this point i cant really tell.  I do miss friendship.  And I miss being a brother.

I can tell my friend is here again because I can hear the estranged echo of footsteps and the rustling of plastic bags and him typing in the code onto the keypad on the door.  You have to press the buttons in very firmly otherwise it takes forever and it's no longer a secret.  I have given him the privilege of coming in unannounced because I feel it gives me a very small amount of spontaneity that i think is important.  I hear him keying in the code and my brain has to immediately shift from private to social in 3-5 seconds.  I think that humans need this shift to survive.  When you pull them out into the world it is overwhelming.  They are in a constant state of trying to understand the private recesses of their mind's while spontaneously interacting with others in the process.  Thats why society is schizophrenic.  Why do children learn to talk?  Because everyone else is doing it, and so I have arranged for the lowest possible amount of this.  Learn to react immediately.  

I have one bucket in the corner in which I pee and shit the massive amounts of MSG I consume.  I cover it with seran wrap.  It may not be the best system but I'm too lazy to think of anything else.  I'm not Alan fucking Turing.  I've told Fred not to give me any advice and to overlook any discrepancy that he may see in my behavior while i'm in here.  I have directed him to abandon any formula for this scenario that he may construct and I tell him to shut up and I am still learning to do the same:  Any mistakes I may make in this eternity are my own to live with and thats the way I've decided it should go.  

Sometimes I want to talk to Fred about the world.  This is not one of those times but sometimes I do.  I occasionally want to engage with him about the ticks and tocks of life out there.  But I have expressed very clearly that he is not to speak to me about anything other than what may be happening in this room.  There's something about this that I don't think he likes.  

The list of items I have in this room are as follows:  a tiny glockenspiel that I hammer out rhythms with, a recording interface, two microphones, two speakers, a children sized drum set, 37 books of empty college ruled paper piled up in the corner and 3 scattered about the room with diametric scribblings and esoteric remarks on random pages about divinity, 20 30 paged books of staff paper untouched, a USB keyboard, a Bob Hope marionette I bought from a Ukrainian gypsy on 4th ave in Olympia, 3 firewire cables, 7 xlr cables, a pair of colorful boots, an amplifier and 3 foot switches.  

I have acquired the habit of marking, with a ball point pen, all of the spots where I bruised, cut or hurt myself.  For example, I fell onto a cymbal stand the other day and now my shoulder is in considerable pain.  I think i'll keep re-marking it until it goes away.  At least I can reach it.  At least I can diagnose the problem.  I feel as if this calculated procedure will help in identifying things about myself that would otherwise go unnoticed.  At least the parts of myself that I can reach.  If I am not becoming a robot, than I am coming close to being one.  As if thought were just an amalgam of circumstance.  My environment is finite, like a local bar where you are a regular.  You keep thinking you are going to experience something different with each day, but nothing ever changes.  You go in, expecting to find that one thing that tells you that you are alive and not just a machine, but it never comes.  You are the same person you were yesterday, and the day before, and you can never expect anything different.  You can never expect life to be something that it isn't because then it never will.  You will always be seeing past life instead of through it.  Your frustration of what is not happening will shadow reality and make you a non-entity, a husk of what was once a human.  But then you wake up for some reason in the middle of the night and go outside, because this is where you think life happens.

[taeminuet]

Heartbeat (21/?)

Title: Heartbeat Fandom: SHINee Pairings: Jongtae; Minkey; OnKai Chapter Wordcount: 3k Overall Rating: R (Some chapters will be NC-17; these will be marked.) Chapter Warnings: mental illness, mentions of past abuse, misuse of therapy methods, triggering, Summary: In which not every problem needs to be fixed and not every person needs to be saved; sometimes you just need support.

-

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 7.5 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12 , 13 , 14 , 15 , 16 , 17 , 18 , 19 , 20

Chapter 21: Jinki

It wasn’t his intention to frighten Taemin, but Jinki can’t find it in himself to feel too terrible about it. Later, of course he’ll apologize to Taemin, make sure he hasn’t upset him too badly, but for now, Jinki’s priorities are with Onew.

This whole situation was bad, and Jinki knows, in some logical place that is buried just as deep as Onew is right now, that this was all just a bad situation. The doctor was poking, prodding, trying to figure out what buttons Onew was sensitive towards, because in their heads, if they can teach Onew to work past those obvious triggers, then Onew will transition less often.

He also knows that that’s what Onew wants. It’s no secret. And if Jinki could give Onew that he would, because he would give Onew damn near anything. But the truth is he can’t, because someone needs to protect Onew when he gets like this, and nobody can but him. It’s what he’s there for, what he was made for.

And he will protect Onew, Taemin’s feelings be damned. Right now, he needs this doctor, needs everyone to back the fuck off.

And yeah, he made a scene, yeah he ended group too early for all of them. He’ll feel bad about that later too, because whether it’s productive or not, he knows the routine is good for all of them -- for Minho who needs a routine to function because otherwise his schedules are meaningless, or for Jonghyun who, whether he believes it or not, needs a form of stability to lean on in lieu of what he thinks he’s missing. But right now, Jinki doesn’t care, because at least Onew is safe, even if he can practically feel his consciousness, a quiet, frightened ball of thereness somewhere in the back of Jinki’s head.

Jinki exhales, looking around the room, stiffening his shoulders and looking at Minho who looks positively alarmed and Key who looks exasperated but at least understanding. To the doctor who’s looking at him as if he wants to keep speaking, to parse Jinki apart, but is at least too cowed to do so. Jinki’s jaw clenches.

“Did you want to keep going? Or should I take my cues from Jonghyun and Taemin, then?”

It’s all rhetorical, all just a signal that he’s going to leave, because the doctor doesn’t even speak before Jinki rolls his eyes, turning on his heel and pushing out into the hallway. Behind him, he hears the doctor’s voice calling his name, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t give a fuck what anyone has to say right now. He’s all anger, all energy, and a part of him just wants to punch something until his knuckles bleed, but then Onew would wake up hurt, and that’s not acceptable.

He doesn’t know where Taemin and Jonghyun went, but he doesn’t bother trying to find them. Jonghyun is a good way to work out excess energy, sometimes, but with him and Taemin’s new thing, Jinki won’t step in and mess anything up.

But that leaves him at a loss, pacing the common room with the air of a caged tiger -- back and forth, back and forth, growling under his breath.

He’s furious, and pissed, and he’s got hours yet until he’ll be able to feel Onew even begin to peek out after this shit show. Someone in a goddamn position of power making Onew feel like he wasn’t good enough -- the doctor had found Onew’s trigger alright.

He’ll have to wait until tonight anyways, if then. Onew coming back in the middle of the day is a misery for both of them, and Jinki prefers to let sleep ease the transition, even though he’s not sure there’s any real way to ease waking up and missing chunks of your life. He wishes Onew could see a little, the way he can, but it would probably be worse in a way. It’s probably a blessing that Onew’s brain has blocked that particular trauma; he doesn’t think Onew would do well with coming back to any kind of memory of the threats Jinki is willing to both make and implement for Onew’s sake.

But Jinki would. That’s the thing. He would do anything for Onew, protect him from anyone in the world, and that means that he’s okay with this, with being this, with acting like this. Even if it makes him so on edge that when someone touches him, a hand on his shoulder and a name that isn’t his on their lips, Jinki goes taught, whirling in place.

“Onew, have you seen Tae? He--”

Jinki shoved back, pushing him away, and following after. He was smaller, sure, but he had the element of surprise, and everything in him was anger, boiling over at the sight of the boy he’d seen through Onew’s eyes that he only associated with crushed hope -- Jongin.

The thin plaster of the wall shooks a little as Jinki slammed him into it, everything in him screaming at him to hurt, to get rid of the thing that has caused Onew distress. If not for him, Onew wouldn’t have been so fragile this morning, so eager to help, eager to please, and vulnerable to those things being turned against him. It’s partially his fault that Jinki is even here and he feels anger boiling over as he shoves harder, not caring if he hurts him, not caring about the garbled noise of pain that it earns him.

“You,” he spits, the words harsh and ground out through clenched teeth, “must be Taemin’s friend. I’d love to say I can see why Onew wanted your attention, but the truth is, I really don’t.”

Jongin’s eyes are wide, a little panicked, and Jinki can practically see in his face how fast his heart must be rabbitting in his chest. Jinki prepares himself for a fight or for the inevitable call for help. But it doesn’t come.

Jongin’s eyes drop and he goes limp like a metaphorical animal baring it’s throat. Giving in. Giving up. “You must be Jinki then. Jonghyun mentioned you.”

Jinki feels a flood of confusion, and some of the anger is slipping away, because if Jongin is giving in, he’s not going to hurt Onew, right? But… but no, fuck. They’re not goddamn animals, and this kid has to at least be intelligent enough to know how to fake it. Jinki growls, grabbing Jongin by the shirt. “Go away.”

“I can’t very well when you’ve got ahold of me like this,” Jongin says, and the lightness in his voice is infuriating. “And besides, why would I want to leave? You just told me Onew wants my attention, and I have to say, I’m flattered.”

Jinki snarls, a vicious sound that edges on inhuman. “You are not going to give it to him.” You are never going to approach him again. You are going to attend to Taemin like you came here for, and you are going to leave Onew alone before you hurt him and I have to come rip you to shreds for hurting what’s mine.”

Jongin’s eyes come up. He’s not laughing anymore, and when he speaks his voice is somber and intent. “I don’t think that’s how this is going to work at all, actually. I came here to apologize to Onew because I didn’t mean to upset him, and now you’re biting my head off when I’m trying to do the right thing? I’m not stupid. I know what you are and why you’re here, but it’s not going to work. He’s not yours, you know. If anything, you’re his. And you’re hurting him like this.”

Jinki isn’t sure if what’s burning his his chest is hatred or anger or pain or a mix of all three. It feels like acid, like something sizzling away at his insides, and he lets out a sound like a cornered animal. It doesn’t make sense. He’s the one holding Jongin. He shouldn’t be afraid. He isn’t afraid. But his grip on Jongin is loosening, and the words that tear out of his are pathetic, barely a response, much less a retort. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know us. You don’t know him and you certainly don’t know me.”

“No, but I’d like to, for him at least,” Jongin says. “So I’m going to keep coming back as long as he says it’s okay. Because you know what, if this is how you act any time anyone so much as scuffs Onew’s feelings, it’s a wonder he has anyone left at all.”

“He has me,” Jinki spits, all vitriol.

“He needs someone besides you around,” Jongin says. “And you can’t change that. Do you really want Onew to be all alone?”

“He’s not alone,” Jinki hisses. It’s a lie. He knows it’s a lie, that he’ll never exist in the same room as Onew, never be able to give him what he needs. He’ll never be able to hold him and tell him how perfect he really, really is, how he’s smart and sweet and kind and not a failure, not useless. Jinki can’t do any of that, but at least Onew is safe. Jinki might not be enough, but he’s all Onew has.

Jongin is looking at him, just looking, something scornful and disbelieving in his face, and Jinki feels a flash of rage. His arm comes up, his fingers curled into a fist, utterly prepared to lash out, to hurt Jongin. But he can’t. He can’t, and he doesn’t know why except that this isn’t just his hand, isn’t just his choice, and something intangible, some flicker of something is stopping him.

Jinki snarls, angry with himself now as much as Jongin. He steps away, raised arm falling, but that doesn’t stop him from using the arm around holding Jongin to shove him back a little harder against the wall, a vicious spike of pleasure running through him when he hears something crackle warningly, whether it’s Jongin’s body or the plaster, he doesn’t know or particularly care. As long as he’s putting space between himself and the threat, between Onew and the threat, ensuring that Jongin can’t follow.

“You don’t know anything. He made me to protect him, and I’m going to do that. Someone has to keep him safe, and that’s definitely not going to be you. Everyone else hurts him. You were here for thirty fucking minutes and you hurt him, and now I’m here because he can’t handle that.

“All you fuckers who keep trying to ‘help’ him aren’t doing shit, and you can’t ‘fix’ him, so give the fuck up and go away. We don’t need you here. Onew might want you around, but Onew wants a lot of things that only end up hurting him, and you’re not going to be another in a long line of them. This won’t happen again, I won’t let it.”

“Jinki…” Jongin says, and there’s a frown on his face now, something lost and sad, and Jinki feels anger well up in his throat because they don’t need this kind of pity. Jinki knows what he’s doing. He does. “Why do you assume I’m going to hurt him? I know I fucked up, but I’m just human, and I can try and apologize. I can try and make it better. That’s why I’m here, so why--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jinki snaps, glaring. “You think you’re the first person that Onew’s thought was nice and sweet and wonderful? You think you’re the first person he’s latched onto. You’re not special. You’ve known him for thirty minutes. Maybe he thinks highly of you, but you’re deluding yourself.”

“Nice to know he thinks I’m wonderful. Tell him I think the same of him,” Jongin says, and it’s so fucking cavalier, so casual with Onew’s feelings, and Jinki hates this. Hates Jongin.

“Fuck off,” Jinki bites out again. “You’re not some knight in goddamn shining armor. You can’t fix him. You can’t rescue him from some goddamn tower and make everything okay.”

“Listen,” Jongin says, and his voice is serious again, that sudden flip that makes Jinki’s stomach twist. “If Onew wants a knight, I’ll try and bring a fuckin’ horse into this place if I have to. Because you know what, Jinki, I’m not trying to fix him. Maybe he’s not perfect, but that doesn’t mean he needs fixing. I think Onew’s just fine and it’s you that’s hurting him, because it’s pretty clear to me now that you don’t give a shit what he actually wants. You’re smothering him.

“And if it’s what he wants, then honestly fuck you. I’m going to come back every day if I have to until I get through to him that I’m not going to hurt him. He’s Tae’s friend, and I want to see him safe and happy, because getting through to my asshole best friend is hard, but Onew seems like a good friend to have.

And even if it wasn’t for Tae, I think Onew deserves a chance to not feel like you’re going to come out and ruin something for once. So either you stick aroudn forever and smother Onew to death, or you let me talk to him. And I’ll be damned if I’m not going to try and be whatever knight he’s looking for, even if it kills me in the process.”

Jinki drops Jongin. He doesn’t even know where to fucking start on that, but he’s reeling and furious, and if he doesn’t let go of Jongin now, nothing’s going to stop him from punching him, so something in his just… makes himself let go before he can. And Jinki’s furious about that too, in a different way, frustrated and angry and he doesn’t get why.

Jongin is smirking now, shaking his head a little, and he peels off the wall with a tiny wince that makes Jinki vindictively pleased. It doesn’t last. “I have to go find Tae now, since you’re no help,” he says, pushing around Jinki. “But tell Onew he looks really cute in that sweater you’re wearing. Later.”

Jinki lets out a hiss, nearly animalistic in its fury, hands bunching at his sides. Every fiber of what makes him him wants to destroy Jongin, to get rid of this threat before it becomes an issue. But every fiber of him is just a portion of what makes up his and Onew's shared being, and where he wants to hurt Jongin, that same small unconscious part of himself that kept him from decking Jongin in the face  is keeping him from moving now. He’s frozen to the spot, unable to go against Onew's subconscious wishes, and Jinki is furious.

Normally this problem wasn’t an issue. Normally what Onew felt, deep down, Jinki acted on:

Minho upsets Onew each time he forgets him, so Jinki tries to keep Minho at least partially at bay.

Jonghyun is a spark of life that doesn't happen often around here, one that Onew enjoyed even as he took pity on him, so Jinki keeps Jonghyun at their side, serving the double purpose of making Onew's life interesting and honestly just getting out the sexual frustration that Onew’s never had to deal with.

Key is often abrupt and snappish, enough to make Onew scared, so Jinki is accepting, but wary around the blond.

Taemin is precious and fun and obviously harbored a desire to keep Onew at least moderately secure, so Jinki has no issue with keeping Taemin close. Or hadn’t, until now, when Taemin’s best friend is such an obvious threat.

Normally it’s an easy realm of give and take, and Jinki has never clashed so desperately with Onew before, not to this extent. And it hurts. Jinki knows he isn't useful to Onew in the ways he wants to be. This was all he has – keeping Onew safe – and Onew isn't letting him.

Jinki trembles, all anger and hatred and pain. “Fuck you,” he bites out at Jongin's retreating back, an admittedly weak response, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit what Jongin thinks, but he’s going to stay away from Onew if Jinki has to keep Onew sleeping until Jongin gives up. And just that thought is sickening, but Jinki is fuming.

Angrily, he storms away towards their room to hide in the dark. At least there, he can be sure that no one can hurt Onew.

--

Hey guys~ I know I’m a week late, but I wanted to space some stuff out~ I’ll be out of town on New Years weekend and I’m,,, honestly just not up to putting something up on Christmas Eve? So instead of posting last week and making you guys wait a week, I moved a week and am doing two 3 week blocks. Which means that this will be back the first Sunday in 2018. Wow. It’s been a wild year, you guys.

I look forward to seeing you guys in the coming year~!

Next Chapter: 1/7/2018

[rexbosworth]

this is personal stuff that I want to write out and let it hit the air. anyone is welcome to read or not read. 

So as you may or may not know, I split up with my husband this March. We were together for a little over 4 years. We were only married for ten months before I decided to leave him. There were some other things that happened around that time, but the decision to leave Andy was mine and mine alone. I did fall in love with someone else, but I was able to separate it from the root of the issue. Which was that Andy didn’t value me. He loved the idea of coming home to someone and  sleeping next to someone at night. He liked the idea of bringing someone to his parents that wasn’t a complete fuckup and he loved starting a life with that person. I feel like it could’ve been anyone as long as they could put up with his shit. There was nothing special about me in that relationship. I could never have an opinion, I could never be right about anything, things that I was hurt or upset about were laughed about or dismissed because he didn’t understand it. I loved Andy. I wanted the best for him, and I still do. I tried to push him to write because he was good at it and I know he hated his miserable job. I tried to encourage better eating and a better lifestyle. I let him be open about anything and I never once judged him. The one thing that wore me down was his drinking and him not caring about my feelings. I hated seeing him drink and drink and drink until he was beligerent and mean. I hated seeing his face get pale and sick. I hated that he would embarrass me in public and even in private. His whole attitude was “You knew I was like this when you got with me so deal with it or don’t.” The thing is, when we started dating, he slowed down his drinking and things were pretty good for a while. Then he started drinking heavier again and I was in denial for a long time. My ex husband IS an alcoholic. I didn’t want to use that word but I knew it in my heart. I denied it because I felt like an alcoholic was someone who needs it to function. Andy is the type that doesn’t need it to function, but uses it to self-destruct and to numb himself. That also hurt me. I understand that him not being happy and wanting to drink himself to death wasn’t my fault, but I was always trying to make him happy and it seemed like it was never good enough. The alcohol always did the job though. that always made him happy. He was always trying to show off to his friends by chugging bottle after bottle. It made me sick to watch. He always acted like he needed to prove himself but to be honest, Andy can be a really decent person. He knows how to have a great conversation and he’s really funny (when he doesn’t resort to racist or sexist jokes) His friends like him for who he is and in fact, I’ve seen them get frustrated at how much he drinks. Yet he continued to act tough and pound shot after shot. He didn’t fucking respect me either. I would literally have to cry and beg him to stop drinking and just come to bed with me and he STILL would just laugh and dismiss me. If I raised my voice because I was angry with him, he would raise his voice louder and be angrier. He would scream in my face and make holes in the wall, there were even a few times he laid hands on me. Nothing that hurt me physically. It hurt that his intention was to cause me harm. That did more damage to me than anything. He would destroy our things. He would smash stuff, throw stuff, and one time he hit our dresser with a baseball bat as he screamed at me, “I COULD BASH YOUR FUCKING SKULL IN!” Which I don’t like to believe that he would, but I’m glad I didn’t find out. A week before our wedding, he got drunk with his brother and he passed out on the couch. I just wanted him to come to bed with me because I hated sleeping by myself. I woke him up and asked him to please come to bed and he refused. It escalated suddenly when he snapped awake in a drunken stupor and started screaming in my face again. I ran into the room and locked myself in. He was throwing himself against the door and screaming, “I PAID $$$ FOR THIS HOUSE! YOU BETTER LET ME INTO THIS ROOM!” His brother came out and stopped him. He asked him why he was screaming and bashing the door while his future wife was in the room crying and suddenly he calmed down and said he was “just trying to get into the room he paid $$$ for.” I unlocked it and I went to my side of the bed and cried myself to sleep. He crawled to his side and immediately passed out. Never to remember a fucking thing. I hate him for that sometimes. I think about all the shitty stuff I had to go through and he has the luxury of never having to remember any of it because the alcohol conveniently helped him block it out. He went overboard drinking on our honeymoon too. He got trashed in Liverpool trying to impress another young couple that we made acquaintances with. Then he got drunk on our last night in Edinburgh before the trip home and he was trying to impress people there too. I made a lifetime friend actually and it wasn’t because he could chug beer and down shots like a fucking nut. I kept telling him he needed to take it easy because we had a long trip home. He just fucking ignored me like always. We’re on the bus back to the airport and he was sickly and pale. I had to hold a bag under his chin just in case and even though I was so mad, I felt really bad for him. I knew the way home was going to be a nightmare. AND IT WAS. I had to force coffee and water into his system and I let him sleep for a while but eventually it was time to go. He threw a fit in the airport because I had to wake him up a few times so we could find our flight information. I didn’t want to just leave the bags with him because he was asleep and I couldn’t carry all of it myself. I made him eat something and we made it home. I could go on forever about all the things that made me decide to leave him. I haven’t even talked about his parents. Maybe I’ll make another post about that in the future. They’re the fucking worst. Racist, sexist, elitist pricks who think they’re shit smells like roses. Down right mean and definitely the reason that Andy is the way that he is. I tried. I tried so hard because I loved and cared about him. I wanted to keep it going but the truth is, I knew it wouldn’t last about two years in. After the first violent outburst, I realized that it was going to be a long road but I wanted to be hopeful. I thought maybe he would want to change for me. I thought maybe he would see how hurt I was and want to do something about it. He didn’t care. He just wanted someone to be with. Someone that would just take his shit and shut up about it. Hopefully he finds someone that will bring the light out in him. He deserves it. Everything in this post is true but that doesn’t mean we didn’t have any good times together. We laughed a lot and we shared a lot of amazing things together. We learned a lot about ourselves and grew a little bit. I wish him the best but it doesn’t mean I’ll forget. Anyone who knows about this situation could probably jump to the conclusion that I left him for another man. There was someone else in the picture, but it wasn’t why I left Andy. He told me that he’s always going to see it that way and I truly don’t give a shit. That just shows how blind he really was to everything going on. Some of our mutual friends completely abandoned me without even caring about my side of the story. In fact, one of my best friends, Lana called me selfish and said, “everyone does dumb shit when they’re drunk.” Yeah well that doesn’t mean I have to fucking put up with it just because she chooses to. She told Andy about a thousand times while we were together that he was lucky that I didn’t leave him, and that I was too good for him. Suddenly when I realize that, I’m a fucking monster and I’m selfish. Fuck that and fuck her. Andy fucking villainized me and made me out to be this evil, gold-digging bitch when really, he was a drunk asshole that couldn’t see my worth until I was gone. He told all of our friends that he paid for this brand new car and this european vacation and then I just “bounced.” What kind of fucking jerkoff does that? Especially someone that claimed to have loved me? I paid for half, if not more of that vacation and I planned and mapped the whole thing out, and worked really hard to make sure it was nothing short of amazing. Regarding the car, He put 1000 down on it but I planned on paying for it all myself anyway (which I’M CURRENTLY DOING) I’ve paid double his down payment since then so suck on that. I lost a lot of friends through this because he trash talked me and I’m actually ok with it. The people that have given me nothing but love and support through this are amazing and I can’t thank them enough. You will know when someone values you. If you have any negative feelings about someone. Any intuition at all, TRUST YOUR GUT. The person I’m with now is so wonderful. We’re dealing with a lot so theres been some tension but we talk (or yell) things out and we’re honest. I feel like we’re going to create a lot of great memories together and although right now things are hard for us, I know that it’s going to get better. We’re in it for the long run. Also he doesn’t drink so that’s a plus.

[dontfindmeihateyou]

Thanks for everything Amal Shaminan as known as Nurul Aqmal Aqilah Binti Hazzarie, now i know who you are and i know what have you done to me alot. No worries, i know how to find myself back in shaa Allah. Been 2 years, we've create our stories. The most i remember about you, your kindness and im happy with you. You did a very well good act to me, i swear i miss that, how i wish that was a real you Amal Shahminan. How i wish, but thats okey. Finally you just left me, and ruins my other half souls all this while are just sincerely for you. Sometimes, im just wondering that, what is your motif for making me like this? is this are your ideas to make an option just to make me until im the one who leave you for real or you just like to hurt me? Theres no way for me to do that Amal Shahminan, you know what.. once i love you, i will love you with my loyalty. I might be ego, honestly. I did not bring that ego without reason and yes you have reach my limit.. because you did so many fault to me and you even insulting me to your cousin, your grand ma, your office mates, your friends and your family, but i do still be kind with you. But yet what do i get then, you rude to me, you were yelling to me, you hit me and many more! 😥. What is my fault until you dare to do this to me? Why? Youre killing me inside verymuch! please remember what you have done to me. I know it was a very hard time for me when you did every single fault alot to me. Dont you remember when we first met? How do i treat you and so on? how kind am i to you at first we met? Dont you remember im the one who always with you when you had a hard time? Until i leave people around my friends and everyone, just for you.. just to take care of your heart until i used to it. But.. youre not appreciated me, why? Listen Amal Shahminan, even maybe you know that you have hurt me alot, you never know how i interact with myself working it harder to stay still and stay loyalty, that one are just for you .. just only for you Nurul Aqmal Aqilah Binti Hazzarie, ive worked hard to be a useful man to you, i really did. Dont you remember when you were struggling to find a good job that time? and im also going through the same hardships of the day? Dont you remember that? and then i was able to ask help from my uncle to accept you to work there and finally my uncle immediately accepted you at my request? Dont you remember that? And then you and i and your family also were feeling happy and proud of you because youre finally get a better job and even making you easier because you have a better operation office hours.. not just than that, it was many more i have done it for you to make you feel good enuf, i do this only you bb.. but then afterall time by time, you just still keep hurting me, while im only asking for your true love for me and your loyalty! Why you did this to me? Why? You said, you need a loyalty from me and can love you very much. Yes i did it all, and when you get it all everything and you truly get mysouls already.. Then you ask me for a break up, and leave me just like that. Ya Allah, right now.. im having on my only half soul, and yes.. im almost lost myself. Since ive been hurt so many times by her but yet still can be strong to keep that all, im not doing it alone anyway, because i get back myself to Allah, then Allah send me a guidance. Alhamdulillah, thank you Allah for waking me up from this useless effort. I can feel that your about to telling me to go right path from this situation, i can feel that Allah still love me and miss me. Thanks for saving me Allah. To people out there, if you were in this situation.. pls, be strong.. suicide its not the only way to get you free.. pls take note, get yourself back to Allah, Allah will help you.. trust me, promises from Allah is certainly true!

Dear you sayang ku Nurul Aqmal Aqilah Binti Hazzarie, aku maaf kan bb ni dari hujung rambut hingga hujung kaki, semoga bb dapat lelaki yang sempurna daripada aku lapas ani. Terima kasih banyak bb, pasal dari bb tah yang banyak mengajar aku erti kesabaran dan ianya jua membuat ku semakin dewasa, aku hargai semua masa masa bb masa bersama ku. Alhamdulillah for everythings ♥️

[captainkaladinstormblessed]

um of course you should do bodhi/cassian :D

(after that initial mishap, here goes attempt 2)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i lov

proposes: bodhi! even with his anxiety, if he wants something desperately enough, he wont let the nerves get in his way of at least trying. meanwhile cassian has grown up learning that everyone and everything is temporary and no one ever stays, so he would never expect for any one to pledge to stay with him for the rest of their lives, and he especially doesnt think he deserves for someone to, either, not after everything hes done, even after he and bodhi have been together for years, he always fears, but expects, it to end. (bodhi talks some sense into him. “That may be what you think, but what do you want, Cassian?” And he does. He wants this so desperately. He says yes)

shops for groceries: together because its a novelty neither of them have had the opportunity to indulge in for so many years, if ever. theyre that one disgustingly cute couple who fight over which cereal to buy, then kiss over the cart

kills the spiders: cassian, but he doesnt kill them, he puts them outside. (“but what if it comes back inside?!” “it’s just a spider bodhi” “spiders existing is homophobia, cassian!”)

comes home drunk at 3am: bodhi doesnt drink, but cassian usually wont stay out that late or get that smashed either, especially without bodhi. on the rare occasion kes keeps him out so long, he always gets home and is super snuggly and just octopus’ himself around bodhi

remembers to feed the fish: technically it’s bodhis responsibility since cassian is away often and it should just be part of bodhis routine except it isnt and he forgets a lot, then overfeeds it the next day. when cassian gets home, hes no better. eventually they install an automatic food dispenser

initiates duets: cassian! theyre in the mess and a song comes over the sound system, one that cassian has been playing in the ship for weeks. cassian smirks at him and starts singing the words, encouraging bodhi to join in. he buries his head in his arms for the first minute but eventually its gets to That Point in the song and he gives in and fully belts it out and cassian is grinning and singing and bodhi keeps singing and k2so stares at them like theyre mad and at the end the half empty mess cheers. bodhi tries to melt into the floor. cassian kisses his cheek and distracts him entirely.

falls asleep first: it varies day to day. sometimes cassian is so exhausted from a mission that he knocks right out the moment he lies down. sometimes its a different kind of exhaustion, the kind that keeps him awake all night, unable to stop thinking about everything, the kind that whenever he closes his eyes he has to force them open again because he cant see the faces of all the people he’s killed, all the names hes forgotten. he cant spend 6 hours watching them on repeat on the back of his eyelids. so he stays awake. bodhi on the other hand, sometime just works till he falls asleep in the hangar, working on his ship. hes also the type to fall into a food coma nap. but sometimes late at night, cassian already snoring beside him, the tentacles creep back. these nights, he lights a candle and crawls close to cassian and watches the soft dancing shadows on the wall, like how he would watch the dust and sand over the desert outside NiJedha, and lets the memories of childhood soothe him.

plans spontaneous trips: bodhi, i feel. cassian has his regimented routine because it gives some order to the chaos of war, but bodhi, finally away from the oppressive restrictions of the Empire, makes the most of his new freedom

wakes the other up at 3am demanding pancakes: bodhi cant cook. he spent most of his adulthood on a cargo ship with no kitchen, or on a base with a mess. he wakes up in his ship in the hangar after dozing off in the middle of fixing something and goes to wake up cassian because hes starving and the cooks are asleep, “please cassian i missed dinner and you make the best pancakes in the galaxy” “1. that was your fault. 2. sucking up will get you no where. 3….. you know what, yes it does, lets go. but only cos i love you” cassian doesnt even notice its the first time hes said it until later, but thats because bodhi is happy groaning while shovelling pancakes at lightspeed and professing his own love for cassian (and his pancakes), so really, theyre even

sends the other unsolicited nudes: not sure if either of them are the type, maaaaaaybe bodhi, but their holos are resistance-issued and probably connected to a common server which could potentially lead to some extremely embarassing situations with certain senior officers

brags about knowing karate even though they never made it past yellow belt: cassian! baze and chirrut start teaching bodhi how to fight and cassian comes over like “oh i know this!” and theyre like mmhmmmmm, so bodhi and cassian have a go sparring, or trying to. theres a reason cassian is an intelligence officer and carries a blaster because bodhi flattens him in 0.02s. “i thought you were a novice!” “i thought you were an expert!” (theyre not together at this point and then they realise bodhi is fully lying on top of cassian and theyre really very close and they scramble away smiling awkwardly. baze snorts and chirrut sniggers from the background. they know)

comes to a halt outside bakeries/candy shops: bodhi!! cassian didnt really have that kind of thing as a kid, and he was barely a kid for long enough anyway, but bodhi remembers the rare trips, the treats his mother would get them maybe twice or three times a year, and the excitement he always felt, the wonder. he always slows, wistfully looking in. after a few times, cassian notices. bodhi tries to insist its not necessary but cassian insists that it is and drags him inside and spends all the spare credits they have on sweets and pastries

blows sarcastic kisses after doing ridiculous shit: cassian. he just pulled some stupid and partially unnecesary stunt to save bodhis skin in a battle. bodhi rolls his eyes

killed the guy (also, which hid the body): if its part of the mission, cassian will kill the person and bodhi will help hide the body, but cassian will only kill someone if it is absolutely necessary and avoids it if at all possible. he has already seen and dealt out so much death, he doesnt if he can at all avoid it.

wears the least clothing around the house: bodhi! after the war when they settle down on yavin iv (not far from the damerons), well. yavin iv is a fairly warm planet and jedha was very much not, so bodhi is very used to the cold. in the middle of winter and its -10 degrees and cassian has wool socks, 3+ fluffy jackets and at least 5 blankets, and still feels cold, bodhi is walking around barefoot in a tshirt and pants. (“youre making me cold just looking at you!”) (cassian gets his vindication when summer rolls around and bodhi feels like the entire planet is just a sauna 24/7)

has icky sentimental moments for no apparent reason: cassian!!!!! my first thought was bodhi but, i feel like he would have at least vaguely apparent reasoning to be sappy. cassian, on the other hand, internalises pretty much everything, its so hard for most people to know what hes thinking that when he suddenly throws his arms around bodhi and whispers how much he loves him, most people are completely thrown, moments earlier thinking he’d just found a cool pattern in the bottom of his mug or something. at first bodhi is even thrown a little by it, but he soon learns cassians tells. there may be no reason apparent to anyone else, but bodhi always knows.

send me a pairing and ill tell you who does what!