#and that is why I need to occasionally self isolate :)

[youngchronicpain]

my pain doesn't make me a bad person

but it does kinda make me an asshole sometimes

[medicinemane]

.

[cherri3berri3s]

Bull in the Heather Pt.1┃Ticci Toby x reader

Warning: maybe brief mentions of self-harm, in-depth descriptions of manic episodes, active violence, verbal/physical abuse + drug use

Synopsis: After your bipolar boyfriend is placed in the psych ward on account of murder, you're faced with the task of understanding why and more importantly, what forces are leading to his odd behaviors?

Word count: 3k+ words Category: angst

Death plagues my senses.

Various flickering lights scattered across the dense room as the bright contrast etched into my memory. The white plastered walls were muddied with the occasional grease stain and random droplets of blood, more than likely a result of a petty fight from at least one of the patients. Not to mention the smell reeked of old urine and medical supplies, almost like being shoved inside a ginormous latex glove. 

They say it goes against human nature to ignore death and walk right to it, yet I still find myself rushing to embrace even the slightest glimpse of it. The sound of my flats obnoxiously clacking against the imperial textured floor strains my ears, making each step that more nauseating.

I feel sick. Almost as though my stomach could spill any second knowing what I know now. And still, I'm here to see him.

Walking eagerly down the dingy hallway, a man in blue right at my side. I feel the pressure of his gaze watching each movement I've drawn to make. Stopping abruptly at an isolated door, his calloused hands dashed straight to the keys buried deeply within his pockets.

"He's been raging like a bitch in heat for a couple of days now," the man before me remarked, a small hint of a southern accent peaking in between words. "Just don't do anything stupid enough to make the aftermath my problem."

" Trust me, it doesn't matter what I do," I announce, an eyebrow raised as my eyes dart to the name tag hung near his chest. "Watching him, you'll understand soon enough."

A vivid chuckle escapes his lips. Unfazed yet humored by the words that cheekily spilled from my mouth. Like clockwork, the clicking sound of the now-unlocked door rings throughout the hall. His hands impatiently awaiting my response to turn the knob.

"You think you can handle this one, don't you."

" I think I got this from here on out… 'Mr. Wright'." 

As sudden as it was, the door flew open. Revealing two other staff standing firmly on either side of  Toby; unburdened by the underlying unruliness of his demeanor. Sitting amongst the room of empty seats and active surveillance was none other than the one person I traveled all this way to see, the one person I needed so desperately to be near.

As each vigorous step loudly ricochets throughout the near-empty room, the only active movement other than mine was Toby's eyes furiously following my every move. His body remaining as still as it was long before I entered the room.

Seated across from him, I felt dejected. The sorrow in the situation briskly destroying the little pieces of admiration I'd been holding onto just for him. All the while those eyes I've grown to cherish seemed even more lifeless and dull than they did before. 

"Hi baby"  I said lightly. My gaze fixed upon the man I could've sworn I was beginning to understand even the tiniest bit.

His elbows laid across the table as support, bringing forth his scarred body just inches closer to mine. Our faces leveled to each other as a bewildered grin met his expression. 

"You worthless bitch." He says between gritted teeth, that smirk never faltering. "Don't walk your prissy ass on over here thinking we're gonna play house just that easily." He spat, lingering closely before slowly sliding back into his seat. His brows remained furrowed as his body simultaneously looked both calm and tense. His intense stare stuck on me in deep thought.

"...You put me here." He claims with surety.

"The police put you here-"

"You told them to bring me here,"

"It was either that or jail," I add harshly. The air in the room growing thinner as my once active attempt at being nonchalant slowly began to vanish.

"I still don't know what you are," I delicately claim, not once removing my eyes from the person in front of me. "And I still don't know what you do either," I pressed on. Focused on his abstract mannerisms. "But I'd be damned if after all of this you'd still want to hold what I don't know against me." I finished, irritated and worried.

"You'll know exactly what I can be once he's found me." He asserts, an eerie yet light-hearted smile meets his lips. His brows finally softening in its wake.

"Who's he Toby?"

"Him; The operator. The operator and all his little-" He begins, shortly raving on as I shake my head in detest. Uttering 'no' continuously out into the open.

"Not this 'operator' bullshit again,"

"He made me what I am," He proudly voices, almost confused as to why I despised the thought. "As perfectly fucked as it is, I can't wait for him to change you too."

"Don't tell me this shit! Toby, these police fucks found human remains linked back to you and all I've been trying to do is get your nut ass back home." I bitterly voiced. Toby's now partial silence and unmoving expression eating away at my thoughts. "Don't tell me this 'operator' bullshit is the reason."

"Not possible…" He confusedly says. Without warning, he leaps out of his seat, yanking my arm to move my body closer to his regardless of the table barrier. The staff unhesitantly sprinting to action yet soon stopping at my gesture against it. Leaning into my ear, Toby whispers-

"How can a body be found when I've burned them all."

"I never said how they found the body…" I reason in a low voice. My eyes never leaving his even after his fast-paced movements. Locked in his stupefied daze, I continue, " I know you're guilty, but right now,  I want you back home anyways." Our bodies trapped in an unmoving touch beginning to soften with his now lighter grip. "Just tell me why baby, tell me how to help you-"

"The cops tell you to say that?" His head tilts, smirk returning to his cheeks."Bad enough your ungrateful ass is why we're sitting here to begin with, right?" The grip he held on my arms once again continued to tighten, rage displayed all throughout his brown pupils.

"Not even a fucking fool with a dick for brains and a head between their thighs would wanna find their way home with you." Arrogantly, he plops down into his seat. Everyone else in the room left standing and on edge.

"Y'know, you've changed everything but the fucking situation at hand, and come to think I thought you were smarter than this Y/n." 

Glaring upwards, his clenched teeth continued to expose his thoughts.

"I know my place in this world, and it will always be by The operator."

Steadily, I found my way back onto my seat. Arms crossed just as the curly haired brunette across from me. "Why choose a life in all of this when you know damn well I've been loving you." I say, soft-spoken as his expression remained unfazed.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to play dress up too?" he chuckles, sneering as he looks me up n' down. "You wouldn't know what love is even if it fucked you to sleep every night."

"Tobias," I breathily utter, despondent in my approach. "Just help me understand this shit and I swear I'll get you outta here."

Playfully, he states "You think I've been needing you? You think I fucking want your help?"

"I think you're forgetting every sacrifice I have made and will continue to make for you." Leaning into the table, my arms still linked together, I assertively imply "You can kill me if you think I'd let it all stop right here."

"Well then, I guess you can add one more body to the list. You'd be a good human only if you were a dead one anyways, right my love?" He leans in closer, the table keeping us both distanced yet barely disengaged.

"Tell me now, what is 'The operator'?"

"May he have mercy on what's left of you after they're done." Toby muttered, leaning comfortably back in his chair. "Es ist zeit mein Vögelchen." He relays, a void yet cocky expression overtaking every inch of his face.

"You're a piece of work, Toby." 

Without a second to spare, one of the lingering staff swoops in. Tapping my shoulder to signal that they did indeed want me out of the hospital room. 

Swiftly getting up from my seat, I couldn't help but look to my lover one last time. His signature black gloves were long confiscated, exposing the tears in the brittle flesh of his hands from excessive biting. The gash in his cheek covered with gauze and medical adhesive tape preventing him from moving to the next best thing when it comes to his picking habits. 

As pained as I remained seeing him in such a bland and revealing setting, I couldn't help but get this twinge of understanding telling me that he was cleaner and possibly far healthier than before. 

Realizing I'd been distracted by my brief observations, I avoid settling the score, opening my mouth to speak to him once more.

"Is this your final choice?"

"Fuck you." He spit. Anger and aggression seeping from his lips in a final attempt to draw me away. The guard escorts me back to the main entrance impatiently as an air of embarrassment hit my cheeks.

Nearly stumbling out the door, I adjust my leather trench coat and place on my metal oval sunglasses. 

'What a waste of my fucking time. I already knew he would try pushing the buttons.'

"Y'know, even I could've told you that he's been manic all damn week." 

Shooting my head towards the unknown yet familiar voice, I immediately realized it was the same asshole who escorted me in.

"Oh wait, I think I actually did." He sarcastically shrugged, leaning against the entrance wall.

"Oh yeah? Well I think I need a fucking smoke." I pessimistically added. Reaching straight for my coat pocket.

"Well now you're talking my language, what kind?"

"Virginia slims." I said smoothly. Flickering the lighter until it sparked on the tip of the cigarette.

"Virginia slims? Might as well get you some Parliaments."

"Yuck," I exclaimed, making a feigned face of disgust. "You insult me."

Undoubtedly, the two of us erupted in a brief fit of chuckles. Amused by the other's bitchiness at such a time of momentary significance. However, the now swift silence ate quickly at the other's tongues. Leaving what felt like an odd bubble of time to speak what's really been on our minds.

"So, you come out here dressed like Carrie Moss and wonder why you get thrown back to the door?" He addresses. An eyebrow raised; less in a questioning way as much as it was humorous.

"That's far from what happened."

"Oh right, he told you about The Operator first, then kicked you out." 

Almost instinctively, my head speedily bolts back up to his face. Ignoring the cigarette lazily hanging from my mouth as I snatched it with both my pointer finger and my thumb.

"Sounds like he knew you'd bite off more than you could chew." He finishes. Pretending to analyze the situation as though he'd discovered the secret of the year.

"So what are you saying," I sputtered out intensely. No longer shying away from the truth that this guy knows something. "He thinks he's helping me?" 

"How charming of him." He smirks, indirectly answering my question. "Gee- I didn't think his balls were full grown."

Without a chance to process, he pulls out his own cigarette. The bent pack of Marlboro reds still shining in the afternoon light. "Before you got here he was just a twitching- time bomb with a strange habit of stuttering." Lighting up the cig, he takes one long inhale before releasing the strong vapor into the air. "I didn't think he'd control it the way he did just to tear you a new one."

" Correct me if I'm wrong," I rushed in, slight confusion riddling my face as my motives for understanding the situation changed. "But I didn't know hospital staff were allowed to dabble in their patients' personal lives. If that's what you are, Tim Wright." 

" I suppose," He said, placing the cig back onto its resting spot on his lips. Silence overtaking the mood once again, leaving only thoughts to fester.

Turning back around, I place my attention towards fetching my car keys to immediately get the fuck up outta there. Walking with haste, I momentarily stop to respond.

"Well it was nice fucking around but-" Briefly turning back, I realized that… he's gone. '...How freaky.'

Making it to my car, a white lined piece of paper remained folded onto my windshield. Hesitantly, I snatch the sheet straight off. Flipping it to see the bold words written in black Sharpie.

'He's always watching' Underneath, the note's signed by Tim. 

"How sweet," I snidely whispered. Paranoia and worry getting to my head.

A faint hint of gas drifts past my nose, wafting in the air alongside a more savory smell. Cans of diced tomatoes and marinara lay empty as scraps of cheese littered the counter. The T.V. in the next room serving only as background noise to keep my head temporarily occupied.

A full week had passed since I'd last seen Toby, and as tough as it was, I had gone on convincing myself that it wasn't too bad. Just more ominous and lonely than usual.

My phone rested on my ear as I remained attentive in a short-lived conversation with my mother. Extremely tired of the bullshit 'I told you so' responses I had been getting. It only took a day and a half for word to get around that Toby got thrown in the psych and suddenly, this woman couldn't stop blowing up my phone.

Dusting off my hands, I listened to her unfiltered banter as my arms crossed to my chest.

"I always knew I gave birth to a fucking felon. Had you done as I said almost two years ago now you'd still be home you rotten bitch! "

Pacing the floor in my white baby tee and low-rise bell-bottom jeans, I measly affirmed her every word. "You've done nothing but bring shame to me and break our family apart! All for that basket-case you laid up with, "

Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes. Harboring the truth of what I'd actually wanted to say, opting to only listen to her mouth run instead.

"You're an unwanted embarrassment that's made herself some psycho's TRAMP !"

"Ma," I said in a serious yet unfazed tone, "Have you been taking your meds?"

"Oh, so NOW I must be crazy for saying what I think needs to be said?"

Chuckling lightly, I switch my phone to my opposite ear. Amused by my mothers' rampage and active attempts to ignore my current concerns.

"Not crazy; unmedicated mama."

As she huffed in annoyance, her constant shifting can be heard on the other end. "I can't believe you're the only one of my children to do this to me."

"Do what ma? Talk?" I jokingly pressed on. An unintentional smile meeting my face. "Look, If you need more antipsychotics I'll gladly give you mine. Just go bake a cake or something. Maybe sniff some crayons…" 

"Listen here you ungrateful bitch, just bring the pasta you made over and…blah blah blah." Was all I heard amidst her next response.

 Interrupted by a deafening crash upstairs, my movements came to an immediate halt. Glass toppling over and crackling into tiny pieces echoes over the static of my phone. Sharp crunching can be heard as another set of footsteps resound throughout the whole house. Dauntingly, it stops near the stairs in complete silence.

If there was one thing I could thank Toby for doing, it was stressing about my safety so much that he taught me self-defense. Hearing the creaking of the steps, I recognized two male voices. Low and steady, not loud enough to differentiate. Watching idly behind the kitchen wall, I stand close to the archway, knife in hand.

For every step that made its way towards my direction, I positioned myself and prepared to make a silent move. Seeing feet just barely pass the walkway, I swing my arm around in a defective punch drawing attention away from my grasp on the knife.

Expectantly, the unknown visitor ducks away from the punch, discarding the knife as he begins restraining both arms above my head, roughly pinning me against the wall. As my back abruptly slams into the sheetrock, I instinctively lift my leg to kick him in the balls. Watching as he only gasps and clenches my wrist tighter, I lunge towards the guy's neck. Biting down as hard as I could without letting go.

In an instant, I'm yanked from the man by his 'friend' and restrained midair, not yet ready to go down without a fight. Struggling against my captor, I aggressively kick and punch before hearing the two voices word vomit defenses.

"Y/n, baby it's me! Scheiße…"

"Let me the FUCK GO-" I screamed, elbowing the one holding me in the throat.

Backing off towards the wall, I get a clear view of the pair.

Without a doubt, there stood Toby before me. His curly brown hair messily framed his face as he stood on edge and ready. Unlike his hospital attire, he wore a black " Smashing Pumpkins" t-shirt, loose jeans, and some black Vans. Next to Toby grasping his throat in a coughing fit stood a very familiar face as well, still recovering from the massive blow to his neck.

"What the hell Tobias," I said in a stern yet breathless voice. "You dickwads just broke into my fucking house!" I pressed on, beyond angered and befuddled. 

"Well no shit we did!" continued the man in a red flannel, "I'm glad we're all on the same page-"

"I knew you weren't some fucking doctor or whatever bullshit you said you were," I raged on, "You brought this fucking liar to my house?!"

"No, no, I brought Tobias to your fucking house! Now say thank you so we all could fucking move on," Tim sorely stated, rubbing his throat as he exasperatedly stares into my direction.

Side-eyeing the both of them, I calm down just enough to speak through a huffed sigh.

"What are you doing here?" I exhaustedly replied

"Damn, I almost thought you wanted me here," Toby said with a tilted head and a partial smirk on his face.

"Don't fuck with me-"

"I just got out, can I explain this to y-you later?" he brushes off, attempting to walk away.

"No."

"Great," Tim perked up, "Now we can talk about important things. Like how you brought out a damn meat cleaver to chop up dear ole' lover boy to pieces-" he calmly states.

 "I didn't know who the fuck you both were-"

"Well I'm glad you know now," Toby smiled, a gentle laugh escaping his mouth as he sits down on the couch. "I guess I came back here just 'cause I missed you so much" He muttered, tilting his head back to release a prolonged sigh.

"I find that hard to believe." I relay with an unamused look.

"Maybe you w-wouldn't if you were sitting your ass down with me," Looking up at me with wishful eyes, Toby doesn't budge. Taking a deep breath out, I find myself walking over to my boyfriend, his eyes never truly leaving mine as I sat close by.

"Mein vögelchen," he lets out in a soft tone, his eyes fluttering as his doe-eyed expression ate away at my thoughts

"You're an idiot." I breathed out, a distance still marked between us.

"I know," he whispered, his lips curled in an almost saddened reality. Hurt passing right on by as he longingly wanted to say more. "You still like me?"

"If I didn't, you'd probably be chopped n' fed to the neighbors' dog by now." I laughed, garnering a chuckle from Toby himself as he relaxed. "I'm actually surprised I didn't hear any barking this whole time,"

In a heartbeat, the room stilled. Toby looked to the side in a slow yet guilty manner as Tim refocused on the conversation. 

"I had no parts." Tim casually said, irritated nonetheless as he remained still by the window. Looking out occasionally as though there were more to spy on.

"What the fuck did you guys do to the neighbor's dog?" 

"I don't know, maybe you should ask him." Toby said, nodding to the window as if the dog could speak for himself.

"I need a fucking cigarette," I exclaimed, hopping outta my seat to make my way back to the kitchen. "You fuckers still haven't told me why you're here and now you've killed a fucking dog!" I passive-aggressively spit.

"He's not d-dead he's just knocked out," He claims, gesturing for Tim to pass him a light "Our little puppy friend is trippin' off some trazodone from the ward" He mumbles with the cig between his teeth, taking a long ass hit.

"Like that makes it any fucking better!" I add, "Bad enough your ass is already wanted for 'alleged' murder."

"Bad enough I had to break him out of the hospital for that exact same reason," Tim buts in, arm lazily thrown on the wall as he goes back to watching outside the window.

"Un-fucking-believable, un-believable." I shake my head, pissed that I'm now caught in the middle of it. "You need a chaperone and even your chaperone is a fuck up."

"Look, you wanna know why we're here?" Toby nods to me, resting his cigarette between his two fingers. "You wanna know what the fucking operator is?" 

"Yes, I think I actually do."

"Don't be stupid," he bites back, placing his smoke back onto his lips as his next breath in was rugged and deep.

"You have any visitors coming?" Tim questions, my head rushing towards where he stood.

"Hell no,"

"Great, well you both can be stupid later," Tim says, shutting the window and ushering towards the lights in the house. "There's someone on their way here."

Hurriedly burning out the ash on the tip of his shoes, Toby runs up the stairs with familiarity. Hearing a knock roughly shake the door, Tim looks at me, muttering a short plan as he rushes far into one of the rooms upstairs.

Listening to the steps loudly run throughout the house, I'm once again left to face the brief yet unanswered knock at the door.

"Fuck"

A/N: This shit took fucking weeks to finish and I'm far from actually being finished w/ the plot line. Anyway, there's a lot more in the works that I've enjoyed making

You’re free to reblog if you want!

© CHERRI3BERRI3S - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE OR CLAIM MY WORK AS YOUR OWN

[hayatheauthor]

Crafting Sad Scenes: Writing Tears and Emotional Depth

Creating authentic emotions is vital for immersive storytelling, which is why I decided to make this series on how to write different emotions. After exploring rage, it's now time to delve into sadness!

When it comes to portraying sadness, delving into various aspects of your character's behaviour and environment can deepen the emotional impact. Here's a guide on how to evoke sadness in your writing using different elements:

Facial Expressions

Downcast Eyes and Furrowed Brow: Describe how their eyes lower and brows crease, reflecting inner sorrow or distress.

Quivering Lips or Trembling Chin: Note the subtle quivers in their lips or chin, indicating emotional vulnerability or the effort to hold back tears.

Pained or Distant Gaze: Highlight a gaze that's distant, unfocused, or filled with inner turmoil, showing their emotional detachment or deep sadness.

Tear-Streaked or Reddened Eyes: Mention tear tracks or reddened eyes, portraying recent or suppressed crying, enhancing the visual impact of their sadness.

Hollow Cheeks and Sunken Eyes: Describe physical changes like hollow cheeks or sunken eyes, reflecting fatigue, despair, or prolonged emotional distress.

Body Language and Gestures

Slumped Shoulders and Hunched Posture: Show their dejected stance with slumped shoulders and a hunched posture, conveying a sense of heaviness or defeat.

Fidgeting or Clasping Hands: Detail how they fidget nervously or clasp their hands tightly, indicating inner turmoil or a need for comfort.

Absentminded Touching of Face or Hair: Mention absentminded gestures like touching their face or running fingers through their hair, reflecting introspection or sadness.

Slow or Listless Movements: Describe their movements as slow, lethargic, or lacking energy, mirroring their emotional state of sadness.

Avoiding Eye Contact or Retreating: Highlight how they avoid eye contact or retreat from interactions, seeking solitude or trying to mask their emotions.

Dialogue and Inner Monologue

Subdued or Monotone Speech: Show their dialogue as subdued, with a monotone delivery or pauses, conveying emotional restraint or inner pain.

Expressing Regret, Loss, or Longing: Use dialogue to express their regrets, sense of loss, or longing for something or someone, adding depth to their sadness.

Internal Conflicts and Self-Reflection: Delve into their inner monologue, revealing their conflicts, doubts, or self-reflection, showcasing the complexity of their emotional journey.

Using Metaphors or Symbolic Language: Incorporate metaphors or symbolic language in their dialogue or thoughts, enhancing the poetic or introspective nature of their sadness.

Environmental Cues and Setting

Bleak or Desolate Settings: Set scenes in bleak or desolate environments, such as abandoned places or dimly lit spaces, amplifying the sense of isolation or melancholy.

Rainy Weather or Gray Skies: Describe rainy weather, gray skies, or somber atmospheres, mirroring their emotional state and adding a reflective tone to the setting.

Diminished Colors or Lack of Vibrancy: Use descriptions of muted colors or a lack of vibrancy in the surroundings, reflecting the character's subdued mood and emotional depth.

Actions and Reactions

Withdrawing from Interactions: Show them withdrawing from social interactions, seeking solitude, or avoiding activities they once enjoyed, highlighting their emotional withdrawal.

Seeking Comfort Objects or Routines: Describe how they turn to comfort objects or routines, such as listening to music, writing, or engaging in familiar activities, as coping mechanisms.

Emotional Outbursts or Sudden Changes: Portray occasional emotional outbursts, sudden changes in behavior, or moments of vulnerability, revealing layers of their sadness.

Impact on Relationships and Interactions: Explore how their sadness affects their relationships and interactions with others, showcasing the dynamics of empathy, support, or misunderstanding.

Types of Tears and Emotional Triggers

Watery Eyes: These tears often accompany moments of deep emotional pain, such as hearing hurtful words, experiencing profound disappointment, or feeling overwhelmed by sadness. Characters may blink rapidly or struggle to maintain eye contact as tears well up, indicating their struggle to contain their emotions.

Quiet Tears: Quiet tears are silent and discreet, often shed in moments of solitude or introspection. They may occur when a character reflects on past memories, grapples with internal conflicts, or experiences a poignant realization. These tears are a subtle yet powerful expression of inner turmoil.

Full-On Sobs: Full-on sobs involve audible crying, heaving breaths, and visible emotional distress. They typically arise from intense grief, loss, physical pain, or overwhelming stress. Characters may find it challenging to speak coherently or control their emotions during such outbursts, revealing the depth of their emotional turmoil.

Tears of Joy: Tears of joy occur in moments of immense happiness, relief, or heartfelt connection. They often accompany scenes of reunions, achievements, or profound expressions of love and gratitude. These tears symbolize emotional release and the overwhelming experience of positive emotions.

Tears of Empathy: Characters may shed tears of empathy when witnessing others' suffering or hearing poignant stories. These tears reflect their compassion, sensitivity, and ability to deeply connect with the emotions of others, adding layers of empathy to their characterization.

Writing Prompts and Exercises

Write a scene where your character experiences a sudden wave of sadness in a public setting, struggling to conceal their emotions.

Craft a dialogue between two characters, one trying to comfort the other who is deeply saddened by a personal loss or disappointment.

Describe a setting that reflects the mood of sadness, using sensory details to evoke emotions and create atmosphere.

Explore a character's inner monologue as they reflect on past regrets or missed opportunities, expressing their profound sense of sadness.

Create a symbolic object or motif in your story that represents your character's journey through sadness, using it as a recurring theme for emotional depth.

Incorporating these elements can enrich your narrative and evoke powerful emotions in your readers, fostering a deeper connection to your characters and their emotional journeys.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[strangelittlestories]

Here in the end times, it feels like everyone got a little weird.

That'll happen, you know? In a city of bondage rooftop pirates, predatory psychic business suits, and tacticool kindness cults; in a world where the sun's gone all high contrast, low brightness; in a time where isolation is a synonym for safety ... let's just say the 'Overton Window of Normality' has shifted.

Yep, when the light broke, we all got a bit strange.

All except for Simon, that is.

Simon is perfectly normal. Simon is swell. Simon still stops by Nero's for a coffee in the mornings and the Coffee Mafia *serve him* (I think just out of confusion).

Simon goes into his co-working space three days a week. Sometimes he works on his screenplay. Other times he goes through long-dead databases and de-duplicates records. If you ask him why, he'll just say that he gets tired of working from home all the time and needs a change of scenery.

Simon keeps a spreadsheet to track the good places for salvage in London-in-Darkness. He has different tabs for foodstuffs, fuel, clothes, makeshift weaponry, and a dozen other useful categories. He sorts them according to quality, abundance, known predators, level of contrast corruption, and convenience for his commute. Ask him to show you his v-lookups sometime.

If you haunt the high buildings like I do, then you'll see him sometimes, scuttling about in his scruffy converse, jeans and hoodie. If he sees you see him, he'll wave.

It's not that the various predators, gangs and high-contrast memetic hazards avoid him, exactly. They continue their usual routes; their patterns of search, destroy and throw-a-wobbly. But somehow they just ... miss him. He'll be overlooked or have a miraculous lucky escape. Occasionally, he'll get captured for a few days and spend the time working on his yoga routine, before the next localised burst of spectrum distortion gives him a chance to scarper.

You might be tempted, if you run across him, to join Simon.

You might hear him say things like: "Why don't we pool our resources" or "Let's catch up sometime" or "I've set up a mini golf course in the Tate Modern, if you fancy it" or "Do you want to listen to some Bruno Mars? I think I have one of the last unscratched CDs."

I urge you: do not listen to him.

He means you no ill will. Simon is *normal* and *nice*.

But nice is not kind. Normal is not benevolent. And sometimes, people overlook that the world will hurt those less lucky than them without really thinking about it. And it is *normal* to protect yourself in that way. It is *nice* to gloss over difficult things.

Simon lives a live that is orthogonal to the rest of us. His plane of existence is ever so slightly out of sync.

Yours isn't.

He is a last unchanging remnant of a world that was.

You aren't.

If you meet him, you will want to follow him. His is a world of order and predictability, of self-care days and flexi-time, of secret film screenings and hidden menus in bougie coffee shops. You will be enchanted by the way he talks about getting plenty of natural light, the way he complains about his commute, and how he still tips twelve percent.

But I beg you: do not heed his Simon song. For it is the song of Bruno Mars and you will be dashed on the funk rocks.

Don't go with him, the world that keeps him safe does not exist anymore.

And when I see Simon scuttling through the streets with a new friend, I am sometimes glad that it is gone.

[runby2]

hi it's the creator of horse plinko and other huge posts on this site.

i wanted to make a quick post on here, not to keep everyone updated on my life, because i'm going to keep staying far away from social media, but to let everyone know that if you feel like you are endlessly changing yourself to fit your following's perfect standards, you are not actually getting better as a person. why do i say this? growing up, i had a horrible childhood and it was hard to grasp a sense of self, so the internet was a good escape. i made posts about current topics, tried to get a lot of notes, and when i got those notes i felt like my life had a purpose. i didn't let myself ever find out who i truly was because early on i was so obsessed with being the perfect persona on the internet and avoiding home life, that i had literally linked my life cable to the internet. i was the living definition of chronically online. i was so young too, so i saw a bright future ahead of myself. "it can only go up from here." 3 years of complete isolation happened after my 18 years in a cult, and recovering from mental institutional abuse. and i went by juicedoesthings. and i fought with every part of myself, ignoring my DID and even having alters post inspirational paragraphs about why DID is 'something i know i don't have because ___'- some you can probably still find on this blog buried deep somewhere - i was lost in a cycle of amnesia and perfectionism to the point ALL of my identities were juicedoesthings, and we were all the same, and if one of us stepped out of line, we'd shun it. we couldn't risk being problematic. we couldn't risk everything we've worked up to be crumble. because that was all we were. don't make your identity a username. don't keep track of what is and is not acceptable at the current time in a fandom of any sort. don't curate your art just because a discourse blog reblogged it for clout. don't overthink some personal statement you made just because thirty people sent you personalized death threats. don't forget about nuance, and in the most sincere way i can communicate this, touch grass. and find out what comforts you. learn what makes you happy, not what can improve you. this post will probably be drowned under reblogs as my life goes on and i occasionally check back into this ghost town of what used to be my only identity. but tumblr fame has irreversibly damaged me, and how i perceive myself. it took so long for me to feel like it was okay to make mistakes. if the above sounds like you, i desperately urge you to find a way out of that cycle. don't chase fame online. anonymity can definitely get you where you want to be safely. over my years on here ive seen children adults and teens ask how to make a webcomic, how i got this many followers, how i became "me". i was conforming. i became perfect for the internet, but i didn't have any sense of self. don't be like me. don't become me. just create, and disconnect yourself from who you think you need to be in order to be enough.

[oshinohoshi]

Oshi no Ko - In defense of Ai's "lies"

Warning: Manga spoilers below.

This post is a reaction to people occasionally saying, "Maybe Ai was the real villain all along" or "But Ai lies" as evidence of her character being sucky. And just... come on. I know, dear reader, that you understand how silly that is but I'm gonna spell it out anyway.

I always want to say in response: "Who did Ai hurt with her lies?" There is one character you may be thinking of and I'll get to that, but the person she hurt the most was herself. Because she told herself nonsense about how she was an irresponsible, dirty liar.

This breaks my fragile heart because this, right here, is the lie. Her negative self-talk stemming from a childhood filled with abuse and loneliness framed her issues with understanding love as if it were her fault and not, I dunno, the woman who fed her glass (see 45510) and abandoned her.

What were Ai's lies? Should they even be classified as such? Let's break it down:

She hid her kids. I would hardly call this a lie so much as a totally normal boundary for a celebrity with a public and private life. It only mattered because of the absurd standards for idols. It was more of a lie by omission anyway, but if someone asked her point blank if she had kids (maybe after one too many times nearly mentioning her kids lol) it would be perfectly acceptable to say no.

She put on a happy face at all times, hiding her emotions. This primarily hurt herself because it increased her social isolation and caused the girls in B Komachi to view her as untouchable and inhuman. Nino wouldn't have been so hurt by their fight if Ai better knew how to express herself, or maybe even if she had shown that she cared by yelling back, but that's a lot to expect from someone with Ai's background and lack of experience with relationships.

There's also Ai's neurodivergence. I don't want to speculate too much about that as I am not hugely familiar with the topic besides what I've learned by googling, but it can cause difficulty with social situations and expressing emotions. Sounds pretty familiar.

We are told in ch 137: "She could neither love nor trust people. She was timid and sensitive. She got hurt after being at odds with her friends. She really was an ordinary girl you could find anywhere. That's why she lied. A big lie that concealed her weak self completely."

Another description for this is a defense mechanism. Ai was not raised in an environment where vulnerability was met with reassurances. Moreover, as an idol it was hammered into her that she needed to hide anything about herself that could be deemed as negative or ugly. Anything that made her human. Ichigo told her at age 12 to lie until she understood love. She was set up from the get go to consider herself nothing but a liar.

She lied to Hikaru when she said, "I can't love you." This is actually not a big lie so much as the most negative take on her emotions. She wasn't sure she could love him but she wanted to. The real untruth is the way she flippantly strolled out the door as if she didn't care about him. But that doesn't make her a villain and her reasons are obvious given everything told to us about her in ch 137 and her avoidant tendencies she used as a shield to protect herself. She handled the breakup with all the grace of an elephant wearing ice skates but I'm not about to blame her for it.

She lied about love. I saved the big one for last. The thing her characterization hinges on. But it was hardly a lie at all. Not only because she actually did love her kids or that she was trying so hard to love which was its own form of love ("lies are love"), but because the idea of having to love her fans in a personal manner that goes beyond appreciation is actually ridiculous.

Nobody expects an office worker to love their clients or someone working at Starbucks to love their customers. But as an idol she was marketed as a perfect, pure girl, someone men could project their fantasies onto and who was supposed to genuinely love each and every one of them in return. It's nonsense. Ai was certainly not the only idol failing to live up to this. She just took it incredibly hard because she felt her lack of understanding of love was a personal failing.

We are told that Ai was a liar but she was honest as often as she hid the truth. She asked Gotanda to film the real her after he called her out about putting on an act. She was candid in the fan Q&A in 45110. In Viewpoint B she wrote a song that expressed her genuine feelings. She adored her kids so much that she slipped up and nearly talked about them on camera. Ai wanted to share how they had impacted her life but couldn't except through veiled statements. She was completely honest with Ryosuke, treating the moment as if she was in a confessional detailing her sins.

None of this is to say Ai was perfect. We're bonked over the head with the fact that Ai was a regular person who could get angry, who was too timid to push herself to connect with her fellow members of B Komachi, who undoubtedly did and said things that did not reflect her best self just as we all do. But I don't think liar is her defining trait. It's probably not even in her top five. I would describe her as sensitive, loving, mischievous, playful, and intelligent (she could be airheaded but she was incredibly savvy about her image) before I'd call her a liar.

There is no Real Villain Ai. And I can't tell you how glad I am that the theory some people held about her forcing sex on Hikaru was thoroughly debunked. Right up there with people speculating that Crow Girl is actually reincarnated Ai. That just made me laugh. The last thing reincarnated Ai would do is jerk her kids around.

We're told Ai was a liar because that's how she viewed herself. It's not an objective fact or at least not a fact that trumps everything else about her. So the next time someone says "Ai was a liar" my response would be "OK. So what?"

[acid-ixx]

Hey hey, you don’t have to answer this ask but truly your works has been so comforting to me in my worst moments with how you write loneliness. I apologize, I should had shown my appreciation earlier as the way you write isolation brought me relief in the understanding of it from a deeper level.

Sure, while there is an occasional joy of reading something where you, the reader instantly gets the love you always crave for… Unfortunately it is never that perfect or at all realistic, sure when people think of touch-starved you think of the desperate and all encompassing one where one is filled with warmth but never about the opposite where you are so touch-starved it floods your guts with nausea at the sudden abundance of it. And you, you! You write that perfectly, I cared about your reader, I was able to cry, I was able to express anger and pace around the room at how well you structure your works. And I wasn’t even a fan of Batfam or indulge deeply into any Batman related media until your fics came across my dash and I was ever so curious to find a nicely written gift basically.

Although I am not as skilled at the pen as you, I feel I should exchange some other things I saved of writers’ words that too gave me some comfort as well in hopes you do as well.

Thank you dedicating your time to write such intimate loneliness, I do truly appreciate and found solace in the best and worst of your reader struggling to accept the nuances of love. The absence and over abundance of love can truly drive all humans to be the worst version of themselves in order to find stability.

No need to post another fic and while I do enjoy them, you can always write about other stuff. Do a Q&A; what inspires you, what are your interests outside of this blog, and etc. Reblog other blogs, make characterization or silly posts, share other things you love at your own will. You, at the end of the day is your greatest priority, no need to demean yourself because you know yourself the best. Thank you and sorry for rambling!

did u know i teared up when i read this ? idk why i did but maybe it's the fact that my writing is meant to primarily comfort myself, it's the things i write whenever i feel absolutely terrible and to see how it genuinely comforts others made me a bit emotional. tysm for your kind words 🥹 but at the same time there's no need to apologize! nobody is obligated to repost or comment on my works really, i just appreciate it when people do since it counts as a way to inspire me and this one genuinely did.

and yes, i love to write about loneliness and abandonment and all those negative emotions purely because it's my medium of ranting about the neglect i went through as a child, it's kind of like my own therapy hehe. u alongside the others love my portrayal of my mc so much it makes my heart go doki doki istg 🎀

also, the poems you sent me made me very emotional too, because i love poems and the symbolic meanings behind them and both pictures just ignited that dying flame i have to insert a poem for chapter 4 of a&a. i love the first poem about the struggles of finding love through your parents and eventually moving on and building a future for yourself and the second one desiring tenderness in the simplest of intimate moments just made my touch starved self ache.

and tysm too for you, alongside many others, reminding me to write for myself because i truly am! it's all just been so tiring seeing a notification and thinking it must've been some input about my writing only to find out it's people asking when or if i'm going to update soon that makes me start to think writing is an obligation, but i'm really trying my best and i feel excited doing a 4k follower special 🩷

[localcanadiancreature62]

The effects of Bill's conditioning on Ford + Other stuff:

One of the main effects is Dissociation. Ford's mind is partially shattered similarly to the way canon Fidds' is,although the difference is that Ford is still functional save for a few dissociative episodes where he ends up breaking something or zoning out midway into conversations while canon Fidds is completely unstable and insane.

This happens because whenever a real memory appears in his mind a memory that he ACTUALLY had instead of the various memories Bill implanted in his head,he ends up subconsciously trying to bury it as he believes that only the memories that Bill made are the ones that are real and thus it results in him dissociating. Another reason why he dissociates instead of his mind completely breaking like canon Fidds',is because Bill's mind fuck powers are different from the memory gun.

His mind warping is a fixated form of reality warping where whenever he manipulates a part of the brain,the changes he made are permanent until the subject is shown the entirety of their real memories before said changes were made. The dissociation is also a way of the subject subconsciously rejecting the mind warping despite the changes being fixed.

This is why Ford was dissociating in the first part of the A Perfect Day in the Perfect World fic. Also he constantly has headaches from the dissociation and also the occasional ringing in his ears (real life ear ringing comes from head injuries :]).

Bill doesn't do anything to fix this,as he knows full well that the cause is the memory erasures as if he fixes it then that would mean letting go of Ford. Another effect is Ford's self esteem getting warped. The fact that all of his "family" and his dear "friend" don't actually seem to care about him due to them being shallow bastards (little does he know that they're literally fake ass copies that were MEANT to be husks),makes him think that only Bill cares about him.

This also makes him think that even despite his ego,he isn't worthy of being loved or taken care of as he concluded that when only his partner is his support system and none of his family nor his friend actually cares about him then he deserves such treatment as he's worthless to everyone except for Bill.

Bill doesn't even feel guilty about this one,as it's a sign of his plan to have his genius all to himself is working. Ford simultaneously thinks that everyone loves him while also thinking that everyone doesn't care about him,the first part is due to his renowned reputation as the most influential CEO in Oregon while the other part is cuz literally no one but Bill loves him. This man is gonna need some therapy by the end of this,and a lot of hugs. Ford has depression now,also he has a hard time sleeping without Bill as he's terrified of being alone. He is horribly terrified of being alone as that would mean dealing with the aching feeling that no one but his dear triangular husband is actually there for him. He has depression and also is slightly unstable because of the fact that he has no one but Bill around,he is secretly depressed over the fact that he only has his husband for company as i mentioned before that he still feels negative emotions no matter how happy the Perfect World makes him. His instability shows from him acting paranoid and antsy whenever Bill isn't around,such as thinking that Fiddleford or Stan will hurt him or feeling like he wants to claw the walls when he's alone without his dear muse. Bill doesn't know this as the genius only acts this way when he's out in the multiverse doing his job as it's guardian,which means that he's entirely unaware of the fact that Ford is actively losing his mind from the isolation he forced on him just to have the man all to himself.

Bill's views on Ford's dwindling sanity changes a lot depending on his mood. Sometimes when he's fulfilling the "dear husband" role and is putting his energy on loving Ford,he gets guilty over indirectly causing the man to be this way but he denies it as he knows that fixing him would also mean letting go of the genius. Other times when he's trying to teach his researcher husband a lesson aka torturing him whenever he's going against him,he fully embraces Ford's suffering and is even proud of it as it's a sign of his plan to have the genius all to himself is working. In conclusion,Perfect World!Bill is just as unpredictable and temperamental as Canon Bill but it's just not as obvious due to him usually being happy go lucky from being SO glad to finally have his genius at his side while he's ruling the universe just like he always wanted.

Ford is secretly scared of Bill but he doesn't know why. Although it's because he subconsciously remembers that the triangle tortures him via mysterious healed wounds and blurry memories of a yellow figure hurting him. He occasionally flinches around Bill whenever the isosceles touches him and feels as though he's walking on eggshells whenever he talks to him,although he tries to ignore it as he's certain that his dear muse loves him and that strange figure wasn't him. Bill is fully aware of this and he didn't completely erase those memories on purpose,so that he could keep his ̶h̶u̶m̶a̶n̶ ̶p̶e̶t̶ husband in line. The only other person besides Bill that notices Ford's change in behavior is Fiddleford,as he is the only copy that has SOME semblance of sentience and real emotions although the amount he has is very low. Fidds occasionally worries for Ford and gets suspicious of how that triangle treats him based on the fact that the man flinches whenever he puts his hand on his shoulder or refuses to talk about his arguments with Bill whenever he asks,but Bill himself makes sure to erase these feelings and thoughts from him immediately to avoid Ford finding out about everything :].

Bill and Ford fuck often cuz marriage,however Bill doesn't get rough on him like he usually does anymore because he knows that hurting the man while he's keeping up the "dear husband" act would make him question things and thus try to leave him. Although he occasionally DOES get rough on him but he makes sure to make Ford forget immediately,during these rare occasions he basically plays with Ford like a human toy and utterly destroys him without any regard for the genius' pleasure at all,he just uses him up like a toy to satisfy himself. Ford doesn't remember those times at all,although he has blurry memories of getting knives stabbed everywhere on his body including his nuts and also getting his head bashed on the floor while the isosceles fucked him. Bill made sure to reverse the effects of every encounter,as he didn't want to have a broken toy. Plus whenever they normally bang,Bill is usually in his triangle form but he just summons a pp for himself so that he can properly fuck Ford (i refuse to make a human form for this specific Bill when i recognize him as the triangle). Also also whenever they bang normally,Bill is surprisingly gentle and tender with the fucking and he does in the most vanilla way since he has come to truly care about Ford even if it's under layers of possessiveness and manipulation. Bill does vanilla sex even if it's boring as he's willing to compromise for his dear husband. He knows that Ford likes being gently fucked so he does it anyway despite it being lame to him,plus he likes fucking his genius either way so it's fine. Also Ford makes sure to make up for that boring banging by pleasuring Bill himself so it's not all bad.

Ford is technically STILL a paranormal investigator,although it's more professional now that his company the Oregon Institute of Oddology gives him more resources and equipment for studying anomalies better such as traps lures as well as nets. He usually leaves the actual company work to Fiddleford whenever he's out studying anomalies in Gravity Falls,which the hillbilly doesn't mind as he was literally made to help deal with Ford's work.Bill erasing a memory from a person's mind mentally taxes them,which is why Ford gets tired whenever he erases something from his brain such as an argument or most negative experiences. The reason why Ford is still himself and has everything besides his memories intact is because Bill can't bring himself to change his beloved genius,if he took away his negative emotions and traits then he wouldn't be Ford anymore. Just a shell of him like the rest of the Perfect World inhabitants such as Fiddleford and Stan. Which is why Bill forces himself to deal with the man's outbursts and emotional lows,because he wants to be there for him even if it's difficult. Plus he could just erase his memory of negative experiences anyway so it's fine either way.

Ford isn't aware of the fact that he's living in a dream world,however Bill told him that he did a lot of positive changes to Oregon and Gravity Falls which explains why everything is different (he isn't technically lying though,he just leaves out the part that he replaced the og Dimension 46'/ with a dream version). (i just realized that half of this is just Bill being characteristically selfish and vile).

[att9me]

Get to Know My Tav!

(I saw this template and had to get all of this out my head!)

Tufani Anu / Human / Storm Sorcerer / He/Him / 26

What’s your Tav’s…

Favorite Weapon: Cacophony Quarterstaff (prefers to cast via his hands though)

Style of Combat: Long-Range, Blaster, Crowd-Control; Tufani prefers to lead his companions from behind, like a general. He’ll hang back or fly high to cast his elemental spells to do powerful blasts and widespread damage or use the weather to alter the battlefield for his allies.

Most Prized Possession: A divination mirror given to him by his belated grandmother. It allows to him divine truths, aid in rituals, and speak to his ancestors.

Deepest Desire: Tufani is pragmatic and responsible by nature and through guidance from his parents and elders. However, deep down lies a free spirit that longs to live in the sky with nothing beneath him but the blue of the sea.

Guilty Pleasure: Sweets/Desserts. He has a big sweet tooth especially for cakes and breakfast pastries.

Best-Kept Secret: He comes from a long line of powerful, elemental sorcerers via his mother (an earth sorcerer). Therefore, his elemental magic is very intertwined with his emotions and he must keep them in check to cast effectively. The tattoo on his face is also not just for aesthetics. It’s a mark of his heritage and serves as his arcane focus.

Greatest Strength: Empathy, Compassion. Tufani was raised by not just his immediate family but also extended family and the surrounding community as well. He was taught to use his magic to help and aid others. This is why he looks after the companions so much as well those they help on their journey.

Fatal Flaw: Overextension/Addicted to responsibility. Tufani is conditioned to helping out his family, friends, and community so much that it spreads him thin and wears him out. Unfortunately, he repeats this pattern with the camp companions and all the helpless people the meet on their way to Baldur’s Gate that it leads to him being overwhelmed and burned out.

Favorite Smell: Floral and Tropical scents.

Favorite Spell or Cantrip: Ice Storm and Ice Knife. As a Storm sorcerer, Tufani’s atmokinetic magic gives him control over multiple elements: wind/air/thunder, rain/fog/mist/water, light/heat/lightning, and cold/ice. To most people’s surprise, ice is his go-to element, not lightning. It’s the element that intertwines with his anger and it feels good to let it out.

Pet Peeve: Arrogance, Selfishness. Tufani detests arrogance as well as wanton selfishness. He’s not opposed to one putting themselves first , if necessary. However, when it comes before the survival and needs of others, absolutely not. This is initially why he clashes with Astarion and Lae’zel.

Bad Habit: Self- Isolation. Despite growing up surrounded by so many people, Tufani is an introvert by nature. He loves to be by himself when he gets the chance. However, it’s also a coping mechanism that he uses to hide his emotions and vulnerability. Usually leading him to not seek help when he needs to.

Hidden Talent: Expert Gardener/Herbalist. Tufani has a natural affinity with nature. Thus, his love for gardening and herbalism is one of his favorite pass-times. The hobby was passed down to him from both his mother and grandmother. Tufani is also a great at drawing a talent he gets from his father. He usually likes to draw scenes and stills from nature and occasionally people (when they aren’t looking).

Leisure Activity: Reading. He loves to read books about history, botany, and animals. He’ll also read an adventure book from time to time.

Favorite Drink: Tea. He also enjoys the occasional Whalebone Spiced.

Comfort Food: Seafood (especially calamari and crab). He is native to isles and thus has a love for heavily spiced seafood much to Gale’s chagrin (they argue over being camp cook as much as they debate sorcerer vs wizards).

Favorite Person: Wyll Ravengard

Favorite Display of Affection (Platonic and/or Romantic): Interlocking of Arms. He loves it when Wyll offers his arm for him to wrap his own hand or arm around it.

Fondest Childhood Memory: Attending the island festivals with his parents.

And that’s my tav, Tufani Anu! I’ve had these thoughts in my head for a while now and it feels good to finally get it all out.

[jackgoodfellow]

"Grace" here is being used not in the Christian sense, but rather to broadly refer to the incredible power of human kindness, patience, and love. ❤

High-res closeups:

high-res full image (Google Drive link)

Flower language (or at least the flower language I am using):

Forget-me-nots: these little blue flowers are symbols of memory and remembrance, as well as true love, devotion, and, occasionally, senility

Baby's breath: these tiny white flowers symbolize new beginnings, everlasting love, freedom from corruption, happiness, and thankfulness

Dandelions: A cursory google search says these flowers represent "hope, healing, and resilience," which is apt. But I've included them here as a reference to their symbolism in Fionna & Cake. In this illustration, the field of dandelion puffs that Simon wakes up in at the end of the show has become a field of yellow dandelion flowers.

More analysis, if you're into that kind of thing:

1. I'm never going to get over the fact that Simon saved Marceline for no other reason than to save a child who needed his help, and in doing so - in showing up for his adopted daughter not just once but constantly and for YEARS - he basically saved the world. I think it was a brilliant move to use the narrative to further validate his actions in "The Star" episode of Fionna & Cake.

Marceline is the narrative opposite of Dean and Sam Supernatural.

2. Kindness has a way of spreading and coming back to us in ways we could never predict, which is one reason why I'm ALSO never going to get over how Simon saving Marceline eventually led to Marceline convincing Finn and Jake (and BMO and even Bubblegum) to be more empathetic to the Ice King, who becomes way safer and happier once he is not isolated in his madness.

Finn's kindness towards Simon, both before and after being cured, is a huge deal to me. It's a vital part of his character growth, and I like that Fionna had a parallel moment of growth with the Candy Queen.

Like, yes, it is big and important that Betty saved Simon. But what she couldn't do is love him in his madness. She was unable to love him if it didn't also cure him, and this destroyed her.

And so it is beautiful to me that because of Marcy and her friends, Simon was not left to suffer alone in the darkest depths of his senility. And I really love all the ways the show demonstrates how this deeply affected him even if it didn't make him remember who he was.

I believe this kindness shown to Ice King led to him having the confidence to stand up for himself and accidentally save the world AGAIN when Betty tries to kill everyone to "save" Simon in the Elementals finale because GOD FORBID WOMEN DO ANYTHING.

(Betty is our problematic Queen, and I absolutely love how she's written. The CW could NEVER. The MCU would sooner DIE. 90% of all prestige dramas can only DREAM of having such a complex and dynamic female character.)

3. And finally, there is that most recent and possibly most vital instance of grace of all in Simon's story: the kindness, patience, and forgiveness that he finally learns to start showing to himself.

Simon's is a tale of people being kinder than they have to be and the way that changes everything. I am extremely grateful that his story culminates in him learning that kindness and self-sacrifice are NOT the same thing, and that he deserves his own kindness as much as if not more than everyone else.

[panda-writes-kpop]

the dreadful need in the devotee ~ lee gahyeon

a/n: sorry for all my international folks, I know I'm late (curse you comp sci homework for taking hours to complete) but happy Gahyeon day!! here's your daily dose of existensial dread and sadness in case you haven't felt that way recently :] (all jokes, but apparently I was in my feels when I wrote this)

tw: fluff to sadness, main character death, car accident, some religious elements, we almost got a happy ending folks

acknowledgements: inspired by hozier's talk and the pjo series on Disney plus!

word count: 2.8k

summary: a recollection of the five times you couldn't look at Gahyeon and the one time you did, but it's staged during a modern retelling of one of my favorite greek myths of all time (5+1 trope my beloved <3)

♡ Masterlist ♡

As the burning taste of alcohol travels down your throat, you think about why you’re here on a Wednesday night.

Here wasn’t home, the place you most often were found. Home was your paradise, your inspiration for your work - but you had been in a rut lately. Nothing seemed to spark your creativity, not even a hot drink and a warm bath would do.

So you wandered down the street, hoping to find something that would make you and your work feel alive again. Instead, the couples you passed on the street only chose to dig at a wound that you had covered with the patchwork of self-isolation.

Since tonight was an utter failure, much like most nights this month, you turned to the one thing that made everything a little better - booze. A drink sounded nice, especially as the last couple you passed discussed their wedding and future together.

You slid into the first bar that you found that was not too far from your apartment. Five blocks was a new record for you, considering that every store you needed was only two or three blocks from your apartment. Maybe you’d print out a certificate so you’d have some marker of success to hang on your wall.

World’s Most Introverted Person Travels Two Blocks Farther Than Usual!

You need another hobby besides drinking and bad jokes.

You’d turn to art, but blank pages and screens peek out at you from every corner of your apartment. That wasn’t an option, and you had already used all your daily wanderlust to find a bar, so drinking would have to do.

It wasn’t like the bar was busy or anything - weeknight traffic was slow, especially on Wednesday. You were sitting at the bar, making occasional idle chatter with the bartender and another patron who seemed to be in a worse state of despair than you.

You were fine in your bubble, and it wasn’t like anything would pop it any time soon-

Then you see her.

Your eyes landed on a group of girls sitting in a corner, but the girl that draws your attention is everything you had imagined and so much more. With bright pink hair, it was impossible to see anything but here.

She was a beautiful white lily among the tall grass, a sweet melody floated over syncopated beats. She was the sun, and you were a comet that was about to crash into her orbit. She was everything, and you were nothing.

…And she was looking right at you.

Fuuuuuck.

You immediately look away when she bounces up to you - she’s probably going to talk to that other person, right?

You couldn’t look her in the eyes, even when she, in all of her beautiful glory, was right in front of you. 

“Do you want to join us for drinks?” Her eyes are inviting as she holds her hand out to you.

You try to find a reason to say no, but she sparks something within you. Something warm and kind, buried under the safety blanket that you wrapped your heart in.

She wasn’t your inspiration, not yet, at least. A muse, perhaps?

Whatever divine intervention brought you together was well needed.

Even though you couldn’t look her in the eyes until you were both drunk enough to forget everything but each other.

~

Gahyeon, her name was. 

Even though the headache fucking sucked (but was so worth it, considering the extra phone number in your contacts), things started to look up for you. You could actually produce art, which meant that you could pay your landlord on time.

Your apartment was a mess while you were in a funk - a proper decluttering was in order. If you weren’t inspired to do art, you definitely weren’t inspired to do household chores. You shudder as your mother’s voice reprimands you about keeping your place tidy.

Perhaps sending proof of life would get her voice out of your head. Yet again, she’d probably call you and then want to visit, which would make things worse.

Suddenly, doing the dishes instead of mentally stalling doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Tedious doesn’t begin to cover your feelings towards the stacks upon stacks on dishes, which hadn’t grown mold or attracted flies, thank god. You decide to set your phone aside (you’d checked it three times since you decided to do the dishes, maybe you need to get a safe to throw it into) before filling the sink with water.

As you add soap to the water, your phone chimes. You shut off the water, as flooding your apartment would be worse than cold water, you reason.

You were sober enough to put Gahyeon’s name in your phone, but your capitalization skills were a bit… questionable.

gAhyEOn: hey u up?

    some friends and I went drinking last night, and I need a pick-me-up.

    you wanna go for coffee?

Coffee? As in a coffee date? As in you’ll be face-to-face with Gahyeon alone, after you probably made a fool of yourself a few nights ago? 

Well, you don’t remember much about that night, do you?

God damn you, vodka, you taste good in too many mixed drinks.

You quickly respond with a ‘Sure! What time?’ after contemplating what to say for an uncomfortable amount of time.

gAhyEOn: Does thirty minutes work for you?

    I’ll send you the address, see if you can make it there in time.

Your phone buzzes, and afterwards, you plug the address into Google Maps - it’s only a block farther than the bar you met Gahyeon in. If you quickly scrubbed a few dishes and put proper clothes on (the Pokemon pajamas were cute but not ideal for a “first date”), you could make it there in thirty minutes if you run-walked.

You send her a confirmation text, telling her that the time and place will work. You manage to finish a quarter of the dishes (you’ll totally finish the rest of the dishes instead of continuing your latest masterpiece) before throwing on a comfortable outfit that’s perfect for a first date. You grab your wallet and phone before heading out of your apartment. 

The walk to the cafe takes a lot less time than you had considered, but that was probably because you were going through a hundred and one different ways that you could make a fool of yourself.

Although you nearly ran headfirst into a pole when you saw Gahyeon waving at you in the distance, you had made it to the café.

Even if you were a bit too embarrassed to look her in the eyes, a bit sweaty from run-walking here, especially after she told you off for being late.

“You’re five minutes late. I thought I told you thirty minutes, not thirty-five-”

“In my defense,” You raise your hands in the air, “I’m worse at directions when I’m sober.”

“If you buy me coffee, I may forgive you.”

“Let’s test that theory, huh?” You open the door for her as she gracefully smiles.

You let out a nervous sigh before closing the door behind you. You’ve got this, right?

Maybe the gods would push some luck in your favor.

~

Gahyeon didn’t think you were a total loser, so that was a plus.

She even agreed to a proper first date, and then a second, next a third, and you’d somehow convinced her to become your girlfriend… which meant that she would be moving in with you since you’d been dating for a year and a half.

Time flies.

“Can you help me with these boxes, babe?”

After shoving more of your supplies (holy fuck how much shit did you own) into a spare closet, you join Gahyeon at the door to receive the box that she had in her hands.

“I got it,” You say before immediately swearing after the box rests in your arms, “what did you put in here, a bowling ball?”

“Three, actually,” Gahyeon offers a sweet smile as you shake your head, “it’s just the first box of my clothes. You can set it in the bedroom, if you would.”

“The things I do for you.” You scoff before shifting the weight in the box (seriously, what was in here?).

You take a few steps forward as Gahyeon wanders around your apartment. She peeks into the room you just left before letting out a gasp.

“You didn’t move your work so I could have more space, did you?”

You pause, not turning to meet her eye, as she accusingly charges toward you.

“Yah, babe, I told you to leave that stuff there! You know how much I love seeing your work.”

You hightail it to the bedroom before she tackles you into a warm hug. You both dissolve into giggles, heavy boxes and caring anger set aside, as you enjoy her presence.

“I love you.” She whispers before kissing your lips.

You wonder what god of love was paid off in order to match you and Gahyeon, but you didn’t care. Everything worked, you two worked, and your work spoke for itself.

That’s all you ever needed.

~ 

A wedding ring was the other thing you needed.

You had fiddled with the ring for ages, wondering when would be the right time to propose. 

Gahyeon deserved the best, after all.

So you just asked her one day, when the moment was right.

And she said yes before bursting out into tears. You were quick to comfort her, of course, but you felt like you had ascended to another plane of reality.

Finally, everything made sense.

Your creative energy was at a high, so you were producing plenty of work. You were ahead on rent, enough so that you could save up for a house and a wedding, eventually.

Gahyeon stood in the kitchen, admiring the ring on her left hand, as you wrapped your arm around her waist.

“The ring’s pretty.” She says absentmindedly as you squeeze your arms, which makes her laugh. “What’s up?”

“I got bored. Something told me to go out here and check up on you.” You give a small shrug before kissing her cheek. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to head to the store by my old place to pick up a few things. Do you want anything?”

For some reason, your stomach sinks. But why, you wonder? She made this trip often, what was so awful about it now?

“Are you sure you don’t want to go down the street, to the convenience store?” You try to convince her as she shakes her head and manages to escape your grasp.

“I’ll be fine, babe,” She turns to give you a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing the car keys on the table, “are you worried about me?”

“Maybe.” You give a noncommittal answer before checking the clock. “Be home for dinner!”

“I will, I promise.” She walks away and grabs the doorknob before turning back to you. “Hey!”

“Hey what?”

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Gahyeon winks at you as you look away in embarrassment. 

It’s crazy that she still has this effect on you, years later.

She laughs before shutting the door as you stare at the front door to your apartment like a lovesick golden retriever waiting for their human to return.

You couldn’t wait for her to return back into your arms, so you could make dinner and spend the rest of your night together.

~

Four hours.

It had been four hours since Gahyeon left.

Should you be worried?

She would’ve texted, called, told you if she would’ve been late. Gahyeon expected the same of you, even though you weren’t the most prompt person at times. 

You should stop pacing before you have to add carpet replacement to your laundry list of things to buy. The sun had gone down, but that meant that traffic must’ve been heavy, right?

You need to take a walk before you worry yourself into an early grave.

You grab a light jacket before exiting your apartment. Taking a walk around the block has always helped clear your mind, but your heart pangs with a new hurt as Gahyeon always liked to go on walks with you.

She was fine, she had to be fine.

You round the corner, only to want to immediately retreat back into your home.

A car accident.

The worst part?

Gahyeon’s car was among the wreckage.

Police officers pushed the surrounding crowd back, and you scream when you see an EMT pick a bloody ring out from among the wreckage.

Not just any ring.

Her ring.

You can’t look anymore.

~

You hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks.

You hadn’t created anything since the day she died.

Three weeks.

Twenty-one days.

Five-hundred and four hours.

Thirty-thousand, two-hundred forty minutes.

You can’t breathe, can’t think.

You need to open a window.

The light casts a gentle glow over your apartment.

It’s a wreck. You’re a wreck. 

How fitting.

Your phone rings. It’s probably your mother, asking why you didn’t come to Sunday dinner for the third time in a row.

You can’t tell her about Gahyeon, you could barely face her parents and tell them what happened. You were choked up then, and you hadn’t felt much better since.

Your heart had been ripped from your chest.

You pick up your phone anyway.

“Do you want to see her again?” A deep male voice echoes from your phone speaker as you sigh.

“You have the wrong number. Have a good day.” You say with no emotion as the voice quickly replies.

“It’s Gahyeon. I have Gahyeon.”

“Who are you? Where is she?”

“Go to the bar where you first met. I’ll meet you there and take you to her.” 

“Hold on, how do I know you’re not-”

You pause as you hear the other line beep repeatedly. 

He hung up on me. What a dick.

~

“What do you want?” You gruffly ask as you slide into a booth opposite a man dressed in an all-black suit.

He fixes his silver locks for a moment before looking you up and down.

“You want the girl back?”

“Gahyeon,” You correct, “and I want her here as much as her family does.”

“Would you do anything for her?”

“Yes.” You answer immediately as the man smiles.

“Good, good.” He snaps his fingers as the scenery around you changes. 

You’re forced on your feet as the booth disappears behind you.

“What the fuck-” You look at the walls, which expand in every direction and then disappear behind walls of fire and stone.

The man walks forward as a set of stairs appears before him.

“Who are you?” You ask as the ground underneath you begins to shift.

“Death, not the devil.” He answers after sitting down on a throne made of fire and magma. “I have a proposition for you, since your love for Gahyeon has moved my wife. I’m feeling rather…. generous, shall we say?”

“What’s the catch?”

“You have to take the long way out, with you leading and her behind. You can’t look back to see if she’s there, you have to trust yourself and trust her. Understood?”

“I-” You pause while weighing your options.

Could you lead her out of Hell? A dangerous adventure, sure, but it would be worth it to bring her home.

“I accept.”

Death snaps his finger before a door to your left appears.

“Walk through that door and begin your journey.” 

You place your hand on the door before looking back at him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you get to the other side.”

~

You didn’t expect walking through hell to be a cake walk, but you were absolutely exhausted. 

Who knows if death himself didn’t trick you in the first place? 

You couldn’t look to see if Gahyeon was behind you, and you couldn’t hear her speaking as well.

You just had to trust yourself and trust her.

You trusted Gahyeon, of course you did, but did you trust yourself enough that you wouldn’t have been fooled?

Everyone in hell is looking at you as you climb up towards the exit.

You can do this. You should do this.

Is she really behind me?

You should keep going. You have to keep going.

Your footsteps begin to slow as your breath becomes ragged. You were tired, but you were almost there.

You see the light, see everything that you would have again.

You reach out to embrace the light, you’re almost there.

Is she there?

Gahyeon gasps as your eyes connect with hers.

“You… were there.”

“I always was.” She softly answers before backing up towards the darkness.

“I made a mistake.” You try to reach out and grab her, but she’s fading away from you.

“I know.”

“I love you.” A tear falls from your eye as she disappears into nothingness.

“I know.”

Just like that, she was gone, and you were alone.

[oceaneyesinla]

Reciprocal

I enjoyed writing this so much, and I desperately want a Giyuu of my own.

Warnings: Both Giyuu and Reader are implied to have mental health problems, and this does deal with bad mental health days. Take care of yourselves, everyone <3

Divider by @cafekitsune

It felt like you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in forever - the last week or two, you had communicated almost exclusively by text or call. The school year was drawing to a close, and tensions were running high with both students and teachers. Giyuu could be firm, and occasionally a little uptight about the school rules, but you knew he cared. You saw evidence of it every day - from watching him work into the night to plan lessons that would suit every student and their abilities, to accompanying him to stock up the little stash of sanitary products he kept on hand for anyone who might need them.

The end of the school year was a completely reasonable explanation for why you hadn’t seen Giyuu, but something about the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes when you video called him made you think something bigger was going on.

You had tried to check in with him as much as you could, but you couldn’t force the information out of him if he wasn’t willing to share. Giyuu always did play his cards close to his chest, never confessing how he felt, even if it was eating him alive.

So you did the next best thing - you reached out to the people he loved the most. Tsutako answered your call with a fond greeting, and filled you in on her business trip - the one you knew she was supposed to have returned from a week ago. It had been extended due to a new opportunity for the shop, she explained - and a few pieces began to fall into place.

Your next call was to Urokodaki-san, the man who had tutored you and Giyuu as children, and still took care of you to this day. Both of you made an effort to keep in touch with the old man, but he informed you that other than at work, he had barely heard from Giyuu recently. You finished the call with a promise to visit soon, once Giyuu was less occupied.

The final call was to Kanae - Giyuu’s favourite colleague, and your best friend. You could hear the worry in her voice as she told you about Giyuu’s recent retreat into himself - eating alone at lunch, avoiding his coworkers during breaks. She was apologetic as she admitted that he and Sanemi had been butting heads; petty arguments and snippy comments. You hung up the call, finally feeling like you understood where his head was at.

Your poor Giyuu. Missing his sister, whom he met up with at least once a week and texted every day. The stress of year end probably wasn’t helping, and he always ended up arguing with Sanemi when he got like this, because Giyuu never communicated well and Sanemi didn’t understand why he sometimes spiralled into self-hatred. It explained why he was isolating himself - he was overwhelmed, and didn’t feel like he deserved to seek the comfort he was likely desperate for.

You couldn’t make everything better with a snap of your fingers, as much as you wished you could. What you could do, though, was remind him that you would always be there for him to rely on, even when he felt like he didn’t deserve it.

You made the short journey to his apartment as soon as you left work, picking up the essential supplies at the konbini down the street. His front door key had adorned your keyring since he moved in, alongside the little fox mask charm he bought you back when you were still just kids with crushes. Even before you stopped pretending you weren’t head over heels for each other, you were attached at the hip.

Letting yourself in, you had a plan. First - organise all the ingredients you had bought. It was a possibility that you had gone a little overboard, and probably bought things Giyuu already had in his cupboards, but you didn’t care. You were determined to give him the most relaxing night possible, and that meant you needed to prepare his favourite meal. The ice cream was tucked away safely in the freezer for later

You quickly fell into the familiar motions of making salmon daikon. It was something you cooked on a semi-regular basis, because you were weak and the little smile it put on Giyuu’s face when he ate it was worth more than any masterpiece on Earth. His eyes would sparkle like sapphires and more than once, you caught him swinging his legs like a little child as he tucked in. You had your own fond memories of the recipe; standing next to Tsutako on a step stool so you could reach the counter, all the focus your little mind could manage on the process of making your best friend’s favourite food.

Once the cooking was done and the kitchen returned to its usual state, you moved onto your next task - setting up the couch. You had plenty of experience with looking after Giyuu when he fell into a bad spot, and you knew just what would help - so you pulled out every blanket he owned, including a couple you were sure he must have stolen from your collection when he helped you move out from Urokodaki-san’s place. Those two were both draped over his bed, and it warmed your heart as much as it broke it. Never mind. You had already decided - your boyfriend would have more than fabric to hold through the night; for the next few days at the very least.

The blankets were all tossed on the couch, and you pushed the little side table closer so you would be able to reach your drinks and snacks without having to move too much. You intended to wrap your boyfriend in blankets and cuddle him until he felt better, and you wanted as little as possible to get in the way of that.

You were just standing back to admire your handiwork when you heard a little click and the gentle swish of the front door opening. Your lips pulled up into an excited grin as you bounced down the hall, coming to a halt at the edge of the entryway and watching as your boyfriend slipped his shoes off, freezing in place as he went to tuck them away only to find a smaller pair already in situ.

“Welcome home, baby.” Ocean eyes shot up to meet yours, and widened in surprise as he bolted upright. He just stared at you, and your bright grin began to fade away the longer he stood there, unmoving and silent.

Was this a bad idea? Should you have asked him before barging into his home? Maybe he just wanted to relax alone, or maybe he didn’t feel up to putting up with you. Your hands clasped together and your fingers started playing with a little patch of dry skin as you mumbled out explanations and apologies, “I’m sorry, I should have warned you I was coming. I just wanted to do something for you, and I was missing you anyway, and I spoke to -”

Your rambling was interrupted as Giyuu suddenly jumped into action, crossing the distance and slamming into you, arms wrapping around you as he clutched you against him. His face was buried into the skin of your neck so his words were muffled, but you still made out his little, “Don’t apologise.”

Your smile came back, softer and sweeter as you stroked a gentle hand through his hair, wrapping your other arm around him just as tight as he was holding you. If you felt a couple of little drops of wetness leak onto your skin, you didn’t mention it.

You could feel him relaxing into your hold, and you turned your head to press a kiss against his temple. He released a big breath, pulling away just enough that he could see your face; still keeping you locked in his hold. The intensity in his gaze was unexpected, and before you could say anything, he blurted out, “Move in with me.”

You blinked up at him, wide smile growing on your face as you processed his words. At your nod, his lips curled up into that little smile you adored so much; the one he always wore when he was truly happy. He pulled you back in close, cradling you against his chest and rocking you a little.

A little sniff above you made you laugh, especially once you looked up and saw the little hopeful gleam in his eye, “Is that salmon daikon?”

“Of course. You deserve some comfort, baby.” He deserved the world, and he deserved to never feel like he wasn’t worth the love you freely gave him, but baby steps. You would remind him of that tomorrow, when he woke up to your loving kisses and gentle touches.

“I love you.” He leaned down to press a kiss against your lips, tears welling on his lash line, and you felt every ounce of the love he just proclaimed to you. You murmured the words in return and there was that smile again, lighting up his face and chasing away some of that lingering, bone deep sadness you knew was sitting beneath the surface.

He still looked tired, and you knew it would take more than one good night to get him through this rough patch, but as you watched him chomp on his daikon, eyes bright and legs swinging, you knew he would be okay. He was strong, and you would always be there, right by his side.

*********************

To say that work was hell would be an understatement, and an insult to Satan and his probably quite lovely home. It had to be better than your current workplace - constantly understaffed, and constantly watched over by the worst manager you had ever had the ‘pleasure’ of working under. She was always quick to catch even the most minor mistake, and had even made some of your colleagues cry. Just her presence in the office was enough to set everyone on edge, like looking up at a black cloud sky and waiting for the thunderstorm to hit, never knowing what the fallout would be.

Her attitude lately had somehow been even worse than usual, and you were her new target. Tears still threatened to spill over as you left the building, waiting to join the others drying on your cheeks. In front of everyone, she had berated you for a minor mistake in your paperwork - nothing, in comparison to what could go wrong in your job, but still unforgivable in her eyes. When rationality prevailed, you knew this - you knew what she was like, you knew how insignificant this mistake was. However, the anxiety that swirled around in your brain, haunting your every action, meant that this tiny incident had your mind working overtime. What else had you potentially missed? Could this be just the beginning, and it would turn out that you had made some other slip up, something far worse? Something that could hurt someone?

When you finally stood in front of the door to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, you couldn’t remember how you got there. The journey was nothing but a blur. You pulled out your keys and let yourself in, wishing Giyuu was home. You knew he wouldn’t be - he called you earlier, the only bright spot in an otherwise awful day. The little smile you could hear in his voice encouraged one of your own, and he excitedly told you he was going out with his sister straight after he finished at the school.

You were almost glad he wouldn’t have to see you like this, but you selfishly wanted his comfort. You wanted strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against his firm chest so you could press your face into the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of him - a mix of the sea salt soap he preferred to use and the laundry detergent you now shared; the smell of home.

Just thinking of him was making you emotional all over again, and you shook your head to try and clear it before slipping off your shoes and making your way to the kitchen. You needed to eat something, but even turning the oven on felt like too much effort. Your anxiety had faded a little, but it always left you in a weird state of disconnect - mind exhausted but your body unable to rest. 

You never made it to the kitchen, because the little table you kept in the entryway caught your eye. There was the bowl you kept your keys in, a couple of loose hair ties, the cactus Kanae gave you for your birthday (that you and Giyuu doted on like it was your firstborn). All completely normal, and not what caught your attention. There was something new, placed in the middle of the table, with a note tucked underneath the base.

It was a beautiful glass butterfly; the body was a deep blue that reminded you of the depths of Giyuu’s eyes and the open ocean on your last trip to Okinawa. On the wings, the colour blossomed outwards, fading from that deep blue to a lighter shade. It was like looking at the ocean from above, and watching the colour change as your eye wandered from the mysterious reaches of the open water to the sparkling shallows of the shoreline.

Your hands were trembling ever so slightly as you carefully extricated the handwritten note from underneath the glasswork. As you read it, those tears you worked so hard to hold in began to slip down your cheeks, but this time, they were caused by love so strong it felt like your heart was overflowing.

Saw this at the market and thought of you

Forever yours, Giyuu

He signed off every note he left you exactly like that, no matter whether it was a heartfelt confession or the weekly shopping list. The effortless sentimentality he gave to those he loved was the reason you became fast friends as children, and it was the reason you fell a little more in love with him every single day.

The gifted trinket was just another facet of his love - your shelves were littered with little offerings; gacha toys, wooden carvings, even shells collected from the sands of the beach you visited every year. Every so often, he would arrive home and place a little wrapped item in your hands, pressing a kiss to your head as his eyes greedily took in your joy. Or, like today, you would come home to a piece of paper bearing handwriting you would know anywhere, and a new bauble placed on top.

This was a regular occurrence, but something about the familiar action today was tearing you apart. You clutched the note against your chest as sobs began to escape you. You wanted Giyuu home. You wanted him home and here and wrapped around you and -

The click of the door lock made you jump, and you looked up to find your Giyuu right there in front of you, as if summoned by your desperate wish for his presence. Ocean eyes were wide as he took in what was probably a fairly troubling sight to come home to - his girlfriend, sobbing in the hallway, cheeks flush with emotion and eyes red ringed.

“Love, what’s wrong? What happened?” He practically teleported to your side, cradling your cheek with his hand and brushing away a few tears with a featherlight touch.

You tried to force out an explanation, but the way you were tripping over your words and choking on your sobs made it sound incomprehensible even to you. Giyuu was unfazed, though; just bringing up his other hand so your face was cradled in his gentle hold and your eyes had to meet his.

“Breathe with me, okay?” His voice was low and steady, and his hands were warm against your skin as you followed his directions. Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out - a pattern you were intimately familiar with, and one Giyuu had talked you through more times than you could remember. His fingertips were making soothing tracks along your hairline and slowly but surely, you began to feel calmer, your tears coming to a halt and the nauseating feeling of anxiety fading away.

Giyuu’s lips brushed over your forehead as he murmured out praises, “Good girl. Can you tell me why you’re so upset? What can I do?”

Always so eager to support you, and always oblivious to how much he did for you just by existing in your orbit. You leaned forward, resting your head against his chest and laying your hand against his ribcage, stroking over the fabric of his t-shirt and smiling to yourself at his shiver, “I love you so much.”

You could practically feel his confusion, his hand faltering in its slow sweeps up and down your back, and you pulled back to meet his gaze, smiling at the slight furrow of his brow, “You bought me a butterfly. I had an awful day, and you bought me a butterfly.”

You could see he still didn’t quite see the connection, “I saw it on the way home from the school earlier. You love butterflies; of course I bought it.”

You could feel tears building up again - all of your emotions still on high alert, “When did you even have time? I thought you were meeting up with Tsutako after work?”

“I did.” His hands had come to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the plush there, “The school closed early today. I came home to change, and drop off your butterfly before I met up with her. I wanted you to have a surprise to come home to.”

Your sweet Giyuu. Truly, you weren't sure what you had done to deserve him, but you thanked whatever stars aligned to bring the two of you together every day.

“Want to talk about your day?” You immediately shook your head at his question. You couldn't bring yourself to think back on it; not now. It still felt too fresh, and your mind still felt too overwhelmed. At your vehement reaction, he just nodded, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss, “Okay. Go and shower; I'll cook dinner.”

Easy directions, one step at a time. On nights like these, you needed that gentle guidance, and your boyfriend was all too happy to oblige. As you followed his instructions, pulling out one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts, you could hear him clattering pots and pans. You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of your life together calm you down. 

After your shower, you padded out to the kitchen, towelling off your hair as you leaned against the doorframe to watch Giyuu work. He must have felt your gaze on his back, or heard your soft footsteps against the wood, because he looked over his shoulder, satisfied smile blooming on his face as his eyes trailed over the shirt you wore.

“Feel a little better, love?” His voice was warm and infinitely loving, and you moved forward to wrap your arms around his middle, nuzzling against his back. You did feel a little better, and between the warmth radiating from him and the smell of food all around you, you were beginning to feel sleepy and relaxed.

You yawned against him and he let out a little chuckle, patting at your hands, “Come on. Eat, then we can go cuddle in bed. There’s a new episode of that anime we’ve been watching tonight.”

That perked you up - somehow, you forgot about that. You pulled away from Giyuu, tiredness pushed to one side as you began to babble about everything you were looking forward to in the episode. When you looked back up at Giyuu, you found him watching you with a lovesick smile and warm eyes. Heat pooled in your cheeks under his loving gaze but you held his eye, meeting him with a smile of your own. The day had been horrible, but at least you would end it in Giyuu’s arms. Tomorrow, you would tell him all about your shitty manager and he would listen intently, and he would validate every irrational worried thought in your mind, and it would be okay. It always would be, as long as you had him in your corner when the world felt too scary and too overwhelming to manage alone.

[greatgigintheskiess]

With Me

Chapter 5: Free Will

CW: Broken bones, Branding (mentioned), (Implied) Child abuse, Minor Whumpee, Dehumanization

Word Count: 3.7 k

--

It's been two days since Nathan's operation and by now Don has lost any sense of time.

Has it really been a week already since he met the boy in the forest?

All of this still seemed like a fever dream. Yet the man had stayed all the time with Nathan at the clinic and not for a second left his side, even slept in the chair next to the hospital bed in case the kid needed something.

Well, his back might thank him later...

Occasionally, Barb also visited them, checking the child's vitals and his wound, which looked a lot better but still needed time to properly heal. At least, the pain seemed to ease.

The first night, Don had heard Nathan whimpering and crying in his sleep which struck the man awake. He gave the boy some more meds, sat with him for a while and told him the story of how he went on his first hunt as a young boy himself and returned home late at night with a self-shot rabbit.

Don still smiled, remembering this story of his childhood because not only did he take his father's rifle but also his mother caused him a lot of trouble for coming home in the middle of the night.

But as a bedtime story for Nathan, it seemed to work quite well. And by the time Don ended, the boy was already asleep.

Ironically, it was Don who couldn't sleep that night, whether it was for his uncomfortable sleeping position or for the thoughts bothering him about what would happen to Nathan now and where he gets to stay.

Don could hardly adopt him illegally because soon or later someone will ask questions how he, the lonely hunter in the woods, suddenly has a kid. But on the other side, it may be a good thing that he lives that isolated, and this way, Don can protect Nathan a lot better from any threat.

The last thing he wanted was for these scientist assholes to show up here and search for their lost little lab rat.

He was filled with rage and disgust only thinking about them and how they dared to hurt innocent children for their sick experiments. Don couldn't stop thinking about the other children Nathan had told him about, who still were in this hell hole and no one even came to help them, getting them out of there. The kid sure was very lucky to have escaped this place, even if it will probably take weeks until he can walk again by himself.

The man woke up early this morning but decided to let Nathan sleep a little longer. The poor boy was already stressed out enough by all of this. Instead, Don grabbed a cup of coffee in the waiting room, earning a few looks from other patients waiting for their treatment.

One of them was an old lady who had just now entered and registered at the reception, taking a seat next to Don while he stretched out his legs and sipped his coffee.

"Good mornin", she greeted him as a bit of confusion dawned on her face.

Admittedly, he didn't look that good with the dark rings under his eyes and sure wasn't in the mood for a talk with a stranger. He only waited for Barb to come actually. But that's just how old people are. His mother was just the same.

"Mornin'", he answered shortly, taking another sip of coffee until the cup was empty.

"I'm visitin' my husband and you, sir, why are you here?"

Don almost choked on his coffee. Damn, what was he supposed to say? He couldn't just tell her that he found an injured kid in his bear trap. He had to come up with something else.

"My, uhm...", he searched for the right word, "my son."

"Oh, that's lovely."

Son? Seriously?!

Don felt the heat burning on his cheeks. He needed to get out of here before this gets even more embarrassing.

"I, uh, have to go now", He cleared his throat, awkwardly standing up to end the conversation. “He’s waitin’ for me.”

"Have a nice day", the old lady said, before Don had almost run off, back to Nathan's room just to escape the awkward situation.

That's the reason why he hated small talk and especially old people didn't get when he wasn't in the mood for talking. Somehow he was wide awake now - he didn't know if it was for the embarrassing situation or the coffee, maybe both.

But he also caught himself thinking about what he had said earlier.

Nathan as his son... It was a crazy idea and couldn't be more far from reality.

At least, that's what Don told himself.

He immediately shoved away those thoughts when he entered the room and saw Barb sitting next to Nathan, inspecting his leg.

"Hey there", He said, throwing the cup into the garbage can as he walked past.

Don was greeted with a smile from Nathan and gently ruffled his blonde hair which was still tangled and a bit dirty as the hospital gown he was wearing. Once they get home, he'd fill up the bathtub, he thought. The boy surely had been in that forest for days and Don wondered when the last time the kid had taken a proper bath.

The boy already looked so poorly and miserable with his injuries and bruises so the rest of his body didn't entirely make it better. Don for sure couldn't help him with his wounds but maybe at least get the little one some clean and fresh clothes.

That's what he thought at least when he saw Barb's worried face. Her co-workers must've asked her already about him.

"Hey, Don, do you have a minute?", She asked and Don's smile faded again.

Right, today Barb would let Nathan go and they had to discuss where he gets to stay now. Suddenly, his thoughts from this morning returned to his mind and Don followed Barb into the room next door where they could talk in peace without worrying Nathan.

Considering what he already has done for that child should be enough of an approval for his decision. And if it weren’t for him, Nathan would still be out there in the woods, all by himself. Here he had a cozy bed, nice warm food and some company. And who knows where he ends up when they involve the police now?

Though that had been Don's first idea right after he met Nathan, now he didn't even think about giving the boy away. He didn't really know why but it just felt wrong.

The decision all in all wasn't that easy, for both Barb and Don. She could easily lose her job and Don his hunting license after the 'incident' should some authorities get wind of this. But from the logical point of view, it would be necessary to report to the police after what Nathan had told them about the place where he and others were kept captive for so many years. The people responsible for that had to be punished after all.

But what would that mean for Nathan?

Don couldn't imagine how he would feel if he and Barb handed him over to some strangers who would just put him in another orphanage or worse. He'd be feeling devastated, scared, betrayed, alone and honestly, Don's heart just couldn't cope with that.

Looks like he did grow fond of the boy that he thinks about such things. So much for keeping his distance, he laughed to himself in his mind. Stupid old man with his stupid sentiments, that's what he was.

After a long talk, they finally came to a decision. Don gets to keep Nathan, well, if the boy wants. But Barb also told him to be careful from now on, trying not to draw that much attention on him, for Nathan's safety.

They both entered the room again, explaining everything to the kid, yet they still want to ask him before anyone decides anything. Though Don knew how that answer might look like.

"Nathan, do you want to stay with Don?", Barb said, sitting on a chair next to the child.

The boy looked at Don and nodded while a little smile appeared on his lips.

"Yes, I'd really like to."

That only expression on the child's face was enough to warm Don's heart. And where once fear and sorrow clouded his face, now there's a happy smile - the way a child was supposed to act. It was a sad thought but Nathan probably never experienced any nice things in his childhood and where kids his age had played outside, he was locked up somewhere, in pain and just his thoughts from losing his sanity. The boy still needed to learn a lot, but mainly what it meant to be a child.

Barb interrupted Don's train of thought.

"Sure that he's not too boring? I doubt that he has any toys for you", She teased and Don gasped in disbelief, making Nathan grin.

"No but he brought me nice food everyday", the kid replied.

"He did?", the woman raised an eyebrow, "I thought cooking wasn't your thing."

Don shrugged. "Well, now it is."

He knew his cooking sucked, he barely ate anything himself before but now he had another mouth to feed, something that was unimaginable just a month ago.

The man noticed how Barb had taken out a little book, handing it over to Nathan as a small gift. The boy had never gotten anything like that and looking at the cover, it seemed to be about different animals and their habitats. The font was big enough for a child his age to read and the colorful illustrations immediately caught Nathan's attention.

"There you go", She said with a smile, "You can read, now can you, sweetheart?"

Nathan shook his head a bit ashamed. Actually, he never learned to read or write nor went to school and in the hospital no one taught him anything either.

"Then you both can read it together", Barb broke the tension, taking a look at Don.

In the meantime, he noticed that the boy was much calmer now in the presence of the woman than in the beginning. As the town's doctor she often had to deal with children so it didn't surprise him that the kid started to trust her, especially after he spilled his heart out to them two days ago.

Nathan opened the book and admired the first few pages of it, carefully running his fingers over the paper as if he had never held a book in his hands. While he was almost in a trance like this, Barb addressed Don once again.

"I'll come over after a few days again to look at Nathan's leg."

Don nodded and looked down on the boy who was browsing through the book with interest, looking at all the pictures he had never seen before.

The sound of water flowing out of the faucet into the almost full bathtub had something meditative about it. Don stared for a while on the water splashing slightly against the tub's edges, thoughts about what Nathan had told him two days ago still circling in his head. He was so shocked about it, wanted to cuss the fuck out of the ones who were responsible for the boy's suffering but at the same time he felt so helpless and wasn't able to keep any thoughts of his together.

What if they were already looking for the boy? Would they even search here, in the deepest woods?

The more Don found out about the child's past, the more pieces he could tuck together until a complete picture emerged.

And that picture was horribly disturbing.

Don closed the tap and the water stopped running. His hand slid through the water, sensing if it had the right temperature. He came back for Nathan and carried him in bridal style to the bathroom, hopefully for the last time until his leg will be in a better condition.

He sat the boy as gently as possible on the closed toilet lid, his bare feet dangling in the air. Don took the hem of the dirty hospital gown the kid had been wearing this whole time.

"C'mon, 'lemme help you with your gown..." He said calmly with a gesture to help the boy undress.

But Nathan crossed his arms in front of his stomach, preventing the man from shoving away more of the fabric.

"No", the boy said, his hands clenching more into his gown.

Don immediately put away his hands, assuming that he might've gone too far with physical contact. He thought Nathan was at the point where he trusted him enough - or else he wouldn't have stayed here with him, right?

But why was he so scared then?

He had a foreboding but pushed these thoughts aside right away.

No, he didn't want to think about that.

Don respected the kid's own will - for whatever reason it might be - and he would never want him to be uncomfortable in his presence.

"Wanna do it yourself?" The man asked instead, to which Nathan replied with a nod.

He saw that the boy moved his hands away from his stomach, ready to take the gown off his body by himself. Once he did that, Don saw his exposed back for the first time and that sight disturbed him all the more.

The child's skin was covered in more awful injuries. A huge bruise covered the boy's shoulder, scars lined his spine and something very shocking and horrible caught Don's sight.

Symbols burned deeply into the flesh of the boy's protruding small shoulder blades. It appeared to be a number, a roman one.

A 'V' and 'I'.

Six.

Don gulbed.

That was also something Nathan didn't tell him about. Don couldn't express the amount of disgust he had felt in this moment of realisation.

The boy seemed to surprise him all over again, but not in a positive way.

"Is that...a branding?" The man stuttered, terror overtook his facial features.

The child turned his head, noticing Don's horrified expression.

"Number Six. Everyone gets a number." He responded in tension, not moving an inch.

"Everyone?"

A nod followed after that question.

"The others... they have a number too."

Nathan felt his body trembling as he remembered everything. The moment he got his number. His screams in agony, begging and pleading and tears running uncontrollably when the hot iron burned into his skin, leaving that terrible branding.

That day, the boy lost his name, his personality, his dignity.

He was a subject. Something with a beating heart, nerve system and working brain but not more than that.

"They didn't treat you like a human, where you came from, did they?" Don asked, coming closer to the petrified child, tilting his head.

"No... Not human, subject."

Don kneeled down to the boy, who proceeded staring at the ground.

"Kid, listen. You are a human. Just like me. And it doesn't matter what they said about you, got it?"

Thousand thoughts ran through the boy's head, he didn't even know what to feel, what to say. Don's words burned into his mind, leaving him so confused and abashed. But he let the man's words sink in, thinking about them. Never did one say something like this about him. And Nathan didn't even know anymore how a human needs to be treated.

Indeed, he never saw himself as one. How should he know it better then?

"Okay..." Nathan breathed as an answer, avoiding the man's stoic look on him.

Don sighed.

He knew the child was overwhelmed by that. He didn't even need to ask, he saw it in the boy's eyes, in his gestures - him avoiding eye-contact, a quickened heartbeat and hard swallows whenever he spoke about what happened.

And he couldn't describe just how sorry he felt. Sorry for all the lies the boy has been told. Now his only assumption about the child has been proven, sadly. He probably never had anyone in his life, was alone the most time, abused, beaten, treated terribly.

And now also traumatized by all these experiences in his life. That shouldn't happen, never, to anyone.

No one in this world deserved to be treated like that.

After a few moments of complete silence, Don looked back on the bathtub still filled with water, still untouched and calm.

"Let's get you in there or else the water will get cold."

Don gently placed him into the bathtub, trying to not hurt the boy with his wounded ankle. "How's the temperature?" He asked softly.

"It's good."

The man took a shampoo bottle and a washcloth, explaining to the boy what he'll do with it. "Now I'll give ya a lil' hair wash, kiddo. You better close your eyes so the shampoo won't sting them."

The boy did as he told him and Don started washing Nathan's hair, softly massaging his scalp which he seemed to enjoy as he closed his eyes in relaxation.

A smile crept over the man's face, remembering how his mother used to wash his hair as a little boy. Something he also always had liked.

"That's it, my boy. You can open your eyes."

Don took a cloth, dipped it into the water and washed off all the dirt and blood from the kid's body, trying to not tear open his stitched wounds.

"If I hurt you by accident, tell me, okay?"

Nathan nodded, feeling how tenderly Don was rubbing his back, especially around the awful mark wound. Don was worried that the boy would protest like before as this situation was even more intimate than anything they went through before, but Nathan seemed to trust him enough and simply enjoyed the procedure, sitting still in the bathtub.

And like that, all worries from before were seemingly dissolved after Don finished bathing him, washed off with all the dirt and blood and Nathan didn't know when the last time was he had been so relaxed.

While Don was putting away the bottles, Nathan's attention fell on the foam, which looked and felt so weird. The child was moving his hands out of the water or collecting some of it on the water's surface just to peer at it in pure fascination. He believed to never have seen such a thing before.

Well, before no one has ever let him have a bath, either.

And when the child put together his hands curiously to see how the foam was stuck between them, he felt how calm it was in his head. No thoughts, no anxiety. Just silence. And it was pleasant.

Don had watched the boy for a while like that and couldn't help but smile at this sight. Something about the way Nathan was playing with the foam like every kid usually did, just having fun - probably for the first time in his life - it lightened Don's mood without him even noticing it. Instead, a warm feeling spread in his chest.

The man almost felt a little sorry for interrupting that moment when he took a cup and wiped the remaining body wash and shampoo from Nathan's skin.

"You know what? I think I forgot to wash one spot", He then said to the boy, running his fingers behind his ears, "Riight here."

Don heard a giggle from the kid as this seemed to have tickled him, which caused the man to chuckle himself. The kid laughed so rarely though his laugh was absolutely adorable. And Don was kinda glad that he left such a positive impression on the boy, making him feel comfortable enough to laugh this light-heartedly in his presence.

Which was a whole lot different from the first time they met, he realized.

"A'ight, now you're all clean. That's better, ain't it, huh?" Don got Nathan out of the tub, toweling him down.

"Here I got you some fresh clothes, though they might be a 'lil bit too big for ya."

He gave him some of his old clothes, a dark blue sweater which he barely wore anyway, and wool socks his mother once knitted for him. Don wasn't that much of a fashion expert. He owned only a few clothes, most of them dark sweaters, a few t-shirts and two or three pairs of pants for hunting. Owning many clothes and barely wearing them all appeared to be unnecessary to him.

Like expected, the sweater was way too large for the little one and putting it on, it almost reached to his knees.

"Well, ain't the best but better than nothin', right?" Don rolled up the sleeves up to the boy's elbows.

He really should get the kid some clothing in his size…

Nathan looked down at himself and couldn't remember wearing such comfortable clothes ever before. The sweater was large enough for him to cuddle into it and finally his bare feet were protected from the cold bathroom floor.

Also it felt good to be clean again, finally washing off all the dirt, sweat and dried blood of weeks from his body. And especially after the bath, Nathan could feel his muscles ease a bit after all the physical exhaustion his body had gone through.

The man also noticed how relaxed the boy now looked and he saw his shining blond curls for the first time which before were all tangled and covered in dust and dirt. His face was all clean too, with freckles showing on his skin which had been practically invisible before but now adorned the boy's rosy cheeks and snub nose.

Don thought about putting on some fresh bed sheets too but for now, he'll care about dinner first as he felt his stomach growling.

"So, how 'bout dinner? Bet you wanna eat somethin' too, kiddo."

--

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @smellofsnoww @picklehat3r @i-eat-worlds

[monsterblogging]

So, something finally clicked into place re: Harry Potter and why people get so attached to it, despite it being... shall we say, not that good.

Now I want y'all to keep in mind, I am saying this as a former Harry Potter fan who still occasionally feels nostalgia for the franchise. As in, what I'm about to say here is informed by personal experience and self-analysis as much as anything.

It finally clicked that Harry Potter hooks you by the emotional vulnerabilities.

As someone who's studied various cults, and knows how they play to your emotions to suck you in, I can definitely say that Harry Potter many of the same moves.

Now, I'm not saying that Harry Potter fandom is a cult. I'm not saying that JK Rowling did this with any kind of deliberate intention. I'm talking about this to get anyone who has any kind of positive feelings toward this franchise critically thinking about what the foundation of their relationship with it really is.

To put it quite simply, cults often promise an escape from the ordinary world, and an entry into a world filled with wonder, belonging, and a sense of identity. There's groups out there who will tell you what kind of magic space alien your soul is, and what your very special purpose for incarnating on this Earth in a human body is.

The actual beliefs and moral precepts cults hold to are never really deep, but are always geared to play to your emotions. There's nearly always a clear-cut enemy responsible for everything we're supposed to hate. Cults often praise love and unity as the best things in the world, and believe that their power can overcome all evil.

It's easy to miss how the wizarding world is actually a soul-crushing dystopia when you're being distracted by the latest magical novelty.

It's easy to overlook how cruel and petty people in wizarding society actually are when your emotions are being played with stuff about love being the greatest magic of all.

It's easy to miss how the Hogwarts house system functions to foster rivalry between students and creates an environment (Slytherin House) where students are allowed to simmer in and internalize the Wizarding World's most rancid political ideologies when the house you or a quiz picked for you is your shiny new identity.

"I like Harry Potter because it's about the power of friendship triumphing over evil!" Yeah, that's... exactly my point.

And like, I'm not saying that the fact that this stuff appeals to people is a bad thing in itself. All of this stuff touches on very fundamental psychological needs. The point I'm making here is that these things are so fundamental that when we're deprived of them (whether or not we even consciously realize we're deprived), when something seems to offer them to us, it creates this massive emotional attachment that does not fade easily.

I still have an emotional attachment to Harry Potter, even though when I stop and ask myself what it's got that I actually find all that spectacularly compelling or interesting, I struggle to actually come up with an answer. Now, when I think about, say, Harry getting his wand and buying magic books and taking magic classes I feel a sense of excitement, but that's not really the same thing; because these emotions are coming from my experience as a very isolated, repressed, and understimulated child coming upon a novelty and power fantasy. When I try to think up anything in Harry Potter that I'd actually like to rotate in my mind, there's just... nothin'.

Now some of you out there might be thinking, "yeah but what about building on her ideas? What about AUs?" and like, the thing is? It doesn't appeal to me. I've got enough skill and knowledge at this point that I can sketch out a better OC than she could ever create in a couple of minutes, and a better fantasy setting in a few days or so.

To wrap this up, I guess I'll just say that really important to be able to distinguish between fiction that's actually saying something worthwhile, and fiction that's just hitting you in your emotional vulnerabilities. Of course friendship and love are important. And of course there's nothing wrong with power fantasies and escape fantasies. And not every story has to be all that deep. But you should ask yourself: could it the case that superficial messages about love, friendship, and family are distracting you from a pretty rancid worldview beneath it all?

Also, before I go - I'm just gonna say that anybody who responds to this post with praise for the fandom or the fanfiction or tells people to go buy fan merch or pirate the series or whatever is going to get blocked. Go clown somewhere else.

[vitchimage]

—;Atlantic

—Summary; The feeling of wanting to cease to exist, the waves drown you down and you feel everything move while you are stuck here in one place, sinking. Luckily someone is here to pull you out of the ocean.

Pairing: Any characters you want x reader

Type: One-shot/fic

Theme: hurt/comfort

Warnings: talk of mental health spiralling, suicidal thoughts and idealisation, self-isolation, self loathing and doubt, etc.

A/N: Feeling down and needed some comfort so I wrote this aha, this can be any characters you want but I technically had the nameless ghouls and Simon Riley in mind

I lay in the dark-lit room. Exhaustion wasn’t even the perfect way to describe this empty-handed feeling. It was something far worse. It was a question of my existence, how much more could I take?

I thought I hit the rock bottom, but I didn’t. Instead, I kept falling into this deep void of agony and misery. It’s heavy, and I feel like choking — drowning as more waves crash through every time I managed to breathe.

A yearning to cry to shout out goes deafening under the water, never coming out at all.

I tried reaching out, days ago sending a message.

—> “Hey, can I talk to you?”

Hours and the phone buzzed.

–> “Sorry for the late reply, I am a little bit busy, but we can talk later?”

—> “Oh, no need. It’s all good so don’t worry about it.”

And thus I turned off the phone, ignoring all the small buzzes my phone made that day. And ever since, everything went silent.

Days in this room, doing nothing and just laying in bed, occasionally going out to the bathroom or grabbing some food. But even that seemed heavy and I would quickly retreat to my bedroom as fast as I could.

Endlessly scrolling through my phone, I was quick to shut it off again as I let the tiredness take a hold of me.

No messages, no calls after that day. It hurts but I was the one who said it was all fine and dandy, to not worry about it.

It’s my fault really, but why did it ache so bad?

Did I dare to hope that they could see past the facade and reach out? Was I testing the waters of them caring about me?

Would they even notice if I were to disappear? If I ran away or drowned in a lake? If I ceased to exist..

Everything was telling me no, no they wouldn’t.

And it makes me crawl further into a ball. I couldn’t help but imagine them with someone else, how much happier they are without me.

That aches, that hurts.

I closed my eyes, letting sleep drift over me once more like it always has.

It felt short-lived as there was a soft knock on my door.

My eyes groggily open, hearing a soft voice.

“Love? May I come in?”

There was no reply from my end, to be franked it was due to mixed feelings. I wanted them to come in, but at the same time, I wanted to be alone.

A second and they open the door slowly, head peaking in to look at me. But I turn my head away and let it sink into the pillow.

“Hey…” Gentle, I hear their footsteps approaching me when the door softly closes.

The bed dip and I could sense their hesitation, but they went along with it anyways and stroked my back, comforting.

“I’m sorry, I’ve should’ve come much sooner..”

“It’s fine,” Was all I managed to say, my voice creaking almost.

“May I?”

I didn’t reply, just shifting to make enough space for them.

Strong arms wrap around me as they lay down, and instinctively I turn around, burying my face in their chest.

My eyes shut, and my lips are quivering. Strong emotions flood me all at once and I could feel tears building up. A strong storm of wanting to let it all out, something I haven’t felt in what felt like ages.

“It’s ok..” they stroked a small circle from my back to my shoulder and the back of my ears, holding me tightly,

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head, and they whisper in agreement and understanding. Not wanting to push it.

Eventually, they rest their head on top of mine, humming a small tune as they kiss my temple, letting me bury in their chest once more.

“I’m here.” A soft and gentle tone from them. A reminder as I lay in their embrace for hours till the end.

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