#and they way they reflect my own state of mind Lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karlachismylife · 2 months ago

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Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

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littlemoondarlingarts · 8 months ago

Text

Did an artstyle study of the gorgeous art of @iliothermia and I genuinely learned alot so I'm very thankful that he gave me permission to do this 🙏🏻🙏🏻

As usual, rambles and process pics under the cut, be warned that I talk alot because this drawing was a true labor of love both for his art and Rouge

I wanted to use elements from his art but at the same time i know how deeply personal his art is to his own life and struggles and culture so i tried to be as respectful as possible (and if I failed at that please tell me I have no problem in deleting this) and tried to minimize my use of direct elements from his art to keep it to the skull which was heavily inspired by a drawing he has done, the waves which are such a beautiful staple of his art that I just couldn't not put it and the use of candles and small floral patterns and the style of the mold, but I tried to keep the rest to things that are symbolic to the character.

While he may have restraint to not explain everything, I'm not famous for that lol, so I will be explaining the symbolism behind my choices.

Part 1: the symbolism:

The red rose is Rouge's flower and it is heavily associated with him. The meaning of it being romantic desire and passion mixed with the thorns of it perfectly sum up his position as a beautiful black widow.

Voyeurism is a big part of this drawing and it is first noticed with the eyes motif on the roses' leaves, this symbolises his response to his trauma which left him feeling like an unwanted pervert on his own self. I can talk about this aspect of his story for hours but I'll spare you lol.

The X-ray cutouts are his complicated relationship with his own body and death, it is a thing that is constantly on his mind as he suffers from suicidal thoughts but at the same time he is always running away from it in fear, but he knows that eventually, he will have to stop running.

The candles melting represent him being only wanted when he is useful, when he is giving parts of himself up for others to use and abuse, when he is lighting their lives by slowly draining his own.

The piano is one of the rare things that bring him happiness and peace, but he needs to be heavily dissociated to be able to enjoy it which is represented by the hands being disconnected from the rest of the drawing and just floating in their own reality.

The snake represents two things, one is him being venomous to those around him, the mistakes he's made, the promises he's broken, the pain he's caused etc. But it also represents those who slowly wrap themselves around him in a warm embrace, presenting themselves as a saviour in his most dire times only to end up being the ones who will hurt him the most.

The book is about his obsession with keeping track of everything and of studying people, accidentally turning himself into an unwanted voyeur on their lives to the point where he has written the life stories of many people who would never want to be remembered through his eyes in his little books.

The butterflies are him, both in the way they are seen as "the good insects" and the beautiful delicate ones despite the fact that they eat flesh sometimes, it is also related to the way his simple presence for a few minutes in someone's life can create a whirlwind of change that will leave it unrecognizable, or he can simply be another body in their bed.

The hair turning into waves is meant to reflect the way he is always drowning in his own thoughts, a hand crafted constant state of misery.

The beta fish are some of the most beautiful and colourful fish out there, yet they are seen as cheap and easy first pets, leading to them being neglected and given environments that are too small and crammed, making their beautifully slow death the only thing they can offer to their owner. I don't think I need to explain more..

The skull is probably someone he's loved, or someone he's killed, or both.

The heart is his, it is rotten and covered in mold, any love he offers is tainted by his inability to heal and it is spreading to infect every aspect of his life.

Part 2: the inspirations:

The roses are a homage to the way Rachamim always places flowers in his art, either in the background or as a focal point of the illustration, most of the flowers he uses are cultural in nature, so I opted to not reuse any of them and changed it to a flower related to my oc.

Eyes are a repeated theme in his art, whether it be angel eyes, the evil eye or anything else, and as you can tell both of these are cultural and religious and while the evil eye exists in my culture, it does not in my oc's so I didn't use it. Instead I opted to pay homage to one of his beautiful merman drawings in which he used the plants to make an eye-like shape that stares at the viewer.

I thought I was being real smart in turning the hair into waves but yesterday I saw an illustration where he did the same so rip to me thinking i was being original lol.

The snake and butterflies are my way of replicating his use of animals while trying to not directly copy any animals that have a connection to himself or his culture/religion.

The beta fish is just to reference the ever present fishies in his art. I know he uses them because they represent friendship for him and they are the only animals safe from the evil eye (thanks for the fun fact) so I uh... I don't really know if this was disrespectful or not to be honest but I tried to use a different type of fish, idk this might still be slightly problematic and again I'm always ready to delete this if it makes anyone uncomfortable.

The waves are a direct copy of how he draws the gorgeous waves in his art, another case of something I fear may be crossing the line because the waves are drawn in the style of cultural jewelry 😭

The tiny flowers are an obvious reference to his own tiny flowers that decorate his art and characters.

The skull with the candles is heavily inspired by a specific drawing of his.

The cutouts are my way of paying my respects to my absolute favourite piece of art he's done without directly copying its concept because as far as I can tell, it is a very personal and emotional piece.

The mold style is a reference to his mold man (I forgot his name I'm sorry).

And the candles are another repeated motif in his art as well as the pillars and the pant style.

And ouf I sure do talk alot don't I? I just really love the amount of things I was able to cram into this piece and I haven't even mentioned everything😭😭 I will NOT be doing this again because I'm simply not as patient as he is and as proud as I am of the result, this was torture. I hope I didn't disrespect him, his art or his culture and I genuinely tried my best to be as respectful as possible but I might have some blind spots due to our experiences being so vastly different so again, please don't hesitate to inform me if you want this deleted!

#my art #art #artists on tumblr #oc #my oc #rouge #original characters #oc artist #oc artwork #oc art #lineart illustration #artsyle study #art style study #art study #idk how to tag this #anyway #hii #ty for reading #i hope you like it

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leighsartworks216 · 1 month ago

Text

The Best Medicine

Zayne x gn!Reader

It's almost 1am. I think working on these fics is just gonna keep getting later and later until it circles back around to a reasonable time. Not proofread even a little bit.

Not explicitly mentioned, but this is a fic dealing with chronic pain, based around my own chronic joint pain, which flared up multiple times while working on this. Zayne would be so upset with me lol

Warnings: chronic pain, descriptions of pain, kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1,576

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

You listen silently as the front door opens and closes with a click. The jangle of keys as they’re neatly hung up on the nearby wall hooks. The rustle of fabric as he takes off his coat.

Dress shoes are replaced with slippers that pad softly through the house to the bedroom. You’re already looking at the door when he pokes his head in.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Zayne asks as he comes to your side. He sits down slowly on the edge of the bed, being careful not to touch you. He’s got that familiar frown on his face, the one he gets when he’s concerned about your health. It warms your heart.

“Not much,” you admit. “Just a couple snacks. I couldn’t stand for long today.”

He hums in understanding. To his mind, the worst kind of patient was one that could not be so easily treated. As if your heart didn’t weigh heavily enough on his mind…

You suppress a wince as you slip a hand out of the blanket to touch his cheek. He holds it lightly for a moment, before setting it back to rest on the bed. “You don’t have to have that look on your face, you know. We’re not in the hospital right now.”

“I always worry for your health, regardless of where we are.” With the threshold of touch crossed, he doesn’t hesitate for long before brushing your hair out of your face. His fingers are cool to the touch as they skim your forehead, tucking longer strands behind your ear. “Have you taken anything for the pain yet?”

You look down at his tie, loosened around his neck. He sighs.

“And you don’t want me to worry, even though you have a relentless habit of ignoring your health?”

“I thought…” You sigh. You know it sounds stupid; it always does. There’s no logic behind it. “I thought I could power through it this time. It wasn’t so bad this morning.”

He sighs, but the exasperation drifts on an undercurrent of fondness. “It may not have been as bad right now if you’d taken your medication sooner.”

He gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom. You can see his reflection in the mirror from this angle, until he opens it in search of medicine for you to take. It reflects your pitiful state for a time. Reduced to rotting away in bed all day, barely able to move without risking pain. On days like these, days when your body betrayed you, dangling your success at becoming a Hunter and fighting Wanderers right before your eyes, just out of reach, it was easy to lose yourself to the cruelty of your mind. It always found its way back to the forefront of your thoughts, whether you listened to music, watched a show or movie, or risked moving to scroll through messages.

The mirror cabinet shut, reflecting once more the calm face of your partner, and it felt easier to remember that one bad day did not undo the progress of a lifelong dream.

He returned with a small pill bottle in hand, none the wiser to your plight. Setting the bottle on the nightstand, he worked with you to slowly, as carefully as possible, help you sit up. You purposefully leaned forward to rest against him, but he didn’t push you away, despite the inconvenience. He did his best not to jostle you, listening for any noise of discomfort, as he retrieved the bottle and poured two pills into his hand. When you open your mouth for them, he chuckles, and deposits them onto your tongue.

The cup on your nightstand had been placed there this morning by your darling doctor. It’s still almost full when he picks it up and brings it to your lips. “You were supposed to drink all of this,” he lightly scolds.

Speaking through the pills in your mouth, you tease, “I was rationing.”

He doesn’t speak while he helps you drink. One hand rests at the back of your neck, supporting your head as it tips back. The other slowly tilts the cup, until you tap his knee to know you have enough water to take the pills. His thumb strokes the base of your skull as you focus on swallowing, prepared to assist if you can’t get them down in one try.

As soon as you’re done, he dryly retorts, “Rationing for how long? At that rate, you could make this one cup last a month.”

Your snicker puts him at ease.

He sets the glass down as he speaks. “You should try to get some rest. I’ll make dinner, and wake you when it’s finished.”

“Wait!” You grab his wrist when he starts laying you back down. The movement sends bolts of electricity up your arm. It feels like someone has tangled wires within the marrow of your bones and hooked each end up to a car battery. You let go immediately, but the aftershocks continue to linger.

“Relax,” he soothes. He rests you back against him. “Just breathe. It’ll pass soon.”

You press your nose to his collar as you do as he says. The first breaths come out as a hiss between clenched teeth, shaky and shallow. Like a struck cymbal, the pain gradually recedes until where once was a stabbing sting, there’s only a dull ache. Your breaths even out just the same, working to become deeper and more stable. You don’t have to look to know Zayne would have that sad, sympathetic look on his face, unable to do more than hold you and wait.

“That,” you manage a strained laugh, lacking mirth, “wasn’t my best move.”

Zayne makes a sound of agreement, but holds back from chastising you for it. You’d certainly learned your lesson already.

“I was going to say, let me stay on the couch while you cook.” You lift your head to look at him, smiling. “I haven’t seen you since this morning. I had all day to rest, I’d rather spend time near you.”

He frowned. “You barely moved a second ago and were in excruciating pain. How do you expect to make it as far as the door, let alone the couch, without exacerbating things?”

“Easy! You carry me to the couch.”

“As if that’s much better.”

“Please.” Your smile falls to a pleading earnestness, eyes wide and brow furrowed. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He stares at you for a moment, contemplating. There’s frustration in his voice now. “Either I carry you and risk your pain flaring up, or I don’t and you stubbornly make the trip yourself while my back is turned. Do you always have to tie my hands when it comes to your health?”

“Do you really want an answer to that?”

“No, I already know what you’d say.” He sighs, but relents. “Slowly. I don’t want to make things worse.”

It takes several minutes and a lot of careful maneuvering until you were in his arms, being carried like rescued royalty and not like a chronically in-pain partner who just pestered their doctor boyfriend to bring them to the couch. There were some twinges here and there, mainly in your knees and arms, from the way he carried you and the way you held on, but it was only a few degrees worse than baseline, nothing like the pain from before.

He moves steadily, focusing intently on where he’s going and not hurting you. Before long, you’re laying on the couch, covered in a soft knitted blanket and beaming up at the man before you. He tries not to appear flustered by the attention.

“I’ll get you some more water. Do you need anything else?”

“Just one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Your whole body seems to light up with mischief. “A kiss.”

He smiles as he leans down, supporting himself against the arm and back of the couch. You instinctively close your eyes. And open them a second later to glare at him when he just kisses your forehead. The disgruntled noise you make makes him laugh.

“On the lips, doctor,” you tease. “It’s much more potent that way.”

“Really?” He chuckles, breath fanning your face from the proximity. “Did you read that on the internet?”

You roll your eyes. “This is basic medical knowledge! Everyone knows the healing properties of a good kiss.”

“Then I suppose I should ensure my patient makes a speedy recovery.”

You’re still grinning like a fool when he presses a kiss to your lips, and delighted when he doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he takes his sweet time, slowly working to part your lips with his own. He tilts his head, nose brushing your cheek, to indulge in you like the sweet candy he handed out after your check ups. It could have been minutes or hours, when he eventually pulls away. The breath he takes in makes your heart skip several beats. You lean up, hoping to catch it, but come up woefully empty.

You open your eyes, and he’s grinning down at you, a bit smug at seeing the effect he has on you.

“What would you like for dinner?” he asks at a near whisper, voice soft and ever so slightly raspy, full of love. You have to take a second to remember what food tastes like, when all you can think of is how sweet he is.

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace #fluff #chronic pain #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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defrosted69 · 2 months ago

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MY Laker Star 3.5 (Huh Yunjin)

Okay this was a request from @dav1233555 that took way, WAY too long so sorry about that lol. also, this preety much answers what had happened why our mc went from Lesserafim to New Jeans

heads up, Its angsty enjoy

Yunjin moved away from the window glass, watching the sight below her as her feet landed in the elevator. The elevator only kept her busy with her palm on the button because the stillness was so deafening. Her mind keeps replaying the memories till it deafens her. She repressed her tears, feeling the anger in her heart grow stronger. She had just watched her own happiness be chosen by someone else, and she didn't want to cry.

She was aware that all she was doing was convincing herself that your heart was with her. She wanted to think that there was love between you and her, therefore she disregarded the indicators that were in front of her face.

Perhaps there was once love between

Or was it just nostalgic love.

She hurried out of the elevator as soon as the door opened, not even caring that she was drawing stares. Her plate was already piled high with the issues facing both her own group and herself. Right now, all she needed was a safe haven where she could be herself without fear of judgment. However, there is a cost associated with celebrity.

She instinctively followed her legs to the women's restroom, where she noticed her own reflection. Her tears had dried up and formed their own consciousness, cascading down like waterfalls and making her wonder how much of her life she can still manage.

"Shit..."

The only term that could adequately characterize her current state of mind was a quiet growl. She got the impression that her life was being held back by her own transgressions, and that everything she had done up to that point had only made things worse. She was alone with herself, everything was going wrong, and it was suffocating.

Since everyone was against her, she had no one to turn to as her own barricade. There was that performance that everyone chose to pick apart and felt would shatter their self-esteem. Their defenses crumbled and their reputation was damaged. Even their own admirers doubt their ability to be idols. Everything went south after that, causing a ruckus throughout the Kpop business.

When they could not demonstrate why the Silver spoon should have been placed on an idol in the first place, people started to wonder what use it served. People started to wonder if the idols of this new generation had not experienced the same hardships as their predecessors in order to retain the motivation to keep improving and honing their profession. People started to wonder who created and who was merely handed the Silver spoons as more and more organizations appeared around..

As a performer herself, it was a major gut punch for her because, even though you are a performer, having your confidence in yourself undermined by being asked if you are truly one. It's exhausting to consider how many more people joined in to criticize you and how they nitpick all your mistakes.

While the fire was raging fiercely, they were placed on hold and forced into the basement to hide. Although their company made every effort to reduce the heat, the power of the media served as fuel to fan the flames. There are articles popping up everywhere, most of which have no connection whatsoever to the primary issue. And people change sides so quickly.

From loving them to turning against them.

From praising them to bad mouthing them.

From being loved, to being hated.

From their perspective, everything they do is flawed, and their words have lost significance. Nothing about them seems right to them.

When Yunjin looked in the mirror, she could no longer see the girl who had such a deep love for both her followers and herself. Standing in front of the mirror served as a depressing reminder of the frail girl she really was—a girl who tries her hardest to improve but is never successful.

She opened the faucet and used water to clean her face, giving her hands a slight shudder. She detested seeing the shattered and sad girl in her reflection as he rubbed water over her face.

"Why... Why.. Why..."

She repeatedly cleansed and massaged her face, but no matter how many times she does so, nothing will be able to erase the anguish that is written all over her face because all she can do is let the tears fall. She can't get that grimace off her face no matter what she does.

Making sure there would be no disturbance in this room, she wept quietly by herself in the restroom. She wanted to make sure that her personal issues didn't need to disturb others. Ultimately, this was her own issue to resolve.

She allowed her eyes to speak for a few minutes before covering her identity and the inner turmoil she was experiencing with a mask and baseball cap. She wanted to spend some alone time with herself, but as soon as she left the room, she observed that you and Haerin were holding hands and laughing joyously.

Yunjin could tell you were happy with her because of the contented and cheerful smile on her face. Upon witnessing the person who brought her joy turn into someone else's happiness, her heart broke into a million pieces.

She feels so hurt by your happiness since it seems like all of your shared memories have vanished from her life. She hurried out of the building, looking down while clutching her headgear. She walked aside, her eyes containing another flood of tears as all she could see was the harsh concrete. She continues to feel so unwelcome in this world with every step she takes.

She did not realize it, though, that she had arrived at the park. The trees were gently swaying in the breeze. People chatting, laughing, and taking in their surroundings. She was undoubtedly in the city park.

She takes a seat beneath a wooden bench and closes her eyes, allowing her heart's story to be revealed by her recollections of the past.

FLASHBACK: A FEW MONTHS AGO

"That's right Y/N. It's not just me who's in love with you..."

As Yunjin was speaking, Kazuha was informed of his direct messages. Yunjin was already aware that she and the other members of her band had grown fond of you. particularly Kazuha. She was the first to express admiration for you, after all.

She therefore didn't want to seem conceited and ignore her friend and bandmate. Even if Kazuha is already in love with you, she preferred for her to give you a chance. She was open to letting Kazuha have fun while she was with you.

Since everyone in her group outperformed her in every category, she was already coming to terms with the possibility that she would not even be chosen. Yunjin isn't as flexible or cute as Kazuha or Chaewon. Each of them has an incredible quality, such as her only being able to express her feelings for you in the past.

She called it a trader of nostalgia. Her only tool for winning you over is that, and even she admits that using such tactics was quite pitiful. However, all of her memories of you are in the past, and that's all she has to hold to.

To her surprise, though, you quickly pierced her heart with a lightning bolt as you closed your phone and gripped her hand. Her pulse was pounding and swaying to the same tune—love—that she was unable to control.

"Yunjin. I don't need anyone else but you."

Yunjin was the happiest woman alive after hearing those words alone. She was living out her daydream. She never would have imagined that the story would become true. She wishes she could stop waking up if she was asleep and dreaming right now.

Nothing but herself could sense the love and real delight in her eyes. She was a young woman who was madly in love. She ran to put an end to her feelings and rushed to put her arm around you.

"R-Really? You mean it?"

"Yes. I mean it."

She had enough to rejoice over the realization of her dream with just few words. You chose to step back and offer her a smile that said a thousand words when you were both singing songs of love. And you observed that there was still some time left before nightfall and that the sky hadn't yet grown really dark.

So you set up your official date, hoping to see her grin even more and maintain it throughout the day.

"Let's go on a date."

"Eh? But it's getting dark and-"

"Don't worry about it. I got this. After all, I want to see that smile of yours further Yunjin."

Your remarks made her even redder, if she wasn't already. She was surprised to learn that your flirtatious behavior wasn't all bluster. She gains even more points because the guy she previously thought of had a flirtatious side.

"Alright. Lead the way"

You seized her hand and hurried across the crowded Los Angeles streets without even waiting a second. Yujin could only look at you because it seemed like everyone was commenting on the two of you.

It's been stated that when you're with someone you love, everything stops. It's been stated that when you love someone, everything else fades away and your attention is solely focused on them.

That's what Yunjin was feeling right now.

One youngster in particular sticks out among the throng of people; he was the one holding her hand and grinning lovingly at her. Yunjin experienced a feeling of being pampered like a princess, and everything seemed like something out of a fairytale.

Their feet stopped at a place you were both familiar with, laughing filling their ears. When they both walked into the restaurant, Yunjin's smile never faded.

With you visible to the staff's eyes, they immediately all smiled as they know what they should know.

"You seem known here Y/N."

"It's my favorite go to restaurant. They make the best food around here in downtown LA."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The staff greeted you like you were one of their own employees, and you both laughed. She found that incident to be quite touching because it gave her the impression that you were loved and revered not only for your basketball prowess but also for your enormously compassionate heart.

She was happy that it was paying off since she knew you were always polite and that it was in your nature to be friends with everyone.

She was a little uncomfortable to be asked who she was because she didn't know what to say. She was getting ready to be referred to as just a friend in front of everyone because she was still a little surprised that she was already your girlfriend.

"She's my girlfriend."

Well throw that out the window and call her beloved because with your announcement just made her land into the clouds of nine. Your smile only topped up her dreams as she wished to melt right now at the spot.

And it continued further when the staff of the restaurant treated the place like their own world. They reserved a seat just for the two of them and even added candles to add to the romantic ambience.

"They didn't have to go all out."

"Trust me Jen, I didn't know it too."

Their hearts were so satisfied with each other that they laughed together. Yunjin thought that everything was too good to be true, and she didn't want the day to end. However, it was evident from her indicators that today was indeed a great day.

She was reminded of their earlier days of simply enjoying each other's company while eating and conversing about uninteresting topics by the meal that was given to them. She appreciates the small things about you, and she's happy that they haven't changed over time.

After dinner, there was just one more location to show her. You took her hand and led her to a spot overlooking the city without saying a word. a place you learned about while out on your own at night. There were innumerable evenings when you believed no one would ever understand you and you felt alone in the world.

Even though it was far from the city, the effort paid off because the view of the city was stunning and overwhelming once you two arrived. When Yunjin saw the splendor of the city at night, all she could do was softly gasp. The city felt livelier than it did when the sun was out, despite the time.

"Yunjin. I hope that our hearts will be stringed together forever."

She started crying because she was unable to hold back her happiness when you spoke to her in a sincere and caring manner. She responded by giving you a hug, but all you could hear were muffled cries. Nevertheless, she was still able to speak.

"I will. I promise to be with you.. Always... I love you"

Truly it was a great love story that broke down many romance narrative. But that was pointed towards the past and not into the future.

Because as time went on, our connection, which had previously blossomed, began to deteriorate every moment.

There wasn't even a hint of the smile you so desperately wanted to see on her face right now. It was like winning an award that was locked away.

Yunjin was likewise unable to locate the guy who gives her the feeling of freedom and love and keeps her up at night.

It was as though a knot in the thread had suddenly become loose, and when they attempted to loop it up once more, it broke.

When their love for one another began to fade in their lives, they were completely unaware of it. That once-strong kindling of fire has faded, turning everything into a miserable ash that is useless on a cold winter's night.

She found it painful to witness how everything went from being ideal to eventually becoming lost. Simply put, the gestures and spark had vanished. It hurt Yunjin especially since you weren't just a stranger standing in front of their sweetheart, who was simply a stranger they had formerly known.

You were her friend.

You were there all the time for her

You were her wall when she leaped into her destiny.

You were her once everything turned to nothing. That has completely broken her heart and undermined her self-esteem. And just when things weren't getting any worse, they did, for everyone in her group as well as for her.

That terrible performance was in no way a justification for how she feels about her intimate relationship. Her job as a performer was to take the stage and kill it. Rather, their supporters and detractors slaughtered them.

This was supposed to be the perfect time to have your shoulder, your voice and your heart for her but where were you?

You were nowhere to be seen.

She didn't want to get in touch with you because every game matters during the playoffs and you were in that stage. You still reach out to her even if she made the decision to keep her problems to herself. And once more her smile appeared.

But when the voice she was expecting didn't sound the same, it vanished. It had lost its loveliness. Rather, it was the concern-only voice of a friend. She realizes her partner is no longer with her.

She shouldn't have held onto it for so long considering how long ago it vanished. She was grasping only air, no longer a rope of their affection. She couldn't have imagined losing you, which is why it was so upsetting to her.

It's because of you that she thought love was genuine. She had never experienced pure love this close to him, and she had it with you.

Sadly, she also lost it to you.

Because you loved her before she did, did she truly love you? Or did she just tell herself lies to make it seem and feel genuine?

You no longer made the effort or attempt to ignite the spark. You personally witnessed it. That Yunjin you saw and fell in love with then was a different Yunjin. No matter how much you wanted it to, your heart didn't scream her name. It disapproved of the notion.

In an instant, all that has transpired between you and the memories you both shared vanish in the same manner. The affection vanished.

When Yunjin opened her eyes, she had no idea that the day was coming to a close and that the sky had turned orange. She shed a tear on her left, but didn't give it any attention because she had to go back to her room with her friends.

Her members was the one thing she could always count on, no matter what challenges she encountered.

In their worst moments, they supported one another. She wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for their support, which enabled her to overcome her personal struggles. In another universe, there's a good chance she lost it and vanished from this world.

However, because she felt the love and concern from her members, it didn't happen in this universe. For her, the fact that they remained together at this difficult time was sufficient to enable her to go on and lead a fulfilling life. Although that might not be the perfect story for her, you know what they say.

One door opens while another shuts. All you have to do is wait for them to show themselves.

Yunjin took a deep breath and turned to face whatever lay ahead of her. Why should she give up now that she has persevered this far? She moved backward into the arms of her members, whom she might joyfully refer to as..., a slight smile spreading across her face.

her home

#kpop fanfic #le sserafim #fanfiction #kpop #angst

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scribbleseas · 10 months ago

Text

in love & in war: the one where he meets you

Description: Join Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, as he embarks on one of the most difficult challenges of his professional life: getting you to fall in love with him in order to become the next chairman of TransAtlantica— your father’s vast shipping empire.

Warnings: The reader’s opinions are a bit old-fashioned, and they don’t reflect my own! Besides that, I’m sure there will be some explicit content down the line, but honestly, this story is much more romcom than our usually scheduled programming. It’s just a silly palette cleanser in season for Valentine’s Day.

Author’s Note: Hi! You guys expressed that you guys like more frequent posts, and I’ve reached a bit of a roadblock on my main Ciel fic right now. I thought I would write up a quick beginning to a potential drabble series! If you guys are interested in this premise, let me know! It’s fun to write such chill stakes content for once lol. Also, this isn’t based off a particular request! I’m still playing with my ideas from those, and at this point, I can confidently say you guys are getting either a one shot or a 1-3 part series based on one. Thank you all for submitting, and feel free to keep them coming.

Happy Reading!

- Dan

| NEXT DRABBLE ⇒

MASTERLIST

In Conference

Late May, 1895

Your life was nowhere near as easy as it seemed.

Perhaps, the average onlooker might see you and presume that the expensive jewels wrapped around your neck and your fingers were the most burdensome aspect of your privileged life. Or perhaps they might have thought it would be the pinch from your stately heels or the strain from a brilliant, yet strategic, permanent smile.

Your business smile. Your future-Countess-of-Richmond smile.

But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

This very moment was exact proof of that— you were in the midst of your world collapsing. The abject shock rattling through your mind was akin to a nightmare. Your eyebrows pulled together in a contentious pout, the horrified look you used to get away with your most childish crimes from your parents.

“Marriage? Simply not.” You begged, alreadying feeling your will to fight waver under your father’s tired stare, your mother’s pained grin. “I’m only—”

“Of perfect age to begin looking for a potential partner. 22 is well past ready, I would say,” your mother answered for you.

“I would be— but—” you sputtered like a fish out of water only to inhale deeply through your nose. You needed to collect yourself. Negotiate thoughtfully and logically. That was the only way to get yourself out of this.

“Speak with intent, Y/n,” your father interjected boredly, retraining his attention on the business reports he was reading. He fixed his glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose.

Speak with intent. You knew those words well. They were your solace, the lighthouse in the storm that came with childhood temperament. Your father, no matter the cause of your distress, would answer: Speak with intent.

“Right,” you cleared your throat apologetically, glancing down at your hands as they sat clasped in your lap. “Sincerest apologies, sir.”

Your father hummed, eyebrows jumping a fraction of a centimeter. He picked up his pen and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the report. Your mother’s hand fell on the nape of his neck to make him turn his gaze back up at you. He hesitated before doing so, waiting to click a stamp onto the signed report.

“I do not wish to marry,” you enunciated your words carefully, confidently. “At least, not yet,” you added, now catching your father’s attention for the blunder. “I’ve yet to meet someone I love,” you felt your face redden, a desire to run back to your room threatening to overtake your fortitude. You were only so strong under your father, the Earl of Richmond’s deliberation stare. It struck fear into the other side of conference tables, lecture halls, and courtrooms. And now, across his desk at his only daughter.

Before your father could remind you that love wasn’t the most important aspect of a successful marriage, your mother interjected gently.

“What about the Duke of Clarence’s son, Antonio? He seemed to like you,” she prompted. Wrongly. You’d danced with Antonio at the Summer Solstice gala that the Pembroke family threw annually. The man opted to use the waltz’s entirety to brag about his family’s Italian vineyards and his love for agriculture. And, of course, his admiration for your father’s entrepreneurial genius. His shipping empire, TransAtlantica, had just successfully fortified shipping systems in all of the states; a step forward from simply cycling through all major ports along the east coast.

“He doesn’t love me,” you complained, “he loves TransAtlantica. He’d much prefer to marry our family corporation!” Antonio was suitable. He was decent, but that’s all he truly was to you. It’s all he ever could be.

You met your mother’s eyes pleadingly, and she pursed her lips, fully knowing the next words out of your mouth. You had a deal. From a young age, you knew the Richmond family, the Y/l/n line, respected contracts more than all else. Since you turned 17, you had one signed by all three parties and dated.

Your mother sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I remember the deal,” she said, taking a moment to consider her own words. The corners of her lips twitched as if she was attempting to hide her amusement with you. She understood— her own father, your grandfather, was just as militant, stiff with professionalism. Promises were negotiations with terms, signatures, and stamps. There were no arguments this way. “Dearest,” she addressed your father, the hand that was on the back jumping to his shoulder, “you do as well.”

“Do you?” You challenged, indignantly crossing your arms. “I request you restate the terms, mother.”

“If we are to pressure you into marriage before you feel ready, you must consent to the courting party,” your father took the liberty of answering gruffly. He squared his shoulders, regarding you purposefully— equal parts exhaustion and respect for your endurance. He cultivated it, after all. It was a fire that burned in your family for generations, as sacred as a temple flame.

“Yes,” you affirmed, “and so, I must choose the man I wish to be with.”

“With respect to your titles— no one below your station. And he must be chosen by the end of this courtship season,” your father added, negotiating. He tilted his head, analyzing your next move.

You knew of the first term since you were a child. You even remembered the exact day you learned them. You were a young girl, a little younger than seven. A young commoner boy had attempted to hand you a rose. Your maid at the time had scolded him for standing in the way of a noble family, since he had stepped out in front of you. It was a discernible moment, truly.

As for your father’s second term… you were unconvinced such a thing could be done.

“The end of the courtship season is in four months,” you replied, frowning. You were sure you met most eligible men in your social class. How were you to form a genuine connection in such little time? Even if you couldn’t find love per se, you still wanted to find someone you were compatible with.

“If we reach that deadline and you find no one, we can talk about it,” your mother answered. “And, you must allow me and your aunt to fix you on outings with suitors we like.

“Fine. Only if Daphne joins me,” you replied, knowing fully well that you weren’t allowed anywhere without your handmaiden present.

. . .

Next week

Your mother was sure not to waste any time in beginning to schedule supervised outings with a different well-educated and ennobled man that was within the appropriate age constraints. You’ve never had such a boring week, brutally torn away from the studies you adored so much.

“—And we’ve got another vacation home down in Tuscany, I think,” the Viscount Lineford’s son concluded, taking a peremptory drink out of his tea. He was dressed crisply in beige trousers that rolled up past his ankle and low leather shoes. His sterling watch sparkled in the spring sun.

You fought a building yawn that tempted the back of your throat, determined to hide your exhaustion with the man. It was a good effort, but you certainly weren’t impressed.

“That must be incredible,” you answered absently. “It must be such a lovely foreign getaway for the Lineford family,” you grinned diplomatically, blind to the horror that twisted his — you didn’t care to remember his name, unfortunately — face.

“Foreign? Excuse me Lady Y/n, but my family traces far back into Italian culture that we are practically Roman…” he started, only for you to interject.

“Will you just excuse me, please?” You struggled to keep the desperation out of your face, calmly searching for your supervisor. She was meant to be sitting at a table nearby, merely ensuring that your outing remained within polite societal constraints. More importantly, Daphne served as your escape when your potential suitors proved most unbearable. All you needed to do was subtly tilt your fan to your left ear and the woman would always scramble over to you with an excuse to steer you out of any scenario you found distasteful.

Such as this one.

Daphne never normally left your side, a realization that allowed worry to creep into your tone. “I’m unsure where my maid went, and I would like to fetch her,” you replied, standing and shouldering your small day bag over your shoulder.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, chuckling with bitter disbelief at your rudeness. Ladies were supposed to be demure and polite. You were impatient and honest, a product of an Earl knowing that his daughter was the object of his legacy. Your father trained you as he would a son, and your tutors followed in suit. “Surely you’re joking; this is the middle of our tea.”

Her pocketbook and her sweater weren’t even sitting on the chair she had been occupying, causing you to blink at the empty table in disbelief.

“No, I’m not. I think something might be wrong,” you shouldered past the man, stepping between other individuals sitting at the common tables in the park.

“Fine, you aren’t worth it anyway!” He called at your back, but the words hardly registered with you.

The area was rather common for courting pairs to visit in the early spring. However, it could also be populated with…criminals. “Excuse me,” you mumbled, quickly walking down the paved pathway through the greenery to the main sidewalk, the London pavement heavy with pedestrians. The streets were perhaps more crowded with carriages and sweating horses.

You couldn’t be alone in the city! As a woman of your stature, it simply wasn’t done. Never. Ever. It was an affront to your teachings, and it was unsafe. You needed your friend, not some stranger.

“Where is she?” You mumbled, rapidly attempting to discern every face that passed you. Surely it wouldn’t be long until someone recognized you— you were one of the most photographed families in the country. In fact, you were fortunate no one had offered your location to the press while you were on this outing. You never would have heard the last of it.

Some took hold of your handbag and darted off, using your distractedness to his advantage. He ran to the end of the block and crossed the street, weaving through pedestrians once the crossing guard allowed your side to walk over. If your hand hadn’t been tightly clutching the strap as you walked, you never would have noticed.

You did your best to pick up your speed and chase him, yelling out.

You cried out, glancing down at your long springtime dress. Your short heels were nowhere near efficient enough for you to make a chase out of the robbery, nor should have needed to! Even still, you lunged into the street — without looking.

In fact, if you had committed to your step, you would’ve been flattened by an oncoming carriage, given that the crossing guard had ordered pedestrians to stop passing moments prior. The only reason why you didn’t make the life-ruining step seemed to be… a tall young man with a serious face and staggering presence. He only had one exposed blue eye, the other was concealed by a black eyepatch. His grip tightened around your arm, pulling you intimately into his chest.

You breathed heavily, tearing yourself out of his arms. A flair of irritation caused you to glare at him as you righted your stance and smooth your dress. However, he did save you from a potentially life ending situation. His immediate insurance of your safety was more meaningful than a misaligned gown that you fixed in seconds.

In fact, the moment truly was a bit theatrical. The man was handsome enough to make you smile with uncertainty, your irritation melting. “Thank you for that,” you said, relieved that the sidewalk seemed to clear, the crowd dispersing from the main street. “I could have been killed.”

“That would have been quite a shame,” he replied, locking eyes with you. The man made a thin attempt at returning your smile. He was enchanting, regal… your heart skipped a beat, considerably flustered.

…Until he spoke again, completely distorting the immediate magnetic lure you felt from his sharp features: “Rather careless of you, my Lady. You ought to be smarter than that.”

You frowned. “In case you failed to notice, that man stole my handbag and essentially disappeared,” you snapped impatiently. It had your identification, emergency notes in case you needed to purchase something, the current novel you were fixated on…how were you meant to return to the estate now?

“You weren’t catching him, I don’t think,” he noted astutely, watching you as you stepped past him to go in the direction you came from. Perhaps Daphne circled back to the park in search of you. You absolutely needed to find her.

“Thank you for your help. Good day,” you answered brusquely, continuing to walk. However, he remained in stride with you, still unabashedly smug. It quickly absolved you of any former gratefulness you had toward the man for pulling you away from oncoming traffic. Perhaps it might have hurt less to have collided with a horse and a carriage over the velocity and mass of this random man’s ego.

“What, don’t tell me you going to go chase him,” He said patronizingly, a sardonic pull infecting what you thought was initially a careful smile. No, the man was just another arrogant bastard, it seemed. “In those shoes, especially,” He perused, causing you to stop once more and regard him.

“I am a noble woman, you will not speak to me in such a manner no matter what line of—“ you caught the sapphire family and silver crest rings around two of his fingers — “mediocre destitution you come from!” You jabbed purposefully, undeserving of his rudeness and his condescension, no matter what title he occupied in your class. You were the partial inheritor of TransAtlantia; you trained to run the company to some degree since you could speak. Few could step to you.

“I believe I said good day, kind sir,” you added poisonously, daring him to continue to test you before speeding back towards the park. You needed Daphne, you needed an officer…anyone besides this pompous— you ended the thought before you could further infect yourself with such unladylike curses.

It really wasn’t so easy being the daughter of an Earl.

CIEL PHANTOMHIVE

“I’ve planned things so Lady Y/n’s maid is off helping a little girl find her mother; I separated the two by distracting the girl with a kitten. Y/n will panic without her maid being within her immediate reach, drawing her out to the street. I will cause her to put herself in harm’s way by distracting her at the corner of 89th Street and Arthur. Be ready by the street post. I’ve made the new paralegal late to his case, he will have instructed his butler to drive quick. You will need to pull her away from the street. If you miss, things may end rather…unfortunately for the young woman,” Ciel Phantomhive’s butler, Sebastian Michealis, outlined.

Sebastian was Ciel’s head butler, his head chef, head landscaper, tailor, tutor… but most importantly, the Earl of Phantomhive’s contracted demon. The supernatural being was at his disposal and his bidding; his new role being the most interesting one of all: matchmaker. He fabricated a scene for Ciel to meet Y/n Y/l/n, and ideally, make her love him.

It was simple, really. Ciel needed a wife; Y/n’s family needed a competent businessman to run that prosperous giant of a shipping enterprise; and most importantly, the woman seemed to be rather competent. The only danger to his strategy was, of course, Y/n’s foul storybook idealism, apparently. Ciel knew Y/n was highly educated and well graced in ettiquiete, but she seemed intent on finding some happily ever after of sorts.

She wanted a husband— a bloody love match. No— she needed an actor to convince her that she was worth marrying beyond the incredible status she represented. There was no asset greater than a title and an economic monarchy to inherit, and securing such a prize meant that Ciel needed to woo her.

“My Lord, you must be considerate, but not too kind. Though you should also refrain from acting too smugly or the lady may take offense,” his butler had offered some horrifically embarrassing — and incredibly unhelpful — acting lessons for him to express the particular warmth Lady Y/n seemed to be looking for.

Love. A feeling Ciel hadn’t known in around nine years. Arguably, it could’ve been more. And yet, in order to stop being solicited by desperate mothers and unlikely candidates, he was securing his bride.

According to Ciel’s butler, that meant he needed to create a memorable foundation in the woman’s mind, an introduction that would leave her curious, impassioned. Wanting more. Something to make him stand out amongst the other faceless, classless mouth breathers who would be vying for TransAtlantica, now that word of her search for a suitor was widespread.

The company and Y/n’s hand were all one in the same courtship, and Ciel was sure the was going to win both.

The Earl of Phantomhive was never one to lose. He’d be remiss to start now.

#anime fanfiction #black butler fanfic #historical fiction #ciel phantomhive x reader #ciel x reader #sebastian michaelis #black butler

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4dkellysworld · 3 months ago

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hii how is your "journey " going? i would like the hear about your practice

Hey, I think it's going great! I feel really quite pleased with the present moment. Hmm in terms of practice, I prefer to see it as a way of being/living rather than practice as practice often comes with the view of being the doer practicing and often there's expectations of outcomes/results attached to it (although I had to start these off viewing it as a practice first until it became natural).

These are some of the things I do my best to practice/embody every moment of every day (not everything all at once but based on what feels right for each moment but overall they're things that I practice):

Being present and aware in the here and now without identifying as the doer

During moments where resistance/negativity/limitation come up and it can be a lot, I just allow myself to be still and let everything be. Then I do some sort of variant of this "exercise" I described in the second half of the response based on what feels right and appropriate in the moment

Always being aware of my state of being/consciousness and making it a priority to "manage" it (which includes 1. investigating and dropping any thoughts of limitation, lack or negativity that come up from daily life and recognizing that it is not me 2. choosing to see/feel/know what I prefer to see/feel/know myself, others and the world regardless of appearances and not allowing myself to feel limited to what is perceived by the senses including my own thoughts and perceptions of 'the past'. So for me, my preference is seeing these in everything: freedom, harmony, peace, love, kindness, abundance, wholeness, fulfillment. All that good stuff. I've dropped most attachments/desires of wanting those feelings to be fulfilled externally through symbols and I enjoy just being in the state of being with those essences)

Being patient, accepting, understanding, compassionate, non-judgmental and loving of myself as well as others (which includes seeing "others" as just different forms of myself). This also means allowing everything to be as it is in the world with acceptance and without caring to change it or feeling bothered by it. If I feel bothered by something, I recognize that it's a reflection of my own consciousness and if it feels right, I'll do what I mentioned in the above point to drop whatever underlying thoughts of limitation there are. Then I continue to see what I prefer without feeling the need to physically do anything about it. If I feel spontaneously inspired to do something, I'll take action though

Challenging myself to do things that I feel resistant, averse, fearful and/or limited in order to "break out of the matrix" (which is just the mind's own limiting programming lol). E.g. feel afraid of offending/hurting someone just by speaking up so you don't want to speak your truth even though you really do want to? Do it anyway cos unless you do something about those limiting beliefs/programs, they'll keep directing your life until you do - you get to decide when that stops. Recognize you can still act with love and speak your truth with tact.

Not labelling/defining/judging anything including my own thoughts, feelings as well as how things are or how things happen. If I do, I catch myself then let go of the labels/definitions/judgments.

Choosing to be free from expectations and focusing on being present and enjoying it

Minimizing my consumption of information and being discerning & mindful of what I do. Neither believing nor disbelieving anything I read or hear (including my own thoughts that pop up!), recognizing it's all subjective and I can choose to change my mind about anything whenever I want.

Trusting my Self above all and "doing" what feels right for each moment by allowing Self to lead the way

Things that naturally happened so far as a result of practicing (I won't talk about any manifestations but more the inner changes):

Peace! Lightness of being. It's amazing. The more you drop, the lighter and more spacious you feel. Just keep dropping everything :D

Acceptance, connection and love for my Self. When I started, there was a lot of judging myself and comparing myself to other people's experiences and progress (it's just all ego trying its best to do what it thinks is right) but now I'm just allowing and loving my own experience and presence, happy to just be and trusting that all is well. I don't see anyone as better than the other, ultimately we are all One.

My capacity to give, feel, be and accept love. It feels like several lifetimes ago now when I think back to the time before I started, I don't even identify with that person anymore but she used to feel a lot of lack when it came to love and seeing love in the world used to trigger her a lot, especially with jealousy but now I love seeing love in the world, like yes this is the world I prefer, where everyone is loving and kind to each other.

No longer feeling like I need to fit into other people's experiences on this path in order to feel validated as having 'progressed' enough. No longer feeling inferior (or superior!) to others. Being patient with myself (and others!) and accepting everything is perfect as it is, everyone's 'journey' is going to look a bit different and there's no one-size-fits-all in terms of approach or experiences.

Being "kind" and more selfless - old pre-ND Kelly was a bit of a people pleaser and liked to do kind things to be perceived as kind and nice but now I just do things just because and then when people say 'oh that's so kind of you!' I'm like oh really? Never thought that, all I did was consider things from their shoes and wanted them to benefit too. I guess being seen as 'kind' naturally happens when you see everyone as yourself, you want everyone to be well and happy (I guess also cos I stopped labelling and defining things in general)

Greater imperturbability and stillness within - there are things that would have really bothered past Kelly that genuinely now don't affect me mentally/emotionally in any way and when I recognize that, there's a bit of a 'hey that's cool'. That's real freedom and peace, to not be affected by externals and being able to remain centred in your own beingness.

I'm more 'forgiving' and I can let go of things a lot quicker and a lot more easily (in comparison to the past) even with things that can feel quite difficult

A naturally quiet and still mind!! I used to not like meditation but now it's the greatest thing.

Less and less thoughts and feelings of negativity, lack and limitation. More and more joy, love, gratitude, open spaciousness, peace and freedom.

Don't feel the desire or need to argue with other people, I don't need to prove myself in any way, they can think what they want.

I don't know if it's a downside (lol) but many of the things that past Kelly enjoyed for entertainment are no longer enjoyable to me. E.g. like reading about celebs, watching shows that don't have any deep messages or spirituality in them, even like tarot readings used to be for fun and nothing serious but they're not even fun anymore. Oh well lol

It's easier to observe things more objectively when thoughts come up and recognize them as limitations rather than spiral into a loop and get caught up in identifying with the narrative or thought train

It's possible I missed some things but that's all I can think of atm. I didn't focus on results and then reverse engineer what sort of practices I needed to have in order to get there, it was more picking what felt right for me then just doing them from the heart with sincerity and then changes happened on their own. I guess it's like when someone starts eating healthier and exercises out of enjoyment rather than focused on weight loss, they may eventually find they suddenly have a slimmer and healthier body, it was kinda like that when you enjoy the present moment. Like one day I just found the changes had happened and it feels like it's a daily thing where in a way, every moment of every day "you" (the concept/identity/ego, not the true changeless you) are dying and being reborn with every choice you make, every thought you choose to accept or let go of - it's all in the mind. Every moment is a new moment and you don't have to be limited to what you perceive as 'the past'.

But ultimately, I don't think of taking credit for any changes that happened to me. I feel like it was initiated by sincerity but the changes happened on their own because I got ego out of the way (through those practices) and allowed Self to shine through. (This is a realization I just had now while writing all this so thank you for asking! I don't really reflect much on my 'progress' so this has been nice lol)

#asks #diary

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heeliumhaze-elle · 3 months ago

Text

close friends

「synopsis」 — after running into her extremely toxic ex at jake's birthday party last year, y/n seemed to disappear off the face of the planet. the only traces of her were her instagram story posts during her month-long trip to the states at the start of the new year. but other than that, no one had seen or heard from her since that night in november. the boys have speculated that it was because of the run-in with k all those months ago; however, when something y/n posts on her 'close friends' story begins to circulate through their group, they grow increasingly suspicious and angry over their speculations. ... except something about all of this doesn't sit right with heeseung. 「warnings」 — mc suffers from depression & struggles with thoughts of suicide, the boys are kinda petty assholes imo, cursing. please dm me if i missed anything! 「word count」 — 4923 words 「author's note」 — lowercase intended. only slightly proofread. no real plot, rushed ending - like seriously i didn't know how to end it so i just did... this is my first story, so i'm really nervous, lol. this is all fictional. the way the idols are portrayed in this story does not reflect how i view them by any means. 「dedication」 — this story is dedicated to my friend ani - may you always remember that you are never alone, not anymore.

"can you fucking believe her?" asked sunghoon, staring at the screenshot on jungwon's phone.

jake and jay agreed, peering over sunghoon's shoulder to get a better look at the photo. sunoo, who sat opposite the 02z, let out a tired sigh while ni-ki, who sat on the tabletop between jake and sunoo, massaged his temples. meanwhile, jungwon looked at his hyungs uneasily. heeseung wondered if he regretted asking if y/n was okay.

heeseung kept his gaze fixed on his friends as they continued to skim through the now-infamous screenshot.

"literally though, like what the fuck are we then?" ni-ki asked. "how dare she."

"god, no! and then to re-add us to her 'close friends' as if nothing happened," jay added. "like jungwon wouldn't have said anything to us."

"right?" sunoo said, rolling his eyes as he read through the post. "as if he wasn't going to tell us! like hello? he's our best friend!"

"it's like it was about us," jake said. "i'm not here to play these games. if she has a fucking problem with us, she needs to just fucking say so. we're not in high school anymore!"

"... well, except ni-ki," muttered sunoo.

jungwon let out a nervous sigh. "guys, i didn't mean to start anything-."

"no!" jay interrupted. "jake's right. we're all old enough. she needs to use her fucking words. she has a problem with us, just fucking say so. don't fucking act like we're all 'good' when it's clearly about us."

"because what the hell did we ever do to her?" sunghoon demanded.

all the while, jungwon's phone was making its rounds to each of the boys. and soon, the phone was in heeseung's hands. he was finally able to read the screenshot that started this entire uproar.

... and he was gutted.

"my sleep schedule is so fucked as of lately. all i do is lay in bed for 85-90% of my day. i can't keep pretending i'm jet-lagged from my trip to the states. i desperately crave to get out of the house to do things with other people, but i literally have no friends here — outside the ones that i made at work. even when i try to do things on my own, it's just so mentally taxing that i end up sleeping for 24+ hours after attempting to make myself feel better. it's a lot, i guess.

"... if i wasn't so afraid of death and dying, then maybe-."

heeseung felt his heart drop. he forced himself to stop reading; he couldn't continue, knowing that's where y/n's mind went.

how long had y/n been feeling this way? was there truth in what the other boys were saying? was this post about them?

shaking his head, heeseung refocused his attention on his friends. they all sat around him, angered by the post that y/n had made just the day before. the only person - save for himself - who wasn't mad about what y/n posted was jungwon. but heeseung couldn't tell if that was because he was still able to view her close friends story on instagram or if jungwon was genuinely worried about y/n.

even if the post was about them, heeseung told himself that that was the least of their concerns. the only thing that mattered to him (and he was surprised that his friends didn't seem to think similarly on the subject) was how y/n felt.

as the others went on to bash y/n for posting that and not being upfront with them about her feelings, heeseung handed jungwon back his phone.

"like honestly, i thought we were friends. what is her problem?" sunghoon circled back.

heeseung stood from his seat at the park table, white-knuckled fists suddenly clenched at his side. he startled the others with how abruptly he got up, but he didn't seem to care. "are you all fucking hearing yourself right now?"

"did you not just see what she posted yesterday?" jay asked.

ni-ki looked up at his hyung and added, "and she's so messy for re-adding us to her close friends list. if it wasn't for jungwon hyung, we wouldn't have ever seen this. so i bet she thinks she got away with talking shit about us like that."

"that's exactly what she was thinking!" jake chimed in.

heeseung didn't stay to hear what his insensitive friends had to say next. he simply told the five of them to "fuck off" and bid jungwon goodbye before storming off from the scene. as he neared his car, he reached for his phone from his back pocket; he wanted to text y/n. he needed to! however, upon closer inspection, he realized that his phone was out of battery. and of course, today was the day his car's charging cable broke!

groaning to himself, heeseung let himself into his vehicle and just drove. with his phone dead, there was no way for him to reach y/n to give her the heads-up that he'd be arriving anytime soon... but he also figured - given what he had read only minutes and minutes ago - that she would be home regardless.

his thoughts drifted back to y/n. he kept wondering how long she had been feeling that way. he wondered if she felt lonely because while she was locked away in her apartment, the rest of them were still going to each other's houses and planning group excursions... excursions, heeseung came to realize, that y/n wasn't invited to.

fuck! he thought as he came to a red light. if that post truly was about him and the rest of the guys, was it not deserved? he thought back to all the times that they went out without inviting y/n and he wondered if her fomo eventually got so bad she thought that they had silently kicked her out of the friend group. no... there's no way she thought that! right? y/n had a lot more sense than to think that a few outings without her meant that they no longer wanted to be her friend. right?!

the light stayed red as heeseung's mind swirled with several different thoughts. there was more to the post. heeseung knew that. granted, he didn't read it as thoroughly as his friends had, but he had skimmed through it quickly enough. the others were so hung up on the fact that y/n said she didn't have any friends; heeseung also guessed they were angry over the little bits of text that followed her dark thoughts. but... was she wrong to say all those things? the other seemed to think so. so much so that they completely ignored the blatant cry for help that was the entirety of y/n's post.

when the light finally turned green, heeseung couldn't stop thinking about the first line of the last paragraph. "...if i wasn't so afraid of death and dying, then maybe all of this would be so much easier."

in the three years that heeseung had gotten to know y/n, he had to admit that he was very aware of how dangerously dark her thoughts could be. there were moments when he wouldn't hear from her for weeks at a time. he remembered how y/n would lament on the droves of friends she had lost in the years prior because they hated when she would fall into her slump. after all, she wouldn't text anyone for days at a time; he recalled how when she recalled those memories, it somehow always ended with the friends telling her that she was selfish or that she wasn't trying hard enough to get better.

heeseung quickly parked his car in the guest space of y/n's apartment complex. from his spot, he could see the curtains of her bedroom window weren't drawn, but the window was cracked opened ever-so-slightly. he found himself devising a plan b in case y/n didn't come to the door and it involved somehow shimmying up to the second floor and busting through her window.

without another moment to lose, he rapidly bashed his pointer finger against the doorbell. at least if she was sleeping, he was certain that this'd wake her up!

not even a minute had gone by when y/n flung her apartment door open. heeseung took in the sight of her. her hair, a tangled, matted mess. if he had to guess, he assumed her knots were much worse at the back of her head. he noted that the fullness of her cheeks had vanished. she looked so gaunt compared to the last time he saw her; he wondered when the last time she ate was... or at least when the last time she ate anything of sustenance was.

y/n looked at heeseung with tired eyes. she frowned for a moment, only to replace it with a sad smile.

"have you come to air your grievances with me in person?" she said in a strained whisper.

if heeseung had been gutted before, he had no idea what this new feeling was. whatever it was though, it shattered whatever was left of him. he had known y/n to have horrible episodes of hopelessness and defeat, but this was too much for him to bear. he couldn't even begin to imagine how she was feeling. she was a shell of herself.

"... what are you talking about?" he asked gently.

"i just thought..." y/n let out a deep, long sigh. she looked down at her hello kitty house slippers, not finishing her thought aloud. she tightly wrapped her arms around herself as she stroked her right upper arm slowly.

instinctively, heeseung removed his coat and draped it over y/n. her bloodshot, tired eyes looked up at him once more. he wanted to hold her. to make her feel his warmth. to make her feel his love. he just wanted her to see she wasn't alone anymore.

"you just thought what?" he asked as y/n ushered him inside.

she shut the door behind her and wordlessly led him to the small couch in her living room. heeseung saw the nest she had created for herself with her blankets, pillows, and plushies in the dark space. the only source of light came from her muted television, which was currently airing reruns of old cartoons from the 1990s and the early 2000s. there were torn-up bags of chips (some empty and some half-full), unfinished, open bottles of soju and cans of beer, and a plethora of takeout boxes scattered around her little nest across her tiny coffee table. trash and dirty laundry lined the floor around her couch.

"sorry about the mess. i haven't had visitors in over six months now..."

six months. the last time anyone had seen y/n had been over seven months ago. sure, they had seen her posting all about her trip back to the states a month ago, but no one had physically been in her presence in over half a year. heeseung wanted to kick himself. why hadn't he visited sooner?

"no... please don't apologize-."

"i'm embarrassed," she whispered, trying to make space on the couch by tossing all of her used bedding to the floor.

heeseung stopped her in time, insisting that it was fine. after all, he had been the one to show up unannounced.

"what were you talking about before, y/n?" heeseung tried holding her gaze, but she quickly averted her eyes to her slippers once more. "what grievances are you talking about?"

every sigh that escaped y/n's lips was a dagger to heeseung's heart. he watched as she struggled to find the words to say. sensing her panic, heeseung guided her into her cocoon of blankets - making some room for himself as well. the two of them sat side-by-side in silence. he could wait all day for her to reply, especially if it meant not leaving her alone in this state.

"your friends," y/n reached for her phone from the recesses of her blankets, "they all texted me these paragraphs about something that i posted privately yesterday."

WHAT?!

heeseung could feel his blood boiling. "how do you mean?"

PARAGRAPHS?!

y/n unlocked her phone and handed the device to the man beside her. just as soon as he got a hold of her phone, she quickly retracted her hand and brought it to her eyes, rubbing away at them.

heeseung first watched as y/n began to curl up into a ball, then he directed his attention to her phone. upon first glance at her message app, he noticed that there were three circles pinned to the top: two group chats - one called "ohana 👑" and the other "the tortured poets department 🖊️" - and a silly selfie of him and y/n with the nickname "evan lee 💜" plastered just below it. a blush danced upon his cheeks at the sight of it all.

however, the warmth in his cheeks lasted for only a millisecond as his eyes fell just below their text thread; it appeared that ni-ki, jay, sunghoon, jake, and sunoo all sent messages to y/n in the time that it took for heeseung to arrive. heeseung tapped at the most recent of the texts, sunoo's. he repeated the process with jake's, sunghoon's, jay's, and finally, ni-ki's texts. with each scroll through of texts from his friends, he found himself getting angrier and angrier at them. especially after reading y/n's responses to each of them.

it was hard to tell tone over text, but heeseung knew his friends well. each message to y/n was crafted uniquely and in the sender's own words, but the gist of what they were saying was all the same.

they each started their message by telling y/n that they had been with jungwon the day before and how he had asked them if she was okay. they all state that they didn't know what he could possibly be talking about until jungwon mentioned that it was in reference to her instagram story - a story he failed to mention was only for close friends.

jay and sunoo went on to say that they didn't mind that they couldn't see her story; y/n was allowed to pick and choose who she wanted to see those stories. jake, ni-ki, and sunghoon - on the other hand - took major offense into not being able to see her story, considering "everything" they had been through "together with k". they all mentioned how deeply hurt they were by the fact that y/n said she had not friends. ni-ki had gone as far as to say, "i thought that me and the hyungs were your friends. but i guess not, huh?"

they then followed up their emotions with the same statements they were exclaiming at the park, about how if y/n had something to say about them to just outright say it and not dabble in this "high school bullshit and make everyone play this stupid game where they have to figure out what the hell it is they did wrong" (as jake put it in his text). in sunoo's message, he claimed that he was only reaching out to y/n because he wanted to be upfront with her and couldn't think of a single thing he might have done to offend her. jay and sunghoon continued to stress the fact that their text wasn't meant to be read as an attack, but they "wanted to be adults about the situation instead of resorting to petty, childish drama" because they too couldn't think of anything to warrant such a post from y/n. ni-ki drew from the fact that he and the rest of the boys were hurting over this and how it was "shady and cringy" to post a story like that on her social media account; he accused her of just wanting attention because he "didn't do anything wrong" so for her to post that with the implication that he had irritate the maknae to no end.

just like that, each of them wrapped up their lengthy chunks of text to y/n with such vitriol that heeseung couldn't believe that these were his friends. he knew they were coming from a place of hurt, but he was surprised that they didn't see y/n's post for what it truly was: a cry for help.

instead, they turned her raw emotions into their hurt egos. they decided to take bits and pieces of y/n's story and mold it into this narrative where she attempted to assassinate their characters. it went from being a post about how utterly depressed and pathetic she felt to being a post about them.

and heeseung was livid.

with all of them.

when had they become so self-important? if they were truly y/n's friends like they had so furiously claimed to be, why hadn't any of them asked if she was okay? even jungwon failed to ask her, opting instead to ask his hyungs and ni-ki - which, arguably got everyone in this mess in the first place.

heeseung felt his mind drift back to y/n's reply to each of the boys' texts. while he didn't read every single one, he did read the only one that got a text back, y/n's text to ni-ki. it was a long, heartfelt apology from y/n; heeseung could see how this whole mess was tearing her up inside just from her words to ni-ki alone. but he got even madder when he got to her parting words, only to see that ni-ki had replied with, "k. thanks for reaching out. i just need time for myself if i'm being honest. bye."

before he could say anything, heeseung was brought back to reality when he caught y/n silently sobbing into her hands from the corner of his eye.

"i'm sorry!" she whispered. over and over again. each time more broken than the last.

heeseung gently pulled her closer to his chestm cradling her to him as he rubbed his thumb against her back in an effort to comfort her. "you have nothing to be sorry for..."

"i hurt everyone's feelings-!"

"fuck them," heeseung growled, holding her tighter. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry that they let their egos get in the way of being decent human beings. i'm sorry that you've felt so alone for the last few months. i'm sorry that i haven't shown up for you in the way that you needed someone to be there."

y/n cried harder. "i... i... i... i didn't... i didn't mean..." her hiccups were affecting the rhythm of her speech. "i didn't mean that... that we weren't friends! i just... i just felt-."

"shhhh," he soothed as she shuddered under his embrace. "we haven't been very good friends to you as of lately, anyway. they're like my brothers and i love them, but those messages alone... we haven't been decent friends to you. i can understand how easy it is to feel like you're this lonely, little island, especially when the rest of us are still going out and making no effort to see how you're doing.

"i saw their messages to you. in ni-ki's case specifically, i scrolled up a little too far and saw that you've spent the last half of these past few months messaging him little things like tiktoks and memes only for him to like them or reply to you with one word. have you been reaching out to the rest of the boys?"

he felt her nod against his chest.

oh... so he was the only one to not have heard from her. the green-eyed monster crept into his thoughts momentarily, only for him to realize that the others' text threads were probably just as dry as ni-ki's.

"i'm really sorry that i didn't reach out to you sooner," heeseung sighed. "i really don't know what i was thinking. i'm sorry that you've felt so alone."

once y/n had calmed down enough to stop her hiccups, she excused herself to grab a glass of water. she asked heeseung if he wanted anything while she was up, but he declined - instead offering to get the glass for her. she appreciated the gesture but went to get the water herself.

this moment alone left heeseung in his thoughts again. he didn't want her to have to recount anything to him if she didn't want to, but he still needed to know. in her text to ni-ki, she said that she hadn't meant to keep jungwon on her list of close friends. that what she posted hadn't meant to be for the people she had met in south korea; it was for her friends back home - as a way to vent out the frustrations she hadn't known how to put into words for her korean audience. these frustrations, from what heeseung could gather, were things she wasn't ready to tell him or the others.

but the others had practically forced it out of her in her apologies to them...

... and ni-ki had the gall to tell her that he needed time and space from her. the rest left her on read - as if only turning their read receipts on for this moment alone.

heeseung could feel himself getting worked up all over again. gripping tightly at the fabric of his jeans, he sat up straighter when he heard y/n coming back to the darkened living room.

"i'm sorry," y/n whispered as she neared him.

heeseung stared up at her helplessly as she sat beside him. "no, there's nothing to be-."

"i meant to take all of you off my 'close friends' list. it wasn't because i didn't think we were friends; there are just some things from my past that i'm not ready to talk about with you guys yet-."

"and you don't have to! i'm sorry that the rest of them think that you owe us that..."

"i mean... they thought it was about them; they just wanted to clear things up and let how they were feeling be known," y/n said with a sigh, pulling heeseung's coat closer to her chest. "i offended them. i respect them from being upfront about their feelings-."

"IT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT!" heeseung stood up to face y/n. "WHY ARE THEY ALLOWED TO EXPRESS THEIR EMOTIONS LIKE THAT AND YOU'RE NOT?"

regret washed over heeseung as he noticed y/n's sullen eyes widen. she bit her quivering lips and heeseung wanted to punch himself in the face.

"sorry," he muttered. "i didn't mean to blow up like that. i just..."

heeseung knelt before y/n.

"no, it's okay," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"it's not... and what the guys did isn't okay either. yeah, they confronted you because they thought it was about them and they want to clear the air, but there's a way to go about that. and for ni-ki to go off on your like that only to leave you with that 'i need space' bullshit of a text-."

"he's just a kid."

"i get that, but i have no idea where the boys get off with being so... i don't know... vain? for lack of a better word. their reactions just feel so... guilty. as if they had done something-."

"i was being extremely vague in my post."

heeseung took y/n's shaking hands, finally holding her gaze as she looked at him. she seemed shocked by the physical interaction; he wondered how long it had been since she had touched another person outside their hug minutes ago.

"exactly! if it wasn't about them, but they somehow found a way to relate to it? i don't know... again, i think they're acting out of guilt," heeseung caressed the back of her hands with his thumb.

y/n gave heeseung a sad smile. "i get their side. with the way i worded everything, i can see how they relate what i wrote with the way everyone handled everything between k and me a few years ago."

heeseung felt y/n rip her hands away from his as she buried her face into her hands. sitting back on the couch, he pulled her into another hug; she didn't seem to be crying again, but he couldn't be too sure anymore. y/n hadn't mentioned her past relationship with k since their nasty breakup, but he remembered how unbothered she had been upon seeing him seven months ago at jake's birthday party. he also remembered how angered y/n had been - despite being unbothered at k's initial presence - because he attempted to approach her while she was alone at the open bar, grabbing refills for heeseung, sunghoon, and herself.

"... did the post have anything to do with k?" heeseung asked. he felt her go stiff at the mention of her ex-boyfriend before shaking her head against his chest and letting out a small sniffle. "okay, then? so the boys had nothing to worry about. it's just this huge misunderstanding. if they want to hold it against you, fuck 'em."

"i still really hurt their feelings."

"you apologized. did they?"

y/n pushed heeseung away to hug her legs to her chest. she shook her head. "but... a selfish part of me really feels like i'm owed one."

"it's not selfish - especially after you cleared it up with them. they jumped conclusions and said extremely hurtful things to you. if they truly did no wrong - which who knows, maybe they didn't do anything wrong! - i don't know... maybe they shouldn't have been so defensive. i don't know! maybe it's just me... but their behavior is downright embarrassing!"

with another sigh, y/n leaned against heeseung, who instantly wrapped his arm around her; it felt just like before, like no time had passed between the two of them. like there wasn't this mix of guilt, hopelessness, and despair in the air between them.

"embarrassing?"

"how else would your describe it when you make someone else's trauma and hurting about you?" heeseung asked, giving y/n's shoulder a tight squeeze. "y/n, i know you. i know you're not going to hold this another the boys, but i think their reaction to all of this is downright stupid. you talked about some pretty serious stuff in your post, but they pushed past that to complain that you might have posted about them. that doesn't sit right with me-."

"it's not that deep, hee-."

"except it is, y/n! this is exactly what happened with k hyung after you two broke up and more recently after jake's party. specifically after jake's party, you posted something privately about how hard things have been on your end and how it was affecting your mental health; someone shared it with him and he confronted you-."

"k apologized-."

"but then he immediately turned the conversation into 'i'm sorry, but also you hurt me!' and then you two only focused on his feelings!" heeseung thought back to that time. "i just... i feel like the boys took whatever was posted in the wrong direction. and even then, it wasn't even aimed in their direction to begin with! there are worse things to be done and that have been done than taking someone off your story then putting them back on..."

y/n pressed herself closer to heeseung as he continued.

"and honestly... whatever was actually said in your story was so much bigger than their feelings being hurt, y/n. because we both know that wasn't what it was about."

"hee..."

"look, i know... i know that you never meant for any of us to see it, but we did. and instead of seeing it for what it was, most of them made it about themselves. and i'm sorry for that. i'm sorry that we haven't been good friends to you lately - to the point where you felt like we weren't your friends to begin with. they're allowed to be hurt over it if they truly think that it's about them, but they can't just ambush you like that and then close the discussion when you clear the air and open it up for them. honestly, with the way all of this was handled, i wouldn't be surprised if you still stood by that statement! it's almost like... at every turn, you're reprimanded in some way for posting about your feelings. someone always has to take it out of context and make it about themselves.

"you literally told every single one of them that it had nothing to do with them and they have the audacity to sit there and say that they need time away from you? again, that doesn't sit right with me! why are you made to be the problem in every situation you're stuck to struggle with!"

there was still so much more heeseung had wanted to say, but the sounds of y/n's violent sobs had stopped him. she began to wail into his chest again and she squeezed him closer to her. heeseung felt his heart breaking as he looked down at one of his best friends. she wept loudly, screaming incoherent phrases into him while heeseung held her tightly.

"i'm sorry," heeseung whispered into her hair, pulling her onto his lap. "i'm sorry that i wasn't there for you before... i'm sorry that it's taken me so long to see how much you've been hurting. i'm sorry for everything. but i'm here now."

#heeliumhaze-elle writes #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung angst #heeseung au #enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen fic #enha fic #enha angst

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

Note

Oohhh I love the night gallery crew!! <3

Okay so- how would the art gallery harem react to the news that their precious night guard used to pose as a nude art model for one if their previous jobs? Bonus points if they end up digging around and finding old drawings/portfolio pics of them posted online lol

The Painter

Their muse - a model in the past? A nude one at that? They can't say they aren't jealous others have bared witness to their beauty, but they won't be so upset about it if their dearest is willing to come out of retirement and maybe send their older photos up to their study. They promise not to stare too much, but they pray their muse doesn't mind if their eyes linger. It's rare for them to be in the presence of such raw perfection. They are more of a hands on type of painter so their muse wouldn't mind a few touches, no? As they would say, it’s all just apart of the process.

Rosebud

Of course they are interested, but they won't press the matter unless Reader offers to share.... Please ignore the excitement of their roses - though they do reflect Rosebud's inner feelings they assure Reader it's just past their feeding time. Clearly more flustered than they let on. Refuses to look at the images because they would only make them more tempted to leave bites all over Reader to claim them as their own as they are when they see the Guard's exposed neck or wrists or pretty much any uncovered inch of skin.

The Scavenger

Hope staff gives the printer in the breakroom a nice funeral because if Scavenger gets its hands on those portfolio shots it's the end of the line for that poor machine. Anything relating to their precious treasure is the pinnacle of their collection. They must have more - even if it's the same picture a thousand times it's still not enough. If anyone comes across one of their copies it's best theu leave them their because even if they're trying to return them Scavenger will accuse them of stealing. There's not doubt I my mind they've eaten a copy or two because they're weird like that.

The Faceless Angel

Conflicted. On one hand they are interested in seeing their guard in all forms, but on the other it feels like an invasion of privacy. Unlike some, their intrigue comes from an artistic viewpoint rather than sexual. They'd give anything for the opportunity to touch Reader's warm flesh without clothing in the way. It feels like heaven on their stone skin.

The Lady in Red

It's the less images she's interested in and more the people who have seen them. Swiftly cuts down anyone who views Reader's pictures while in the gallery be they human or fellow exhibit. She can't do anything about the past, but does everything in the present to keep too many eyes off her love. Takes the photos Scavenger loses and while she keeps a few on hand - she burns the rest.

Julian

Slimy fuck is probably the first to come across them being the noisy little stalker he is. As an artist in his free time, he does use them for reference, but it's much more fun to use them for other things. Like teasing Reader about their past or taping copies to the breakroom fidge. He only does it when he knows they're the only two on shift because he'll have to hurt anyone who sees them nakee besides him. Like Lady, he's more likely to attack paintings who have gotten a hold of the scavengers copies.

Anri

Their favorite coworker was once a model? How fun! They aren't the best artist, but they can draw Reader too. A little bashful about seeing them naked so they stick to just about the shoulders. They want to at least waiting until their ten date with Reader before seeing them in such a state. Covers their eyes and runs off whenever someone tries to show them. Julian only allows Anri to see the photos because it's fun to chase them through the halls with them or point out various aspects of their features to make Anri flustered

The Director

Dislikes imagine of Reader because while they can be used to create copies of them, The Director wants the real thing. Still has one of Scavenger's photos tucked in his coat pocket.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #Night gallery tag

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phoebepheebsphibs · 8 months ago

Text

If we turn left enough times, we'll have gone in a circle.... and end up right back where we started.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau @littlemissartemisia @thevoidbrothers @noval1t (I hope they don't mind I added their characters into the story for special guest appearance 👉👈)

CW: fight scenes, blood/ichor, panic attacks, slight body horror, hallucinations, abuse, experimentation, surgery, torture... cardiac arrest and character death

(It's a really long one. I am so sorry in advance lol)

Also, just for clarification: UIFY = Until I Found You NFIF = No Fun in Fungus DvD = Donatello Von Draxum 'Phael = Raphael Jurogumo

Prev || Next || Illustration

Misa waddled along the corridors of the arena as she retraced her steps. She couldn't recall exactly where she'd left the portal sword, but she knew it was in the area... Her families were counting on her. Her older little brothers and sister April needed her help! And she was so excited to help them and prove Lee-Lee wrong about her being "just a little kid". She wasn't little! She was 4 years old! That was so grown up and big, she could do all sorts of things by herself... If she could only find her sword. She'd show him just how big she was!

Out of the blue, a familiar floating sensation took her and she watched with surprise as she was lifted up high into the rafters. Misa squealed with delight.

"Up, up!"

Waves smiled at her, returning her laughter with chirps and giggles of his own.

"Are you going to keep playing with your food, or what?"

Misa watched as a splash of pitch created another figure -- a version of Donatello but entirely grayscale -- formed in the rafters next to them.

Waves turned to look at his brother with a great big smile on his face, his eyes empty and black as he stared at Signal. He hissed a warning. Misa is off-limits.

"Fine. Just didn't see the point in wasting such a sweet little snack."

Waves hissed at him again before nuzzling his face into Misa's. She giggled with glee. These brothers didn't scare her. Waves might seem spooky, but deep down he was a silly little sweetheart and she adored him. Especially when he would pick her up and fly around with her.

"What exactly is the little Artemisia doing way out here all by herself?" Signal asked, leaning in close to her tiny face.

"Getting sword for my family!" she explained.

"Ah, weaponizing children now, are we? I think Static was handing out medieval swords and maces earlier..."

"Did somebody say 'best void brother'?" came a glitchy voice as another void brother appeared.

"It's like he's Beetlejuice or something..." Signal growled.

"I just thought the little lady might like this," Static stated smugly as he handed Misa her retrieved portal sword. He'd found it for her!

Misa cheered happily as she brandished the weapon, the blade glinting in the light and reflecting her image like a mirror.

"What's going on up here?" a fourth and final voice boomed. Radio slowly emerged from the shadows of the rafter corners. "Static, you're not giving minors weapons again, are you?"

"How did you even get up here?" Signal asked incredulously. "You're practically the size of a dump truck, how can you even fit in these rafters?"

"Call me that again and I'll flatten you like a dump truck."

"Just worried for the structural integrity of the building, is all..." Signal sassed back.

Radio rolled his eyes as he made his way over to the others, specifically Static, who still owed Radio an answer.

"I wasn't handing out weapons, I was retrieving it. It already belonged to her!"

Radio's eyes shifted from Static to Misa, who nodded her head as Waves shook his (he wanted to get Static in trouble as a joke).

"Why would a little thing like you need a sword?" he asked cautiously.

"Family needs help! Misa gets her sword for them!" she explained. "Bad spores!"

"Your family? You mean that band of misfits and the anxiety-riddled shroomie teens?"

Waves nodded for her. Misa didn't really understand what shroomie meant. Radio scratched his chin as he considered the situation. He knew that there was an outbreak of fear spores going on, and the two AU teams had been working to find and destroy them. It wasn't looking good thus far. Even Signal had gotten spored, and though he wouldn't admit it... they knew it wasn't a pleasant experience for him. Radio couldn't say he was an expert on mushrooms, but he knew a thing or two about invasive beings and decay. And if that fungus was as bad as everyone was making it out to be, then it could mean disaster for every AU in this place.

"...I don't suppose we could be of any help?"

Donatello howled with maniacal laughter.

His prisoners watched with fear as he ordered the vines to wrap around Michelangelo like ropes, tying his arms to his sides and keeping a very strong grip around his throat just in case anyone got any funny ideas. DvD was screaming bloody murder and promising every kind of painful demise if Audrey III didn't release his baby brother immediately. But he could see the tears in his eyes, he could hear the panic and utter fear.

Oh god, the fear was delicious. He wanted more...

Raphael struggled against the odd vines that had sprouted from Donnie's shell, as he brought him closer towards the room where Leo and the others were. The vines were an amalgamation creation -- partially machine, partially Dee's ninpo, and partially... Raph could only assume it was the mushroom. Had it been growing inside of his shell?? He desperately tried to free himself from the terrible growth. He managed to get one arm out --

"Oh-ho-ho-ho, what are we trying here?" the plant asked through Donnie, smirking down at Raph and commanding several other vines to take ahold of his arms and pull, stretching him out in every direction as he yelled in pained protests. "You didn't really think you could get out that easy, did you?"

Raph grunted and growled as he fought against the vines.

"Donnie!! SNAP OUTTA IT! I know you like to play the mad scientist sometimes, but this is TAKING IT TOO FAR!!"

"I'll tell him you said that," Audrey III smirked. "He's on sabbatical right now, but I'm sure the message can get through... eventually."

Raph screamed in anger as hot tears streaked down his face.

"But in the meantime, I think I'd like to taste your fear again..."

The door behind them opened, and out came a stream of blue fog, followed by the Hand.PNG, which crawled up the vines and onto Donnie's shoulder like a spider.

"Let's invite our dear friends to dinner, shall we?"

The vines began to drag Micheal and Raph into the room.

DvD began to screech like a monster, the muscles in his arms tensing and flexing against the vines and finally breaking their hold. He ran towards the wall, screaming in fury as he spun the tech-bō and leapt. They would not take his brother.

A spark of light ignited in his eyes.

It spread across his body.

The light burst like flame at the end of his staff.

All eyes watched him in shock as he shouted a war cry and slammed the tech-bō into the wall Dee had created earlier.

It shattered completely.

A shockwave burst from the impact and threw everyone back, dissolving the vines that held everyone.

Mikey's limp body fell.

DvD rushed to catch him. He almost made it when Donnie/Audrey III stepped in front of him and kicked him back with one of his mechanical arms. The battle-shell-clad ninja crawled up the side of the wall and grabbed the child before he could hit the ground. Mikey's head bobbed, and he groaned in discomfort at having been thrown around like a rag doll.

"You duplicitous little --! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!" Audrey III spat angrily.

In all honesty, DvD had no idea what he'd just done or how he'd done it. All he knew was that he needed to protect Mikey at all costs. And then the wall broke. In his shocked stupor, he failed to get up in time and suddenly found a new vine wrapping around his neck like a boa constrictor and tightening like a noose.

Mikey's eyelids fluttered.

Donnie/Audrey III brought the alt. version of himself close to his face.

"YOU HAVE NO MAGIC, YOU YOURSELF TOLD HIM THAT! YOU LYING LITTLE --" Donnie's eyes peered into DvD's as he choked. "...Perhaps you are more interesting than you let on. Shall we see what else is in your silly little head, my dear anarchist?"

Donnie gasped for air, kicking and clawing at his captor as he tried to free himself. He... he was blacking out...

Mikey's eyes burst open.

He screamed as loudly as he could, his entire body erupting into gold and amber light, blinding the entire corridor.

A shrieking sound came from the dark room. The door slammed shut.

Donatello turned around in shock, as a torrent of chains burst from the boy, two for each vine he'd created.

Oh. Now we play.

He'd seen this from the boy before; he'd been rooting around in his mind and saw the memories from the last time. He knew the child was afraid of these powers, he couldn't control them very well. Especially the really strong spells like this. He knew how this scene played out. He just had to either wait him out to spend himself dry -- or let him do what the previous poor, sweet Michelangelo had done, and turn himself into a monster. Either would work...

Mikey held his hand out. A series of chains came and sliced the vine choking out his brother. DvD fell to the floor, quickly caught by the chains -- which also grabbed NFIF Raphael -- and carried them away to the others who watched in utter shock as the child landed on the ground and summoned his mystic nunchucks.

"Well, well, well... look who finally woke up."

Mikey's eyes were wide and glowed burning gold. He said nothing, his face empty, devoid of expression. Mikey was not at home anymore, he was controlled by his ninpo. He simply tilted his head in response to Audrey III's eggings.

"I wonder... you tried to save Donatello from my clutches earlier. Did you know then that your efforts would be in vain? Did you know that in your absence, you'd leave your brothers and sisters to face me alone?"

The two circled around one another, preparing to duel it out.

"I sensed your connection; you'd discovered the truth, hadn't you? You'd discovered this pathetic boy's treachery, how he'd joined my cause."

Mikey's face never faltered. His knuckles tightened around as his weapon.

"I suppose 'joined' was the wrong word to use. He really was weak and pathetic, you know. It was almost too easy to leech my way into his mind. I highly doubt his consciousness could have survived from my invasion. I do hope you said your goodbyes."

Michelangelo charged.

Donnie/Audrey III swirled the staff in front of himself, deflecting the impacts of the little child as he battled the fungus infected version of his brother.

Mikey's movements were graceful, practically a performance as he flowed back and forth, throwing his chains at the purple ninja turtle, whose movements in contrast were fierce and sharp and violent and purely angry.

"Did... did you know he could do that?" 'Phael asked shakily, turning to look at Leo.

Leo simply stared in silence, mouth agape with awe and shock of his baby brother.

"Leo, did you know he could do this??"

"I... I-I mean... sort of... I knew he could do magic... but not like this..."

Michelangelo danced around Donatello, waving his arms and creating ribbons of golden light as he filled the room with light.

Wait a minute, light...

"The light... the light!" NFIF Raphael shouted suddenly. "The light! It's how we defeated the spores the first time, using mystic light! It disintegrates them!"

"How poetic, the light drives away the fear," DvD muttered, still rubbing his neck from the constraining grip of the vines.

"If we can get the door open, we can flood the room with his light and free them all!"

"Okay, solid plan, great effort from everybody, just one slight hitch -- HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GET AROUND THE MYSTIC BATTLE WHERE OUR BROTHERS ARE TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER?!" Leo yelled.

"Raph's still comin' up with the plan!! Cut me some slack!"

"I can try to poof you guys to the door," April offered. "It won't be completely accurate, but I can get you close."

"That'll have to do," Raph nodded. "And whatever you do, avoid the hand and the spores!"

April grabbed hold of NFIF Raphael, squeezed her eyes shut, and then - poof! - landed the two right in the middle of the fight.

"AAGH! Sorry, sorry!" she screamed, ducking under Mikey's advance against Donnie, as Raph created an enormous ninpo arm and shielded the two of them from Dee's barrage of ninpo torpedoes.

"Get to the door!" Raph screamed, taking her by the hand and pulling her away as he created two more clones to help in the fight.

Mikey danced and ducked under the glowing purple missiles shot at him. He gripped his nunchuck tightly, whipped it towards one of the Raph clones. It wrapped around his arm, igniting in flames, then swung over Mikey's head like a lasso. He flung the fiery clone at Donnie, who just barely managed to dodge the flaming brother, which created a crater in the ground before him. The second clone came and tried to keep him from firing anymore missiles at UIFY Mikey.

"I'm surprised at you," Donnie huffed, trying to keep up with the two attackers. "Why would you want to fight against me? We're brothers!"

"We don't want to fight you," one clone growled. "But you're not in your right mind, so we'll have to do what we can."

"I'm sure you will," Donnie snarled, changing his bō staff into a spear and skewered the clone straight through. It disintegrated into red blocks and pixels. He turned to the second clone, creating the oh-so-famed drill, and firing at the poor duplicate.

Meanwhile, Raphael and April had made it to the door, April gripping the handle as she waited for Raphael's orders.

"Get ready," she panted, out of breath from dodging both sides of the attack. "Once this door opens, a flood of blue is gonna come out."

"I'll get you out, don't worry," Raph said with a nod.

"It's not me I'm worried about. Donnie said the Hamatos are full of senseless martyrs."

"He's... not wrong. But I promise that I won't sacrifice myself."

April nodded, hoping that he would keep that promise.

"Okay, then."

April threw the door open. As soon as she did, a torrent of blue smoke fumed out, engulfing both April and Raphael. April kept her eyes closed, waiting for the nightmares to start. But they never did. She opened her eyes and saw the world from inside a red glowing giant. Raph held onto her, arms spread around her in a safety hold, his hologram form shielding them from the spores.

Donnie/Audrey III felt a pain in the back of his mind. They turned and saw that the spores were leaking out of the room. Okay, now they were getting irritated.

"Why, you little...!"

In this moment of distraction, Michelangelo's chains wrapped around the softshell's waist and pulled him in. Mikey reached out and grabbed him by his neck, holding him just mere inches away from his expressionless face, eyes still burning like melted gold, no irises nor pupils. Donnie's wide, icy blue-tinted eyes contrasted them sickeningly. Donnie smiled.

"Go ahead," he said, voice smooth and calm. "Kill me."

Mikey blinked at him, but that was all. Audrey III continued.

"That was your plan all along, wasn't it? This ridiculous show of power, the fight? You were planning on finishing the job, weren't you?"

Mikey's fingers squeezed softly. A threat.

"What, are you afraid? Why? Shouldn't it be easy? Are you even in control of yourself? Why would you be afraid to squeeze the life out of someone who looks just like your brother, could actually be your brother?"

Mikey's hand let go, his arms shaking. A soft golden glow started to seep through the bandages.

"Ah, and it looks like you may be out of time."

Michelangelo looked down. Golden ichor dripped off of his fingertips. He pulled the bandages off, revealing the scars on his arms, which were glowing white hot, tiny cracks forming from their edges and shimmering, glittery ichor was bleeding from the reopened wounds. The price to pay for his powers.

Some Mikeys cracked.

He didn't.

Not again... n-not again...

Donatello/Audrey III dusted himself off as he watched Michelangelo slowly come to. With his ninpo overdrive giving way, his mind leisurely crept back into place; the golden glazed over his eyes melting as his irises came into focus and his pupils dilated. The ichor dripping down his forearms began turning a deep red, the glowing scars on his arms becoming irritated open wounds.

No, no! Mikey couldn't give up just yet, not when his family still needed him! But... he knew he'd used up almost all his precious energy... he... h-he... Mikey's breathing slowed, raggedy respiration as his hands shook and his knees wobbled beneath him. The room started to spin as black spots entered his vision. He managed to catch a glimpse of Donatello, swinging his staff with great force and slamming it into Mikey's chest with a hideous cracking sound.

Mikey was flung back several feet, dizzy and dazed and all the air knocked out of him. He vaguely registered multiple voices calling his name...

April screamed, NFIF Raphael screaming with her. April's teleportation powers activated without her realizing it, and she suddenly found herself by MIkey's side. Weak as he was, he had curled up into himself, clutching his stomach in pain and trying to catch his breath as he writhed on the floor. His brothers were also by her side in an instant, each one fretting over his injuries.

April looked up to see Donnie/Audrey III standing over them, the hand perched on his shoulder like a vulture.

Dee held out the severed arm, and gave it to the creature.

"Be whole again, dear disciple," he said with a smile, as the hand reattached itself to the limb, a flash of light combining the two together once again.

"That's gross," Leo grimaced. "Hey, DvD, you're a science experiment, can you do that?"

"No, but I can."

All eyes looked behind Donatello/Audrey III.

A black substance expanded and took form -- an adult version of Donatello, devoid of any colour whatsoever.

April cheered, whooping at his arrival. 'Phael screamed at a pitch that only dogs could hear. He was still convinced that these "Void Brothers" were the ones who'd sent him the ominous sticky note near the beginning of this entire adventure in the competition.

"So," Donnie/Audrey III said with a growl. "It looks like we have some more players in the game."

"Think you can keep up?" Signal asked, his form morphing into one of pure black, multiple arms expanding from his abdomen and several extra sets of teeth growing in his ever-widening mouth.

"The more the merrier," Donatello/Audrey III chuckled, letting the Hand.PNG crawl into his palm. "You know what to do," he whispered to it.

The hand instantly vanished, reappearing by the doorway behind Raphael, and scurrying into the room. A second later, blue chains shot out, slicing through Raphael's hologram.

"That's not good," he mumbled, forcing the hand to reach into the gargantuan stomach, pull him out, and fling him towards the others before the spores could seep through all the way.

Two figures emerged from the doorway, their movements somewhat sluggish. There were tiny mushrooms protruding from their skin. Their eyes glowed a neon blue, and their ninpo matched the shade.

Karai and Mikey.

"No..." Leo whispered, staring in horror. "Karai... what happened to her...?"

"Oh, Mikey," Raph whimpered. "Oh no, big man..."

"He's not gonna make us fight them, is he?" April asked nervously.

The two warriors charged.

"Yep. He is. He most definitely is. Shoulda seen this one coming, honestly. That's on me."

"Get outta here," Raphael ordered. "Me and... uh, these guys -" he said, gesturing to the four colourless adults that had already started combating against the swayed relatives, "- will keep them from following you."

"I thought you said you weren't gonna sacrifice yourself!" April yelled angrily.

"I know, and Raph is gonna keep his promise. But your little brother is hurt, he needs help now! I'm not gonna just hand myself over, I'm your cover. Now get going!"

April wanted to argue about it more, but before she could, she was taken by the wrist and pulled away. Waves was tugging her -- as well as the others -- off to a small clearing.

"Where do we go?!" 'Phael yelled, concerned that they had no real escape plan...

"Misa helps!" came a familiar voice. A sword slashed through the open air, and a bright portal opened in front of them...

...Donatello/Audrey III commanded a cloud of spores, hurtling them towards Radio.

"What are you, some kinda Avatar: the Last Airbender wannabe?" he joked as he dodged the cloud.

"I wonder why you would stand against me. Do we not fight for the same cause? Survival? We feed off of others, we only want to exist on our own terms... can you not see our similarities?"

"Nah, not really," Radio said, slamming his fist into the ground, only missing Donnie by half an inch.

"Such a shame. Then I suppose you must die."

"Happy to return the favour--"

"You can't hurt them!" Raphael shouted as he joined the fray.

"Whaddya mean, we can't? They're trying to hurt us!" Static shouted angrily, popping in and out of random spots, infuriating the heck out of mushroomed Mikey.

"They're not in control of their bodies, they're zombies! We hafta find a way to un-zombify them!"

"Well, no offense, but I don't think they share your mindset of 'no hurting the opponents'," Static sighed. "Besides, you're gonna have a hard time getting Signal to change his mind."

"Well, I'm gonna have to, those are my brothers and un-dead gram-gram from another dimension-- wait, where's Leo?!"

Raph looked around the corridor anxiously for the third zombie. He wasn't anywhere to be seen.

He must still be in the room. Raph darted among the others, rushing towards the dark room. There was still a huge cloud of blue smoke that surrounded the doorway, Raph couldn't go in without being infected. But he could see inside.

There was Leo, sitting up against the wall -- oh god.

Leo's body was half-engulfed in the biggest, scariest mushroom Raphael had ever seen. It's giant eye zeroed in on Raph. It... it looked too much like... his fingers traced over his own injured eye nervously. Why did it look so similar? Donnie had theorized that the fungus might've been kraang-related, but...

Leo. Focus on Leo.

He was there, being absorbed into the mushroom. He looked so pale and thin, like he was wasting away. Raph had to save him somehow, but --

"Enjoying the view?" Donnie/Audrey III asked, whacking Raph over the head with his staff as hard as he could. Raphael crumbled to the ground, clutching his skull and groaning in pain. Yeah, that was going to leave a mark... and a pretty nasty concussion, too...

While Raph was stunned on the floor, Donnie/Audrey III noticed the portal that had allowed for the Until I Found You group's escape. It was still open.

The hand appeared at Donnie/Audrey III's feet.

"This form has served its purpose," he said flatly. "I have what I need for now... But I require you to follow after them. Bring me back the scientist, I believe that he may be of some use to me. And even if not, he can't be left with them. He's too smart, he'll find some way to weaken me... I cannot leave it to chance. Bring him to me."

The Hand.PNG "nodded" at his master, then jumped away towards the portal.

Raphael struggled to keep his vision straight. He felt something wrap around his chest, tugging him backwards. He saw the Void Brothers driving the two zombified Hamatos back to the room... in Raphael's direction... the room...

Raph's head pounded louder than a drum. The ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. He knew April would have his head for giving in so easily... maybe she'd understand given the circumstances. He could barely hold his head up after that last hit... Donnie was a lot stronger than he looked.......

At least... he would be sleeping soon. At least he would be in good company. All the Hamato martyrs, together again. At least he was with Gram-Gram again.

At least he'd be with Leo, soon...

The door closed.

Leon recalled the feeling of portalling.

It was kind of like falling. Accidentally skipping a step down the stairs. An acidic scent that slightly burned the nostrils, a popping in the ears as you go from one altitude to the other in an instant and a half.

Leo hadn't done a lot of portalling, but he'd had his fair share of experiences with the activity. But he still wasn't used to the feeling yet. He stumbled through the bright blue splotch of light and tripped on his way out, finding himself in a brand new corridor. The others followed soon after, clambering out one by one and almost stepping on top of each other.

"Where... where are we?"

"Who cares! We have to go back!" April shouted. "Raph still needs us!"

"What exactly are we supposed to do? Go in, guns blazing? With what guns??" Leo yelled anxiously, waving his arms around to gesture to the obvious lack of firearms.

"P-Prilly's right, w-we haf-hafta... go... back..."

Mikey whined loudly, trying to push himself away from Donnie. The effort hurt his injured arms, which were still bleeding profusely.

"Micheal, hold still--"

"N-no, they need us, Donnie... th-they need us... they need..."

Mikey slipped out of his grip and fell to his knees, shakily trying to get back up.

"Michael, you're in no condition to be going into a battle like that!"

"Mikey all red," Misa whimpered. "Mikey's not s'posed to be so red..."

"No, he's not," Leo growled. "Dude, just sit this one out --"

"No!" Mikey sobbed. "I can't sit back and watch as the people I love and care about get hurt!"

"WHY DO YOU THINK WE WANT YOU TO STAY PUT?!" Leo shouted angrily. "I am NOT having you get hurt like that again! Donnie, take Mikey and go find him some first aid," Leo ordered.

Donnie nodded, picking up the angry box turtle and carrying him into a side hall that lead to one of the many lounge areas. "Raph, April and I will come up with a plan."

"What Misa do?" the littlest turtle mutant asked.

"...You have a very important job to do," Leo announced. "You got those ghosty guys to come and help fight... We're gonna need all the help we can get. Misa, you're the recruiter. Go find as many people as you can and get them to come. Tell them how important it is, okay? This is a big responsibility."

Misa's face lit up.

Lee-Lee trusted her! He knew she was responsible! Misa saluted him with a determined smile and nodded.

"Misa get all the families! Everybody comes!"

"Exactly, Misa. Everybody comes."

"So what, we're just gonna pull an Avengers Endgame on the shrooms? We need more of a strategy than that!" April groaned.

"What the heck is an Avengers Endgame?" Leo asked.

"It's a human reference for a movie. Basically it just means that everybody bands together against the bad guy for an epic finale," 'Phael explained.

"Then why not say that? It makes much more sense than 'Avengers Endgame' -- and how did you know what that meant??"

"I do live with humans, in a human hotel, y'know," 'Phael said, rolling his eyes. "I've seen human movies."

"Okay, well, the majority of our family has not, so maybe--"

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?!" April exclaimed loudly.

"Hand?" Misa asked, eyeing something behind them.

"She means the important stuff," Leo explained.

"Hand!" she yelled.

"Yes, yes, we're trying to get back to the matter at--"

"No, hand!" Misa pointed.

The group turned around to see the blurry trail of a small appendage rushing into the hall after DvD and Mikey.

"I don't just want to sit a-a-and do nothing," Mikey pouted, still shaking in DvD's arms.

"I understand that, you know I do," DvD sighed. "And you also know why I am requiring you to rest. You recall what happened the last time--"

"I know, I know, don't remind me. I was bedridden for days..."

"And yet you wonder why we won't let you go fighting."

Mikey grumbled and turned away from DvD. He was so mad, he could spit venom. He knew they were right, of course they were right. But that didn't make it any easier; in fact it made it worse. Because Mikey knew he was right, too! At least, half-right. He knew that they should go back and help. But he knew he couldn't do much, not with all his energy spent and his arms in the state they were now. They stung like mad, he could barely move them. Donnie had removed what was left of the bandages, doing his best not to gag at the sight and keeping his hands as still as possible, despite his aversion to the blood.

Mikey shouldn't feel guilty for this, right?

It wasn't his fault, right? It was just... how his mystic powers were. He couldn't help the way his body worked, just as much as he couldn't help when his hypoglycemia acted up. It wasn't his fault that he was the way he was... it wasn't a bad thing, right? Being Mikey? Being sensitive to others and sensitive to himself, having some few medical issues and mystic setbacks... that wasn't necessarily a terrible thing, right? Right...?

Mikey turned away so DvD couldn't see him crying. He didn't want him to think he was any more immature or any weaker than he undoubtedly did already. Than they all did. Leo had been taking care of him and his ailments since he was a baby. And Raph was holding on to that one special secret of his... and Donnie had cleaned up the blood and gone to get some more gauze and anti-bacterial supplies for Mikey's wounds. Mikey sighed and wished he wasn't so pathetic. He wished he was stronger, smarter, better. Anyone but himself. The only thing he was good for was his stupid useless mystic powers, and they always did more harm than good, especially self-harm. Mikey hated them. He hated himself--

NO, no, don't think like that! That wasn't kind, that wasn't fair! Mikey didn't actually hate himself at all, he was just mad. He needed to let it go. He needed to sit back and breathe...

Mikey leaned back, exhaled slowly, inhaled deeply.

And he saw it.

Crawling like a cockroach on the wall and up the ceiling.

With something blue in its grip.

"DEE, LOOK OUT!!"

The Hand.PNG shot the spores at Donatello Von Draxum.

Mikey jumped.

He had no time to do anything else.

He had no energy to summon mystic chains or make a spell or do anything clever like that.

He just jumped. Dove, really. Dove straight for his brother, in a desperate attempt to push him out of the way, move him aside, get him to safety!

The spores hit him.

"MIKEY?! MIKEY!!!"

Donnie grabbed his brother, holding him close, ignoring the hand as it disappeared into the shadows to watch the scene play out...

"Mikey, look at me, focus on me, okay? You can get through this, alright!? Just concentrate on my voice..."

Mikey nodded furiously, trying to listen to DvD. But there was a ringing starting, his head felt light and dizzy, the room began to spin and get darker. DvD was fading from vision...

NO! Stay, with me, Donnie, please! Donnie?! DONNIE!!

Donnie started shouting, someone was taking him away! Mikey tried to get up, go after him -- his leg caught on something. His arms, too! He looked down and saw titanium shackles, imprisoning him to a cold metal table.

A light shone in his vision. He squinted at the blinding brightness, wishing he could have a hand free to guard his eyes. Something stood in front of the light, casting a shadow over him.

"Well, well, well... if this isn't a surprise? Back again for more, are we?"

Mikey couldn't breathe.

It... it was him. It was him.

Baron Draxum.

"No... no... no --"

"I think we need to run a few more tests on our little friend here, don't you, Donatello?"

Draxum stepped aside and showed Mikey a view of DvD, chained by the wrists and gagged at the mouth. He was screaming at Mikey, trying to warn him, pleading with him to get out of here!

Mikey screamed back at him, begging wordlessly for Draxum to let him go, please, please!!

Instead, Draxum had one of his vines whip across the room and beat his son across the face. Mikey screamed, sobbing and wailing.

"STOP! NO!"

"He always was such a pathetic disappointment." Draxum turned to the other imprisoned turtle. "Perhaps you will show some promise."

No... n-no, this wasn't how it happened! Donnie w-wasn't -- he was never -- a-and Mikey wasn't awake for any of it, he was asleep for the entire thing! He shouldn't be awake now, he shouldn't be, he shouldn't -- H-he... no, no, no, no no no no nonononononononono!!

Draxum came forward with a needle and scalpel.

"Let's begin."

DvD couldn't stop crying, he just couldn't keep the tears from coming. Mikey was sitting on the floor, screeching his poor little head off, eyes wider than saucers and filled to the brim with fear. He couldn't move much, apart from shaking nonstop. He looked like he was constantly trying to wriggle away from something, but for some odd reason his wrists and ankles were invisibly anchored to the floor. Mikey's limbs twitched as he squirmed and struggled, screaming and begging for whatever he was witnessing to stop, please, please please please stop--

"WHERE IS IT, WHERE THE HECK IS THAT HAND, WHO'S SCREAMING, WHAT'S HAPPENING--?!"

Leon and the others rushed into the room, quickly inspecting the situation and coming upon the obvious conclusion.

"April, take Misa outside..." Leo said after inspecting the scene.

"Misa want to stay with Mikey--!" the little girl protested, but April quickly scooped her up and carried her off.

Leon and 'Phael immediately dropped to Mikey's side, Leo taking the box turtle's hand in his and trying to get him to wake up.

"Dee... fear spores, right?"

"...Yeah..."

"The hand."

"Yes."

"What... what is he seeing?" 'Phael asked nervously, eyes watering at the sight of his baby brother in so much pain.

"I... there's only one thing that could scare him this bad..."

"Draxum?" Leo whimpered.

DvD nodded.

"But... h-he doesn't remember anything from that, you said he was under heavy sedatives for the entire time!"

"He was! Draxum kept him under constant anesthetics -- perhaps his mind is creating an idea of what he thinks happened?"

Raphael started fidgeting with his hands.

"U-um... actually..."

The two boys looked up at him.

"'Phael? What... what is it?"

"...He told me not to tell ya..."

"Tell us what?" Leo questioned.

"H-he made me promise--"

"Raph," DvD said, his voice begging him in ways that words could not. "Please."

"He... he does remember. He does remember what happened in the labs."

Donnie and Leo stared. Mikey continued to sob and scream.

"...What... how... how could he know that... and how do you know that he knows?!" Leo asked, voice raising with each word.

"And why wouldn't he tell us?!" DvD asked in disbelief.

Raph swallowed nervously, a sweat breaking out across the worry lines on his brow.

"He... it started sometime after Karai arrived. H-he thought that m-might do with the mystic training she did with him -- but he started having... nightmares..."

"Nightmares?"

"He said he started dreaming memories about it. It was an out-of-body sorta thing, he said. Like he was watching from the outside... He could never get away from the visions, he said -- but every night, he saw a new one."

"And he... came to you about it? Why not ME?!" Leo yelled, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Or Donnie?! Why not tell us?! We're ALL his brothers!!"

"He told me... he said he didn't wanna burden you."

"...Burden?" Donnie whimpered. "...How?"

Raphael looked back and forth between them all. His eyes fell on Leon.

"...He told me he didn't want you to feel... responsible for another thing," Raph mumbled. "He said he felt bad enough about everything he's made you worry over already, he didn't want you to..."

"...He didn't want me to know...? Because... he felt guilty?" Leo wept, tears pooling and spilling from his eyes. "That... I don't... he shouldn't have felt that way, why did he..."

Leo's eyes glossed over, he squeezed them shut, clutching Mikey's tiny fist and pressing it against his chest.

"How could I make him feel like that...?" he wept. "I never meant... I never knew..."

"But... why not tell me? I could have helped," Donnie said in-between uneven breaths. "I already knew what had happened!"

"That's... actually why he didn't come to you, Don," 'Phael explained. "He s-said, he said he didn't want to hurt you. He saw how much you were struggling and wanted to wait until you were... doing better about the whole ordeal. To be honest, I agreed with him on that mark."

"But why did he tell you?" Leo asked. "Why only you, and not us?"

"I s'pose... because he knew that I knew what it was like to be afraid all the time," 'Phael sobbed. "He knew that I wouldn't judge him for his fears. He couldn't sleep at night anymore, he needed someone to stay with him and help him through his fits... But I told him! I told him to tell you both! I told him you should know!" he cried, whimpering nervously as he wrung his hands and rocked back and forth.

"Raph! Raph, it's okay..." Leo tried to reassure him. "I mean... it's not completely okay... I wish he'd told me, but... that doesn't matter now."

Leo held Raphael close.

"We just... we need to be here for him now... How much does he know?"

"...Everything."

"...This isn't going to be easy for him," Donnie exhaled.

"Or us," Leon added.

The trio gathered close to Michelangelo, each laying their hands on him, a sign that they were there and they were offering comfort in the only way they could.

Mikey kept screaming, he couldn't stop screaming. No matter what his brothers tried, they couldn't snap him out of whatever horrors he was experiencing. They just kneeled beside him, holding his hands and hoping their support made some leeway.

But Mikey just kept screaming, shrieking, crying, weeping, wailing, sobbing. He howled until his throat ran dry and his voiced cracked and went hoarse. He wept until his eyes were red and irritated and his cheeks were stained with saltwater and starting to chafe and the area around his eyes went puffy and soft. And on he went. For what seemed like hours, days, years, centuries even -- but was probably only 15 minutes. Mikey was stuck in a loop of fits and fear.

And then finally, he slowed. His breathing calmed, his sobs turning to hiccups and suck-ups and hyperventilation, as his eyes darted around, looking for something familiar.

"Is... is it over?" Leo asked, internally begging for it to be so.

Donatello was heaving along with Mikey, his cheeks also stained with tears.

"I... I think--"

"D-Donnie?" Mikey whispered shakily.

"Mikey? I'm right here, I'm --"

"No... no, not Donnie, please, I--"

"Is, is he --?"

"He's not done with the hallucination yet," Donnie realised. "It's about to get so much worse."

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!" Mikey screamed, bolting forwards. His legs tangled underneath him, causing him to trip over himself. His arms were strained behind him, his ankles struggling against the ground, as if something was still holding him back.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HIM, WHAT IS HE SEEING DON?!" Leo screamed.

"Me," Donnie whimpered, holding back desperate sobs. "He's seeing what Draxum did to me. On the last day. When we fought...."

Mikey shrieked in agony, his eyes somehow producing twice as many tears as they had before in this one moment, pouring out for his brother's sake.

Mikey's screams were cut short, he gasped in horror. They all could assume what he'd seen. Draxum had killed Donnie in his hallucinations. Mikey went horribly pale. His eyes widened.

"No... no... no, no, no, get away get--!"

Mikey jerked suddenly. His body seized up, his eyes went wide, and then --

He fell backwards.

Back into the hold of his brothers, who caught him almost immediately.

"MIKEY!!"

Mikey didn't hear them, he simply lay in their arms.

Mikey stopped shaking. His limbs had gone slack. His body went limp. His eyes went somewhere far away from them all.

Mikey exhaled.

And he didn't inhale.

"...Mikey...?"

He didn't respond.

"What... what just happened?" Raph asked nervously.

"He didn't... he didn't just..." Leo begged, slowly placing his fingers against his neck. He paused. He tried the wrist next. He couldn't find any pulse.

"He didn't just leave us, did he?"

"...Michael...?"

Leo pounded his fist against the ground.

He wasn't going to give up his baby brother.

Leo placed his hands across Mikey's chest, applied pressure.

1, 2, 3, 4.

"Come on, Mikey, come on...!"

1, 2, 3 ,4.

1, 2, 3, 4.

"Come ON, Mikey, COME ON! I'm not letting you go!"

DvD was crying, holding himself tight as tears soaked into his shirt and vest.

"Leo, stop... Leo, he... he..."

"Leon, mate, please, he--" 'Phael reached for him, attempting to comfort.

"COME ON!" Leo shouted, refusing to give up.

1, 2, 3, 4.

1, 2, 3--

"WAKE UP!!" he sobbed.

Mikey gasped for air.

His eyes blinked wildly as he bolted upright, limbs flailing about in a mad panic. Three bodies pounced upon him, wrapping themselves around him and sobbing into him. Mikey said nothing. He simply looked around in confusion, getting his bearings and perfividly coming back to reality. He listened, but couldn't hear them. Everything was numb and strange, every sound and image baffled him. All he knew was he hadn't been here anymore. But he was here again, now. Here with his brothers.

... I did not intend for this ...

Yes, I intended to send the spores.

And yes, I intended to have them sent after Donatello.

I even intended for them to miss him entirely, for Michelangelo to rush in his place and take the hit for him.

But I never intended this.

Michelangelo was meant to see a different fear entirely.

Michelangelo is afraid of being the frailest, the smallest, the weakest of the brood. Dear little Mikey is afraid that he has nothing of importance to offer. He is always relying on the others to help him, to save him. He has nothing to offer them in return. Mikey tries to do what he can, but deep down he is afraid that one of these days, his brothers will discover that HE needs THEM far more than they could ever need him.

Truly, THAT was what he was meant to see. I had no idea he would see... all that.

They told me no one would get hurt. They told me no one would die. They promised me. And they lied.

It was a good game while it lasted. But I'm not having fun with it anymore.

No one was meant to be hurt like this.

No one was meant to die.

I suppose this means I'll have to do what I can to fix things, now.

"L-Leo," croaked Mikey, who slowly raised his hand and pointed a trembling finger. "Hand…"

“What... what are you saying, Mike?"

“Hand,” Mikey clarified, stressing his wobbly finger as he gestured behind them.

The boys followed Mikey's direction.

The Hand.PNG was crawling towards them.

"G-Get it away from Mikey!" Leo screamed, kicking his feet in the creature's direction.

"Don't let it come any closer!"

"WHERE'S MY TECH-BŌ?!"

"Please, if you could simply pause for a moment, I'd like to make you an offer."

Everything stopped.

Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey froze, jaws dropping to the floor as they heard the hand speak at them.

"You... y-you can talk?" Mikey's voice came out grated and raspy.

"Yes."

"What... why are you just deciding to speak now?" Raphael asked.

"And why have you been tormenting us all?!" Donnie bellowed, gripping his tech-bō tightly as possible.

"And what did you mean, you wanted to make an offer?" Leon interrupted. "An offer for what?"

"I was wondering if I could offer you my services. How would you like to rescue your family and destroy the fear fungus?”

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gigidragonbbxxx · 8 months ago

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working with limits, a story

disclaimer: we are limitless. anything can be achieved with the power of the mind. this is to help people who overthink.

if a limit of yours shows up somewhere along the journey of manifesting a certain goal:

acknowledge it. do not repress. use it to pivot into your new story.

eg. I used think ____, but I know that's not true anymore. I am now ____.

my own story

my desired body is typically obtained in the gym with years of hard work and a dedicated focus on nutrition. I'm currently in grad school so I don't have time to workout like an IG influencer but I want to look like one.

Ordinary people would WEEP and stay in the same story of "its not obtainable!" while master manifesters smirk and say "LOL, ITS MY BODY NOWWWW"

I know that waking up with your perfect body is 100% POSSIBLE. Overnight subs/aff tapes + living in the end state + saturation to the max = fast asf results

so why wasn't I achieving it?

why was I manifesting money, attention, material things, etc. but for some reason my body was not changing?

I was meditating and doing some inner work when I realized that I had a serious weird rooted limited belief that

I had bad genetics and every woman in my family (both sides) have never achieved a flat tummy or a super toned body. So I was unconsciously always affirming that I could "never" look like that.

I thought great bodies could ONLY be achieved with hard work - which we know is soooooo untrue!

Instead of forcing myself to do a method I realized - I could work with my limit.

I was never truly "athletic" but I did run cross country/track in high school for 3 years. I fell off once I went to college and mostly did weird sporadic workouts but was never consistent.

Now that I've discovered the law and am freed from my old way of thinking, I said - okay let me play a little psychology game with myself, a little placebo.

my new placebo has been:

No matter what workout I do, the moment I step into the gym, I am losing my belly fat and getting super fast results every day.

Why do you do this Gigi instead of just sitting at home and affirming for your body?

Because I realized it would be easier for me to stay saturated/in the wish fulfilled/end state of having my perfect body just by physically forcing myself to be in a gym.

Let me clarify: I mostly walk on the treadmill, lift very very light weights, minimal sets, etc.

aka: most people would say I'm not doing enough.

But I'm a master manifester so I know that just deciding is enough.

I realized it was easier to visualize people saying "Wow she changed her body, it's because she goes to the gym now! She must've done a lot of work cause she got those results fast!" instead of "Wow she changed her body, idk how!"

Ever since I started going consistently and doing very bare minimum workouts - my body has changed way more drastically than normal limits allow.

I basically look like I've been working out for 6 months versus just the 2 I've actually been going.

My personal goal was fast results but gradual. If you want instant, please be my guest I am not limiting, I'm just sharing what worked for me.

I robotically affirm that lil placebo and it's changed my entire approach to manifesting.

I will see if I can post pictures of myself that will ensure privacy. Until then, just my words and encouragement.

Let me finish this lil post by saying: you do not need to do what I do. You can go ahead and do everything instantly. Everyone is different. I'm just sharing what worked for me, what helped me ease into being firm with what I wanted the 3D to reflect to me.

xx, gigi

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srslyblvck · 3 months ago

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dark echoes, the umbrella academy

pairing: hargreeves siblings x sibling!reader

synopsis: you are ben's twin sister. after he was murdered, you were never yourself. you were on the brink of madness when your brother who was considered dead comes back asking for your help to stop an apocalypse.

warnings: suicide and suicidal thoughts, drugs, alcohol consumption(not in a healthy way)

author's note: alright, this was an impulse decision. my first series here, lets see if i continue it lol

word count: 0.6k

chapters: 1/?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU COULDN'T REMEMBER THE last time you saw the sun. It had been years since your twin brother Ben was killed, and every day since was a blur of shadowed memories and endless pain. You hadn’t moved on; you couldn’t. The echoes of his absence haunted you, made worse by the voice in your head that never stopped. The other you—your darkest thoughts—was always there, gnawing at your sanity.

No matter how much alcohol you drank or how many pills you took, the voice stayed. It felt like your mind was a prison with a warden who never gave you a break. It was maddening, like being tied to a tormentor who sometimes took over your body, making you watch helplessly as it carried out its dark desires.

You tried hard to act normal, but it was exhausting. When you did go outside, you felt like a stranger in your own life. You’d walk around, feeling like people were watching you, or glance at your reflection in shop windows and be shocked by how different you looked. Your world, once full of colour, had turned grey and unchanging.

Your job used to be a place where you could escape your inner pain. But now, it just added to your misery. The paperwork stacked up, deadlines loomed, and your coworkers seemed distant. What used to make you proud now felt like another trap you couldn’t escape.

The only thing that offered a temporary escape was the haze of drugs and alcohol, but even that couldn’t quiet the relentless voice in your head. Every bit of peace felt stolen, leaving only your torment. You’d sit in the dark, the TV flickering, too tired to turn it off. Your life had become a series of dull days and empty routines, and even the job you once cared about felt like a burden. You felt like a burden.

Your siblings didn’t know. They couldn’t. They saw only the surface, the mask you wore to hide the suffering inside. Your eyes were hollow, your face thin. You didn’t need a mirror to see that you were a shadow of who you once were. But you didn’t want them to see you like this. The pain was yours to bear alone.

In your grief, the pills were a temporary relief, but they never silenced the voice completely. It only got louder when you tried to stop using them, a constant reminder of your pain. You had tried to end it all more than once, but each time, the voice took over and stopped you. It was as if you were doomed to live in despair.

You had seen the news about Reginald Hargreeves, your father's death. The man who had orchestrated so much of the pain in your life had finally met his end. You wished you could have been the one to deliver that final blow, to exact the revenge you had longed for. The thought of him lying in a casket brought a dark satisfaction, but it was fleeting. The funeral was to be held soon, and you had no intention of attending. You didn't want to face your siblings, to see them mourn the man who had taken so much from you.

On the day of the funeral, you were sprawled on your couch, having taken more pills than you could count. The numbing haze of the drugs clung to you, but you were still awake, lying in a stupor. It was during this disorienting state that you heard it—a faint shuffling coming from the kitchen. Your instincts, sharpened by years of vigilance, kicked in. You summoned a knife with a golden hue, its beauty masking its lethal purpose.

You moved towards the kitchen with slow, deliberate steps, the voice in your head urging you to be cautious. It was as if it knew something you didn’t.

As you rounded the corner, you saw him. The figure in the kitchen was unmistakable. A boy, maybe around five feet three inches tall, with messy hair falling into his eyes. He wore the Academy uniform, the sight of which haunted your dreams. Even through the fog of the drugs, you recognised him instantly.

Time seemed to freeze. The knife in your hand vanished into thin air. You took a shaky step forward and whispered, “Five?”

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #the umbrella acadmy fanfic #tua #tua season 4 #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

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thynisia-pac-readings · 1 year ago

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[PAC - Your first date together. Please do not copy or repost any part of the reading.]

There are 4 piles. This a general, collective reading as usual, take what resonates, this is for fun! Regardless of the banner, it doesn't have to be a romantic relationship - it could be friends or relatives.

This extensive reading includes sub-questions, signs and quotes! I also read possible things about you and about them, because why not! You can take it as further confirmation that it's your pile. XD

Take a slow breath, clear your mind and intuitively pick an image or number (you can ask your higher self and your spirit guides to help you choose it).

---

Pile 1

Signs:

It's 1:11PM I'm not even joking, number 8, relating to each other, reciprocated feelings, sudden confession and realising it's reciprocated, February, Lewis

No way I just got a poem on reciprocity by Cleo Wade!!! Two messages on that; for some it's reciprocated, for others don't waste time on someone who doesn't reciprocate your feelings!

United States, North America, Mexico, area between North and South America.

Astrological placements: Moon domiant, Cancer, Jupiter dominant, Sagittarius, Pisces, Moon conjunct Jupiter. Virgo rising, Gemini rising, Mercury in Aries, Mercury in Capricorn.

Possible things about you:

Life path 7, deep thinker, big on self-improvement and self-reflection. Maybe you're into manifestation as well. You might be very pretty according to societal standards, or you like to take care of yourself and your appearance. I think you're someone very kind and caring to others too. Do you do the same for yourself? Such an empathetic soul. You're a gift on Earth my love, know that.

Maybe you want to fly away, you want some freedom and get away somewhere far, but for some reason you've got to stay where you are. It's alright, all in due time.

Some of you may like Aphrodite or Venus, or you're in that phase of your life that she rules over, such as beauty, goddess energy, sacredness, femininity, etc.

Some of you may want to be a mother really bad, you want your own baby, you love children. A small minority of you could have a child already, but some may get pregnant/be a new father in the near future. :)

Possible things about them: 2 groups came up so you may intuitively pick 1 or 2, or both!

group 1:

they're the ones who feel the same about you haha!

they may also want a child or want their own baby, that's so sweet Pile 1. very caring individuals too and maybe that's something you relate on between each other.

they may feel like you uplift them whenever you speak or are physically with them. I feel like whenever you're around, they don't have these dark thoughts anymore. Maybe you ease their anxiety naturally, without even trying. I feel like they really feel comfortable and safe with you, and whatever the future holds, they hope that you don't let go of them. Actually, they wish to not let go of you. They don't want to. They see you with such respect and admiration, they really love you in that sense. It's not just infatuation or attachment, they love your traits/character.

their love language could be gift giving or handwritten notes.

group 2:

wow, we've got an ambitious and hard working person here. very powerful and independent. wants to rise to the top, they want to be successful and go higher. they want to excel at what they do, career wise or romance. it's like Suga singing "I wanna big house, big car, big ring" (something like that lol). great at multitasking and overseeing plans, but they could tend to be a bit controlling as a result. like their work mindset spills over in the personal life and relationships. it is not very bad though, but they may not realise. For some of them, if you tell them honestly that they're being a bit controlling or disrespectful in certain ways, they will feel bad and apologise and try to correct their attitude. They're not a bad person, they want to do their best so much that they are less self aware.

Your first date together:

How - probably not in the most romantic way? whatever is going to lead to that first date is not peaceful. maybe some misunderstanding or friction has to happen for you two to take that step forward.

Where - somewhere dry or far from water. Or there's not much around, far from the city. i.e. you might go hiking with them for the first date...are y'all dating a German? LMAO. On a more serious note, if you're a woman don't go on first dates where there's literally no one around. Safety first.

What - again could be hiking, rock climbing, risky/outdoorsy activities, dates in nature...

Quote:

"Friendship is a sheltering tree" (Cornwall, L., 2015)

"When we focus solely on validation from the outside world, we end up being very easily controlled by circumstance, but when we remain humble and firmly rooted in our ever-present goodness, we can celebrate our accomplishments and learn from our disappointments without letting them be the things that define us" (Wade, C., 2018)

That's it Pile 1, I really enjoyed reading for you. Remember this is a collective reading, so take what resonates only.

If you want to purchase a reading from me check my masterlist or go straight to my listings here. discount code: TUMBLR

---

Pile 2

Hi Pile 2! This is my creative pile <3

Signs:

November, teenager, architecture, museum, fashion lover, gossiping together or telling each other the crispy stuff, someone with a loyal character, someone looking after a garden or wanting to have one - maybe likes flowers.

Being a romantic, someone wants to be in love, someone has Venus in Pisces, someone thinks about love or their crush.

Be careful of trains.

Someone is going through an experience which pushes them to find their inner strength and resolve, which increases their self-confidence.

Venus trine Saturn, Venus in the 8th house.

Hawaii, Japan, Africa/South Africa cities, East China cities, South Korea, your person can be from Argentina

Possible things about you:

Pile 2, I'm getting some of you like gardening and drawing. In particular, you might like bees and are a strong supporter of saving our bees. You might have a green hand. Not even a green thumb, the whole hand lol! Some of you might have had past lives as nature spirits like faes, you might have an affinity with them or have them as spirit guides.

Some of you might know a lot about nature in general or you might even know a lot about indigenous flora and fauna, or specific species of plants. Some of you may have seen orbs of faeries outside...

Possible things about them:

I think the person you're thinking about likes fashion, or for some they might relate to you regarding nature/gardening. They might have fine features or seem delicate and gentle. It feels like looking at ice in their eyes, but it is so gentle. It is reflected in their personality as well. Very kind and calm. Number 33 on the card is jumping out to me, so you might see this number as well.

Ok definitely they are into fashion. For some, this is someone older than you. For others, your person is definitely more mature than their actual age. Like, very very mature and wise. It doesn't feel like it comes from difficult experiences, it feels like they didn't have as much of a difficult upbringing. Maybe they were naturally this way, and good parenting may have helped.

Side note, they could be a bit dreamy.

I don't usually get the past lives card but here it is, so this friend could be from a past life. Or, I'm getting they might remember theirs.

First date together:

They might tell you straight up that they want to go on a date with you. They might text you or ask you face-to-face. You guys have a good connection, very in synch. You two might be very vocal on your date, as in talking a lot and expressing yourself.

Some people in Pile 2 might go karaoke or sing at some point while you have fun together.

Some of you might actually have a unique date where you dress up, put on makeup, get all pretty and fun i.e. cosplay! You might take photos or film your date, you're going to be out there! Ooh lala so fancy! xD

It feels like it's your usual hangout as friends but somehow it's also different, closer and it's getting more realll. I.e. you might get more touchy-touchy this time, they might hold your waist or your hand, or they might kiss your cheek by surprise... Aw this is cute xD

Quotes:

"the time has always been now"

"I will not be a victim"

"you are going to be okay"

"the timing is always right to love someone"

(Wade, C., 2018)

That's it Pile 2, I wish you the best 🤗. Remember this is a collective reading, so take what resonates only.

If you want to purchase a reading from me check my masterlist or go straight to my listings here. discount code: TUMBLR

---

Pile 3

Hi Pile 3! What an interesting and sweet pile.

Signs:

November, strong friendship bond that was made naturally, finding your tribe, realising your own value and worth, sticking with your real friends, be grateful for the loving people and goodness in your life.

Neptune in Taurus, Gemini Rising.

Australia, Sydney/Canberra, Pacific Islands, Samoa, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Russia.

Possible things about you:

You are very shy, secretive, and value personal space and privacy very much.

Some of you like to read physical books.

I'm seeing of you are teenagers, younger girls.

You are a good listener and confident, people always trust you to keep their secrets, and you will not even tell your best friend or your dog a word of it.

You keep many parts of yourself hidden, for example you are secretly very nurturing and creative. You might like little children.

Possible things about them:

I'm seeing yellow and a ball, so I feel like they really like children.

They are also like a big ray of sunlight. They are that person that illuminates the room as soon as they walk in.

They are very honest and open, and perhaps you like that about them.

They are also very warm and compassionate. They bring people in and make sure not to leave out anyone. Never puts themselves above anyone else and aways try to harmonise everyone.

Like you, they dislike discord. You just have a different way to deal with peace/discord and people. But they like your own way of being and they don't want you to change.

Your first date together:

Interestingly enough, I feel like some of you might have your first date with children around, maybe looking after some, i.e. their little cousins or siblings.

Some you might go fishing and/or have a picnic outside.

During this date, they will absolutely love how you don't hide any part of yourself, you're just being yourself and expressing yourself without restriction. You'll come out of your shell because you'll be influence by him, by the children, and you'll be super comfortable overall. You might actually have lots of fun. Scenario example of the date could be that you, them and their little cousins all go fishing, and then you have your picnic nearby; you have fun all day.

I feel like you and your date are seemingly opposite but actually very similar within. You just express yourself differently and process things differently. You might even be a ENFP/INFP or ENFJ/INFJ duo.

Quotes:

"Shepherd-like compassion means considering the benefit of the masses first, so that we place others first and 'I' last". (Yuthok, L. C., 2005)

Aw that's it Pile 3. Thank you for reading. As always, this is a collective reading so take only what resonates and the general ideas with you.

If you want to purchase a reading from me check my masterlist or go straight to my listings here. discount code: TUMBLR

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Pile 4

Signs:

October, fake friend, chasing after someone's love - love is to be received, not chased after, someone wise and mature, compassionate, someone who likes include everyone and whose motto is "we're all in this together"

Someone here has to let go of someone that does not deserve them.

Someone here could receive a letter from the person they are thinking of in this PAC.

Someone's person for this PAC is a romantic relationship and it could be very passionate.

Mars in Scorpio, Mercury square Neptune, Mercury square Pluto, Jupiter in 10th, Jupiter in 12th

Sudan, South Pacific, NZ, Hawaii, Cuba

Possible things about you:

You could be very emotional and sometimes letting emotions get to you, and it might be hard for you to be more in control. I feel like you guys might sometimes let your emotions get the better of you or affect situations you're in. And then you suffer the consequences. I.e. getting overly angry and saying things you regret later, or getting upset, crying, and not being able to react properly and also regretting later on.

I sense some of you are super generous, but you're so kind and compassionate that some people take advantage of you. I feel like a minority of this group are super kind-hearted and never see the worst in people; you never expect people to lie or have bad intentions - or you could be neurodivergent and just not realise it. I'm feeling upset for you 😭

Actually, if you're neurodivergent, it would make sense why it's hard for you to manage your emotions sometimes.

Some of you could have been having a hard time taking care of yourself and organising things ahead, almost feeling like a ghost or a shell. You're especially lacking self-care and that's been taking a toll on you. I also sense that it's causing you to feel disconnected from yourself. You could be trying to desperately hold on to yourself.

Overall, Pile 4, you're very wise and mature, very compassionate and you have strong values. You do not tolerate lying or deceiving, unfairness and similar unacceptable behaviours.

Some of you like to bring people together, others like things to be peaceful in a social context even if you're not the social butterfly.

Possible things about them:

I'm getting that they are someone really smart and intelligent in that they are very creative. They like to create and build things. They are innovative. However, they are possibly channeling this energy in the wrong place or activity and it's wasted. Their confidence and self-esteem is affected as a result.

They're very optimistic and positive so once they regain their spirit, they will get a breakthrough.

Might have a very messy mind, octopus mind, or hyperactive mind

Head in the clouds type of person, they don't mean to ignore you Pile 4. That's also how they get all their cool ideas and solutions

Some of you may have manifested them

The smoke in the card is calling at me so perhaps someone will understand bc I don't lol

I think they could also be someone who values justice and fairness, as well as respect in general

Your first date together:

Honestly all I'm seeing is you might spend your first at home with this person, or at least most of you will

Super chill, relaxed, comfy. Doesn't look like you'll be doing much or do anything that requires much effort.

Could be something simple like playing video games at home while eating snacks, but it's just you and them in the house.

I think part of the reason is because there's not much else to do? Maybe you live in a boring area for your age range.

They might gift you something speciallll. Maybe a birthday present. Or a handwritten letter, like I mentioned in the signs part at the beginning.

Honestly I'm just seeing this date is something pure, just nice and you guys are super kind and have a great time with each other.

Quotes:

"Love yourself enough to tell the truth." (Wade, C., 2018)

If you want to purchase a reading from me check my masterlist or go straight to my listings here. discount code: TUMBLR

"Often we don't want to act as though we did something beneficial all by ourselves; rather, we feel a need to acknowledge the help of others." (Yuthok, L. C., 2005)

That's it beautiful Pile 4, thanks for reading and I hope you had fun reading this PAC. Let me know your thoughts!

Hi! Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed! I quite enjoyed this Pick-a-Pile. I also tried a new format, so that the post is shorter and hopefully easier to read. Let me know if you prefer the paragraphs though 😂

I might do a Past Life PAC next! I want to do something original, so the format could be different again 👀

Enjoy your date! 💕

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