#anyway. finally speaking my truth on this. ive kept it inside for too long.

[ofpd]

gonna make a post vagueing mutuals but it's ok bc im vagueing literally the majority of them so don't take it personally. it's such a pet peeve for me when people do the “mutual on the dash” thing when someone in their mutual circle put it on their dash. like the whole point of “mutual on the dash” is that it's so fun to see a mutual being put on your dash by someone who doesn't know your mutual. and to be like omg you don't know them but i do!!! it's so fun seeing my mutual being put on my dash by someone whom i didn't expect to show me my mutual's post :) what is thee point of saying “mutual on the dash!!” if it was reblogged by someone who both you and your mutual are mutuals with !!!

[whumpflumpthump]

So... I’m Back With More Mac Whump ;)

So I am apparently very bored today.  I feel like the week between Christmas and New Year’s (for those who celebrate them), always feels like a kind of limbo, but that might just be me :p.  Anyways...at least it is helping me to actually write things... 

Warnings:  Referenced nightmares, bad memories, past related trauma, imagined violence, and self-blaming are present in this fic, so if these trigger you, please be safe!  I put Mac through a lot of mental trauma in this fic, if you or someone you know is suffering from this, please, find someone to talk to, believe me, it will help, and know that I am always open to talk about anything.  Please, be safe.

Again, if you have anything MacGyver related that you want me to write, be sure to send me an ask! I would love to write something you guys want to see!

Takes place about two weeks after 2x4.

....

“Well, goodnight Mac, see you tomorrow, bright and early!” Riley said cheerily as she walked out the door.  The team had just gotten back from a successful mission to take down a criminal group that had been blackmailing government officials in Europe.  As per tradition, they had all come to Mac’s house to celebrate with beer around the fire.  Riley was the last to leave, and Bozer was already in his room, getting ready for bed, if not already asleep.

“Bye Riles.”

As soon as Mac had waved goodbye to Riley, his cheerful, but forced smile fell from his face, and he slid down to the couch, his head in his hands. 

God, he was tired.

He had tried his best to keep it together during their mission, but the truth was, he hadn’t been sleeping nearly as much as he needed to.  Every time he went to sleep, he was back in the room with Murdoc looming over him.  Sometimes, he would speak and taunt Mac, but other times, he would just stand and stare at him, with a strange look in his eyes. It was almost, possessive.  Whatever it was, it sent a shudder through Mac every time he thought about it. Lately, though, it was getting worse.  The nightmares didn’t stay confined to when he was asleep, they happened when he was awake too.

He knew he was overreacting.

It’s over.  You’re safe.

No matter how many times he told himself that, his mind wouldn’t cooperate.  

He came up to your door last time.  Who’s to say that he won’t be able to just walk in and take you again?

Mac shook his head trying to clear it of those unwelcome thoughts, and slowly stood up. He wanted to sleep, no he needed to sleep.  He could barely function today, if he continued like this, how long would it be before he was a danger to his team.  To Jack, to Riley.  He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if his stupid fears put one of his friends, no, his family in danger.  

With that thought in mind, he forced himself to walk into the bathroom and get ready for bed.  He went through the motions, washing his face, brushing his teeth, but he still slept fully clothed.  He couldn’t bring himself to sleep without being fully prepared to jump up and defend himself at a moment’s notice, a habit formed during his time in the Army that had come back full swing the past few weeks.

He slowly walked into his bedroom, and sat down on this bed, not fully prepared to lie down and succumb to the darkness that would leave him defenseless against the nightmares that would inevitably follow.

Cold, metal handcuffs digging into his wrists.

The slight pressure of the IV needle sticking into his arm, the liquid inside making his mind muddled and leaving him without his greatest weapon.

The whistling that signaled the return of his psychopathic kidnapper.

The sharp pain as Murdoc twisted the needle in his arm.

Mac dug his fingers into the pillow as he tried to clear his head of the intrusive thoughts.

He didn’t even try to stop the tears that started rolling down his cheeks as the thoughts continued.  

You’re weak.  You are going to be the reason that Jack, the reason that Matty, the reason that Riley, dies.  

You can’t even protect yourself, how will you possibly protect them?

I am everywhere, I will kill you and everyone else you love.

Murdoc was taunting him now, and in Mac’s fatigued mind, he believed him.  After all, it was his fault, wasn’t it?

He was so tired.  Mac kept trying to quiet his mind, but he couldn’t stop his mind.  

Jack, his neck snapped, lying dead on the ground.  It was his fault.

Riley, bleeding out from a gunshot wound, dying on the ground.  It was his fault.

Before his mind could bring up any more of his family to die, he felt arms around his shoulders, softly rubbing in circles.  It took a few minutes before he realized it was Bozer.  Knowing he must have woken him with his crying, he instantly tried to apologize, but Bozer interrupted him.

“Hey, hey, hey man.  It’s okay, just breathe,” he said softly, as Mac began to calm down, “You don’t have to be sorry, what you went through would mess with anyone’s head.  I’m just sorry we didn’t realize what you were going through sooner.  Do you want to talk about it?”

“Every time when I fall asleep, I’m back there, with Murdoc, and I can’t stop him, I can’t...” 

“It’s okay Mac, you’re safe, you’re here now, you escaped.”

“I know, I know I’m safe, but I can’t stop thinking about it, and I know I need to sleep, because if I don’t, you guys could die, and it would be my fault.  You guys could die, and it would be all my fault.  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”

“I’m alive Mac, Riley’s alive, Jack’s alive, and we’re all going to stay that way.  You know, we can all hold are own, you’re not responsible for all of us,” Bozer responded, with a small smile.

“Okay, okay...” Mac looked like he was thinking that over.

“Do you need anything, do you want me to call Jack?”

“No, no, don’t bother him, could you, could you stay?” Mac asked sheepishly.

“Of course I can, anything for you Mac.,” Bozer responded, and then went to go get a chair to sit in.

Mac finally laid down and it looked like his fatigue was about to catch up to him.  His eyelids were beginning to droop.

Bozer looked at Mac with a smile, and sat down in the chair.

“Do you remember that time when we were little and...”

[sailorshadzter]

im back to drop more jonsa on your timelines  👀 👀

yes i know ive written this scene ten thousand times before, dont @ me lmao 

Winterfell looms ahead, daunting with it's sharp stone peaks, the storm clad skies giving it an eerie sort of backdrop. And yet, he presses on, spurring his horse forward, well aware of the quick pace in which his heart is racing. He knows what lays ahead of him might be the worst he's faced, and yet, there's even the smallest of chances it will be the best he's faced. Though he longs for the latter, he's prepared for the first.

When he reaches the gate, darkness has begun to fall and the soldiers peer down at him from the watchtower above. "Who goes there?" One shouts, though he and the man standing beside him have already exchanged a strange, but knowing look. There wasn't a man alive in Winterfell that would not recognize him, even now.

"Jon Snow." He calls back and it takes only a moment more for the gate to creak open.

"Lord Snow," another soldier says, not kindly, but Jon can't help but to smile at the sight of his Stark livery. "I can't imagine our queen would like to see you." The man goes on, crossing his arms across his chest as Jon slides down from his horse. Another smile twitches on his lips; her men are loyal, quite certainly, and for that he is thankful. "Something funny, Snow?"

"That's enough, Quinn."

The soldier turns, seeing not just Lord Royce approaching, but Davos Seaworth, who looks far less stony faced than the ever loyal Yohn Royce. "I'll take it from here," Royce continues, gesturing for the soldier to move along, who does only after he shoots Jon a final scowl. "Jon Snow." He says evenly, though he pins sharp, angry eyes upon him. At his side, Davos shifts, clearly torn between greeting the young man with fondness and adding fuel to the fire that so surely has already begun to brew. In the end, fondness wins and before he can react, he's wrapped in the older man's warm embrace; it's something he's not felt in so long, for a moment, he can't even breathe. But soon Davos steps back and gives him a single, silent nod, but meeting his eyes, Jon understands exactly what he wished to convey. "I'm surprised to find you here at our gate."

Jon is, too, in truth.

"I was summoned." He replies, shrugging slightly.

"Summoned?" Lord Royce stammers, shaking his head, clearly surprised to hear of this. "By whom?"

"The queen herself."

After a little more back and forth, Jon is taken from the gate and swept inside, sent to the kitchens to warm himself by the ovens and eat some leftovers from that evening's meal. He's eaten no more than three spoonfuls of soup before the door to the kitchen opens and it's Davos standing there. "You might have come when she first sent for you," he says as he comes inside, the door falling closed behind him.

Jon looks away, knowing that to be true, but he hadn't been ready back then. How could he face her, how could he stood at her side, knowing what he'd done? It was true, he had done it for her, for their family, for the realm... But still yet... All he had done to get to that moment where he'd stood before Daenerys in the throne room of the Red Keep... No, he was not a man worthy of standing beside someone like her.

But perhaps now, perhaps now if she forgave him... Perhaps he will be the man to stand at her side.

"Aye..." He finally says, turning back to look up at Davos, who offers a smile. "Is she terribly angry with me?" He decides to ask, not certain he's ready to know the answer.

Davos can't help but to laugh in spite of the young man before him. "She was." He admits, sobering then, thinking back to those early days. Back to the days of a stone faced queen with eyes sharper than steel, colder than ice. Days of a queen who took to her rooms, rather than live in the lively court that most expected of Sansa Stark. But then... After so long, she began to smile again. Arya returned from her travels and it lightened her heart, softened her icy exterior. "But she was sad, too." Jon bows his head again, spoon left abandoned as his hand curls into a fist atop the table. "Your queen is a forgiving one, though, tough, but forgiving. She is soft inside yet." Jon can't help but to smile, thinking of her as she was when they reunited in King's Landing. With war braids tied into her vibrant red hair, she had rode south with an army at her back to lay claim to what was hers. "She even forgave Lord Glover, now he is one of her most loyal of men." Jon raises his eyes at this news, for he thought that would be a relationship never to be mended.

Before he can speak, the door opens again, and this time it is Lord Royce. "The queen says she will see you now," he doesn't look eager to do so, but he gestures for Jon to follow after him. Scrambling to his feet, Jon pauses only a moment to put a hand to Davos' shoulder, giving the man a nod, who smiles in response before he turns to watch Jon disappear out the door after Royce. "It's about time," he grumbles to himself before settling down in the chair Jon had vacated, helping himself to a mug of ale, hoping the young queen he's come to love will finally find true happiness.

Upstairs, Sansa is pacing.

"My lady, please," it's Shae, desperate to get her queen to cease her walking just so she might straighten her skirts and brush her hair. Here, in the privacy of Sansa's own rooms, she dares speak to her as she once did in King's Landing, though Sansa has always insisted she call her whatever she pleases. "You needn't worry," she says, catching her young queen by the hand then, forcing her to finally come to a rest at the center of the room. "He loves you still, I am certain, he will return to you without fail."

Sansa dares not believe her beloved handmaiden, but she nods like an obedient child anyways.

It's been a long two years since the day she and Jon parted ways on the docks of King's Landing, so very long that sometimes it only feels like a dream. No, not a dream, but a nightmare. Once she dreamed of violence and shadow, now she dreams of golden sunlight and a different kind of pain. "My gown, I should change my gown." She suddenly sputters, thinking that there's absolutely no way she can meet with Jon wearing the one she wears. But before she can say another word, there comes a knock to her door and she swears she might faint there on the spot.

Shae smiles, patting her cheek tenderly before she slips by, crossing the room to open the door. Sansa can see it is Lord Royce there and her heart has begun to race, faster than ever before. Shae dips a quick bow and then is stepping aside, allowing Lord Royce to step inside and at once, he's there, standing in her rooms.

Her world suddenly ceases to spin.

"Leave us." She hears herself say aloud and both her loyal Hand and handmaiden slip from the room, leaving them alone. He is as she remembers him to be, though with more beard and more curls tucked into the bun at the back of his head. Despite it all, her fingers twitch, for she longs to run her hands through his wild hair. "... Jon..." His name is a whisper upon her lips, something like a plea, something that is enough to send chills racing the length of his spine. "I can't believe you came." After all the summons, after all the months, the years, she cannot believe he's standing there in front of her.

Jon cannot take his eyes off of her; she's beautiful there in what looks to be a well worn blue wool gown, with draping sleeves and a slim fit bodice, a gown made for a queen. Her red hair is loosened from its braids and rather tumbles down her back in soft waves, enticing him all the more. "My queen." He finally speaks, saying words that for the very first time don't feel hollow, that don't feel empty. Without another word, Jon comes forward, dropping to his knees before her. She opens her mouth as if she means to interrupt, but he gives the smallest shakes of his head, silencing her before anything else is said. "I don't deserve to stand before you, I don't deserve to ask forgiveness of you, but I..." He trails off, gazing up into her steady blue gaze, emotion choking him as he fights to find the words to say. The words that might make her understand. "I want to stand at your side, if you'll have me." He wasn't ready back then, he wasn't the man she needed him to be back then when he'd left for the Night's Watch, but now... Now.... He thinks himself ready to be the man she's always needed him to be.

As she stares down at him, all the anger that she ever held within flees. It dissipates as she sinks to the floor, ignoring his protest as she levels herself with him. Everything she's ever thought, ever felt, fades away as she takes his face between her palms, tears misting in her eyes as a smile curves on her lips. "What took you so long?" Is all she asks instead, her words eliciting something like a chuckle from him. There in the moment, all that remains is the love she's always kept in her heart for him, all that still yet remains in her heart is the warmth of him, the strength of him. Everything about him that makes her happy, that makes her whole.

Before she can say another word, before he thinks to speak again, he draws her into his arms. Two long, cold, lonely years he's spent without her, without knowing the warmth of her skin against his. This moment he's imagined hundreds, if not thousands of times, but no dream could ever compare to what he felt right then with her so truly in his arms. "I was lost," he breathes against her head, the familiar scent of rosewater still clings to her hair. The realization brings a soft smile to his face. "But you guided me home." She's drawing back, blue eyes finding gray, her rosy lips curving with the most beautiful of smiles. In the golden firelight, she is radiant.

It takes only a moment more for his lips to find hers and in that moment, her world begins to spin again.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 15

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Davin find closure, and Bucky leaves something for you to find.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Reference to assault

Word Count: 2.5k

AO3

Your apartment was exactly the way you’d left it the morning before going to work.

No lamp broken in half. No cracked wall plaster. Certainly no spilled ichor staining the carpet in pools of black nightmare fuel. The wizards had set everything right, wiping all trace that a demon had ever set foot inside.

Or had ever laid hands on you.

You couldn’t bear to look at Davin once you had returned to the scene of the crime. You didn’t blame him, not even a little bit. If anything, you were the one who felt responsible for what had happened.

“So…” You trailed off, voice flat. You had no idea what to say now that Davin was here, standing just in your peripheral vision. “Are you… okay?”

The question felt incredibly stupid once voiced. Of course he wasn’t okay.

“Yeah,” Davin answered, quiet. “Or… no. I will be, though, I think. They said there wasn’t any permanent damage…”

“That’s good.” You looked down at your shoes, the awkwardness forcing your shoulders to hunch in a protected posture. You felt like you should be doing something, be a good hostess and offer him a glass of water. Something to break up the tense silence weighing heavily on your head.

“I’m sorry.”

You raised your head, blinking as you finally met his gaze. Or tried to. Davin wasn’t looking in your direction, his eyes unwavering on the spot in front of the couch where he had… where the demon had tried to strangle you.

“Davin…” A sigh punctuated his name. “It wasn’t you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he responded immediately, as if knowing what you were going to say. “They were my hands that… that did it. I-I was awake the whole time. I felt it happening, felt you struggling. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop him. I tried.”

You took a step towards him, wanting to reach out but instead letting your hand hang limp. This was exactly what you’d been afraid of. Him remembering.

“Davin. Look at me.”

Reluctant, he turned to face you, green eyes haggard as he frowned unhappily.

“This isn’t your fault. If anyone shares the blame, it’s me.” You took a steadying breath, attempting to sort your thoughts into words that would make him understand. “I don’t know how much you know or what the wizards told you, but that thing used you to get to me. You’re a victim.”

His gaze hardened as his frown deepened. “So are you. I wasn’t the only one with my choices taken away, and I’m not talking about that thing that controlled me, either. I’m talking about the other one.”

“What?”

Sweat beaded on your forehead and you wiped your palms on the silky fabric of your robes.

“What do you mean?”

“The other demon. Bucky. That’s his name, right?” His eyes narrowed at your lack of response.

You hurried to say something, anything, your bumbling words tripping over themselves.

“I… yes, but, what does he have to do with… with anything?”

Your heart was thudding in your chest like a spooked rabbit. You were scared shitless but your panic-stricken brain couldn’t pinpoint why—not until Davin said the words you’d been unconsciously dreading the most.

“Remember how I said I was aware? I was trapped in my own mind like a prison, but I could still hear Yaegore’s thoughts. That’s what he called himself,” he explained seeing the confusion on your face. “That mark on your shoulder? He knew what it was and what it meant, and I heard it all. He wasn’t really… quiet in my head.”

All you could do was stare, words trapped in your throat as you tried to imagine the horror of being a prisoner in your own body.

Well, okay, maybe you could sympathize a little, but nothing to this extent. And if Davin thought your situations were even close to being similar—

“But anyway, the point is, Yaegore knew you were bound to another demon. It’s why he couldn’t make you his new host. He was pissed, I mean really pissed, and he… he made me hurt you. But it was more than that; he also wanted to force the other demon to reveal itself. And it did, but we—he couldn’t see it before I blacked out.”

The memories rose in your mind without your approval: Bucky’s armored arm snaking around Davin’s throat, pinning him across his chest as his struggles grew weaker. He hadn’t gotten a good look at Bucky’s face, you were sure of it, so why did he—

“While I was recovering, or…” He gave a humorless smile, “that’s what those people called it when they left me tied to a gurney. Had me hooked up to IVs and made me drink weird stuff. But I couldn’t—Yaegore couldn’t talk. They kept that mask covering my mouth, so he couldn’t escape, I guess.”

Davin rubbed the back of his neck, nails scratching into his short blond hair as he winced.

“He wouldn’t stop yelling. It was… bad. I’m not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me—I’m trying to explain. He was scared. He knew they were going to find a way to get him out of me. But all of that fear vanished when he saw that demon. He was pissed. Because he knew this was the demon he’d been trying to draw out.”

“You…” You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “Bucky went to see you?”

Davin nodded gravely, brows pulled into deep furrows.

“He… he spoke to me. Not to Yaegore. To me. He said…” Now it was Davin’s turn to look nervous, licking his chapped lips. “He didn’t threaten me, exactly, but he definitely made it clear I couldn’t tell the wizard’s the truth when I was finally free. He said if they knew about the demon pact, they would keep you there indefinitely.”

His next words were soft and unsteady as he said, “I couldn’t do that to you. So I stayed quiet.”

The air evaporated from your lungs as if you’d been sucker-punched in the gut.

Bucky knew. He knew about the bond and hadn’t said anything!

You didn’t know what was worse—that he had lied to you or that he had made Davin lie, too. You hadn’t even known Bucky had gone to see Davin, let alone spoken to him.

What else is he not telling me?

Davin took a step towards you with a grave expression, and you tried to focus your attention on him even as your thoughts twirled in a maelstrom of denial and shock.

“I need you to be honest with me,” he said. “I need you to tell me if you’re in danger.”

Danger? What was he talking about? The heigore was gone, why would he think—

“Did he force you into this?” His head tilted as he studied your face. “Are you under his control? I don’t really understand how it works, but Yaegore was pretty freaked out, and he was an asshole.”

You found yourself unable to speak once again. The idea of you being in danger from Bucky was too ludicrous, too impossible for you to even counter.

Davin gave you a sympathetic look and dug into his pocket.

“That wizard, Strange, he put the Sanctum’s number into my phone. I can call them right now if you need me to—“

“No!” You put your hand on his, curling around the phone he had clutched in his palm. “No, don’t.”

He said your name, kindly but with a steely firmness.

“I’m not scared,” he asserted. “If this is what it takes, I’m more than happy to do it. I figure, after dealing with Yaegore bitching in my head for the past two months, this other demon can’t do much worse.”

You were pretty sure he was wrong about that, not that Bucky would ever hurt Davin. But… you also knew Bucky wouldn’t react well if Davin wanted to expose your secret to the wizards.

“Davin, I appreciate it, really.” You didn’t let go of his hand, or his phone. Couldn’t take the risk he wouldn’t listen. “But it’s not like that.”

Are you sure? a tiny voice asked, insidious. Are you really sure?

“So… he doesn’t force you to have sex with him?” Davin’s voice was flat, inflectionless, but the sadness in his eyes made you drop your gaze. The hot-sick feeling of shame crept up the back of your neck, and you wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.

But it didn’t. So you had to speak.

“He doesn’t have a choice,” you said, the words tight in your throat. “Neither of us does. It just… happened, and neither of us wanted it.”

You lifted your head and met his eye. “We’re trying to figure it out on our own for now, so I need you to not say anything, all right? Will you do that for me?”

You knew it was unfair to ask, and it was more than Davin deserved on his plate, but you were terrified if the wizards found out. Davin had to continue to maintain the secret. Keep the lie intact. For your sake, if not for Bucky’s. You didn’t want to end up strapped to a gurney for the rest of your life. If they had done that to Davin, whose situation had been fixable, you didn’t want to think what they would do to you.

And you couldn’t bear to think about Bucky ending up in the wizard’s dungeon. Even if he was lying to you, keeping his own secrets, that didn’t mean he deserved to be tortured, and—and hung up on the wall like a grisly trophy.

Davin lowered his hand and you released it, exhaling in relief as he placed the phone back into his pocket.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked softly. “Anything at all?”

His words were unfairly kind and you knew you didn’t deserve them. Not after everything he had been put through. Still, despite all of that, Davin still wanted to help you.

Once upon a time, you’d had feelings for him. It was a relief to know that you hadn’t been wrong to have them, that you hadn’t misjudged him and that the last two months of creepy behavior hadn’t been Davin at all.

Before you realized what you were doing, your arms were around his neck and you were hugging him tightly, pressing your face into his shoulder as you squeezed.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

Being so close to him, you couldn’t help but think about Bucky. How long it had taken him to wrap his arms around you, hesitant and almost shy. Davin didn’t take nearly as long; he pulled his arms around your ribcage and hugged back, as comfortable as if you did this kind of thing all the time.

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m just glad you’re okay. That we’re both okay.”

You nodded but didn’t speak, afraid if you did your voice would be unsteady. Your eyes stinging and your throat hurting was a good indication it would be.

He sighed, the rise and fall of his chest felt against yours.

“Fucking demons and wizards. Assholes from outer space were bad enough, but this was just… completely insane. Maybe I should get out of New York while I still can.”

You snorted softly, pulling back as you attempted to give him a reassuring smile that didn’t tremble.

Davin released you, not just returning your smile but improving on it with the crookedness you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“So. You can summon portals, huh?”

You blinked like an owl, or maybe a blind-sided deer.

“No,” you denied immediately. “The wizards tested me, came to the conclusion I’m as magically dead as a doornail.”

“Hmm.” He made a face, scrunching up his nose while your expression remained impassive. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that. Yaegore couldn’t stop talking about you. The wonder child who could summon demons. Honestly, I think he had a crush. In fact, when he wouldn’t shut up and went on for hours and hours, I made fun of him for it. Got me some peace and quiet for a while, at least.”

He gave a self-deprecating shrug at your silent staring, valiantly trying to maintain his cooked smile. He was doing an excellent job for the most part, and if you didn’t know better, you would say the experience hadn’t rattled him at all.

But you did know better.

“Hey, if I can’t joke about my own possession, can I truly call myself a Millennial?”

Your sigh was loud and heavy but you rolled your eyes to show him you didn’t mean it. At least one of you still had your sense of humor. Yours had been lost somewhere in a wizard’s dungeon.

As weirdly easy as it was to talk to Davin now, probably because of your shared and very strange trauma, he couldn’t stay forever. You both had the shattered pieces of yours lives to pick up, but you promised to keep in touch. You, because you were worried after his experience with the heigore. Him, probably because of your experience with Bucky. You knew it was no use telling Davin you had no reason to fear Bucky, so you didn’t try.

After he left, giving you one last warm, parting hug, you were left alone in your apartment. The silence was damning, the apartment too cold, and you turned the heater up, afterwards heading for the bedroom for a change of clothes. Silk robes did nothing for the December chill.

There was a bundle on your bed, and a second bundle of fur on top of that. The bundle moved, stretched out while splaying claws, and gave a yawning mewl.

“Monster!”

You buried your face in his side, hugging him tightly. He bore the burden of your attention before wiggling out of your grasp, leaving behind the pile of clothing the wizards must have brought.

On top of your clothing (washed and dried but now covered with grey cat hairs), was a folded piece of white paper.

Curious, you opened the sheet, eyes widening as they followed along the short message.

1 Main St, Brooklyn

9PM

Ask for Jacob Miller

-JBB

The handwriting was in cursive, oddly neat but old-fashioned, but that probably shouldn’t have been a surprise considering who had written it.

Bucky was asking you to meet him somewhere, tonight. You didn’t know who Jacob Miller was, but the thought of meeting Bucky again after not having had a chance after so long…

…and knowing by the gauge of your body, like some kind of fucked-up clock tuned into your libido…

Your stomach twisted into knots but your fingers curled into fists. Bucky owed you a goddamn explanation. Not even the daunting idea of him having to feed from you was going to stop you from getting your answers.

With a resolution you hadn’t felt in a long time, you stripped off the silken robes and headed for the shower in preparation for what the night would bring.

Next Chapter

[space-------kid]

can’t keep my hands (off you).

Anime/Manga: One Punch Man Pairing: Garou/fem!Reader Additional pairing/characters: platonic Metal Bat/fem!Reader, Zenko, mentions of other heroes such as Saitama, Watchdog Man, etc. Genre: Romance, comedy Warning: Absolute silliness. Language – Garou and reader both ate rainbows for breakfast. Dumbassery. Teeth-rotting fluff, maybe? Reader is hella strong like Saitama. Half-assed spice because you’re good at cockblocking Garou despite being low-key thirsty for him. And LOTS of dumbassery from the reader, most probably. Additional tag: Dream-based fic, canon-divergent, Garou is horny af A/N: This is supposed to be a lengthy one-shot, but I’m a dumbass who can’t keep my word so the supposedly one-shot isn’t a one shot anymore.  Now I have to worry how I should properly divide all those parts (I mean, they’re already divided, but–) 😅

You + your fight instinct + beating monsters up = ? Garou: *feeling horny* MY BODY IS FUCKING READY-

Summary:

Your life had its general ups and downs, pros and cons, the good and the bad.

You were admittedly a coward and afraid of being targeted by people for it. Following the advice of your (best) friend you trained hard, like, FUCKING hard, and now you’re blessedly, utterly strong you can take down enemies with just one hit. A good thing, really. Can’t let any bad guy harass you or something.

But-

You were probably cursed with the biggest, baddest of luck. Not only were monsters chasing you, suddenly there was this fucking hot bastard weirdo who kept on calling himself the Hero Hunter. “I’m not a hero, goddamn it!”

i. and ii. | iii. and iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | [tba]

“i can’t keep my

hands

off…!”

- can’t keep my hands off you/simple plan

viii.

You were right about him being a thirsty bastard.

After inadvertently revealing Badd’s identity a week ago, Garou seemed to have doubled his efforts of acting so flirtatiously around you.

The Hero Hunter would come to your house like the usual, whether if he was injured from his hero hunting or not. But if it was the former, then Garou was at a greater advantage of acting on his… strange… interest towards you.

You weren’t exactly pretty or anything. Hell, you didn’t even find yourself containing even the smallest bit of allure or charm. So what exactly did Garou see in you?

Your strength?

Huh. It might be one.

But why did he have to make such perverted advances towards you?

And you were honestly at fault, too. Your attempts to dissuade him were feeble at best, and you couldn’t help feeling flustered which probably egged him on more than it should.

You were out in the city for a supplies run, your search for goods that would meet your standards taking you out of K-City. Badd offered to come with you, but he received an urgent summons from the Hero Association and gave him the task of escorting an executive since news of Garou attacking some freak named Zeimeet put them on high alert.

Huh. So Garou targeted executives from H. A., too? To you, however, it was highly unlikely since he was only after the heroes.

Eh. It’s as if he shared with you all of his plans with regards to his hero hunting. And it’s been days since he went to your humble abode.

Truth be told, you kinda missed the guy…

You were in a cab going in S-City when the road ahead was blasted by an explosion. The driver swerved and stopped just in time before the cab reached the blast before scrambling out of the vehicle and leaving you inside. That jerk.

Heart in your throat, you got out of the car and panicked when fleeing citizens screamed in terror about rampaging monsters. You were about to follow them to the nearest evacuation shelter when something wet and slimy wrapped around your body, yanking you in the opposite direction. You could only take one horrified look at your abductor – some weird blob that resembled a humanoid clump of seaweed – before your world turned black, your fight instinct rising to the surface to ensure your survival.

 F̖̜̳̼̏͛͐̈̚͢Ḭ̵̛̦̣͓̣̾̎̎̑̋̊͊͘G̷̛̛͇̮͍̰̒͗̾̌̚͟Ḩ̷̢͚͇̅̇͊̅̆̓̉̎̋͘͟T̸̨̛̗̩͎̞̟̾̿̾̍̾̃̈̓͟

 Like the usual, you weren’t aware of your surroundings as your body moved on autopilot, obliterating any monster regardless of their disaster level that crossed your path as you ventured deeper in the city. Both civilians and heroes would openly gawk at you as you intercepted any monster attack and do the heroes’ job for them. Soon enough, the powder blue long-sleeved dress you were wearing was stained with the blood of monsters and you were left walking on foot when your matching flat shoes slipped off your feet sometime after your fight instinct took over.

If you were aware, you would be screaming your head off at how terrified you were of the sudden rampage of monsters. But your conscious mind was blissfully locked in some fantasy it had created which involved a certain Hero Hunter while your fight instinct was having the time of its life killing monsters here and there.

Leaving a trail of monster blood and entrails on your wake, you stopped traveling from roof to roof when your dull eyes caught a silver-haired dude walking away from a beat-up guy wearing a ripped red sweater, bontan pants, and sporting a metal bat. A little girl was stopping the beat-up guy from going after the other teen.

Silver hair, black turtleneck, and loose white pants…

Your fight instinct was familiar with this teen. Wasn’t this the one who attacked you twice and who was with you when your home was almost wrecked by a monster?

Warning signals blared in your mind, alerting your fight instinct of imminent danger. A monster resembling a phoenix flew overhead and you watched as it followed Silver. You tailed it, landing behind the avian beast when it blocked Silver’s path.

“Wha-? Hey, [Name]!” yelled Silver when the dust cleared from the force of your landing. “What are you doing here?”

Your fight instinct perked up at the mention of your identity. Silver knew your name, and your fight instinct was yet again reminded of that one time with the frog-like monster. Was Silver someone your fight instinct should protect, too?

The phoenix monster opened its beak to speak. “You know this human, Hero Hunter?”

The jellyfish resembling a sludge of sewer water chortled at you. “Behehe, maybe we could take her as a hostage, too, as replacement for Metal Bat’s little sister!”

Metal Bat? Little sister?

Images of the beat-up guy and the little girl from earlier flashed in your fight instinct’s mind as your memory supplied it of the two’s identities.

This Metal Bat person was your best friend, and the little girl named Zenko was someone you see as your younger sister.

And, oh. Did Jelly-freak just imply that it had tried to kidnap this Zenko?

 T̶̡̗̖̞̻̣̹̻͂̀́́̚H̵̞̺̥̦͍̲̄̀̆̑̆R̩̜̮̫̠̋̅̂̋̈͡ͅE̹͎̘͈̿̒̌̇̑ͅÅ͉̩̪͔̝͆͊̌̀̆͗̽́͝ͅͅT̵̪̥̤̣͖̞̞͉͍̦̉̀̎͗̔̇͘͘.̵̡̪͕̱͇̬͉̥̙̀̉͂̎̉̂̕

̸̧̣̯̠͇̪͛̓͒͑̀̆̇̏ͅ

̴̰̩̳̳̳̞̩̣̇̏͋̓͊̈͢K̶̳̦͉͍̞̆́́̏͗̅̑̊I̴͍̲̞̦̖͛́͒͆̍̿̕͘͞͝Ļ̶̥̩͙͓̻̻͈͉̺̃͂͗̎̀̓̄̓͝L̠̫͚̣͎͛͒̍̓́̀͟͠.̶̢̡̤̯͚̝̬͈̏̈̈́́̋̚

̧̥͓̦̹̙͉͊̏́̎̔͊̏͛͟

̷̧͚̫̬͕̭̤͓̇͊́̉̉͡A̙̳͓̮͈͔̎̒̽͐̾̑́͐͞N̵̙̟̤̣̙͒̓̆͗̀̂ͅǸ̴͔̦͍̫̘̥͉́̍̈̓̎̃̈́͜͞͞Ḯ̡̦͚̫͔̝̝̪̎͆͒͟͡ͅH͇̫̪̪͎̩̒͆͋̊̍Į̵͎̞̜̝͋̓̀̂̂̇̎͊̓͟͠Ĺ̵̢͇͇͙̻̀́̒͗̐̔͜͡͡Ă̸̧̛̙͚̣̰̣͂̑̈̑́͜͠͝ͅT̲̰͉̰͉͓̆͛̀̎̿̒̇̎͐È̢̝͇̞̠̍̔̈́̇̈̚.̣̜͎͉̭̥̦͗͒̉́͜͞

 Before any of the other three could blink, you had already crossed the distance between you and Jelly-freak, your hands crushing its liquid body repeatedly. Jelly-freak tried its hardest to reform itself but it was no match for you as your god-like, ferocious strength continuously pounded it to the ground. Your fight instinct assessed any possible weakness that could be exploited and realized that the more of that oil-like substance seep out of Jelly-freak’s body, the harder it was for the monster to regenerate. So beat it up brutally, you did, until all that stuff left Jelly-freak’s body which eventually caused it to die.

“Hedro-Jellyfish!”

Startled by the sudden development, Bird-freak took to the skies before nose-diving straight at you, beak poised to put a hole on your chest.

“[Name]- whatever’s in charge, look out!” Silver shouted in warning, moving to intercept the attack but you were faster. You met the winged monster’s assault head-on and caught its beak with your bare hands.

With a derisive snort, your fight instinct directed your hands into tearing Bird-freak’s beak apart. Taking no heed of the humanoid figure screaming from within the monster’s body, you viciously swung one leg up to crush its internal organs.

Silver’s eyes were on you, but your fight instinct wouldn’t stop until it could no longer sense life emanating from Bird-freak’s body. And so you pummelled your fists brutally against it until nothing but a bloody smear and loose feathers were left.

Satisfied that Bird-freak was well and truly dead, your fight instinct pulled your body away from what was left of the monster.

“W-Whoah… [Name], what the fuck…?”

Lifeless eyes found Silver’s golden eyes sparkling with excitement, a huge, impressed smile on his face.

.

.

Garou couldn’t believe his luck at what he had just witnessed.

He was left dissatisfied with his bout against Metal Bat, but thankful enough that his little sister had come to intervene. If that moron’s bat connected with that final attack, Garou was sure that his hero hunting days would be over.

You and Metal Bat sure were compatible as best friends: a little lady who got taken over by her fight instinct that utilized your strength to its full potential and kill anything with one hit and a delinquent who got stronger as his fighting spirit got pumped up. You were weirdos, the both of you.

Insanely strong weirdos.

He wanted to continue the fight, but Metal Bat’s sister – he called her Zenko, right? – had made Garou adhere to some stupid family rule about her older brother promising never to expose her to violence. The little girl’s got guts, kudos to her, and Garou somewhat admired her for it. And so he left, making some half-assed excuse that he had to be doing something else.

Oh, well. His original target was Watchdog Man, anyway.

Without so much as a by your leave, Garou left the siblings with a reminder to Metal Bat that he was lucky to get to live another day.

The Hero Hunter smirked upon remembering your request not to kill your best friend. Guess he had to check that off his mental list, huh? And besides, he was done with Metal Bat. Garou already knew the S-Class hero’s fighting style and how to knock the latter up before his strength could rise due to his so-called fighting spirit.

Garou took a detour the moment he felt eyes on him. He took a side street and arrived just in time to see some sludge-looking freak appear and talked to itself about kidnapping feisty little Zenko. Without hesitation, he struck the monster with enough force that could kill anyone.

Nuh-uh. You ain’t kidnapping little kids. Not on my watch.

Sludge-freak reformed its body, surprising Garou that it had survived the attack just in time for the owner of the second pair of eyes to make itself known.

The bird monster introduced itself as Phoenix Man, telling Garou that he and Sludge-freak weren’t the Hero Hunter’s enemies. The monster even went as far as to praising him for his hero hunting gig and inviting him to join some organization called the Monster Association.

Garou not only showed his indifference by telling the oversized chicken that he wasn’t interested, he also ripped the card it offered him to pieces to emphasize his point.

Did these idiots think that he would join them just because he called himself a monster?

The nerve of these disgusting freaks.

Before Birdbrain nor Sludge-freak could react to the impudence he displayed, something – someone, rather, landed powerfully a few feet behind the avian monster. Garou’s eyes widened with astonishment when the dust cleared to reveal you standing in the middle of the crater, sporting the same expressionless look on your blood-stained face.

Monsters were out and about, rampaging to their black hearts’ content. Why the hell were you out here when you should be staying at home, cowering on your futon and under the sheets?

It was pointless asking why you were out when you gave him no reply, staying silent as Birdbrain asked him if he knew you. But when Sludge-freak opened its mouth to suggest kidnapping you, you were suddenly spurred into action.

Garou himself ought to kill Sludge-freak for even proposing to take you as hostage but you beat him to it. He and Birdbrain could only watch as you obliterate Sludge-freak with your bare fucking hands-

You even beat him in defending you when you met Birdbrain’s offensive head on, beating the crap out of that chicken with your hands still stained by Sludge-freak’s muck.

The way the skirt of your dress flowed as you moved, your [length] hair wet with monster blood, and the blank look on your face while you killed those two…

Fuck. That’s so hot.

Saying that the sight thrilled Garou to the bone was an understatement. Lucky his pants were made loose, or else it would be hard to walk without you seeing the excitement between his legs.

“W-Whoah,” Garou muttered, grinning wickedly. “[Name], what the fuck…?”

He watched as you turned to look at him, gaze dull. You looked as if you were assessing him as you crossed the distance between the two of you, lips parting slightly as if you wanted to speak.

Despite the dead look in your [color] eyes, Garou could see recognition flashing briefly over them.

“[Name], hey. It’s me- oi!” he exclaimed when you ignored what he was saying and started to walk past him. “Where are you going?”

As expected, you offered him no reply. Garou was left walking after you, quietly assessing if you had taken any damage from your fight – albeit one-sided – against those two freaks. So far, he could tell from the mix of green, blue, and red blood on your feet, face, and dress that nothing was yours. You didn’t appear to be minding any sort of injuries, so that was one thing he wouldn’t be worrying about.

Garou halted when he recognized the path you were taking and immediately caught sight of an unconscious Metal Bat, the hero’s little sister sitting on her haunches and poking him on the back. Zenko looked up and saw you and Garou, her eyes widening at the sight of you.

“[Name]-san? Y-You’re covered in blood! Are you okay?” she asked you worriedly, rushing up to meet you. “And it’s the weird man from earlier! Why are you with her?”

The Hero Hunter caught the protectiveness in Zenko’s voice and shot her a cocky smirk. “And why are you still here, runt? Shouldn’t you be calling someone to take your brother to the nearest hospital, considering that I beat him up pretty bad?”

Alright, maybe that was tactless of him, boasting how he beat up your best friend while your fight instinct was still commandeering your body. Your aura shifted from calm and collected to murderous in a fraction of a second, your previously blank expression turning malevolent when you looked at him over your shoulder. Lucky the kid couldn’t see it, though.

Oh, shit.

Was he going to see his life flash before him today?

Before he could take a stance to defend himself should your fight instinct tell you to attack, however, Garou had to mentally scream a command to his body to move and catch you before you hit the ground when your eyes rolled back. He was deaf to Zenko’s frightened call of your name, his focus solely locked on your prone form in his arms.

You looked tired, and it was just what Garou had expected. Maybe you finally had had enough killing monsters today, and tell your fight instinct that there really wasn’t any more reason to go on a rampage.

But the way you looked at him when he made the mistake of bragging his win against Metal Bat was alarming. Garou only ever saw this fighting side of you looking so dull, and to sense and see such protective killing intent in you was nothing short of… terrifying.

And hot, fuck.

Garou ought to beat his raging hormones for even thinking about it. Goddmanit, you very nearly killed him had you not fainted, and all he could think of was how hot it would be to see you try to beat him up?

Damn it. The things you do to him…

Feeling your breath even out as you shifted from unconscious to asleep, Garou hooked his other arm under your knees and turned to Zenko as he lifted you up bridal style. Fuck you for fitting so perfectly in his arms and fuck him, too, for enjoying the feel of your weight. He grabbed the perfect opportunity to clutch a handful of one of your thighs and wasn’t disappointed.

Fucking finally. He’d make sure to do the same once you wake up to see your reaction-

“Hey! Are you groping [Name]-san?!”

Garou blinked and raised a brow at Zenko who was glaring up at him angrily. He clicked his tongue at her and turned around to leave.

“I’m just making sure that she won’t fall off, stupid,” he spat, feeling dumb himself for even making a lame excuse just so the kid would stop accusing him of being a pervert even if he was actually one for you. “Seriously, you should be calling for help now. That giant centipede’s still out there, you know. Got a phone or something? Call an ambulance already!”

“Where are you taking [Name]-san?”

Garou rolled his eyes and turned halfway to look at Zenko. “I’m taking her home, I know where her house is.”

The little girl narrowed her eyes at him in warning.

“If you think I won’t tell Badd onii-chan about this, then you’re totally wrong, mister,” she sassed him. “So, answer me truthfully: What are you planning to do to [Name]-san?”

Garou couldn’t believe the situation he just got himself into. Did he really have to explain himself to this child?

The defiant look Zenko was giving him answered his own question.

“Oi, brat,” he began, carefully adjusting his hold on you when you shuffled slightly in his arms, “[Name] is my friend, alright? If I wanted to hurt her, I would’ve done that so easily! Jeez!”

Garou turned one last time and began the long trek to your home. Well, maybe he should make a stop first at the shack he was staying in a few days ago to fully check on you.  He heard Zenko’s faint huff and opted to ignore her as he walked further away.

---

to be continued

[thewritenerd]

Victor and Adam: NaNoWriMo Day 25

Victor

After updating Igor and Justine on the situation Victor made his way up to Adam’s room. Emptying out his school bag onto his bed he looked around for things he might need. The doctor said they would want to keep him in for a couple of days just to keep an eye on things. He’d need things to do. Books, that seemed a good place to start. Making his way over to the bookshelf he picked out a couple of things and put them in the bag. What else? His phone, but where was the charger? He eventually found it in the drawer of Adam’s bedside cabinet. Thinking what else to put in Victor spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Something light blue poking out from under the bedsheets. Reaching for it Victor grabbed hold of the material and pulled it out. It was a shirt, or what was left of one. One sleeve had been torn of and most of the buttons were missing. There were also several rips and tears. ‘What the? He thought. Then he remembered. That night he’d brought Adam to life as the boy had ran away he’d taken one of his shirts. And he kept it? Victor thought. Not just kept it, it seemed he was using it like some sort of comforter. Without a second thought he shoved the shirt into the bag and continued packing. He put in Adam’s notebook and a couple of pens, a puzzle toy which he could technically be done one handed, his headphones and his pills. Victor also decided to he’d let Adam borrow his tablet for a couple of days, as long as he was careful with it. He didn’t use it that often anyway. Making his way back down he saw Igor dusting the banister. ‘Ah Igor I didn’t want to say anything in front of Justine but I need to talk to you about this intruder of ours.’ Igor nodded.

‘Yes I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think they know about the tunnel?’ ‘They certainly know about the trapdoor.’ Victor said looking thoughtful. ‘Though there’s no way they can open it from the outside. Not unless they’re really strong. And if they were I don’t doubt they would have opened it by now.’ In fact the trapdoor could only really opened by a hidden mechanism that was operated by a remote Victor kept on him at all times. There was another way to the tunnels but the intruder would have to break in to the castle to find it. ‘Igor I want you to update security in here. I don’t care too much about this person skulking around outside. They’re not going to get anywhere anyway. But I can’t risk them breaking in.’ Igor nodded. ‘Good idea sir. I won’t be able to do anything today as you have the car. But tomorrow I can go into town and buy some security cameras.’ ‘Good. Now I’d better get going. I promised Adam I’d be back before he woke up.’ ***

When he first got back to the hospital Victor was informed Adam would be in surgery for a little longer. Sitting down he prepared himself for a long wait. Time crawled by but Victor stayed put in the waiting room, only leaving to grab something to eat from the hospital café. At one point a guy sat next to him. ‘Been here long?’ he asked. ‘Since six. More or less.’ Victor replied. ‘Ouch. So who you waiting on?’ Victor thought for a moment wondering how to answer. ‘My son.’ He replied. ‘Broken arm.’ ‘Must be a bad break if you’re here. Still kids are tough.’ He gave Victor a reassuring smile which he didn’t quite return. The man didn’t seem to upset though. ‘Can’t blame you for worrying though.’ Victor looked down at his hands. Truth was he was less worried about Adam’s physical wounds and more worried about him psychologically. His injury was very similar to William’s and though it didn’t seem he’d made the connection that very easily could have been down to shock. ‘So how old’s your son?’ ‘What? Oh he’s sixteen.’ ‘Any others?’ ‘No. It’s just him.’ ‘Got two myself. Ten and fourteen. Wanted to come with me to see their grandma but I said they couldn’t go skipping school.’ School? ‘Shit.’ Victor hissed. The man frowned at him. ‘Sorry. I forgot to call the school. Um excuse me.’ He stood up and headed outside. Once he was done explaining what had happened to the school receptionist, who seemed very understanding about the delay, he headed back in doors. ‘Ah Mr Frankenstein.’ The doctor who’d been treating Adam said as he approached him. ‘Your son’s out of surgery now. It all went well. He’ll probably be out until later this afternoon but you can see him now if you want.’ Victor simply nodded and after learning the room Adam had been moved to he headed there. He stopped in the doorway. Adam was in a bed much too short for him so they’d had to lay him on the bed sort of half sitting up. His head had fallen to one side so he was facing the door. In the bright hospital light Victor noticed the skin of his jaw didn’t quite match the skin on the rest of his head. Though the difference was subtle. Taking a deep breath Victor made his way over and sat down in the chair next to the bed. Almost without thinking he reached out and pushed a strand of Adam’s dark hair out of his eye. Adam didn’t stir, of course not he was drugged not just sleeping. As he watched him Victor couldn’t help but to think how much like a child he looked. Though Victor had set out to create a teenager and had used as many parts from people of the right age range, though that hadn’t been easy, but it was hard to see someone who towered over everyone as being so young. But now looking at him there was no doubt this was just a kid Victor was looking at. A kid you pushed away, he scolded himself. Because you couldn’t take responsibility. You were the only one to have had any say in his existence, yet you were the first to turn your back on him. ‘Great.’ He muttered. ‘My conscious is turning into Igor.’ He’d been hoping he’d have at least until the old man croaked before he started haunting him. No such luck it seemed. Turning his attention back to Adam he noticed a small birthmark on his earlobe he’d never noticed before.

***

When Adam finally woke up Victor was reading a paper he’d bought earlier that day. He didn’t notice he’d woken up at first. When he did look up he say Adam looking at him through half open eyes. ‘How are you?’ he asked folding up the paper. ‘Dunno. Can’t feel anything.’ Victor nodded. ‘Yes that’ll be the pian killers.’ Adam’s looked thoughtful. ‘How long have you been here?’ he asked. ‘Since you got out of surgery. Been a few hours.’ ‘You eaten?’ Victor laughed at this and shook his head. ‘Listen to you. Just out of surgery and you’re worrying about me.’ ‘Well if something happens to you I’m in trouble.’ Adam joked. For a moment the two just stayed looking at each other not speaking. ‘Oh I brought your stuff.’ Victor placed the bag on the bed. It should be enough to tide you over until you can come home. Adam nodded and began to pull on the zip with his good arm. He pulled out the tablet first. ‘You can borrow it. Just don’t go spending any money okay.’ Adam gave a small smile. ‘Yeah thanks.’ He then pulled out one of his books before putting it back. Then he frowned and reached in and pulled out the shirt. ‘I figured that was in your bed for a reason,’ Victor explained. Adam nodded. ‘I would have given it back. But I didn’t think anyone could repair it.’ Victor shook his head. ‘No it’s in a pretty bad state. But never mind, I have plenty of others.’ Adam let out a sigh of relief reached into the bag again the shirt still on his lap. Once he’d done checking the contents and confirming there was nothing else he wanted or needed he sat back again clutching the shirt in his good hand. ‘Ah I see we’re awake.’ Said a nurse as she stepped inside. ‘What’s this?’ she asked when she spotted the shirt. ‘I can’t sleep without it.’ Adam admitted his face turning red. ‘Oh don’t worry sweetie. You can keep your blanky.’ She turned to Victor. ‘So how is he?’ she asked. Victor frowned not sure why she was asking him. ‘Well the pain killers seem to be working.’ He said. The nurse nodded and made a note. ‘And do you have any questions.’ ‘Yeah how long do you think I’ll be in here?’ the nurse gave him a smile that people usually reserved for small children who wouldn’t shut up. ‘Oh sweetie you can’t go home just yet. You need to rest.’ ‘So how long will it be?’ Victor asked quickly noticing the growing anger in Adam’s eyes. ‘Oh a couple of days at least. Just to be sure. But we rarely keep anyone in longer. Not for a broken bone.’ She quickly checked the iv drip before leaving. ‘I don’t like her.’ Adam grumbled. ‘She doesn’t seem very professional.’ Victor agreed. ‘Do you want me to have a word with someone about that?’ Adam shook his head. ‘No I don’t want a fuss. I mean it’s just one nurse.’ Victor nodded. After sitting in silence for a moment Adam spoke again. ‘I’m really tired so if you want to go home and get something to eat I don’t mind.’ ‘Are you sure?’ Adam nodded his eyes closed. ‘Okay. I’ll be back to check up on you tomorrow. As soon as I can.’ He waited for Adam to respond but he was already asleep. Standing up he made his way out of the hospital to the car and drove back to the castle. It was well past dinner by the time he got home. Igor had something waiting for him in the oven. ‘I assumed you wouldn’t have eaten today.’ He said as he set the plate down. He went to pour the wine but Victor held out a hand to stop him. ‘Not tonight Igor.’ He tucked into the meal a little more eagerly than he usually would have, he really was starving, and finished without leaving a crumb. ‘So how is Adam?’ Igor asked as he took the plate. ‘Fine. The surgery went well. He was getting tired so I left him to get some reast.’ Igor nodded. ‘Anything for desert sir?’ Victor shook his head. ‘No I’m actually quite tired myself.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll be heading off to bed now.’ Igor nodded. ‘Well I’ll see you tomorrow sir. Sleep well.’ Victor nodded and headed out the door.

[mmmhowaboutno]

ive barely talked about this to anyone, i thought i got over it but you dont just get over stuff like this. i just wanna write it somewhere. a few days ago was august 3rd. three years ago on that day i was drugged and sexually assaulted in my own home by someone who i thought was my friend. i was friends with him for five years prior, so it came as a shock to me when this happened, not just because of what happened but because i realized trusting people is something i may do too easily. 

my parents went away for the weekend with my brother, and my “friend” was in town, so i thought i would invite him over so we could drink and play video games. we had been planning to hang out for a while and i thought it was just a chill thing to do with someone youve been friends with for so long. i still think that. i had two shots of vodka and after that started to feel more drunk than normal. i remember him constantly stuffing his water bottle in my face telling me to drink. at first he casually asked if i just wanted some water, so i didnt think anything of it. when things started getting fuzzy he would say “drink this, its just water, youre so drunk youll feel better.” he never drank from it though. guess where the drugs were. 

i remember bits and pieces of what happened and the stuff he did to me. i remember “across the universe” was playing in the background as i drifted in and out of consciousness. i wanted to watch that movie since high school and always put it off, but now ill never be able to watch it. i remember that while i was on the floor and couldnt move or speak he would make me drink water and tell me that i would feel better soon, all while he was rubbing my thighs or reaching up my shorts. i remember being unconscious for a long time, and when i woke up, he was in the bathroom. i could barely hold up my phone, but i called my boyfriend first. it was 4am for him and his phone was on silent, but he said that he woke up right as i was calling for some reason, like he felt something bad was happening. i couldnt talk. its like i was in one of those dreams where you try to run away but cant, except i couldnt get words out of my mouth at all. all i managed to say was “drugged me.” my boyfriend told me to call the police, so i did. 

when he came out of the bathroom, he acted like everything was normal. i can still see and hear him standing over me and asking “you okay?” while i was drooling on the floor and couldnt lift my head from the drugs that he gave me. i cant remember what happened until the police came. i only remember the knocking at the door and them telling me to open it. the knocking was so fucking loud. he kept looking at me and asking why i called the police, to which i couldnt answer anything. he started panicking and went in and out of the rooms upstairs in my house. he didnt answer the door, and they kept knocking. i somehow managed to get up, tripped and crawled down half of the stairs, and opened the door for them. i remember my dog barking and an officer placing me on a stretcher and so many questions being tossed around. they asked me how old i was and had me call my boyfriend so they could talk to him. they asked my “friend” if he knew that i had a boyfriend, like that would make a difference in him wanting to drug me or being responsible for it. 

he told the officers that i had had a lot to drink before he got to my house, that i was already drunk off my ass before he got there. they let him go. i told them where the drugs were. i pointed at the water bottle that was in his hand and i told them that the drugs were there, in whatever broken words i could get out, and they let him leave. they didnt test the water bottle for anything or look around my house or ask me if i was okay. they didnt ask what he did to me or even ask if he did anything, they just let him leave and took me to the hospital. they didnt even question the fact that he was buying a minor alcohol, they just let him fucking leave. 

when i was at the hospital, they tested me for my alcohol levels, which they said were normal. so there was physical evidence that i was not, in fact, drunk, like he said. when i started to come to after waiting at the hospital for hours, i told the doctors where the drugs were. i told them to test the water bottle, i begged and pleaded for them to get in touch with police and tell them that i didnt have any alcohol in my system, that it was drugs that he had given me. there was fucking proof, but they didnt do anything.

they asked me if i wanted to call my mom, and i almost did, but then i remembered that it was her birthday. so, i spent those three hours alone in the room thinking about all the reasons i was a fuck up and how this was all my fault. no one seemed to believe me, so maybe i did make it all up and i was actually drunk. but no, there wasnt any alcohol in my system. i only had two shots. after a while, the doctors told me i could go home. i was confused because i didnt have a way to get home, so they told me get an uber or something. they didnt really care at this point. i called an uber, and went outside to meet the car. once my feet hit the ground outside i realized that i didnt have any shoes on. i dont know why but i thought it was strange. i kinda hyper-focused on that as i waited for the uber. everything around me was so loud. all of a sudden, a young-ish nurse came outside and stood next to me. he said he would wait with me. i saw him pass my room a couple times while i cried silently for those few hours i was in the hospital. he stood outside with me and walked me to my uber, asked the uber driver for his name and number, and told me i would be okay. i remember what he looked like and ill genuinely never forget him. he made me feel safe just by doing that little thing, i knew i could trust him when i didnt even trust myself in that moment. 

the car ride home felt like it took forever. i was scared of the uber driver and the road and the fact that it was dark outside and most of all of what my mom would think and say when i finally told her what happened. i got home and walked up to my house to see that the main lights were on. my dog was waiting for me on the stairs and ran up to me as i walked inside. he kept licking me and didnt leave my side, but after a while of my dog being attentive and moving around, i realized how quiet it was inside my house. his car wasnt outside anymore, so i knew he had left, but this sudden wave of inexplicable fear washed over me. i started very anxiously searching every room, looking behind doors and in cabinets for some stupid fucking reason. i looked under every bed and turned on every light in my house. i dont know why but i thought he would still be there, waiting for me. i was looking for any trace of him still being in the house and waiting to do it to me all over again. i went upstairs and looked in my brothers closet only to find the vodka that my “friend” had brought for us to drink hidden in a corner. in the room next to mine was the bag with the receipt for the vodka that he bought. in the room where it all happened was the pizza we had gotten to eat and the cushions that he put under my head when i kept flopping over and drooling. that room was like a war zone to me. i couldnt look at it or be in it, i couldnt for almost a year. there were remnants of what happened all over my house and i felt like i couldnt escape it. it happened in the place where i was supposed to feel the most safe, and now i felt trapped in it.

i went into my room and got into bed with my dog. it was 4am, i couldnt sleep, and i didnt know what to do. every noise made me jump. every noise outside made me peek through the blinds to make sure that it wasnt his car pulling back up to my house. i found myself more awake than exhausted, as i should have been. im sure he slept fine that night. im sure he was okay and that he went home knowing that i was in the hospital and my mind was going 1000 miles an hour trying to remember every little detail of what happened so i could convince the cops that he had drugged me. because evidence wasnt enough. words werent enough for them to even try to dig into the fact that maybe i was possibly telling the truth. the cops didnt care, the doctors didnt care. they let him go. 

i dont know why i decided to write about this now, because for the most part, im “over it.” i do still think about what happened occasionally. it keeps me up at night sometimes, but not as much as in the first year after it happened. what i think about the most is the fact that no one believed me. i wasnt drugged and sexually assaulted and then reported it a few days later. the cops came and picked me up in the house where it all happened. they stood next to the person that did it. they looked him in the eye and they looked at the water bottle with drugs in it and at me barely conscious and unable to speak. they let him go. so unfortunately it doesnt surprise me when no one fucking cares if someone remembers and speaks out about their trauma years later because thats the moment they feel comfortable enough to finally talk about it. if cops didnt care in the very moment it was happening to me, it doesnt surprise me that they dont care at all. ever. 

he never tried to text or reach out to me again. why would he? i blocked him the next day anyway and i havent heard anything since. ive been silently dealing with it by myself for years. i went to a therapist about it. she told me that it was my fault for inviting him over in the first place. thats what my parents told me too. 

and the thing is, im not even the “worst” of it at all. this happens all the fucking time. theres very substantial evidence and cops and doctors will stare at it and think about how much work itll be going through the motions to do their fucking jobs and protect the people being assaulted. its too much work for them, but not for the person having trouble falling asleep every night for years because all they can think about is the moment they were unable to protect themselves and were taken advantage of. i always compare what happened to me to what happened to other people. i think less of it because so much worse has happened to other people. i wasnt raped, people are every day but i wasnt. it could have been worse, and ive always pushed the whole thing out of my mind because of that, but i dont think i should. i dont think it wasnt a big deal, and i dont think it will ever be not a big deal. i think that this shit happened to me and happens to people every day and no one fucking cares because its too much work for them to care. this isnt a metoo post, i just needed to put it into writing somewhere because im tired of keeping it inside. i dont want pity, i never have, i think a lot of people think that when something like this happens and someone speaks out about it that thats what they want. i just wanna say it. sometimes its just fucking good to say it. so for the people who do think that i want pity or that dont believe me or that support cops or that dont think this was a big deal: fuck you and have a horrible day.

thats it sorry

[padfootagain]

Singles Will Be Paired (IV)

Part 4: La Vie En Rose and Göttingen

Here we go with a new part of my Ben series! All cuteness once again ;) I hope you like it! I would advise you to listen to the songs I make reference to when you read this :)

Honestly… is there a word to describe something fluffier than fluff? Because I've reached this level of cuteness with this chapter. I'm warning you.

Gif not mine

Word Count : 3919

You felt like a teenager all over again.

What was happening to you?

You knew perfectly well what was happening, although you refused to face the truth: Charming Stranger had happened.

For the tenth time, you checked your clothes in the mirror before you. You couldn’t possibly wear this ugly jumper anymore. After all, you took today as a date, you needed to impress him.

You snorted at your own thoughts. Impress him? He had already seen you in that horrible jumper, you had crushed his fingers while you were scared, you had partially annihilated his hearing because of your terrified shouts… not to mention the whole incident with the hot chocolate…

You put on your coat and scarf, grabbed your bag and closed the door of your hotel room behind you. It was time to go. You would need some time to go to the Eiffel Tower and you didn’t want to be late. Although… perhaps you were worrying a little too much about this date. Since when did you even care about men, huh?

You walked in the elevator with a determined expression on your face. You would have a nice time in Paris, and spending some time with Ben was only a bonus. Or not even a bonus. You didn’t care. Yes! You didn’t care about what he thought of you. You had not crossed the sea to find love but to relax and enjoy some magical and well-deserved holidays.

You walked through the hall crowded with tourists speaking many different languages that you didn’t understand. Right before you pushed the glass door opened, you looked at the mirror on your right. And before you exited the hotel, you checked your reflection one last time…

 -----------------------------------------------------

 Ben was way too nervous.

Why was he so nervous? He felt like a teenager waiting for his first date all over again.

What was happening to him?

He knew perfectly well what was happening, although he refused to face the truth: you had happened.

He checked his watch again, shivering in the cold winter wind. He was ten minutes early…

Actually, he had been waiting for around fifteen minutes already. He had been so scared to be late that he had wildly underestimated the power of Paris' subway. So now, he was standing still, right under the Eiffel tower, freezing to death but not really minding the cold, as he was way too nervous to care about such futile things. He had a tight knot in his throat and his stomach felt all strange…

A small smile formed on his lips. He knew he was being ridiculous to feel this way, and yet, he couldn't help it. It was all your fault.

He looked around him, through the crowd that hurried to and fro. It blocked Ben's view towards the Champ de Mars and the long avenues that boarded the passage. On his left and right, the metallic feet of the tall tower were bathed with tall trees, and in the distance, he could even see people relaxing under the sun near two little ponds. He turned around, his gaze passing over the bridge of Iéna to settle on the building he guessed in the distance, his sight crossing the Seine to reach the Trocadéro. It had rained during the night, and the ground was still slightly glimmering under the pale sun. The town had a particular scent that Ben had not met anywhere else in the world. It smelled sweet, familiar and welcoming and yet he knew he had never smelled anything quite like it before. It reminded him of the scent of his parent's garden during summer storms. He failed at defining the smell, but he didn't mind. It felt good anyways.

He filled his lungs with this peculiar scent before turning around again, his dark eyes scanning the crowd in search for your face. He sniffed while a few feet away, a musician was settling down, taking out a saxophone and shuffling in his bag in search for a warm hat. A few seconds later, he was starting to play, the hat dropped before his feet to invite the passing crowd to give him a coin or two.

Something caught his attention, a tiny detail in the crowd, or perhaps was it more of a feeling or something at the corner of his eyes…

He turned towards the distant Trocadéro again, and his eyes needed no more than a second to find yours.

Behind him, the trumpetist had started to play the soft and yet happy melody of La Vie En Rose.

God, did it sound cliché… A musician playing that famous song to satisfy some stupid tourists' fantasy about Paris. The Eiffel Tower literally towering you. The distant roaring of traffic shushed by the music, the pale sun of December glimmering on the concrete still drenched from the rain of the previous night, how he looked stunning in his dark warm coat and his hair messed by the soft wind, your eyes meeting and locking and unable to part again…

God, it did sound cliché.

As you walked to join him under the large monument, you couldn't find a way to care though. Because perhaps it was cliché, but it felt so good…

The closer you were to him, the brighter your smiles to both you and Ben became. And when you finally reached him, you were both grinning like idiots.

It took the two of you a few seconds to be able to speak… or even breathe, actually. You were staring at each other, and it felt like the crowd around you had disappeared. Of the whole world only remained the melody of La Vie En Rose, the sweet smell of Paris and the two of you.

"Hi," Ben let out in a breath.

"Hi."

You both shied away a little, chuckling and giggling uncomfortably, and yet your eyes never left his.

"You…"

He fell silent again, and you silently encouraged him to go on. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before being able to speak the words he longed to let out. His heart was beating so fast, he could barely breathe at all. Yet, he found out that the knot in his throat had disappeared and the feeling in his stomach had turned into butterflies.

"You look… breathtaking."

Your entire face felt on fire, and you blamed the cold for it, although you knew that it was all Ben's fault.

"You…" you tried to answer but the words wouldn't come.

Ben raised an eyebrow, apparently amused.

"I?" he invited you to pursue.

"You… you look… okay."

He nodded, although you could see that he was… disappointed? No, disappointed was not the right word. Fragile. Fragile was better at describing the look in his eyes as he let his stare fall from your gaze to the tip of his dark shoes.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

You closed your eyes, wincing as you mentally cursed yourself. Your mind was still struggling to function though, and you forced your brain to create thoughts again.

"I mean…"

You started to laugh. A nervous laugh that turned in a merry one, and Ben looked up at you again, a tender smile back on his lips.

"I'm sorry," you went on, feeling your brain slowly going back to normal. "You… You're very handsome, I'm just… kind of a mess, I guess. But you are… you are much more than 'okay', you are like… like so much more than 'okay'…"

It was his turn to laugh… at you.

"You are sinking and sinking, you should stop talking," he mocked, and you playfully slapped his shoulder.

You took a moment to look around you, taking in the beautiful sight, until Ben offered you his open hand.

"Shall we go up there?" he asked, looking up at the iron tower above you, before setting his warm eyes back on yours.

You nodded.

"Let's go, then!"

You slipped your fingers in his palm and he closed his hand upon yours. His long fingers wrapped around yours, a little calloused against the soft skin of the back of your hand. You walked together across the crowd to climb up the Eiffel Tower, and all this time, your two hearts were beating so fast…

You paid for your tickets and climbed to the first floor. Silently, you walked around, watching through the glass walls the long line of the Champ de Mars stretching towards l'Ecole Militaire. People were lazily walking across it, tiny silhouettes already at such altitude. Towards the inside of the tower, you looked down at where you had stood just moments ago, and spotted the trumpetist who was still playing, although you couldn't hear him anymore. You kept on walking around the edifice, already towering the trees around you. You stopped your walk as you reached the side of the tower facing the Trocadéro and the bridge of Iéna. The Seine was calmly flowing before you, a few barges lazily floating down the stream. The sun glimmered on the Seine, like glitter poured in the river. The two statues at the entrance of the bridge seemed so little already at such height… you could see pass the Seine and even passed the Trocadéro, watching the rooftops of the closest buildings on the other side of the river. The blue sky where a few cotton-like clouds drifted aimlessly only brought more peace to the beautiful scenery. Next to you, Ben was grinning. He picked up his phone, and took a picture of the town through the fence that protected you from falling over.

"It really is beautiful, isn't it?" you breathed in a soft tone.

Ben nodded, letting his eyes resting on the town sprawled at his feet.

"It really is," his tone matched yours. "And you make it even more beautiful."

You looked up at him. You could have giggled his remark away, but something in his voice told you that he meant it. He meant it all…

Slowly, he turned his gaze to you once more, and you exchanged an earnest smile.

"Am I going too far? By saying that?" he asked in this same soft tone, barely audible as his voice was carried by the wind.

He cleared his throat before speaking again.

"I mean… I don't want to be too fast, or to forward… I'm not so… direct, usually."

"Is that your attempt at getting better at flirting?" you asked with humour, making him chuckle.

"I was doing a little more than flirting," you replied with a smile.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he seemed to understand what your gesture meant. That it was okay. That you felt that way too. He seemed to relax, and his smile widened. The wind pushed a strand of his dark hair before his eyes, but he didn't seem to care about it and didn't bother brushing it away.

"Does that bother you if we take a picture together?" you asked him after a short silent.

He shook his head with a smile, and you moved closer to him to take a selfie with him. Behind you, the view was breathtaking. And to take the picture, Ben released your hand to wrap his arm around you. Though his hold was loose, much like the way he had held you the day before for this picture with Darth Vader, it still brought butterflies to your stomach and made your heart trip in your ribcage.

He didn't release you immediately after you had taken the picture and put your phone away. Instead, his eyes settled on Paris once more, keeping you close to him. You rested your head against his shoulder, watching the tourists passing by and studying how the pieces of iron joined and parted in the structure of the pillars.

Eventually, you moved out of his delicate embrace, but Ben took your hand in his again, and you climbed up to the second floor, that offered you a beautiful sight on the whole Paris, the rooftops glistening under the sun. After a while, you climbed up to the top, but found out that it was a little too high for you…

Your hold on Ben's hand tightened, and he turned to you with a questioning look as you came to a stop.

"Is everything alright?" he asked in a soft and deep voice that warmed your very soul.

"Yeah, it's just… high," you answered with a glance towards the Seine that drifted away more than two hundred meters under your feet.

Ben's eyes followed your glance and his head span a little at the sight. He quickly looked away.

"Yeah, okay… perhaps it's a little high," he admitted with a nervous laugh.

"The view is nice though," you added, nodding towards the sight of the town splayed at your feet.

"I could make a flirty remark about that," Ben humorously wrinkled his eyebrows and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You still have so much work to do on that flirt!" you replied with a faked roll of your eyes.

"Would you teach me?"

"I'm too scared right now to acknowledge that flirt of yours."

"Would you like to go downstairs?"

"Yeah… let's get back to the second floor. That was better for my fearful nature!"

"I don't like so much height either, if it can reassure you."

"Actually it doesn't. Means that you won't be my knight in armour who will save me."

He let out a laugh.

"Oh, I don't think you're the kind of woman who needs a knight in shining armour," he replied as you walked back towards the stairs. "I don't think you need anyone."

"Really?" you questioned, wondering in silence if he was right or wrong.

"Really. I'm just lucky you're willing to share some time with me. But you don't need me."

"Well, of course, you're a perfect stranger," you replied in a detached tone that sounded a little detached to be completely earnest.

Ben raised an eyebrow.

"Now, you shouldn't underestimate yourself," he admonished.

You didn't answer, merely giving him a smile instead, and you leaned against the bannister of the second floor, your eyes drifting across the rooftops again. You looked at the tiny dots crossing the Champ de Mars and the tall trees swinging in the wind. The air was even colder here than below the tower, and you couldn't help but shiver. In his hand, your fingers were frozen. Ben furrowed his brow a little.

"You look like you're turning in a human ice-cube," he pointed out, making you chuckle.

"I'm rather cold," you admitted.

Ben had noticed a shop that sold macarons and warm drinks, and he proposed to make a little stop there to get warmer. You accepted enthusiastically and let him guide you through the tourists who were so eager to see the view.

Ben offered you a box of macarons and a warm tea, and you settled at a table together. It was warm inside, and you heaved a content sigh as you looked at the view once more, still visible across the glass wall of the teashop.

You took a bite in one of the tiny cakes, and couldn't refrain a little moan… it was so good…

Ben chuckled at your reaction, taking a purple biscuit as well.

"That's so good, my god…" you mumbled, finishing the biscuit.

"I have to admit that it's not that bad," he nodded, eating his own macaron in one mouthful.

He noticed that you weren't wearing the same jumper, and he narrowed his eyes a little. If this jumper was definitely more beautiful than the ridiculous cloth you had bought at Disneyland, it didn't look warm at all.

"I thought you didn't have any other warm jumper," he nodded towards your beige pullover.

"Yeah… but I couldn't walk through Paris with that ugly one we bought!" you replied.

You didn't tell him the real reason you weren't wearing it. But something in his eyes, a little glint of mischief that suddenly alit, made you think that he had guessed.

"Besides, you're not wearing yours either!" you replied, eating another macaron, and you couldn't help another soft moan as you ate the pink biscuit, making Ben smile.

"No, but… I didn't need that jumper. I just didn't want you to feel too bad at looking ridiculous."

"See! I told you I was ridiculous! I couldn't wear it here, today…"

"But you look like you're freezing," he pointed out.

"Not anymore," you defended yourself.

He narrowed his eyes at you again.

"I know this is supposed to be a date, but I hope you're not freezing just because we are… having a date."

"Why…? No!" you defended yourself, although Ben was 100% right. "Of course not!"

"Good. Cause you don't need to do that… I like you already."

"You think I'm desperate enough to do everything for you already?"

Your words were a bit harsh, but your tone was full of humour, and Ben chuckled.

"I think that you shouldn't do that. Besides, I like that ridiculous jumper of yours."

"No, you don't," you shook your head.

"No, I don't," he admitted, and you both let out a laugh.

Ben picked up a map of Paris from the pocket of his coat, and looked up at you as he unfolded it.

"Where do you want to go next? I reckon we should go to the Trocadéro. Perhaps we can go to the Champs Elysées this afternoon."

"I want to go to Notre-Dame too," you added with an excited look all over your face.

Ben didn't even notice the smile that crept up his lips at the sight of your expression. You looked almost childish, happy… You looked adorable.

"Right, we can definitely do that," he nodded.

"I've always dreamt to go there," you admitted.

"In his book, Victor Hugo described it so well… It's definitely a place I want to see."

Your smile broadened.

"You read Notre-Dame de Paris?" you asked, and Ben nodded.

"It's extremely depressing, but it's such a good book!"

You agreed, and the two of you exchanged another smile.

You picked up one more biscuit, and you noticed that you had already ate much more of these macarons than Ben. He noticed your discomfort, and laughed it away.

"I prefer salt to sugar. You can eat them all if you'd like."

"Really? You can resist something so good?"

He seemed to hesitate, before picking up another macaron.

"Okay, perhaps leave one or two for me."

You both laughed, before setting the conversation on your lives again. He told you funny stories about his jobs, and you told him about your work. You talked about your families as well, until your two teas had disappeared from the cups and all the macarons were eaten away. You hadn't noticed how time had been flying by, but as you took a look at your watch, you were surprised to find out that it was past eleven already.

Ben paid for the macarons and tea – he insisted on inviting you, so you finally yielded – and you walked back outside and down the long flights of stairs. You reached the concrete again, abandoning the iron of the tower. As you walked under the Eiffel Tower, advancing towards the Seine, you noticed that the trumpetist was still there. A young singer had joined him, her warm voice singing the lyrics of the song he was playing on his trumpet. La Vie En Rose had changed into Göttingen, Barbara replacing, and you and Ben slowed down your pace as you passed before them, until you stopped altogether to listen to the song.

Bien sûr nous, nous avons la Seine

Et puis notre bois de Vincennes,

Mais Dieu que les roses sont belles

A Göttingen, à Göttingen.

Nous, nous avons nos matins blêmes

Et l'âme grise de Verlaine,

Eux c'est la mélancolie même,

A Göttingen, à Göttingen.

"Do you know what they're saying?" you asked Ben softly, your voice a whisper as to not disturb the delicate song.

Ben shook his head.

"I don't speak French well enough to understand what it's about."

"It sounds beautiful though."

"It does."

His fingers brushed against yours, and slowly, you intertwined your fingers together. He moved a little closer to you, and you rested your head against his shoulder.

Your heart was beating so fast in your chest, and yet you felt so peaceful. It was a strange sensation full of contrasts, but it felt wonderful. And Ben felt the same.

The soft rhythm of the song was like a warm blanket wrapping around the two of you, despite the fact that the lyrics remained a mystery to you.

Quand ils ne savent rien nous dire,

Ils restent là à nous sourire

Mais nous les comprenons quand même,

Les enfants blonds de Göttingen.

Et tant pis pour ceux qui s'étonnent

Et que les autres me pardonnent,

Mais les enfants ce sont les mêmes,

A Paris ou à Göttingen.

"Do you think it's a love song?" you asked Ben softly.

He shook his head.

"No, I don't think so."

"It sounds like one though."

O faites que jamais ne revienne

Le temps du sang et de la haine

Car il y a des gens que j'aime,

A Göttingen, à Göttingen.

"I don't think it's a love song… or at least, not a romantic one. I don't understand much but… I reckon that it's more about loving each other in general… you see what I mean? That we're all the same and we shouldn't fight each other, cause it doesn't make sense at all to fight someone who's exactly like you. I'm not sure I understand it right though…"

"Well… it's a love song then. An even bigger one."

You and Ben exchanged a smile, staring at each other for a moment. For the second time that morning, the world around you faded away until nothing but the music and the two of you remained.

He hesitated for a second. He was staring at you, and for a moment, he was afraid to go too far and that you would push him away. But he couldn't stop himself.

Softly, he leaned down to rest his lips on your head, and he kissed your hair.

At the sensation, you closed your eyes, tightening slightly your hold on his hand. And while the song continued, Ben left his lips pressed against the top of your head, breathing deeply in the scent of your sweet shampoo mingling with that peculiar smell of Paris, and he knew that he would never be able to forget this scent…

Et lorsque sonnerait l'alarme,

S'il fallait reprendre les armes,

Mon cœur verserait une larme

Pour Göttingen, pour Göttingen.

You finally looked up at him, forcing him to remove his lips, and he looked at you with a serious expression that was almost scared. His eyes were almost black in the light of winter, and they searched on your features, as if they were looking for the answer to an unspoken question. You gave him a reassuring smile, and he seemed to relax, smiling at you as well.

You gave the musicians a few coins before Ben and you would walk away.

And as you advanced towards the Seine, the notes seemed to follow you for a little while longer…

You weren't sure what that song was about, but one thing was for certain: to you, from now on, it would be about love…

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

Tag list : @geeksareunique @giggleberts @sad-orange-thoughts @aylinnmasow @benbarnes-world @ladyblablabla @madamrogers @drinix @joelynnp @mxrihollxnd @rockintensse @newtstarmander @iammadeofstarsandlazyness @presstocontinue @ilmiopiccolounivers0 @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things

[feel199x]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚apple of my eye ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ VII

I   II  III  IV  V  VI  VII VIII IX X  masterlist

gang!au, gang member!han jisung, band!au, florist!reader

a/n: this chapter is written from a different perspective again;;; also seven chapters but the series is almost coming to a close!

warnings: blood and gun mention, cussing, angst but fluff if u squint hard enough

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Minho was the first person Jisung had called, Minho was always the first person Jisung would call. Jisung was bleeding pretty badly, gripping his thigh as he sat behind a counter. He couldn’t go to the hospital, not with everything he thought he had done- so he just sat there, waiting for Minho. Jisung cried because he couldn’t do anything but wait, there was nothing else he was capable of doing. He couldn’t take care of himself, so he waited for Minho. And because he was waiting for Minho, there was nothing he could do to help you- so, he had to wait. Jisung was never good at waiting, patience was not something he was fond of. If he wanted to do something, to understand something- to be good at something, he needed that to happen urgently. Because of that, he tended to drop habits quickly, before he could really tell if he was truly good or bad at something. He only really learned patience after you, watching and observing you. You didn’t complain when he was gone, never scolded him for having other responsibilities. Even after having the only things you really cared about taken away, you didn’t rush to have the construction finished or the insurance to pay you back. Jisung was crying harder now, wiping away his tears with bloody hands as the record continued to play. He didn’t want it to keep playing, but he also didn’t have the heart to stop it.

Minho had arrived as soon as he could, running red lights and avoiding as many cops as he could. Jisung’s eyes were getting heavy as Minho put him in the back of the group’s car.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

“I don’t know, it was probably N/S.”

“Oh fuck, you don’t actually think-?”

“Where’s ___?”

Jisung could barely keep track of the conversation and who was speaking, but when he heard your name, he sputtered out a weak answer.

“He took them.”

Jisung couldn’t make sense of the loud conversation after that, just trying to focus on staying awake until they reached the hide-out.

 “Jisung, this is Chan, okay? I’m going to clean the wound and take the bullet it out. It’s going to hurt.”

“Woojin, get the cloth ready. Minho, keep him quiet until we get to the hide out.”

Chan was cutting the fabric of Jisung’s pant leg to find the wound. It was only a slight graze, and the wound wasn’t very deep. Still, Jisung was bleeding with more blood than they could manage. “He’s bleeding too much, I don’t know if he’ll make it-”

“Letting him die is not a fucking option!”

“Here, okay- let’s calm down- Chan, I’ll stop the bleeding, just get the tweezers ready.”

The song from the record was still playing in Jisung’s head as he weakly hummed along. He wasn’t making sense of what happened, he didn’t want to make sense of what was happening. He just missed you. He wanted to hold your hand, feel it’s softness in his and he wanted to peck your lips- he wanted to do so much more than time allowed him. Jisung was still crying, soft tears streaming down the sides of his face and he could feel it pool in the creases of his ears.

“Fuck, there’s someone following us- Chan hurry up before they-!”

“You wanna come down here an-”

“Shit!”

Jisung wanted to sing, he wanted to rap, and he wanted to dance. How could all of these things be taken away from him? Why were the only things that mattered slipping away from his hands? He worked so hard to get here, he got restless whenever he couldn’t finish a lyric or nail a dance move. He wouldn’t stop until he perfected them, because really, that’s the only thing he did have patience for- the only thing he would practice until all his bones turned to dust.

“Felix, Seugmin, pop your head out the window and sh-.”

“Are you insane?”

“Just do it!”

“Hyunjin, step on it- lose them.”

Jisung’s eyes were getting heavier by the second, drifting in an out of consciousness. It felt like he was in a dream state, he couldn’t even feel the pain from his thigh anymore. It felt okay like everything was okay because none of it seemed real anyway.

“Jisung, please, please stay awake, okay? You have so much to live through, stay awak-”

“I can’t lose them, they’re right on our ass.”

“Felix-!”

“Kinda hard to shoot their tires when we’re going a hundred and fifty miles per fucking hour!”

Someone squeezed his hand, but Jisung’s eyes were already drooping. At the very least, Jisung was before he felt a shooting pain go up his thigh, pain like he had never experienced before- not even the last time he was shot. So, he screamed.

“Minho-.”

“On it. Sorry, Jisung.”

Jisung went to pull off the hand on his mouth, muffling his screams. But his body couldn’t take the stress, going limp from everything that had gone down in less than half an hour.

“Jisung? Jisung-!”

---

It had only been a week later when Jisung had finally woken up. Minho hadn’t left Jisung’s side, everyone lingering around the bed and room. They only really left to make something to eat, but returned to the bedroom when they were finished, refusing to leave Jisung out of their usual activities. Minho kept checking Jisung’s pulse nearly every hour, to comfort himself with the slow but significant beating pulse of Jisung’s arm. Everyone was scared out of their minds, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud. Somehow, this situation seemed a lot worse than the previous time. Chan hadn’t known anything about medicine then, and it was only by a miracle that they were able to take out the bullet. But that wasn’t the only problem. Eventually, the group had to leave, they had to face the music. Tension only seemed to grow thicker the longer they isolated themselves out of society, and they all had responsibilities that unfortunately, couldn’t be abandoned.

“I think that maybe we could negotiate with him, right?”

“He shot Jisung, he wanted to kill him. And plus, are you forgetting about ___? Who’s going to report them as missing persons?”

“Minho’s right, Chan. Maybe this is out of our hands.”

Both of the boys looked back at Woojin, impatience and displease in their eyes. “We won’t be able to make music if we’re all in jail. Plus, we,” Minho gestured to everyone in the room, “haven’t killed anybody or even attempted to.”

“Right, we can stop selling- that’s what we’ll tell them.”

“What about ___?” Jisung asked quietly, voice emerging from the bed. Everyone in the room rushed to his bedside, clambering on to sit beside or around him. “We can talk about that later,” Jeongin spoke, “Are you okay?” Mutters of agreement flooded the room, a variety of ‘are you okay’s and ‘how are you feeling?’ was asked without breaks, overlapping one another as they spoke.

“How long have I been out?” Jisung asked, “Did you find ___?”

“A week,” Minho answered calmly, “and no. Not yet, the guy went rogue. We’re working on a negotiation.”

The room went quiet as everyone watched for Jisung’s reaction.

“I’m sorry,” his voice didn’t waver, firm like never before, “for making a mess, for putting you all through this.”

“Hey,” Chan patted Jisung’s back, “it’s not your fault. We’re all at fault here.”

Jisung moved to get up, ignoring the throbbing pain from his thigh. “You need to take your time,” Minho said sharply, “If you push yourself before you’re ready, you’re just going to fall apart. Who are you going to help them.”

“Love you too, Minho.”

“Then stay in bed, and we’ll get you some food.”

 But Jisung was unnerved, as much as he wanted to focus on himself and pace himself to be in his best condition to come and help you- you were all he could think about. Even as he ate, light, distracting conversation filling the room, the record’s song still floated through his memory. He could still feel his head resting against your chest as you stroked his hair. He wish he could have prepared, done something to have prevented the situation.

But there was nothing he could’ve done, nothing indeed.

Minho knew that Jisung would be beating himself up. When Jisung was younger, everytime something bad happened- he would cry and cry. After he found the dead baby bird, he insisted on giving it a proper burial in a special place in the playground. The boys begrudgingly joined, not wanting Jisung to mourn the death all alone. Even after they had made a special box and a stone grave, even after they dug a shallow hole and buried it, Jisung lingered around the tree. He insisted that he was okay, just making sure that no one would dig the baby bird back up. But no one commented when they saw him wipe silent childish tears off his cheeks when they all had to go back to class. Jisung got rejected, and often. But instead of feeling bitterness towards the person, or trying to pursue them again- he beat himself up. He was a hopeless romantic, teddy bear inside and out- believing he would meet ‘the one’ soon. But that didn’t make the rejection hurt less, because, in his mind, something had to be wrong with him in order for him to get rejected all these times.

“Minho, what if my soulmate rejects me?”

“Then they’re not your soulmate, Jisung. Anyone who rejects you isn’t worth your time.”

Jisung knew that what Minho was saying had some truth to it, but at the time he just couldn’t see himself fall in love. Not because he had sworn off of it, but he was just so busy these days, breathing, eating, and sleeping music. It felt like his youth was slipping through the cracks of his fingers like sands of times. And he loved it, he did. It was his dream to be successful in music, and he was, they were. Even if their start was less than graceful, they didn’t even need the drug bribe to convince people to come listen to their music anymore, people were genuinely interested in their music. So, the thought of love was eventually pushed into the depths of his mind,

Until he entered your flower shop.

He was just picking up flowers for his grandmother, he didn’t expect anything special to happen. The truth was, he was slacking off on visiting his grandmother- so his parents called him, urging to pay her a visit. The first thing his grandmother did was make him go on a bunch of errands, with the promises of good food if he had gotten everything done without getting distracted. And what was a better motivator than food? Only love.

He had expected to see an elderly lady like his grandmother running the shop, but instead, he saw you putting flowers into a vase, and his first reaction was to hide behind a pot of flowers. But the windchimes at the door betrayed him, and you had called out to him, asking if he needed any help. Jisung believed in love at first sight, and this? This was love at first sight.

“Jisung!” Minho snapped Jisung out of his thoughts, “We don’t have time, you need to follow me.”

“Minho-?”

“Jisung, we don’t have time!”

There was nothing he could’ve done to prepare, nothing indeed.

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[nebulaedaniel]

16.6.2018 - matinee experience

I met dan and phil and here’s how my whole day went

I woke up at 5:30 AM on Saturday morning. It would take me about 2 and a half hours to get to Stockholm, so i had to wake up early. My dad and i got in our car at 6:20 AM and started driving to the city nearby to be able to get on the train. I was really nervous so i didnt sleep in the car, even though i usually do.

We arrive in the city, eventually get on the train, and we’re officially on our way.

I was still really nervous so i decided to watch the video that they uploaded that previous day. I watched it and couldnt believe that i was going to meet them in just a few hours.

My dad and i arrived at around 9, and the venue was right outside the train station, so my dad wanted us to go there right away.

I thought we’d be the first ones there, but we werent! There was one more person there, and they had blue hair so ofc i was too intimidated to talk to them.

So we’re standing there, im furiously texting all my friends to tell them that im Actually freaking out. More people showed up and suddenly we were six people there.

Cabs are coming and going, and suddenly the people sitting on benches are reacting to one of the cars, but i didnt pay it any mind. But then everyone is lowkey screaming and panicking and i have no idea what’s happening, but then the blue haired person made eye contact with me and pointed behind me, so i turn around, and there they were? I didnt see them walk out of the car, but they were walking in and i. Started. Shaking. It was bad. I was writing to annie (@nuclear-clusterhug) and the gc i was in for ii, just yelling at all of them that i saw them!!

Just in case you were curious, they’re even gorgeous from the back.

So im standing there, i can barely speak and im pretty sure my dad was judging me but i really didnt care.

Eventually one of the people from the gc made it to the venue, and i finally had someone to freak out with.

I have no idea how long we stood there, maybe half an hour, the two other people showed up aswell, and now we were a little group just huddled together and waiting to be let inside.

Eventually they opened. We walked in. We got wristbands and i got the number 38, not that it mattered, but it did to me.

We went in, my friend and i were both freaking out. Eventually we went upstairs, we stood in line, and every minute felt like days. Their manager eventually explained what was going to happen, and then, a few minutes later, they arrived. They went up the stairs and dan looked so excited, i didnt hear a word what they said, but i filmed it and i have it.

They went back behind the screen and the first person goes in. We wait in line for maybe 20 minutes, although it felt like 5, and then. Its. Our. Turn.

My friend goes first and i film for her. We turn the corner and there they are. I see phil first and my god is he beautiful. My friend goes to hug them and i stand off to the side to film them and just look at them for 30 whole seconds. I have it all filmed and i cant believe it.

Then. Its my turn. And. I. Freeze. I dont say ANYTHING im so freaked out. I go to hug phil first and i just remember it being soft, then i hug dan and he was even softer like fuck his jumper was so soft.

Phil asks if i want anything signed, i hand over my book and they have it signed in 5 seconds.

But this. This moment is what will stick with me forever. I had written in my book “what’s your favorite thing about sweden” and dan wrote (it was dan, i watched the video of me meeting them like 20 times and dan. Wrote. It.) “you!”

You!

He wrote. “you!”

Im not. Okay.

Okay. So. Yes. That happend. Its in my book forever.

Phil then asked if i wanted a selfie.

Can i just say that phils voice is the softest thing ever when meeting fans, remember when phil was talking to the corgi in the dog video? And he said “do you like your hoodie?”? That kind of soft.

Anyway, so we took the selfie, phil was just like hiding behind me?? Cute

Dan did two poses and i was so overwhelmed i saw his dimples just a few decimeters away from me?? Unreal

I then left, almost forgot my book so that was fun.

We got our tote bags and then we left the venue

We sat outside for maybe 40 minutes, just internalizing that it happened. We had met them.

I eventually went to eat, then i got messages from natalie (@fanpurple) and she asked me where i was, so i hurried off to go to her

I got in line, and suddenly i was inside again.

Then, i met natalie. She was the smallest little person and she was so cute! She seemed so excited and that made me even more excited because oh my god! I met dnp and now i met my amazing friend?? I was so happy

We went to the official waiting area and got in line for the merch, and while we were waiting she was asking me all about how it was to meet them and i was more than happy to tell her EVERYTHING.

I got my stuff (poster, cap, hoodie) and we walked off to sit down, i showed natalie everything that i had gotten in the tote bag, and she went through my tabinof. While she was reading i was just sitting there, so happy that everything was going so well. It was the first time since… I dont know when, that i didnt have a single bad thought on my mind, you have no idea how amazing that felt.

Im not going to talk too much about the show, since this is already so long, but i do want to say that i was on the first row and phil kept walking and he was just a few meters away from me.

I must also say that videos do not do them justice, they’re 100 times more handsome in real life. i might have actually died from how fucking hoT phil is

The show goes on, im laughing im screaming im clapping, and i was just having a gooood timeeee.

One thing that i HAVE to mention tho, is the truth bombs thing.

One of the questions was “what would a documentary about their lives be called?” and as i was watching them i was just thinking like hmm i wonder what i wrote for that thing?

They start putting up things on screen.

“how my stalker became my best friend”

“why are we even doing this?” (or smt similar to that)

Then. The last one. Was. Mine.

“two dudes sittin on a sofa”

WHAT??? DID THAT HAPPENED?? yes. Yes it did. They didnt choose mine but i really dont fucking care because mine was up there. Phil said my name.

Natalie got to answer the question about what was in the box, she said butterfly, so adorable

There’s alot more. Like alot more. Ive written down everything on a document in my phone. But that were the highlights from the show.

i got home at 11pm, and the next day i was so sore from walking around and wearing my heavy backpack for a whole day, but that really doesnt matter, im too happy, im still too happy its been three days and im still soooo happyyy

thanks for reading, if anyone did

[queenspirituality]

to benzo,

ive decided to take some time out of my life to write a letter to you and for me too. Benjamin, I have been truly lucky enough to have the privilege of having you in my life for six years. I would like to take this moment in time to share with you my deepest gratitude towards you for lessons you've taught me, memories we've made together and special moments we have shared that i could never replace.

I sit here with my heart on my sleeve expressing to you my most heartfelt appreciation for our six solid years of dedication and perseverance with enduring this rollercoaster of a friendship. I am glad that we have stayed in contact with each others amongst all the other drama of our separate lives. I will forever cherish our connection for the rest of my life as it is unlike any other and I wouldn't change it for anything. These six years have been life-changing, and I mean that. I think we can both agree that these past six years have been eventful to say the least.

I was intending to only write this one single letter to you however I am now starting to realise the full extent of just how many precious moments we have shared over the years and I feel i won't be able to sum everything that I want to express up in one letter so with that being said I have decided to take my sweet time writing this letter and if I have any further thoughts id like to share with you I'll write another letter, and another and another until I have exhausted all brain motor and cognitive functions.

Anyway, I suppose I am steering off track a tad, so let me redirect your attention back to some of the good times weve shared together, particularly the first year of us dating each other and making so many unforgettable memories that I love dearly. When I reflect over all of our memories weve created over these years, it takes me back to the good times we've had, like and challenging times also, came to the beautiful realisation of how deep our love runs for one another.true depth of how far weve come from our first awkward encounter our past memories just how manycertain Heres to our many naive new beginnings and heres to our endless and countless promises of change, success and hope, of fresh starts and second chances that sadly never saw the finish line. We never stuck to our word or kept our promises to each other.

Nevertheless, from the very start, I believe 2017, you and me, we were honestly inseparable during our innocent and lust-filled honeymoon months. At the beginning of our goofy, naive and a little overly codependant relationship we shared together, you made me very happy for once in my life and I really developed a deep and intimate bond with you that I hadn't ever discovered with anyone else before in life. You were really special to me in that period of my life, you were my only real support system and best friend who I shared my deepest secrets, fears and insecurities with. You were my rock, my soul mate at that moment in my life, my bad-decision making bad influence of a boyfriend who did a lot of drugs which I wanted to partake in with him.

Even after our lowest of low moments, like our messy breakup which involved me asking your sister to pick you up because you were simply too emotional to pack your belongings or that other time when we were friends again but soon enough you practically moved right back in with me when I was living at Cornwall St. always making sure you were absolutely imposing upon my personal bubble, even when many times I asked for space which only resulted in you getting more clingy of me and deepened your attachment issues with me. It felt as if whenever I would demand space and time, you would decide to latch on even more, eventually leading me to give in and surrender to you.

The honest truth is there were difficult times with you exhausted me Ben. Both during the relationship and outside of the relo, in and out of our relationship, even when we were just friends with no strings or expectations just surrendered to your problems and gave my undivided attention to majority of the time I had to compromise my own wellbeing and personal integrity and wants and needs for myself because you were so expectant and needy of me to provide you with my undivided attention and affection when you attached to me like this, for me it was the easier path to take, even though it truly compromised my wellbeing and happiness your persuasive pleads an begs for my attention and affection many drug-filled and chaotic nights many nights, icking you out of m home, regardless if we were intimate or platonic at the time somehow lity we have someone managed to always gravitate back to each other over the endurance of six wholesome and adventurous years with you and for that I am endlessly grateful. naive feeling, overly codependant relationship with my little clingy but cute teenage stoner boyfriend who just wanted to smoke weed (4/20 blaze it) every day, talk skating with his boys and share his pure goofiness and love with those closest to him.

This letter was written for you and for me. For me because of my own self healing and to finally start my next chapter of life without you for a while (don't fret, i am to discuss this in greater detail for you further along in letter). We have to let each other respectfully go for good, for now.

I wrote this for you simply because i realised the depth of our history together and what better way to say one final farewell than to honour all those cherished memories we shared together over six intense years knowing each other. You deserve this so much and I care about you more than I truly express.

truly what a journey in life we have say shared together. Starting from our very first extremely awkward and absolutely cringeworthy 30 second encounter at one of mollies usual weekend gatherings she would throw any chance she could get, to our most recent and adventurous all night benders spent in cheap motel rooms, laying dead still in your room at your grandmas off limits house, to locking yourself inside my bathroom anxiously anticipating being busted by either my brother or my ex partner. All of the memories we have shared in between our initial meeting and most recent encounter I want to write abouts mainly for my own healing and growing but also for you, so you might just see things from my side of the fence.

Prepare yourself, as this will be one hefty and long-winded letter containing a rollercoaster of emotions and relayed past events both positive and negative, hopefully all neatly summarised into one final reflection of my feelings between us and this journey in life we've shared at the end.

So Ben, here goes nothing. I will start with when we first met at mollies place. Truthfully I couldn't keep my eyes off you, it was as if a magnet was attached to me and one to you and I was uncontrollably getting more invested and interested in finding out about you. I distinclty remember where you were sitting as I became more curious about you, next to Tobias on the couch beside the wall. I think you stayed sat there for the majority of the night, but nevertheless my eyes kept wandering back to you. I took some mdma caps that night and stupidly and spontaneously decided to go for a long ass nighttime bush walk with some guys from your high school (if I recall correctly it was ethan jensen and tom merrigan) through mollies creepy dark bush creek park she lives next to. Now that I think about it, I don't even think they were eager to come with me but they didn't want me going through that dangerous bushland area alone, especially in my state.

At that point during the night, to say I was way out of my mind would have been an absolute understatement as these narcotics were working in overdrive now, taking over my mind, body and any common sense i may have employed sober. Since this was still one of the first experiences I had with taking mdma, the experience was super intense and half of the night I felt as if I wasn't actually conscious or if I was conscious I had replaced old rubi with an upgraded, much more brave rubi that was suddenly in the mood to go walking straight into a potentially dangerous bushland area where hobos have squatted in before, did I mention at night, pitch black in there, with no street lighting except our eye vision. It was as if I did not care for danger or threats because I felt so high up on this cloud of euphoria that no one could touch me and I was totally protected from harm. Yes, my sober brain dies have more common sense and logic than that, however that one single feeling of pure euphoria pulsating through me was enough for me to want more of it, and more and so on and so forth.

And that is when i gained the confidence to start a conversation with you, or rather attempt to put a sentence together without looking proper munted from the drugs. I think we did speak briefly by the pool area and I recall you mentioning that you were in a relo with a chick named Emily. I didn't care about anything you were saying, I was so fucking ecstatic that somehow we ended up chatting to each other, even if it wasn't for long. I made a mental note of you in my head. I wanted to know you before I really had an idea of you. To sum up this first story, so now you know what my initial (& may I politely add extremely intoxicating) encounter with you from my perspective was like and my first impression of you: for me it was always from that very first glance of you that I became intrigued and I couldn't shake it one bit, even when you mentioned your relationship status with your cool girlfriend at the time. I wasn't listening, you were talking to a brick wall disguised as a pretty girl. I just remember how badly I wanted to know more of you, and I just had a gut feeling we would see each other again soon.

P.s. originally I was going to write one big letter to you and I yet I've realised just how many memories we've shared that I must write about. So instead I have decided to write each letter as a past memory or reflection of our experiences we've shared together over this six year rollercoaster.

First letter is completed, see you soon my friend.

P.p.s. OKAY YES, I can be super annoying (thoughtful, caring, kind, mindful, loving) and know JUST how much you truly cherish and adore (hate, despise, resent) my little life pep talks and lectures so benzo, especially for you I've decided to leave you some of my personal and unique little words of advice and wisdom rants just for you cos YOU DESERVE TO HEAR THEM SO READ THEM FOR ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR MEDIOCRE LIFE AND LET THEM SINK INTO YOUR BRAIN FOR GOODNESS SAKE YOU WONDERFUL BUT SOMETIMES LOST HUMAN BEING who deserves someone who will write personalised care letters because they are valuable and worthy and deserve love and lots of it.

10.10.2020

Word of advice #1:

Please take care of yourself, if not for yourself just do it for your little sister, she needs you more than you know. Feed yourself that second plate of homemade spaghetti bolognaise which YOU cooked with extra cheese and pasta, go mental person crazy in the shower, sing as loud as your lungs will fully permit you and sing those sad fucking sappy love songs you hate to love because they make you feel something instead of being aimlessly numb all day. AND FUCK, JUST do it, go ahead and get that girly lavender soap for your grandma because she let's you live in her temple and she means more than words could describe to you, write her a little letter too, go on and show your grandma some emotion for once, she worries about you and wants to see you prosper before she leaves you on Earth. Write about how lost in life you feel, or ask how lost in life she feels, maybe she's hurting too.

If nothing else, try remember that in life, we have one giant society consumed with human beings that can be very harsh and cruel and judgemental of your every GODDAM action.

In this clusterfuck of what society has labelled a life", we have constructed some outrageous and unrealistic expectations and laws and rules and ongoing policies and guidelines for our fellow law-abiding aife experiences, I have endured the worst kinds of days that stretch on and on, these days feelyo7u like you aren't contributing to society's overall desire for successful people and you keep missing the mark and when does it ever get easier for you, the past few years have just felt like one big snakes and ladders board game where you're piece is broken and won't stop descending down the snake, slowly slipping into the dark abyss of your april fools joke of a life (i say april fools because ive legit had some of the most soul-cursing life experiences that've got me full depressed to the point where it had a comedic level of patheticness may have this mindset at times, or not, that's ok. I frequently do. I do know when this dark never-ending tunnel or abyss or however you personally envision the dark periods in your life, has got me trapped so bad I may as well be submerged in sinking mud on a deserted island called 'No Hope Island a large can be hard to climb out of the sinking mud of your patheticness cietysh because it feels good, wash because people are cruel and you've been corrupted with their silly bullshit and you don't need their scent on your skin anymore, scrub your body until you can longer scrub, scrub your skin and don't stop until it is raw, red and numb. Don't call your that mate of yours today, hes doing hard drugs, he can't think straight therefore doesnt care for you as a genuine mate would and wants to see you in pain just as much as he is because in reality, it makes him feel slightly better about his pathetic situation because he has someone on the same level so now he feels less disgusted of who he has become. Tell me, is that a friend to you? A good friend who gets literal twisted pleasure and comfort out of watching you stick a needle in your arm and sell your soul to the devil. That same sinister devil who awaits you always so very eagerly every high you take. That devil demon who is always patiently waiting for you at the finish line of your come up. This monster you have let in, he has made himself a home in yours, he lays right beside you, breathing in your air and covering the room with dark shadows so you aren't reminded of how peaceful the daytime light looks in your bedroom. Yes, I assure you, as I have met him before in my sleep. He has told me that sometimes he watches over me in the darkest corner of my ceiling while I sleep, waiting for my fears and anxiety to emerge in my sleep. He is my sleep paralysis monster. He follows me everywhere I go now, i have no privacy from him. He is always there, watching and waiting for weakness. When I am weak and vulberable once I have had my dose of drugs, he likes to play a game called hide and seek. He hides and I seek. Sometimes I hide and he seeks. He hides himself deep within me, the way he enters into me is through my auraus just after I have taken narcotics and opened my auraus right up, when one is the most vulnerable to evilness of spirits. When I am anxious, he makes me go seek. I never want to seek inside but I am not to disobey his orders for that is when he will truly punish me with the insidious sleep paralysis, sleep deprivation, shadow people watching as an audience, inner demons invited on stage to surround you, the sickest feeling of fear and paranoia washing over your soul like sticky slime you can't remove off your skin no matter how many scratches you've inflicted upon your skin. Because of that one night with that one friendeedle,

Laying right beside you ou in your bed, as an unwanted shadow, n anticipation, the devil when your come down is creeping over you with a sheepish grin upon his face. has begun andat the end of your reality has set back in and the come down is creeping up on you of your high for you. Go ahead, if that's the life you want, nants you to go down like him, and that is just not part of hesgo to bed early, read that self-help book, try, just try to listen to your parents (even if they suck major sweaty hairy balls right know and are in the typical parent stage of not being completely and pathetically oblivious to you as a evolving adolescent boy that needs help and support and guidance from his parents because he feels sort of invisible and worthless in life right now and has been questioning for some time now his place in this world and what he means to anyone that cares for him and if his worthiness is even worth anything now or is he just too far gone to make it or start over fresh.

[de-boeldieu]

Craig-locked-heart

A Wilfred Owen x @a-french-guardsman fanfiction.

Firmin looked an Owen, he hated his haircut, but damn if he didn’t love Owen anyways.

The poet sat on his bed, in perfect calmness. Owen looked up, noticing Firmin staring, and gave him a warm smile. Firmin could feel his cheeks turn red, not knowing how to react to Owen’s gesture.

He couldn’t help but wonder, what was Owen reading? By knowing maybe he could understand him better. He sat down on his comrade’s bed. The poet looked up at him, dazed

“May I help you, Firmin?”

“I...I uh, I want to know what you’re reading.” Firmin stuttered.

“Well, it’s a book of poems. Do you like poetry?”

“Yes, yes I do in fact.”

“Oh, I’ll let you borrow this once I’m done reading it.” He smiled at Firmin, “maybe we could get together and talk about it once you’re finished with it.”

The French-English soldier blushed again at Owen’s proposal. Was this a date? He couldn’t believe Owen would want to hang around someone like him. Finally, he said,

“That..that sounds brilliant, I’d love that.”

“Wonderful” replied Owen.

Firmin returned to his bed, feeling giddy like a school girl. He couldn’t believe Owen would do something like this.

Days past, and the poet approached Firmin, handing him the book.

“I’ve finished it, here you are. I hope it’s something you enjoy.”

Firmin took the book looking into Owen’s hazel eyes, “Thank you so much. I’m sure I will.”

Later that evening, the French-Englishman sat alone in the mess hall, reading Owen’s book, being careful not get stain the pages with the bland food he ate. The poetry was so soft and gentle, Firmin couldn’t believe that Owen enjoyed this kind. He had always seemed so stoic, he was friendly, but not the type to go picking flowers, like multiple poems had mentioned.

A week passed, Owen and Firmin had not spoken often to each other, but Firmin did not mind. He had finished his poet friend’s book, and was going to speak with him this afternoon underneath the Weeping Willow tree in the endless field of Craiglockhart. Three pm. It was noon. Time couldn’t pass slower, Firmin thought to himself. He wrote about Owen in his journal, he loved him.

Firmin waited under the tree, much earlier than he was supposed to meet Owen. He couldn’t contain himself, he was so nervous, but excited to have this chance. Maybe something would work out between them. Being more than just comrades of the war, and this god forsaken hospital.

Owen came right on time, typical of a soldier, Firmin smiled to himself. Owen looked as amazing, the sun shining in his gelled hair, and lighting up Owen’s already bright smile. And those blue eyes, Firmin dreamed of them and how he drowned in that blue sea.

“Hello, Firmin. You’re looking nice today.” Owen greeted him.

“Oh..oh uh, thank you very much, you..you’re looking very good as well.” Very good? God, he was making an ass of himself. “I’ve..Ive finished the book.”

“Well I would think so, why else would we meet here?” He laughed. “How did you like it?” Owen earnestly asked.

“I thought it was quite lovely, actually.” Firmin gushed. “But I wasn’t expecting this kind of poetry from you at all.”

The poet looked at his comrade in shock, “Really? Why not?”

“You’ve always seemed so distant and serious...I never thought I’d read poetry about flowers that you would enjoy.”

Owen looked at Firmin, upset and heartbroken. “Oh, I’m sorry Firmin...I didn’t realize I came off this way...” he looked at the ground, “Is this why you never came to speak to me before?”

Firmin could feel his heart flutter, how was he supposed to answer this?

“No, I mean yes, I mean no-er- I don’t know.” Owen watched as Firmin attempted to sputter this phrase out. He smiled,

“I’m afraid, my dear friend, I don’t quite understand what you’re saying.”

“I don’t know what I’m saying either.” Firmin said, frustrated with himself. He couldn’t think straight. Why was this so difficult for him? “I just....I’ve been afraid to talk to you.”

“W-why?” Owen nervously asked.

Firmin took a sigh and gathered his thoughts. Was he really going to do this? Yes. He couldn’t keep it inside him for any longer. “The truth is Wilfred,” the wind shook the branches of the weeping willow tree, and gently passed through the two men’s hair. The breeze was warm and comforting, and almost seemed to whisper to Firmin, ‘do it’. “The truth is, I’ve admired you for a very long time. I...I love you, Wilfred.”

Owen stood in silence as the French-English soldier confessed his love to him. “Oh Firmin...”

Oh no, he could feel his heart sink to the deepest parts of the trenches. The way he said that, Firmin knew he should’ve kept it to himself.

“Firmin, I’ve admired you too. For a very long time. But you were always so friendly with others and not me, that I thought...I thought you didn’t like me.” Owen confessed, as the grass rolled with the wind. His blue eyes gleamed with tears, high tide.

Firmin couldn’t believe what he had heard. Nothing, nothing could have made him happier. But why? Why did Owen think he didn’t like him? “Wilfred, mon cheri, no...I could never hate someone as smart and handsome as you. I’m enamored with you.” He gently put his arms around Owen.

The poet began to sob and so did Firmin. The two of them together, nothing could bring more bliss. Doctors stared, wondering if the two were ok, as tears streamed down their faces, but they didn’t care. They were together, and they loved one another. No matter this stupid war, the only this Firmin and Owen cared about losing were each other. But it was best not to think of that, and enjoy their embrace under the sun.

[ketterdamns]

a brief history

so anyway i’ve been doing a lot of work over the last year (hence why im kinda awol and maybe less positive than I used to be) and the biggest thing that has always come up is to stop retreating when I need to be honest about the things that have happened to me, when acknowledging the things in my life that have damaged me and also as an exercise to let trust my friends and others not to use this information to hurt me- the only power of these words in the hands of others is what I perceive them to have. if i give it away freely and own it it can no longer be used to hurt me, or at least, that is the general idea i might regret this. i might not. i just think i need to try because im so so so tired. 

Anyway, under the cut; csa, parental and spousal abuse, rape, trauma,drugs, addiction, basically all of the triggers. a slightly optimistic ending tho!!! 

Additionally; if you read this, please can you in some way acknowledge that u have, via text, whatsapp, dm, pm, messages, likes (no reblogs pls!!)  just so i can keep track of who knows what ty!!!!

its really hard to admit that ive never had a stable home life. never even had a stable home, from the moment i was in the womb my mum was running, away from my dad (who never let her go), from my dad’s mum- who wanted me dead for reasons my mum has never been able to divulge, from poverty and homelessness throughout my formative years. 

That’s when it started maybe, I was about 3-4/5 we ended up having to move in with my uncle (my dads brother) and his wife. it was an uncomfortable situation for all, we were a family of four intruding on newlyweds, but we were desperate and immigrants to a new country without qualifications for work or money to support us or even a job to hold down. My mum tried her best, but my brother was one and i was two years older. I ended up spending a lot of time with my uncle, who often “took me off of her hands” for afternoons. I don’t rly remember those afternoons, except that I would always play up beforehand, not wanting to go. At some point, my aunt caught on, and instead of talking to her husband, or throwing his pedo ass out, she took out her ??jealousy?? on me, and started pinching me so hard i bruised. she would blame me for my uncle’s behaviour. i was a “madame” pretending to be his “princess”, my mum caught her hitting me, and packed our bags immediately, despite my father not allowing us to leave. we had to stay in that house for another two months, and this is when my mum would never want to let me out of her sight again. And this is also the beginning of the pattern that my dad would allow these things to happen to me but I was just a baby. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what was happening or why they were. No-one spoke to me and I had no one else in my life at that time. 

We spent some really uncomfortable years in uncomfortable places, but honestly being homeless for that year, and then moving into council accommodation was sort of the least of my worries. I was eight years old the time I was sexually and emotionally abused by my other uncle (also my dad’s brother). It was my first trip back to our home country My grandma spent all her time telling me I was awful (it turns out... she’s a piece of shit) all because I refused to call her “Mum”, she wanted to kidnap me and my brother, and idk what else. but we scuppered her plans by not going along with it. It was a very toxic and scary environment, so when my Uncle would invite me into his next door flat, and treat me with kindness, I was overjoyed. Finally, another adult I could trust! My grandparents used to police food, and essentially only allowed me one meal a day. Back in the UK we were very poor, and rarely got to have sweets unless they were gifts from other people, so my uncle already had the perfect tool to entice me. That first summer, I ate sweets and let him pamper me, slowly giving him more and more affection like sitting on his lap etc, because it meant more sweets for me and my brother. he was my favourite person in the world and i was sure that he was the one person i could truly trust and talk to about anything. I used to dream of moving in with him and living peacefully, well fed, in a quiet cosy environment. The next summer, I was nine, and my dad had almost finished his uni, meaning we were expecting more money. I had my fill of sweets. He bought me toys instead. Slowly, his requests for affection turned into demands. Slowly, his affection turned into something twisted and horrible, something dirty. I once tried to raise the point to my grandma, that sometimes my uncle did things that scared me. she told me off for being a coward. I didn’t say anything. I was getting toys, my little brother was being fed, my mum finally had a friend in my dads side of the family in him. I knew enough about unstable homes that the slightest disagreement could lead to homelessness again and I didnt want that. Maybe my silence was my strength. 

This was confirmed when he raped me when I was 12. It is the last time I will ever see that side of the family. I was in shock the whole time, I didn’t know what to do. When we got home, back onto firm cold soil and the safety of our shitty one bedroom council flat in the roughest estate , I opened up to my dad that for years i’d been terrorised by my uncle and afraid of saying something. Dads were supposed to protect their little girls from big bad men, even if that man was their brother. 

All I got for my troubles was another man who began to hurt me. Outraged that I’d ever speak something so horrible my dad began to beat me. Constantly. And if my mum got involved? He’d beat her too. she didn’t even know what was happening, but there was a point she also went silent, and it was all on me to bear the pain I’d tried to share. The following summer, my uncle died in a freak accident When I heard the news I laughed because I couldn’t help myself, and getting hit for it was worth it for the news. I never had to see him again.  He died and I was free. Except my dad never quite forgot what I had said, and he never forgave me for it. 

Anyway by this point I was a teenager, we moved again and constantly over the years until we properly settled and actually bought a house and I had a strong group of friends who didn’t mind my weirdness and my lack of skills. My mum at this point couldnt bear that I was branching out from her bubble, and something snapped in her too, she started to search my room, stalk my friends, refuse to let me out. honestly.. no i dont blame her (even tho her behaviour hasnt changed and im 23, but at the time? it increased how trapped i felt)

I was a teenager and I had a best friend. She loved a boy named DJ who was 18. DJ used to stalk me, and I kept quiet because I knew she liked him and I knew speaking up would cause me more trouble. I could look after her, and myself. DJ assaulted me one night at a party. I shouldn’t have been there and I shouldn’t have been doing what I was doing. I was already experimenting with drinks and drugs because I was dead inside anyway. he hurt me and then told my best friend that i’d hooked up with him and hoodwinked him into getting with me because i wanted to hurt her. within days that story was around school. i was the easy kid who would sleep with anyone for the drama, and i was quiet. i was terrified news would get to my mum, or my little brother who was also starting at that school. but most of all i was terrified of telling my side of the story, and to be hurt more than i was hurting already. I unfriended them all, and even though DJ continued to stalk me i kept quiet. DJ sent me a necklace with a dove, explaining the significance was that the dove was my innocence or some other weird creepy crap. my mum found it in the bin where id tried to bury it under rubbish i told her a fraction of the truth, I was being harassed by a boy and I didn’t welcome his advances. I didn’t tell her it was already too late. The school of course told him to keep away, and he did for the most part, and one time he tried to corner me while I was skiving off of a class and there was no one around, I ran and went to tell a teacher. I got told to “grow up” and sometimes “we have to get along with people we dont like”. I was the villain in their eyes. I swore  I would do everything in my power to get out of this school, go to the grammar in a new city where my reputation . DJ was arrested this year for online grooming an d sharing child pornography, and it honestly breaks my heart that its been going on for so long. maybe i should have said more, but who to? 

My time at school wasn’t all bad. And i had my first real positive experience with an older man. My english teacher once caught me unawares and I had a panic attack at being alone with a man-- he was gentle and kind, and worked with me to get to where i wanted to be grades-wise. he let me borrow his books and told me stories about his own son and i understood what real love meant, and it broke me that i’d never experienced it. 

My brother had grown so big now, and threatened my dad. if he ever lay another finger on one of us under our roof, my brother would kill him. my brother spent his childhood learning to fight, he’s in the runnings for the Olympics. My dad recognised the threat was real. And never hit me when my brother was home. However, when my brother wasn’t home... that was another story. my silence then was another kind of strength. I couldnt tell him the truth, because if he followed through on this threat, his life would be over. My dad got more sneaky, he would avoid my face, he’d grab my ankle and twist it so tight that it’s now forever fucked up. 

Despite all my fucked-up ness I did make it to grammar school, despite my parents not wanting me to go there. And im so glad i did. I finally had two years with minimal assault. My dad hurt me sometimes? The first night after my induction class because summer break, my dad took my prized hockey stick- one I’d worked long days to afford, and smashed it on my leg. I had to get crutches and didn’t leave my house for most of the summer, because I didn’t want to explain what happened. I couldn’t play my sport ever again properly. I lied to my friends and told them i was in my home country for the summer. i legit did not leave my house unless it was for doctors appts. 

 occasional nights he would be tired of me doing nothing but homework or making projects, or being loud. Alternately, he’d hate it when suddenly i became withdrawn and uncommunicative. when i physically couldn’t move etc. anyway turns out these were symptoms of my MI which wouldn’t be diagnosed for a long while, despite trying to find what was wrong with me from this point onwards.  but!!! for the most part! it was great! my school was in another city! i had freedom for a couple hours every day to do what i wanted! i made friends who embraced my weirdness! i had no reputation and i had my very own laptop finally so i could finally have some privacy!

too much privacy, i refused to give my mum my laptop password. hearing this, my dad threw my laptop down the stairs. 

i used what little money i had from part time jobs to fix it, but its something im resentful of to this day. my mum, in her eagerness to protect me, just let him hurt me again. 

anyway blah blah blah i moved to london and it was amazing i ran away i was free everything was going to change and i was finally going to be the person i always knew i was destined to be! chic and cosmopolitan and cool and confident and most importantly, safe, and comfortable, and in control. And I was. and then three weeks before halloween it happened again. i’d been away from home for two months now, and i’d started dabbling in harder drugs than weed, but that night i was not high. i was not in withdrawal. i was only drunk. i got raped again. this time, i did report it, but only because my housemates knew it had happened. i got rushed to A&E where they are legally required to call the police. the police took me to their HQ and i was interviewed. they arrested him. none of this was my choice, and my lack of silence led to a lack of control. I know ive been detailed already, but i wont go into detail about the rape kits they have and the questions i got asked and the journalists who dogged me and the nosy gossips who wanted to know the juicy deets. I don’t want to go into detail about how i realised I was a victim and was always going to be a victim, and i cant go into detail about the most recent abuses, not yet. All I know is i once thought i was in love with a boy called ‘T’, and what he did to me was worse because he made me believe this was all I could get and that I had to settle. He made me believe that him getting off on my trauma was love, instead of him picturing me as a child repeatedly brutalised by my male relatives. The moment I came to my senses and he was gone, I realised I was alone again. I failed my second year of uni, because the day before my final exam, my rapists wife found my house in london, idk how. She and her child begged me to help her husband’s appeal. I sympathised with her, she was a non-native with broken english looking after her kid. She reminded me of my mum. I told her for her chid’s sake and for her sake, I couldn’t. She cursed me and nothing has been the same since. actually, the lovely people of tumblr helped me raise the funds to complete summer school and carry on with my life. i now hold a masters degree. i remember each and every one of u who donated or signal boosted. i also remember my choice to keep his wife out of it, and not mention her. silence was golden. 

This year my rapist  was deported after raping another person when he was released for good behaviour. 

anyway. despite all of this magnitude of shit that has happened to me. despite my numerous addictions that im still working thru (im sorry if u knew me when i was nothing but a junkie. at 19/20 I was not a good person and anything I said that was thoughtful or provocative came from a bad place. I gave bad advice and abused my medication alongside brown and alcohol. My manic episodes got worse than I’ve ever experienced and usually led to me some very dark very scary places. I’m mostly better now but the last year has Been A Lot. I tried to kill myself twice. Once, I was saved by police, which is... embarrassing and I lied my ass off (and brandished the fact i was a MASTERS STUDENT OF LAW and they had entirely the wrong end of the stick) and another time, i was saved by chance. I am making so much progress tho. I’m proud of me. I’ve become more independent. I’m not afraid to speak out when I’m dissatisfied now. I know strength comes from knowing what you want and what you don’t want, not settling for the worst because unknown reactions in my imagination are worse than whatever reality has in store. 

im graduating from my masters next week. i feel as tho ive lost a lot of friends and people i cared about- all i can say is im sorry. i’m trying. but if i fuck up, its on me. if i speak too loudly and it hurts you, please tell me. if i dropped away, its because i had to work on me, and im sorry, and im ready to come back, if you’ll have me.  I’m really excited about the future, but im scared too. the last three months have been so hard and every day i feel like giving up again, but I won’t. there has to be a reason i survived all this, and im yet to find it, but i hope i will. im still going thru shit. my dad is still the worst. but i have a really lovely partner who is so so so patient with me- more than i deserve, im in touch with a doctor and a sleep therapist, my brother is looking out for me and im getting in touch with old friends, and im making new ones all the time. thank you for sticking by me, and sorry for the long read. i just had to get it out there you know? its my truth and the silence was killing more than anything else in this stupid story is. ive left lots of details out, but parts of my story interlink with others and other parts im still holding onto, i cant share everything online i think thats enough oversharing for a long long time. 

[raes-dirty-laundry]

Stress

I didn’t realize exactly the depth of pure shit I was in until I wrote, be it a very summarized version, of it all down. That version was sent off never to be seen again but this version I’m about to write all down for you here is the extended directors cut. From my brain to this social media platform to you, in all its angsty glory;

1. Constant worry about the wellbeing of my ex girlfriend, that I haven’t seen in three weeks. And when I say constant I mean not a moment goes by where she’s not on my mind. I’m ether formulating the next text I’m going to send her, the next conversation I’m going to have with her (the next time she decides to fucking bless me with her presence), the next accusation, confrontation, confession, concession, profession of everything I’ve been holding in; or I’m bombarded with the mental image of her lying dead on the carpet, all the years and decades passing by where we’re in love and nothing could keep us down as long as we got eachother, successful or poor, fat or thin, living or dying or somewhere in between. that life, that track, that winding road I could have kept her going on if I wasn’t selfish, didn’t take myself away from her for my own good. What’s my own good any good for if she’s gone anyway? And sometimes when I think of her all I feel is relief that it’s over, and guilt that its really, really not. Sometimes all I think is how much I miss her, not that I miss us or what we had together but believe it or not she was good company and an even better friend. Sometimes when I think of her I’m furious and sometimes I’m sad, but mostly I just want closure. A closure I don’t deserve and I’ll probably never get anyway.

2. Me passing this semester, this whole year is solely dependent on a paper I mean to write but never have the time or the motivation or the ability to create. It was due a week from torrow and I’ve promised my professor it’d be on his desk tomorrow morning, but I think we both knew that’s not going to happen. I’m going to fail his class and fail this year and there’ll be no one to blame but my own shitty inability to make good on my word. My word is all I fucking have and I can’t even keep that straight. I’m unwilling to hand in a crap paper and I’m unwilling to do what it takes to completely it and I’m unwilling to show up to his class empty handed, so what the fuck am I supposed to do now? All my options are exhausted, I’m exhausted, and I’ve not even begun to suffer for it.

3. Speaking of classes, I’m on the verge of failing two of them and only with a month left in school there is absolutely no time and little I can do to make it up. Not only will this hinder my ability to pursue further education but it will also without a doubt put strain on my home life as well, when the truth comes out either by admission or that cold hard evidence when the grade report comes in. Let it be known that at least I’ll take the responsibility for my own damn action and conscious choices that led me to fuck everything up. Let it be known that my free will is strong, and as much as it blesses me it is also my greatest burden, but I’m learning to live with it as I am will all things.

4. I’ve been severely deprived of possitive social interactions, friendships and what have you, for god knows how long: since I fell out with my childhood best friend, Jacob, surely. Because of this for the longest time I had aloud shit people into my life because I was desperate, and just up until recently I have come to terms with my inherent isolation and found peace with the one solid and good friendship I have, I found peace with putting my all into being happy with myself and not needing others to define my value. Since that epiphanic moment for some god forsaken reason everyone from here to whoville has been coming out of the woodwork to be my ‘friend’. By friend I mean they want to use me as an emotional dumpster, and somehow I’m the one left feeling guilt deep in my soul for just not giving a rats ass about thier shorty problems and thier shitty lives that I can’t do anything about and if I tried they’d be pissed and if I have advice they wouldn’t take it and if I just listened they’d tell me they don’t feel valued and I act like I don’t care and they’d spit in my face. So forgive me if this irony is fucking shocking when I say, the moment I stop lusting for friendship and start actually examining the quality of those I let influence me, a cascade of shit people become vying for my attention, right when I gain the ability so see through said shit too. Where were these people when I was desperate and would have bent over backwards for their every whim? Where were they when I was honest to god lonely and just needed one friend, one person to talk to no matter how shitty or using or manipulative? Now that I’m free of my blissful ignorance, free from letting scum walk all over me just because they give me the time of day, now they all see my value? It’s not fair and entirely too patronizing, even for god this is gone too far.

5. I’m almost certain that the only constant, stable good thing I’ve got left in my life is getting closer and closer to his end and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever has to deal with in my entire goddamn life. After he’s gone I’m afraid of what will become of me. I’m sure that everything good about my soul that was ever worth anything of value will leave with him. I’m almost relieved that the squishy, vulnerable, loving bits left still inside me will be burried with his soft little body in the dirt where it will all go back to creation, hopefully where it can be used and remade and turned into the thread that twines around true loves hearts. Meanwhile I’ll be left here to live on my life, cold and careless and unseeing, where I will finally be able to throw myself into the Work. all that I see now, all the suffering thag hurts to ignore, all the love and the heartache and everything that makes me who I am will be deep in the dirt where it belongs and I’ll be blessedly empty and there’ll nothing left to hurt any longer. Or at least that’s what I hope.

6. The responsibilities I’ve been turning a blind eye too for far too long are finally nipping at my heels and I can barely contain them inside my any longer. I’ve got a responsibility to myself to take care of myself far better than I have been. I owe it too the one friend I truly have to try and take better care of her and our friendship. I have a responsibility to make sure my boy he’s happy and safe and well cared for, but I can’t bring myself to take him in and find out how long we’ve really got, it would break what little of me that’s stable that I have left and I just can’t to that to him, I’ve got to be strong enough to be there when the time comes but it’s selfish to keep myself in this dark, it’s wrong of me to do this too him but I just don’t know what to do. What I can do, if there’s anything, and I’m too scared to go find out. I’ve got a responsibility to myself to actually be responsible with my life for once, do what I must do to progress on my path but I just can’t find it in myself to break out of the routine and do something with myself. Ive got the will, but I just can’t seem to find my way.

7. The nightmares, if they can even be called that, have been plaguing me for a week or so and it’s probably the worst possible development nueralogically that could have happened to me as of late. My dreams, for years, have been the only peace I find in my horrible useless life. The only place in my mind that I don’t have conscience control of, hence it is salvation for a person like me. A whimsical everchanging world that has always brought me joy has now been ruined. Every night it begins like how it used to be, funky little nonsensical dreams where I’m free to just enjoy for a moment a life where I am simply lead, no choices to make and no prices to pay. Hours of harmless everlasting fun safe tucked away in my mind where no one can rain or take away. I’ve always had a vivid imagination, so it’s always been sometime bright and new and exciting. But now? It’s dull. Not scary, not terrifying, not traumatic or chaotic, just my life through a lens. It’s like stepping into a version of my own life where I make irriversable mistakes, where every bad trait is put under the microscope and examined in depth, or it’s replaying every mistake I’ve ever made before, over and over until I can’t tell what’s real life and what’s inside, or worst of all, I’ll wake up and not remember a damn thing; a completely dreamless night. I never knew one of the last good things in my life that were truely mine could so easily slip through my grasp, and now my peace is gone and I’m scared every night that the next time I fall asleep will be even later than the last until I’m so fed up with my dreams not being the salvation that it used to be, that sleep while once was the hope on the horizon getting me through the day will now be so useless and horrible that I’ll give up on sleeping all together and just be an empty sleepless lifeless zombie. I’m scared that I’ll never get my dreams back. I’m scared that one day I might even learn to be content with the dull dreams that leave me racked with despair every time I open my eyes and just have my own sad twisted life thrown back at me.

That pretty much sums it all up. Those are the factors in which are making it extremely difficult to life my life at the moment. These are the reasons I’ve moved beyond stress and anxiety to a simmering ball of hazy rage doused dread. I know one day it’ll all be irrelevant or I’ll just be used to it, but I almost prefer feeling too much all the time, as apposed to not being able to feel anything at all, but I’m sure my stance on that there will change with time and I become more and more numb to the world around me, duller and duller until I am blind to the machinations of my own demise.

[reversingxtime-blog]

Five Times Loved

Send “Five Times ______ed” for a Drabble of 5 different times our characters… did that.

          // @avedonxsque

i. MONEY CAN’T BUY YOU HAPPINESS.

“Uh… Are you sure?” Max peers into the gift bag that, in itself, screams EXPENSIVE. She hadn’t expected Victoria to actually buy her anything, and a part of her is reluctant to accept it. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the gesture, but how can she accept something so extravagant? She’d probably just ruin it, anyway.“No. I just bought this for you because I wasn’t sure.” The sarcasm is almost enough to make Max cringe and Victoria sighs. There’s a pause that follows, and Victoria is staring at Max expectantly. “Would you just– try it on, Caulfield.”There’s more hesitation before Max finally reaches into the bag, pulling out the soft, royal purple, cashmere cardigan. It’s not really her style, and probably more expensive than everything she has in her closet combined. If anything, this is more Victoria’s style– well, obviously, since she’s the one who bought it, but could Max really pull it off? She wasn’t so sure… ‘Hipster Chic’–if she could even call her wardrobe that–was one thing, but ‘rich girl’? She couldn’t give off that kind of impression even if her life depended on it.She can practically feel Victoria’s stare on her, boring holes into her skin, and it’s enough incentive to prompt her to slip her hoodie off and slowly slip the new garment on. She’s almost scared to look at her reflection then– afraid to see how ridiculous she must look. But, when she finally brings herself to look into the mirror at her reflection, all she can do is stare, taking in her appearance.In all truthfulness, she doesn’t look nearly as bad as she feared. In fact, the cardigan somehow manages to hug her subtle curves in a way that her hoodie never could. She’s pretty sure that it makes her look like a totally different person and she’s awestruck. Maybe she could pull this off after all…Unable to keep a smile from forming on her lips, Max glances over at Victoria, silently awaiting her feedback. When she sees the slowly ebbing smirk that aligns Victoria’s lips, she takes it as a good sign.“Not bad, Caulfield,” she remarks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now, if we could just change the rest of your wardrobe, you may just be able to pass for someone who actually has fashion sense.”“Hey,” Max is still smiling, but rolls her eyes anyway, “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes!”Still, if Victoria could manage to find her more clothes that would look this good on her, she wouldn’t be opposed to it.Money might not have been able to buy you love or happiness, but it was definitely a start in the right direction.

ii. TENSION.

It was bound to happen sooner or later… After all, happiness couldn’t last forever, right? Things had just been too perfect, and perfect Victoria with her perfect face, and her perfect hair, and her perfect clothes, and her damn near perfect everything, started giving off strange vibes. They were friends now– or at least, Max liked to believe that they were, but once Victoria started acting weird, she called her out on it… And that’s when she realized that it definitely wasn’t the smartest thing she could’ve done.Victoria had her cornered and pinned against the wall, towering above her. Max’s heart leapt to her throat, and between between being frozen in place and paranoid that any girls in their dorm could enter at any moment and catch them in this position, Max’s gaze kept flickering past Victoria’s shoulder and down the dormitory hall.Her mouth felt dry, and she wasn’t sure if she should be scared or not. Victoria’s dark gaze certainly didn’t help her any, and she could only chew the inside of her cheek.“U-uh–” she finally attempts to speak up, her voice cracking, “Look, Victoria, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just–”… No way. No way is Victoria Chase kissing her right now. There’s no way in hell. If you’d asked her just last week if she thought such a thing could ever be possible, she would’ve laughed in your face and told you how absolutely ridiculous such an idea would be. Not that she was opposed to the idea or anything, but it just wasn’t plausible… Well, she’d thought so… until now. Victoria’s lips are warm against her own, and she freezes up for far too long as the dawning realization winds up slapping her straight in the face: She’s about ninety-eight percent sure that she’s falling for Miss Queen Bee, Victoria Chase.

iii. SCAREDY-CAT.

When Max had first suggested the idea of a horror-movie marathon Halloween night, she had no idea that Victoria hated horror films. How could she possibly know when Vic put up such a believable front? In all honesty, she half-expected for Victoria to try to drag her out to one of many Halloween parties–lord knows how the Vortex Club was probably missing their precious queen bee right now–and yet, here they were, curled up on Victoria’s couch and watching a stereotypical 90′s slasher film on her ‘tasty’ plasma screen.A bowl of buttery popcorn sat wedged between them, and Max was so busy shoveling the fatty food into her mouth and so engrossed in what was happening in the movie, she had no idea that Victoria was one jump-scare away from freaking the fuck out, turning the entire movie off, and calling it a night.And sure enough, the girl stupid enough to wander off on her own got attacked, loud, dramatic music flaring up, and making Victoria nearly jump out of her skin. She’d done a good job up to this point disguising her fear– keeping it hidden, but with the popcorn flying off the couch and Max hitting her head on the armrest due to the extra weight of Victoria barreling into her, it was quite obvious to her that Victoria was scared shitless.“Ugh– what the fuck, Victoria?” she groaned, pretty sure that she was seeing stars flashing before her eyes.Vic pauses the movie mid-scream, right before the lone girl is killed, and the stilled image on the TV is only slightly disturbing.“Let’s watch something else,” she suggests, removing herself from Max, and watching the brunette slowly sit back up, before gawking.“What? We can’t do that! It’s just starting to get to the best part!” Max protests, frowning. “I thought you said you liked scary movies.”“I said I could watch them,” Victoria defended, “Not that I like them… And I don’t like this movie.”“Oh yeah, I totally couldn’t tell from the way you nearly killed me just now,” Max scoffs lightly, and rolls her eyes at the way Victoria’s face pinches up at her.“Okay, fine. What do you wanna watch?” she asks, watching as Victoria gets up and moves over to sift through her various DVDs.As ridiculous as it might’ve been for Victoria to torture herself by trying to sit through all of that, Max also couldn’t help but find it just the tiniest bit endearing and it just made her love her more.

iv. SLEEPOVERS IN MY BED.

They sometimes sneak into each others dorms and sleep next to each other. It was a surprise the first couple of times when Max would be stirred awake by Victoria sneaking into her room and crawling into bed with her, but after a while, she eventually got into the habit as well.It was always nice to cuddle, and the added warmth on cold autumn nights was never not appreciated. Besides, Victoria always looked adorable when she was sleeping and it was a softer, more innocent side of her that Max didn’t think she’d ever seen before.In a way, it brought them closer together, and Max might even dare to say that it strengthened their relationship. And even though she’d lost count of all the mornings she’d wake up shivering because Victoria was hogging all the blankets, she knew she still loved their moments like this.

v. “I LOVE YOU.”

The first time this word is said, it’s first moaned, and later stuttered out in a whisper. Max says it first, and she doesn’t expect Victoria to say it back, nor is she surprised when Victoria asks her if she meant it. It’s just something that slipped out during the spur of the moment, but Max has no doubts that she truly meant it.They’re laying there, curled together in their aftermath of… rumpus, when it’s brought up. Max’s cheeks are burning all over again, but she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from Victoria’s. Lots of people say they love someone in moments like those, the words only holding little to no meaning, so she couldn’t blame Victoria for asking if she meant it.“I meant it,” Max whispers in confirmation, “I love you, Vic.” It’s something that’s undeniable now. It’s something she’s questioned for a while, and even after coming to the realization that she was totally in love with Victoria Chase of all people, she kept it to herself until now.

[supergirl-imagines]

Lena Luthor/you fic part 8

“Y/N, wake up.  Your doctor is here.”

Your eyes open to the sound of Lena’s voice and her hand on your shoulder.  She’s standing at your bedside, still in the clothes she had fallen asleep in, and a man in a white coat stands beside her.  You do your best to straighten up and not look like your entire body is screaming at you to stop moving.

“Y/N, I’m Dr. Russel and I performed your surgery.  How are you feeling this morning?” he introduced himself as he checked the stats blinking on your bedside monitor.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you replied quickly.  Lena, Dr. Russel, and the nurse at the foot of your bed did not look convinced.

“You know, your recovery will go a lot faster if you tell us the truth.”

Lena put a hand on your arm reassuringly and looked between you and your doctor.  

“I mean, my leg hurts, and my head.  And my side,” you admitted.  

“Are you feeling any nausea?”

“No, not really.”

“Alright, follow my light—“ he pulled a penlight out of his pocket and shined it back and forth in front of your eyes, “—okay, I’m noticing a little delay in your left pupil, but considering the trauma to your skull, that is to be expected.”

“You said there wouldn’t be permanent damage,” Lena’s eyes narrowed at the man.

“Once her concussion passes, everything should return to normal.  We’ll keep an eye on it just in case,” he replied calmly.  Lena bristled, but accepted his reply with a nod.

“Can you wiggle your toes for me?” Dr. Russel continued with his examination and flipped your blanket up over your feet.  A slight twinge of pain shot through the bottom half of your leg, but you were able to follow his request.  Apparently satisfied, he turned your blanket back down and scribbled something on his chart.

“We’re going to fit you with a boot before you leave the hospital.  Have you used crutches before?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “so I won’t need a cast?”

“As long as you keep weight off of it, your leg should be stable enough in a brace.  You’ll need to wear it for at least four weeks.  I’ll have one of my RN’s come in to change the dressing on your stitches as soon as I can.  Do you—“ the doctor caught Lena’s eye and immediately corrected himself, “—either of you have any questions?”

“Yeah, when can I get out of here?”

“With head injuries as severe as yours, we like to keep patients under observation for at least three days.”

“Are you sure that’s long enough?” Lena’s voice was laced with skepticism, but the doctor smiled and nodded nevertheless.

“Yes, I’m quite sure.  Anything else?”

“No, thank you, we’re fine,” you answered before Lena could question anything else and Dr. Russel handed your chart to the nurse.  Once she finished asking you about your pain levels and checked your vitals, the two of you were left alone once again.

“You know that guy is a doctor, right?”

“Yes, I’m just…I want to make sure he’s being thorough,” Lena replied.  “You can’t blame me for being concerned.”

“You look exhausted, Lena.  Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

In an attempt to divert the attention from yourself, you made the suggestion lightly and watched her brow furrow in concern.  

“Do…do you not want me here?”

“No,” you tried to sit up and then grunted in pain, “I didn’t mean it like that.  I just…I know what you look like when you’re tired and…you’re tired.  I’m not going anywhere, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?  I could use a shower and a change of clothes…”

“I’m fine, Lena.”

“If you’re certain…” Lena let her voice trail off, giving you another chance to change your mind, and then finally picked her purse up off of the chair she had moved to when the doctor entered.  “I’ll be back soon.”

As she turned and walked towards the doorway, you opened your mouth to speak and then lost your nerve.  Lena disappeared out into the hallway and you stared up at the fluorescent light above your bed, a little upset at yourself for not being able to say what you wanted to.  It almost seemed stupid to let her walk out without saying that you loved her, considering how many times you had stared at the cement walls of the room you were held in and wished you could tell her those exact words.  But, some stupid, insecure part of yourself kept you from doing it.  And, somewhere in the back of your mind, you could still see the condescending amusement on Lillian’s face.

—————————————————————————————

You had just dozed off with a fresh wave of pain meds from your IV when the sound of footsteps roused you.  Your eyes flashed open to see a vaguely familiar blonde enter the room, accompanied by a woman in dark blue scrubs.

“Hi Y/N, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Kara Danvers.  I’ve visited Lena at work a few times?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, in a bit of a daze, and squinted at her.  After a few seconds, the realization dawned on you and you continued to stare as she took a seat in the chair beside your bed.  All you had to do was imagine her without her glasses, and you could see it.  She had saved you.  Kara was Supergirl.

“I need to change your bandaging, honey.  Is it alright with your friend here?” the nurse asked, breaking your focus on Kara.  You nodded somewhat absently and allowed her to pull up your hospital gown to expose your abdomen.  As she removed the copious amount of bandages from your skin and you couldn’t help but wince at the sight of your bruised and stitched flesh.  There was no way that the scars wouldn’t last.

“So,” you looked away as the RN went to work and returned your gaze to your visitor, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to check up on Lena but…”

“Yeah, she went home to grab a shower and some new clothes,” you filled her in.  “You guys are close?”

“You could say that,” the blonde confirmed.  Something about her demeanor told you that she had another reason for being there, but she wouldn’t say it with the third person in the room.  “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better,” you attempted to make light of the situation, but the blonde didn’t seem that amused.  Before you could try anything else, the nurse swabbed your incisions with cold antiseptic and all the air shot out of your lungs.  In an attempt to keep your composure, you gripped the sheets below you and clenched your teeth as hard as you could without cracking them.

“Sorry, dear—” the nurse gave you a sympathetic glance and began taping gauze over the stitches, “—but it’s better than an infection.”

“Thank you,” you whispered; still short of breath.  Less than a minute later, the woman rolled your hospital gown back down and you pulled your blanket up.  

“Just holler if you need anything else,” she excused herself, leaving you alone with the disguised superhero, and you took as deep of a breath as your ribs would allow.

“You saved me.  Thank you.”

“Lillian Luthor hired you to spy on her daughter,” Kara stated bluntly.  You dropped your gaze to your hand and pursed your lips.  

“Yeah.”

“I’m not here to threaten you, or tell you that you got what you deserved, because I don’t believe that.  I want to believe that you’re a good person because of how much Lena seems to care about you.  Just…prove me right, please.”

“Kara, I love Lena.  I would do anything for her.”

God, why is it so easy to tell her this and not Lena?

“Good,” Kara dropped the slight threat in her voice and you felt yourself relax slightly.  

“What about Lillian?  Is she still…out there?”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Kara straightened her glasses and hesitated before continuing.  “Some of the best government agents are tracking her down, but the two men she hired are both in jail.  So, until she’s found, some agents are going to be tailing you and Lena.  I promise, you won’t even be able to tell that they’re there.”

“So, I shouldn’t do anything illegal for a while?”

Kara didn’t seem to look too amused and you sighed.

“It was a joke.  I’m serious about Lena, Kara.”

“I hope you are, because I know what you did before this.  Your info wasn’t that hard to find when you have access to government records.  I know what you’re running from and you better not use Lena to try to compensate for it.  She deserves better than that.”

“I know she does,” your voice almost shook and you grabbed for the button connected to your IV pump.  After a few clicks, the guilt-spurred knot in your stomach loosened and you found yourself able to look at Kara again.  “Thank you; for caring about her and for saving me, even if I didn’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves to be saved, Y/N.  It’s what you do after that matters—“ Kara turned towards the window suddenly, having heard something that you didn’t, and practically leapt up from her chair.  “I need to go.  Get well soon.”

In a blur of color, the blonde disappeared and you were once again left alone to your own devices.  Soon enough, the morphine in your system made it’s way to your head and you were able to slip back to sleep.

——————————————————————————————————-

Lena made it back up to your room a little over an hour later and, having not been sleeping too restfully, you woke up to the sound of her heels on the tile floor.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” she asked and sat down beside the bed.  

“No,” you lied and attempted to blink the drowsiness from your eyes.  Lena had put herself together, make-up and all, and seeing her in her usual state of dress relaxed your for some reason.

“Y/N, should we talk about what happened?”

Lena bit her bottom lip and took your hand.  

“What is there to talk about?”

“I just…I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about what happened to you?”

“Why would you want to hear about it?” you lowered your voice, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.  You had based your career off of not having to talk about your past.  You could make whatever you needed to up, as long as you were careful.  

“I’m sorry if this is upsetting,” Lena began to rub the back of your hand with her thumb as she spoke and you bit the inside of your cheek.  “I just can’t not feel like what happened to you was my fault.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Just talk to me anyway,” Lena pleaded.  You looked over to the window, willing yourself not to push her away.  “D-did they touch you, Y/N?”

“What?” you snapped your head back towards her and then winced at the way it made your head throb.  “No, no.  They didn’t…do that.”

“I’m sorry, I just needed to ask.  You were gone for five days and I couldn’t stop thinking about what they might be doing to you.”  Lena’s voice trembled and you watched her glance up at the ceiling like she always did when her emotions began to get the best of her.  It made your heart ache to see her like that.

“Lena, it’s alright,” you said quietly.  “What happened w-was bad, but I’m okay.  You’re okay.  Can’t we just move past this?”

“Of course; I want that too,” she agreed.

“You know,” you changed the subject as smoothly as you could, “your friend Kara stopped by.  You never told me you were so close with Supergirl.”  

“I knew you’d figure it out,” she chuckled lightly and the smile that crossed her features made the corners of your mouth turn upwards as well.  

“She really cares about you,” you noted.  “She’s also very protective.”

“Oh God, what did she say?”

“Just that she knows about, you know, me.  But, she seems like a really good friend.  I’m glad you have her.  She’s, um, very super.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose your sense of humor,” Lena laughed again and you felt a familiar pang in your stomach.  Suddenly, you found yourself very anxious to leave the hospital and move on.  You didn’t want to think about Lillian, or the stitches in your torso, or the fact that she was still out there, probably plotting a way to get to either you or Lena.  You just wanted to move past this.  

With Lena.