#cried for about a half hour after community was done

[calypsocolada]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME | g. tomioka

(this is part two! click here for part one)

synopsis: you left without saying goodbye, giyu needs to know why... author's note: hellllooooo. the reaction to part one of this story was incredible. i cannot thank any of you enough for your kind words seriously. this one is for all of you <3 (psst... to all the swifites, if you can point out two other song references besides rwylm you get a gold star) cw: ANGST (lol like there wasn't enough in the first part), blood, gore, spoilers about rengoku, HAPPY ENDING, not proofread wc: 4.2k

click here for my masterlist

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There was nothing more frustrating than lack of communication. As much as he wished he could read your mind, as much as he begged and pleaded to deaf ears you were just one hard shell to fully crack open. Though Giyu supposed he was probably the same. But at least he was making an effort. He thought you’d make one too. 

But as Giyu sat cross legged at a Hashira meeting he could meet all their eyes but yours. You didn’t spare him a glance like you spared him your time those few weeks ago. Almost a month and a half now and for some reason Giyu couldn’t stop counting the days, the hours and minutes. 

45 days since you knocked at his door. 

1,080 hours since you grabbed him, your cheeks wet as you pressed your lips to his. 

64,800 minutes since Giyu woke up in the morning to an empty bed. 

It never got easier. Each day was like this stabbing pain in his chest. A persistent feeling of desertion. He’d thought things had changed since that night. The night you cried and cried and kissed and kissed. 

He wrote you letter after letter but no response. Now here you were in the same room, in a room filled with others but Giyu only felt your presence. Like a heightened sense that haunted him so stunningly that he wondered if your lack of attention would actually kill him. As if he overdosed on it once and now he’d never be able to wean himself off you.  

You were so close, only maybe three feet from him but you felt worlds away. Could he have done something wrong? Showed too many of his cards too soon? Scared you off? Sure you reciprocated his kisses, in fact you were the initiator. But when it came to a verbal confession there was nothing for Giyu to latch onto. No words, just your actions. But your actions betrayed you. You treated him as if that night never even happened. For 45 days. It was like torture. To want something so badly, to have it for a fleeting moment then lose it. Giyu was losing it.  

“Mr. Tomioka?” Your voice was like a shot of ice through his veins. Giyu blinked the fogginess from his brain and cleared his throat. Your attention was on him. The room is empty. Giyu hadn’t noticed the meeting had ended. Didn’t notice everyone leaving. 

“Hmm?” He forced out, his eyes sliding to yours. Mr. Tomioka? Even before everything you called him Giyu. But now… you addressed him as though he was some stranger. A room alone, a room with you. He could say what was on his mind finally. 

“Did you pay attention in the meeting?” You asked. Giyu stared at you. You were looking at him. After 45 days of starving for your attention he found himself unable to act normally with it on him now. 

“Hmm…? Oh! Uh— yes…” Giyu stuttered out, feeling hopelessly useless. Feeling utterly ridiculous. 

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said coldly, turning to leave. 

“Wait-“ Giyu stepped forwards. Tomorrow? What was tomorrow? A talk? An explanation for your icy treatment? You turned, threw him a look over your shoulder. It was like you read his confusion. As if you knew he paid zero attention in the meeting. 

“The training grounds near your house. We’ll meet at sunrise.” You said and then your eyes lingered a second before you turned and left. Giyu found himself stuck still even a couple minutes after you left. Like his legs had forgotten their purpose. In fact, those 45 days he’d been right where you left him. A hopeless, nearly broken man. Stuck back in the time he had you. Haunting his house and his training grounds and everywhere he stood. You seemed to have moved on, seemed to maybe have even forgotten about the fleeting moment. Was that all it was to you? A fleeting moment? Maybe even a severe lapse of judgment? Something like that couldn’t have been a declaration of love. Giyu could and had been thinking himself in circles. He wished he said more. Wished he said less. Ran through everything over and over. Replayed it so often the record was starting to skip.    

Giyu tossed and turned all night. He didn’t sleep even a wink. You wanted to talk. Maybe explain things. Giyu knew whatever it was that kept you so far from him he was willing to work through to find a solution. He was willing to crumble your walls. Or wait. If you’d just verbally ask him to wait he’d pause his life forever for you. He’d become a ghost. Time could come and go on for everybody else but he’d wait diligently for you. He’d wait like the moon and chase after you like the sun. If only you’d just give him a damn reason. 

Giyu turned, the moon shining through a crack in his curtains. His eyes drifted to the empty spaces beside him. The same space he’d left empty since you vacated it. With splayed fingers he touched the spot of his bed and willed himself to remember that night. As if he’d ever forget it in the first place. He was restless so he moved out of bed and to his desk. He pulled out a few letters. Some from Rengoku and some from Kagaya. Both with the same topic. Giyus favorite topic. You. 

Giyu carefully slid open the first letter he ever received from Rengoku. He felt a pang just merely looking at the older man’s handwriting. All jagged and loud. He smiled as he reread its contents. 

-

Good morning Mr. Tomioka!

I was shocked to see you had written to me but pleasantly surprised! I am doing well, how’re you? I heard you are well on your way to becoming the next water hashira! How exciting! I know we’ve only met a few times but you have the demeanor of a water hashira. You seem cool and collected! You have a calm voice and although it’s hard to hear you sometimes I still appreciated our talks! About your interest in my tsuguko; she is doing well. She is very fiery. I could see her becoming the next fire Hashira. She sort of reminds me of you in the way she speaks. Though sometimes I can get her to raise her voice and it’s quite adorable. It would be lovely if you visited her. I’m sure she’d love to see you again after you saved her life. But if you’re too busy that is fine, I can always just write you with updates about her. Maybe I can even try and get her to write you a letter sometime! Anyways, Mr. Tomioka, hope this letter finds you well! 

With regards, Kyojuro Rengoku

-

Giyu laughed at the ink splotch on the paper next to Rengoku’s name. It was a common theme in his letters. Probably wrote sort of hard. Giyu carefully closed the letter and opened the last letter Rengoku ever wrote. 

-

Good morning Mr. Tomioka! 

Congratulations on becoming the water Hashira! The other hashira’s seemed sort of bummed you weren’t able to make it to the little celebration but I knew that kind of thing just isn’t your style so I decided to write you this letter instead. I knew you had a fiery streak somewhere in you! We all do! I have a mission coming up and saw that you have one too! I would like for you to let my tsuguko accompany you on your mission! I think she could use a bit of quiet in her life. She’s always go go go! Just like me! But I think you two could get along very very well, Mr. Tomioka! I think she thinks of you fondly. I once asked her about the boy who saved her and I am pretty sure she blushed! Ha-ha! Don’t be disheartened by her cold attitude, as long as she doesn’t verbally attack you that means you might be in her good graces! She’s come a long way, I see sparks of softness in her that I hope you’ll appreciate. She loves miso soup and sweet potatoes, she gets it from me! She loves to read and can’t get enough of the ocean so be sure after your mission to take her swimming. It could be a date! You think I don’t know why you often write asking me about her, right? I’ll pretend I don’t! She’s not much of a talker like you but she listens and remembers everything you say. That mind’s like a steel trap! Please take care of her and I’ll tell her to play nice though I’m not sure she knows how to! Ha-ha! Only kidding. Be safe, Mr. Tomioka and good luck on your first mission as a Hashira! 

With regards, Kyojuro Rengoku

-

Giyu still blushes as he reads the letter. Rengoku knew Giyu’s intentions even though he was sure he was being discreet. He carefully folded the letter back up and as he did a hint of the rising sun peaked its way through his curtains. He sprung up from his seat. He couldn’t be late in meeting with you so he hurriedly got dressed and tumbled his way out of his home. He rounded the corner to the training field and stopped dead in his tracks. 

You were there. 

You were actually there. 

Your sword clutched tightly in your hand as you swung it to and fro, practicing against a ghostly opponent. Giyu watched you. He blinked for a moment and saw Rengoku, in the way you swung your sword, the way you moved, the way your haori flew behind you, like flames licking the air. Rengoku taught you everything you knew and you applied his fighting style with grace and ease. Giyu honestly had never seen you in a battle. And his breath halted as he watched the confidence in your demeanor. Watched the sure way you’d swing, the velocity and speed. The preciseness. You were definitely Rengoku’s tsuguko. In fact, maybe you were even more than that. Almost like his shadow, his predecessor. And you held that title with grace. Giyu almost felt choked up knowing damn well Rengoku was more than proud of you. 

“Just gonna stand there all day?” You asked, your swing coming through to slice clean through a practice dummy. One half falling to the dirt, kicking up dust. Giyu found himself unable to speak once again as you turned. That attention too much to bear. You hiked up your brow and pointed your sword in his direction. “Well, are you ready to spar?”

“Spar?” Giyu echoed as you nodded your head, walking like a predator towards him.

“Where’s your sword?”

“That’s why you’re here?”

“Why else would I be?” You asked, eyes daring him to mention things you clearly wanted to forget. Giyu blinked through the breaking of his heart. He’d never felt pain like this. Never knew someone could ignite such warmth then douse it in icy cold water. He never thought you of all people would stab him clean through. Giyu turned just as his emotions were too much to hide. He walked and grabbed his sword, waited a moment to try and gather his composure before returning back a few feet from you. 

There was something in your eyes. He knew this sight was probably the last thing every single demon that had crossed you had seen for themselves. Eyes like fire, you morphed in front of his eyes into the flames that danced with your techniques. 

You took the first swing, your movement like the flickering. Your strikes felt hot, as if his skin would sear completely off. Giyu controlled his feelings, he pushed them to the side and met your violence of fire with the calmness of water. Metal clanged, and although you’d killed him moments ago with your words you brought him straight back to life with the way you fought. You’d found yet another thing for him to fall in love with. 

Damn you. 

After several minutes passed and one final swing you both stepped back. It was clear it was a draw. Not a single time did someone pull ahead and leave the other in the dust. Each strike was met with an equal block. You two were an equal match. For a moment you two just stared at each other, dripping in sweat, the sun and heat finally rising. You reached up and wiped your forehead with the back of your arm and sighed.

“So it’s a draw.” You said and Giyu nodded his head. A silent moment passed before you pulled your eyes from his and walked to your stuff. Giyu watched. Watched you pack up your things and give a halfhearted wave to him as you walked back towards the road.

“That’s it?” Giyu called out suddenly. He swore he saw you flinch.

“Either Obanai or Shinazugawa will be here tomorrow for the same match.” You called over your shoulder. The cold shoulder you’d given him for so long. 46 days now. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Giyu took a step but you resumed walking. “What did I do?”

“Have a good day, Mr. Tomioka.” You said and the moment you were out of sight Giyu tore off after you. 

-

46 days ago you’d been laying next to Giyu Tomioka. You’d woke up early and in the morning light you could see his face again. He looked at peace as he slept beside you, his arms around you, his breathing light. You reached across the small expanse between you two and tucked his raven black hair out of his face. Giyu moved barely in his sleep and you yanked your hand away, shy as though he’d catch you admiring him. As though you hadn’t just spent the night together. Once he settled you gazed at him. Something, you knew what it was now, bloomed in your chest. Was this something you could truly have? To kill demons and go home to someone like him at the end of the day? Home… what would that even be like? What would that even look like for you? Slowly you sat up in his bed, covers falling from your shoulders, pooling at your torso. 

Everyone you had ever loved died horribly. You felt as though a curse was placed upon you. Penance for the deaths of your family.

Ever since Rengoku had died there was this thought that haunted you. A sort of prophecy you felt had cursed your very being. No matter how many times you thought about leaving Rengoku there was no way to ever go back and board that train with him. No way to deny his request and maybe even save his life. Would you have been useful or would you have been a hindrance? Would your presence have even changed a thing or were you just destined to love and lose? Your eyes flicked to Giyu, face barely illuminated by the sun rising. 

If you stayed in this bed would you watch him die as well? Just the thought made you physically sick to the stomach. You felt like a kid stuffed into a hiding place all over again. A helpless, useless kid.

If you let yourself love him and be with him, the pain of losing him might actually do you in for good. And if you left right now… would that save his life from the curse placed upon you? 

Turns out you're quite self sabotaging after all. And by morning you slipped out of his house, tearing back towards the inn, running with your tail between your legs.

-

“Do I not deserve an explanation?” Giyu called out to you, you'd almost made it to the end of his house. You paused, turning.

“Leave it.” You answered lethargically. 

“Did you even read my letters?”

“What letters?” You asked and when your eyes found his face the utter pain on it made your stomach drop. 

“I wrote to you… many times. Your crow should’ve delivered it to you.” Giyu explained, his face utterly disheartened. You glanced at your crow, who’d been curiously pecking at some bugs in the distance.

“I never received them.” You answered and clenched your jaw. You deserved to see him hurt. The pain you caused him was something you wouldn’t let yourself look away from this time. Giyu haori swayed slightly in the wind, he couldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Tell me what to do.” Giyu says and you blink at him, your brows furrowing. 

“What?”

“I’ll wait. I’ll let dust collect over my life until you wish to have me back.” 

“I don't want that.” You said with a start. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself back into some composure. “I want you… to… go on ahead.” Slowly Giyu raises his eyes to meet yours. 

“What do you mean?”

“I could never feel the same way you feel for me. So I want you to move on.” You said and kept your eyes glued to him as you said it. You didn’t let one smallest ounce of pain show on your face.

“Why?”

 “Because I’m not worth dying over.”

“I’m not worth dying over, Master!” You screamed, pain coursing through you. You watched Rengoku surpass his limits, a demon pushing him far past them. The same demon that had gotten the jump on you moments ago. The man couldn’t hear you. You stumbled forwards, blood dripping from a wound somewhere on your head, the blood getting in your eyes. You stumbled, losing your footing, your sword clattering against the stones out of your grip. “Rengoku, please! Run while you still can!” You screamed, coughing up blood as you crawled towards the fight. Your breathing labored, black ink splotched in your vision. Take me! You thought hopelessly, take me and not him! 

“Y/n? Come on, kid, wake up.” You blinked awake. Your entire body ached, drowsiness threatening to take hold of you. Where were you just now? You must’ve passed out from the pain. “Ah, there she is.” A blurry redness kneeled beside you as you blinked until you could see properly. “You’re awake.”

“Master?” You coughed as Rengoku smiled down at you. 

“Tough battle, huh? You did great out there kid.” Rengoku said proudly. “You mastered a few of those moves I taught you, it was incredible.” He recounts.

“I-- lost.”

“Hush now. That demon was even tough for me to kill. You did the best you could.” He says reaching for you, ruffling your hair.

“Y-you almost died,” You choked out, Rengoku’s hand paused on your head. “I-- Master I don’t ever want to be a burden to you.”

“You are no such thing.” Rengoku admonishes, giving your cheek a sharp and playfully pinch. You gasp in surprise, rubbing your cheek. “You think too dark sometimes, kid.”

“But-- Master… I’m not worth dying over.” You say, looking down. Rengoku grabs you by the chin.

“You don’t get to decide that. I do. And I decided that you’re worth saving.” He looks at you intensely to get his point across. You part your lips to argue but slowly close them. “Now enough of this, we won, let’s celebrate!”

“What do you mean?” Giyu walks closer to you, his voice has an edge to it. A worried and sharp edge. “Are you unsafe?”

“That’s not…” You trail off, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. “I’m giving you an out.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Mr. Tomioka-”

“Don’t. Please don’t call me that.” Giyu lamented, his expression pained. 

“You’d be wise to just move on.”

“I can’t. I won’t”

“You can, you should.” You growled. This reminded you so heavily of the night you stormed out of his house and you two fought in the road. You were pretty sure this was almost the exact same place. You gave an inch that night but you were trying desperately to take it back. No matter how much this hurt it would hurt even more if your curse killed him. You had to remind yourself of that. Of the thing that possessed your life. 

“Give me a reason.”

“My past should be reason enough for you.”

“What do you mean? Speak it plainly for me.”

“It’s obvious. I’m fucking cursed, Giyu!” You hadn’t expected it but ever since that night you cried you couldn’t stop. Every little thing made you cry now it was annoying. You cried when you left Giyu in the morning. Cried in your inn. Cried when you arrived back at your empty house, the taste of miso soup and potatoes wrecking your senses. Years and years of it being stored up and the dam broke. You felt like a little kid but there was no way around it. Maybe if you tried being truthful Giyu would leave. “I hid while my family died and because of it I’m cursed. I thought I could move on. Rengoku was like family to me. I let him in. I trusted him. I loved him. I let my guard down and my curse took him. And I-- I won’t let it take you okay so just do me this favor and let whatever you feel for me die.” You forced your eyes to his. Angrily wiped the tears from off  your face and looked at him intensely. “I am begging you.” Giyu looked at you, his eyes scanning your face. He walked and walked forwards until he was directly in front of you. His hands reached out, ever so gently sliding over either side of your jaw, his thumbs wiping the tears from your face. Deja vu gripped you so intensely. He’d done this same thing before. He leaned close, so close your breath hitched in anticipation of a kiss. But he stopped, mere centimeters away.

“You are not cursed.” He lets his words sink in. His eyes staring ardently into yours. Your breathing stopped, like you’d forgotten how. That dangerous beat of your heart started up again. There’s something to be said about someone that will tear themselves apart just to keep away from the one thing that could make them happy. You were the biggest component of that. It was like you craved hurting yourself. Craved punishment for crimes you never committed. Giyu pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You didn’t kill your parents and you have to stop blaming yourself for it.” His whispers as you pull back slightly, looking as though you’d been slapped. He knew it. Giyu knew you. You looked away but he forced your attention back to him. “They saved you because they loved you. You were a child. There’s no sin in that.” He presses another kiss to your face. You should back up. You needed to back up. You… you couldn’t. Giyu’s arms slide around you and you're pulled against his chest in a tight hug. “Rengoku didn’t die because he loved you, he died saving a world that had you in it.” There were the damn tears again. You closed your eyes as they sting you. “You don’t get to choose who loves you and it’s unfair to make decisions for them.” 

Rengoku’s words rang in your head.

You don’t get to decide that.

“I… I won’t make it if I lose you.” 

“Don’t say that. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, look at me.” Giyu pulls back, you tilt your face up, eyes meeting his. “If you don’t want to lose me then fight for me, stop running, I’m begging you.” You looked up at him. There was no point in trying to build walls, not when Giyu always knew a way around them. You spent a long time in your own head. For once… you decided to let someone else make the calls. If even your most self destructive ways didn’t scare him off then it’s obvious that no matter what you did you couldn’t scare him off. 

“Alright.” You intoned softly. The utter hope on Giyu’s face was quick to show. “I’ll stop running.” 

“Promise me this time. Promise I won’t wake up and you're gone.”

“I���m sorry. You deserved better.” You breathed out, guilty.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” He says fondly. You shake your head, eyes rolling.

“You forgive too easily.” Giyu kissed you then. No warning. Just pure want. It was the kiss of someone who’d been counting the seconds you’d been gone. Sickly sweet. Of course he’d forgive you quickly. When he pulled back he pressed his forehead to yours. “Give me your word. That you’ll give us a try.”

“I promise.” You say without hesitation. 

Giyu kissed you again, this time slowly, passionately. He tangled his hands in your hair and you melted. He was going to be the death of you. Though you supposed you shouldn’t think that way. You could settle on him being your near death experience then.

-

When the morning dawned and Giyu opened his eyes for a moment his bed felt empty. He rolled his head to the side and when his eyes fell upon you there was nothing in this world that could’ve been a better sight. He reached and softly tucked your hair out of your face. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his eyes fall back closed, knowing damn well when he woke up again you’d be beside him.

bonus: giyu's letters

-

Dear Y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I write to only beg for a moment of your time. If you regret what happened days ago then don't spare me your kindness. I long to know what you think. What you really think.

Please meet me at the training yard in two days time.

Giyu

-

Dear Y/n,

How're you today? I do not wish to bother you, I just need you to know that I care. We can forget whatever you want. I will pretend away the feelings I have if you want. Whatever you want it is yours. Just please write me back.

Giyu  

-

Dear Y/n,

I would like to speak plainly for once. I love you. You don't ever have to say it back, I just want you to know. That's all. I will stop bugging you because you do not owe me a thing. I hope you are well. If you need anything don't hesitate to reach out. I can be a friend. I can be whatever you want. Please take care of yourself.

With love, Giyu

-

[salemlunaa]

Can I be your😎 anon

So in july this year I got into LOA and got in a vicious cycle of overconsumption for half a month but then I saw a taylor tookie's video and manifested my desired grades within a week just by robotically affirming and the other one in 4 days even after reacting to 3D like I was literally crying but then I could not manifest anything for a month but then I found out about void and tumbler and again got into thus vicious cycle of overconsumption and cried a lot but then I again saw taylor's videos that she posted this month and I swear I manifested The shit in hours

We are in law of assumption community but it doesn't seems like we are in it but in the methods like here on tumbler,youtube it is all about methods like if you do this you will get this and all the shit.

I don't even resonate with having it in 4D because I follow LOA that suggests what we assume to be TRUE is TRUE and we make assumption by simply saying we are going to have it or we have it now without contradicting ourselves literally it is just that simple

And if you doubt me then go to TAYLOR TOOKIES channel and read the comments under her videos that are uploaded this month and you will belive me

I wanted to share this with someone who is well known in this community so that my message can reach the greater audience as I am not a blogger that's The reason I send this to you because you give one of best advices to people on this community and I personally love your posts and you as a blogger

Bye bye ❤️

yes 😎 i agree, the law isn’t transactional, it’s not “do this method and get this” you have it already!!! although you should be resonating with your 4d as that’s what manifestation is all about

i feel like all communities on each app ESPECIALLY tiktok (in my opinion, you shouldn’t be there for advice on anything loa, void or shifting i just go on it for fun), are so method obsessed it’s crazy

assume you have it in your 4d it’s done, your desire appearing in the 3d is just a byproduct, the cherry on top if you will. Methods don’t help you get to your destination, you’ve already reached your destination, methods just help remind you that you’re there.

[underneath-the-sidras]

I'm Addicted to the 'If Only'

for @nessianweek Day 2: Yearning

Summary: There were times. Times when the ale in her cup had softened the roaring in her head to a dull hum. When she was half asleep, or bewitched by a particular tune the string players were playing at the tavern. Times when Nesta's mind would wander towards the shimmering light in the back of her mind, and picture what could have been. With Cassian.

OR

Nesta gets drunk and is simply a woman with fantasies / ACOFAS AU?

A/N: Felt cute, might delete later. I'm going to be honest, I've never done this before. Done what you ask? All of it! Unfortunately, an idea wiggled into my brain and I needed to write it out. Fortunately, the stars aligned and this worked out for Nessian week! That and @separatist-apologist is very good at convincing others to write their first fics. It's very imperfect, but I'd like to think of it as a way to thank all the wonderful writers in the Nessian community who have kept me well-fed with all their beautiful work for so long. This fic is inspired by the song "I Look in People's Windows" by Taylor Swift.

On AO3

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

Snow was falling over Velaris.

Nesta watched as flakes the size of silver coins dropped onto roofs and the heads of passersby as they bustled by the tavern window. The city would soon be completely covered in white, the snowflakes layering on top of one another in the street until they became an impenetrable sea of snow. She used to hate the winter in the mortal lands, how it ran their food scarce, how it forced her to rely on snuggling close to her sisters for warmth. But as she observed from the warm interior of the tavern, she was beginning to appreciate the harsh beauty of the coldest season. She liked the hard structure that came from the cold, finding it far more appealing than the dripping nature of the summertime. That, and maybe she had also begun to appreciate the isolation that came with the onslaught of colder weather. Fewer bodies on the streets meant less chance of running into certain fae. 

It had been four months since the final battle with Hybern, and Nesta had since effectively removed herself from the inner circle. Her sisters were now free to live their lives without her, no longer having to dwell on old wounds and painful memories. And Cassian…her thoughts stuttered. She tried not to think about the Night Court’s general when she could help it, casting any lingering thoughts of him to the farthest corner of her mind.

But.

But there were times. Times when the ale in her cup had softened the roaring in her head to a dull hum. When she was half asleep, or bewitched by a particular tune the string players were playing at the tavern. Times when she would wander towards the shimmering light in the back of her mind, and picture what could have been. With him. 

Would he hold her hand while they sat at the tavern, she wondered, his thumb slowly stroking the back of her hand as the music played. Would he press soft kisses into her hair and carry her home after she complained about her feet hurting? The corners of her mouth threatened to lift at the thought. 

She would teach him how to dance, firmly placing his hands on her waist and admonishing him when they slipped lower. His warm laugh would rumble across his chest, and she could feel it now. Feel how they were pressed together, how warm and smooth his skin felt against hers, and how her heart would thunder as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

One kiss would turn into two, then three until he was backing her up towards the wall of her apartment, his hands fisting in her hair as she cried out “Cassian–”

“Miss?” 

Nesta jolted up from where her head rested at the bar, the bartender looking over her with a mixture of pity and weariness. Her head turned over her shoulder to survey the room, suddenly aware of the vast emptiness of the tavern around her.

“Bar closed about a half hour ago,” he said apologetically, “Is there someone I can get to take you home?” Nesta shook her head, her cheeks heating. She rose quickly from her seat, swaying slightly from the alcohol.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” She said in a clipped tone. Using everything in her power to remain balanced, she made her way to the door, decidedly ignoring the concerned look of the barkeep. 

The cold wind greeted her instantly, a welcome sobering feeling brushing across her face. Nesta breathed in the chilly air, the ale having warmed her enough that the cold was almost enjoyable. But the bartender’s question still nettled in her mind. Was there anyone to take her home? Who would want to take her home?

The image of the Night Court’s general flashed across her mind. Cassian, her mind seemed to sigh at his name. Would Cassian have taken her home? Perhaps if she had not refused to speak to him after the war, and he had not given up so easily, he would be here. It was impossible given their history, she knew that, but it was at times like these when Nesta’s mind liked to play games of pretend. Pretending she lived in a world where she wasn’t broken and Cassian had stayed. Would he come to nights at the tavern with her or meet Nesta to walk her home, not wanting her to walk alone on the street? 

Nesta didn’t even know if Cassian liked music, or what kind, where his favorite tavern was, or what he liked to drink. 

She didn’t want to know. 

She was desperate to know. 

It was nonsensical to wonder about these things, she knew, but Nesta’s whole body ached with how much she did not know Cassian, and how much he did not know her. He should not know her, the roar in her head tried to scream out, but the foolish part of her was louder as she continued to walk through the snow-laden streets of the city. 

Did it feel alright for him to not know her? Was he tormented by it, wondering what she liked and where she was at every waking moment? Her stomach fluttered at the thought of it. Her drunken mind liked that idea, of him aching for her. 

She pictured taking Cassian to places she liked to go, her favorite tavern where they had string players on weekends, the bookstore on the corner of her street, the bakery next door to it with the chocolate-almond pastries. Letting him get to know her, and enjoying it.

As her mind wandered, Nesta found her feet continuing to walk deeper into the city, eventually pulling her to one of the main shopping avenues of Velaris. There were crowds on the street this evening for some kind of street fair, bundled but smiling fae faces gathered around food stalls and art vendors in the street. Children chased each other, throwing snowballs with all of their might in sorts of make-shift battles. 

Nesta’s foolish heart warmed at the scene. Had she been in her right mind, she would have turned back as she usually did from crowds. But tonight was different, tonight it was almost as if there was a soft golden glow around the edges of her vision, making everything seem beautiful and soft. 

She pushed forward, staying at the edge of the busy street, her stomach grumbling at the scents coming from the food stalls. She watched as a tall male turned from one of the stalls, half of his long dark hair tied in a makeshift bun. 

Nesta froze as her heart dropped into her stomach. It couldn’t be. What were the chances he’d be in this part of the Velaris? 

She should run. She would say something stupid to him, she knew she would. Something recklessly idiotic. But as her heart beat faster, it was not from fear but from hope. Had he come to see her? Desire surged in Nesta’s chest, but her thoughts halted as the male fully turned.

It wasn’t him.

Stupid. The male wasn’t even Illyrian, he had no wings. She was losing her mind this evening. 

Nesta didn’t often come to the busier parts of the city, instead opting to stay in her secluded area of Velaris where she wouldn’t happen to run into any of her sister’s chosen family. But on the rare occasions she did, she couldn’t help but wonder if Cassian would be wandering the streets as well. Both fearful and hopeful while imagining their eyes meeting while sitting in a cafe by the Sidra, or finding him drinking in the tavern next to hers.

If they did cross paths, would he reach out for her, or would he simply pass by? Nesta’s traitorous fingers twitched as she pictured it. Knew how her hands would unconsciously trail after him, how she would inhale his lingering scent to memorize it, even if he paid her no mind.

Her mind was running wild now that she had opened the floodgates. Fantasies of lives she could never have, dreams she would not share aloud even if someone tried to torture them out of her. Marriage ceremonies, children’s names, what their home would look like, and where they would live. Nesta would at first insist on living separately, the thought of living unmarried with a partner a bit scandalous still. But Cassian would sleep over so often, she would eventually acquiesce and he’d move in with her. They would have dinner together every evening when he was not away, Cassian cooking his favorite Illyrian meals for her. She would sleep on the left side of the bed, and him on the right, closer to the door. On hard nights, he would hold her extra close and run his fingers through her hair, soothing her with soft Illyrian melodies. For once her home, their home, would be warm and safe. 

Again it was as though she could feel it now, how her ear would press into his chest and hear the steady beat of his heart, lulling her to sleep. Her eyes closed.

A boisterous male laugh sounded out from nearby, warm and mirthful. Nesta’s eyes flew back open as she jerked towards the source. 

It wasn’t his laugh, but Mother did she want it to be. She closed her fists and took a breath, frustrated and entranced by all thoughts of him. 

Home. She needed to go home. 

Nesta’s steps finally took her back towards the quieter residential side streets of Velaris, her pathway illuminated by the soft glow from the windows lining the homes. She focused her eyes forward, deliberately looking towards the cobblestone at her feet. Cassian was likely in Illyria, as he usually was, training Rhysand’s armies or whatever he did up in those mountains. She had at least had enough sense not to glance towards the peaks that loomed in the distance, a subtle ache nipping at her to think of him so far. 

Instead she turned her gaze to one of the windows of the homes on the street, a rose-golden glow emanating from within. A table of friends, four males and three females gathered around a verifiable feast of a meal, laughing and chatting amongst themselves as they ate.

Nesta stood there entranced, trying to picture herself at that table, with a group of friends enjoying her company like that. Friends. What would it be like to have friends? She had a few in their village growing up, most abandoning her when her mother passed and father fell into debt. The roaring in her head started, threatening the blissful barrier the alcohol had provided. 

Would she ever feel at ease with a group of fae like that?

One of the males looked up and met her gaze, and for a moment she swore hazel eyes pierced hers. Her breath caught, as she fumbled back towards the street, walking once again, embarrassed to have been caught spying. 

It wasn’t him, Nesta assured herself. But she couldn’t get the image out of her head, of him in one of these houses, seated at a dinner table. It was ridiculous. She wasn’t even sure if Cassian had friends in Velaris outside of the Inner Circle. But the idea had sunk its claws into her mind, a desperate, pathetic hope. Every building she passed, Nesta’s eyes flitted to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of who was inside. She had to know if he was there. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t know.

From that point on, each home she passed was like a scene laid out before her, inviting her to insert herself into the lives of the fae within. Countless lifetimes and possibilities transfixed her, as she continued to watch. It was no longer strangers she was gazing at, but her and Cassian. They were in their living room, dancing with their two children, Cassian picking her up and spinning her while their girls shrieked with delight. They were snuggled up on a sofa together, in front of a roaring fire, Nesta closing her eyes and leaning onto his shoulder. Not a single flinch crossing her face. They were cooking together, Cassian stirring and adding spices to a pot on the stove, while Nesta chopped up something on the counter. Her turning to put what she had been chopping into the pot and pressing a kiss to Cassian’s cheek, who turned to beam at her. They were seated on the floor of their living room together, her handing a beautifully wrapped box to Cassian, who proceeded to open it. 

Back on the street, Nesta reeled back as though she’d been struck. A horrid thought clanged through her. 

What day was it? 

She remembered she had gone to the tavern earlier to listen to some music and have a few drinks before going somewhere. 

To Feyre’s, she realized. 

Feyre had asked her to come to the townhouse this evening because it was…solstice. The tavern had closed early and there was the street fair because it was solstice. She had gotten drunk in order to prepare herself to face Feyre and her family at solstice. 

Suddenly the festive lights and music ringing through the streets came into a sharp clarity, overwhelming her fae senses. 

Panic clawed at her throat, she could not go. She was not ready to face Feyre on her birthday, or Elain. Or Cassian. He would be there, her heart swelled, pulling her feet forward. On this day, she knew where he would be, who he would be with, she just needed to see him. Maybe this could be her one solstice present to herself, she reasoned, to prove that Cassian was not just a being made of whispered fantasies and alcohol-infused delusion. She would just take one look, and then she could go back to her apartment. It was madness, she knew it was, but the sharp sting of reality had not yet taken hold this night. 

Her pace began to quicken, every step faster than the next before she realized she had no idea which direction to turn, thoroughly lost in the maze of the city and her mind in the dark hour. She spun around, almost losing her balance in the slick snow, completely at a loss. The ache in her chest had now turned into a sharp stab of hurt, only to be soothed by the sight of the dark-haired general.

She should turn back, she thought, towards the bustling avenue to start her search there, maybe she would even ask someone for directions. The idea of doing so would usually sour her stomach, but something stronger than fear was driving her tonight. 

She began to walk purposefully, taking only a few steps before her feet skidded to a halt. 

As though it had been dropped from the sky, the massive townhouse loomed before her. Bright festive lights twinkled among the bushes that lined the windows, taunting her as they danced, inviting her to step closer.

Her traitorous feet had been leading her this way the whole time, unbeknownst to her. Nesta bit her lip, did she dare to risk facing her sister’s family tonight? There was a split moment of hesitation before she moved past the front gate. It would only be a brief glance, as soon as she saw those hazel eyes and dark waves she would leave. It would only take a moment.

Nesta didn’t bother going towards the door, electing instead to creep along the outside of the home. What room would they be in at this hour? She made her way towards the right set of windows she remembered as part of the living room. She could only pray the Shadowsinger and her sister’s mate were inebriated enough to not be on their guard tonight while she spied. 

Her heart pounded erratically in her chest as she drew closer, a rainbow glow of holiday lights from within grazed her face as she peered up. She had guessed correctly, the inner circle was gathered around the fire, wrapping paper strewn all over the plush carpet. They must have just finished opening presents. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at her sisters, so at ease in their new lives, openly smiling as they engaged in conversation. Good, she thought, though a hint of bitterness flooded her tongue, it was good that they were happier without her. But her sisters were not who she needed to see this night. Her gaze turned frantic around the room, trying desperately to alight on the male who haunted most of her waking and sleeping thoughts. Her gaze made no purchase. He was not there.

Was he in Illyria after all? She wasn’t sure she could bear that after all the torment this evening. So she waited, watching her sister’s chosen family enjoy their holiday, as they laughed and shared stories with bright eyes, drinking deeply from their cups. It was not too far off from what she would be doing inside the house anyway, watching the inner circle play their little games while she kept to the outskirts. She was growing restless waiting for him, the urge to barge inside and ask where he was, growing by the minute. But at long last she was rewarded.

Cassian stepped, or stumbled rather, into the room with a grin plastered across his face. His dark hair was mussed, likely having fallen out of his bun hours ago, and two bottles of wine clutched in his hands. The room let out a cheer at his entrance, and Cassian handed off one of the bottles to the Morrigan. Azriel made to reach for the other one, but Cassian waved him off, uncorking the bottle with his teeth before drinking straight from it. She could have sworn she saw a look of concern pass between the Shadowsinger and her sister as they watched him, but Nesta was not interested in them. Her gaze fixed upon the male seated towards the end of the long couch, his hand gripping the wine bottle like a lifeline. 

She had said she would take one look, but she was a liar. She could not move even if she tried, her eyes greedily drinking in the male she looked for in every window and every sky. Her focus snagged on his lips, remembering the soft touch of them against her own on the battlefield. How often did she feel that phantom press in the late hours of the night. He was dressed in a dark red sweater this night, one that clung to the contours of his large frame, as if to torment her. Nesta could not help but imagine trailing her fingers over the material, what it would feel like, what the skin beneath that sweater would feel like. 

Cassian let out a booming laugh at something that was said, loud enough for her to hear through the window, and never did she wish so much to have a device to bottle sound. But the smile that remained did not quite meet his eyes, which were intermittently flickering towards the door. 

The Night Court’s general was drunk, that much was clear, but something was troubling him despite the merriment he tried plastering across his face. The Shadowsinger clapped a hand onto Cassian’s shoulder, in what seemed to be a comforting gesture. 

So badly did she want to be the one comforting him, and yet hadn’t she been the cause of most of his misery when she was around? A sober realization made its way to the forefront of her mind; all she could do was cause him pain . Those beautiful dreams of their life together could only ever be dreams. The reality was that everything she touched had crumbled and turned to ash, but she would be damned if Cassian did as well. She needed to leave, go back to her apartment and try and forget this whole night had ever happened, for both of their sakes. Preferably with the assistance of alcohol. Nesta’s foot stepped back from the window, yet couldn’t stop herself from one last glance at the male inside.

Hazel eyes met hers from across the room. Shit. Cassian’s eyes blinked slowly before widening. There was the sound of glass shattering, as the wine bottle left his hand and dropped onto the floor. Shouts of alarm rose up from the rest of the inner circle, as they jumped up to help clean up the mess. Cassian’s form quickly disappeared out of the room, his hand bracing against the door frame as he pushed around it. She needed to leave, now. 

She scrambled backwards, towards the gate, snow hitting her shoulder from the tops of the bushes as she darted by. She rounded the outside gate and stopped out of breath, hidden by the tall bushes that separated the townhouse from the street. There was the sound of the front door being wrenched open and frantic footsteps down the entry stairs. She didn’t dare to breathe as the footsteps crunched closer, hoping they obscured her own.

“Nesta?” Cassian’s voice was soft, almost hopeful. She had expected him to yell out in his drunken state, alerting the whole inner circle of her presence, but he hadn’t. The quiet sound of her name from his lips was a different kind of bliss altogether, pulling at something deep within her core. Her lips parted, desperately wanting to tell him she was there, that she was ready to try together this time, but no sound came out. 

A second pair of footsteps followed from the front door.

“Cass? What is it?” Feyre’s concerned voice floated through the entryway. Nesta bit her cheek, to keep from making a sound. The only thing worse than Cassian finding her out here would be Feyre and Cassian finding her together. She didn’t think she could survive the look of pity she knew would cross Feyre’s face if she discovered her out here.

“I saw her,” His words slurred slightly from the alcohol, but were determined nonetheless. “I saw her at the window.” Feyre did not ask who it was he had seen, seemingly understanding, but she waited a moment before softly saying,

“I miss her too, Cassian.”

A weight had dropped into Nesta’s stomach, she could not bear to hear this conversation. 

“She was at the window,” Cassian insisted, “She was here, I need to…” he trailed off. Nesta’s ears strained for the end of his thought, but nothing came. Perhaps he did not know how to approach her either, also frozen by the neverending stalemate the two of them found themselves in. Feyre inhaled a slow breath, as though she were about to explain something difficult to a small child.

“Sometimes it can seem like we see things that aren’t actually there. Things that we want to believe are there, but they aren’t,” she said gently. Another moment of silence followed. Feyre tried again.

“Why don’t we go inside? I think Rhysand and Amren were going to pull out the chessboard.”

No reply came from Cassian. Had they gone back inside? Nesta didn’t hear the door slam shut, but her heart was beating so loud she easily could have missed it. 

“I think I’m going to stay out here,” His voice quietly sounded once more.

“Cassian–”

“Just for a bit,” He amended. Nesta could hear the smile he forced onto his face, “Go, enjoy your birthday, Feyre.” She must have listened, as after a moment Nesta heard the soft snick of the front door closing. It was agony being so few steps from him now they were alone, even if he did not know it. But she wouldn’t risk him, not again. So Nesta quietly made her way from her hiding spot back onto the main road, and for once she did not glance back.

The holiday lights in the street now looked garish against the soft white snow frosting the streets. Golden glows that had once emanated from the windows, now dulled to a pale yellow. The wind blew fierce as flurries turned blizzardous, but Nesta did not bother to close her coat against the chill. Already she could feel the press of a hangover against her forehead, the walk having sobered her from the peak of her drunkenness. With it, the starkness of her reality began to return, as though she had never left. 

But as she turned the corner to her apartment, she allowed herself one final solstice present. She let her mind drift to a world in which she had run from her hiding spot that evening and into Cassian’s arms. He would lift her up off the ground, and they would stay there intertwined, swaying with unspoken apologies to one another. She would bury her face in his neck, inhaling his pine and woodfire scent, and it would smell like home. Her home. 

One last time Nesta closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as though she would smell it now.

But only the cold rushed in.

[gougarfem]

how was the process of getting a dumbphone!

oh my god this is something i'm so excited to talk about, sorry it took me so many months to respond!

getting a dumbphone improved my quality of life so so much. i knew my screentime was high, but didn't realise it was a genuine psychological addiction until i quit. the first few days were extremely rough. time seemed to pass about ten times slower, and i was forced to fill the hours with various hobbies and activities. i know we all love to tell people to touch grass, but i really did have to connect with nature and it did wonders for my mental health.

i think for the first three days i was constantly restless and horribly irritable, looked around for my phone every few minutes, felt intense boredom and even cried a few times lol. your addiction may not be as extreme as mine was and this varies from person to person. however, after about a week i realised i remembered everything i'd done each day, because it was filled with intentional activities and little moments of peace rather than a blur of scrolling. i also wasn't on adhd meds yet, which is something i'll talk about in another post.

not having everything at your fingertips is uncomfortable, but (and it's a cliche) you really start to appreciate the world around you more. i looked forward to spending time with my family, because it filled time and i wasn't half-involved in my phone the entire time. i use an mp3 player to listen to music, and uploading music to it is a meaningful and interesting activity, rather than just shuffling a playlist. i listen to whole albums instead of being flooded with dopamine from spotify firing recommended songs at me. i appreciate music more, i make CDs for friends, i have to be intentional in discovering new artists and music. if i'm having an interesting conversation online, i look forward to going home and logging onto my laptop to continue it. i don't spend my commute, time in class, or time with friends texting somebody else. everything feels more intentional, spaced out, and interesting, even the things i do online.

i also found i stopped performing in every activity i did. i stopped thinking about whether i could post it to instagram or instantly send a picture in a discord server. i started picking up new hobbies for myself, not for an online audience, and living in the moment more. this is really important in the modern age, although again uncomfortable.

the best part was how my connections with others increased through having a dumbphone. i started calling friends rather than messaging on five platforms at once, and they started reciprocating. my message threads are continuous, coherent conversations, rather than sending memes. people realised they have to intentionally reach out to me, and i lost relationships with people who weren't interested in that, but strengthened connections with people who did put in the effort (many of whom i barely talked to in the past). i give people my phone number, not my social media handle, and they actually start conversations with me rather than hitting follow. i get to hear my friends' voices when they have drama to share and realise it takes me forever to type on my flip phone keyboard. again, everything is intentional, takes time, and richer than when i had a smartphone.

i genuinely would recommend it to absolutely everyone (i've kind of become like a crossfit guy in telling people to get a dumbphone lol). i won't pretend it's easy, and most people make excuses - for the first few months of having a dumbphone, i was bedbound or in hospital, and truly relied on online connections to pass time and communicate. it still hugely improved my life. however, no matter your situation there are always, always better options than scrolling an app, and you deserve to pass your time in a memorable way. i think most people don't realise they're addicted/reliant on smartphones, and the idea of quitting is horribly uncomfortable, but at least for me, the benefits were worth it.

i'm happy to answer any questions, i literally could talk about this topic for hours (even if it's stuff like "how would i use x app" "how would i replace x smartphone function").

ditch your smartphone babe, u deserve better <33

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter sixty one

close to home | chapter sixty one

plot: daryl finds out what happened to the reader

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,790 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, injury, daryl being daryl A/N: thank you for reading!! how the fuck did I write 60 chapters of this I'm insane

Daryl thought about you every second of every day for the past five and a half years. He was too stubborn and pissed off to go after you the first few days, and then it got harder and harder as time went on. He tried to. At least once a week every week since you left, he tried to go to you, to Alexandria. He’d even made it as far as getting to the outskirts of the surrounding woods. But then he saw you on watch, laughing with a guy he didn’t know, and he turned around and went back. 

But he thought of you regardless. He cried almost every night in his self-pity and threw himself into trying to find Rick’s body. And after you screamed at him, and hit him, and cried to him about the other woman, he never saw her again. It didn’t matter that nothing happened, that it was only a few brief conversations in passing, but it hurt you so deeply. And he knew he fucked up. Which is also why he stayed away from you. 

Still, it hurt him. And because of it, he had several burn scars across his forearm from cigarettes. 

He even took a knife and carved your name with his last name into his crossbow because he knew there would never be anyone else. He gave you up after hurting you so profoundly and destroying the one thing in the world he cherished above everything else. He would’ve burned the world for you but ended up burning you. 

So he stayed by the river and tried to find his brother’s body. 

***

It was fall, and there was a bite in the air. Daryl sat by his morning fire with Dog beside him, staring at your name in the crossbow. He hadn’t eaten a thing in a day because of the guilt he felt. 

Then he heard a horse running and his name being yelled. It took him a second to realize it was Carol before he jumped up. 

“It’s (Y/N)!” Carol yelled, out of breath as the horse trotted in a circle. “She’s hurt.”

Daryl chewed on his lip as anxiety filled him. “What happen'?”

“She was shot.” 

The muscles in his face dropped. “Take me to her.” 

“She’s not stable yet, and Siddiq is coming in from Alexandria, but it’ll take hours.” 

“Take me to her, now!” Daryl swung his crossbow over his shoulder, mounted the horse behind Carol, and whistled for Dog to follow. 

***

It took longer than Daryl ever would’ve imagined to get to the Kingdom. He hadn’t realized how far out he was. But when he saw the approaching gates, he felt like throwing up. Carol didn’t slow down as the gates opened, and she led the horse straight to the medical building toward the back of the community. 

Sitting outside were Ezekiel, Henry, Jerry, and a man he didn’t know. 

“What happened?” Daryl yelled as he got off the horse. “What the fuck happened to my wife?”

“They were on a run. She got shot. One of our men was killed as well.” Ezekiel said. “She’s inside, follow me.”

Daryl walked anxiously behind Ezekiel into the building and directly to a room toward the back. The door was shut, and he hesitated for a second before he walked in. 

The room was quiet, aside from an unsteady beeping. You were lying in a bed hooked up to a machine. An oxygen mask was over your mouth, and Daryl saw two discarded tanks in the corner of the room. 

Tears burned his eyes as he walked closer to you. You were out, of course, and thick, white bandages dried with blood were wrapped around your middle. Your hair was braided back like always, and sweat was dotting your face. Your skin was paler than he’d ever seen. 

“How did this happen?” Daryl asked angrily and turned around. “I wanna know right fuckin’ now!”

“She got shot, Daryl. There is nothing anyone could’ve done.” Carol said. “You being angry right now is not helping.”

The door pushed open, and a man named Adam walked in; Daryl knew him as the Kingdom’s doctor. Or at least the best they had. 

“Can you tell us again, Adam?” Carol asked. 

The doctor walked up to your body and checked your heartbeat as he looked around the room. “The bullet went through what I can assume is her appendix, and with no exit wound, it’s still in there. The bruising on her stomach leads me to that conclusion as well.”

“Why ain’ ya take it out?” Daryl yelled. 

“We can’t cut her open and remove it without putting her under. Her body will go into shock, and I won’t be able to operate. Siddiq from Alexandria is bringing medication, and he’ll be better equipped with the surgery.”

Daryl rubbed his forehead. “Is that it? Ya just a waste a damn space!”

“Daryl!” Carol yelled. 

Adam looked at Daryl, your body, and Carol and Ezekiel. “I’ve radioed Alexandria, and Aaron told me Siddiq has already left on their fastest horses, but…”

“But what?”

Adam hesitated. “She lost too much blood on the way here, they were too far out. We don’t know how long it’ll take Siddiq to get here; it’ll be hours at the earliest. We’ve done a few transfusions already.”

“So what does that mean?” Ezekiel asked. 

Daryl was already shaking his head.

“If he doesn’t get here soon, she won’t survive the night.”

***

“Daryl… Daryl, stop!” 

The chair broke against the wall, and Daryl paced around the room and grabbed another one. Within a few seconds, it was broken against the wall. 

“You aren’t helping anything!”

“It’s my damn fault!” Daryl yelled, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. “If I had been there… if I wasn’ such a piece of shit!” He kicked the wall, leaving a dent the size of his boot.  

“Back off,” Carol told the guard that was standing by. “Daryl, this is not your fault. You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

But all Daryl could see was red. “I shoulda been there!” He nearly screamed, punching the wall. The old drywall crumbled against his fist, and he struck it twice before blood showed up on the wall. 

“Daryl!” Carol grabbed his arm. “Daryl, you need to stop.”

The archer pulled his arm away from Carol with a grunt and looked at the guard who was staring at him. “Ya got a problem, asshole? Who are ya anyway?”

The man swallowed the lump in his throat. “Me? My name is Ryan.”

Daryl’s face dropped, and he walked up to the guard and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “What the hell ya doin’ here? Huh? Why you waitin' for her?”

“She’s my friend.”

Daryl slammed the man into the wall. “Did ya sleep with her? Tell me right now, asshole.”

“No-No-I mean, I asked her out a few times, but she always said no. Said she was married.”

“Ya lyin’ to me?”

Carol grabbed Daryl’s arm and pulled as hard as she could. “Daryl, if you do not calm down, I will have them lock you up.”

Daryl shrugged her off and slammed Ryan into the wall again. “Did ya fuck my wife? Tell me the fuckin’ truth!”

“No, no!”

Daryl grunted and pushed away from him as he began to pace back and forth. Carol sent Ryan out of the room and told him not to let anyone else in. 

“Daryl, you have no right to be acting this way. You left her.”

“I didn’ leave shit!”

“Yes, you did!” Carol seethed. “You don’t think I know what happened between the two of you? How you pushed her away until she was nothing but a crumbled pile of mess because of you? You two aren’t together anymore.”

“Then why the hell ya get me anyway?”

“Because when she was bleeding out on the ground, she was crying for you, you asshole!” Carol yelled. “And I don’t know why she’s still hanging onto you after so long, but I owed it to her to get you. Now you can either man up and sit by her side or get the hell out of my Kingdom!” 

Daryl paused at her words. “She really was cryin’ for me?” His voice was soft.

“Yes. She was.”

He couldn’t stop himself from crying as he sank to his knees. “What did I do? How can I fix this?” He cried. 

Carol’s face softened, and she walked over to him. “Well, for starters, you can go pick flowers for her to put by her bed. And then you can get the only chair you didn’t break and sit next to her until Siddiq shows up.”

“I can’ lose her…”

“You already have, Daryl. But if you want her back, then start with what I just told you to do.”

***

It was past sunset, and Daryl was pacing back and forth in your room. Your body was lying there, helpless, but the beeping of your heartbeat was music to his ears--even if it wasn’t steady. 

Fresh cut flowers were in a cup sitting on the table, and he looked at them every few seconds, trying to decide if he should get you more before you woke up. But it was getting late, and Siddiq wasn’t here yet and he needed to be by your side. 

His eyes were red and swollen from crying, but that didn’t stop him from shedding tears every time he looked at you. The only thing he could think of was how much of an asshole he’d been to you. He’d wasted five and a half years chasing after ghosts when he had you right in front of him. 

Daryl kept thinking about the day he left you crying in the mud after begging him to come home. More than anything, he wanted to go back to that moment, scoop you up and never let you go again. He was so stupid. 

The chair scraped against the floor as he sat down next to you. He carefully leaned against the bed and took your hand. It was littered with old cuts and scars, and he could remember each one you got over your time together. 

“My crazy girl,” He mumbled, kissing your hand and then holding it against his cheek. “Please fight, darlin’. I can’ live in this world without ya. ‘M so sorry for bein’ such an asshole to ya. I’ll do anythin’ if ya just keep fightin’.”

His eyes started to burn with tears again, and he laid his forehead against your bed as he sobbed. “Please, God, don’ take her. Ya can take me, I swear it. Won’ put up a fight or nothin'. Just don’ take her, please… please….” Daryl hadn’t prayed in a long, long time, but he kept repeating himself and to a God he hoped was still up there. 

When he sat back up and looked at your face, he felt anger coursing through his body. “Darlin’, please don’ leave me.” He cried. “I’ll do anythin’ to fix up, anythin’ I promise. Just stay and let me. Please, (Y/N), please.”

The beeping quickened, and he watched your chest expand shakily as you took a deep breath. His heart pounded as he thought you would wake up, and his prayers were answered. 

But then you exhaled, and the beeping stopped. 

“(Y/N)...” Daryl stood as he shook your hand. “(Y/N)!”

Before thinking, he ran to the door and started screaming for Adam. When he heard footsteps, he ran back over to you. “She stopped breathing!”

“Daryl… she’s lost so much blood. She wasn’t going to make it through the night without an operation. Even if we get her heart beating, it won’t last without the operation. It’ll be cruel to do that to her. There’s nothing I can do now…” Adam said with sorrow. 

“No, no,” Daryl shook his head. “Ya get over here right now and start pumping her chest. Now!” He screamed. 

Out of fear, Adam did what the archer asked. Daryl took off your oxygen mask and waited until Adam gave him a nod before breathing air into you. The two of them repeated the cycle a few times before the door opened, and Daryl heard Michonne and Rosita yelling your name. 

“Oh my God,” Siddiq said. “Get out of my way, now! Get out of the room!” 

Daryl stepped back, shaking his head as he watched Siddiq and Adam start to try and bring you back to life. He let Carol drag him out of the room in his hopefulness, and he leaned against the wall as he started to cry again.

“‘M gonna lose her tonight, I know it.” 

Rosita shook her head and wiped away her own tears. “You lost her a long time ago, asshole.” 

***

Daryl was sitting in the corner of the waiting room. His eyes were stinging from how swollen they were, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. It had been hours since he watched you die before him. But he hadn’t heard anything else. Siddiq and Adam hadn’t come out of the room, and he had to believe that was good. 

He kept thinking of your laugh and that beautiful smile that had him in love with you before realizing it. He thought of your soft hands in his and the way you giggled when he kissed you. He could feel your touch on his skin, rubbing circles in his back, or your fingers playing with his hair. It would kill him if he never got it again. He wouldn’t survive your death. He’d put an arrow through his skull. Or maybe he’d go insane and drag you around as a walker just to keep you with him. 

It was morning when Siddiq and Adam walked out of the room. They had blood on their clothes and looked exhausted, but they walked out with relief. 

“We had to remove her appendix, but that was where most of the internal bleeding came from. She’s got two broken ribs, one from the impact and the other from chest compressions. She’s heavily sedated, but she’s stable. She’ll probably be up tonight or tomorrow.”

Daryl started crying at the news; he wasn’t the only one. 

“Thank you,” Michonne said and hugged them both. “Thank you both so much.”

“You guys can sit there, but it’ll be a while before she wakes. We all should get some rest. I’d like to give her blood before, though. Is anyone an O?” Siddiq said. 

“I am,” Rosita said. “You can take as much as you need for her.”

Daryl followed Rosita and Siddiq into the room and watched quietly as Rosita donated a bit more blood than a typical amount. But he was thankful for it, and he thanked her quietly. She didn’t respond. 

He insisted on staying with you, so after everyone came in and made their peace with you being alive, they went to rest. 

Once the door was closed, Daryl carefully grabbed and kissed your hand a few times. “Thank you for fightin’ darlin’. That’s my girl.”

***

A few hours later, Daryl was asleep with his head on the bed next to your hip when he felt you stir. He was immediately up and staring at you as your eyes opened for the first time.

“‘M here,” Daryl said, taking your hand.

You looked around the room with hazy eyes, the sedation running through your veins still. When your eyes finally met Daryl’s, he sighed with relief. “Hi, beautiful.”

“This… dream…. Daryl….”

Your head hit the pillow again, and you were out. But he didn’t care. You were going to be okay.

***

The next morning, you were awake. Michonne, Rosita, and Carol were in the room with Daryl, and when he heard you waking up, he let the women stand before him. He was scared of what you would say to him without the sedation. 

“Michonne?” Your voice questioned whether you were awake, and he wanted more than anything to hold you.

“I’m here, (Y/N). We’re here. Me, Rosita, and Carol.”

He heard you moan, and then you started to cry. “It hurts, everything hurts.”

“I know, I know. Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember those guys coming out of the woods… and I remember looking down and seeing so much blood. And then Carol and Ryan trying to stop the bleeding…” You said through tears. “It hurts, something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rosita said. “Siddiq looked at you this morning. You have two broken ribs, babe; it’s gonna hurt for a while.” 

He heard you let out a sigh and then groan in pain. “Is Henry okay?”

“He’s just fine.”

“Okay…good…” 

You were out again.

***

When you woke up later that day, Daryl was the only one in the room. He heard you stirring and was anxious but had to talk to you. He had to. 

You groaned in pain as you adjusted on the bed before realizing who was sitting next to you. When your eyes met him, Daryl felt his heart in his throat. 

“Get out.” 

“(Y/N), please,”

“Get out. I don’t want you here. You shouldn’t have come.”

Daryl tried to grab your hand but you pulled it away. “Darlin’-”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your anything.”

He shook his head. “Ya still my wife, ya still my girl. Ya always will be, even if ya don’ think so yaself.” 

“Fuck you.” You muttered and then groaned in pain. “Why are you here? Don’t you have a river to be in or that woman to fuck.”

Daryl sighed and moved from the chair, getting down on his knees beside the bed. “Crazy girl, I was never with that woman. I swear.”

“I don’t believe you. Get the fuck out, Daryl.”

“I swear on my life, on everythin’ I have which I know ain’ much. I only spoke to her a few times, and that day ya came by, the last time… I never saw her again. I never fucked her. I promise ya.” You turned away from him and stared at the wall. 

Daryl started crying again because he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take what he’d done to your marriage and to you. “‘M so sorry, darlin’. I hate what I did to ya, what I did to us. I love ya so fuckin’ much. I’ll do anythin’ to make it right. Just tell me how.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked at him. “I will never forgive you. I gave you everything. Everything. And you threw it in my face. I hate you.”

“Don’ say that. Ya don’ mean it.”

“Oh, I do.” 

Daryl hung his head and tried to calm himself down. “Just tell me what I can do…”

It was silent for a long time, and Daryl was too afraid to say anything else in fear of you telling him to leave and never come back. His heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he stared at your clenched hand for a second before slowly grabbing it. You tensed but let him hold it, and he rubbed it the same way you used to when he was angry. 

“I don’t hate you.” You whispered. “I’m sorry I said that.” 

“I deserve it.”

You didn’t argue, but you did pull your hand away. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. If I had known all it would’ve taken for you to talk to me was getting shot, I would’ve done it long ago.”

“Ya almost died. Ya did die.”

You sighed and leaned your head against the pillow. “Why did you come?”

“Because I love ya.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

Your words caused his chest to hurt, and he felt tears slip from his eyes. “I love ya, I do.”

“Stop.”

“I love ya more than anythin’ else in the world, and I was the biggest idiot for lettin’ ya go. I ain’ gonna do it ever again. Ya my wife and I was a shitty husband, but I’m here now, and I’m back, and I’m beggin’ ya for just one more chance.” He met your teary eyes and felt you grab his hand again. “Please say somethin’, darlin’.”

“Kiss me.”

Daryl didn’t hesitate to do so. He could taste the salt from his tears, but more importantly, he could taste you. It was so familiar even after all these years, and it made his chest beat ferociously. All he wanted to do was wrap himself around you, hold you, cry, and beg for forgiveness.

His lips moved against yours slowly, and when he pulled away, he saw tears falling from your face. 

“You should leave.” You whispered.

“No,” His voice cracked. 

“That was goodbye, Daryl.”

“No.”

“You don’t get to just say no.”

“‘M ya husband, through thick and thin. Ya my wife.”

“I gave you the ring back years ago.”

Daryl sat back down and held up his necklace. “I still got it. I kept it. It belongs to ya. Please take it, darlin’. Please.”

“What happened between you and her?”

“Nothing,” Daryl said as he got down to his knees. He felt his heart quicken at the change of tone in your voice. "I swear to ya. I just knew Dog, and he followed me home.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

Daryl blinked back tears; you were slipping away again and he didn’t know what to say. “‘Cause ‘m desperate. And ya the only woman I’ve ever looked at. The only one I ever cared about. Ya know that, (Y/N). Ya know I would never do that.”

“Why wasn’t I enough?”

Your question broke his heart and his tears started falling again. “Oh darlin’, ya was always enough. More than enough. More than I deserve… I don’ know what happened. All I know is that I regret it, and I wanna spend the rest of my life makin’ it up to you.”

You groaned in pain as you moved on the bed and Daryl looked at you with concern. “I’m in a lot of pain, and this is a lot for me to handle right now. I wanna sleep.”

“Can I stay? Wanna watch over ya.” You glanced at him as he intertwined your fingers. “Please darlin’, please, let me stay.”

Finally, you nodded. 

[baneonono]

house fan AND PSYCH FAN??!

bruhhh

I know ur only like 3 seasons into house (me 2) and idk how far you are into psych but what are your thought and opinions (which do u like better, comparisons etc)

okay purr ty 😝

hiiii, hello

this is a full essay, I apologize, I'm a writer, I write fanfic, I write too much, this is who I am, enjoy!

completely off topic: but I absolutely love how everyone in the psych community is so excited to find people who like psych outside of the fandom. it makes me giggle. and as a psych fan, it’s very relatable, more people need to have seen psych

so full disclosure I love psych, I’ve watched it through at least five times, I’m currently in season five in the rewatch I’m doing right now. It’s honestly one of my favorite tv shows right up there with atla and community so when you ask me for psych thoughts. I have a lot of them. obviously I like psych better than house I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna be rewatching a lot of the early seasons of house because the plot lines just make me mad(if you’ve seen my watch house series you know which ones and you will when I put up the next series of episodes). I’m mostly just watching it for hilson and Chase with a little bit of Cuddy sprinkled in every now and then. but right now it’s a show that I’m gonna watch through all the way and probably not go back to. don't get me wrong, there are some very compelling character moments with house, exploring his world view and how he got there and the lack of control he had over his own leg at some point and that is compelling. and I love Chase, he's actually making it into my babygirl hall of fame right next to Lassiter. but mostly that ends up looking like house episodes that I really like and the rest that I kind of half pay attention to and giggle about. so anyway, I'm thoroughly enjoying house but I doubt I'll formally rewatch it. psych is an entirely different story because psych is supposed to be a silly funtime fake detective show and it ends up being more emotionally impacting than I was ever ready for on first watch. me and my best friend cried to that finale for hours. I am too blatantly head over heels for lassie to not watch at least an episode of that show every month. so anyway generally, I can't go a month without psych and I'll probably keep up with house fandom after watching the show but only rewatch my favorite episodes(three stories I'm looking at you)

psych and house comparison is incredibly interesting to me because the shows are like inverses of each other. where I think house was designed to be a drama but I personally at least watch it more for the humor(hilson humor specifically) whereas psych is definitely a comedic show but I end up wayyyy too invested in the characters and the arcs. I could write essays about lassiter and shawn's relationship but with house I want to write comics of them in ridiculous situations. and something that I've talked about before is that both shows have a main character who is utterly dependent on their best friend but we interpret them so differently. like house and wilson are so romantic they are everything romantic, but if you show me fanart of shawn and gus kissing, I will create plots about how it had to be done for the gag. both of them make jokes about how they're gay and in love but somehow hilson = romantic shawn+gus = platonic. I don't know how to explain it. some people are just in love while others aren't. it probably helps that shawn and jules have such a nice romance.

but one of my favorite things about these shows is how I love every single character in both shows. not a single character in there I wouldn't shout my undying love for from rooftops. that said, if someone tried to shoot a psych character, I would run time back and stop the shooters parents from getting together so that the shooter never even existed. but for house characters, I would probably just sit back and be like "that's so fair". which is just the duality of men right there.

the last thing I will say about these two shows is that they are both such comfort shows. like watching psych is so comforting because like if shawn can be alive with the way he exists, certainly I can make it to thirty, like I'll find a job, Shawn Spencer made it. so whenever I'm stressed about not knowing the future, I just put on some psych and let all of my worries disappear. with house the same thing happens but with morality. where like, house is objectively saving people's lives. there is a certain amount of good that house is doing that outweighs all of his... Houseness. I just love watching house because it just reminds me that I don't need to be perfect to be loved. House is not perfect, he is faaaar from it but people still love him and people still care about him. it's not ideal but he's not doing awful and he is still doing good things. overall I think both of these shows serve as a great reminder that you should be yourself, that is the way you are going to do the most good, as seen in both of the main characters. and that is so comforting, to me at least.

so anywayyyyyy, sorry this was a lot, I'm not sure I actually answered your question. thank you for the ask, if you actually read all this, I hope you found it interesting or entertaining or informative or something positive.

*boogies away awkwardly*

[jestersprivilegee]

Hey, roomie! ch. 7

thomas j. x reader

A breakdown leads to a breakthrough, and a new guy enters the equation.

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: like sickness/grief/angst idk how to describe it. Lots of crying. Me being extremely lazy to proofread/edit!!

Notes: I listened to exit music (for a film) while writing this

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You rush to his side, worrying at every step. Your arm wraps around him for a light, comforting hug, to which he stiffens under.

“It’s personal. And you’re drunk.” He hiccups.

“If this is about the kiss the other night, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to—“

“It’s not about the kiss. Just…go to bed Y/n. Okay?” He urges. You blink, staring at him, letting your hand fall from his shoulder. You slowly get up, nod, and move toward the exit, giving him one final glance over your shoulder. His lips held a deep frown and you wanted so badly to wipe the tears falling from his cheeks.

“We’ll talk about this when I’m sober,” you mutter, exiting the room.

If the cocky, arrogant man you knew was breaking down, that meant something was seriously wrong. It didn’t occur to you that not talking to him would fuck him up so badly. There’s no way you could’ve predicted it would have this effect on him; if you did you wouldn’t have done it.

If you knew what would happen, what would you have done instead?

A conversation you had with Alex years ago flashed in your head. You were upset because you had gotten into a fight with Peggy, and having no one else to confide in, you turned to Alex for support. He was the most poetic of the group, the most emotional and gave the best advice. It was only natural that you would seek moral support from him.

“You cannot undo the moves but you can make the next step better,” he’d told you. The quote replayed in your mind over and over like a broken record, feelings of unbearable grief swallowing you whole.

The night moved slowly. You could hardly sleep because you knew the man only separated by a wall was in pain, and he wouldn’t let you help him because of some alcohol in your system. Eventually, you knocked out, and woke up somewhere around 9 the next morning. Not as early as normal, but you were running on 5 hours of sleep and a hangover.

Your head pounded, body ached, and nausea surged from your stomach. After wallowing in discomfort for a moment longer, you pulled yourself out of bed and hustled to the bathroom. A quick shower had you feeling refreshed, but the banging in your head hadn’t ceased.

Then you remembered Thomas. The memory of holding him while he cried flooded your brain, and your heart immediately felt heavy from it. He never communicated what was actually wrong, just said it was personal with no specification.

Throwing on an oversized magenta sweater that most definitely wasn’t yours, you rushed out to speak with him. A soft four knocks on his door sounded from your knuckles. No response. You sighed, cracking the door open. He might still be sleeping, especially if he was crying all night.

But he wasn’t there.

You swore under your breath, searching the rest of the apartment for him. There wasn’t a trace of him except for the half-drunken pot of coffee that was lukewarm. You debated on texting him to see where he’s at, but decided against it since you figured he was probably at work.

—

“So do you wanna fill me in on what happened?” Peggy gave you a pointed look, sipping the coffee she ordered.

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you gave her an apologetic look before diving into the story. You gave her every detail, from start to finish, noting how in the moment you felt this innate urge to lean up and kiss him. After you finished, you deliberately told her you weren’t thinking, and you hadn’t meant to.

“And you’ve been avoiding him? This whole time?” She plays with the rim of her mug, her hypnotizing green eyes narrowed at you.

“Well…I mean, yeah, I don’t really know how to react to this situation. I’ve never accidentally kissed a man who I hate. Crazy as it sounds, but it is my first time.”

She rolls her eyes at your joke. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“I’d hope so. But you need to make it right. Y/n, I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but he clearly wanted it too if he kissed back.” She says, reaching across and putting her hand over yours.

“But what if…what if he was just desperate? Like, maybe he didn’t realize what he was doing, it was just a natural thing that happens when someone kisses you?” Her thumb rubbed back and forth across your hand.

“Nobody being randomly kissed will kiss back. They’ll push the other person off and try to fight them—at least that’s what I’d do.” She offers a small grin, pulling her hand off of yours.

“Ugh. This is too much,” you bury your head in your hands, “I tried to talk to him this morning but he was gone. And I tried last night, too, but he was crying and wouldn’t tell me what was wrong.” You admit.

She blinks. You didn’t tell her that part. “Oh. I didn’t know about that.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna try and talk to him later tonight, if he’s there. He usually never is, not for these past few weeks.” You sigh.

She furrows her eyebrows, a deep frown morphing on her face. “Are you sure there’s not something deeper going on? I don’t know that much about Jefferson, but I know he wouldn’t cry because his roommate is ignoring him.”

“Like I said, he won’t tell me anything.” Your jaw clenched.

“Maybe he’s—“

“Excuse me, I’m awfully sorry to interrupt your conversation,” a foreign voice spoke, cutting Peggy off. Literally foreign, he had a British accent. You snap your head up to the source, locking eyes with bright blue ones. You quirk an eyebrow as he offers a shy smile.

“I just couldn’t help but notice your beauty, and I wanted to know if I could have your number?” He asks.

A surprised expression hits both you and Peggy’s face. The man was quite handsome, having brown hair, somewhat pale skin, and piercing baby blues. He was well built, probably a good couple inches taller than you or around the same height. The navy blue jacket he wore complemented his eyes nicely.

“Uhh, sure,” you respond. Even if you didn’t pursue him, it couldn’t hurt to give him your number. He seemed polite. He lets out a breath of relief and pulls out his phone, to which you take and quickly type your number in, along with your name, then send a text to yourself.

“Thanks. I’m Samuel, by the way,” he sticks out his hand for you to shake, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ah—I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Samuel,” you smile, glancing at Peggy. She had a disapproving look in her gaze, but forced herself to smile anyway.

“Right then, I’ll let you ladies get back to your conversation.” With that, he leaves.

“Seriously?” Peggy growls. You blink in surprise.

“What? All he wanted was my number. Not like he’s asking me to marry him or anything.” You put your hands up in defense.

“I—really want to say something that I shouldn’t,” she sighs, standing up. “I’m gonna go. You should talk things out with Jefferson.” She says it more like a demand rather than an ask, and you scoff as you watch her exit the coffee shop. The same advice Lafayette had given you. Do they not realize that you’re trying? You tried last night and you tried this morning, and failed both times.

Was she really upset because you gave a guy your number? It’s not every day that cute men walk up to you and give you their number. It would be kind of rude if you told him to fuck off, you’re having a difficult situation with your male roommate who happens to be extremely attractive that you also happened to kiss.

And it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong by giving another guy your number. You’re still single, you haven’t been on a date with Thomas or anything; all you did was interlock lips with him for a couple seconds. Besides, Thomas has been with plenty of women.

Also, you and Thomas aren’t even like that! Neither of you have confessed any sort of feelings, so nothing would likely come of your relationship. It was just a slip up. Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it will feel true.

—

The rest of the day was spent working, or exchanging texts between Samuel. He was proving himself to be a sweet guy, funnier than you thought he would be, and incredibly talented. You mostly chatted about random things, just getting to know each other better. He revealed that he went to the same highschool as Alexander and them, which was a crazy coincidence. You’d think going through Angelica’s old yearbook that you’d have seen his face.

Your boss had assigned a couple extra projects for you, but you weren’t all that mad because it provided a good distraction. When the sun dipped below the horizon and the moonlight shone through the window, he still wasn’t home. In the late hours of the night, after work when he normally arrives home, he was out. You assumed that he went straight to the bar after work, even with it being a Monday night.

After cooking dinner and eating by yourself, you stayed put in the kitchen. You were determined to speak to him tonight and set the record straight, and if you had to wait all night, you would.

The door softly creaked open and clicked behind him. The jingling of keys hit the counter, and an exhausted breath left him. He froze when his eyes met yours.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“No,” you lie. “But can we talk?”

He hesitates, but then reluctantly joins you across the table. He waits for you to speak.

“First, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…Y’know,” you wave your hands around, forming your mouth into a thin, awkward line.

“What, kissed me? Yeah, you shouldn’t have. You were right, Y/n, it was a mistake. Let’s move on.” He stands abruptly, and your heart pangs with guilt and sorrow.

Ouch. His acknowledgment hurt, but at least you were on the same page now. It wasn’t supposed to happen; he said so. Peggy was wrong about her interpretation of the story. Although you wondered what he must’ve told Lafayette because when you spoke to him, he emphasized that you communicate with Thomas.

“I’m not done,” you manage to squeak out. He raises an eyebrow then sits again, impatiently waiting for you to finish.

“If you were crying because of me last night, I’m double sorry. I never meant to make you feel upset.” You search his eyes for any hint of emotion.

“That’s not why I was crying.”

You stare at him. If that wasn’t it, then what was? “Oh. Why were you, then?”

“That’s not your business,” he says, almost a little coldly.

“Please, Thomas? Just talk to me. I’m trying to make things right here.” You plead. He stares at you, contemplating his next move. Then, he sighs deeper, hanging his head.

“You know a couple of weeks ago when my friends were over? And I kinda freaked out on you?” He starts. His voice is shaky, like he’s been holding this in for a while. You nod, staying silent to let him have his dialogue.

“Well, I got a text from my mom, sayin’ she was just diagnosed with leukemia. Said it was serious, and she’d be gettin’ treatment soon.” He inhales sharply.

“I’m so sorry…I didn’t know,” you move next to him, wrapping your arms around him in a comforting manner.

“No one does. I haven’t told anyone ‘cept you,” he admits. “The other night when you came home and asked me to teach you to dance? I was crying. She got put in the hospital and doctors say she’s been getting worse and worse—“ he stops.

“…Is she…?” You reluctantly ask, voice hardly above a whisper. He shakes his head, and you let out a breath of relief. His eyes started to water, and he blinked back tears. You let him collect himself for as long as needed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a lot to put on you,” he breathes out shakily. You gently rub your thumb in delicate circles on his shoulder.

“No, don’t be sorry. This is a lot for you to be keeping in. I’m here for you, Thomas,” you reassure. He leans into your embrace, relaxing in your warmth.

“The doctors say she’s getting worse,” he continues, “but with treatment, she has a good chance at survival. I’m just so worried for her. I don’t know what I’d do if…” he trails off.

“Don’t think that, Thomas,” you mutter. “She’ll be okay. And whatever happens, you can get back up from. You are the most stubborn, resilient person I know.”

“This is so weak of me,” he whispers breathlessly.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Since when was having normal human emotions weak? Your mom is literally in the hospital. It would be weird if you didn’t feel sad!”

You found it sweet how he let his guard down for you. His tough, cocky persona cracked and he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you. Part of you wondered if he did this with other girls; an almost jealous thought that you fought down.

He lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes. A small smile cracked on your face upon hearing him show at least a little happiness. Hearing someone laugh after crying is a beautiful experience.

“Thank you. Not sure how much longer I could’ve kept that in.” He finally wraps his strong arms around you as well, burying his head in your shoulder. You stay like that for a moment longer, holding each other.

He reluctantly pulls off, and you let your hands drop from his torso. He gazes into your eyes, examining your features. You were so close you could see every detail about him. The freshly shaved stubble, his deep brown eyes that looked ethereal under the perfect sunlight, his near-flawless skin. The thumping of his heart increased along with yours. Your breath hitched when his eyes flickered to your lips once more.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly backing up when the staring contest you held became too intimate. Couldn’t have a repeat of last time, right?

“You uh, should get some rest. And eat if you haven’t. There’s some leftovers in the fridge,” you say, brushing off your (his) sweater. He quirked an eyebrow, glancing at the magenta fabric you adorned.

“Is that my sweater?”

[lysatoru]

Geto Suguru - Twin Flames

cw : ANGST, doesn’t really follow the jjk plot

tw : mention of suicide, death, mention of anxiety/panick attack, toxic relationship

Twin flames are the result of the splitting of a single soul.

I had found my twin flame, the flame that destroyed and healed me day by day. He was my blessing and my curse, my success and my failure, he was me and I was him. He was the other side of my soul. Our souls became one. Geto Suguru, you were my other half.

We met one night in a bar. He was with his friends and I was with mine. Our eyes met and we never took our eyes off each other again. It wasn't love at first sight, I'd felt another sensation, much stronger, of immeasurable energetic intensity. I could feel it, my entity was complete and balanced thanks to him. He was the masculine, aggressive, nervous part of me, while I was the feminine, gentle part of him. There was no need for words, we just knew that we were connected. Our souls communicated and danced. He was me.

Our story began that famous evening, the night we came together for life and death. The love and the wounds only grew. Suguru wanted to be me at all costs, he felt the need, his love was suffocating, but I needed it to live. I was afraid, afraid of so much love, and all I could think about was running away from it. I used to adapt to the people I met. Knowing that someone could see through all that and knew me better than I knew myself scared me.

I felt as if I'd known him all my life, because in the end, we were each other. Our souls became one, growing and maturing with us. To be honest, the relationship was devastating for both him and me. Emotionally, I'll never get over it. We hurt each other psychologically on purpose to see who could hurt the other the hardest. We couldn't stay apart for more than two days, it was insurmountable. I felt like my whole being was leaving with him and I wasn't myself anymore. I needed him like I needed no one else.

Suguru was ready to sacrifice himself for me,

and he did.

He knew that the relationship was toxic, it was never healthy. But the separation was so destructive that we tried to stay together.

One evening, I was on the bus coming home from work. I caught myself in tachycardia, I was shaking, I couldn't breathe. In fact, I was having an panick attack, something had happened to Suguru. I got off at the next stop and ran on and on, shouting "Suguru". I cried and cried. I knew that Suguru had stayed at home that day and I had to get there. When I got to the front of his appartment, I was scared to open the door. Once in the living room, I saw him lying on the floor. His breathing had stopped and he had no pulse. There was a letter on the table, and I knew immediately. He had committed suicide. I picked up the letter, my tears wouldn't stop, my hands were shaking and I found myself unable to breathe.

"Thank you for crossing my path, you're everything that's most important to me, unfortunately you and I both know that love isn't enough in this kind of relationship. You were me and I saw you suffering, it was unbearable. I didn't want to go through your abandonment a second time. By doing that, I saved myself, I saved us."

I had just lost my soul. He was my blessing as well as my curse, he was my success as well as my failure, he was me and I was him. He was the other part of my soul. Our souls became one. Geto Suguru, you were my other half. When I lost Suguru, I died with my eyes open.

A few days later, I found myself at the funeral of my other half, my one and only. After the ceremony, I stood for hours in front of his grave, wondering "what have I done?" .

A hand came to rest on my shoulder and the man next to me said that love is the most twisted curse of them all.

Hi! first post here, english isn’t my first language so i use google traduction to help me, if there are any grammatical errors i’m sorry!!

i don’t really know how tumblr works but you can reblog and comment i you liked it!

[gigiferrari]

INTRODUCING…Giuseppe 'Gigi' Ferrari

STATS:

Nicknames: Gigi, G, Gig, Pepe, will answer to anything really.

Character Age:  36

Neighborhood: Panther Valley

Occupation: Chocolatier and Owner of Cacao (downtown)

Birthday: June 27th, 1988

Faceclaim: Michele Morrone

Hometown: Portofino, Italy

Years of Residence: Twenty Years

Pinterest Board / WANTED CONNECTIONS (coming soon)

Character Inspiration: Jess Mariano (Gilmore Girls), Jamie Tartt (Ted Lasso), Kelly Severide (Chicago Fire), Alex Karev (Grey's Anatomy)

tldr;

– GIGI FERRARI is 36 years old and lives in Panther Valley, Reno. Due to an estranged father and neglectful mother, Gigi grew up by himself and leaned on friends when he grew up in Portofino, Italy but that wasn't enough to push him away from the parties and the drugs from a young age. At 16 moved to America where he met his father, who owned a pastry shop, where Gigi found his place in the world. He struggled with his addiction until seven years ago, his son Luciano was born. At this time, Giuseppe began laundering money for his dealer due to all the money he owed him and this is something that he does to this day despite being clean.

READ BELOW for fun facts, biography, possible connections.

random facts

has very silly, small tattoos all over his body and he can’t remember how he got half of them.

didn't finish school, but got his ged at twenty-one

loves to socialize, can talk for hours

drinks coffee at night, tea during the day

loves rock climbing and hiking

still has an accent since he moved to america at 16

loves to help people however he can

a hopeless romantic

definitely an emo kid when it was a thing and still loves to go to concerts

makes chocolate sculptures for everyone to see once a week

biography

TW: drug addiction, child neglect

For the first few years of his life, Giuseppe Ferrari never really wondered about his father or why he wasn’t around. Those first few years, he also didn’t wonder why his mother was never around either. As he grew older though, he began to realize how alone he was and other kids asked how he could do anything that he wanted, how he could stay over at other houses and never get into trouble. The answer was easy though, he was alone. Before, his mother would show up everyday, eventually she showed up every couple of days with a new boyfriend or a new job that she promised she would keep.

Parties at what had once been an almost abandoned home became a daily thing, with it, a child that had once found a home in school and homework, eventually became familiar with alcohol and drugs. To forget it all. To finally stop thinking about coming home and instead running around with his friends, crashing parties and shoplifting or any sort of thing that would make him feel more than the emptiness that he had always felt. His mother eventually found her way back home, but trying to rescue a young man that had never learned to respect her after years of neglect and ignoring his cries for help would never be easy. It wasn’t until he got arrested for stealing whiskey from a gas station that his mother decided to take matters into her own hands. In her words, she did what she should have done from the moment he was born; send him to America, to finally meet a man that didn’t even know he existed.

His father was a warm man, owned a small pastry shop on the outskirts of Reno and to his benefit he looked genuinely surprised when a bitter Giuseppe showed up on his doorstep with only a backpack and a letter from his mother, a one night stand that he’d had right before leaving Portofino and moved to America for college, sixteen years prior. Lorenzo never questioned if they were father and child, he did, however tell him that he would have two jobs now: school and everyday he would show up to the shop and spend the rest of the day there. Gigi hated it all and he tried to run away twice. English was impossible to learn, he struggled to communicate, he couldn’t make any friends, he hated school.  Not to mention, the withdrawals were stronger than him and there was no way to get his drugs without knowing anyone, with no money. He did everything to push the man away, but instead his father only pulled him back in.

After a year of arguments and back and forth, and a failed school year, Lorenzo took him to the shop everyday during the summer. If he didn’t want to finish school that was fine, but he would work for him and he would earn his money, his food and whatever else he wanted. If you ask him now, Gigi cannot tell you when he realized that he enjoyed being in a kitchen. At first it was too sweaty, too hot, too dirty. At first, it was just a way for him to cover his vices, to make money. But one night, he stayed late all by himself and with loud music on, finished up a project with chocolate that would normally take them an entire day to get done. And not only that, but the way that his father looked at him and hugged him made something click in him. 

Was this how being home felt like?

Despite finding his place in the world, Giuseppe struggled to understand that it was okay to grow up and to feel safe. His routine became erratic; get high, show up to work, go out with friends he eventually made, hooking up with people he barely knew, going home to sleep barely enough to wake up and do the same thing all over again. Again and again. A few years down the line, the small pantry shop turned into a famous chocolaterie in the Downtown Reno, visited by celebrities, by tourists that had seen their creations on social media, they became the go-to for events and parties. Gigi was at his highest but he was also tired all the time, he still struggled to find his place in the world and for a long time, he wondered if he ever would. 

He did though. Seven years ago, a drunken night with a friend, turned into a little boy nine months later that brought not only joy to his life, but made it all make sense once and for all. He couldn’t think about only himself anymore, now he had a kid to look after. Though they were never really together, Gigi and his friend decided to co-parent Luciano from the moment they found out. That was the very same moment that Giuseppe decided he had to be clean. If not for him, for his child. He would give him everything that he never had and for that he knew what he had to do.

It’s been the best seven years of his life, but also the worst years of his life. They say having a kid changes you and he never believed it until he became a father. Because ever since then, his life has made a lot more sense. The only thing holding him down these days is the fact that he owed his dealer so much money when he became sober, that Gigi has been laundering money for him for years and has no idea when his debt will be paid. His life is a work in progress in many ways, but at least now he is a version of himself that he likes.

possible connections

best friends: honestly this man leans on friends a lot that's all he knew growing up, friendship is everything to him

clients @ cacao: very popular chocolaterie and pastry shop, perhaps they became friends after meeting there a few times

parent friends: has a 7 year old who he co-parents with his ex, but spends most of his time with gigi. luciano is chill, very much loves yapping though

ex-party friends, etc: people that saw him at his worst, could like him, could dislike him, perhaps they argued or something when he was deep into his addiction, we can get creative here

found family: someone or people that was important to him from day one when he moved to the country, big changes and all. this person would be fundamental to his staying in reno despite how hard it was at first, they'd be incredibly supportive of each other.

past flings/hook ups/exes: been here for about twenty years and led a wild life before his son was born, so anything is possible!

enemies: whatever comes to mind really, could be for a reason, could personalities don't match, etc.

[albiorix-l]

Jrwitober Day 31- 5 years of jrwi

Ok, this one isn’t much of a writing prompt. Not like I know how to make todays prompts into one anyway. And for anyone looking at my account, yeah, I didn’t keep up with it at all. Everything’s been very busy and I just couldn’t find time unfortunately, especially as each one just got longer.

However, I just wanted to use todays little thing to express my complete love for this show and everything about it (except felipe, I want to strangle that guy).

I haven’t been watching since the start. More like the second half of 2022, when slimecicle left the Chuckle Sandwich podcast and, with that being one of my main comforts, lead me to search for other stuff he’d done.

Then I found it. I think I started with the Prime Force one shots, and fell in love with it, though I wasn’t very happy when I found out the rest was behind a paywall. The black rose one shot wasnt the most entertaining thing and I was a little worried to see what the riptide campaign was going to be like. Alas, I gave it a shot.

And. Wow. From the start I was so into it I couldn’t stop watching (doing 8-10 hours a day when I had a free day, I was so into it) and even when I had something else going on, the second I got home I just couldn’t stop. I caught up decently quickly, and after a couple months of rewatching old episodes, I sent my friend, who i had only known for a little while at this point, a BITB animatic. I thought it was cool and I get way too excited about it when I like stuff.

Thankfully, she liked it too, and we decided to both get the Patreon. That’s when I went absolutely insane. BITB, while I won’t go into depths, was amazing, and I finished it in 2 days. But Prime defenders, which id watched the free eps for a while, and that id read enough fics to vaguely be spoiled of s1, was so so so much better than I could’ve expected. Every second of it was incredible, and from May ish when I got it to now, i am continually enthralled by everything about it. I love bizly’s dming, the characters, the story, all the heartfelt moments that I even cried a good amount at.

Jrwi, and largely pd, have become such a big part of my life that I have to stop myself or I doubt I’ll shut up. And that friend I mentioned? We went from strangers to just enough friends I sent her that fateful video to practically siblings, all because I shared my interest with her. We were both the first people we came out to, helped each other through so much in the year and a bit we’ve known each other, and I love her like my sister.

All because of an animatic about a bug horror thing.

And of course, the community. The people I’ve met, mostly those in a jrwi fic server, are so talented and funny and they’re all amazing. I’ve had the chance to write and post on ao3 after reading it for I think 5 years, and the kindness in this community is so incredible it’s almost whiplash to go back to the real world.

So thank you, jrwi. For all you’ve done for me and everyone who watches you.

Sincerely,

An inspired fan

[engbergsinfinland]

Hello everyone ☺️

It is now Wednesday and I will be going to teach in a few hours. Because Eric and I are not enrolled in a Finnish class this semester, because there wasn't an option for us to take one at the Red Cross and all the other ones we looked into were full already, I have an extra 4 and 1/2 hours on my hands each week, and it's made a huge difference. I was already prepped for my class by yesterday afternoon so I'm not racing to finish off a PowerPoint this morning before I go over to teach. I realized though that I may need to trim down the amount of reading that I am asking the students to do because the slides for today ended up being very dense and there are some really big ideas I want to explore with them. We'll see what happens!

About Finnish, I definitely want to continue to develop my skills, but it's such a difficult trade-off. My goal, the whole point of the Fulbright, is to complete some research projects and collaborate with my Finnish colleagues, but Fulbright simultaneously wants cultural immersion and for the Fulbrighters to serve as cultural ambassadors. I loved taking the Finnish class, though it was very frustrating and is such a difficult language, but I am uncertain that enrolling in another one in a few weeks, when Eric is back from the US, would be a good idea. I'll have to continue thinking about it. I definitely do find myself using the Finnish I do already have when I'm out and about in the world. Particularly, people want to talk to me when I'm out and about walking Alex!

The early part of this week has been a little bit rocky. Given that I have a lot of writing projects that really aren't seeming to propel themselves to completion, I've been trying to motivate myself to really work on them, and I guess there are three principal ones right now. I've done some good reading and research this week but have not actually written that much. Also, not having Eric here to share the load with has been pretty exhausting, especially with managing all of the running around that I need to do with the kids, even though they mostly take themselves places. But, with Cece's gymnastics being so far away, that really requires me to be out of the house for quite some time 3 days a week with her and then Rowan stays here by himself and I don't love that. Though, he has a phone to reach me and is pretty contented to do his homework, have snacks, read, or --gasp-- watch TV ;)

Yesterday, I went with Cece to ice skating, the farthest away rink, and then we had to take the tram and then the train and then a bus to get out to her gymnastics and we were there for about 3 hours, and then we had a 40-minute commute back home, during which time I had to join a Zoom meeting and just listen in until I got home and could actually properly participate. By the time both kids were in bed, I still hadn't eaten dinner, and I had tons of work emails that had piled up, since nighttime here, say around 10:00 p.m., is peak email time in the US. I'm still running the Technical and Professional Communication program at UNM and managing a few undergraduate and graduate students on internships and advising on various issues with their progress towards the GCERT, so I always have lots of meetings to arrange and messages to answer. Not to mention that I'm still the Instructor of Record for the writing class in Biology that I teach, even though my TA is actually teaching it, but I have to do all of the course overrides for students who want in.

Suffice to say, I had about an hour and a half of emailing to do last night after I finally ate dinner. Alex and I didn't go out for our nightly walk until about 11:15!

Alex has been rather needy in the last few days! I may have mentioned that historically he has slept in a crate overnight and during the day if we're out of the house. I think while we were away over the holidays, not a lot of crate-sleeping happened. So, night before last, & about four nights before that, he cried and wimpered in his crate overnight, and I already wasn't feeling well, with a lot of congestion and a sore throat, so the disruption of him being so discontented made for a horrible night of sleep. So last night, and one additional night a few nights ago, I just let him sleep on the couch. I'm usually very strict about these things, but I just had to give in because I'd been getting such bad sleep, and Cece has been sick too; so, I just had to give in. We all slept very well last night and she is feeling better.

Cece insisted on going to skating and gymnastics yesterday, even though she said she didn't feel that well. She seemed perky and engaged in ice skating, but by the time she got to gymnastics I could just tell from her body language that she just wasn't havin' it and was not able to give it her all. And I wished she just would have come over to me and said, "mom, I don't feel well, so let's go home." But she pushed through the whole session, and then we went home. She was clearly just so ready to go to bed. But a good night's sleep can perform excellent, restorative work. I thought she'd be staying home from school today, but, nope. She was up and at 'em this morning and was skipping out the door to go to her short day of school on Wednesday, which includes two things: art and craft.

The weather here has been rather mild the last 2 days, above freezing, so all of the snow is getting very slushy and that does also create some ice patches. I've been grateful to have my grippy contraptions that I attach to my shoes. Also, I'd say that daylight is getting discernibly more present. I think it was starting to get light by 8:20 this morning!

I guess I don't have a ton more to report and I feel badly that this post was just a catalog of my complaints and activities rather than a showcase of some interesting things we've done or the peaks into the Finnish lifestyle ;) This weekend my colleague, who lives just out of town in Orivesi, has invited the kids and I over for dinner on Sunday. I'm also starting to think about whether we should try to go somewhere in Finland over the kids' winter break in a few weeks. We thought we might have some US friends coming over at that point, but we're going to have to start trying to really persuade them that that is a brilliant idea and they should do it!

Take care, everyone, and I do hope that my next post will be more interesting!

[trying2cope]

The social worker had said cleaners were coming, but I wasted no time.

I couldn't sleep anyway. I was legitimately traumatized. I could only sleep for like 2 hours at a time, 4 max a night. And if the doorbell rang I almost cried from terror. Even when I could see it was just my child's friend wanting to play through the window!

I cleaned. And I cleaned. And I cleaned. But I am not very good at it, so it was still messy. I joined Body Doubling groups. Body Doubling is a technique used by ADHD people to help us accomplish tasks. Basically if we have someone with us when we clean, it's easier. And since I didn't actually have any close friends in this town to ask, I turned to the Internet and talked on the phone with strangers while I cleaned. And I called my family and my friends. And I listened to podcasts and audiobooks.

I called and made appointments with doctors. For me and for the kids. Me because she'd told me that since my mental health was the reason that the house was messy they wouldn't be able to close the case until I had proof I was taking care of it either via medication or therapy. And of course the kids just needed to get their check ups done anyway. I had been meaning to do it, I'd just procrastinated.

Basically everything CPS asked of me was stuff I would have done on my own in the next 6 or so months anyway. Master and I had been making plans for how to get me better so my house would be clean. And he was making me better. I could feel my depression leaving me, slowly. Even without seeing the doctor to get medicine, having him in my life was making me mentally healthier, I could feel it.

I'd felt bad dating online for the past year. Like I knew if people in my life knew, they'd disapprove. Tell me it was too soon. Tell me that my priorities were out of whack. Tell me that it was dangerous for single moms to date. And all that without the added judgement of knowing it was within the BDSM community.

But there had been a burning drive inside me, making me keep looking, even after Dom after Dom that I'd start to think might be the one turned out not to be. Probably half a dozen or more ghosted me, after amazing conversations where we seemed to click. One of them was a catfish who tried to blackmail me saying send me Bitcoin or I'll publish the naughty photos you sent me. I didn't send him a damn thing and nothing happened. One of them made me scared because he had a dream where he stalked me through the forest and tied me to a tree and raped me and told me of this very excitedly. Another I called him and a woman picked up and screamed "Why are you calling?!" and hung up. Another gave me just enough information about his identity I found him on Facebook... and saw photos of his wife, from like a week ago. And so on and so on and so on.

And yet, I'd persisted. Because something inside urged me too. And now that after my long and very tiring search I had finally found MY Master, I felt myself healing. My brain chemistry knew, I thought. It knew I needed a relationship to give me the happy brain chemicals I lacked, to cure my depression. And it was working.

And because I had him, suddenly everything else was easier. Cleaning, working, making phone calls. All of the normal adult things that I had been struggling with were easier because I'd tell Master what I'd done and he'd tell me "good girl" and I'd be so happy.

So I made a lot of progress that first week, waiting and wondering about this cleaner that was supposed to call me, but didn't.

At the end of the week I sent an email to the social worker, unasked for, telling her my progress. The appointments made for the next week, the amount of garbage bags I'd thrown out (7). And I asked about the cleaner.

So she gave me the cleaner's number and name and I called. Left a message.

But I persisted the second week. We went to the pediatrician, got check ups done. I did more cleaning. Got 6 garbage bags out. I sent an email that week again. Asked about the cleaner.

This time she told me the cleaner has been trying to call me but I haven't been answering.

That was not true. If my phone rang the past two weeks, I'd answered. Which wasn't normally true of me, usually I only answer calls from people I know, but because of what was going on I picked up every time.

So I called again. This time I got a receptionist and I asked for the name. She refused to give me her number but took a message.

Finally, a few days later I got a call from the cleaner, who told me she'd come by the next day. "I had the wrong number!" he told me, laughingly and I felt better. I had figured either that had happened, that the social worker had just written my number down wrong so a 1 looked like a 7. Other speculations, that someone was lying about trying to contact me, would have been more insidious. "We need to do a delousing, right? I do that."

"No! I *told* the social worker they didn't have lice!"

"Oh! So that was a false allegation?"

I explained, about my ex not believing it was gone but it was and me telling the social worker. But apparently she hadn't believed me.

"Well, good! Then I don't feel so bad we haven't connected yet. I'd been worrying the kids had been suffering with lice," she said with a laugh, " but I'm glad they're not."

I had thought this was like a one time deep cleaning, and I'd been working on doing the things that a deep cleaner wouldn't have time to do, like collecting spilled pieces of a board game that were scattered amongst actual garbage on the floor so it wouldn't be thrown out. I'd been sitting on a stool in a room with a broom and sweeping everything the broom could reach in the circle around me, towards me. Then I'd painstakingly sort through the pile, sorting trash from toys and clothes and shoes and stationery items and so on and so forth. Then when I'd finish I'd take each pile and try to find a home for it. I'd had to buy many plastic bins.

The trouble with keeping my house clean I'd realized, wasn't too much stuff. We'd moved here with just a few suitcases and thrift store furniture and basic appliances just a year ago. We had not accumulated too much-- but I'd never done the organizing work of assigning everything workable places. Aside from the kitchen, where there was cabinets and drawers assigned to cups and dishes and pots and pans, every other room in the house I'd basically just assigned to the room. Like toys went in the kid's room, but we didn't have an organization system for them. Just like two big baskets, and we had more toys than fit in them anyway. So I had to buy lots of plastic bins and make one for hot wheels, one for Barbies, etc. Stuffed animals went into the big basket that had been the general toy box before.

And the kids had each grown a size, so now we had more clothes than fit in their drawers if they were all clean. So I had to go through the clothes, after washing everything, to pull the too small things and put them in bags to donate or give away.

And we had more shoes than fit on our one shoe rack between the three people. So I put one shoe rack at the bottom of the stairs and told the kids that one was for them. Because they were always trying to put shoes on as the last part of getting ready before going outside anyway, so it made sense for them to be downstairs, but near the stairs to make it accessible if they wanted to grab them while dressing upstairs. I put the other shoe rack in my room for my shoes.

And while the kitchen had some cabinets assigned, there was stuff like garbage bags and tin foil and dish towels that I had just kind of had out on the counter at all times, so I found drawer space for them.

And when I'd bring in groceries, we had a tendency to drop th bags and not unload them immediately. That is, I'd bring all the bags in and drop them in the living room, then look through them for the frozen and refrigerated stuff and put that away, but leave the rest for "later". And when one of us would make the effort to actually bring the bags to the kitchen, we'd often leave the pantry items on the kitchen table instead of taking the time to put them in the cabinets.

And speaking of grocery bags, we had far too many. Because we don't have a car, I had subscribed to a delivery service but they gave way too many plastic bags. I wanted to be responsible and recycle them so I had a cardboard box to collect them in but that one box turned into three and all of them were filled to overflowing because I didn't have a car to actually drive them to the recycling place.

And we also had a ton of cardboard boxes. When we moved here my parents had taken the appliance and moving boxes and thrown them on my back deck, again for me to theoretically recycle, except a few "good boxes" that they'd flattened and put between my pantry and fridge.

At Christmas time, delivery box after delivery box had come because everyone in my extended family, including myself, were worried my kids wouldn't get enough presents this year since I was struggling to eek out a living. So everyone had gone overboard and I'd resorted to pulling my couch out from the wall a few inches and hiding the cardboard there. But of course, more kept coming.

When the cleaner first came, she did not clean.

She was not insidious. In fact, she was a breath of fresh air.

Turns out, she was a former foster kid. And unfortunately, she was abused in her foster home.

"I do this," she told me passionately, "because I don't want ANY of my families to be separated. I believe kids should NEVER be in fostercare."

She told me didn't do a deep clean like I'd thought.

Instead, she'd visit and help me clean for an hour or two at a time. She'd also help with organizing if I needed it, she said. "Whatever YOU need," she insisted. "I am here to help YOU."

And she also provided transportation help. "Not for any and every little thing, but to provide for things the kids need. Like going grocery shopping or--"

"Can you take us to doctor's appointments?" I asked.

"Yes! Exactly like that." And I had an appointment for the vision doctor the next week so she penciled that into her schedule and said what time she'd arrive.

And she was off.

The next week she picked us up. My son's vision was fine. My daughter needed glasses. I felt guilty. Was that why she wasn't reading? No. It turns out she has 20/20 vision BUT she has "alternating extopia", ie two lazy eyes that take turns. "That actually is a good thing," the doctor explained. "Because it takes the strain off it just being one eye." That didn't make sense to me but I took his word for it.

Her lazy eye wasn't unknown to me. I had thought it was just one eye though. She'd worn glasses for it as a toddler, but her eye had corrected enough then she didn't need them anymore. "As they grow, eyes change," the doctor explained. I was just relieved that that wasn't why she wasn't reading. It really was just stubbornness. And insurance would cover up to two pairs of glasses for kids annually, so it was fine.

So it was three weeks after our first conversation and 5 weeks since the social worker had come when the cleaner and I actually cleaned together for the first time.

She came in and I said let's do the living room and dining room. So she had me sit in my stool and she swept everything in both rooms to me while I sorted. I put trash in the trash bag and what we kept I placed on the dining table chairs. She placed some things that were on the floor but obviously not trash on the couch before sweeping the living room to me. When time was up, the floors of both rooms were spotless, but the dining table and couch were covered. I admit this made me twitchy as I have less trouble with floor mess than surface mess for some reason.

"We work well together," she announced. "You did great!"

I was glad she thought so. And the house did look MUCH better, which was very good because finally, finally, after 10 weeks Master was coming back to visit again.

[kazemi-archive]

let me start with tw: discourse. tw: vent. tw: mentions of sexual harrassment.

tl;dr: i got my name dragged through the mud by a mutual who lied about our relationship and took all my friends from me. who lied about my character and targeted people she knew she could turn against me in order to leave me all alone. who set the progress i'd made on my self-worth, people pleasing, and trust issues back years. and i refuse to take this into the new year with me when i've been carrying it for so long.

to the people who stood by me through this, truly heard my side and were witness to the evidence of this all happening… thank you for consistently reminding me that my existence here is okay.

i'd really like to leave this all in this year, so for the last new moon of 2024, in the light of new beginnings and wiping the slate clean... let me get some things off my chest.

i started this blog in 2022 and it happened to be a really hard year for me. the second half of the year left me single after a 2year relationship, a breakup that also left me homeless for a month. this community did so much for me, giving me friends i could talk to and count on that made me happier. it meant the world to me.

that all got ripped away from me in 2023. all the anxiety that took me so long to get rid of when it came to interacting reset fully.

let’s start from the beginning of it all

in october 2022, a mutual of mine came back into tumblr after a hiatus. her name is Lina. (you may know her as her past users @/tsukina @/celcero, @/zorotits @/millionsknive, @/trafaligar, or her current users @/mrscorazon @/mylaw)

we were extremely close before she left and picked right back up. at the end of october, she confessed her feelings to me and i confessed mine back. i thought things were fine, we didn't pursue a relationship but we flirted all the time and were well aware of the feelings that existed. below are messages of when i thought maybe feelings were possible before we confessed and our actual confession.

(i skipped some messages for the sake of her privacy about personal issues because although i owe her nothing i won’t expose those things)

i started making more friends, closer friends in this time. in december 2022 lina suddenly and without explanation to me, stopped speaking to me as frequently and although it hurt, i didn't push it much, especially since when she returned to conversations it seemed like all was fine. i was brought into her discord server and we would talk in there frequently as friends, never cluing people into how we spoke but she would tell me she loved me and tell me i was hers constantly during our personal conversations.

i did have a few friends on here in this time that i confided in. some getting details from the beginning, having consoled my original freakouts when i realized i had developed feelings for Lina and sticking with me. they were there when i cried about thinking i’d done something wrong when Lina hadn’t been talking to me and wondering if i’d somehow been annoying or overstepped somewhere. for a while i also spoke to a friend from here and had gushed about the good things about Lina. that friend was Maple. that is, until Maple also stopped speaking to me as much.

the last time that Lina told me she loved me (to my recollection) was on new years. it was an hours long conversation that included many voice memos that i can’t post here but here are some screenshots of those messages in question. (for reference about what i'm about to say after i understand its a lot of pictures but its important to me that you understand what our dynamic was at this point)

in february of 2023. the day after submitting to an appearance matchup game for Lina’s blog, i woke up valentine’s day to find that she had blocked me with no explanation. on everything. every social media we had together. (i never checked our imessages but i assumed there too.) not only her, but her online best friend at the time had blocked me as well.

i spiraled trying to figure out what i had done wrong and knowing that i probably would never know. i didn't want to cross boundaries of friends and force them in between us by asking them to ask her and i didn't want to cross her boundaries by reaching out that way either. any friend that found out she had blocked me i had assured that i did not want them to confront her nor did i want them to try and choose a side because what happened between me and here did not have to affect our other mutuals.

this seemed to do nothing to keep her from doing the exact opposite though. within a month... besides Lina and the original other, i was either blocked or soft blocked on everything by 4 other mutuals i had in common with Lina with no explanation. i then lost two more in the same way in the next three months. all of those i lost were close to Lina more than me, at least they had been in recent times. i also was asked to leave the server with this as my only explanation:

(this message was deleted within the hour and i was instead just kicked from the server) i had been effectively excommunicated from the friends i thought i had with no explanation. and i would get no explanations until august 2023.

around april of 2023 i became closer to two mutuals that were also her mutuals. this was Cherry (now @/tonedtsumu) and Peri (now @/ghostlygeto). i met Cherry originally in Lina’s server but had really started talking to her after another mutual of mine had brought her into my server. Peri and i met when one friend wanted to include her in the small group of friends i had that we all thought were supportive. after getting to know each other, i finally confessed to Cherry and Peri about what had happened in the past few months and how i had never found out what i'd supposedly done. i’d told them about the fact that it left me with a lot of anxiety, thinking every sentence i spoke was wrong and how i’d pulled away from a lot of people on accident because of this anxiety.

Peri and Cherry at the same time they got closer to me, got closer to her. Peri originally found this strange, telling me that Lina had never attempted reaching out to her as a mutual until they had become more actively interacting with me on tumblr. Peri was invited to Lina’s server to play fortnite when they made the joke that now they could “be the inside man and find out what happened.”

i was repeatedly promised by Peri that if they found out why i was blocked by everyone then they would finally tell me and that nothing they would be told about me would ever affect our relationship. i was also repeatedly told that they weren't "that close" to Lina and her new small group of friends. i felt that i was just being anxious thinking we had started to speak less and convinced myself i was being dramatic. i found out later, however that all of that was a lie as well.

in july of 2023 i took a trip that had been planned for months. the goal was to meet two  mutuals of mine before flying to meet Peri and Cherry. before i got to my second destination, i was informed that Peri had gotten an explanation of why i was blocked. previous to this moment, i only had a vague explanation from one person that Lina had said i’d “crossed a boundary” but that she was very nondescript while explaining that.

Peri admitted that Lina had told them the following explanation: Lina claimed that all of my feelings were one sided. that when she noticed i had romantic feelings that she tried to take a step back but i kept lying to Star and Maple about the things Lina was saying to me. and then, that i’d sent a picture that was “too booby” for her appearance matchup and that was a crossed line she couldn’t ignore and she blocked me. (now, this is a picture i have used in many matchups and i was unaware it was ‘too much’ had i known that, i never would have sent it.)  she told Peri that she then told this recount of the events to others and they decided to block me because it was “creepy”

i had issues with this story because although, yes, Lina had been distant a bit before i was blocked, she had continued telling me she loved me and my feelings were not "one sided" like she'd claimed (as seen by the screenshots i included above from only a month and a half before i was blocked)

however, i then learned that this is not the only story that Lina told people. Peri went on to say that Lina had told Cherry that i sexually harassed her for months before she finally blocked me. (i can only assume that her story changed for every person)

knowing this made me extremely nervous to visit Peri and Cherry. however, the plans were already made and i was hoping that i could get the chance to defend myself in person.

during my time with them, there were times that i thought my anxiety was just getting ahold of me too much. even feared that they would block me the second i left and they were just waiting for it. i was assured, however, by them that everything was fine on multiple occasions and i chalked it up to my new paranoia over friendships.

all my fears were justified when the morning after i arrived back home at the end of july 2023, i woke up blocked on everything by Cherry. i was heartbroken but i didn’t know what to do, i didn’t have emotional energy to bring the conversation up to Peri yet, or to even really talk to anyone much. especially when i noticed Peri slowly cutting the ties between us one by one. by august i was blocked by Peri as well. both had given me no explanations. and both were now closer to Lina.

august was mostly spent on the couch crying and trying to figure out what had happened. Being incredibly distraught about friendships, believing i didn’t deserve any friendships and worrying that all my friends would somehow blame me for this drama and i would just be bound to lose everyone one by one until i was alone.

finding out Lina had adjusted her story about me for every person left me feeling extremely hopeless. especially when no one had tried to talk to me and give me the chance to show my proof of my side. finding out that Lina said, even once, that i had sexually harassed her was incredibly heart-breaking to hear. the hundreds of text messages and voice memos of her confessing to me and saying she meant it as more than a friend. her asking me to move to her. her telling me how she wanted to kiss me and undress me and the sexual comments she made towards me that i specifically chose to ignore because she'd only get sexual when she was drunk and i didn't want to cross a boundary reciprocating that while she was influenced. having tried so hard to preserve her relationships with people and defend her while she had no problem lying about my character in that way made me feel so broken.

i could have more to say about how she treats the people she calls friends and go on, but i will leave it at this for now and say this:

to lose people from lies, to get excommunicated from a community i found safe, to have the progress i'd made with trusting people get set back by yeeeeaaaars by one girl. one girl who decided to turn people against me for reasons i'll never get to know. the amount of nights i've cried myself to sleep over this, considered deleting my blog over this. the fact she dragged it out for 6 months. i open tumblr fearing i've lost another friend. open discord fearing i've been blocked with no explanation. i hope i can one day but i’m honestly not sure if i’ll ever be able to open one of these apps and just double check i still have mutuals or that people i thought i was close to haven’t randomly unfriended me.

she took all our mutual friends from me. well, took them or dropped them. while i so desperately tried to keep to myself about it, not wanting something that happened between her and i to affect her and other people.

tumblr should be safe for people. it should not be a place where we accuse people of doing things that they didn't. it shouldn't be a place that we fear coming to. it shouldn't be a place that stirs anxiety within us.

and god. to Lina. to the ones who left me after i confessed things to them. the ones who made me trust them that they would tell me what happened then lied to my face... truly i hope karma bites you in the ass.

if you read all of this; i apologize for airing my shit on dash but this needed to get off my chest before the new year. (i will be turning off anon for the time being. if you would like to reach out you may do so privately).

[hastings727]

Going to Community College has Been Fun!

We had an interview project a while back, and I interviewed my trans friend Rhy about fighting games, and being trans in the fgc (fighting game community), and Guilty Gear. Dear reader, when I tell you that I was fuckin' MOTIVATED (insert vergil meme). After he (my teacher) announced the project, I was on my phone asking Rhy if she could be my interviewee, and as soon as she said yes I was GONE. We set up the date at the local fgc meetup and I shot tons of B-roll, and shot about an hour and a half of interview footage. I started editing a few days later and I felt lost for a bit at all my footage. And then I remembered my editing teacher saying to NAME EVERYTHING that you look at, and to use the marker tool for specific spots you want to clip. Off again I was. Nearly 2 hours of footage and over 35 clips of B-roll all markered and clipped and I was picking songs, setting all that shit up over the next 4 days. I sent it in a day early and felt so pleased about it. I was watching and rewatching my video, so proud of it. And after I showed the video, the entire class was literally clapping. I was so blown away, I cried in the car after class I was so overwhelmed. Because not only was I enjoying school, not only was I completing assignments, not only was I turning in my work. But people liked it? Me? the person who's spent his entire life just being an internet nerd? The guy who cleans toilets at the local Wawa got an ovation from his entire classroom. I am broken in the best way possible.

The best part in all of this is my teacher finally graded it like a month later, and I check it today and he gave me a B. Which was fair! Because the footage was a bit wobbly in parts, I should have used the tripod more, and I had Rhy hold the lapel mic because I wasn't sure if I could hear her well enough when we were testing. It makes me so happy to have been given that fair criticism. It doesn't erase my joy at creating the video, it doesn't erase the ovation I got from my classmates. It just means that I have so much more to learn, and so much more to get better at.

I honestly don't think younger me could have done any of this. I was too scared, too emotional, too broken over trying to exist in this world. As much as I rue not figuring this all out until the age of thirty one, nineteen year old me wouldn't have done it anyway. And thats okay.

[lwh-writing]

If I may (forgive me, I don't know how CPS works, I had to make up names, and it's long):

As a correspondent for Casper County Child Protective Services, Julia is unfortunately used to taking plenty of calls, especially for the city of Amity Park.

Julia is also used to getting calls regarding the Fentons. At least half a dozen of her coworkers have their own personal accounts of the peculiar couple and their children, and Julia has twice had to stop by Fenton Works and assess the situation for herself. What she and her colleagues have found is a well-meaning, but feckless pair of scientists that continue to *just barely* scrape by every evaluation. If it wasn't for the fact that Jasmine and Daniel Fenton weren't so perfectly happy, healthy, and loved in their home, Julia knows that the Fenton family would've long-since been broken up.

None of this prepares her for receiving The Call.

Julia's shift ends in a little over an hour. The phone rings, and she pulls up both a new tab on her organizational software and a new page on her notepad. She hopes that this call is for something minor, and that it's the last she'll receive for the day, as she wanted to enjoy the rest of the weekend in peace.

Unfortunately, The Call is neither of those things.

"This is Casper County Child Protective Services. I am--" Before Julia can continue her usual spiel, the sound of a wailing child cuts clear across the line.

"It's Maddie Fenton," the voice on the other end says, just barely heard over the cries.

Julia sighs and begins to pull up the usual file. "What have the Fentons done this time?"

"I think you misunderstood," the voice continued, "This is Maddie Fenton. I'd like to file a--." More cries drown out Dr. Fenton's words, and soon the light sound of footsteps and a closing door can also be heard. The cries don't quite stop, but they are much more muffled.

"....are you reporting yourself and your husband?" Julia asks. It wouldn't be the first time a parent has called CPS and requested that their children be removed from their own custody. Sometimes, bad parents are just good enough to recognize when their child deserves better than them, and other times, good parents know that they are spiraling or hitting a rough patch hard enough that they cannot continue to give their children what they need. Julia has always respected those types of people the most.

"No, I...." Dr. Fenton said, "It's about my sister's son, Timothy Turner."

Julia searches for the name in the Casper County database, only to find nothing. "I'm sorry, that name doesn't appear to be in my files."

"It probably wouldn't be in Amity Park. My sister Luisa and her husband live in Dimmsdale."

Julia expanded her search to the city in question and found a Turner family living in Dimmsdale.

"Right, then. May I ask how old Timmy is?"

"He's six."

She then asked Dr. Fenton to describe the problem that led her to call CPS.

"My sister and I have not always had the closest relationship," Dr. Fenton explained, "Luisa can be a bit flighty and airheaded, making communication difficult. I'd often make a few calls, only for them to be ignored and responded to a month later. It didn't really bother me much until Luisa had a kid."

"Did you worry that your sister's tendencies would make her forgetful in regards to her child's care?"

"There were a few moments, but I didn't think they would stick," Dr. Fenton said after a moment of thought, "I thought there might be growing pains, but I guess I thought having a child might force Luisa to become more mature. But I was wrong. My sister and her husband are obviously not taking their duties as parents seriously, and I think there might be some major problems."

"Such as?" Julia egged on, grabbing a pen and preparing to jot down notes.

"From the beginning, Jack and I noticed a few odd remarks. Thomas, Luisa's husband, really wanted a daughter. When Luisa was pregnant, he would go on about all the father-daughter things they would do together. But when they had Timmy instead, it was as if Thomas and Luisa were never expecting. Thomas didn't once mention any of the activities or other things, and barely mentioned Timmy at all beyond lamenting the fact that he didn't have a 'precious babygirl'."

"That is very concerning," Julia agreed, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Whenever we would visit Luisa for weekends or holidays or such, we'd often find Timmy alone at the house. I took Luisa aside and told her that her son wasn't old enough to stay by himself and that he needed a babysitter. She got him one, thankfully, but when we came over next time, Timmy immediately burst into tears and told us how his babysitter would hurt him."

Julia stopped her writing. "Did you tell your sister?"

"Of course I did," Dr. Fenton said, tone irked, "But Luisa dismissed it out of hand. She and Thomas both claimed that Timmy was just lying for attention. But the way my nephew looked, I.... I just couldn't take any chances. So one weekend, about three months ago, Jack and I took the kids to Dimmsdale a couple hours early to see if we could catch the babysitter in the act. And what we found--"

A disgruntled, grunting noise came from the other end of the receiver.

"It was horrible. That vile witch of a teenager had Timmy tied up like a prized hog at a fair, and had dozens of weapons and torture instruments all laid out. We swung open the front door to see her laughing manically at Timmy's tears, nine-tails whip raised in hand. She tried to play it off, but we caught her red-handed and she knew it."

"Jack and the kids stayed with Timmy, but I took the girl aside and made it very clear that if she stepped within ten feet of my nephew again, I would tear her apart molecule by molecule. Then we waited for Luisa and Thomas to get home so we could explain the situation. They finally arrived just before midnight, the both of them tipsy from a date night out. Jack and I tried to explain the situation again, but they dismissed it. Again."

"Did you attempt to contact Dimmsdale police or CPS when you found the babysitter?" Julia asked, wondering what the fuck kind of trainwreck she was getting dragged into.

"Yes, we did," Dr. Fenton confirmed, "The police were useless. Apparently, the babysitter would sit for the officers, and they all claimed that she was an 'absolute godsend' that could 'straighten out even the most delinquent of children'. CPS wasn't much better, and when we went to try and talk with her parents, they seemed just as terrified of her as Timmy was. So Jack and I discussed our options and finally told my sister and her husband that we would babysit Timmy whenever it was needed, no charge required."

Julia made a note to report Dimmsdale CPS to Internal Affairs, all the while encouraging Dr. Fenton to continue. Not that much encouragement was needed. It seemed as if Dr. Fenton was finally releasing weeks' worth of frustration towards her sister, brother-in-law, and overall situation.

"The first time we babysat, we had to drive the two hours to Dimmsdale and get Timmy ourselves. Neither Luisa or Thomas made mention of what their plans were for pickup, or when they'd be done with whatever they were doing. They just absently told us goodbye and drove off. We packed up a few of Timmy's toys-- all of which were birthday and Christmas gifts from us, mind you --and then went back to Amity Park. It was a fun day, but once we were done with dinner, we started calling Luisa and Thomas to see where they were, and we still didn't receive an answer. We eventually decided to drive Timmy back. We came home to an empty house, and didn't leave until the Turners came in a little after two."

"The second time we babysat, Jack and I ran a bit of an experiment," Dr. Fenton confessed, "We picked Timmy up on a Friday after school, packed him a few changes of clothes, and then took him back to our place. We waited the entire weekend to see if either Luisa or Thomas would notice we had essentially kidnapped their son. They didn't call or text once. The only reason we took Timmy back to Dimmsdale was because he had school Monday morning."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Julia swore under her breath.

"And that brings us to now," Dr. Fenton said, "Jack and I picked up Timmy, but this time, we refused to leave Dimmsdale until Luisa and Thomas gave us straight answers as to where they were going, what they were doing, and when they would pick up their son. Apparently, Thomas has a Pencil Conference in Pennsylvania. They assured us that Timmy would be coming with them. Their flight leaves from the O'Hare airport at six. It is currently a quarter past four, I have been trying to call my sister for three hours and received no answer, and my nephew is crying his eyes out because he is a six-year-old child who misses his parents no matter how horrible they may be. And I just... don't know what to do."

Julia let out a shaky breath before creating a new case file and saying to the defeated-sounding woman, "You've done the right thing in calling today, Dr. Fenton."

"...thank you," she said, "I know this is the right thing for my nephew, but my sister..."

"Your sister is a grown woman who has made her choices," Julia dismissed before creating a new file, "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds as if you and your husband wouldn't be opposed to housing Timmy as we get this situation dealt with."

"That is correct, yes. The kids love their cousin, and Jack and I just want Timmy to be happy and safe."

"Good. What I am going to do, Dr. Fenton, is contact a judge in Amity Park and tell them to grant you emergency custody of Timothy Turner. I am also going to contact the proper channels to start an investigation into the Dimmsdale CPS, the Dimmsdale police, and the babysitter who terrorized your nephew. What was her name?"

"Vicky," Dr. Fenton spat, "Vicky Carter."

"Thank you, Dr. Fenton," Julia said, writing the name down, "Now, we will try to get you emergency custody as soon as possible, but that usually takes a while. Two weeks, at the minimum."

"Thomas and Luisa said the Pencil Conference lasted a week, and that they were thinking of staying for a while to see the sights."

"Well," Julia said, wondering exactly how serendipitous the events turned out to be, "Well, then that just works in our favor. You will most likely receive another visit from Child Protective Services just to confirm that your household can support three children. After that, it would be best if your entire family could refrain from contacting Mr. and Mrs. Turner, as a legal battle to remove your nephew from their care will most likely follow. Are there any particular charges you'd like to level against the Turners?"

"Child neglect and child abandonment," Dr. Fenton answered immediately.

"Well, then we are of the same mind. Please expect a multitude of emails and phone calls in the near future."

"Of course. And thank you, for the help."

Julia said her goodbyes and rose from her desk. As she was making her way to the Internal Affairs office, a few voices called out from the breakroom.

"Uh-oh, somebody's got their business face on," Tyler teased, "Anything we should be worried about?"

"I got a call from the Fentons."

A few chuckles rose up from the room.

"What they'd do this time, cover the 'Spirit of Clean' mascot with neon green silly string?"

Julia frowned and shook her head. "Dr. Maddie Fenton called to report her sister for abandonment and neglect."

The room went quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"Shit," Tyler murmured, "How fucked up does the case have to be for the Fentons to turn someone in?"

"You don't want to know," Julia said, turning on her heel and continuing down the hall, "You don't want to know."

✨Au ✨ Moms are sisters

[lifewithoutmeds]

september 13, 2023

5:26 p.m.

week in review: 9/9/2023: oppah called in the morning and talked to me for an hour and a half. mostly about himself, but he also seemed to be inviting me out to something called "echo park rising," but i declined as i was meeting up with anjali later. at 1:15 my mom swung by and picked me up, and we went to three nearby open houses (condos.) nothing looked good, and it was hot, and afterward we went to fish king where we split a spicy tuna roll. around 6pm, anjali came by, and we went to joon shabu shabu which was pretty good. then we came back to the condo, chatted, and watched three episodes of the office before retiring.

9/10/2023: woke up pretty tired as i think anjali had left around 10 or 10:30 which was late for me. barely was up in time for my 9:05 a.m. pick up by my mom. we went to church, then to roscoe's afterward for lunch. i proposed that we try a new restaurant every time we go to church, and she seemed happy about it. i was in much better spirits than the last time she saw me. we both discussed our desire to get back into church; she wanted to join a choir maybe, and i wanted to plug into some sort of community group, but preferably a similar demographic and not that of Lake Avenue's. on our drive back, she choked up talking about how she had a sense of shame/embarassment from having stayed in the marriage so long, and i choked up too, saying that she left when she had too, when she was strong enough, when she was brave enough, and she shouldn't get upset at herself for not leaving sooner. i compared it to my own coming out, how i couldn't have done it when i was 12 or 13, how i was up against my parents, my church, my society, and i thought that was my life, and i'd just never be happy and i'd just be plagued by suffering until i died. she said she had no idea, and also thanked me, and said something like, "i know why you're saying that and i thank you." i came home pretty exhausted, took about an hour nap, then headed over to rhiannon's for the third time in two months which kind of felt like a lot. we went to go watch this new lesbian high school comedy called Bottoms, which was pretty fun, then we ate some pizza's at BJ's, my treat, as it was her birthday. i came home tired. i think i cried a tiny bit, but this could also have been a product of an upcoming period, evidenced also by the fact that i started each morning by eating a few scoops of haagen dazs coffee ice cream.

9/11-9/12/2023: these days just bled into each other. i was tired all day, barely did any work, and would take long naps during lunch. i didn't do any chores, didn't make my bed, didn't really do anything but stare at my phone and lie down. the only differences between each day was that on monday i met up with tracy, and we went to a new bar called The Fable in eagle rock (which was just ok. strong but not particularly tasty drinks, no food, too dark, and regular clientele that didn't seem to appreciate outsiders,) followed by spitz, which she enjoyed. i had had two strong drinks and was drinking a big beer and got pretty buzzed, and talked a lot, about embarrassing things, shameful things, for which i felt shame the next morning. tuesday after work i went all the way over to century city again, where i met up with patti, alex, and matt, and we ate dumplings at din tai fung and caught up with patti, who was planning on moving back to LA in the next month. she also walked me to my car and i cried as i told her how i'd been. she was incredibly kind, compassionate, and conciliatory, and i felt ... seen. heard. cared for.

9/13/2023: not sure what it was, but i made my bed this morning. delayed my coffee. washed two loads of dishes. took out recycling. took close to an hour walk at lunch. was very productive at work, made two cluster presentations, got good feedback from my bosses, and at the end of the day, SUZY called. i hadn't heard from her in several months (i think we may have met up in a group in january) but she rarely if ever calls me. she asked if i was okay, concerned about an ig story i had posted earlier, and i broke down and started crying again. she was kind and conciliatory and i was so thankful. she also basically forced me to agree to get lunch with her in a week, even though it'd be on a working day for me, but it wasn't for her, and apparently every other day she is busy with the work or the children, so i guess that was the only day that worked for her. it was very good to hear from her and she said she loved me and i remembered that i was loved, that i had friends, that i loved them, and that somehow, in these near-40 years of life, i had forged some really intense, life-long friendships, which also made me cry a little. among the things she said was that she was pretty sure i'd find love again, and that if i had nothing else to hope for, i had that. and that i had gotten to experience love, and learn from it, and ... who knows, something else from it.

i think some of the crying is PMS. but each time i cry, i cry a little less. well this time i cried a LOT, like heaving, hiccuping crying, where i had to hold my breath because i sounded so bad where i couldn't even get out words. but before this crying spell, i went a record 5 days without crying, which was a new record for this month. i should give myself a little credit for that. and even though sometimes the loss of jadai feels so close, at other times, it feels a little more distant, like an echo. i hope it keeps fading and fading with time.

Upcoming Week: 9/14/2023, Thursday: In office, as we'll have an in-person meeting. afterward will be a kind of random dinner with stacy and catherine. rather, they had planned it for themselves, and when i randomly texted stacy, she invited me along. fortunately i'll already be downtown so it won't be too far away. it will be good to see them and another reminder that there are people out there. there's a community. there's support.

9/15/2023, Friday RDO: undecided yet, but may go fishing with Tracy. might go on a hike. might register for the october volunteer registration for the burbank animal shelter.

9/16/2023, Saturday: No plans!

9/17/2023, Sunday: might check out Bread Church, where grace goes in the morning. also plan to meet up with kendy at matt in the afternoon, tentatively 2-5 p.m. after i basically begged them to meet up with me because i liked them and i needed the company and care.

9/18/2023, Monday: noon check in with psychiatrist, and dinner at grace k's. i forget why, but we randomly texted one another last week and she invited me over for dinner and we decided on monday.

i'm really glad i have some social things planned. i need to be around people. my best experiences in life have been with people, and the closer i've felt to them, the better the experience has been. my times with jadai, my trips with antoinette, playing the guitar with lorena, staying in the cabin with my Venice CG. these were the best times, the memorable times, the most treasured times. so as much as i'm being told to go adopt a dog, i think i need to try and connect with people as much as i can.

one of the better things that i'm thinking about the past month is that i've never tried so hard to get out of this. i'm reaching out, i'm researching volunteer opportunities, i'm journaling constantly, i'm looking into a new church, i'm asking for help. i'm trying. i'm remembering who i was pre-jadai, and so far it hasn't been that great honestly, but i'm trying to find whatever impelled me to live for 35 years before i met her. i'm not in my 20's anymore, most of my friends have married/moved away, but they're still there, albeit in smaller doses, and with more planning, etc. but i need to keep trying.