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sasa-gay-yo · 4 years

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Just Us (Chapter Fifteen: Dedicate Your Heart)

← Chapter Fourteen

I thought I was going to die. Sitting there hearing his pompous ass ramble on about how better his life than ours in the Capital was going to make me go crazy if he didn’t stop. He seemed to enjoy it too. The way his lips curled into a smirk when he heard Jonas groan next to me as he went on and on about the luxuries of the capital and what the Military Police get for their monthly bonus. I was just trying to keep my best behavior up because Ben had threatened Jonas and me before this meet-up. It was even worse than I thought it was going to be too because Catrin wasn’t there to talk over him. I’d rather hear her babble on about her baby and hair salon than whatever shit is coming out of his mouth now. Duran was point-blank lying about all of this and you knew it. MPs just sit around and do nothing in the capital, and now he was accepted to join a special team that was so top secret, he could only tell us every detail? I didn’t buy it. Also, how was he considered an elite soldier? These were all the thoughts running through your mind while he talked.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity for you Duran. Maybe we can visit you as a family in the capital after your training.” I also laughed at Ben’s proposal, knowing good and well I was never going to willingly venture onto Duran’s turf where he can bullshit to us even more. If anything, we should show up at a random time so he’s taken by surprise and can’t cover up his lies with a few changes of cash.

“But enough about me,” he feigned, “What’s been going on with you all here back home?” Ben looked at Jonas and me, then to his wife, and realized that he was the only one willing to talk, so he started off about his job and the cafe. I knew I’d be next, so I was trying to build some narrative in my head that Duran couldn’t pick apart. In the middle of the part where I’m trying to figure out how to not tell him about closing the shop for a period of time, Jonas kicked me under the table. As annoyed as I was, when I saw him move his head towards the back door I was the first one out of my chair.

“Fresh air,” I mumbled, before walking out, not hearing Duran’s comment when Jonas got up to join me.

“Those two finally together?” I slammed the door, forgetting that Jonas was right behind, and he walked out holding his head. I mumbled sorry before starting up the ladder to the roof. The spot that Jonas and I always went to do nothing. Once on the roof, it gave a nice view across Trost and I could see the top of the walls where the guns and Garrison sat in wait. A few days ago, the whole of Trost was awoken by cannon fire, and it took all but two hours for the café to be bustling with the rumors that the first titan had reached the outside of Trost. To say it was scary was an understatement, but it was overly annoying that now the people were rejoicing how close the Scouts were to save Trost if anything happened. I don't remember those praises when the mission to reclaim the wall had happened. How easily they could switch up because they needed personal protection astounded me. After that incident, the Scouts had allocated a few people to stand watch every day at the wall to kill any abnormal or call for help if the titans that destroyed Shiganshia were back again. It was morbid, but I was waiting for the day that the Colossal Titan, as people were calling it, reached a hand over Trost’s walls. Staring at them now, I could just picture it.

“Penny for your thought, Ev?” Jonas took out a pack of cigarettes, a habit he acquired in the past few months, and got something out of his pocket to light it. The roof and outside of my apartment was the only place he could do it without getting yelled at by Ben or his roommates. I had done my best to warm him the first few weeks, but he seemed not to care. Still, I had no idea why he started now when he had years previous to do it.

“Thinking about when the Colossal Titan reaches Trost.” He took a drag and just nodded, counting on comments of morbidity to come from my mouth. It was a common theme now.

“Anything else less… intense? I’m trying to have a relaxing time up here before I have to go down and listen to Duran’s mouth.” I smiled lightly, dangling my legs off the edge of the building. I had to think of something else to say because that’s truly all I was thinking about. These days, I don’t try and let my mind run.

“I was thinking about paying a few petty gang members to jump Duran on his way back to Mitras. You want to donate a few notes?” He sighed, this time shaking his head, but I could see the smile on his face. It was a tempting offer for the day we’ve had to endure.

“Unfortunately, my crime funds have run low. If Catrin was here, she’d donate though.”

“She would.” The wind whipped through once, and I put my arms around myself, regretting not storming out with at least a jacket. It was almost winter. One month till the end of the year. Six months.

“How long did Ben say Duran was staying? Am I going to have to entertain him tomorrow in the café?” Jonas snuffed out his cigarette on the brick before leaning back a bit to feel the wind enter his ashed lungs.

“The week I think. At least he’s not staying in your old bedroom. Now I can’t stay at home when I want to for the next week. I have a double shift in two days and it was so much easier to come back here and sleep.” I groaned. God, I was going to have to entertain him and his new happy-go-lucky attitude. That was the worst part. While he was still annoying, braggy, and covertly malicious, the only thing that changed is that he seemed less interested in fighting outright. Actually, it was even more annoying because there wasn’t anything to call him out for upfront. He hid his ass well and Ben seemed to be eating up this fake persona.

“At least Ben isn’t forcing you to make food for this fucking family picnic inside the walls. It’s your fault for telling him about the meadow. I have no idea why now Ben feels like we need to be a family again, I’m almost thirty.” Jonas huffed one in laughter.

“I could think of a few reasons why, but I’d like to keep the peace we’ve made tonight.” I nodded, knowing what some of those reasons were.

“I’m glad you’ve made that decision.” He threw the cigarette off the building and I watched it fall and hit the ground. The last spark flew out of it when it hit the mud, and quickly burnt out. I just stared at it for what seemed like forever.

“If you went back to your old self, you know, became happy again, I’m sure Dad wouldn’t force you on family picnics.” Ah, there it was. The daily comment about my state of emotion. It was different than last time. I wasn’t crying anymore and I didn’t show up to the café with bloodshot eyes from no sleep. No, I was calm. I was living on spite. There would be no tears for someone who would never drop them for me. There was anger. Definitely anger. Sometimes it came out too. The latest victim was Elias who had spilled over a whole pail of water and I yelled at him loud enough for Jonas, who was outside throwing away garbage, to hear. I bought him any sweet he wanted from the corner shop to apologize. He wasn’t the only one I’d let my anger out on.

Hange visits me now. I don’t know why she does it, and every time she sits in his seat. At first, it was annoying to be reminded of him, but I grew to like her conversation. Once, however, she talked about him, and I yelled at her to stop. She seemed used to it for some reason, not even flinching with my harsh words. Even after, she continued as nothing happened and let me feel guilty. The last time she came, about the same time the first titan reached Trost, I treated her to an extra tart because of it.

“This is me now, Jonas. Pretty much.” I pushed back the skin on my nails knowing he would protest that.

“No, it’s not. I’ve never seen you act like this. This isn’t you.” I just hummed, agreeing so he would stop pressing it. I’d try my hardest every day to not think about it. One-track mind.

“You two! Come back down! It’s time for dessert!” The door slammed behind Ben, signaling he’d gone back inside after yelling at us. Jonas stood up before I could say something back, motioning that the conversation was done. This is how it usually went. He was too overwhelmed with the fact that I had no emotion anymore and then just left the conversation.

“Well come on then.”

For the rest of the week, my detest towards Duran was building. He came every day to the café, dressed up in his MP uniform, and talked to everyone like he owned the place. Some of the older women also flaunted over him, remembering the days he was here and making some form of fake past where he actually stayed in the café. I couldn’t even remember a clear time when he was in the café while I was working, and I worked there every day. They must have remembered something very, very different than I did. I just stood there and watched with distaste and told all my grievances to Jonas. On the day of the picnic, I was about to completely snap.

The family picnic had included Elias and June and Jonas’s sister. Elias and June had come to the café that morning, asking if they could stay with me since their family was starting another cult meeting and I agreed, knowing it would be a welcoming distraction to Duran. We were now waiting outside Jonas’s house. Waiting for Duran to put his stupid MP gear on. He thought the citizens of Trost would marvel at his status, not having any MPs here, but I told him that they’d rather spit on him. That set him off once, but he easily controlled it. I guess this new squad needed him to control that nasty ass personality to be in it. Good.

“And the person who bought the book said that it was like brand new! Mr. Philpa even commended me on my work! I really think I’m starting to get the hang of it.” I mustered to give June a smile, trying to keep her happy atmosphere up. I would need it today if I was going to be forced to listen to Duran for hours now. Since I insulted him this morning, I was going to have a target on my back the rest of the day. That was very clear when he complimented how well my makeup covered up the huge black circles on my face. Passive aggressive ass.

“Alright, everyone! Time to head out!” Ben was over the moon that his family had gathered to do something. He was the family man, always. It was probably instilled in him by Mrs. Flynn, at least that’s what Catrin had said, and it was getting to be annoying. I could come to their house to eat, but to forcibly make me make food for Duran who was just going to complain about the flavor? I couldn’t handle that. I swore up and down the kitchen when I was making this last night. As we walked to the Trost entrance, Duran just kept talking, and even at the front of the pack with Jonas and Elias, I could still hear him rambling. It was giving me a headache, which was a telltale sign I was going to burst any minute. This is always what happens when I yell at someone. The anger builds up into physical pain, and I can’t get rid of it any other way. In the dead of the night, I’ll wake up from a dream and find no better remedy than yelling Fuck really loud. It’s embarrassing when I forget Jonas is usually on my couch.

“You good?” Jonas leaned in to whisper in my ear and I just looked at him out of the side of my eyes. He got the memo and continued talking to Elias about his school work. It was too loud in this part of Trost, and Duran’s stupid voice was even louder. This coupled with the fact that people would stop to talk to Ben or even me was getting to be way too much. This is why I stayed in the café most of the time.

“Eva, haven’t seen you come this way for a while,” the Garrison captain called out from where he and the morning watch were playing cards on a barrel. At that moment, I vividly remembered punching him in the face, and I was tempted to do it again as he stopped the whole party to talk to me. The way he said it was definitely hinting at the fact that I was no longer in his secretly assessed relationship.

“I’ve just come when you’re not around, Captain. Probably drunk in a pub somewhere.” Duran was the first to hop into the conversation, ready to begin a military circle jerk.

“Evylnn, that’s not how you talk to a military member! Good morning, Captain.” Duran held his hand out to the Captain who gave one weary look at it and shook it. He remembered Duran correctly and he knew how much trouble he’d gotten into as a kid. He was also probably surprised that he had an MP uniform on when he would throw rocks at the Garrison.

“I don’t know what it’s like in Mitras, but that’s how we talk to them here in Trost, Duran. Then again, what would a military mouse like you know?” He turned and glared, making me reminisce about the real Duran. The signature glare was still there. You just had to wait for it.

“We’re just leaving, Captain. Sorry to bother you!” Ben grasped my shoulder, hard, making me pay for what I’d said to both the Captain and Duran. He pulled me too, right to the front where Jonas and the kids were standing. While he pushed me, he whispered a threat in my ear.

“If this picnic is ruined by you, you’re paying.” I didn’t react, even though I wanted to roll my eyes at him. It wouldn’t be my fault if I said something to make everyone uncomfortable. It would be Duran’s fault because he provoked me. I just tsk-ed as he let me go and started walking back to join Analee.

“You don’t know how bad I want to ruin this picnic now, Jonas.” He sighed, but I could definitely tell it was to hide a laugh in front of Elias and June. When we got to the open gate, the Garrison soldiers saw my glare and just let us through without any protest. Usually, this large of a group would be questioned thoroughly, but since I was in it, they knew not to ask me anything. Duran seemed surprised by this and stopped to yell at them for not doing their job, holding us up again. I just stood there, halfway through the tunnel as he blabbed on and on able the Garrison's responsibility like he was their boss. An MP wasn't going to boss Garrison members around, but here he was in his arrogance, trying to do that.

“You don’t know how to do your jobs! If there’s a group this large the-”

“Scouts are coming!” Someone yelled from above the wall, and when I looked out the entrance, I could see the horses nearing the walls. They were leaving late today, but how could I forget it was the first of the month.

“Please, Miss. Flynn, we're going to ask you to move and stay here till the Scouts progress through. It won’t be that long there isn’t a lot of them.” I was touched by one of the Garrison soldiers, and I quickly shrugged their hand off of me, not wanting to move. I could see Erwin now in front of everyone, and subconsciously I was looking for the black hair. Jonas was the one to come over and drag me to the side of the tunnel so I wouldn’t get trampled on impact.

“How could I forget?” I whispered, and I knew he had heard it. Technically, there were supposed to leave by the time I woke up today, making sure I never was tempted to look out my window when they left. Whenever they came back, I would sit in the back room too. I was making such an effort to never see him, but now I was forced to stand here as the Garrison blocked the two sides of the tunnel. Duran and the rest were held back and only Jonas, Elias, June, and I stood in the tunnel. I couldn't even hide. I was there in plain sight and I knew I would be face to face with him. I hardened my face quickly as they approached. He wasn’t going to get to see any emotion from me. Just like he did to me. He stood on his horse right next to Erwin and right in front of me. I didn’t even look at him like I said I was going to do. I stared right at Erwin who was stopped by the Garrison squad leader to do a head and supply count.

“Commander Erwin!” Elias called out, making everyone who didn’t care about our presence now look right at us. I felt the eyes. I heard some of the whispers. Some of them didn’t die between then and now, and they remembered my face. It was telling too that I couldn’t stare at Levi, but I didn’t feel his eyes on me. He didn’t care about me. I had to remind myself about that. He didn’t care. That’s why he left me. He used me. I just had to tell myself this over and over again to try and forget. I was doing so good recently too. I’d only think about him once a day now, but this instance was going to ruin it. If I even glanced and met his eye, it would all be gone.

“Hello, Elias. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You’ve grown,” he looked over to me, noticing that the two of us were just glaring at him instead of looking at each other, “Eva. It has been too long.” I fought back the urge to scoff, but I knew I had to respond. I had to let him know I wasn’t hurt.

“It has, hasn’t it Commander. If you come to the café with Squad Leader Hange, I’ll treat you.” I smiled. The best smile I had mustered in months. He needed to know I was done. I was past him. I didn’t need him. I didn’t think of him every night. I didn’t regret not sleeping in my bed once with him. He needed to know that I didn’t.

“Of course I’ll take you up on that offer, Eva. Well, we’ll be off.” He nodded down to the Garrison soldier and they moved the blocks out of the way so the horses and carts could continue. When his horse started walking, I thought it safe to look at him. His eyes were filled with that one emotion. The one that was there when he had nightmares. When he confessed his feelings to me. When he told me about his life in the Underground. The emotion, still unnamed to him, I had labeled pain. He was in pain. I hoped my eyes didn’t display the emotion that I was feeling either. With one look up, and one sheer shot of pain through my heart, I looked back down on the ground. He knew. He knew exactly what I’d been through. What I was thinking. And it was sadistic of me to think that for one second that that look of pain was because he missed me. No, it must have pained him to see how hopeless I was. It must have further proved that I couldn’t live without him. Pain. I was feeling pain. I was feeling it this whole time. These whole six months.

“You may carry on, Mr. Flynn.”

“I didn’t know that you knew the Commander of the Scouts, Eva. Fitting.” I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. He was talking about Kristian. I handed the picnic basket of food to Jonas and took one look at Duran and smiled wickedly.

“I’m sorry you’re jealous that I’m closer to high ups than you’ll ever be, Duran. Maybe if you got on your knees for them like you probably did to get on this special squad of yours, then you’d be in my position. Sorry brother, but I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll be cleaning the café.” Ben didn’t stop me, but I knew he was mad. I’d ruined his figurative perfect family picnic and now he was going to have to deal with a pissed-off Duran and talk about me the whole time. I did feel a bit guilty, but I just couldn’t stand being there. Not now. I took the long way home, making sure not to cross the main road, and walked up to my apartment from the back. I shut all my windows too. Loud. Hoping that maybe if he was situated outside my window in formation, he would hear it.

I left those upstairs windows closed for what felt like forever. Jonas would always complain how stuffy it felt with no light besides oil lamps in the living room, but I always yelled at him if he went to touch them. I need to stop myself from being tempted. Every first of the month, I would hear it. I heard the horses and the carts match forward. I listened to Erwin’s speech each time. Every speech had a similar form and ended with the famous line shinzo wo sasageyo. There would be some lowered shouts and then they would all ride off to the other gate into the land of the titans. Give your hearts. How to give your heart when it’s in pieces? That’s what I thought every time and if the windows weren’t closed, I would have looked out to see Levi. Was he looking up at the windows like he used to? Giving me a firm nod before they left, only to do the same when I saw them come back. I wanted to know so bad, so that’s why I kept them shut. If I looked and he didn’t do it, it would ruin the illusion in my mind that somehow he still had feelings for me.

Eren, Armin, and Mikasa came back too. One last time before they were off to training camp. I was touched that they would remember my single act of kindness, and I treated them to their last sweet meal for three years.

“If we can write letters, Miss. Eva, I’ll write one to you.” Armin told me in confidence, and I nodded, telling him that I would like that. Even if I’d known them for so little, it was hard to see them off to training camp. They were cadets now and Eren was still going on about killing all the titans. I guess it was a bit refreshing to see such passion in his eyes, but it still scared me a little. I told him to calm himself down before they stepped off back to their last night in the Garrison storeroom. They waved, even Mikasa, and I made them take a little food-to-go. Once they were done with training, they would be stationed in Trost as cadets before going to be Scouts. They would visit me then, they promised. I would be able to see them all grown up. I also told them that I would probably be able to see them when they graduate regardless, but it gave something for the others to look after. Armin and Mikasa seemed much less enthusiastic to go out in the field and kill titans.

“Their names are Eren, Mikasa, and Armin. At least, Eren said he wanted to join the Scouts.” I passed the cup of coffee over to Hange who seemed to be scribbling furiously in her notebook. I had to even light a candle since she had stayed so late, stuck by some inspiration. After their last exhibition, she’d gotten to study a titan’s gut up close and she said she needed an extra dose of coffee to be able to draw everything.

“If they want to be in the Scouts that bad they will. Only the top 10 people get to be an MP and then the rest usually go to the Garrison. Scouts are a special breed. We usually only get twenty in good years.” I took a sip of my coffee, not caring about how long I’d stay up tonight. I’d probably be here talking to Hange either way. She seems to have made it her mission to not let me feel lonely. Every time she comes she has little tasks for me or something that she needs to consult people for. I never get sleep on the days that Hange comes, but I feel a bit warmer slipping into bed.

“I have a brother who went to the MPs, that means he was in the top ten of his class?” I gave her a look of disbelief. There was no way Duran was actually good at what he did. Top ten my ass. He would be bragging about it if he was.

“The only way they would allow that if most of the top 10 pick Scout or Garrison. The MPs need to hit a certain quota every year, so that could be why. What do you think of this? Is it proportional to the titan's body?” She showed me her notebook and pointed to something that looked like a small intestine. I shrugged.

“Hange, I don’t know what titans look like.” She sighed, nodding.

“You’re right, I forget that you aren’t a Scout. You know, you’re the only person who isn’t a Scout that I know.” I didn’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not.

“Don’t you have a family, Hange?” She pulled back the notebook and erased the part she pointed out at me, redrawing it.

“Well, yeah, but they don’t count. It’s just my parents and they don’t really care about titans either. I think they’re just fascinating.” I gave her a light smile before turning to look out the window at the setting sun. The snow was starting to melt now, but relatively early. I wondered what Eren and the others were doing. If it wasn’t dinner, then probably more training. Their first day was only a few days ago and Hange had told me again about the man who trains them. Hard as a rock and yells really loud. She didn’t have him personally, but he spent his last year in the Scouts when she had just joined.

“I wish I knew more about titans and the military. A lot of people I know are in the military, so it would make sense, you know?” She put her pencil down and crossed her hands.

“If you want to know more about titans I can tell you about all my experiments. If you want to know more about the military, you can ask me. I’ve been there a while.” She pushed her glasses up again and I turned to look at her. Hange really was an almanac in front of me.

“Do titans really look like they draw them in the newspaper? They look like big humans?” A finger went up as she started her lecture.

“Titans have faces like humans sometimes, and other times their features are often... oversaturated. We have no idea why this variation happens occurs. Some look like big versions of you and me, and others look like they have giant eyes, a small forehead, and huge lips. Like three feet long lips. They’re naked too, but without human genitalia. It’s just bare down there. Most of the time, they just look like pink humans. Then there are abnormals.”

“I’ve heard those words before,” I pointed out and she nodded quickly. I wasn’t going to tell her who I heard it from, but I’ve heard it.

“Abnormals are those who don’t act like regular titans. They might have more intelligence or partially weird bodily traits. Some can jump, others can crawl. You probably heard it when people talked about Shiganshina. The two titans that broke through the walls were abnormal. One was taller than the walls and the other was really muscular and had armored plates on its body. And it was yellowy-orange, which is not a titan color. But you want to know why those titans are even more abnormal than abnormals?” Her eyes lit up in the candlelight, and it was almost scary how she was getting when talking about this. I wondered how the Scouts got so lucky to find someone like Hange to discover these things for them.

“Why?”

“They disappeared. Poof!” She yelled using her hands, “Into thin air! No matter which titan they are, the body is always there to cut into. Once we got there, both the Colossal and the Armored Titan were gone in thin air. There was no way that would happen with any normal titan. I just want to know why! This is like one of the biggest titan secrets ever!” They disappeared into thin air?

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know!” She seemed delighted with this information, “You can see why people left this out of the newspapers. The citizens would go crazy if they knew a titan that was like 80 meters tall just walked off!” She went off in her usual manic laughter after that, just overly joyed that a titan like this could have an ability like that and she was one of the only people who could figure out the mystery.

“Hange, are you supposed to tell me all of this?” She stopped laughing and blinked once or twice before breaking out into a smile again.

“No.” This made me laugh too. That was Hange’s ability. I don’t laugh unless it’s about her. Really laugh. She says jokes or acts in a way that lightens the mood in the empty café. I thank her for that regularly.

“Hange, it’s getting late, you should probably head out. You have an expedition tomorrow… Unless you want to stay here. I have space upstairs.” This was the first time Hange had come over when an expedition was the next day. She apparently snuck out to come here and it would probably be hard to sneak back in. I knew by the way her eyes lit up too that she was going to agree.

This is how I found that, besides the length of the pants, Hange and I were the same size. She sat on the couch, a blanket around her shoulders, staring down at the notebook with the same intensity as earlier. This would be the first time Hange had stayed over. Hange was also very comfortable with this idea. I offered her space in my bed and she took it right away. However, this began to be a mistake on my part because she couldn’t stop talking next to me.

“This bed is really comfortable, what is it made out of?”

“Feathers.”

“If you had to choose between eating a whole onion or eating a cockroach, what would you pick?”

“Can I choose neither, what kind of question is that?”

“Okay, eaten or stepped on by a titan.”

“... stepped on.”

“I agree!” At first, it was a welcomed distraction. When I was alone in my bed, these were the times I thought of him. Especially since I would wake up to the sounds of the horses at my front door. I wouldn’t cry anymore. It had been too long. Pretty soon, it would be over a year of loneliness and discontent. I hadn’t seen his face since the picnic disaster, and all I had of him were the letters. The letters that I now kept shoved under my mattress so that I could read them. Over and over. The letters that hid his lies. I fed into the lies too. When I read the letters, I didn’t feel alone. I would revert back to the times when I met him. The times when he wrote me these letters. When I was in love. Who am I kidding, I’m still in love. I never forgot. That’s why the letters are sitting under my mattress, right below my arm. It hurt. It always did. Loving someone who didn’t love you back. I never experienced it till now. This was how Jonas felt.

“Eva?” Hange asked, seeing that I was staring up at the ceiling, getting lost in my thoughts. I’d have to remember that she was there. I couldn’t wake up screaming into the night like I had before. She wouldn’t ignore it like Jonas did.

“Yes, Hange?” She shifted so that she was facing me.

“He still asks about you.” My heart clenched and I closed my eyes. No. Not now. It was fueling me. The thought all the way back in my mind. He was lying. He did love me.

“Does he?” It was hard to spit out and it sounded like a whisper when it didn’t mean to be.

“I’m not allowed to tell you everything, but he does. He misses you.”

“Why are you telling me this, Hange?” I could feel her smile next to me, and I turned my head to see it. It was a smile that was hiding secrets from me.

“Because I want to make you two happy again. You two aren’t happy like you were before.” I sighed, turning away from her as I felt tears well in my eyes. There goes my three-month-long record of no crying.

“He doesn’t love me, Hange. You of all people know that.” She tsk-ed, just like him.

“You’ll know soon. Both of you will. I know it.” I sniffled once, and she already had her hand on my back. Great. She heard me. Was she going to tell Levi about this?

“It’ll be okay, Eva. Trust me.”

The next morning, she woke me up. She was already dressed and hopping around the apartment and I just took my first few steps out. The front windows were open too, for the first time in months. The light was radiating down onto the kitchen counter and living room table she was currently sitting at, gathering her things.

“Good morning, sunshine! Isn’t it such a nice day to go see some titans?” I huffed once, rubbing my eyes to get them more awake. This was the earliest I’d been up at in a while. Only Hange would say something like that this early in the morning.

“Don’t you need your gear?” I walked to the kitchen, looking out at her in the living room.

“Moblit will bring it. He knows I’m here. He’s a member of my squad.” I nodded, turning on a kettle to make hot water for coffee. I’d offer it to her as retribution for comforting me last night. Maybe I’d ask her to not tell him what happened either. I didn’t want him to know I was still weak after all this time. She just looked down at her notebook, writing more and more things in it, a book to her left. I never knew how she could read so much.

“Coffee?” I offered to after I poured some, but she shook her head, saying it would make her even more jittery during the expedition. I could already see that when the time entered for the horses to be filling up in Trost’s main drag that she was shaking, not with fear, but excitement. What a weird girl, I thought, shaking my head at her. We talked a bit here and there about the expedition's plans, but at this point, we were both waiting for the Scouts to come and pick her up. I was planning too. Planning whether I would close up those windows as she exited.

When they finally came, she did something unexpected. She grabbed my wrist, letting me put on some proper shoes, and then pulled me down my front stairs to hundreds of eyes preparing for take-off. It was a bit embarrassing that I was just in a single nightgown in front of all of them, and Hange seemed to forget I was only wearing sandals as she pulled me.

“Moblit!” She yelled and pulled me into the middle of the Scouts. Now, I was feeling really watched. Those who survived had now seen my face for the third time. When Hange yelled, a long-faced blonde turned around, ODM gear in his hand. He looked shaken too like he was about to get yelled at.

“Moblit, this is my friend, Eva! I was having a sleepover at her house last night. My gear, thank you!” The blonde man, Moblit, dropped her gear and bowed to me. I bowed a little bit back, putting my hands on my arms. The morning was still not yet a summer one, so wearing nothing over my slip was making me start to freeze. Everyone here had on a coat and the signature green cape while I was bare.

“Hello, Moblit,” I managed out and he turned to Hange to talk about something. I just stood there, not knowing if I was able to just leave, or if Hange had wanted to talk more. With every passing moment, I was getting more and more anxious about seeing one face in the field. That’s why I was staring right at Hange, eyes not moving anywhere no matter how tempted I was.

“Oh my goodness!” Hange announced loudly, making others turn to look again, “You’re freezing! How could I drag you out here like this!?” She turned around to look through the bags on the cart behind her. She was probably looking for something to give me so I wasn’t freezing and shivering. This probably meant that she was going to make me stand and talk to her before Erwin dismissed the families. That’s what usually happened. Some wives, husbands, and families who relocated to Trost would come in the morning to say goodbye for, possibly, the last time, and Erwin would politely dismiss them before giving his big shinzo wo speech.

“Moblit, do we have any extra capes, I can’t find on-” The green dropped over my shoulders rather sloppily, but I could feel the warmth left behind by the previous wearer. I didn’t want to turn behind me to see who it was though. I knew who it was. So did Moblit. So did Hange. So did the others who were still looking at me. They knew who had given me the cape, and they were surprised at the generosity. I was scared. Scared of the generosity. What did it mean? How did it align with what Hange said last night?

Mint, lemon, and cedar.

“Please, don’t expose yourself in front of my cadets.” The horse trotted off to the front, but his foot lightly brushed my back. Just that one touch. That one single second. It sent a chill down my spine. It had been so long since I’d touched him. The last time was our last goodbye. Just like the families here in Trost. I’d held him on my doorstep, right before the expedition, not knowing that it would be our last goodbye.

Hange stood up, giving me the same smile she did last time. It said those two words. Trust me. What was Hange doing? Had she changed his demeanor? Why could I still feel that chill down my spine? Why was I holding his cape so close to me when I should’ve been throwing it on the ground?

I took the cape off my shoulders, taking one look at it before giving it back to Hange. I wouldn’t let him do this. I wouldn’t let him care about me. The chill, however, was unbearable after I handed it back. It wasn’t just the chill of the morning wind anymore. It was the chill of his eyes still on me as I handed it back to Hange.

“I-I need to get the… the café, yeah, I need to get it ready.” She nodded, the smile still on her face, and I turned around to go back up to my apartment.

“That’s cute! Haha, look at this, Moblit. Levi marks his cape with a little L so he knows it’s his!” I stopped walking. I was at the edge of the Scouts, all of them behind me, yet if I looked to my side I would get a view of him. He was always on the right of Erwin. So, that’s what I did. After Hange said that, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and locked eyes. There it was again. Pain. His eyes were full of pain. Vivid pain that made me feel it too. My heart twisted inside, and I was so close to getting caught if I didn’t stalk up the stairs to my apartment and close the door. I crouched down, my back against the door, the tears coming again. Pain. That’s all I felt. Pain. Why had he done that? Why was I suffering this whole time? Why had he put an L on his cape? What was it supposed to show me? Why were we suffering? Why couldn’t he just tell me plainly? Why couldn’t I understand what he was doing? Why? Why? Why?

I cried through Erwin’s speech, his words a lot louder this time. They were echoing in my head. About sacrifice. About saving the world. Everything that would make an apprehensive cadet ready to go outside the walls and die. And then he ended it. That one phrase.

“Cadets! Scouts! The people of Trost! Shinzo wo sasageyo!” The cries lifted in the air. They made my head hurt. I wondered if Levi heard my cries from inside my apartment. I held my head in my hands.

“I can’t. I can’t dedicate my heart. Not again. Not again.”

Jonas found me like that when I didn’t show up for his morning delivery. The café remained closed that day. And the next. I closed the windows back up too. Jonas didn’t question what happened either. He just stacked up the delivery boxes in the stock room and then left, promising he’d come back later when he was off. When he came back, I was still in the same spot he put me on the couch. He echoed his words from the first time.

“What did he do?” and I just shook my head.

xx just a cute little double update for yall

Chapter Sixteen →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x oc #AoT #aot levi #aot x reader #snk levi #snk x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #Captain Levi

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newhologram · 3 years

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I know only a few of you are on IG so I wanted to give an update here on the past few days. I am doing this knowing the potential risk but I need to also record where I'm at right now in case anything weird happens.

My week has been like this so far. Sunday: Family Member 1 misplaced their Xbox controller. They kept asking me if I knew where it was, each time growing more and more aggressive. I don't have an Xbox, I reminded them. I have my own controller for my PC. But they kept knocking loudly on my door. They followed me outside where I was vaping and tried to accuse me of I don't even know what. Pawning off their controller? FM1 said, "Is there something going on that you're not telling me? SOMEONE'S messing with me!" Later that night they and their gf were making dinner. FM1 suddenly knocked harshly on my door and said aggressively, "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE OVEN MITTS" in an angry voice. I was already stressed from them harassing me earlier about the controller. I came out of my room, heart racing, and told them I had not used them that day. I helped find the mitts, which had fallen behind the trash can because the hanging hook had broken. I went to bed on edge, feeling unsafe and targeted, wondering why my family member was suddenly acting so paranoid and accusing me of misplacing their things... Something they actually have done to me my whole life, denying it until the moment my item is found, when they suddenly remember they did move it there (or accidentally throw it out/destroy it). The controller ended up being some random place in the living room. Monday: I went to leave for my acupuncture appointment. My booster seat/pillow thing was missing from my car. Not in the trunk or anything. I cannot drive without it. I'm too short to see over the steering wheel. I called FM1 and they have no idea where it could be, despite the fact that they drive my car every day. FM1's gf helped find it, in the garage. But I still had an epic fucking meltdown, sobbing the whole way to and from my appointment. I just cannot handle people moving my shit and disrupting my schedule like that. And it just hurt so much more knowing that FM1 was so awful to me the day before about their stuff being misplaced. I'm always having my personal belongings, my feelings, my personhood, disrespected. It hurts deeply. When I got home I stressed to them that this is my car, and my accommodation should not ever be removed from it under any circumstances. It was after this that I decided it was time to hold a family meeting. I called Family Member 2 and 3 over to the house. I read a long letter to them in which I told them about the talks I have had with my therapist, psychiatrist, and another psychologist. Even though I cannot be formally assessed and diagnosed at this time, I am being treated for autism. I detailed to my family my entire life of trauma that is traced back directly to my autistic traits, and my needs not only not being met, but being outright denied. I was denied empathy most of my life for my sensory issues, my pain, everything. A big part of this is gaslighting. Even if it's unintentional or not malicious, gaslighting is incredibly traumatic. Especially when it comes to my sensory issues. I have had even more problems with overstimulation the past year which means I can barely sleep, so my daily naps are even more important. I try to coordinate my naps when there is less activity in my house. But if I'm in a ton of pain and extra sensitive and ask for quiet, that's when I get in trouble and a fight happens. That's when FM1 tells me I "need to be realistic" and "can't expect the whole world to shut up for you"... when I'm literally saying "I have a migraine and need to rest, can you please not play loud music or slam cupboards in the kitchen for a few hours?"

I was emotionally neglected and abused by both parents. A lot of it is just the result of their own trauma that they have not dealt with... But I have also been physically threatened and assaulted by them at different times, though it only happened those specific times. (They won't ever admit to it though.) The emotional and mental abuse still goes on in my home. I am not allowed to have emotions. I have been told "STOP. WHY ARE YOU CRYING. LIFE'S NOT FAIR. WHEN YOU GET OUT IN THE REAL WORLD YOU'LL HAVE SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT" over and over--like... in response to me crying about my pet dying, or in response to me crying bc I'm in horrible pain from my chronic illnesses, or crying after my usual yearly ER visit. I am also not allowed to have boundaries. I have tried to communicate with FM1 that these things hurt me deeply. And their response is basically, "YOU'RE SO UNGRATEFUL. I PUT A ROOF OVER YOUR HEAD!" and threats such as "BETWEEN TAKING CARE OF YOU AND GRANMDA, ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GOING TO DRIVE OFF AND YOU'LL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!" or "I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD KILL MYSELF BECAUSE I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF YOU"-- y'know, in response to having a disabled child. Ouch. The message is clear: I am nothing but an inconvenience and a burden to my family. I still have nightmares about them abandoning me, or abusing me more. I think in their heads they think that they love me. But this isn't love. If I try to talk to them about how dangerous it is for them to say things like that to me, they say "I never said/did that." Which brings us back to the gaslighting: I said that every time they gaslight me and tell me that my emotions/thoughts/experiences aren't real, it triggers me so badly that I self-harm and become suicidal.

I was very clear with them: I said that I can no longer have that in my life because one day it will kill me. I don't wanna die that way. I want to live. I have very bad PTSD and it's something I have worked on for 8 years but it has been worse the past year with so many disruptions and FM1's worsening narcissistic traits. I gave the choice to them. I said if they gaslighted me again that they were making the decision to not be in my life. Because this is about preserving my life. I'm trying not to die here. I'm literally trying to save my own life, even if that means not having a relationship with my family. They accept that I am autistic... But they then took turns gaslighting me. When I pointed out, "that's gaslighting. that's exactly what I just said in my letter. What you're doing is gaslighting" they went even harder on it. They said my experience and my trauma is "not in line with reality". They also said I "need to be reasonable" with the boundary that I'm setting (meaning: they don't believe in boundaries at all). They tried to guilt trip me with, "you can't cut someone out of your life because what if they DIE and then you FEEL GUILTY??" (I mean, what if I killed myself because you keep hurting me? Wouldn't you feel guilty about that?) They also guilt tripped me with "well we TRY to invite you to family stuff, and we try to include you, but you never want to go..." um... I guess they forgot I am chronically ill? Sorry if I don't have the energy or pain tolerance to drive an hour each way to a loud family party after I've worked all week? I cried and cried, I said this is exactly what I told you that you do to me and how it endangers my life... and you're doing it... while telling me you don't do it to me... They were all weird and told me "we love you and would do anything for you!" except... I guess, not gaslight me constantly? Idk. I felt so trapped. I felt so hopeless. I was up all night crying. I wondered, "Why is the idea of me having distance from them somehow worse than me being dead? Why would they prefer that I die rather than set a boundary that will save me?" And then I remembered: I had set the terms. They broke them. You do this, you're out of my life, because me being alive is more important than us having a relationship which will eventually kill me. I'm not trapped. It doesn't matter if they think they can prevent me from setting this boundary because they can't. I'm in charge of my boundary. So I blocked them on social media, as well as their phones. I have to unfortunately keep FM1 unblocked bc I live with them, they drive my car, and they look after my cats while I am at work. If I didn't have so many great things happening behind the scenes, if I didn't have my cats, if I didn't have amazing friends and followers who are supportive and kind... I can definitely see that I would have ended my life that night in some alternate timeline. That is how much pain I was in from them doing that to me. Them literally trying to gaslight me into not setting a boundary. I mean it would've been so ridiculous on their part, can you imagine? Me: Hey family, when you gaslight me, it makes me suicidal. I don't want to die, so either you stop doing that, or we can't have a relationship. Family: UHH NO *gaslights me anyway* Me: ok *kills self* Family: *surprised Pikachu face* Like???? Would they really have been shocked because it seems like they should have known since I told them directly? And that just shows that they really don't take my pain seriously at all. They think I'm overly sensitive and that my trauma is not real. That would have been a painful wake up call for them. I told my therapist all of this. And she agrees that this is good, this is going to not only ween them off of me but also allow me to focus on all the good stuff I have going on. I have to get moving. So much stuff has been lagging because I'm constantly recovering from them triggering me. I'm going to focus, and heal, and gtfo of here. Thank you for your support and for never invalidating my pain.

#teku #personal #d o nut #reba gel #!#donut rebagel plz

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aijee · 3 years

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is this a life update or a novel?

Hi all, long time no post! Nice to meet you new followers, and nice to talk to you again for those who’ve stuck around. Just as a reminder, my blog is as much of a fic blog as it is a journal for me to sort my thoughts.

In that vein, here’s a personal update. CW for mental health/anxiety, physical pain, big life changes. There’s lighter stuff at the end!

It’s been both a long and short summer for me, after deciding to quit work and focus on my mental health. I’m a millennial twenty-something whose mind, like many, is tragically crippled with the capitalistic and individualistic values America has brainwashed me with, so I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with being unemployed and depending on my parents. I’m extremely privileged and humbled to be in a family that still maintains income during unprecedented times. I’ve been trying not to let my internalized struggles turn into this self-imposed shame for partaking in pleasures (I remember second-thinking buying a digital comic book for hours). My parents often say, “We worked hard and struggled because we didn’t want our kids to do the same. Don’t feel guilty for enjoying yourself.” Nowadays, they add that I’ve worked hard during college and my post-college job; in their eyes, I’ve more than “earned” a break, especially after losing my graduation, summers, and trips.

I constantly wonder why I impose so many limitations of myself even more during a pandemic. While being aware of global struggle is important for not becoming out-of-touch, I need to remind myself that people don’t have to earn the right to play or be happy or enjoyment. Obvious lack of nuance aside, it’s crazy to think how much capitalism—largely the idea worth is contingent (work) productivity—has deformed my sense of what’s a basic human right versus what should be earned. I think I’ve mentioned in a previous post that I struggle with thinking in extremes; it’s either starvation or hedonism, and the latter earns far more societal vitriol. I think my Asian upbringing has made me hyperaware of what others could be thinking of me, regardless of how accurate those projections are. I’d fact, I rarely assumed positive opinions. Outside of external validation, I realized how poor my self-image really was. Tearing myself down before anyone else could rarely, if ever, softened the blow.

For the first time, I’ve begun to think that my life is my own and no one else’s. It sounds logical on paper, but so much harder in practice in real life, I’ve realized. This isn’t a constant or ingrained thought yet, often peaking in between longer and more familiar strings of anxiety. But it feels like an important realization during a time full of sadness and uncertainty, let alone in my lifetime at all.

And then I injured my spine.

It happened towards the end of the summer, when I was starting to feel more put-together internally. I felt so creatively productive (in avenues I don’t care to share online) and even closer to family. I had a ball revisiting old shows. I ate food I hadn’t eaten in years. And this was suddenly interrupted when, while showering, I was wracked with unimaginable, nonstop pain. I nearly passed out alone in the shower and barely managed to crawl to my bedside to call my parents; I was lucky they came home early. I couldn’t stop crying for almost twelve hours. I was terrified at the possibility that I may be paralyzed or my legs would be affected. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but I was bedridden and wracked with nausea. I could barely stomach anything, not even water. I couldn’t sleep. I was never brought to a hospital, either on the fear of COVID transmission. The whole time, it was so, so debilitating on a physical and mental front. My head was a nightmare.

Like a bad habit, some of my worst thoughts centered around productivity. I worried about the work I couldn’t do. I felt shameful about canceling plans with friends. I hated being helpless and not being able to take care of myself, and felt guilty for wasting other people’s time taking care of me. And yet, if I was someone else, even a stranger let alone a friend/loved one, I’d be scratching my head over why that person would think these things. Fuck work and other life plans, getting better is the most important thing because you can’t do any of those compromised activities if you’re not at capacity! Duh. Anxiety can really a number on you sometimes and it’s awful just how irrationality fuels the spiral.

I’m grateful to be back on my feet. I’m trying to hold on tightly to that victory, to this positive point that I have worked towards. It’s going to be a challenge to do my recovery exercises daily for my 2-3 month recovery period when I barely remember to floss. Moreover, I’ll be in the middle of moving and working full-time again in the next month, alongside the ridiculous anxiety over some applications and maybe interviews for a different part of my life. But I’m doing my best to take each day at a time and celebrate the good things when they come, however small. I don’t have to ace a final exam or burn my retinas studying for them to deserve victories because, hey, again, happiness is a right and I need to stop gatekeeping myself from it.

Frankly, the injury is largely why I haven’t posted sooner. I don’t think anyone should ever feel obligated to use social media when they aren't up to it. But I actually wanted to ease back into writing before I was injured, starting with this blog.

Some other positive things:

God, I missed the Avatar (Aang and Korra) series so much. What a damn good franchise, what a damn good magic system and world. IT’S. SO. GOOD, GOD. Revisiting it all and reading the comics while I was sick was the single biggest joy that kept me going. I hope the magic lingers for as long as possible.

Even in my inactivity, I’ve received some really lovely comments on my AO3. I read the emails primarily. It really warms my hear to see them. I revisited old comments recently, too, and they’ve helped keep me going and reminded me that I am capable of putting joy into the world.

I’ve taken a liking to Youtube playlist-videos and Spotify playlists that encompass a very specific story scenario, like “dancing with the villain in a masquerade ball” or “driving around the French countryside”, etc. Japanese 80′s urban pop is SO GOOD.

Smosh has been putting out such great content y’all. I was BIG on old Youtube (Nigahiga, Smosh, Michelle Phan, Jenna Marbles, etc.) and it warms my heart to see their renaissance. Amazingly entertaining and down-to-earth content. I don’t fall squarely into their demographic anymore, but the periphery is still fun.

Food is great. I love food still. I’ve eaten a lot of good food during this break. It almost pains me to go back to living by myself and eating healthier. :’(

I didn’t realize how expensive moving was. But, after living in the same apartment from sophomore uni to post-uni work, I’m moving into a bigger “adult” apartment with appropriately sized appliances instead of the mini student kind. The possibility of treating myself to a king-sized mattress and decorations is also very exciting.

It warms my heart to see people in my vague social circles indulging in home art projects, like paint by numbers and “diamond” painting. As a kid I thought “not real art” was a waste, but by god as an adult do I not give a shit about what “real art” is anymore. If it’s fun, it’s fun. That’s that!

That’s all I can think about for now.

#aijeepost

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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 5 years

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The Lonely Hearts Club

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of abandonment at roadside, hostage. angst**

The one where she just doesn’t want his heart to end up in broken pieces.

She blinked back tears, although they eventually stained her cheeks anyway, getting lost in the rain which was already drizzling down the dark alleyway in the middle of the night. Although she extended an arm helplessly into the middle of the road at a moving taxi, the driver blatantly stared ahead and ignored her. Every few seconds, she looked back and forth with eyes wild and alert while tugging her short and thin dark silken dress down past her bare mid-thighs, watching for any predators.

A wet sob ripped through her tight throat as she recalled how night was supposed to have gone, and how it actually had went. How tonight was supposed to be their night.

“You never spend time with me anymore,” she had said to Harry in a teasing tone, smiling forcedly when he laughed for good measure, as well. However, what she said had truth to it. Ever since Harry had met Madeline, her best friend was all about accompanying his girlfriend to vegan restaurants and ashrams and meditating. She missed the days when they’d both sit back in front of the TV, watching a romantic comedy they had watched so many times, that they had each consecutive dialogue committed to memory, or did nothing, or talked about the universe at two in the morning. Where was her best friend?

He had disappeared somewhere unknown after that one night stand had transitioned into morning, and the girl was still there, smirking at Y/N from where she sat on the counter as Harry groaned her name and rubbed his hardened length against her thigh, rutting up against her and crying for release. She knew Y/N was watching, had taken notice of the framed pictures of her and Harry everywhere. They shared the flat, after all. This was her marking her property; making out with him and making a show of letting out nasally moans, even after Y/N had walked into the kitchen. She wondered if Madeline could sense her deep, not-very/platonic feelings for Harry.

The days that followed had been difficult. However kind she was to Madeline, Harry’s fling reciprocated triple in cruelty to her. First leaving dishes in the sink for her to clean, making a show of making out with Harry, making snide comments of how ‘interesting’ it was that Y/N was sharing living with a full grown man in a single flat. Then, it turned into making her self conscious about things she hadn’t ever even thought of being self conscious over: her weight, how the clothes she wore were slutty, and how alone she was. Contrary to Y/N’s belief in Harry’s decision making skills and rationale, Harry had never noticed how Madeline treated Y/N.

He didn’t even notice her anymore. Movie nights were traded for date nights, texts that he used to send her to reassure her not to wait up for him vanishing. He began to buy groceries for himself, cook for his girlfriend, barely acknowledge her, his best friend, she who had always believed in him. He was too busy gazing adoringly at Madeline as she seductively bent over to pick something up to notice when Y/N had pricked her finger while picking up the sharp glass Madeline had left on the floor after shattering the vase her mother had given her. As she had looked down at the thickened droplets of blood that seeped from the gash and onto the floor, her lips trembled. She wasn’t a baby, but the last time she’d gotten a paper cut, Harry had gone insane, to the point where he suggested they should go to the E.R. to check the paper hadn’t somehow infected her. However, Harry didn’t look back, green eyes focussed lustfully on a snidely smiling Madeline, so, Y/N chose to shut up instead of creating a scene, and picked up the broken glass in silence.

“Leave the flat,” Madeline had commanded one afternoon after Harry had gone to the studio. She stared down at Y/N with a glare. “He’s in a relationship. It isn’t very.. dignified for you to be staying here. He didn’t even mention you two being particularly close.”

Leave.

He was her best friend. She often felt guilty for not being happy for him, but was it so bad to think he deserved better? She’d just break his heart. If it made Harry happy, she’d take any pain in the world, but she could tell Madeline was no good for him. She eyed his watches before his eyes.

After Harry had suggested they get together for dinner and a movie, like old times, once Y/N had pointed out that they never spent time together, she’d been ecstatic. Madeline, however, had been watching from the shadows, a sneer on her thin lips, skinny arms crossing over her chest. Once Harry had proposed the idea and Y/N had enthusiastically agreed, he had grinned at Madeline and she had given him a tight smile. While they were ten minutes into dinner, Harry got a call from Madeline.

“Hey, Maddie,” he had cooed, placing his fork down. Y/N felt an all too familiar feeling in her chest, one she’d rehearsed so much. A tightening bracing herself for rejection. Her eyes fell to her plate, where she meekly moved her fork around, scraping it against the ceramic. Her appetite was gone. She knew how it was going to end.

Harry’s face had gone from relaxed to tensed. Towards the end of the phone call, he had promised Madeline: ‘I’ll be there.”

Seconds later, he’d already stood up, car keys held between his fingertips while placing a an abundance of twenty dollar bills on the table, when they hadn’t even eaten yet. She felt a sinking in her stomach.

“We have to go. She says it’s urgent.”

Without a word, she’d dropped the one night they’d gotten together in months had sat in the passenger’s seat of his Range Rover. Then, something in her had stirred. Fired her up enough to get the jumble of messy thoughts which had been collecting in her cerebral for months.

“She’s not right for you, Harry.”

She went on to explain with desperate conviction and utmost emotion how she wanted the best for him, and would never meddle in his private matters, but Madeline’s behaviour seemed toxic. She pointed out how she’d created distance between not only him and her, even as they were best friends, but his other mates and colleagues. She reminded him of his money, his inheritance and significant title. Only briefly, with the words ‘and she’s not.. very nice to me, either. I don’t trust her for myself, definitely not for you’ she had mentioned how wrongly Madeline treated her on a daily basis.

The only indication Harry was listening as he drove in cool silence was of the barest minimum when Y/N had caught his fingers flexing over the steering wheel, gripping tighter by the second, body tense and facial expression blank, eyes to the road.

“She’s just going to break your heart, and—“

She stopped talking, facial features clouded with confusion as Harry unexpectedly pulled over onto the side of the road. His eyes stared at the road, still. Fingertips unmoving from where they stilled at the steering wheel.

“Get out.”

His voice was hauntingly cold, the words that had been so icily uttered from his mouth shocking y/n to her core. Her Harry. He couldn’t be serious. Yet, he didn’t move. Didn’t laugh and crack a joke, like she expected him to.

“W-what?”

“Get out,” he repeated, voice hard as steel, it maintaining enough control to conceal whatever emotions he was hiding.

As she realized what was happening, she paled; her battered heart hammered in her chest, dejection crawling into her and trapping itself in her ribcage. Her throat closed. She couldn’t even breathe right. How could she respond to him throwing her out?

Apologies fell from her mouth in thick, broken words, bordering on hysterical as his face remained blank as hers crumpled in pain as she realized the gravity of the situation, the years together, the betrayal. The sound of her own heart breaking.

“H-Harry, p-please no,” she had sobbed in front of him, all of her walls, all of her defended crumbling down before him like the ancient Roman city of Pompeii. How many meaningless syllables had fallen from her trembling lips, how he didn’t even bother to spare her a glance as she cried, fell apart before him. And for what? For wanting to protect his golden heart before it was wounded beyond repair. Before that vile woman stepped on it with her stilettos until it was as broken as her mother’s vase, shattered beyond reparation for eternity. Never quite the same. For warning him.

“Out.”

She’d stumbled out of the vehicle, shoulders shaking, chest heaving from crying and looked at him one last time. A plea. He, however, had remained stone faced, reserving no care for the girl who had waited up for him, cared for him all this time, and asked for nothing in return. He left her on the pavement as the rain began to pour just then, the sky, the atmosphere crying with her and drenching her, leaving her still, speechless as she stared at the place where he was supposed to still be, where he was supposed to turn back and get out of that car and tell her to get back inside. Where he was supposed to give a shit about her, even if he was still cross with her. It wasn’t safe here for her here. It couldn’t be. A pathetic wail bubbled uncomfortably in her throat, a raw burning in her heart. Didn’t he at least, if not for anything else, care for her safety?

In juxtaposition to this scenario she had dreamt up in her head, all she could do was stare helpless, confused as he turned the steering wheel and drove off into the night without another word or a second, momentary glance.

It was three hour past midnight, now. She was shivering. It was raining so heavily, taxis and buses had shut down in preparation for the storm. Most stores had darkened insides, meaning they had been closed. She didn’t know where she was. Her phone had shut itself down, because of the extremely low temperature. Her lips were turning blue, swollen eyes raw and numb, for the most part. Her body was shaking, cold. There was no shelter, besides the tree she sat under, knees to her chest.

“Hey!”

Y/N stiffened at the call, but relaxed some when she realized it was the voice of a woman. She turned, shivering slightly, exhausted. An African American elderly woman stood by, at the front of a small, worn coffee shop with a chipped sign. She came with an umbrella over her stout figure. She made a ‘come hither’ motion with her fingers.

“Come inside, baby. It’s cold! You’re gonna get hypothermia.”

She slowly stood up, legs wobbling some. The lady scurried on over, helping her up and lifting the umbrella over their heads.

“Goodness gracious, you’re drenched,” the woman sighed, but as she looked at Y/N’s figure, her eyes widened a fraction before reducing to fake nonchalance. She placed an arm around her. “C’mon, sweetie. Let’s get you warm and fed. Shaking, you are.”

She stuttered a ‘thank you’ quietly, keeping her head down and letting the woman guide her into the much warmer coffee shop. There were shelves of cups and things and a concession of donuts and muffins, scratched out menu plastered at the wall.. her fingertips begin to defrost, feeling slowly returning to them in a slowly burning sort of way.

The woman set a cup of hot chocolate before her and some pastries. She flashed her a kind smile. Y/N began to let her guard down.

“What happened to you, dear?”

She shrugged, focussing on sipping the hot beverage tentatively. She didn’t feel like thinking about him right now, or what he’d done. Thank goodness, she was safe.

“That’s okay,” the woman shrugged goodnaturedly, walking to a familiar old fashioned musical device she had seen in Harry’s studio. She stuck a vinyl inside. The album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band began to play, and her heart panther, remembering the summer when they were sixteen and Harry and Y/N had sung the lyrics of the Beatles so loud, they’d practically screamed as they drove down the highway. “Give me your phone, I’ll charge it.”

She handed over the device, continuing to feed on the crumbling apple and blueberry muffins, trying to sate her hungry stomach after Harry had put food out of the question, hours earlier.

“You don’t have you talk now, you’ll be here a while.”

She lifted her head in confusion. The woman smiled.

“You’re close with the famous singer, Harry Styles in some way, aren’t ya?” She asked, Y/N’s blood ran cold. “I’ll get him to come pick you up, after abiding certain conditions, of course.”

Before she knew it, her head was spinning until it hit the wooden cafe table, eyes blearily watching as the greedy woman sneered and began to tape her arms and legs to the chair she was in. She tried to move, but was unable to do anything, but watch.

He leaves her alone for someone else without a second thought, and her safety is compromised as a result.

OH SHIT, yn is a hostage 👀👀

MASTERLIST | Requests are open!

#harry styles angst #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines

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juuls · 4 years

Text

Pinned: Writing Updates

Hiya folks! ^_^ With this new pinned post feature, I figured it would be a good spot to put updates on how my writing is going (or not). As most of you know, mental and physical illness and recovery keep me from writing either quickly or easily, and I know that bothers or puts off some of you. Believe me, I feel guilty a lot of the time I’m not writing, but I know that nobody wants me to feel like this is a job, that I should enjoy what I do, and I try my best to just relax and let the writing come to me. It has always been a grueling task for me, and my words fight me, but I choose to see this as a labour of love. Thank you, everyone, for your support (and for holding up my fragile, rebuilding, self-confidence/ego :P). Managing chronic pain and illnesses along with fairly rapid-cycling Bipolar II makes things a bit messy, but I keep pushing because writing (and you amazing readers) means so much to me. 💜

UPDATE September 4th: see below “Read More”

Previous update, August 21st: Still only about 2400 words into chapter 28 of Cross, and I deleted Hurricane due to reasons but will be working on it bit by bit to instead post it as a single-chapter fic later on when people aren’t so busy anymore. Means I can focus on Cross though, which is all people want from me anyway. S’all good! Looking forward to moving that story along anyway.

Still have @grlie-girl’s Mansom fic, which is an MTH-adjacent fic. But then that’s it! Then I’ll start back up on Deliverance, my Stuckony kidfic, and keep moving Cross along. :) I’ve also been doing quite a lot of brainstorming for my original fiction series, which will be a combo SciFi-Fantasy series with magic and tech both, along with an eventual triad relationship! I’m really excited for it, even if it takes me decades more to write. xD

Works in Progress:

Hanging From a Cross of Iron: Fem!Tony Stuckony, time travel and soulmate AU. Just posted chapter 27 on July 19th! Yay! I’m about 2400 words into chapter 28 and I’m forging ahead as mental and physical health allows. But I think... maybe before the end of August? Thank you, everyone, for your kindness and patience!

Stony MTH fic for @ishipallthings: Fem!Tony Stony, Pacific Rim AU. Natasha Stark/Steve Rogers (Earth-3490) Get Together fic. @sparkly-angell is awesome and helping me by being a soundboard and beta. 5-15k. Will post it all together at a later date instead of chapter by chapter.

Deliverance: Stuckony kid fic, post-Avengers but in the alternate timeline that occurs after Avengers: Endgame. Have not forgotten about this, but it dropped in priority once I sorta over-committed myself to MTH, whoops. I’ll be back to this, though. :)

Gift fic for @grlie-girl, Mansom: (Marta/Ransom) from Knives Out. Dirty, filthy, femme!Domme Sugar Mama post-canon oneshot. I may need a second account to post this pile of filthy hot lava. ;)

Recently Finished Works:

Thread Work: Stuckony wingfic featuring Tony’s sister Darcy, written for MTH.

Ten Days: PepperStuckony bodyguard AU written for MTH for @tehroserose and @astudyinsolitude-writes.

Bad: a ShockStuckony get-together, meddling matchmaker Darcy fic, written for MTH.

I will try to keep this up to date but sometimes I’ll forget. Check back occasionally to see if I’m any closer to updating! I love all of my readers and commenters, and am so blessed to have you choose to read my work. Thank you so much. So so much. I’m sorry for the wait, but I’m a comeback kid, I promise. Sending love, and be safe and healthy and good to those around you.

Love, <3 Juulna

UPDATE September 4th: I’m going to put up a separate post, probably, but what’s going on is this... I obviously have Bipolar II and have learned to ride the ups and downs pretty well in recent years, even if some things still surprise me on occasion. But what I’ve never been able to properly treat or learn to deal with is anxiety. I’ve always had GAD (general anxiety) but it’s been untreated since I had so much other shitty health to focus on. Prioritization, right? And I needed all my faculties to not end up dead at the hands or by the gun of my ex. Then, after I left, I was making strides in recovering from the severe abuse and trauma at my ex-husband’s hands, sharp tongue, and actions from July 2017 until... well, it’s still an ongoing process, but this whole year, part of 2019 too, has been a lot better on the healing front. The strides I was making helped me focus on things other than my anxiety, but after dealing with those things, the anxiety started crawling insistently in.

Didn’t help that I finally felt up to checking out what was going on in the world more often. And it’s been good for me, it has... in that I’ve become better educated in the awfulness of the world, which has allowed me to call out racists, ‘Truthers’, and other asshole bigots who remind me of my ex. The downside of all that is that I am way over-empathetic and am appalled at the absolute.... *makes incoherent helpless noises*... just, appalled at EVERYTHING. And I am afraid. And worried. And angry. And a slew of other words that I’m sure every one of you get. You’re all intelligent; you know what’s going on in the world.

And sometimes I devolve into apathy, sometimes sleepless nights (I get about 16-20 hours of sleep a WEEK right now, which should be in the 40-60 hour range, frankly), increased pain on top of the fuckton I’m already in, worsening migraines, dizziness, and the intrusive thoughts of my bipolar depression keep telling me there’s an easy way out of this all. That’s when I knew I needed to do something. So sitting down with my loving father and my caring psychotherapist, I put together a list of my symptoms, what I wanted to tackle most, what I was willing to let go, how all of it interacted (cocktail medications, which I’m already on, can be dangerous and deadly), and then put together a proposal for my doctor, who’s been my family practitioner for two decades.

When you hit the point of panic attacks weekly, and not being able to sleep, even with a double dose of your sleep medication... when you don’t want to watch the things that bring you some modicum of joy for fear of aspects reminding you about the real world... when you wish you simply didn’t exist anymore... you need help. I needed help, and I won’t shy away from discussing that in a public setting, for the simple fact that someone who reads this might need to hear that it’s not the end all be all, not the end of the line, not the end of your life. So with the support of my father and my therapist, who I spoke to last night and this morning, respectively, in advance of my doctor’s appoint this afternoon... My doctor listened attentively to me and gave me permission to go on benzodiazepines again. I will be taking one daily, the one that doesn’t have nearly as great a spike of effect, but lasts longer and steadier, and will also be taking the other, spikier one, as the equivalent of a rescue inhaler for the next panic attack.

I’m not trying to hide from what’s going on in the world. But there is a line I need to learn to respect in how much news I look for, how I consume it, and how I let myself run away with myself at any injustice I see. And fuck, there is a lot. I will still be keeping abreast of the news, still educating myself, still engaging in discussions with people I trust to be kind to my mental state as best they can in the situation, and other things. This will simply make it so I don’t devolve into an incoherent mess of a breakdown/panic attack, and most importantly it will keep me from suicide. It’s never been much of a threat for me, but lately...? Let’s just say I am a bit more concerned than usual.

Gotta love brains, eh? Mental illness sucks. But this is one way I can take control. Other ways include the Nutrisystem diet I recently started, going for regular walks with my pupper and dad, reading 42 Sci-Fi/Fantasy books and counting in 2020, breathing exercises, removing harmful elements from my life even if that pains me in the moment... I’m making progress in other areas.

But what does this mean for my writing? Well. Good question. The last few times I took the stronger of these two medications (on a more daily, vs rescue, basis), well, I didn’t write hardly at all. I have hopes for being able to write during this, with the more steady medication, but I also have to feel happy to write, and the state of the world isn’t going to give me much opportunity to feel that for months yet, if not years (go and goddamn vote)... so yeah. But I realized that I don’t put myself first in big ways like this. And this time I need to. If the writing happens, that’s wonderful. If it doesn’t? Well, I’ll settle for less anxiety and not being dead, and I hope that that’s okay with y’all. I know it’s frustrating when a favourite author takes ages to update, and I’ve always been fairly guilty of that... but you all know that I ALWAYS come back. That’s what I do. I love this community, this fandom, my beta, my readers... you make it all worth coming back to.

So please, all I ask is that you be patient with me. I’m experiencing a pretty severe mental health crisis and not holding on too solidly. But I’m thinking of you. Thinking of all of you, and just how much I appreciate you.

With love,

Juulna / Meg

#my writing #stuckony #stucky #stony #female tony stark #hanging from a cross of iron #deliverance #firecracker #marvel trumps hate #updates #status update #masterpost #of a sorts #hurricane #mth 2019

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mislaidinmyownmind · 4 years

Text

22nd March 2021

04:04

My girlfriend is way out of my league. She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I've ever met. She is so kind, considerate, caring, creative, fun, sweet, everything... etc. She was my first, and only crush in my entire life. She makes me happier than anything else I've ever had in my life before or since then. She is one of a kind, and I would never ever want to lose her ever for anything ever.

Except, she shouldn't be wasting her time with me. I'm none of the things she is. I'm not beautiful like she is, I'm not smart, I'm extremely rude and inconsiderate, I lack discipline, sports, and a lot of things she doesn’t, I have so much trouble remembering basic manners and social rules and how to be a nice or kind or caring person, and it's really so much less than what she deserves out of a guy. I constantly tell her about how I feel, and how she deserves someone better, and that she's just way way too good for me. The one thing she says that makes her unhappy about me is the negative way I talk about myself, but she can't see how i'm just being honest about who I am. The way I talk negatively or say sad things like that she shouldn't be wasting her time with me really upsets her and makes her sad, which makes me feel so horribly guilty and even worse for everything in the first place. To tell the person I love most that they shouldn't be with me, is one thing, to think about all the ways I've been terrible to them is another, but to make them actually devastated and distraught and sometimes even cry is another. I really really am an awful selfish person for doing all three of those things to her. I wish I could stop or that I was smart enough to learn, but my brain miraculously always find some new way to fuck up and i'm back at square one. keep in mind, I think about how shitty I am and how awful I am for her every day. in fact, almost always.t. I've become such an emotional burden on her just because I can't stop talking about all the bad things I'm doing (while she still thinks I've done little to nothing wrong).

This really puts both of us in an absurd situation. Even if she is happy with me as I am, I constantly am selfish and have to go and sour her mood with my negative feelings. She so obviously deserves someone who treats her perfectly already, and doesn't do any crying or introduce sadness to them.

The thing is I'm just too lazy. I'm so rude and selfish; I constantly have to remind myself to think about her. So often I get lazy, and I stop working on things for her, and I think about myself too much, and it really isn't healthy for either of us. I've been realizing recently all the sacrifices she's made for me, and I really am not worthy of any of those at all. I can't satisfy any of her needs, either. I am not very handsome. If I were to rate myself out of ten, I'd say at best I'm a five and a half, and at worst a three. I don't workout nearly as much as I should to make myself more attractive, and I don't look nearly as beautiful as her.

I do nice things for her, as I think anyone in a relationship should. They're really small things like food or driving to see her or to get her to her basket training. But they aren't enough to make her say she's "the happiest girl in the world" like she claims to be. All these things are standard; any guy lucky enough to have her would go out of their way daily to do these things. I can't help but feel that I've institutionalized abuse into her, that she thinks all the things I've done wrong are okay or to be expected out of a relationship. It's extremely worrying. At this point, I sometimes catch myself thinking that I hope she'll meet a guy as beautiful as she is, and always I hope she comes to her senses as to how unhappy she really is with me.

My real emotional conundrum is this: she says she does not want to breakup and neither do I.

But I really really only want what is best for her, and I can't help but feel that maybe she'd be much better off without having to deal with my emotions and my mistreatment; she already has more than fucking enough to deal with on top of me. I'm such a constant source of stress in her life to a point where I doubt happiness can outweigh the negative feelings I give her. Not in the slightest. At this point there is more sadness in our relationship than there is happiness, and I have no clue why she hasn't left me or why she wants to stay with me, or even has begun to fall out of love or something. Especially after all the terrible things I've done

I really can't bear the thought of being without her, but, at this point any reason I have to stay in this relationship is completely selfish. Like I said, I know she'd be much happier without having to worry about me, and without me she wouldn't have to deal with having to clear her schedule to see me, or deal with my childish fits of sadness or self-pity, or even have to deal with me treating her like shit ever again.

#relationship #couple #love #insecuirities #guilt #tears #cry #im gonna cry #selfdoubt #suicidal #sociallyawkward

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retroandreal · 5 years

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Hanging by a Moment (Lucien Rivercrest x MC)

Hey guys, its ya girl with another ficcy fic. So while I was writing this one here, I unconsciously took a massive left-turn and this turned into a “His POV” type of situation. I’m not even mad because I loved when Lovestruck did those little extras for the characters. I was also jumping for joy when they brought them back for Havenfall is for Lovers. Tagging @official-alex-cyprin

AN: Four snippets of Lucien’s POV from when he first met MC to winning the bake off, the most iconic scenes that stuck out in my opinion. Especially that spat with Vallia. (lil biss). This is inspired by the song ‘Hanging by a Moment’ by Lifehouse and this called for major fluff feels. TBH, all my fics have had major fluff feels. Guess it’s time to change my Tumblr banner name…

Sweet Enchantments café; my second lifeline. I’ve basically be annexed from my family after I landed myself in this rehabilitation center. I don’t resent it; I love to bake since it was what my grandmother raised my brother and I with. Now, It seems like my brother doesn’t even know me as well. Once you’re charged with a federal offence, I guess not even your family will back you up. Grandma was really the only one that believed in me. I was meant to inherit the Rivercrest business, but I knew it wasn’t ever going to be for me. Grandma knew that baking was all I had and that’s exactly how it led me to be the pastry chef at Sweet Enchantments. The owner and coordinator, Liora, has been more than welcoming of my desires and use my magic for presentation. Every day done; I would make the daily sweets for the display case but save the dessert acrobatics for the crowds of women that formed my fan-base. They feed my confidence and my ego, I know I’m good at what I do but it’s all on a day-to-day basis, no sustenance or real joy but I know I have to make the most of this second chance.

“Lucien! Pay attention!” Runa snaps at me, she’s the head waitress here at the café. I respect her as a coworker and a friend; we’re all in the same boat here

“Yeah yeah, sorry. I need to prep anyway before we open” I stand up abruptly and the chair that I once occupied screeches across the tiled floor. Another day, another day closer to the end of my sentence and I promise you, grandma, I will make you proud.

The afternoon rush hits; and my pastry counter is the busiest in the café in exception to the main dining floor

“Hello ladies, ready for today’s spectacle?” Met with squealing cries of excitement, I begin my magic-filled performance. ‘Oooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ overcome my senses as my ego is constantly being fed, this is fine. The temporary bliss of adoration is enough to get me through the day, never more but only just enough. That’s when I see her; lost, wide-eyed, in awe of her surroundings. Like a lost puppy looking for its owner, or maybe in hopes of finding something… or someone. She is probably a first-timer here. I turn my back to fetch one of my enchanted whisks and cast a spell to beat my egg-whites into soft peaks to form the perfect meringue.

I turn back, she’s there

Looking just as starstruck as she did before

Then meets my eyes as I finish the final touches on the tarts just assembled for the crowd in front of me.

The wind subtly shifts around me

“She’s different” I murmur under my breath

“I-I was looking for my scarf and I stumbled across this café! I’m sorry” she stammers, as if she’s in the wrong. I shake my head in disbelief, this girl is so naïve. I hold out the last of the batch of tarts.

“Try one” I offer her

She accepts gratefully and our hands briefly touch, with little jolts of energy travelling between us.

“She’s different”

~~~~~~~

“Lucien! Come join me!” as she pats the bed just beside her energetically. She’s always been one for stories; telling and reading them. Standing still in my place, I debate whether I should join her since, lately, I have been growing some sort of feelings for her. I cannot fathom what these feelings are yet. I wouldn’t say I love her or even have a crush on her, but I’ll say that I do care for her.

“Ok, I’ll take your invitation” I make myself comfortable next to her. God, I can still smell the buttery pastry scent on her from when we were preparing the tart base for tomorrow’s day.

She smells like home, not the home where my parents are.

But the home where grandma raised me.

Surrounded by the same scents.

She smells like home, and I feel the most at ease with her presence here.

The sound of her voice and narration just becomes white noise in my ears as all that I can concentrate on is the engulfing scent radiating off her clothes from today she still has on, refusing to change until we have finished our platonic pillow-talk. She’s constantly pulling me in with how much she eases my incomplete heart with just her being beside me. I have not felt this way in a long time. She’s filling a void within me that hasn’t even been filled by my daily ego boosts but yet she makes me feel like I can conquer the world with just a whisk, oven and a few ingredients.

I’m closer to where I started, I was desperate for changing, but now I’m chasing after you

She swats my shoulder closest to her

“Hey! Get your head out of the clouds! Are you even listening to me?”

I chuckle deeply at her childish whining

“Don’t laugh, Lucien! It’s not funny! How long was I even talking to myself” she complains as she makes a god-awful attempt at an angry, threatening face and burying her face into my pillow

Dammit, is this what I’ve been missing? Comfort? I find myself not missing the presence of grandma as much ever since she’s been appointed my pastry apprentice. She’s made baking for me an enjoyable experience again, not just some monotonous chore just to by myself time throughout my sentence. She’s learnt so much within the past few days, she reminds me from back when I used to learn how to bake with grandma and my brother in the kitchen when I was just a kid. I’ve learnt how to accept and share my love of baking with other people and not just put on a show for my own reputation, to share my love of baking with her.

She forgets all that I’m lacking, how I’m completely incomplete

I’m done living for the tedious days in and days out, I want to make her life as filling as mine has become with her in it. I feel a little bit self-conscious and guilty that her basically being held hostage in Sweet Enchantments is my fault; If I had not shamelessly tried to show off my magic in front of her on that very day I met her, she would probably be home safe and sound. Not stuck here, illegally, glamoured, and awaiting the official response from the government which is, frankly, taking a decade and a half.

I have this need inside me to keep her happiness. Selfish as I am, I hope to wake up to that smile of hers for as many mornings as I can.

~~~~~

Vallia is relentless. Giving her a piece and half of her mind. But she’s not taking it herself.

My headstrong angel. The way Vallia is giving her a threat. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at her, or maybe how long she’s been tormenting her. She doesn’t back down. Instead, she holds her own against the force of nature which is Vallia. She advances on Vallia, thrusting one of her perfectly delicate fingers towards her.

“I did NOT do anything to you, and I don’t deserve the way you have been treating me”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you are a screw up”

Oh my, Vallia. You couldn’t have said anything else as wrong as that to her. The bickering goes back and forth. I want to defend her. I really do. But I know I have to trust her that she can stand up for herself, because I have full faith in her self-defense as much as her ability to keep up with me; in the café as my apprentice as well as dealing with everything that has been dumped on her… because of me.

My mind is running and not quite sure where to go, so I continue to stand there. Proud of her, and her willingness to stand up for her own rights, self-worth and our relationship that was ungratefully exposed by Vallia herself.

“You’ve pushed and pushed me. I should CRUSH you”

I’m shellshocked by the hardness of her words, usually in the place of words of encouragement and love for me. But now, she’s furious. I try my hardest to hold back a small grin but fail when she catches the corners of my mouth twitching, unable to hold back the proud feeling I have toward this woman at this very moment.

I haven’t stepped in yet. I’m surprised I haven’t, But I trust her with my life. I’m letting go of all that I’ve held on to; my reputation, my image… for her. But I don’t care, I would give up a lifetime of fangirls and temporary loyalty just to make sure she’s the only one standing by my side at the end of the day. If the previous weeks haven’t proven anything to me, at this moment, I know that she is the one that I want; to support me throughout the rest of my sentence and the rest of my life.

I was living for the only thing I ever knew

But now, I want to live to make her happy

Right beside me

And I don’t intend on letting her get away

She’s taken all of me now, and I’m damn lucky to have her

Since that fateful day she literally stumbled into my life, till even now, I don’t know what I’m diving into. My little firecracker, she ignites a new light within my self to continue, to continue to grow. I want to grow and learn alongside her. Life has become so unpredictable with her in it, from the slight points of contact while we work in perfect harmony behind the pastry counter. To the secret rendezvous in the café storage room. While I run my hands through her hair and place soft, peppery kisses into the junctions of her neck where I know will ignite the most delectable of reactions from her. Those little moment where I can be myself with her in my room makes me proud to stand next to her. Hanging onto these little moments that I’ve had with her urge me to keep going. And I’m going to make sure that she is with me, every step of the way.

~~~~~

“And the winner of the bake-off is…”

I’m nervous. The most uneasy I have ever been in my life, but not for my own sake. For her sake. She encouraged me to compete as a new baker and, frankly, I fear to disappoint the love of my life. The past few days on the island have been the most emotionally tiring time in my life, but I know I’ve grown as a person, for the better… for her sake. Everything up until now I have done for her. To reconnect with my brother, bring myself closure from the passing of grandma… Grandma. I know you would have loved her. She brings as much joy in my life as baking did when you were still here. You would have loved her, maybe as much as I do now. She’s urged me to move on, to become a better man. She’s made me a better version of myself that I, if you would have asked me the same question a few months back, I would have laughed in their faces.

But it’s true

“LUCIEN RIVERCREST!!!”

She’s my rock

Cheer from all around me invade my ears and a seawall of loyal and new fans have gathered around me to celebrate my victory over that vindictive pixie.

I’m closer to where I started

I lock eyes with her from an opening in the crowd

I’m chasing after you

I part the crowd and make a hasty beeline towards her. I could spot her from a mile away.

I’m standing here until you make me move

As I get closer, she starts to push through herself in hopes of meeting me halfway. But I get there first, because I’ve been chasing after her since the beginning.

My new beginning.

My new life.

With her.

But right now, as she barrels into my arms, I lift her up into a Hollywood worthy kiss in front of the floating camera orbs.

I’m hanging by a moment here with you

#Voltage #voltage games #voltage usa #voltage inc #voltage otome #sweet enchantments #lucien rivercrest #runa amberthorne #liora skyheart #emeril everbloom #lovestruck smut #lovestruck fluff #roman tarrenglade

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keeroo92 · 5 years

Text

Be My Nightmare Ch2

Of Charcoal and Lust

Warnings for references to self-harm, mental illness and blood kink. Spicy at the end.

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

Word count - 4,048

____________________

---Reader---

You spent the rest of the week with your other patients, but you couldn’t keep your thoughts away from V. He was an enigma, the kind of case you’d been waiting for. A killer, but with brains. Capable of planning, and trickery. He’d be a tough man to work with, a stark contrast to the boring tedium of the masses.

“Dr. Waras, are you listening?”

Speaking of…

You tapped your pen against your lips and met the eyes of your current patient, Ken Sinclair. Guilty of animal abuse but he blamed it on visions of the future. He also had a lovely tendency to believe every conspiracy theory known to man.

“Of course I am. Please, continue,” you replied.

He shifted his weight and stared at the floor. Evasion. You made a note.

“I… so the cat next door, he was going to start a revolution. I saw it.”

“What sort of revolution? How was the cat going to begin?”

Ken fidgeted, his fingers betraying his anxiety. Due to his enjoyment of conspiracies, the man was extremely slow to trust. You internally rolled your eyes.

“I’m truly curious. I have a cat myself, did you know that?”

A lie, but a harmless one. Ken smiled, his fingers relaxing at the reassuring tone of your voice. Child’s play.

“He was going to start with his owner, the guy worked for the CIA.”

You widened your eyes and made a note. It was possible the neighbor actually did work for the CIA, but most likely it was yet another delusion. Poor Ken had trouble telling the difference. He had potential, though. If he made enough progress he might someday get to go home.

But it was doubtful.

By the end of the session, you had heard enough quackery to last until next time. You waved to Ken as Aaron led him back to his room and checked your schedule to see which patient was next, even though you already knew. You’d been looking forward to this for days.

After your first meeting with him, his file proved a fascinating read. An art student from a prestigious university, he’d suddenly dropped out last year and vanished. His family searched for months but found no trace of the gifted artist. His whereabouts between then and the murders were hazy at best, only unconfirmed rumors or hearsay.

And the murders themselves were truly obscene. Details were sketchy on how he chose the family, but the scene was thoroughly documented. Blood so deep the cops wore galoshes, a mixture of his victims and several cows. The walls were painted with the crimson fluid, the wet dribbles still trailing to the kick molding. He’d used a nailgun to affix lengths of ropy intestines to his artwork as a frame, spearing a kidney and part of the child’s liver as focal points.

The bodies themselves were arranged in a gruesome tableau. The mother and father were stripped naked, splayed out for all to see on the couch. He hadn’t bothered trying to disguise where his blades had left their marks, choosing instead to draw attention to the young child strung up above her parents on the chandelier. The child had died first, her blood dripping into the heartbroken faces of her parents as he carved them up.

He didn’t gag them. The neighbors heard the keening wails but by the time the police arrived, he was licking the gristle from his fingertips and humming a piece of classical music. He’d welcomed the officers, offering bags for them to vomit into even as the man with the strongest stomach cuffed him.

The case never even made it to trial. He pled guilty with a smile, and the judge was all too happy to ship him off to an asylum based off his lawyer’s recommendation.

And now here he was, being led into your office by Kevin with a lidded gaze and a suggestive smirk. The orderly affixed the cuffs to the wall with a length of nylon rope, making sure V couldn’t reach you if you stayed at the desk. The young man saluted you and took his leave, and you were alone with the crazed murderer.

“How lovely to see you again, Y/N,” he purred. Even knowing his crimes, you couldn’t deny his voice held great allure. Again, you were struck by the waste of a life before you. He had so much potential, only to fall into madness.

“Hello again, V. How are you feeling today?”

You made it a point not to acknowledge the way he addressed you. To insist on him using your title would only show weakness, that his opinion of you held value. He could call you whatever he liked; you were the one in control here.

He smirked and pulled up his legs, sitting cross legged on the couch. “I’m well. Quite a treat to stretch my legs today. It’s almost a shame how close your office is.”

He’s reminding me of when I stretched his leg. Trying to set me off my game.

You smiled and made a note.

“True, maybe Kevin can take you for a walk after we’re finished.”

Asserting your control, telling him you held his fate in your hands. What fun he was already; the mind games alone were worth the wait.

“That would be nice.”

His eyes gleamed. He knew exactly what you were trying to do. Damn.

“Let’s get started.”

V licked his lips and gazed at you, his meaning clear. “Do let’s.”

You continued without missing a beat. “Here at Mundus Psychiatric, we have a three-pronged system to rehabilitate violent offenders. First off is medication. Dr. Malphas has you on Seroquel, and he’ll be in charge of your prescriptions based on my notes. He’ll meet with you personally once a month.”

You paused to give him a chance to ask any questions, but he only stared at you. On to the next section, then.

“Next, you’ll meet with me on a daily basis to work through any trauma or psychological issues. My job is to help you reach a healthy state of mind and to do that I need you to work with me.”

You paused again, giving the man a meaningful look. He licked his lips.

Right. On to the last one.

“The third approach involves creative catharsis. I imagine this will be of particular interest to you due to your background, but if you display signs of aggression or self-harm, this privilege will be revoked.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Art.”

His hands twitched and he inhaled sharply, his excitement clear. As you’d thought; this would be the way to reach him. You couldn’t help but be curious what he would create, especially without human remains to use as materials. Watching him at work could grant you insights otherwise hidden from view, and you slid open the lower drawer of your desk to pull out supplies with excitement.

---V---

The dull stub of charcoal was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in months. His mouth watered, his fingers twitching to outline the images in his mind. He could almost hear the scratching of the dark substance against paper. He couldn’t look away.

It occurred to him that this was a test, some menial attempt to gain new insights into his character. Yet he didn’t care. The urge was too strong and he didn’t hesitate as you arranged a sheet of paper on a clipboard and offered it to him with the nub of charcoal.

What to draw, that was the question. His first work in months, it had to be sublime. Something to celebrate the occasion.

Draw her, idiot.

He bit his lip to remain silent. It wouldn’t do to reveal Vergil to you, not yet. It was too early to introduce you to such thoughts. Still, he had a point.

Nothing inappropriate, mind you. A portrait. No blood or tears.

He sighed internally. How boring. The image of your face twisted in pain and pleasure, like Bernini’s Saint Teresa in Ecstasy was oh so tempting. He’d imagined it many times already, it would be lovely to bring the image to life.

Don’t be a fool.

He drew the first line. The shape of your face was simple, but how to arrange your features? What did your smile look like? Did your eyes crinkle?

His focused gaze shifted to meet yours. You were watching his every move, intent curiosity on every feature. Vergil had been right, you were paying far too much attention for him to indulge. Damn him.

“What’s her name?” you asked.

The truth was too risky, yet you’d have to be blind to not make the connection by the time he was finished. He had to avoid answering, then.

“Would you mind smiling for me? It’s been a long time since I saw happiness.”

You leaned back in your chair and made a note. He clenched his jaw, hating the reminder of the situation. How he craved the chance to connect without the framework of your profession. To do so was essential to your growth.

A warning growl sounded in his head, Shadow reminding him of his goals. Truly, she was the best of them all. He schooled his features into an expression of raw vulnerability, furrowing his brow and angling his head so the light reflected from his eyes. You tapped your pen against your lips and empathy bloomed in your stare.

Victory was sweet.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Let’s keep talking while you work, too.”

He nodded and added another line, glancing between the paper and your face. Though you did smile, it seemed false. Forced. It gave him what he needed to add lips, but to get the eyes right he needed to see you laugh.

“What shall we talk about?”

You hummed and he added the shadow cast by your nose.

“Let’s start with what happened between you leaving school and the murders.”

He smirked. Could you have given him a better opening? Doubtful.

“Oh, is that all?” he replied, injecting his voice with all the sarcasm he could muster. You tried to hide it, but you were amused. He saw the glint of humor in your eyes as you fought to restrain a chuckle. Perfect, just what he needed. He began outlining your eyes.

“Unless you’d rather tell me more about Griffon.”

He hummed and pondered his choices. It was always an option to remain silent, but that would do nothing to further his goals. He chose the safer of the two subjects and tilted his head, comparing the sketch with reality. Sufficient, considering the circumstances.

“I spent a great deal of time wandering, observing humanity in action. Planning my masterpiece.”

You made a note. He added a few lines to your brows, darkening them to his liking.

“So you knew in advance what you were going to do?”

He smirked and ran a thumb over the brows to smudge them. Perfection. “Only vaguely.”

Another note. It was becoming distracting. He held the clipboard higher, blocking his line of sight to focus.

“Tell me more about your masterpiece.”

Careful.

He could speak on it for hours, but he needed to be cautious. How to frame his thoughts so they didn’t seem too outlandish? He wasn’t unaware of how far from the norm his reality was; far from it. But it wasn’t his fault the world was blind.

“It was meant to be a statement on humanity’s focus on innocence and virtue, and how foolish it is. Naivete should not be praised, it should be excised. It is weakness to intentionally keep blinders on and block out the pain of reality.”

You chuckled. He’d never heard the sound before and closed his eyes to memorize it. It would sound all the more lovely if you were by his side, blade in hand.

“You have a point, though your methods seem extreme. Why not try something less drastic first?”

“The gentler the approach, the fewer people it reaches and the duller its impact. I had to be drastic to make my message clear.”

He shaded the strands of your hair. Such a beautiful color, it would be divine in red.

“I think I understand. You had to be bold to be heard.”

His lips twisted into a smirk. You really did show great promise. He should reward you. Another morsel, just a taste of what he had to offer.

“Exactly. Think of all the great artists. They were great for many reasons but chief among them was nerve. Have you studied art history?”

You shook your head and remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate. He allowed himself a moment of self-satisfaction – so far, he had played this perfectly.

“Write this down and do some research. Rubens’ Massacre of the Innocents. Rembrandt’s Blinding of Samson. Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes. Titian’s Flaying of Marsyas. Art is full of examples of violence and the macabre. Several artists have even used human remains as subjects.”

He paused, letting you finish taking down his referrals. It was difficult to limit his choices to only the few, but there would be time to show you more. First, you must see his perspective. He added the final touches to the portrait of you and added a dark V to the bottom right corner with a smile.

“Why do you think that is? That some artists paint such darkness while others don’t.”

He scoffed. “Those whose art reflects traditional beauty are skilled, I cannot deny that. But they are limited. Only through pain and suffering do we grow, only through torment do we reach truth. They are distracted by worldly appeals and though their work is pleasing, it offers no deeper meaning. The purpose of art is to guide the viewer to a better understanding of reality. How can that happen if the viewer is subjected only to pleasantness?”

You pursed your lips. Had he gone too far? Perhaps an example would help you see. A contrast. He wiped the dust from his hands, leaving black stains on his plain linens.

“May I have another piece of paper?”

Within moments, his hand was flying across a fresh sheet. Powerful strokes left dark lines behind as he furiously sketched, using his own face so as not to alarm you. He added tear tracks and small drops of fluid oozing from thin lines. The eyes showed fear and rage, a tempest of emotion in black and white. A few careful smudges and the drawing was complete. He held out both to you and waited.

“These are incredible… You have true talent, V.”

Your eyes were wide, lips parted in awe at his meager efforts. He could do so much better. How would you react to a piece created with more intent, more thought behind it? Images of you flooded his mind, worshipful and obedient to his whims. He shifted his weight to ease the ache in his cock at the thought of sketching your lips covering his length, blood leaking from your mouth to drip on his thighs.

Focus. Be patient.

He pulled at the nylon cord anchoring him to the wall, taking all the slack available to rest his hands in his lap and subtly rub himself. It sent him reeling to be able to touch himself at last. He bit his cheek to withhold a moan as his thumb caressed the ridge of his head, the fabric sticking to his slit from his arousal.

Your eyes lifted and he forced his hands to lie still. Such torture, to have relief so near and yet so far. He licked his lips.

“Do you see now? Do you understand?”

You sighed and set the drawings aside. He didn’t miss the way your eyes lingered on the page featuring his own face twisted in agony. Something soft tinted your face and you cleared your throat before turning to face him once more. He shifted his hips again.

“I understand your perspective, though I’m not sure I agree with it. Art serves many purposes to many people. Who am I to judge what its true role is?”

A safe answer. She begins to see but refuses to admit it.

It was enough. For now. He leaned back and relaxed his posture, wondering what you would ask next. With the progress so far, perhaps he could be more cooperative with his answer.

“When did Griffon first speak to you?”

---Reader---

His art was remarkable. The raw emotion in the charcoal astounded you and you struggled to refocus. Watching him work gave you a new appreciation for his looks, too. The focus and intensity of his eyes as he added line after line, the intimacy of the way he asked for a smile, the movements of his lithe fingers… it was beautiful to behold.

It was a testament to your training and professionalism that you didn’t react when he started fondling himself. He wasn’t the first patient to indulge sexual desires in your office, but he was by far the most attractive. You pursed your lips and adjusted your legs, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your belly. It made you feel unclean to have such a strong reaction and yet it refused to diminish.

This man will be the end of me if I’m not careful.

So, you steered the conversation into safer waters, back to something that was less likely to arouse his passions. He clenched his jaw and his fingers twitched as if to rub his length again, and you hastily looked elsewhere as he answered.

“Early May, just under a year ago.”

You made a note. “Does Griffon speak to anyone else?”

He smirked and his eyes gleamed. It sent a tremor of anticipation through you to see the hunger in his gaze.

“Not yet.”

Yet? That’s unusual.

You made a note just as a gentle tap sounded from the door. Kevin was back to take V to his room. The time had passed so quickly you hadn’t noticed. You mentally shook yourself and gave V a smile.

“Looks like we’re out of time for today.”

“May I make a request?”

You paused. From the way he still gripped the charcoal, you had a guess as to what he wanted. It wasn’t unreasonable to allow him to keep the nub and send him off with a few sheets of paper, but it was decidedly against protocol. Regardless, you had to hear him out.

“Of course.”

He held up the charcoal. “May I take this with me, and some paper? It’s dreadfully boring to sit in that room with nothing to do.”

Another gentle tap and the door opened. Kevin walked over with a smile, waiting for the go-ahead to release the artist. You sighed. If only it were up to you.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Malphas about it on your behalf. We’ll see,” you replied, reaching out to take the charcoal away. He didn’t fight you, but the sadness in his eyes almost stopped you in your tracks. There was one thing you could grant him. Hopefully it would bridge the gap.

“Kevin, take him for a lap around the building to stretch his legs. You won’t be difficult, will you V?”

He shook his head and smirked. Kevin shrugged and untied the nylon cord, leading V away. The moment the door closed, you let out a deep sigh, slumping in your chair.

As far as first sessions normally went, this had been a home run. You’d gained more information than you expected, seen a facet of the man you knew was integral to his recovery. Maintained the balance of power and given him a reward. You’d done your job.

So why did you feel so conflicted?

---V---

The walk was a blessed gift and he savored every step. He also made it a point to note the security gates and location of the stairwell, creating a map in his mind for future use. As Kevin led him back toward his room, he requested a pit stop. His room didn’t have a toilet, due to concerns of self-harm.

As Kevin retreated behind the transparent panel, giving him the barest semblance of privacy, he grinned. It was all too easy to conjure images to fuel his need and within a few pumps he was fully hard. He angled his body to hide his activity and let himself imagine it was your slim hand wrapped around him.

He closed his eyes and wondered how tight you were, whether you’d gasp as he sank inside you. The couch in your office was the perfect size, was it bolted to the floor or could he make it move? He bit his lip to keep from groaning, mind full of all the ways he’d decorate your flesh with bruises and bite marks. You’d be ethereal with a few tasteful splashes of blood and his cum leaking from your lips.

His hand quickened along with his panting as he thought about claiming you as his own, leaving this accursed place behind and finding somewhere to hone his craft and teach you all he knew. He would set you free and share his every creation with you. If you desired it, he’d use the bodies of his chosen to show you how he’d fuck you until you bled. His hands would stifle any cries so as not to spoil the mood as he held your sweet gaze and pounded into another. Would you touch yourself? Would you want a turn?

He couldn’t suppress his drawn out whine as he exploded. Hot ropes of white spewed from his tip as he quivered his release, hand coaxing every last drop into open air. His hips rolled forward, smacking against his palm in a poor approximation of his plans for you.

After a moment to catch his breath, he opened his eyes to judge his work. Evidence of his release coated the wall behind the toilet, crossing over the porcelain into the urinal. It was a shame he had to leave it behind, but he’d have other chances. He hummed and licked his fingers clean, another surge of lust pulsing inside him as he imagined your tongue on his flesh. Would you enjoy the salty flavor?

He had faith.

“Almost done?” Kevin called out. He’d forgotten the simpleton was watching.

“Almost.”

He relieved himself quickly, knowing he wouldn’t get another chance for a while. A hasty wash of his hands and he rejoined the orderly with a satisfied smile.

The man escorted him to his room in silence, hooking his wrists and ankles into the bed once more without meeting his eyes. It was easy to figure out why – he must have seen V’s gratuitous self-indulgence. The artist smirked as Kevin turned to leave, but he paused at the door.

“Next time you do that, can you keep the mess contained? I have to go clean it now.”

V bared his teeth in a grin. “Apologies.”

Kevin shuffled his feet. “I don’t care if you need to do it, just… you know.”

Oh for heaven’s sake, have mercy on the fool.

“Hush, Vergil! I’ll be more mindful next time.”

“Thanks,” Kevin replied, and finally left him in peace.

He replayed every frame of his session with you, analyzing your reactions. It was a promising start, but he still needed to tread carefully. He couldn’t afford to show his hand too early or all would be lost. Your curiosity and logic would be points in his favor, but you had a long way to go before you were his equal.

And Kevin… the man might turn out to be an ally. The dolt had limited usefulness, but he wasn’t so arrogant as to ignore possible assets. He had plenty to offer, just not intelligence.

Hours passed and his mind grew restless. It truly was infuriating to be restrained like this, with nothing to occupy his thoughts except his current predicament. He tugged at the leather periodically, but he lacked the strength to break free. When he saw you next he could bring it up, but that was ages away. How to pass the time?

He shifted his weight and smirked. A few delicious ideas came to mind.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

#fanfic #v x reader #Be My Nightmare #my writing #dmcv #dmc #alternate universe #spicy #reader insert #devil may cry

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katiescarlettx0 · 5 years

Text

Malcolm.

Knock Knock. The first song that I ever heard by you that was introduced to me by one of my childhood friends in 2010. Eight years ago.

Senior Skip Day. I spent my freshman year of college singing along to this on repeat because I loved the line "Enjoy the best things in your life cause you ain't gonna get to live it twice." That was even my Facebook header for some time. I still believe in those lyrics.

The Spins. I would purposely find any excuse to dance around and rap to this song. I honestly still do on a regular basis because I always have fun doing it.

Kool Aid and Frozen Pizza. I would spend summer nights in the yard of a friend's house with a group of us laughing and creating memories with this song playing in the background late into the night.

Live Free. When I just wasn't feeling like myself or when people were getting to me, this song would be put on. It kept me motivated.

Life Ain't Easy. This has always provided me with a reminder that while it ain't easy, it's worth it and that everything would work itself out in the end. It always did.

Blue Slide Park. The moment I heard this song for the first time was the exact moment that I knew that you were going to take the rap game by storm, and you did.

Party On Fifth Ave. This became a party anthem, one that still holds that rank and probably always will thanks to your legacy.

Frick Park Market. I would drive around with one of my friends with benefits a few years back and rap along to this flawlessly. I always loved this song because I loved how you never forgot where you came from.

Smile Back. I used to blast this song when I was feeling angry or petty, because it spoke to my soul and kept my attitude alive when I needed it to be.

Up All Night. A song I probably listened to over 500 times since it's release because one of my exes loved it and had it on repeat in the car. I never complained because I was just happy he finally started listening to you.

Missed Calls. I used this song as the song I turned to, to get over a fucked up break up. I had this song on repeat and drilled the words "I'll be fine on my own" into my head and ultimately I was. Those words got me through some of the worst times.

Loud. I loved blasting this song because I truly always liked my music "real loud" (still do) and I felt that you got it.

Weekend. This song got me through my week of work, cause it kept me thinking about the weekend and how I'd be good by then.

Thoughts from a Balcony. This song completely blew me away the first time I heard it. It was a complete work of art. With lyrics like "All we got is memories, so what the fuck is time?" how could it not be seen as that? It was that moment where I appreciated your creativity even more.

The Mourning After. Honestly, I still listen to this song on a daily basis and it may just be my favorite song from you. It's the complete opposite of what today's rap music is.

Watching Movies. The opening to this song gives me chills every single time I hear it. It did the first time, and it does to this day.

O.K. My cousin introduced this song to me. This is probably one of my favorite collaborations you've done. You can catch me blasting it in the car, windows down, rapping along always.

Best Day Ever. I always used this song to reflect on life and I still do. To be completely honest, I probably always will.

Get Up. Anytime I was feeling low or that things weren't gonna ever be okay again, I would listen to this song. I needed the reminder that "Life goes on, days get brighter". Sometimes, I still need to hear those words.

Donald Trump. The way people would react the moment this song came on made me so fucking proud of you, cause you made it where I knew you were going to from the moment I first heard you.

Wake Up. Another song my ex and I used to blast in the car. He loved the lyrics and I was obsessed with the beat.

In The Air. This song was a complete guilty pleasure for me. It was so mellow and chill. I played it nonstop and I still get that excitement in my chest when Spotify randomly throws it at me.

Dang! The first time I ever heard this, I was blown the fuck away. You managed to flawlessly put together something so different and you nailed it.

My Favorite Part. You could sense the love and admiration in this song. It made me hope and pray that I could find something like this with someone. I still hope for it. For now, I do my make up to this, listen in the car, wherever. It makes me happy, hopeful.

Come Back To Earth. Just when I thought you couldn't blow me away more than you already have, you released this and yet again I found myself amazed by your talent.

Dunno. I liked this song in general, but then Spotify released your acoustic session after your passing and I found myself in tears at how fucking beautiful this was. What other rapper can take one of their rap songs and turn it into a beautiful, slowed down with a piano piece that brought me to tears.

Small Worlds. It's like as I went on listening to each track on the album, I continued to be amazed. There was something about this album, this song, that just had me excited for your future and proud of your continued success.

Self Care. I felt that this song is one of the most important songs you have ever released. Most people forget how important self care is and the fact you put the message out there and the thought in people's head to treat themselves right was meaningful in itself.

So It Goes. When this album came out, this was my favorite song off of it. I loved the beat, the lyrics, every single thing about it. But now, all it does is cause a stabbing pain in my chest every single time I hear it. All I can think about is how I watched your Instagram story you posted, feeling content and proud. The chills I felt listening to the ending playing over my phone as I watched. Never in a million years did I think this was the last post I would ever see from you. I didn't know the next day, one of my favorite artists was going to be gone.

I read a post that said it seemed like the ending to this song with the setting of your Instagram story seemed like an "end credits" for a movie and looking back, it does. It was an ending to something, someone, so special. Although you will never have the opportunity to read this, you've done more for me that I can ever express. You've done more for music than most ever will. There will never be another you.

Music has been there for me when no one else was and especially his. Mac was the first artist I followed from the start of their career and watched grow into success. I was so proud of all his success. It was a privilege and an absolute honor to have had the chance to be blessed with his music, his talent, his legacy.

I think that's why it actually hurts knowing that his young life was cut short when his music was a major part of mine. His music was there through the good and more importantly, to help me through the bad.

Mental Health and Substance Abuse is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Please, if you suffer from either, do not be afraid to reach out for help. I believe in you.

Honestly, a year later and I'm still absolutely heartbroken and will be for a long time. I am so sorry for the battles you faced. My mind is heavy and I truly hope there was no suffering in the end and that you are at peace.

Rest easy, baby. Thank you for reminding me that life goes on, days get brighter.

So It Goes...

#mac miller #music #malcolm miller

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florianwirtz · 6 years

Text

I’m a Mess - Marco Reus

The Expectation Series

#2 I’m a Mess

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of depression

He don't love me, he don't love me, but that's OK

'Cause I love me, yeah, I love me

Yeah, I love me, yeah, I love myself anyway

The moment you saw Marco's picture with his girlfriend on Instagram, attached with a corny caption, you felt a pang in your chest. Currently, they were on holiday and Sometimes you were truly convinced that you were over him but on some days this ugly feeling of unrequited love returned again and it felt like you never moved on from him. It was always an up and down ride with your feelings for him.

Meeting Marco back then was a blessing and curse at the same time. On the one hand, you found a friend for life, because even though he was a famous and liked footballer, he still remained down-to-earth and treated everyone the same. He was there for you whenever you felt down which happened quite often due to you suffering under depression.

But on the other hand, you also considered yourself as unlucky because it felt so damn cliché to fall in love with someone who was already taken and never showed any sign of overstepping the friendship line to you.

And sometimes you were genuinely happy for Marco and his girlfriend because it was clearly visible how much in love they were. You also had met her a few times and at every meeting, she never had given you the vibe of disliking you which made it impossible to hate her because everything about her was genuine. On some days, it automatically gave you the feeling that your romantic feelings for him stopped because you remembered how lucky both of them were that they found each other, but then you woke up the next day and realized that you never got over him.

Today was one of these days. Just with the addition of the photo which made you feel even worse because it proved once again that she made him happier than you ever could. Sometimes you wish she wasn’t nice because it would make it possible to hate her. And you would have a reason to dislike her. Instead, you always felt like a monster for being in love with him.

You were a true mess today.

Not only were you apathetically lying the whole day in your bed, unmotivated to do anything, but you also managed to drown a whole bottle of champagne right after you saw their snapchat story of them acting cute. And of course they looked like the perfect couple and she always looked stunning anyway whether she was representing the newest bikini mode or just casually wearing her boyfriend’s bright yellow jersey. Unintentionally, she always reminded you of your insecurities, she was a model so she naturally looked better than the average person, but then you were reminded of the fact that one of the reasons why Marco fell in love with her instead of you were probably the difference in appearance.

When your therapists recommended you to distract yourself by doing something you enjoy when you felt like crap, they probably didn’t mean to get drunk.

You really appreciated your therapists even though it hadn’t been always the case. You had used to believe that they were only trying to make you believe in empty phrases until they made you say that everything’s gonna be alright. But surprisingly, they were willing to listen and giving advice to you without having in mind that you’re supposed to feel better of what they say. When you talked to them, it felt like they were really trying to find a solution to a problem and not them being a therapist treating their patient.

Sometimes it felt good to have a person to talk to who wasn’t biased. Because family and friends always want the best for you which you really appreciated but whenever you talk to them about your problems, you could never be sure if they really want to help you or just want to make you feel better about yourself.

The alcohol in your veins made you loosen up a bit, suddenly you felt alive again. You could even laugh a bit about yourself, about the way you looked with your scruffy hair and puffy cheeks right now, combined with your pajamas or about the fact that you were crushing on someone for months who didn’t return your feelings. Because sometimes you truly loved yourself despite your insecurities. And making fun of yourself was the way you dealt with it. Unfortunately, it also made you do stupid things. Because right now, you were calling Marco on facetime and your brain couldn’t really process that you might regret this when you were sober again.

Luckily, he didn’t pick up, but your drunk self, of course, was disappointed. Because now you thought about all the things he might do with his girlfriend right now, the thought of them amusing together made you sad and jealous.

It also made you feel like a horrible human being, both were wonderful persons who deserved each other, so why couldn’t you just move on and be happy for them?

Currently, you were crying again, not clear if it was about the unrequited love or the mess of a person you were. At one moment you were laughing or suddenly on another, you were crying again, there was no in between.

At one time, your phone ringed and you saw Marco’s name appearing on your screen. You couldn’t believe that he actually made the effort to call you back when he could’ve just texted you. Once again, he showed how much he really cares about the people in his surroundings.

You were torn between accepting the call or just letting it ring. Because you were certainly not in the condition to say something intelligent right now. But at the last moment, you accepted it, you had nothing to lose anyway.

“Hi.” You simply greeted him and giggled quietly. You were still fully under the influence of alcohol.

“Y/N? I saw that you called so I called back to ask why.” He answered back with a certain undertone.

“You could’ve just texted me, why did you make the effort to call me back?”

“Uh, you know every time you call it’s important. Because mostly you only do it because you feel bad and I wanted to make sure that you’re fine. I was worried about you.” Subtly, Marco cleared his throat and you bid on your lips with a sense of guilt.

It never stroke you, but now that he mentioned it, you realized that whenever your depression hit you hard, he was the first choice of person you wanted to talk to. Because most of the time he understood how you felt and knew how to make you feel better. And the fact that he noticed it and was prepared to console you even on his holidays made you realized how much he cared. And it was another reason why you fell for him.

“Are you still here?” Marco interrupted your silence and you fastly responded, so he didn’t hang up.

“I’m sorry, I’m drunk. I shouldn’t have called you, especially when you’re enjoying your holidays.” You mumbled guilty and almost hung up, but Marco’s quick response prevented it.

“No please tell me what’s going on. I heard you sniffing and something must have happened when you’re drunk alone.” He insisted once again.

“I don’t deserve you.” You suddenly blurted out and regretted it in the exact same moment. But it was too late to take it back.

“What do you mean?” Now he sounded confused and you had no idea what to reply.

Maybe you should confess what was on your heart for the whole time. You were aware that it would change everything between you and him, but one day it was going to happen anyway. And right now was the perfect timing, you were drunk so expressing your feelings was easier and your cryptic message was the perfect introduction for it. That you might regret it when you were sobered up,

“Can you facetime me? I have to say something into your face.” You took a deep breath, tensely waiting for an answer.

“Oh... uh, it’s kind of suboptimal.” He muttered slowly. “Because... I’m currently not wearing anything.”

"Oh gosh.. I’m sorry. Don’t say anything. I understand.” You babbled nervously and felt the tears coming.

"Don’t hang up, yeah? We can still talk, I’m still here by phone.”

Now the tears were silently falling down your cheek. How could he still be so nice to you?! He wanted to help you even though you were wasting his time and ruining his holidays with your problems.

“Listen... I might regret this when tomorrow comes, but I hope you know that you’re my best friend and I’m so grateful to have you. You are always there when I need you even though I’m such a complicated and needy person. You still take all the time of the world and I’m so thankful that I was able to meet such a great person like you.” Under tears, you confessed your gratefulness.

Surprised by your words, he hesitated shortly, unsure what to say. Then he began to answer, calmy and collected.

“But that’s what friends are for. I know that you are a strong person and battle with all this shit for your whole life and please remember that you are never bothering me! I know that it’s a daily struggle and on some days you simply need the support of another person.”

You chuckled quietly. “See, that’s why people love you. You are always kind and modest, no matter what. It’s certainly not an implicitness to have someone like you. Sometimes I wonder why you’re still friends with such a horrible person like me.”

“You’re not a horrible person! I don’t believe that. You’re lovely, funny and kind which is everything I wish for a friend. I never want someone else as a best friend than you.” Your last sentence made him even more confused and he completely ignored your other compliments towards him.

Even though he couldn’t see it, you shook your head with a quiet laugh. “Always seeing the good sides of someone, your strength, and weakness at the same time. Would you still be my friend if you knew what I’m thinking the whole time?”

“You’re weird right now. I don’t even understand what you’re babbling the whole time. Maybe you should sober up for a while and then we should talk again.” He concluded.

“Yeah haha... maybe you’re right.” You lied to him. Although you were drunk, you knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Alright. I’m calling you later, I promise. But I’m certain of one thing. I’ll never leave you even though you’re afraid of it. I love you, no matter what. Don’t forget that.”

“Thank you.” You smiled though he meant his last words differently than you wished.

“I love you too - so much it hurts.”

But right at that moment when you spoke out what you were hiding the whole time, you already hurt the beeping tone which signaled that he hung up.

Bitterly you smiled under your falling tears. In some kind of way, it was fine. He was happier than ever and you would never forgive yourself if you ever changed that. Maybe when you sobered up, you will forget about everything that happened and you could start your day by loving yourself again.

#marco reus imagine #marco reus oneshot #marco reus fanfiction #football imagine #football oneshot #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #soccer imagine #soccer oneshot #reader insert

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cummunication · 6 years

Text

23 Lessons

Today is my birthday. 24 years of ups, downs and everything in between. 23 was a challenging year full of obstacles but needless to say, I got through it (always do). At the heart of a birthday is an opportunity to tell someone, “I’m glad you were born,” also “I’m happy you’re alive.” Despite the fact I am getting older, aging is a sign I have breath in my lungs and my heart is still beating. I am blessed for the lessons I continually learn the more time I spend on earth and the amazing people I continue to meet. So I will let my story unfold and see what 24 has in store. Every one of our stories is important and that is something worth celebrating. So here are 23 lessons I have learned over time plus 1 bonus for my birthday.

1. There is no such thing as a pain free life. Living life to the fullest requires bad experiences. In order to genuinely enjoy life, you must take the bad with the good and vice versa. “Courage is not the absence of fear.” Meaning, fear and courage co-exist. There are voices in my head that tell me to give up and I let them boss me around. Fear can be crippling and it has prevented me from doing things many years. It can seem as though everybody else is moving forward while I’m left behind. That’s terrifying. Bravery is accepting your fear and doing it anyway.

2. It’s nearly impossible to accept love until you love yourself. For so long I pushed people away; creating walls between me and people I care about. The thought process behind this was if I did not let love in, they could not hurt me. I know letting people close is uncomfortable for me because when you’re unable to love yourself, any type of love given seems threatening. Human connection can feel repulsive and foreign when you push it away for so long. But if you don’t love yourself, how do you expect others to?

3. I am not a label. Just because you’re diagnosed with something does not mean it is your identity. Having bipolar disorder does not mean I am bipolar. We are so much more than the boxes society puts us in. You need not be ashamed of your illness, mental or physical. If you wouldn’t be ashamed to tell somebody you had cancer, you shouldn’t feel embarrassed of your mental illness.

4. All emotions are valid. Sometimes we can feel depressed and we don’t have to justify it. No matter how insignificant our feelings may seem, they are important. You are entitled to your emotions because your experiences are real. Don’t let someone tell you it’s “all in your head.” Being continuously invalidated is one of the most damaging things you can do to the psyche. However, don’t fool yourself into thinking your entitlement to emotions is entitlement to unacceptable behavior. If you hurt someone, you are accountable. We should always take responsibility for our decisions.

5. Emotions do not own me. I am guilty of letting emotions overpower me at times. It’s easy to let them take control and get flustered. Sometimes we choose our battles and sometimes, our battles choose us. There’s a quote that says “God only gives us battles he knows we can handle.” Or something to that extent. I’ve been dealt some hands in this game of life I did not want. And yet, we are much stronger than we give ourselves credit for. Someone once said the hardest battles are given to the best warriors. Instead of asking why me? I’m learning to ask why not me?

6. There are wars we must face to uncover our full potential. And sometimes we must win without support. Meaning, it sucks when we feel misunderstood by people closest to us. We need to be “saved” because we feel we won’t make it. While guidance is always appreciated, at times, there is no hand to save us from drowning. I have learned that I can walk this road alone if I must.

7. Everyone everywhere is going through something. Everybody is fighting their own version of hell. You never know what the person next to you is going through so try not to be an asshole. You probably have a lot more in common than you realize.

8. Quality over quantity. What good is a lot of something if the quality is shit? This especially applies to relationships. Having thousands of Facebook friend’s left me feeling empty when I had zero friends in real life. Nurture your close relationships to create strong support systems.

9. Try to embrace the present and live less in the past/future. Basically, stop and smell the roses. When you remember to, practice mindfulness. Practice gratitude. It’s super helpful and important to appreciate all we have in our lives, good and bad. Each day I try and reflect on something I’m thankful for. It can be easy to take things for granted and focus on what we don’t have; comparing our negative to everyone else’s positive, resulting in feeling inadequate. Studies show practicing gratitude daily results in increased life satisfaction.

10. Treat everyone you meet with respect. This is a simple rule that can be hard to implement. When people are mean spirited, it can be tempting to spew it right back. But the way we treat others says more about us than it does them.

11. Don't sweat the small stuff. Not everything is a tragedy. I’ve spent so much time and energy on things I later realized I stressed over for no reason. I understand having anxiety can be relentless & debilitating however, we can train ourselves to prioritize what consumes the majority of our attention.

12. People are quick to judge. That doesn’t necessarily mean they are bad people, only human. People will jump to conclusions about what you’re doing wrong & how you could be better but I’ve learned this is to take the focus off of them. I’ve come to realize it’s less important what we say and more important what we understand. That’s why we have two ears and one mouth.

13. There’s more to being beautiful than our looks. There’s more to a person than their clothes, their car, the size of their waist, and their inherent value can never come from the outside. I’ve hated myself because of what I look like, basing my worth on my weight, if my skin is breaking out etc. Throughout my life my appearance will change but at the end of the day I am still me no matter what. Instead of aiming to be “perfect”, I now dedicate most of my awareness to how I can better myself as an intellectual. A boob job or whiting my teeth doesn’t make me more lovable. Real confidence can only come from knowing who you are.

14. Just because I believe something is true, doesn’t mean that it is. A famous quote says “we see things not as they are, but as we are” or something like that. Thoughts are extremely powerful in affecting our beliefs and morals etc. and these are shaped by our experiences growing up/what we were taught. Nonetheless, it is helpful to question our perception of reality. I’ve been forced to challenge what I tell myself in therapy since for a long time all I told myself was that I’m fat, ugly, and useless. We do not see ourselves as others do. Something may feel true in the moment and we are entitled to our feelings but remember, we can not see it from an objective lens. Being in therapy has been especially useful in distinguishing my mental illness and me. It can be tempting to give into my ANTS when things don’t go my way, yet the older I get the better able I am to take a step back.

15. This too shall pass. Everything is temporary. Cliche but true. I enjoy learning Buddhism since it teaches that ultimately, nothing is ours. We own nothing and have control of very little. At first glance this can seem overwhelming and depressing but it gives us a chance to live life to the fullest because, well, in 100 years we’re all going to be dead anyway so why not?! It can be nearly impossible to believe the worst moment of our lives will be a thing of the past when we are entrenched in them, but life is full of ups and downs. It helps to recall the last time I was feeling that way and remind myself I got through it, even though I doubted I would. At times I am scared of happiness in fear of it slipping away, afraid of love because I know all good things end, but living like this will prevent me from seizing opportunities and experiencing joy. Pain passes and so does happiness but when we are willing to let things go with the knowledge they return, they do infact, come back.

16. Nobody thinks about us as much as we do. It is human nature to be all up in our head about ourselves. Humans have a tendency to be self focused and narcissistic. But when I’m feeling particularly self conscious, I tell myself nobody judges me as much as me. Basically, we are our own worst critic. We worry what others think when most likely nobody is worried about us in the first place, they are too busy worrying about themselves. Free yourself of your self scrutiny and let people think what they want. It’s more important what you think of yourself. 17. You can’t change people. I had trouble accepting I could not change my ex. We make excuses for people as to why they are like they are and remain in denial, letting love blind us and keep us in harmful situations. But sometimes love isn’t enough. You can love someone from a distance and let them go. People have to want to change themselves, you can’t do it for them. And you can’t help someone unless they are willing to help themselves.

18. Healing is a journey that comes in many forms. Recovery is not linear and is about progress, not perfection. Self care is vital: don’t let anybody make you think taking care of yourself is selfish. You should always be your number one priority. There’s a different between self love and selfishness.

19. Being single is nothing to frown upon. Never depend upon another to be the source of your joy. You have to get comfortable with yourself before you can ever be in a healthy, interdependent relationship. It’s totally normal to want to be in a relationship but it’s another to need to be in one. I would so much rather be alone than in a relationship out of desperation or loneliness. Celebrate your single-hood and take it as a time to enjoy your independence and self discovery. After all, love comes when you least expect it.

20. Boundaries are necessary. We can’t be truly vulnerable and deeply intimate with someone without clear communication and setting boundaries. I was and still am to an extent, very bad at this. I tend to be an enabler, a doormat, a people pleaser. I want to avoid conflict and not rock the boat so I just say yes to everything. But something I’ve learned is to never destroy yourself in aims to make others happy. It is never worth sacrificing your own peace of mind to try and appease somebody else. At the end of the day, you have to live with yourself and your sanity is what’s most important. Trust your intuition; your gut instinct is almost always right and can never lead you wrong. If you don’t want to do something say no! If you want to do something, say yes! Speak up! Setting boundaries and speaking your truth is hard but imperative if you want to have genuine, equal relationships. If not, you will be full of resentment, take it from me. I’ve learned the truth always comes out one way or another anyway, and people respect those who respect themselves enough to be honest. Besides, the most kind people are those who are in touch with themselves and can be assertive in a caring way.

21. Forgiveness is one of the hardest but most crucial steps to happiness. I’m not saying it is necessary to automatically forgive every person who wronged you, trust me I know how shitty it is. But at least have the intent to, at least be open to it. It’s hard to be free until you release the chains of hate from your heart. We may have to continuously address this searing emotional pain and continually work on it but be aware that holding on to past traumas does not prevent them from occurring in the future. While experiences makes us grow, holding things against people only makes us weak and bitter. It’s something I’m still working on, but I know the more I try to forgive people who have scarred me, the less power I give them.

22. That being said, even though certain events may make us feel powerless, our power can never be taken from us. I have dealt with many tragedies in my 24 years. I have felt hopeless, out of control, victimized, helpless and everywhere in between. People may have broken my heart and crushed my spirit, but they can never destroy my soul. They can never touch me at the core of who I am. And the same goes for you.

23. One of the best things we can do for ourselves is to eliminate anybody or anything from our lives that makes us feel less than, or less powerful than we really are. Cutting out toxic, unhealthy and dysfunctional people is the biggest favor you can do for yourself and you will see immediate change.

BONUS - We are never alone, no matter how isolated we may feel. There are people out there who feel the same as you. Find your tribe. Reach out for help. Speak up. You are worth it.

Each time a birthday passes we can take it as an opportunity to reflect and celebrate. It’s a chance to celebrate your story and to give those struggling a chance to find hope in that we can survive all that questions our strength. No matter where life has taken me or what I come across this year, I know for the most part, my worst days are behind me. I have the tools and insight to survive almost anything that crosses my path and with that, I can make light out of the darkest nights. I am a survivor, and so are you.

#survivor #rapesurvivor #dvsurvivor #ptsd recovery #mentalillness #mental health #awareness #recovery #lifelesson #birthday #lifelessons #cancer #cancerian #watersign

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thisisusfan388 · 6 years

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Painful Goodbyes

Hey guys- I'm back with a brand new chapter for my This Is Us series, set one month after Jack's death.

You can check out the previous chapters here:

https://thisisusfan388.tumblr.com/post/173624345857/its-all-coming-back-to-me-now-hey-guys-this-is

https://thisisusfan388.tumblr.com/post/174405404197/my-number-one

Thank you so much the lovely @omeliashipper for helping me to proofread this chapter!

Kate's POV

I open my eyes to the sound of pitiful whimpering. As I look around, the room is still pitch dark. As my eyes become accustomed to the dark, I spot the source of the noise. My dog Louis is sitting up in his basket in the corner of the room. We lock eyes and he lets out another sad whimper.

I look at the alarm clock beside my bed and sigh. 4 am in the morning. What does he probably want?

" What do you want, Louis?" I ask him softly. " Are you hungry? Do you need to go to pee?"

He perks up in his basket, pleased at having gotten my attention, and wags his tail.

I reluctantly get out of bed and trudge to the kitchen of the rented house, with him following me close behind. I open the back door for him to go out to do his business. He dashes out almost immediately, and I pour some dog treats into his bowl. He bounds back into the kitchen after a moment and gobbles down the treats eagerly. Sometimes, I wish I were a dog. Dogs are always happy all the time, no matter the circumstances.

I stroke his back gently as I watch him devour his meal. A heavy feeling enters my heart. He is an innocent dog and doesn't deserve this. No. It's not his fault- I tell myself.

I just can't bear to look at Louis anymore. Every time I look at him, I have a flashback reminding me of how my beloved Dad lost his life trying to save him. Before that tragic night, Louis was the center of my life. All my love and attention was focused on Louis. Now, seeing Louis is just a painful reminder of the fact that I've lost my dad.

I can still remember very vividly my screams of terror as I heard Louis barking for help from inside the burning house, and as I watched Dad rush back into the burning flames of the house. I was so shaken up, so upset that Louis was trapped in the house and would be burnt alive. Dad surprised me by running back into the house, despite Mom's protests. In retrospect, I have no idea why he had to go back into the house. Mom, Randall and I were all safe. Yes, he managed to save Louis and the important family documents, but at what cost? It cost him his life! I can't help but wonder daily each time I look at Louis- would Dad still have been alive had he not gone back in? I love them both, but if I had to choose between them, I would choose Dad for sure. Mom had mentioned that Dad died of smoke inhalation. Had he not gone back into the house, he would have inhaled the same amount of smoke as me, Randall and Mom. We survived and he should have as well.

I know that Dad saved Louis for my sake because he loved me and didn't want to see me heartbroken. But what he didn't realize back then was that I would be even more devastated to lose him.

The familiar feelings of anger and guilt overtake me the longer I look at Louis. Because of him, I have lost my beloved Dad - who was my best friend, confidante, most loyal supporter. I have lost my livelihood.

Life is not worth living anymore when you have lost the only person who tells you that you're perfect just the way you are. Everyone else, my friends and even my mom tell me that I need to lose more weight.

I remember the day before his death- I was recording a video for my application into university. Dad was secretly using his video camera to record me singing. When I turned around and realized that he was recording me, I was extremely pissed off. Why would he do such a thing- recording me singing without my consent? He was embarrassing me!

Looking back now, I'm so glad that he did it. The video is an evidence of his time here on earth, a proof that I have been loved by the best Dad ever. I have been replaying the video's tape recording so many times for the past month. Seeing the proud look on his face in the video as he recorded me is what has gotten me through this past month. Somehow seeing Dad in person, even if just on video, helps fill the void in my heart. It is cathartic indeed to be able to see Dad smiling proudly at me while holding his camera. In a strange way, replaying that video recording again and again makes me feel like he is always here with me, looking out for me.

Watching this video also made me realize how genuinely proud he was of me. When my friends in school laughed at me and called me fat, I returned home upset. Dad, always the one to sense my downcast mood, would ask me what's wrong, and I would open up to him. With Dad, there was nothing to hide. He would then comfort me by saying that it doesn't matter what they say- for him I'm beautiful, and that was all that mattered. Once, in third grade, when I came back crying after a few girls in the class wouldn't play with me as they thought I was fat and ugly- Dad actually took the matter into his hands and approached the girls, nicely telling them that what they were doing wasn't right. They never did bully me after that.

He would also always diffuse the tension between me and mom. Mom and I have a rocky relationship. I always feel like she expects me to be as perfect and beautiful as her. I am not and never will be. I always feel like she thinks I am not a good enough singer and can't sing as well as her. I've to admit, deep down inside I'm always jealous of the fact that she is so gorgeous. Even when I tried to starve myself to the point of eating only salad daily, I could never be as slender as her.

My relationship with Dad though is different. With Dad, I felt like I am free to be my true, authentic self. With him, I did not need to pretend to be anyone I was not. There were many instances where I would get into an argument with Mom, over a dress which I couldn't fit in or an off-handed remark she would make about my appearance which would trigger my fury. Dad would always manage to diffuse the situation by calming both me and Mom down individually. Now, there is no one to mediate my arguments with Mom.

Now with Dad gone, I'll also miss the impromptu ice cream sessions I had with him. When I was younger, whenever I got upset when Mom mentioned that I needed to watch my weight, Dad would cheer me up by bringing me to our favorite ice cream parlor in town, called Frenchies. It offers a wide variety of ice cream flavors, and I loved sampling a different combination of flavors each time. Dad, on the other hand, loved the banana pudding flavor. Over ice cream, Dad would then tell some jokes which would send me cracking up in fits of laughter and forget about the reason I was upset earlier on.

Also, I can never forget the time I was waiting for the bus to a private signing session with Alanis Morrissette. I love her songs and really wanted to meet her in person. When I found out that she was coming to town, I knew that I had to go meet her and get her autograph or a picture with her. When I saw Dad pulling up, my heart sank as I knew that I would be busted for skipping school. It turned out that he was the most sporting Dad ever, giving me a ride right to the studio where Alanis was meeting her fans. It was a secret between us which Mom never found out about.

I am always Dad's little girl, no matter how old I am. I was, am and always will be his little ‘Katie girl.' He made me believe in myself and never gave up on me.

Louis has finished gobbling up his treat and is now looking up at me with pleading eyes, as if begging for more. I just cannot bear to look at those eyes anymore.

I fill up his bowl with another round of treats. I am going to spoil him now, because this will be his last day with me. I've made up my mind, I can't keep him any longer.

"I'm sorry, Louis," I whisper as I gently stroke his back as he continues devouring his food. "I'm so sorry."

He pauses for a moment to look up from his food and wag his tail at me, before returning his attention back to the food.

This gesture of his makes me feel even more guilty about the decision I've made.

I return back to my room with Louis trailing right behind me. As Louis settles into his basket again, I sit up on my bed, knowing that I wouldn't be able to sleep anymore. I haven't been sleeping much for the past month, because every time I fall asleep, images of that fateful night- the fire, my horrified screams, the smell of smoke, and my terror of seeing Dad running back into the burning house would come back to haunt me.

_______________________________________________________________

Later in the morning

I am chewing absent-mindedly on my piece of toast, thinking about how to say goodbye to Louis. It is going to be heartbreaking for me to separate from this loyal dog who gave me licks and tail wags when I'm feeling down. However, I know that it has to be done. If I'm ever going to keep my sanity intact, I have to let go of this dog.

It is a weekend, so I plan to walk him straight to the pet adoption center about 15 minutes away from home right after breakfast.

" Hey." Mom greets me as she enters the kitchen and proceeds to pour two cups of coffee, one of each of us. She then takes a seat beside me.

" Hey." I greet her back, still munching on my toast and not looking at her. I just can't bear to look at the sadness in her eyes and the grief on her face.

" Do you have anything planned for today?" she asks. " Like going out with friends or something? Kevin was staying the night at Sophie's, and Randall is going to Alison's later."

What?! Mom do you expect me to just go on with life like normal after all that has happened?! Life isn't the same anymore, and I can't possibly pretend that it is!

" Nothing much. I'm just taking the dog out for a walk." I answer casually.

" Well, that's good. You need to get some fresh air. It's good for you." Mom approves.

" What do you mean by that?!" I shoot back suddenly.

Mom lifts her hands up in a defensive gesture.

" I'm just saying that you need to get some fresh air," she repeats in a cautious tone.

" Stop telling me what I need to do! You've been telling me what to do my whole life, and I'm sick and tired of it. Ok? Stop telling me what I can or cannot become, Mom. Just back off and leave me alone." I retort.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry." Mom apologizes. I think I can hear a quiver in her voice, but I can't bear to bring myself to look at her. Looking at her would only make me feel worse.

" It's ok, Mom. I'm going to bring the dog out for a walk now." I mutter.

Just then, Randall enters the kitchen.

" Morning Mom, Kate.' he greets us.

" You want me to come with you?" he offers as he sees me placing the leash on Louis.

" It's ok, you stay with Mom," I answer before walking out of the door, leaving Mom in the kitchen with her favorite son.

_____________________________________________________________

Fifteen minutes later, I am at the animal shelter.

" Hey" a pleasant looking middle-aged lady greets me. " How may I help you?" she asks.

" Hey- this is my dog, Louis," I say- gesturing at him, as she bends down to give him a pat on the head.

" Hey Louis." she greets him cheerfully as he wags his tail at her.

" He's such a friendly dog." she points out as I nod in agreement.

" Yes, he is," I say. " It's a good thing that he is friendly because I can't keep him any longer."

" Oh, why not?" she asks, a sympathetic tone in her voice.

For a moment, I am tempted to tell her the truth, that I just can't continue to be reminded of Dad each time I look at the dog, but I know that I'll break down in front of her, a complete stranger, if I mention Dad.

" I just can't afford to take care of him anymore." I lie. " I'm sure there are many people who are better equipped to care for him."

" Ok. Well, are you sure about this, young lady? Because once we take him in, you can't take him back anymore. So you need to be completely sure that you want to surrender him to us." she confirms with me.

Louis looks at me as our eyes meet. He has a pitiful look in his eyes, as if he senses that I am giving him away and he's silently begging for me to keep him. To add to my guilt, he cocks his head to one side, a gesture which I have always found adorable.

For a split second, I consider retracting my statement and telling her that I don't want to give Louis away after all.

I look away from both Louis and the shelter keeper, trying to blink back the tears that are starting to fill my eyes.

" Yes," I answer firmly, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

Louis lets out a woeful whimper.

" Ok, we'll take him in. I'm sure we can find him a suitable owner, he'll be in good hands." the lady smiles at me as she takes the leash from my hands.

Louis whimpers again as he looks at me.

Fighting back tears, I bend down to pat him on the head one last time.

"It's ok Louis, you will find another home, a better home. You'll find someone who will love you and take good care of you. You'll be ok. You'll be ok." I whisper gently to him as I stroke his back and pat his head.

He licks me on the face. I think he can sense that this is goodbye.

I need to leave this place as soon as possible before I change my mind.

" Bye Louis," I say as I stand up, give him a final pat and turn around to walk away.

" Say bye." I hear the lady telling him.

As I walk towards the door, I can hear Louis barking, begging for me to turn back to get him.

With tears now freely rolling down my cheeks, I walk out of the door.

_______________________________________________________________

An hour later, I'm at Frenchies, where Dad and I loved to hang out.

" Hey, Kate- haven't seen you for quite some time. What flavor would you like today?" the guy at the counter, Nick, asks.

" Chocolate and vanilla flavor, please," I answer politely, and he proceeds to make my ice cream.

" Here you go," he says as he returns with my order a few moments later. " Where is your Dad? You usually come with him."

" He's gone," I say with a flat tone of voice.

Nick gasps as he covers his mouth and a sorrowful look overtakes him.

" I'm so sorry, Kate. I didn't know. My deepest condolences to you and your family," he says, a sympathetic tone in his voice. " How are you coping? Are you ok?"

" I'm fine," I lie, as I pay for the ice cream and take it from him.

" Ok," he says, catching my signal not to probe any further.

I proceed to the usual table where Dad and I used to sit. Somehow, even though the place was always full, the table seemed to always be available for the both of us. It was as if the table was specially reserved for us.

I settle down in my usual seat and take a tiny scoop of the ice cream. It somehow doesn't taste as good as when Dad is sitting opposite of me, savoring his banana pudding ice cream.

I glance longingly at the empty seat opposite of mine, the seat which Dad used to occupy. The empty chair symbolizes the current empty feeling in my heart.

Even eating ice cream at my favorite hang out spot isn't the same anymore without Dad.

I remember how Dad and I used to sit here and talk for hours here whenever I had an argument with Mom. Now, there is no one for me to eat ice cream with, no one to cheer me up when I'm feeling angry or upset, no one to make me laugh.

" Kate!"

A familiar voice pulls me back to the present.

I see Randall and Alison approaching my table.

"Hey," I greet shyly as I shake Alison's hand. She is a nice girl, but not someone I would typically hang out with.

" Are you ok?" Randall asks me as he places a hand on my shoulder.

It is taking me a lot of strength to stop tears from rolling down my cheeks again.

Damn you, Randall. Why do you have to do this? You know very well that this is mine and Dad's favorite hangout place. Why do you have to make this caring gesture which can cause me to break down in public at any minute?

" Yeah, I'm fine," I reply meekly.

Randall, having known me for our entire lives, sees right through my lie.

" No, you're not," he states matter-of-factly.

He turns to Alison.

"Ali- I'm bringing Kate home now. You can come along with us." he offers.

" It's ok- I'll call Nicole to pick me up from here," she says as she smiles sympathetically at me.

" Ok- I love you. I'll see you tomorrow." Randall says as he gives her a quick and affectionate peck on the cheek.

" Come, let's go home," he says as he places an arm around my shoulder as we walk out of the place.

____________________________________________________________

Half an hour later, both Randall and I are settled on the couch in the living room of our rented house.

A tense silence passes between us as we stare at the blank TV screen.

" You gave the dog away," he says disbelievingly.

" Yes," I answer nonchalantly.

" Why, Kate?" he asks. " Why did you do that? The dog is innocent."

" I know he is! I just can't keep him any longer, because every time I see him, I am reminded of how Dad gave his life by going into the burning house to save him!" I snap.

" I'm sorry," I mutter, realizing that I am answering too harshly. " I did what I had to."

" It's ok," Randall says calmly. " I know you're angry and upset about Dad. I am too."

" Why did he have to go?" I ask as I look at him sorrowfully.

“ I don’t know. What I do know is that he is in a better place now, and it’s not Louis’s fault. Dad ran back into the house because he knew you loved Louis and he loved you,” he says.

I remain silent, as I purse my lips together, trying to stop myself from crying.

“ I miss Dad so much," I admit, my voice shaking. “He used to sit opposite me in the ice cream place. It just isn’t the same anymore without him. I miss Louis too.” I add ruefully.

“I know, I miss Dad too,” Randall says as he places a comforting arm around my shoulder, and I lean on his shoulder for support. “I sort of miss Louis too. He always greeted me cheerfully at the door whenever I return home.”

We sit in that position for a long moment, the sweet memories of Dad playing in our minds.

“ Hey- do you want to watch a rerun of Sex In The City?” Randall suggests.

“Ok.” I nod, smiling at him. I feel much better already, just having him by my side.

We sit side by side on the couch, indulging ourselves in our guilty pleasure, relying on each other for support and company in this tough time. Although I have lost my beloved Dad, I am grateful that I still have my brothers and my mom to depend on.

Alright- that’s it for this chapter. Comments, reviews, reblogs and messages are very much

#this is us #kate pearson #jack pearson #randall pearson #ailing's fics

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