#help. somehow i expected myself at age 21 to be able to not slip into obsession like this and it's honestly embarrassing to admit that i do

[immortalsins]

i am so serious i need to find some tips for autistic people to get stuff done when all passion has gone out the window. past exam seasons i haven't had much of a focus for my energy, so whilst it's hard to study like that, i can kind of concentrate everything on work. this time all i can think of is something unrelated (my silly bands) and logically i know that this is my whole degree at stake but autistically i can't get myself to do it. this is so stupid to type out but i'm realising that discipline means nothing to autistic obsession

[wonjaekook]

Kaleidoscope

A/N: I really meant to make this a happy take on the trope and not a depressing one… I guess I couldn’t help myself :’) also, always feel free to come to my ask box or reblog with input in the tags! I always welcome feedback, whether it’s compliments or criticism or anything in between.

21 Tropes: 7. Soulmate AU (colors) + coral w/Jungwoo

Description: Life is a kaleidoscope, with different colors and patterns appearing with each shake. Each moment is a new color added to the tube and, sometimes, it gets shaken too hard.

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: very brief sex mention, [SPOILERS] death mentions, terminal illness

Jungwoo has been told before that life is more beautiful in color. He always thought that everything he saw was like a kaleidoscope, but in black and white. He’s okay with that - black and white still mix to make a million shades of gray and he can still see glittering crystals and silvers in the tumbling shapes of life. “One day, you’ll find the one,” they always say. He knows they’re right and he’s never felt hopeless about finding the one, so he’s in no rush. He’s okay with the way he views the world right now.

But perhaps being able to see color would make the aquarium a little more interesting.

Right now, he’s not third-wheeling per se, but he’s one of the few people of his group of friends that can’t appreciate the colors of the various fish and lights and plants that fill the aquarium.  His friend, Lucas, was beyond excited to finally be able to see color after he met his soulmate last week, so he forced a bunch of people to come to the aquarium with him. To be perfectly honest, Jungwoo hadn’t completely thought it through when he agreed, but, now, standing in front of a large fish tank where he can barely tell the fish apart from each other, he’s more than a little antsy. Why couldn’t they have gone to a zoo where the animals are bigger and have more distinct patterns and shapes between them?

“Woo, I gotta call my girl so we can meet up, so I have to step out real quick. Be right back.” Jungwoo turns away from the tank when Lucas starts talking to him.

“‘kay. I’ll just be here.” From across the hall, Jungwoo can hear Mark eagerly explaining something to Haechan, one of the few others who also can’t see color yet, about one of the types of fish, but he can tell that the younger boy probably doesn’t care too much. He turns back to the exhibit in front of him.

He peers into the tank again, watching the many fish swim by. Then, through the glass, he sees someone on the other side. You’re not unattractive to look at at all and you seem to have a kind, friendly face, so he smiles and waves when you make eye contact and you give him a shy wave back, face warming from the attention of a stranger. He tears his eyes away and looks back into the tank, observing the many types of coral at the bottom. Out of the corner of his eye, he swears he sees the flash of a color that isn’t grey. Looking over, he spots a piece of coral glowing what he would later find out is a pinkish-orange under the fluorescent light. Confused, he looks closer and suddenly, the world is bursting into color around him.

The fish become distinguishable not just by shape and pattern, but by their color differences both large and subtle, with descriptions on the outside of the tank to match. The light inside the tank glows blue and he steps away from it, looking around at everything that had suddenly come to life. He doesn’t want to blink for the risk of it being some trick of the mind, but when he does, all of the color is still there, wrapping the world in a sort of warmth and cold and shallowness and depth that he had never imagined possible. In the past, he had tried to imagine what this would be like, but nothing in his wildest daydreams could have come close to what it really feels like.

Suddenly, he’s remembering the cause and whipping back around to face the tank. At the same time, he sees your blurry figure turn towards him through the glass and water, the same bewildered expression on your face that he’s sure is on his. When you make eye contact again, you’re both rushing to the side of the tank, shouldering past people and ignoring the calls of your various friends as you run to each other.

You emerge from around the side of the tank and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful. Both of you rush forward, barely stopping yourselves from barreling into the other. Without much thinking, you’re holding each other’s hands. Now, you’re paying more attention to the way his eyes look in this light than to the fact that the world just blossomed in front of you not even a minute ago.

“Hi,” he breathes, barely breathing because he’s afraid that the magic will somehow diminish or scatter. “I’m Jungwoo. Kim Jungwoo.”

“(L/N) (Y/N).” You can hardly say back, your body so numb with the buzzing emotions and colors and everything that you’re experiencing for the first time. His hands in yours hold a type of warmth that you’ve never felt before and every look, every touch sends your heart beating faster and your skin tingling in the most pleasant way. Even though you’ve never met him before now, you feel like you’ve known him for ages. Without a doubt in your mind, you know he’s your forever.

When he had hardly paid any attention to it before, he can really feel his heart beat in his chest now. He feels like he’s awake and dreaming all at the same time, looking at you, holding your hands in his. Your hands, the hands of a person so strange to him but closer to his heart than anyone else. Your hands, that he’s touching for the first time now but that he’ll be able to hold for the rest of his life. The strings of your hearts have finally met, connected, and each second you’re together, he’s certain that they’re intertwining further. Forever had been such a lost, foreign concept to him before, but now he knows what it feels like. This, you, are the first step to his forever.

Life is a palette of colors for the two of you to choose from, to paint onto your very own canvas. Each color is a piece to be added into the kaleidoscope, where you’ll see something new every time you shake it and look in. That day, when your hearts finish aligning and you can finally think clearly again, the two of you agree to discover the shades of the world together. You both think that the colors of the rainbow would be the best place to start.

So, when he thinks of red, he thinks of the first time he saw the autumn leaves with you.

It was a couple months into meeting you. You had met in the late summer, when everything was in full bloom, so it’s no surprise that neither of you had ever experienced the changing of the leaves before. The day before, you had been walking past the park when you saw the most brilliantly red tree and you knew you had to share it with him.

“I can’t believe you saw it without me first,” he whines, but lets you tug him along.

“Oh, hush. I can’t help what I see when I walk home from work. Besides, I’m showing you now, right?” He can’t deny that you’re right, but he also can’t help but wish that you had shared that first together anyways.

Yet, as the tree comes into sight and the two of you stop underneath it to stare up into the canopy, the sunlight shines between the fiery red leaves, dappling your face and cascading it in shades of warm colors. As he looks at you, the disappointment at you having seen the tree first without him fades into an internal warmth that makes him realize that this will be the memory of leaves and autumn and redness that will stand out to both of you, not that first glance. In his mind, he fills in the color red with this memory and the way you looked smiling up at the glowing fall leaves.

When he thinks of orange, he thinks of the sunset he saw coming out of the aquarium with you, and every other and sunset the two of you go out of your way to experience together.

There would have been no way for anyone to properly prepare either of you for the way that first sunset looked. The two of you stop, staring at the horizon. All things considered, it isn’t that remarkable of a sunset, but, to the two of you, it’s the most amazing sunset that there ever was. Your grip on his hand tightens more and more as you look on, but he doesn’t mind. The two of you stand there, on the steps leading out of the aquarium, staring at the sunset until all sunlight slips out of view. The first space he fills in is the color orange, where he thinks of the many shades of the sunset and the tightness of your hand in his.

When he thinks of yellow, he thinks of the field of sunflowers he took you to on your second date.

The date idea was Taeil’s - he was always one of the romantics of the group and was more than happy to give Jungwoo advice, especially once he told him about their idea of experiencing colors together. Haechan had overheard and laughed, but Jungwoo took you there the next day anyways. When the two of you arrive, the sight is beyond anything that he had ever expected, with the rolling fields of flowers continuing for what seemed like miles. He looks at you and you’re just as enamored, soaking in the sight of so much yellow and life around you. He fills in the color yellow with the sunflower petals that you had accidentally scattered in his backseat on the way home, too eager to bring too many of the large flowers home. Though it isn’t really a color, he also fills in yellow with the sunniness of your smile that day.

When he thinks of green, he thinks of the matcha drink that you get whenever you go to your favorite coffee shop.

Any time you’re having a rough day and need a pick-me-up, he stops by that cafe and gets one for you, along with a pastry. At first, you had resisted him buying you things, but when he wouldn’t relent, you eventually just let him. In exchange, whenever he wakes up a bit too late or spends a little too long on his hair in the morning, you bring him a cup of his favorite coffee, or, if he skips lunch, you bring him a sandwich from a deli down the street that he likes. After a couple of months, the barista at the coffee shop knows Jungwoo almost as well as he knows you and the owner of the deli has become familiar with your face and cheery noon disposition. Your favorite coffee shop quickly becomes his favorite as well and your respective coworkers who witness the alternating exchanges of beverages or food every few days coo at your relationship. He’s dubbed “The Boyfriend” and you’re “The Girlfriend.” He thinks that, though he might not have all of your orders memorized just yet, he’ll eventually know all of them. Because matcha is the first that he commits to memory, he fills in that shade of green with it.

When he thinks of blue, he thinks of the bright sky above and the chipping paint of the inside of the pool that you fell into in your first summer together.

After almost a year of knowing each other, you were more than comfortable joking around and revealing skin. So, at Johnny’s pool party, he should have known that you wouldn’t back down from his taunt to push him in. His reflexes are fast enough that he catches your wrist as he falls, pulling you into the water with him. Your cry of surprise and the sound of the outside world is cut off as you’re both submerged. Opening your eyes, you see a blurry image of his face surrounded by the blue of the paint on the bottom of the pool, his hair swirling around him. Your wrist is still in his hand, so, underwater, he pulls you closer to him to press a quick kiss to your lips. You nearly laugh out loud at him, some bubbles escaping your lips, and he releases your hand so the two of you can resurface. He closes his eyes, the sting of the chlorine becoming too much, and swims back to the surface, taking a breath as he emerges. Blinking the water out of his eyes, his vision eventually clears and he sees you staring up, taking in the bright blue, cloudless sky above. He finds himself staring up with you, water droplets cascading down your body in sync with his. In his head, he fills in blue with the paint on the bottom of the pool and the color of the sky reflected in your eyes.

When he thinks of indigo, he thinks of the forgotten color of the day bleeding into the night that he didn’t realize was there until you pointed it out to him one night.

By the time you’ve known each other for three months, he thinks that he has seen enough sunsets that he would be able to flawlessly describe every color in one. But, when you’re sitting on the roof of your apartment building together one night and you point up at the sky, you surprise him once again.

“Look,” you say, arm extended, “see that color there?”

“I think you have to be a little more specific than that,” he says back, trying to follow the line your hand is making.

“That indigo. It’s so cool that that’s the only thing separating night from day. It’s not quite blue but not quite violet. People always forget about it.” You lower your arm back to your side, cuddling closer to his side. “I think I really like that color.”

After that, he makes sure to find the indigo in every sunset, filling in the box with that in-between color, making sure not to forget it.

When he thinks of violet, he thinks of the pin in your hair, holding it back when he just wants to tuck it behind your ear for you.

Once he gets comfortable enough with you, he occasionally plucks the pin out of your hair so that he can play with it more easily, stroking it when you put your head in his lap. He lets you put the pins in his hair, making it stick up in funny ways in return. Sometimes, he hides your bobby pins just because he wants to see your hair falling loosely and naturally from your head. You know he does that. You don’t mind. Somewhere along the way, after seeing you wear it so much, he associates the color violet with you, coloring it in with the shade of your hair pin.

He can’t decide if his favorite color is the pinkish-orange coral he saw when he first met you or if it’s the rosy blush that covers your cheeks when he makes you laugh. Maybe it’s the hazy gold glow you get after sex, or the deepest color in your eyes that he has to really get close to see, or the bright red color of the little matching string bracelets both of you wear, or the dark green of the spider plant you picked out to put in your apartment and was the first thing you took care of together, or your favorite violet nail polish that you put on because it matches your pin and you like the way your fingers look intertwined with his, or the baby blue of the shirt you were wearing when you first told him you loved him. Every time he’s with you, his eyes open more and the strings of your hearts fully entangle, woven tighter with each color you experience together.

But, the more colors there are in the kaleidoscope, the easier it is to make you dizzy with a single twist. The colors start to blend together and what used to be so easy to pick out and associate with good feelings becomes overwhelming. The patterns that appear start to become so scary that you almost wish you hadn’t looked into the other end of the tube at all.

No matter how hard he wants to believe it, not all of life is beautiful and good. Nothing, not even something planned by the universe itself, lasts forever. The colors slowly start to twist and what was once sweet becomes bitter in his mouth.

Now, when he thinks of red, he thinks of the blood you coughed up in your second year together. You wished, he wished, everyone you knew wished that it would be any easy diagnosis, like you coughed too hard or something. It was just the beginning.

When he thinks of orange, he remembers the glossy paper hospital bracelet around your wrist. It’s almost constantly there - a beating, harsh orange that stands out against your skin at all times. He just has to look down at your wrist to remember where you spend so much of your time now.

When he thinks of green, he doesn’t think about the matcha drink that used to be your favorite, but you can’t stomach at all now. Instead, he thinks of the slight tinge to your skin when the nausea is about to overcome you and he has to stand over you in the bathroom, holding back your hair while poison rushes through your system and you vomit all sorts of colors that shouldn’t be coming out of someone who should be healthy.

When he thinks of the blue, he thinks of the glowing light in the corner of your hospital room, where he can’t fall asleep in the chair next to your bed and can only watch as your body falls apart. He spends as much of his time there as he can and though the room is mostly barren white, the blankness is almost relieving. The little blue light is one of the few spots of color and he can’t help but stare at it, trying to remember the feelings that came with the range of colors you experienced together. When the barista at the cafe had known him well before, now the nurses and doctors know him even better. The looks of happiness are replaced with those of pity.

When he thinks of indigo, he thinks of the ink that runs when your tears hit it, blurring the words of your diagnosis together. You don’t want to leave him. You don’t want to leave him alone in a world without color and without the other half of his heart. You don’t want to go. All he can do is hold you and wipe away your tears, even though all he wants to do is fall apart with you. You do enough crying for both of you, but that doesn’t stop him from shedding a few tears of his own later, sitting in that stark white hospital room, staring at the little blue light in the corner.

When he thinks of violet, he thinks of the pin that you used to wear, but can’t anymore because your hair has thinned out and you’re afraid that if you touch the strands too roughly, they’ll break. He thinks of the veins that stand out too harshly under your skin, which has lost so much of its color. He thinks of the place where the sunset blends into the night that is supposed to look indigo but is filtered through the window that changes the way the colors outside look, which you can barely see from your hospital bed anyways.

When he thinks about seeing the brilliant autumn leaves, he can’t imagine seeing them without you.

The orange of the sunset is no longer quite so orange and he knows that, soon, he won’t be able to tell the sunrise and sunset apart.

The field of bright yellow sunflowers isn’t so sunny, especially as winter begins to creep in. He wants to feel that warm, bright memory again, but he knows he can’t.

He barely goes home enough to see the dark green spider plant that you bought together, but somewhere at the back of his mind, he knows it’s wilting from lack of care. It’s the least important wilting thing he has to see now.

The baby blue sweater is tucked away in your closet somewhere, which he hasn’t touched since you went to the hospital because he knows you’ll be frustrated with him if anything is messed up when you get back, even though he knows you’re not coming back.

Watching the sunset was something that was meant for the two of you, so, when he had promised not to, he begins to forget what that shade between blue and violet, day and night, dark and light is. He doesn’t want to remember indigo if it’s not with you.

He puts your favorite purple violet nail polish out of sight in the bathroom so that he doesn’t have to look at it and be reminded every time he comes home to an empty house without you holding his hand, with you stuck at the hospital which he knows will be the last place he ever sees you.

Life is a kaleidoscope and after shaking it so hard, the colors have started to blend together and make both of you too dizzy to look anymore. He knows it’ll blend it black and white again, but he doesn’t care about that. You’re the stars in his eyes and the magic in the air and everything beautiful about the world.

And he’s going to lose you.

If he had to decide, he would say his favorite color is the pinkish-orange of the coral that he saw when he first met you, before you were shaken too hard and began to fall apart.

[zutaras-where-its-at]

21: “He’s a bad kisser”

I’ve been busy the last week with moving to a new place and trying to get everything set up, so I apologize for the lateness of these requests, but don’t worry, I’m still attempting to get through as many as possible!

Every prompt is ending up longer and longer than I had originally intended, but I’m not mad about it lol. This one is definitely my cheesy shipper heart talking, so it’s mostly fluff and dialogue, and wholly indulging my shameless wishful thinking.

[Set during “The Ember Island Players.” The conversation we all wish had happened.]

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXXxxxXXX

He doesn’t really know why he edged Aang out to sit next to her. He doesn’t really wanna think about it. Call him a coward, but the realization waiting for him at the end of that particular rabbit trail isn’t one he’s necessarily prepared to confront.

What he does know, however, is that he possesses incredible hearing, even with his scorched ear. And when the two actors on stage portraying Jet and Katara begin to incessantly flirt with one another, Zuko almost chokes on his spit when he hears Katara mutter under her breath beside him.

“He’s a bad kisser.”

Zuko shoots her a bewildered look and hisses, “What?”

She startles, apparently not realizing she had spoken aloud. “I—uh, what?”

Zuko whips his head back to stare at the actors, who are now grossly entwined with one another, and he can’t unsee the image of the real Jet and Katara locked in an embrace.

“You and—“

“Shut up!” She cuts him off with a harsh whisper, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. Her eyes flick to the others behind them, but they’re too busy watching the entrance of their own characters. “Just shut up.”

“But he was insane!”

She blinks, then leans closer, dark brows scrunching together. “Wait. How do you know Jet?”

Before he can answer, Toph punches Katara in the shoulder and tells them to quit gossiping.

Zuko crosses his arms and tries not to glare through the rest of the play. His foul mood only worsens as the night wears on. Intermission comes and goes. The cringeworthy moment between his actor and Katara’s passes with discomfort from both parties and light teasing from the others. The traumatic end goes up in literal flames, and finally, they’re free to leave.

The night air is cool and dry against his skin, and Zuko takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the convulsing fire within him. Sokka and Toph attempt to cheer up the group, and even succeed in bringing out a few laughs from the others, but the mood refuses to shift beyond that.

The moment they step foot in the beach house, everyone disperses to their respective rooms. No one seems up to any games or conversation anymore.

Zuko lays in bed, eyes staring blankly at the wood panels above him. His mind is still racing and his head feels like it might explode, so once the noise of people moving around in the house finally dies down, he throws on a shirt and makes his way to the kitchen. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to scrounge up some of his family’s old alcohol in one of the cupboards.

Zuko is in the midst of cursing at all the empty bottles of wine and whiskey he finds in the pantry when she walks in.

“What are you doing?”

He jerks up on reflex, smacking his head against the shelf he’s leaning over and curses again. Apparently, his incredible hearing only picks up on disturbing and uncomfortable information from his enemy-turned-friend, but is useless when that aforementioned friend actually sneaks up on him.

Zuko throws a look over his shoulder to see Katara standing in the doorway looking mildly amused.

“I’m trying to get drunk, but it looks like I’m shit out of luck.”

She snorts and walks to the wicker basket sitting on the counter. Her nimble fingers glide over the assortment of fruit before she picks up a ripe looking mango. Her other hand grabs the small knife beside the basket before she’s walking out the way she came.

“Well, I’m going to get some fresh air. Have fun.”

He stares after her for a moment, rubbing at the bump that’s beginning to form on the back of his head. Making up his mind, he finally ditches the disappointing liquor cabinet, grabs an ash banana, and follows her to the porch.

She’s already slicing the mango into halves when he joins her. She doesn’t look up when he sits down next to her, but she does tip her head up in acknowledgment.

He watches her shave off a piece of the mango and stick it in her mouth, watches the pale juice slip down her fingers and over her wrist. He blinks hard and focuses on peeling his banana. They eat their fruit like that, just sitting on the front steps in a mutually maintained silence.

Zuko would even go so far as to call it peaceful. That is, until she takes it upon herself to violate the quiet mood.

“Did you really dump Mai in a letter?”

It’s so far from what he expected her to say that a sharp laugh manages to escape him. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t exactly trying to dump her, but she took it that way anyways.”

“What were you trying to do?”

Zuko sighs and throws his banana peel into the shadowed bushes at the bottom of the steps with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t know. I—I guess I just didn’t want to drag her into my mess. Things were already complicated between us, even after I returned to the Fire Nation. In a way, I thought I was doing her a favor by leaving without saying goodbye. She doesn’t deserve to suffer from my choices.”

“Well, it sounds like she’s suffering anyways.”

He bristles at that, voice growing cold. “Don’t act like you know her or our relationship. Everything I did was—“

“Zuko, relax.” Her eyes are wide, caught off guard by his biting tone. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything. I just...I can imagine how she feels—knowing that you’re doing what you think is best, but she can’t help you. That’s probably a tough spot to be in.”

Slowly, Zuko let’s the tension seep out from his shoulders, resuming his previously relaxed state. “Yeah.”

An apologetic smile tilts her lips. “In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best time to sympathize with her side. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs and fiddles with the hem of his tunic. “You’re right though. Even when I try to do the right thing, I end up hurting someone.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her shift a little, her body turning just the slightest bit more towards him.

“Look, Zuko. If the right thing was always the easiest thing to do, then nobody would struggle to make the right choices.” She hesitates for just a second before continuing. “Do you regret leaving her and coming to join us?”

He feels his heart beating slow and steady against his rib cage, and before he can really process the question, his answer is slipping out with a confidence he hadn’t realized he possessed. “No, I don’t. If I had stayed, a part of me would have hated myself for ignoring my destiny, and I know that I eventually would have hated her for it too.”

She reaches over and briefly squeezes his arm before letting go again. The skin there tingles in the seconds after her hand withdraws. “Then you’re okay. You can’t control anyone else’s feelings, only your own. Mai is strong. She’ll be alright.”

Uncle would love you, Zuko thinks.

He doesn’t realize he’s said this out loud until she laughs and shakes her head.

Suddenly, he remembers a part of the play that had him puzzled.

“Were you really the Painted Lady?”

Her laughter abruptly cuts off and she sheepishly tugs on a lock of hair. “Only for a little bit. The part about healing the people and cleaning the river is true, but the playwright added about twelve more explosions than there actually were. Plus, I had Aang, Sokka, and Toph to help me out.”

“But did you actually destroy a Fire Nation factory?”

A defensive look shutters her face, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, but the factory was polluting their water! And the soldiers from the factory were—“

“Do you wanna be my partner sometime?”

“—taking all the medicine from—what?”

He tries valiantly not to laugh at her incredulous stare.

“Do you want to be my partner sometime?” He leans back on his hands, legs straightening out in front of him. “The playwright got a lot of things wrong. That time Aang got captured—Zhao was the one who caught him. I was the Blue Spirit that broke him out.”

She gapes at him, lips struggling to form words.

He grins. “I just think that the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady might make a good team.”

Her mouth opens and shuts a few times before she lets out a soft “huh” and squints her eyes at him.

“So...Between chasing after us and commanding a squad of soldiers, you somehow found the time to be a street vigilante?”

“Between running away from me and helping the Avatar save the world, you somehow found the time to make out with a teenage terrorist?”

It slips out before he can stop it, and a pang of guilt sweeps through him. He winces, afraid that he’s just ruined a perfectly civil conversation because of his irrational jealousy curiosity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I wasn’t—“

His rambling cuts off when she starts to laugh. It’s a little brittle and a lot loud, but it’s laughter all the same.

She stops, smiling ruefully up at the night sky. “Yeah, I guess it does sound pretty stupid when you put it that way.”

“It’s not stupid.”

She lets out a long sigh and flops onto her back, arms splayed haphazardly above her head. “No, it is. I mean, in my defense, he was one of the first boys my age that I’d pretty much ever met, and he did happen to be extremely charming. That was also back when life didn’t feel like it was always on the cusp of the end of the world. But all of that...I mean, the kissing and stuff...it’s all just a waste of time right now.”

Zuko doesn’t quite know what to say to that, an odd mix of sympathy and disappointment swirling his stomach.

“Surprisingly, he kisses better than Jet. But only by a little.”

“Who?”

“Aang.”

Zuko’s eyes almost bug out of their sockets for what feels like the millionth time tonight. He scrambles to twist around and look at her. “You’ve kissed Aang?”

She hardly moves, eyes trained on the stars stretching above them. “Well, he kissed me. Twice, actually.”

There’s a beat, and then Zuko is bending over his knees with his head in his hands, half-groaning, half-chuckling.

“Of course he did.”

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“No, no! I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

She covers her face with her hands and Zuko leans back on one elbow, stifling his chuckles.

“I’m not laughing at you. I just find the situation kind of ironic.”

One droll eye peeks out at him from between her fingers. “Ironic how?”

He blanches, realizing too late that this conversation has taken a rapid turn for a topic that he has shoved (guiltily, shamefully) deep into the recesses of his mind. Stuttering, Zuko gestures emptily with one hand.

“I just meant—well it’s—,” a half-grunt, half-squeak escapes his throat and Zuko would very much like to die right about now, “I’m just saying that—“

She isn’t covering her face anymore, so he can see the delicate lift of her left eyebrow in all its judgmental glory. He looks away.

“I just think your taste in men is interesting.”

He continues to avoid her eyes, but he can still feel her searching gaze on the side of his face.

“That’s not what you were going to say.”

“What? Yes it was.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Zuko, you’re a terrible liar. What were you really going to say? Why do you think it’s so ironic that Aang and I have kissed?”

The logical part of his brain warns him that telling her the truth would be a very large mistake, strictly cautions him that it would only complicate their hard-earned friendship. But the other part of his brain—the part that fully soaks in her un-ruffled, overly-composed appearance and longs to just smudge it with a streak of his own insecurity and embarrassment—that part quickly bashes the logical part in the face with a tsungi horn and leaves it to bleed out in a ditch.

“I find it so ironic, Katara, because a genocidal homeless kid and a twelve year old monk have managed to accomplish what I’ve been wanting to do for ages now.”

She blinks, and Zuko feels the sharp sting of a blush crawling up his neck, but the damage is already done and he refuses to be the first to look away.

A string of emotions shifts like shadows over her face—confusion surprise embarrassment. Realization.

Her lashes flutter, her lips part, and her eyelids lower to half-mast. Zuko has to clench his teeth to hold back a groan.

“You,” her breath skates across his face (when did they get so close?), “want to kiss me?”

He doesn’t trust his voice at the moment, giving her a jerky nod instead and then immediately wanting to sink into the floor.

But she hardly seems to notice his jittery body language. Rather, a slow grin curls at her mouth, and a cheeky glint makes her eyes sparkle up at him in a way that warns of danger. He doesn’t know why, but it turns him on a little.

“Well, clearly, you have quite the challenge waiting for you in the kissing department. How do I know you won’t be just as terrible of a kisser as Jet and Aang? Really, I don’t know if this is worth the risk for me.”

His nervousness begins to fade with her teasing, and he lets out a huff of laughter before doing what he does best. He rises to her bait.

“I might just be the best goddamn kisser in the whole Fire Nation, and you would never have the privilege of experiencing that unless you kiss me.”

Katara guffaws and levels him with an appraising look, her face tilting just the slightest bit up.

“Oh, so now it’s me who’s kissing you?”

He gives her a sage look, hair falling across his brow and tangling with his dark lashes. “That’s right. You better seize this rare opportunity before it slips right through your fingers. I have plenty of other suitors waiting for me, you know.”

Her snort nearly pulls a chuckle out of him, but he manages to maintain some semblance of a straight face.

“Plenty of other suitors, huh?”

“Plenty. Appa is the next on my list.”

One of his long fingers lightly coils around one of her dark, thin ones. With their faces mere inches apart, Zuko can see the mirth bubbling in the blue of her eyes mixing with something even brighter, something he can’t put into words but he can feel in his bones.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be shown up by Appa, now would I?”

When she finally presses her lips to his, Zuko swears that a Katara-shaped hole has just been carved into the puzzle that is his fate.

[thran-duils]

I’m Sorry I Couldn’t Save You

Title: I’m Sorry I Couldn’t Save You (Rise for Your King, Part 22) Pairing: Reader/AU King!Castiel Summary:  The reader was betrothed to the prince but when a neighboring king decides to dole out justice to your future father in low, he destroys the royal family, leaving you with the two youngest princesses. The mage king takes an immediate liking to you, letting you live. What will you do with this opportunity? Words: 3,958 Warnings: Angst

Part 21 || Part 23 || Masterpost  || Fanfic masterpost

Hannah had ordered the guards following close behind Castiel to fall back slightly so they could speak in private.

Castiel slid his eyes to her when her horse fell into stride with his. “I suppose this isn’t casual chat, Hannah.”

He was still on edge from the fight, Hannah could see the weariness etched in his features. He needed to recover and the quickest way to do that was to use Y/N. But he had refused. Hannah suspected he did not want to look weak in front of his men and had decided to refresh himself when he was not in sight.

“You’ve tapped deep into her,” Hannah replied.

Just what he expected; of course it had not gone unnoticed by those experienced in catching such things. The other guards had not seemed aware to what had happened to Y/N but Castiel had not suspected that those closest to him and who were knowledgeable of the bond he had formed would have missed it.

“I stopped myself from controlling her like I was,” Castiel retorted.

“It seemed to take a lot of strength.”

“Of course it did, Hannah,” Castiel told her, sighing. “Feeling her power radiating near me is like sinking into warm water when I am using black magic. It’s easy to slip into because it requires so much of me to conjure. It happened without me noticing, I will admit that, but I recognized it as soon as I was done fighting off the oncoming slight that was hell bent on destroying all of us.”

Hannah was silent and Castiel tossed her a glance as the horses began a descend the hill towards the council’s underground castle. Mowg would not attack there; it would be futile for him to take on the fortress with as many magic summoners would be present.

“Furthermore, she wasn’t harmed and no one else was.”

Hannah spoke again, “Yes, that is fortunate.”

Castiel had to smirk at her façade of calm and upmost respect for her king. He knew there was something brewing underneath and unlike Balthazar, she usually kept her opinions to herself unless she felt it was pertinent to the conversation.

“Are you going to speak to Balthazar?”

Usually. Usually kept her opinions to herself.

“Sir Balthazar is welcome to speak to me if he wishes. He is not barred from it.”

“That’s not how he feels.”

“I can’t control how he feels.”

“But you can influence him.”

They were reaching the gate and Castiel would not have this conversation heard.

Castiel cut back, “Hannah, there are more important things at hand than Balthazar’s feelings towards me.” His patience was wearing thin with the subject.

Hannah stood her ground and told him, “I understand that, but they should still be important to you. He is your lieutenant. You two are essential to each other.”

Shooting her a look, Castiel made her shut her mouth. “I appreciate your concern for our ranks. But Balthazar knows where he stands with me and he will be loyal. He knows I appreciate his efforts and work ethic. There were harsh words exchanged but that was from my end. And I know he knows that if you disagree with your superior, you’re likely to be shut down. His feelings will heal.”

With that, Castiel snapped the reins and went ahead of her to greet the guards waiting at the iron gate.

<> <> <>

The guards swung the doors open for Castiel and he strode into the hall, his head held high. You followed behind him, trying to look as confident as you could. Despite the pep talk from Kalin, you found yourself surrounded by people much stronger than you, both in live force and metaphysically.

Eyes were on Castiel immediately and you felt relief flood through the room at his entrance. You had expected that he would be well received and that his abilities were held in high regard. Your own eyes moved around the room, taking in the woodland décor. It was as if the forest above had grown down and had been woven together to create this masterpiece of a fortress beneath the ground.

The people inside were just as entrancing as the room itself. Many looked the same age or younger than Castiel, but you could tell by their eyes that they were centuries old. The way their eyes traveled from Castiel to you and the switch in their features; more curiosity and amusement than anything. You must seem infantile to them.

Just as quickly as you had insulted yourself inwardly, you reminded yourself they were magical as well and if you were as powerful as Castiel had told you that you were, you could be radiating to them. This only made you feel naked, as if you were a glowing beacon. You wondered if that is how you appeared.

Greetings were exchanged and short updates on what had happened in their own areas of the land concerning Mowg.

During this exchange, you noticed one of the youngest mages was watching you with interest. You had made eye contact a couple of times and had looked away, unsure of his intent.

“Castiel, I apologize I could not attend your wedding,” the mage cut into the conversation and Castiel slid his eyes to the man. The man smiled, “I’m sure it was quite lovely.”

Somehow you felt annoyance flush through Castiel. Your eyes landed on him, but he looked poised. You wondered if it had been you that had felt annoyed, but something told you it had originated within your king. What was happening?

Castiel remained poised as always outwardly, and without missing a beat, said, “Quite. It is unfortunate you could not attend Bleu. But, Queen Y/N and I had a wonderful time. I would introduce you all properly with a meal but perhaps after the meeting? More face to face rather than rushed when have such pressing matters to attend to.”

“Of course, Castiel,” a woman said. Her eyes were a liquid gold and your eyes widened slightly at what you were sure was a split tongue that had slipped out at the end. She caught your eyes and winked at you in amusement.

This was truly an unusual crowd, but you felt at home. As if you belonged here.

During the rest of the discussion, you sat at Castiel’s side, trying to keep up. There were so many parts of the land you had not traveled to or had no knowledge of. And trying to keep it straight which mage resided in what location was even more difficult considering you didn’t even know their names yet.

Castiel was at the head of the table, leaning on it, his palms spread, listening to the conversation. He spoke after being quiet between banter back and forth across the table. “We thought we had destroyed him, but we didn’t. It should be dealt with and it will be dealt with. And now. Kalin will send me in.”

The table went quiet, heads turning towards him. Except one.

“She’s still with you,” Bleu stated, sounded impressed. “It is charitable of you to keep her under her wing when her own were not able to.”

Castiel shot him a look and Bleu, smirking to himself, closed his mouth.

“Yes. She’s still with me. She is willing to take me, Y/N, and another away from this place and send me towards Mowg. It is, I believe, the advantage we could have over him.”

“Do you believe this wise, Lord Castiel?” a portly man asked Castiel, looking unsure.

“Yes. It’s the best chance to see where Mowg is stationing his men and how big the threat is.”

Everyone seemed to be satisfied with that answer and you felt a surge of pride at the fact that Castiel had so much sway within the council.

You watched him for the rest of the meeting, feeling the emotions emitting from him. He was magnificent, his eyes roaming the group, his power rolling off him influencing the mood of the council.

His eyes met yours for a brief second and you felt locked in. His gaze seemed to pierce you and you felt a shaking in your essence. Everything was him and he was everything, placing a deep clutch on you. When he tore his eyes away from you a moment later – after an eternity – to resume his discourse with his council, you felt empty.

<> <> <>

“Are you up to this?” Kalin whispered to Castiel as the two of them broke off from the rest of the group.

You, Kalin, Castiel, Hannah, Balthazar – to your surprise since he and Castiel had been at odds since the river – and a few guards had left the council fortress to move deeper into the woods, towards ground rich of earth and full of water. A stream ran by not far away and you knew Kalin could draw power out of the dirt and stream to protect Castiel on top of his own protections. Castiel was playing it smart and he knew his cards and how to utilize them.

Ahead of you, you couldn’t hear their conversation.

Castiel looked at her and assured her, “Kalin, I know what I’m doing. I know I said this to you before and it may seem like déjà vu, but I have learned from my mistakes. Start executing the spell the moment I step into the clear circle.”

If she was unconvinced, Kalin didn’t show it regardless of how Castiel interpreted her questioning. The group was coming up to the spot and Castiel was not going to get into a philosophical debate with her before having to focus intently on fighting a malicious entity.

Both horses came to a stop, as if they know this was where they were going to rest. Good enough for him. Swinging his leg over, Castiel dismounted from his horse before loosely tying it to a tree nearby.

It was a magnificent spot; there was a clearing, a circle of rock, as if perched waiting for Castiel to project himself.

Something was warning you though, twisting deep inside as you were helped down from your horse by Balthazar. Your dress pooled back towards the ground as he placed you and you watched Castiel intently as he moved towards the rocky ground.

Kalin was stalking behind him like a cat and somehow you felt something moving out of her into Castiel. He was still moving forward, confident and strong as ever as she began quickly assembling her herbs, drawing a line in between him and the rest of the company. The ground beneath you seemed to be vibrating though. If anyone else noticed, they weren’t showing it, which threw you for a loop.

You moved in closer and stepped in line with Kalin, who you saw flinch at your presence but kept stride with whatever she was chanting silently. You knew when to keep your mouth shut.

As soon as Castiel’s foot crossed into the clear rock, you felt something blocking you from him. Inside your head, you didn’t feel him as strongly as you had the past few days. Your hand rested on the wall, desperate for his presence to flood back in.

Castiel’s hands were illuminated, his back to the company. Kalin had begun chanting in different language before falling silent, her eyes closed, her hands held over her herbs.

It was silent in the forest, no animals or life at all making noise. It was eerie, standing there in silence watching Castiel remain stiff as a board, his head dropped slightly. You had had it explained to you he would be projecting himself, but you wondered if his body was empty. A hollowing thought came to you. What if it wasn’t him that came back into his vessel?

The minutes dragged on, your eyes trained on his back.

A soft, fleeting pull towards him. And another. It didn’t feel right though.

Suddenly, something stuck between the you and him, throwing you backwards. A cry escaped your lips as you landed on the hard ground behind you and your ears rang with the sound of the eruption. When the dust had cleared, you saw the earth between the two of you on the path was cracked.

“Castiel?” you cried out, meaning to go towards him. He was still standing straight but he was moving slightly, as if he was struggling in a deep sleep.

Kalin reached out, still as shaken up as you, grabbed your hand. “My lady, don’t!”

Gaping like a fish at her, you sputtered before you looked back at Castiel frantically. He was on his feet still, his head dropped, in the middle of the enchantment ring.

“Why… why…” you finally got out, but just barely.

“I don’t know for sure, your grace, but his presence into the realm must have shaken the atmosphere too much. It was foolish to think he could enter around Mowg and not have him notice. No matter how good of a mage our king is, Mowg could unfortunately take him to task,” Kalin answered.

<> <> <>

“Really, Castiel? You come alone, only aided by a single inflamer? Your ego must have gotten to your head. Especially since I heard the inflamer is your queen. Smart, keeping her close, though. No one would be the wiser, unless they were not mortal or magic endowed.”

Castiel had entered the fortress seamlessly, his presence going unnoticed. His concealment was even more air tight than Kalin’s had been. He’d scoured the area, looking at the entrances, exits, weaknesses. But upon seeing the body of Anna, hung carelessly and grotesquely as a triumph for Mowg and his minions to gloat over, Castiel’s rage had gotten the better of him and he had dropped part of his concealment on purpose. His magic had immediately alerted Mowg and it’s exactly what he wanted: to see him face to face.

Mowg circled Castiel slowly. “What are you without an inflamer around? I can’t feel her strongly which means you have blocked her off in your mind. Again, smart on one hand but more foolish than anything.”

Still standing his ground, Castiel watched Mowg with a careful eye, his anger thrumming underneath his skin.

“Oh, I can feel the anger coursing through you,” Mowg uttered, coming to a stop again in front of Castiel. A small smirk tugged at his lips and he asked, “Do tell me what’s got you so twisted up, my lord.”

“You know exactly what.”

“Oh, right. Your little kingdom. That was just for resources. Don’t mind me.”

“If you think I’m going to allow you to pillage and rape my lands – or anyone’s lands for that matter – without consequence, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Is this consequence going to be ‘killing’ me again, Castiel?”

Castiel’s snarled, “Utterly demolishing you this time, Mowg. Your essence torn at the seams and tossed to the winds.”

Mowg raised his eyebrows in mock shock. “Hmm, sounds scary. But how are you going to do that with all the power behind me?”

“This is just a preliminary meeting to warn you of what’s to come.”

“I’m glad you think me worthy of giving a warning too. From what I’ve experienced in the past, you used to just tear into people without a care. I still mourn for that Castiel. The Castiel who taught me everything I know and showed me the way to true power. I wish you had stayed on the side you had originally fought on.”

“I was never on that side,” Castiel spat.

Mowg simpered and responded, “You can tell yourself – and your pretty queen and all those mages who follow you blindly out of respect for your power and leadership,” he practically sneered the word. “Whatever you want. You had a taste for the darkness and you delved in, sharing the knowledge of it with me. How many people suffered underneath the wrath of you powered by that? The mages then, unlike the ones now, feared you. Too bad they were unable to pass down the stories of you throwing shadow over the land. Died too soon before new generations of mages were brought into being. You were drunk on that kind of power though for a while… until you found her.” Castiel stiffened at the mention of his previous wife. “Unlike you though, I didn’t lie to myself and embraced it. You’ve always had it swimming underneath your skin ever since. Because when I came for her, you were all too quick to dive back in.

“Because I can control it. Unlike you, Mowg.”

“Prove it.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

Raising his hand, Mowg cocked his head to the side and grinned, “You’re really not going to defend yourself, Castiel?” He frowned mockingly, “I’m sure your queen would be devastated to lose you because you were too cowardly to even have a spat with me.”

“You’re wasting time, Mowg. You should be preparing for the war that’s coming. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Mowg felt Castiel begin to let go of the plane and instantly he shot out a spell, it wrapping itself around Castiel’s essence’s arm. Castiel grunted, more in annoyance than anything. It was a simple spell, one that could be easily broken. But the fact that Mowg had even conjured it to hinder Castiel even for a moment was a slight.

“Maybe this spell will help you remember how you were. Oh, I can’t wait to face you head on again, Castiel. Perhaps I won’t wait this time and I’ll just take her from you in front of you and tear her to shreds bit by bit. Just like I did Ryia.” Just as Castiel broke the spell, Mowg conjured another one, stronger this time. Immediately it began weaving its way up Castiel’s arm at a rapid pace and he felt it go straight to his heart. “Ah… I can see her.”

Castiel grunted, pushing back against the spell.

“With a little bit of work,” Mowg grunted, twisted his hand and Castiel snarled feeling Mowg’s dark claws thrumming against the bond. “I could break that bond and call her.”

Another thrum against the bond and Castiel had had enough. Engulfed in rage that Mowg had the audacity to threaten another close to him, Castiel released a burst of power, effectively breaking Mowg’s hold on him. It had been relatively easy to break it, which confused Castiel as to how easily it had seeped into him, but he didn’t have time to think.

Castiel tapped in, no remorse, beginning to drain one of the inflamers. He didn’t know who it was, he couldn’t see their face; all he felt was their power seeping into him, powering him up against Mowg.

Mowg snarled, realizing what Castiel was doing. Taking from something that was supposed to be his and his alone. He shot out another spell, it catching Castiel again on the arm, trying to disable one of his weapons. His spell tightened around the vapor that was Castiel, but Castiel could feel it just the same in his physical body.

“I’ll rip her from you. You’ll feel the sever the moment I tear into her. I won’t make it pretty, Castiel!”

It was all too easy for Castiel to fall into the pitch black and conjure a wicked blast towards Mowg, distracting him and making him lose grip on his concentration, the spell letting Castiel go.

Castiel took the opportunity and let go of the plane completely, breaking the seals in rapid succession.

In his physical form again, he stumbled as his essence slammed back into his vessel. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down his heart. He only had a moment’s peace before he realized he still felt something with him.

Looking down at his arm, he saw a black stripe wrapped around his arm. Snapping his head back up he followed the line, it held taut onto something invisible. It just disappeared into thin air but he knew it wasn’t just thin air.

The line quickly left Castiel’s arm and he knew part of Mowg’s spell had come back with him. It morphed forms, becoming a net and enveloped Castiel inside before Castiel had time to react.

Your mouth fell open watching this and you pushed yourself up off the ground. You let out a choked cry at seeing him struggle against this power. You barely registered Balthazar rushing past you as you stumbled to go towards Castiel. It wasn’t until you saw Balthazar raising his own hand and sending off a spark of magic that you became aware to his presence.

He never used his magic in front of you and you stopped, watching anxiously as he advanced, continuing to try to assist Castiel in destroying whatever dark entity had followed Castiel back through to this plane.

Between Castiel’s gold and Balthazar’s white, the blackness seemed to be shrinking. Your heart sank when you realized it was merely sinking into Castiel’s skin rather than fading away in defeat. Castiel’s face was red, his teeth gritted as it threatened to infiltrate him.

Balthazar’s hand fell on a dark part of the web and seemed to yank it away from Castiel ever so slightly.

“Don’t!” you heard Castiel order, struggling.

Balthazar ignored him and gave a hard yank. The webbing was ripped from Castiel and Castiel shouted in pain as the web turned around and slammed into Balthazar. Balthazar’s lack of magic was apparent as he was unable to fight against it as Castiel had and it disappeared into his chest almost instantaneously. He collapsed at Castiel’s feet, jerking.

“NO!” Castiel bellowed, falling to Balthazar’s side as he spasmed out, his hand clutching his chest where the darkness had seeped in. Castiel’s hands wrapped around Balthazar, pulling him close, his magic pouring into Balthazar to try to save him.

You jerked forward, magnetized towards this. You knew Castiel was summoning you, capitalizing on your power as he tried to save his soldier. Not his soldier. Your friend. His friend.

Balthazar was slipping under. His hand grasped Castiel’s tight, jerking every couple of seconds, and Castiel forced himself to look at Balthazar who was staring up at him, his eyes wide. A line of blood was leaving his mouth, but he forced out, “Following you… was the greatest honor… I could… I could have had.” He sputtered, the line becoming black seeping from the corner of his mouth. Castiel clutched his soldier close as Balthazar struggled, “I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve done more than was ever expected of you, my friend,” Castiel got out, trying to give Balthazar peace before he slipped away.

You felt Castiel’s hold on you leaving gradually and you knew it was because he knew it was futile to continue trying to save Balthazar.

No one was holding you back this time as you moved towards Castiel and sunk to your knees next to him gingerly, your eyes on Balthazar. His eyes were open, but he was no longer breathing. Castiel was not crying, he wasn’t showing any emotion at all as he stared down at his lieutenant.

Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, you said nothing. Just letting him know you were there.

Swallowing sharply, Castiel let go of Balthazar with one hand and moved it up to close his eyes.

The forest life was sounding again, you noticed. As soon as Castiel had stepped back into the plane, the bubble that the lot of you had been under had disappeared and the real world was around you again.

You could feel though that Castiel wished above anything in this moment that this was not reality.

~~~

CASTIEL TAGS: @prince-halfblood, @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @intheir-dreams @marisayouass @afanofmanystuffs @greenappleeyes @holyheadharpies-quidditch-blog @misscherryberry @too-lazy-for-this-world @dragonchantant @morbid-apricots @moon-and-stars-cas @castiels-broken-fool @jinxkatkazama @findingfitnessforme @waywardmoeyy @cas-honeybee @musicalraven07 @willowtighe @kristendansmith @cnopps3 @xxslytherinprincessxx @thebookisbtr @wayward-hell @heart-of-the-dragon @perseusandmedusa  @mottergirl99 @aditimukul @heart-of-the-dragon

TAGS NO LONGER WORKING: @demonicguardianangel @stori-teller @tstieff  @xxmizzlexx

[ah17hh]

My (38m) wife (38f) met someone else and now wants an open relationship. I need some help via /r/polyamory

My (38m) wife (38f) met someone else and now wants an open relationship. I need some help

So in order to get to the non-monogamy part I need to tell some backstory first. My wife and I have been together since college and have been married for over a decade. She has always struggled with mental health, having a severe anxiety problem and a not quite as severe problem with depression. Until very recently she was not properly medicated for these issues, being severely under-medicated. She also suffered from severe back pain for many years until recently when she had very serious surgery to help the issue. She was on opiates, muscle relaxers, and sleeping pills for the better part of a decade. She finally decided enough was enough and enough and quit the opiates all on her own and realized she'd been on them so long they weren't really doing anything to alleviate her back pain, but they were helping her mental issues. Once she quit them (around last Thanksgiving), her mental health started a steady decline that she tried to get through by self-medicating with her muscle relaxers and sleeping pills. She basically slept the day away and I would consider it a success if I could get her out of bed for 45 minutes to an hour a day. The problem is we have 2 young children (7 and 5) and I work from home. Once schools closed down due to Covid in March everything kind of hit the fan. I was trying to work and take care of 2 children while she was suffering and laying in bed all day long. I was at a total loss, I knew I couldn't just tell her to suck it up and get through it, mental health doesn't work like that, and I knew she wanted to be laying in bed all day least of all (I promise this relates to the non-monogamy I'm getting there lol). However, I was suffering greatly trying to watch our children, make sure I did my work so I wouldn't lose my job, and also try to give her as much attention as I could to make sure she didn't slip further away. Eventually, after buying more muscle relaxers online and using up all her sleeping pills she turned to alcohol and for a period of about 3 weeks she drank herself to sleep every night. The end result of this was her catching some kind of bug along with a UTI and vomitting non-stop for 3 days landing her in the hospital. While she was there she actually "escaped", found a liquor store, drank a bottle of vodka and then smashed it and slit her wrists to try and end her life (she sliced vertically, not horizontally, so I know she was serious). Luckily she was found before she died and ended up spending a week in a psych hospital where she finally was put on medications that helped her mental health. I was so happy that she seemed clear headed and not ruled by her anxiety for the first time in many years. She then went to a 30 day rehab facility in another state. While at the rehab facility she developed feelings for another man there the same age as her. She got home and didn't really mention it much at first, but eventually after she was talking to him more and more and realizing exactly what her feelings for this guy were she admitted to me that she wasn't sure she could be happy in a monogamous relationship anymore. I obviously felt completely blindsided. In my head, I had expectations of her coming home, finally being healthy, and us working on and improving our marriage which had honestly taken a total backseat since we had kids along with her mental and physical health problems.

Now, I should say that I am far from a perfect husband. I love my wife more than life itself but I have a tough time showing it in ways that make her happy. For example, while she was down in rehab she was only allowed to have her phone 3 days a week for a couple hours a day. You would think that I, missing her as much as I did and just wanting her to feel happy and safe and reassured after what she went through, might send her a text each day even if she didn't have her phone so when did get it she would see a couple nice messages waiting for her. I never did that, I just waited until I knew she would have her phone and if she didn't call me within 10 minutes or so I'd give her a call. There are many examples of crap like that throughout our marriage. She would often have smaller outpatient surgical procedures on her back, and that would involve me dropping her off at a surgery center then picking her up a few hours later, bringing her home, getting her set up in our bed with everything she needs, and then me going downstairs to do my work. I knew how much pain she was in and how uncomfortable she was up there, but usually I'd somehow just basically ignore her up there instead of going up and asking how she is doing, spending a few minutes with her, etc. It made her feel unloved and forgotten, and worse than that I think it made her feel like a burden that I just wanted to put down and forget about, even though that couldn't be farther from the truth. I don't know why my brain seems to be wired in such a way that even though in the past I've been told hey when you do this it bothers me, please don't do that, I still can't bring myself to correct it when the situation comes up again.

So, now back to the new guy, obviously in the beginning of any "relationship" stuff goes really well, you are learning about the person, having easy conversations, the dopamine is flowing etc, etc. She is getting all the attention that I did not give her from this new guy. I asked her to go to marriage counseling many times, and some times she says she can't do it, she doesn't have the energy or the bandwidth to concentrate on our relationship when she needs to concentrate on our children and herself, and other times she says ok. I finally found a therapist and will be receiving a call on Monday with an appt time, and I believe she's willing to do it, so we will see.

I just don't know what to do. I love her with all my heart, and I of course love my children even more, so I don't want to just break up, but at the same time I can't help but feel like she doesn't actually want an open relationship, she just wants to be able to be with this guy without guilt and without "cheating." I should also say since i work from home I really have no way or meeting any women to actually complete my end of the open relationship. I suppose I could get on tinder or whatever but I doubt many women would be interested in a married guy in his late 30s with 2 kids, even if I do convince them that I'm actually in an open marriage and not just some jerk lying in order to get laid. And all of that is assuming I actually want to go out on dates with other women, which I'm not sure I do. I never gave it any thought before, I always just assumed my wife and I would be together for the rest of our lives, and honestly cheating on her has never even crossed my mind, I've always been the type of guy who if the opportunity presented itself perfectly, in that a beautiful woman was propositioning me and there was 0% chance my wife would find out, I still wouldn't do it, I'm just not wired that way.

I logically and intellectually know that sex is just sex, but I don't know how well I'd handle her being intimate with another man, especially when it came time for she and I to have sex together after she was with the other guy, I'm just not sure mentally I'd be able to do it. I guess it sounds like the answer is obvious, that I'm not cut out for non-monogamy, but at the same time I want my wife to be happy so badly. It's hard to explain and I probably sound like a sucker, but she's had such a rough road for the last decade with her physical and mental health that I truly believe she deserves to be happy. I know it's impossible for both of us to end up completely happy here, but if the options are us getting a divorce and me only getting to see my kids half of the time (which will absolutely crush me) or us staying together and opening up our marriage even though I might not ever come to terms with it, well right now I think I'd choose the non-monogamy.

I'm sorry for this huge wall of text, and for anyone who has read the whole thing I really appreciate it and would appreciate even more anyone's advice or stories. Has anyone ever dealt with something similar, where you were not at all sure about opening things up but did it anyway? I'd love to hear the results. Thank you again.

Submitted August 21, 2020 at 02:24AM by ConfusedHusbandHere via reddit https://ift.tt/3aIwEA4

[he-licked-his-lips]

Myself - A Hellish Three Years

When you grab a hold of me Tell me that I'll never be set free But I'm a parasite, Creep and crawl I step into the night.

Sublime "Badfish"

I wasn't okay after R, and I'm still not. For the most part, though, no one preyed upon me. That didn't start up again until I was 17. I spent the latter half of my teen years fucking up and trying to bury past trauma with drugs and self-harm. It wasn't just what R did to me, both of my parents being uninvolved addicts fucked me up a lot more than I'd like to admit too.

I started smoking weed when I was 13, because R smoked weed, and I thought it was cool. I was one of those middle schoolers who wore "legalise weed" bracelets. Drugs were cool and fun, and they helped me forget. Plus, it was just weed, right? What's the harm in that?

I didn't smoke weed because I liked the creative high it gave me. I smoked weed because it made me not sober, and I would do anything to not be sober. Being alone with my own thoughts terrified me. I used weed as an escape. I wouldn't just smoke it and chill out, I'd smoke it till I was dumb high.

Self-harm was another futile attempt at escaping. When I was bleeding, I wasn't thinking of anything else. It was calming. I just watched the blood pool and drip from my wounds. I remember rubbing my fresh cuts underneath my jeans when I started getting anxious in class. It was really comforting, knowing that I had at least some sort of control over something in my life. Knowing that I had some sort of control over being hurt. I fell in love with self-harm, and it was an addiction just like any other.

Bulimia was another great coping mechanism I developed in high school. It gave me control. I felt like I could control what was going in my body and what was coming out, so I spent four years throwing up my food after every meal. It got to the point where I would just eat in the bathroom, away from everyone else, so I could throw it up right after. I remember chewing my food, but being careful never to swallow. One of my ex boyfriends used to start knocking on the bathroom door if I was in there for too long, because he knew what I was doing. It fucked my teeth up really badly. All of my front teeth are fake as a result, and the dental bill was probably around 10,000 dollars. They told me that I would probably need dentures by 21, because my teeth had literally no enamel left. I still haven't got them. The dental assistants were all so sweet when they found out I had been bulimic since I was 13, they cried for me. It was so kind for someone to finally realise I needed help and I wasn't okay. My mother just rolled her eyes and told me I was stupid. I never smiled in high school with my teeth until I got them fixed. To this day, when I laugh or smile, I cover my teeth. They look pretty okay, but I never really moved past it. My esophagus is permanently fucked as well, or more preciously, my epiglottis. It doesn't stay shut so after every meal or liquid I consume I have the pleasure of regurgitating it back up again in the form of very painful stomach acid. I didn't lose any weight. But making a ritual of going into the bathroom after eating and sticking my fingers down my throat, hugging the toilet bowl, must have eased some emotional pain somehow. Maybe not. Maybe it just made it worse. Sometimes I still miss it, but these teeth are way too expensive to fuck up.

When my mother found out I was cutting myself, she just told me that I should “make sure to use a clean razor”. Incredible parenting. How could someone like me, the recipient of such wonderful parental advice, ever be fucked up? She was way to consumed with her alcohol and the Bible to pay attention to me.

Eventually, weed stopped numbing the pain. I turned to anything I could find. Norco was the first hard drug I started doing, at age 14, which was okay for a while. I would do a cold-water extraction to get the acetaminophen out. I was totally in love with this drug for a while.  I was also starting to realise I was slipping into addiction pretty quick. When you listen to addicts, specifically opiate addicts, talk about their addiction it always starts off with something like Norco. When I say I was in love with this drug, I mean it. I even wrote a fucking shitty poem about it.

It was yellow like the sun And dandelions by the pond In the middle of the new hope of spring

It swallowed me whole I let it steal all of my control Until I had become positively nothing

The blood trickles down Across lips frozen in a frown Broadcasting the sad signs of suffering

Anything just to get to sleep Just be mindful not to cut too deep Or the side effects will start to become troubling

Making sure that nobody suspects Your friends don't know what to expect Barely able to just keep on living and functioning

I need help, I know I can't keep this up I feel my will being drained, I'm out of luck Trying to survive, nothing but constant struggling

I have keep going, I have to at least try If I don't fix this soon, I may just possibly die My life is slipping away, my condition is worsening

I have to live to see another new day I can't just let the beautiful gift of life slip away I will persevere, I will succeed, no matter how challenging  

Incredible, right? And see, I actually wanted to get better at this point. Then I started doing oxy at age 15. Next thing I knew, I was a 16 year old heroin addict. What type of heroin did I like the best? Why, the worse kind, black tar heroin of course! Injected straight into my veins for a healthy dose of wound botulism. But fuck it, right? Kurt Cobain did heroin, and he was a pretty cool guy. Sure, he died young but at least he didn't die of an overdose. I'm pretty sure Courtney killed him, but nonetheless he totally didn't die as a result of the drugs, right? 16 year old me thought that this was a safe enough reason to pick up heroin. Plus, just look at "his" suicide note, where he mentions a quote from Neil Young. It's better to burn out than fade away. 16 year old me thought that THIS was the quote to live by. I'd worshiped Kurt Cobain since age 12, so dying as "glamorously" as he did was the dream. If 16 year old me was this stupid as to use a dead heroin addict’s suicide letter for life guidance, then 17 year old me was definitely not many pegs up on the intelligence ladder.

This is where I kind of lost all functionality. I turned 17 in December of 2013, and my family actually kind of started noticing I was pretty badly fucked up, and kind of started guessing that it might be a result of terrible parenting. Plus, I had started drinking, just like mommy and daddy! Oh the best thing of all? I was pregnant. I was a 17 year old, pregnant, drunk heroin addict. I miscarried at five months, which I was devastated about at first. I'm pretty glad about it now though, and I don't really care if that makes me a cold hearted bitch. I wouldn't trust 17 year old me with building a lego set, let alone caring for an actual child. My parents chucked me into a 60 day rehab at 17 in May of 2014, and for a while I was okay. By a while, I mean until July. I was sober off of heroin for a year after coming out of rehab, but I went straight back to drinking after I was out.

Then I met V. And a few months later, J. But we'll talk about V first, because I still don't really have closure and since sobering myself up for realsies (meaning no drugs, alcohol or self-harm) this time I'm faced to confront all the things that are wrong with a 30 year old man trying to sex up a 17 year old junior in high school.