#how can i stop the loneliness that never seems to go away before i become a ghost haunting my own life

[maj0rmayhem]

Really feeling that post abt how yearning and loneliness is great until you're curled up on your bed whimpering at the ache in your chest like a wounded dog. are we cooked chat.

[envysparkler]

Dick had fucked up.  Dick had fucked up big time.

“Robin?” Dick tried, creeping through the gloom of the abandoned warehouse.  Machinery loomed out of the darkness like dusty jumpscares and there was a chilling, crawling feeling up the back of his neck. ��“Robin, are you there?”

No sound.  Not even a whisper.  Demons were always very good at blending into the shadows.

“Robin, come back,” Dick called out into the darkness.

The crippling sensation of abandonment was his only answer.

Really, this whole thing was Bruce’s fault.  Not only had he replaced Dick, he’d replaced him with a demon.  A baby incubus that Dick was supposed to call brother.  Dick was justifiably wary of humanity’s greatest predators, never mind that his little brother had chubby little cheeks and an adorable scowl and a pout that Dick had to resist cooing at.  He was dangerous.

And doubly so under the influence of mind tampering chemicals.

Incubi under fear toxin could induce a heart attack with a touch, overloading people’s minds with fear until they died.  Dick had never met an incubus under the use of cuddle pollen, since Ivy mainly reserved that for the Bats, but he shuddered to think of what an emotion-sensitive demon would do when faced with the draining hunger for succor.

Luckily, Dick had met enough villains with mental manipulation to develop strong mental shields.  They’d snapped into place the moment he’d felt Robin’s clumsy grab for his mind, protecting him from mental intrusion.  He could’ve gotten Robin back to the Batcave and in a containment cell with no one—especially Bruce—the wiser.

Instead, Robin had bolted the moment Dick had cut him free of Ivy’s vines and Dick had no idea how to find him.  It was becoming increasingly likely that he’d have to call Bruce from his shift on the Watchtower and deal with the Disappointed Look that still made Dick cringe.

He could already hear Bruce now.  I asked you to watch over Gotham for one night, but I see that was beyond your capabilities.  The sneer was clearly visible in Dick’s mind.  I should’ve never called you back—you’re useless, pathetic, weak—

Dick froze.  “Robin?” he called out, barely a whisper.  The dread and terror hanging over his head weren’t his own.  The fear of being kicked out wasn’t his.  “Robin, are you there?”

The feeling of dread intensified.  Lurking behind it was hurt, a miasma that seemed to grow with every breath.  Pain and fear and abandonment and loneliness, all of it battling together in a spiral that tightened around Dick’s chest and sunk deep.

“Robin?” Dick called out again.  It was an old-fashioned game of hot-and-cold.  The thicker the emotions were, the closer he was getting.  Dick kept the mental block and slipped further into the warehouse.

The darkness seemed especially concentrated in the shadows behind an old conveyor belt.  Dick rounded the edge and headed for the corners, feeling the ache as the emotions pressed against his barrier.

He caught sight of the cape as the emotions solidified into specifics.

hates me hates me can’t stand the sight of me no one can they all hate me

I don’t want to be a demon I don’t want to be alone I just want to be loved why is it so hard why why

please please please please please please please it hurts please it hurts make it stop please please it hurts make it stop I can’t breathe please please please

I’m so hungry

it’s so cold

please help help please it hurts please please please please

“Oh, kid,” Dick breathed, crouching as he crept closer.  Robin was huddled into a tiny ball, cape tucked around him, shuddering violently.  “It’s okay.  It’s going to be okay.  C’mere.”

Robin didn’t move, but he didn’t jerk away at Dick’s careful touch at his shoulder, and Dick moved to envelop him in a hug.  He used slow, cautious movements and only relaxed when the kid was tucked up in his lap.

Robin was still rigid, not bending the slightest amount, breaths harsh and shaky.  Before Dick could figure out a more comfortable position for them both, something poked at his mental barrier.

Dick mentally reared back, reinforcing the block.  But it wasn’t an attack, it was…questing?  It slunk forward again, a wary little thread reaching out.  For an instant, Dick felt hurt please help big brother please?

Then the thread curled away, sagging at a lack of response, and the feeling of abandonment surged.

It was a stupid idea.  Dick was just compounding the bad decisions that had led them to this point.  He could already imagine Bruce’s lecture—did you seriously allow a demon access to your mind because you felt sorry for it—but he’d already made the decision.

Dick dropped the mental barrier.

It felt like cracking open a door he was trying to hold shut, warring with his own instincts as he deliberately lowered his guard.  The thread came back and, upon finding an open path, slithered inside.  Dick resisted the urge to kick it back out.

Dickie? came an inquisitive thought—it didn’t feel like a word mentally spoken, it felt like an impression, and when Dick reached out it, it was accompanied by a dazzling network of memories and emotions.  He was looking at himself from the outside, from the point of view of a little boy that wanted nothing more than his approval, that had placed Dick on a pedestal so high Dick was getting dizzy just experiencing it.

Jaybird, Dick tried crafting his own impression in response, shoving the resentment and irritation as far down as he could in the hopes that Jason couldn’t find it.  He bundled up all his hopes and wishes for a baby brother and flung it across the mental space.

One moment Jason was on the outside, peering in, asking for entry—and the next he was in, tangled up thoroughly with Dick’s emotions, rifling through his head like it was a flipbook.  Confusion and panic and fear flitted across Dick’s mind, slow like molasses, and were easily batted aside.  Comfort rose out of the tangle, and contentment, the lazy purr of a cat slumbering in a sunspot.

It felt good. Dick was…Dick was supposed to be doing something.  They were in a warehouse.  They…they had to get home?  But the warehouse was empty and everything was quiet here.

[atinylittlepain]

Love your writing! I love the Unexpected universe, could I please request a really angsty Joel story where baby Miller gets sick nothing extreme, just a colicky baby but because of what happened to Sarah it just brings all of Joel’s fear to the surface? Please add some fluff spice with reader trying to comfort him and cute baby and dad moments?

aw man, i got a bit carried away with this one, i hope you like it <3

Unmet Expectations

dad!joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

When baby miller gets sick, Joel gets stuck in the past, leaving her feeling lonelier than ever before.

warnings | 18+ angst, hurt/comfort, grief, sick baby oof, smut at the end

a/n | this one is long, and rather emotionally charged, but with a happy ending of course for our Unexpected Expectings fam :)

....................................

There isn’t much sleeping going on in the Miller household. Except for Ellie, who has the good fortune to be out in the garage, away from the seemingly endless crying. It started a little over a month ago. She had settled Libby down for her afternoon nap, only to be promptly startled by her girl’s shrieking wail, a sound she would become all too familiar with as time progressed and it became clear that they have one very colicky baby on their hands. 

At first, she thought it was just her girl having a bad case of gas, but after a few hours of useless burping and rocking, she started to understand this was something else entirely. Joel came home that night from the stables to find her sitting on the floor of the nursery, tears in her eyes and Libby still screaming in her arms. She wasn’t sure what was worse in that moment, the sound of her girl’s continuous cries, or the look of sheer terror on Joel’s face as he knelt down next to her. He had run across town right then and there to get Suze, who could only advise them to keep their girl comfortable and fed with the reassurance that this sort of thing typically only lasts a month or two. 

It’s been the longest month of her life. Libby is nothing if not consistent, quiet and sweet as a lamb in the mornings, but around one o’clock every day, the crying starts, and it doesn’t stop until late into the night. Ellie has been a saint, and Maria too. Staying with her in the afternoons, keeping her sane as she tries to calm Libby down. Joel, however, is a different story. Since all this started, he’s become silent, unreadable. Much like how he was when they first met.

He takes Libby at night, giving her something of a break when he wordlessly takes her off her hands. She finds him most mornings asleep on the floor of the nursery, pressed right up against the crib, one of his arms usually hung between the wooden slats, keeping contact with their girl who always manages to wear herself off into sleep. It’s the only indication she gets from him of just how much he cares because otherwise, he’s become completely shut off, and it’s starting to freak her out more than Libby’s incessant crying.

They don’t talk anymore. He leaves early for shifts, and when he comes home, usually after dusk, he takes Libby and holes away in the nursery. She had tried to join him a number of times, but the steely look he always gave her kept her hovering at a distance, usually dozing in and out of sleep sitting in the hallway right outside the room. She can hear him in the night, the low thrum of his singing just barely detectable below Libby’s cries, and it breaks her heart that he won’t let anyone else see that part of him, especially not her. She’s grateful for how he takes over with Libby, but it feels like it’s no longer them, no longer a team. She’s surrounded by people who care, but it seems like the one person who matters most is slipping away, and she’s never felt more lonely in her life.

“I’m uh, picking up patrol today with Tommy. Might not be home till later.” Her hands still where she had been scrubbing one of Libby’s bottles in the sink. It’s the most he’s said to her in weeks. She turns around to look at him, his gaze wandering anywhere but to hers.

“I thought you weren’t doing patrol shifts anymore.” 

“They’re down a man today. Just a one time thing.” There’s a lot more she’d like to say, but she can’t get any of it out, not when it feels like she’s talking to a complete stranger. So instead, she just nods, turning back to the sink before the tightness in her throat can spill over into tears. She hears him let out a long sigh behind her.

“I’ll um, see you tonight then.” She sniffs, only answering him with a jerky nod. The sound of his boots thudding away, the open and close of the front door, is a relief that she feels guilty for.

…

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around? It’s no sweat, really. Dina will understand.” She offers Ellie what she can of a smile, easier said than done with her other girl screeching directly in her ear as she rocks her back and forth.

“That’s alright, Ellie bean. You’ve been a huge help already this afternoon, but Joel should be back soon. You should go, have fun.” By the furrowed look on her face, Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that, but she nods.

“Um, ok. Well, you know where to find me– i-if you need me or anything.” She nods and Ellie turns to leave, but seems to think twice of it before turning back to her.

“Are you guys– are you guys ok? You and Joel?” Her heart drops at the question, but luckily Libby chooses that exact moment to raise her screaming to a new decibel, effectively distracting the both of them enough for Ellie to offer her one more anxious smile before heading out. 

She sighs with the close of the front door, continuing to try to soothe Libby as she walks upstairs to the nursery. 

“I know, Libs. Tell me about it, huh?” She sits down in the rocking chair, shifting her squirming girl to cradle her in her lap. When she glances at the clock, she realizes it’s at least an hour past when Joel should have been home. She feels terrible that she doesn’t feel much at the realization, too sleep deprived, too frustrated, too utterly hopeless to muster up much more than faint concern as Libby continues to wail. 

She sits like that for a few hours, through Libby’s ceaseless cries, the relentless noise lulling her into a sort of daze. And then, a miracle. For the first time in a month and a half, Libby stops crying before midnight. Her girl lets out a few sleepy coos before dozing off in her arms, and she has to stop herself from laughing in pure relief as she lays her down in her crib. Stepping out into the hall, she slumps back against the wall, but her peace is short-lived when she realizes that Joel still isn’t home and it’s now much later. 

It’s the final straw that finally sends her reeling as she crumples over, her hands on her thighs as she starts to heave in a silent sob. It feels like she can’t get any air in, taking quick gasping breaths that she tries to stifle, not wanting to make any sound and wake her girl up. Her mind is blaring a shrill alarm of two words, over and over again. He’s gone. Under any other circumstances, she might be able to rationalize, to not jump to the worst conclusion. But she’s running on fumes, and her mind can’t shake the thought that she may have lost him tonight. And then she starts to think about that morning, how she hadn’t even said goodbye, and it sends her down to her knees, collapsing over herself in a silent wail. 

She’s completely caught off guard when a warm palm comes to her back, jerking away from the touch and pressing back against the wall.

“Hey, hey. It’s me– it’s just me.” He kneels down in front of her, palms cupping her cheeks as he tries to coax her to look at him, but she’s still inconsolable, a sobbing mess. His face falls when she won’t calm down.

“What’s wrong? Is it– please don’t tell me it’s Libby.” The frantic edge to his voice cuts through the fog enough for her to shake her head.

“No– she– she’s fine– she’s sleeping. I thought– I thought you were gone– I thought I lost y-y-you.” She’s a shuddering mess of words, breaking down in another silent sob before she can say anymore. Joel’s hands slide down to squeeze hers, dipping his head down to catch her watery gaze.

“I’m not gone– we just had some trouble with one of the horses, alright? Just got back a little late. I’m right here.” She’s with it enough to let out a bitter laugh at his choice of words, her sobs finally dying down into breathy shudders.

“No you’re not.” His face crumples in confusion as he sits back on his haunches.

“What?” She sighs, scrubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“You might be here physically. But I have no fucking clue where you’ve been in your head ever since– ever since Libby got sick.” As she says it, she finally starts to connect the dots. Joel has been acting the same way he acted when she told him she was pregnant, when he tried to get Tommy to take Ellie to Salt Lake City, when she got shot back in Boston. Joel’s been acting the way he acts when he’s scared.

Part of her wants to comfort him, to tell him that she knows, that she gets it. But the other part of her is too far gone in the flood of frustration for that, and instead she lets that righteous anger wash over her.

“I told you that I couldn’t do this without you, that we would do this together. We’re not in this together anymore, Joel. You don’t talk to me anymore, and lord knows you haven’t touched me in at least a month. Am I that repulsive to you? The fucking mother of your child?” His eyes are wide, jaw slack at her words.

“That ain’t what this is about.” She scoffs.

“No, I know what this is about. But, jesus christ, Joel, you aren’t the only one who’s scared right now. We’re supposed to be there for each other, that’s what partners do. They do it scared, together. But you won’t let me in, and you clearly want nothing to do with me.” 

“That’s not– I don’t– it’s–” He stops his own stumbling, letting out a ragged sigh. She just shakes her head.

Before either of them can say anything else, a cry resounds from the nursery. But it’s not like the shrieks they’ve grown accustomed to. This cry is quieter, more needy than distressed. She gets up with a sigh, not looking at Joel as she walks back toward the nursery. Joel is right on her heels.

“Let me, I’ve got her.” She whips around on her heel at his words, holding her palm up between them as she tries to steel her expression.

“Don’t.”

He doesn’t.

…

She wakes up the next morning in a crunched tangle on the twin bed in Libby’s room, her girl still sleeping like an angel in her crib. After a diaper change last night, Libby had again stopped crying, another hopeful sign that the colic is finally lifting.  She doesn’t have much room to celebrate it with the way the fight she and Joel had last night is occupying her mind. Though she supposes it wasn’t really a fight, more just her falling apart on him. A cool guilt creeps up her spine. She shouldn’t have lashed out at him like that, but she knows she couldn’t hold it in any longer either.

Libby still asleep, she slips into their bedroom, an awful relief that Joel is nowhere to be seen. She’s not ready to face him yet. 

She gets cleaned up, just barely dressed when she starts hearing fussy coos coming from across the hall. Morning light slides syrupy and gold across the nursery floor as she picks Libby up from her crib. This happens like clockwork, and it’s her favorite part of every morning, sitting down in the rocking chair, Libby’s tiny palm pressing against her sternum as she latches on for her breakfast. Even right now, with her mind swirling in worry, watching the contented flutter of her girl’s eyes as she suckles is enough to soothe her.

He clears his throat, and she glances up just briefly to see him standing in the doorway. 

“I think we might finally be done with the colic.” As she speaks, she keeps her eyes focused on Libby, her ears pricking to the shuffle of his bare feet as he comes closer into the room. He stays silent, but she can feel his eyes watching her as Libby turns her head away. She gets up with a sigh, still not looking at him as she bounces lightly side to side, rubbing her girl’s back after readjusting her shirt. 

“I can burp her if you want. Save you a shirt.” She finally looks at him as he speaks, worry clear in the crease between his brows. Part of her wants to be petty, to tell him that she’s got it and shut him out. But she also knows that this is him trying, so she gives him a small nod, gently passing Libby off to him. He’s been good with her from the start, and now is no different as he holds her to his chest, shushing her fussy whimpers as he lightly pats her back. She can’t help but smile at the sight, leaning up against the crib as she finally holds his gaze.

“Made coffee, if you want some. Pot’s probably still warm.” That’s a peace offering if she ever heard one. She hums, nodding noncommittally in response. It’s clear that Joel has something else to say.

“Could we– could we talk?” He sounds so unsure of the question, his brow all twisted up. She’s already thawing, offering him a smile and a nod.

“That one will conk right out when you’re done burping her. Let’s talk after you get her down, alright?” He sets his mouth in a thin line, his eyes still soft as he nods. She passes by him with a sigh, her palm resting for a moment on his bicep as she presses a kiss to Libby’s crown before slipping out of the room. She really needs that cup of coffee.

Spring is finally thawing out the winter freeze, and it’s just sunny enough to sit on the back porch with a warm mug and a sweater. It isn’t long before he joins her. She notes the way he keeps a sizable distance between them on the bench seat.

“Sarah was colicky too, y’know.” She hadn’t been expecting that, turning to look at him. He’s leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as he cranes his neck back to meet her gaze.

“Was she?” He nods, letting out a breathy laugh.

“Scared the living shit out of me. Her mom– well, she wasn’t much help. Pfft, pretty sure I cussed out the doctor when he told me I just had to wait for it to pass– wait for Sarah to get better.” He studies his hands, fingers flexing as he continues.

“She cried and cried– just like Libby. I stayed up with her every night and just about lost my mind. Knowing she– my baby, my girl– was in so much pain and there was nothing I could do. It was torture.” She brings a tentative palm to his shoulder, feeling him slacken under her touch as he finally looks at her again.

“I’m sorry, darlin. I got stuck in the past and left you here to deal with the present.” She sets her mug down before scooting closer to him to sling her arm over his shoulders, feeling relief when he lets her tangle her other hand with his.

“I accept your apology. I just wish you would’ve talked to me. I know you don’t think I can understand– and I probably can’t, at least not entirely. But I can’t even try to if you don’t let me in.” She rests her chin on his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his sigh.

“I know you’re right– I do. It’s just so fucking hard. I just– I’ve gotten real good at running away from it– just shutting it down. Talking like this feels damn near impossible.” She leans back, coaxing him to look at her.

“We knew this wasn’t gonna be easy. And we said we’d get through this together. Joel, you can’t shut down like that– you just can’t. I– we need you too much.” He swallows hard, nodding at her words, and she can’t help but brush his wavy hair out of his face, resting her palm on his cheek afterward.

“You talk to me, huh? And I’m gonna try so hard to understand. I promise.” She stamps her words with a kiss, pressing her forehead against his as they both let out a sigh. 

“Gonna do better by you, darlin. Not gonna disappear on you again.” 

…

“It’s magic, right? It’s gotta be magic.” Joel quietly laughs at her whispers, both of them looking down at their girl who is fast asleep in the settling night time by some sort of miracle. Libby had done so much better the rest of the day. No more relentless shrieking or fussy squirming. It was like a switch had been flipped, and she and Joel are just hoping it stays that way. 

He places his palm between her shoulder blades, head tilting toward the doorway. She gets the hint, both of them quietly padding out of the nursery and across the hall to their own bedroom.

“Are we actually gonna get to sleep in our own bed tonight?” He smiles at that, lifting his hand to brush his fingers along her cheek. He’s being careful, she can tell. All day he’s been quiet, but close, taking the day off of shifts to stick by her side. She knows that this is his way of apologizing, his way of trying, and she’s grateful for it.

Whether or not they’re showering together has become a sort of litmus test to determine how their relationship is doing. They haven’t done this in a month, and she only realizes how much she missed it, missed him, when she finally gets her hands on him again, running her soaped-up palms along the broad expanse of his back as he faces away from her under the warm stream of water. She smiles at the groan he lets out when she presses her fingers into that spot between his shoulder blades that’s always knotted up, working the kink out before slipping her palms further down. A breathy chuckle thrums in his chest when she slides her palms down the strong curve of his ass, stepping in closer to wrap her arms around him and trail her hands up the soft muscle of his stomach.

“What’re you doing back there, mama?” She can hear the smile in his voice, and revels in the shudder that runs through him when she presses a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Taking care of you. You gonna let me?” She feels the huff he lets out in the rise and fall of his shoulders, quick to turn in her hold and steal one, two, three kisses before she can press on his chest to get him to let up. His hands fall to her waist, squeezing at the swell and pulling her into him, chest to chest. His cock rests hot and solid against her thigh.

“We take care of each other, huh?” His words bloom warm in her chest and the smile she offers him is the biggest relief. He reaches behind her to grab the bar of soap, lathering up his hands. It’s a strange contrast, the roughness of his palms and the tenderness of the press of his skin against hers as he trails over every inch of her body he can reach. She gets both, and she knows it’s a gift.

His touch begins to linger and stutter, squeezes left to his favorite parts of her, his grin growing smugger with each shudder he coaxes out of her. 

“We’re wasting water. Maria’s gonna kill us.” He groans low at that, laying a harsh squeeze to her ass that she yelps at.

“That is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” She breathes out a laugh as he corners her against the tiled wall. She barely manages to flip off the water as he presses against her, licking hotly into her mouth. With a light tug to his damp waves, he pulls away, both of them panting in the humid bathroom air.

“Can we at least get dried off? The last thing I want is one of us slipping and cracking our skull open.” Joel grumbles at that, shaking his head as he steps in closer. However, with the step he takes, his back heel slips out causing him to stumble into her as they both struggle to stay upright. They’re a tangle of limbs as they find their footing, her arms wrapped over his shoulders and his around her waist. Looking at each other, all they can do is laugh.

“Would it kill you to tell me I’m right every now and again?” She teases him, a crooked grin as she stays wrapped up in his arms.

“You’re right– you’re right– you’re right. There, will that do, darlin?” He punctuates each repetition with a chaste kiss to her lips, leaving her laughing as he jostles her in his hold. She hums lightly.

“Hmm, I suppose. For now.” He huffs at that, retaliating with a hard smack to the curve of her ass that has her jolting in his grip, causing them both to stumble about in the shower again. They’re fools for each other, only for each other.

Drying off is made all but impossible by the way they stay glued to each other, and their skin is still damp when they finally make it to their bed, toppling into the sheets still tangled up in kisses and sighs and wandering hands. Joel coaxes her onto her back, settling between her legs as he trails a hand down to her cunt, dragging a brazen swipe through her heat that has her arching up into her touch.

“Joel, please– no teasing tonight. I just– I need you, baby.” He shushes her with a kiss, fingers languidly circling her clit.

“You’ve got me, darlin– not going anywhere, huh? Gonna give you what you need.” She has to bite back a whine at the loss of his touch, but it’s only a fleeting desperation as he presses the throbbing tip of his cock up against her entrance. Though it’s been a while, they move well together like they always do, bodies in complete communion as she draws her leg up along his waist, opening up to him as he presses his hips forward. He stills with his hips hilted into hers, his forehead pressing into her sternum with a ragged sigh. 

“Fucking hell– missed you so bad, mama– s’not fair how good you feel– not gonna last like this–” His voice is hoarse, broken by sweet agony, and she tries to soothe him with a smattering of kisses to his hairline, drawing him to look up at her.

“It’s ok, baby. Just wanna feel you– feel so perfect, Joel. Can you move for me?” She presses a kiss to the crease between his brows and he chases after her lips, groaning into a deep kiss as he rolls his hips back only to snap them forward again. He swallows the gasp she lets out at the deep grind of him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he guides them into that familiar push and pull. 

In just the few months of having their girl, they’ve learned how to keep quiet, all breathy sighs and muffled kisses, but she’s having a hard time holding back her high-pitched whimpers at the way he’s thrusting into her, punctuating each snap of his hips with a hard grind that strokes a spot inside her that’s already tilting her over the edge of pleasure. But it starts to become too much when Joel brings his fingers back to her clit, drawing stuttering swipes that have her spasming around him.

“C’mon, mama– let go for me– want it so bad– that’s it, darlin–” his praises become muffled noise as she comes, her heels now digging into his ass where her legs are wrapped around him, clutching him as he fucks her through the rolling high. Joel is quick to follow, pulling out of her with a harsh groan and sloppily stroking himself a few times before his warmth is smearing across the plush of her thigh. It's a far cry from the heated trysts they used to engage in, hours on end of tangled passion long traded in for these little bursts of love that she cherishes just as much, if not more.

He collapses next to her, slumping on his back, his arm crossed over himself to keep his palm splayed over her stomach. She rests her hand on top of his, tangling their fingers together as they both catch their breath. But, there isn’t much time to revel in the moment when soft cries start to carry from across the hall. She can’t help but smile as she looks at him, and he lets out a sigh.

“Go get cleaned up, mama. I’ve got her.” He punctuates his words with a kiss, leaning over and brushing his fingers along her cheek. They share a quietly murmured “love you,” and she idly watches him get up, the soft pull of his muscles as he slips on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers before padding across the hall to Libby’s room.

They don’t get to sleep in their own bed that night. After getting cleaned up, she trails into the nursery, finding Joel quietly singing to their girl in the rocking chair. He glances up at her, but keeps singing, his voice low and sweet, lulling Libby back to sleep in his arms. With their girl tucked back in her crib, they wind up in a close tangle on the twin bed.

It's the best sleep they've gotten in a month.

[rogueshadow1124]

DEADLY SILENT

[BATFAMILY IMAGINE SERIES]

Platonic¡Jason Todd x Batsis!Reader, slight platonic¡Dick Grayson x Batsis!Reader

Summary: Over a year ago to this day Jason died, his younger sister found him at the scene but was too late to be able to stop his death- she ended up blaming herself and vowed to visit his grave...

Word count: roughly 1805

Warning: mature language, mentions weapons/some violence.

The youngest Wayne, strolled through the graveyard that was set a light by the neutral tones that seeped out of the lampposts nearby. Y/N made this a weekly occurrence, she couldnt seem to push away the thought of her older brother not being here anymore, she couldnt come to terms with the fact that he was indeed gone.

She came to a stop at the grave she visited everytime she had a chance to. Jason Todd, a loving brother and son forever in our hearts and never to be forgotten, 1990-2012. Y/N had always admired her older brothers but more so Jason as they were the closest and had a similar persona, when she found out he died a year ago to this day she completely broke and nobody knew for sure if she could be fixed.

"Its been a year Jay, a whole goddamn fucking year." The girl dropped to her knees, reaching towards the ga stone to set a hand upon it. "I'm hurting Jaybird, everything hurts so much and I dont know how to stop the pain. I dont even think its curable, I'm broken, I've become a unrecognizable person." Her head dropped, tears seeped out of her eyes and dripped down the curve of her cheek, trailing down her neck. "Dick said I needed to speak to someone, maybe a therapist but I refused. Bruce- he's given up. Alfred's trying to keep us together but it's not working. We need you- I need you."

A buzzing echoed through the air as her phone started to vibrate in her pocket, she let out a heavy breath while reaching down to grasp it and see that Dick was calling. Her thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call before pulling it up to her ear.

"Y/N/N where are you?" His voice rumbled through the other end of the device, he sounded panicked yet calm at the same time.

"Dont worry Dick I'm not gonna do anything stupid okay I'm just doing a usual weekly round, I need space, I need you all to stop treating like I'm still a child and let me mourn in my own damn way. I can handle myself, maybe it doesnt seem like it but I'm still here arent I?" She let out a sob at the end, her hands shaking as she let out a laboured breath this time, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself.

"Y/N can you come back home, theres something really important we need to discuss..."

"What part of 'I need to be alone' dont you understand Richard?" She heard her brother sigh on before the sound of a few things being knocked over and then Bruce scolding someone in a hushed tone. "I'm going now."

"No, wait. Y/N!" She ended the call, placing her phone back in her pocket. Her head tilted back up to look at the grave infront of her, her thoughts ran wild in her head as she tried to figure what she could possibly say next. In reality she was speaking to nobody, there was nothing but silence but she felt a huge amount of relief lift from her when she 'spoke' to Jason.

Her eyes then narrowed in frustration, hands coming up to tug at her hair while more tears blurred her vision and suffocated the soft surface of her face. Small, audiable cries passed her lips in distress and sadness, her body shaking from her crying and the slight chill of the cool midnight air that flew within the atmosphere.

Y/N hated the feeling of loneliness. With Jason being gone that's exactly how she felt, sure she had her other brother but Jason was the one she confided in, he was her protector. He reassured her, he was her shoulder to cry on, he was her rock and without her rock she had nothing to go back to, to lean on when she needed comfort-

She pushed herself up to stand on her feet, looking down at the gravestone before spinning on her heel and speeding down the narrow paths. Her hands came up to pull the hood of her jacket over her head, trailing down to slip into her pockets that were the only source of heat to radiate through her hands to stop them from becoming numb on this cold night.

The cars whizzed passed on the Gotham roads, horns blaring and tires screeching as they sped by.

Y/N only ever came out at night, it was a time where she could set free from her mind- not fully but it was relieving while it lasted. She hated the silence that surrounded her daily, though she all but loved it at the same time. When it was silent she would drown in her own thoughts however if someone broke the silence they would ask the same questions and suggest what could help her.

A hand shout out from her left, hauling her into an alleyway. She yelped at the sudden force, her back cracked slightly when she was slammed into the brick wall behind her making a groan slip from her lips. Her deep blue orbs, that now seemed to be duller than ever peered up at the attacker- dressed in fully back and had a light grey mask covering their face.

"Y/N Wayne." Came a male voice, sounding quite sinister.

"Who's asking." She replied dryly, leaning back into the wall as the male tightens his grip on her shoulders.

"My boss. Your father seems to have upset him and he doesnt take things like that lightly sweetheart." The man pulled a gun from his back pocket, bringing it up to hover over her face, the cool metal sliding it up to the bridge of her nose to rest against her forehead.

"Do it. Kill me." Her words never faltered which surprised the man, her hand raised to grasp the gun and pull it further towards her head, eyes crossing as she peered up at the gun.

"Oh, who would have thought. The Y/N Wayne begging for death." The man teased, tilting his head to the side as dark eyes pierced her own through the holes in the mask.

"I've got nothing left to loose. I'm miserable. Do it, just pull the trigger. Do it!" She pushed forwards as the mans finger went to pull at the trigger, eyes screwing shut as a rush of anticipation ran through her veins as she waited for the quick way out of life. It never came.

Her eyes peeled open to see another person, a metallic looking red helmet hid his whole head, a brown leather jacket along with a black shirt and dark, tight fitted jeans and a pair of matted jet black combat boots. The new comer held the attacker up by his throat as he rithed under his grip, hands clutching onto the gloved hands that wrapped around his neck.

"You're so dead." The red masked vigilante grumbled out in anger, his hands tightened around the other males neck making breathing a hard task to do before the attacker slowly grew limp in his arms and was dropped to the ground.

"Who the hell are you?!" The girl whispered shouted, looking him up and down. Her eyes trailed to the man on the floor who lay unconscious- maybe, possibly dead. She fell back against the wall, hands by her side as she threw her head back and sighed.

"What do you think you were doing Y/N?!"

"How the fuck do you know my name?" She stood back to her full height eyeing the vigilante with a puffy red eyes from when she had been crying not so long ago. She watched as a gloved hand moved up and hooked under the metal helmet, tugging at it so it revealed a face. A very familiar one at that. "No. Please. Oh- no."

"Y/N/N I know this seems weird right now okay, let me explain." Jason spoke, holding his hands out to her as she shook her head repeatedly and whispered a bunch of 'No's' and 'this isn't real'.

"Your dead, yo-your supposed to be dead. I-I saw your body, I didnt make it in time." She sobbed out loudly, looking directly at the 'replica' of her older brother. Her brows furrowed and her lip wobbled as she continued to cry uncontrollably. "A year ago today, we found you dead!"

"I-I was resurrected months ago Y/N, I'm here. I'm real. I promise." Jason stepped forwards slowly, pulling the broken girl into his embrace. The sound of a motorcycle revving sounded in the background making the no longer dead Jason look over his shoulder to see Dick in his nightwing costume.

"Did you find her, please tell me you found her." Dicks voice echoed within the alley, breathing out a breath of relief when jason moved his form to reveal the crying girl. "Oh thank god."

A slap suddenly came to fill the secondary of silence along with a Yelp. One of Jason's hands flung up to cup his burning cheek while his eyes met with Y/N's fiery gaze, her hands set on her hips as she continued to sniffle, tears still venturing down her cheeks.

"Y-your telling me you've been alive for months?!"

"W-well yeah, I-" he tried to respond but was near to immediately cut off by his younger sister raising her hand and waving it around.

"I-I'm miserable. Broken even, for a whole fucking year I was and your telling me you have been alive for a few months. I saw your body Jason, I was the first to find you and I completely broke when I knew I could have done something to prevent your 'death'." Her voice became softer as she relived the memory, images flashed through her mind as she recalled what she had seen when she found him dead.

"Y/N I've told you millions of times it wasnt your fault. Nobody could have stopped it from happening." Dick stepped to stand beside Jason so both of them were infront of her, a small smile etched onto his lips when she rammed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest.

"But what if I could have prevented it Dick?"

"Theres no way you could have sweetheart." Jason stated, running a hand through her messy locks that splayed upon her head wildly.

"I love you Jaybird, so much. I missed you." She turned around and attatched herself to Jason, jumped in his arms which made him laugh as he caught her and she wrapped around him like a koala bear.

"I missed you too, little bird."

[flaggermuser]

Something That's Mine

Homelander x Luna (Supe OC)

Prompt: Thunderstorm/Peace offering/Unexpected gifts

1,903 words || Thunderstorms, Enemies to Cordial, References to Child Exploitation and Financial Child Abuse, Self-Hatred ||

This takes place in the year between S2 & 3. Luna is a moon-powered supe whose powers are tied to the lunar cycle.

Special thanks to @devilander for being my beta

Divider by Firefly-Graphics

“BECAUSE I’M A FUCKING PRODUCT!”

The words echo through her penthouse as Luna stands there, her body rigid, angry tears welling up in her eyes. He just couldn’t leave her alone, could he? No, Homelander just had to keep pushing and pushing until she eventually snapped.

Screaming at Homelander is probably the worst idea in the entire world, but right now Luna fears nothing.

“The ONLY reason I was chosen is because my powers are ‘unique’ enough to draw attention away from the fucking disaster that was Stormfront.”

Her heart is hammering away in her chest, every single fibre of her being is telling her to stop but her mouth is open and the words are spilling out.

“I’m a supe whose powers are tied to the fucking moon and Vought turned that into a fucking gimmick, more so than it was before. So here I fucking am, advertising fucking diva cups and reading fucking horoscopes like that means anything other than pure bullshit.”

Her fists are clenched tight. Without her gloves, her nails are biting into the skin of her palms hard enough to draw blood that drips through her glowing fingers and onto the floor.

She knows full well he can kill her, part of her wants to bait him into doing so, to end her miserable existence.

“And people have the gall to call this a gift.” She clenches her teeth, letting out a laugh that proves she’s at her limit, almost ready to fall over the edge. “It’s a fucking curse.”

“My ENTIRE life I have been nothing but an object to be used for monetary gain. Little Moonflower, Moonbeam, even Luna, the name I chose for myself, has been corrupted by greed. I have never had anything, not one little fucking thing actually belongs to me. So I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful, but I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING BE HERE!”

The last words are screamed loud enough for the whole of Vought Tower to hear, not that Luna cares. She’s never cared.

“So fuck you. Fuck Ashley. Fuck Stan fucking Edgar. Fuck Vought and FUCK COMPOUND V!”

Homelander’s face is emotionless, he’s just standing there, staring at her. So she waits for the retaliation, for this to turn from words into violence, for him to smear her remains on every surface of the penthouse. But instead, he turns and walks away without a word.

Eventually, the adrenaline runs out and she falls to the floor, wailing while the tears fall from her tired eyes. After all these years she’s finally told someone how she feels. At last, a weight has been lifted from her shoulders only for the unending loneliness and emptiness to seep in like an infection.

She exhausts herself, falling asleep on the cold floor, curled up in the foetal position like she’s done so many times before.

Always a product, never a person.

There’s a thunderstorm over New York.

Luna sits on her designated seat at the conference table in the Seven boardroom, the rain lashing the windows while the lightning illuminates the room, bathing it in a bright white light. Even when she was a little girl, there was something about thunderstorms that always soothed her and, after the meeting she just had, she needed it more than ever.

Last night’s words didn’t go unheard.

She’d been called into an emergency meeting where she was, once again, berated by Stan Edgar for her behaviour and general attitude, warning her that if she doesn’t start to play nice with others, he’ll be forced to teach her.

Numbness seeps into her fingers and toes, flowing into her limbs, helping her to disassociate and disappear into the pit inside her mind. She can barely feel the tears that continuously cascade down her cheeks. It’s all become just a bit too much.

“I hope I’m not disturbing anything. I heard you had a meeting with Stan Edgar. He always has a habit of not telling me when he’s having important meetings with my teammates. Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

She doesn’t answer — she hates how vulnerable she is right now and in front of the last person in the world she’d never want to see her this way. She chews the inside of her cheek, visibly shaking, trying to calm herself down enough so that Homelander will go away and leave her alone.

“You know, I discovered something interesting today.”

The familiar clink of glass against the table draws her attention. She swallows hard as she stares at the label of the wax-lidded jar. It’s the same label she’s seen for years, the one with the young white-haired girl no older than six, a forced smile on her lips. 

Little Moonflower’s Moonshine.

The lavender-flavoured battery acid that her parents make, the one that bears the immortal image of her as a young child, the very first of many items that would be peddled. If he has this, not only does it prove that he’d been in her apartment, but there is a very high chance that he has read something in the very fine print.

Homelander perches on the edge of the table next to her, taking her hand and removing her glove, placing it down on top of his, toying with her fingers. His touch is gentle, his hand rubbing up and down her arm yet she keeps her eyes low. He turns her hand over, tracing patterns on her palm, mimicking how she communicates with Black Noir when she doesn’t want to talk out loud. 

“There’s an address on this label, it’s very small, but it’s there. Refers to an address near Zumbrota, Goodhue County. Have you ever heard of it?”

She swallows hard, breathing heavily through her nose. She knows exactly where he’s been — a warning she had buried at the back of her mind slowly coming to the front, one from Queen Maeve and Starlight about Homelander, how unstable he is and what being involved with him could mean for her and her family, even though they are estranged.

“Found this dilapidated old farmhouse, the remains of a still to create that poison.” He vaguely gestures to the jar. “It seems as if the occupants left, not sure if it’s in a hurry or maybe, they just received a large sum of money to move.”

She doesn’t react, almost as if she already knew her childhood home had been abandoned. It would only be a matter of time, after all, Luna being brought into the Seven no doubt earned her family a substantial amount.

“I asked around and found a forwarding address, some fancy house on Oak Meadow Lane in Rochester. So I decided to visit, and I met this great couple and their son, Phoenix. They even invited me in for apple pie and ice cream. Then they started talking about their little miracle daughter, the one saved by Compound V.”

Her jaw tightens and she rips her hand away from him, getting up from her seat and walking towards the window. The story of how she came to be injected with Compound V is painful, one retold to her constantly as she was growing up, one that shaped her understanding of what she truly was — a product.

“It's funny, they've made all this money on their daughter's image yet they don't seem to understand copyright laws.”

She hugs herself, fingers digging into her arms as she continues to stare out of the window. She watches the reflection as he stands, slowly moving closer with his hands behind his back. He stops only a few feet away.

“So I took the liberty of talking to the legal department and, would you believe it, they're going to sue this family. But not only that, they're going to make them repay every last cent to their daughter.”

A weird feeling washes over her, somewhere between relief and shock. There's only one question she wants to ask but at the same time, she doesn't want to know the answer. She knows what she's supposed to say, she just can't bring herself to say it, not to him.

“You know, if you'd come to me sooner, this would have happened a lot earlier. After all, you're on my team and I protect my teammates. But I can't help if I don't know what's going on so maybe, next time something happens, you come and see me first.”

The words stick in her throat so she chooses to remain silent, watching as he walks away. She knows that he didn’t do this out of the kindness of his heart, that this will come with a price.

A Full Moon.

Luna sits in the chair in the make-up room, vacantly staring at her reflection. The full moon means that not only she is at her most powerful, but she's also due to do the same Vought-mandated bullshit she has to do every time.

After the events of yesterday, she has no option but to follow through, despite how desperately she wants to tell Ashley to go fuck herself. So instead, she stares at her reflection in the mirror, mentally preparing herself to sit on that couch with a fake smile on her lips.

She's halfway through a daydream when the make-up room is suddenly deserted, a black box appearing in front of her face, held by a familiar red gloved hand.

“What’s that?”

Homelander shakes the box a little, trying to make it more enticing; however, after his little visit to her family, she’s half expecting to find a finger. When she doesn't reach for the box, he decides to do the honours, lifting its lid slowly. Her eyes widen with surprise as she looks at the contents.

Lying on a bed of satin is a crescent moon pendant, delicately carved from moonstone, attached to a twenty-carat white gold chain.

“The Romans revered moonstone,” he explains, obviously very pleased with himself. “They believed that it originated from solidified rays of moonlight. They attributed it to their deity, a divine incarnation of the moon, the goddess Luna. Because that’s what you are, a goddess.”

It’s by far the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and the most expensive gift she’s ever received. He removes the pendant, allowing the box to fall to the floor and fiddles with the intricate clasp as he puts it around her neck, the pendant lying flat against her chest.

Once the clasp is secure, his hands stroke down the back of her neck and rest on her shoulders, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“For the one who's as enchanting as the moon, it’s only right that you have a necklace to match your celestial beauty. It looks beautiful on you, just like I knew it would.”

Her fingers tentatively run over the smooth precious stone, tracing the crescent moon as her eyes dart between it and his face in the reflection of the mirror. There’s so many things she wants to say, so many unanswered questions that need to be asked but she finds herself almost tongue-tied.

“Thank you,” she chokes out the words, almost unsure of herself.

He squeezes her shoulders before turning her around in her chair, taking a step back and offering his hand. “Now, I believe the woman of the hour is needed in the studio for her monthly bullshit.”

[drkmgs]

It had my heartbroken 3

Wednesday Addams x Reader Weems

Warning: not sure if there's any...

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

I didn't plan to write a part 3 for this one, but I guess here we are. Thank you for reading this story and have fun! :)

I think this is the longest part 3 that I ever wrote...

The moment you vanished from their hug, you found yourself waking up to the sun toasting you, looking around to only find sand. The sand was everywhere. You don't remember how you got there and why you were there, but you had this feeling inside of you, it's something like longing for something or someone. So, you stood up and headed straight ahead, with no destination in your head but just walk until you find what you were looking for.

———

After what happened in that little garden, Wednesday Addams and Principal Weems seemed to get along better than before. They stopped bickering and settled with giving each other a nod when they see each other in the halls. Wednesday Addams stayed out of trouble and focused on her studies to become a Botany Professor. Every night since you faded away in her arms, she would serenade the whole school with her cello, the music that came from her balcony had all the students and staff, in awe, they felt her longing for you. Even Principal Weems sobbed one night while she was listening to her play and it made her miss her child more than ever.

———

You have been walking and walking, you don't know how long you have been in this desert. In this place, it felt like time is non-existence. You're exhausted and collapsed on the sand. You faced the bright sun, trying to even out your breath, you can feel the dryness in your throat and mouth. When a woman's hand with a bottle of water waved it to you, you instantly grabbed it and drank from it. The woman told you to drink slowly and apologized for being late. The woman looked awfully familiar but you couldn't pinpoint who it was, but you had a light feeling towards her. For no apparent reason you started to blabber about your previous life, you talked and talked on autopilot, but your brain right now doesn't recognize any of it and the woman just returns you a smile. A loving smile. The smile that you usually give to people you care about.

��——

Wednesday Addams is still serenading the school every night. Her music does change sometimes. Some have heard her play something frustrating, and maddening, and sometimes it was just pure loneliness. She knew you wouldn't be coming back but her gut is telling her to continue playing her cello every night just in case you were stuck somewhere and needed some guidance to go back to her.

Principal Weems stood in front of your headstone, reading it 100th time now, and would trace the letters. She would whisper in the wind "I love you" and "I miss you" hoping you would hear it, wherever you were.

Happy 4th death anniversary to you.

———

After drinking your 10th water bottle, you felt yourself being drowsy, your eyes heaving, and you feel everything spinning in your head. The last thing you saw, was the woman smiling at you. Then it was pitch black.

———

Suddenly, you feel a light thud and sprung up. You looked around, scratching your eyes with your knuckles to get out of your sleepy state, and that's you realized you were in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed.

Your crazy dream probably was due to your stress, moving from Seattle to Vermont. You don't know Vermont and never heard of it, but once you read about it, all you could do was think about it. The strangest thing is that the so-called little town Jericho has been in your mind lately, that's why you specifically chose an apartment in that town. It isn't as luxurious as the one you had in Seattle but it felt like home to you, warm and cozy.

Dismissing the entire dream, you got up and headed to the bathroom to get your day started. You don't have to worry about your work, you're a full-time writer and you own a publishing company, which you could manage from where you're right now.

You changed into more cozy clothes and headed to the café, that you saw as you drove past it. The Weathervane. As soon as you enter it, nostalgia hits you, the feeling that you have been here and missed it, was concerning but you couldn't focus on that because your mouth has been watering for a taste of their hot chocolate. You finished your order and settled in one of the booths near the counter, you see all sorts of students wearing the same uniforms.

You're suddenly getting images flashing in your mind, some with voices and some just blurry colors. As it finished, you were already holding your head in your hand, and the barista came to give you, your order and also asked if you were alright. You smiled at him to assure him you were fine and thanked him for bringing your order. You eagerly took the hot chocolate and let the taste bring you back to that nostalgic feeling.

Flashes of images came back again, as you sip some of that hot chocolate, and this time it was more visible — a woman with silver-haired, blue-eyed, and red-painted lipstick stood tall and proud looking down at you with a smile that made your heart melt. The moment you opened your eyes, you had the same smile on your face.

After that delicious breakfast, you head out to the local bookstore. Again, as soon as you enter the shop, you are welcomed with a familiar scent, and now you're convinced you're going insane. You don't know where all these memories are coming from and why they're showing up.

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the front door open, signaling someone else entered the shop. You didn't bother to look and continued your book browsing through the shelves when the person walked past by. Her scent filled your lungs — lavender and woods. The scent was oddly familiar, like you have smelled it before, the name and the face was at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't recalled in that moment.

Later that night, you couldn't sleep. You tried everything to fall asleep, but nothing helped. So, you decided to sit out in your balcony. The scenery was beautiful. Dark blue sky, shimmering stars and the bright moon. You suddenly hear a faint cello sounds, starting to play. You look around where it could be, it wasn't somewhere near you, it was much further.

Then it clicked. The Academy. It's coming from there.

———

A couple of months passed by. You're now standing in front of two big doors.

Principal Weems.

It says. How long has it been since you saw this lovely woman? How long has it been when you found out about your past life? Those memories. You had a choice, either face them or forget them. It's clear which one you chose.

Two knocks

Come in! Please take a seat. I heard you're applying for the botany position-

She didn't change at all. She's still the intimidating, adorable and sophisticated principal, but older. You couldn't help but smile.

How have you been, Mom?

You saw how fast her head snapped up and how she's not taking her eyes off you. You know, she's waiting for something to happen but nothing happened.

Principal Weems-

As soon as you heard that voice, you didn't hesitate to turn around and greet the person.

Hi, my love.

You see her froze and progressing everything in front of her. You gave her a minute, but you couldn't help it anymore and threw yourself onto her. Only when she inhaled your scent, that's when she realized it is really you.

You're back?

I am. I heard your nightly serenading.

I- Please elaborate how you came back?

Honestly, I don't know. Before I came here, I had no memories about you and mom and everyone. Then all the memories slowly flooded my mind as I stroll around Jericho and everynight as I hear you play your cello.

You pushed slightly away from the hug. You scanned her features, from her eyes to her lips. You tried to fix her bangs as they got messed up because of your sudden embrace. Larissa cleared her throat and got up from her chair, walking towards both of you. She wrapped her arms around both of you, just like in the little garden.

———

"And that is how your parent came back." Principal Weems whispered as two little girls had their attention to her.

"I miss them." one of the little girls murmured almost falling asleep.

"You'll see them tomorrow, darling. Now both of you go to sleep." Larissa tugged both girls in and kissed them good night on their forehead. After one last look, she silently close the door and went downstairs.

As she make herself comfortable on the couch, her phone rang. She knew who the caller was and sighed.

"Wednesday, darling. Your daughters are fine. They're asleep. Please you're coming home tomorrow. Enjoy your and Y/N's alone time." Larissa sighed because this isn't Wednesday Addams's 10th call for today.

You snorted at your mom's response and told her it was you on the phone and that Wednesday was soundly asleep beside you. That night you talked to her on the phone until it was time to get ready for your flight.

Taglist:

@thedemoninme141 @lecsi @ipharaohosiris @zhasmindoesntknow @daryldixonsw1fe @pixielove-1 @screechcat @myfturn @loekaorlucaidk @bloxiasworld @natashamaximoff69

(I do not know as to why tumblr can't find some of you...)

[oh-goddess-of-chaos]

hi can you make headcanons about yandere klaus mikaelson courting his lady love

⠀ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 – 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝒙 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (navi. & masterlist. & tag. )

「 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 」 klaus spoiling you, just fluff and cute themes, general yandere themes such as stalking, manipulation, threats, forced marriage, etc.

「 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .⁺ ˖ ⌒ this one's definitely on the lighter sides in terms of yandere!klaus at the start. i imagine the dynamic to be like him w/ caroline if she'd liked him in the first place.

Klaus was at an art exhibit. He himself had taken up painting long ago as somewhat of a hobby, though when he attended, he didn't expect to find anything particularly life-changing. Or, more specifically, anyone. He was simply there to catch a glance at his paintings which had been hung amongst the numerous others.

And there you were, staring, entranced by a painting when he first witnessed your perfect self. There was just something about your expression that drew Klaus in - made him want to know more. And you, being so enamoured with the artistry before you, didn't even notice the vampire slyly sneak up behind you.

It was not just any painting you were staring at. Quite ironically, you were staring at his. Though he couldn't tell for the life of him why you seemed so enraptured in the artwork. Of course, people had stopped by to admire his work, but you didn't move on to look at others. You just stood there, observing it, a slight furrow in your brow.

When Klaus approached you, you jumped. You didn't think someone would take it upon themselves to start a conversation with you - you didn't find anything about yourself particularly alluring. Most people left you alone at social events. And Klaus found it adorable.

So, with a thousand years of experience, he wittily begins a conversation with you, later asking what had caught your eye about the painting you were staring at.

You then quite shyly begin to, in some sense, verbally undress Klaus, explaining how you could see the painting as a sort of expression of loneliness and deeply ridden pain, much to Klaus's utter surprise.

He asks you if you paint, to which you reply a little. You do it when you're stressed as it makes you feel as though you're in control.

When the two of you exchange your names and make more conversation, you are quite flustered when you realize that no other than the man before you is the one who painted the artwork in front of the both of you. You frantically apologize, but Klaus just smiles, and you continue to discuss countless unimportant things with him. The chit-chat is pointless, however you find yourself utterly adoring your ability to speak so freely to the man you just met.

When the both of you begin spending time together, your friends (having noticed who you'd been going out with) warn you to stay away from Klaus, but when asked as to why, they fall short of a distinct reason. It is quite tragic indeed that your friends just so happen to be Klaus's enemies, and that he plans to kill one of them (if not all), but, alas, they aren't planning on telling you anything, and if things go his way, they never will.

Klaus is most certainly the type to leave love letters, poems, and other priceless pieces on your doorstep. Every morning, much to your delight, you have the opportunity of reading his neat, cursive writing that declares his unadulterated adoration of you. These declarations fill you with nothing if not warmth.

You begin to hide these gifts, however, when your friends start to become more anxious at the prospect of you growing closer to Klaus. The relationship becomes somewhat of a scandal from there, you promising your friends that you no longer see him in the days, and sweet, tender rendezvous every night.

Klaus loves to tease and mock you (of course, all in good fun). He adores the blush that creeps onto your cheeks when you demand for him to put an end to his incessant cheekiness, but he never truly does.

Klaus promises to you show you the entire world one day. He speaks of his travels and the wonders that he's marvelled at, of the people he's met and the experiences he's had. You can't quite fathom exactly how he's experienced so much in such a short life, but you don't bother asking him, always swept away in his numerous stories.

And what a wonder it is, spending time with Klaus. He's simply the perfect man - always understanding, always kind, always adventurous. Every moment you spent with him is ecstasy.

And Klaus loves you all the same. You were his muse, his one true love. His bedroom was filled to the brim with paintings and drawings of you. No longer was he the power-hungry, desperately lonely man that he once was - not with you. With you, he was everything he could hope to be and more.

But, of course, Klaus is nothing if not slightly obsessive. And, even though he'll never admit it to himself, mere nights spent with you are not enough. So he follows you, makes sure you're safe during the day, admires you from afar. And at night, once you've fallen asleep, he watches your peaceful body, the way you look as if you have no worries in the world. He even occasionally sees into one of your dreams, wherein he either approaches you or finds another version of himself doing that very thing.

Klaus also happens to be quite jealous, scolding you whenever you spend more than an appropriate amount of time conversing with a man. If any flirting were to happen, you'd best believe that you'd never see that man once again in your life.

As time passes, and Klaus grows somewhat unsatisfied with only having you at night, so he begins to spend time with you in the daytime, joining you for walks in the park or inviting you to elegant dinners.

Tired? He won't hesitate to call a taxi for the both of you in moments. Thirsty? The finest of wines will serve you well. Klaus simply cannot miss the chance to spoil you!

But, alas, all good things must come to an end, and it was only a matter of time before Elena eventually caught on to your secret rendezvous and made the executive decision to tell you everything about Klaus. And, by God, were you heartbroken. But it almost made sense. Klaus was so, so perfect. Too perfect. But you never suspected that his one true flaw would be such a deal breaker.

So, in spite of your aching heart, you sever your relationship with Klaus, brushing past major details and simply explaining that you "just weren't feeling it." It breaks you to see him so distraught, but you know what he's done, and you cannot be the person you are while and simultaneously stay with him.

Unfortunately for you, though, Klaus had, over the many months, fallen for you - something he does not take very lightly. So, quite desperately, he bites Elena, promising that he'll give her his blood once you come back to him. And, in spite of your friend's protests, you do as he asks. You cannot risk losing someone so close to you.

When Klaus then proposes to you, and you, of course, accept, you hate to admit that you still find your heart swelling whenever he compliments you, or kisses you sweetly, or even just stares in your direction. As much as your mind was disgusted by the idea of loving Klaus, your heart could not so easily let him go.

As much as you loathe him for what he's done to your friends, as much as you hate him for forcing his love upon you, you love him, too. And perhaps that is what's worst of all - that despite all that he's done, you're still in love with him.

That, while he kisses you ever so fervently on the altar, you can forget all that he's done and imagine a bright future with him.

That, even as he turns you into a creature that feeds on others simply so he can remain with you forever, you find yourself adoring the idea of spending the rest of eternity with him, muttering the phrase "til' death do us apart" as you feed on the blood of an innocent human being.

And there you were, staring, entranced by a painting when he first witnessed your perfect self. There was just something about your expression that drew Klaus in - made him want to know more. And you, being so enamoured with the artistry before you, didn't even notice the vampire slyly sneak up behind you.

It was not just any painting you were staring at. Quite ironically, you were staring at his. Though he couldn't tell for the life of him why you seemed so enraptured in the artwork. Of course, people had stopped by to admire his work, but you didn't move on to look at others. You just stood there, observing it, a slight furrow in your brow.

When Klaus approached you, you jumped. You didn't think someone would take it upon themselves to start a conversation with you - you didn't find anything about yourself particularly alluring. Most people left you alone at social events. And Klaus found it adorable.

So, with a thousand years of experience, he wittily begins a conversation with you, later asking what had caught your eye about the painting you were staring at.

You then quite shyly begin to, in some sense, verbally undress Klaus, explaining how you could see the painting as a sort of expression of loneliness and deeply ridden pain, much to Klaus's utter surprise.

He asks you if you paint, to which you reply a little. You do it when you're stressed as it makes you feel as though you're in control.

When the two of you exchange your names and make more conversation, you are quite flustered when you realize that no other than the man before you is the one who painted the artwork in front of the both of you. You frantically apologize, but Klaus just smiles, and you continue to discuss countless unimportant things with him. The chit-chat is pointless, however you find yourself utterly adoring your ability to speak so freely to the man you just met.

When the both of you begin spending time together, your friends (having noticed who you'd been going out with) warn you to stay away from Klaus, but when asked as to why, they fall short of a distinct reason. It is quite tragic indeed that your friends just so happen to be Klaus's enemies, and that he plans to kill one of them (if not all), but, alas, they aren't planning on telling you anything, and if things go his way, they never will.

Klaus is most certainly the type to leave love letters, poems, and other priceless pieces on your doorstep. Every morning, much to your delight, you have the opportunity of reading his neat, cursive writing that declares his unadulterated adoration of you. These declarations fill you with nothing if not warmth.

You begin to hide these gifts, however, when your friends start to become more anxious at the prospect of you growing closer to Klaus. The relationship becomes somewhat of a scandal from there, you promising your friends that you no longer see him in the days, and sweet, tender rendezvous every night.

Klaus loves to tease and mock you (of course, all in good fun). He adores the blush that creeps onto your cheeks when you demand for him to put an end to his incessant cheekiness, but he never truly does.

Klaus promises to you show you the entire world one day. He speaks of his travels and the wonders that he's marvelled at, of the people he's met and the experiences he's had. You can't quite fathom exactly how he's experienced so much in such a short life, but you don't bother asking him, always swept away in his numerous stories.

And what a wonder it is, spending time with Klaus. He's simply the perfect man - always understanding, always kind, always adventurous. Every moment you spent with him is ecstasy.

And Klaus loves you all the same. You were his muse, his one true love. His bedroom was filled to the brim with paintings and drawings of you. No longer was he the power-hungry, desperately lonely man that he once was - not with you. With you, he was everything he could hope to be and more.

But, of course, Klaus is nothing if not slightly obsessive. And, even though he'll never admit it to himself, mere nights spent with you are not enough. So he follows you, makes sure you're safe during the day, admires you from afar. And at night, once you've fallen asleep, he watches your peaceful body, the way you look as if you have no worries in the world. He even occasionally sees into one of your dreams, wherein he either approaches you or finds another version of himself doing that very thing.

Klaus also happens to be quite jealous, scolding you whenever you spend more than an appropriate amount of time conversing with a man. If any flirting were to happen, you'd best believe that you'd never see that man once again in your life.

As time passes, and Klaus grows somewhat unsatisfied with only having you at night, so he begins to spend time with you in the daytime, joining you for walks in the park or inviting you to elegant dinners.

Tired? He won't hesitate to call a taxi for the both of you in moments. Thirsty? The finest of wines will serve you well. Klaus simply cannot miss the chance to spoil you!

But, alas, all good things must come to an end, and it was only a matter of time before Elena eventually caught on to your secret rendezvous and made the executive decision to tell you everything about Klaus. And, by God, were you heartbroken. But it almost made sense. Klaus was so, so perfect. Too perfect. But you never suspected that his one true flaw would be such a deal breaker.

So, in spite of your aching heart, you sever your relationship with Klaus, brushing past major details and simply explaining that you "just weren't feeling it." It breaks you to see him so distraught, but you know what he's done, and you cannot be the person you are while and simultaneously stay with him.

Unfortunately for you, though, Klaus had, over the many months, fallen for you - something he does not take very lightly. So, quite desperately, he bites Elena, promising that he'll give her his blood once you come back to him. And, in spite of your friend's protests, you do as he asks. You cannot risk losing someone so close to you.

When Klaus then proposes to you, and you, of course, accept, you hate to admit that you still find your heart swelling whenever he compliments you, or kisses you sweetly, or even just stares in your direction. As much as your mind was disgusted by the idea of loving Klaus, your heart could not so easily let him go.

As much as you loathe him for what he's done to your friends, as much as you hate him for forcing his love upon you, you love him, too. And perhaps that is what's worst of all - that despite all that he's done, you're still in love with him.

That, while he kisses you ever so fervently on the altar, you can forget all that he's done and imagine a bright future with him.

That, even as he turns you into a creature that feeds on others simply so he can remain with you forever, you find yourself adoring the idea of spending the rest of eternity with him, muttering the phrase "til' death do us apart" as you feed on the blood of an innocent human being.

© do not translate, steal, or repost any of my works elsewhere without consulting me and gaining my consent.

[carminewill]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘?

the h̶e̶r̶o̶ villain

so we meet again, don't we? pity, I hoped our reunion would never occur. oh, pardon my discourtesy would you? but I really find tyrants unpleasant to the mouth. "sic semper evello mortem tyrannis." I have seen many before you fall, and I will see many after you descend as well. oh don't give me that hateful sneer, you more than anyone should know the expanse of my kindness, but vain little heroes are but villians in different shoes. you grew up wishing to prove yourself, you were good once, or I thought you were. maybe you were born nasty. you strove to reach the stars, for you felt unworthy, ha, perhaps you were onto something you pushed those you saw as dirty into the dirt, face down in the name of righteousness. but one does not merely hate for hatred itself. all abhorrence stems from fear. you call yourself a savior to merely stomp on the ones beneath you. would you like a bitter truth? no one's beneath you, some just strike more worry into your heart. are they better than you? as much as I'd adore saying yes, there might still be hope for you yet. after you swallow a few slices of humble pie, and wake up to reality. you cannot force anyone to change. you cannot force anyone to do anything. it is as simple as that. reality has very few set rules and somehow even then people find a way to break them. you're not a god, little beast. it's time you stopped acting like one, for one day a real god will smite you where you stand, and they will be disguised as the "lesser" people you mock so bitterly.

the fallen prodigy

hello old friend, it's been a while hasn't it? I remember when you were just a child, gape-smiled and beaming like the sun. where have you laid your youth to rest my love? is it buried beside your heart perhaps? I know how deeply life has wounded you, it took away everything, didn't it? oh poor soul, you held onto happiness with bloody, shaking hands but still fate ripped even that away from you. your past lovers are dead or did some betray you? turning away in fear of what they once admired. your comrades have been slain, or their priorities shifted. I've heard you too have changed your way of thought. the people fear you now, do they normally cower at the sound of your name? ah don't fret, that makes two of us. the masses tend to despise the things they do not have the will to comprehend. the villian finds sympathy for you don't they, well I could have seen that from a mile away. you two are the oldest friends, you made a deal with them correct? to save your late love, they tried to hold their end of the bargain, really, but I fear you are cursed to forever be despondent. oh what a sad and miserable life without love. is that why you chase loneliness? for is it truly a life of sorrow if you yourself has chosen it? but don't become bitter from the pain. trust when I say I have seen wounds unfold a man, turning the gentlest spirits into seething beasts. please, keep seeking love, even if it seems you are forbidden from it. you are the master of your own fate, I see how tired you are. the scars never healed, they twist and wrap around your entire person. your eyes are dark and lifeless, rest. but keep fighting, not with the sword you have forsaken so long ago, but with your heart. I'll be rooting for you my friend.

the rising under dog

why hello again dearie, I see you managed to help those frogs those children were kicking, hm? oh how much I can emphasize we are but the ghosts of our childhood passions. and, unsurprising enough, the hero to the trodden little creatures of the earth is now a rising golden savior to the masses. oh love, I said you'd go far, didn't I. for the good always prevail in the end, somehow, they do. you lived a difficult life, I know, but you never let that get you down. you took beatings with a grin, and dished back kindness in return. inequality and injustice made you outraged, and you strove to assist the hurting and abused. oh shining dragon, you are bathed in golden light. please keep being true. you have tasted blood and death, but you refused to force it down the throats of others. and that alone proves there is inchor in your veins, demigod. you will be struggling until the very end, battling for your comrades, your people, and yourself. never lose sight of your goal my dear. sometimes you needn't have one, except see the good, and protect it. that is all my advice can tell you. I implore, protect the goodness in yourself with everything you have, but never refuse to share it also. young hero, you are growing. you are destined for wonders even I may not live long enough to encounter. keep up the good work, and keep your head held high. you are bound to do the impossible, all because you see the truth. there is good in the world, and it deserves to be found.

[beezusvreeland]

a very good idea - chapter 10

summary: After your boyfriend cheats on you at a party, you break up with him, who tells you nobody else is willing to be with you like him. You decide to prove him wrong, with a little help from a new friend.

ship: miguel o'hara x f!reader

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Chapter 10

“Thanks for coming”, Miguel said when you sat by his side. You made a point to keep a distance, not sure how things would play out. You spent a few hours deciding whether or not to meet him at the park, but ultimately put on some sweats, sneakers and left the house before you could change your mind. 

It’s a windy sunday, and you have to twist your hair and put it inside your hoodie to keep it from flying all over the place. There were a few people around, mostly walking with their dogs. You and Miguel were the only ones sitting in the grass. You braced yourself, watching the pets and the leaves falling, Miguel had his elbow on top of his raised knee, hand messing with his hair. You can feel his gaze searching for you and then looking away. But if he wanted to say something, he would have to initiate it, you decided. You already went through the trouble of leaving a party in the middle of the night and your cozy bed on a cold afternoon.

Miguel let out a breath. 

“Last night took a weird turn”, he started. 

“To say the least.”

“I hm…I was way out of line…And I’m sorry for that.”

You turned to the side, your eyes finally meeting his. Miguel didn’t look too good. Still a beautiful boy carved in marble, but tired, with puffy eyes and very messy hair. He was wearing dark jeans pants, a black sweatshirt and a very distressed pair of red Chucks. His eyebrows were furrowed, he looked like he was trying really hard to understand something. 

“I guess I’m just confused. Out of nowhere you break up with your boyfriend and ask me if I can pretend to be your boyfriend for some undisclosed reason and that never actually happened, but we got closer and I thought we were becoming friends, and then at the party in one moment…”, Miguel was speaking so fast you had a hard time keeping up with him. “You know when…during the concert…shit, things seemed good, like, really good and then I left for a moment and came back to find you chatting with your ex, the one I thought you hated, but apparently not so much. I just…fuck!”

There was no way of pinpointing only one of the emotions that were going through your head. Your blood was boiling full of anger, confusion and so many other things you couldn’t identify. 

“Well, I did ask you to be my fake boyfriend, which in highsight was really stupid and a total impulse after a break up, and I’m sorry for that, I guess, even though you said yes”, your tone was pure frustration. “You didn’t know why I asked you, we weren’t friends before or anything and you knew I had just broken up with someone, and you said yes! It was just a stupid proposition, you could’ve changed your mind, told me to fuck off at any point or stopped hanging out with me. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“I…I…”

“You know, Miguel, I get your confusion and I’m sorry if I caused any harm, okay? But I’m fucking confused too. About all the above and also why you keep acting like you had no idea about my loneliness and what I’ve been through before high school. You were there! You saw the whole thing happening!” The next part, you said in a lower voice, refusing to cry one more time: “And you didn’t do anything. You watched as your friends and even girlfriends bullied me and did nothing.”

And there it was. Your main frustration with Miguel, one that never left you, even as you started to develop feelings for him. Maybe it was the whole reason why you picked him of all people to be your pretend boyfriend. In some twisted way, you wanted to understand what he did — rather, what he didn’t do —, you felt like he owed you for turning his back on you so many times. Harry had told you no one was ever going to want you or stand you. Your ex used words, Miguel acted like it. 

“I guess I resent you for it.” That was the most you ever said to him, definitely the most you’ve ever spoken, to anyone, about your middle school years and the deep scars you were left with. 

Miguel looked surprised, sadness taking over his teary eyes. You didn’t know what you expected to find, but tears were not it. He looked ahead for a few moments before speaking again. 

“You are right…God, I was such a stupid kid. I was just scared, you know? The whole time.”

“But you always looked so confident. People were drawn to you because of it.”

“And I was convinced that if I didn’t follow what they were saying or doing, they would find out the truth, that I had no idea of who I was. It was easier being who they wanted me to be”, Miguel said, he almost sounded…ashamed. He turned to you. “I admired you, you know?”

“Sure”, you scoffed. “Come on now.”

“No, really! You have always been yourself, in spite of anyone or anything”, his intensity said he was telling you the truth. “I knew people weren’t very nice to you, but I had no idea of how bad it actually was. Hey, look at me”, Miguel grabbed your hand. “I only learned that wasn’t normal behavior once I started hanging out with Pete and the guys. If I knew then what I know now…God, I would have never looked away, I would have stayed by your side, I swear.”

It was a lot to process. His words were sweet and you really wanted to believe them. 

“I should’ve done that as soon as you landed me a pen for the first time”, he said quietly, squeezing your hand. 

“Do you remember that?” You had assumed he had just forgotten it, given the way he acted during the years after that.

“Are you kidding?”, Miguel let out a soft chuckle. “A little boy was devastated that day, having just discovered that his parents decided to divorce each other and that his dad was going away. He was so sad he barely packed his things for school. A teacher shamed him for it, but this little girl, the one with the glasses and the desk organized with a notebook with beautiful handwriting and supplies, was kind to him and made his day less horrible. He never forgot about that.”

Still holding his hand, you watched as tears fell from his eyes. Your heart ached a bit less and you felt a massive weight being lifted from your shoulders. 

“Well…you’re welcome”, you said, a timid smile on your face. 

Miguel laughed, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as tender. His thumb started circling your knuckles. Both of you shifted your gaze to your hands holding each other. 

“Do you forgive me?”, he whispered. 

“I do”, you whispered back. 

“What now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is your proposition still on?”

“No, I think we already established it was very stupid.”

“Oh”, he sounded disappointed.

“We could try to get to know each other, since we’ve never actually been friends”, you suggested.

“No more pretending?”

“No more pretending.”

“I’d like that”, he squeezed your hand once more.

***

On monday, after school, you go to a coffee shop with Jess and Gwen to catch up. Sitting at the edge of her chair, the blonde girl beamed as she recalled what happened at the party.

“I was talking to some people when Miles, all of the sudden, showed up and asked me to dance”, she said with excitement. “And I was like ‘this isn’t a dancing song’, there was a terrible playlist on the speakers, so he went away for a second and all of the sudden, In da Club, by 50 cent, started playing…It was so silly, but so fun.”

“Honestly, it looked like everyone at the party woke up from a trance. People came to the living room and started dancing”, Jess took a sip from her iced latte. “It was one of those moments where I look around and think: ‘God, so this is the whole enjoy being young thing is about’”.

“Are you sure it was the dancing or all the kissing you did while dancing?”, Gwen raised an eyebrow.

“What?”, you gasped. “How am I hearing about this just now? How was it? Who was the guy?”

“Well, honey, I don’t kiss and tell”, Jess teased.

“Okay, I guess blondie is telling, then.”

Gwen looked at Jess, then turned to you, giving you a mischievous smile.

“Ben O’Reilly.”

“Jessica!”, your sudden scream makes the baristas roll their eyes and say something like ‘My God, I hate teenagers’. 

Jess used her hands to hide her face, while Gwen couldn’t stop laughing. 

“I don’t even know where to start…Jessica, my love, this is so random!”

“I know, I know”, she uncovered her flushed face. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I mean…why him of all people?”

“Well, he is really hot.”

“I guess we have to agree with that.”

“What did you even talk about? I know he is a bad guy, but I can’t stand him for more than a few minutes. He just loves himself so much”, Gwen shook her head.

“Oh, blondie, we did very little talking”, Jess laughed, looking at her coffee. “Let’s just say that he is very good at expressing himself without words. Like, very good.”

You were happy, amused even, to see your dearest friend enjoy herself so much. Jess’ standards for dating had always been so high, you couldn’t have imagined a party hookup with Ben O’Reilly. 

“Now that we told you our party experiences, wanna tell us what happened to you, honey?”, she turned to you, her expression turning serious. 

“Miles told me you weren’t feeling well and that your sister picked up. I was really worried”, Gwen said.

You looked at your friends, trying to think of a way of telling them where you were at without giving too much away. There was so much you still wanted to figure out.

“I don’t feel comfortable talking in depth about it right now…”

Gwen and Jess nodded. 

“We understand”, Gwen pats your knee.

“What I can say is that Miguel and I had a fight and after that I was just so drawn out, I decided to go home.”

“You could’ve reached out to us at the party, we would go with you in a heartbeat”, Gwen said. 

“I know that, blondie. But if I did, you wouldn’t have experienced all these beautiful memories you just told me about.”

Gwen sighed. 

“But, honey, and it’s okay if you don’t want to go further, you and Miguel seemed to be doing well during the concert. You looked like…like a couple in love.”

You shifted in your chair. Was that what it looked like? Because you felt like it, there was no point in denying it anymore, but you thought maybe Miguel didn’t feel the same way. You still aren’t sure about it. 

***

Even though the deal was off, you decided that you’d still help Miguel with his english grades. You had avoided him during the start of the week, not feeling ready to talk again after the conversation you had at the park. 

There was someone seated at your usual tutoring table outside, but it wasn’t Miguel. It was Peter.

“You are in need of assistance with your english grades too?”, you elbowed him softly. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I hear you are a great teacher, so I just might accept the offer.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, you know, the streets”, Peter seemed down compared to his high energy self. Still, he would not let the opportunity to banter pass him by, no matter at what cost. 

“Are these streets tall and beautiful?”, you seated in front of him.

“Yes, exactly those ones”, he remained quiet for a few moments, then looked up at you. “It’s not my business what you two have been up to or what your relationship status is. However, I do care about Miguel’s happiness.”

You gulped. Deep inside, you felt the need to be liked by Peter. Not only because he was great and had been nothing but the nicest to you, but because he was Miguel’s best friend. He obviously had a huge impact on him, like Miguel told you.

“I think you are good for him, you bring up his brighter sides. It’s nice to see that”, he gave you a soft smile. “I guess what I want is to ask you to please be careful with his heart.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t give him false hopes just to let him down. He likes you a whole lot.”

“I like him too, Pete.”

“No, buddy, Miguel doesn’t just like you. He has had feelings for you ever since I met him. Probably even before that.”

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<< chapter 9

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all chapters

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a very good idea playlist

[eldritchsurveys]

1242.

When are you at your happiest? >> When I'm in a cuddle pile with Can Calah and King Crimson.

Do you find that you’re attracted to people who aren’t “right” for you? >> I'm not attracted to anyone on this plane of reality. I am dying to know what it feels like.

Is there anything you wish you did today? >> Actually, I did more than I expected to. I maybe could have done the dishes in my bus bin but I am okay with the fact that I still haven't summoned the energy for it.

Why haven’t you done it? . What were you doing before you started this survey? >> Well, I was looking for a survey to take, which lately always seems to take more time than I would like. Before that, I was watching an episode of Chernobyl.

Is there any exotic animal you’d like to have as a pet? If so, what is it? >> There is not.

Can you honestly say that you love yourself? >> I can honestly say that.

How many people have you kissed? >> Simultaneously too many and not enough.

How many of those people are you still friends with? >> I don't know any of the people we've kissed anymore, save for Sparrow.

Do you just feel awkward when you dance? >> I don't, I feel... ecstatic. When I get in the groove, in the moment... it's transcendent to me. But only if it's nonstructured, freeform dance. If I have to start thinking about steps or moves or whatever, the mood becomes way different. When was the last time you felt absolutely happy? >> Probably at some point during a really intense moment with Can Calah.

Where did you go, the last time you left your house? >> I just went for a walk.

Name someone that you love: >> Can Calah.

Is there something that you’re looking forward to right now? If so, what? >> Whenever Sparrow's financial aid refund comes in so we can actually buy groceries. God, what a charmed life, huh. What caused you to cry, the last time you did? >> Loneliness, but specifically the feeling of desperately needing support and knowing it just doesn't exist for me.

Do you think you spend too much time feeling upset? >> I don't spend too much time feeling upset, I spend as much time as the feeling requires. The world does an excellent job of being judgmental towards emotions and trying to hurry them along, but I'm not interested in that anymore. I will be in agony regardless, but I'll be in less of it if I stop trying to run away from it.

Is there anywhere you would rather be right now? If so, where? >> Always. Just somewhere that's not here.

Do you like your singing voice? >> Eh, I haven't seriously practiced singing since high school and HRT permanently changed my range (or at least the expression of my range), so my singing voice is rusty at best. I still enjoy singing, though, so that doesn't really matter. No one said I had to be good at it to have a good time. (A lot of people say that, actually, or at least imply it. They're wrong, though.) Do you think that you’ve ever actually been IN love with someone? >> I, personally, have not. Previous body pilots... I don't know. The body's memories are unclear on that front. If so, do you still feel the same way about them? .

Have you ever done a psychedelic drug? If not, would you ever consider it? >> I haven't done a proper psychedelic. I am interested, but because of my previous drug-use trauma it'd need to be in a very supportive setting, with at least one experienced trip sitter or guide or whatever around.

What’s something that makes you feel uncomfortable? >> Seatbelts.

Are you bisexual? >> I am xenosexual. Human gender doesn't factor into my potential for attraction.

Are you a good speller? >> Very.

Are most silences awkward for you? >> Hardly any silences are awkward for me, unless the other person is clearly uncomfortable in a way that my hypervigilant nervous system picks up on. Then I'm just annoyed at their discomfort, lol. Can't we just vibe?

Do you sing and dance? >> Damn skippy. Have you ever been to an amusement park? >> I have.

Name someone you wish you had never met: .

Why? . Do you have any “nerdy” hobbies? If so, name some: >> I don't feel like trying to figure out what makes a hobby "nerdy". Name a word that you just really do not like: >> "Wholesome". Ew.

Why don’t you like it? >> I don't know. I'm okay with just having random word aversions that I can't explain. It might be connected to my distaste for mawkishness, and people tend to use "wholesome" in such a fashion. Do you still seriously make pinky promises? >> I don't recall if I've ever made any. Did you ever see the movie Good Burger when it came out? >> I still haven't seen it. I doubt I ever will.

Do you and your friends have a lot of inside jokes? .

What’s your favorite aspect of your life? >> I love being strange and unusual. That part never stops being great, even when it sometimes contributes to my feelings of alienation.

Do people tell you that you should smile more? >> Fortunately, I don't remember the last time I heard this stupid ass sentiment.

Do you prefer summer to winter? >> I do. I don't have anything against winter, but my body/nervous system sure does.

Do you use swear words? >> I do.

If so, do you have a favorite one? >> I like funny combinations of words, like "fucknugget" or "shitass". It's just silly :B

What’s something you find utterly disgusting? >> I don't even want to think about the things I find disgusting, that's how disgusting I find them. Are you easily angered? >> I am not, but I am easily irritated.

What’s something someone could do to really piss you off? >> Be dismissive or mocking towards me when I'm being vulnerable. I'll fucking kill you <3

Do you spend a lot of time just thinking/daydreaming? >> I do spend more time thinking than I'd sometimes like to (ruminating, more like), but not nearly enough time daydreaming.

Name a song you’ve really been digging lately: >> I got into Rotting Christ recently. Good shit.

Are you a virgin? If yes, are you waiting until marriage? >> I am not.

Who has the nicest singing voice, that you know personally? .

Say something nice about someone you really don’t care for: .

Do you think you’re pleasant to be around most of the time? >> I think that it takes a particular sort of person to find me pleasant to be around. (I don't think this is a bad thing. I like that about myself, that I'm singular in a way that only certain people would appreciate, despite how much rejection is involved.)

What are you gonna do now that you’re done with this survey? >> See what's going on on tumblr, I guess. Maybe another survey a bit later? Haven't been doing these much lately, too much going on with me that makes me just want to zone out and play FFXIV for 6 hours straight.

[x-theolivia]

You bring the best out of me

Fairy Tail Masterlist - Navigation

Request: @the-letter-horror-lover - I was wondering if I could may have a Fairy tail Platonic young love headcanon between Wendy Marvell and a male S/O Gray Fullbuster's little brother who is the same age as Wendy. The only thing is S/O is pretty much considered as a rather cold kid figuratively..exactly like Ciel Phantomhive from Black Butler. (Wendy brought out the best in Gray's younger brother)

Summary: You think you won’t need friends. That their just some waste of time. But Wendy Marvell thinks otherwise.

Pairing: platonically Wendy Marvell x male!Reader

Warning: platonically fluff and none, I guess but If you find something, let me know

Authors Note: Fairy Tail doesn’t belong to me and so does this gif. This is my first request and I just write something stupid down. But I hope you like it and I‘m so sorry for my bad english

-

You don’t need friends, that’s what you though your whole life

You are alone in this world. That’s what you think.

Your brother, Gray Fullbuster, were always busy with Lyon and left you behind. You learned what you can do alone. Just Ur taught you how you use your Ice Magic.The loneliness left a big hole in your heart and you said to yourself: before this happens again, I won‘t let anyone near me, ever again… and so you did

7 years ago, Ur died. The last one you let near you just disappeared out of your life.

Your brother dragged you with him. This is the story how you became a part of Fairy Tail.

At first everyone tried to cheer you up. Tried to be your friend. But your family left a big hole in you and nobody seems to be able to stuff this. After months they stopped trying and you became the only one in this guild without a group. Even your brother left you behind and it hurt you.

2 years ago Wendy became a part of Fairy Tail and you - a grumpy, cold, arrogant brat - caught her attention. She was shy at first but when you snapped at her she was determined to become your friend. Come what may.

-

Your sitting in the hall and mind your own business, everyone is chatting around you but no one is chatting with you. You’re fine with that. Everyone knows that you don’t want friends.

She sits in front of you, her eyes never leave you but you’re too annoyed to keep this up

„What do you want Marvell?“ you ask her before you roll your eyes at her

„Keeping you company. You seemed so lonely“ she answers and you didn’t like it

„I‘m not lonely! I‘m minding my own business. You should do the same, Marvell“ you snap at her but she doesn’t flinch, instead she shows you a sheet of paper. A mission.

„Go with me on this mission!“ she asks and looks at you with puppy eyes, it makes something inside you twitch

You rip the paper out of her hand and start reading:

It’s a request from a village known as Eldoria, located deep within the enchanted forest. It seems that a mysterious and ancient tome, said to hold unimaginable power, has been stolen from the village‘s sacred temple. The village elders are desperate to recover the tome before it falls into the wrong hands, as it‘s magic could bring devastation to the realm.

The tome is believed to be hidden within a treacherous labyrinth, guarded by powerful magical creatures and intricate traps.

„Why would you ask me? Go with Natsu or somebody else!“ you try to scare Wendy away but she shakes her head

„I want to go with you! pretty, pretty please!“ she‘s too determined

„Fine, whatever“ you roll your eyes but her eyes shine like diamonds

Secretly you’re as excited as she is

-

„Thank you so much for your help. You see, this tome is very special for our village and if we don’t get it back and the tome falls into false hands… it could be the end!“ the eldest says when you and Wendy arrive at Eldoria

You stand in front of this called labyrinth. It seems scary and dark but you’re not afraid. You call yourself fearless… way too often

„Don’t worry, we will find the tome. My friend is pretty good with his magic“ she says and heat rises in your cheeks. Friends.

You step inside the labyrinth and the hedge behind you closes itself. You‘re trapped in this labyrinth.

You first stop is a glade and the trees seems to whisper. They are possess by a mischievous spirit. They whisper some easy riddles and puzzles, that help you navigate through them.

You take the lead. Wendy seems not quite to understand so you grab her wrist and guide her through the forest.

The next stop is a hidden chamber adorned with glistening crystals but they don’t seem right. Wendy starts to turn and push the crystals around until she reveals a secret passage behind them

„How do you do this?“ you ask confused

„They looked not right so I turn them until it looks beautiful“ she explains with a big, proud grin

„Pft. Girls“ you mutter, but secretly you’re impressed by her

When you go over the secret passage you get into a grand chamber that is protected by an ancient staue. A guardian who tests your wisdom and knowledge.

He asks you a series of riddles and question and you need to get them right. You take the lead again. Your knowledge isn’t small but one question is pretty hard and you stand there, stammer something but don’t get the answer. Wendy jumps in and answers the question right.

The guard is impressed and let you through

„Thanks“ you whisper but she smiles at you, which melt your heart

„You’re welcome, Y/N“

The last challenge awaits you two in the heart of the labyrinth. You face a series of elemental trials, each representing a different force of nature. You must demonstrate your ability to resist fire, water, earth and air to unlock the chamber where the tome resides.

It was not that easy because your ice can’t do much against the elements but Wendy helps you out with her magic of a Dragonslayer.

„You ok?“ she asks when you sink on your knees to take a breath

„Yeah, I‘m fine“ and for the first time you smile at her. She stands there, shock in her eyes but it forms into happiness before she storms into your arms and give you the biggest hug in your life

After overcoming the challenges of the labyrinth, you reach the final chamber, where you find the stolen enchanted tome hidden away.

However, you soon realize that an infamous dark guild seeks to claim its power for themselves

A fierce battle ensues as you and Wendy defeat the dark guild, ensuring its safety

With the tome recovered, you return to Eldoria to the joyous celebration of the villagers, who are grateful for your heroic efforts

You stand besides, let the other celebrate, when Wendy come up to you

„You did a great job, Y/N“ she says and smiles at you

„You weren’t bad yourself, Marvell“ you give her also a little smile before she stick out her hand to you

Confused you look at her and her hand

„Friends?“ she asks nicely and tilts her head to the right

„Yeah, whatever“ you gave her your hand and she drags you into the celebrations

The mission is a success, and the power of the enchanted tome remains safeguarded, preserving the harmony of the magical realm.

-

When you return to Fairy Tail everyone can see your change. You smile more often and go on missions with Wendy… and Wendy only

Even your brother looks at you and feels proud of you to find a friend in Wendy

Sometime it seems that you’re still grumpy but you aren’t

One day, Gray Fullbuster goes up to Wendy.

„Thank you, Wendy“ he says but she doesn’t understand

„You bring the best out of my brother“ he explains but she just smile and hug Gray tight

[distressednoise]

I am not usually a particularly omegaverse person (I like it well enough but have never written it) but I woke up this morning with absolute brain worms over a scenario i can only describe as “jonathan toews: log cabin omega” or possibly “jonathan toews is the most pick me omega of all time”

If you were to ask jonathan toews at 17, he’d say actually there isn't a problem with the league's attitude toward omegas and it isn't harder to play on suppressants and you can be the first omega captain of an NHL team by 25 as per your elaborate personal vision board. He’s given many interviews on the subject, both to teams - even the Habs’ coaching team, who tried the stupid pheromone rag trick at the combine - and to matchmakers, who are helping him find someone suitable to settle down with. 

Sure, suitable means older and dull and often slightly leery, but being part of a stable bond with someone who can take care of his dynamic needs will make him more appealing to the league, and jonny is going to be on suppressants while he plays anyway, and by the time he retires, surely he and whoever the agency find will have come to some kind of arrangement.

TJ may say that sounds like a lifetime of drudgery and loneliness, but TJ doesn’t even have a vision board, so.

Everything will be fine. 

Except when jonathan toews is 18, he goes to the draft and accidentally bonds with one of chicago’s defencemen the night before he’s supposed to go to pittsburgh, and it suddenly becomes apparent that the veil of acceptance is very, very thin. 

Jonny was so perfect for so long and his one moment of madness - his one last fling before he was going to drop out of college and get his bond of convenience - and he’s fucking flash bonded, and when he tries to leave the draft without seabs, whose full name he now realises he doesn’t know, he has a shameful panicky meltdown and his alpha - oh jesus, what the fuck - has to be fetched to help him. 

“This is exactly why we don’t have your sort in the league,“ say a lot of people who were previously very keen to draft jonny, who is sent back to college in disgrace. It’s awful now - he was in a pretty good position before, allowed to do what he wanted, but now he’s been relegated to the omega-only dorm and has a curfew of all things. The pastoral team tell him isolation should make the bond fade faster while the athletic department clearly feel he just needs a good dicking down from literally anyone. Meanwhile seabs is sending him these soppy emails about bringing him to chicago and having him play there, how much he misses jonny, how they’re trying to close the bond off at his end and it’s not working, but seabs seems happy about this. like this bullshit is something he wants. 

after a semester of misery he goes to a bond clinic to try and help things along. It doesn't work, partly because his brother sneaks him a phone and he spends all his time texting seabs. Seabs has a picture of himself standing next to the stanley cup as a boy, and he has slotted jonny's picture next to it. He sends a picture of this craft project to jonny with the caption "boom. Board complete." jonny stares at it until the clinic staff find his phone and take it away, at which point he thinks fuck it, and skips out during David’s next visit, planning on showing up in chicago and demanding they give him staal’s spot and seabs and everything else he wants, because fuck them he hasn’t changed, and they’d have taken him if they could and they know it. 

...something something they live happily ever after, there is a scene where secret omega patrice bergeron tries to teach jonny the subtle art of lying well, seabs is besotted and simply thinks jonny should be handed everything he wants immediately, how dare you say he “lacks impulse control” and “isn’t leadership material”, seabs would have punched out that guy and judy’s tavern too (”stop bringing that up,” jonny grits out for the fifth time)

[fandomscraziness22]

just a little caleb poem to go with this incredible moodboard made by @molinapattersons

the noise of the city is overwhelming

emotions flooding in from every angle

anger-frustration-loneliness-fear

happiness-excitement-anticipation-joy

curiosity-apprehension-confidence-surprise

it was hard enough before this 

change 

happened

just noticing everything

but he had gotten better at it

caleb had learned to turn down the volume

filter it 

let his own emotions be the driving force

until something snapped

and his power changed

he changed

he made someone worse

the regret almost knocks him on his ass

so he quits his internship

because he can’t help anyone

all caleb can think about is getting away

away

away

away

it loops in his mind

he doesn’t know where, at first

sadie is worried

(of course she is, he’s stomping around the apartment

panicking and barely forming coherent sentences)

it’s orange and smothering

like a fire burning him from the inside out

and while he loves sadie

he can’t be here right now

(what if i hurt her, what if i influence her, what if it happens again)

caleb throws some clothes and food in a backpack

stops at a gas station to fill up

and then drives

it’s not a good idea to drive when you’re upset

but he needs to get the hell out of dodge

so he’s cautious as the miles drift by

thankfully, nothing happens

he drives down the highway

letting the green outside calm him

he barely thinks about where he’s going

until he ends up at one of his favorite spots

willow creek

his family used to camp here on the way to his grandparents’ place

it reminds him of brighter days

caleb pays for three days’ time

sets up camp in his given spot

and sits

there’s no one close by

and finally

finally

he can breathe

~~~

nature is never truly quiet

there’s always something to hear

birds chirping

bugs flying 

the wind whispering through the leaves

the crunch of footsteps on woodchipped paths

the muted squish of mossy lanes

his own breath

his own heartbeat

his own muscles clenching, moving, stretching, growing

outside is the only place caleb can make sense of anything anymore

his emotions are bigger

more tangible out here

he can feel his fear

let it overtake him

let it overwhelm him

and then release it

without any danger of anyone else being infected by it

he cries

he screams

he swims

he hikes 

he gets one of those stupid bird guides

and teaches himself how to watch for them

he takes pictures for mark

caleb feels everything

he’s angry at his body for betraying him like that

his power just shifted, without him realizing it 

without any control over it

and it hurt someone 

again

his power used to be a blessing

but it seems like all it does is bring pain

he’s anxious about his future

because he’s built three years of schooling into this

becoming a therapist

helping people

listening to them, really hearing them

and then guiding them into building better lives for themselves

but now

how the fuck is he supposed to do that

his power was supposed to help 

but he’s too terrified about what could happen

(what has happened)

to entertain the idea

of putting more vulnerable people in that situation

~~~

nature is healing

nature is calming

nature doesn’t fix everything

but it does give space

for emotions 

for caleb

to fill it

and not be

quite so

alone

[itchose]

@savevan said, "don’t do anything stupid. or brave."

travis knows what she's talking about, a habit that he seems to have formed out here — but he would never consider himself brave for the things he's done ( or failed to do ) in order to keep himself and the ones he loves alive, especially since he's failed over and over again. his impulsive acts of ' bravery ' have only ever backfired on him; he saved nat, but at the cost of his own brother, an impossible choice he'd never know how to make if it was presented to him before he ever made a move.

he was never good at keeping javi safe or even comfortable; when his brother disappeared, it was all he could think about, how horrible he had been as a brother and how even worse he was as a parental figure to him in the place of their parents. he promised himself he'd do better if he ever save him again, and when he did come back, part of that was trying to let him be his own person, because it was clear that javi, somehow, seemed more equipped for this life than travis ever felt he himself was. nat had become family, too —  not just for travis, but he could see it for javi, too. he wasn't going to let nat meet the same fate he almost met months ago - used as these girls' pawn, sacrificed in such a harrowing way, knife to her throat, the way travis could still feel shauna's to his own.

but stopping that from happening to nat doesn't feel like something he's done to save her life, not when it came at the expense of his brother —  and not when he can see in her that despite surviving that, some part of her died that day, too.

❝  you say that like there's ever a right thing to do, ❞ he mumbles without ever looking to her, eyes fixated on the seatbelt he's just wrapped around himself, preparing to head out in search of some solution for shelter. though it's less about what they need and more about him just needing to get away. ❝  don't worry. i know better, ❞ he states bluntly, finally looking back up to van, eyes lacking the confidence he wishes to portray in his words, because knowing better doesn't mean he'll do better.

he takes a step, ready to leave it at that, but something holds him back, his eyes drifting back to van as he takes a deep breath. ❝  you can come with, ❞ he says dryly, because he doesn't actually expect her to say yes, nor does he even know why he's offering. he wants to be alone, just as much as he wants to fight the feeling of aching loneliness. ❝  —  if you want. ❞

[coffee---bean]

thinking out-loud for a while

hi, i thought i'd write down my thoughts for a bit about the manifesto work, and just see what comes out.

i'm not very inspired right now. donald trump just became the president of the united states of america, again. i'm also completely foodless and going through a weird medical thing as i prepare for a colonoscopy.

i'm listening to some MOUNT EERIE, since the newest album "NIGHT PALACE" just came out. his vibe as a musician is so beautiful and soft and detailed and organic and mysterious, sprawling -- truly the only person who was inspired by TWIN PEAKS to actually carry that inspiration and make something amazing and better

i think his work is inspiring me a little.

i'd like to build a bit more onto the thing -- give it a tunnel entrance area, give it a droopy thing. cut into it, decorate, add more sprawl around the bottom.

and then i'd like to make some music inside it, and record it, and project it out. so i think that's maybe two sessions -- one to do a bunch of building, and one to do some music.

i only have about a week left, and i need to have a colonoscopy in that time, unfortunately. oh well! tomorrow i'll be unable to work, but on friday i could come in before my pizza job. and maybe on sunday, and maybe on monday, and maybe on tuesday for a little while.

and who knows, maybe i can keep it for a long time? we'll see.

i hope so.

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

i'd also like to just write for a little while. how am i feeling? what do i have to say? i feel like recently i have very little to say, i just want to do things. i don't know if i have a purpose. i think part of being an artist is being able to give yourself over to some kind of bigger thing, imaginary or no. you need a muse, i guess. and my muse in the past has been a shallow understanding of buddhist philosophy and wisdom, or romantic heartbreak and loneliness, or anger and anti-authoritarian rage at my school or my parents or anything.

but recently i've been kind of fine, and i've been dating someone, and i've been a lot less insecure and a lot more humble, i think. i'm becoming more aware of how little i know, and how little i have to offer, when considered in the enormity of every other person, and making a masterpiece seems strange to me, totally self-indulgent for a bottomless purposeless life.

what do i want to do?

i think at the moment, honestly, i'm a little annoyed that i have to make art in general, and have it be experienced in a way i don't appreciate. i like things that take a long time, and shift, and change, and feel old, and feel like they have history, and layers of meaning warmly baked into them. and i like to explore, i like to communicate and run, i like to have enemies and i like to have friends. i like learning and i like feeling close to people. i think life is endless nothingness and movement. i feel like movement is all it is, really. i think everything is kind of just atoms and forces and we're carrying those atoms from one place to another, as we are carried.

the album NIGHT PALACE ends with a statement i find very frightening,

It's that nothing arises in the first place All this impermanence is just another thing my mind made I was never here, and nothing goes away

and i think that idea has contributed to, and given context to, how i feel at the moment. i feel very... i feel kind of just like i exist, i guess. i'd like to one day get to the point where i just exist as flowing matter. i feel like a flickering candle, maybe, and i'd like to go out. i'd like to stop for a while, i guess.

not in a suicide way, just... i don't know. i'm tired of moving. i'm done with this, i think. i've lifted enough heavy things, mentally, i mean. i want to lift heavy things physically. i want to build this thing, i love it, it's so fun. i love building and creating and it feels like silly sandcastles.

i think sandcastles are amazing things. they're so beautiful, they rise and fall, and wet sand as a material is so sludgy and inconvenient - you never really make what you want. and since it's a child's medium and very much not taken seriously in the art-world, there aren't really tools for moulding it. it's a battle, and it's meaningless. and that's really beautiful.

i think manifesto is a good name.

but, like,,, what the fuck does that mean i do,,,

like i feel like that perspective means i can do anything.

ok! what should i do?

[quarantinedinabaddream]

got your whole life ahead of you , you’re only 19. but i fear that they already got all the best parts of me.

it’s been a year since you left the house which was supposed to be a home but never quite felt like one no matter how hard you tried to make it into that. it’s been a year since you realised that freedom isn’t what they make it out to be, because like a caged bird left in the wild you too still can’t quite comprehend what to do with yourself. it’s been almost two months since you turned 19. you cried waiting for your mother to wish you at midnight, despite being surrounded by way too many people than you ever had been on birthdays, except all it did was make you feel lonelier. and at last the wish did come, later than you expected, but it did. and you couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief, quietly thinking about how your mother still loved you it seemed even though you always know deep down that she is going to forever despise you for ruining her life by just existing but you brushed away that thought before it had the chance to become tangible in the form of blood dripping on the bathroom floor, staining the tiles the same colour as the dye in your hair did the summer after 18.

on most days you can’t help but wonder if anyone truly sees you, if anyone understands the weight you carry on your shoulders, the burden of unwanted expectations and disappointments that seem to define your existence. you think about whether they can see it on your face, that each passing year feels like another layer of your real self being stripped away, leaving behind a hollow shell of who you once were but the thing is you can’t even recall who you used to be and it scares you because what if this is all you’ve ever been? what if the dreams you had were just childish insolences disguised as ambitions. on most days you also can’t help but mourn the person you could’ve been, had things happened differently. the person who would have the strength to dream without restraint and chase after their beliefs with unwavering determination. the person who would know happiness and love like the back of their hand. but alas, you know in your bones that the gap between who you could’ve been and who you actually are can never be bridged. so now as you stand on the precipice of adulthood with trembling knees, you are haunted by the ghost of the person you once could’ve been, now forever lost to the passage of time and the cruel hand of fate.

you want to scoff when people say it gets better the more you grow because you know it doesn’t won’t. you know that you are going to spend the rest of your years wishing you could go back, to what though you still can’t really decide. and on days when the world around you swims and blurs into a haze of muted colours, voices and bone deep exhaustion, the lines between reality and illusions blurring and swirling into a violent storm of pain. you can’t help but numbly wonder whether the devoted “it gets better” believers can see the ocean deep hopelessness in your eyes. whether they can see the exhaustion of nothing you do ever being enough in the trembling of your body. whether they even notice the sickness that torments your mind and body forcing you to take pills just so you can get out of bed. but even then you can’t, not always. not when your mind won’t stop obsessing over the most trivial things to the point that you start to suspect whether you are even real and your body won’t stop aching at the slightest of movements. you want to laugh in their face when they call you weak because you know they wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where you were raised. you want to snarl and scream and tell them that you will never believe their lies of “oh, it will get better with time” because, unlike the stories you grew up reading there is never a light at the end of the tunnel in reality, not for you atleast. so, you resign yourself to the bleakness of your existence, knowing that there is no escape from the prison whether of your own making or not.