#i am past the worst stages of grieving. but it still hurts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 4 years ago

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Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

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deathbedawaken · 2 years ago

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I haven't been able to sleep past few nights. Too much emotion. There's currently too much uncertainty of what's going to happen with my current life due to my medical condition. Kubler Ross talked about the stages of grieving but I feel they can be applied to different time in our lives. At the moment I haven't gone through any of them. I do have moments of sadness that can last hours, moments when I just cry and at times which I wasn't here to have to go through this. Life has thrown at me many obstacles as a child, diagnosed with (Neurofibromatosis type 1) NF at the age of 6 months and having to go to specialist, doctors, hospitals, being a genui pig etc. Currently 36 and will be 37 next month. It's been a long a hard battle and I am tired. On June 6th I had bladder surgery to remove tumors from my bladder wall (Malignant Neoplasm of the bladder wall) unfortunately my surgery failed. Last night I found out this doctor has a pending law suit for malpractice. I am currently on a waiting list to be seen by a new specialist; a urologist that specializes in cancer patients in regards the the bladder as well as prostate, etc. I am hoping to be seen in 2 weeks or less given my current diagnosis. What's been going on in my mind is why have I had to go through so much since I was a baby. Where or what did I do wrong? I'm not a perfect person, I will admit I have my flaws and make mistakes daily and perhaps have even hurt people. It's never been with malicious intent or any type of agenda. I am upset at the universe and basically the spontaneous mutation that occurred as I was still in my mother's womb. I still haven't told my mom or sister. Given that my sister is an emergency ER trauma Nurse Practitioner (NP) pretty much a doctor for those that may be unfamiliar with that term. My emotions lately have been of uncertainty, should I try chemotherapy, immunotherapy, is it even worth going through. Part of me does want to move on and live a comfortable life and ultimately overcome this. The other side of me doesn't want to try chemo or other treatment options and just succumb. I feel that I am simply just one of those lucky people that become cursed . To me it's the only logical way I can explain this to others and what I believe. This new urologist Dr Bruce specializes in robotics and cancer at Loma Linda University Hospital one of the best here in California.

Having NF and Bladder cancer is pretty much the worst scenario. I am not sure how well I will take the treatments that are required, if it will spread or it turns out to be all well in the end. What ever time I have left on this earth 🌎 I want to be able to be a good person to my friends, love ones and people in general. I hope they have good memories of me. In the meantime I'm hoping to get back into my photography and art in general. #cancer #malignantneoplasmofthebladder #chronicillness #neurofibromatosis

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axiang-n-chengling-s-dads · 4 years ago

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Baek Kyung: The Writer’s Stand-In

“In this messed-up world, the only moment I can be myself is when I’m with you on the stage. In both the previous book and this book, the Baek Kyung that the writer draws in our scenes is the real me.”

Baek Kyung is a well-written and complex character, who starts off as Dan Oh’s antithesis, under the writer’s control and slowly break’s free from his previous identity to find his real self.

Dan Oh’s Antithesis

“Think about it. Was there anything that changed as you’d intended? In the end we’re following the writer’s story.”

Baek Kyung while not exactly the writer’s stand-in, is someone who challenges Dan Oh constantly on her beliefs, and for a very long time represents the way the writer views things.

He is the one who points out that they couldn’t ultimately change anything, going against both Dan Oh and Haru’s faith in their power to change the story.

This comes mostly from the fact that Baek Kyung is unable to shake off the writers influence on him.

“You’ll change the story which has been drawn already? (...) How can you be sure if the writer is still drawing this or if he’s finished it already?”

Baek Kyung is also the one who points out that events are repeating themselves from the previous book, as are the lines, and suggests that the writer is more in control of them than they think. He is also the one to tell Dan Oh that it was Haru who killed her in the previous book, with the staunch belief that Haru will eventually lead to Dan Oh’s downfall.

“You cannot leave me because you’re not supposed to. That’s your fate. That’s the reason why you were born and existed to this day.” -Trumpet Creeper, to Haru

“You’ll always have to stay by my side. That’s just who you are.”- Secret, to Dan Oh

Another writer’s belief that Baek Kyung upholds is the belief in this hierarchy of extras and main characters. He believes in the realness of the stage, and that the character’s drawn by the writer for them are their true selves.

“Everything is back in its place. Its better for Dan Oh too. At least she wont suffer between the gap of the stage and shadow.”

Baek Kyung also believes in the bliss of ignorance as opposed to the burden of knowledge. When he comes to know that characters that die in the shadow lose their self-awareness, he says it wouldn’t be a bad way to be, even if you only experienced emotions the writer wrote for you and had to lose all your memories.

The Monster

“I desperately wanted everything to go back to its place. I’d hoped the stage was the reality. But it wasn’t the real you on stage. And wishing to keep you by my side knowing that you weren’t yourself, makes me a monster.”

Under the writer’s control, Baek Kyung starts off as a cold, wounded character, Dan Oh’s distant fiance. As his character, his behaviour ranges from stand-offish to downright cruel sometimes.

As Dan Oh gains self-awareness and changes as a person, Baek Kyung notices. He notices the changes in her and the entry of Haru.

He starts to gain self-awareness once, in the shadows, he begins to fall for Dan Oh and begins to regret his harsh actions on stage.

“You don’t know how I was always alone, outside the stage.”

It is important to understand the reason for his personality remaining largely unchanged from his stage self is because, unlike Dan Oh, Do Hwa, or Ju Da, Baek Kyung is unable to separate the identity the author has given him.

He also cannot divorce himself from his set up. He still grieves and blames his mother who left him when he was young, and also distances himself from Dan Oh because she reminds him of his mother. He believes that her terminal conditions means that she will leave him one day too.

“You said you didn’t know if the Eun Dan Oh in my memory was real or fake. But I wish she was real. There must be a reason why everything’s going back to what it was before.”

Like I said before, Baek Kyung thinks that the stage is the reality. When Dan Oh’s ten-year crush seems to disappear into thin air, and she claims it was fake all along, Baek Kyung is hurt and confused. For him, as for her, the memories of their childhood together were real, even if they were just a part of their set-ups.

"Light pink roses mean, ‘Only you know how I feel.’”

Another problem he has because of his fear of abandonment is that he guards his emotions very closely, and therefore they’re always painfully left unsaid. By the time he comes around to confessing to them, it is too late.

Dan Oh has already found happiness elsewhere, and is adamant in changing the stage.

“You cant help it Sae-Mi, youre the villain. (...) You need to tell them what their role is.”

In his bid to stop her from changing the stage, and his frustration with his character and the writer, Baek Kyung realises how fully he has turned into the role of the villain. Both in the stage and in the shadow, in this book and in the previous one too, he is always placed against Dan Oh in an antagonistic manner. This arc is completed when he removes her oxygen mask in the hospital and is shown that he was the one who’d killed her in ‘Trumpet Creeper’.

It is here that his worst fears come true: he was the reason why everyone he loved left him-- he was the real monster.

The Real Baek Kyung

“You (Dan Oh) are the only person who really knows me.”

Funnily enough, for someone who thought he was Dan Oh’s beginning, it is Eun Dan Oh herself who becomes the beginning of the new, the real Baek Kyung as the show draws to a close.

“They are cliches, but we’re the only ones who know how cruel and sad this is. Because we’re just Dan Oh and Baek Kyung before our characters.The Dan Oh of ‘Secret’ wants to thank you, and the Dan Oh of ‘Trumpet Creeper’ forgives you.”

Having blamed himself for her death in Trumpet Creeper and mistreatement in Secret, Baek Kyung could only truly rid himself of the writer’s clutches if he separated himself from his stage self. Eun Dan Oh’s acknowledgement of their stage roles, and of their relationship off-screen let’s him break free from the cycle of resentment and revenge.

“You can go in my place. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m doing this because I hate the writer.”

The second step in his transition is undermining the stage. As someone who fully believed in the stage’s authority, the moment where he actively works to change it is important-- he finally does the right thing helping Dan Oh recover her true self, and sheds his identity as the monster.

“(...) or hate each other from now on. Let’s put the past behind us.”

The truce with Jimmichi Fairy is also an important one. Along with Dan Oh, his character in the previous book had also harmed Jimmichi Fairy. Remembering is only painful for them because of the grudges they hold. Letting them go, and forgiving each other, Baek Kyung, JF, and Haru finally resolve their conflict, ensuring that Secret, or any book in the future does not meet a violent ending like Trumpet Creeper did.

“I am grateful that the writer made me your younger brother.”

“Thats the funniest thing you ever told me.”

“I mean it. Because that means I’m always by your side.”

This is the final step in Baek Kyung’s journey of self-discovery. Baek Kyung was someone who always felt as though he was alone, pushing away his brother even after he found out that Baek Joon-Hyun was also self-aware. Like before, he could not leave behind their setups-- he was not his real brother, but the son of the woman who’d tried to replace his mother.

Admitting that he needs Baek Joon-Hyun, and letting the latter love him, Baek Kyung finally leaves behind his old self completely, and finally finds the Real Baek Kyung.

#extraordinary you #extraordinary you meta #july found by chance #meta #meta analysis #kdrama #kdrama recs #at a distance spring is green #the devil judge #penthouse #my roommate is a gumiho #vincenzo #youth of may

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alonely-dreamer · 4 years ago

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The Valuable Sun | Chapter 23 (Part 1)

Summary: Pam and Brooke adapt to Eric’s absence

Pairing: Eric x OC

Warnings: 18+

A/N: Please, note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there.

Words: 1451

Masterlist

Tags: @parabatai-winchester

Pam was a small comfort. Brooklynne knew her vampire sister was grieving too, and probably trying to think of all the places Eric and Bill could be right now, all the places they’d be tomorrow, and all the places they’d never be again. Brooklynne had spent the last three nights at Fangtasia, knowing Pam would need the support, and that she certainly wouldn’t want it. Not that Brooklynne could help the vampire. It was Pam who had spent the last century with Eric. It was Pam who could legitimately feel his loss and truly miss him. In truth, being close to Pam made Brooklynne feel close to Eric, but she liked to think they were better together than apart. There were a family, and Pam hadn’t asked her to leave her alone, and deep down, Brooklynne knew Pam wanted to look after her too, though she’d die before she would admit it. They were both hurting, and Pam had her moments of vulnerability that she had only allowed Brooklynne to see, only Brooklynne, because she was her sister, Eric’s progeny, the love of his life, and she would die for her as he would, because she knew he’d want her to. She knew he’d want them to be a family, to take care of each other. So she kept the same look on her face, that pissed-off look that Brooke had come to love and find reassuring, because that was who her sister was. She was strong and she didn’t depend on a man to go on. Pam could do this. It would hurt like nothing else, but she would do it. For Eric. For Brooklynne. For herself. Brooklynne wasn’t as strong. She couldn’t go on or even pretend to be okay. She sat on his throne, up on that stage, staring at the door, waiting for Eric to walk through it with Bill. She was still in denial. She couldn’t believe he was gone. She couldn’t believe that he had left her behind. It hurt too much, and thinking about it just felt like torture. It was tearing her apart in the inside. Her only comfort was Pam, and that supernatural feeling, that certainty, that her maker was still alive. For now.

“This is the worst night ever.”

She had said those words. Those foolish words. And Eric had known better. Eric always knew better.

They had saved the vampires of Bon-Temps from a psycho necromancer and that was how the AVL and the Authority had chosen to repay them? She gave her life for this? It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. And Eric had broken all of his promises, in the name of love, he had left her behind, because he had to pay the price, he was the one running away, from what, from whom?

The rage built up inside of her and she felt her blood boil. She wanted to kill someone, anyone, everyone. They were in his club, laughing, not knowing what he had sacrificed, what she had sacrificed, for them, for their miserable lives, and she wouldn’t get a thank you, Eric wouldn’t get a thank you. Not, all he got was a death sentence. And as she sat there she thought of all the vampires, all those baby vampires, like her, who thought they were so cool and dangerous, whose makers had probably abandoned them as soon as he had made them, who barely knew how to glamour someone, how to bite a human being without draining them completely, she thought about those people, stared at those people, who were bragging about not drinking Tru Blood, because Tru Blood were for pussies and real vampires drank real human blood. They spat on all that Eric and Bill and even she had fought for. She had fought for it that night when she died at that AVL conference to enforce the Authority’s mainstreaming agenda. How was any of it fair? She wanted to go home and run to her grandmother, her gran would have something wise to say, or if she didn’t at least something comforting. She’d cook her favourite meal, even at midnight, and she’d play cards with her until she felt better, until she were too tired to be upset. How could they live like this? Did they know how unfair it all was? Did they know how much people sacrificed for them to be able to live in their blissful ignorance? She hated them. She wanted them gone. She wanted them dead.

Pam, who was sitting on the throne beside her, staring at the same people she had, suddenly lifted her head. The movement tore Brooklynne from her descent into madness and brought her back to reality, as if she had fallen asleep and all of her thoughts had only been a nightmare, a manifestation of her subconscious. Brooklynne stared at the vampire, waiting for her to speak as it seemed she had heard something she had missed. But all she did was roll her eyes in that dramatic way of hers and her pissed-off face seemed even angrier as she shook her head.

“That stupid bitch,” she said before she disappeared.

Brooke wondered what Tara had done to have Pam run after her that way. The vampire had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with her progeny. Turning her had only been a courtesy to Sookie, who now owed her. However Brooklynne knew Pam wouldn’t leave Tara defenceless. She knew one night, when she missed Eric the most, she’d want something in her life, to fill that hole he had left in her chest, and she’d take her role as a maker more seriously. Perhaps as seriously as Eric had taken it. As Godric had.

For a short moment, she wondered what it would be like to be a maker. The thought made her grimace. Not only because she’d probably never see her own maker again, but also because she couldn’t imagine trying to turn someone just to wake up next to a corpse, to realise that her hybrid status made her unable to have any progeny of her own. She shuddered. She was 25 and had only been a vampire for a few weeks. She had no business even thinking about becoming a maker. The mere idea scared her.

Brooklynne took a deep breath and leaned back in her seat, thinking back about that time she had come here after her brother and ended up on Eric’s lap, answering all his questions. She remembered how patient he had been with her, how interested. He had answered her questions too, and truthfully. She missed him. God, she missed him. And perhaps she missed him so much she had summoned him, or maybe she was hallucinating, but she was fairly certain the man who had just entered the club was Eric. She stared at him and he stared back. He looked surprised to find her on his throne. Surprised, but happy. Relieved. She stared, expressionless at him. She couldn’t believe it, it didn’t make any sense. But Bill appeared behind him, the King of Louisiana having entered the club last.

She didn’t flinch when he made his way to her with incredible speed. He stood there, towering over her, the fabric of his pants grazing her bare legs. She didn’t move, just stared back at him, not only in disbelief but in shock. She felt so many emotions at once, and perhaps if she had been human, it would have been easier, but now that she was a vampire everything was more intense. She felt happiness, of course, but that feeling of betrayal was getting stronger. The grief, the sorrow, the worry, the half-admitted anger of the past few days surged over her. Almost suffocated her. Her eyes filled with human tears, and he saw it all. Everything she was feeling, he saw it in her eyes because he knew he had done that to her, he knew it was his fault.

As happy as she was to see him there, at that moment, safe and alive, she still felt the pieces of her broken heart fall apart inside her chest. And as Bill shouted at the entire club to pay their bill and get out, neither Eric nor Brooklynne moved, because of all the things he wanted to say to her, none of it sounded good enough, and of all the things she had imagined doing if he ever came back she could only think of one thing. And as she stared back at him, a tear falling down her cheek, all she could see was him snapping her neck, leaving her behind.

***********

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! The whole chapter can be found on my patreon as well as chapter 24! Find me at patreon.com/alonelydreamer

#true blood #eric northman #eric x oc #oc #imagine #reader #eric x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #eric northman x oc #eric northman x reader #pam #eric x pam #bill x sookie

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daresplaining · 5 years ago

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So, in one of your posts you mentioned that you could write a lot about the different contexts in which Danny introduces himself as Danny vs. the Iron Fist. Is there any chance we could ever read those thoughts. Thank you so much for running such an amazing blog; I love it.

I want to preface this with a general statement and apology:

This blog has slowed down a bit in the last… year? Ish? Possibly longer? And this is because life has gotten much more hectic for a variety of reasons. My wonderful co-blogger has been busy enough that she doesn’t really have time to blog anymore, and my life has been fairly chaotic as well. There are messages in the inbox that have been there for a really long time (this one included), and I want to assure you that they will be answered, and that this blog does, in fact, still welcome questions! Thank you all so much for your patience, hello to any new followers, keep on Daredevilling, wash your hands… and now, let’s talk about our boy Danny!

(Context: The post being referenced is this one.)

MCU Danny’s overall story arc orbited around concepts of identity. The entire first season of Iron Fist is an identity quest– Danny returns to Earth, has his identity as Danny Rand stripped away and fights to reclaim it, has his identity as the Iron Fist challenged and fights to defend that, and then is faced with the question of how to balance both of those identities– his adherence to the honor and duties of being the Iron Fist, but informed by his sensibilities and past life as Danny Rand. At the end of the season, he makes the wise choice to return to K’un-Lun to continue his training, to focus more on his role as an Immortal Weapon, only to discover that… something horrible has happened to his home. The truth of what actually happened to K’un-Lun was a mystery that was never answered, and remains for me one of these shows’ most frustrating cliffhangers. But regardless, this discovery is a bomb dropped in the middle of his identity quest. He believes his home was invaded, and it’s notable that his traumatic nightmares of his parents’ deaths are replaced by nightmares of K’un-Lun’s destruction. He feels he cannot fully claim the title of Iron Fist anymore because he has failed in his duties. He has failed his family, his home, the people he was supposed to protect. But he also clings to that identity more tightly than ever as he commits every moment of his life to righting that wrong, to fixing this unforgivable mistake. He is angry and grieving when we see him in The Defenders, his identity a painful, mixed-up thing, and this fact has to be taken into account as we look at the ways Danny introduces himself in that show.

Overall, my feeling is that I’m thinking a lot more about this than the writers were, but hey, it’s still fun to examine. Let’s take a look…

[ID: A screenshot of Danny Rand and Colleen Wing in a dark, green-tinged tunnel, kneeling next to an injured man (Shaft, a member of the Chaste).]

Danny (subtitle): “My name is Danny. I’m hunting members of the Hand.”

This, his first introduction in the show, is a telling one. He is here in a professional capacity as the Iron Fist, doing strictly Iron Fist business (hunting the Hand), fully embodying that identity, yet he doesn’t introduce himself as such. Instead, he’s just “Danny”. (Note: not “Danny Rand”. Danny’s association with the name Rand is another complicated topic that I’ll get back to later.) This is in spite of the fact that he has reason to assume, given that Shaft knows about the Hand, that he would know about the Iron Fist legacy as well.

This can be taken a few different ways. It’s possible that he’s using Danny as just as shorthand; it’s more personal, and he may want to put Shaft at ease by using his civilian name. Or, at this early stage, having now suffered yet another failure of being unable to protect Shaft, it could be reflective of the fact that he doesn’t feel worthy of the title. He is shocked when Shaft recognizes him as the Iron Fist– maybe because he didn’t think Shaft would be so informed, maybe because he is embarrassed and ashamed to be addressed as such.

[ID: Screenshot of Danny standing in Colleen’s dojo, arms folded, looking intensely sincere. He is speaking to Luke Cage (off-screen).]

Danny: “I’m the Immortal Iron Fist.”

And here we have the exact opposite. The above scene with Shaft is very intimate, personal, emotional. Danny is avoiding his Iron Fist identity, downplaying himself. Everything is very quiet and desperate and genuine.

Here, though… Danny is wearing a mask. He is introducing himself in a succinct, summarizing way; projecting an image, providing information. His personal feelings about his identity are completely absent from this scene, because no way in hell is he going to reveal that vulnerable side of himself to someone he barely knows and doesn’t trust (yet). He is also reacting to Luke’s behavior, which up until this point has been dismissive at best, violent at worst. Luke is a sore spot here: a person who Danny initially thought was working with the Hand, and who he struggled to beat in a fight. If Danny was ashamed before, he is extra humiliated now, standing in front of Luke and being scoffed at (“Oh, this is a joke. Come on”).

And so he presents himself as the powerful, in-control Iron Fist he doesn’t actually believe himself to be (“I can answer myself” etc.), throws down a Clif-Notes version of his backstory so Luke can understand who he is, what he was doing when they first met, and why he is a trustworthy ally/asset, and introduces himself with the most formal, intimidating version of his title. Danny is recovering from a bruised ego, and wants the unpleasantness out of the way so that he can continue with his mission– and if Luke is capable of helping, then he wants to make that connection with as little angst and fuss as possible. He needs Luke to know that he is the Iron Fist, even if he doesn’t feel like he actually is.

[ID: Screenshot of Danny strolling into the lobby of Midland Circle, wearing a business suit.]

Receptionist: “Name, please.”

Danny: “Daniel Rand, of Rand Enterprises.”

Having seen one mask, we now get to see the other– this one much more fabricated, though he pulls it off with STYLE. (That swagger! I love this scene.) This is Business Danny at his Business Danny-est: Daniel Rand of Rand Enterprises, wearing a tie and everything. Danny is not a businessperson, as he himself says. He has never been a businessperson. He has never wanted to be a businessperson. And, as he also readily admits, he is not a very good businessperson. But it’s a mask he tried on in IF Season One for identity quest purposes– to tether himself to the Rand name, his civilian identity, which was his sole remaining connection to Earth and which the Meachums were trying to rip away from him– and it’s a mask he now dons again, this time as a weapon against the Hand. His introduction here is just as much of a necessary facade as his introduction to Luke was in the previous example, but this one lacks the emotional baggage.

[ID: The same scene as previous; Danny is smirking coldly at the Midland Circle receptionist.]

Receptionist: “Are they expecting you?”

Danny: “[Chuckles softly] Not like this.”

Okay, sorry, I always say this when discussing this scene, but… DANG. Get ‘em.

[ID: Screenshot of Danny standing in a white-walled Midland Circle conference room, hands folded in front of him, his back to an open door. A whole bunch of people in suits are sitting at a long conference table in front of him, watching him speak.”

Danny: “My name is Danny Rand.”

The charade continues (though note the switch from “Daniel” to “Danny”. He is being just as formal and fake here, but he’s never really been a “Daniel” and it’s possible he says it without thinking). I talked about this moment in detail in the original post, regarding Danny’s strategy and the challenges he faces as his plan starts to go awry, so I won’t repeat myself here, but I will point out that Danny keeps this mask on for as long as he can, even after revealing that he knows they are the Hand, even after Alexandra shows up and starts behaving condescendingly toward him. He embodies the Danny Rand of Rand Enterprises identity for as long as possible, so that they don’t see him as a physical threat until he wants them to, and so that when the moment arrives, it can be as impactful as it needs to be. He wants them off their guard, unsettled, frightened.

[ID: A close-up of Danny from the shoulders up, same scene as above. He is resolute.]

Danny: “I am the Immortal Iron Fist, weapon of K’un-Lun.”

I think this is genuine. Yes, it’s a shock-and-awe tactic to tell the Hand who they’re really dealing with, but I also think that in this moment, Danny rediscovers some of his confidence. He believes that, after all of his shame and failures, he has found a plan that will work. He has finally tracked down the Hand, he has breached their defenses in a way they were not expecting, and he believes that he can now destroy them. And then he gets emotional. This is about honor and vengeance, and they need to know who it’s coming from and what they are paying for. “I am the Immortal Iron Fist, weapon of K’un-Lun”– he is retaking his ownership as defender of his city, because he needs to, because he believes he finally can. He has conviction in his identity as the Iron Fist for the first time since the last few episodes of his solo show. And man, it hurts so much to find out that he is wrong.

[ID: Screenshot of Danny, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, and Matt Murdock (in civvies with a grey scarf tied over his face), standing in a tight circle in a dimly-lit room (a restaurant). Danny is talking to Jessica.]

Danny: “Hey, I’m, uh… I’m Danny.”

Jessica: “Jessica.”

Here is our final scene of Danny introductions: the team dinner, in which he introduces himself to Jessica, and tries to do the same to Matt (who is being grumpy and incognito and therefore is unreceptive to introductions). This one doesn’t have the emotional complexity of the previous examples– Danny is super cheerful and endearing here, delighted to meet these other superheroes and to have found more allies, and he introduces himself with a healthy, informal “Danny”. The beginning of the team-up is the start of the breakdown of his character arc, but it’s a very cute scene regardless– a glimpse of the happy, well-adjusted (or at least adequately repressed) Danny that we had not seen in the MCU at this point since the beginning of IF Season One.

[ID: The same scene. The four of them are standing around a plate-laden table. Matt is leaning intently toward Danny with his hands on his hips, listening to him speak.]

Danny: “Sworn protector of K’un-Lun.”

Part of Danny’s relaxed-ness comes from his belief, again, that with these new allies, his revenge quest is achievable. He is also clearly relieved to have help. He introduces himself as just “Danny” initially– using the most informal and least baggage-laden version of his identity, forming a personal connection with them– and then introduces himself as the Immortal Iron Fist, “sworn protector of K’un-Lun” later, when he starts explaining his role in the fight against the Hand. He is very relaxed about referring to himself in this way here, partly because– again– his sense of self and security has been bolstered, he is feeling good and hopeful, and also, it’s just necessary context that he knows he needs to provide. Specifically, he refers to himself as such to Matt, because he has gathered at this point that Matt has Chaste connections, and therefore assumes that he knows about the Iron Fist legacy. Little does he suspect that overly-emotional Matt failed out of Chaste School before learning any of the important backstory, and is therefore clueless.

[ID: Screenshot of Misty Knight looking over Luke’s shoulder at something that clearly upsets her.]

Danny (off-screen): “You got a chair?”

Please indulge me for just a second: Am I bitter that we didn’t see Danny properly introduce himself to Misty? Am I bitter that their relationship was almost entirely neglected in these shows? Yes, just a little.

Anyway…

Overall, Danny’s emotional arc in this show suffered for the sake of the team-up, and I feel like there is not as much significance in these introductions– these shorthands for Danny’s identity struggles– as there should have been/would have been if this were his show. That said, I do think they are important, and I loved digging into this. Danny’s journey is one of my favorites out of all of the Netflix Marvel protagonists, and I love taking it apart and examining it.

Again, I’m sorry this post was so long delayed, and thank you for the question!

#apple-grass-and-smiles #Netflix Defenders #Iron Fist #Danny Rand #Asks #Commentary

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littlemisskookie · 6 years ago

Text

Loveless: Chapter 3

Loveless: Index Ship: Reader | OT7 Description: Spy/Men in Black!AU | You worked at an institution that dealt with aliens- aliens that were the fictional creatures we were told were from fairy tales. The job entailed love only for it, and nothing else. That’d all change when a mission goes wrong. Warnings: Future Smut, Comedy, Torture, Lots of Manipulation, I promise the next chapter will be farrrr more light-hearted, Angst, general guilt it’s pretty intense Word Count: 5,003

You opened your eyes, adjusting ever so slowly to the blinding white of the walls and lights. You blink, slowly processing the machinery around you, busybodies in scrubs or suits. Beside you sat Jungkook, dark circles beneath his eyes, seeming more corpse than human. As soon as he sees your waking form, he sits up abruptly, as though the 5-hour energy drink was finally beginning to kick in.

You felt sore, as though every muscle, even those you didn't even know you had, was aching. You groan, sitting up slowly, noting the fact you were in a hospital bed, an IV attached to your arm. Ah, were you sick? Injured? You felt a bit tired and drained along with the sore ache of your body. You also felt very hungry. But for what you weren't sure.

"What's up, Agent Z? Mind filling me-"

Your sentence is cut off abruptly as you he tangles his long fingers in your hair at the base of your neck, pulling you forward to bring your lips against his. Your eyes widen at that, taken off guard by what was happening.

Since when did Jungkook like you?

He presses his lips firmly against yours, as though trying to make sure you were real. His eyes are screwed shut, almost as if he were trying to embed this moment into his memory. If you weren't trying to figure out exactly what was going on, you would've seen it as more endearing.

He lets go, breath heavy as he shakes, almost collapsing into your arms. He wraps himself around you like ivy, using you for support despite how much bigger and stronger he was in comparison. It takes you a moment to comprehend the fact that he's shaking.

"Jungkook?" You decide to use his real name now, too perplexed to think first about his code name. What was going on? You had never seen the younger boy so shaken, so broken. It was just everything an agent was supposed to keep hidden.

"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were dead, and you were all hurt because of me, and I'm so so so sorry," he sobs. You feel some of his tears on your skin, but you console him nevertheless, hugging him tightly. "You got hurt because of me. It was all my fault. I should've done better, I should've done anything else. You tried to stop me, you tried to warn me, but I was so stupid that I let my overconfidence get the better of me."

"Agent Z, give her a minute to at least gather herself, will you? I'm sure you can kiss her to your heart's content when she's at least out of bed."

You hear somebody else grumble beneath their breath. "No doubt she's got morning's breath, anyway."

You look up to see Jin walking forward beside Yoongi, both shocked, despite how they were trying to compose themselves. You had a feeling it wasn't because of the kiss, either. They weren't as good at hiding feelings as you were, however.

"I'm glad you're ok, Agent Q," Yoongi says gruffly, aloof as always. You could sense the sincerity in his voice, however, and it warms you to the pit of your core.

"Oh? Is the infamous Agent D admitting he cares about me?" You wag your brows up and down to tease him.

"Never mind, I change my mind."

"How do you feel? How much do you remember?" Jin questions, sitting at the foot of the bed.

You slowly piece together what had happened, blurry fragments coming to mind. "We were meeting the new species, trying to ally ourselves with them..."

"And their leader attacked you. Bite into your jugular and ripped it out," Yoongi finishes. "You were dead before you hit the ground, no doubt about it."

"How am I still alive then?" you question, eyes wide, hands flying to your neck. It felt completely fine.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Jin says, hands ghosting along your neck to examine it. "You've got a bit of scarring where the bite mark was. But of white but nothing that you can feel. I'm going to leave for a bit and bring the others, ok? Stay here. Not like you have much of a choice." He chuckles a little at that before departing.

"How'd the paramedics even fix me or revive me?" There was one power no one was able to have, as it was the way of life. No one could bring anyone back to the living from the realm of the dead. Any misconceptions were brought upon by hopeful humans and no one else. If what they said was true, how on Earth were you still alive? "I should really thank them."

"That's the thing- they didn't do anything. You began healing on your own," Jungkook explained. "Flesh and skin just began to grow where it was before. We have no clue what happened. You were about to be brought to the morgue and we were setting up a funeral. Instead, you began breathing again, and all the... emptiness began to be filled. We couldn't believe it."

"They wanted to wait for you to wake up before they began to question you," Jin confirms. "This one here's been waiting beside you every day for the past week. Refused to leave your side. Of course, we all took shifts to look over you, but the kid decided sleep wasn't a necessity."

You give Jungkook a soft look, stroking his cheek fondly. "You didn't have to do that, Kook."

His eyes water up again with tears. "I did, though. It's my fault that you were injured. That you were killed. If I weren't so stupid-"

"Shh, don't say that. Ok? I'm alright, see?" You stretch your neck for emphasis, tilting it from side to side. "Next mission we'll just be more careful, don't worry. Live and learn."

"Next mission? You're going to have bed rest, no way we're letting you out yet. We don't even know what really happened to you or your body," Yoongi reminds you.

"I'm not going to just sit here while you guys are out-"

"Actually all seven of us have refused to begin any missions until you woke up. Part of the whole staying next to you and keeping watch." Jungkook looks a bit nervous, pink dust covering his cheeks.

You give him a warm look, pulling him into your arms once again. "I really appreciate you staying by my side, Jungkook, coma or not. It was kind of you to do."

Yoongi coughed, interrupting the moment. "You know the rest of us looked over you as well."

You quirked your brow at him, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. "Oh? Do you want a hug too, Agent Dick?"

Yoongi scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "You wish."

You laugh at that, outright and easy. "Tsundere as always."

Jin arrives, the other four boys traveling behind him.

Hoseok seems to be in a state of shock, frozen. It was as though he were paralyzed at the very sight of you. "Oh my god, you're actually awake."

You smile back at him, beaming. "You doing alright there, Agent A? You look scared of me."

He shakes his head, walking forward. "No, no of course not. I just can't believe it, you know? I thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead. I'm just... I'm really happy you're ok."

"It's definitely assuring, for sure," Namjoon says, pulling your hair over your shoulder. "May I?"

"Go ahead," you say, twisting it around and tilting your head back. You try not to shudder at the feeling of his fingers against your neck, tracing the scars.

"And all this time I had been trying to convince myself it was just a bad dream," he whispers softly to himself, disbelief lacing his words.

"I can't be more ecstatic!" Jimin says, hugging you tightly and giving you a kiss on the head, holding you close as though trying to imprint the feeling of you in his arms into his brain, like a new tattoo that would never fade away. "It's a dream come true!"

You smile, hugging him tightly too, despite how it hurt your aching body. "I missed you too, Agent P."

You look over to Taehyung, confused as to why he hadn't greeted you yet. He catches your eye, and with a shaky hand reaches forward, as though to touch you, make sure you were alive and well. His hand shakes, however, and he pulls it back.

"Agent V? What's wrong?" You give him a worried look, wondering if everything was alright.

"Nothing. I'm very happy, it's just..." He trails off. "I need to go to the restroom."

"Oh, alright." You don't bother to cover your expression of disappointment, watching as he walked out of the ER room. You look to the boys, all of them wearing the same look as they tried to avoid your eye. "What happened?"

"Agent V is doing worst off, admittedly," Jimin tells you. "When you died, he took it the hardest. He had a panic attack, and ever since he's been a bit like a ghost. I don't blame him. It's confusing going through the stages of grief, and in the middle of it what you're grieving over changes? He's scared he's going to break you or hurt you, and by extension, him."

Your face crumples at that. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I want him to know that he shouldn't be scared of that. I can handle myself."

"Of course he knows. He's just worried, that's all. It really shook him up. All of us," Namjoon explains. "It was traumatic."

You chuckle, shrugging it off as you try to joke. "The traumatizing part is when I tried to heal, I bet. You thought you finally got rid of me."

"Y/N, this is no joking matter," Yoongi tells you seriously.

"Yeah, we were all pretty shaken up over it. We might be coping better than Agent V, but we weren't handling it hot ourselves," Hoseok assures you. "If you had seen what it was like after you died... the moment right after... It was like our world came crashing down. For all of us."

"It was the worst pain any of us could've felt. And that's saying a lot for agents like us," Jungkook tells you.

"Oh." Your face softens at that. "Why are you so shaken up by my death, though? We've seen agents die. We've seen friends die. We've gone through traumatizing experiences, all of us. I would've figured this would just be another day."

"You don't get it, do you?" Jin says, sighing.

"Don't get what?"

Jimin chuckles, ruffling your hair fondly. "For such a smart agent, you sure can be dense sometimes."

"Just explain to me already, then."

"Don't you see? You're... we..." For once Namjoon seems to be at a loss of words, unable to even finish the sentence. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, mouth dry.

"We care about you and we aren't complete psychopaths," Yoongi finished. "Simple as that. We know you better than we knew the others who died, it's only natural you're the one we're going to be affected by."

"Oh, alright." You felt too tired to pry, but sensed something was up. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, though, still a bit disoriented.

"I'm going to check on Agent V," Jungkook says. "He's been gone for a while. He just needs to compose himself."

The boys watch as he leaves, and Jin turns to you with a questioning look. "Why'd the kid kiss you anyway?

"Wait, Jungkook kissed Y/N?" Jimin questioned, eyes wide.

"Yeah, walked in and he was shoving his tongue down her throat. It was the moment she woke up, too." Jin laughed a bit at that.

"Alright, he didn't shove his tongue down my throat or anything. I think he was just happy to see me, alive and all." Besides, Jimin, you've done more than just kiss me. You shouldn't be so shocked."

"We were all happy to see you. Even if some of us have a harder time of expressing that," Hoseok bluntly says.

You soak in his words and wear a sorrowful face. "I'm really sorry about Taehyung. I know there's not much I can do but... I don't know. I feel bad."

"You just need to assure him you'll be ok. For the first time, we really saw the mortality of you and how fragile human life is. None of us had really taken much consideration in losing you. We'd figure you'd last long when we were all in perhaps our thirties and experienced. We didn't think it'd be in front of us in one of the most vicious ways possible. So... young. We knew you could take care of yourself, but another part of it was the fact that we couldn't protect you. We all felt... useless. And I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we would've traded places with you in a heartbeat," Namjoon explains.

"Don't say stuff like that," you tell him. "I'll talk to Taehyung. I don't know how much I can do, but I do what him to be able to look me in the eye and heal. I'm sure he's expecting me to drop dead in front of him any moment."

"Just give the kid time. You've always meant a lot to him. Losing you was a reality of his worst fear. Healing doesn't happen in just a day, and getting over a death takes a while, whether the person ends up alright or not."

For a moment you think back to your family, who you faked your death to. Would they feel that way if you suddenly showed up at their front door? Would they react the same way Taehyung did? Did they grieve your death? Did they get over it? Would they see a walking corpse before them?

"Ah, gentlemen, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave Agent Q with me a bit. I'm the head doctor at this institution, and it'd be best if I examine the patient alone. Even with her lovers here."

You turn to look at the woman, a doctor who matched the cold, distant, and cleanly atmosphere of the ER. The boys didn't comment further, instead shuffling out to join Taehyung and Jungkook.

You smiled up at the woman, smoothing over your bedsheets as you stood up a bit straighter. "So, when will I be able to leave and get back to kicking butt, doc?"

She didn't seem humored by your enthusiasm, instead looking through her clipboard, flipping over papers.

"Never, I'm afraid."

Your expression turned blank with disbelief. "I'm sorry- what?"

"Never," she repeats, looking up at you. "Please look at this, Agent Q."

She hands you the clipboard, the page turned to a picture. In it were red blood cells, though some of them looked... different. Tiny patches of the universe in the shape of the blood cells, as though a virus had infected some of them. You began to look throguh the other pages. It detailed your own background, as well as other papers that detailed all known information about the species that had attacked you and your group. The other papers described the healing process, as well as day by day photographs of your healing neck. You winced seeing your corpse, the bloody and gruesome death tangible past the ink.

"What is this?"

"It appears that you've been injected with the Anancite's DNA, and it's becoming intermingled with your own. It explains why you were able to heal so quickly and be brought to the death practically, and this sort of thing we can't simply have running around the country, disarming bombs in South Africa or flying aircrafts."

"What else am I supposed to do? I'm an agent! I'm supposed to be on the field with my fellow men defending my country! I'm supposed to be out there creating harmony for humans and aliens alike! I can't just sit here in a bed and let some goddamn DNA get in the way of that. I earned my position just like anyone else, and the only way I'm leaving it would be through death."

The woman sighed as though both agitated and expecting your answer. She seemed prepared to counter it, however. "You signed up to protect your planet, no? Well, sometimes it isn't always chit chat or karate with aliens. A lot goes behind the scenes. Who do you think makes your weapons? Your jets? Your goddamn suits. Who do you think takes care of all of you and gathers enough intel for you to carry out your missions? There's a lot more that can be accomplished besides running off to the middle of nowhere. One of those things is through data and research and science."

You open your mouth to argue, but she holds up a finger, indicating she wasn't done.

"I don't think you realize just how special all of this is. Never before have we seen this species, and never before have we had half human half alien. Try as some might, the most we could get would be full alien spawn from incubi and succubi, and full vampires from the vampires who infect humans. However, yours seems to be mingling enough where you still have human characteristics. We don't know what else will be brought to you by the alien DNA, but looking at how fast you healed, I think it's a safe bet to assume there's more. Now, tell me, are you really going to let this pristine opportunity of doing something no one else has accomplished, to discover something that's never been done, all for your own selfish qualms of running around with your boy toys?"

You're quiet at that. She continues.

"As a woman, I would assume you'd want more for us. Contributing to science, a field so many men occupy. Finally, we have something for ourselves. Think about how many will look up to you for your noble sacrifice. How much knowledge this will bring the world. And all because of a woman. You'd be doing the world a great justice. You said you'd give your life to serve this planet, and you won't even have to do that. You said you'd do anything for this planet though and now is your chance to prove it. I ask you, Y/N, as two women who are trying to make our mark on the world, are you really going to give up all of this opportunity, for not only yourself but for billions all over the world?"

"No," you confirm. She had brought up many great points. Were you really going to be so selfish when you had signed up offering much more? You put your life on the table. You should've suspected at some point they were going to take it. Still, you didn't expect it to be so... soon.

She gives a victorious smile taking the clipboard back from you. "I knew we could trust in you, Agent Q. Your name will be remembered for generations to come."

She turns to a tray of tools, rolling a small bottle between her fingertips before plunging the needle inside, filling it all the way. She held it up, some of the liquid spilling from the tip, which was long and intimidating. She reached inside your mouth, her rubber covered thumb pressing down on your tongue as she forced your mouth open.

"Now, say 'ah'."

You lost time of how long it was since they started doing experiments on you.

Most of the time you were kept in a solitary room, bound to a hospital bed as though you were in an asylum. They claimed it was for the doctor's safety and your own. After all, they didn't know what you were capable of. Truth be told you suspected that it was because you were slowly becoming the creature that attacked you.

You had to face the facts. You were no longer human to them.

The experiments were closer to torture in your opinion. Every day they would draw blood. Every day they would poke and prod you. Every day they would push you to your limits pain wise and psychologically wise, trying to see how far they could go before they got an unnatural reaction. Sometimes things would happen, little or big, and they'd get excited, talking amongst themselves and repeating the process a dozen time more before they figured out another way of bringing you misery.

It wasn't long until you broke, crying and sobbing for them to let you go. You'd thrash about, demanding they'd let you go, lest they wished for each torture session they indulged in to be brought upon them times three. They'd never listen, however, looking at you as you pathetically pulled at your bindings, only sedating you when you began to hurt yourself, letting the leather burn or cut into your skin.

You wanted this, they said.

You asked for this, they said.

You agreed to this, they said.

No matter how much you begged for it to stop, they insisted that ever since you agreed to the process, you were no more than agency property now. You had been reduced to nothing more than furniture, or a pet.

You belong to the agency now.

You can't hurt yourself. That's destruction of EAA property.

Property. Property. Property.

After a while, you began to believe it.

And by god, you were tired. No matter how much they fed you or gave you, you felt completely drained. Your face had sunken in, dark circles beneath your eyes no matter how much sleep you got. You actually looked like a walking corpse now, and it wasn't pretty. You were becoming no more than a skeleton, withering away before their very eyes, becoming a skeleton with skin. They were trying to fix it, though. Couldn't have their favorite guinea pig die on them.

You wondered to yourself how you let it get to this. You were one of the most esteemed and respected agents in the field, at the top of the world, and you crashed to the bottom as nothing more than a lab pet. You hadn't seen any of your friends since you got locked away. Did they think you abandoned them? Did they miss you?

You felt abandoned. The worst moments were after all the experiments, when you were just left alone in the dark, bound and unable to move. You were alone with just your thoughts.

You got a lot of thinking done during that time, not all of it pleasant.

You thought a bit about the boys, and all the fun adventures they were going on without you.

You thought about the new Agent Q they inevitably got to replace you. Was it a boy or a girl? Did the boys like them better than you? Were they glad you were gone? Despite how frazzled they had seemed after your death, your mind wandered to dark places with your isolation.

You thought a bit about your family. You wanted to apologize to your mother for leaving her. You thought about your little sister. She'd be a grown up by now. How much you had missed in her life. You missed her getting her license, her graduation, her getting into college. You wondered how many birthday parties, love interests, and more you had missed.

If you knew things would've gone like this, you would've never left.

But you couldn't repeat the past. You couldn't rewind that clock and change what would happen.

You were glad for one thing, though. That it was you that got bitten rather than Jungkook or one of the boys, as originally intended. It was better for you to be here enduring this fate, rather than any of your friends. If one of them had to go through this, you didn't think you'd be able to handle it. You'd go mad on your own.

You deserve this.

It's your fault.

No one will even notice you're gone.

You squeeze your hands into fists, tugging against your bindings.

Fuck the paramedics.

Fuck the aliens.

Fuck everybody.

You hear a rattling above you, and strain to listen in. Finally, you hear it.

"Agent Q?"

"Yes?"

"It's me, Hoseok. Where've you been? What're you doing here?"

Figures he couldn't see in the dark. You had no doubt he was in the ventilation system, but none of it entered your room. He wouldn't be able to get in that way, but the most he could do was hear you.

"Oh, y' know, getting experimented on. Apparently, I'm part alien which has never happened before. Who knew, right?" It felt good to finally talk to a friend. Even if you couldn't see him, you knew that listening to his voice would be enough to get you through at least a few more days of torture. It felt good to quip again. "Other than that, pretty standard. How's your day been?"

"Wait- did she say she was getting experimented on?"

"Ah, Agent P, is that you?"

"Agent Q, what's going on? What're they doing to you down there."

You chuckle, leaning back into your bed. "Better me than you, Jimin. Better me than you."

"Are you alright at least?"

"Never been better!" The sarcasm drips out of your voice like honey, slow and sweet.

"Is this why you've been gone so long? Have they taken you away from us because..."

It was hard for Hoseok to wrap his head around this, evidently. You didn't blame him in the slightest.

"Well apparently I was injected with some of that alien's DNA, and now it's spreading throughout me to the point I'm half alien. I've got some superpowers or whatever, which I'd say is neat if I were able to use them. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, am I right?"

"Jesus Christ- are they ever going to let you out?"

Your face sours, and you can hear the worry in his voice. "No."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I'm afraid that for once I'm completely serious. Apparently, this is a 'divine opportunity' for our planet that can't be compared. If I were to leave it'd be a disaster. A stolen opportunity to get information and research and data- I'm the first of my kind."

"This... This is inhumane!" Jimin sputters, guffawing.

"Well, I'm reminded often I'm officially property of the EAA. I wouldn't say they still see me as human."

There's a moment of silence between all three of us.

you take a deep breath, as much as it pains you to say the following. "Guys, I know what you're thinking. It's going to be harder than you think it is because they also know what you're thinking. I don't advise it, it'll cause more trouble than it's worth. And... And as much as I hate to admit it, it might not be safe for me to even be around you. I can do things now that I was never able to do before. I can't even control it because they just keep me bound and locked away. The last thing I'd want is to hurt you in the process."

"To hell with that!" Hoseok spits. "I don't care if you're part alien or full alien or whatever! This is wrong and we're getting you out of there no matter what, you hear me?"

"Agent A...."

"Don't 'Agent A' me. This is non-negotiable. "

"It's a bad idea. You'd have to be on the run for the rest of your life. There'd be nowhere to hide. They'd find us and they'd kill us. I'll just be brought back here at square one."

"Agent A is right, though. We can't just leave you here," Jimin protests.

"Guys, it's alright, really. I... I agreed to this."

"You... agreed to this?"

"Not necessarily the torture part but... yeah. I agreed to this."

"Why?"

"Is it important? The point is what's done is done. They probably wouldn't have given me a choice anyway. It'd be best to leave me here. It'd cause way more trouble to try and rescue me and I've sealed myself to this fate. Better me than you, as I said."

"No, it's not. You don't deserve this, Agent Q. Any of this. We're getting you out of here," Hoseok insisted.

"No. Please, don't that's not what I want. Maybe just... Just talk to me once in a while, like this, y' know? It helps. It gets so negative, being here... all alone with my own thoughts. The paramedics don't exactly help. But I feel a bit more like myself when I'm with you guys, even just listening to your voice. I think I can get through this if you guys just talk to me once in a while. I hate to admit it but... it's lonely. I'm so tired now... So drained, I guess? I feel like I'm slowly withering away so my last moments, and I don't think I'll last long. They don't even know what's wrong with me. So please... I don't want to ask for too much or impose, but just talk to me a bit in these last moments, ok? It's ok to say no, but I'd appreciate it. I feel a little bit stronger, more human, with you guys. Makes me feel like I can last at least another day in this hell hole."

There's a moment of silence.

"We'll talk to the others about it," Jimin promises.

You close your eyes, nodding despite the fact they can't even see you. "That's all you can do, I suppose."

"We'll be back, though. We promise," Hoseok assures you. You can hear a bit of rustling above you, and before you knew it they were gone.

No one came to talk to you again.

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fallingin-like · 5 years ago

Text

november 16

l’amour parle en fleus by @scribbleb-red [requested by @fuzzballsheltiepants]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

this is a wonderful and heartbreaking fic that deals with grief and the beauty of life. it is soft and sweet, while dealing with hard topics and loss. this fic is incomplete.

disclaimer: i reviewed this fic when it had 7 chapters, so no comments on chapter 8. sorry!

this fic was stunning and i was blown away by your amazing descriptions and imagery. everything is so vivid and feels real. i was so interested in the little pieces of andrew and neil’s stories and how they pieced together to bring them to this story.

parts that stood out to me:

”he had cut himself free of the roots of his past and planted new ones, blooming in a country that should never have belonged to him, yet matched the varying shades of his soul” wow, this is such a beautiful beginning to the story, the wording you used makes it read like poetry, especially the last part of the sentence

”not on that sun-drenched afternoon” oh this is wonderful

”bruises had stiffened his face into a mask” i love the way that you wrote this

it breaks my heart to see how affected andrew is by aaron’s death. although he tries his best to show it outwardly, andrew gave up so much of himself to protect aaron

ooh the house/property you’ve described sounds so nice. do you have something specific (like an existing house) that you’re referencing?

”maybe he’d make it a challenge to sleep in all of them” whatamood andrew

”the air was clean and full of grass, as if it had only ever been breathed by wild things” oh, this is so nice

cats! sounds like a dream, to be in a bnb and find out they have cats

it sounds like fun to read a book that someone has annotated. so much that you can learn about them through how they react to the events in the novel in comparison to what you feel or think

”liked how steady and quiet king was, how sir vocalised every time they wanted something” love that you had andrew highlight these characteristics, it seems very in character

”the sound of footsteps approaching an unlockable door” EXCUSE ME DID YOU THINK YOU COULD JUST SLIDE THIS IN AFTER “a number plate, a smile, a mist rising over a river” AND THINK I WOULD NOT NOTICE. LIKE IT’S NOT A DEVASTATING SENTENCE.

”his was a skull full of a thousand momento mori. aaron was just the latest” woah what a powerful two sentences

how cute that andrew keeps all of neil’s notes! sounds like something i would do haha

ohmygoodness neil singing is bringing me back to my french classes from a long long time ago (i can remember enough to kind of work out the english translations loool)

”because worst of all, nathaniel never seemed to notice him back. it rankled… didn’t the idiot care that he was killing the world over with that voice?” yeah okay andrew, you keep thinking that’s the reason you hate that neil doesn’t notice you.

woah you descriptions of the outside is absolutely gorgeous. the colours, descriptions, and imagery are so wonderful and overwhelming and beautiful. i get so lost in the sheer volume of it all, i forget about andrew’s anger (as i’m sure he also does, a little)

andrew picking up his cigarette butt is so lovely and fitting for this section of the story

AH IT’S NEIL

”and, as the folds of material were plucked at by the wind’s childish fingers, andrew followed the sharp lines of his collarbones, the smattering of freckles, strangely warped and wefted flesh” I LOVE THIS. the wording you used is absolutely amazing

NEIL HAS PIERCINGS AND HE KEEPS LAVENDER IN THEM THIS IS THE BEST

oh, the story of aaron giving andrew his hat is so soft, such a wonderful thing shared between the two of them. it’s so small, but for us who know how much of a struggle everything is with them, a constant push and pull, it’s everything.

neil’s loft sounds so nice, how did you come up with this idea?

also prickly neil is great, i love that you have this shortly after andrew goes to touch a plant and gets pricked because of it

”a stab of hatred lanced through andrew’s stomach, white-hot, easy. sweat rolled down the centre of his back, a sour coating filled the back of his throat” ahh your descriptions are so so good

”andrew replied, popping the ‘p’ like an eyeball under a thumb.” exCUSE ME LIKE WHAT??

also i am very much a fan of neil being super strong

uhhHHHH neil has a tongue piercing?? i think andrew actually vapourized in that moment

orange! tractor! adorable!

”apathy, his brain supplied, the opposite of anger, the inverse of hate” oh this is interesting. i guess i always automatically thought of love, but when i think of this, it seems so right. hate, anger are such strong emotions, overtaking everything, making it hard to think, feeling so so much, but the absence of that feeling? oh

”and neil was leaning forward, plucking the cigarette from andrew’s fingers and taking a drag, smoke spilling between his teeth when he grinned a grin like a knife blade. andrew felt it in his gut” !!! this!!!

”addiction left people brittle. left them dry as kindling and just as easy to burn” woah

i really cannot handle these boys

NEIL IS MISSING PART OF HIS FINGER, OH MY GOODNESS I AM LOSING IT HERE.

amazing bit about the garden, never thought about it that way. it’s so true

honestly, there is just so so much to unpack. love your description of the buzzing andrew is feeling, i really like hearing andrew’s thought process, how everything turns back to aaron, love the way that, even now, he can read neil so well

THE TWINYARD EMBRACE. THE WAY THEY HOLD EACH OTHER. “‘you killed him,’ andrew said. ‘you killed her,’ replied aaron.” THIS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT THAT THEY HAVE PROTECTED EACH OTHER. THE BEGINNING OF JOINT THERAPY. THEY WAY THAT THEY SLOWLY LEARN TO LOVE EACH OTHER IN A WAY THAT’S MORE HEALTHY.

ahhhhh andrew talking to neil? this is so so good to see his progress, to see how he’s working through his grieving

oh boy, loving the little rivalry that eduard brings, the kind of tension heh

this town/market sounds amazing, so beautiful

IN THE GAME. OH DANG EDUARD YOU ARE NOT THE FARMER BOY WHO HAS THE HOTS FOR NEIL THAT I THOUGHT YOU WERE

”’well… like an american,’ said neil, like it explained everything. and it did, like a fire hissing out in the rain, andrew felt his shoulders relax, his ire cool” ahh so nice.

”because neil was so much give, when andrew needed to take” oh this is so interesting!

”neil shouldn’t be allowed to just vanish” AHH

”andrew shouldn’t have lashed out, sneered at neil’s story and spot on his honesty” NOOO ANDREW WHY

”his scars were the noughts to andrew’s crosses” oh this is so nice (like, not nice, but you know)

woah it’s really interesting hearing neil’s story while also having andrew’s commentary available with his knowledge from school. to see the personal side of it and also what was portrayed to the public

as much as i love neil with long curly hair, him with a buzzed look has me interested. paired with his cheekbones and his eyes, woahhhhh

”it looked like he’d been bled of life, colours fading until he became a negative of himself or an older version of the hollow-eyed teenager from the newspapers all those years ago.” i think this is my favourite sentence of this fic so far. makes me hurt.

AARON USED TO CALL ANDREW A TURNIP THAT IS SO ADORABLE I WANT PEOPLE TO CALL ME TURNIP (wait i just looked up what it means and although it is true i have no brains i was thinking in an affectionate way. turnips look really cute and are tiny lol)

ahhh neil in his bed in the barn during the storm ;-;

i love how you incorporated consent into andrew anchoring neil from his panic with the hand on his neck

ohmygoodness i cannot believe that neil has a PALMETTO HOODIE WITH A NAME AND NUMBER ON IT AH

”they took long walks through the fields and along the mountain paths, navigating the rocky terrain of andrew’s grief and neil’s jagged history that came so painfully close to intertwining with andrew’s own” oh this is such a beautiful sentence

NEIL HAS WATCHED ANDREW’S INTERVIEWS EXCUSE ME WHAT THAT IS SO CUTE

”he caught his reflection in the mirror and saw only himself” THIS IS AMAZING. what a transition that we get to see andrew experience

”for months andrew’s mind was a jagged thing, not knowing what he wanted or what he needed” !!

ooh love the acknowledgement that younger andrew would have denied his feelings but he’s more mature now and is more in tune with his emotions and wants!! amazing

”dinner with neil was an abundant thing. odd choice of word, but it was the only way andrew could describe it” it is an odd choice, but at the same time i think i understand it?

oh. andrew’s dream of aaron in the field. it’s so sad and soft and makes me feel blurry around the edges. what a contrast to the evening with neil. i like it though. you don’t just get over grieving. it gets better and it gets worse. it comes back again and again, even when you think it will not return. “wait for me. wait for me” i love what this adds, it feels so right

”andrew pressed every lane and shady square between the pages of his memory” so wonderful

PARLE EN FLEURS. EVERYTHING MAKES SENSE NOW.

woah aaron’s story was intense and well-told. things make a lot more sense now.

love that andrew sends nicky pictures to show everything, to share without words. they have such a unique relationship, they both care so much but are so different in the way that they show it sometimes it clashes

”it’s not the kind of pain that can be quantified. and it will still hurt in a year, in five, in ten”

i mostly skimmed the last chapter because i know that i easily internalize the thoughts and feelings that come when people write depression.

i love the way that you structured this fic. the chapter titles are perfect because throughout the fic we see andrew’s healing and grieving. it’s subtle, but he clearly shifts through the different stages that you include and i’m really impressed by how seamlessly you incorporated that into the fic. the fic’s focus slowly transfers from aaron to neil so naturally that you almost don’t notice it until you take a step away for a moment.

you do such a marvelous job with the descriptions of this fic, i liked so so many sentences that i could not possibly mention them all. the town and the fields and the surroundings sound so beautiful and stunning, you made everything so vibrant and alive. all the colours and textures and words that you used really established an amazing backdrop to the story you wrote.

and the story, i loved your approach to this, it’s very realistic. the interactions between andrew and neil are pure and natural and don’t seem forced. you created complicated, intricate relationships between all the characters, brought up the difficulty of expressing emotions and feelings with people, and trust that was built. i liked the way that you wrote the characters, and i adore neil with his flower piercings. thank you so much for writing this fic! i can’t wait to see what comes next!

#l'amour parle en fleurs #aftg fic review #raelle writes

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hermitreunited · 5 years ago

Note

All the odd numbers 😘💕

1. favorite fic you wrote this year: Everyone Gets Here Eventually. It’s a first in a lot of ways for me, so it feels kind of like a personal milestone, and there’s a lot about it that I like and am proud of.

This is also the answer to 7 and 9, as the longest completed fic and the one that was the longest wip when it was still in progress. the ones that are currently wips are still in heavy outlining stage and the other is,, 74 words. so not terribly long either.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year:

He shrugs, puts up a cocked grin. “Although maybe not, maybe you’ll find out your favorite Hargreeves is one of my siblings instead and have a great time.”

“You really think that could happen.” This was also meant to be less of a statement, but he can tell it’s partially true. Some part of Klaus believes that Dave could toss him aside as easy as that. It’s desperately sad and it makes Dave want to sweep him up in his arms with whispers and kisses until the doubt is obliterated from his mind.

It also makes him want to shake Klaus by the shoulders a little bit, because it’s also exasperating. He really doesn’t want it to be, he really doesn’t want for ‘peeved’ to be a reaction he has to Klaus’ insecurities. But honestly, at this point, what more can Dave do? Dave’s love for Klaus is so consuming and strong and irrefutable that it’s bent the laws of the universe so that they can be here, together, decades after his death, in the afterlife, a place that mutes pain but can’t prevent Dave from pining and grieving and loving this man. Is there anything more he can do to finally convince Klaus of what is so plainly true?

“Probably not,” Klaus says. “It’s kind of hard to fall in love with any of the people in that book.”

Okay that’s longer than a line but the thing I love about that last line is the bait-and-switch, how the question is planted before a lot of introspection so it feels like Klaus is answering Dave’s interior thoughts, and the ‘probably not’ applies to both answers. It stands out to me because when I would skim past it it would always surprise me; it’s something I stumbled into and then just adored.

5. most popular fic this year: Bad Stuff in a Bad Place. It’s the first one I wrote and I posted it back when the fandom was a little more active so it’s got more hits/kudos than the others.

11. fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year: I’ve only written for tua, babey!! that’s what they call a certifiable hyperfixation. But at 4 fics plus a smattering of ficlets, it’s the most I’ve written for any fandom, ever.

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year: I wrote a Klaus and Dave fic. The answer to this question is obviously Hozier. But also Animal by Troye Sivan got me real good, and Mother Mother’s entire discography is incredibly Klaus.

15. something you learned this year: that I can do it, I guess? Finishing eghe, like, it’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed, and knowing that I can do that because I did that - kind of an amazing thing to learn.

17. fics you’ll continue next year: I don’t have anything in progress right now! I don’t trust myself enough to start posting something chaptered without it being entirely finished. rip to my unfinished fics but that’s never going to happen sorry. I do hope to expand my pre-canon series about how each of the Hargreeves relates to their powers! but we’ll see.

19. any new fics to start next year: roadtrip fic roadtrip fic!! (although hopefully that’ll be started quite soon, maybe before the new year fingers crossed)

21. most memorable comment/review: “realistic positivity” is the phrase I’m going to be carrying around forever as my constant aim. OH but ALSO someone commented a second time on Bad Stuff that they’d been trying to find the fic again after reading and commenting the first time and I think that commenter owns my entire soul now.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t: a lil whumpy oneshot about Klaus being roughed up by some ghosts and Luther coming to the rescue! a longer story about Klaus being followed around by some guy, who turns out to be his biological brother, and he starts harassing Klaus about talking to their mom, who is that new ghost who has also been following him around. don’t know where that one goes, really! so it shan’t be written I don’t think.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read: Smut isn’t for everyone so I can’t say I recommend this to everyone, but the kind of love i’ve been dreaming of by katplanet was life-changing for me. The FEELINGS packed in there, the LOVE and TENDERNESS.

But for properly everyone everyone I’ll say of all the ways to hurt me, hurting yourself is the worst by @toomuchsky because it’s a really nuanced character study of Klaus, with some takes that should really just be accepted as fandom-wide truths, but I haven’t seen anywhere else!

27. favorite fanfic author of the year: I already answered this one!

29. shortest fic you read this year: Angel in a Bath Towel. by tube_socks_are_cool. It’s a poem and it’s good and cute and 77 words.

#whew that was a lot sorry it took a while to respond but like.. that was a lot #love you cakes!!#long post #fanfic ask game #this was fun!#intricatecakes

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songficsbyrissi · 6 years ago

Text

Got Your Back (T’Challa x Reader)

Warnings: angst, depression, mentions of death, but fluff eventually comes

“When you're high (for when it's all good), when you're low (to when it's all bad)Well I promise I will never let you go (now what you call that?)Said I got, I got, I got, I got your back boy (you got my back, right?)I got, I got, I got, I got your back boy (I know you got my back, right?)” - T.I. Feat. Keri Hilson

A/N: I don’t know if this was already done or whatever but this is T’Challa grieving his father’s death and the reader, his wife, dealing with him and his depression. Will you have your husband’s back through it all?

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

You thought you knew T’Challa. You really thought you did.

Until the day his father T’Chaka died.

That’s when you saw a completely different side of your husband. To make matters worse, he was present to witness his father being killed. You, your mother in law Ramonda, and your sister in law Shuri were in Wakanda when you were informed that there was a bombing at the Vienna International Centre where the father and the son would be. You remember crying and praying that your husband and father in law would return to you safely. Then the news broke. T’Chaka had unfortunately passed. Although there was relief that the prince was alright, the grief for the deceased king was too much. You and the other two ladies of Wakandan royalty sobbed and grieved together as you awaited T’Challa’s return home. It was late at night when you finally decided to retire to your bed chambers. You laid on your side trying your hardest to sleep but the weight on your chest was too heavy. T’Chaka was a second father to you and he was just gone like that.

You heard the door to your shared bedroom open and shut but you kept your eyes closed in efforts to sleep. It was probably one of the Dora’s checking up on you once again. You felt a presence in front of you. It lingered there and you slowly opened your eyes. The sight in front of you managed to tear your broken heart into even smaller pieces.

Your husband stood as a broken man before you. He stared down at you with a frozen expression. You could see he was in agony and you were preparing yourself for whatever he was going to do.

“Umyemi....” you broke the silence sitting up. T’Challa knelt before you, still keeping eye contact. You placed your manicured hands on your husband’s face and he put his larger hands over them. He bowed his head and began to shake as loud sobs exited his mouth.

“Ngoba?! Ngoba?! Why Bast take Baba away from me?!” You heard your husband yell as he pounded on his fists on the bed. You wrapped your arms around his muscular body, resting his head on your chest.

“Ndiyaxolisa kakhulu, uthando lwam” you whispered soothingly as tears flowed down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

T’Challa looked up at you and gained a tight grip on your hands. “Please, sithandwa sam, never let me go.”

You nodded caressing his chin and pecking his lips softly. “I will never let you go. I promise.”

However, it was difficult keeping your promise. You had to witness your husband go through all the stages of grief except the last one. After he got past denial, he went through a continuous cycle of anger, bargaining, and depression. When T’Challa wasn’t enraged with Bast, he was begging the deity to bring his father back in return for something else. When he wasn’t doing that, he was sobbing and blaming himself. When he wasn’t doing that, he was distant. Physically and emotionally.

“T’Challa, my love, we have to finish the funeral arrangements for your father.” You shook him softly out of his slumber.

He mumbled something into his pillow and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Please get up.” You pleaded moving the blanket and your despondent spouse snatched it back into its place.

“I will get up. Just leave me alone.”

“T’Challa, please. I know this is very difficult. But I’m here for you. Do not push me away.”

“Leave. Me. Alone. Please.”

You sighed deeply standing up to grant his wish. As much as it was frustrating to you, you had to be patient with him. Love is patient, love is kind. However, you felt the distance between you two grow and grow. You wanted to be there for him but he kept pushing you away. T’Challa had shut down on you. It was hard. Especially when you were grieving too. You needed some time alone.

“I hear that Prince T’Challa and his wife are going through a rough time.” One of the kitchen staff members gossiped to another. “He’s been an complete Umgqobho wempundu. How is he fit to be a king if he is not even fit to be a husband? If I was Princess Y/N, I would leave him.”

“I take it that you do not have a lover since you want to talk so much about mine.” You faced the two women who grew embarrassed looks on their faces.

“Princess Y/N, we were just having a private conversation.” The other woman squeaked.

“Well, I could not help but have my ears ring at the mention of MY husband. My husband just lost his father so I apologize on his behalf if he can not be full of joy at the moment. And to suggest that I leave him at a time like this is absurd and disrespectful. Do not worry yourselves about me and my husband. We are doing just fine. Worry about your own husbands if they exist. If they do not, it’s probably because of those toxic mentalities you two have. I will be informing T’Challa about this incident.”

The two women mumbled their apologies and removed themselves from your presence. You made your way to the gardens that grew behind the palace. You observed each orchard that grew that began to glow since night was approaching. You plucked one dull blue flower and your hands trembled as you attempted to hold yourself. You began to silently weep to yourself thinking about your husband, your family, your deceased father in law, and those women’s words. How could people think he is not meant to be a king? Did everyone think your marriage was in turmoil? Was it in turmoil? Should you be worried about your marriage?

“I vowed to love him for better and for worse. This is the worst but I’m not sure how we can get through this.” You stared down at the flower in your hand and lifted your head up sniffling. “But we are going to get through this. Bast, give me strength.”

“Y/N?” I heard T’Challa’s voice approaching and you looked in his direction trying to read the expression on his face from a distance. As he got closer, you viewed the fearful yet hopeful look on his face. It turned into relief when your husband was a foot away from you.

“Is something wrong, my love?” You stood up from the bench moving towards him. T’Challa said nothing and pulled you into a tight hug. You held him as he breathed heavily.

“I was so scared....”

“Scared of what?” You questioned pulling away from his embrace and viewed the mix of joy and sorrow T’Challa displayed.

He still had his hands on your hips. “I was scared........that you left.”

You felt your chest clench at his words. The terror he must’ve felt thinking he lost his wife right after he lost his father. You must’ve been gone for a long time for him to worry like that.

“I told you, myeni wam. I’m not letting you go.” You spoke softly pulling him into your embrace.

“I feared when I told you to leave me alone, you would do it forever.” You heard the sadness in his tone. You could hear his frown. “Trying to be strong for my family is very tiring.”

You looked up at him and caressed his dejected face. “You do not have to be strong by yourself. You do not have carry all of this by yourself. That’s what I am here for. So you do not have to do this by yourself.”

T’Challa placed a soft kiss on both of your hands. “Ndiyakuthanda.”

“Ndiyakuthanda wam. Shall we go inside?” You headed towards the palace but he stopped you.

“Can we.....just stay here...please?”

You nodded at his plea and sat back on the bench. Your beautiful, distressed prince laid his head on your lap and your hands found the coils on his head. The quiet was killing you. How could the silence be so loud?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You whispered still playing with his hair. “Please don’t push me away. I see your pain. Your pain pains me. It hurts me even more when you do not allow me to relieve some of it.”

He didn’t reply and you bit your bottom lip fighting back tears and taking that as a no. You knew talking about it wouldn’t bring his father back but the lack of communication was a silent killer. With your husband’s head on your lap, you prayed for the strength to keep holding on.

The next day was the royal funeral. It was public so the people of Wakanda can say goodbye to their beloved king. You were drained between comforting Ramonda and Shuri, talking to guests, and trying to stay by T’Challa’s side. The need to break down and cry once again was strong but you fought it. T’Challa was hurting enough and he didn’t need to see you crying. You held your husband as he stared at his father’s body. He was broken and you convinced yourself that by holding him physically, you were doing it mentally as well.

To be completely honest, you were not sure you were correct in your methods. You never seen your partner like this. You didn’t know this side of him. You didn’t know if he needed his space or needed you around him 24/7. You had no idea if he needed to be coddled to heal or be pushed and motivated to heal. You didn’t know if he needed to be numb or feel everything to be ok. You didn’t know a lot of things and that scared you. It was a hard pill to swallow.

You didn’t know your husband as much as you thought you did.

The day after the funeral, the council called for a meeting. You knew what the meeting was for. It was to discuss T’Challa becoming the next King of Wakanda. Your melancholy spouse sat next to the throne but not on it and you stood right next to him, questioning his seating choice. That’s when it hit you. T’Challa didn’t feel like he was ready or worthy to be king. T’Chaka was a great father but he failed his son by not preparing him for life after his death. However, you knew deep down, your baby got this.

“Prince T’Challa.” One of the council members spoke breaking you out your thoughts. “We collectively do not believe you are ready to take the throne as king.”

“Nonsense! My son is more than capable of the throne!” Ramonda bellowed with a stern look on her face. T’Challa gestured for his mother to settle down and cleared his throat. staring at each member. “My father wanted me to be king so I must take the throne.”

Another one spoke up. “We are aware of that, however you are not emotionally prepared for it. Look at your composure, prince. Please take no offense when I say you do not carry yourself as a king should.”

You felt your blood boiling as T’Challa answered. “I am not sure what that means. I believe this is my rightful title. I believe-“

One cut him off. “M’Baku is the better fit until you are emotionally mature. That is all.”

That’s it.

You spoke up. “Pardon me, but last time I checked, my dear council, no one interrupts the prince while talking and no one continues to question and debate with him as well. My husband was destined to become king since birth. You say he doesn’t carry himself like a king. Well, must I remind you that his father unexpectedly passed? He may be royalty but he is also human. My husband is grieving but do not ever question his ability to be an effective king. He has already said he is taking the throne. He is going to be King of Wakanda so there’s no need to argue. He should not have to repeat himself and I hope after this, I do not have to as well. Do you all understand?”

The room was dangerously after you finished talking. The council members were stunned but shook their heads in comprehension. You stood back satisfied and you dismissed yourself to your bedroom. You finally released your tears of sadness and frustration. T’Challa was probably not pleased with you scolding the council but they needed it and you couldn’t stand by and allow them to doubt your man. That was the last thing he needed. Once you finished, you used the bathroom and went back to find your husband sitting at the edge of your king sized bed. You were frozen in your spot and couldn’t read his face. Was he mad? Sad? Annoyed?

“Come to me, my love.” T’Challa commanded softly and you obeyed standing in front of him and he took your hands in his. He looked at you and a small smile graced his face. The first one you’ve seen since the tragedy.

“I have been neglecting you and for that, I am sorry.”

“Do not worry about it, love.”

“Didn’t you say you shouldn’t interrupt your king?” T’Challa asked in a playful tone which caused you to smirk.

“Sorry. Continue, my king.” He pulled you in his lap with his arms around your waist and your back to his front.

“As I was saying, I know I have been unbearable to deal with. I was distant. I kept pushing you away and I feared I would push you too far. When my grandfather passed, my ex....did not stay with me.” T’Challa breathed in deeply. “I’m glad you stayed.”

You turned to face him. “Of course I stayed but to be honest with you, I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve never seen you like that. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. I thought I knew every part of you but I didn’t. I was questioning myself. I was-“

T’Challa interrupted you with a finger to your lips. “Hush, my love. You did everything right. I didn’t need much from you. I just needed you to be here for me. To be my strength when I was weak. You were exactly that. Do not question yourself. A queen never questions herself.”

“A queen?” You stared at your husband in confusion causing him to chuckle.

“I see you forgot that your husband is a king so you become a queen.”

“Ohhhh.” You looked away in embarrassment. “Sorry. I was so focused on other things. I forgot I was going to be queen.”

“Yes, you will be an effective queen. Just like I will be an effective king, as you let the council know.”

“I apologize if I was out of line.”

“But you weren’t. I appreciated that. You had my back.” He gazes at you lovingly. You smiled pecking his lips.

“I love you. I will always have your back.” You nuzzled yourself closer to him. “You’re my husband, the father of my child, and my soulmate. I’ll have your back even in the afterlife, my love.”

“Father of your child?” T’Challa inquired with his eyebrows furrowed. You giggled nervously taking out the white pregnancy test out of your bathrobe pocket and showed it to him.

“We are going to have a baby, T’Challa.”

He grew a huge smile kissing you repeatedly and caressing your stomach. To say he was happy was an understatement. 7 months later, your son T’Chika was born and the whole palace was in awe. Your son grew up bearing strong resemblance to his father and late grandfather. T’Challa wholeheartedly believed that Bast had taken his father but gave him back in the form of his son. For every loss, there is a gain.

“Alright, T’Chika, you are tiring your baba out and he has a lot of work to do.” You stood in T’Challa’s office with your hands on your hips watching your four year old son play wrestle with your husband. T’Chika ceased his play and pouted.

“But mama!” He whined.

“Don’t argue with your mama, my son. Trust me, you are not going to win.” T’Challa looked up at you mischievously and you playfully rolled your eyes. “Besides, it is bedtime. If you do not get enough sleep, you will not be able to play with your sister when she arrives. You don’t want that, do you?”

The little boy gasped. “Oh no!” He rubbed your pregnant belly and kissed it. “I go to sleep for you, usisi. Good night!”

T’Chika ran off and T’Challa got up getting behind you. He held your belly lovingly and kissed your cheek whispering.

“I can finally get my work done. Thank you for saving me.”

Your hand found his on your rotund stomach and intertwined your fingers with his and laughed as you watched your son rush to his room excitedly.

“I will always have your back, my love. You know that.”

Translations:

Umyeni- Husband

Ngoba- Why

Ndiyaxolisa kakhulu, uthando lwam- I’m so sorry, my love

Umgqobho wempundu - asshole

Myeni wam - my husband

Ndiyakuthanda (wam)- I love you (too)

Usisi - sister

Tags: @brianabreeze @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @dramaqueenamby @marvelpotterlove @purple-apricots @brattywriters-anonymous@cancerianprincess @blowmymbackout @ljstraightnochaser @blackpinup22 @airis-paris14 @vibranium-chakra @sociallyawkward18@chefjessypooh @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @slimmiyagi @imasmille @ashanti-notthesinger

#t'challa #t'challa udaku x reader #t'challa x reader #t'challa x black reader #t'challa fanfiction #tchalla x reader #black panther #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #black panther fic #black panther fanfic #black panther x reader

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streamacademe · 5 years ago

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Week 101, Day 702.

So I tried to write this blog post yesterday and couldn’t; felt like I was going to pass out, started crying, had to quit. That is the first time in 101 weeks that I have ever given up, especially on a post.

I know that I haven’t been well for a little while, especially with respect to my mental health. I have blamed the PhD for a lot of my issues. And I mean, yes, it is a huge contributor, but, in reality, it’s a lot more complicated than that.

In a way, that means that I have lied to you. But, more importantly, I have been lying to myself. In my desperate attempt to deny myself the ability to feel weak I have made myself feel worse. And from how heavy the world feels lately I have learned that ignoring the problem won’t make it go away. My issue is that I don’t know how to hurt without being ashamed about it.

However, after much deliberation, I have decided to properly talk about it on here. Because, honestly, I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay, blaming the PhD, and making a very limited amount of effort to get better, when in reality I feel like I can’t breathe. I also can’t keep putting all of my emotional crap onto my boyfriend. He has been absolutely incredible in consolidating me and I owe it to him to try harder. Either way, I won’t be able to forgive myself if I keep on dragging him down with me. I am hoping that putting it down on ‘paper’ will force me to face my demons, insecurities, self-loathing, and self-pity. I am also hoping that it will help me be kinder to myself and consequently allow me to process what I’m going through and find ways to get past it. So let’s rip the band-aid off. I’m grieving. What’s worse is that I’m grieving someone who is still alive. I have mentioned this person several times on this blog, especially when it came to New Years resolutions and letting go. This person has been the foundation of my life and almost every decision I have made over the last 12 years. We met at my lowest point in life and he was the main reason that I lived to see it through; a tough bond to break. Nevertheless, he has also taught me about pain, neglect, abandonment, double standards, and heartbreak. Consequently, he has been the cause for my many stages of self-destruction. However, he also taught me what it’s like to never give up on someone, to get past unimaginable hurt, and how to love unconditionally. Without him I wouldn’t be the person that I am today. Unfortunately, that also means that I don’t remember or know how to live without him; he is my twin flame. I have hurt and influenced him big time too. We have been the worst and best thing for each other for a really long time. For far too long. I thought 2017 was going to be it for us when he stooped the lowest he ever had and subsequently lost me. I won’t go into detail. But, as always, we found a way back into each others lives in the following couple of years. Despite my forgiving him, for a millionth time, I could tell he resented me for being happy and thus remained on the sidelines to “protect” himself. He has an incredible ability to mess with my head, even at a distance, so I recently gave him an ultimatum to either partake in my life and accept everything that comes with it, same way I have accepted his life in all circumstances, or to be gone and stay gone. He chose neither. So I made the decision for him. What I didn’t fully realise is that he is in everything; my life choices, my tattoos, my style, my music, my head.. I can’t escape it. I also realised that losing him feels like losing everything. And that has really forked me up. So I’ve been grieving.

What makes this situation worse is that I felt/feel like I can’t talk to anyone about it. How can I tell my supervisors that I am grieving someone who hasn’t actually died? Who in the grand scheme of things is of no relation to me. How can I tell my boyfriend that I am grieving an ‘ex’ who isn’t actually an ex and him still believe that he comes first? How can I talk to my friends who have heard about this person over and over and over again and are sick of it? How can I? But then again... How can I get through this on my own? How will my supervisors understand why I’m struggling at work? How will my boyfriend know he’s the main reason why I am trying to let go? How will my friends know why I’m hardly speaking to them? How will they know? So here I am, speaking about it. My boyfriend knows everything, he always has. That’s one of the reasons our relationship is so strong, because we’re honest with each other, even when it’s hard to be. My friends know everything, because that’s what friends are for, even when it feels embarrassing to share. My supervisors know less, but they still know that I’m having a hard time and that makes me feel less under pressure at work. And now I’m speaking to myself about it, through this blog. And my God I feel lighter. Of course there are other factors at play for my mental health issues. Including, but not limited to, the PhD, being far away from family, financial struggles, endometriosis, other health issues, PTSD, and the general weight of living. But going through the above has made these things that much harder to manage. Especially, as it’s not just a break up; it’s a sick psychological tie that I am trying to break. There is a song that I have been listening to like a gospel, which is helping me get through this. It’s called ‘Stayaway - MUNA’. I highly recommend it to anyone that is going through something similar. At the end of this post I have attached a print screen of the description that the lead singer, Katie, has given about the context of the song. It’s now my screensaver. I’m learning that it’s okay to not be okay. But, I also don’t want to not be okay anymore. I’m desperately trying to focus my energy on positive things and trying to do things for others that will get me out of my pity party. I have baked a cake. I have potted plants and sold them to raise money for RSPCA. I tried to give blood yesterday, but wasn’t allowed to because my white blood cell count is super low, so that set me back a little. But, I’m trying, and that’s all I can ask from myself.

I’m extremely grateful for this platform, for giving me a chance to talk about things at my own pace, to share my story. I’m probably more honest than most people would feel comfortable to be. But, hey ho, one day we’ll be dead and if what I talk about can help someone, including me, then I’m going to talk about it. Thank you to the 550+ of you for listening. Remember to look after yourself; physical and mental health are very closely intertwined. 💛

Photo: Katie talking about their (MUNA) song ‘Stayaway’. Source: https://www.instagram.com/whereismuna/?hl=en

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courtneychicken · 6 years ago

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Autumn Leaves

So, I’ve had this one in the works for over a year now. I’ve been a bit indecisive about whether or not I should post this, so I’d like to thank @travelwithwords for encouraging me.

Warnings: Cancer, Character death.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Y/N shot Natasha a reassuring smile, her long hair bouncing against her back as she turned quickly, returning to the fight that played out before them. The red head couldn't help but smile to herself, her mind wandering away from the task at hand as she thought about how lucky she was to score a girlfriend like Y/N. The support she had shown and continued to show, her laugh, her smile… a few of the many things Natasha loved about her. The day they met, Natasha knew if it wasn't her, it wouldn't be anybody. She was the love of her life, and she wouldn't change anything.

Natasha was abruptly drawn from her thoughts as a loud gunshot and a pained scream erupted among them, stopping Natasha dead in her tracks. Her eyes scanned the many figures still fighting, hoping to catch a glimpse of her love, but instead saw nothing. It was when her eyes shot down, her chest began to sink, her heart thumping rapidly against her now tightening chest. There she lay, her body growing weaker by the second, the blood flow increasing as her heart rate decreased.

Natasha’s legs grew weak and she stumbled over to Y/N, muttering to herself, trying her best to convince herself she’d be fine. She placed her hands over her girlfriends, applying pressure to the wound as if it would make a difference. The blood seemed to engulf their hands, but they didn't seem to notice. Their tear filled eyes were locked, staring into each others as the inevitable commenced. Y/N spluttered, her blood escaping her dry throat and covering her chin. “I-I love you…” Y/N started, but Natasha shushed her, encouraging her not to speak. “I love you too. Save your voice, sweetie. W-We’re gonna get you to a hospital, okay? You just gotta hold on a little while longer.”

Y/N weakly shook her head, her vision blurring as the darkness grew stronger. “I’m sorry, Tasha,” her eyes fluttered shut, her body grew limp and the distraught sobs of a grief-stricken assassin filled the ears of all that surrounded them as she cradled the body of her love.

Natasha shot up from her unpleasant slumber, beads of sweat lay on the surface of her skin. She ran her hand through her sweat drenched, tousled hair, pushing it from her face to catch sight of the person she valued most. Her breathing eventually evened out and she couldn't help but smile at Y/N’s sleeping form, so peaceful, so content. She stared at her a little longer, thankful to have her still. That’s when the reality hit, she may not have lost her just yet, but she would eventually and she knew the time was approaching quickly.

Ever since the diagnosis, she had to reluctantly adapt to the fact they wouldn't grow old together. Y/N would spend the rest of her life with Natasha, but Natasha couldn't do the same. She would have to live her life without the one thing that makes her day brighter. She would lose the one thing that grounds her, she would lose her home.

Natasha gently brushed the hair from Y/N’s face, placing a small kiss on her forehead before pulling her closer as she drifted off.

Y/N and Natasha were sat at the kitchen table, Y/N eating what she could of her freshly prepared breakfast as Nat watched her attentively, taking in her every feature as if it were the last time. Natasha watched as her girlfriend stood, making her way past her and up the stairs. Nat just sat staring at her plate, dreading the news that was to come with todays check up. They were both beyond scared, not only for themselves, but for others close to them.

The ride to the hospital was uncomfortably silent, both women unable to find words as their anxieties spiked drastically, their whole world about to be rocked once again. Natasha reached for Y/N’s hand, giving it a firm, but reassuring squeeze as they pulled into the hospital car park. The short walk to the doctors office was enough to increase their nerves further, both women becoming restless, unable to contain their nervous fidgets until the doctor appeared, inviting them into his office. They sat as quickly as they could, feeling as if their legs would fail them at any second.

The doctor read over the results multiple times, unsure of how to approach the situation. Natasha could read his face all too well, but she was holding on to the smallest piece of hope she had left. Clearing his throat, he broke the silence, “Miss Y/L/N, I’ve been over your test results and I'm afraid it isn't good news. The cancer has grown rapidly since your last visit, causing it to spread and attack your other organs. I’m ever so sorry.” Y/N couldn't seem to focus, the room began spinning, the lump in her throat tightened and the doctors words became blurred as it started to sink in.

“H-How many months?” Natasha asked, her voice small and broken. All the doctor could do was shake his head, “Weeks. We recommend chemotherapy to make it easier during her final stages but theres nothing more we can do.”

Nat just stared at him, waiting for him to tell her it was a joke, to tell her it was all going to be okay. Her worst fear was coming true and there was nothing she could do about it. Thanking the doctor, they left without a sound.

Eventually, they reached their home, allowing themselves to show their true emotions. The shock was slowly fading, replacing itself with sadness. Tear stained, puffy eyes were now visible and their bodies shook with their sobs. All they could do was hold each other, clinging on to what time they had together.

Over the next week, they had started to arrange the official things. Starting with the burial options, they had to decide what would happen to her body once she had passed. There were a few disagreements on the cremation or burial decision, but after listening to Y/N’s wish, they came to a decision.

Laying in bed, Natasha pulled Y/N close to her before putting her hand over her heart. The steady rhythm comforted Nat instantly. “Y/N, can I ask you something?” Y/N knew what she was going to ask, she was awaiting the question. “Are you scared?”

Y/N took a deep breath, thinking over her answer momentarily. “Of dying? No. It’s a part of life, its inevitable. I’ll tell you what I am scared of.” Natasha studied Y/N’s face, inquisitive as to what she could be scared of. “I’m scared of what will happen to you once I’m gone. I’m scared that you’ll blame yourself, that’ll you’ll beat yourself up about it so much that you can’t heal. I’m scared you won’t move on and find happiness. I’m scared you’ll be lonely, a-and I don’t want you to be lonely Nat. You’re allowed to grieve, you’re allowed to take as much time as you need but please promise me something? Promise me you won’t dwell on this, remember the good times we had together, not my death. Just promise me you’ll be okay.”

Nat didn’t respond, she wiped away her tears as quickly as she could and pulled Y/N closer. “I promise that I’ll try.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

It wasn’t long before Y/N’s health plummeted. She was deteriorating rapidly and all the team could do was watch. Her frame grew more fragile. Her once vibrant skin was now pale, her luscious locks grew weak and fell from her scalp in clumps, her eyes were sunken in, her body now half the size it used to be. She would spend most of her days in bed, her body unconscious as she slept her days away.

The chemotherapy was terminated, making the process unbearable.

It hurt Natasha to see Y/N like this, all she wanted to do was take her pain away. All she could do was stand by and watch helplessly as she lost her fight.

The weeks went by, and as much as it pained Natasha to admit, the end was nearing. Natasha hadn’t left Y/N’s side in what seemed like forever. Everybody urged her to take a quick shower, or grab a quit bite to eat, but she adamantly refused. She was too scared to leave, fearing she would lose her person.

Tony sat beside Natasha, turning her to face him. “Nat, go get sorted. We’ll let you know if anything changes. You’re not doing yourself any good just sitting here, Y/N would want you looking after yourself. Just nip out quickly, she’ll be right here when you get back.”

Natasha looked from Tony, to Y/N. Through Y/N’s shallow breathing, she managed to croak out a few words, although they were almost whispers, “Tasha, I-I’ll be okay.”

Natasha was hesitant, but she kissed Y/N’s forehead and told her she would be back shortly, before walking out of the room and heading to the shower.

Y/N lay there, her breathing getting more shallow by the second. “T-Tony?”

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Everything okay?” His face was now etched with concern. She weakly shook her head. “I-I think it’s time…”

“No! Y/N, not without Tasha. Not yet, please,” he tried to bargain, hoping and praying for you to hold on a little bit longer.

“I-I need you to tell T-Tasha something… I-I need you to tell her that I love her, a-and that she was the best t-thing that’s ever happened to me. I-I need you to look after her, t-to make sure that she’s okay. There’s a letter, in my draw, there’s a letter. G-Give it to her once I’m gone. Promise me?”

The tears traced Tony’s cheeks as he held her hand, the lump in his throat tightening. “I promise.”

Y/N smiled weakly, her eyes feeling heavy as she finally gave in. She took one last breath, before her body relaxed and she let go. Tony’s sobs filled the room, his eyes squeezed shut as he continued to hold her hand.

Steve left to find Natasha, fearing the news he was to bring.

As soon as Natasha caught sight of Steve, realisation dawned on her. She felt the air leave her lungs, her whole world stopping. She ran as fast as her weak, shaky legs could take her, ignoring the feeling of her legs collapsing beneath her. She reached the room quickly, although time seemed to slow down for her.

One look at Y/N’s lifeless body had her kneeling over the bed. “No, no, no, please. You cant do this to me, please. I love you, Y/N, I need you. I need you, please…” her pleas were desperate.she begged, pleaded and cried until she couldn’t anymore. She climbed up onto the bed and pulled her body to her, cradling Y/N in her arms one last time.

When Y/N’s body was taken, Natasha felt numb, empty even. She struggled to process the thought of never seeing her again. Never hearing her laugh, never seeing her smile, never kissing her or even snuggling with her again. She couldn’t do anything, except mourn her.

A week later, it was her funeral. Natasha was getting ready, the concealer barely covering the dark circles that lay beneath her eyes. She finished the look with the red lipstick Y/N adored on her. Her legs felt like bricks as she attempted to walk out of her room. The rest of the team stood waiting, giving her sad, but reassuring smiles.

They made their way to the cemetery, following the horse drawn carriage that transported Y/N’s coffin. It was a short, but agonising journey for the team, especially Natasha.

Upon arrival, Natasha looked across the graves, giving a small smile at the rain that fell heavily. She remembered their first date, it rained and they ran to find cover. They had their first kiss in the rain. She remembered the way Y/N would dance in the rain, a smile gracing her face as she dragged Natasha to join her. It was Y/N’s favourite weather. She was always happiest in the rain.

The team helped Natasha carry the coffin, the weight barely putting pressure on their shoulders as they lifted her through. Eventually, they reached their desired destination and lowered her down, not wanting to let go.

Once everybody was seated, the funeral director stood at the podium and began the service. His words echoed throughout, each person tearing up as he continued on. Soon enough, it was Tasha’s turn to speak. She stood before everybody, wiping her eyes and clearing her throat before starting.

“I would like to start off by thanking you all for being here today. It means a lot to me, and I’m sure it does to Y/N too.

When I first met Y/N, I instantly fell in love with her. She had this energy that seemed to radiate from her, I was intrigued. She had this huge smile, and an adorable laugh and I knew then, I was in trouble. She changed me. She showed me what it was like to be a good person, and to love somebody as much as one possibly could. She helped me see the good in life. She made me a better person, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

She was always such a bubbly person, instantly brightening peoples day, no matter how tough it was. She never let anything get her down. When we discovered she was sick, our worlds were flipped upside down, but she didn’t let it get the better of her. No matter how rough she was feeling, or even towards the end, she never let it get her down. She always made light of the situation.

I’ve been with her for many years, and each day had been a blessing. We had so much we wanted to do. We had planned to get married, have children, and eventually grow old together. She spent the rest of her life with me, but I don’t get to spend the rest of mine with her. My heart breaks each day, when I wake up and she’s no longer there. I love her beyond words can even begin to explain, she is and always will be my person. I will remember her and keep her memory alive, until we can reunite once again.

As much as it pains me to see her go, I know she is out of pain. So, Y/N, I love you, my beautiful Angel.”

There wasn’t a dry eye present, each person allowing the tears to stain their cheeks. They stood over the coffin, watching as it lowered, like an autumn leaf, drifting to the ground. Y/N’s favourite song playing in the background.

The team threw a rose into the grave, along with Y/N’s parents and eventually, Nat. Then, came the soil. After their final goodbyes, everybody made their way to the wake. All, except Nat and Tony. Natasha was standing beside her grave, her eyes falling on all the other headstones, the rain drenching her clothes even more. Y/N was so young compared to the others surrounding her. Tony stood behind her, his hand stretched out to rest on her shoulder, causing her to jump.

She turned to him, before pulling him into a tight hug. “You did her proud.”

“I sure hope so.”

Tony reached into his suit pocket, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Nat. “She asked me to give this to you. She made me promise.” Natasha looked at him, confusion evident on her face. “I’ll leave you alone to read it, I’ll be in the car waiting,” and with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Natasha alone.

Her shaky hands opened it up, pulling the letter out and reading it slowly.

My Love,

If you’re reading this, I’ve lost the battle. And for that, I’m sorry. I wanted to write you this letter, just in case I never got to say goodbye. I hope you know, I never wanted to hurt you and I apologise profusely that you’re going through this. I know, you’re probably rolling your eyes at this, thinking to yourself that it’s not my fault.

From the moment I met you, I knew you were the one for me. You say I helped you in many ways, but you helped me too. You gave me something to fight for, you were a reason not to give up. My reason to not give up.

You’ve stood by me, no matter what. You dealt with the ups and downs of this illness and for that, you are perfect. You’re perfect in so many ways, believe me.

I want you to take care of yourself. Eat properly, sleep properly and stay hydrated. Leave the house, go for a walk, just don’t neglect yourself. Do these things for me. Don’t dwell on my death, just remember the good times we shared, think of the memories we made, the life we have built. Don’t let yourself get all dark and twisty. Let somebody in, the team will always be there for you, you know that.

Tasha, I love you. I always have and always will love you. I’m sorry things have ended this way, it wasn’t fair. But, know that I’m out of pain and awaiting your arrival. You can only arrive once it’s your time. No sooner.

Things will get better for you. Eventually, time will heal all wounds left from my passing. I know it’ll be hard, but I want you to move on. I don’t want you to be alone. Please, don’t be alone. Find a nice girl, settle down, have the life we were supposed to have. The life with the wedding, the kids, the grandkids and the old age. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.

You’ve made me the happiest girl in the world in the years we’ve spent together. The way you make me feel, the way you look at me. I’m completely and utterly in love with you.

I’ll be sure to visit you every now and then, just to let you know that I’m still by your side, watching over and protecting you. I’ll always protect you, just like you did me.

Once again, I love you, Tasha.

Love,

Y/N

P.s. I almost forgot, there’s a ring in the envelope. The same ring I was going to use to propose to you. I want you to have it, after all, it was always going to be yours. I hope it fits!

The tears blurred her vision as she finished the note. She wiped her eyes quickly, sniffling as she pulled the ring from the envelope. She smiled as she looked at it, before sliding it onto her left ring finger. It fit perfectly.

Taking one last look at the place her girlfriend lay, she whispered, “I love you.” And with that, she silently walked back to the car, thanking Tony for the letter as they started their journey to the wake.

As Natasha looked down at her ring, she couldn’t help but give a sad smile. She really did have the best.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #Avengers #avengers x reader #tony stark x reader #black widow x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fic #Avengers fanfic

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moonbokrk · 6 years ago

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“I know I’m not the son you’d hoped I’d be. But let me be a son who can make you proud.”

They wanted their son to become a doctor. He wanted to pursue music and become an idol. Moonbok and his parents don’t always see eye-to-eye when it comes his future. One thing never changes, though. Even if dreams are left in ruins, harsh words are spoken and angry tears are shed; the bond between parent and son is unbreakable.

Playlist:

● Numb - Linkin Park ● Acting Out - Ashley Tisdale ● My Style - ASTRO ● Road - G.O.D ● Happy Until Now - Baekho (Kang Dongho) ● Thank You - Got7 ● I’ll Try - Day6

Numb - Linkin Park

I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there Become so tired, so much more aware By becoming this, all I want to do Is be more like me and be less like you

Since he was a child, Moonbok was groomed into becoming a doctor like his father. And he tried, he truly did try to live up to his parents’ expectations, becoming the model student and dutiful son. But his wishes to be an idol were stronger and he came to realize that if he became like his father, he might be successful but he would also be miserable. Thus his rebellion and the arguments began.

Acting Out - Ashley Tisdale

Let me out this cage, I’m not gonna hold back Gonna break these chains, I’m taking control now! Gonna give ya something to talk about, It’s another side of me, I’m acting out!

[Discussed somewhat in Moonbok’s MGA audition] As his frustration with his parents’ unwillingness to compromise grew, Moonbok’s behaviour became unruly. Once the ‘perfect child,’ he began to rebel more openly and in front of family members, determined to give them all a reason to talk about him, instead of simply staring down their noses. As is the case with all teenagers, though, he was blinded by his own self-confidence and unaware (or uncaring) of his parents’ feelings. Confrontation was looming ever closer as he progressed through his first year of High School

My Style - Astro

People always told me not to play to hard to get, That if I don’t want to fall behind; to listen to my elders That the dreams I’m dreaming can’t be fulfilled easily People who look down on me will never understand.

Have respect for your parents and elders, because they’re wiser than you are. That’s what Moonbok had been taught since he was a child, but as he got older, Moonbok scoffed at the notion. They all knew better simply because they lived longer than him?! His teachers, who just wanted to say they’d played a part in getting Jang Yeonseok’s only son to SNU’s medical school? His uncle, who put the reputation of their family ahead of any affection towards them? (If he even possessed affection for any of them in the first place) His parents, who had raised him and yet put down his dreams at any opportunity? Saying he was too intelligent to ‘waste [his] life on a dream,’ and idiotic platitudes about not wanting to see him ‘get hurt?’ Not realizing why his parents held the fears that they did or that his teachers did actually see him as more than the son of one of South Korea’s most esteemed doctors, Moonbok continued on his path of rebellion and his attitude towards his parents turned outright hostility until one evening, everyone snapped.

Road - G.O.D

Wanna say with confidence this path is right I do not want to look back I want no regret Just keep walking, keep walking, keep walking Yet I still don’t feel confident in my decision

On the 5th of February 2011, what started as a minor argument over Mookbok neglecting his homework (yet again) turned into an out-an-out screaming match between parents and son, sending their daughter cowering. Or so they all thought. However as Moonbok stormed towards the door with his father shouting warnings that if he left, he could stay gone this time, Jang Chaewon burst from her room and clung to her brother, sobbing and begging them to stop fighting. With that, Jang Minyoung delivered an ultimatum to her son. Sing for them. There and then. Prove that all this strife and pain was worth it, instead of just running away. At first Moonbok thought it was a joke, scoffing at the idea while he tried to untangle himself from his hysteric baby sister. But eventually he relented and as he stood before his family, he was seized by a sudden wave of terror. What if he failed here? Would his parents still throw him out? Despite all the arguments, he still loved them, he’d always loved them. Voice quaking, pitch and tone all over the place, he tried to put on a performance he’d always dreamed they’d watch, albeit on the big stage. However his impromptu performance was nothing short of a travesty and falling to his knees as it came to an end, all Moonbok could do was wait for his sentence to be passed...

Happy Until Now - Baekho

With how much of a child I always was Did I ever make you cry with my childish ways? Compared to you, who has always loved me I still have so much to learn Because I was always by your side

But the condemnation he was expecting never came, the order to get out and never return not issued. Instead, Moonbok felt his father’s arms wrap around him and hold him tightly, a strange warmth dripping on his cheek from above as his father trembled a little. Then, a simple statement with a nickname he hadn’t heard in what felt like years. “You did well, Bok-ah. I understand now, and I’m proud.” The realization hit Moonbok like a truck and before he could stop himself he was utterly bawling in his father’s arms, his sobs only increasing in strength and volume as his mother joined their hug. It was only then he realized that, in spite of everything he’d done and all the things he’d said, his parents simply wanted proof. Proof that he truly believed in his dream and that it wasn’t just him being spiteful. He’d made it that way though, threw it in his parents’ and teachers’s faces when he wanted a reaction. And now he realizes something that makes him cling to his parents even tighter, garbled apologies spilling out of his mouth, barely even understandable. In spite of all the pain he must have caused them, his parents still loved and forgave him.

Thank You - GOT7

Even if you give me everything you have You are still sorry and try to even give yourself to me What I gave to you is Still nothing, nothing, nothing even now So I’m so sorry So I’m sorry

It’s July 16th 2018 and the scene from that night was repeated. But instead simply being riddled in guilt from the way he acted as a teenager, Moonbok is curled in his parents’ embrace, sobbing as his feels like his dreams have come crashing to pieces around him. After giving up on their dream of him being a doctor, and letting him attend SNU’s music school to hone his skills, he’d failed. He’d come in last place on the first live stage of the MGAs season 4 and eliminated on the spot. Everything he’d worked for since that fateful night had come to nothing. He disgraced his family and friends in front of the entire nation (the fact that it wasn’t airing until Sunday night was even worse) and was told he simply wasn’t good enough. That he’d dragged his whole team to last place. “They hate me, they hate me! They think I’m not good enough and they’re right! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you were right all along, I never should have--” His mother hushed him, running a hand through his messy hair while his father’s grip on him tightened once more and Moonbok could almost swear the older man is shaking again. He’d let them all down, and yet they’re grieving with him instead of saying ‘we told you so.’ “Then prove them wrong, Moonbokkie. Learn from this and show them that they’ve made a mistake. You’ve done it before, let me see you do it again.”

I’ll Try - Day6

I wanna be on your side all your life And understand you Just like your love That loves me Just the way I am

Moonbok finally realizes what unconditional love means. It means his parents still love him, despite his faults and occasional bad attitude. That they won’t give up on him on a bad day, but will not let him wallow in self-pity. That even when he’d been rejected during the MGAs Wildcard round, they didn’t tell him it was time to give up, but to keep trying. That they’ll welcome him home after a day of classes with a hug and a smile and take a genuine interest in his going-ons in University. (Well, mostly. Moonbok is of the opinion that while Yeonseok tries to understand what his son is telling, there’s simply too much medical knowledge in his brain to make room for the arts. He tries though, and Moonbok loves him for it.) He’s ashamed of how he believed his parents didn’t like him, let alone love him when he was at his worst. He’s ashamed of how much pain and embarrassment he must have put them through with his bratty ways. But there’s no point dwelling on the past. All he can do know is simply repay their love in any way he can and try be a son Yeonseok and Minyoung can be proud of, no matter where his path leads.

#rkship #rkplaylist #((crt+3))#(Henlo I am going to go lie down and weep for a while)#(Why do you wound me like this Jang Moonbok?)

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