#it's ME ROOTS MATEYS

[amongthegentlymad]

ARRHARR HARR MATEYS

Talk Like a Pirate Day song!! “Talk Like a Pirate” by Tom Mason and The …

[smoothriverrocksrock]

The new undertale newsletter reminded me of how much I love this freak. Also he deserves legs <3 Like all of them <3333

(click on image for better quality) close ups under cut

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

our flag means death but i've never watched it

Hey OFMD fandom, the Ineffable fandom sends their Mascot. I was supposed to do this many days ago, but the OFMD tag on tumblr was filled with... things. This time, I gained my knowledge from Pinterest instead, and I, Asmi, of the Good Omens Fandom, am rooting for you all!

THAT BEING SAID. WHAT THE DEVIL IS THIS SHOW MEANT TO BE? AS USUAL, I UNDERSTAND ABSOLUTELY NOTHING DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS, BUT TAKE A SUMMARY ANYWAY:

It is gay. Of this at least, I am very sure.

There are pirates. The pirates are the above gays.

There is a guy named Ed who is Blackbeard, and he is very soft and shares trauma and has grey hair.

He is in love with Stede, who writes him bottle letters and throws them away.

Ed is not happy about the throwing away part. I think he wanted to read the letters.

They read the letters together.

There is a guy named Lucius and someone kisses him and they do a victory punch. They break up because of fish.

Someone named Izzy has a redemption arc.

There are colonisers. They are British. This makes sense, at least.

The colonisers are not homophobic, they merely find love pathetic.

In the 1600s male pirates married each other and that's where the term 'matey' originated. I do not know. This is what Pinterest yelled at me.

Uh Ed pulled a Crowley on Stede and instead of Alpha Centauri asked him to run away to China with him.

Stede ran away from him instead.

Izzy was not a father figure to Ed. Discuss. It is something involving horniness and unrequited love.

Izzy died.

Ed was upset under a blanket. Stede respected this.

Ed built a blanket fort. Is this a running theme?

I understood nothing more because I can't make out whether 'ship' refers to relationship or the actual fucking ship. What does 'Steve does fixing in the ship' MEAN IS THIS MARRIAGE COUNSELLING OR NAVAL ENGINEERING?

EVEN THOUGH I UNDERSTOOD NOTHING, THIS SEEMS LIKE A GAY FUCKING DISASTER. RENEW IT. GO SLAY OFMD THE GOOD OMENS FANDOM IS BEHIND YOU.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

I learned this morning that Mojo Nixon has died.

His music came out in the late 1980s, and he quickly became one of my mother's favorites. She would put his album "Root Hog or Die" on the record player and blast it full volume when she was vacuuming the house. Here's one song from it.

Lyrics:

A pirate ship's a'sailin' Out on the stormy seas It's the Radio Free America Just for you and me The big radio stations Are stinkin' up the air Playing pusillanimous plotz It's a real nightmare Sing! Chorus Aye aye mateys, oh, come on the Pirate Radio Land of the free and home of the brave FCC crawl in your grave! The Coast Guard's a'comin' To shut the pirates down They don't believe in free speech The FCC's in town Their hacksaws and their hammers They smash it all to bits They won a little battle But the war's not over yet Sing! Chorus What are they afraid of? That we might tell the truth? We might play something good And it wouldn't be a goof What we need is liberty Not their stinky laws Freedom from the FCC And their money grubbin' paws Sing! Chorus A pirate flag's a'wavin' To fight the FCC Those lily-livered scalawags Full of mendacity It's mutiny on the airwaves We're scullin' lots of rum We'll make 'em walk the plank We're havin' lots of fun Sing! Chorus (Repeat chorus, ad lib pirate talk, fade out)

Lyrics from flashlyrics.com

[dragonmuse]

In relation to your essay would you be willing to explain the difference between mates, mateys and marriage with Lucius and and Pete. I love the essay and I mean this genuinely. I don't know the difference and would like to understand.

With the disclaimer that I'm no historian, but my general understanding is that pirates had a 'marriage' of sorts known as mateloge. This could've been as simple as 'this is my good friend and if I die, he gets all my things' to 'full blow marriage'.

Matey is a thing that pirate actors on pirate themed rides call each other. I have no idea if it has historical roots, but the show doesn't really trouble itself with those anyway, so when it's said, that's how I felt it read.

I just think on a show that so unabashedly into taking queer relationships as part of the norm, and we know marriage is a thing, hell Jackie is happily living a polyandrous life (more power to her), so why can't Lucius and Pete be husbands? Why can't they be married?

To me 'mate' sounds like a partner at least. 'Matey' sounds like you're wearing a plastic eyepatch and a striped t-shirt at place called Blackbeard's Bar and Grill.

[0amburgh0]

Mmrhhrhrmm…… what if I drew helmet party again…… getting back into me roots matey

[torotauri]

Cheerleader | Sana Minatozaki [TWICE]

Plot requested by @leafostuff​ again. Here’s your cheerleader one shot. Might turn it into smut who knows?

1049 Words

***

Heading into university, you were probably one of the luckiest guys on campus. You were dating cheerleader Sana Minatozaki. It was almost like a tradition in university where the players on the football team would date the cheerleaders because of how close they were. Therefore, it makes complete sense that yourself, a footballer in the university team is dating Sana Minatozaki, a cheerleader for the university.

The only reason that this cheerleaders always date footballers is because of a tradition in the university. Every time the team plays a competitive game, the cheerleaders would each hold up a sign for their assigned player cheering and rooting for them on the sidelines.

However, Sana was not your assigned cheerleader. In fact she was assigned to someone else. You both met at a nightclub and have been dating for a while already. The whole team and all the other cheerleaders know that you both were dating. You both were just unlucky that you didn't get assigned to each other.

It obviously pains you seeing your girlfriend Sana cheering for someone else, there was a sense of jealousy in your heart. Watching your girlfriend cheer and root for another guy. It was made even worst that Sana was pretty, popular amongst the boys and her assigned player likes to tease you about how Sana is cheering him on and not you.

"Hey matey, you ready for the game?" Sana's assigned cheer partner said to you.

Not this again you thought to yourself. It happens before every game you play.

"Yeah, you?" you replied politely.

"Always ready, especially with Sana cheering me on the sidelines. It gives me extra motivation, especially with how pretty she is. What about your cheerleader? Does she give you motivation? Is it your girlfriend who's your cheer...... oh wait nah Sana will be cheering for me during the game" the guy said.

You really hated it. It wasn't because your assigned cheerleader wasn't pretty, in fact your assigned cheerleader was pretty too, but it just wasn't Sana.

Even with your jealousy, you need to play your game. Things don't just stop because you are jealous that your girlfriend was rooting for someone else instead of you. You looked over at the cheer corner and there Sana was, all beautiful but as you looked down, she was holding the sign of another player's name. It was painful to see, so you decided to look away and focus on your game.

During the game, you heard the cheering. They were mostly doing group cheers but at some point during the routing, the girls would be shouting the players name and when it went to Sana you just hoped that it would be your name leaving her mouth, but it wasn't which made you feel a bit down.

What you didn't know was that despite Sana cheering for some and shouting another boys name during the cheer routine, she was actually cheering for you deep down. It also pains her to cheer for someone else but you. However, this was her job, she was assigned that person and she had no choice but to do it.

After 90 minutes of jealousy for you, your team finally won the game. All the cheerleaders were happy and doing their winning cheer routine. Everyone was celebrating the win and obviously you joined in. Once the cheerleaders finished their routine they also joined into the celebrations as they were part of the team.

The guy who got Sana assigned as his cheerleader walked over to Sana and decided to chat with her for a bit which really annoyed you.

As you were looking over at Sana talking to the guy you didn't like, your own cheerleader approached you with a bottle of water.

"Here have a drink" she said as you were zoning out.

"Oh thanks, yeah thanks" you zoned back in and replied.

"What you looking at?" she asked as you pointed over at Sana.

You knew who your assigned cheerleader was, she was a good friend of yours and a close friend of Sana. She didn't like that guy as well as she knows the guy was definitely trying to hit on Sana. Not just to annoy you, just because Sana was so beautiful and a lot of people are queuing up to date her once you both break up.

"Ah, Sana and that guy again. I don't get it, why is he doing that. He must know you and Sana are together" she asked as she looks over at Sana who was chatting away with the guy, but a little bit uninterested.

It was a bit difficult to hear what they were talking about, but you managed to hear bits of their conversation.

"I've had a good game didn't I?" the guy said.

"Yeah it was alright" Sana replied with no emotions.

"It's all thanks to you Sana, you give me motivation to play better knowing that you were cheering for me" the guy then said.

"Yeah whatever, the school made me do it" Sana replied really not interested in what he had to say.

"How about we go for a drink to celebrate?" the guy cheekily asked.

That was it, that was the final straw. You can't take it anymore, him asking your girlfriend out. You need to go over and stop this. Storming away, you approached the pair with your cheerleader chasing you.

"Wait, where are you going" she asked as she followed you.

You didn't reply as you just approached Sana.

"You guys going out for a drink?" you asked as you stood next to Sana.

"Yeah but you're not invited" the guy replied.

This guy was really winding you up. You didn't know what to do then, all you thought of was to put that guy in his place. Leaning in, you kissed Sana right on the lips and started a quick but passionate little make out session.

"Let's go grab some food and head back to my place shall we?" you asked.

Sana just nodded, she was shocked at what you did to her. But you had to, you need to show who was Sana's boyfriend.

After that Sana just cling onto you as you both started to walk away from the pitch heading back to your dorm for some food.

"Stay away from her" you said as you glared at him before you and Sana left the scene with her as you grabbed her by her waist.

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt#3 ~ Black & Gold

Previous - ♫Kill All The Lights♫ - Reference

Daybreak lustrous skies collapsed around a smooth sea-vessel being drifted across waves and winds alike. A Hyur dangerously juggled knives between deftly skilled hands under thoughts. Fixated into the empty serene ambience, as fliers of the free brushed by with piercing squawks. That frequency traumatically recalled screams from his origins, pleading soul's begging to be saved, helplessly taken, before the same root of an evil deathly hand felt almost like it was able to rip through spiritually and still threatening wedge to loom out and squeeze fearfully grasping his own heart still. He purposefully remained always busy trying to forget his demon's left alive. The bustling lifestyle was still in desire to forge forth, to somehow climb over a daunting wall. But he wasn't immune to the soul-carved scars of his former. Desperate to acquire victory, power, enough that could mark a dent into an impenetrable Fortress. he spent existence never knowing any peace, remaining restless, nerved. A victim chained to the past that even ate his future. Causing an imbalance tensing that nearly brought his juggling to skewer him, gravely to wound. -- until he felt the fabric of chest wear, be tugged backward from his Captain in clad leather. With a conditional care, while emerging with his found answers. "Judas, matey ye alright?" A startled breath came, before a composing inhale showed how close the dirk was to piercing him, the same thing he used to betray so many who jeopardized his mission even gave the same endangerment to him. Naturally when that question came, it was often a lie to themselves firstly before it drew with air, "I am... Did you come to a conclusion, upon how things are different?" While also famously trying to subvert and bury it with a new topic. Although Captain wasn't remarked or touted for his book smarts, people often were comparable in their own stories they told a lot. He was very instinctual and keenly driven. He silently however accepted but still felt the hairs stick up on his tail, not confident in the inflection given. Because these same thing's weren't beyond him either, often can recognize problems when battling them too. Trailing before subsiding and putting his arm over the railing of the ship. "Aye. It's different because I am. When I reached out and you were goin' under 'Bellum' as some shadowy projection, willing t' earn n' lick fortune off selling slaves when we both know, that's not fer us. Repeating th' same steps of our enemies, stooping to them, how does it help? I took you on despite it all because something within me, felt I was capable to be the difference back then. I risked everything even despite possibly dying by yer hands, it would've been worth either way. I owed you, I promised ye t' ferry back to that place. N' we'd settle it all... I wasn't enough back then." He'd admit from the resonate truth of harsh gravity.

"Youth, careless dreaming, I hadn't been hurt or crushed enough, or bled enough, as often the price ov' freedom' cost. To know how to fight, understand how to evolve. Essentially, I couldn't swim against the current ov' our destination, because I wasn't kickin it. Doubt drowns us, anchor limits. -- Our worst enemies are us. It psychs us out, causes us to hesitate. Th' most damning' thing... It kills us with fear of unknown, or I dub it, 'un'... But these things are crafted by us. It's an insignificant version of us. Happiness can only be achieved if we battle against that louder voice in our noggin, thinking it's impossible to vanquish. It doesn't help, it festers, grows like a parasite, or becomes massive from the closest of our other failures, or stacked mates who are inflicted with the same setting, doubt can continuously poison and spread, tarnish, slaughter a whole crew to early seabed graves. Honestly... A sea who really does swallow us." He exhaled pandering with a stroke of fondness to his ship that came from the ashes of his Crimson Phoenix, now the Worldly Finder. The namesake changes alone represented a lot. The polished Midlander who often was the grounding keeping his Captain afloat, was reminded again that supporting or building one another wasn't an action of one-sided development. When operating any vessel, in-order to thrive, achieve it required multiple, a crew. He couldn't do anything alone, it needed to be felt. Understanding patience of growth, accepting things were often when thinking of our dreams they were like being weighed on scales. We often assume just because we can't measure up to what's so far above us on the opposite side, there's no feasible way to equal, or hoist above it. But life isn't a voyage, often recommended or taken alone. Heaps of fortune, wealth, abundance of accomplishment came by accepting every weather, and braving it. Judas frowned briefly before flashing blue. "I see... Then I believe we can commence our real beginning and voyage together. I will follow and entrust everything to this and you. If you can give me the same. I'm wanting to learn to swim as well." He kept the symbolic meaning and extended an agreement of dealing open-palm awaiting handshake. Where once or often, someone who once betrayed would be something to be cautiously, he held the mentality that it wasn't personally done, if anything it hurt the Hyur more, which resulted in him also falling off the handles. Captain saw that the pit of snakes for plummeting into bite was because of his antics of being tense to charm wild, was to be composed to also frantically not give it a reason to fear. He met the extending bonding shake before hooking as a pact sworn. "I'll Captain th' Fates." A new pledge etched. Confidence radiating with a heating warmth to nestle within. "And I'll ensure your back isn't without the wind, I may provide." Each giving off their own sentiments almost like a brotherhood forged and committed deeply invested with a kindred oath. Branding smile's of golden, met.

[callme-chaos]

Tommy SMP (DSMP)

H-hello? How did you get in here? Tommy doesn’t usually let randoms in. Uhhhhh lemme just consult the list real quick. What’s your name?

Huh. Doesn’t sound familiar. Buuuuuuut there you are. On the list. What’s your purpose here then, pal?

A tour? Well, the person who usually does the tours is out in the moment… But I guess I could show you around. If you would like to follow me – yeah just ignore the holes and stuff. They’re just remnants of a couple of wars we’ve had.

What kind of wars? Bro, where have you been?

Not from around here? Evidently. Well, first there was the Disk Wars. You see, Dream had these cool disks but Tommy really wanted them, you know? And this is /Tommy SMP/ and not /Dream SMP/ after all so there was all that. Then there was this Quackity kid who tried to start a nation and Tommy didn’t really like the look of that. And so Tommy and this Ranboo guy decided to blow it all up – I don’t remember the details. You see, I’ve been away… uhhhh… travelling so I don’t really see too much of what goes on here. That and I seem to be forgetting a lot of things… I really should fix that-

Huh? You’re confused. Buddy – I haven’t even told you about the Egg yet!

Yeah! An Egg! I can show you it right now actually. Just follow me.

The vines? Yeah! They’re a nice shade of blue but they’re a real pain to cut down, you know? They just seem to grow back stronger. Now, just pop down this hole here – yeah just straight down.

Oh! Ah. I really should have warned you about the fall damage, huh? I’m sure we can pop into George’s bakery later and fix you up. Providing George is in his bakery… He stopped baking a while back.

Why? I don’t actually know. I’m not really too involved in the politics around here (travelling and all that) buuuuut I heard a rumour that him, Ranboo, Charlie Slimecicle and Technoblade have started like a secret club. Not sure exactly what they do but if Ranboo is involved it can’t be good. Anyways! Here’s the Egg. Don’t step too close though – I’ve heard it has some serious manipulative powers. Niki’s best friend Foolish got transformed by it the other day. She was quite upset. I think she runs a cult in the Egg’s honour with Ponk or something now. She’s nice but pretty scary when she wants to be, I’ll tell you that much.

The Egg is giving you weird vibes? Yeah. You and me both. The blue is giving me shivers actually. Shall we continue our tour elsewhere?

Next? Hmmmmm. I know! I’ll take you to Hannah’s castle and museum. They’re a great tourist spot! Follow me.

Yes we have a museum! History has been made here on the SMP, I’ll have you know. This SMP was founded by the Tommy Team made up of the hot-headed, dashingly attractive Fundy; the greatly popular, widely enjoyed Bad Boy Halo; and, of course, the 1000IQ man himself, TommyInnit. Though, Tommy… hasn’t been about much… lately… not since… you know…

Well, if you don’t know I hardly have the time to explain now! (I’ll maybe show you later if we have time…) Anyways! Here we are: Hannah’s museum. This miserable little dark room here is a recreation of L’Manberg’s Final Control Room. Back in the first L’Manberg verses Greater Tommy SMP war, L’Manberg’s founding fathers (Schlatt, Sapnap, President Quackity and Vice President Dream) were all betrayed by a member of their own battalion: Hannah-Rose. They were dark times, kid.

You want to know more about President Quackity and his right hand man Dream? Well, they were incredibly close – practically brothers. They both went through a lot together. Until Quackity finally blew up L’Manberg and was subsequently killed by his own father, Charlie Slimecicle.

I didn’t say they were dark times for nothing, you know? Dream took it harder than anyone. And Tommy took the opportunity to traumatise and manipulate the fella further. Tommy even managed to convince Dream’s best friend, Schlatt, that he was the root of all problems on the SMP.

We couldn’t believe it either. Dream did have one friend, Ranboo, for a while. But they ultimately disagreed on their ideas of justice and went their separate ways.

Sad times, indeed, kid. Anyways, where to next… Oh! Hello, Eret! How are you doing?

Ah. He’s busy. Off being cracked at bed wars I suspect.

What’s the big black building over there?

Uhhhhhhhh… Have you seen HBomb’s hotel? It’s great this time of year! Just this way, matey. Technically it belongs Dream but HBomb briefly took it over. There was some kind of dispute between the two guys – nobody here really takes HBomb that seriously. (Personally, I blame the ancient skin he still wears. Kid really needs an update, you know?)

That? Oh, I suppose you can still see some of the remnants. That used to be Punz’s UFO. Someone blew it up but I’m not entirely sure who…

How do I know it was blown up? Look, I’m just taking Quackity’s word for it.

He did die but then he was recently brought back to life. He spends most of his time with Dream outside Las Nevadas.

Las Nevadas is basically the Tommy SMP version of Las Vegas. It’s pretty cool actually – wanna check it out?

Cool! We’re actually heading in the right direction for that anyways. So, where are you from?

Yeah, I gathered you weren’t from around here but where are you actually from?

…Not gonna tell me? Fine. So be it. You sure are a mystery, huh?

I’m not flirting! I just- I… Ah! Look at that! We’re already here! It’s pretty dramatic, right?

You should see it at night. Everything lights up and it is magnificent.

It belongs to Wilbur. He’s the head honcho around here. He’s here alongside Puffy and Phil. Oh! Speak of the devil, if you squint a little bit you can see Phil down there now, bouncing around. He’s a cutie really – though his puns do get tiresome.

What do you mean “you don’t get tired of puns”?

…Are you human?

…What a terrifying answer. Okay! Moving on!

I’m aware that it’s one of the ugliest structures in existence – but you can’t blame Wilbur and Las Nevadas for /that/ abomination. That’s what Quackity and Dream installed last time they were here together.

I know it’s phallic but you don’t have to say that out loud! Come on, man, have a little class.

That up there? That’s Schlatt and Techno’s “cookie castle” as I like to call it. When Dream was exiled, Schlatt met Techno and they started getting really close. They’re everybody’s favourite couple now. I think it’s a friendship that will last a long time, you know? They seem to have a lot in common.

Like what? Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh They’re both American?

Look, if you know, you know.

Alright! Next – shall we have a change of scenery? Las Nevadas can get quite… heated, so perhaps we can give the snowy biome a visit, yeah? Now, when we get there it’s important to tread carefully: the forest is enchanted, practically everything there will eat you and, worst of all… Ranboo lives out there.

Ranboo? He’s a terrifying force of nature. I heard he slayed an entire army all by himself, owns a pet polar bear and he helped Tommy take down the entirety of L’Manberg. Ranboo and Tommy – they’re one formidable duo.

No no! There’s no need to be afraid! Apparently Ranboo’s arsonist days are over and he has his carer Charlie Slimecicle watching over him so he’s been relatively quiet recently. I like to think their neighbour Technoblade has been a good influence on them both.

Technoblade is a gentle soul. Poor kid just wants to make everyone happy, you know? I wish everyone was more like Technoblade sometimes – the world would be such a different place…

Nah, nobody can really sleep soundly – not when Antfrost and Purpled are still out there. The Eggpire and Las Nevadas never really rest when it comes to their members. Oh! But by far the worst person to come across – the real reason I haven’t slept in weeks on this server – is… Oh. Oh dear. I think I’ve summoned him. Walk this way – quickly! – and don’t make eye contact…

NO JACK I HAVE NO DESIRE TO WITNESS THE JACK MANIFOLD “GRIND” NOW PLEASE TAKE YOUR FILTH AND YOUR CAT-MAID OUTFIT AND GO BOTHER SAPNAP OR SKEPPY INSTEAD!

…Alright, no need to look at Jack like that.

Jack Manifold in a cat-maid- no. Don’t make me lock you up in Pandora’s Vault along with- uhhhhhh.

Forget I said that. Speaking of Skeppy, he built Schlatt and Techno a beautiful mansion around here somewhere-!

He also built an extraordinary diamond sculpture a while ago-

Please no.

…I guess you leave me no choice then, huh? I guess, I can show you the prison – but we have to be really, really careful, okay?

Who’s inside? Well…

I didn’t forget! It just… Tommy. Tommy is in the prison right now.

Well, of course I didn’t want to tell you! It doesn’t really look good on the server when the person its named after is locked up for life for doing unspeakable things.

No! I’m not gonna tell you what unspeakable things he did – it wouldn’t make them unspeakable then, would it?

…I don’t believe anyone else is in there, no. Why?

Ranboo? Nahhhhhh! Ha ha! What do you know, you silly goose! Well, before we go into the prison, we’ll have to get Puffy’s permission. She’s really strict about who she lets in and out of the prison and takes her role as prison warden very, very seriously. No one has ever died or been injured or brought back to life or wrongly imprisoned while the prison has been in her care.

What do you mean – “not convincing”? If you don’t trust my word, then that’s a /you/ problem.

…The prison is this way. Now, when we get in let me do all the talking… You know what? Perhaps you should stay outside. I’ll go in, talk to Puffy and try to get permission to go in – but I make no promises, understand?

…Alright, wait here.

…

…

…

Puffy said no.

No, it was a pretty definitive no actually. Wh-where are you going?

You can’t! Puffy hasn’t given you permission!

There’s nobody in there /to/ save. Tommy deserves to be in there-

There is nobody else in the prison!

You’re insane.

No, I won’t let you.

…

…I don’t think so, matey. Feel that sharp object between your shoulder blades?

I figured you did. That’s my sword. I am not afraid to push it through your chest if it means keeping you out of that prison. Understood? Now, step away from the prison.

Thank you.

…I think that concludes our tour. Perhaps it’s best you- oh! Karl is here! Karl Jacobs! Over here!

Yeah. He doesn’t talk ever but he’s still a great guy, you know?

Oi. Wave back. It would be rude not to wave back.

My name? Oh my goodness! I totally forgot to introduce myself! (Though, you never really asked until now anyways…)

It’s okay! I know I talk a lot – it can be difficult to get me to shut up sometimes – ha ha!

My name is Callahan.

[euqinimod-you-will-knovv]

minha última carta.

(rascunho até que o dia chegue)

Se você está lendo isso é porque eu me matei, ou algo ruim aconteceu antes disso.

tenho muito a dizer, e as pessoas vão realmente se importar quando eu morrer além do mais ninguém ouve o que os jovens dizem; é triste.

Mãe se você está lendo isso, espero que tenha se dado conta que você coloca tudo como prioridade menos seus filhos, espero que viva feliz mas sempre quis que você tivesse me ajudado, eu sei que vou morrer sem ir no the roots novamente, espero falar com o Kurt Cobain da onde estou.

Pai, Você devia fazer terapia, tem problemas com raiva e desconta em todos a sua volta. Sinto muito pelo que você vai passar, felizmente me deu um teto para morar mas nunca deixou eu realmente me tratar psicológicamente , não se culpe se aconteceu eu que não aguentei mais a minha mente.

Irmã, você devia ter me ajudado mais nas tarefas, é difícil brincar de mãe tão nova por não ter mãe. Crie responsabilidade e não é culpa sua, não mesmo.

As garotas que infernizaram a minha vida existência , eu até que entendo... Sempre acreditei que bullying vem de frustrações próprias, problemas familiares.

Vocês não sabiam mas quando fizeram aquela merda meus pais estavam em divórcio, eu já estava mal e acabada o suficiente, juro por Deus se alguém tirou meu brilho de viver foram vocês.

Eu tentei suicídio tantas vezes, não de brincadeirinha como vocês

tylenois, lorazepam, exitalozopram e amato e muito álcool quem me mataram?

Maisa, eu mudei bastante, tanto de assustar você, seus atos pesam você? antes eu podia ser um pouco fingida, era transtorno mesmo... boderline queria que gostasse de mim, tanto faz agora eu tô morta

eu realmente gosto do cobain, sofreu o que eu sofri, teve divórcio, problemas com suicídio e drogas , somos auto-destrutivos e rebeldes, mas cara...tem que tá muito mal para estourar a cara, será que eu fiz isso?

Gabriela, acreditei em você, gostei de você, hoje odeio tudo em você, "sou totalmente contra a sua existência" suas palavras sobre mim, você me quer morta e eu sei disso, ironicamente você conseguiu isso, como se sente?

Suicídio suicídio suicídio

Maria Eduarda, eu acolhi você para o grupo de meninas e você literalmente me excluiu muito dele, ironicamente o diferente que não aceita o diferente, eu te achei legal, tivemos boas conversas mas você traiu minha confiança e tudo bem, eu sei que você não liga e vai comemorar meu suicídio com suas amigas, viva bem e corra do karma.

Sabrina, você me faz ver que nunca dei motivos para me odiarem, eu apenas era diferente e me trataram muito muito mal, eu sei que não fui a única, vocês gostam de jogar com os indefesos... é repugnante ver de garotas tão exemplares um perfil tão baixo, é o desabafo, eu mereço, eu morri e me livrei desse peso dizendo tudo.

Sempre eu vou passar por isso sozinha, não tenho amigos como a *** que correram depois dela tentar besteira, por isso estou morta, escondo minha dor porque não tenho mais o que fazer.

As outras que me magoaram muito também, tudo bem, tô acostumada talvez você tenha colaborado nisso mas melhore!

Ao meu namorado, desculpas imensas mas você já sabia, eu te amo e desculpe eu tinha um pouco de medo de você, acho que é lance paterno.

dominique

jovial, poética triste

se alimenta mal, adora filmes

principalmente de : wongkarwai

tem inúmeras poesias, músicas ruins

postadas no violão, guitarra e voz

tão melancólica, adora coca-cola

textos inúteis

o ar, a grama e o céu

mas mesmo assim

morreu.

[beetlegoose01]

forget about love (one shot)

Summary: In which Scorpius and Rose discuss love.

It was a clear, crisp spring day at Hogwarts. Classes had long ended, and several students were enjoying the sunshine by the Great Lake. Some students were relaxing under the oak trees nearby, dozing off from the cool shade instead of the heat from the sun. Textbooks and sweet wrappers were discarded lazily in several piles, some open, others not touched at all. It was Friday, after all. No one except the extremely studious would bother doing homework on such a lovely day. Especially not on a Friday.

Rose was by the sparkling lake, shoes and socks tossed aside as she dipped her toes in the refreshing water. Concentrating with all her might, she picked up a flat stone and flicked it across. It skimmed a good three times, before plopping into the water. The circular reflection surrounding it as it fell into the deep lake. She sighed, lost in thought. She had finished all of her homework hours ago, so she didn't really have any plans. There wasn't any Hogsmeade this weekend either, nor any Quidditch games. Sure she could spend time with her friends, a gaggle of girls she often gossiped with, but whenever she did talk with them, she felt as though she was wasting time.

'Shouldn't you be doing something right now? Why are you relaxing? You're so lazy.'

'Stop it.' She thought to herself. 'I'm allowed to relax- I'm allowed to-' She flung another rock into the water. This time, it skimmed five times. Impressed with herself for a brief moment, she smiled.

Something disrupted her concentration. A group of students cheered loudly.

"Rose!" Polly Chapman waved from farther away. "Yann is going to do a backflip for us. Wanna watch?" She batted her eyelashes at Yann, who grinned cheekily as a kiss was planted on their cheek.

"Back handspring." Yann corrected sheepishly.

"No one cares what it's called." Karl rolled his eyes. Yann scowled, swatting their hand at the Hufflepuff's head.

"Shut up, Karl." Polly snapped.

"Sorry Polly."

Rose smirked. "I'll watch, just ...don't break your neck."

But whatever gymnastics trick Yann did, Rose wasn't watching. Her mind was back at the water. She flicked the stone across. Six times.

"Yes!" She cheered silently.

"How do you do that?"

Rose jumped, startled by the sudden noise. She faced Scorpius, who was behind her. Had he grown taller? He seemed to tower over her every day. Casually holding a textbook in one hand, his other hand in his trouser pocket. Less awkward, more confident and pristine with his perfectly placed platinum hair. If she was attracted to him, or boys in general, she might have found him attractive.

"Sorry," He said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you heard me."

Rose shrugged, never admitting that she had been startled, let alone scared. Thinking he was referring to Yann, she said: "Oh Yann's been doing gymnastics since they were three. I suppose just lots of practice and-"

"No, no. I meant your rock throwing." He gestured with an exaggerated wrist thrust. "That."

Rose blushed, still puzzled. "Um. My mum taught me ages ago. How to skip stones, I mean. You get the hang of it with practice. " Her dark brown eyes glanced back at the water. "Do you need something?" She hadn't meant to come across as snippy. She was stressed, a bit irritated and always wary of Scorpius, who had been flirting with her for the past few years. Now that he was dating Albus, that had stopped, but that didn't mean things weren't awkward. Admittedly, she had no idea how to react in front of him, and cold, short responses seemed the easiest way for him to stop bothering her.

"No." Scorpius shook his head. "I just wanted to talk."

Well that was unexpected.

"Talk?" She echoed.

"Yeah," He chuckled, fiddling with his hands. "As friends." He added hastily.

Rose gave him a funny look, but sat down on the damp dew grass, gesturing him to sit beside her. He happily obliged, avoiding a patch of mud in between them.

"Your hair looks nice today."

She snorted in amusement. Her hair looked exactly the same as it always did, two afro puffs on each side. She never saw any point to change it, she liked it how it was. Still, it was a nice thing to say when he didn't have an alternative motive.

"Thanks, yours does too." She said teasingly.

Scorpius dimpled. "Cheers, Rose."

"So, what did you really want to talk about? Not that I'm complaining, but usually you're off frolicking with Al." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You two didn't have a row, did you?"

"No!" Scorpius exclaimed. "Everything's fine. I was just..." He frowned, trying to find the words. "Do you know what being in love is like?" He asked, rather bluntly. Scorpius was never one for being subtle.

Rose looked uneasy. "For the last time, I'm never going to go out with you."

"Yes, we've established that." Scorpius joked. "When you kicked me in the shin."

Relieved, she smiled softly. "To answer your question, yes I do."

"Oh. With-"

"It doesn't matter who it was." She said quickly. "It was a long time ago." To be fair, there were quite a few girls who made her heart flutter.

"Noted. And how did you know?"

She frowned. "What's this about, Scorpius? Is there a point to this?"

"There is."

"Then what-"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if I'm in love with Albus." He looked troubled, and the minute the words left his lips, he backtracked. "Wait. I mean I love him lots, but I'm worried that I don't love him, love him."

"You've been dating only a few months, I don't think that's uncommon."

"I know it doesn't make any sense." Scorpius said. "But lately I've been having doubts. If my feelings are real. Even though I love him."

"I don't follow. You love him but you're worried you don't love him?"

"Yes, and no."

"What makes you think that?" Rose raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we've been through so much together. We're practically attached at the hip. I'd do anything for him. He's brilliant. Smart, caring, so so handsome and...he makes my heart melt. Like, actually feel melting. Maybe it's his eyes. They're green like emeralds and beautiful to stare at..."

Rose raised her hand. "He's also my cousin."

"Right, sorry."

"That was quite obvious." Her lip twitched. "So, what's the problem? It sounds like you care about him."

"Yes, but we've been all matey since first year. What if I just admire his friendship? What if these feelings are fake? I can't imagine hurting him if I say this but-" He looked close to tears. "I can't lose him."

Rose was uncomfortable, a reaction she had whenever someone cried in front of her. "Look, I know feelings are ...difficult to understand. Especially for people like us." An unspoken understanding of what she meant dawned on them both.

Scorpius looked down miserably.

"Love is a very complicated emotion that even I don't fully understand. I guess my answer to your question is: When you're in love, you feel different. A certain amount of joy that makes you willing to stand by that person or people no matter what. It's not something you can just...control. It happens as is.

But, you're also sixteen and you don't need to understand this shite completely. So live life, let your hair down, enjoy being with my cousin, sipping butterbeer with heart shaped foam." She teased.

Scorpius gave a watery laugh. "Yeah,"

"But, for what it's worth...I've never seen a relationship quite like you and Albus." She shrugged again. "I'm probably the last person to talk about romance. It's not really important to me." She looked back at Polly and her friends thoughtfully.

Those thoughts had to wait.

"So, are you ready for next week's match? Gryffindor's going to crush Hufflepuff." She smirked confidently.

"I'll be rooting for you." Scorpius assured her, immensely pleased for his friend.

"You'll come to the match?"

"Of course, and I'll wear red and gold even though it does /not/ look good on me."

She laughed. "Great! Thanks..." She trailed off.

"Rose?" Scorpius asked, puzzled, looking in the direction she was facing. "Are you alright?"

A group of girls were approaching the lake, wearing bikinis and giggling and squealing as they touched the water. A tall Gryffindor girl with wide hips and golden hair dove underwater with a splash. Rose blushed and turned away.

"Isn't that Frankie Longbottom?" He smiled. "She looks nice."

"What?" She said, still a bright crimson. "I've got to go---study." She darted away, nearly dropping a stack of books as she practically sprinted back inside.

Scorpius' eyes widened in realization, then chuckled. 

[whatever-lola-wants]

SPOOPY SEASON MOVIE RECOMMENDATIONS : PART II

Stage Fright/Deliria/Aquarius (1987)

A giallo-lite movie about a musical troupe rehearsing a play about a fictional serial killer, only to realize there's an actual killer -- an insane former stage actor in an owl mask -- in the deserted theater with them. There are elements of the classic giallo horror as I've mentioned before -- a dreamlike, almost hyperreal quality to everything from the dialogue to the gore -- but this one veers more towards the artsy side. A surprisingly tasteful take on the slasher genre but never afraid to go all bloody disgusting when it needs to. That owl mask is actually pretty good looking, too. Also has some of the best cinematography you've ever seen in a horror film, period. It's an Italian production with American actors though, so expect some weirdly stilted writing/dubbing.

Ever notice how weird it is that giallo horror movies always have totally bopping soundtracks?

The Fly (1986)

Like The Thing, this is another masterpiece I've been waiting to gush about. Yes, much like the former, the practical effects and makeup are gorgeous, gross, and breathtaking, but what sets The Fly apart from other horror movies with great practical effects/makeup/animatronics (like, say, The Void (2017) which is otherwise devoid of any redeeming value) is its near-flawless writing, specifically, the character development and the slow build to the payoff. If we chart the path of the protagonist and the antagonist in this movie, they're actually twisted inversions of each other. The antagonist is a rapey douche and stalker who ends up being the savior for all the wrong reasons, and our protagonist is a genuinely good guy who you empathize and root for, but who succumbs to ego and pride and his good intentions are corrupted as he becomes the titular monster of the movie. I absolutely love The Fly. It accomplishes everything it sets out to do, and it's right up there with The Thing for me in terms of one of the best movies ever made regardless of genre.

Also, FUCKING JEFF "DADDY" GOLDBLUM. That's all the recommendation one could realistically need.

Black Christmas (1974)

Look, as cliched as it is, as overrated as you think it might be, you can't have a list of spooky movies without mentioning the best slasher movie of all time, John Carpenter's Halloween (1978). That one transcends its genre and is one of the most influential movies of all time. Just watch it if you haven't already. I'd much rather talk about Black Christmas (1974) instead, a Canadian film which actually originated the slasher flick genre (yes, you heard that right.) and influenced John Carpenter to make Halloween in the first place. It's an exceptional example of the genre, but more interestingly, it's also unique in every way in the genre. Every character is developed, and every death matters. There's no cookie cutter tropetastic pretty girl who gets murdered in seconds here, no idiotic decisions and random deaths just to add to the body count. Because you empathize with these characters, the psychological embodiment of the killer in the form of disturbing, disgusting phone calls are as scary as the actual physical embodiment of the killer when he shows up. It's such a...dark, depressing, cynical take on Christmas and I hate and love it at the same time. Kind of difficult to find it these days though, but there's an uncensored version floating online (arrr matey 🦜🏴‍☠️) that's easy enough to find if you're willing to look.

Frankenhooker (1990)

"A terrifying tale of sluts and bolts". One of the most well known 'cult' classics ever. I'm pretty sure anyone from this era has at least heard of this one. A beautiful, creative, whimsical take on the classic Frankenstein story that doesn't let its low budget hold it back from what it wants to accomplish. A saccharine sweet happy relationship comes to a tragic end in a...um. A comically gory lawnmower incident. The guy just can't let go, preserves the girlfriend's head, and works to bring her back to life. He needs female body parts to rebuild her though, and naturally resorts to killing sex workers in seedy alleyways, porn theaters, and peep shows to collect enough of them until...well, that would be spoilers. The editing, pacing, writing are all near-perfect, and honestly, I think it's only the grim premise and black comedy that has held it back from being considered one of the best movies of all time. It's not for everyone, but damn if it isn't an expertly made movie and some of the most fun you'll ever have watching a spoopy thing.

REC (2007)

Fair warning : this Spanish movie is one of those fancy shaky-cam-found-footage films, so if you get motion sick easily you might want to steer clear. That being said, it's one of the best examples of the genre. REC keeps things super simple plot wise -- reporter and cameraman (hence the title) get caught in an apartment, in the middle of some sort of zombie outbreak with a demonic touch -- and is paced perfectly, making for a very enjoyable watch. There's some really cool setpieces throughout, the CGI is so subtle you'll never notice it, and the ending is absolutely shocking. Unfortunately its Hollywood remake (Quarantine) and many sequels could never live up to the original.

Event Horizon (1997)

You've probably heard of this movie at least once on the internet, and any time you have, the subject has been the infamous goretastic cannibalistic orgy scene and how its original, uncut footage has now been lost. Missing the forest for the trees. That scene was exactly as long as it needed to be (all of five seconds maybe) to drive home the predicament the protagonists were in, and more importantly, even without it, the movie itself is one of the most disturbing, unsettling sci-fi x haunted house x cosmic horror crossovers ever. While it does get predictable in parts, the premise is interesting (no upsetty space alien ripping people apart), every jump scare is earned, every visceral moment is properly built up with suspense, every actor does their job earnestly (Sam Neill is always good, and Lawrence Fishburne plays one of the most pragmatic horror leads ever), and the special effects, makeup, set designs, all hold up to this day. Also, soon to be re-adapted into an Amazon prime miniseries.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

48 Incredibly Short, Clean Jokes That Are Actually Funny. 1. I bought some shoes from a drug dealer. I don't know what he laced them with, but I've been tripping all day. ImHully 2. I told my girlfriend she drew her eyebrows too high. She seemed surprised. megan_james 3. Two clowns are eating a cannibal. One turns to the other and says "I think we got this joke wrong" Moltenfirez 4. My wife told me I had to stop acting like a flamingo. So I had to put my foot down. Spysquirrel 5. What's the difference between in-laws and outlaws? Outlaws are wanted. Dave-Stark

6. I bought my friend an elephant for his room. He said "Thanks" I said "Don't mention it"

3shirts 7. I have an EpiPen. My friend gave it to me when he was dying, it seemed very important to him that I have it.

kate_winslat 8. I poured root beer in a square glass. Now I just have beer. PM_ME_TINY_DINOSAURS 9. What's the difference between a hippo and a zippo? One is really heavy, and the other is a little lighter. alosercalledsusie

10. My friend says to me: "What rhymes with orange" I said: "no it doesn't"

DinosRoar1

11. And God said to John, come forth and you shall be granted eternal life. But John came fifth and won a toaster. PM-SOME-TITS

12. How many opticians does it take to change a lightbulb? Is it one or two? One... or two? Undescended_testicle

13. What do we want? Low flying airplane noises! When do we want them? NNNEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWW.

Tetragon213 14. What do you call a frenchman wearing sandals? Phillipe Phillope. Sooowhatisthis

15. What's orange and sounds like a parrot? A carrot. BiffWhistler

16. What do you call a dog that does magic tricks? A labracadabrador. leahcure 17. So what if I don't know what Armageddon means? It's not the end of the world. Jefferncfc 18. How do you get two whales in a car? Start in England and drive west. fireworkslass 19. A blind man walks into a bar. And a table. And a chair. ImHully 20. Why did the old man fall in the well? Because he couldn't see that well. rangers_fan2

21. I bought the world's worst thesaurus yesterday. Not only is it terrible, it's terrible. Rndomguytf 22. This is my step ladder. I never knew my real ladder. WikiWantsYourPics 23. My friend asked me to help him round up his 37 sheep. I said "40" 3shirts

24. I've found a job helping a one armed typist do capital letters. It's shift work. 3shirts 25. I went bobsleighing the other day, killed 250 bobs. breadman666 26. I have the heart of a lion and a lifetime ban from the Toronto zoo. kailey_sara

27. What's the difference between a good joke and a bad joke timing. Melchiah_III 28. Wife says to her programmer husband, "Go to the store and buy a loaf of bread. If they have eggs, buy a dozen." Husband returns with 12 loaves of bread. SuperFreakyNaughty

29. Communism jokes aren't funny unless everyone gets them. -georgie 30. What did the pirate say when he turned 80 years old? Aye matey. Wicked_Wanderer

31. What do the movies titanic and the sixth sense have in common. Icy dead people. mysevenyearitch

32. Knock Knock Who's There? Dishes Dishes Who? Dishes Sean Connery. Birdie_Num_Num 33. Have you heard about those new corduroy pillows? They're making headlines. Deerhoof_Fan 34. Two men meet on opposite sides of a river. One shouts to the other "I need you to help me get to the other side!" The other guy replies "You are on the other side!" The2ndKingInTheNorth

35. I couldn't figure out why the baseball kept getting larger. Then it hit me. KaboomBoxer 36. My friends say there's a gay guy in our circle of friends... I really hope it's Todd, he's cute. -917-

37. People in Dubai don't like the Flintstones. But people in Abu Dhabi do! stevenmc

38. Guy walks into a bar and orders a fruit punch. Bartender says "Pal, if you want a punch you'll have to stand in line" Guy looks around, but there is no punch line. justacheesyguy

39. I've been told I'm condescending. (that means I talk down to people) iblinkyoublink

40. How did the hipster burn his mouth? He ate the pizza before it was cool. plax1780 41. Before your criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you do criticize them, you're a mile away and have their shoes. BoxxerUOP 42. What's ET short for? He's only got little legs. 3shirts

43. What's the difference between a dirty old bus stop and a lobster with breast implants? One is a crusty bus station the other one is a busty crustacean. laurtw 44. Why arent koalas actual bears? They dont meet the koalafications ImHully

45. It's hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs because they always take things literally. auran98 46. I want to die peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather did, not screaming in terror like the passengers in his car. msdarth 47. Some people think it's romantic to carve their names on trees in the park while on a date. I'm more worried about why they're bringing a knife on their date. I_know_where_you_is

48. 2 cows are grazing in a field. 1 cow says to the other, "You ever worry about that mad cow disease?". The other cow says, "Why would I care? I'm a helicopter!". Electric_Evil

[unityghost]

All Cretans Lie

Part 24 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels. Here thar be angst, mateys. 

This story is based on a prompt from @commonercommenter​, who suggested:

The voices start to fade, start telling Gabe to hate himself less and less. He finds he’s compelled to do it himself.

Thanks, commonercommenter!

At the moment I'm not taking prompts, but suggestions are welcome. Thank you for reading! Please take note that there are subtle references to sexual assault in this story.

Perhaps Gabriel should have been horrified, or frightened, or - at the very least - just a little bit concerned.

The truth was that he had anticipated this, no matter how much he didn’t want it to happen.

He confined himself to bed that morning, trying to ward off a splitting headache. He knew he ought to drink water, but couldn’t bring himself to move. That he had been up much of the night, caught between vivid nightmares and vague but terrifying images he couldn’t quite recollect upon waking, didn’t help any of what was going on.

When he hadn’t exited his bedroom by lunchtime, there was a knock at the door. Gabriel couldn’t make himself sit up, but he managed to turn over when the door clicked open.

“Don’t mind me,” Gabriel muttered. “Just a headache.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean moved closer to the bed and peered down at Gabriel. “You know, Gabe, just because Sam isn’t here doesn’t mean you gotta hole up in your room.”

“Excuse me?” With all the appearance of effortlessness he could manage, Gabriel pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Pardon my audacity, headmistress, but I have no plans to swaddle myself in misery. I prefer to think there’s a difference between being neurotic and being lazy.”

“Hey look, come on, I didn’t say that.” Dean sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know you don’t need Sam to spoon-feed you. Just thought I’d check in.”

Gabriel groaned and edged into a proper sitting position. He massaged his temples. “I’m fine. Are you looking for help with something? Translations? The Sunday crossword? Leftover coffee that’s gonna go to waste if no one drinks it? Because I’m up for - ”

“Why don’t you just tell me what’s the matter, huh?”

Gabriel froze, then looked away. “I …”

“Even if it’s just that you’re missing Sam. I know it can be a little - ”

“All right, give me some credit, will you? I think I can keep my separation anxiety under control for a couple of days. You know what’d help? A fistful of Excedrin.”

“Are you sick or what?”

“I’m not sick.” Gabriel paused. “Not technically. More … uh …”

Dean waited.

Finally, Gabriel sighed. “Don’t freak out. It’s my grace.”

“Yeah?” Dean sounded unperturbed. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I mean it’s … I mean … right now, it’s …” Gabriel cleared his throat. “It’s not there. It’ll come back,” he added hastily, without meeting Dean’s eyes, “It will. I promise. This happened a hell of a lot with Asmodeus. Made sense: he’d take a truckload of it and suddenly it had a mind of its own, fighting back, in some kind of panic mode. Spring into action so hard it hurt. Then, other times, it was as resigned as I was.” Gabriel’s shoulders tensed. “Can’t say that made him too happy.”

Dean took a few seconds to process what Gabriel had told him. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I just made some lunch. I know you don’t have a strong stomach right now but if your grace is down for the count then you should have something to help get it back in gear.”

“I know. I know I should.”

“Here, come on, come out to the kitchen. Jack’s gorging himself on pizza. You should have some. Or something lighter, if that’s what you want. Come hang out with us.”

“I’m not much fun at parties right now.”

“Jack wants to feed you.” Dean got to his feet and clapped Gabriel on the shoulder.” Come on, buddy, get up.”

No, Gabriel thought, neither of them really wanted him there; and if Jack thought otherwise, he’d quickly recognize his mistake.

Gabriel closed his eyes.

Shut up.

He opened them again.

No one’s lying. No one’s delusional.

“Are you a hundred percent on that?” Gabriel asked Dean.

He’ll say yes.

“Yeah, we’ve been saving you a seat,” Dean told him.

And he means it.

It had been months since Gabriel’s arrival, months since Sam had begun telling him that it was possible to get better - to shake off at least a fragment of his self-abuse, so that the pain became sometimes, and not always; to have fewer dreams, fewer attacks of memory; to ask for help without the fear of violence or derision.

“All right,” Gabriel agreed. “Just … give me a few minutes.”

“Come out when you’re ready. It sounds like you’re sure this isn’t anything to call Sam over.”

“Let the kid have his downtime.”

“Ah, sure, yeah, downtime. Look at all the fun he’s having over in Tulsa.” Dean pulled his phone from his back pocket and, after a few seconds of scrolling, held it out so that Gabriel could read Sam’s text messages: Had to tell them I learned to be “respectfully dominant” toward my wife from my preacher dad. And then, half an hour later: I’ve been prescribed a double dose of prayer; take twice a day.

“Ha,” said Gabriel, “Gross. What is he doing?”

“Masquerading as a religious fanatic so he can get an inside look at what’s going on with kids under ‘Satanic influence.’ Their parents keep ending up dead, which is apparently all it takes for the kids to snap out of it. Not a pretty picture.”

“And is Cas putting on the same show?”

“Probably not as convincingly. Sam’s really good at looking remorseful.”

“And Cas has a penchant for looking confused. Proud of them both. It’s not every day you find that kind of raw talent.”

“So what do you need from me, then?”

Gabriel tensed. “You’re not pissed. That’s … appreciated.”

“All right. We’ll be waiting for you.”

“Consider me officially RSVP’d.” Gabriel forced himself to stand. His head stung, but he wasn’t dizzy or nauseated. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

While Dean was gone and Gabriel was getting dressed, he took inventory of his body - not to assess the effects of gracelessness, with which he was sorely familiar, but to better understand his response to Dean’s invitation to Sam’s absence, and to the question of, What are they going to do to me so long as I’m useless?

Over these last several months he had learned to read each one of them. It was anything but a smooth or rapid process, but Gabriel knew that he wouldn’t have fallen for Sam’s imaginary repentance in a house of prayer - because by this time, he could recognize when Sam was being honest. He could recognize when Dean was being honest. Neither of them had the time for diplomacy, Castiel couldn’t help being frank, and Jack had the colorful forwardness of any child.

There’s nothing to be scared of, Gabriel told himself, just to see whether he could identify his own sincerity.

And there it was. Wherever the assertion had come from, it was likely correct.

“Uncle Gabriel!” Jack exclaimed when Gabriel came into the kitchen. “Dean made pizza.”

“Dean made pizza,” Gabriel agreed.

“You should try some.”

“I … should not. Because I’m not hungry enough to take advantage of his masterpiece.” If that’s okay, he considered adding, but didn’t. “Gonna grab, I don’t know, an apple or something.”

“Uncle Gabe.” Jack looked somber. “You really should. Sam says that - "

“It’s fine,” Dean interrupted. “Guy’s just not up for it. We have apples.”

Jack shrugged. “Okay.” He bit into the slice of pizza, shut his eyes, and made muffled sounds of delight.

“He’s having a religious experience,” Dean told Gabriel.

Gabriel smiled. “I’ve been responsible for some of those, and I wouldn’t disagree with you.”

He spent most of the rest of the day locked in his bedroom, per routine; but, a few hours after lunch, decided to search one of the medicine cabinets for something to relieve his headache. He found two separate bottles of aspirin, one two years past its expiration date and the other unopened.

Gabriel hesitated. If someone noticed that he’d had the gall to take from an untouched bottle of medicine …

But there was what Gabriel told himself, and there was what Sam would have insisted upon.

Within half an hour, the headache was nearly gone.

That evening, he got a knock on his door. When he opened it, Sam smiled at him.

“Oh!” Gabriel was surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be back until tomorrow at least.”

“No, this wasn’t a hard case. Just some witch with too much time on her hands.”

“And I hear you’ve become quite the thespian.”

Sam laughed. “You’re doing okay?”

Gabriel hesitated, and Sam’s face fell.

“Turn that frown upside-down, soldier,” Gabriel said. “I’m not falling apart. But - you didn’t talk to your brother, by any chance?”

Sam looked worried. “He gave me some pizza but … not really.”

“Oh. Well, okay - don’t freak out, all right? Because there’s no need for it. But. When I woke up this morning …”

Sam folded his arms, watching Gabriel with fear in his eyes.

“When I woke up,” Gabriel finished, avoiding Sam’s gaze, “I didn’t have any grace. And it’s fine, it’s - it’s happened before. It’s always come back. Always. If it can rebound when I’m in Hell, having it ripped out of me like a tree root, I figure it’ll be fine. I mean, not fine, just - in flux. Not permanently gone.”

Sam frowned, contemplating, searching Gabriel’s face. “You look like you don’t feel good.”

“I’m not the usual picture of health you see every time you come into my room to mop up vomit in the middle of the night, but I’m in one piece.”

Sam bit his lip. “Sorry I wasn’t here this morning.”

“Don’t be. I survived. You know I always do when you need a break from - ” Gabriel paused. “From routine.”

Useless.

Gabriel stiffened. The word, the thought, had come out of nowhere - a hand clawing its way from what appeared to be an otherwise undisturbed grave.

He swallowed. “Anyway, don’t worry. There’s no problem. I’m …”

Nothing.

Not nothing, Gabriel pleaded with himself, No, that’s not what they think. With grace, without grace, that’s not how they -

“Well,” said Sam, “How’re you feeling?”

Gabriel found himself unable to speak.

Here it was again: that thick, dark feeling that swallowed him up, held him down, and gagged him. That putrid warmth coloring the normal with the sinister and contaminating the benign with the grotesque.

Memories, Gabriel told himself; these were memories. Don’t be afraid. Stop being afraid. It’s okay.

Alarm passed over Sam’s face. “Hey - ”

“Um - ”

“Gabriel.” Sam took him by the wrist. “What happened? Why are you shaking?”

“It’ll stop,” Gabriel told him, but didn’t pull away. “It’s just the shivers.”

“I’ll sit with you.”

Gabriel shuddered, overcome by something like fear, or relief, or uncertainty, or perhaps all three at once. “And I won’t fight you on that.”

Sam led him to the bed, lowered himself so that they were side by side, and gripped his shoulder. “I wish I could tell you I know what that feels like.”

“Oh, trust me, you really don’t.”

“When it happens … is there anything that pulls you out a little bit?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’d like to say that you do, and you do, but it’s still there; it hangs around until it gets bored.” Then, worried that Sam would think he was ungrateful: “But it’s better than being alone. Really. A thousand times better.”

Sam offered a sad smile. “But you don’t tell anyone when it happens, do you?”

“Why should I? It’s just a feeling. It’s not real. I have to wait, that’s all. No need to call for help.”

“It is real,” Sam objected. “The feeling is real. The next time you - ”

“I know, Sam.” Gabriel closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “It’s habit. Instinct. I don’t want to ask for anything.” He looked up at Sam. “Ever.”

“I know.”

Gabriel was overcome with a sudden chill, so that he shuddered once more. His heartbeat hadn’t slowed at all. An unexpected surge of nausea washed through him.

“Calm down,” Sam said softly. “You’re practically seizing.”

Gabriel shrugged Sam away, and left the room as quickly as he could without actually running.

“Gabriel, wait!” Sam followed him into the hallway, where Gabriel began retching.

“Oh crap, hey, no - ” Sam rushed him into the bathroom and helped him lean over the toilet. “Easy, easy does it. You’re okay.”

Gabriel’s breath came in cold, shallow gasps. In his graceless state, he vomited and let Sam hold him in place as it happened.

“I know you don’t care,” Gabriel sputtered. “That you don’t care about how much grace I have. I - ” He heaved again before he could finish.

That was the food that Dean had given him, Gabriel recalled. Dean had expected responsibility that Gabriel couldn’t exercise.

Gabriel couldn’t be trusted - not with their food, not with their hospitality, not with their kindness. He had unwritten the peace of earlier, had spoiled the maybe of “Let’s have lunch together,” defaced the possibility that things were going to be okay.

“Sam, I thought - I - I asked for - ”

He had asked for what he wanted, asked for their food, stolen their medicine -

“Gabriel,” Sam said softly, “Just relax.”

Sincerity made no difference. However genuine their concern and kindness might be, there was no guarantee it would last. Impatience was always waiting in the shadows; Gabriel could smell it just as he could smell his own vomit then and there. Their affection and dedication was like the aspirin he’d removed from the cabinet earlier: there was a cutoff that Gabriel had acknowledged in the past, an inevitable conclusion that he had somehow managed to dismiss lately.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered. “My grace isn’t - I’m sorry - ”

He should not have allowed himself access to I think it might be okay. Instead, he should have continued waiting for what had to come eventually. When they made up their minds that he was a burden they simply couldn’t handle anymore, the waiting game - which was a special kind of torture - would at least be over.

Gabriel shivered and gagged.

“Breathe, all right?” Sam sounded as though he was trying hard to remain calm himself. “I’m right here; it’s okay, Gabriel.”

He would be in danger if he forgot his place. He shouldn’t have permitted himself to forget that he was their sick patient, their delinquent foster child, their pet that just couldn’t seem to be house-trained.

The end, Gabriel reminded himself, was long overdue.

“Slow down,” Sam instructed, gently lowering him to kneel on the floor. “Just - I don’t know what I did. I’m sorry.”

Gabriel should have reminded himself that the others were poisoning themselves by touching him, by speaking to him, by listening to his voice, by acknowledging that he was there at all.

“Sam,” Gabriel choked, vomit still clinging to his lips.

“Yeah, hey, what is it?"

“I - I haven’t told you everything, and - ” He paused, waiting to see if he would get sick again.

“You mean about Asmodeus?” said Sam. “I know that.”

“You don’t, though; you haven’t seen any of the worst. You don’t realize just how - ”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “We’ve talked about this before.”

There was nothing left for Gabriel to vomit. All that remained was him, only Gabriel - and that couldn’t be gotten rid of. “I’m better, or I’ve been feeling better; I go back and forth, Sam, and I just don’t know!”

Sam guided Gabriel upright. “Let’s go lie down. In my room. Okay?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel repeated.

“Come here.” Sam half-carried him out of the bathroom and back down the hall.

“All right,” Sam said, easing Gabriel onto the bed, “There we go. I gotcha.”

Gabriel, still trembling, wrapped his arms around his middle and pulled his knees toward his chest.

Sam sat on the edge of the mattress and peered down at him. “If I scared you - ”

“You didn’t. I - that feeling, it wouldn’t stop; it wouldn’t go away. I feel sick and I can’t control anything right now, and I - Sam, I’m not just trashing myself for funsies. There’s a reason I say you shouldn’t care about me. There’s a reason I’m so convinced of that, Sam. Dozens of reasons.” He swallowed, tasting the remnants of vomit in his mouth. “It’s just that you think you have no proof of it. Dad knows why you’d believe something like that after everything I’ve put you through, but all I can do is cram the really, really effed-up shenanigans as far away from you as possible. Because there are whole lifetimes I just can’t talk about. They’re too humiliating, and - and I can’t let you see what he - what I - ”

“You don’t have to, but you can.”

“And,” Gabriel continued hoarsely, “You’re just going to have to take my word for it. This is the one thing you can trust me with, because I was there. I can’t be wrong about what he made me do.” When Sam didn’t reply, Gabriel went on: “I know this is hard for you to hear. And I’m sorry. You just - if you want what’s best for me, for all of you - I don’t know, I guess I deserve the pain of whatever’s in store for me. Why not let myself get hurt, right? You’d think I’d be eager to let it all happen, wouldn’t you?” His breathing began to shallow. “A slow death. A little more of this here, of me lying on your bed with you looking at me like you’re about to cry; and then I’m worried about what’s best for you, and if I can’t trust myself then I’m wrong and you’re the one with your priorities straight. Sam - when the Cretan tells you all Cretans lie, what the hell are you supposed to believe? This is the most confused I’ve ever been and I can’t figure out what to do with any of what’s tearing at the inside of my head.”

Sam took a second to consider his response. Then he answered, “A few of my law professors brought that up in seminars. The Liar Paradox. I used to tell my professors that whichever way you look at it, that guy couldn’t’ve been a Cretan at all. Which means he has no authority.” Sam offered his hand. “That means there are answers. Somewhere. You just gotta think creatively.”

Gabriel’s throat tightened. “So then what’s the answer?”

Sam took his hand. “I don’t know.”

If Sam was made aware, if Sam could witness some of the depraved acts in which Gabriel had engaged - not because he’d wanted to, and yet they had still happened, every one of them - he would not allow this to continue.

Undoubtedly, Sam would think twice about giving up: he felt he had to keep his promise to protect Gabriel, to nurture Gabriel, to show love he probably had to convince himself he really felt. But he would choose to end it, because Sam couldn’t ignore what he knew, in his heart of hearts, to be right.

Sam squeezed his hand. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Gabriel kept his eyes averted. “I just did.”

“If you’ve got more to say, I’m here.”

“I always have more to say.” Let go. Let go of his hand.

“I have a question,” Sam said softly, and Gabriel caught the hesitancy behind his words. Maybe it was now. This was as good a time as any; Gabriel had, after all, just implored Sam to make it swift.

“Listen,” Sam murmured, “Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that maybe I worry you’ll give up on me too?”

For a few seconds, all Gabriel could take in was the voice in his head - let go; let go of his hand - and then his mind went blank for a few seconds, and finally he heard what Sam had just told him.

“Uh,” said Gabriel, “No.”

“What about the other day?” A twinge of discomfort flickered over Sam’s face. “When I spazzed out about the - ”

“About that self-destructive young whippersnapper who ran into the middle of the road? I just wanted to help you.”

“Well, sometimes I figure there’s no reason you’d want to do that, and maybe you’ll eventually see why I think so."

Gabriel tried to assess his own response to Sam’s confession. On the one hand, he wasn’t very surprised: Sam’s relationship with himself was hardly more impressive than Gabriel’s. Even so, the very idea was almost laughable - but also sickening, and Gabriel felt some of the nausea resurface.

“Shut up,” he told Sam. Then, after a moment’s hesitation: “Are you lying? Part of me hopes you’re bullshitting me. Part of me hopes you’re the non-Cretan.”

Sam shook his head. “Dean’s given up on me before. The guy who knows me better than anyone. If that’s my metric, then ... “ He looked away before returning his attention to Gabriel and forcing a smile. “Kind of proves me right, doesn’t it?”

“No offense to your brother, but his patience is on the low end of the bell curve. And I know he’s sort of your hero, Sam, but the only one who has the final say in who gets to give up on who isn’t Dean.”

Sam shrugged. “I was just trying to make a point. We’re not really talking about me.”

“Aren’t we, though? Because I feel like self-revulsion has become a tautology with us."

Sam frowned. “What?”

“It’s like we’re throwing it back and forth. In fact, I - Sam, it’s almost as if you’re trying to take it away from me. Like if you keep on hating yourself enough, there will only be so much left for me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s like you go grabbing for it. Except - and you should know this by now - there’s an infinite supply of that ugliness to go around. It doesn’t matter how much you try to take on; there’s always going to be more for me. For all of us.”

Sam fidgeted. “Yeah. Fine. But that has nothing to do with anything. Not right now.”

“I don’t want you to get the idea that this isn’t about both of us. There’s so much wrong with me, but I’m not an idiot. I know why you’re so good at what you do.”

For a few moments, Sam was quiet. Then he asked, “You want some water or something?”

Gabriel recoiled.

“Would you like some water?” Sam amended.

There were a few moments of silence. Then, eyes trained on Gabriel’s hand clasped in his, Sam said, “I don’t know how to read you. Sometimes you seem all right, but I can’t be sure, because what would I do if I got it wrong and didn’t think to check in and you …” He swallowed. “What if I miss something?”

“What if you do? It isn’t your responsibility to take my vitals every day.”

“Gabriel, you know what I mean. If something happened to you, just because I looked away for a second, I …” Sam trailed off.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Gabriel knew Sam needed to hear him say it. “And even if it did, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

Sam shifted his gaze to his lap.

“You’re not stupid,” Gabriel pressed. “You know I’m always going to come running to you when things get out of hand. Plant my feet beneath your window, throw some pebbles, get down on one knee, give a speech. I don’t even have the capacity to - ” Here Gabriel paused, because it was precisely this that had soured the afternoon.

Sam looked back at him. “To what?”

Gabriel was suddenly overcome by a memory that turned his stomach again: Asmodeus, holding him down, as a second demon raised Gabriel’s arms and pinned them to the floor so that he couldn’t defend himself. This, Asmodeus knew, was a more effective method than any magical restraints could have been. Magic didn’t have a voice. Magic didn’t have a body that could be clawed, punched, and bitten to no avail. Magic robbed Gabriel of only so much dignity, because with magic there was no hope; there was no wasted combat, no maybe I can get away from him that bled through resignation to the inevitable. When Gabriel was attacked, he flailed under the foul illusion of possibility.

It didn’t matter how safe Gabriel might be now. That feeling, that awful feeling, had lessened in frequency, but increased in intensity whenever it returned. There was no safety. There couldn’t be. The closest Gabriel might come to being truly safe was to ensure awareness that he would never be safe.

“Hey,” Sam said quietly. “What’s the matter, Gabe?”

Gabriel gritted his teeth. The ceiling blurred. “I don’t know.”

“Listen, your grace will come back, and even if it didn’t we’d - ”

“Have every right to throw me away.”

“No."

“And when it’s good to go, I’m a valuable asset, so if someone finds that out and comes looking for me and offers you payment - ”

“I told you that’s not gonna happen. Gabriel, none of this crap is worth your time.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m giving it my time. My time is running to these questions with open arms. I can’t stop it. I can’t stop myself. He was - the memories are too strong.” Gabriel blinked and felt a tear glide down his temple and into his ear. “I can’t fight them.”

“I can help!”

“You are helping. You’re at the helm; you have been since the beginning. You started digging through the rubble at ground zero. And I - and - ” Gabriel let out a tight sob. “You need to lower your expectations, Sam. If you think you can change me then you’re only going to end up blaming yourself.”

“Okay.” Sam slid his hand out of Gabriel’s and lifted him upright. “It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re safe; everything’s okay.”

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut but allowed Sam to hold him close. “You and Dean and Cas - you’re good at fixing things. You’re the world’s handymen. You’ve got wits as your wrench and the universe is a blocked sink. But I …”

“Gabriel, we’ll figure it out.”

“Things come back so fast; a - a memory, and then something in that memory - it leads to another memory. Sometimes I remember things I didn’t even realize I remembered. So I hear these voices telling me to clear out before it gets too late, and the next thing I know he’s telling me about how no matter where I am, he’ll always be with me - inside of me. And then I start thinking about how I gave in when it all got to be too much. Which makes me think of the things he did, the things he made me do, the things I let him do.”

Sam tightened his grip. “You didn’t let Asmodeus do anything.”

“I could’ve at least tried to stop him, though; it just - after a while it felt like there was no point in trying anymore. But where’s the honor in not fighting back? How can I forgive myself for going down just because he told me I would lose? I believed him. I couldn’t help it.”

“That’s not - ”

“Except I don’t think I could have won, because I … because … Asmodeus was stronger, yes, but there’s more than that. Asmodeus was right. I know that’s not what you think, and I believe you - at least sometimes. I just - I know it. The same way I know my grace, and when it isn’t there. It’s automatic, Sam; it’s in my blood at this point. I just know he was right, like I know glass will break when it falls. He was right about never being able to escape, never being enough for him, for anyone; never being quick enough to give, and being greedy enough to take everything he had to offer, pretending like I deserved any of it - his food, his love - ”

“Don’t say it like that. He didn’t love you.”

“And so what if he didn’t? Is that better? What does that say about me, that he had me locked up for so long and never even learned to love me? It’s like I told you, he was right. The proof is there, Sam, right in front of you. You see it every day. What have I done to show I’m worth anything more than what he said I was? He saw me as - ”

“He saw you through his eyes. I have my own. And for all your talk about weakness, you certainly haven’t stopped trying to fight back against me.”

That surprised Gabriel. “Nobody’s trying to fight you. I’m just … I need you to … to know what I am. That’s all. For my sake. And for yours too. So that I’m not thrown off when it happens, and you don’t keep forcing yourself into the pain that you do.”

“‘It’ has nothing to do with this. And I’m not in pain. But you are. Which isn’t your fault. It’s not because you’re not trying, or because you can’t get better. It’s because anyone, even you, even any of your family, or any of us, would’ve had to put in the same work you are after being put through so much torture.”

Feeling slightly frantic, Gabriel pulled away. “Wrong. You went through it yourself, Sam, and you’re miles ahead.”

“It was different, and I’m different, and I’m not not still a mess; you know that. You’ve seen that, Gabe. And also, you were there a lot longer, and when you got out you had more you had to face, and - I don’t know,” Sam finished, suddenly helpless, “Just cut yourself some slack, man.”

“I’m trying,” Gabriel grated out, “And I can’t.”

“Not yet, maybe.”

“I can’t, Sam, because I - because - ”

“Because what?”

“Because I shouldn’t.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment. He watched Gabriel, studying his face, building an answer from whatever he saw there.

Then, at last, Sam said: “You never have to talk about what else he did to you. Not if you don’t think you can. That’s fine. But you have to trust that I know it was his fault, not yours. Those thoughts, Gabriel, those memories - they can haunt you, they can hurt you, but they shouldn’t make you feel guilty.”

Gabriel remained silent.

“I need you to trust me,” Sam continued. “I know you usually do. You’ve got to take that a step further. Whatever I hear from you … it’s not going to make me think you’re disgusting. No one - not him, not you - can change my mind about that. Do you know why?”

Still, Gabriel said nothing, just looked at him.

“Because I know I’m right,” Sam told him. “I know it like I know glass breaks when it hits the floor.”

Gabriel’s breath shallowed.

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “It’s all gonna be fine. It’s just me right now.”

No more of this, no more crying, no more crying, please -

Sam laid a hand on his arm. “Relax.”

There had always been uncertainty. Not once had Gabriel allowed for a unanimous vote in his mind so that Sam’s declarations of loyalty could be accepted, beyond reasonable doubt, as wholly honest.

Now, looking into Sam’s face, something shifted. For a moment Gabriel felt the same sense of absoluteness, the same unquestionability, that he knew every time he thought about his own worthlessness.

For a fleeting second, the verdict became obvious.

“Just for tonight,” Sam told him. “Just for tonight, let me help; don’t ask why. Just for today. We don’t have to worry about tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel stammered for the third time. “I don’t - I don’t know. I can’t figure it out.”

“You don’t need to right now. There’s a lot to figure out. I know that.”

“It’s not; it shouldn’t be. I know I don’t deserve this, and I know I can trust you, and I can’t make them work together.”

“They aren’t working together. One of them’s a lie and we can toss it.”

“What if I know it isn’t a lie?"

“What if I know it isn’t a lie?”

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, and then turned away as he choked on another strangled sob.

“Gabriel, look,” Sam said, “As much as I want you to learn to trust yourself, this definitely isn’t the right time. If all you’re thinking is that we don’t want you here, or that you can’t get better, then you need to come to one of us instead of taking your own word on blind faith. I hate to say it, but if the question is between trusting what I tell you and what you tell yourself - what Asmodeus tells you - listen to me for a while. Only me."

Gabriel kept his eyes averted. “I can’t.”

“Yeah. Exactly. You have to let me take charge a little bit, Gabriel. Until you can stop being so violent with yourself. Not like - I don’t need to watch your every move, and you don’t have to tell me what you’re not ready to. That’s fine. All I’m saying is if you’re not sure who’s right about you, assume I know what I’m talking about. Just trust me, is all.”

“Sam - ”

“Try. Just for tonight. There’s no contract. Just try.”

Gabriel wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I don’t - ”

“You don’t have to know. Not right now.”

Gabriel stared at him bleakly, feeling numb. Then he leaned into Sam and allowed himself to go limp.

Sam held onto him. Neither of them spoke.

“Don’t make me tell you,” Gabriel muttered at last.

“I won’t. Remember? You called me out on that. And I’m glad you did.”

“I might never, though. I might never be able to.”

Sam hugged him more firmly. “No worries about that.”

“I - ”

Sam remained still, waiting.

“For tonight,” Gabriel whispered.

“Yeah. That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

It was then that Gabriel realized that some of the terror had begun to abate. His head hurt, but he no longer felt sick.

There was darkness around him, darkness inside of him, but no darkness in Sam’s embrace.

More importantly, there was no insincerity. Just for tonight, the language of Sam’s touch could be read as easily as anything else.

[fuzzhugs]

Backlash - Redwall Fanfiction by Fuzzhugs. 2500 Words

Timballisto, also known as Timbal or Tim, stood at the peak of the forecastle on the newly christened Wuddship. The feel of the fresh sea-breeze thrilled him. For too many seasons, he had been confined below in the damp, suffocating hole that was the slave deck. Chained to an oar, his life slowly wasted away on a wooden bench as dozens of creatures around him suffered a similar fate, but now he was free. The sea-breeze reminded him of that; even the occasionally salty sting reminded him he was free. He had eaten a good meal for the first time in his memory.

The Wuddship was making its way to the mouth of the River Moss. The recently liberated shrews were going to be returned home and then Martin was going to take the ship all the way to Mossflower and put an end to the reign of the Wildcats. Timbal was going with him. Timbal would follow Martin to Hellgates and back.

Timbal looked out toward the approaching river as daylight faded.  A sliver of the moon was peeking out from the horizon. He heard laughter and the sound of music coming from the main deck. The rest of the former slaves were still celebrating their freedom.  

“Not joining the festivities?” Martin asked, coming to stand alongside Timbal at the ship’s railing.

“It all doesn’t seem real,” Timbal said, staring dreamily out to the sea. “Most of us had accepted we would die down there.”

Martin put his arms around Timbal, holding his friend in a gentle embrace. “You’re alive now, Timbal, and you can bet I’m going to keep you that way. Nobeast is going to put you in chains again.”

Timbal smiled and continued gazing out toward the shoreline. Martin stood with him, listening to the waves hitting the ship and the seabirds calling out above them.

“Timbal,” Martin began, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What do you remember about when I left?”

Timbal pondered for a moment. “One day, you just weren’t there. You and your grandmother. We looked, but nobeast could find you or any sign of you. We all hoped you had decided to find somewhere better, just the two of you, but we knew that couldn’t be because you didn’t take anything with you. With the northern coast being as it is,” Timbal shrugged, “we had to assume you were dead.”

“Not far off,” Martin mumbled. “If anyone asks, especially Gonff, could you tell them that I left to go wandering a few seasons after my father left?”

“Of course,” Timbal said, though he was confused. “Why though?”

“After I left, things happened. Terrible things. Things I don’t want to think about or have anyone worry about.”

“Martin, if something happened to you, you can tell me.”

Martin shook his head. “I can tell nobeast. I have promises to uphold. Secrets to be kept.”

Timbal sighed and gazed once again toward land. “I’ll keep your secret, Martin, but do you think you can live with yourself, lying to your friends?”

The corners of Martin’s mouth twitched into a small, sad smile. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I can, but I have to.”

*

It had only been a few weeks since the fall of Kotir and the death of Tsarmina Greeneyes, and there was still plenty of work to be done, so it would have been odd for another creature to see the five perfectly healthy woodlanders sitting together in Brockhall’s temporary infirmary.

Bella the badger, Germaine and Columbine of Loamhedge, Gonff the Thief, and Timballisto. Beside them in an oversized badger-bed lay Martin, who had not woke since his battle with Tsarmina. He lay completely still, his breathing gentle. His wounds had been grievous, and it had taken Germaine and Columbine’s combined skill to close and treat them.

“What’s this meeting about?” Timbal asked of the two abbey-mice, concerned for his friend. “Is Martin getting worse?”

“Not at all,” the elder abbess assured him. “His wounds are healing nicely, there are no signs of infection, and he has no fever.”

“Then what is this about?” Timbal asked again.

Columbine took over the conversation. “When Martin first came to Mossflower, he said very little about his past other than he had left to go wandering from his home. Can you tell us any more, Timbal?”

Timbal shrugged. “It’s as you said. When his father didn’t return from the sea, he decided to set out on his own. I don’t know anything else of him until he rescued me from the Bloodwake. What does it matter?”

“Would you turn around and lift up your shirt?”

Timbal gave Columbine a startled look. “Excuse me?”

“Please just do it.”

Timbal slowly turned to face the wall and lifted up his shirt, exposing his back. Broad, jagged lines crossed each other from his shoulders down to his tail. Thick scars and calluses covered many of the wounds.

“I have seen those marks on every rescued oarslave from the Bloodwake.” Columbine said.

“Yes, we were whipped. What does this have to do with Martin?”

“Help me turn him over.”

Gonff and Timbal gently moved Martin so he was lying on his stomach. Columbine pulled the blankets down to examine his back. A large number of wounds adorned him; some were still raised and pink.

“His wounds from Tsarmina’s claws.” Timbal commented.

“Not all of them, no. These-” she gestured to the pinker portions- “are from Tsarmina. The rest are far older. Some of them are practically faded, but others are no more than a few seasons old. See how some of them are curved and distorted? That’s from muscle growth. He’s had many of these for a long time. Just like you, Timbal, these are wounds inflicted by a whip. There’s no way to deny it: this mouse grew up under a lash.” Columbine turned to Timbal. “Is there anything you can tell us to explain these?”

Timbal’s face was as still and impenetrable as stone. “I can say nothing about this.”

“If he has other injuries we don’t kn-”

“I can say nothing about this.” Timbal turned and headed towards the door, but Gonff caught up with him and blocked the door, preventing him from leaving.

“Now see here,” Gonff demanded, his voice full of anger, “someone has hurt my best friend and I want you to tell me what beast has done this!”

“You are not the only friend of Martin here, mousethief,” Timbal coldly informed him, “but I can say nothing about this.”

Gonff looked ready to strike Timbal.

“Gonff, let him go,” Bella said, speaking for the first time since the meeting began. She waited for him to do so before continuing. “If Martin has not spoken of this, and if Timbal is so hesitant to speak, I suspect there is a good reason for it. Is this so?”

“I can say nothing-”

“I understand.” Bella addressed the four mice. “Everybeast has secrets, and I suspect Martin’s are particularly painful. If he’s any sort of warrior like my father, then he’s likely trying to spare us from having to share the pain of his past. If he decides he wants us to know, then he will tell us when he is ready. I suggest we all leave him to his rest for now.”

Martin was turned to a more comfortable position and re-covered with blankets. Timbal remained behind as the others left to attend to other work. He checked to make sure the blankets were arranged well. He sighed as he smoothed out the covers.

“What happened to you, my friend?”

*

Martin’s feet dug into the ground as the rope strained against his paws. With a crew of otters, squirrels, and other mice, he was hauling a large stone brick through the wood toward the foundations of Germaine’s abbey. The stone had come from the quarry, where the molecrew had hewn it from the earth and shaped it before sending it down the river on the recently resurfaced Wuddship. Only a few dozen bricks had been moved so far, but there was already a deep furrow in the ground where the stones had been dragged.

“I’ll be happy when this abbey is built,” Skipper grunted from beside Martin.

Martin groaned as he pulled. “I’ll just be happy when they’ve built a few more carts.”

Thus far, the stones had been hauled through Mossflower on wooden sledges. It was difficult work, and the runners often got caught on stones and tree roots. As a consequence, the strongest beasts were always assigned to sledge-work.

“At least the abbey will be nice and sturdy.” Skipper commented.

“Can’t say I’m crazy about the color.”

“Stow the chatter, mateys,” a voice called from behind them. “Less talk, more pullin’.”

“You’re a right slave-driver ye little nuisance. It’d go a lot faster if you stopped dancin’ around up there,” Skipper shouted back at Gonff, who stood atop the sandstone brick. “You probably weight as much as the stone.”

“Insubordination!” Gonff joked. “That’ll be a dozen lashes for the impudent riverdog.” He punctuated his remark by cracking a length of rope like a whip.

The brick-haulers laughed and continued to pull, but Skipper saw the line next to him go slack. Looking around, he saw Martin dashing into the woods straight through the undergrowth, ignoring the scratches being dealt to him by the thorny branches.

“Martin?” Skipper called after him, confused. If there had been danger, Skipper knew Martin would have said something and not simply run off. There had to be something wrong. The otter chief dropped his rope and started after the warrior mouse.

Gonff saw Martin disappearing into the woods with Skipper hot on his tail. He quickly jumped down from his perch and ran after them, shouting “Wait for me!”

Skipper followed Martin through the forest, over hills and through streams. His trail was erratic, and as far as Skipper could tell, he wasn’t heading in any particular direction. After a chase that spanned miles, both Skipper and Gonff caught up with Martin at the end of a small gorge. Martin eyes were darting around and his paws were shaking. He was panicking. Breaths rapidly left and entered his mouth. There was nowhere left for him to run, and he cowered against the gorge’s stone walls.

Gonff had never seen his friend afraid of anything. “Martin, matey, what’s happening? Why did you run off? How about you come back with us-” He reached out to Martin, who shrank away from his paw.

“Don’t hurt me,” Martin pleaded, his voice small and terrified. “I’m working as hard as I can.”

Skipper stepped in, pulling Gonff back. “Nobeast is going to hurt you, Martin,” he said softly, like he was talking to a dibbun. “Why don’t we sit down and have a rest?”

Martin hesitantly lowered himself down. “Won’t they get made if we stop working?”

“Nah, mate, we’re nearly done today, and they’ll never find us here.”

Martin relaxed a little and started dragging a finger through the dirt, drawing out little patterns for fun. “Do you know where Felldoh is? He was supposed to be on quarry duty too.”

“Afraid I don’t,” Skipper said, pretending he had any sort of clue as to what Martin was talking about. “But I bet he’ll show up at dinnertime.”

Martin nodded. “That’s right. He’d never miss a meal.”

“Why don’t we all have a rest before then? A nice nap would feel good after a hard day’s work.”

“You’ll keep me safe?”

“Of course.”

Martin settled into a more comfortable position. “Just make sure Hisk doesn’t find us. He hates everyone.”

“Don’t you worry about Hisk. I’ll keep a sharp eye out for him.”

Martin nodded and closed his eyes. When Skipper was sure he was deeply asleep, he scooped him up into his arms.

“Where are you taking him?” Gonff whispered, following behind Skipper.

“Back to the settlement. If the…whatever this is… isn’t better when he wakes up, we’ll have Germaine take a look.”

From his position above the gorge, Timbal watched the otter and the mouse walk off with his friend. He had been working on brick hauling as well, and had followed the others unseen after Martin took off.

*

When Martin awoke, he was lying in his tent at the settlement outside of the new Abbey’s foundations. His mind was a blur. He could not remember walking back to the settlement or anything else besides hauling brick the previous day. By the golden sunlight entering the tent, he judged it was sometime in the early morning. He was missing an entire evening and night. Looking around, he saw Timbal seated on the ground, lightly dozing. “Timbal,” he prodded his friend, “Timbal, wake up.”

Timbal shook himself awake and pulled himself up to sit on the foot of Martin’s bed. “Feeling better today?”

“I feel fine. Why can’t I remember yesterday evening?”

“You had…a sort of fit yesterday. You ran off into the woods in a panic. Started rambling to Skipper and Gonff.”

“What did I say?”

Timbal shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You were terrified.”

“Was it something about my past? You’ve always refused to talk about it. You know something, don’t you?”

Timbal’s mouth remained shut.

Martin gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll just ask Gonff.”

“I’ve already spoken to him and Skipper. As far as Skip is concerned, it was just fevered nonsense. Gonff more or less knows that there’s more to your past than any of us knows…”

“Well I want to know. Tell me what I said,” Martin demanded.

“No. I promised you I’d uphold your version of your past. When I made that promise, you said there were things you’d rather not think about. Maybe this is all for the best. If there are things in your life so terrible that you didn’t want to remember them, maybe it’s best that you’ve forgotten them. Gonff, even knowing very little, agrees with me.”

“You don’t get to decided that for me!” Martin grabbed onto Timbal’s wrist and held tight. “Tell me what I said!”

Timbal looked calmly down at Martin. “You can’t intimidate me, Martin. I know you’d never hurt me.”

Martin released his grip and Timbal got up from the bed. “I’m going to let you rest some more.”

“Do you think you can live with yourself,” Martin called after Timbal, “keep me in the dark?”

Timbal stopped and thought for a moment. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I can, but I have to.”

[psychicwonu-blog]

When Skies are Gray

 A/N: Back at it again, trying out new writing styles. This is a longish one! I vaguely remember seeing something like this on ig a while ago, so I wanted to use that plot(kinda, partially) for this story. Also I’m not a doctor lmao so I apologize if anything is wrong! Anon, I hope this was sad enough for you. Writing this ripped my heart out.

Anon asked: “can i request something angsty/sad af for jisoo of SVT? i don’t really have much of a plot in mind, but i am in the mood to have my heart shattered ;)” honestly shmood

Group: Seventeen

Member: Joshua/Jisoo

Genre: AAAAAAAAAAAngst, non idol!AU

Warnings: Death, sickness, seizures, panic attacks, cursing, mentions of sex, just…sadness man

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.1k

This world isn’t kind. Joshua knew this. He knew that happiness wasn’t constant and that, sooner or later, his life would turn upside down, just as it did for everyone else. This world isn’t fair. He knew this, as well. The kind people, who spend their lives giving, are too often the ones who suffer. Crime goes unpunished, sickness untreated, greed swept under the rug. This world is unjust. 

Joshua saw you for the first time in the library of your college campus. You were both there studying for upcoming exams. He spotted you as soon as he walked in. Seated in the corner of the room, you were reading back and forth through your notes and your laptop. He sat down at a table a few rows ahead of yours, facing you. He took glances at you every now and then, laughing to himself every time he’d look up to see a different expression. The sixth time he’d glanced up, you were fading away behind a bookshelf. Joshua closed his Music History text book and walked in your direction. 

“First the staring, now you’re following me?” you whispered from behind him. Joshua jumped and spun around, facing you with pink cheeks. “Should I be worried?” you teased. 

“I…I-I’m sorry. I just…” he fumbled over his words, pulling at the collar of his shirt. You only laughed at his awkwardness and began walking away. Joshua called out after you, earning himself several glares from fellow students. “What’s your name?” he questioned. 

Spinning around on the heels of your sneakers grinning, you tilted your head to the side. “So you’re not like, some stalker or something?” you asked. He looked at you confused, and followed as you started walking again. “I mean, it’s good if you aren’t. But we take several classes together, Joshua. I’m a little hurt you don’t know my name.”

“I-we…?” he choked. You laughed once again at his awkwardness and sat back down at your table. 

“You can bring your stuff over, if you want.”

He loved you. Wholeheartedly, unconditionally, in every way. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t tell you, either. The feelings Joshua had for you were unbreakable. Love like that isn’t easy to come by. Some say it’s only once in a life time. You meant more than that to him. You weren’t just some lucky one in a million, you were his everything. Joshua knew it was dangerous. To let a person hold your heart in their hands. To let them break you down or open you up. But when it came to you he didn’t care. The good, the bad, he wanted you to see it all. Joshua wanted you to know him. 

And you did. 

The second time Joshua saw you was in your Musical Theater class. You were seated in the back, reading some novel he’d never heard of, seemingly unaware of the events unfolding around you. He smiled, waving at a few of his friends, before sitting in the seat next to yours. 

“Hard to miss now, aren’t I?” you smirked, not looking up from your book. Joshua giggles and holds up a pen. You raise an eyebrow and stare at him. 

“You, uh, let me use this last weekend. At the library.” he says with a small voice. 

“That’s not my pen, Hong.” you state, taking it anyway. He bites his lip and nods, lowering his head. You turn your attention back to your book after saying, “You know, if you want to talk to me you just…can. You don’t need another reason.” to him.

“Okay.” he says, getting up. You scoff at his sudden burst of confidence, but you were unsuccessful in suppressing your grin. He doesn’t speak to you for the rest of the class, but you both steal glances at each other. The few times you caught him looking at you, you’d raise your eyebrows and point to the professor, signaling for him to pay attention. 

 Joshua never expected to let himself fall in this deep. Completely and utterly exposed to you. No walls, no guard, nothing holding him back from you. Of course he didn’t regret it, but if someone were to tell him just two years ago that he’d be head over heels in love at 23 he’d call them crazy. You never expected to fall for him the way you did, either. Hell, the last thing you expected to do in your senior year of college was find the love of your life. You hear stories all the time about college-sweethearts, but you and Joshua were more than that. A lot of times, those love stories end in early divorce because people don’t know each other like they think they do. Or they aren’t ready for commitment. As corny as it may sound, you were it for each other.

You two started hanging around each other more in the classes you shared. He’d sit with you, you’d sit with him. Some days you wouldn’t talk at all, but soon enough your friendship made its way outside of school. Joshua was funny, even when he wasn’t trying. From bad puns to odd expressions, you were always laughing at him for something. 

“What did the pirate say on his 80th birthday?”  Joshua asked, almost laughing himself. You already knew the punchline, but seeing his eyes light up and crinkle at the sides made your heart swell. 

“I dunno, what?” you mused.

“Aye, matey!” he said, laughing even before the words left his lips. Truthfully, you’d heard the joke enough to not think it funny anymore, but you laughed anyway. Mostly because Joshua had quite a contagious laugh. 

“You’re awful, Josh. That was awful.”  giggling, you shoved his arm with your shoulder. 

“Get it? I’m 80? Comedic gold!” he exclaimed. You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Jokes aren’t funny when you explain them.” you stated. He ruffled your hair and then pulled your hand into his. Your cheeks went pink as you stared down at your intertwined fingers. You hadn’t even noticed, but you’d been holding your breath. 

“Is this okay?” Joshua asked, looking over at you. Nodding, you smile up at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like it. It’s nice.” you say shyly. He gives you a toothy grin and squeezes your hand. That was the first time he held your hand. God, the setting was perfect, too. You were walking, side by side, in Han River Park. You were admiring the moon and city lights reflecting off of the still water. It was supposed to just be like every other time you’d hung out, but that night was different. The way you’d look at each other, the way you spoke. That was the night he asked you out. You’d originally been upset because you wanted to ask him, but the night was perfect. 

It started to rain, lightly, but nonetheless. Joshua cursed under his breath, but you held out your free hand and looked up to the sky. Joshua looked over at you with a confused smile. You felt him staring. 

“What? I love the rain.” you defended yourself. Joshua laughed. 

“We’ll get sick.” he argued. You looked at him and shrugged.  

“We’ll take care of each other. Live a little, Hong.” you teased. He bit his lip and nodded, then reaching out his free hand and looking up to the sky.

Things were almost always perfect with Joshua. And how you’d gotten so lucky to have many more moments like these with him will forever remain a mystery. 

He isn’t confrontational. At least not to the degree that most people are. He doesn’t like conflict, nor did he like arguing with you. Fights in your relationship were rare. You’d usually talk things out in a healthy manner, voices never reaching a yell. But, like in any relationship, fights were inevitable. Joshua was more often than not the one to apologize first. He couldn’t bear to stay mad at you, even if you were the one in the wrong.  

“I don’t know why this is such a big fucking deal to you, Joshua!” you shouted at him, slamming his bedroom door behind you. You stormed through the hallway of his small apartment, heading for the kitchen. Just as you sat down at the table, you heard Joshua’s bedroom door open and close again, followed by heavy footsteps. He walked into the kitchen , rubbing his temples. 

“Y/N, we’ve been together for a year, come next month. Explain to me why it shouldn’t be a ‘big fucking deal’ that you didn’t tell any of your family about us.” he said, calmly. Too calm for your liking. And the fact that he cursed made you even more uneasy. It wasn’t like Joshua.

This fight started over an overheard skype conversation between you and your parents. They had been asking you to come visit, updates with school, if you were seeing anyone. You didn’t give any straight answers. It hurt Joshua that you had never mentioned him to your parents.

“Joshua, my family…you don’t know them.” you explained. He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. 

“And you don’t see a problem with that? I should know them, Y/N. I mean, Christ, you know everything about me. All of my family.” he argued. You stood up, walking over to him. 

“I can’t just tell them. I couldn’t when you asked me out, I couldn’t after a few months, hell, I couldn’t a month ago.” you sighed. “And I can’t tell them now. They wouldn’t understand.” Joshua turned away from you and ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the roots a bit. He then turns back around and throws his hands up in a questioning way. 

“They wouldn’t understand? What would they not understand?” he shouts. You flinch at the volume and tears threaten to spill. You hated these moments. Joshua wasn’t like this. You weren’t like this, either. 

“How I feel about you, Josh. They wouldn’t get it! They’d tell me I’m too young to be this in love.” you yelled, raising your voice to match his. “God, and had I told them the day I fucking realized how I felt…they would’ve just called me foolish.” you finished, with a small voice. You were crying now, and Joshua looked as though he were on the verge of tears too. 

“Why won’t you just open up to me?” he asked, walking closer to you. He grabbed your arms, and started to rub circles into your skin with his thumbs. “Let me in.”

You shake your head, tears falling onto the rug as you look down at your feet. Sighing, you meet his eyes again, letting out a single sob. “Because, I’m not you, Joshua. I’m not…you.”

Walking back to his bedroom, you wipe your cheeks. You resented fighting with him. All you wanted to do was take it all back. And for your parents to not be how they are. Joshua followed you, calling your name a few times. As you  walked up to the bed you grabbed your pillow. Then, walking to the closet, you grabbed a spare blanket. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks with a sigh. 

“I’m going to sleep. I’m tired.” you respond. His shoulders drop, telling you that it’s only 9, but you ignore him. You walk out of his room, heading for his couch. You were mad enough to not want to sleep in the same room as him, but not mad enough to leave altogether. His couch isn’t exactly comfortable to sleep on, but you couldn’t change your mind now. 

It didn’t take him long to sneak into the living room, laying down on the edge of the sofa and snaking his arms around your waist. He gently kissed your jaw, then your neck, then began apologizing.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he says, reaching a hand up to play with your hair. You relax into his hold and crack. 

“I’m sorry, too. I love you.” you say, turning so that you’re facing him. He smiles at you and kisses your cheeks, then your lips, dragging his hand from your hair down to your hip.  

“Sleep with me.” he requests. Your eyes shoot open and you shake your head.

“Make up sex isn’t healthy, Hong.” you argue, turning away again. He laughs into your hair and holds you closer to him. 

“No, I mean like…come sleep with me in our room.” he explains. ‘Our room” you repeat in your mind. You sit up and kiss his forehead. He stands, and then pulls you off the couch, then pulls you into the room.

“Will you sing me to sleep, Josh?” you ask, though your voice is muffled due to your face being crammed into his chest. He inhales a deep breath and utters an “mm” before running his fingers through your hair. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” he sings softly. You’re asleep before he can finish the song. Joshua laughs at your squished cheeks and begins drifting off. 

Knowing everything about a person isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. There are some things that should be left unsaid. Secrets that should be kept. Right? Joshua didn’t see it that way, in fact, he was furious you neglected to tell him about your cancer. Any significant other would be. It isn’t usually the type of thing you forget to mention or leave out. He saw some of your emails from a few doctors who were offering you new medication to try. You had your reasons, all of which he didn’t personally understand. But, when you had ended up in the hospital due to shortness of breath, then no breathing at all, Joshua was only terrified. 

“You…you have…” Joshua whispers as you walk into the room. You look up from your phone to see him seated in front of your laptop, tears running down his face. Stopping in your tracks, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Josh,” you say. “What did you see?”

“You…you have ca-cancer.” he cries. He puts his face in hands to cover his sobs. You break down, too. 

“Joshua I-” you try to apologize but he cuts you off. 

“Why? Why did you not tell me? How could you not tell me? Y/N I…I’m me.” Joshua still had hot tears running down his cheeks, onto his chin. He looked at you, waiting for an answer. You couldn’t find anything to say. “So that’s it? I don’t get an explanation? Nothing?” he says angrily, walking away. 

“Josh, please.” you cry, grabbing his arm. He pulls away from you, telling you not to touch him, and keeps going. You fall into the chair next to you and pull your shirt into your fist at your chest. Your breathing became sporadic, and your lungs felt like they were burning. You began to shake, feeling every beat you heart made, pounding against your chest. You tried your breathing exercises you’d do when you had panic attacks, but they weren’t working. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t catch your breath.  

“Josh. Please.” you tried calling out for him between short breaths. He didn’t answer, and it only made you feel more pressure. Soon enough, you lost all control of your body and started to collapse. 

Joshua ran back into the room when he heard you fall. He initially thought you’d started to throw things or…just anything other than what had actually happened. He entered the room, seeing you laying on the floor, shaking on your back. Joshua had no idea what was happening. He couldn’t get you to respond, despite your eyes being open. He called 9-1-1 and explained the best he could. You had stopped shaking by the time the ambulance arrived, but your eyes were still wide open. The EMTs ran into your shared apartment of three months and took you from Joshua. They got your body onto the stretcher and pushed you to the vehicle. 

“Sir, what you explained sounds like a seizure. Can you tell me about their medical history? Do they have epilepsy, any known tumors, anxiety disorders?” one EMT asked Joshua. She looked over at him as she held an oxygen mask up to your face. He looked at your unconscious body and began crying again. “Sir!” she yelled. 

“I…they…they uh…they have th-thyroid cancer…that’s all I…” he said softly. The EMT nodded and began conversing with the other technicians around her. One of the drivers said you’d arrive at the hospital in about 10 more minutes. They went by so slowly for Joshua. Every second he saw you laying there, going in and out of consciousness, with that mask on your face was like torture. He felt like he was to blame. ‘I never should have left them there alone after finding something out like that.’ he thought to himself. All he could do was stare blankly down at the floor of the ambulance.

“They’re crashing!” shouted the EMT who’d been directly by your side the whole ride. Joshua looked up from his hands. 

“What? Crashing? What does that mean?” he questioned as another technician shuffled to the back. 

“Start compressions.” he heard the woman say. Soon everything became background noise as he lost himself in his thoughts. 

Joshua stayed by your side, day and night, neglecting to take care of himself. The one time he did leave, he came back to find three doctors resuscitating you. He didn’t want to be away if another scare like that happened. Your cancer had progressed significantly in the months following the last surgery you had, two years ago. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, that surgery was supposed to buy you time. Save your life. Of course, hardly anything goes as planned, especially when you’re terminally ill. It’s all just a matter of time. 

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and you winced at the bright light shining through the curtains of the hospital window. Looking around, you saw flowers, get well balloons, and cards scattered on the tables in the room. Joshua was leaning over onto your bed from his chair. His hair was a mess, becoming greasy at the roots. It pained you to see him like this. His head started to move due to your shifting on the bed. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your hand. You squeezed his palm and started to cry. “shh, shh baby it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” he cooed, trying to calm you. 

“Josh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve…I should’ve told you, but I,” you whined, tears rolling out of your eyes. He shook his head, rubbing your hair and kissing your forehead. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything, alright?”

“I didn’t know how.” you explained. He sighed and nodded in an understanding way. Soon after, two doctors came in with worried expressions. Expressions you were all too familiar with. 

“Y/N,” one doctor started. She looked down momentarily, then spoke again. “when we removed a portion of your thyroid, we’d thought we’d caught it all, or at least most of it. I mean it was a miracle that your voice has survived the surgery, and the medications we put you on seemed to be working…” she explained to you. Her eyes were sad. You knew there was bad news to come. You just wanted to get it over with. 

“But?” you asked. Her colleague stepped forward and removed his glasses after looking at your chart. 

“But, the cancer has spread to your chest, lungs, and portions of your throat. Which is why you’ve been having difficulty breathing. This didn’t happen for the first time a few days ago, did it?” he pried. You shook your head and looked down at your hands. Joshua was staring out of the window, steady streams of tears flowing down his cheeks. 

“The masses weren’t showing up. They didn’t seem to even be there…until…” the woman said again. Dr. Park was an excellent surgeon. She had been your doctor since you were diagnosed. As excellent as she was, she always had a difficult time delivering bad news. 

“Until it was too late to save me?” you asked with a blank expression. Joshua broke down, his sobs were the only sound in the otherwise silent room. You didn’t have it in you to cry. You were the one that let it get this far. You could’ve told Joshua. You could’ve come back the moment you noticed things getting worse. You just wanted things to be normal. You wanted a happy, normal life with Joshua.

“Truthfully, Y/N, with the way things look…” the male doctor spoke up again, walking up to your bedside. “There isn’t much we could’ve done either way. We’ll come back and talk about treatment options, okay? We’ll give you two some time.”

“Thank you.” you said, voice cracking. Joshua looked at you for the first time since the doctors had been there. What were you supposed to say to him?

“I’m sorry I walked away from you.” he said, grabbing your hands again. You shook your head. 

“This is not your fault.”

“I know. I know, but I…shouldn’t have left you either way.” he cried. Your heart hurt to see him like this. Crying, broken, all because of you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know me like I should have.” you apologized, referring back to one of your first serious fights. Joshua shakes his head, smiling a broken smile, and kisses the back of your hand. 

“Oh, I know you.” he said softly. “No matter how hard you fought to keep yourself locked away I always ended up right here, eventually, one way or another.” he whispered, tracing lines over your heart. You couldn’t hold back your tears. They spilled out uncontrollably, sob after sob leaving your throat, burning from the rawness.

“Shh, Y/N, it’s okay. Shh.” he cooed, trying to calm you down. It wasn’t helping so Joshua sang to you. 

“You are my sunshine,” he started. Your breathing slowed.

“my only sunshine.” the familiar tune eased your heart.

“You make me happy,” he sang.

“when skies are gray.” you began to hum along with him, hoping to ease the burning in your chest. 

“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.” he sang softly. Your heart was at ease, but your body had plans of it’s own. You started to seize again, and not knowing what to do, Joshua tried to hold you tighter to steady your body. 

“Please don’t take…my sun…shine away” he sang through his tears. Two nurses came rushing in as he finished the chorus. One of them pressed a button on the wall behind your bed and shouted “Code Blue!” as they began trying to resuscitate. All Joshua could hear was a continuous sound that pierced his heart. The nurses were trying to get him to leave the room, but his body felt stuck. As soon as he was out of the room, he watched from the window was the doctors and nurses tried to bring you back. 

Life without Y/N. After Joshua met you in the library of your college campus, he never thought he’d have to think of what that’d be like. He thought he’d grow old with you after he’d gotten to know you. Things were perfect between you. Even when you fought. It’s like he couldn’t stand to be away from you, especially when you were angry. And, of course, you’d felt the same way about him. You were it, as was he. More then just some lucky one in a million, more than young love. 

Joshua never prepared for this. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know he’d ever have to. It never crossed his mind until that day you collapsed, but even then he didn’t have time. It felt like everything around him was moving at warp speed, but his body was stuck in slow motion. 

This world isn’t kind. Joshua knew this. He knew that happiness wasn’t constant and that, sooner or later, his life would turn upside down, just as it did for everyone else. This world isn’t fair. He knew this, as well. The kind people, who spend their lives giving, are too often the ones who suffer. Crime goes unpunished, sickness untreated, greed swept under the rug. This world is unjust. 

He believes in the afterlife. He believes, deep down, that you’re still with him, and that you always will be until he meets you again. But being sat at your grave, changing the flowers every so often, he finds himself cursing his God. Resenting Him for taking the one thing he was sure about. You didn’t deserve this life. You were kind. The type of person who always put themselves last. Joshua didn’t know how to understand why this happened. But truthfully, does anyone? 

When the sky darkens and rain starts to fall, tears form in his eyes. His breathing becomes steady and he holds out one hand, looking up at the sky.

“Y/N.”