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libraryofloveletters · 4 years ago

Note

also. 15+16 with eddie fluff/comfort including chris because he’s adorable

You Feel Like Home

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol

Prompts: #15: “Did you let yourself in?” // #16: “How did you get in my house?”

Category: fluff

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: here’s a lil something because I haven’t posted a x reader in so long. Also I didn’t check for errors cause I'm lazy so ignore any mistakes :)

----

It’s raining, the streets were drenching with water and muck which you found yourself staring at as you sat in your car at the intersection.

You had left your job, more like you were fired for something you didn’t do but you hated your job, 100 and 10% despited it and everyone there- needless to say, you didn’t mind not being there anymore.

The shitty weather on top of the idea of having to find a new job was putting more than damper on your day. So here you were in the middle of the day driving to your best friend’s house. He doesn't like to admit that he’s your best friend but he is and you both knew that.

The driveway was empty and the house was dark, at least from what you could see. Hopping out of the car, you make your way to the front door, the rain drenching your clothing. The key to his house hanging from the bunch you held in your hand, you let yourself in.

“Anyone home?” shouting into the dark house, slipping off your shoes.

There was no answer, you assumed Eddie was at work and Chris was still at school which made sense considering it was 2:30 on a Friday afternoon.

A puddle of water trialed behind you on your way to the bathroom, stopping to get a towel from the cupboard. The wet clothes get stripped off and tossed into the tub, making a mental note to come back and put them in the dryer after you get something to wear.

The towel now wrapped around you, you find your way down the hallway and into Eddie’s bedroom. There was a basket of folded laundry on the bed, deciding that it’s probably better to get something from the basket than to tumble through his drawers.

Just as you go to drop the towel, you hear the front door open and then a woman’s voice.

“Shit shit shit” you mumble to yourself and look around the room frantically- there’s no way you could get dressed before the person gets to the room, you have no choice but you stay the way you are.

The footsteps approaching the room, a knock on the door before it opens, Carla sticks her head in the room and you let out a breath of relief.

“Jesus, it’s just you” sitting on the bed, you smile at her and she laughs softly.

“Who’d you think it was hun?”

“I thought Eddie had come home, with a woman. That would have been hard to explain- ya know, a woman in a towel in his bedroom while he’s not home.”

“Mhm hm,” Carla has one of her famous mischievous looks on her face. “Sure, because it’s normal for you to be half naked in his bedroom when he isn't home.” She laughs.

“Were you waiting for him?” she teased, your face twists and you groan.

“Carla! No, god. I had a shitty day and I wanted to hang out. It was raining cats and dogs when I got here and my clothes got wet.” you explain what happened and she gives you a hum, stepping back out and leaving you to change.

You can hear laughter coming from the bedroom down the hall, you make your way there. Chris sat on his bed, looking out his window while he was on the phone.

“Love you too dad, bye” the phone is set beside him on the bed, you knock on the door and Chris looks back, his face lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey kiddo” smiling at the boy who’s now making his way over to you, you step into the room and meet him halfway.

“Hi! What are you doing here?” he asks you, hugging you.

“Came by to see your dad but he wasn’t home. I’m better now because you’re free” looking down at him, Christopher laughs and holds your hand as the two of you walk down the hallway to the living room. Carla brings him a snack and joins the two of you in the living room, Christopher telling you both about his day at school.

----

Eddie runs to the front door from his truck, the rain had been pouring all day.

“I’m home!” he shouts, as he steps in only for Carla to shush him from the kitchen.

His face screws and he makes his way down the hallway to Christopher’s room but he wasn't in there. Carla sat in the kitchen reading her book, she smiles when he steps in the kitchen.

“Hey, where’s Chris ?” he asks, washing his hands and pulling a pot out of the cupboard.

“Shower,” shutting the book, she slips it into her bag. “You’re going ?” Eddie glances over his shoulder, pouting slightly. Carla always helps him with dinner and truthfully, she’s the better cook out of the two.

“I’ve got myself a hot date tonight” She tells him, giving him a smile before making her way to the front door.

Eddie follows her, “what? really? But who’s going to keep me company while Chris does his homework ?” his hand coming up to his chest as he sighs dramatically.

Carla’s hand meets his, patting his chest. “Chris is done with his work, he had help” nodding towards the couch, Eddie follows her gesture to see you sleep on the couch.

“When did- are those my clothes ?” his mouth hung in disbelief.

Why were you asleep on his couch in his clothes ? He wasn't even home, how the hell did you get in ?

“Mhm hm” Carla hums, a soft laugh slipping past her lips. “Have fun sugar, I'll be back in the morning. Tell lil man I said bye” She steps out, pulling the door shut behind her.

The pattering of feet pulled Eddie’s attention away from a sleeping you on the couch.

“Dad!” Chris’s smile lit up the room, Eddie found himself smiling at his son.

“Hey buddy” he kneeled to hug him, holding him close after a long day at work.

“How was work ?” Christopher asks his father as the two make their way to the kitchen.

“It was a fine, normal day of us saving the city” Eddie chuckled, smiling at his son who was sitting at the table now. “Hey bud?”

“Mhm hm ?”

“When did y/n get here?”

“I don’t know, she was here when me and Carla got home” he shrugs, turning his attention back to something Eddie had left out on the table.

Eddie is half way into the fridge and it was down to its bare bones. A carton of milk, two eggs left in a tray and a half used stick of butter - guess he had forgotten to go grocery shopping yesterday.

“How does pizza for dinner sound?” Eddie turns to Chris who’s nodding eagerly. Pizza was the way to that kid’s heart.

---

dinner was short, the boys talked about their day. Chris told his father all about his day at school and how they learned about the atmosphere and space in science class and Eddie told him about a resume they had today - the safe for work details of course, he always left out the gruesome parts.

“So Carla told me y/n helped with your homework ?”

“Yeah, I only had math work to do. It was easy”

Eddie hums, it was still relatively early and a Friday afternoon, he thought why not have a movie night.

“Here’s the plan for tonight, you tidy up your room real quick and then we can build a fort and have movie night. How does that sound ?”

“Like a plan!” he smiles at Eddie before getting up. Eddie sits at the table watching Chris make his way into the hallway and towards the bathroom.

The sound of a snore brought him back to reality, he remembered you were still on the couch asleep. He quietly got up and made his way over, crouching in front of the couch.

You looked at peace, which was strange to him because the two of you are always bickering or poking each other about something. The only times he had seen you smile was if someone made fun of him or if you were with Chris - he had never actually seen you relaxed.

“Take a picture and leave or I'm filing a restraining order” you mumble sleepily. Eddie laughed, you were always teasing him about his stare.

Eddie stands, lifting your legs and sitting before dropping them down onto his lap. “How did you get in my house? Did you let yourself in?”

“I used the key” rolling onto your jacket, you shift upwards slightly. The disapproval on Eddie’s face was very much visible.

��I gave you that key for emergencies!”

“It was an emergency!”

Eddie sighs, his hand rubbing the piece of bare skin showing from the rolled up pants. The room is quick, the sound of the rain pouring echoed through the house.

“What’s on your mind ? I can practically see the wrinkles forming on your face”

“Hey!” you nudged him with your foot while he laughed. “Nothing,” sitting up to face him properly. “I just had a shitty day and wanted to see my bes- my friend.”

A small smile appeared on his face. “Your what ?” “Shut up Eddie”

“No no, say it” he grabs your foot, his fingers reaching to the sole of your foot. Your eyes widen, shaking your head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh but I do” he smirks before tickling the bottom of your foot. You try to pull your foot away but you’re laughing and wiggling around on the couch so much that you end up rolling off but your foot is still on Eddie’s lap.

There you were lying diagonally off the couch with your feet on his lap. He shifts to the floor, now sitting beside you. The two of you have your backs up against the couch.

“Seriously, talk to me. What’s up ?”

“Just wanted some company. Work was shitty and I- I don’t know. I didn’t know where to go. There’s nothing waiting for me at my place, the weather’s kinda depressing so I didn’t want to go drinking because it would just make me sad” you chuckle, turning your head to face him.

“I got in the car and just drove and I ended up here. This is home, you know? ” you admit. Humming, he smiles.

“I’m glad you felt like you could come here.”

“Well I know you couldn’t kick me out. You love me and my puppy face too much” you pout playfully making his laugh before nudging you with his shoulder.

Eddie’s arm is now over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “You’re welcomed here anytime.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Tilting your head from his shoulder, you're now face to face with him. There had always been unspoken feelings between the two of you, everyone could see that - even the two of you.

He leans in, a hand cupping your cheek like it was chiseled to fit the curve of your structure perfectly.

The palm of your hand wraps around his wrist, leaning closer to him.

This was the moment you were waiting for.

“DAD!” Chris shouts, causing Eddie to pull away. Not that either of you minded but there does that moment.

“Yeah ?” His hand was still cupping your cheek. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“Of course, pick one out.” He moves his hand to give the remote to Chris, you cheek cold from the loss of touch.

The 3 of you settle into the couch, Christopher between the two of you. The boy settled on Space Jam though he had seen it a million times.

Eddie’s arm is stretched over the back of the couch. It was bent at an awkward position, his fingers barely grazing your cheek, letting you know that he’s right there.

The two of you shared stolen glances all night, watching each other more than the movie. Eventually Chris fell asleep between the two of you.

You felt safe, peaceful, home.

This felt like home.

-----

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that-good-trash · 4 years ago

Text

Please Don’t Go

Bakugou x reader / Kirishima x reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, self harm, angst, heartbreak

Word count: 8.3K

Summary: Sometimes things happen that you wish you could change,fix, but you can’t. Instead you are left suffering with broken pieces and suffering worse than you’ve ever dealt with. The person you wish was helping you keeps hurting you while the person you didn’t know you needed is holding you together.

Comment: I just really like angst since it seems to be the only thing I can write recently. I guess I’m kinda stuck in a sad rut myself. I hope you all enjoy it.

PS. Also thank you all for 100 followers! I love all of you and you all matter!

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

“It is 3 in THE GOD DAMN MORNING, WHAT THE HELL COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT FROM ME!”

“Morning Katsu, have you ever thought about the stars and how they always exist but we can only see them at night.”

“…”

“Katsu…”

The sound of a single click could be heard. You stare at your phone for a moment knowing that he had hung up on you. You sigh laying your head back down on your pillow. You knew that you should have told him the real reason you had called but couldn’t find the strength to do so. Your ‘boyfriend’ if you could actually call him wasn’t the type to listen to your nonsense. You didn’t mean to beat around the bush, you wanted to get to the point when it came to conversation. It was hard for you to tell people what was really going on inside your brain. Bakugou Katsuki had a way of letting you know when he was irritated with your run around way of speaking.

You can’t fall asleep because of the thoughts swirling around in your head. You had the pressure of millions of gallons of water on your chest and head. You wondered if this is what a submarine feels as it dives deeper into the darkness of the ocean. Your eyes were still red and hadn’t gotten a chance to fully dry. Crying was something that you tended to do a lot prior to recent events that lead to your current state. Now your tears hurt more than usual. You couldn’t figure out if they hurt because you had been rubbing your eyes frantically or because of the circumstance in which they were there to begin with. A sniffle followed by the sound of your own choked sob breaks the silence of the room. Your crying again, alone. You alone crying holding so much pain and loss.

***********

“Y/n will not be in class today, again.”

My Aizawa gave class 1A the heads up before turning back toward the board to talk about today’s itinerary. The class wouldn’t have had any reason to worry had this been the first absence. However, this was absence number three and you hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts. Actually, the only person who has actually claimed to have seen you was their teacher. No one had seen or heard from you in the days you had been missing. Over the weekend you had left the dorms to return to your actual home because of reasons that escaped everyone’s knowledge and you hadn’t returned yet. It was beginning to worry everyone especially those that had grown to fond and close to you. Midoriya was twiddling with his fingers and mumbling words of worry under his breath. Your name had passed through everyone’s lips as they questioned your lack of presence in school.

“Hey Bakugou, what’s going on with Y/n?”

Kaminari, whose voice is lacking its usual cheer, chimes in behind the angry blonde. Bakugou growls in response but doesn’t actually say anything. Kaminari puts his tray of food down on the table next to Kirishima who looks a mix between angry and tired. Before Kaminari had walked up Kirishima had been trying to get information out of Bakugou as well. Bakugou had snapped at the red head that he ‘DIDN’T KNOW SHIT’. Kirishima was having a hard time believing his best friend but at the same time he knew how little Bakugou actually tried to be in your life so it made sense if the agitated boy was telling the truth.

“Dude, for real though, Y/n has missed a lot of school. I hope she’s okay.”

Kaminari was just trying to give his honest feelings but that didn’t sit well with Bakugou who slammed his hands down in frustration. He never got the chance to speak since Mina and Sero had come to the table restating the previous concerns that everyone in class had been having. Bakugou, in a fit of anger, throws his uneaten food away before storming out of the cafeteria.

“What the heck crawled up his ass and died.” Sero looks at Mina who spoke up with her own irritation. She and you were really close. She loved you like you were her own sibling and wanted so badly for you to answer her messages. She was not as understanding as the boys in the squad and found Bakugou’s behavior childish. She sits down with a sigh trying to calm herself down. Sero squeezes her shoulder reassuringly.

**********

While, your concerned classmates continued their school day, you laid on the couch of your empty home. The only thing keeping you from breaking down for the hundredth time was the purring cat curled up against your lap. Your fingers trailed along her fur as the familiar warmth tried to keep you stable. Your mother had told you, before she left to work, that you couldn’t miss any more days of school and tomorrow you would return to the loud energetic halls of UA. Just the idea of going back in this state made you sick to your stomach. You have to swallow down the acid rising out of your throat.

As you lay on the couch your phone chimes again. They are a persistent class but you are spiraling into a hard depression. You already struggle with depression but never made it obvious so people wouldn’t be bothered or feel like they have to ‘help’ you. Now you were gone, in a world different from everyone else. You had wondered if you had the fare if you would find the ferrymen Charon and request, he take you away. You’d rather be whisked away by a mythological Grim then face another day with this horrible pain. You had never felt more alone than you did now. You didn’t care about the messages that came to your cellphone because none of them were from the person you needed it to be from. You let your eyes close and the moment that brought you to these horrid thoughts and feelings beginnings replaying.

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

“Hey mom I was just about to go watch a movie with some classmates, what’s up.” You hadn’t expected a call from your mother. She usually just texted you. A call meant something serious usually so you were already on edge before her words put you over the edge.

“You need to come home.” Those are never good words unless they come from a parent who just misses her child which definitely wasn’t your mother.

“What? Why?”

“Something has happened, I’d rather tell you in person.”

You had never heard you mother sound so blank and yet had concern laced in her voice. You had grown worried with what could have had happened. You would never had imagined what really did transpire. You had left the dorms with permission from Aizawa seeing as it was already late. You heart was racing as you said goodbye to your friends before leaving. The way home felt longer than usual but you eventually made it home. Your mother and you sat in silence for ages before she told you. No beating around the bush, she was always blunt and straight to the point.

“Your friend from middle school, F/n. She’s dead.”

The words hadn’t even settled into your mind before the tears came rushing out of your eyes. Your own body reacted before you could. This was something you fought mentally. There was no way that she was dead. You couldn’t imagine her gone. This was all wrong and you were waiting for your mother to admit this was some sort of sick joke. It wasn’t a joke and she wasn’t laughing. She looked sad, not for the death but for her daughter. She was feeling sadness for you. You shook your head over and over but she nodded to reassure you this was real life. You had indeed lost your middle school best friend. Your mother went on to hand you a box of tissues before giving you the more gruesome parts of the story.

“Your friend didn’t just die. She killed herself. She had gashes going up her arms from a knife that was found near her bathtub. She had used her quirk to weigh her body under the water and essentially, she drown herself before she could bleed to death. Her mother found her and was announced DOA. I’m sorry Y/n. I realize this is more than you’d like to hear but it is good to help you understand that she was sick. I told you this before that she…”

The words your mother spoke faded away. You couldn’t hear her over the sound of your screams that had begun to come out of your mouth. Your body shook violently and you ran to the bathroom to throw up. The taste of tears and bile lingered on your tongue long after you had stopped vomiting. Your mother brought you water and a towel as you sat on the bathroom floor. You kept picturing your dead friend with blood down her arms and water surrounding her. Had she cried? Did it hurt. Why the hell didn’t she reach out to you. You know you couldn’t say those things because middle school held you both together. You struggled with your physic and social anxiety while she struggled with everything about herself. You both were each other’s rock. You always complimented her and she beat up your bullies. After middle school you had gone to UA and she didn’t make the cut. You cried but she smiled and told you everything would be okay. Now she was dead and you couldn’t breathe. You mother was now on the floor holding you trying to get you to use your lungs which were betraying you. You just kept thinking about her bleeding to death in a hot bath while drowning at the same time. You had always expected to go to her graduation or her wedding one day, not her funeral. What didn’t help this situation was you had no one to talk to about her because she was a loner. You were alone with this pain even though you knew you had people you could seek comfort from. You didn’t feel like you deserved comfort while your former best friend was lying in a cold box at the hospital. You eventually had fallen asleep on the floor and your mother attempted to carry you to your bed. You woke up to the feeling of all the emotions hitting you all at once. As another panic attack came you reached for your phone hoping that your boyfriend had messaged asking if you were okay. He hadn’t. He hadn’t messaged at all. You called despite the time being close to two in the morning. After six rings he answered.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, I’M TRYING TO SLEEP. WHATEVER IT IS CAN FUCKING WAIT.”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond before he hung up leaving you in a worse broken lonely state. This news, this night had begun your spiral that lead to your current state of barely existing on your couch waiting for any form of death to take you.

***********

“Are you fucking serious!!!” Kirishima was yelling uncharacteristically at his best friend who was now wide eyed at the red heads lashing.

“You really haven’t tried talking to her? What kind of boyfriend, HELL what kind of friend does that? You told me she called you the nights he went home. Why the hell didn’t you let her speak!”

“MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!”

Bakugou was now pissed, his quirk activating to prove just how upset he is. Kirishima doesn’t flinch when the first blast hits him. He’s already was one step ahead being used to having to use his quirk to defend against his friend’s attacks. He wasn’t going to hit back but found himself grabbing Bakugou’s wrist and throwing his arm down telling him to stop. Bakugou doesn’t like that and goes to attack once more but doesn’t get a chance before Kirishima’s fist makes contact with his face sending him backward with scrapes against his cheek due to the first having been hardened.

“You’re a lot of things Bakugou but I didn’t know you were so fucking heartless man. Y/n needs someone and you have chosen to ignore her. It doesn’t matter if she called you at ungodly times, she deserves your attention and respect.”

Bakugou is left with Kirishima’s words and disappointed look. Kirishima isn’t going to stand around. He had gotten your address from Mina who begged him to let her know how you were doing. She was too afraid to see you in case you were avoiding everyone on purpose. Kirishima was going to see you no matter what because that is the manly hero thing to do, hell that’s just the right thing to do.

***********

Your front door had never looked so menacing till Kirishima felt like he was intruding and felt panicked that he might have crossed a line. He had to shake the thoughts away, he couldn’t run away now. He was already here and he needed to make sure you were okay. A deep breath in and a knock on the door. He waited before knocking again. You opened your eyes and for a moment you thought that maybe Bakugou came over. Only a few select people knew your address and you knew it wasn’t going to be Mina or Midoriya since they had texting you telling you they’d give you space and not come by without your permission. That left one option. You threw open the door with tears already clouding your vision. It wasn’t what you expected or wanted; it was what you needed. Kirishima couldn’t even speak when he looked at you. His chest tightened and he wanted to cry. Your face had gotten thinner and you had bags under your eyes that were darker than Mr. Aizawa’s. Your hair was messy and your clothing was obviously pajamas. Your eyes were blood shot and he could see scratch marks all over your arms from your panic attacks. Kirishima wanted to do and say so many things in the moment but instead he did the one thing he thought you needed. He opened his arms and gave you a look of comfort. A sob escapes your lips as you run into Kirishima’s arms. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling into the darkness, and maybe he was. Your tears soaked his shirt but he didn’t scold you like Bakugou would have. Bakugou was weak to tears he hated them, while Kirishima wasn’t weak to them, he was standing here crying with you. He was sharing your sadness when he didn’t even know why you were sad. His arms held you tightly afraid that if he lets go your collapse. He waits till you’re ready to pull away. Eventually the tears run dry and you’re just standing there engulfed in Kirishima’s warmth. His body feels safe and you are thankful for his presence. You shuffle backward slightly causing his hold to loosen to let you move away.

“Would you like to come inside?”

You would have started with asking him why he was here but that was a stupid question. Anyone would be worried if their friend was MIA for almost five days. Kirishima smiles and your heart beats. You almost forgot that you had one of those. You walk inside and Kirishima shyly follows after you. He looks around the living room while standing in your doorway. It seems cold but he can’t decipher if that’s due to actual temperature or because he can tell this is where you’ve spent a lot of your time crying. Tissues and a garbage can sit next to the couch which has two large blankets thrown over the side of it. There is a golden-brown furred cat stretching out before curling back into the abandoned warm spot left by you.

“Shoes.”

“What?”

Kirishima had been so focused on assessing his surroundings he hadn’t caught the first half of your words.

“You gotta take off your shoes.”

Duh, shoes. Kirishima wasn’t ill-mannered but in a situation where he is in an unfamiliar place with someone, he is very worried about he forgets the simplest things like removing your shoes. Once his shoes are off and guest slippers on his feet, he makes his way over to your side. You’ve now sat down on the couch pulling a large blanket over your shoulders while your fingers brush along the content looking cats’ fur. Kirishima doesn’t want to intrude so he chooses to stand, he waits for the right moment to ask why you are in such a state of disarray. He doesn’t want to be the one that speaks first. The silence is very heartbreaking since he knew that you, even when shy, were very charismatic. You always shined when you spoke about things you cared about. You also had a hidden spit fire personality that he was lucky enough to have witnessed a few times.

While waiting for you to speak he realizes that your head has dropped down more and he can hear the slightest hiccupping coming from you. He doesn’t hesitate to sit down and wrap an arm around your blanketed shoulder. He pulls you closer to himself letting your head hit his chest while his hand moves comforting circling into your arm. The blanket is thick but it doesn’t completely prevent you from feeling the gesture. You are torn between enjoying this and crying even harder. He is so patient with you and that makes your crying worsen since this wasn’t who you wanted to see which made you regret wanting Bakugou. Kirishima was always a good guy but now you had him holding you while you sobbed. Now he was the ultimate good guy, someone who has reached the highest level, a god tier of good.

“Kirishima, why are you here?”

You had originally avoided asking the stupid question but you had to. You had to know why Kirishima was wasting his time on you, even if he would tell you that you weren’t. Your words had come out broken because of your crying.

“Y/n, are you serious? I’m here because you need someone. You have missed class for three days causing everyone to go into a worried frenzy. I couldn’t take leaving you alone when I know that you are the kind to separate yourself from everyone to suffer alone. I’m here for you, to be here for whatever reason you need.”

You had begun crying worse because of Kirishima’s words. His eyes widen before he begins to internally panicking. He pulls away from you before gripping your shoulders and looking into your tear-filled eyes.

“Y/n did I say something wrong. I just don’t want you to be in pain because of me. I’d never come here with the intention of causing you more issues.”

You didn’t mean for it to happen but a laugh escapes your lips. You can’t help your sobs turning into giggles because Kirishima truly looked like he had hurt you. He looks even more concerned. You have to shake your head to try and prevent him from beating himself over your newfound insanity.

“No Kiri, you didn’t say anything wrong. You actually said what I needed to hear. I need someone with me right now but I also wanted to suffer alone. I caused myself more pain and anxiety by forcing myself to choose between isolation and comfort. You went ahead and made that decision for me. I’m crying because of your kindness and laughing because you honestly think you had done something wrong when you have never done anything bad to me. If anything, I noticed that whenever I need someone or something you are there to help or comfort me.”

Kirishima was relieved to hear that he hadn’t done anything to upset you. He would have kicked his own ass for hurting you since that was unmanly. Your laughter had made him confused but your explanation cleared it up. He now didn’t look confused but instead had a slight smile. He wasn’t happy but content. It was nice to be something you needed. A deep inner part of himself cursed Bakugou for not being here for you. However, another deep part of him was glad that it was him instead that was here with you. He knew how Bakugou was with emotions and tears, he didn’t do well with them. You were better off with Kirishima. This was a thought you both had shared without letting the other know.

While Kirishima is lost in thought about how to ask you what’s been troubling you, your body shifts on the couch getting more comfortable against him. He blushes slightly but let’s that fade because this is no time for unrequited love or crushes. This was about the pain you were suffering through. Your eyes close as a tiny yawn can be heard. You are once again exhausted and since you hadn’t felt comfortable enough to sleep earlier you hadn’t gotten any rest. Kirishima brought a feeling of safety and warmth you hadn’t felt since even before the horrid news. While your breathing began to steady you fell asleep. Kirishima gently moved his arm around your back to hold you closer to his chest. His hand behind your back began to rub gentle circles into your side. His other hand reached up and stroked your hair. The left side of your hair had a more course feeling to it and he knew why.

He had heard the story of how Bakugou had been calm enough holding you against him while stroking your hair. Though some classmates had come back to early and witnessed Bakugou being kind. They teased him not knowing the consequence you’d suffer. Bakugou had ignited his quirk without pulling his hand away which caused your hair to burn and the side of your face to erupt into hot excruciating pain. You had cried but also tried to tell Bakugou it was okay and not his fault which was stupid. He of course loudly agreed because it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been so close to him. The pain of his words was almost worse than the physical pain you had felt. You had to be rushed to recovery girl who was able to treat the burns to a certain extent. You had to shave the side of your hair to help keep the burn covered in ointment. You knew that despite his words Bakugou felt bed because every time he looked at you when he didn’t know you knew; he’d have a sad face full of regret. You’d remind him that it was okay and that you liked your hair shaved. He’d just tsk like he always did but you knew it meant something to know you didn’t blame or fear him.

Even knowing that his best friend hadn’t meant to hurt you he couldn’t help but hate him for it. Why couldn’t he just see you for the great wonder that you were. He could imagine your smile when he closed his eyes, his hand still rubbing your side. Your smile that glistened like stars, that laugh that would usual follow was interstellar. You were a celestial child too good for this world and mostly too good for Bakugou. You were suffering alone while the blonde wallowed in self-pity. Kirishima still had no idea what had happened to you but he was here no matter what it was. If you asked him to leave, he would because he cared about what you wanted. He was here for you and yet he still felt selfish. How could he pretend to know what you were going through? Except he wasn’t pretending, your exhausted demeaner and tear stained face gave away something bad had happened. He didn’t need to know why he just needed to hold you till you slept away the dark circles, till your eyes were no longer bloodshot but gleamed their gorgeous color.

“Katsuki.” The words were spoken in such a small broken voice with the slightest hint of hope. Maybe you wanted him to be someone else and maybe he would be just for you. Though Kirishima wouldn’t be him, anyone but the boy who chose training over his girlfriend. He held you tightly while using his free hand to catch a few of his own tears.

“I got you Y/n. I’m here, I’ll always be here.”

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

“Kirishima…Kiri…Eijiro.” Kirishima smiled in his sleep, you were calling his name and he thought it was in his dream. A huge smile spread across his face while he rested. You were awake now, fully awake. When your eyes first opened you swore you were dreaming because Kirishima was holding you against himself while sleeping. You almost panicked when you realized you were awake and this was your actual classmate. You tried to pull away but his grip tightened. His hot breath against your face made you embarrassed, made your already warm body hotter.

“Y/n.” Feeling your name spoken against your ear drove you out of his grasp and onto the floor with a loud thud. The sound of you hitting the floor caught his attention, waking him up. You looked up from your spot on the ground and he looked down at you confused. Your face was red and your eyes avoid contact. A quick realization and Kirishima’s cheeks matched your own. He was quick to sit up off the couch, hands reaching down to help you up. You both looked away as you were pulled back into a standing position. You could feel your heart pounding and his hand was a little wet from sweat. He was still holding your hand. That changed when you both heard someone clear their throat. Your mom was standing in the doorway, she was obviously confused by the stranger in her living room. You pulled your hand away and looked down. Your mom wasn’t mean or judgmental, she was realistic and blunt. You expected her to comment about seeming fine or asking about your boyfriend. She remained quiet before switched shoes. She walked toward the two of you. Kirishima held out his hand after bowing in respect. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. L/n, I’m a classmate of your daughters, Eijiro Kirishima.”

“Y/n.” She shook Kirishima’s hand before looking at you. Your body was stiff. You had drifted into a painless sleep, actually got some rest, hadn’t thought about HER. Till now, you were almost numb and could breathe but looking at your mom you remembered the pain that had plagued you. Your chest was tight and you wanted the floor to swallow you up. Kirishima wasn’t dense, he felt the shift in the room. You were in excruciating mental pain when he came by earlier and now you were reverting back to that. His hand reached out grabbing yours again. Your mother looked between you both before directly at you.

“I spoke to F/n’s mom. They are having a service and I think it would be good for you to go.” Kirishima had no idea who she was talking about but the way your body stiffened before shaking this was a sensitive topic. What happened that made you like this? Your mother left you in the confused hands of the red head, who wished he had more to work with.

“Y/n… What happened.” You collapsed so fast that Kirishima almost couldn’t catch you. He was fast but not fast enough as your legs buckled and your whole top half crumbled onto the ground. Your face was red enough to match his eyes and your eyes were red enough to match his hair. You looked like a fish out of water gasping for hair while trying to find a way out of this. Desperation crossed your features. Anything was better than this pain, this loss. Your hiccupping drove Kirishima to his knees. His hands turned you gently till you were on your back. The sounds of your choked sobs, the way tears drift down your cheeks and into your splayed-out hair, the sporadic moment of your chest, it was all harrowing to witness. How could someone who always kept a smile on everyone’s face be so broken. He found himself crying with you, for you. His own tears falling onto your face before mixing in with your own and slipping down. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted too. You tried to speak but lacked oxygen enough to do so. Kirishima pulled your body upward holding you against him. Your chest pressed against his as he rubbed your back. He felt the wet pools against his shirt. He didn’t care that you cried on him. You hiccupped out an apology but it wasn’t necessary. You both stayed like this even as the sky outside darkened. Even when your mother yelled about dinner being ready. You still remained in Kirishima’s safe hold. He had his own dried tears and his hands never stopped soothing you. Eventually your words could slip out.

“My childhood friend committed suicide.” Kirishima stiffened. You spoke the words with so little emotion. Like you had cried away your sadness and was left numb again. He pulled you away so he could look into your bloodshot eyes. There were distant, like you were physically here but mental gone. You looked into his own bloodshot ones. He held all the sadness that you thought you lost. He held your pain for you and he had no idea what you were dealing with, he was truly empathetic. “She hurt herself and then she… she… she used her quirk to drown herself.”

The details didn’t matter because a dead girl was still a dead girl. Hell, a dead anyone was still someone who was dead and that itself was sad. The circumstances were cruel. It was like saying someone died fighting an awful fight, except they had fought themselves. A truly cruel disease depression is. Kirishima didn’t know what it felt like to want to die but he would never think less of someone who did. How could the world have such a negative sigma toward depression, maybe if it was normal then your friend would still be here. He blamed a cruel society and you blamed yourself. He realized looking at you that you felt responsible and for a moment he wished he could have told you how people are responsible for their own decisions but that wasn’t his place to comment. This wasn’t about him it was about your crumbling state of mind and your dead friend. You needed support and to hurt. This was necessary to heal.

“Tell me about her.” Your own mother wanted you to get over the pain like it hadn’t happened but here someone was, someone who owed you nothing, validating your loss wanting to know about your lonely friend. You smiled and yet the tears came back. You cried like a child who needed affection. You cried for your friend and her story. You were ready to tell him about her and you did. You spoke through sobs and Kirishima was patient. He listened to every painful part and every happy moment. He laughed at your inside jokes and cried at the painful abuse self-inflicted and household. Your friend was becoming a part of Kirishima’s thoughts as he filled it with your memories. He couldn’t believe that you were suffering alone with all this. Your own boyfriend not caring to listen or even check up on you.

“She sounds like a wonderful person and I’m so sorry that she is gone. I’m sorry that she left the way she did and I am sorry that you believe you contributed to this. Y/n, I know it won’t change anything but you didn’t do this. You can’t blame yourself or think about all the things that could have been done. Right now, you can only mourn and remember her for who she was and not who you could have made her. I didn’t know her but I know you and I don’t want to lose you because you waste away from guilt. Go to the service and say goodbye because she deserves that, but also live your life for her.” If words could truly heal people than Kirishima would have mended all these mental wounds for you. You would have smiled and thanked him but that isn’t how the real world worked. Pain, grief, any feeling between doesn’t go away with a few strong words but it does help. His words make everything more real; they make your feelings valid but also through you into a position where you have to face the truth. He isn’t wrong, you have to let blame dissipate. The thing with grieving was it takes time to help, to let go. You weren’t even half way there but you felt better knowing someone was in your court, someone hurt with you but also helped you hurt in the right way. Isolation is painful but being with him was restoration. You felt more like you now than you did hours ago.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” The way you looked at Kirishima with shy eyes made him smile. “I’d love to.”

The two of you collected a plate of food and sat quietly at the table, Eventually Kirishima couldn’t take the quiet and started telling you about school. You weren’t opposed to the conversation especially since all you had to do was listen. He talked about things that had happened in class avoiding talking about Bakugou and how everyone was sick with worry. You laughed at a story he told about Kaminari and Mineta getting chased down by a flock of girls they spied on. You laugh was genuine, like a gentle chiming of bells. Kirishima wanted to hear more but wouldn’t force anything to soon. A knock at the door brought attention away from the meal and conversation and to the living room. Your mother wasn’t expecting guests nor were you. Fear bubbled up again. Who could it be now? Kirishima was a blessing but another classmate might upset the balance. Kirishima shared your worry as he followed you to the door. Opening it you were both shocked to find your homeroom teacher. Mr. Aizawa looked unamused as he watched Kirishima try to move out of sight. His hand thrusted out pushing the door all the way open. Kirishima looked at him with a half grin hoping he wasn’t in to much trouble. You giggled at the red heads guilty demeanor. Your attention returned to your teacher as he looked at you. The two of you shared a look. His face wasn’t hard and stoic like usual. It held a twinge of sorrow.

“I am here to receive Kirishima seeing as he left without permission and stayed out past curfew. I’m also here to give you my condolences. L/n, I’m sorry for your loss. Losing a friend is hard.” You had cried for days straight and for the first time today you didn’t cry. You nodded accepting his condolences and understand that as an adult pro hero he has dealt with a lot of loss. You thanked him in a small voice which he acknowledged with his own nod. Kirishima didn’t want to leave you, he needed to know you’d be okay. That feeling came in the form of you hugging him.

“Thank you Kirishima. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” The smile you gave him matched the star above and he would remember it. Your still red eyes and stained cheeks were brokenly beautiful under the moonlight the slipped in through the open door. Kirishima bid you good night before you shut the door. You were exhausted and wanted to sleep. Maybe this night would be peaceful, you could only hope. With less pain in your chest you put away the food, turned off the lights, and headed to bed.

Elsewhere, heading back to the dorms Kirishima kept thinking about you. Aizawa stood next to him as the walked back to the large building. Kirishima turned to his teacher finally curious on how he knew that he had been at your house.

“Mr. Aizawa. How did you know that I was at Y/n’s?”

“Bakugou told me.” When the doors opened to the common room of the dorm building Kirishima made direct eye contact with a conflicted Bakugou. He looked furious and concerned. His fist clenched with intent to harm, or maybe to prevent himself from wanting to do so. Mr. Aizawa left the two boys alone reminding them they needed to go to bed. Bakugou never acknowledged their teacher, while Kirishima let out a quick yeah. Once they were alone Bakugou stepped forward. Kirishima watched his friend with caution. He waited for an explosion or yelling that never came. Instead he sighed, unclenching his fist. He looked at Kirishima with a look the red head had never seen before, remorse.

“How is she?” Kirishima could feel the tables turn. He wanted to be anger, to tell his friend to fuck off because he had the chance to find out but didn’t. He wanted to be aggressive and anger but it wasn’t in his blood. He had to let that anger disappear and be replaced with weariness.

“How is she? She’s tired bro. She’s dealing with stuff that someone shouldn’t have to deal with alone and yet she has been. She’s a fucking wreck!” He couldn’t suppress all the anger. He hadn’t meant to yell but it was needed. He couldn’t understand why Bakugou had just let you waste away on your own. How could anyone do that to the person they loved. He would have never let you go this long suffering alone. “She lost someone close to her. Y/n’s leaving a nightmare, becoming friends with demons of blame. She needed you!”

“She didn’t need me.” Kirishima slammed his hardened fist into the wall not caring about the damage he caused. The sound made Bakugou flinch and lift his hand as an act of defense in case he would get hit next. When he looked at his friend, Bakugou expected to see extreme detestation. Instead he was wide eyed while staring at Kirishima crying. Tears came down the mixed emotion boy, he was struggling with how to feel. He was crying for you having to have a boyfriend who thought you didn’t need him. He cried because he would never let you go if he had you. Bakugou watched Kirishima drop his arms to his sides before leaving. He pushed his shoulder into Bakugou’s as he left toward the elevator.

“She needed you… You are just so full of yourself you won’t admit you messed up.” Kirishima didn’t even try to make his words sound powerful, even in their whispered state they hit Bakugou worse than any punch. Once he was alone in the dark room Bakugou let a tear fall. He looked down at his clenched fist. He felt pathetic. He couldn’t hate Kirishima because he was right. Pride was all that Bakugou had and he held it higher than you. He cared more about his image, about himself than you. Time and time again he hurt you and now he had truly fucked up.

“She didn’t need me when she had you. You’re better than me.” Bakugou spoke to the empty room letting more tears fall before going up to his own room. He didn’t spare Kirishima’s room a glance as he walked by. His heart hurt because he had to do something horrible to you in your already crumbling state.

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

The morning came and you woke up with your alarm. For the first time in days you slept the whole night. You dreamt of her but it was good. You were both happy and laughing and that was okay. It was okay to think about happy times and not bad things. Negative feelings still lingered but you tried to think positively. You got ready for school and before you left you grabbed a photo of you and F/n from middle school. She was flipping off the camera while you laughed with your eyes closed. It was bittersweet. The photo was tucked away into your pocket and you left.

“Y/N!!!!” You were tackled by so many different people that you couldn’t even figure out exactly who yelled your name. Mina was holding you left side, Kaminari on your right. Midoriya was standing in front of you concerned as Uraraka hugged your front. Sero was wrapped around your back. Iida was scolding them for not giving you space. A laugh escaped and everyone awed. You were bombarded by questions; it was overwhelming and you wanted to run but then Kirishima walked into the room. He made eye contact with you and smiled. It filled you with content and confidence to be here. You heart was still heavy and everything seemed surreal but you could make it through a day. You could tell her story to everyone so more people could mourn with you. It was a plan you’d follow through after class. Bakugou walked in a saw you smiling at Momo who commented on your swollen eyes. Your smile wasn’t sad, it was something he couldn’t figure out. He looked away as you turned toward him. His hair was wild, more so than usual. His hands tucked away into his pockets. He seemed like normal Bakugou but something was wrong. He wasn’t standing as tall, metaphorically. There was less fight in him. You grew concerned but that faded to wanting. You missed him, you truly missed him. His warm arms wrapped around you protectively, the way he smelled sweet like caramel. You wanted him to look at you with the loving gaze he saved for private moments. He found himself making eye contact with you and god did he yearn to run to you. To apologize, to hold you and kiss your swollen eyes. You were his happiness; it just took him so long to realize how bad he was for you. His eyes looked away and you looked down. A large gap filled with talkative students filled the space between you both. Except there was a different gap, one that needed to be filled by talking which he was scared to do. One that only you two could see, well maybe not, maybe Kirishima could too.

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

“Bakugou!” He cringed at the sound of his last name which was ironic since he was the one that told you to call him it when in public. This was self-sabotage, torture he was inflicting on himself. Your voice called his name with concern. He had been avoiding you all day and after training he left first making sure you couldn’t catch up. Obviously, he was wrong. You caught up and when he stopped you were breathing heavily. He wanted to scream at himself for being such an asshole but instead he waited for you to speak.

“Um I’m sorry for bothering you with my calls. I was having a hard time but I shouldn’t have woken you up. It was selfish of me.” How could you stand there and blame yourself, apologize for something that needed no apology? He did this to you, made you feel like you were a bother, like you had wronged him. He was to blame, he wished you would yell at him, that you would cry. He hated your tears because he was weak emotionally but right now, he wanted nothing more than for you to cry and he could hold you. Except he wouldn’t he would be scared and that would turn to anger and you’d be hurt again. “Bakugou?”

“Shut up.” He had to break your heart so you could be happy. He had to hurt you so someone could heal you. Shattering glass was easy but shattering a person’s heart. That was truly fucked up. “You always apologize for shit that you didn’t do, its annoying. I know you lost some friend; I know you’ve been suffering and yet I didn’t do anything about it. I wasn’t there for you. You needed me and the fucked-up part was that I didn’t care. I left you to suffer alone, I only realized I cared when I felt guilty, after everyone shamed me for hurting you, for letting you isolate yourself. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this to you anymore.”

You are frozen in a moment where your friend killed herself and your boyfriend leaves you. A moment where you broken heart turns to ash. You can taste iron and realize you had bit your lip so hard it started bleeding. The weight of his words pushed down like a pallet of bricks. You were struggling to stay standing, your knees wobbled as you attempted to step forward, to reach for him. He moved just out of your reach. You were afraid of him leaving and he was afraid if you grabbed him, he would stay and do more damage. His own fire that burned in his heart felt dim. His chest was tight and he apologized to anyone he ever made fun of for having their heartbroken. This was worse than damage received during training. You tried to speak but found the same issue you had with Kirishima the day prior. The words were drowned out by hiccups. You let the streams of tears flush down your cheeks. You looked pathetic but who cared. Your heart wasn’t breaking. It was ceasing to exist.

“Please, please don’t leave me. Don’t do this Katsuki, you love me, I love you. I’ll try harder, you aren’t a problem. You don’t hurt me. I love you please don’t leave me alone again.” He could have swept you into his arms but by the time he turned to face you again someone else was on their way to do just that. Bakugou smiled sadly as Kirishima rushed forward. He didn’t want to let you go but he needed you to be loved properly and he didn’t deserve you. Little did he know what he was doing. He was destroying your already fragile state. You weren’t breaking, you were already fragments scattered at his feet. Your legs moved trying to stop him from walking away. Kirishima was faster. He wrapped an arm around you face covering your eyes with his hand. His other arms wrapped protectively around your middle. Your back was flush against his chest and you didn’t want this. You cried against the hand. Your tears smearing onto the rough appendage. Kirishima’s heart broken for you. “DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE, don’t leave me too.”

“You aren’t alone. You have him.” Bakugou walked away his own tears hidden from you but Kirishima had seen them. Kirishima swore he would protect you and love you but his own heart stopped when you yelled after Bakugou.

“I WANT YOU NOT HIM!” A sad shameful thing love is. These two boys loved you and you loved them. It was much more complicated than that. You fell back against Kirishima who was stiff, his own heart hurting. He knew that this wasn’t about his love for you but instead the pain you felt. You needed someone to catch you since you were falling. He held tightly onto you as Bakugou fought the urge to take it all back. He had heard his classmates talk about your friend and how sad you were when you told them about her. You were dealing with enough and you didn’t need him. Maybe one day if life isn’t always cruel you will find love in the form of an angry blonde again but right now you needed someone else. Someone who could put emotions away to help you with your own. Bakugou walked out of your life leaving a gap that Kirishima couldn’t fill. Your friend had left you forever but this didn’t have to be forever right? Bakugou would still be in your life. Maybe that wasn’t a good thing. You wanted to disappear. To go back to that dream where you laughed and danced with your friend. You wanted to go somewhere that boys didn’t break your heart and friends didn’t kill themselves. That place didn’t exist but you found that Kirishima’s hold would have to do for now. You clung to his arm as he whispered encouragement and apologies into your ear. His hand moved off your eyes and you grabbed it. Your fingers entangled with his as you both cried for life’s difficult decisions, for a girl who thought life was to hard to live, for a boy who destroyed his own happiness, for a red haired boy who wanted you to know how much he loved you, and you both cried for you. For you having no happy ending, just a lot of pieces that Kirishima was trying so hard to hold onto for you while other pieces broke away never to be reattached.

Sometimes life doesn’t go perfectly, sometimes people dies and they don’t come back, people break your heart and leave you with open wounds, sometimes you can’t make the pain go away. You have to learn to live with it. Maybe one day you’ll find Bakugou and he’ll tell you how much he fucked up and you’ll tell him you still love him. Or maybe one day you’ll let Kirishima give you his heart and you’ll slowly give him what’s left of yours. Though there is a possibility that you never fall for anyone again because love sucked and you had none left to give. Your friend would tell you to kick Bakugou’s ass, to get ice cream, watch a movie, break something and then you’d laugh because you’d feel better. She isn’t here. Instead it’s you sobbing into Kirishima’s arm in an empty hallway but it won’t always be this.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I know Kiri.”

“One day it won’t hurt so bad.”

“I hope so.”

#mha x reader #mha #mha imagines #mha bakugo katsuki #mha kirishima #mha angst #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha kirishima #kirishima ejirou #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha angst

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eloarei · 4 years ago

Text

A little rambling: on grief; and grieving a dog, a cat, an unborn child, and pieces of me that got hurt along the way.

2300 words under the cut.

It’s a very gloomy day today. I don’t usually mind; I like rain. But on a bad day, or a bad week, it only seems to insulate me in my own dark thoughts. That’s what today seems to be. I’ll work on fixing it later-- getting some exercise, sunlight if the clouds clear, making some tea. Should’ve done that already, but I forgot. Ate half a banana, at least.

As I’ve complained about a few times lately, I’ve just not been doing especially well. When and why did it all start? It’s hard to say, but this ‘unwellness’ spell seems most potent starting April 11th (my anniversary, unfortunately, which is why I can remember it), when I came down with a gruesome stomach bug. Really haven’t been feeling right since. I’m really bad about being sick; it scares me and I handle it badly. I assume that’s part of what has messed me up.

But grief is the other part, I think. Grief, and my being scared and worried that what caused it could strike again at any minute. Look, I’m... 32 now, and I’m sure that most people by this age have experienced profound loss. I’m probably not unusual, and I’m certainly not alone, but I think all the loss I’ve experienced is just piling up on me now, like there wasn’t enough time to process the new fresh ones before newer fresher ones came on, and so now even the old tough scars are aching.

When I was a teenager, my parents died. They were old, and it was health problems. It was not a surprise, but that didn’t make it easier to deal with in freshman year of high school. (What made it easier to deal with? Rabidly cleaning out the fridge and watching Lord of the Rings tapes the neighbors lent me. That’s all I did for three days after my mom died.) It’s been a long time-- more than half my life ago-- and I do feel like I’m ‘over it’, but sometimes it just wells up, tears from nowhere. Maybe that’s just how grief is.

A certainly had a good decade of my 20′s. I got married at 19, and had a pretty uneventful set of years. That felt normal to me. I do think, though, that the loss of my parents haunted me in that time, quietly. It influenced everything I did; it probably still does, if only because it changed the person I have become. But other than that, things were good, I think. My dog Roxy died two years ago, when I was 30, not long after I got back from seeing my siblings for the first time in ages. She was violently ill, and died right in front of us as we were getting ready to take her to the vet. I think I’ve written about it. In fact, the next day I wrote a depressing fanfic piece, certainly as a coping mechanism. (It made people cry, so, mission accomplished, I guess.) I think that helped a lot. A few months later, my in-laws’ dog died too, while mom-in-law was on vacation, and that was rough as well. I wrote another sad fanfic about death. I really like both of these pieces, because they mean something, and they’re very raw. Furthermore, I’ll always have them, as tokens for Roxy, Ginger, and the little pieces of me they crushed when they died. I don’t know if the exchange is worth it, but it’s what I have.

My grief over Roxy was gentle, as time went on. It didn’t bother me. I think I’d processed it well. I’d written out my feelings. I held her body in numb arms as my husband dug her grave. It was okay.

In early 2020, basically on my 31st birthday (and right as Covid was happening), I found I was pregnant. Long story short, those were the densest two months of my life, where everything seemed to change so quickly. My thoughts and feelings could fill so very many pages; this is not the place I’ll leave them. The point of this particular story is that it didn’t work out. The baby ‘died’ not terribly unlike Roxy had-- violently ill, in front of me, with far too much blood. I passed out three times-- the real start of this current fearful nature, because I cannot overstate how very much I felt like I was going to die. I went to the ER; it was miserable, an ordeal I could say quite a lot about. I won’t, though. I have before, and I likely will again, elsewhere.

This... This grief... I think I still don’t know what to do with it. I don’t think I ever will. Months later, I started writing a fic to deal with my feelings, though it took 90k words and many months before I got to the part where I could really delve into my trauma. And it has helped, I’m sure. I’m really sure. And I care about this fic so much, because like the others it is raw and real and it’s something I’d never have if not for my experience. Again, it may not be a fair trade, but it’s what I have.

I don’t grieve for the baby. It didn’t make it far enough to even have a heartbeat. It doesn’t have a name, a gender. It doesn’t have a grave. We let the hospital take care of it. But I still grieve. I’m sad. Wrecked. I grieve what it could have been. I grieve the hope that was spent and lost on it, a precious resource that will take a long time to grow back, if ever. I grieve over not only my own disappointment, but my husband’s, and my in-laws. They’ve never pressured us to have kids, but they’re in their 60′s now, with no grandchildren. I think they feel... lacking, in a way. I understand. I feel the same (though different). I wanted to give them that. I wanted to have that.

I still....?

I can’t say. I don’t know what I want. The event complicated my already complex emotions. I’m still waiting for them to simplify. Maybe they will, or maybe they won’t.

I was alright for a while. Stressed enough because of Covid and family’s declining health. Then in early April 2021, just a year after the miscarriage, I got badly sick. Gross, but not what most people would call a real issue. But only a year after the miscarriage, when my body betrayed me and I was at its horrid mercy, this felt like too much. Again I felt like I was going to die. A week of near delirious fever and nausea; I’d have handled it badly enough in any other circumstance.

As expected, I got through it. A horrible week, but just a week (or so). And then my dog Tobi died, just days later.

This is it. This is the one I... I’m speechless about. The one I... maybe haven’t processed enough. I was just back from the edge of being badly, violently ill. I didn’t have the energy to write, physically or emotionally. And that just made it worse. I love writing. It’s my outlet (surprising, I’m sure). I wanted to write. I thought I ought to write. I needed to write. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t muster the words. I still... can’t.

Tobi was... my baby. Not literally, of course. I didn’t conflate him with my lost child or anything. Tobi was 14. I’d had him since I graduated high school and got an apartment. Adopting him was one of the first things my husband and I did as an established adult couple, before we were even married. He was there, at my wedding. The photographer took a cute picture of me holding him before the ceremony. He was 11 months old at the time. Still had all his brown spots before they turned tan, then later white. He was there; he was always there. He was my entire adult life. And now I’ve lost him, the pup I had longer than my marriage (though soon we will outlast him). He was the big brother to all my other pets. He practically raised all the cats, and they adored him. (Tobi was a chihuahua, so they might have thought he was just another cat.)

He was a sweet boy, who loved his mom and dad first and foremost. When he was little, he was scared of everyone else. Eventually he warmed up to strangers and friends, and in his old age he mostly liked to nap somewhere on his own. He was silly and playful; he always chased the cats when they wanted to be chased. It was a game they all loved.

The vet... well, we took him in when he started to cough badly. He’d had a cough for a few months, but it wasn’t constant and didn’t seem to be affecting his quality of life much. But that day it was bad, so we took him. (We can’t afford frequent vet visits, so this was clearly desperate.) The vet took him and put him on oxygen. We had to stay in the car because they weren’t open for human guests. Then she came and told us a scan had revealed cancer, marbled through his lungs. He was suffocating. In fact, he wouldn’t likely even make it home, not even the two mile drive. We had to put him down. My husband and I cried like babies. We’d never put an animal down before. Generally speaking, we don’t really ‘believe in it’, if that makes sense. But faced with this situation, we had no choice.

I didn’t see him again. I think that’s the worst part, though it would have been equally bad to see him, I think. And it was all so sudden. He was playing and chasing the cats the day before. Begging for treats of human food. Barking at the Roomba. And then I had to pay hundreds of dollars to say goodbye to him. It felt so unfair. I cried all day. My husband and I, we just went home and laid down and wept.

But I still haven’t written about it, not in the way that I wrote about the others. For all that I wrote here, it doesn’t begin to encompass my deeper feelings on what it means that he is gone, and how I felt to have to make that decision. I have ideas. I think I know what I would write, if I could, but writing... still mostly eludes me. I may try. I probably should.

I take a deep breath. I know I should sum this up and take care of myself, but there’s yet a little more to say.

I think Tobi’s death is a large part of what affects me still, but several weeks ago I had what I could only call a panic attack. In the middle of the night I awoke, my heart beating rapidly, a horrible feeling of dread like certainty that all I could possibly do was die. It took over two days for me to feel mostly normal again, and then I still felt vaguely nauseous for two weeks. Then, just a few days ago, it happened again, but this time before bed. I could feel it rising in me, this indescribable sickness. It took several days ago before I felt normal. And this is where I am now.

Sadly, a little while after the first panic attack, my husband and I failed to save a malnourished feral kitten. It was not a surprise, but yet one more reminder of the fragility of life, and how little I can do to keep death away from those I care about. This poor thing, it was so desperate to live, but nothing we could do could save it. I could have poured all my time into trying, could have scrounged up money to take it to the vet (when I should take my own cats, who all have colds), but I know better. I know... so much of the time, there’s nothing you can do. And now I’m trying to help what might be its siblings, a few cute feral kittens nearby. My favorite seems... a little lethargic, and not very interested in eating the wet food and meat scraps I sometimes bring by. I don’t think there’s anything I can do, if it ends up being sick, if it ends up being malnourished. I can’t bring it inside when it could infect my own cats. I have to care for them first.

But knowing that it could die... it bothers me.

And knowing that I could die. I could die. I’m too aware of that, on top of everything else. I hate doctors, so I never go. (Also I’m poor.) This toothache? Could be a terrible abscess. My brother went to the ER for sepsis from an abscess tooth recently! That’s probably what caused the panic, to be honest. But then... why have I felt so week? Is there a problem with my blood? Am I sicker than I know? Do I have breast cancer? My grandma did, and I know I should get it checked out, but it’s just ONE MORE THING. It’s always like that.

And that’s... how I feel right now. Covered in ‘one more thing’s on rainy days and night-work schedules. Trying to take care of myself but not always knowing what that means. Lacking the inspiration to do the things I know I enjoy, because worry and apathy holds me back from everything.

I’m okay. Really. No day of mine is ever entirely without merit, and I have plans to do most of the things that should keep me healthy. But the day is short when my needs and long, and the day is long when I’m paralyzed by apathy.

So. I’ll just take it a moment at a time. And when I can, I’ll try to keep writing.

#elo talks #long post #personal but ok to interact

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dottiechan · 5 years ago

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Finders Keepers Pt. 1 (A SWTOR Imperial Agent story)

Part 1 / Part 2

Word count: 1633

Summary: SIS agent Dorathine Garza is left behind on Dromund Kaas after going undercover.

A/N: Thanks for kicking my writer’s block in the butt!!! I worked Dee’s story over a little, and gave it a good angsty twist in the end! Also, who needs proofreading, right?!

@catpella: does she ever get out? i still want to knowwwww

Warnings: anxiety, grief

It was supposed to be just another covert mission. Infiltrate Imperial Intelligence, gather information about Operation Krenth, get extracted by the SIS. She’s done it a thousand times before - her mother used to say that all Garzas are born with a blaster in hand, after all. Hutt Cartel, Exchange, Black Sun, blast, even the Sith Academy. She’s survived them all, her devotion to the Republic growing fiercer with every assignment. It was gruesome work, but she liked it. It made Dee feel invincible when she gambled with her life and won. Better than a night at the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa, she’d tell you.

This time, things are different. This time, the SIS went on radio silence after getting the necessary information out of her, leaving her stranded on the Imperial capital. That was 3 days ago. There will be no extraction. There will be no victory. Not this time.

Dee used to joke about her work, saying she took out the Republic’s trash for a living. She’d never imagined she’d live long enough to become the trash.

Dee counts the hours on the first day.

She knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s found out. In her shocked, panicked state, she does what she was always taught by the seasoned SIS agent who’d trained her – she reverted to the first undercover lesson beaten into her. Act inconspicuous. Cover your tracks. And above all, watch for any and all opportunities. Her chance of getting out thins with every passing second, and it’s painful to resist glancing at her chronometer as she uses up her last minutes. Stars, I never thought I’d go out in this blasted Imp armour and its stupid bucket of a helmet, she thinks as she walks across the Citadel towards the taxi pad, all forced tranquillity, casual steps and feigned respect when passing by a Sith. Dee’s seen loth cats with more discipline than some of these so called lords, but she won’t string a civilisation up for worshipping its apex predators. The Republic isn’t all that different, despite its claims.

The barracks are tidy but not exactly spacious, and a few glares are enough to make the other recruits shut up. She’s not here to make friends with Imperials, but... she doesn’t know why she’s here anymore. She repeats all she had to learn about Operation Krenth for the SIS over and over in her head until she can’t think straight anymore. Dee is homesick, utter desperation heavy on her chest as her panic melts into sadness. If the SIS wanted her dead, she would have preferred being lined up to a wall and shot. That is clean. That is fair. She won’t pretend to be a saint, won’t pretend to have followed every order to the letter, to have never worked for her own benefit on the side. But she did what the other agents couldn’t, and she did it well. Her stomach twists when she realises she’s just as expandable as the other agents, the ones she knew the SIS only employed until they outlived their usefulness, the ones she was tasked countless times to dispose of in creative ways. But when she thinks of her mother, she straight up becomes sick to the stomach.

General Garza was no doubt informed beforehand. And all she had to do to turn it around was to say no.

But she let it happen to her daughter anyway.

Dee stops looking over her shoulder after the first month. The only mistake the SIS did when they sent her on this suicide mission was giving her too good a cover. They should have known she’d use it. So when she catches the attention of Keeper, she only works harder. Edging slowly inside, earning their trust favour by favour, mission by mission. She’s too good an opportunity to be passed up, even though she knows the old man suspects something. They both have a nose for trouble, a keen sense of survival that has kept them both alive and going all this time.

When the mission to Hutta is outlined, an unspoken truce is made between the two. Friend or foe, honesty or lies, they need each other. Imperial Intelligence needs her to infiltrate a Hutt’s palace – child’s play for an agent of Dee’s calibre. In return, she needs them to trust her enough so she might get close to Operation Krenth from the Imperial side.

A small voice in the back of her head tells her it’s only so she could get home, to the Republic. That by ensuring a Republic victory, she’d be forgiven. But with every single day she spends in the heart of the Empire, she knows the inevitability of her revenge. She has the upper hand – she remembers all the SIS security codes, the secure channel decryptions, the standard operating procedures, the preferred tactics. In the Imperial helmet, Dee is just another infantryman, just another number, just another body to be dropped. Which is why she is in the perfect position to remind them why you must put down a rabid kath hound, why you must cauterise a wound before it festers.

“Welcome to Operation Krenth, Agent.”

Keeper’s voice is undecipherable. Dee wouldn’t put it past him to know. It would be the perfect test of loyalty. She clicks her heels together and stands at attention, the prospect of payback momentarily soothing the constant pain of betrayal in her chest. Betrayal and abandonment for a sin she wasn’t even deemed worthy to know by her old superiors.

“I’ll make you proud, sir.”

...

“Total mission failure, General. I’m telling you, they have a mole in our ranks! They knew every move we’d make before we did them!”

“Calm yourself, Lieutenant Jorgan,” Garza replies as she forces herself to be still and tranquil despite the catastrophic outcome of Operation Krenth. Instead of ensuring the Empire’s defeat, they only doubled their own by trying to stop an Imperial stealth mission on Ringo Vinda, losing a key Republic shipyard in the process. A devastating blow, considering the resource and material that went into cracking Operation Krenth.

“With all due respect, how can you say that, sir?” the Cathar seethes as he rounds the holotable, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Your own daughter died giving us intel on the Imps.”

“I don’t need to be reminded what we lost during our campaign, Lieutenant,” she barks, tone sharper than intended. Not a day passes without Garza thinking about Dee, and how the SIS was forced to abandon her on Dromund Kaas. It’s as good a fate as death for a spy, and to mount a rescue op of that scale would not be supported by the GAR. Her rationale knows this. But there are days when she just wants to commandeer a shuttle, sling a rifle over her shoulder and blast her way into the damned Dark Council chamber to demand her daughter back. Elin Garza knows Dee is dead, she can feel it in her bones. She knows her demands are empty, childish threats; her hopes naive and otherworldly. There’s not a thing she can do or say to undo the damage that’s already been caused.

It doesn’t mean she can forgive herself just yet.

“That... was out of line. I’m sorry, General,” Aric says, his head sinking between his shoulders in defeat, anger, anguish. “I just... keep going over the mission in my head, constantly. Thinking what I’ve done wrong, what piece of intel I might have misinterpreted.”

“It’s impossible to tell. Maybe we simply waited too long. Let the intel grow stale.”

“We did everything by the book. It was supposed to be one of the easy ops. Now, I’ve lost two Havoc men, more regulars than I could count, the second largest Rep shipyard on Ringo Vinda... Something doesn’t add up,” Jorgan sighs as he places his hands on the holotable and leans forward, letting his eyes search the holoimage of the destroyed shipyard as if his own failure was written in the debris.

“Rest, Lieutenant. Recharge. Fill the gaps in Havoc squad’s ranks.”

Garza is already behind her desk, eyes trained on the incoming reports on her datapad. Aric Jorgan knows his general better than to try and say anything more. Her attention is already elsewhere, far away from what she has been saying just minutes ago. So he mutters a “yes, sir” and grabs his helmet, fingers gripping the plastoid so hard he could snap it in half. Dee might have been an SIS agent when she disappeared, but she was a rookie under his leadership a few years before that, and such emotional ties are not easily broken. He might not have had anything to do with the mission that was her downfall, but that doesn’t mean he will not keep feeling responsible. Like it was his fault somehow. Like he could have prevented it in any way. And the fact that he cannot investigate without Garza’s blessing doesn’t exactly help soothe the Cathar’s nerves.

Just as he’s halfway through the door, Elin’s voice halts him. She does not look up, her concentration is not once broken. But her intentions have never been clearer.

“Once you do that, I want you to report back to me, Jorgan. You will take Havoc squad and unravel the real reasons behind this defeat. Learn all you can and keep HQ and the SIS updated on the situation. We must avoid incidents like this in the future. And more importantly, I won’t allow my daughter’s death to have been in vain.”

It’s been a long time since Aric stood at attention willingly, unironically, without being told to do so. He finds himself doing just that now anyway.

“I’ll make you proud, sir.”

#dottiechan writes #swtor #swtor imperial agent #oc:#dorathine garza #aric jorgan #general garza #swtor fanfiction #tw: anxiety #tw: grief

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shineonmalcolmbright · 4 years ago

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Shine On, Bright: Chapter Seven

Table of Contents

Present

Ainsley Whitly is meant for greatness. This was a fact she alternated through because some days, she believed it then other days she did not. Some days it felt as if her family held her back and other days hery family was her key to success. Maybe it was because her father was a serial killer, sitting around in a fancy cell. One she never questioned because too many other questions were ahead of that one.

Instead, she sits in front of Martin Whitly eyeing his best attempt at holding one ‘friendly’ grin. He looks too wily even with all his gray hair, it fell into sporadic short curls. She leans back in her seat knowing the time is now, the time is now. She’ll need to speak up and speak loud enough for part of the world to hear her out.

“What is it?” Martin asks.

“Nothing.” Ainsley shakes her head and sighs. She continues to eye her father. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“You reviewed the questions I sent you?”

“Of course, I’ve looked forward to speaking with my daughter all week.”

Nobody could ever steal back such a word as daughter. Her father’s genes were hers. But not hers alone because Malcolm, too. “Then let’s get started.”

“Let’s get started.”

Ainsley stares, her face felt about as neutral as it could while she looked at him. Some subtle anger flooded her though thinking of a whole life stolen from her. Her chance at a regular life became a victim of the Overlook Hotel. Most days it felt as if the place ate up all her childhood memories. She offers up a smile like they’re about to have an actual, genuine conversation but of course, Martin continues to grin, grin, grin.

“Billy Franklin, age 23.” She didn’t even make it to the point but Martin keeps his huge grin, grin, grin out in the open but something in him is changing. She can feel it. Maybe they all could feel it. “He aced his LSATs, wanted to become a civil rights lawyer, but you took out his heart to see how long he lived. Because of you, he died a gruesome and agonizing death. But why? That’s my first question, why? Why did you do that?”

Martin sits and stares, his grin flickers about to be lost.

“I’m sorry, is something wrong?” Ainsley comes close to losing her neutralness. She sort of chuckles while sitting there. “Cat got your tongue? Or wait, does that make you think of Abby Conway, age 30? Why-Why did you remove her tongue?”

Martin’s grin meets its demise. It flickers away from his expression.

Beautiful.

“We can talk about something else instead? If you prefer to talk about Megan Wong, age 64?”

Martin’s frowning a whole lot, danger inching towards Ainsley while she sits there trying her best to remain cold, as cold as possible in the situation. She’s on camera. Time to be Artic cold. Don’t let them see or smell the emotions.”

“What about Cory Goldstein, age 10?”

She really didn’t think Martin would pipe up like that. He cuts into the interview. I don’t-I don’t know that one, but Ainsley won’t let him tell. Instead, she nods to suggest Martin should go on to talk about this murder victim. Much younger than the rest.

“A brutal car accident left him with a surely fatal aortic rupture until he landed in my OR. It’s there were I saved his life.”

The grin, grin, grin returns. It looks like he’s staring straight through her, but the two barely know each other. Ainsley lost her father at such a young age. There are brief memories she has but none like her mother or Malcolm who are forever haunted. Problem is she has nothing to haunt her but the stories she heard here and there after the lights went out. There are no fears here other than the tall tales her mother told her.

Ainsley let’s Martin talk without further comment.

“You know. . .his. . .his-his parents called me his guardian angel on live TV.”

Ainsley interjects a quick comment. “And then they found out that you were a murderer.”

The grin flickers. “I’m not a perfect man, it’s true. Sadly, the lamentable stigma that still plagues people with mental health diagnoses, I hardly think that this. . .I-I-I. . .I was sick, Ainsley. My brain diseased, that diagnosis is as real as cancer or lupus and yet it’s held against me?”

A knock on the door behind Ainsley jerks her out of the moment, some fear erupts. She looks at the camera before looking over her shoulder hoping to make sure nobody else can see the fear. Malcolm’s knocking on the door. Out of all the people in the world, Malcolm shouldn’t be there but he is. He’s right there, scowling and looking about as sad and angry as ever.

Figures he wouldn’t give her a chance to do this on her own. She slips right out of her seat and is let out to see her brother. “Malcolm! What are you doing here?! I get to talk to dad, too, you know. I don’t need yours or mom’s help.”

There’s something Malcolm is hanging onto that she can’t quite make out. He’s acting like he can’t look at her by attempting to look through glass on the door. “I need a moment.”

“A moment for what? I’m in the middle of an interview here.”

“There’s a serial killer.” It’s all she hears at first because it’s all she needs to know for a few minutes. Here she is about to interview her father, The Surgeon, and her comes Malcolm with news of another serial killer. And who’s going to know it all first and report it out into the world? Her.

“Yeah, go ahead, but he’s not really answering questions.”

“Right.” Malcolm continues to avoid looking at her and at Martin.

Doesn’t matter because she’s about to learn a lot. Ainsley Whitly guessed right when she woke up that morning thinking about how she’s meant for greatness.

#shineonbrightfic #prodigal son #prodigal son fic #prodigal son fanfic #malcolm bright #martin whitly #ainsley whitly #the shining #whump #alternate universe #whump fic #Malcolm bright whump

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letgraysonsheart · 5 years ago

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The demon looks down at him expectantly. Its hovering half a meter above the ground, its arms crossover over its chest. A red aura surrounds it, and brown spiked horns are poking out from its black hair.

“Resurrection?” the demon asks, unimpressed. It squints at him again and Bruce has to look away for a second as emotions start welling up inside of him.

The demon moves its legless body, all that’s under its torso is some kind of whirlwind, perhaps a portal? Bruce isn’t sure. Either way, it’s coming towards him.

“Y-yes, my son-” Bruce starts, trying to be humble and calm but his voice still betrays him.

“Ah yes, the second little Robin,” the demon says, shocking Bruce. “Now, don’t look so surprised, we like to keep an eye on you earthlings, especially someone as special as you lot,” the demon smiles, or at least that’s what Bruce thinks the hideous expression is supposed to be. He snaps his mouth shut, doesn't know what to say, how to explain.

“What’s his name again, this boy you want back so badly that you dare summon me?” It’s dark all around them, the only light the red glowing from the demon. Bruce isn’t sure they're even on earth anymore.

“It- it’s Jason. Todd.”

The light starts switching, blinking, the demon in front of him becoming a blur before - before Jason.

His son, his boy, hovering above the ground. Bruce wants to reach out, to hold him -

“This little one? Barely anything besides flesh and bone,” the voice coming out of Jason’s mouth isn’t right. Too dark, too raspy. Jason never sounded like a demon. Bruce is thrown harshly into reality again, remembering that his son is still dead and he’s still dealing with a demon from the underworld.

The demon is reaching out its, Jason’s, arms, studying them with eyes thin as slits. Bruce's heart is yelling for him to run up to it, to feel, to hug Jason, while his brain is screaming at him to stand still. To be logical.

“How much are you willing to offer? To give up?” Not-Jason asks with a body still clad in Jason's torn Robin uniform and fragile arms now crossed over its chest again.

Bruce bites his lip, Clark, Diana, Barry - hell, even Hal, had warned him about contacting a demon. It’s a game you can’t win, they all had said. But hell, Bruce has already lost so much, is there really anything left to lose?

He needs Jason. The pain, it's too much. He had buried his parents, and now he has buried his son too. It isn’t supposed to be like this. There must have been a glitch in his universe. Fathers aren’t supposed to outlive their children.

“I need an answer, Mr. Wayne,” Demon-Jason says, his expression now tight, eyes smaller - he’s impatient. “How much are you willing to give up?” the demon repeats, moving fast towards him and now pressed up against Bruce’s face. The mirroring of Jason is uncanny. There’s even that little scar above his eyebrow from his first real scuffle with a bad guy. It had freaked Bruce out, while Jason had proudly worn the scar as a trophy.

Now it just makes Bruce feel sick, another reminder that he is the one that caused all of this in the first place. He is responsible for Jason's death, and now he has to make it right.

“Everything,” Bruce states, staring straight into the demon’s eyes. Besides hovering above the ground and the voice, its eyes are the only other thing that is completely different from Jason. Much like the aura, they're glowing red. It looks like something you would see on a sick cat, completely inhuman.

“Everything, you say?” the demon ponders, backing away slightly. The Robin cape flaggers with the movement.

The demon hovers slightly closer to the ground. “Are you sure? There is no backing out of a deal with a demon, you should know that,” it says and the unreadable expression looks so wrong on Jason’s young face.

“Of course I’m sure!” Bruce can’t stop his emotions, “I just want my son back. I’ll do anything, give you whatever you want.” He wants the pain to stop, to hold his boy again - to take back everything that’s happened and start anew.

“The price is high for resurrection. Death will not be easy to persuade, but,” the demon stops its sentence and moves closer to Bruce again, holding one finger in the air. “If you take a blood oath, one which can not be broken, I might be able to.”

“I’ll do it,” Bruce says without hesitation. A dangerous hope is flickering inside of him.

The demon smiles, a wide horrible grin cracking Not-Jason’s face in two.

The demon whispers something in a language Bruce can’t understand, and a big golden dagger materializes in its hand. The demon pushes it into Bruce’s open palm and it feels heavy as his fingers curl around it. It’s almost as big as a small sword, and he can see the edge is sharp.

“Now, go on,” the demon says, still wearing that unsettling smile. “You do this, and you are agreeing to give up anything, everything,” the demon confirms, settling the deal. The dagger starts to glow, this too with a touch of blood red in it.

“As long as I get Jason back,” Bruce confirms. The demon nods its little head, black locks flopping into its face. Jason’s locks.

Bruce lifts the dagger. He hesitates. The demon looks unsure. Not-Jasons face morphs into such a Jason expression, like a little sad puppy, it feels like someone just punched Bruce in the gut.

He pushes the glowing dagger over his palm, drawing blood. It drips on the ground.

Not-Jason reaches out his hand, Bruce notices its fingernails aren't nails at all but claws.

Bruce shakes it, feeling the blood mush between their palms.

The mirror image of Jason disappears, in a blinking bright light much like before.

The demon is back, in all its glory. Bigger than before. The red light so much brighter. Staring down at Bruce now, no hint of Jason left.

“I will have Death resurrect your son, then I will claim our prize; something that is worth a life,” the voice booms and echos in whatever realm they’re in. “Go to the graveyard where you buried him, tomorrow at midnight,” the demon finishes.

The world shifts, swirling in colors and rage.

Bruce wakes up on the floor in the warehouse he had deemed safe enough.

The summoning signal is still painted into the ground, but there’s more to it now. An eye, in the middle of it, that wasn’t there before. The candlelights are blown out. The moon is peering down on him through the glass roof.

Bruce goes home.

He doesn’t tell anyone what he did, he won’t until he knows it worked. He only has to keep the secret to himself for one more day, that much he can do.

The look Alfred sends him as he passes him on his way out of the cave and up to his bedroom, tells him perhaps Alfred is more aware than Bruce thinks.

The next night, he skips out on patrol, turns off the cowl camera and his coms, and goes to the cemetery early.

He sits in front of Jason's grave, tracing the letters with his fingers. Someone has planted more flowers, lilac ones with now drooping heads. It's been dry in Gotham for the last few days. The flowers might have been Dick's doing. Bruce knows the older boy has been visiting even if the two of them haven’t been speaking. Alfred has told him as much, in passing comments when he thinks Bruce isn't really listening.

Exactly as the clock ticks twelve, midnight, a shadow appears. It grows, more and more, a dark abyss in the already murky night, and then - a light.

The demon steps out. A figure laid on its back and floating in the air is beside it. Bruce can see yellow and green and - Jason.

“Is - is that-,” he can’t bring himself to say the words.

The demon grins, showing off razor-sharp teeth and bloody gums. “Yes, that is Jason Todd, or his soul at least.”

“And you will give him to me?” Bruce says, not one to get rid of suspicion, as he raises to stand on his feet.

“Yes, and when I do, I suggest you start digging,” the demon says, and then Bruce is throwing himself against the dirt again. A golden gravel falls onto the ground by his side. It looks a little like the dagger he used to take the oath with, and he grabs it without a second thought.

He looks up as the demon makes a sound. Bruce watches as Jason, his soul, turns into more of a cloud of white light. He pushes the gravel against the earth and is almost afraid to harm the soul as he digs in while the soul sinks into the ground. Into Jason’s grave, towards his body.

He thinks the demon might be helping him, the earth gives away after his movements almost too easily. Still, he feels like it takes too much time to hit the wooden casket where his son is laying.

The last of the earth flies away, confirming his suspicion that the demon had a hand in how easy it was to dig. Demons aren't known for their patience, after all.

His fingers shake as he goes to open the casket, afraid of what he’ll find.

“Do it, if not you want the boy to suffocate in there?” the demon comments, now hovering above his shoulder. Bruce can smell its sickly sweet breath.

Bruce throws the top open, pictures of half-rotting bodies and human bones prone in his mind. What he sees is something entirely different.

Jason.. he looks perfect. Where there were once gruesome scars from the Joker and the explosion, there are now only old healed wounds. Even the autopsy scares have almost faded. His skin looks healthy, a little on the pale side, but his cheeks are rosy and his hair is still jet-black. His eyes are closed though, no sign of being awake, and Bruce feels worry takes its place in his mind.

“He is only asleep. Raising from the dead is energy-consuming,” the demon explains, maybe sensing Bruce’s feelings.

Most important of all, Bruce can see Jason's chest rising and falling. He's breathing. Bruce cradles his son close, finally holding his boy in his arms again. He doesn’t care that the demon sees when a few tears drop down from his chin.

With his precious cargo in hand, he climbs out of the godforsaken grave. It's an awful reminder now, one he plans to get rid of as soon as possible.

Bruce turns to leave, he doesn’t care what the demon has to say now, he has Jason and that’s all that matters.

“I think you’re forgetting about my payment,” the demon’s voice booms, Bruce can feel the vibrations of it in the earth.

Bruce turns back again to look at the demon. Jason is still asleep in his arms with his head rested on Bruce’s chest.

“There is no price as high as a life,” the demon ponders, “Death did not give up Jason’s soul easily. She had taken a liking to it, to how tortured it was.”

Bruce feels dread pool into his stomach, fill its way up to his chest and throat.

“The only thing we could agree on was well - a life for a life.” The demon isn’t hovering anymore, but standing on jean-clad legs on the ground. This new transformation looks almost human, besides the still glowing aura and the red eyes. The horns are still there though, just poking through strands of hair.

If he has to give up his life for Jason’s, then so be it. He goes to put Jason down, pushing his nose into the boy's hair to breath in his scent one last time. He places a kiss to the crown of his son's head.

The demon interrupts him.

“Oh no - no Bruce, it’s not you,” it says.

Bruce feels cold, too cold, all of a sudden. Like someone has frozen his stomach and chest, and made his heart beat fast in an attempt to break out of the ice.

“You’re not young enough, and too aware of this world,” it continues. A figure starts floating towards them, appearing out of the dark. He can’t see who it is and he doesn’t want too because-

He had promised to give anything. Everything. Bruce had promised the demon his everything, just to have Jason back. He had been so desperate, once he had understood there was a real possibility that he would get to hold his youngest again. Bruce understands now, that he's slipped up. Not thought through the consequences, not thought about anything besides Jason at all.

“A life for a life, one son.. for another.”

Bruce, with Jason still in his arms, falls to his knees.

The figure floats up to them and.. it’s Dick.

He’s wearing his Nightwing suit, but his mask is gone. It looks like he’s been in a fight, he has a black eye and a busted lip, and he’s unconscious. His hands are tied behind his back, and his feet tied together. He’s floating above ground beside the demon, head tipped down onto his chest. He’s is still breathing.

“No - that’s not what I meant!” Bruce says, laying Jason down as careful as he can on the cemetery ground and stepping closer to the demon. He wants to reach out for Dick but the boy hovers just out of reach. It almost looks like he flickers, like an old light about to go out. Bruce furrows his brows, gears turning in his head but he can’t find any explanation, his mind shortcutting because of fear and desperation.

“You said anything and everything,” the demon reminds him.

“Please,” he rasps, his voice raw and emotional, “don’t kill him. Don’t take him from me, I, I need them both. Take me instead,” Bruce is desperate, begging. He never thought of this as a possibility, never in his wildest fantasies.

He just wanted Jason back, and was blinded by his grief.

“I won't kill him,” the demon says, its voice too nonchalant for Bruce’s liking. Yet, he let himself hold onto a glimmer of hope. It's quickly crushed as the demon continues.

“I won’t let you have him either. Death requested him, the only price she could accept. He is special, she says, the way he has held onto the light as he has waded through dark and grimy waters is remarkable. She would love to break him in. While your soul as of right now, is of no value to us.”

A black hole, a portal, is opening behind the demon.

Jason makes a sound behind his back, a sigh, and Bruce’s stomach twists as he reaches out towards Dick. His hands hit thin air, the demon moving too quickly and playing its tricks, dragging Dick out of his reach.

“You should be thankful I don’t murder the boy as an offering, right here in front of you,” the demon snarls as it bats Bruce’s hands away. It pushes Dick further towards the blackness.

“I gave you your son back. A life for a life, a son for a son, one Robin for another. It's a fair price. We could have taken more, as you so foolishly said you would give up everything.”

Bruce stands frozen to the ground as Dick disappears into the blackness. Bruce can’t see him anymore, his blood rushing and his heart beating so loud. His oldest son, gone.

“You should be grateful,” the demon says and Bruce feels everything but. His emotions are fighting inside of him, conflicting and confusing. The demon steps into the portal like he is stepping over a small fence. One foot in and one foot out. Its human form is almost scarier than its demon one.

“We won't be seeing each other again,” it says, so final. The portal starts closing. The demon disappears.

“No!” Bruce yells and he is moving, running, towards the portal. His arms reaching out. This can’t be it. He won't allow it. The demon - there has to be another way. Another price.

The portal closes before he gets to it. A domino mask falls to the ground in its place. Bruce is on his knees, digging into the dirt and staining his suit even more. He holds the little piece of fabric in his hands, his fingers feeling the soft material contrasting with the hard tech in them.

“Bruce?” a voice behind him.

Jason.

Bruce turns around and it’s Jason, standing there, his Robin suit somehow on even if he was buried in a black suit and tie. He has the boy in his arms before his brain is catching up with his movements, and tears are streaming down his face.

He has given up everything for this. Now he wonders if the price was too high. His mind is a muddled mess of emotions, as his hand placed on Jason’s back curls tightly around the domino left behind.

A life for a life, the demon said.

Bruce feels like he’s paid double. The demon might have given him Jason, might have mended that grief but now.. now there is a whole new piece of Bruce’s soul missing, and where it once was is now filled with even bigger guilt and grief.

“What’s going on, Bruce?” Jason asks, voice muffled by how Bruce is pressing the boy against his chest.

He can’t bring himself to answer. To admit what he has done. Jason will never forgive him if he learns the truth. Jason and Dick might not have been the best of friends, but they had started to become brothers, before. They had shared a somewhat mutual form of respect.

A son for a son.

His grief for his youngest for the grief of his oldest.

As he holds Jason close, he realizes there is no way he will be able to move on from this.

#tw character death #but not the one you think #tw demons #kinda???#all the angst!#:D #i dont know what this is honestly and were it came from #i hope you enjoy? its might be really fast paced but thats the only pace i know #this might become a longer fic idk we'll see #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #my writing #elie writes #whats my tag for this again asfkjld #jason todd fanfiction #dick grayson fanfiction #batbros #kindaa

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nyrator · 5 years ago

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some random spoiler-y thoughts on Japan Sinks 2020 since I just finished it

still digesting it so opinion will probably change but yeah, overall not Yuasa’s best work but still decent (about Devilman Crybaby levels)

so don’t know anything about the source material but I’ve heard it’s basically original-ish with the book going on in the background or something?

but yeah, first episode was brilliant, I enjoyed it a lot, props to whoever did that episode honestly

second episode, man, I was caught completely off guard by the ending. The fact that the family got together by some miracle, that Go wasn’t blind and no one was seriously hurt, it lured me into a false sense of security- Get to that scene at the end of episode two, see the sign, thinking, “oh man, probably poison ivy or something, an inconven-oh-OHN- . . .”, that scene was disgustingly powerful. I love how visceral yet sudden/brief the deaths are in this show, it’s gruesome, it’s unexpected, but only for a brief moment, and then it’s over.

I’m always a fan of how Yuasa handles the whole appreciation of life theme he has in his works, dude knows how to appreciate life while still depicting deaths

Things started getting a bit strange for me- the convenient store guy made me think, “man, this really is the Walking Dead without the zombies”, the convenience store was the turning point I think- no wait, the youtuber Kite was. Random rapist dude was pushing it but Kite was just, mannnn.

I imagine a lot of people like him, but god, I just couldn’t enjoy Kite’s character for some reason. He definitely gave the Youtuber vibes well (plus a lot of Ryo vibes from Devilman Crybaby), but man, dude just flies in out of nowhere and is able to solve basically any problem to such strange and extreme lengths- he felt too convenient to the story without much build-up at all.

Go’s constant Engrish (though I’ve read in passing that’s a common Filipino thing allegedly?) was also very surreal to listen to honestly, even his design felt out of place for some reason. His “death” cliffhanger had no weight, was amazed he kept his eyesight honestly. The foreign dude was also overly strange, mann.

The cult episodes were like, mannnn. Felt very surreal, wasn’t personally a fan of the direction it took. Lots of weed use though, kind of impressive for an anime. I liked the sumo dude/Go relationship, but that’s about it honestly, but all the new characters at that point- Kite, foreigner, and old man were all pretty ehhh to me- especially a cult like this only a short time after the earthquakes (maybe it started before?), mannn

honestly thought the old man hallucinated that one action scene of his, but nope, sure enough he just killed two guys, man. I did like how the leaders were likable people though, and then that betrayal for gold, told its own story but a little strange all the same.

Onodera was... interesting, at least. A bit too helpful as well, and kind of impressive, though he was a plot element so I can let that slide. Impressive he survived, honestly, like, of all people to survive, a guy who can’t even move or speak.

The boat scenes were a bit odd as well- at least, the whole nationalist ones, felt a bit too on the nose. Ayumu leaving the original boat was also a bit of a weird decision since her mother’s dying anyway, but also understandable in a sense because she’s a teenage girl who wants to be with her family, I’m okay with it, but mannn.

But yeah, boats, it was very sudden and hard to tell what was going on at first- guy pulls out a gun, then three people stranded, then old guy suddenly dies and gets eaten by a shark, man. It was nice seeing the kids interact though, trying to survive, and impressive but not crazy that the mom eventually found them, though her death felt a bit too convenient compared to the previous deaths in the series, it was still alright.

Kite though, man, just left a weird taste in my mouth. The fact that he probably survived too was really... strange, he felt like he had no real stakes, the fact they let him live and do all these crazy things was just... weird, man. Still not entirely sure what Onodera was doing with him at the end on the monitor, but yeah, just too perfect a character, too convenient.

Senpai felt like he had a bit of an odd development- almost offscreen sometimes it felt like, but it was gradual and neat. No real interaction with the main characters though, which I thought was odd, he just seemed like a love interest in a love triangle that quickly died, and then just an interest that was never really explored, but this also isn’t the place to explore it, so hm. Still, more interaction would have been nice.

Now the main character, man, she had a lot of dumb stubborn moments, but they felt real enough to me, especially a girl her age going through this- man, the guilt going through her mind, though. Abandoning her team, seeing the sign and not being able to stop her father dying from it, feeling jealous of that neighbor girl before accidentally leading her to her death (poison gas as a death felt very strange to me, but I’m not knowledgeable enough on how it works so okay), though man, the fact she told no one about her injury, not even Kite who had like a bunch of random supplies that could be useful, or the cult they stayed at, it’s like, girlll come on treat this darn leg already. It was interesting how she had her leg cut off after getting to safety, like if not for this experience, maybe she’d have quit moving forwards, who knows. Overall I was okay with her though.

Go though, man, was not a fan of that kid. The Engrish in general was very liberally used, and probably just bothers me because I’m a natural speaker, ah well.

Also, mannn. Watching that opening, and all I could think of every episode was just, “man, that poor cat...”

Overall, good work, lots of hardhitting moments, but I think I liked the first two episodes more than the rest of the series. Lots of Devilman Crybaby vibes in terms of atmosphere and art direction (and Ryo/Kite), though not a lot of the early Yuasa vibes I love him for, which is sad. He deserves a break though, hopefully the retirement isn’t permanent, but he still has some great works out there that I still love. Kaiba, Tatami Galaxy, Ping Pong, mannn. Honestly just give me another wonderful thing like Kaiba, something unique and visually pleasing and completely its own thing.

maybe one day my dreams of him directing a Yume Nikki anime will come true...

but yeah, good show overall, did enjoy it

#text stuffs

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ari-nemera · 7 years ago

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Finally got to see Shape of Water! 👌👌👌

The post that went around a while back that framed it as this dark unhappy terror-fest with too much gore and sex was really? Missing the mark? Even the cat scene was less "gruesome" than they made it out to be. You don't see an animal get eaten alive? Del Toro cuts to black and you see the cat when it's already dead. It was waaaaay less nasty than Stranger Thing's cat death I'll tell you that!

I know most of you have seen it by now but I'll put my opinions on the movie itself below the cut 👍 (nsfw topics mentioned, do not read if you're under 16)

So basically, I loved it!!! :D I'll start by saying that it felt very Tarzan and Jane, but that's a good thing! I actually would have loved it if it had more of that kind of interaction honestly. The river god was honestly adorable?? His face was this perfect sort of cute and his demeanor and behavior was almost puppy-like and it was awesome.

I will say that my one miff with the movie is that it really just jumps the boat with the whole romance arc. I guess I like slow burn romance in my movies, and this felt like a fan fiction where the author wanted to skip to the good bits as quickly as possible. I wanted to see their relationship develop Goddammit! We get like, 1 scene where she instantly gains his trust? There's never any explanation for why this poor creature who's being tortured by humans inexplicable insta-trusts one after a gift of one(1) egg. And then she just, falls in love with him??? All of the interactions that would have shown her say, teaching him sign language or showing him more of the novel things humans enjoy was summed into 2 short scenes. There was very little real 'relationship' there. Just a girl who rescues a sad fish and gets a boner for him after he spends 2 nights in her bathtub. C'mon Del Toro I wanted to sympathize with this relationship! I wanted to see the love there! But it fell a little flat.

On another note, the villain was great in the 'oh god he's everything wrong with the 50's in one body'. And I have never viciously hated someone so passionately. The sex scene was not there to be gratifying? It was to purposefully make the audience uncomfortable. It was a chance for us to see that this man was a selfish uncaring dick, even to his perfect picket-fence family. We were supposed to see that contrasted against the gentle and far more loving relationship between the main characters. (Only a little upset the mains didn't get a proper sex scene to counterbalance it tbh)

Oh! And I LOVED her best friend/neighbor!!! 8o8 honestly I loved all the side characters in this movie. Everything was done so well, and the AESTHETIC was top notch👌

All in all it was a good movie, but not unbelievable good? It mostly felt like there was a lot of hesitation on the director's side. This is the first movie of its kind and I can understand being nervous or unsure about how to go about with a legit monster romance. I want to see something that really goes all in with the romance in another movie.

Also I could go on and on about how Del Toro didn't shy away from accurate racism portrayal! And he had an openly gay character suffering from the intrinsic homophobia of the era! The cast was diverse and fantastic! The time put into showing the human interactions and friendships between everyone was so thought-out! He didn't shy away from critically framing the sexism that happened to the two married women (both the villain's wife and Zelda) and he did a great job giving his female leads a sense of power and control over their own destinies. Del Toro writes amazing humans and does a great job making his villains as inhuman as possible in contrast.

Finally, the choice to show that masturbation is like, a normal part of a woman's life was really brave? Masturbation in women is a really sensitive topic, even though it's nothing more than a joke for most men. So his choice to be like, 'yep, she masturbates every morning and she's still a good person that you should sympathize with' was super counter-culture and a really radical decision. You go dude. Normalize that shit. 👍

Tl;dr Shape of Water has well-written characters and is unafraid to be counter-culture, but could have put more effort into the main romance of the film. Still a genuinely lovely movie.

#the shape of water

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shep-writes · 7 years ago

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The Queen for a Kingdom, Ch. 1

Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): f!Cousland, Alistair Theirin, Nathaniel Howe, Velanna, Bethany Hawke, Sigrun, Oghren, The Architect Pairing(s): Alistair/f!Cousland, Nathaniel/Velanna Rating: T Genre: Romance/Angst Warnings: N/A Language: English Summary: The Hero of Ferelden is missing. With the Divine Conclave fast approaching, tension is mounting between the mages and templars, especially in Redcliffe where a whole host of rebel mages has taken refuge. However, with the Blight finally starting to take hold of her beloved King, the Warden Queen finds that her fate lies down a different path than that of the rest of Thedas. A/N: N/A Read On: fanfiction, AO3 Chapter: 2/? Chapter Title: N/A

“The King is coming.”

Those were the words that greeted Miri as she threw open the doors to Vigil's Keep, lightning flashing in the distance as the sky wept. It was a cold, dreary rain, the sort that chilled one to the bone and gave them the sort of sickness from which they did not recover.

Breath clouding in front of her thin, colorless lips, Miri cast off the damp hood that shadowed her face, Nathaniel Howe—the man that had spoken to her upon her arrival—jumped, no doubt startled by her ghastly appearance. Miri could only imagine what she looked like—little sleep, dark circles ringing eyes that had once been the deep green of an emerald but now resembled the sickly yellowish hue of dying grass, skin pale and stretched thin over blue-black veins.

“Andraste's tits,” she heard Nathaniel gasp.

Purposefully ignoring the slip, the former Warden-Commander shook her hair loose, brow furrowing. “Of course he's coming. The fool.” There was no animosity in her voice, no real bite, and if one had looked at her for a moment, just that one moment, they would have seen the hard lines brought on by her frown soften.

A flash of golden hair, the echo of innocent laughter, a hawk perched on a branch—

“Miri.”

Miri shook her head, brought back to the present by Nathaniel's voice and the rapidly cooling trickle of something warm leaving her nose. Swiping her hand across her mouth, she wiped away the stark reminder of why she was there at Vigil's Keep, away from her beloved.

“When you said—I had no idea—” Nathaniel broke off abruptly, taking Miri's blood-covered gauntlet in his hands before she could tuck it away behind her back out of sight. His bright blue eyes narrowed in concern as he raised her hand up, exposing it to the light of the torches in the great hall. “Maker.”

Miri fought the urge to squirm, not needing or wanting his sympathy. He would be suffering alongside her soon enough; he'd dealt with more Darkspawn in his life than she had, traveled farther into the Deep Roads, and Blight or not, she'd only really been exposed to the creatures during her brief travels and short stint as Warden-Commander afterwords. But Nathaniel...he'd spent the past decade hunting them while she'd been holed up in Denerim, sitting on a throne.

“Miri...”

Wrenching herself free of his grasp, refusing to meet his empathetic gaze, Miri headed in the direction that she remembered lead to the stables. She must have been correct, for it wasn't long before Nathaniel quietly fell in beside her, shortening his steps to match her smaller stride. It was a mite infuriating to Miri—she was walking as briskly as she could without running and waking the entire Keep with the clanking of her armor, yet the man still outpaced her—but she pushed the irritation aside, focused instead on the larger task that lay before her.

Despite knowing otherwise, that Anders had left long ago, that Justice was now one with him, Miri was surprised that she did not see Ser Pounce rounding a corner with the mage hot on his trail, Justice in turn following with a sort of fascination that such a large being would take comfort from something so small. She half-expected Sigrun to come chasing after the lot of them—cat, man and ghoul—bubbling to the brim with questions, Oghren's drunken bawl of a laugh ringing throughout the Keep's winding corridors.

A smile slipped across the Queen's face.

Velanna, of course, would be sitting in an alcove, somehow never far from the fray she tried so desperately to avoid, her nose in a book, a cross look on her face. Her perpetually down-turned mouth would pinch together unpleasantly, nostrils flaring in annoyance as the bumbling group of Ser Pounce, Anders, Justice and Sigrun wandered by, a caustic remark about their tomfoolery following them as they stumbled into the next room. And yet, when they were gone and the Dalish mage thought she was alone, she would grin to herself before snuggling up comfortably in the blanket Nathaniel had awkwardly gifted her, cheeks painted the lightest rose red.

This was all, of course, before Miri had left and their little family had dissolved. Miri did not miss those lonely nights when she slept alone, devoid of Alistair's comfort and warmth lest the Taint that ran through his veins be sensed by the other Wardens in the Keep and it be known that the King was not only a bastard but a Warden as well, but she did miss the motley group that had become as dear to her as her own flesh and blood.

She felt her hands curl into fists where they hung at her sides.

They—Alistair, Nathaniel, Anders, Sigrun, Oghren, Velanna—were why she could not fail, why she would not. She would save them all, save them from what she had cursed them with—an heirless kingdom, a gruesome death.

Miri's armored footsteps clinked against the stone as they maneuvered passage after passage, Nathaniel lighter on his feet and more at ease with creeping and lurking than she ever would be. There was the occasional flicker of flame, the opening and shutting of a door from far off in the castle, but that was all that could be heard, silence a wedge between the two companions that had shed blood, sweat and tears side by side once upon a time.

“Velanna,” Miri spoke at last. “You've found her?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the archer flinch and her heart twisted in agony for the raven-haired man. He had loved her—still loved her.

“Yes,” Nathaniel said after a pregnant pause. “Despite her intentions for me—us—not to, we've found her.”

“The Architect?”

Nathaniel nodded. “She's with him.”

“And Seranni?”

Nathaniel shook his head.

“….I see.”

Silence again reigned supreme between them as Miri digested this information. Velanna was alive and so was The Architect. Seranni may or may not be, but seeing as how The Architect was still in one piece and Velanna sighted with rather than against him…

“I wish you'd reconsider,” Nathaniel said, interrupting Miri's thoughts.

Miri blinked, a sad smile stretching her lips, and nudged his arm playfully. “Sorry, Nate. Sigrun's my rogue on this one. Where we're going, blades will be worth more than arrows. Why? Jealous?”

The rogue raised an eyebrow, giving the smaller woman a sideways glance. “Hardly. I've had enough of the Deep Roads to last a lifetime. I'd just feel better knowing you had someone competent with you.”

Miri's smile spread, became genuine, a spark lighting in her dead eyes. “So the truth comes out at long last. You think I'm incompetent, that years sitting on my behind dealing with stuffy nobles has dulled my blade.”

“I—that's not what—Miri.” Nathaniel's expression darkened reproachfully, though a hint of amusement could be seen gleaming in his eyes. “Your blade may have dulled, but your wit is sharp as ever, I see. Thank the Maker Darkspawn can be simply be insulted to death.”

The Queen broke out in laughter, damning the need for secrecy. She had missed this. She had missed him. The pair stopped walking as she broke out in a raucous cacophony of joy, her nerves frayed at the end and welcoming this bit of a diversion. Nathaniel stood still as a statue, only moving to support his former Warden-Commander as she rested her head against his breastplate, tears slipping from her eyes and dotting the floor.

“Nathan...” Her voice wavered.“I want you to know, I—”

“Don't,” Nathan cut her off. “Don't you bloody say it.”

Miri clamped her mouth shut. Not many could get away with ordering her around like that—Queen or not—but there had been too much they had been through together for her to be angry with him.

“Are you sure you can handle him?” she asked instead.

“The King?” Nathaniel scoffed. “If it was the other way around—you coming after him—then I'd be worried.”

Miri snorted. “Yes. I suppose that's true.”

At last they reached the door that led to the stables.

“I'm missing a mage from this little expedition of mine. Too bad you're not a mage,” Miri quipped as Nathaniel put a hand on the wooden door.

Nathaniel grinned. “Not quite. I've got you a mage, from Kirkwall.” Miri raised an eyebrow. “A former Ferelden, no less.”

“Oh?”

Nathaniel pushed open the door and Miri's eyes fell on a girl with long, curly, coal-colored hair that stood by a horse with bags hanging off its saddle, stroking it across the nose comfortingly.

“Miri!”

“Boss!”

At Sigrun's and Oghren's joyous shouts, the girl turned around, her amber eyes meeting Miri's.

“Miri, I'd like to introduce you to Bethany Hawke.”

/ /

Faster. He needed to go faster.

King Alistair spurred his horse onward with a kick. His knee twinged at the act and he suppressed a grimace; an old battle wound, nothing more. Just behind him he could hear his wife's beloved mabari panting hard, struggling to keep up with the stallion upon which he rode, and beyond that the clamor of his guardsmen on horseback. He hadn't intended for this entourage to follow him and he could still hear Bann Teagen's shouts ringing in his ears, commanding him—commanding him, the King of Ferelden!—to come back.

The bed had still been warm when he'd awoken with the gut feeling that something was very, very wrong. The letter he had found had proved his suspicions and he'd barely had the mind to throw on clothes before he'd stumbled out of his chamber with a ruckus that had woken the whole castle. As it was he'd forgotten his smallclothes and his pants were riding up uncomfortably, catching in all the wrong places.

Rain pelted him mercilessly with icy slaps across his face, but he did not slow, did not stop. He had to reach her before she was gone, before she left him and went to what would surely be her death.

She's Miriana Cousland-Theirin, slayer of Archdemons and things that go bump in the night. She'll be fine; she'll make it back from this, he told himself. Just let her go, let her do this. Trust her, as you've always trusted her before you hulking buffoon.

Yet he could not, would not let her go. He trusted her, trusted that she'd do everything in her power to make it back to him, and, Maker, was his wife fierce, but still…!

His heart raced as the landscape sped by, the road alternating between broken stone, grass, and rock. He was soaked to the bone, skin slick with perspiration and the heaven's tears, his breath coming in ragged puffs and gasps as his chest burned with fear.

The galloping hooves of his guards' horses faded as they fell more and more behind their frantic King, and even the mabari's slobbering pants grew distant. The steed beneath Alistair seemed to sense his urgency and feed on his terror, for never before had the former Warden ridden a beast so fast. Still, he feared it wasn't fast enough, and he choked at the thought, tears stinging his eyes.

“My love, wait for me. Please, please wait for me.”

#f!cousland #femcousland #cousland #alistair theirin #king alistair theirin #miri cousland #alistair x cousland #alistair xfcousland #nathaniel howe #dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age: inquisition #shep fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 7 years ago

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Michael Ford’s Top 50 Castlevania Enemies

Castlevania is one of my absolute favorite video game series of all time, particularly the Metroidvania titles. A big reason for that is just the sheer variety of monsters you can fight. Drawing from basically every mythology and pop culture, you’d be hard pressed to find a monster not on display here; there’s Goetic demons, succubi, Christian demons, mummies, valkyrie, Greek mythological beasts, Wizard of Oz characters... there’s a lot of shit being thrown at you. It also helps the artists seem to have this unspoken belief that every time they do a palette swap, a small child dies, so there are tons of one-shot monsters that appear in a single room, or a scant few rooms.

So here I’m going to countdown my fifty favorite fiends being thrown at the Belmonts, Alucard, and Soma by Dracula. Here’s the criteria:

1. The monsters have to be from a Metroidvania game - Symphony of the Night, Harmony of Dissonance, Chronicles of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin, and Order of Ecclesia are all fair game.

2. No Death or Dracula. As far as I’m concerned calling them a favorite is cheap, because they’re ALWAYS awesome. Same thing for any fight against a Belmont, which includes the Whip’s Memory.

Other than that, bada bing bada boom. Be forewarned: My three favorite monster types are Sexy Monster Girls, Skeletons, and Jojo References. You’ll see a lot of them, especially the former one. Now without further ado, let’s dive into Dracula’s castle and see what I’ve chosen:

50. Medusa Head

Various

There’s no denying that these enemies are the biggest pain in the ass in existence, always appearing in treacherous areas like Clock Towers packed with spikes or areas packed with bottomless pits… but quite frankly, the series just wouldn’t be the same without these stupid fucking things. They’re just such an icon, as much as Dracula and Death I’d say, and an icon of gamer frustration. Gotta give respect!

49. Ladycat

Order of Ecclesia

The first sexy lady monster on the list, these are cute cat girls, plain and simple, and they can give Shanoa the power to turn into a cute cat girl herself and befriend them.

48. Kyouma Demon

Aria of Sorrow

Appearing to attack from mirrors and resembling an ugly old guy, this demon is probably a reference to Hanged Man of Stardust Crusaders. Alright, I’ll admit it’s a bit of a stretch, but the Chronicles of Sorrow games are stuffed with Jojo references; even if THIS isn’t meant to be one, don’t worry, there’s plenty more down the line.

47. Arachne

Aria of Sorrow, Order of Ecclesia

There’s not much for me to say here except… hot spider woman. A+. Fuck yes.

46. Yeti

Dawn of Sorrow, Order of Ecclesia

As mysterious and hard to find as he is in real life, the yeti appears in the very first area of Dawn in the background, and on a lonely mountain bridge in Order of Ecclesia. In each place, he’ll make like a guard in Metal Gear and get a ! over its head before fleeing into the background like a little bitch. If you’re quick, you might be able to kill it and reap the rewards

45. Skeleton Glass

Harmony of Dissonance

Harmony of Dissonance is not the most memorable Castlevania game in terms of bestiaries, but damn if you’ll ever forget the Skeleton Glass! Appearing in a group in one hallway and being easy to kill, they seem to exist solely so you can farm tons of EXP before moving on. In a game of otherwise unremarkable opponents, these skeletons stand out.

44. Sand Worm

Portrait of Ruin

Sand Worms appear in scant few locations; a one-time encounter appears early in the first desert area and then another one at the end of the map. Sinking into the sand the first one comes out of lets you step a round its insides for a free HP Up. Look, I don’t have much to say, I just really love sand worms as a concept and this just hits all the right keys for me.

43. Human Face Tree

Symphony of the Night

Since this guy only appeared in the Sega Saturn version of the game that only came out in Japan, I have not personally had the honor of fighting this guy. BUT HOLY SHIT LOOK AT HIM. How could I NOT love him?

42. Mad Snatcher

Order of Ecclesia

Wielding an anachronistic chainsaw and being some unholy mashup of Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, and the Creeper, this freak is one of the cooler, yet simultaneously deadly, enemies to pop up in Order of Ecclesia. This game’s already throwing so much shit at you, and now you have some slasher mashup with a gas-powered saw in a time when the latter didn’t exist; Castlevania is some crazy shit, son.

41. Flea Man

Various

One of the classic enemies of the series, this is yet another monster it just doesn’t feel right to not have in the game. They also come in all kinds of varieties, whether they’re riding dragons, wearing armor, being dropped by eagles, being born from trees, or just straight up throwing knives, so no matter how you see a Flea Man, there’s a good chance it won’t be the same as the last time.

40. Wallman

Order of Ecclesia

Wallman gets a spot solely for being the funniest fucking boss of all time. You can beat him in under twenty seconds if you’re quick enough, since the goal is to absorb the glyph he uses to hide inside a wall… while he’s inside the wall. Cue the most obvious result happening, and cue you getting a shiny medal for taking no damage.

39. Nova Skeleton

Symphony of the Night, aria of Sorrow, Order of Ecclesia

There’s just something so charming about magical green skeletons that shoot incredibly deadly dick lasers at you. And if that’s not cool enough for ya, check out what they can do with just about any attacking glyph in Order of Ecclesia. Your inner Star Wars fan will squee in delight as you slaughter your way through Transylvania with a big fucking lightsaber.

38. Jersey Devil

Order of Ecclesia

Look at this guy. He’s just so damn cute for a monstrous bat-horse-dragon creature. He’s so cute it keeps me from wondering why the Jersey Devil is in 18th century Transylvania.

37. Nyx

Portrait of Ruin

It’s pretty cool Konami owns Yu-Gi-Oh, but that brings up a disturbing question: why are there not more Yu-Gi-Oh references in Castlevania? Well they finally threw us all a bone with Nyx, a cute demon nurse carrying a big ol’ syringe that clearly is taking cues from Injection Fairy Lily.

36. Malachi

Symphony of the Night, Dawn of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin

Here we have what is basically Cthulhu… though sadly not named as such due to a translation oversight. Still, a giant evil demon squid being is as Lovecraftian as you could hope for, and the presence of Cthulhu certainly makes the monster mash of the game an even more exciting affair, no matter the name he’s under.

35. Werebat

Order of Ecclesia

Half-human, half-bat, all sexy, as any lady monster in Castlevania should be. And of course, big plus for giving out a glyph that lets Shanoa become a sexy bat-lady too.

34. Schmoo

Symphony of the Night

You may think these guys are on here because if you kill enough of them, they may drop the mighty, unstoppable Crissaegrim… and you’re right! But honestly, I think in a weird way these flying, bloody sacks with faces on them are kind cute, in the way a hideous gory Castlevania monster can be.

33. Waiter Skeleton

Aria/Dawn of Sorrow

Yet another weird and funny skeleton, these guys do nothing but toss spicy curry at you to attack. In Dawn, they toss their curry and then run headfirst into a wall and die. The weird skeletons Dracula employs give me life, I swear.

32. Wakwak Tree

Dawn of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin

And the award for the funniest fucking name goes to… Aside from having the most goofy name imaginable, they’re also one of the weirdest enemies in the series, being tress that… grow Flea Men. What.

31. Jp Bonepillar

Harmony of Dissonance

An unholy combination of the Scarecrow enemy (bounces around and deals damage) and the Bone Pillar (shoots fire) this is an unusually yet delightfully gruesome skeletal beast. I mean, look at that thing! I mean I guess Dracula technically IS Vlad the Impaler, and he liked to do stuff like this… never would have guessed he’d use his arts & crafts projects as weapons, though.

30. Galamoth

Symphony of the Night

Galamoth has quite a reputation for being hard as balls (as long as you don’t have that Crissaegrim). And… he is! His HP bar is so big that it doesn’t even appear in the bestiary. And he’s a giant cyborg demon from ten thousand years in the future, which is pretty hardcore. It’s kinda sad he never appears again after Symphony, because with his desire to usurp Dracula and rule over the netherworld, he could be a pretty interesting antagonist, especially in games taking place after the Chronicles of Sorrow where Dracula is definitively dead.

29. Miss Murder

Order of Ecclesia

Finally, a Castlevania enemy based off of the kuchisake-onna! At least partly; kuchisake-onna are not known for opening pocket dimensions and attacking from pocket universes. It’s like a cross between the kyouma demon and kuchisake-onna, and while this monster isn’t necessarily a hot monster girl like you’d expect when I put a lady monster on the list, it IS a really cool monster.

28. Fake Grant, Trevor, and Sypha

Symphony of the Night

While it’s one thing to fight against cruel imitations Alucard’s old partners, the best part about this fight is thinking how it must effect Alucard emotionally to be forced to fight and kill monsters wearing the faces of the only friends he has ever had. Dracula’s kind of a dick for doing that to him.

27.Yorick

Symphony of the Night, Dawn of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin

This is one of my favorite skeletons in the whole series. It’s not only a hilarious enemy concept – a skeleton chasing its own head that it has dropped around – but it’s an amusing allusion to Hamlet to boot! And in some games, when you kill him, his head sticks behind. What’s not to love?

26. Erinys/Valkyrie

Aria/Dawn of Sorrow

Yet another hot monster, this time, what appears to be a hot angel. Why angels are working for Dracula is a mystery, though Erinys is named after the Furies, so THAT makes sense. A valkyrie though? That’s something. Also, the valkyrie got a sexy update to not be a palette swap, so that’s good shit. Still, I might like Valkyrie better in Aria, where her soul basically gives you a Stand with some impressive jiggle physics.

25. Persephone

Aria/Dawn of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin

One of the Metroidvania’s most enduring antagonists on handheld games is this adorable demon maid. Armed with kung fu moves and a mighty vacuum cleaner, she’s ready to kick ass, take names, and maybe have an orgy with witches and succubi like in that one room in Dawn. Awww yeah.

24. Old Axe Armor

Portrait of Ruin

Old Axe Armor is a monster that appeared in a couple of the old-school games, and then came with a playable version in the form of an equippable armor in Symphony of the Night. But in Portrait of Ruin, if you fight and kill 1000, you can unlock a special mode where you play as a mysterious redhead lady Old Axe Armor (evident from official art) and play through the castle. It’s a really cool and challenging special mode, and that hot Axe Armor in the artwork is pretty easy on the eyes.

23. The Creature

Various (Particularly his Portrait of Ruin appearance)

The Creature is a mainstay of Castlevania, and one of the better ones to boot; he’s a lot better than snoozefests like the mummy boss. While he does appear in Symphony of the Night, his look there really sucks; in Portrait of Ruin, however, he not only looks awesome, he comes armed with machine guns and rocket launchers! And in the bonus dungeon, the most deadly room contains TWO AT ONCE. Beat that and you’re truly a hardcore motherfucker.

22. Nemesis

Symphony of the Night, Aria of Sorrow

Who isn’t a sucker for cute ghost girls? One of the ghost swordsman group of monsters, she’s a cutesy little huntress who stabs at you with a rapier and glows. She’s not too tough, but she tries her hardest, and I love her for it.

21. Cagnazzo

Aria of Sorrow

Cagnazzo, on the surface, appears to be little more than an unremarkable demon whose name shouts out to The Divine Comedy. But get his soul and you’ll see why he’s so awesome: HE LITERALLY GIVES YOU STAR PLATINUM. YOU GET A FUCKING STAND FROM THIS GUY THAT PUNCHES ENEMIES AND SHOUTS “ORAORAORA!” The Chronicles of Sorrow duology is where they really stopped playing coy with the JJBA references, and I love every single one of them.

20. Astarte

Portrait of Ruin

(Link to artist)

This hypnotic Egyptian woman is one of the sexiest monsters in the series – canonically even! She charms Jonathan if you try to use him and makes him try and kill Charlotte, making this one of a scant few boss battles it’s actually smart to use Charlotte in. Hope you got a good spell handy!

19. Tsuchinoko

Aria of Sorrow

Tsuchinoko REAL… pain in the ass! This thing is already dug halfway into the ground half the time you enter the single room you can find it in; the other half, if you can’t kill it quickly, it might bounce about a bit, poison you, and flee. And of course if you want 100% completion and to get that Soul Eater Ring a little easier, you need to snag this little brat’s soul. You’re not gonna feel like the epic badass you will after getting that Sky Fish soul, but you’ll likely feel accomplished nonetheless.

18. Frozen Half

Symphony of the Night

What would be yet another unremarkable palette swap is interesting for two reasons: the first is that it is, according to its bestiary entry, a servant of the aforementioned Galamoth, the giant time traveling cyborg lion man. The second is that she is a trans woman. Yeah, the servants of the most powerful boss in Symphony of the Night are icy trans ladies. Fuckin’ rad.

17. Mad Butcher

Order of Ecclesia

Out of all the horror monsters one could expect to show up in Castlevania, did anyone ever expect Leatherface to pop in? Appearing as a normal enemy in a few locations, the Mad Butcher is the kind of awesomely bonkers shout out that makes me love this series! Also, as pointed out earlier… chainsaws did not exist when this game takes place. That makes this guy even weirder, yet even more awesome.

16. Lerajie

Portrait of Ruin

Taking a male demon and turning it into a lady? With a sniper rifle? Who gets her own voice acted lines???? Smart move Konami, real smart move. I’d hit it.

15. Lilith/Succubus

Various

A couple of mainstays of the Metroidvania handheld titles, they tend to be palette swaps of each other. Sexy, naked palette swaps. They tend to get used for some suggestive room jokes, such as the Lilith and Succubus in the bathhouse of The Arena in Aria, or the bedroom orgy in Dawn. And of course, I’d be remiss to not mention the most notable appearance of the Succubus: her boss battle and cutscene in Symphony of the Night, where she tries to trick Alucard in a dream but realizes all too late that fucking with the head of Dracula’s son is probably not the best idea if you want a long life.

14. Skull Bartender

Portrait of Ruin

See, this is why I love this series. Sometimes they crank out something so silly and stupid I can’t help but love it. Here we have a skeleton that greets you with a “Welcome,” tosses cocktails at you, and dies like a bitch. He also only appears in a single room, one that is hidden, so you have to go out of your way to find him. Boy is he worth it.

13. Blackmore

Order of Ecclesia

You thought the Jojo references would end once Soma was out of the picture? HA! THINK AGAIN, SUCKER! Blackmore is a garishly dressed man with a name that’s a musical reference, loves to pose, and has a massive shadow coming out of his back that, when hit, causes damage to synchronize with him. I guess at this point since they already had Dio and Star Platinum and the stone mask, they might as well just make a Stand user into a boss battle.

12. Medusa

Symphony of the Night, Portrait of Ruin

One of the original four monsters that pop up from time to time, and is quite frankly almost always hot when she shows up. In Symphony, she has that well-toned ass going for her, and in Portrait, she’s not only HUGE, but she has big ol’ titties. And the hotness aside, it’s just a lot of fun to reenact one of my favorite films (Clash of the Titans) every time she shows up by killing the shit out of her.

11. Enkidu

Order of Ecclesia

One lone specimen of this hulking monster appears in the game, and it raises so many questions. Why is he carrying that pillar? What is the White Dragon doing with him? Why is there only one of him? It’s monsters like these, these one-shot monsters that appear in only one area and raise so many questions that are never really answered, that really make this series what it is.

10. Chronomage

Aria of Sorrow

It’s the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland… and he can use The World. How can I NOT love this stupid enemy?

9. Jiang Shi

Order of Ecclesia

How absolutely bonkers; a Chinese hopping vampire as a bonus boss? And not only that, he’s infinitely refightable due to only being able to be sealed after his fight, so if you’re in the mood to kill some more hoppy suckers, boy are you in for a treat!

8. Sky Fish

Aria of Sorrow

One of my favorite cryptids made it into the game, and boy will you never fucking forget it when you see it. Usually nothing more than a blur, getting the ability to stop time does nothing but slow it slightly, giving you a limited time frame to kill it for a rare soul drop… did I mention it only appears in two rooms of the game and that you need to have frame-perfect timing to catch this thing before it zips offscreen? It’s so fucking frustrating, but you will feel satisfied upon getting that soul. I know I always do.

7. Graham

Aria of Sorrow

(Link to artist)

I ain’t talking about regular Graham here; I’m talking about that… thing he turns into, that horrifying, visceral, nightmarish amalgamation of body parts and organs. This might be some of the most fucked up imagery the games have ever thrown at you; I honestly think this thing should be mentioned up there with Legion and Beelzebub as one of the most unsettling monsters in a Metroidvania title.

6. Slogra

Symphony of the Night, Dawn of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin

Death has a couple of cool bodyguards, but Gaibon is much less cool due to being a standard gargoyle-esque demon. Slogra, on the other hand, is a weird demon with a yellow beak and a big spear who looks like an emaciated turkey man. It’s not the weirdest design in the series, it’s not super out there, but it’s simple, sweet, and kinda cute in an ugly way.

5. Alura Une

Symphony of the Night, Aria/Dawn of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin

My vote for the best sexy monster in the series is the Alura Une, a lovely lady monster that rises out of an equally lovely flower. Called Venus Weed when she first appeared on the scene in Symphony, she would go on to become a mainstay in Metroidvanias after under the name Alura Une. Her incredible sexiness is on full display in her soul��s abilities, especially in Dawn, where she lovingly embraces Soma and kills anyone dumb enough to fuck with him.

4. Legion

Symphony of the Night, Harmony of Dissonance, Aria of Sorrow, Portrait of Ruin

(link to artist)

Legion is considered to be one of the more disturbing Castlevania bosses, which is hard to argue with; it’s a massive, flying ball made entirely of corpses that is a one-monster zombie apocalypse, spewing out shambling zombies while you fight. And even if you manage to break through the outer shell, what you get on the inside is… really, REALLY not pretty, no matter the game. It’s appearance in Aria may be its best, what with the horrifying atmospheric buildup consisting of the several rooms prior being devoid of music, the only sound the groaning of the dead as they shamble towards the boss room in the background. Brrrrr.

3. Beelzebub

Symphony of the Night

Beelzebub has quite a reputation as one of the most disturbing and grotesque bosses in the series. And I have to say… COME ON. It’s just a giant, gory, rotten corpse hanging from meat hooks and attracting monstrous flies to attack! what’s so gross about that? Whether you can stomach Beelzebub or not, there’s no denying he’s a pretty memorable boss fight, and hey, if it’s too much he IS skippable!

2. Zephyr

Dawn of Sorrow

Look, I’m sure you saw this coming a mile away. The knives, the time stop, the fight on the clock tower… it’s fucking Dio. Konami literally did not give a shit and just put Stardust Crusaders DIO right in the goddamn game and had him go at you with The World. Shame you can’t get the Cagnazzo soul in this game; it would have made this battle perfect.

1. Gergoth

Dawn of Sorrow

I’m sure some people will find this a weird choice. Gergoth is kind of a strange enemy, all things considered, but he’s the most fascinating one in my book. He has a backstory just vague enough to be tragic but leaves you wanting more, he has an incredibly memorable boss fight with loads of attacks and a memorable fall smashing through dozens of floors of a condemned tower, a really gruesome yet also somewhat adorable design… Gergoth is really a perfect summation of what I love to see in Castlevania bosses.

#Castlevania #Lists #Dracula #Portrait of Ruin #Symphony of the Night #Harmony of Dissonance #Chronicles of Sorrow #Dawn of Sorrow #Aria of Sorrow #Order of Ecclesia #Is that a fucking Jojo reference?#JJBA #Monster girls #Skeletons

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mikesmithrhythmandrhyme · 7 years ago

Text

Tuesday, 16th January, 2018

Nearly 200 years on from John Clare's writing of 'January': it had two parts - so mine does! John Clare, an English poet (1793-1864). I write this to try and get close to why I like John Clare’s poetry.

This is VERY LONG - with lots of John Clare lines and phrases, including three longer passages, marked by inverted commas.

JANUARY - A WINTERS DAY

January!

Truly what you’d call A Winters Day!

Two hundred years ago,

A winter weather world away -

“Withering and keen the winter comes

While comfort flyes to close shut rooms

And sees the snow in feathers pass

Winnowing by the window glass ...”

Whilst threshers first, then foddering boys,

Brave bitter frost and snow,

To start their work in darkness deep -

The only life they know.

The shepherd, with his plodding dog,

Dreaming warmth and sleep,

In the rough and smooth of winter weather

Check and count the sheep.

The early-morning farm-yard’s

Soon alive with noise again;

Horses rub and lunge,

Whilst old hens scrat for seed and grain …

Cats and birds and huddling geese,

Lively barking dogs ...

And roaring round the kitchen door -

The hungry, whining hogs …

A foddering boy climbs up

The stack of wood at maids desire,

To throw down faggots

So that she can feed the cottage fire …

And everywhere the winter birds -

Starling, rook and crow,

Jackdaw, pigeon, snipe - and robin:

‘Here I am. Hello!’

The schoolboy, in his leisure hours,

Skaits on meadow lake,

At hunters speed and careless of

Just where the ice might break ….

Plays football oer the frozen ground …

Rolls snow in giant mounds …

Until - friends gone -

A winter darkened silence …

Not a sound …

As the leathern coated shepherd *

Walks from distant fields alone,

Knocks the caking snow from shoes

And opes the welcome door …

He’s home.

JANUARY - A COTTAGE EVENING

“The shutter closd the lamp alight

The faggot chopped and blazing bright

The shepherd from his labour free

Dancing his children on his knee

Or toasting sloe boughs sputtering ripe

Or smoaking glad his puthering pipe

While underneath his masters seat

The tird dog lies in slumbers sweet

Startling and whimpering in his sleep

Chasing still the straying sheep”

Then supper things are cleared away,

And down the huswife sits,

Knits or sews ** and tells her tales

In teasing starts and fits …

As children listen silently

And quake wi chills of fear,

Trembling at these stories

Which they always love to hear,

~ Trusting in their mother’s

Story-telling expertise,

But crushed for reassurance

Tween their shepherd fathers knees …

Of boys who tested ice and drowned …

Of shepherd, lost and late -

When ne’er a star bestowd its light -

And murdered by the gate …

How witches powers and fairey feats

Now haunt that dreaded spot,

Where the hill-top gibbet stood -

With murderer’s body left to rot ...

Tales of midnight witches -

How they turn to cats or hares

In the blinking of an eye

If you should meet them unawares ...

The huswife’s tales are endless -

Of glow worms …

Stones ...

And shells ...

Of beetles …

Mice …

Of midges, moths ...

And canterbury bells …

We recognise these stories

On our television screens:

The more things change the more

Things stay the same - or so it seems:

With news of fatal accidents ...

Police-led murder mysteries ...

Wonders of the natural world …

Gruesome local histories ...

~ She tells of Cinderella,

And her special faery friend,

Who changed her favourites’s world

To make her happy in the end …

~ She tells how Magic Fountain

Turns to King and lover too,

As the startld maid draws water -

Which her mistress bade her do.

She tells them of the boy

Who gave his mothers cows away

For magic beans that travelld high ...

Up the sky …***

So he could a jiant slay.

At which there is

An overwhelming sadness in John Clare,

For the world in which these tales were told -

A man in near despair ….

Knowing how they’ve lost their power

To enthral and to deceive:

The adult knows such stories

Can no longer be believed ….

“O spirit of the days gone bye

Sweet childhoods fearful extacy

The witching spells of winter nights

Where are they fled wi their delights

When listning on the corner seat

The winter evenings length to cheat

I heard my mothers memory tell

Tales superstition loves so well

Things said or sung a thousand times

In simple prose or simpler rhymes …..

The fairey feats that once prevaild

Told to delight and never faild

Where are they now their fears and sighs

And tears from childhood’s **** happy eyes”

Here is why I like John Clare,

Whose sense of loss and sadness

Would have been so very central

To his later - so-called - madness:

Such honesty of feeling ...

Such tenderness …

Such yearning ...

A young man sharing winter thoughts …

Aware there’s no returning

To the beating heart of childhood -

Knowing all that’s left behind

Is the memory of those stories -

And a real world doubting mind ...

This labouring man, who writes

Such vibrant, detailed country scenes:

So loving, so respectful -

Every line he writes redeems.

Yes, other poets wrote about

The rural, working day:

“But my work’s real!

I’m of this world!”

I’m sure …

I hear …

Him say …..

Meanwhile, in taverns, farmers read

The news and price of grain -

Puffing at their pipes -

And old moores almanack …

Again!

* John Clare’s word is ‘hedger’ - and he was a hedger, amongst other things - but I’ve used ’shepherd’ so that it carries through to the second poem, ‘A Cottage Evening’, about the shepherd’s family.

~ ** John Clare’s spelling is ‘sues’.

*** I created this double rhyme, and necessarily extended rhythm, to create the feeling of fantastical growth.

~ **** John Clare wrote ‘founts of’ where I have written ‘childhood’s’.

#poetry #poem #JohnClare #sadness #families #18thcenturyEngland #rural #farming

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toujoursx18 · 7 years ago

Text

STUFF

Some "stuff" I enjoy reading in writing or poetry are personification, repetition and imagery. I feel like these writing technique add life to the writing and allows the reader to imagine further than what is written. It adds style, rhythm, and rhyme to the writing. However, I’ve come to comprehend that most of these “stuff” is not just the techniques and style that poets use. Stuff also includes the words and emotions they use to invoke certain ideas to their readers. Several poets do this for me.

Fred Moten has a good use of “stuff” within some of his poems. One of his poems that stood out to me was the one on page 51. Words that stood out to me were struggle, motherfuckers, born, buried, new rims, intimate, love to struggle, rusty cars won’t start, and yellow cars won’t stop. It gave me the feeling that struggling is a part of life. It makes people stronger and defines one’s character. Moten use of strong language and simply demonstrating that he doesn’t give a crap invokes the feeling that people shouldn’t give a crap if they’re struggling. They should just do what they can and work with what they have. When he wrote, “I want to be buried in one so I can rise in one,” it made me think about things won’t come easy in life and sometimes people have to work extremely hard to accomplish their goals.

Another poem of his that stands out to me is on page 52. Again, his strong language and tone invokes dominating and angry feeling to the reader but his content is filled with history references. Words like belgrave, rouge, elegant, stolen, rippled ass, “here because we brought you here because they brought us here” began to make me feel inquisitive. Belgrave is like a historical landmark that has existed since the 19th century in London that is very elegant and housed many embassies. It made me wonder why would he be referencing this specific place because the quote reminded me of slavery. The way the “white people brought” African Americans to America and basically how they were enslaved for many years.

Morgan Parker uses “stuff” very well to invoke a lot of feelings and strong messages to her readers. In her poem, “All they want is my money my pussy my blood,” she uses tons of strong words such as black, America, gimme, hunting, die, free, conditions, wine, and so on. These words tell a story that black women in America are portrayed and seen a certain way. These words invoke the idea that black women are inferior to men in America and that women are primarily seen as a sex objects because they are always cat called. She also uses phrases like “pussy is good because they say so,” and “broke and joke.” It invokes the feeling of anger but submissive because women tend to be nothing but sex for men. Women have to tolerate the behavior of men because they have desires and needs that majority of women need men to fulfil. Her poem is filled with many phrases and words that give strong messages and feelings to the readers.

Another influential poem of Parker is “The Gospel of Jesus’ Wife.” Some phrases that also invoke a strong feeling that is related to the first poem are “A woman must // A man shall receive,” “In this parable I am the goblet // Crater of birth and service”, “prop you up” and she uses words like thorns, flesh, written, temple and so on. These phrases and words also invoked the feeling of submission. It’s like women are expected to do certain things like cater to the men and bear children. They are simply servants to men and women are not seen as equals. She is purposely trying to point out the expectations and irony of how women are treated. The feeling is implied in the first line because it appears like she is providing a service by saying “hello, how may I help you” but she changes the expectation by saying “how may I offend you.” This makes the reader question her intentions like what is she trying to say, she uses sarcasm to possibly introduce a new idea or perspective.

Fatimah Asghar is another very influential poet that invoke strong feelings to her readers. My favorite poem of hers is “WWE” because it definitely invoked plenty of emotions for me. There were many phrases that stood out to me such as “made small by this land of american men,” “take & take & idolize them still,” “cover bruises,” “a good wife,” “ he hit again,” “didn’t happen before he became American.” Words that spoke out to me as well were muscular and demanding. This poem invoked the idea of women brutality and gender expectations in America. It made me think of how America has such a plain and old fashion view from the 50’s sometimes. Women are expected to be housewives. They cook and clean, take care of the children, tend to their husband 100% of the time and so on, meanwhile men have to work and expect everything to be handed to them by their wives at home. It demonstrates how ungrateful men in this kind of culture can be to their wives. American culture drills into people that men have the power and dominate and that is heavily demonstrated by her repetition of “american men."

Another strong poem by Asghar is “Bloodline” because it touches upon how cruel life and this world can be. There is a lot of gruesome imagery in this poem and it really makes you think about how crazy and inhumane people can be. Some words that stood out to me were nightmares, black ash, body, bullets, marble grave, war, genocide, and so on. These words made me sad because it feels surreal to think about how things like this actually happen in life. People are killed daily in wars and genocides, and people are shot, burned alive, stoned, tortured. She asked real questions like, “name how many sisters left,” “name how many brothers left.” “whats a body smell like when its shot,” “whats a body smell like when it burns.” These questions made me sympathize with people who have lost loved ones in wars and genocides in the past and today. It made me feel blessed to have a life the way I do and it’s an eye opener to realize the kind of world we live in sometimes because people tend to turn a blind eye to real issues.

Overall, “stuff” makes the poem interesting and invokes feelings/moods/emotions for the reader. If poetry didn’t do this then there wouldn’t be a point in reading it because it has no meaning and doesn’t make a difference to the person reading it. These poets use empowering words and phrases to get the brain thinking and the heart feeling which is a great asset to poems.

#stuff #poems #poetry

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catsbest-uk · 6 years ago

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How do nervous cats learn to trust?

Do you have an anxious cat and want it to become more trusting?

Well, first things first: You are not alone the issue you are facing is not unusual!

Many cats are shy or nervous and react anxiously in certain situations.

The typical signs of signs of stress in cats are:

Flight shock-induced paralysis cowering position tail flat alongside or underneath the body tail bushy and a tad bent ruffled fur, standing on end hissing growling wide opened eyes widened pupils flat, bent ears trembling rapid breathing vomiting release of urine or faeces

Within a natural environment, anxiety has a vital function: Fear induces flight, threat induces aggression, and both serve survival.

Whilst bold or daredevil cats do not enjoy a high life expectancy, careful and alert behaviour acts as a life insurance for others.

It’s better to pull back once in a while and to always stay alert to potential danger waiting around the next corner. Fear as such is useful and serves the survival of the species.

However, if fear becomes a habit, we are no longer dealing with self-protection.

In those cases, harmless incidents or encounters can become triggers, igniting violent reactions or attacks which make life harder for both cat and human. This can even lead to complete withdrawal, during which the cat may reject its food and stop interacting with fellow cats.

Many cat carers find themselves devastated and at a loss.

Why is my cat anxious?

Fear has a lot of facets.

On a wide scale, ranging from insecurity to panic, anything can apply.

These feelings have one thing in common, though they are perceived as negative.

Cats who have been self-confident in the past, can become fearful as a result of certain events. For us it often seems as if nothing big has happened – for a kitten however, it may be the end of the world! To be able to help your cat, you need to analyse the cause:

What could have induced the anxiety?

Often, it is not easy to recognise what the trigger is, or was. Maybe your cat has lived through a bad experience and is afraid that it might reoccur.

Fear induced by negative experiences You know the phrase once bitten, twice shy – if you’ve touched a hot stove you won’t do it again!

The same goes for your cat!

Your cat wants to avoid the recurrence of bad situations.

Fear is a biological principle for self-preservation, which tells the cat:

Fear is a biological principle for self-preservation, which tells the cat: “Avoid danger and pain – it could be your very last experience! You do not want this, because you are here to procreate and maintain the species.”

And because cats – unlike humans – trust their instincts, they are clever and fearful.

Negative experience with humans Cats who have endured bad experiences can be very suspicious: This concerns strays as well as house cats who may have experienced aggression at home.

Many a cat holder never wonders what a species-appropriate “handling” of their cat should look like – malicious intent is rare, many simply don’t know better.

Either way – what some cats endure is a very sad chapter and sometimes exceeds our worst imaginations. It is a miracle that cats can actually learn to trust humans again by experiencing a lot of love and patience.

Negative experiences with vets “Oh if I could hermetically shut off all orifices...” many a cat might think during a visit at the vets.

“First they cram me into a tiny basket inside of which I cannot even turn around; then they rudely drag me out again and my body is examined all over in a bright lit room. And all this in front of complete strangers! And then there is this horrible smell! A smell of fear and pain – here they torture you – maybe it will end up really painful?

Or do I have to stay here again? In such a cold dungeon with just food and water. The last time it was horrifying! – Just wake me when it’s over!”

No matter how you do it – an appointment at the vets is always a more or less gruesome experience

Negative experiences with transport boxes

“Sooner a camel would pass through a needle”...If your cat has any bad memories concerning a transport box, it will become a real challenge for you to get it anywhere near the intimidating thing again!

In itself, a box usually doesn’t present a problem: Cats love caves! Cartons of any kind will be happily adopted by your cat; just unpacked the new food processor? Whoosh – the packaging is now occupied.

And it may well be narrow – a cat squeezes through any gap – and if it has to be, into a shoe box!

However, a transport box is a reminder of unpleasant experiences:

Getting mobile has effects on a cat which it rarely enjoys. Agitation, stress, the unknown – all experiences which your cat would like to avoid.

By the way, your cat will smell what’s up even before you get the box out – and suddenly will be nowhere to be found.

Negative experiences during a car journey One cat doesn’t mind it, another hates it. Little children whine on longer drives: “Are we there already?” – “I am thirsty!” and so on…

So does your cat! – But in its own way:

Protest songs are intoned, all of which are piercingly loud and full of resentment. Too long, too hot, too little control – just imagine yourself in your cat’s situation.

Also, a cat does not know how long the trip will take or where you are heading. There is restricted view from inside a box.

Maybe you have to slam on the breaks and your cat will be thrown about. Or it will get a queasy feeling during a car drive: Some cats can’t deal with the rocking movement and that means a mishap is likely to occur...

Tip: Only drive your cat around when there is no other option. Feed it for the last time around 6 hours before start, and better not in between!

Fear of the unknown Your cat is a creature of habit – literally! It does not appreciate change.

Permanently changing circumstances equal stress for your cat. This is logical, as cats always check their territory for dangerous signs and can only relax when everything is well and under control – otherwise high alert is the given state.

For you, new furniture or the new blender might be pleasant additions – for your cat however, those items are “intruders” into their safe habitat which must undergo a thorough examination.

Such behaviour may sound paranoid, but for a cat it is normal and completely justified.

Moving anxiety New home, new happiness? Not for cats really. Especially if they have trouble finding their way around in the new place: “Where is my beloved scratching post? The new one does not smell like me and it is sitting in the wrong spot, not where I would like it to be.

And anyhow – everything here is so different. Nothing is the same as before!

And my human is only busy with packing and unpacking boxes! When I turn up, I am being pushed aside, as if I were one of the boxes!”

All of the latter can get on your cat’s nerves, a lot.

Fear induced by strangers and other animals For cats, fear is a survival instinct. A bold, fearless cat – even though cats are known to be curious – will be easy prey for predators or assault.

Consequently, it is better to flee first then check the situation from a safe spot.

Your cat may live with you in the safe surroundings of your home but even a domestic cat is still a wild animal, with basic instincts.

Suspicion towards unfamiliar humans and animals – even on velvet paws – is completely justified.

From a “domestic” cat however, the exact opposite is expected: It is supposed to be friendly, cuddly, and affectionate right from the start.

Fear induced by unfamiliar sounds Cats are excellent hunters. Their senses are highly refined. If this wasn’t the case, they would not be successful in their search of prey and simply starve.

Just imagine having an amplifier inside your ear which makes everything more audible and louder. Loud and unfamiliar sounds would definitely scare you as well.

Unfamiliar sounds are especially hard to classify: And there it is again - the fear of the unknown. What could this strange sound mean? A gigantic monster, ready to leap, or just a harmless butterfly?

If you, like your cat, could hear a pin drop, you would be anxious about such a sound, wouldn’t you?

Habituation – Phase 1

You have a new cat and want it to settle in quickly? It is behaving anxiously and you would like it to trust you more? It is hiding as soon as you are approaching?

Or even running away from you? – Do not take this behaviour personally and first and foremost, leave them alone!

Move slowly while you are approaching your cat.

Allow your cat ample time to get used to you

Never try to trap or force them – this will be counterproductive: Your cat may become aggressive, because it feels threatened.

Create a stress-free environment To cats, change is never a good thing. They love rituals, their habitual places, and cosy cat naps. All of this, however, is only granted if the procedures around them are known and remain the same.

To increase your cat’s feel of ease, you can create little havens of peace – these may be elevated or cave-like spots where it feels safe, especially if “the outside world” does not seem entirely trustworthy yet.

You cannot keep away everyday life entirely but you can avoid loud noises or stressful situations – this will help a shy cat immensely! Leave the rooms and allow your cat to explore the new territory: That way it will be easier to check the terrain, make it its own and feel safe.

Only when it is absolutely clear that there is no imminent danger, your cat will begin to trust and allow (more) proximity.

Arrange for sufficient free space and hiding spots

Provide possibilities for withdrawal so that your cat can leave a situation which seems “too tight”.

Anxiety normally produces a flight reaction – a safe hiding place will therefore relax the situation. This is your cat’s retreat waiting for it when it feels threatened and allowing it to feel at ease.

These are also the places for a healthy snooze or a cat nap. An exclusive hiding space. Here your cat can feel at ease and relax completely.

Cats love elevated hiding spots. However, anything resembling a cave will also be appreciated. If there is room under the bed or a niche between two cupboards, these might become favourite spaces as well.

Your cat will pick its own favourite spots though, just give them plenty of options by leaving the hiding spaces clear of clutter.

Allow for peace and quiet Humans often think it helps to look after someone permanently – to a shy cat this can mean hell. The more you start coddling your animal, the more it might run off.

Tracking your cat down or playing with it continuously will not help the case.

Cats do not understand these therapeutic approaches and will become even more invisible.

The best option is to pursue your own daily tasks: Proceed as always, but take care to avoid the loud noises – this phase should be free of vacuum cleaners and other loud household appliances – and don’t worry, this will only last until your cat feels more at ease in the new surroundings.

Give it time Baloo from The Jungle Book always knew that the “bare necessities” include calm and ease! Give your cat all the time it needs. This can be entirely different for each cat – one may overcome it’s reserve more quickly than another.

You should create a peaceful environment for your cat throughout this phase.

Avoid – as much as possible – stress and noise.

Give your cat time and space – each positive experience will strengthen it and boost self-confidence: “Aha! Actually, nothing bad happens when I leave my hideout!”

And so the first step has been made.The more positive experiences your cat enjoys, the more self-confident and trustful it will become. Fear can first turn into reluctance, then into confidence and ultimately into trust.

Habituation – Phase 2

The first step has been made: Your cat is not hiding any more but has summoned up all it’s courage and actively entered the new territory?

If so, do not make the mistake to follow it, as in: “Ah, here you are finally! You were looking for me, were you?”“

This could mean a complete setback! Your cat will very likely choose the option of flight again and stay in its hideout even longer than before, making things worse for both of you.

At this point, analyse the body language. You are already aware what your cat looks like when it feels anxious: Fur standing on end, arched back, ears flattened to the side and maybe a slightly bent tail. The pupils will be extremely wide

Try to interpret your cat’s body language in the right way By using its body, your cat will tell you all you need to know.

Pay attention to signs:

What position are ears, tail and whiskers in? What facial expression does it show?

Often, distinctive sounds will accompany these signs…

Use language and expression for reassurance

When you speak to your cat, stay calm and relaxed and use a lower pitch of voice.

Social mimicry works with people copying the body language of their interviewer so that their counterpart registers them as sympathetic.

With cats, this rarely applies – it is obviously hard to mimic your cat as you are lacking the respective features to do so! (Even though, the most curious approaches have been tried out...)

You are a human being, but you can show your cat that you mean well by way of a unique, “human communication”, thus putting your animal at ease.

So – in case your cat is frightened – what can you do to calm it down by using your own body language and facial expression?

Do not stare at your cat

An eye for an eye – in cat speech: If you have observed a cat’s behaviour among its fellow cats, you will notice that staring means that either an attack is soon to follow, or at least that the situation is worsening dramatically.

Direct eye contact among cats is a sign of dominance. “Who do you think you’re talking to? – Want to challenge me?”

However, the goal of this behaviour is to actually prevent a fight by threatening the enemy – in the best case, the opponent cannot stand the stare and will retreat.

So, if you fix your cat with a stare, it could – in the worst case – think an attack is imminent! Or that you want to challenge it. This may be taken as a threat, leading to retreat.

Instead give a frequent wink – which, in cat speech, equals a friendly smile.

Habituation – Phase 3

“We have contact” – though not, as Paul Hellyer recently claimed, with Aliens. But even so for a cat lover this can equal Christmas and Easter combined:

The cat has come out of its cover!

Now it’s almost done: You have put your cat at ease. The shy cat is beginning to trust you. Now you can work on connection. However, here the overall motto applies again:

Do not rush anything! Do not apply pressure!

Always let the cat make the first move! Your cat should approach you first, not the other way round.

Once your cat is ready, an invitation to more closeness will follow…

Proximity is up to the cat Stay calm and wait for your cat to come to you.

Let it sniff you for a bit – you may also extend one hand very slowly – but always cautiously and in slow motion.

If your cat withdraws, leave it at that for the moment.

Maybe, the cat will cautiously move along your leg or rub its cheek on it – now there is reason to celebrate! This means, that you have just been “tagged”.

With its smell, the territory has been marked – „Mein Mensch!“ The smell does not only indicate ownership but also sympathy.

By doing this, your cat demonstrates affection.

However, do not answer with a spontaneous caress but first let it sniff your hand so that your cat can acknowledge it and accept your touch.

Start cautiously To touch without prior announcement is a no-go! This is not even liked by trusting cats and it is in no way accepted by those who are still shy!

However, there is a means to open the heart (more quickly): TREATS.

Many a “cuddling grouch” will quickly soften up if the caressing hand also holds a treat.

When your cat comes near and even allows you to touch it, have a reward at hand. This will leave a lasting impression positively reinforced by the treat.

Who knows? – Maybe your little pelt-nose will ask for the next cuddle quicker than you think! But always stay gentle – never overdo it!

When you realise your cat has had enough, don’t pressurize it for more.

Strengthen the bond through play

Make time for playing with your cat daily. This will strengthen your relationship.

Choose games that your cat especially likes.

Playing together is not only improving your relationship it also means your cat can live out its instincts and enjoys sufficient exercise.

Therefore, play is a must for house cats! Here, both incentives and entertainment are provided and this is at least equally important as food and water; cats with no chance for interaction wither away in no time.

The best policy is a regular playing hour as part of your daily routine, preferably at a time of day when your cat feels the most energetic and motivated.

If nothing works

Sometimes, it is really hard to dispel a cat’s anxiety, especially if there have been traumatic experiences in the past. The overall behaviour in those cases is often hard to read, especially if the animal – seemingly out of nowhere – feels so threatened that fear turns into anxiety – one minute it is in cuddling mode and the next it bites and scratches you? Remember, there is always a good reason for your cat to behave like this, even if it may not be obvious to you.

Please do not take it personally and never punish your cat – because its behaviour is merely the sum of its experiences and fears.

You have tried everything and even loads of love and patience have been of no help?– then you may want to try homeopathy or pheromones.

Bach flowers for reassurance

If homeopathy is of help, or not, is a matter of belief – the cat holder who swears on conventional medicine will simply frown upon it and choose something else. Then again, people who believe that homeopathy is an approach that helps humans may be inclined to give it a go with animals as well – and consider it as an alternative.

The big psychological question “does an animal have a soul?” may have to remain unanswered at this point. However, anyone who, like founder Dr. Bach, thinks that body, soul and mind should form a harmonised unity, may try Bach Flowers Therapy.

A single essence or a specially mixed solution may be of help to your cat.

TIP: Anxious cats: Aspen, Mimulus Aggressive cats: Beech, Cherry Plum, Holly, Impatiens

Introducing cat pheromones

Quotes should be avoided – true. But this one fits the context beautifully and the inclined blog reader may forgive me:

"There are more things between the sky and earth than school wisdom will let you imagine"

– Yep! Says the cat – while the quote is by William Shakespeare – as for velvet paws this is old news: Cats communicate on different levels from the start, which to us are neither visible nor explainable in terms of bio chemistry.

Pheromones are chemical substances produced by cats. They serve communication and affect the behaviour.

Cats produce these neurotransmitters in various glands. Each odour has its own specific meaning and will be left on strategic spots, transmitted via the face (chin and cheeks), paws or urine by the cat.

Pheromones are divided into various fractions:

Face pheromones are spoken of as either “F3 fraction” or “feel good pheromones”, and the “F4 fraction” – or “social pheromones”.

These facial pheromones can also be produced synthetically. You can spray them onto single items or put them to use in rooms by means of a plug-in atomiser.

Well and good – you may think – but where can I get the relaxing pheromones?

Scent carriers are commercially available: FELIWAY

Remember: Use the vaporiser preferably in the room your cat like to stay in the most, at least for a period of four weeks.

Visit a vet or a cat psychologist

The “tough cases” – those poor creatures who have been through a lot – may not accept help easily.

If fear rules a cat’s entire life, you may want to consult a specialist.

This can either be a vet or a cat psychologist.

A vet can check possible physical reasons and take a look at the cat’s behaviour.

A lay person is not able to deliver such diagnostics – even if they are a brilliant cat person.

The view from the outside and the respective advice can sometimes work wonders:

Many a symptom can even be quickly and easily resolved.

If the reasons are rooted deep within the psyche, an animal psychologist can be consulted who might be able to suggest and support behavioural therapy.

Truth be told – there is no universal remedy that works for all cats alike; the individual animals are too different from each other. Each cat is marked by its own history – by its mum, the genetic code and the surroundings.

The effort to make turn an anxious cat into a trusting one seems big, the problems at times insurmountable. – But it is worth it!

At the latest when your cat disengages itself from invisibility and is waiting for you for the first time, its tail bolt upright:

You give it a gentle try and pet its head – still unsure if it will run away in panic again – But this time, the cat stays put!

– And nestles its whole body against your hand.

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organssos · 6 years ago

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25 Father's Day Quotes To Share With Dad

Father's Day will soon be here before you realize it, and we've exactly the thing you want to create daddy's day extra special. Even though daddy may insist he does not require such a thing, pairing it instead of only minding these Father's Day quotes is really going to make him feel adored. Give Dad his presents a Sunday morning meal after you have summoned up if you want to really go the extra mile .

1. You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death. ― Laurell K. Hamilton 2. Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoy's Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city's reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty. ― P.G. Wodehouse 3. It all goes back and back," Tyrion thought, "to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads. ― George R.R. Martin 4. And the day will come when the mystical generation of Jesus, by the supreme being as his father in the womb of a virgin will be classed with the fable of the generation of Minerva in the brain of Jupiter. But we may hope that the dawn of reason and freedom of thought in these United States will do away all this artificial scaffolding... ― Thomas Jefferson 5. I understand that fear is my friend, but not always. Never turn your back on Fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed. My father taught me that, along with a few other things that have kept my life interesting. ― Hunter S 6. To you who are parents, I say, show love to your children. You know you love them, but make certain they know it as well. They are so precious. Let them know. Call upon our Heavenly Father for help as you care for their needs each day and as you deal with the challenges which inevitably come with parenthood. You need more than your own wisdom in rearing them. ― Thomas S. Monson 7. I suddenly remember being very little and being embraced by my father. I would try to put my arms around my father's waist, hug him back. I could never reach the whole way around the equator of his body; he was that much larger than life. Then one day, I could do it. I held him, instead of him holding me, and all I wanted at that moment was to have it back the other way. ― Jodi Picoult 8. Father, I decree and declare that I will be anxious for nothing. But in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, I will make my requests known to You. I arise in faith today knowing that You hear and answer prayer. Because I bring my needs to You, I will walk in the peace of God that surpasses understanding, and it will guard my heart and mind. In stillness and quietness I will wait for You, and You will lead me in the way I should go. I seal these declarations in the name of Jesus, amen. ― Cindy Trimm 9. My mother always said that I was born out of a bottle of vinegar instead of born from a womb and that she and my father bathed me in sugar for three days to wash it off. I try to behave, but I always go back to the vinegar. ― Maggie Stiefvater 10. A wedding is for daughters and fathers. The mothers all dress up, trying to look like young women. But a wedding is for a father and daughter. They stop being married to each other on that day.― Sarah Ruhl, Eurydice 11. When I was young, my father used to say, ‘If you are alive, there is hope for a better day and something good to happen. If there is nothing good left in the destiny of a person, he or she will die.’ I thought about these words during my journey, and they kept me moving even when I didn’t know where I was going. Those words became the vehicle that drove my spirit forward and made it stay alive.― Ishmael Beah 12. This is a lttle prayer dedicated to the separation of church and state. I guess if they are going to force those kids to pray in schools they might as well have a nice prayer like this: Our Father who art in heaven, and to the republic for which it stands, thy kingdom come, one nation indivisible as in heaven, give us this day as we forgive those who so proudly we hail. Crown thy good into temptation but deliver us from the twilight's last gleaming. Amen and Awomen. ― George Carlin 13. I'd love to know how Dad saw me when I was 6. I'd love to know a hundred things. When a parent dies, a filing cabinet full of all the fascinating stuff also ceases to exist. I never imagined how hungry I'd be one day to look inside it. ― David Mitchell 14. The thing that most haunted me that day, however...was the fact that these things had - apparently - actually occurred...For all his attention to my historical education, my father had neglected to tell me this: history's terrible moments were real. I understand now, decades later, that he could never have told me. Only history itself can convince you of such a truth. And once you've seen that truth - really seen it - you can't look away. ― Elizabeth Kostova 15. Why are we so attached to the severities of the past? Why are we so proud of having endured our fathers and our mothers, the fireless days and the meatless days, the cold winters and the sharp tongues? It's not as if we had a choice. ― Hilary Mantel 16. Isn't it true that you start your life a sweet child believing in everything under your father's roof? Then comes the day of the Laodiceans, when you know you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked, and with the visage of a gruesome grieving ghost you go shuddering through nightmare life. ― Jack Kerouac 17. Make sure to tell our baby that his father loves him every day of his life, just like I will always love you every single day. ― E.L. Montes 18. Jon wanted nothing more. No, he had to tell himself, those days are gone. The realization twisted in his belly like a knife. They had chosen him to rule. The Wall was his, and their lives were his as well. A lord may love the men that he commands, he could hear his lord father saying, but he cannot be a friend to them. One day he may need to sit in judgement on them, or send them forth to die. ― George R.R. Martin 19. Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog's paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in a house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its paw. This, he would say, as if coming away from a brandy snifter, is the greatest smell in the world! A bouquet! Great rumours of travel! She would pretend disgust, but the dog's paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt. It's a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so's garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen--a concentration of hints of all the paths the animal had taken during the day. ― Michael Ondaatje 20. Most of the time, it felt like my father and I were completely different species. Possibly literally, depending on the day and whether or not I actually qualified as human at the time. ― Jennifer Lynn Barnes 21. Every day He humbles Himself just as He did when from from His heavenly throne into the Virgin's womb; every day He comes to us and lets us see Him in lowliness, when He descends from the bosom of the Father into the hands of the priest at the altar. ― St. Francis of Assisi 22. One day Bird had approached his father with this question; he was six years old: Father, where was I a hundred years before I was born? Where will I be a hundred years after I die? Father, what will happen to me when I die? Without a word, his young father had punched him in the mouth, broke two of his teeth and bloodied his face, and Bird forgot the fear of death. ― Kenzaburō Ōe 23. Our father was a great warrior. Our mother is proud and strong. They shared only one flaw: that their only loyalty was to themselves above all other cats. We're not like that. We understand what it means to be loyal to our Clan. We have the courage to live by the warrior code. And because of that we'll be the most powerful cats in RiverClan one day, and our Clanmates will have to respect us then. ― Erin Hunter, Dawn 24. If we will build righteous traditions in our families, the light of the gospel can grow ever brighter in the lives of our children from generation to generation. We can look forward to that glorious day when we will all be united together as eternal family units to reap the everlasting joy promised by our Eternal Father for His righteous children. ― L. Tom Perry 25. My Father and my God, I submit myself to Your authority today and declare that my spirit will grow and become fruitful as You lead me by the virtue of Your flawless character. I submit to Your wisdom as You freely give to me my heart’s desires. I align my heart with Your heart and my will with Your will. May Your blessings overtake me and the boundary lines fall for me in pleasant places as You have decreed. In Jesus’s name I declare that this is so. ― Cindy Trimm Read the full article

#DAD #Father'sDay #Father'sDayQuotes #Quotes

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