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watermelonlipstick · 4 years

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Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

“They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

“Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

“I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

“I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

“Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

“Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

“Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

“It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

“I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

“But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

And you woke up.

The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

“How long have you been talking to Dean?”

He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

“Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

“He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

“It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

“I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

“The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

“Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

“Can I help?”

After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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iamherefortheships · 4 years

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Hello #stranger 2 fandom. How are we doing ? I have so many feelings about SF2 and its only been 2 days, but I cant move on from THAT FINAL DINER SCENE between Shimok and Yeojin . I have literally joined tumblr so I can write about this (so maybe i can start living my life lol).

My brain cells were extremely satisfied with SF2, but my heart was left wanting.

Here is the essay/analysis of the diner scene that LITERALLY NO ONE asked for. I do ship them so some of the views are with shipping glasses ON! So read at your own risk :) also - its very long

I want to first contrast the scenes from SF1 to SF2. The final diner in season 1 was warm, funny and open to possibilities - it established that after being through all that crap together they had gone from being professional partners to friends who want to be there from each other ( Sorry i can’t come to your ceremony, sorry i can’t see you off...etc etc). The music was upbeat.

It felt like the start of something important (and I do not mean in a romantic way, it’s just a big deal for Shi-mok to let someone in his life)

And when the SF2 started, the way these two talked on the phone it just felt like they had been in touch -so maybe their friendship had been constant. And then of course the whole police-prosecution thing happened which made Yeo-jin super reserved and closed off. Even when they were together, I felt that their relationship was more mature and stronger.

And then SF2 did something wonderful, which was so subtle that I couldn’t place it for a while. It made Shimok the empathetic one – the number of times he gave that weird soft look to Yeojin was just …! And he constantly expressed his concern in his own way and I am paraphrasing – “ is this who you are? Is this what you want to do? You don’t draw anymore”. He was expressing his concern towards her (without judging her choices btw, which I loved). This is a huge emotional step for him.

There is also a lot of public acknowledgement of their partnership/friendship – CB baiting Yeojin, WTH making observations and thinking he can threaten Shi-mok by destroying Yeojin’s career, Shi-mok going out his way to protect Yeojin by appealing to CB. I am very happy with this – coz it does emphasize how central they are to this story and each other.

So the reason, I have gone off on a bit of a tangent is to bring it to all to the diner scene. I both loved and was terribly saddened by it – it felt weirdly unresolved for their relationship.

I can’t exactly place the tone of the diner scene . First of all, there was a deliberate sense of nostalgia (with the hair cut and reference to week keep saing goodbye), and that’s always done to refer back to a better or happier time. And then Yeojin and Shimok are both in different places emotionally. She was very sad in this whole scene which just broke my heart. She just gives and gives, she needs some TLC now!

There were more confusing vibes on what the scene was trying to establish. It started off so cute with the hair-cut,and showing how much Shi-mok notices her and remembers their time together. And boy he notices her in this scene – literally cannot take eyes off her and has this glint in his eyes that entire time (CSW is such a brilliant actor!). The bgm is sweet, not upbeat but not sad.

And I love that they talked about the dream (again, Shimok is sharing personal details with her this season…which makes the shipper in me super happy).

Then the music becomes super sad – like it’s the end of something. Even though Yeojin implies that this repeated farewells has become a joke, it somehow felt more final.

And then the way Shi-mok says - Take Care, Inspector Han. The way he said it just punched me in the gut – it was so full of emotion, tenderness, and finality. My first reaction was that this was a farewell in the literal sense – goodbye forever, end of an era, you were in my life and you meant something and I wish you the best in whatever you do. End of the road for us vibes.

Is that just me or did anyone else feel that way too? Am I overthinking this?

But then, the food comes and Shimok just sits and gazes at her – and I am like whoa- that does not look platonic! The level of fondness in that gaze is not an emotion I have seen on this character’s face ever. He just takes her in….as if he is realizing what she is to him. But also, like he is memorizing her face .....

I have gone and rewatched this scene multiple times, and Shimok looks more smitten with every rewatch....LOL. It’s the finality of the dialogs in the scene that keeps throwing me off.

I know he asks her ‘Is she okay?” (which is huge step for Shimok) but I would have loved something more there…not an ask for help but even an acknowledgement that Yeojin realizes that he is there for her.

I found it interesting that in this scene the camera was mostly focused on Shi-mok’s face – as if to emphasize about what he feels for and what she means to him.

I did love the scene, and it was so loaded with emotions and Shimok has definitely had some realization about Yeojin..but why did it feel so final ☹. I can’t even tell if they will stay in touch ☹. Why was the music so sad?

I don’t know how else they could have done it, and I know the second season was much darker, but I wish they had left these two together in a happier place.

Okay apologies for the word vomit/typos but I already feel better after writing it!

#hwanghan #hwang shimok #secret forest season 2 #secret forest #secret forest 2 #tvn stranger #stranger 2 #HOW HE LOOKED AT HER THESE TWO SERIOUSLY

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rarestnicole · 3 years

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[090221] To the force behind our power...

“To die is to rest.”

I’ve never felt defeated until today. I felt so helpless, so hopeless, so defiant at the same time.

Looking at your casket being wheeled in the church, I wanted to rebel so much. I want to rebel like you do when you know that you don’t like to do something. Your conviction is unbelievable and admirable at the same time.

I couldn’t believe that you’re already gone. I always thought that you’d be with us longer—more than I’d ever live—if possible.

We may not have the best relationship, but we had something unique; something that only the two of us share.

Everyone knows that I am not your biological granddaughter nor we are blood related. Despite that, you loved me. You loved me when I was young and I could still remember it vividly. You were usually the one who’d go up on stage to pin me my ribbons. I remember being so thankful for that because it’s always a struggle to ask someone to pin me my ribbons. Thank you for saving me from the hassle and pain then.

We only drifted when I grew up being a disciplinarian that Mommy is while you are the always indulging and tolerant grandma to all you grandchildren and great grandchildren.

I wasn’t sorry to how I treated them because I know in my heart that it was the best for them. The world isn’t limited to people who will understand us in the family, so I tried my best to instill values and discipline to them that will be of use to them when they go past our hold.

Lola, I believe I did a good job with how I established a relationship to your grandchildren and great grandchildren. The bonds we have now are precious and solid. I’ll continue to take good care of them; it may not be exactly how you would but I assure you that it will be for their goodness’s sake.

Our love-hate relationship continued through the years. We argue and disagree on a lot of things but I felt your love anyways in fleeting moments. I saw the way you loved me in glimpses that thankfully didn’t go unnoticed.

When we argue and Mom would butt in about returning me to Mama and Papa, you’d immediately say, “Mamunot takon.”

You dislike the idea of me being returned because, “Uja taran nagbahol, iuli pa nimo.”

‘Di ka naman wrong, La. Sa kwarto mo ako pinanganak, sa bahay at pamilya mo lumaki, at sa mga paniniwala at pag-uugali niyo natuto.

I always appreciate your conviction whenever we’re in that situation. Thank you so much.

I hope that you are aware of how much you’ve influenced me in more than 21 years of being with you physically and mentally. 😆

Elementary pa lang ako, expressions mo na ang bukambibig ko. I know that I shouldn’t say some of those, but I couldn’t help it. It’s weird how it was natural.

“Ay patay, buhu batuna.”

“Boras ni apay.”

‘Di ko alam ang meaning ng pangalawa because you refused to tell me, I think it was so bad, you’d rather keep it to yourself.

However, it’s already become natural for me to associate that expression in situations that it seem fitting, based on how and when I heard it from you.

Heck, I even brought it to the city, never minding if no one understood me. What mattered to me is the expression of my emotions exactly how I was used to. It was perfect and comforting to curse, to rant, and to talk the way I was used to and I was unapologetically me wherever I went.

That’s another thing that was your influence. You’re cool, yunno. I might disagree with some of your principles and beliefs but I learned that when I take it on another perspective, it’ll result to something that aligns to my own principles and beliefs. It’s not all bad.

We have the rarest relationship in the family, I must say.

You are always vocal of how much you love each other while we’re both vocal about how much we hate each other. 😆

Sabi nila, gahibla lang ang layo ng galit sa pagmamahal.

Guess that’s our love language. It’s unique, isn’t it?

We’d bicker here and there then die for each other time after time. 🤣

Hay, Lola.

Where are you now?

I sensed you last night, was I right? Is that really you?

I thought I knew loss when I lost Inang, but your loss is life-fucking-changing.

God knows how I genuinely cared for you. I don’t care if no one else knows its extent, all that mattered to me is that I do. Despite our ramblings about each other, I did care for you.

Well, maybe, I hoped that you felt it.

I’ve heard countless of times how much of a bionic woman you are. I held unto that.

I always thought that you’re a constant in our life, refusing to believe that you’ll leave us one day. I refused to entertain the thoughts of our house being empty of you physical presence. I refused to believe that you’re slowly getting old, that we’re slowly losing you.

Despite your old age, I dodged all of Mommy’s observance and countered with my own possibility. Kasi nga ayaw ko, hindi ko kaya. You are my constant as much as Mommy is.

I wasn’t prepared to be left, I refused to prepare. I’m sorry.

I used to reflect on my prayers and hopes and arrived to many conclusions.

I could be selfish because I’m holding you back in my head.

I may be toxically hopeful because I don’t want you to go.

Or maybe I was an ally on your pursuit of living longer and longer and longer.

Iniisip ko noon na hangga’t gusto mong mabuhay, kahit nahihirapan ka, ayos lang na panghawakan ka lagi. Nandito naman kami para umalalay, para tumulong, para mag-alaga. I’ll be an instrument to your pursuit of long life.

Saka na lang ako nag-entertain ng thoughts na, “Okay lang na wala ka sa piling namin, at least nakapagpahinga ka na,” no’ng wala ka na.

I know I’m selfish for refusing to let you go in your last days, when I saw you at your weakest.

Kasi, La, naniniwala akong lalakas ka pa. Alam kong lalakas ka pa, if only you were able to eat. You’re the sharpest person I know even in your weakest state. Your will to live is stronger than mine, that’s why it’s kinda annoying that you don’t get to live longer than you really do.

I’d give you some of my supposed sunsets if I could because I know that you’d like that.

In the days and nights of your wake, day and night, I was there with you because I want to; not just because I need to.

Despite of being there, looking at you through the glass, I didn’t think that you’re gone.

You’re there, alright. You’re there in a different part of the house, in different position, and different state, but never acknowledging that you’re actually dead.

God, it’s pathetic, right? What were you thinking then, La?

Ginaisip siguro nimo na umang ko? Haha.

Maiwan bay ko? Jaan gani. Pero tuwing naaalala nakon na patay don gid gani kaw, daw pirmi takon mapanawag sa imo kag mamangkot it, “Basi?”

Jaan takon.

Weird. Sorry, La.

Kaya kaina kang ginbuol don nanda kaw sa balay, daw birahon tikaw. Haha. Mamunot bala kaw kato? Char. Ay ilam sa aton. Tonta takon, La. 😆

I felt so defeated looking at your casket while listening to the homily. I mean, that’s another step to not-being-with-you. Itself inevitably closing in and I know that I can do nothing.

I experienced and felt things that I just hear, read, and watch from others before. I didn’t know how real those emotions and impulses were until today.

I couldn’t believe that when we go back home from the cemetery, there’s no more you. Not even on the casket. God, it’s a 360-degree change.

Mingaw taya La nga uwa kaw. Maiwan kami bay kaya?

Gatuna kag gatapos among adlaw sa imo, maiwan kami kaya?

I don’t mind serving you again. I don’t mind doing the things I didn’t expect to do again. I don’t mind those.

If I have something I mind, it’s about our personal bickerings and as long as I can vent it out somewhere, I’m okay again.

You made me experience things that taught me precious lessons and maybe, that’s exactly how I need to be so I could grow exactly how I’m fated to be.

I guess, despite our relationship, we are perfectly what we need for each other to grow on different manners, something vital to both of us as individuals.

Wow, La, perfect gali kita for each other. 😆 Well, that’s my reflection on our relationship.

I wasn’t able to mourn with complete abandon because of my denial, being the source of strength to those who need it, and my pointless hope.

La, I’ve never told you something, but I prayed countless of times about it. We were never vocal about our mushy sentiments, so it’s understandable. I’m utterly thankful for the family that you and Lolo Nito built.

I am me mostly me because of this family; the family that drew strength from you.

You are the Yggdrasil to our worlds.

You said, “to die is to rest,” so I’ll hold on to that. I’d love to think that you’re already comfortable wherever you’re now. Wherever you’re heading, know that we find comfort in your memories.

As the lyrics to your song goes:

“I will go far away where you can see me no more. Goodbye to you, I’m going to leave you now.

Sad and sorrow is to leave you now, but my darling what shall I do. Sad and sorrow is to leave you now, goodbye my love.”

Sad and sorrow indeed. We’ll get to acceptance thought. We’ll pray for both of our sakes.

Sabi mo, huwag kaming umiyak kasi magkikita pa naman tayo, ‘di ba?

So, yeah, see you, La.

Palangga tikaw.

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only-here-for-jatp · 4 years

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Build-a-Band pt 5 Lukas and Jules

Part 5 is up!

Featuring: Luke POV, Luke building a Julie, and Reggie building a Luke

Not going to lie, not my best chapter. Little sleepy. HOWEVER, some chapters now have pictures at the bottom of the bears (sans outfits) that I’m referencing.

As always read on Ao3 here

And below! ~2300 words

Luke adored watching the faces of his bandmates as they shared Alexander the bear. Reggie was lit up like the sun, and somehow shone even brighter after rendering Alex speechless while he gently swept his fingers over the bear. Alex looked to be slightly in awe, not just in the surprising likeness to himself, but also at the care of thought that went into it.

He was only kidding, mostly, when he whined about Reggie not making him a stuffie. It was less because he needed a small stuffed animal version of himself, but more because he really wanted Reggie to want to make him one. He understood though, why Reggie would make one for Alex rather than him.

Alex had always gravitated towards soft things. For as long as the boys had known him there was something soft and cuddly nearby whether it be a stuffed animal, a blanket, or even just a sweatshirt. Reggie was much the same, although he tried to hide it significantly more than Alex did. Both of them loved such things, looked to them in an instinctual way for comfort.

Luke didn’t have that kind of attachment to soft cuddly things. It certainly that he wasn’t cuddly enough, in fact he was probably the cuddliest of the bunch, but even when he was little, he’d always chosen to cuddle people instead. In fact, he craved being in constant contact with another human being. When he’d been five it’d been his mom, he’d wrap around her leg or crawl into her lap and she’d whisper to him the secrets of the universe.

When he was ten it was Reggie. He’d follow him around, tugging on the bottom of his shirt as Reggie chatted at him in high speed. Mostly though, Luke would grab Reggie’s hand and pull him along into shenanigans and adventures and things that ten-year-old boys get up to. Over the years, there were classmates that teased them, but Luke would just grip harder, stick his tongue out and call them jealous. After all, clearly nobody wanted to hold their hands.

In late middle school, they found Alex. Soon it was cuddle piles on the floor or the couch. Pretty much anywhere all three of them could fit. That was actually most places since all three boys were fairly creative and very few sense of boundaries. It was Alex who he would hug as if it was a lifeline, the only thing keeping him standing, after fights with his mom. It was the three of them linking fingers, hands, arms, ready to defy the world where everyone they trusted, everyone they needed to protect them failed.

He would never dream of mocking the boys for their love of all things soft and cuddly. He figured he’d had his own teddy bears in a way, they just happened to be the very alive, and now very dead, Alex and Reggie. Instead he watched with a soft smile at Reggie tried to hide his joy at Alex refusing to put Alexander down and getting to go back to Build a Bear the next day. The best moment had when he caught Alex teaching Alexander to play the drums when he thought no one was looking. Yup, his brothers were the most adorable and soon they would all have stuffies of each other to play with, and for that he was incredibly excited.

Luke wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when he poofed into Build a Bear the next morning, but walls covered with animals of all shapes colors and sizes was certainly not it. He could feel Reggie literally vibrating next to him and Luke’s excitement and energy was feeding off it. Oh yes, the kid in a candy store feeling was coming over him. Something about these stuffies felt different. Instead of lifeless stares, it almost felt as if they were alive and gazing fondly at the joy they were bringing to the three ghost boys and the smirking human girl.

He glanced at Julie and was unsurprised to see a soft smile and shimmering eyes as she took them all in. Alex had wandered off to the shelves mesmerized and before he could process what was happening Reggie was dragging him all around the store pointing out cool this and cool that and AHHH did you see. Luke was smiling and hanging on for the ride.

Or he was until he saw the dogs. There was one, like a border collie almost with fire sticking out all over the place and he heard himself scream before he realized the words were his. OHMYGAWD IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GOING TO DIE.

At this point Julie and Reggie were doubled over and cackling at him while Alex barely spared him a quizzical look. He harumphed. He’d never gotten the appeal before! Not when he’d had Reggie and Alex so he had…. never mind he didn’t want to do THAT math… years to catch up on! He walked over to lightly punch Reggie in the arms as he slowly managed to stop laughing.

He meandered away, peering in all the boxes with Reggie following closely behind him. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he figured he would know it when he saw it. It wasn’t long before Reggie was tugging at his shirt.

“Dude! Dude!” Reggie pointed at a soft caramel brown bear with big sewn in eyes. “It’s you!!” At first glance Luke agreed, it did kind of remind him of him, but as he got closer, he realized that this bear was slightly smaller than the other bears. Which of course is when Luke read the name “Lil’ Cub Brownie”.

Luke whispered yelled “I AM NOT THAT SHORT! I AM 5’8” WHICH IS A PERFECTLY RESPECTABLE HEIGHT”

Reggie just looked at him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips. “Let’s see what Julie thinks.” He called out to the girl watching them with amusement. “Hey Jules, how tall would you say Luke is?”

She gave Luke a quick up and down. Pondered it softly as her eyebrows scrunched up. “Hmmm…. 5’4”?”

Luke could feel the shock, horror, and betrayal coursing through him. “I AM 5’8”!” Julie looked at him quizzically “Are you sure?”

Luke let out a groan of frustration as Reggie picked up the small bear shaped lump and winked at him. He grabbed Reggie’s elbow and dragged him along scanning the aisles for something that might even mildly resemble Julie.

He’d passed this bear three times. He still didn’t like it, didn’t even think it looked like Julie, yet something about it kept giving him pause. It was a pale lilac color and it might be the softest thing he’d ever touched. The purple was kind of nice, but he knew Julie was a more vibrant purple like the dress she’d worn on the Orpheum and while her eyes could melt him to the core, she had a strength that astounded him. The bear kind of felt like Julie lite. A shadow or figment of her.

There was something weird with its eyes too like it had winged eyeliner. He knew every now and again Julie wore her make-up like that, but it didn’t really seem to be her. Julie was at her Juliest when in mismatched pajamas and her fluffy dinosaur slippers, her hair flowing freely and a soft song singing from her lips. It was like she carried the warmth and the light with her and this bear just didn’t.

Yet this was the third time he was standing in front of this Anna? From Frozen? Bear and it was his best bet. Reluctantly he grabbed the blob of fabric and hoped along the way it could become more like her.

He and Reggie made their way over to where Alex and Julie were already sitting, waiting for the other to join them. He had to admit he wasn’t listening while Julie gave them some monologue. The bear just wasn’t sitting right with him and it took Reggie dragging him toward these red boxes to jar him from contemplation.

Luke glanced in to see all the little hearts and felt a smile lighting up his face. Identifying a heart for Julie, now that he could do. He smiled a little bit at Alex’s intense focus, as if finding the right heart was the same as defusing a bomb. He laughed at Reggie’s antics of digging through everything and moving hearts into different buckets, leaving not one unturned in his hunt. Every now and again Luke would let out a tease at the look on Alex’s face or be fake angry with Reggie when he scooped hearts on top of where Luke was looking.

This was really what he’d come for, this moment of pure joy with his family. Julie just kept shaking her head at them all. For a minute they were just three seventeen-year-old boys with their favorite girl building a bear.

It took him by surprise really, the flash of color. Soon though, he was digging with fervor trying to find the glimpse of deep royal purple he’d seen. After what felt like forever and a impending feeling of hopelessness he found it. Sitting at the bottom of the bin was a purple heart, almost exactly the color of Julie’s Orpheum dress. This, this was the one.

He cracked a smile at Reggie and waved it in his face as Reggie held up what had to be the most awkwardly looking heart he’d ever seen. Reg must have noted his look of confusion because he started to explain.

“I know it’s not the prettiest looking heart but look at all it’s gone through. It’s still surviving, it’s still functional, it’s still the biggest heart of anyone I know. This is the kind of heart that gives pieces of itself to mend others.” Reggie just keeps going borderline rambling as if he also doesn’t know where to stop until his voice drops almost to a whisper “This is a heart that fixes things and and and you fixed us.”

Luke gave Reggie the biggest grin as the warmth flew through him at his friend’s explanation. “It’s perfect Reg. Thank you.” Reggie’s thousand-watt smile was back as they all moved back towards the stuffing machine. He prompted Julie to do the magic, dragging him and Alex into the convincing, not that Julie needed it.

The wish stumped Luke briefly and he watched as Alex and Reggie seemed to do it with very little hesitation. Words and thoughts seemed to jumble in his mind before some started to align with startling clarity. They were lyrics? Either way he whisper sang them to the bear.

We say we're friends, we play pretend. You're more to me, we're everything Our voices rise and soar so high. We come to life when we're, In perfect harmony

By the time he finished, Alex had his new bear stuffed introducing him as William the Skater Bear and Reggie and Julie were whispering together while shooting him looks. Soon the caramel bear was growing and becoming real. Luke had to admit, despite the height issue, Reggie really had done a good job picking out the bear and as he screamed about a guitar for Lukas, Luke giggled and stepped up to the machine.

Julie raised an eyebrow at his choice and he grinned at her sheepishly and shrugged. Truthfully, he was a little nervous about it. What if he picked the wrong bear? What if it looked awful? Would she hate it? When he handed her the heart though, her eyes grew wide before dashing up to his. She squeezed it tight and watched as her face shifted to awe and a blush crept over her cheeks before she hurriedly finished the bear.

She handed the bear back to him and oddly enough Luke stared deeply into the bear’s eyes. A flicker of recognition passed through. That was Jules, through and through. He took one more glance at Julie, smiled, and called out “C’mon Jules time to accessorize!” He heard her giggle as he wandered over to the clothes section.

In the end, he managed to convince Julie to let him bring home two outfits for Jules. One was a sparkly purple fairy dress with a black leather jacket and a microphone to match, the other was a pair of pajamas with monster slippers. They’d rationalized it as needing a band outfit, but also a cuddlier one.

For a brief moment, he and Reggie switched bears so Luke could hold onto Lukas. Reggie had managed to find denim pants with a band tshirt and a beanie. Reggie swore up and down that when they got home they could cut the sleeves off the bear’s shirt, but Luke was enamored with the little bear and his soft guitar that hung by a band off his hand. He nodded absently, agreeing with whatever Reggie said before pulling Lukas close into a tight hug.

A little voice that sounded remarkably like Reggie whispered into Luke’s head.

You are Lukas. Luke may prefer hugging people to stuffies, but it’s your job to make sure that for whatever reason we can’t be there, Luke can hug you and know we’re hugging him back as tightly. He saved us all and now he’ll never be alone again.

He looked up at Reggie, tears starting to pool in his eyes, even as Reggie looked a little confused. He reached out and hugged him tight. Never letting go of Lukas. They stayed that way for a long time before pulling apart.

Alex had witnessed the whole thing and was pretty sure he knew exactly what caused the burst of emotion in Luke. He gave a small smile before taking the opportunity to rag on his brother. “So what do you think Luke? Care to put Lukas down for a minute.”

Luke shook his head vigorously “Nuh-uh. Not a chance.” There was something niggling at him though as he joked with his bandmates. He couldn’t quite place it though until Julie slipped Jules out of Reggie’s arms and into her arms. He froze then, his brain catching up and slamming into him.

What if Julie could hear the lyrics he sung to the bear as his wish?

#jatp #jatp fanfic #build a band #julie and the phantoms

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 6—Phantom Traveler (Part 2)

The first ten minutes, you felt lousy. Lousy, and also scared stiff. Why shouldn't you be? This plane was going to take the plunge in a little over a half and hour, and these people had no idea, save you and the Winchesters. And even they didn't really know the extent of it. They probably thought they could exorcise the demon before much happened.

"Just try to relax."

"Just try to shut up."

The engines whirred, shaking the plane as it lifted itself into the air.

The plane was dreadfully quiet. There were some murmurs here and there throughout the plane, but you tuned into the conversation to your left. Dean was fidgeting in his seat, humming Metallica. “I hate freaking airplanes.”

You couldn’t agree with him more.

You had roughly thirty minutes until this plane began the skydive, and there wasn't much to do but wait. Wait for the Winchesters to fumble around and finally find the demon.

You actually knew the latin pretty well—the 'Rituale Romanum'. You had practiced it back in your younger years, being superstitious and all. It was a phase where you carried salt in your bag and whispered Christo to passersby. As cringeworthy as the phase was, it was coming in handy now. Now that demons actually existed outside of your dreams.

As time extended, you became uncomfortable. A ball of pain in your stomach like a little knot, which was slowly tightening. Then, you realised: you were on your damn period. Of all freaking places. You squirmed in your seat, wondering if you could sneak those pads from out of your travel bag.

"Hey, I'm sorry, miss. You just look very uncomfortable. Is something wrong?"

You stiffened, just barely turning enough to see a kind, concerned lady behind Dean Winchester.

Hearing the question, Dean managed to suck in a breath and peer over at you, curious as well.

Nosy Winchesters.

You clenched and unclenched your fist, a nervous habit of yours. You needed to throw him off from looking at you anymore. He had too good a view of your face for your comfort, and you became self conscious of your disguise.

So, you told her the truth. "Just, uh, you know, feminine issues."

Dean looked away quickly.

You weren’t surprised. Sure, it could have partially been him realizing he was wrong to eavesdrop (no, who were you kidding), but this was 26 year-old Dean Winchester, who avoided chick flick moments better than he avoided monsters, and was very protective of his masculinity.

It was a good strategy: make him uncomfortable, and he was less likely to pay you any notice. Like how most people skipped over kissing couples in almost every spy movie ever. PDA worked to make most people overlook you, and so did periods.

This was probably the only moment in your life you could ever say bless freaking periods.

The lady made a little 'o' with her mouth and turned down the volume of her voice. "Oh, do you need something?" When you nodded, she kindly offered some supplies.

You thanked her and headed over to the bathroom, feeling relieved to finally escape that little space. Your heart was fluttering in your chest, and you needed to calm the frick down before you had a demon cramming itself down your throat.

Brightside was that the Winchesters didn't know it was you. That felt good, at least. Your disguise wasn't anything that significant, but it was working nonetheless. You kind of felt like Clark Kent, in that way.

And Dean is Batman.

You snickered to yourself, feeling a bit better. The hilarity of it all was helping.

Yeah, you thought, Dean is Batman.

///

The Winchesters were finally starting to ask the right questions. Who was it possessing?

You knew fully well, having watched the entire show, that the 'chink the armor' thing was a bunch of BS. Unless this demon just had its own rules versus other demons in the future. Or maybe it was just... weaker?

Or maybe this universe just bent with the rules of the show—it didn't matter whether its rules in the supernatural were a constant or not.

The Winchesters started focusing on Amanda, which wasn't a terrible guess. It was her first flight since the crash, after all.

Of course, you knew that it wasn’t her, so the entire time you felt like rolling your eyes as you eavesdropped. Dean brought out the holy water and you nearly snorted. It was crazy to believe they, the Winchesters, were ever once amateurs.

Sam tells Dean to use 'Christo', and sends him to the back to speak with Amanda.

In the meantime, you tried to recite the exorcism in your head.

Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas... omnis incursio infernalis adversarii… omnis... legio, omnis... congregatio et secta diabolica.

That was the easiest part. You paused, concentrating. Was it argo or ergo? You couldn’t quite remember. ...omnis legio diabolica… something something decipere humanas creaturas.

So… you were a little rusty.

You glanced over, wishing you could just get your hands on that exorcism. Alas, that might look a little suspicious to Sam Winchester, sitting not two feet from the book on Dean’s seat.

You didn’t have to wake long for Dean to return. "Alright, well she has gotta be the most well-adjusted person on the planet."

You hide the small smile that comes along your face. You really missed Season 1 Dean Winchester.

Sam is talking with him in murmurs as you try to compose yourself and your love for these boys. Despite the fact that they’re pretty keen on gutting you the next time you show your face.

Some turbulence rattles the plane and Dean tenses. "Come on, that can't be normal!" you hear, then there are some angry hushes between them.

But you know what they’re saying to each other: "You are wide open to demonic possession."

With that, Dean takes a few exaggerated, deep breaths. It’s not very convincing, but the demon didn’t take him on, so. Yeah.

It was sort of comical that none of the other passengers heard their conversations. Like, Sam Winchester was literally talking about exorcism, and the rest of the plane was in La La Land.

Despite having a lower voice, you could hear them both pretty clearly. Rituale Romanum, two parts, blah blah, expels demon—manifest—more powerful. Second part sends it back to hell. You were pretty sure they used a shorter exorcism later in the show… but whatever.

Dean brings out his signature EMF meter he’d built out of a walkman. Man, you loved that thing.

And soon enough, he was trying to covertly scan the plane. Of course, he was terrible at hiding it. Any hunter could see what it was, and any passenger was more than agitated by the weird sweeps of Dean’s hands.

The meter swept at your head and you looked up at him and tried to send him a convincing ‘wtf’ look. All the while, your brain was saying ‘scanny scanny’.

Your body was in a confusing state of boredom and anxiety, and you didn’t know how else to deal with it other than fidgeting in your seat.

Sam scared Dean by grabbing his shoulders, and you realize shit is about to go down pretty soon.

"Anything?"

"No, nothing. How much time we got?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Maybe we missed somebody."

By cue, the EMF meter lights up red. Of course, you can’t hear it, but you swear you could feel the ‘whrhhrrhe whwehrrhhw’ sound of it in your bones.

The flight attendant comes out in sync, and the Winchesters freeze.

You couldn’t help it: you mouthed "Christo" just as Dean says it, and the flight attendant's eyes flash black.

///

There is twelve minutes left. Twelve minutes until the plane plummets and hopefully you don’t crash.

Frick. You weren’t ready for this.

You decide that focusing on what’s happening is the best way to focus, so you watch as the Winchesters go in the back to talk with Amanda. Who then are swallowed into the curtains, leaving you with the civilians.

You curse to yourself. Sam took the book with him. Of course, he did. Duh.

There are two knots in your chest now: one from your physical period, and the other from your anxiety, which weave together into one tangle. Suddenly, it's a little harder to breathe on the stuffy airplane.

Your heart rate spiked and you jumped a little as Amanda came out to go and fetch the flight attendant. Your minutes were dwindling.

The flight attendant passed by and you weren’t sure what to do anymore. Should you go help? That would certainly defeat the purpose of a disguise.

Watching the show, you’d always thought this part was so much louder. After all, the commotion was only covered by some thin curtains. You had always wondered why the civilians weren’t more concerned.

In that way, you were partially correct. The fight in the back certainly alarmed most passengers, but Amanda nervously guarded the doorway.

And then, the book was thrown into the aisle. You snatched it, bracing yourself.

Your stomach dropped, and screams erupted from all around the plane.

I’m falling I’m falling I’m falling.

You had a death grip on the seats around you as you tried to focus on the shaking words in your hands.

“Terribilis!” you shouted above the screaming. Oh my God, I’m falling. “Deus de... sanctuario suo! Deus... Israhel ipse truderit virtutem! Et fortitudinem plebi... Suae. Benedictus deus!” You barely kept your balance, bellowing the last words: “Gloria patri!”

Thunder shook the plane out and soon it was coasting normally again. If planes even coasted.

Everyone was shaken. The Winchesters lined their eyes up with you, glancing from the book to your face. You don’t see hatred, however, so they didn’t recognize you.

///

You were really hoping to leave the area without the Winchesters tagging behind. You did everything you could to disappear, but to no avail, they caught up with you.

Dean was at your side, just walking for about ten seconds before he said anything. There was no way the strategy they were using to corner you wasn’t creepy. At least you knew they didn’t really mean it like that.

The vibes you were getting from them wasn’t all that friendly, though. They were suspicious and rightly so. A hunter just happened to be on the same flight as them? Coincidences were never coincidences, and you couldn’t agree more.

“So, how long have you been hunting?” Dean asked carefully. Not how, not why, just when. You could respect that kind censorship: respecting boundaries and avoiding triggers. The boys both knew how to charm people—that was for sure.

You sighed, blowing up your cheeks a little, “Oh… about a month.”

You could see their dad’s journal peeking out from Dean’s pocket.

Both of their eyebrows raised, rocking back on their heels a little. “And you could recite an exorcism? There was no way you could read that thing. I could hardly read the exit sign.”

You thought about your lonely ass watching Supernatural, trying to say the chantations as the Winchesters did. “You could say I’ve had some practice.” Hell, you learned it from them. “Anyway, there was only a little left to recite.”

You nudged Dean, knocking the journal from his pocket and into your trench coat. “You guys did most of the work.”

You were despicable.

They look impressed. “You’ve hunted demons?”

That was a bit of a funny question, coming from the Winchesters. And also an unexpected one. In response, you got flustered. “Oh—no,” you said quickly.

Sam's eyes wandered, settling on your bag. First, his eyebrows twitched in recognition, and then he went rigid, bringing his eyes to meet yours in realization.

You felt your blood rush. "You know… I should probably get going." With that you turned tail and fled for your life. Again.

Why does it always go like this? Like, shit, c’mon already. This isn’t Tom and Jerry.

"Dean! She—!" Sam yelled and took off. "The bag!"

"What?!" Dean shouted in confusion. He was distant but loud.

"The bag! It's her bag!"

"Her—" Dean trailed off, panting as they both chased you. He knew, then. He recognized it, too.

You rounded a corner, then slammed into the chest of a man. You gasped, nearly falling on your rear, yet his hand got your arm and there was a distorted flutter.

You made out a blur of a beige trench coat just at your eye level, and you knew who it was. Dean was not kidding when he said angel travel sucked.

You curled into yourself, cradling your head. That had seriously messed with your ears, and now you just felt dizzy. You choked on a little bile, but you weren’t nauseous enough to actually vomit. You just really wanted to.

A stoic voice said, “I have transported you to your car.” Before you could respond he was gone.

You were alone once again.

///

Tag: @rosaren2498 , @pillowjj , @busy-bee-angel-misska , @elle-r , @dagnylokisdottir , @omg-we-really-doo , @millieccino

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flashflashitsash · 5 years

Text

The Bakers Son - 3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three <- You’re Here

Part Four

Marinette turned around and started running back in the direction she came looking for a familiar building to give her a sense of which way to go.

Constantly being left in her room alone, she always snuck out at night, usually joining chat on his solo patrol nights- he also did the same-. But even if it was after patrols she still went out, the rush it gave her was indescribable. The soft breezes of Paris hitting her face never got old. Being Ladybug had helped her learn the ins and outs of her cit y. It gave her a new sense of love and appreciation for it.

Soon a group of fans following her caught her attention, running as fast as the could down the street, she loved her fans but today she couldn’t handle it.

She dove into an ally far away and de-transformed. Right as she walked out of the ally, a hurdle of girls and guys knocked her down in their pursuit of Ladybug.

She grunted getting up noticing she cut her leg on a shard of glass that was laying on the ground waiting for its next victim. She winced touching it, then let out a groan.

Guess I’m walking home

“Sorry Tikki, this wouldn’t have happened if I listened to you “ she glanced down at her bag where Tikki usually stayed when out in public

Popping her head out for a moment “It’s okay Marinette! You’re stressed, it’s okay to let yourself feel your feelings every now and again. You do so much to help everyone else cope, that you haven’t even let yourself cope. It’s okay to take care of Marinette instead of everyone else for today. “

She tried to smile but just looked away from her Kwami, sad that she disappointed her, limping her way over to a tree, then felt the rain start to come down, hard.

“Well that’s just perfect!!” She closed her eyes hitting her fist on her forehead out of frustration.

She sat under the tree attempting to stay dry, but failing miserably. She hugged her knees and just let out all the bottled up emotions she had.

Tikki was right. Marinette never let herself feel her emotions, as she tried to always stay positive. But she needed to just let herself go for a moment and splurge out everything she’d been keeping in for who knows how long. The constant need to have to be prefect in public, the good girl, the perfect girl.

“ I just want to be normal..” she croaked covering her face with her hands

Next thing she knew, she had looked up to meet those kind and caring green eyes she had come to know oh so well,

“Marinette?” He just barely said audibly.

“What are you doing out in this storm?” He questioned helping her to her feet.

“ I could ask you the sa-ahh!” She winced putting pressure on her injured leg, Chat quickly took notice.

“Oh god, you’re bleeding!” Chat panicked and pulled out a cloth from his pocket and placed pressure on her leg.

“How long have you been bleeding? “ he looked up at her almost frowning.

“Not long..” she didn’t want to meet his gaze. “I’ll be fine chat, really I’ll get home soon “ she tried to take over cloth duty from him but all he did was place a hand on her back and lift her, all in one fell swoop.

“Oh no Princess you’re going to be escorted, that leg needs to be cleaned properly”

She felt almost stunned, deer in headlights. She knew chaton could be charming but this was a different side to him, his mushy, knight and shining armor side? While yes, he was a huge flirt, she knew him to be a slight worrier but this? She was just some weird, bleeding girl lying on the street.

After a few more seconds of babbling back and forth and both of them near soaking wet, she finally gave in, wrapping her arms around his back, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Chat extended his baton and they made their way through the rain in Paris, he was about to make his way to her front door when she almost practically jumped out of his arms mid-air. “No!!!” She yelped then sank back into his arms

“S-sorry..my window is open, my father doesn’t know I left my room..” looking down at her lap biting her lip.

“Hey it’s okay, I’ve snuck out occasionally before too.“ he grinned jumping into her room through the large window. He carried her into her bathroom and set her down on the counter

“The first aid kit is under the sink..” she pointed to the cabinet to her right, then proceeded to take off her shoes and reached for two towels.

He grabbed the first aid kit and looked at her leg , “Uh-um Princess.. you may want to take a quick shower before I bandage this..” he gave her a small Smile blushing under his mask, then running his hands over the wet dirt around her leg.

“Oh I guess you’re right. Umm” she felt the blush creep to her cheeks, what was wrong with her?

Get yourself together Marinette.

“Give me 2 minutes?” She bit the inside of her cheek and handed him a towel to dry off his hair. His suit being made up of all leather didn’t need much drying

“Oh, uh yeah, o-of course!” He felt his face burn from heat, rubbing the back of his neck looking down at her as she stepped down from the counter

“ Um Chat.. as much as I need your help cleaning up my wound, I need to and can shower, alone” she giggled moving some of his wet mop hair from his eyes

Thank god for this mask covering the majority of his face because he was RED.

“OH, yeah! ’m sorry I’ll j-just uh..be out here “ he covered his face and almost sprinted out of the bathroom she giggled to herself. Who knew the charmer would be the most flustered one?

—

Adrien de-transformed once he heard her lock the door and the shower start.

Plagg flew out of his ring almost cackling “ kid, what are we doing?” He landing on Adriens shoulder relaxing waiting for his slice of cheese.

“Plagg stop it, she’s hurt and I can help. “ he looked over at her desk seeing some pictures she kept in a cork board on the wall over her school work.

Plagg took a bite out of his cheese almost missing the perfect moment to tease his chosen “ I bet you wish all the photos were of you and her.”

Adrien rolled his eyes “ come on and finish, she’s not going to take much longer” he smiled finding one picture of the two of them with Nino and Alya, it was almost a candid, except Nino was taking the picture kissing Alyas cheek, Adrien making a lame joke to Marinette and her throwing her head back laughing holding his forearm to keep her from falling back. His hand on her knee

“So she’s your girlfriend right?” Plagg flew up to the picture looking at it then back at Adrien.

Before adrien could make a snarky comment back at him he heard the shower turn off.

Marinette saw a flash of green from under the door as she pulled on her fuzzy shorts. Was he detransforming? Or retransforming? She attempted to give him more time by towel drying her hair. She brushed her hair and went over to the bathroom door opening it slightly, she peeled out seeing chat admiring her designs on her desk

“ ahh don’t look at those!” She limped over jumbling all her designs into one pile then throwing her text book on top. “ they’re embarrassing..”

“More like amazing..” he looked down at her seeing her flustered. He kept his gaze at her trying to figure out was was different.

“ Chat?” She mumbled trying to get his attention

“You look different..” he smiled realizing what was out of place then her usual look she always wore.

“Your hair, it’s down..” he smiled taking a strand between his clawed fingers twirling it, his breath hitched once he realized what he was doing and let go. “Um i-“

“Let’s just clean up my leg okay?” She let out the breath she was holding in and made her way to the edge of her bed, attempting to hide her tomato red cheeks.

He grabbed the first aide kit, then kneeled infront of her. Trying to get his thoughts in order

Get it together Adrien, your Chat Noir right now.

“Do you just draw or do you actually make the designs?” He glanced up at her for a second then took his attention back down looking for some disinfectant.

She huffed, not annoyed at the question but the sadness it brought her to talk about it “ I do.. but I usually keep them to myself, I don’t even wear them often. “ She gripped the sheets as he started to clean it. Though, his hands were gentle, barely touching her skin, it still stung

“Why don’t you wear them?” He could feel her tense up “ sorry I know it stings “ he but his lip trying to be more gentle

“My father. Anything that he didn’t create is subpar, unacceptable, not worthy, according to him at least. “ she sighed moving her bangs from her eyes. “ actually he got mad at me for trying to wear the dress I had on when you found me “ she let out a small laugh

“Well, I’m no fashion designer but, it was almost as beautiful as the girl wearing it” he felt his ears get hot as he realized what he said, he looked up at her “ I-I uh “

“ thank you Chat, that means a lot to me. “ she knew her face was as red as it could become, but it was nice hearing that her designs were good. Well Alya told her, but it wasn’t the same.

“ do you take requests?” He asked holding gauze on her leg looking for the medical tape.

Shocked by his question Marinette stuttered “W-what?”

“Would you make me something?” He looked up at her, seeing the tears brim her eyes.

“ Princess don’t cry! I’m sorry, forg-“

“No, no it’s just...no ones ever told me, other than my best friend, that they like my designs. Much less asked me to make them an item. Not that enough people know for me todo that, I would but-“ she stopped feeling his hand grab hers.

“You’re very talented Marinette, don’t let others tell you different. “ he rubbed her knuckles with his thumb and wiped her tears with his other hand.

She smiled moving some stray hairs from his face. “What would you like?” She let out feeling almost breathless.

“A jacket.. if that’s not too much or difficult. “

“Like a winter coat?” She scooted over patting the space next to her.

He took the seat “Yeah, it’s about to get cold soon, maybe you could even make one for Ladybug! Our suits keep out some cold but not all of it. “ he leaned back looking up at her

He wasn’t wrong, the winter could get pretty brutal.

“Of course I will, Chat, I’d love to. “

—

Meh this is sorta filler. I’ve been in a funk. Let me know what you think! Hopefully I’ll be re-inspired. I just feel down right now.

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tangerinesmoke · 6 years

Text

Day 2: Passion

@sannamiweek 2019

The Proposal

Same AU with this one but has a totally different scenario and the dark past is only briefly mentioned. Hope you enjoy. ^^

Note: A small part of this fic is very slightly NSFW.

The wedding ring box weighed heavily in his pocket. It has always been with him since he bought it some weeks ago, already a constant companion whenever he got stressed over proposing to Nami. It became a habit of his to take it with him to work for safekeeping, and touch the box whenever the thought of proposing came to him. Although he’s sure that Nami loves him, there was a nagging feeling that something might come up, considering everything they went through together. So he kept delaying it. He would wait for the perfect timing, he told himself.

And Sanji decided to stop making excuses and just go on with it on their second anniversary as a couple. Tonight, he prepared dinner for two, a bed of roses, the numerous gifts that he wrapped by himself, and his proclamation of love. Nami messaged him that she would get home earlier than usual because she asked for an early leave for their celebration.

She came home together with the news.

Nami was practically chirping when she arrived.

"Sanji-kun!" She ran toward Sanji and gave him a back hug as he was cooking. He flinched at the contact. This is it.

"Whoa, careful. Apron’s’a bit messy. I don’t want you getting your hands dirty.” He turned the stove off and removed the apron to hug his beloved properly.

“Happy second anniversary, Nami-san!" Sanji tried to make his voice as cheery as possible but it's already betraying him. He was nervous as heck. If Nami noticed, she didn't comment on it.

"Mhmm. Happy second anniversary, Sanji-kun! I am so grateful to Conis for the early leave. This is the best day ever." Nami put her bag on the couch and turned to Sanji to kiss him full on the lips.

He kissed her back. This is a good sign, the cook thought. She is totally in a good mood, and that made him ease up a little bit. "You're that excited? My heart is full! I'm happy, Nami-san." His hearty eyes were starting to appear.

"I swear I could smell the aroma from the door!" She peeked over Sanji's shoulder and saw a bouquet of pink and red roses, wine, and some of the dishes he prepared. "And that's not just what we're celebrating for. I have something to tell you and I'm sure you will like it."

His heart thumped. Good news? Could it be... a proposal from Nami-san?! Wait, what if she’s pregnant? Is that why she had to leave the library early? To have her checked by the doctor? Is he going to be a dad? His thoughts already drowning him in the daydream realm.

"Do you remember the university I applied for? I got accepted as a scholar! I can finally fulfill my dreams! I thought my application went straight to their waste bin, I mean, I've been waiting for five months...But today, a letter came at Conis' Library. Let me show you, Sanji-kun." Nami took her bag and excitedly looked for the letter.

He didn't expect this news. Nami has always been passionate in becoming a climatologist. Going to university means the marriage is going to be put aside. He placed a hand into his pocket and held the box. Sorry, you'll have to stay there for the meantime.

"Sanji-kun? Sanji-kun?"

"Ah! Sorry, Nami-san. You were saying?"

"Nothing, really...I was showing you the letter. Are you okay?"

Sanji nodded, "Yes, I'm okay."

Nami slowly withdrew the letter and gave him a sad expression. "You don't seem too happy about it..."

Sanji waved his hands frantically. "No, no. I'm happy for you Nami-san! This is good news! It's just that..." Quick, find an alibi! "It might be... too far and you'll have to move out."

Nami giggled, seemingly pleased with his response. "Silly, it's just six stations away from here. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. And if I ever did, I’ll drag you wherever with me."

Nami’s words slightly relieved him as he kissed her forehead. "I’m happy that you’re happy. That’s all I want.” Except that maybe, he wanted Nami to include him in her future dreams too as her husband.

"Thank you, Sanji-kun. Oh, my forehead is kind of sweaty." Nami clapped her hands together and went her way to the bathroom. "Shower first! Will be over in a jiffy. Join me?" Nami winked slyly.

Sanji gulped. "As much as I want to, Nami-san, we'll make the food wait for too long."

"Fair enough. If you change your mind though, I won't leave the door locked." She winked at him again.

The cooked laughed heartily. His girlfriend was indeed in a good mood. As Nami closed the door, Sanji took the letter and read it. Nami only finished high school, and couldn't get into uni anymore ever since her big sister Nojiko and the orphans got involved in the affairs of yakuza. She went through the ordeal for two years until they met and he and their friends helped her with it. It's only now that she started pulling her life together. Maybe marriage is too soon, but then again...maybe- he needs to continue preparing the dishes and light the candles a little later.

Throughout dinner, Nami happily recalled the application process, and she said the referral letter from Conis’ father greatly helped as he was a retired professor from the said university. She was already dreaming about getting an internship at the weather bureau. He happily obliged listening to Nami’s bright voice and he also gave praises from time to time, but the box in his pocket still lingered. The only time she didn’t talk about her acceptance into university was when it was her turn to give Sanji her anniversary gift: a simple anklet that he could wear around his foot, even while he’s cooking at Baratie. She knew that he could not wear any visible jewelry while he’s on the job. Sanji was truly grateful for the thoughtful gesture.

Then the dessert came as soon as they went to bed. Nami was all over him, proving that her good mood didn’t just stop by the dinner table.

“Let’s take this off.” Nami pulled Sanji’s shirt up and tossed it wherever. She kissed and licked his neck, the soft noises working like a switch on Sanji.

“This too, off you go~” Nami lowered his pants; she can already see him turned on. The redhead peppered kisses on his stomach, down his navel to lick it and--

“Your hand has been in here the entire time, you think I didn’t notice?” Nami, like the smooth thief she once was, her hand already making its way to the pocket of Sanji’s pants. “What’s in here?” Nami was about to rummage but Sanji was also quick to hold her hand to stop it.

“Wait, don’t!”

Thankfully, she did stop.

“You’ve been acting really weird, Sanji-kun.”

“Nami-sa-”

“I caught you smoking three cigarettes at once while waiting for me to finish bath.”

“Nami-sa-”

“You were kind of mentally absent at dinner.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Strange...”

“Please, Nami-san...” Sanji’s voice was almost pained.

.“Please, what?” Nami smirked and stroked it.

“Ah...” The pleasure was there, but also the stress.

Well, the cook already decided that it would be today, so he would do it today. But for now, he would--

"Sanji-kun?" He didn’t answer, but his forearm covering his eyes already answered it for Nami. “Why are you crying?”

He hiccuped from tears.

"D-did it hurt you this time? I'm sorry, Sanji-kun! I'll be gentle next time!"

Sanji almost wanted to laugh at Nami's words but his tears overpowered it.

"It should be enough that you're by my side. Sorry that I'm so greedy, Nn-nami-san."

Nami got off him for the meantime and urged him to remove the arm covering his eyes. "I'm worried. Tell me what's going on."

He hugged her all of a sudden and buried his head on the crook of her neck.

"I love you so much, Nami-san.”

Nami put her arms around him. “I love you too, Sanji-kun.”

“I want you to reach your dreams and be the greatest climate scientist in the country. But I also want you to be my wife. Does that make any sense?"

Nami’s eyes widened.“Eh? Are you...”

"It might be too early for you, but I promise I won’t hinder your dreams. If you let me take care of you for the rest of my life, I will be the happiest man alive.” He took the box from his pocket and gave it to Nami.

“But...I will respect your decision, whatever it may be...”

Nami opened the box and it revealed a beautiful ring, its gold band and the heart set in silver stone shimmered in the dim light. Nami’s features softened and it was her turn to tear up. "Yes, I'll marry you, Sanji-kun."

Sanji brightened up.“Really?!”

Nami nodded eagerly.

Tears welled up from the cook’s eyes. “Thank you, Nami-san.”

“I know you won’t stop me from my dreams. I’m sorry you thought that way. The degree means so much to me. But you mean the world to me, too...”

They hugged each other for a long while, crying together.

“I hope I didn’t ruin the night.” Sanji finally spoke.

Nami sniffed. "No, but I admit the sudden crying was a bit anticlimactic...I was about to get to the good part. " Nami pouted. “So it was not a sex toy in that pocket after all, huh?”

“Eh?! Eh?!” Sanji blushed profusely.

The redhead shrugged. “Can you blame me? It’s our sexy night and you’ve been nervous the whole time!”

“N-Nami san! So fierce!” Sanji’s hearty eyes eventually showed. He is back.

"Can we start all over again?"

"Of course, my love." Sanji pulled his future wife close to him.

-end-

#sannami #sanji x nami #sannami week 2019 #sanji #nami #fanfic #sannami week

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eduardolimpsych101-blog · 6 years

Text

The Jump is Beautiful

Peace has its ways to demand attention.

According to the calendar, it has been half a year. 7 months next week to be exact. To be honest, I stopped counting at 4. It doesn't feel necessary anymore. Gone are the days where I tell myself "I can't believe it. It still doesn't feel real" and need a constant reminder that time has passed and will not go back. Now are the days where they feel the most real and where time not passing fast enough becomes my worst reminder.

My close friend committed suicide last May. And I knew it.

The night before May 15 was weird. You could call it a premonition or somewhat paranoia but I felt something was wrong. I couldn't pinpoint right away what I was feeling but my chest felt heavy and tears fell for no reason. I was scared, remembering now how I felt that evening. I had an instinct of asking one person how they were feeling. I gave words of encouragement. I admitted to them that I felt something was wrong and just wanted to make sure they were fine. Guess what? Wrong friend. Or I guess just not the right one at that moment.

My close friend committed suicide last May. And now we're lost.

I was in school cramming a group paper for a major when our barkada chat popped up. Our friend that was his course mate was the one who messaged. I started to feel my heart getting heavy. The feeling I had last night came back and my worst fears came true when he finally told us the news. I was in disbelief. We called each other up and ask who was free so we could just be together. I asked my group mates if I could just help tomorrow then left to meet with friends. It was the worst reunion ever.

What followed was a series of sleepless nights and endless bouts of crying throughout the week of his wake. Every part of his death was a reminder of the last time I missed a death. It was even in the same place. And every part of me was blaming myself again like last time. If I reached out more, maybe just maybe Peace wouldn't have to.

The third day of his wake where I finally stopped crying excessively, I went back to our chat box and found a conversation of ours on how we were struggling to find time to meet up as a barkada. He wasn't complaining though he even said a hello across the hallway was enough. I was lucky because he had a Stat subject last year so I got to see him for like 5 minutes every other day. We would chat for a bit about anything even if we both had classes. The friendship was always that simple to him. He just love simply being together, doing nothing particularly exciting. And now that's what all we want also: to be together.

“Most of the time sapat na yun sa akin e.”

This was the second time I knew something was wrong but still chose not to do anything. This was the second time I chose not to hold on. But this will be the last time that I didn't start doing something.

My close friend committed suicide last May. And it will not be in vain.

What we can do

My friend did not tell us at any point his diagnosis. The one time he told us anything about his mental health was when we had a reunion because one of us in the barkada was going to do a semester abroad in Japan. He opened up about going to a therapist and working on his issues with himself. He told us that he has this thing that when he is happy, he thinks that it won't last so he just sabotages it himself so at least he knows when the happiness will end. He opened up about having times where he feels depressed or feels pressured about his academics. Even during that lunch, he said he can only stay until 1 since he had to go back to school to study. This was the time I should have done more like ask how he was everyday or send words of encouragement every now and then.

In 2017, WHO released statistics on mental health citing suicide associated with depression as the second leading cause of death among people ages 15-29. DOH also presents that the suicide rate for men and women for every 100,000 people is 2.5 and 1.7 respectively. This has become such a problem that in DOH's 2017 budget plan, 100 million was allotted for mental health drugs and 1 billion for mental health facilities. But the government can only do so much. The stigma around mental health problems as just excuses or only weaknesses of the person prevents people from seeking out help even if it is available. We must start by first educating ourselves with what depression and disorders in the same category in order to begin the process of eliminating the stigma on mental health.

Saundra Ciccarelli (2017) explains Major Depressive Disorder as "when a deeply depressed mood comes on fairly suddenly and either seems to be too severe for the circumstances or exists without any external cause for sadness". It some sense it is not logical. It is not something you can eliminate in their sight so they can feel better. Neither is it something you can reason them out of.

According to Ciccarelli causes of depression may be:

1. Repressed anger towards authority figures

2. Learned helplessness (tendency to stop trying after past failures)

3. Self-defeating thoughts

4. Variation in neurotransmitter systems

With the first reason, consultations with family guidance counselors may be done or just having a more open conversation as a family can help. For the second and third reason, extra caution in the words we use must be made. Every mistake they make, they will amplify and intensify guilty feelings. It is important to not only think about what we say but also how we say it. I implore you to read more upon this so you can understand what a person having depression or depressive moods is going through. Asides from what is mentioned, it is important we are also aware of the free facilities and services near our places that can accommodate new clients.

Me taking Psych 101 and writing this blog post is just step number 1. He has changed my life and many others'.

Farewell

To Edel,How weird is it that the only time I talk to you at length is for a subject. Last time it was for Eng 10 case study, now for Psych 101. I guess you understand me anyway.

You were the first person not to question my insecurities when making friends with what I called "popu" kids. You just kept on trying and eventually you broke down the wall I put up. You are one of my best friends and I'm sorry I never told you that. You were always there to help everyone in our group even if that meant you driving out of the way just to go to us. I remember you fetching me one time at my house so I wouldn't be hassled with transportation to your despedida. I remember you baking cookies for a girl that eventually gave it away (tough man but hey at least you learned how to bake haha). I remember you taking on 3+ roles for your section's school play. I remember you. In all ways you never looked at yourself. You are the kindest, most generous, and loving person.

But you weren't without your flaws.

You had your own wall, one where I only noticed far too late in our friendship. It wasn't like you weren't open about your emotions just not specific ones. I just wished I caught onto it so I could've convinced you that you were a far greater person that what you think. If I saw every doubt when it came to your decisions, I would've told you that I was proud no matter what choice. If I saw every hesitation when you wanted to speak, I would've made you feel comfortable until you were ready to tell us.

But really, would I have? Because it is because of you that right now I am not afraid to ask people how they are doing. I don't care if I come off as FC. It is because of you that I talk about my feelings to my friends and to God. It is because of you that I learned to love my friends explicitly. I just wished that "because of you" wasn't in exchange for you.

I miss you. I miss you everyday. We miss you everyday. And right now are days are still pretty heavy but they will get better because you gave us a reason to be better for each other and for you. Thank you for everything. I'll see you when I see you and don't worry I'll give you more than a high five.

To everyone suffering in even the most simplest way, you are enough and more than enough all at the same time.

A sight is never too beautiful to resist.

#mental health #thankyou

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hikoutei · 3 years

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What is your soulmate like?

akio : a fond memory

there’s this little creek near my aunts house abroad that sparkles and shimmers when the sun hits it right and i remember thinking that if there was a place to find fairies? that’s where i’d find them. there used to be a boy who would stand by the river, every morning, and though my french was horrible back then he was always kind to me. he moved away the last day of the summer i was staying at my aunt’s house, but he left me a note with a message on it. somewhere out there, the boy of the creek is out there, and the memory of him that i have? that’s what your soulmate will be like. i’ll leave you with a message like he did, “trouvez la personne qui vous rend heureux, et quand vous le faites, ne la laissez jamais partir.”

ayabi : a good dream

some people dream vivid dreams--some people don’t dream at all. i’ve always dreamt when i sleep, sometimes good and sometimes bad. the good dreams, though often nonsensical, are clouded with this happy haze, one that makes me feel like all my problems have disappeared. your soulmate is your happy dream, goofy and silly and most of all--a reminder to you that there’s so much in life to be happy about. what is that quote, the one that’s like “whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same?” i wish for you, the dreamlike love that matches your beautiful soul.

min seo : an adventure

have you ever met someone who challenges everything you’ve ever known? someone who makes your heart race, someone who’s always off getting themselves into something-- and they take you along with them? when you meet your soulmate suddenly you find yourself looking forward to anything and everything, because no matter what you’re doing, they’ll spin it into a crazy memory you’ll look back fondly on. maybe you crave toxicity. maybe you crave comfort. when you meet this person, you’ll find yourself abandoning all your previous notions to keep up with them. its up to you to decide if you want them or not--maybe you dont like the idea of constant surprises, but know this: adventurous people have this way of changing the people around them before they leave. my grandfather’s last words to me were “i hope you live a life filled with adventures, big or small.” i’ve been chasing that feel of adventure since. I sincerely hope that you find the adventure you’re looking for.

sa seum : a good dream

yukari : a sweet lullaby

my sister and i used to make up nonsensical lullabies for my younger brother when he was little so he’d go to sleep and the laughter that engulfed the room at the time is what your soulmate would be like. no matter how weird the rhyme, it would always end with an “i love you” and a boop on the nose, and somehow, even if the lullaby was more befitting of a sea shanty, my brother would fall asleep. i wish you sleepful nights with sweet dreams, next to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.

#狸 〈 akio. 〉#血液 〈 ayabi. 〉#민서 〈 min seo. 〉#사슴 〈 sa seum. 〉#縁 〈 yukari. 〉

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yoitschoeliearldylan · 6 years

Text

The Jump is Beautiful

Peace has its ways to demand attention.

My close friend committed suicide last May. And I knew it.

My close friend committed suicide last May. And now we're lost.

I was in school cramming a group paper for a major when our barkada chat popped up. Our friend that was his coursemate was the one who messaged. I started to feel my heart getting heavy. The feeling I had last night came back and my worst fears came true when he finally told us the news. I was in disbelief. We called each other up and ask who was free so we could just be together. I asked my groupmates if I could just help tomorrow then left to meet with friends. It was the worst reunion ever.

The third day of his wake where I finally stopped crying excessively, I went back to our chatbox and found a conversation of ours on how we were struggling to find time to meet up as a barkada. He wasn't complaining though he even said a hello across the hallway was enough. I was lucky because he had a Stat subject last year so I got to see him for like 5 minutes every other day. We would chat for a bit about anything even if we both had classes. The friendship was always that simple to him. He just love simply being together, doing nothing particularly exciting. And now that's what all we want also: to be together.

“Most of the time sapat na yun sa akin e.”

My close friend committed suicide last May. And it will not be in vain.

What we can do

1. Repressed anger towards authority figures

2. Learned helplessness (tendency to stop trying after past failures)

3. Self-defeating thoughts

4. Variation in neurotransmitter systems

Me taking Psych 101 and writing this blog post is just step number 1. He has changed my life and many others'.

Farewell

To Edel,

How weird is it that the only time I talk to you at length is for a subject. Last time it was for Eng 10 case study, now for Psych 101? I guess you understand me anyway.

But you weren't without your flaws.

I miss you. I miss you everyday. We miss you everyday. And right now, days are still pretty heavy but they will get better because you gave us a reason to be better for each other and for you. Thank you for everything. I'll see you when I see you and don't worry I'll give you more than a high five.

To everyone suffering in even the most simplest way, you are enough and more than enough all at the same time.

A sight is never too beautiful to resist.

#mentalhealth #thankyou #askmore #MHLaw

0 notes

benefits1986 · 6 years

Text

Unsent Letter 07

Dear You,

Who would have thought that a super random catch up after all the years that we pretty much kept each other in the farthest part of our memories would turn into a life-changing series? Who would have thought that I’d actually be able to switch places with you when in fact I have always been the one you’re ranting to and seeking life’s soundest advice for a long time? Who would have thought that all our sporadic meetups would turn into a summer storyline that I’d always come home to at times when I badly need a burst of sunshine in my moonless nights and days where the nimbus clouds opt to linger?

We never had plans. Never ever.

And for someone like me who used to come up with to-do lists that are usually non-negotiable, I must say that we’re either lucky or our connection is rare yet precious as it remains effortless yet full of impact. You have always been that immature person I was laughing at yet there’s something about you that I truly admire --your heart that is full of kindness in a world full of really harsh curveballs all thrown at you, all at once. You seem so tough and carefree but beyond that, I witness you unravel. You share your most heartbreaking tears without hesitation. You speak words that show how frail you are when it comes to the people who matter most to you. You’d rather get yourself badly wounded, literally and figuratively than to see the people you love best find themselves in a fix. And you are not all fluff and fancy. You are actually a crossbreed of a unicorn and a dark horse. I have been really lucky to see you throw really crazy tantrums and I was taken aback to see you lose your usually calm and collected self. I think that is my favorite side of you. I’ve seen you in a really, really hopeless place as you once again feel that you are unloved and unaccepted just because you are you. I am not a fan of teleserye-level drama, but when I heard you trying to show love to one of your family members and have been rejected over and over and over again, my heart bled. I felt a couple of lumps form in my throat. I had several goosebumps. I actually let out drops of tears. You are more than the immature person whom I laugh at for quite a long time. You are more than that stubborn person who seeks help even when you’d eventually get back on your old and crappy track. You are way more than a random person in my book, after all this time. You are someone who has grown with me and in me. You are someone who actually caught me when I was in a really, really bad place without you knowing it; and without me knowing it, too. But, like all storylines that usually come in my summertimes, you are someone whom I choose to put on hold for so many reasons. There were a lot of times when I wanted to hug you so tightly but chose not to because I was too afraid to lose you, even up until now. There are countless moments when I wanted to look you in the eye and tell you how wonderful you are and that I’d want to keep looking you in the eye until another sunset comes to us, but I was too caught up in looking away. There have been real moments when I could have let things happen but I was too busy minding other stuff, other people, other what if’s; thinking that you’d be my constant in spite the far and few meetups that we have. And most importantly, you reappeared into my life by surprise. Without warning. Without a clue. It’s not like one of the stories I usually get myself into.

You are like the gentle breeze that hugs my sunburnt soul. You calm me down even when I worry too much, I think too much, I blabber too much. You are not intimidated by my weird and domineering ways. You do not flinch at my unkind words and my super dry wit and humor. You never tell me I am too rough. You always tell me not to apologize for kicking your ass. In the same manner, you teach me things I thought I knew and those things I do not know but would like to know. You are always patient; always kind; always waiting for me to open up and let my ugly self be.

There was this one time when everything was so perfect --the sky, the calm waters, the lights, the sounds the moment when you hugged me but I chose to pull away. Damn. I got too frightened. I got too scared. I got too weak because I knew that it was something I was not imagining not even in my weirdest dream. Your touch was so gentle; so loving. And I was afraid that I might break you apart. I was not rejecting you. It was never my intent to make you feel like you are a consolation. I just wanted to be back to myself that is workable. I do not want you to enter in my life when I do not even know what I’d like it to be. It’s going to be too much for you to bear. You do not deserve to have another dark story again as I told you many times that you’d be off to something wonderful and worth the wait. Sorry. If I could bring that moment back, I would hug you and never let you go. But, I can’t and I would choose not to as well.

It’s funny how one time, on our way to yet another random road trip, I actually told you my fucked up stories. You were looking at me as you smiled and replied that you’ve never seen me let my feelings out. I stopped and asked if you are serious. You chuckled even more and teased me that all the years we’ve been together, all you saw was my fortress and whenever you as me how I am, my default answer is I am fine. I managed to get back at you with saying that I felt that you were too caught up with the many unlikely dramas so I allowed you to hog the conversations we had. I did not stop and let out a “Kawawa ka naman kasi kaya ikaw na” line just to try to save myself or maybe not. Thank you for being a random-turned-constant in my life. Thank you for pushing me out of my dark place even when you look stupid, funny and weird while doing so. Thank you for getting snaps of vids of me even when I totally abhor them and challenging me to up the ante of the quick hashtag deluge. Thank you for dressing up really well whenever we hit the road. (And we laugh at people who think that we’re content creators or something to that effect and we do not give a fuck at all.) Thank you for rolling down the windows and lighting my countless cigs as we sing another old school song to our hearts’ desire. Thank you for not forcing me to do things that could make our connection something unsustainable. Thank you for being always kind and not taking advantage of my vulnerabilities when we randomly reconnected. Thank you for always making me feel so good even if I can be so evil and seemingly heartless at times. Thank you for the smiles that come out of nowhere. Thank you for teasing me really hard because you know so well that dares usually get me going. Thank you for making patol sa mga arte ko and really being with me in those weird moments. Thank you for believing in me when I was too harsh on myself with full conviction. Kulang na lang magsabit ka ng medal sa akin with sampaguita garland. Thank you for saving me from people who are sucking the life out of me. Iba ka rin e. Very mature ka sa part na ‘yan. I can not believe it. Thank you for being you; for being the true you because it has moved me to share my unfiltered, undistilled stories; never mind it took a really long time to do so.

But, why am I “unsending” this letter to you, when I can conveniently tell these things to your face? Simple. We promise to let things happen, to let things take their course at their own pace.

Maybe someday, this letter will find its way to you. Maybe someday, we’d be ready for another roadtrip just like the old days; but unlike the old days; I would hug you and look you in the eye, and tell you that you are wonderful inside out. Maybe someday, we’d actually let things happen after all these years.

To More Tan Lines That Make Our Stories Happen, Me

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