#money is and will always be an issue but ive been saving for so long i can finally afford a safe house

[asexualjedi]

Just spiraling being like 🤪🤪🤪 what am I doing with my life I miss art I miss making videos I miss making coming and animation do I really want to do law. And logically I don’t really think I would want to move away from everyone I know to move to where I would need to be to do film or tv and animation. So like. 🔫🔫 accept it. And like I think helping people is something I’m very passionate about and will make me happy and I think if I just did art and comics I would feel bad about like big things like prison abolition and how terrible people are treated in our justice system is would bother and upset me and at least I can feel productive. But idk idk what to do. I just don’t know what is my anti drepressants or what. But truly working for the knife by Mitski whenever I watch tv or see cool art I get really depressed and yearn to be doing that stuff and idk what to do??? Like did/do I define my identity to much to being an artist but idk. I want to make things I misss working with people to make things and I know as a lawyer I will collaborate a lot. A lot of what u do seems so not fun and miserable and idk idk. But I’ve spent so much money and also i going to law school allowed my friend to have housing for foreseeably 3 years. Do I just get the JD and end up completely turning around and doing fucking. Like?? Entertainment law but in my head that’s always just disneys evil lawyers idk.

[buggyinsect]

Oh hey Tumblr while I'm here, I finally adopted the cat I've waited for after years and years of struggle, her name is Willow💚

The cat distribution system has finally blessed me and (this is what I meant by this account is old af) I am no longer living in an unsafe household and finally have the financial means to live far away with this sweet baby in my cottagecore little apartment. Life is life-ing, still stressful, still financially and environmentally unstable, but still chugging, and I'm so grateful I made it to this point. It gets better, very slowly, but still progress. Thanks to my fucking amazing amazing amazing AMAZING partner @callmebymyjae, I would not be here if it wasn't for them, they genuinely mean the world to me and with Willow, I finally have my own little found family :'))

Fuck I'm not going to cry over a Tumblr post nope

[aftonfamilyvalues]

I have a sort of conspiracy theory about liberal feminism that I need to get off my chest. The whole "pick me vs girls girl" culture is actively creating TiFs.

Women who don't fit into certain standards society holds have been shamed for it since the beginning of time, but now rejecting femininity is being seen as anti feminist. Girls who aren't even putting down other women are called nlogs and pick me's just because they're awkward and kind of tomboyish.

Look at Jlaw. She was shamed out of the public eye for acting like an actual human and not a walking caricature of womanhood (eating pizza and falling down on the red carpet). There's an audio going around being mocked on tiktok where a woman rightfully says "I don't like makeup. I think it's bad for women". I've seen nasty comments under Korean feminist insta posts where the women in question are smashing their makeup or wearing comfortable clothing and talking openly about it.

I genuinely think this is the reason why a lot of girls believe themselves not to be female. Since it's shameful and cringy to not be feminine as a woman in the year of our Lord 2024, it would logically be better to think of yourself as a man or some in between thing. Tomboys are basically an endangered species at this point and it's really really sad. Little girls aren't climbing trees or playing in the mud. They're playing with skincare and makeup. I truly feel like I'm living in a black mirror episode and it's scary.

Sorry for the long winded rant. I'm semi crypto on main and wanted to put this out there. I dunno why I sent this to the "I want to make a milkshake out of copia's cum" account but I don't really know anyone else who gets insane anons like you do. x

i think youre right though, there is definitely a backlash against feminism right now that comes in the form of hyper femininity and capitalism.

if you dont wear makeup, youre a childish loser who needs to learn how to put on eyeliner. if you dont shave, encourage other women to not shave, youre bombarded with women with "sensory issuee" and are just as bad as a patriarchal man. if you dont like pink, you have internalized misogyny. if you say anything about how high heels damage your feet, youre shaming women. if you talk about how womens clothes are made worse than mens, just go shop in the mens section! stop doing anything, stop going against the quo, let women do what they want! dont question anything!

and in more recent years, ive been seeing the evidence of this seeping into girls younger and younger. we now have little girls begging for drunk elephant and sephora items, to shop where the adult women shop. honestly i didnt even know what drunk elephant was until i saw a girls christmas list on here. theyre spending adult with a job money on products, whether it be from saved allowances and or from their parents. i just saw a video about a 9 year old girl getting bullied for having a tumbler from walmart and not one of the expensive trendy stanley cups. there was always an issue with bullying over not having name brand but i feel like its gotten so much worse. and thats not even talking about the "skincare" aspect of it.

theres so much to say about this but they really did rebrand capitalism as being woman positive though.

[narzissenkreuz-ordo]

i guess i need some. advice? encouragement? about some stuff thats been happening recently so suicide/violence cw under the cut

i won't go into detail but i had. a very huge emotional/physical/mental breakdown today. where i was just. basically screaming and howling about how suicidal ive been lately. I haven't said anything out loud/via text on the internet abt it because i know saying i want to kms so often is bad for my own well being and ultimately makes other uncomfortable as well

so yeah i've just been. holding all that in. i knew the thoughts were coming in and out the past few months but was just shrugging it off as just being stressed abt the nightmare year i had. but i really was just. lying to myself and others because i didnt want to worry anyone/didn't want to admit how horrible i was doing after a couple years of good progress. but as it stands things are heading into a really bad direction for me rn. its not normal to go to sleep suicidal and immediately be suicidal upon waking up.

I don't really know what i can really do harm reduction wise. i'm unable to have regular visits with a psychiatrist/therapist bc of availability issues + i tend to just. lie. because its easier to say im fine than it is to advocate for myself and get actual help. and even then medication will not save me and coping skills can only go so far if im so deep in it im unable to take care of myself/feed myself/clean myself/eat/etc so none of it is effective enough in the moment. i know it CAN be effective and some of the skills ive learned can help during situational issues but this is really deep rooted improperly treated mental illness and i need a stronger foundation to be able to use any of the skills

i use a means of self isolation to punish myself, because i'm so upset with myself for not being able to pick myself up on my own. people can say im not a burden over and over but theres always gonna be a catch in the end. i freak out because what if this is one of my last meltdowns before they decide enoughs enough and i just get abandoned. again.

I feel like maybe being so Online is making things worse?? but i don't know??? my concentration is completely gone even when trying to use dnd/closing discord completely and im just constantly refreshing social media every 10 seconds and just stew in the bad feelings.

I don't know if just. leaving the internet cold turkey for a bit would do more harm than good.....i dont want to be alone and caught up in my thoughts. but i have a hard time doing things in 'moderation' and don't know how to even begin to roll back my internet/screen time usage

fandom is fun and great. but i dont think i should be using video games as pure escapism or playing them 24/7. im already getting bored and unenthusiastic about the things i like because its ALL i do.... I want to have at least SOME time away from screens. i hate having the impulse the check social media or refresh even 30 seconds (im even doing it NOW) but i just dont know where to begin in cultivating non-screentime hobbies and have the ability to focus on things more long term without having than doing 1000 things all at once to keep myself busy. i play video games muted most of the time, have a yt video playing, sometimes i'll stop mid video game and pull out my ipad while still having the games open, and im always on discord

there's books i still want to read, i eventually want to pick up sewing again. im considering getting a craft set for making those beaded bracelets (my brother gets them from concerts all the time and thinks it would be fun to make them too) but that all requires money

and i just. idk where im going with this rn but. any advice or suggestions or just. words of encouragement would be. really nice rn

[charlieslowartsies]

the reason why my August vacation is so important...

This is a long, kinda emotional for me journal <3

As I mentioned a while ago, I was splitting my usual two weeks in June of debauchery (sleeping & laying in the sun & hiking in the woods outback lol) into one week last month and then saved the last week for the end of August.

I also wanted to explain the significance of this trip! Less about having to justify my time off and more about 'eeee excite omg!' and wanted to share with y'all!

SO a long time ago when I was a wee Charlie, from age 0 up to 21, I was incredibly close to my grandparents on my mom's side. My nana died when I was 15, and while that took a huge toll on me, I was fortunate enough to have my grandpa till 21. These two people were absolutely second parents. My parents did a good enough job raising me, but they had huge fights and my father had anger issues and it caused a lot of wounds. These were the people I could always rely on, when I couldn't rely on my folks.

They lived 2 hours away on a wonderful lake in a lil tiny trailer over looking it. I spent weeks at a time there, even the occasional month. I learned to swim in that lake, which in hindsight prolly wasn't the safest idea due to its depth, and grew up to be obsessed with swimming. Learned how to sail, ski, fish. Learned how to bake, tend a garden, how a fresh bowl of fruit in the morning should be before breakfast.

We'd swim 3x a day, sometimes just to float and cool down before bed, since there was no a/c and the summer nights were hot. Laid on our backs and counted stars like the Lion King. Fried trout on the grill after we'd caught them, had watermelon seed spittin' contests. My grandpa grew pumpkins and carved my name into one, so that the writing grew bigger and bigger over the months. I had one pumpkin live from September to April.

My handprint is on the last cement step leading down to the beach. It was eroded when we scattered my grandpa's ashes in 2014, but I remember where it was, how to place my palm to compare.

I guess I'd say I had a mixed childhood of various great, good, bad, and horrible things. Like most people, yanno? But those golden summer days on the lake were 100% a part of who I am today, and where my many of my happiest memories come from.

Due to me being in college, cost to heat the place in winter when they had no intention of living there, my family sold the property on the lake to an investor who planned to rent it out.

This was 2014. The same year he died, the same year my horse died (within 2 months of each other) and one of my father's many health issues landed him in the hospital from Oct to Dec, so that he spent xmas on an iv stand. With everything going on, we had no time or money for a big dinner, or presents that year.

I guess that was the first year I realized childhood was truly and officially over, and it was time to grow up. Many of us have that marked moment on our life.

Time passed. I finished college, went back home after turning down a few out of state jobs to spend time with my dad, who I had a feeling didn't have much time left. Turned out I was right, as I came home in 2015 and he died in 2022. There was an accident in '16 where he almost bled to death on our kitchen floor, but I was able to provide pressure/medical care and give him some more years.

Shortly after we moved in 17, I was notified that the house on the lake had been rented to someone who unfortunately had a lot of issues mental health wise, and they had eventually abandoned the property. It sat, rotting, and got so covered on the inside in black mold the county leveled the place and destroyed it.

We had left it fully furnished due to the buyer's urging. Ancient, stunning mid century and older furniture from my great-great grandparents time. My nana's organ player. The rocker my mom and I sat in. And, frankly, to quote one of those popular songs, the house that built me was just gone.

I figured that was the end of it, and cried and got angry/sad and then moved on and just tried surviving as covid hit later on in the years.

Turns out, the man who rented it decided that wasn't going to happen again. He put a new trailer on the property, and rented it out for vacationing due to it's location. We didn't know this until I stumbled across it while daydreaming about a vacation on the lake that I missed it was a relative, one I could at least go back to for a few days. My heart skipped so many beats when I saw the address and paused, thinking there had to be come mistake. It wasn't.

Not only can I spend time on that property again (in a new house which honestly might be for the best) But turns out, for whatever reason, they kept the furniture separate and placed a few pieces into the new house. There's a photo of the rocker in the layout photos. The two level lamp they had is still intact and functioning. I booked the place for a week immediately.

It's expensive for me, but my girlfriend and I will make it work. (Certainly not like we have far to travel.) We're going to be there smack dab in the middle of my Grandfather's birthday. I haven't had a true, just-for-me vacation since 2015 when we went to a camping ground. The excitement I have for this is immeasurable.

The dock my Dad and Grandpa put in themselves is fixed up. The crumbled little cement step is still there with a tiny indent, where my 4 yr old hand was pressed. I am going back to this place, and going back in time for just a short while, to heal and have fun and be a whole mess of emotions. I never got to say good bye to my Nana or Grandpa.

But I can say goodbye to them now, and say 'hello again, old friend' to the lake, and the new little house that sits before it.

That is why i am so excited about august. I know I don't share personal things on here a ton, but I wanted to share this. Thank you for reading this far if you have, I appreciate it.

I hope you have a wonderful day and remember how important you are <3 And as always stay hydrated! -Charlie

[causenessus]

HELLO!! okay lowkey i feel like we talk more through your inbox than we do in dms so im just gonna start ALWAYS talking here 🙂‍↕️ idk tumblr dms just don't work or something so GOOD AFTERNOON!! I HOPE YOURE GETTING A TON OF REST NESS bc tomorrow... we have to go back... sigh. and i have picture day tomorrow so i probably need to make myself look presentable ykwim?? 😞

but like about that friend i yapped about HIGHKEY SHE IS NOT IT YOURE RIGHT!!!! i think what makes it worse is whenever she thinks theres an issue between her and me and she goes to literally everyone but me about it to try to get other people to validate her?? FUNNIEST THING EVER because usually people side w me too pls 💔 like they'll defend me, and the people usually tell me when she starts yapping about it to them so like... just wondering why she feels the need to tell everyone in the world about what i apparently did wrong ⁉️ live laugh love i suppose... AND IF YOU EVER WANNA HEAR ABOUT STUFF THAT SHES DONE TO ME I LITERALLY HAVE STORIES FOR DAYS

ALSO!!!! IM SO EXCITED IM FINALLY GONNA GET MY DRIVER'S PERMIT AND START DRIVERS ED AAAA like ive been waiting for ages!!!! i had to like save up and stuff so it took a bit CAUSE WHY IS IT LIKE 400 DOLLARS IF YOU DONT TAKE IT THROUGH THE SCHOOL LIKE PLEASE 💔

its been days and the try again playlist is literally the only thing pulling me through... ness im forever grateful for the existence of this playlist‼️try again isnt even finished but like NESS i would marry it if i could i think i think about it even more than love notes omf 😭 i need yn as my therapist NOWWW!!! AND ADDING ONTO THAT, TONICS LOOKS SO AMAZING SO FAR OH MY GOD?? LIKE ALL THE DETAILS AND THE GRAPHIC DESIGN FOR ARTIST PROFILES AND EVERYTHING UGHH IM SO EXCITED

okay another thing, i think i told you about a phone vault before cause like my school was really talking it up... it was the stupid pocket thing on the wall. they're out there calling it a phone vault GOODBYE 😭 anyway ive given up on paying full attention in class and have reverted back to wearing and airpod in class so i can listen to music (the SOLE reason why i have airpods is bc they were a christmas gift i dont have enough money to buy those on my own 🫡)

ANYWAY I HOPE YOURE HAVING AN AMAZING DAY LOVE!! MAKE SURE YOU EAT, DRINK WATER, AND TAKE YOUR MEDS LATER!! <33 ILY

HELLO SAV!! AND PLEASE TALK WHEREVER U WANT!! I WILL RESPOND WHEREVER <3 and omg good luck with picture day!! 😭 literally those pics never turn out good like they PURPOSELY WANT ME TO LOOK BAD they're always like "no no!! push your hair out of your face behind your shoulder so we can really see how much of an egg you look like!!" but i'm wishing you the best of luck and that your picture turns out well 😔

and also HELLO??? I'M SO GLAD EVERYONE TAKES YOUR SIDE BC LIKE,, THAT'S JUST EMBARASSING FOR HER 😭 I HOPE SHE TAKES IT AS A SIGN AND REALIZES LIKE...maybe she's in the wrong...or maybe she should go to you and sort it out with you!! instead of just complaining about it to others!!

AND AA YAY GOOD FOR YOU!! it's def expensive but so so worth it in the end 😭😭 i remember for me (idk if every state does this!!) but i actually did my lessons when i was like 16 1/2 (for many reasons we won't get into 😔) but anyway!! in my state or at least at the drivers ed school i went to if you were that age they'd allow you to do this thing where basically they just threw all the information you'd learn over the course of the week (or however long all the drivers ed courses are) in one night crash course style!! and then u take the permit test at the end of it and then u get ur permit!! and although i felt a little behind everyone else bc i didn't start drivers ed immediately yk i was kind of glad i got it all done in one night!! and like you learn all the info and then IMMEDIATELY take a test on it so it was kind of easy!! but best of luck to u!! i hope it all goes well <3

AND AA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I'M SO GLAD YOU LOVE THE TRY AGAIN PLAYLIST!! i always listen to it in the morning when i'm still waking up and then will switch to the tonics playlist when i'm more awake LMAOO BUT YES!! DW i think now that i've gotten tonics intros out of the way i'm gonna work on try again while trying to outline tonics!!

BUT HELLO THE "PHONE VAULT" BUT BEING THE SHOE HANGER THING?? MAN THAT IS NOT A VAULT 😭 THE WAY SCHOOLS ARE OUT HERE COMING OUT WITH THE CRAZIEST NAMES EVER JUST SO THAT IT LIKE FITS THE AESTHETIC OF THEIR SCHOOL OR WHATEVER IS CRAZY but yes!! i think my wireless earbuds were also a christmas gift or something and then during this one play during high school that was literally the bane of my existence (and also simultaneously the best play i ever did) i NOT ONLY lost my earbuds but i ALSO bit my phone on accident and then broke the screen so like...i sacrificed blood sweat and tears for that play frfr (i also bled all over the set after cutting my finger on accident so i mean it...) so i had to buy myself another pair after that bc my mom was sick of me 😭😭 but they were like an off brand pair and tbh they're better than like samsung buds!! (what i have to use bc i'm not an apple user </3) so honestly it worked out in the end!!

BUT I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY AS WELL!! THANK YOU SO MUCH SAV <3 HAVE A LOVELY DAY AND REST LOTS AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!

[sexisdisgusting]

hihihiii lenka. i saw that you posted a poll asking if people would be open to receiving advice from followers as well so here’s mine:

now ive only considered myself a radfem for a short time. its been a long time coming if im being honest but i peaked not long ago after my detransition and i can say that im progressing pretty quick! i dont shave, wear makeup, attempt to make myself pleasing, ive avoided men as often as possible and recentred myself and other women in my life. there’s just one issue: i desperately want to be a housewife. i’ve always had this dream of taking care of my children and cooking and cleaning. i figured i’d go to uni, make enough money to support myself and then throw it into savings once i get married so i have a backup plan if anything bad happens. even better that im studying for a high paying job

i understand the flaws in it. it’s an extremely patriarchal idea and gives the illusion that women belong in the home and so on. it’s harmful all around. but i want it so bad it kills me

i’d love any advice. thank you gyns :,)

HI ANONITA!!!! THANK U FOR UR MESSAGE!!! i shall relay it to everyone!

GROUP QUESTION TIME!

HELLO GYNS!!! PLEASE LET ANONITA KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND GIVE HER UR BEST ADVICE!!

[druggeddraccus]

new year. time to reflect on the old one lol 

ive been working as an RN since april at this hospital and its been going pretty well...always hectic lol making good money though, learning a lot, i ejoy working with most of my coworkers

ive been good about saving my money this year i plan to sit down with someone and get concrete ideas of what exactly i need money wise to buy a house. 

i had a lot of really cool thrift finds this year, i also got closer with some of my cousins that i hadnt spoken to in a long time. and i hope to hang out with them even more this year. 

ive also tried and failed to repair the relationship between myself and my sisters multiple times and i will always flip flop on my thoughts/feelings on this issue but right now in this moment...i am okay with not talking to them. i am okay with distancing myself from people that consistently think the worst of me and my parents despite everything...its just such a shitshow situation and right now im completely fine avoiding them entirely. 

my one true goal this year is to make it to ireland, im so excited to go even though the thought of traveling makes me extremely stressed and anxious lol 

[ralaferin]

i feel very melancholy today

ive been going over in my head how to approach breaking things off with my partner for… a while now. At the same time, the fear of being alone and nobody really “seeing” me and nobody being as patient with me as he has been is absolutely crippling. the thought of him not being in my life anymore after we’ve been friends for close to a decade before dating is agonising. i know it’s going to crush him. i know that he can sense something is coming, because the more i withdraw the more he seeks reassurance that i just can’t put my heart into.

I don’t think he’ll understand if I try to explain the sexuality stuff. I lingered for too long on a lesbian tiktok while we were watching my fyp a little while ago and it was enough to make him suspicious and ask me if I feel like he’s holding me back. My people pleasing/fawning issues made me immediately say “no of course not!! Far from it :-)” but my heart just fucking aches because whenever I close my eyes and I imagine where I would be in my ideal endgame scenario, it’s ALWAYS been a woman there. Since before I even knew what that meant! but I’ve only ever dated men, and the sex has never appeared to be a problem (because again. people pleasing. if ive had negative feelings, they’ve been crushed very far down so he can’t see them.) so i feel like if i come out and say directly that i think i could be a lesbian he’s just going to be confused and hurt and feel like I’m lying to save his feelings, when really it’s something ive thought about for my entire teenage and adult life.

On top of that, my skin condition stuff has been fucking killing me for the last few days. It’s genuinely horrible. I’m constantly itchy and in pain, and it literally makes my underarms fucking stink constantly even with consistent hygiene because I can’t wear deodorant without it triggering a flare. There’s one cream brand that I can usually use but I can’t use it if the skin is broken, and there’s a heap of splits there now, so I just have to rot in my room covered in ointment and hope it heals. I’m fucking sick of it. It feels like I constantly smell like shit and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it. I’ve spent so much money trying different products and it’s gotten me nowhere.

I have the great privilege of being on TNF blocking medication which means going to the dermatologist and having to do a medication application every 6 months. Roughly $500 each time. If I stop taking it, the HS will cause scar tissue to spread and it can get bad enough that surgery is the only issue and mine is all over my groin and armpits and flares under my boobs, so it’s all super fucking invasive for the dermatologist to look at to begin with without it getting worse

I still can’t drive, I still don’t have a car, I still haven’t had a job, my resume looks like shit, I have thousands of dollars of hecs debt that I’ll never be able to pay off from studying that never got me anywhere, I’m stuck in my childhood bedroom because I was forced into being my mothers carer while my dad gets to break up with her and fuck off travelling wherever he wants without us being the weight holding him back. I have no savings. I’m 26 and I already know I’m basically doomed to struggle with money my entire life.

Everything just fucking sucks. I honestly can’t see a way out or forward. all around me I’m watching people I grew up with getting older and getting married and having kids and buying homes and I’m just… stuck here, and it feels like drowning

[e17omm]

Ranting about Natlan part 2 (act 2)! Whohooooo god I am dying from heat.

Its actually not all negative this time. Its less just ranting and more thoughts of the Archon quest.

I ramble at the lack of stakes or tension at the end. That part's actually me venting frustrations.

TL:DR; quest is disappointing because it could have gone in a very fresh and tense direction but it doesnt because this is 2024 Hoyo.

Music is chill nice vacation music.

Conversation is about the country's constant war with a cunning immaterial enemy that has been fighting them for 500 years.

Nice to see that Hoyo completely succeeds at tone. (Sarcastic)

2. PREDICTION TIME! Kachina is actually gonna stay dead because the resurrection thing is gonna fail and Im meant to feel sad because this character that speedran her character arc in 1 hour and that I've only known for that hour is dead.

3. Traveller casually knows the song????

4. what a surprise! Kachina is (supposedly) dead. My money's on that she was captured or is hiding or something.

She "died" off-screen and Ive known her for an hour. Come on.

5. Oh? We're gonna investigate with the Archon, Mondstadt style? Im game.

I still dont care about Kachina, because again, Ive barely met her. But investigating with the Archon has been a while. I welcome it.

6. Damn, Mauvika just beat the shit out of him. The fight did turn into flying anime line battle, but the music was jamming.

7. aaah damn we arent gonna be investigating with the Archon. Shame. That would've been fun.

8. Did the Pyro Archon legit just send us to go to the Night Kingdom with a stone we can only use if one guy happens to be at the settlement at the time and we can find these fetch quest items he needs?

Who wrote this script? The Archon talked as if she had a way to go to the Night place and she doesnt? ANd now we are on a fetch quest to eat up time? Come on.

9. EVERYONE has sob stories in Natlan jesus christ.

I just wanna clarify that theres nothing wrong with sobstories in themselves, but they wont make me care about a character unless it actually matters to the story.

10. Man I hoped they would be pissed that we broke the thingy. Fucking Hell Hoyo games needs to have character conflict brought back.

11. oh we are going with the Archon... Oh yeah nevermind ignore point 8. I write these points as Im playing.

12. Oh I almost forgot, but yeah Kachina is alive. No surprise there.

13. Pyro Archon is a bitchass mf. Venti can barely fight and he still traveled with us. You can fight and you're not coming with us? Lame. (Im being half serious here)

14. This friendship and fighting with my friends arc feels incredibly cheap. Probably because its been 4 hours long.

15. and we ALMOST had an incredibly interesting plot direction.

Almost.

Hoyo keeps doing these fakeouts that I am actually yawning. Unironically, Im yawning. Whenever anything doesnt go to plan something always saves us. This happens in every one of their Honkaiverse games now. You can do a fakeout here and there, but not every time.

I hope someone understands my boredom with this. I lean back in my chair and go "and SURELY no one will burst in and save us from being trapped in the Abyss for more than 5 seconds, aaaaand there's the Pyro Archon. (yawn)" because it has happened so many consecuative times by now that its not tense or exciting any more.

16. I feel like Natlan would've been such a good story if we didnt JUST arrive here. It feels like there is a lot of sentimentality here, but I dont get invested in flashbacks and sob stories.

17. People claiming that the Traveler is just a spectator so its fine if they dont get stronger or have a character are sure is quiet after this quest.

This quest was pretty disappointing. Again, repeating myself over and over, but Natlan's biggest issue is that its the 6th region and Hoyo's baits never land so I've stopped grabbing at them.

You know what would have been a plot development that would have rekindled the fire of excitement inside of me? If we ACTUALLY got trapped in the Abyss, instead of having another bait of literally anything bad happening to anyone ever.

Can you imagine the plot if we got trapped in the Abyss for an extended period of time and had to survive and scavange for things to eat while trying to retain our sanity as we search for a way out?

Wouldn't that be fresh and exciting and something we haven't seen before?

But that would be something bad happening to our characters and we cant have that! No no boys and girls, nothing bad ever happens to the heroes! But we will sure keep baiting that it will happen! Are you still nibbing at the baits? Are you still worried for them? We will never actually do it but we will keep casting baits!

I want to be proven wrong so fucking badly you dont understand. Hoyo used to write stories I actually got invested in because at any moment, with a few wrong moves, something bad could happen to the characters. Not even death! In the [Seele] cinematic, Bronya could have been trapped in the Sea of Quanta and Seele would have had to go back in to pull her out (which is what she does, but it could have been a 1-chapter arc if Hoyo wanted to). But moments like that never happens any more.

We could have been trapped in the Abyss for an extended period of time before Mauvika found and rescued us and everyone could have escaped with their lives!

But NO! Instead we find Kachina right away, solve a small part of the problem, get baited with being trapped there before instantly being rescued and Kachina gets treated right away and SHES PERFECTLY FINE. THEY BAITED HER DEATH EARLIER TOO.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHY IM NOT FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT ANYONES LIVES?!

IF THERE WAS ANY CONSEQUENCE AND ANY STAKES AT ALL KACHINA WOULD AT LEAST HAVE BEEN AFFECTED FOR A FEW DAYS BUT NO, SHES PERFECTLY FINE.

WHY SHSOAJD =IA^SPE DHUja9o'

Why should I care when the result is ALWAYS that everyone is perfectly fine and happy?

No one would have even needed to die or been permanently injured. But we get saved instantly.

Where's the tension and stakes supposed to be?

[she-might-be-a-demon]

I don’t write on here often but I don’t really have anywhere else to go.

I’m disabled and very mentally ill. Same as a lot of people, but I feel like I never get a good day. It’s always “you need time to heal, give yourself a break”. I feel like all I’ve been doing is resting and it doesn’t seem to make a difference. I’m constantly trying my best to get better and the second I think I’m making progress it’s something new.

You need to go to the ER. You need to take these medications. You need to rest. You can’t go to work. You need to pay these bills. How can I pay the bills if I can’t work? How do I make progress if all I can do is lay around waiting to get better? When will I get better? When will anything get better? How can I give myself a break and be more gentle with myself when I grew up around so much negativity?

“My child is not special”. “You just need to try harder”. “You’re a child, you’re not in pain”. “Stop lying”.

“You’re a teenager, of course your body is going to hurt. You’re growing. Just take more pills and you’ll be fine”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop being dramatic. I go through way more than you and I’m still working and not bitching. There’s nothing for you to be depressed about. You have it so easy”

No. I didn’t. You neglected me and I was forced to be an adult as a child. I raised more children that I can count. I drove the van at the age of 12 because you were drunk at the bar on a Wednesday. I was parenting my parents. Nobody ever believed my pain and now I’m 21 unable to work because I was so ignored that I got no help. There is no help. There is no medication. There is no cure. There isn’t anything I can do to fix any of this. “I’m sorry, doctors don’t know enough about your problems to help you. We can no longer help you. You can try this medication for these other issues but they are not for you. You will trip out until there’s no color left in your eyes. No doctor will contact you to tell you to stop taking these medications and you will have life long side effects.”

Stay positive? Ive been seeing creatures crawling on my ceilings since I was a toddler. The walls are breathing and hands are touching me through the walls. I’m seeing faces in trees and the shadow figures look at me with no expression. Why do I feel their pain? Why do I wish I was dead? Why did I pray to a god I didn’t believe in just because I was told he’d save me one day? Why haven’t I been saved? Why was I lied to? Why am I like this?

“Why dont you hangout with friends?”

What friends are you referring to? The ones who left because they couldn’t handle hearing how badly I wanted my pain to end? The friends who used me for my money because they knew I felt the pain they were going through and they used me until they were better off without me? The friends who couldn’t understand what having DID is like? The friends who fell in love and couldn’t be in my life unless they had me to themselves? The friends who made me sacrifice so many parts of myself until I couldn’t see myself in the mirror? What friends are you talking about?

“Where’s your family in all this?”

The alcoholic, pedophile, narcissistic, manipulative, victim complex, emotionally unavailable, physically abusive, neglectful, egotistical, strict Catholic, compulsive liars, ableist, homophobic, boomers, divorced parents that couldn’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves?

I left at 17. My mother was stealing from me and my family didn’t like that I was the “black sheep” of the family. I need no Shepard for I am not a sheep.

I started from pennies in my pocket. No car. No home. No job. No knowledge of anything other than what my family programmed into my brain to be a slave to whatever they needed me to be. I had nothing.

I’m supposed to be happy? Positive? Hopeful? I slept in a wooden toy chest hoping I wouldn’t wake up as a child . I was so little. Nobody believed a goddamn word I had to say. I’m severely traumatized and disabled.

I’ve been with my partner of almost 4 years who I jokingly gave the name “caretaker” in my phone just for it to unironically become the truth. I feel so much guilt for needing someone to take care of me and help me with everything. I hate that I’ve taken away so many chances for him to have a “normal” life.

I’ve put him through so much shit and he’s still here. It took me over 3 years to get therapy. Only after he broke up with me because I was planning my suicide. He himself was suicidal and didn’t say anything because he didn’t want me to feel bad. He cared more about me than himself and I hate I put him in that situation. He loves me everyday and I can’t seem to love myself for a second. How does he do it? How does he look at me and see love after everything we’ve gone through?

How do I keep going knowing I’m taking away his chances of having a good fulfilling life? Probably won’t get married because why waste money on someone who’s more than 95% going to kill themselves when the time comes? Won’t be having kids because who wants to pass on so many disorders and disabilities to a child? Why adopt just to be shamed for taking in a child when you can’t give them a normal life being a disabled parent?

I’m positive I make my therapist uncomfortable because I can’t seem to go more than two days without talking about how easy everyone’s life will be once I’m gone. “They will miss you”. They definitely won’t miss hearing me bitch about how shit my life is and how there’s nothing i or anyone else can do to help me or fix me. They won’t have to help me with everything. They won’t have to worry about me at all because my body won’t be an issue. My pain won’t be relevant. They will have such an easy life when I’m gone.

I was writing suicide notes at the age of 9. Writing to myself on my birthday because who tf cares about the stick bug you call a girl. The pale and frail. “Look, I can wrap my hands around your waist and my fingers touch.” Awesome having everyone carelessly speak about my size and furthering my eating disorder.

There is nothing for me to look forward to. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. The grass is not greener on the other side. The roses do not smell sweater. The water will never sit still. Everyone leaves and I hop on the pity train with my fucking clown shoes.

“You are dead to me.” “You are a selfish person.” “You aren’t important, I already replaced you.” “You have zero direction.” “You’re going nowhere.” “I hope you hurt every single day until you rot alone.” “You’re a coward.” “You’re a dark rain cloud with nothing good to say.” “You’re just as angry as your dad.” “You play the victim just like your mom.” “You’re a child.” “You let everyone take advantage of you.” “You will be temporary for everyone who comes into your life.” “You will never be cured.” “Do you know how easy it would be to get rid of your body since there’s nothing there.” “You’re so easy to take advantage of.” “ There is zero empathy in your body.” “ You’re dying anyway.” “You’re so fake.” “You can’t even be a person.” “You’re so lost in your delusions.” “I don’t think you’ve ever told the truth.”

Things I’ve been told by people who “loved” me. By family. By friends. By ex bestfriends. By coworkers. By strangers. And I’m supposed to just get over it? I’m supposed to move on? I just need to move past all that? There is nothing to save me from this.

I’m a burning fire waiting to be put out. I’m choking myself out with my own thoughts. I’m smoking everyday hoping my lungs give out just for my ribs to be pushed to the surface until I can’t sit still. The bugs under my skin whispering the things I’ve been told on repeat for years.

It will never change. I can never change. The change I make is irrelevant to anyone because they see the same depressed girl who gave up so early in life and has no direction. I will make it nowhere in life except the cemetery I sit at alone because there’s nobody there to shame me. There’s nobody to tell me it’ll be better. It’s quiet. It’s calm. There’s no shame in sitting with the dead.

When was there every light in my eyes? When was there a life worth living?

I know nobody will read all of this, I know nobody will listen or understand. I know that I will be gone one day and it will change nothing. The world keeps turning and I will finally;Finally get the rest I needed.

[nevrush]

i always say “so and so makes me ill”, “oh this situation made me ill”, “oh i was rlly i’ll then” and stuff like that. i’ve always been ill. i’ve always been dying. i’ve always been waiting and pleading for someone to save me since i can remember. i haven’t been out of a relationship for longer then 6 months and that was when i was 14. i need people. and i don’t think i know who i am without being in a relationship and being totally and utterly consumed by the other person. i become them. i adopt their personality and mannerisms and i talk how they want me to talk and act the way that suits them. i’ve completely lost myself, and i need to learn to be comfortable being on my own. i need to take a bit of time to figure my shit out and be okay with looking in the mirror again. i think ive laughed and pretended like i’ve had my shit down for years but i’ve never really had a clue what was going on.

at 11 i was recovering from hospital and i was having consistent panic attacks almost daily. i had the intention of kms with penicillin (i’m allergic)

at 12 i was being harassed by my dad which only resulted in the panic attacks getting worse, i remember my mom was in a depressive episode the whole of that year she was too tired to even shout and me.. she practically could move or speak. she not long after started her meds 3.

at 13 i was figuring out my gender, started having heart issues and had to have a million odd scans, blood tests, stickers and blood pressure things.

at 14 i was experiencing extremely vivid intrusive thoughts and had my first audible hallucinations, i also got deemed emotionally unstable and got taken out of school and got out in psycho therapy, the best person in my life, the only one who understood me and was with me through everything moved away, my uncle went to prison and tried to kill himself a million and 1 different times and my best friend tried to kill herself. sex became difficult and gross for me here, someone was really persistent w me and i didn’t know how to say no and i don’t think it was that deep but it’s definitely effected my sex life now.

at 15 my uncle started doing crack cocaine ( he hasn’t been sober since) and my hallucinations got worse, i got balls deep in an eating disorder and was even further balls deep in a horrendous relationship, i was told i wasn’t really mentally i’ll if i didn’t cut myself.

at 16 my uncle overdosed then stole money off everyone and fled, i picked up smoking again, gained the person who matters most back and lost him again not even 4 months later. started sh and my mom tried to kill herself because i confronted her about her punching me in the face. i drank a lot for about 6-7 months and kept staying round my mates so i could drink without feeling like it was becoming a ‘thing’ or so i could smoke weed., i started to become so disconnected with who i was and what i looked like i started to over sexualise what i looked like because if i don’t like me at least someone else will right? this led to 20 piercings and an identity crisis a year later

at 17 my uncle turned up at my door and i became ever further balls deep into an eating disorder (once again), started sh consistently and my mom tried to kill herself because i confronted her about her punching me in the face. i don’t remember a lot of 17. i think i was disassociated forget alot if it. i know i had a lot of good people around me but it all feels so fuzzy when i try and remember but it remember i was bad. i don’t think ive ever been so bad, i thought i was going to die i was so ill.

i understand that there are people around me to support me and be here but realistically are they really. if i call someone at 3am are they really going to pick up and be here. if i said at 8 at night that j just needed someone and i wasn’t dying i just needed someone with me, would they really be there? am i realistically anybodies first choice? no. i’m not. i can appreciate that people have been here and have supported me but don’t think people have the drop “everything and save them” mindset that i do. i get that they’re not obligated to do that but,, idk. i just wish i meant more. was more. could give more and them all care,, like actually truly care not that fake shit. i don’t even need people to say anything, just being with me and people actions showing they care about me is more then enough. i just want to be someone’s 1st choice.

[cellophaine]

Lingered Affection (Chapter V)

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 5309

Series Summary: You thought breaking up with Matt was the right thing to do. For his sake and yours. Life went on as you navigated through it with the lingered love and affection you still had for each other, neither of you could let go.

Chapter Warnings: Brief depiction of domestic violence, family issues, sexual harassment.

Author's Note: I got distracted while looking for Matt Murdock in a tuxedo GIFs because this man is so DAMN fine. I wanna spread him on a ciabatta bun. Okay I'm done.

Also, I'm sorry for the angst.

Any likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter :)

Taglist: @juniebugg <3

Gif Credit

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You spent days alternating between the coffee shop and the little studio in your apartment. You poured your heart and soul into the painting, letting your frustration, love, and this confusing, conflicted feeling worked the brushes and colours for you. You weren't sure if doing this would help, but you felt the speck of relief you so desperately sought after. At this moment, you'd settle for that. 




At home, on a snowy day, the frail sunlight filtered through your window felt cold and distant; you were putting more paints on the palette when you received an unknown number on your phone. 

'Could this be Matt?'

You had his numbers saved, his daytime phone and the one on his burner he used every time he went on a patrol. If he had to contact you with a different number, something could be very wrong. However, to your relief and a hint of disappointment, the voice speaking up at the end of the line was a woman, asking for a confirmation of your name.




"Yes, this is her. May I ask who's calling?"




"Hello. My name is Josephine Vandewalt. You can just call me Josephine. I'm an art curator for the Augora gallery. Have you heard of us?"




"Yes, I have. I've been to a few shows at your gallery. I'm sorry, how did you get my number?"




"That's awesome. Then I think you have an idea of our overall vision. I got your information from Archie, who hired you to do the 'Silent' mural in Chelsea!"




"Oh! Right. Uhm, what do you need me for?"




"I've looked you up, and I'm very impressed with your works. Therefore, I want to feature you in our next show. I think your paintings can go well with the theme of the exhibit. However, I would like to see your other works as well, everything, including those that are in progress."




Your eyes widen at the offer. You'd given up this route long ago since your paintings were denied at every gallery you applied to, ones with free to inexpensive exhibition fees. To be presented with an opportunity like this was something you never thought possible. Yet, you were skeptical. So you decided to hear what she had to say first. 




"Of course! When are you available?"




"Great! I was hoping you'd say so. How about tomorrow at 2? I can drop by wherever you store your works, take a look, and we'll go from there."




After giving her your address, you hung up. You pondered the possibilities of how this might go. You'd get a chance to promote your work, but that didn't always mean more clients, more paintings sold, more money. Nevertheless, Augora was a well-known gallery with a steady stream of visitors, clients and donors, so this could be a great chance at gaining exposure, selling your works and networking. You sighed, telling yourself to take one thing at a time, turning back to the painting in front of you.




The next day, at approximately 2 PM, three quick raps resounded at your door. You opened it to reveal a woman dressed in a long trench coat that brushed over her black boots, dotted with snow, a stylish, colourful scarf adorned her neck.




She said your name with a cheeriness that could brighten the gloomy weather in New York, shaking your hand with enthusiasm. After the initial greeting, you stepped aside to welcome her in and led her to your studio. 




Josephine took a close inspection on the paintings you'd set out the night before, muttering to herself and sometimes making you know which pieces you could use. You took mental notes of her comments when she stood before your easel, with your unfinished painting still on it.




"Is this completed? I think it would make a great feature on your designated wall at the show."




You hesitated before answering her.




"This piece is quite personal for me. I'm not sure if I could show it to a lot of other people, let alone sell it."




"Aren't they all, personal? The artworks, I mean. Every one of these is a part of you, and you have been selling them to strangers. So what's the difference this one makes? You could make something out of it, at least, in case it gets sold."




You didn't want to tell Josephine that this painting was inspired by your ex-boyfriend, who you were still in love with. You didn't want to admit it, but she was right. This painting was no different from what you usually do. You tried to move on from him, didn't you? Maybe if the work were sold, it would get easier. However, the thought of gaining monetary compensation from a part of him that you built, something that had helped you in the past few days, made you felt wrong. It seemed like your life had a thing for conundrums.




"What if I add it to my collection, just to display, not to sell? It means a lot to me."




"That would work. I can't guarantee that people won't try to buy it from you, but I can mark it as not-for-sale on the list. Just think about it, alright? If you change your mind, you have my number."




You nodded, feeling better. After finalizing the paintings, you and Josephine made your way to the living room to begin the paperwork and contract talks. You found their conditions reasonable and surprising for an independent gallery in New York, with a 40% sales commission and no exhibition fees or any other additional charges. Josephine explained how they had some donors with a knack for new and unknown artists; therefore, the show was funded with a generous budget.

'Just my luck.' You thought.

Josephine bid you adieu with a promise of sending you the contract on the next day. After that, you had two weeks to prepare for the show, which included getting the artworks ready for sale, packing them up to transport them to the gallery, and working closely with Josephine to mark down their prices. During that time, you put final touches to the painting, finding yourself yearning for the process that was over. You traced your finger over the dry paint, over the blurry line where Matt's eyes were, the fullness of his lips, shaped into a beautiful arc, his jaw formed a graceful line down the slope of his neck, disappeared into the darkness framing his face. You weren't surprised at how you could recreate his face on the canvas without the help of a reference photo. All those time you spent with him, with your head on his laps, gazing up at him. His unseeing eyes filled with pure love and adoration when he angled his face down to you, giving you the sweetest smile. He would use his hands to caress your face lovingly, his fingers sometimes wandering, exploring your face with the softest touches. You took all of that in, committed those tender moments to your memory. Everything about him was forged into your mind like a branded mark, the kind that had your skin scorched, but you would gladly endure the pain, to have the scar with you.

The days passed by in a blur, with you surrounded by plastic covers, bubble wrap rolls, boxes and phone calls. Today was a special day, but you didn't want to go out to celebrate since it would only remind you of this day last year when you spent it with Matt. Instead, you pushed through the workload, hoping to take your mind off the ache that had started pounding on the back of your mind. Taking a break from the craziness of your tiny studio, you grabbed a mug of tea, sitting down on the window sill by the fire escape. You took in the sight of snow falling, sprinkled on the scene before you. You thought briefly of Matt, hoping he wouldn't stay out too long in this weather. Your eyes moved onto the alley below, and that was when something red caught your attention. You squinted your eyes, head moving closer to the glass pane, staring at the red thing covered in a layer of light snow. Opening the window, you stepped out into the cold, picking the box up and dusting off the snowflakes. You lifted the lid up to reveal a brown paper-wrapped package inside; on top of it was a folded piece of paper with your name written clumsily. You recognized the strokes of the pen, the smudge of the ink from the occasional notes Matt left you with few simple words. Hastily unfolding the paper, you read:

'Happy birthday, sweetheart.

Always yours,

- Matt.'

The letters were awkwardly placed, otherwise comprehensible. There were streaks in a few places. Matt must have used his finger to track where he was writing. You wondered if he had asked Foggy for help? You pressed the piece of paper to your chest, feeling the familiar tug at your heart, much stronger now than it had been recently. He remembered your birthday. And he took the time to drop it off at your place, knowing you didn't want to see him, despite how things ended between you two. But why you didn't feel like it was over?

You inhaled sharply; the cold air entered your lungs, clearing your mind. You made your way back inside, bringing the box with you. Placing it on the kitchen counter, you set the note aside and peeled back the paper, the material crinkled in your hands. You stared at the items, dumbfounded. Inside was a box of perfume, still new with the plastic wrap. It was your go-to fragrance since the faint floral smell didn't overwhelm Matt, until the manufacture for the scent stopped, and you couldn't find it anywhere a few months back. You remembered how Matt would bury his face into the crook of your neck, muttering between peppered kisses he pressed on your skin about how good you smelled, how the perfume complimented your natural scent, and how he missed your unmistakable subtle aroma when you weren't around. You smiled fondly at the memory, feeling the knot on your throat tighten. You swallowed it down and moved on to the next object: a simple photo frame with an art print inside. You recognized it instantly. Matt had asked for one of your favourite art pieces, and you described it to him; the conversation was still fresh on your mind.

"It's a hard question, but for now, I'd say Guido Borelli's 'Un Cielo Verdolino'. I love the use of colours in it and the composition. It feels like the heat of summer bounced off the pavement, hitting you in a pleasant way. The air is balmy. The wind feels cool on your face, tangles in your hair, dancing on your skin. The citrus smell of an orange being peeled. Tiny drops of lemon juice dash off the pulp when the fruit is being cut in half. The taste of fresh grape burst open in your mouth, sugary sweet. It feels like a perfect summer. You feel free. I'm making this sounds very dramatic, aren't I?"

Matt had this adoring expression on his face then, concentrated on you. He wished he could bottle your voice at this moment, so when he missed you, he could open the stopper and listen to you again, letting your voice lull him into a sweet dream.

You put your face between your hands, holding back a sob that threatened to escape. Your tears, however, rolled down your cheeks silently. Of course, Matt would do something like this. Because he might still love you, still showed that he cared about you, even when he couldn't be with you.

'This is for his own good.'

You reminded yourself. But now, that voice faltered and full of doubts, more than ever.

The opening night arrived as you grew more anxious. You ran your hands down your clothes, a puff-sleeve dress with a sweetheart neckline, the length stopped above your knees. Your hair glided smoothly over the bare skin, brushed over the simple jewelry you wore. Finally, after the opening ceremony, the door to the gallery opened, welcoming a stream of guests. You swallowed at the sheer amount of people that wouldn't stop pouring in, offering a smile as people approached your wall and talked to you.

The first hour went by swimmingly. There was a crowd of six people who surrounded your paintings, asking you questions. One of them pointed to your central piece, the one with the features you knew too well, better than the back of your hand. The portrait of Matt with his face angled slightly up towards the ghost white light, while the darkness surrounded him, leaving some of his attributes shown. The shapes of his eyes were recognizable but cloudy as if they were out of focus. The streams of red started from the corners of his blurred eyes, moved down to his cheeks, onto his jaw, throat and disappeared into the darkness. The pop of colour was dotted with tiny pieces of gold foil, making the scarlet lines shimmer under the light. Matt's face was an expression of despair, his brows slightly scrunched up, his lips parted open as if to let out a prayer, a mournful exhale.

You thought about Matt's struggle to accept himself for who he was, what he had done to protect Hell's Kitchen and his loved ones. There was no perfect solution, not without having his hands drenched in blood. His Daredevil identity had done more than enough damage to him and those that cared about him. You had a taste of it, and he blamed himself to the point he tried to push you away. You could see the contrary in his hurtful words, putting distance between you two. Despite his fear of abandonment, he did it for your own good. You knew the feeling too well. But you stayed with him, in the eye of the storm, showing him that he didn't have to choose, and it was your choice to stay.

How ironic it was.

May spotted you, gave you a warm smile and a crushing hug, whispering words of congratulations in your ears. She took a look at your paintings; eyes stopped at the expressionism portrait of Matt. The title plate gleamed under the light of the gallery.

'HEART OF GOLD.'

Before she could say anything, a person close by required your attention. You mouthed 'sorry' to her. She waved dismissively and pointed in the direction of the bar. You nodded, grateful for the distraction. You turned to the man in the grey suit; his cologne was so strong that you recoiled internally. He flashed a smile at you, extending a hand.

"I'm Thomas, but my friends call me Tom. I have to say, I've seen all the artists and their beautiful paintings here tonight, but none of them could compare to you."

You shook his hand, huffing out a chuckle, answering him with mild amusement.

"Thank you for your kind words. I'm honoured to be a part of such an amazing show since everyone here contributes a unique point of view and vision."

He clicked his tongue, his lips shaped into a disagreement.

"Yeah yeah. What I meant to say is you're beautiful. You shouldn't be standing here with me; you should be on these walls like a work of art you are."

There it was — a pickup line, as cheesy as it could get. The smile was frozen on your face as you said nothing in return. Thomas continued, didn't notice your silence.

"I might take home one of your paintings. Or two. Putting them up in my bedroom, perhaps. What do you think?"

He got the sleazy, suggestive look in his eyes that you just wanted to scrape off with your bare hands. Forcing out a friendly smile, you responded.

"Of course! If that's what you want. You can contact Josephine regarding the payment process, the shipping details and more."

From behind you, the familiar muffled sound echoed. Tap. Tap. Tap. Why was that sound so familiar?

"Maybe I'll take this one." Thomas gestured at 'Heart of Gold'.

"I'm sorry, but that painting is for display purposes only. It's not for sale."

Tap.

A woman's smooth voice with a gorgeous accent glided in between you and Thomas, making you turn around.

"Such a shame, don't you think …."

Your posture went stiff as your eyes settled on the couple behind you, Thomas forgotten. Your blood ran cold at the first sight of the man.

"… Matthew?"

Your heart dropped when you saw how his hand gripped her arm in a similar fashion to when he held yours. You felt like all the air in your lungs had evaporated as you took in the sight of Matt, feeling like a stranded traveller gazing upon their salvation. He looked so painfully beautiful in the black suit that hugged his body just right; the bowtie sat straight and neat on the collar. He appeared to be in good health, as far as you could tell, since you couldn't detect the usual sight of bruises on the open skin of his neck, hands and face. He had the same surprised expression on his face, although he hid it well. The silence stretched on, and Matt covered it up with a rigid comment and a tense chuckle.

"I wouldn't know about that."

The woman walked closer to you; Matt's hand fell to his side as he stood still, his knuckles white on the walking cane. She held out a hand to you to shake, introducing herself.

"Elektra Natchios, and my companion here is Matthew Murdock."

You offered your name in return, not sure how this would play out. Would he pretend that he didn't know you in front of his new girlfriend?

"We know each other, Elektra. There's no need of introduction."

"Oh? How did you become acquainted?"

This time, you spoke up first.

"We used to date a while ago. It wasn't anything serious."

Matt's lips slightly opened, his brows knitted in betrayal. Your heart picked up again, knowing he could tell that you were lying. You schooled your expression to be detached, brushing the nerves off as if it was nothing. Elektra didn't have to know the truth.

"What a small world."

Elektra shot you a knowing look as if she could pick on your words of deception. Matt tugged on her arm with a gentle but stern force, pulling on her attention.

"Can we talk?"

Elektra raised a brow in amusement.

"Alright, Matthew."

She gave you a nod, excusing herself. Matt didn't turn back once, walking her to the other side of the room, but you could see them still. They appeared to be in disagreement; words and precise hand gestures were exchanged. They looked good together, you had to admit. She was beautiful, in a way you knew you couldn't compare. She seemed confident and self-assured, from what you could tell. Why wouldn't Matt fall for her?

Still, why did he send you the birthday gift? Why did he show that he cared? Was it some kind of cruel joke?

'You know damn well it couldn't be any more cruel than what you did to him.'

You reminded yourself. Your nails dug hard into the palms of your hands. You were lost, bombarded with confusion and a bit of jealousy until a voice of a stranger disrupted your thoughts. You looked down at your hands, seeing all the crescent moon marks peppered your palms, some of them had turned to a dull purple. Looking up, you couldn't see Matt and Elektra anywhere.

Another hour or so went by, you didn't keep track of the time anymore. You'd talked to multiple people, shook many hands, received compliments, criticism and promises of new projects. You felt happy at the new opportunities, at the number of people interested in your art. The exhaustion crawled up your spine, and you felt tired from smiling, knowing Matt was in the same building as you, probably cozying up with Elektra. At an art show, like how you used to spend time together. You shouldn't feel this way. You broke up with him. He was free to date anyone he wanted. Yet, the birthday message kept sneaking in, making itself known, making you feel conflicted. Did he do it because he felt pity for you?

You felt a tap on your shoulder, thinking it was May. You were disappointed to see Thomas, now with a drink in his hand. He tilted his head to get closer to your ear, and you leaned back just slightly.

"I've just bought one of your paintings. Do you want something to celebrate? Champagne? Some wine, maybe?"

Giving your best friendly smile, you dipped your head slightly in appreciation.

"Thank you so much for your generosity. And thank you for the drink offering, but I don't feel like drinking anything right now."

"C'mon, let loose. Have some fun. I think it's within my rights that you have a drink with me since, you know, your work isn't cheap."

You laughed nervously.

"I appreciate your support, but I'd rather not."

He placed his hand on your shoulder, his fingers brushed over the bare skin, tightened uncomfortably. Your heart dropped to your stomach, your body frozen. The hand on your shoulder was painfully familiar, not in a good way. It reminded you of all the times your dad put his hands on you in a violent manner. Slaps after slaps, punches after punches because you 'don't listen', you 'aren't good enough', you 'are a fucking burden', you 'should do whatever the fuck I told you to' because 'you are my child' and you 'owe me'. The even worse thing was, your mom looked away. Every time.

You bit your bottom lip, trying to calm the tremor that started unfolding throughout your body. You tried to smile, rolling your shoulder in the hope of getting rid of his hand, your voice firm.

"Please, I don't think it's a good idea."

He only got closer, close enough that a sharp waft of air soaked with alcohol and bad breath fanned your face, making you squirm. His face filled your vision, red and angry, the sight you hoped to never have to see again. You pushed hard at his chest, forced him to take a step back. The scotch in his hand sloshed, and a few drops fell on his well-pressed trousers and expensive-looking shoes. He assessed the damage, looking up at you with a wave of seething anger. The relief you felt was short-lived as the dread filled in. Horrified at what you just did, you took a step back, hoping he wouldn't make rash moves in the middle of the gallery. He stomped towards you, face flaming, raising his voice in a controlled measure.

"Do you have any idea …"

"Any idea that you're about to make an embarrassing spectacle of yourself? I'd advise you to step back and not humiliate yourself any further than you already have. People are watching. I don't need to see to know that."

It was Matt. He had inserted himself between you and the man, creating a barrier between you. His cane was extended, stopped right at Thomas' feet to cease his steps. The warmth and the familiar scent radiated off his body made you sag a little in relief. Around you, people stared; some got closer. You saw Josephine speaking into the communication device clipped to her dress.

"And who are you? Just because you're blind, don't think that I'm not afraid to beat you up."

Thomas' voice shimmered with rage. A small chuckle escaped Matt. He smirked. The damn smirk that you loved so much.

"I would like to see you try."

Before Thomas could say anything else, two security guards came up and escorted him out. The man grumbled like a spoiled child, begrudgingly followed the guards, not before calling you names and swearing he'd withdraw the offer he made on your painting. Sighing heavily to yourself, you walked off and muttered 'Now I need a drink' under your breath, deliberately ignored how Matt had turned to you, no doubt to see if you were okay. You were not. And you needed to get away from the whispers, from the pity eyes that were directed at you, leaving Matt reluctantly followed your trail.

The bar was quite empty, saved for few people milling around. You waved a bartender over, asking for a whiskey. You gulped the entire glass in one movement and regretted it instantly. The alcohol burned your throat, making you recoil. But you felt like drinking more. You flagged down another whiskey, threw back half of it before setting the glass down. As you finished the other half, Matt walked up and settled beside you, with a small distance between you two.

"Maybe you should slow down on the whiskey. You're gonna regret it tomorrow. You don't have a very strong alcohol tolerance."

You huffed out a humourless laugh, retorted.

"Geez, thanks. That's the whole point. At least I could forget what just happened."

"It wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself."

You turned sharply at him, eyes filled with anger. Because once again, he hit the nail right on the head with a few simple words. You were doing so well, even with his and Elektra's presence here. You felt like the incident ruined tonight, ruined your hard work. You were keeping it together just fine before it wrecked your crumbling composure. You thought about how you could have reacted differently so that things wouldn't have escalated. But the other part of you understood that what you did was right. Defending yourself was never wrong. He harassed you, put his hand on you, made you felt scared and weak. You swore you'd never be under anyone else's mercy again. But it happened. And you froze. You couldn't help but reprimanded yourself for it.

Now Matt was by your side after so long. You ached for him, but at the same time, you wished he didn't know you this well. It was hard enough to cut him out of your life. It hurt to see the influence you both had on each other.

"And what do you know about that, Murdock? I've got it handled. Just because we dated, we fucked, we had some sleepovers doesn't mean you understand me inside and out, okay? So why don't you scuttle back to your new girlfriend? I bet she's looking for you."

You forced the words out with the most cruelty you could muster. The words grew thorns in your throat, and the lingering taste of whiskey made it worse. Matt's brows furrowed, the corner of his mouth dipped down at your poisonous remarks. He sighed, clearly exhausted with your attempt to spite him even more.

"He could have seriously injured you. And, Elektra is not my girlfriend. I'm helping her with ... something. I know damn well you didn't mean a single word you've just said, so what was all of that for?"

You heard your name on his lips, the syllables soft and alluring.

"I know you didn't mean that. You know how much it hurts me to hear those words coming from you. You're being spiteful to make me hate you."

He gently took your hand in his and pressed it at his chest. The rhythm of his heart pounded wildly.

"I can not take it when you're being cruel to yourself."

You jerked your hand away, feeling your defences soften as the warmth of his chest pulled you in.

"You're wasting your time here, Murdock. I'm not some hopeless cause you think you can work on. I don't need your help. I don't need your charity."

He paused a beat, seemingly grew more frustrated, continued.

"I think I understand why. You're desperate to convince yourself that you don't love me anymore because you're scared. You're scared of relying on me because you think I'll leave you someday. You don't want to believe that you could be with me and things would be fine. You don't trust me. And what does that say about you? That you're a coward."

You retorted with more heat.

"At least I had the courage to leave before it could get worse. Look at us, fighting, after all this time. You should be grateful that I left. Why can't you just let me go? I don't love you anymore. You're just wasting your time with me."

"You can drop the act. Why do you keep lying and pushing me away?"

"I'm gonna keep lying until I believe in the lie itself, Matt. Maybe you should try it too. You just have to be convincing enough."

His hand on the cane tighten, almost like he could crush it at any moment.

"Fine. Lie to yourself. Believe whatever you want. When you're done moping and feeling sorry for yourself, I won't be there for you. Not anymore."

He walked off, the taps of his cane blended in with the sound of the awful relief that you'd looked for since the day you walked out of his apartment. The pain in your chest grew in size, the tears in your eyes blurred your vision, you tried your hardest not to let them fall. You didn't want to go back out there with a tear-stained face. You still had a job to do.

Before you knew it, the night was over. You said goodnight to some fellow artists; some of them asked if you would like to join them for a creative session sometimes. Josephine checked in with you, squeezed your arm reassuringly and told you to go on home safely. After changing into something more comfortable, you fell onto your bed, exhausted from the day, looked out onto the bedside table with Matt's neatly folded hoodie on top. You turned away from the garment, knowing that you didn't deserve that comfort tonight. The alcohol you had whisked you into a fitful sleep, full of red lights, smoke and him.

Three days after the opening night, you received a call from Josephine.

"Hey, darling. I'm calling to let you know that your paintings sure sell quickly. There's only two of them left, and that included the one you didn't want to sell."

You perked up a little at the news. Still reeling from the fight with Matt, you needed every piece of goodness you could get.

"That's awesome! Is there a 'but' here?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Someone really wanted to buy that painting off of you. They have offered a pretty big number."

"Josephine, I'm sorry, but I won't change my mind."

"I know, darling. That's what I told them. But they insisted. They wanted me to pass on an invitation to brunch with them to you at 1 PM on Wednesday. So, two days from now on. They seemed very determined to convince you. They also wanted to have a chat with the artist behind the painting."

You bit your lip, musing over the offer. You decided to take the bait out of curiosity.

"Alright. What's the address?"

The next day, standing at the front door of the restaurant, you took in the sight of the sight of the place. 'Fancy', you thought. The person that chose this place had money to waste. You walked in; before you could say anything, the host saw you, gave you a warm welcome and confirmed your name. You nodded, letting him take your coat and lead you to a table in a secluded but well-lit area. You settled down in the seat, speaking up.

"Hello, Elektra."

[queernuck]

The Cleveland Browns made the playoffs. The Islanders made the Eastern Conference Finals.

And that’s enough for me.

So long, so long I have been living like this, pretending that I want to keep on living, that life feels worthwhile, that I don’t want to kill myself. Suicide is for cowards but ive been chickening out for a whole decade, to the point where getting on the subway was itself something that involved convincing myself not to jump in front of it. I remember once while working in the city, I watched and waited as two trains came in and left, trying to get the energy to jump in front of them. I had decided, if I couldn’t do it by the time a second train came and went, I would go to work and save it for another day. I came very close, my legs tense like a linebacker on 4th & Goal, but I didn’t do it. Maybe it would be better if I had, I would have saved not only myself but a lot of other people a lot of pain and suffering. I’ve been dealing with feeling suicidal for a decade, an entire ten years, and made it through. And for what? I lost a retail job at minimum wage, I’ve seen the Giants go from two-time Super Bowl kingslayers to a team that relied on the Eagles for a playoff berth, I got to see Evangelion only for the final Rebuild film to be infinitely delayed, I have a useless non-degree that allows me to eloquently describe how the Democrats and Republicans alike are driving this stolen land to Fascism while sycophants tell me Vote Blue No Matter Who. I’m so tired, I’m not even the person people think me to be, since if I were, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

My paychecks, as hard-earned as they were, never seemed to be mine in any real sense, and it made me so frustrated that something in me broke at the beginning of this year. I made some mistakes, some very stupid ones, and got myself fired. I took money from and distorted the inventory of my store to get what amounted to pocket money, less than two paychecks. I was tempted because I feel so powerless, so much like nothing I could ever say or do matters, and so I decided to lash out against a place that mattered to me, against people I cared about deeply. Chain stores, corporations, all of those things are not really high on my list of things to care about. Barnes & Noble pushed out local booksellers years ago, an irony not lost on me whenever our own competition with Amazon was made apparent. We were reaping what we had sown. But what always interested on top of this irony was how symbolic these things could be to people, how much we figured into so may memories for so many. The Manga Aisle at Barnes & Noble is a staple of 2006 scene culture, a way that kids without the pocket money to afford the newest volume of Bleach it Naruto could keep up before scams became widely available. How the store was a place where people studying for standardized tests could use the test prep guides to try and get ready for the eugenic ritual of the standardized test. And just how much a chain bookstore became a substitute, socially, for the now-absent local bookstore. We bear the guilt for that, but at the same time we were still selling books, giving people a place to get coffee and sit and read and talk, in ways that libraries may not be able to. We certainly can never replace a library, given just what a library does for people. But we did do a lot of good all the same. Before it closed, some of my fondest memories came when I was the exact sort of annoying teenage customer I grew to hate, hanging out at the Columbus Circle Borders. Working at Barnes & Noble was tiring, dehumanizing, difficult, made me feel like I would never measure up to the authors we sold, the people books were written about, that I was a failure. And I am, as my death shows. But it also made me a part of something I was proud of. And that Above & Beyond pin I earned is in my jacket still, a reminder of something.

That something was shown in so many of the coworkers I had, who were incredible in so many ways. I feel awful for what I did, I genuinely do, because of how it may have hurt people who thought so kindly of me, people who deserve so much good. I wish I had the ability to address each of them individually but this decision was hastily made, and i have a feeling it will show in the things I miss in this note. Audra, your help in finding me a way to use the company policies to my advantage as a worker was something that gave me faith even after having seen the despicable firings and cuts the company went through. Linda, I can’t quite square the circle here given my actions, but I want to say your disappointment broke my heart and that while I will not be the one who shows it, your reassurance that everyone makes mistakes was welcome.

To my (former) fellow booksellers at Store 2216, all of my love and my sincerest apologies. You all have so much good in you, your willingness to listen to my ADHD-fueled rants and to discuss so many things with an incredible frankness was always impressive, in addition to part of what I loved about all of you. I want you all to be happy, and the kinship I felt with you was a vital part of what kept me going. It was tough, as you all know. But at times, it almost felt worth it.

The same is true of my CTY friends: it was a weird, magical place that frankly, a lot of us idealized for far too long and which sk many of us eventually outgrew without being able to let go of. And that was tough, that was something we had a great deal of difficulty understanding, that what helped us once was not always going to be helping us, was not always what we needed. But in eventually finding that, we found solace, we realized how life as a whole functions and just what it is that we can take from places like it.

To my other family, my Cleo family, I know I haven’t been terribly active lately, but I can never, ever thank you enough for the belonging you gave me. I have never felt anywhere as welcoming as Cleo. As warm as Cleo (even as we struggled to pay for the oil bill) was. As kind and understanding. As tolerant. As questioning and inquisitive into what that tolerance meant to us. I am thankful, eternally, for what you all did for me. The incredible experiences I had as a Cleo make me proud of what the organization can represent, and one of my dying wishes is that the organization continues to reach out to marginalized communities on Trinity’s campus. There is much work to be done in making sure abusers cannot hide in our family, but I trust you all to do that work. Tucker Carlson is a Trinity grad and we must embody the opposite of what he stands for, no matter how difficult it may be. I could go on about how this means opposing liberals and Liberalism/Neo—Liberalism due to the truth of tolerance resulting in a Popper-esque Paradox of Tolerance that implies Popper is a worthwhile philosopher, but that’s another issue.

To my friends on that Blue Hellsite, tumblr, you made a continual presence worth it, even with all of the bullshit this place brings. It’s the reason I read so much Foucault, Derrida, Deleuze & Guattari, read Žižek against himself, and so on and so on, and the value of that to me can never be overstated. I learned so much from the ways in which I learned to analyze the world, and that in turn became a huge inspiration for why I should try to do what I could to make the world closer to a place of revolution, one where we could perhaps eke out a living for one another. I loved how much I could be an unrepentant nerd and still love hockey on there, and while the

NHL fans on tumblr are incredibly annoying,

I can deal with that compared to the racism of most hockey fans.

Mom, Dad? I just couldn’t live with you any longer. I’m so sorry.

Grandma, I love you.

And the things I leave behind? Donate what can be donated. Hats, please auction, or at least offer to other HatHeads at a reasonable price. I had some nice ones. As for assorted albums, clothing, and other things, sell them and donate to a Harm Reduction organization, or organizations that advocate for PWUD in a radical fashion. WE DESERVE AUTONOMY!

I am a victim of the War on Drugs. Sobriety was always hellish to me, and I could never take it. I want people to be able to live how they want, to see sobriety and being on drugs as equally valuable states, to see the two as no different from one another.

Abolish all gun laws

End the War on Terror

Decriminalize and legalize all drugs, sobriety is what killed me.

I love all of you.

LET’S GO ISLANDERS!

[transsexualism-archive]

Natasha 5000? 👀🍿

ok storytime. sit down and grab your beverage of choice this is going to be a long one

i met natasha 5000 when we were both in 10th grade (we were in the same mutuals polycule online and it turned out we live rly close to each other, i think i was in the age of sail fandom at the time) and we were just. awful kids with severe anger issues so we have always been pretty aggressive to each other but not like in an abusive way. we used to spend literally every day together, usually at my apartment, smoking cigarettes and watching kpop videos (she forced me memorise all of the bts boys like literally wouldn't stop showing them to me until i could tell all of them apart) and just generally fucking around. she used to buy us cigarettes bc she looked older and the cashiers rarely asked her id

so yeah we spent some of our most formative years together (from 15 to like 20? 21?) and we fought a lot so we would go months without speaking to each other after a bad argument but inevitably always came back to each other. i think we've grown as people a lot and this in fact taught both of us how to be less toxic. i remember at least two conversations we had about how much we changed for the better

i think it's very rare to have a person in your life who just Knows you inside and out and you in some way share a life together. but i also think you can never fully know someone entirely. ive had people in my life who turned out to be completely different from me years after we became close

ANYWAYS im too tempted to dunk on natasha but honestly just like me she was just a very unstable person and was a maximalist in a way most young people are

fast forward to 2018 (i think?). we've been fighting again, for quite a long time, but still close friends and on speaking terms. somewhere around may natasha went on a trip to south korea, and because she's a bitch idiot she ran out of money because she spent all of it on clothes and clubbing. i sent her ₱5000 - i didn't have a job at the time so the five thousand were carefully saved up by me over like a year. she didn't give the money back to me immediately after she came back, but i wasn't really bothered by that because she was my best friend and obviously she would give it back

then we started fighting again - i genuinely can't remember what about, but awful things were said, it was very ugly and im not at all proud of how i acted. at some point she blocked me on almost everything - phone number, twitter, tumblr, insta, you fucking name it. i called her out (via vk) about the money, but she said she's not gonna give it back bc i have her curling iron (not true, she lost it when she moved apartments) and one of her shirts

i truly don't know what was going through my head because instead of pushing it i was like "fuck you, im gonna steal your shirt" and then she blocked me on vk too and i had no means of contacting her

i could have called her from a different number or straight up come to her house (it's literally a 20 min walk from me) but at first i was too mad and then my pride got the better of me but im still very salty about the money . . . 5k is kind of a lot for me even still and i was saving them up for so long!!!!! i get riled up about this every couple months which i think is really funny because it literally doesn't matter. like im more mad about the money than the friendship i lost or how toxic she's been towards me

so yeah she's natasha 5000 because her name is natasha and she owes me 5000 rubles

(btw i stalked her socials a few years ago and she got diagnosed with bipolar just like me lol which explains a lot actually

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 21 - Losing My Religion

Masterlist; Chapter 20

Summary: After Tallinn, you use the opportunity and visit Neil’s apartment. What you find there, only increases the confusion, just as the pieces are set for the endgame.

Warnings: Swearing; angst.

Author’s Notes: This was a challenge, and it’s a little different too, a breather before the real fun begins... or something. After this we move onto the icebreaker... (and things). I’ll shut up now, hope you’ll enjoy and all kind of feedback are greatly welcomed! 

The clean up after TP’s little accident on the highway was difficult. And tiring. By the time you have dealt with the mess and could call it a day, you wanted nothing but to sleep. And also disappear from the face of the Earth. That second thing was rather tricky to achieve. Unfortunately. You had to settle for the slightly awkward space given by the rest of the team and the fact that you were bound to return to London the next day. That was something. Even if it meant having to debate whether those damned keys were to be used.

The journey back was uneventful. Only Wheeler seemed capable of talking to you without looking as though she has been trapped in some metaphorical web of ineptitude that the others got caught in. That was alright. At least she knew how that conversation in the container went. Her company was good enough to keep you from going insane for the time being.

The moment the car arrived at the London quarters, you practically bolted out through the door. Eager to finally have your own space to reflect, cry, and try to move on after the unimaginable. But it was not exactly meant to be given…

“Y/N, wait!” Ives’ voice rung out through the reception hall as you skidded down the corridor.

Crap.

“Yeah?” cautiously, you stopped in your tracks, facing the squad leader.

Making the mistake of glancing at the reception desk, you met Anna’s watchful gaze. Of course. Even though you knew she had no clue about anything that transpired between you and Neil, it still felt like a painful reminder.

“I…uh...” the hesitation in Ives’ voice made you frown, “I just got this, and I’m not sure…” he passed you his phone with a strange expression on his face.

A text from TP. Just like the ones you received before. Right… This one had a familiarly succinct form: “Invert for eight days with the army from tomorrow. Then get to Trondheim, awaiting further instructions”

“Is this from him?” you looked up to see the blue eyes boring into yours with confusion.

“Yeah, it must be” you nodded and handed him back the phone.

At that exact moment, you got a text as well. Hurriedly you took out the device and read the message:

“Invert along with Ives and the rest”.

Short and simple. Yet not at all. Without a word, you showed your companion the text message and stifled a heavy sigh. Inversion. Eight days. Trondheim. That most likely confirmed your worst fears. The end of it all was near, and you were needed there. You, Neil, and everyone else still had their parts to play in the most important of showdowns.

“So, I guess we’re going back” you could feel Ives’ inquisitive stare on you “Just like they are” he added, awaiting a response.

Meeting Neil after those eight upcoming days sounded like a nightmare. Because a week was never enough to fall out of love. Or to even attempt it. You were a lost cause.

“…yep” nodding halfheartedly, you could feel another weight settle on your shoulders.

“Excited?” the intensity of Ives’ look convinced you towards his intentions.

Evidently, he tried to get a clue towards your state, probably assessing whether you could endanger the mission in any way. Despite everything, you were a professional. A Tenet agent. That had to come before any personal issues you might have had. Forcing a smile, you met his gaze with sincerity.

“Not really” a shrug completed the response.

But it was enough as he grinned back and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s alright. Have today off and be ready tomorrow morning,” he ordered with a feigned sternness.

“Aye aye, sir” you saluted, enjoying the laugh it prompted.

Maybe not everything was utterly shit.

“Your edge is still intact, I see,” he commented once the laughter died down.

“At least something is then” you grimaced slightly and walked off with a wave.

A day off. What could one possibly do with something like that after everything? The set of keys in your pocket felt heavy for something that small. And insignificant (in theory).

*** It took you one hour of staring at the wall, a thirty-minute-long shower, and two coffees to decide to make use of the keys. After all, what was the harm? It was a way of spending the idle hours. And maybe to understand him a little better. Even if it was too late to save anything. You wanted to know him. To know his mind and heart. You dug out the note with the address Ives gave you and typed it into the maps app. Your hands were shaking the whole journey. Even though it was not far, it turned out to be challenging. Often you were catching yourself glancing at the phone, expecting him to call or text as he always did.  But then you remembered, making the nerves come to the surface again. You wondered whether it was because of the absolute wreckage your relationship became or because you were unable to contact him in any way. Walking the streets leading to Neil’s apartment, you realised that it was probably both. You missed him. Simple as that. And equally complicated at the same time.

Google maps led you to an old docking space transformed into posh loft spaces in two store buildings of dark red brick. The residential area was completed with a large parking lot (full of rather good cars), making the first question of the day pop into your head: Did Neil have a private car? Something that unimportant yet entirely mundane only made you realise how little you knew of his life. But this was exactly why you came here. The second thought was something you always knew yet never took time to ponder on: the fact that he undeniably had money. It did not matter, of course. Just another fact that could as a trigger for the intrusive ideas to appear.

Ignoring the spiraling thoughts, you made your way to the indicated building, keying in the code at the door and following the stairs to the second floor. The apartment door no 4 looked like any other you have passed on the way. Turning the key in the lock, you took a deep breath, gathering courage for god knows what. Perhaps just being alone with everything that had to do with Neil… The door opened soundlessly. Faint daylight from the corridor fell onto the furniture and objects gathered in the hall, helping your eyes adjust to the darkness. You closed the door and locked it. The least you could have wanted was for someone to break in on your watch. Now that would have made him hate you. If he didn’t already, that is. Taking off the shoes, you scanned the hall. Hooks with various jackets and coats on the wall. Including a slightly weathered leather one that perked your interest. With fingers ghosting the material, you were unable to block the images of Neil wearing it. That was enough to make you blush and curse out loud. That won’t help with getting over him. As though that was even possible.

Next, your eyes landed on the shoes rack in the corner showing off Neil’s questionable taste in footwear. You grimaced when spotting another pair of brogues (that would have to go… if there was any future for you) and then smiled involuntarily at something as casual as old converse on the top shelf of the rack. So, he could dress more… normally. Interesting.

The rest of the space was filled with a large mirror and a cupboard full of random objects such as spare lightbulbs, shoe care products, and cleaning supplies. On top of that cupboard, there was a succulent (practical, you had to admit), a desk calendar, and a small notepad filled with Neil’s writing. The contents ranged from shopping lists to quantum physics, making you grin fondly when looking through the pages. The latest entry was written down in haste and barely eligible. What you deciphered made your heart stumble for the first time that day. It seemed like Neil was planning to invite you over after Tallinn, prepare dinner, and apparently do all that ‘he wanted to for a while’. Brilliant. The notepad fell from your hands as the implications dawned on you. He wanted to set everything straight, to talk and potentially tell you important things… But now, it did not matter. There was no post-Estonia. Just you alone in his cold, darkened apartment, full of doubts, regrets, and worries.

Shivering from both the chill and the anxiety, you ventured into the living room. It was an open space with a large leather sofa, TV, record player with shelves full of albums and vinyls. There were also bookcases filled to the brim and a dining table for four. Once your gaze fell onto the black piano in the corner, you did a double-take. Obviously, Neil was musically talented. All those times when he has been desperate to annoy you by singing various corny love songs in public were an indisputable example. A moment like that from Tallinn flashed before your eyes…

You and Neil sat in a restaurant on one of the ‘dates’ you had managed to fit into the schedule before TP arrived in Estonia. Cozied up in the corner on a comfortable sofa, you felt perfectly at peace. Instead of taking the seat opposite, Neil got as close as it was possible without raising eyebrows of the fine clientele. You were chatting about everything and nothing, occasionally taking sips of the coffees and letting your hands rest on each other’s knees. Other times they would be interlocked on the table between the plates, showing to the world that this was no platonic meetup. Using the natural break in the conversation, you finished the remains of your latte and watched as Neil focused on the radio somewhere in the background. By this point, you should have known better, but still, the second he started singing took you by surprise.

‘Pretty woman I don't believe you, you're not the truth No one could look as good as you, mercy’

His gaze settled on you without that mercy, awaiting a response. His lips curled into a deadly smirk, making the matters worse. For a moment, you wanted to ignore him, to deny him the satisfaction. But the way he stared, enunciating the song lyrics with precision and aiming them at you, triggered the familiar desire to stake your claim. To make him (and everyone else) understand that he was yours. Especially with a voice that beautiful and eyes that looked at you with boundless affection.

‘Pretty woman that you look lovely as can be Are you lonely just like me’

It was the cheesy growl at the end of that stanza that did it. Combined with the huskiness of Neil’s voice and his hand appearing on your thigh underneath the table, it was enough to convince you to shut him up the best way you knew. You leaned in, placing your palm on the inside of his thigh, just close enough to remind him. Capturing his lips in a kiss, you did not have to wait long for Neil to invite you closer. You began the intimate dance, getting lost in the moment entirely. With him being in public did not matter. Especially not when he was giving you everything he could on a silver plate. Those days every kiss threatened to evolve into a full make-out session as you tried to get ever closer to him. That is why when you heard an awkward cough followed by “Miss, Sir, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave” you could only start laughing. That was two days before your walk, which ended in the alley. The rest was history.

Shaking your head slightly, you let go of the memory. Has it gotten even colder? Shivering, you spotted a sweater draped on the side of the sofa. Crossing the space, you glanced at the instrument that caught your attention. A simple black Kawai piano with a Chopin music score opened on the fallboard and the stool underneath. If there even was a future, you wanted to hear him play something. You could almost picture it. Those long, elegant fingers on the black and white keys, hitting every note with perfection and the flourish he applied to every single task. His gaze focused. Golden hair falling into his eyes carelessly. Lips parted, tongue poking out in concentration. He was bound to be a sight as usual.

Ignoring the waking up flutters that always accompanied every thought about Neil, you picked up the sweater. It was the colour of dark red wine, simple and yet sophisticated in its simplicity. Cashmere. He really is posh. Giving in to the sudden whimsy, you breathed in the smell. That was a mistake. The moment Neil’s essence overwhelmed your senses, you felt a surge of feelings. The musky scent, the hints of bergamot and lavender that always brought comfort. Before you could second guess everything, you put the sweater on, letting the smell envelope you like his hugs always did. It was another thing that you missed. The ability to rest within his strong embrace, safe and wanted. The feeling of his arms cradling you with care. Without the solidity beneath your hands, it was hard to remember how it felt. The sweater had to do. You rolled up the sleeves and approached the large window, drawing back the curtains to see the view and let in light. The sight certainly was not disappointing with the lookout on the Thames and the docking ships. The area looked peaceful, like the place you could want to go out on walks and spend the rest of your life… No, stop. That was a dangerous line of thinking. After all, you only came here to satisfy the curiosity. And because you could, with nothing left to lose. Well, maybe apart from your sanity.

With the day shedding some light onto the furniture and objects in the room, you could more closely assess the type of person Neil was. The décor was rather posh (nothing surprising there) with leather, dark wood, and refined fabrics gracing the space. But upon a closer look, you could see the hints of Neil’s personality shining through the bounds of the stereotypes. It was visible in the chaos of the little details. Billy Idol album discarded on the CD player making you smile. The dying plants on the windowsill. The opened book on the coffee table right next to a bar of chocolate and some bullets. What even… 

Looking around the space, you could easily picture him there. It was like entering a museum of Neil’s life and heart, and you were just a mere visitor. A trespasser even though you had the keys. Lost in the thoughts, you approached the bookshelves, looking over the titles. Young and Freedman’s University Physics with Modern Physics with a worn-out spine and a library stamp on the title page (a theft?). Griffith’s Introduction to Quantum Mechanics with scribbles on the margins, making your head hurt. More Quantum Mechanics but only getting increasingly complex. Spacetime and Geometry. In between the textbooks, there were classics of English and American literature, proving your theory that Neil knew the canon well. All those quotations had to come from somewhere… You looked over the further titles relating to the nuclear area of Physics and relativity of time, only to be thrown out of the moment when your eyes landed on a photograph in a wooden frame. A grinning young man with warm brown eyes and curly dark hair sat on the bench in the park. Alex. Picking up the photo, you took a closer look, feeling inexplicable heaviness in your chest. He looked just like Neil described him – an essence of goodness and understanding. The lump in our throat was strange. He still loved Alex that was a fact and something you took for granted. For a second, you wondered whether you could ever be half that important to him. But that was selfish. And wrong.

Swallowing hard, you put down the frame, focusing on another one nearby. In that photo, you recognized everyone. Ives with slightly longer hair grinning widely, next to him Wheeler with her practical bun and amused eyes, TP relaxed like always when in the company of friends. And then… You would recognize those eyes and sharp jaw anywhere, but… He’s not naturally blonde? You stared at the man who was undoubtedly Neil but with light brown hair, just as messy as usual. Interesting. You did suspect he dyed the hair but still having confirmation was unexpected. Staring a little longer at the photo, you already knew that it did not matter. He was a work of art, full stop. The rest of the photos depicted the Tenet crew, apart from the one you assumed was a family snapshot from years ago. Two happy boys with mundane looking parents and a Labrador retriever (Charlie!). Upon a closer look, you could tell that Neil got his blue eyes after his mother and the smile after his father. It was an interesting discovery. Other objects littering the shelves included postcards, trinkets from travels, and a strange collection of obscure coins. Also, more notebooks with Neil’s equations and theories and music scores. There was no order, just fate, and fancy. Just like him.

Wandering into the kitchen, running your fingertips over various instruments and surfaces, you wanted to soak in the atmosphere of the apartment. So far, the new information was almost overwhelming. But also fascinating in the fact that you already felt like you knew him better. Glancing at the fridge in passing, you froze. Among the cheap promotional magnets and old shopping notes attached to it, there was a rather familiar writing visible. A note you made Anna pass to him many weeks ago. “I’ll be at the shooting range. Meet you for dinner after 5” signed with your initials for practicality. Why has he kept it? It did not make sense. You forgot about the existence of something that inconsequential, yet here it was. Kept in place with a blaring orange magnet from Sainsbury’s. Suddenly feeling a little faint with the implications of the moment, you poured tap water into the glass and sat down on the stool by the kitchen island. You could still remember Anna’s offended stare when you gave her the note with the instruction to pass it to Neil later. That memory triggered another one, much more recent…

In the days leading up to Tallinn, you went out with Neil for a lunch and walk under the guise of planning the logistics of your journey. Sure, there was some planning being done over the tea and sandwiches. But there was also a lot of hand-holding, kissing, and gazing shamelessly. It was during those days, and then the idle hours in the safe house, that you have allowed yourself to love him. The feelings were there for months (most likely), but only after Oslo and the candid conversations in your room, you felt more at ease with them. So far, that PDA was not all that terrifying. And so, when you came back to the London quarters that afternoon, your fingers intertwined, you only realised how it looked like from the outside when Neil tugged you in the direction of Anna’s desk.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, hoping the woman was too busy to see you.

“I told you, need to get that ID sorted,” he explained, matching your conspiratorial tone, completely oblivious to your struggles.

“Yeah, but…” you raised your joined hands as if to show him the issue.

Neil grinned, waving his free hand dismissively.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s not like that’s against the rules” ending the sentence, he took the final step separating you from the desk.

Great. Plastering on the most pleasant of smiles, you met Anna’s accusatory glare. You could not blame her.

“Anna, hi” Neil’s bright grin got met with a cold face of stone.

You vividly remembered that first day at Tenet, when you were filling in the paperwork, observing him flirt with the woman behind the desk. Back then, you were baffled by her reaction, the fluttering of eyelashes and lovesick smiles. Now you wondered how you got to that point and why you were seemingly luckier than she could ever be.

“Yes?”

“My ID is expiring soon. Was wondering if you could give me the form for the new one?” Neil’s chirpy tone made you hide a smile by looking at the floor “I want to get this sorted for after we’re back” he added, with that hopeful gaze barely anyone could ever say no to.

Anna was not any different.

“Naturally,” she spared you a final spiteful look before turning around to use the computer.

Glancing around the empty lobby, you hoped to survive the rest of the encounter without any additional awkwardness. But Neil had other plans. He stepped in closer, nose brushing over your ear, tearing down any illusions about the nature of your relationship. You stifled a sigh when his lips placed a small kiss over your temple.

“Shall we go to yours after this?” the whisper complemented with a ghost of his fingers on the side of your neck made you shiver.

“Maybe…” you cast a wary glance at Anna, but her back was turned.

Thankfully.

“I thought we could resume the planning…” upon the suggestive tone, you turned to meet his gaze.

Surely enough, the playful sparks were there. And the smirk too. Of course. Planning, in this case, most likely meant more cuddling… and potentially kissing. His hands getting accustomed to your body, leaving countless promises for the future. The thoughts alone made you blush. Before Neil could get any closer, Anna’s voice interrupted the moment:

“Here’s your form,” nothing but ice and fury.

So, she must have noticed…

“Thanks” the polite nod made you snicker.

During the next few terribly long minutes, you did your best to avoid looking at the other woman. Or at Neil. Your gaze roamed over the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. Reading the same fire evacuation instructions for the fifth time, you felt a gentle touch on your arm:

“Can I put down your details as my emergency contact?” you looked up straight into those inquisitive blue eyes “I’ve had Ives the last two years, but I think you’re a more accurate option these days,” he explained as though it was obvious.

Emergency contact? You always assumed those were for best friends and spouses. You were not sure which fitted the criteria.  

“How so?” blurting out the only viable question, you met his perplexed gaze.

“… because I’m with you and not with him” the bluntness of the reply made your heart stumble.

“Right”

Of course, you agreed. As a ‘thank you’ that afternoon, Neil kissed you until there was barely any breath left for either of you. Now you missed the feeling of being that desired.

And yet, that stupid note was right there, in your eyes a bright red spot that you could not ignore. Because surely, he must have cared at some point? You finished the remains of water and washed the glass. Then, just for the sake of a distraction, you went through the kitchen cupboards. Nothing surprising. Appliances that looked barely used. Canned food every Brit would be expected to have. The amounts of frozen meals in the lower fridge compartments confirmed another thesis - Neil did not like cooking. That was fair not everyone could be Jamie Oliver. Not that you would prefer him. Certainly not. Shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the thoughts, you opened another cabinet. Wine and glasses, triggering the memory from your date night in Oslo. The way Neil tried to emulate his swank further by pretending to be a sommelier, making you laugh with his fake French accent and sparse knowledge. Upon the efforts to name something else than tannins (that Sauvignon Blanc had little of), you stepped in, shutting him up with a fingertip tracing the outline of his lips, collecting a stray droplet of wine. And then licking your finger clean, much to his shock. The strange snapshot from one of the most eventful nights in your life was a good cue to leave the kitchen and trod down the corridor.

You stepped into the bathroom, curiously glancing at the contents of the cupboards and around the sink. Nothing remarkable. Giving in to the temptation, you sprayed the cologne he used on your wrist and inhaled deeply. Closing the bathroom door, your eyes landed on the room at the end of the corridor. Neil’s bedroom. Involuntarily, you felt a shiver run down your spine. Bedrooms were always a sacred space. The most private of places in the house. The stage set for life’s crucial events. Love, life, and tragedy all began to play out (and end) in there. If there was a room closest to the heart of the owner, it would be the bedroom and its contents. With a shaky hand, you pressed down the handle and opened the door. The interior was almost too mundane. The bed with dark grey covers and decorative pillows. Some artworks on the walls and drawn curtains, forcing you to turn on the ceiling lamp. A small bedside table with a night light and books. A walk-in closet with the sliding doors partly opened. That was what drew you in first, crossing the space you peered inside. Only to be overwhelmed with that Neil smell that made sure to make your heart rate pick up. Gently, you ran your fingers over the suit jackets and sweaters hanged on the rails. He had a multitude of those, in different colours. Eyeing a suit in dark blue, you could imagine how it would bring out his eyes. There were a few sweaters in different shades of green, confirming the suspicions that he liked the colour. Further along, you found a drawer with ties of various patterns, making you grin at one olive green with Labradors on it. Now that was a classic Neil accessory.

Just when you were about to end the ‘snooping’ your gaze landed on a more casual part of the wardrobe. Jeans folded on the shelves, t-shirts, and polos. Even a jean jacket somewhere in the back. In the drawer, you found socks with questionable patterns, only increasing the fondness you felt for the owner of such an eclectic wardrobe. And then you made the mistake of letting your curiosity get ahead of you. Another drawer. Underwear. Your face got warm as you slammed it shut. Enough. Thinking about that could lead to the dangerous territory you would rather not venture out to. At least not when alone in his apartment, overwhelmed with memories and feelings. There would be time for this too later… Hopefully.

Sliding the doors shut, you took in the room again. The pile of books on the bedside table caught your attention. Gingerly, you sat down on the bed, doing your best not to think about the specifics of that moment. You, alone in his bedroom. This was certainly not how you expected to end up in there for the first time. But that too was beyond the point. Sighing, you picked up the stack of books only to drop them onto the covers with hands shaking. You would recognize the cover everywhere. Your favourite book. The exact copy you had last seen in Oslo when you gave it to Neil. That memory was rather unforgettable…

Hanging out in the hotel room, waiting for Mahir and TP to come back from a small errand, you did your best to ignore Neil’s piercing gaze from across space. That was the day after your careless dancing and that evening’s developments when he asked you out. Just before the mission. And Neil was staring, shamelessly so. It was getting on your nerves.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” putting down the itinerary, you broke the silence and faced him.

The satisfied smile was enough to make you groan. He knew exactly what he was doing, as though waiting for the moment to strike when you were alone.

“Actually not, no” the grin widened as he shrugged nonchalantly “Plus you’re quite the sight. As usual” propping his chin on his hand, he kept on gazing.

The bastard was impossible.

“Jesus…” sighing, you rummaged in the bag at your feet “Do you want a book or something?” you took out a worn-out paperback “Because all that staring makes me want to…” trailing off, you met his inquisitive glare.

Want to kiss him. For starters. But he need not know that.

“What? Tell me” Neil spread his legs casually, leaning back in the armchair. An object of pure poise. And the challenge, aimed at you only. That was Neil at the top of his game, sure of what he wanted and how to get it. But you were not going to give it to him easily.

“Better not” the slight shock in his eyes gave you confidence “If yesterday taught me anything, it’s that your ego is big enough” offering him a sly smirk, you took a sip of the water.

When you looked up again, Neil was staring at you with an exaggerated pained expression on his face.

“I’m wounded” he put the hand over his heart like the drama queen that he was.

Scoffing, you laughed at the spectacle. Two could play the game.

“Good,” the offended whine only increased the satisfaction “So do you want that book?” you picked up the paperback, showing it to him “I’ve got my favourite one with me. Could kill some time”

“Yes, please” he got up and crossed the room, taking the book from you “I’ll have a chance to see what’s in that head of yours” Neil leaned down to your level and kissed you on the forehead “Apart from the desire for me, of course” he added, once he moved out of your reach once again.

Fucking hell.

“Neil”

At least there were some fun memories to come back to, you thought, looking through the copy you borrowed Neil. Then you noticed another thing. Under your book, there was another one of the same title. Brand new. Pages filled with Neil’s scribbles on the margins and underlined passages, highlighting the exact same quotations that made this book become your favourite. My god. The realization hit you with a gasp and a shiver. He read it. And not only that, but he also tried to understand you through something you held so dear. Reading the notes he made, you knew he was listening to every word you said. No matter the moment, the stage of your ‘relationship’, evidently, he cared enough to be interested in your thoughts and feelings. You were holding the proof in your hands. In some margin notes, Neil even referred to you using your initials, pointing out why it could resonate with you so much. The more you read, the more it felt like you have encountered his diary, in some form. That would be it when it comes to getting over. Putting down the books, your head was spinning. Too much.

You needed food. And sleep. It was at that moment that you decided to stay. It got late enough to make the journey back inconvenient. And everything was right here. Feeling like Goldilocks personified, you made use of Neil’s frozen food assortment and put on the music. Once you got over the initial shock of the afternoon, it was almost too easy to pretend that Tallinn never happened. That you were still alright. That he still potentially loved you. With the somewhat soothing sounds of Billy Idol and The Darkness, you went over Neil’s notebooks with equations. You understood nothing but the possibility to read his notes and theories was as comforting as it could get. Then, feeling your eyelids get heavy, you cleaned up and moved to the bedroom. Lying down in Neil’s bed felt like sacrilege. But the moment your head rested on the pillow and you inhaled the scent, it was all excused. At least in your eyes. Giving in to the foolish daydreams, you could almost imagine him next to you. The warmth and comfort the cuddles always provided. But you were alone, still wearing that sweater that smelled too good to be given up. It had to be enough. You fell asleep thinking about those damned blue eyes and the man that took the ownership of your heart for good.

*** Upon waking up in the cold apartment the next morning, you wanted nothing but to leave as soon as possible. In the daylight, with dreams of happiness haunting every corner of your mind, the feeling of loneliness was more persistent. You made sure to get rid of any signs of your intrusion, cleaned the kitchen, and made the bed. The only keepsake you could not deny yourself was the cashmere sweater that you stuffed into the bag. Even if he would not want anything to do with you, you could give it back along with the keys. Surely he would understand… right? After everything that you found in his flat, nothing seemed certain anymore.

You made it back to the HQs with just enough time to shower and pack for the next week of sitting in the inversion chambers in the sealed off part of the complex. That did not sound good as it meant more time with too many people in the cramped quarters. You had enough of that at this point. But then that was the prize of getting the most incredible of jobs. That and getting your heart broken. Again.

You joined the rest of the army by the larger turnstile, used purely for long-term inversion, instead of training. Accepting friendly nods from both Ives and Wheeler, you took your place in the queue. No one knew exactly what the purpose of this was. Just that you were supposed to go back eight days and then travel to the Norwegian coastline, awaiting instructions. The intuition that was rarely wrong told you that you were in the endgame from this point onwards.

And so, the next week was restricted to trying not to lose your sanity locked within the four walls. The only escape from the small room was the kitchen (always full of people that wanted to know too much), bathroom (that always had lines of people waiting by the door), and the small courtyard, where you could not step out without the oxygen tank and a mask. Overall, it was not the most pleasant of experiences. Especially when most days you wanted to curl up in bed and contemplate the mess that your life became. And to marinate in pain that became a constant companion. The sweater could only help so much. Accompanied with nerves and worry, you felt objectively shit and did everything to preserve the solitude. That is how you found yourself in the small kitchen at 2 am, eating toasties and drinking tea. Earlier the compound was too busy, and you preferred starving than facing the others. Only with everyone asleep, you could catch up on the meals missed. Well, almost everyone…

“How are you doing?” a voice interrupted your brooding.

You turned in the seat only to see Wheeler enter the room with a small smile on her face. Her you could tolerate, as an exemption.

“Bad” the candid answer seemed only appropriate “But I don’t mind the company, so please… stay” you added upon her hesitation.

She just nodded and proceeded to make a cup of tea. The silence stretched, but for once, it was rather pleasant. Finally, she finished the task and took the seat opposite you, giving you a quick once-over. You knew what she saw. Tangled hair, reddened eyes from lack of sleep, and hours of tears. The sweater that became the only comfort in those early morning moments when nothing seemed real and yet everything was too much.

“Is the sweater his?” she asked plainly, and you could only nod.

At this stage, surely, nothing was bound to surprise her.

“Yeah… Maybe it’s silly, but I took it from his place just to have something… tangible” you explained, consciously running your fingers over the material. Instead of judgement, you got a smile in return.

“No, I understand” Wheeler took a sip from the mug before asking, “Did the apartment give you any answers?”

You have not shared the story with anyone, unable to process it all even in the quiet of your mind. But maybe this was a chance to let it out…

“Mostly whiplash,” you let out a bitter laugh “It’s like… he cares… or cared,” you stumbled over the tense “But then in Tallinn after the shoot-out, he just closed off completely, and I don’t know why” raising your hands in defeat, you planted on your face on the table.

Anything goes. After a moment of utter frustration, you met Wheeler’s inquisitive eyes again. She did not seem bothered by your antics. Just a little concerned by the picture you were painting.

“Maybe it’s trauma” the seriousness of her expression made you think.

You did consider that option. But even knowing what happened with Alex, his reaction seemed too violent. You were alive, and yet he was trying to push you away. Plus, that way of thinking implied something else. Something you did not dare consider.

“That would mean he… loved me” getting the words out was a challenge “And I don’t think he does” you stared at the table, giving in to the thoughts once again “Whatever is going to happen now, I think I need space. Some distance. Trying to get over this won’t work otherwise”

Formulating the feelings that were overwhelming your heart and mind felt somehow relieving. Even if the prospects were anything but good.

“Is that what you want? To let him go?” the straightforward attitude of your companion was helpful.

“I don’t know,” sighing, you met her gaze, “I want… him, but if he doesn’t feel the same then…” with reddened cheeks, you let the sentence trail off.

She would understand, you were sure of that. And, if the slightly suspicious look in Wheeler’s eyes was anything to go by, she had her ideas about the topic.

“You should probably try talking to him again” she spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Last time that ended terribly,” you replied, arching your eyebrows, begging her to remember how bad that container conversation went.

“I know,” Wheeler patted your shoulder reassuringly, “But I also know that sometimes Neil needs a proper kick in the ass before he sees what’s right in front of him” she got up and went to the sink, picking up both of your dishes.

With the soothing soundtrack of the washing, you could feel almost sleepy. If it was not for that never-ending chatter of your thoughts.

“If you say so…” you murmured when she turned the tap off.

“Go to sleep. It’s just two days more of this torture” giving you a final smile, Wheeler left the kitchen.

You could survive two days. After that? Who knows. But it had to be alright.