#not lonely but also very lonely but also thriving but also sobbing

[simpisari]

Someone To Adore Me

As days go by, I continue living as a bystander in people's lives. I continue to observe them from afar. I continue this art of people watching (as our beloved Conan Gray also mentioned in his song once).

I watch as they exchange glances across rooms, communicating in ways no one else can decipher. I watch as one fumbles with their scarf on a chilly morning, their nose red, and without a word, the other reaches over to fix it, fingers brushing lightly before falling away. I watch them stumble over nothing and pretend it never happened, only to have the other stifle a laugh before linking their arms together, as if to keep them steady.

I watch as one catches their reflection in a passing window, adjusting their hair, and the other watches them instead, their gaze filled with something impossibly soft. I watch the way their faces light up when they spot each other in a crowd, how the world around them seems to fade when they are together, lost in conversation. I watch as they throw their heads back, laughing over an inside joke no one else will ever understand. I watch as they steal bites from each other’s plates, share drinks without hesitation, and fit into each other's spaces like second nature, like pieces of puzzles that fit together perfectly.

I watch them exist together — not just side by side, but intertwined in a way that feels surreal. To them, the world is just a background on a stage, and they're, together, the main characters, performing for no one but themselves.

But I also want to be part of it all. I want to exist in the warm corners of someone's life, not just as a secondary character in the background. I also want to enjoy being pampered. I want to be waited for, to be noticed in the smallest, quietest ways. I want someone to watch me tie my laces and think, God, I adore them. Someone who always gets ice cream with me without hesitation, who names butterscotch as their favorite flavor just because they know it's mine.

Someone who watches me as I go on about my hyperfixations for hours. Someone who listens — really listens — when I ramble about whatever my brain is latched onto this week, someone who never makes me feel like I'm being too much.

No, it's not a lover I want. Not all movies are about romance, you know. Nothing like that. I just wish for someone — anyone — to be there.

Someone who wouldn't, just for fun, push me through hell.

Someone who understands me well.

Someone who adores me.

Just someone to adore me.

[struck-by-the-rain]

haha hey you know that ask game you reblogged. what if. the prompt i gave you from it...... was all of them . grins EVILLY

UMMM!!!! TEEHEEE!!!! hi anon here's the dissertation u requested from this ask game, obviously im doing joe and sk (Ziggy) bc who else would i be able to answer 30 questions about??? i went into detail w all of these

under cut bc loooong and theres some doodles

1. What’s their love languages?

love languages are pseudoscience but as i said in a post before (and as u can see from my art and hopefully writing lmao) they're a very physically affectionate couple to me! to paraphrase my ramble from a bit ago, they're both the type of autistic person to thrive on physical touch but Joe's spent most of his life being extremely lonely and touch-starved. so I think Ziggy (whos like. a very clingy cat kinda) just loves to be rly gentle and affectionate w Joe in a way he never thought he'd ever experience or deserve. sobs a little (idk i make em v v sappy bc. comfort ship)

2. Do they have a dynamic trope? (enemies to lovers, sunshine x grumpy, etc?)

i dont knowwwwwwww but if i ever end up putting tha things i wanna write/finish writing on ao3 theyd probs be tagged friends to lovers which i assume is what the question's asking? and probs also hurt/comfort kinda i guess, in both "directions" but i def think Joe has more Problems in his life than Ziggy, especially when they first meet, so it just goes that way (again, comfort ship. i project my problems onto both of them but maybe more on joe soooo)

3. Who cooks? Who cleans up? Who’s banned from the kitchen?

Joe's a good cook I think, out of necessity (because his dad was such a terrible one) and also he takes it up as a hobby! not too sure about Ziggy, im tempted to say he sucks a bit at it n is just a bit clumsy and incompetent. 6switcher also lives with Ziggy and Joe and he's kind of like, a 3rd (platonic) member of the relationship and cooks for them all occasionally!!!

4. What’s their favorite sleeping/cuddling positions?

again they're like velcro around each other so i think they always hold each other when sleeping,, its v. comforting for both of them!!! i went thru my art tag and ive literally drawn them snoozing like 9 quintillion times and kinda similar each time,,,, the comfy cozies,,,

also really liking the hc that space kickers are kinda catlike in some ways so maybe sometimes Joe wakes up and like. his arms numb because Ziggy's curled up like a cat and is lying on it or Ziggy's sprawled out in the most bizarre sleeping position possible.

5. Who does what chores?

They have a cat (remix 9) that was also originally Joe's so he probably looks after that side of things, and as I said Joe also does the majority of the cooking I think!!! Other than that I can't really see them particularly dividing things out in a special way, maybe bc they r both autistic they have sensory hangups around certain things and the other takes charge! and again 6switcher lives w them so does some of it

6. Do they go out often or prefer to stay indoors?

When they first meet Joe is still living in the basement and they meet behind Senior's back, so they pretty much have to spend all their time out and about! which they both enjoy. When they move in together I still think they do a lot of fun things together out and about :) especially bc I imagine Ziggy's place is in the middle of a big city w lots of stuff to do!! and they also play for the same football team! but I think they're both good at looking at each other and deciding to skip a plan/social gathering

7. Who is the more romantic one?

i dont knowwwwwwwwwwwwww they are literally just. so sappy to each other. maybe I'd say Ziggy - they call Joe a bunch of really sappy petnames and gives him physical affection a loooot

8. Do they have any favorite activities to do together?

football :)))) Ziggy teaches Joe how to play, Joe teaches Ziggy to be happy w/ doing the sport for fun and not professionally (Zig had 2 retire early when he was young)! I think they also like to watch football games together (either at the stadium or on tv)!! also I think there's a market (like a night market!!) near where they live so they visit there quite often. ohhh and stargazing sniffle

9. Baths or showers together? Do they like elaborate ones with bubbles and flower petals?

probably not - Ziggy likes 2 take really cold baths/showers while Joe likes 2 take really hot ones bc in my mind palace space kickers are adapted to colder temperatures than humans! maybe they tried a few times but it didn't work out bc they kept arguing! but I think they'd both be fans of really long fancy baths n run them for each other

10. Who drives and who picks out the music?

Ziggy drives a silly little stereotypical ufo, Joe picks out the music (usually the rockers)

11. What’s a song that describes their relationship? Or, what’s the song that they’ve deemed “their” song?

as much as Ziggy isn't a huge fan of the rockers (Joe is), "that one song" (the rockers 2 song,,, enjoy my shitty in universe name) is their song because they had their first kiss/got together as a couple at the battle of the bands!!! so that 1 ig

12. Who gets up the earliest? Who has the worst sleep schedule? Who is the sleepiest?

Another hc I've thought already abt before is they have different sleep schedules, partially because they're different species! Ziggy goes to sleep later/wakes up earlier than Joe and also spends time awake in the night/napping, a bit like a cat kind of! they should maybe consider getting seperate beds but they are wayyyy too clingy w each other to consider that dfjkdjdjd. Joe's the sleepier one I think, especially before they move in w/ each other and he's overtired from training so much and probably has a bit of an unhealthy habit of denying himself sleep. he's the kind of guy to say "oh i'm fine, i'm tired but i don't need to sleep now!" and then Ziggy will play with his (remaining) hair for 2 minutes while they're watching tv together and he'll be like honk shoo honk shoo. i think in general he struggles to sleep normally but doesn't when Ziggy is there :')

13. What’s their opinions on PDA?

hypocritical,,, they both tend to be annoyed by others doing it, but are very pda-y themselves

14. Who does fashion shows after a mall trip and who watches and compliments them?

Ziggy is a v. fashionable guy and considers buying/modifying/making clothes a hobby, and probably even gets suuuper into it and likes to do lil mock fashion shows for Joe (like walking up and down the room as if it's the catwalk).

He also likes to buy Joe clothes n stuff, at first he buys Joe kinda fancy fashion-y things (wiimix7 outfit!!!) and then learns what he acc likes to wear (rly comfy cozy sweaters n stuff).

15. Do they go on vacations together? Where is their favorite place to visit?

they visit Joe's home planet quite often because he gets homesick and also ends up with earthling family other than senior. and they probs go to the beach there too or smth :)

16. What’s their favorite “domestic bliss” moment? Do they cook/clean together? Do they like to go out shopping together?

Joe has a growing collection of earthling plants (part of their apartment is slowly turning into a jungle) to feel more at home, and they love looking after them together, and Ziggy loves to listen to Joe talk about the different plants and how he's making sure they're all happy!!!

17. What does a relaxing night in look like for them?

very cliche but they cuddle up (under a blanket if its cold) and watch TV every night until one of them (usually Joe) starts falling asleep... Usually things like football games or like, shows/movies from their respective planets which they feel is important to introduce the other to. idk its just a mega important part of their routine to both of them :)

18. What does a date night out look like for them?

uhhhhhh idk Ziggy takes fuckin forever to get ready and pick an outfit and stuff a lot of the time! I think they live in a big city on Ziggy's planet w a lot of stuff to do so they have p varied date nights,,, stuff like going for nice dinners or concerts or watching the space/cosmic dance together! but tbf i think their fav date nights r like,, just stargazing together on a quiet hillside or something. i think if they're at a concert or a restaurant or whatever they often end up stargazing together anyway bc they both get overwhelmed easily n go and sit outside to chill for a bit

19. How do they silently/subtly express their love for each other?

when Joe was still living in the basement, letters! they communicated mainly by post during that period of their relationship and I think they'd just,,, include little inside jokes or send each other little heart candies n stuff. when theyre together i think theyd do things like subtly holding/touching hands or one holding on to the others coat or whatever,,, like idk theyre just always holding on to each other whether subtly or not

20. What clothes/accessories do they steal from each other?

Ziggy steals all of Joe's sweaters, even the ones he buys for Joe as a gift, bc they're oversized and really comfy and just like,,, feel like a big hug to him!!! Joe also lends him a pink rockers t-shirt one day so they can match at the battle of the bands and it becomes Ziggy's fav pyjamas! idk if Joe steals any of Ziggy's extensive wardrobe bc a lot of it isn't his style, though i could see him taking a liking to Ziggy's scarves :)

21. Which of their friends/family pokes fun at them for them getting flustered/affectionate?

6switcher basically bullies them 24/7, and Ziggy likes to playfully make fun of Joe for getting super flustered, often after doing something intentionally to make him flustered

22. How do they apologize after arguments?

I think Joe overapologises and overexplains a lot (now im thinkin Ziggy would do the same as well. but especially Joe), but he'd also default to baking something for them. I think Ziggy would just come and wrap their arms around Joe after they've had an argument

23. Do they like pick up lines?

They both see pick up lines as kind of cringe and would use them as a joke/bit! I think they both don't get why anyone would use those kind of things unironically

24. What are their favorite places to kiss on their partner(s)? What are their favorite types of kisses?

Zig likes to kiss Joe all over,,, but their fave is the very tip of Joe's nose, like it just makes him completely melt every time. I like to draw/imagine them also kissing him on the forehead n cheeks a lot. I hc space kickers as having patterns on their skin, I think Joe finds Ziggy's really really pretty so he likes kissing each of the lil spots and stuff on his shoulders and arms and stuff sniffle... ye

25. What is their dream home? Do they buy a place together? Who plans the decorations and who does the heavy lifting?

When they first meet and are long distance they both dream of living like,, anywhere together. I think they're pretty happy in Ziggy's little apartment, but eventually I imagine them moving to Joe's planet (because he missed it a lot) in a lil house and maybe running a kids football academy or smth! Idk exaactly what the interior decor is like but probs like,, cozy and full of plants n sunlight (projecting my dream home dreams onto them lmfao)

26. Do they have any pets or kids?

They have a cat and a fuck tonne of plants

27. Who would propose? What would their wedding be like?

im so unsure of which 1 would propose to the point where im considering the sappy gay relationship trope where they both propose at the same time!!! Whoever proposes, I think they'd do it outside live house ogu where they had their first kiss for sentimental reasons... I think Joe especially would want to get married bcs he has like,, no family or anything after running away from the basement (before he reunites w his mum), and he'd see getting married as a big part of leaving his past behind him and also becoming part of Ziggy's family! I think their wedding would have a mix of both earthling and sk traditions (whatever they are), space gramps would officiate it, 6switcher would be the best man and idk. gay space marriage (old art below)

28. What’s something that reminds them of their partner(s)? Do they have anything on them daily as a reminder (a photo, phone background, tattoo, clothing/accessory, etc)?

before they live together i think they know where each others planets in the night sky are and they look out for them every night, and probably also swap clothes so they can feel closer to each other! Joe has an old film camera that his dad stored in the basement and he takes pictures of em as lil mementos :)

29. What is something they can never agree on? How do they meet in the middle?

They spend a lot of time deliberating about whether to move back to Joe's home planet and maybe disagreeing on that! Joe misses it sometimes and has family/friends there, while Ziggy's job/football team/friends/family are on their planet. They compromise by makin lots of visits before/after they move I think, idk. I also think they never agree on like, how hot the room should be bc theyre adapted to diff temperatures lol

30. Free space! Say something about this ship that you want to say!

im SOOOO normal about them they make me ILL!!!! and ive learned like 90000000 art things just to draw better pics of them!!!!!!! and they bring me so much genuine comfort!!!!!!! as an extra thing I think they'd speak mix of each other's languages to each other

thanks for reading this far and thank you anon for enabling me

[soft-serve-soymilk]

Fictional Idiots that have made me cry (2023 update)

In light of recent events I have felt the BURNING need to make this post. There’s not really much else to it I just love talking abt my blorbos and why I love them~ So here we go :3

1. Investigation Team

I finished the game for the first time at like 6:50 am in the morning so I was sobbing into my cereal lmao. First time I ever cried for a video game 🥲 (I still consider Inaba as almost a second home)

Also Naoto’s loneliness still ruins me 10 years later, they really set the precedent for my future blorbos <3. @hungrydolphin91 you have to tell me whether you like the game version or the anime version better when you get to it because I’m dying to know :3. Like the anime gives me the sweet expressions but I can quote the game line for line asjgksdk

2. Lyon Fire Emblem

Poor Lyon was just the perfect recipe for emotional devastation. Again with the friendless blorbos, except this time you pair it with heart wrenching decision-making that really could’ve been averted if therapy was a thing that existed in the FE universe 😭. Also vigarde is a terrible dad I would very much like to slap him in the face >:(

3. Sormik, but especially Meebo

At least 7 times. Seven. I played this one while depressed so Tales of Zestiria is {Pav’s tears georg} adn hence is an outlier and should be significantly reduced in counting

THE EPILOGUE KILLS ME

THEY WERE TOO SWEET THEY DIDN’T DESERVE ANYTHING

WHY CAN’T THEY GET MARRIED (like me and—-)

4. Noah and Mio

I still refuse to believe this one counts but hey Xenoblade writing is good. And I’m just as much a sap as Sorey is :’)

5. These fucking idiots (Yato and Yukine)

AKA why I HAD to make this post because what I’ve seen of the manga’s recent developments after finishing Noragami and reading synopses of the following arcs I AM DEVASTATED and RUINED and I HAD TO SOB INTO MY PILLOW :(

I love Yukine so much he reminds me of my oc Inigo more so than any store-bought blorbo* so to see him thrive and suffer and take on an ayakashi/phantom form it’s like seeing that done to my own kid except I’m not the one willingly inflicting it.

And his and Yato’s relationship means so much to me like yes they will hurt each other because they’re very lonely and have their own grief to work through but they just come back to each other again and again in the ultimate display of love and trust and compassion 😭. They care so much for each other, I’m never going to be ok 🥹

Edit: *Technically Lyon wins for most similar blorbo, but it’s a bit like a culture in a Petri dish. I took a fragment of his identity and nurtured it into my beloved Archie. I found Yukine in the wild..

[letarasstuff]

"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"

(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.

Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?

Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.

This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.

Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.

But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.

Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.

This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.

Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.

Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.

“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.

The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.

“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.

In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”

From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.

The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.

Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”

(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”

“I don’t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”

It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.

Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.

(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.

“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”

Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”

A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.

Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.

The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.

Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.

“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”

His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.

“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.

The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.

Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.

Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”

The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”

This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.

A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.

Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.

“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.

“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.

“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”

This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.

This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[theggning]

Danse! Danse! Danse! Danse!

One sec, let me just... dig through this massive pile of sobbing lovestruck metas I've already... oh man there were some under the couch too... phew I've done a lot of these.

So along with just general gushing, I've already covered why he is definitely a runaway and not an Institute infiltrator, my thoughts on his friendship with Cutler and how he talks about it now, why the cut ending of Blind Betrayal was dumb garbage that ruins his character, and why it's okay that Danse doesn't turn from his loyalty to the Brotherhood five seconds after he's traumatically removed from it.

So this time I'm just going to talk about his personality and how neat it is.

Danse seriously comes off as every inch the uptight Brotherhood bootlicking asshole that he seems to be at first glance. At first. Yes, Danse has been immersed and thriving in Brotherhood culture for well over 10 (closer to 15) years and so deeply steeped in it that it seems like there's little of him left untainted by it. Yes, he's bigoted against synths and echoes the standard BoS distaste for ghouls. Yes, he eats, breathes, sleeps, sweats, and bleeds Brotherhood, and he is fully willing to die for them if the need arises.

But even before the events that completely rock his foundation, Danse is struggling under the very system that he's serving in. He canonically suffers from PTSD, and is too much a workaholic/too busy to take the time to care for it. He's watched friends, mentors, and squadmates die in truly horrible ways, and he's starting to question whether it's all been worth it.

Sadly, Danse isn't confident enough in himself or his own principles to see what he's actually questioning, so instead he turns all his uneasiness into self-doubt. He doubts his own capabilities as a leader and blames himself for the deaths of Recon Squad Gladius. He says that his own mentor Paladin Krieg never asked questions, and wishes that he was good enough a soldier not to ask questions either. He apologizes that the Sole Survivor "had to see (him) at his worst" (ie: expressing emotions and humanity) and is thoroughly unused to the concept of someone liking him or being his friend on his own merits and not because of the BoS.

Beneath the soldier and the steel and the (really, really) offputting bigotry, there is a lot to like about Danse. He's a gentleman. He's polite, he's honorable, he has a strong sense of duty. He likes to help people and he likes serving a cause bigger than himself. He's interested in machines and history, muses about pre-War activities like fishing, bowling, going to live concerts, and seeing movies. He likes beer. He has a sense of humor so dry and deadpan it's easy to miss that it's there. And he also has his own code of ethics separate from what the BoS has implanted in him, more compassionate and philanthropic than anyone would expect from a BoS soldier.

(See: Billy the ghoul kid, the USS Constitution quest, the Minutemen, and the Covenant quest-- in which Danse is vehement that Dr. Chambers must be stopped, even though her torturous experiments target "the enemy." It's more important to him that this barbaric cruelty be stopped than that it find a way to "catch" synths.)

So the nature of Danse's character, really, is recognizing what in him is his own, and what was planted there by someone else. Who is the man separated from the Brotherhood? What does he feel to be right in his heart, and what has he been TOLD he should feel?

This is brilliantly illustrated in Blind Betrayal. Because what Danse needs to come out of it alive is, quite simply, the reminder that his feelings exist. Beyond what the Brotherhood told him, beyond what the Institute or anybody else may have programmed into him, Danse is his own person and has his own feelings. He is outraged by the accusation that his pain, his sorrow, his pride, his joy, and his loyalty were not natural parts of him, and that all of the sacrifices he's made over the years weren't his own choice. This is the point on which he finally turns on Maxson, and the spark he needs to find the will to live as his own man, despite the orders that he must die.

After Blind Betrayal, we get the chance to meet a fledgling new Danse who's been stripped of everything that's ever meant anything to him. He's traumatized, lonely, questioning everything about himself, his thoughts, and his body-- but for the first time in a long time, he has the chance to be himself, and the chance to choose who he's going to be. The open nature of the game's world and storytelling means that we don't get it illustrated for us in the game itself, but given his softening stance on synths and steps he makes towards accepting his own nature, I think it's fair to say that Danse is on his way to being a better man once all is said and done.

In other words, he is a Strong Flawed Sad Tragic Himbo Whom I Can Save With My Love, Bethesda was directly targeting me with his personality, and I love him to bits.

[whimsicallyreading]

It’s Time

Masterlist

Bryce could only prolong this talk for so long.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Ithan. They’ve both been dying to speak to each other since she closed the gates.

Bryce wanted hug him. To thank Cthona that he’d made it into the cellar, and get to know him as the person he’s become. Conner’s little brother who is all grown up now.

Before they could do that, they had to clear the air between them. It would require picking at old wounds so they could heal properly. The death of the back was a rugged, festering scar on both of them. Solving Danika’s murder started the long journey towards healing and it couldn’t be stopped now.

Ithan was a big part of this.

“Would you like me to stay with you, Sweetheart?” Hunt mumbles into her hair.

Bryce knew he would stay if she asked. Bear the awkwardness of this conversation silently, acting as a welcomed voyeur to this mending of a relationship. Her and Ithan needed the safety of privacy to work this our, though.

She leans up and presses a kiss to the high arch of his cheek. “You don’t need to hand around. It’s just a talk.”

Hunt looks decidedly concerned, but doesn’t contradict her choice. “Let me know when you are through. We can go out for dinner tonight.”

Bryce wrinkles her nose, “Where we can get harassed by paparazzi and journalists? I don’t like having my picture taken when I’m trying to shove noodles into my mouth.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he brushes a piece of hair back from her face, “they won’t be bothering us tonight. I’ll make sure of it.” There’s a lightness to Hunt’s posture and a wicked gleam in his eyes now. Freedom looked good on him, and he was thriving.

Bryce felt the strange new magic inside of her twist. It was almost as attracted to Hunt as she was, and it always answered his call to playfulness and mischief. The kind of trouble Bryce herself was always drawn to.

Kindred souls, mirrors, whatever you wanted to call them, there was an unmistakable bond between them. One, that when Ember finally comes to visit with assuage her worries about her only daughter being with a Vanir male.

That was saying something.

Bryce looks through the glass windows of the bar where Ithan sits. He hasn’t seemed to notice her presence yet, the weight of what they were about to do was probably distracting him as well.

“Call me when you finish,” are Hunt’s final words before he takes off above the city streets.

Bryce looks at Ithan for a moment longer, and counts to three before walking inside.

As was typical these days, the minute she steps through the doors, heads turn. A couple of men even pull out their phone to snap picture, but Bryce flips them off and ruins their shots.

Or maybe they will sell it to CC Weekly and title it Princess Unhinged Again.

Ithan turns and glares at some of the offenders, and a few even have the common sense to turn away. Pissing off the new lead of the Aux packs wasn’t high on anyone’s to do lists.

Bryce was glad for Amelie’s decision to step down. She took it upon herself to decide that someone who didn’t have the dominance to oppose Sabine in her rash decisions should be her second. It was also becoming more apparent to the other packs that Ithan was built to be an alpha male, and Amelie was doing a piss poor job of maintaining control.

Ithan’s eyes catch Bryce’s, and instead of angry, he seems almost sorrowful. She pulls out the barstool next to his and orders a beer, looks at Ithan, then orders another for him as well.

Step one, they both would need alcohol for this.

“I’m not going to lie, Bryce.” He says looking up at the TV playing Sunball reruns on the screen and keeps his gaze fully locked there. “I’m really freaking uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it is.” She agrees, “but it shouldn’t be, and that’s why we are doing this.”

“He was my brother.” Ithan chokes out and Bryce feels a tear in her heart. “You hurt him really bad and then he died.”

“I know,” Bryce swallows.

“He loved you.” There are tears dripping down Ithan’s cheeks and makes no move to wipe them. “You didn’t love him, but you lead him on and made him think he had a chance.”

Bryce wanted to retort, but she knew Ithan needed to express these feelings. He’d harbored them for so long they needed to be said aloud before they could be dealt with.

“He died and you wouldn’t even talk to me,” Ithan looks at her in betrayal.

She has to dab at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. Ithan looked so lost. So different from the vibrant puppy who played college sports and squished next to her on the couch. Bryce felt responsible for that loss of innocence even if she hadn’t been the one to kill Conner.

“I’m sorry,” she says, through the lump in her throat. “I know that doesn’t mean much but I am. You should know that I did love him.”

Ithan scoffs, and shakes his head at those words. “Sure you did.”

“I did.” Bryce hisses leaning forward, but catches herself and sits back in her chair. “You don’t get to tell me what I felt. I was young, stupid, and scared about what a relationship would mean.”

A sigh escapes her and she leans her face into her hands. “You know my baggage with Vanir males. I won’t go into that again. Conner was an intense person. I know how he felt about me but I wasn’t ready, yet.”

She looks Ithan in the eye, pleading for him to understand. “I wasn’t ready then.”

Her and Conner had just taken the first baby step in a relationship that night. They hadn’t made any commitments to each other, and while the wolves may see things differently Conner wasn’t expecting her to dive head first.

If they’d had more time, there would have been more baby steps. More progress. Bryce would have had time to mature and for Conner to be sure he was making the right choice not searching for a mate. They might have become something.

But they never got the chance.

“I couldn’t even look at myself in a mirror, there was no way I could have faced you.” Bryce confesses weakly. “If I could change the choices I made that night, I would. Without hesitation, but that’s a useless thought to entertain.”

All she could do was live with the choices she made. The past couldn’t be erased, and with Hunt, she was finally learning to embrace the future.

Connor sniffles and takes a long drink of the beer in front of him. “It wasn’t your fault, Bryce.”

Shock ran its cold fingers up her spine, and Bryce couldn’t keep the surprise from her face.

“You messed up. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard to forgive you for that,” Ithan says and Bryce cringes a little. “But I should never have let you go in believing you were to blame for them dying.”

“Ithan-“ the tremble in Bryce’s voice sends more tears to her eyes and she dabs them with a bar napkin. “Ithan I-“

“No,” he stops her short. “They were family too. You were in the right place at the right time and it spared your life. There was nothing you could have done, and I’m glad you aren’t dead. I would miss you.”

Ithan shudders and takes a gasping breath, and it breaks Bryce as well. She reaches over and wraps her arms around him, while Ithan squeezes her waisted as if he were afraid she’d disappear.

Several moments pass with them like this. Bryce knows a few people have snapped photos, but there isn’t any more room for anger. Not with the relief flooding through her veins, chilling that hot white pain she’d carried for so long.

“I forgive you Bryce,” Ithan whispers in her ear.

Bryce sobs, “I missed you too Ithan.”

They both pull away, wiping their faces and taking drinks of their beers to calm down. A cheer comes from the TV screen as a goal is scored, and a bowl of peanuts had been set in front of them at some point.

“Can we start over? Bryce asks hesitantly. “Is there a chance we could be friends again?”

Juniper was busy and Fury was gone on another mission. With Hunt and Ruhn active in her life again she was a lot less lonely, but there was still a gap where the pack had been. Where Ithan used to be.

Ithan takes a moment to think. “No,” he says, breathing out and taking a drink of beer. He rolls a peanut shell between his meat-stick finger. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Bryce said. That didn’t feel like a knife in her gut at all.

“No,” Ithan continues. “Because we are family. We’ve always been family.”

Bryce beams from ear to ear, she honestly may even be glowing a bit. “I like the sounds of that.”

They drink beer, and soon talk becomes easier. Ithan fills her in on the years she missed, Bryce talks about the dance classes she’s taking again. They even talk about the night the she shut the gates, and the backlash that’s followed.

Time passes, and before she realizes it, Bryce is late to meet with Hunt.

“Shit,” Bryce starts gathering her things and lays a few bronze marks on the table. “I’ve got to go.”

“Hot date with your Angel?” Ithan asks and Bryce blushes and turns away, feeling slightly ashamed to acknowledge her new boyfriend in front of Conner’s brother.

Ithan touches her shoulder, “Conner would have liked Hunt for you.”

Bryce had texted Hunt, and she can see him land on the sidewalk outside of the bar, but her attention is still focused on Ithan.

“They didn’t know each other very well when he was alive,” Ithan acknowledges, “but if my brother saw how happy Hunt makes you, it wouldn’t have mattered. At the end of the day, he would just want you to be happy.”

Bryce grabs his hand and squeezes it. “He would be proud of you Ithan.”

“I know,” he smiles. “Now get going, I have to report for my Aux shift soon anyways. We should meet up again sometimes.”

They bid their goodbyes and Bryce feels a million times lighter as she walks out of the bar. Hunt sweeps her into his arms and they take off over the streets of Lunathion.

“How did it go?” He asks.

“Really well,” Bryce tells him l about their conversation and the bridges they mended. Hunt listens without judgement or interruption.

He lands in vacant side street close to the Old Square. A food cart serving spicy wraps, pita bread and hummus is just down the block. “I figured we could get some food and have a picnic?”

“A picnic?” Bryce smiles. “I like the sound of that.”

They’d made a bucket list of things ordinary people did in the city that Hunt has yet to try, and they attempt to knock a few off each week. Bryce took photos, and Hunt would get them developed after work. Soon a whole wall of their apartment was now decorated with photos of the two of them having fun.

A picnic was on their list, but near the bottom. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing Hunt would be super interested in.

Yet here they were.

It turns out, he’d even packed an old blanket in his backpack. When they finished eating Hunt and Bryce laid out under the stars, not speaking but just content in each other’s presence.

Her phone dings.

A text bubble from Ithan appears, quickly followed by another.

I hope you and Hunt are having fun. Conner isn’t the only one happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone.

It’s time

Bryce’s heart is warned further, and she sets her phone back down on the blanket beside her. She would call Ithan in the morning. Right now, Hunt’s wing was draping over her and the softness of it could put her to sleep.

Everyone was moving on, but instead of bitter and sad, there was hope. Their loved ones may be gone, but they weren’t forgotten. The pack would always be in her and Ithan’s heart, and where love endured so would their memories.

“You didn’t tell me your mother is coming next week,” Hunt whispers as Bryce’s eyes droop.

“I wasn’t about to give you time to prepare yourself,” Bryce smiles into his neck. “It’s better if you just jump in feet first with her.”

“Menace,” he hisses. “A pretty menace, but a pain in my ass at the same time.”

“We can face her together,” Bryce yawns.

“Go to sleep,” Hunt encourages. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. Like I said earlier, no one is going to bug you when I’m around.”

So, under the night sky, wrapped in a velvet wind, her and Hunt fall asleep, looking forward to tomorrow at last.

The conversion at the end of HoEaB I feel we desperately needed 😂

Taglist- (let me know if you would like to be added or removed :D)

@cursebreaker29

@firestarsandseneschals

@royalsqueeze

@julemmaes

@tillyrubes10

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

[punksarahreese]

The art of feeling lonely | 4 mg Ativan

Anxious!Ava; Ava’s first month in Chicago took a turn that she never mentioned to anyone.

Word count: 1387

CW: Anxiety/depression themes, mild self injury, panic attacks/meltdowns

***

Ava had always been a reserved person, she much rather preferred to be alone in the evenings than out with friends. She never had an issue, really. Back home she woke up alone, worked alone, and thrived alone. She did have roommates back in South Africa, other doctors in various stages of their own residency, but that was different. They could coexist in the common areas of their shared home, talking in the kitchen or sharing drinks during a night off, but it wasn’t all social. Ava could retreat to her room whenever she wanted, finding solace in the quiet time spent pouring over books or enjoying her free time alone. Ava Bekker had spent years wishing she could afford to live alone, craving the freedom and peace that a solo flat would offer.

When she accepted the fellowship at Gaffney medical, Ava was ecstatic. Not only could she start over but she would be able to live alone. It was so much change at once but it was going to be so worth it. Ava loved the idea of having her own place, no need for small talk and no one to share a bathroom or food with. It would be perfect, her little safe space away from the mess of home and work, or so she thought.

She had anxiety issues, Ava had known that for years, but she never had an official diagnosis. It was hard to get a proper diagnosis of anything when you present as a fully functioning adult, something she dealt with her entire life. Still, the excitement of moving and starting her own life in a new place seemed to win over the nerves, which is why she was completely fine. Until about three weeks into her new life in Chicago, anyway.

It started like any normal day, she went to work on a friday and everything went smoothly. She successfully did a CABG surgery with Connor, who was being a bit more friendly with her at that point. They operated well together, once they both overcame the initial hostility and wariness. Doctor Latham was proud of them after the surgery and the day came to a close with no emergencies.

They two had left Med just as the sun had begun to set, chatting about an upcoming surgery. Connor stopped when someone called his name, looking back to see Natalie Manning rushing over to them. Her cheeks were reddened by the chilly wind and she came to a stop in front of the man she had looked for.

“We’re going to Molly’s for drinks tonight, you wanna come, Connor?”

The first thing that dampened Ava’s mood was that very interaction, watching as Connor turned to answer her question. Ava felt completely cut off, his back to her and Natalie not even caring to glance her way. It was clear she wasn’t going to be invited, of course who would invite the new CT fellow who was technically Connor’s opponent in the grand scheme of it all. She had gotten used to the whispering and hearing the rumours that she was a bitch or that she used charm and sexual favours to get into the program when Connor was already there. She knew they disliked her and originally Ava didn’t care, but this hurt more somehow.

She didn’t bother saying goodbye to Connor, instead just turning and walking towards the waiting taxi she had called. She would have to get a car, Ava realized, especially if she wouldn’t be able to find a friend to carpool with.

Ava’s apartment was the same as she had left it that morning, immaculate and tidy. Her plants had been watered and yet she saw the way they drooped, leaning towards the big balcony window as they sought out the sunshine. They were not adjusting well to the move and she feared her beloved plants might die on her.

Her favourite sweater was draped over the arm of her chair, offering silent comfort like always. It reminded her of home, the logo of her university decorated the front of the fabric. It was all she could do to put the thing on, settling down in the armchair soon after.

Dinner should be made, the woman mused to herself, but she didn’t have the energy to do it. Instead she pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, the fuzzy fabric sinking comfortably between her fingers. Ava wasn’t sure what she was feeling at that moment but something was almost suffocating. There was an elephant in the room, making the surgeon feel overwhelmed and nervous in mere seconds.

She found herself glancing around her apartment, looking for something. She wasn’t sure what that something was, it didn’t even feel tangible, but she still searched.

“Home,” her voice was more raspy than she expected and it made Ava flush from embarrassment, “It doesn’t look like home.”

After three weeks of living - and thriving - alone, Ava truly realized something. This apartment, in all its modern and beautiful glory, was not her home. There was no group of laughs coming from the kitchen, she couldn't hear the tip-taps of her roommate’s sweet cat treading across the linoleum, and this chair wasn’t even comfortable. The only sound she could hear was the faint rumble of cars driving past the building and the hum of the electricity. It felt far too empty… cold and unforgiving. This, Ava concluded, was not home. She didn’t have a home anymore, not really, and she also had no one in this damned place.

The feeling of loneliness wasn’t unnatural to Ava, she had her fair share of feeling left out or alone, but this was different. She was in a whole new city and she had been so busy with work and worrying about others that she didn’t really know where she was. The silence of her apartment used to be a much needed comfort but now it made her want to scream, feeling like she would sink into the quiet darkness until she simply ceased to exist.

She didn’t know anyone in this city, no one who wanted to spend time with her, and she finally understood why that hurt. She longed to be back in her Cape Town apartment, with that sweet old cat purring in her lap and her friends laughing in the other room.

Ava loved to be alone, she was usually so content to work and study and eat all alone. Small talk was painful and people asked for honesty but were offended so easily by it all the same. She was much happier alone, yet this hurt so much for reasons she couldn’t place.

She didn’t even notice the way her nails raked down her forearm, leaving reddened marks in their wake. This was bad, she was not supposed to do this, but the anxiety was too much. She was suffocating and the sharp pinpricks of pain helped her release some energy. Maybe if she had been paying attention she would have seen the marks start to bleed slightly, tiny beads of red from the damaged first layer of skin. Still, it was impossible to see through the stinging tears that flooded her eyes, afraid to vocalize the pain that became evident within minutes.

She was always a silent crier, the only sound was usually her sniffling, but this time was different. This time the sobs shook Ava’s whole being without her consent, the sounds that escaped along with her tears a mixture of unintelligible words and gasps. She wasn’t sure why this hit her like a bus but it hurt more than she ever had felt. She wanted to scream and hit things just as much as she wanted to purchase a ticket back home immediately. Hunched over in the chair, her hand pressed over her injured forearm so she wouldn’t do any more damage, Ava let the sobs overtake her.

All she could really do was feel the loneliness, letting it consume her. Maybe it would help if she just surrendered to it, left questioning why she was hurting so much now instead of when she had first moved. Maybe that’s just the art of being lonely, the first realization of being completely alone is one that almost always cuts through one’s psyche like a sharpened blade.

[phantomchick]

Naruto Fic Rec Masterpost!

The Last To Know by KuriQuinn Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up, Team Seven, Sakura and Sasuke, Sakura and Team 7, Canon Compliant, Angst with a Happy Ending, trust, broken trust, forgiveness, hurt/comfort, this fic is fantastic and made me have so many feels for the characters as well as the bonds between them, Character Dynamics,

Summary: As usual, telling her the truth happens as though by afterthought. And this time, she's not taking it.

i'll always be there for you by RecklessWriter Oneshot, Gen, Itachi and Sasuke feels, sibling feels, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Big Brother Uchiha Itachi, a part of me niggles over team 7 failing a mission but I pretend that they ran into the hunter nin afterwards and Kakashi got the scroll back, it do be like that sometimes, Good big brother Itachi, Bad big brother Itachi, it’s complicated, Feels,

Summary:

He’s pressed against something warm. There are fingers carding gently through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Nii-san,” Sasuke whispers.

The hand in his hair freezes.

Sasuke gets thrown into a frozen lake. Itachi doesn't know how to stop being a big brother, even when he's supposed to be pretending he doesn't care.

The Beautiful Orange Thing by zafiro Oneshot, Gen, Naruto and Kurama, Naruto is a very lonely kid and the kyubi is a very lonely bijuu, Pre-Naruto Canon Era, chibi-Naruto, Naruto loves Orange, Kurama tolerates Naruto because he is Cute, sweetness and light, angst and fluff, so cute I wanna physically hug this fic to my chest

Summary: Naruto arrives at a weird place and finds something wonderful there.

Maslow by FriendshipCastle Oneshot, Gen, T for cursing, canonical child neglect, Iruka feels, Naruto feels, implied/referenced child abuse, but nothing worse than what’s in canon, angst, hurt/comfort,

Summary: The first four tiers of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Human Needs applied to Naruto’s depressing childhood. Alternatively: Iruka slowly becomes the best replacement mother a ninja could have.

take the fight from the kid by theformerone Oneshot, Gen, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Team 7, Canon Compliant, but can be read as divergent, Post Wave arc, Pre-Chuunin Exams,  

Summary: Training with his team is different than it was before the mission to Wave. Sasuke notices how things have changed.

A Clean Break by GwendolynStacy Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up,  Hatake Kakashi and Team 7, Team as Family, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Team Fluff, Kakashi feels, Self-Harm via compulsive hand washing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Happy Ending,

Summary: Every member of Team 7 has their personal set of demons to haunt them. While Kakashi is always prepared to lend his students a listening ear, he still hasn’t quite figured out how to ask for help when he’s the one crumbling.

The Beginning and the End by QuinsValoria Oneshot, short oneshot, gen, THIS HAD ME SOBBING OVER KUSHINA AGAIN EVEN THOUGH IT’S SO SHORT, pre-canon era, angst, Dont worry kushina, Your baby makes it out just fine, cries into laptop screen, Hurt/Comfort,

Summary:

“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” —Robert Browning

Uzumaki Kushina is an amazing mother, even in the very short time she has left.

OR

Kushina comforts her baby.

The Prince Of Leaves And Deep Water by RayShippouUchiha Ongoing, 3 chapter fic, do you ever read a fic with language that is so pretty and evocative that you just want to lean into it, like a kid listening to a piece of folklore that’s been passed down, it’s just beautiful to read? And the words slice and cut into your feelings in the best of ways, angst, hurt/comfort, drama, Kushina feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Uzumaki Lore, well worth the read even as a stand alone should it never update again, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canonical Child Neglect, Uzushio feels,

Summary: ‘Protect him,’ Kushina prays in the quiet of her own mind as she leaves; pleading silently to the old spirits from her childhood, to the things that the Uzumaki Elders used to whisper about in hushed tones.

‘Love him,’ Kushina begs of the things she only knows from instinct and half remembered stories, those things filled with the power of salt and sun and deep deep waters.  Those things that live and thrive in the heart and soul of every Uzumaki who has ever breathed and battled and bled.  'Guide him, keep him safe for always.  But love him most of all. My little prince of eddies and leaves.’

Left behind, left alone and cold where before there was only a soft sort of warmth and a steady kind of safety, Naruto wails.

Final Evaluation by Do_the_Cool_Whip Completed, 5 Chapter Fic, Gen, Umino Iruka & The Rookie Nine, Iruka-Sensei, Feels, fluffy, I have so many emotions about Iruka being the best teacher in the elemental nations and this fic brought them all out to play, Excellence, Kakashi is a troll, a huge troll, like, he’s such a troll he’s a mountain troll, Asuma is a lesser troll, like he’s mostly decent but still infuriating so he’s a bridge troll, Kurenai is so cool that even when she’s trolling as is her right and duty as the jounin elite she is, the person she’s trolling still respects her for it, a river troll, the kids are so cute and young here, you can really feel Iruka’s affection for them, please revel in the wonderful that is this entire fic, revel I say

Summary: Progress evaluations are one-on-one consultation meetings between academy students and their teacher. Their purpose is to inform academy students of their strengths and weaknesses and guide them down their ideal path to becoming a strong shinobi. Upon graduating the academy and passing their jounin-sensei test, new genin return to the academy for one final consultation. (Or: The story of what happens when Umino Iruka uses his final meetings with his students as way to send them off to become the best shinobi they can possibly be.)

it takes a village by quillofferings Oneshot, Gen, snapshot series, angst, character insight, konoha 12, rookie 9, team Gai, team 10, team 8, team 7, repeating patterns and revelations, kinda gives a sense of the culture of a childhood in Konoha in a way that’s very quietly tragic, this story was written well before shippuden came out but it still reads mostly true to me, A Classic of the Fandom,

Summary: A Naruto snapshot series in the form of a oneshot.

spirals by nescione Gen, Oneshot, Team Seven, Generations, Team 7, Dai Nana Han, Spirals, Repeating Patterns, things happening the same across generations in repeating patterns is a big theme in the canon and lots of fic delve into it and play with the whole idea as a result, but this fic does it especially well, Team as Family, Angst, Fluff, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, A Classic of the Fandom, Summary: From the sannin to the present- a look at how history repeats itself, and how it doesn't.

this, and love too, will ruin us by RecklessWriter Oneshot, Gen, Itachi and Sasuke feels, Naruto Feels, Short and Sweet, Angst, Whump, Brother Feels, Sibling feels, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Naruto Uzumaki Needs a Hug,

Summary: Naruto remembers the first time he saw Sasuke and Itachi.

He remembers looking at them and thinking, I wish I had someone who loved me like that.

Ten Facts About Team Yamato by Lisse Oneshot, Gen, short and sweet, Team 7 feels, Team as Family, Dai Nana Han, Team Seven, Team Yamato, characterisation, short but solid, Ficlet,

Summary: On paper, their team doesn't exist.

Troubling New Developments by SicTransitGloria Oneshot, Teen and Up, hilarious, pre-shippuden, Team as Family, Kakashi pov, Team 7, AHAHAHAHA,  Puberty hits the genin,

Summary: Kakashi takes a moment to wrap his mind around equating Ino’s chest with enemy shinobi while Asuma begins beating his head against the table and groaning about how he didn’t sign up for this. Rated for language and the general horror that is puberty

Of Harrowed Hearts by Sable_Scribe Ongoing and possibly (probably) Abandoned, Gen, Long Fic, we’re at 36 chapters in as of the time I’m posting this, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix It, Families of Choice, Team Seven, Team as Family, Bamf Kakashi, Good Teacher! Kakashi, Angst, Uzushio Lore, Fluff, Uzushio Feels, Uzumaki heritage, Bamf Team 7, BAMF Rookie Nine, Naruto's ability to make friends with giant chakra demons surfaces early, Rookie Nine, Rookie 9, Konoha 12, Naruto and Kurama,

Summary Naruto has been hearing the rumbling growl in the back of his head for as long as he can remember. He’s seven when he tries to talk to it for the first time. He’s the dead last, the failure at everything, so he doesn’t actually expect to succeed. And when he’s suddenly standing, knee deep in murky water and face to face with a demon, he has no idea what to expect. As it turns out, the world could use something unexpected.

Automatic by Dayadhvam Oneshot, Gen, Sand Siblings, Fluff, Team as Family, but also, Family as Family, Short and Sweet, A Classic of The Fandom

Summary: Gaara's shield defense is automatic: he has never had to consciously think about ordering the sand where it is needed. Kankurou and Temari have always known this.

As Is the Sea Marvelous by blackkat Mature, Gen, Eleven Chapter Fic, Warring States Era, Uchiha Madara/Senju Tobirama, Izuna Lives AU, everybody lives nobody dies, Hurt/Comfort, brotherly feels, sibling relationships, Angst With A Happy Ending, Insecurity, Self-Sacrifice, Imprisonment, Fix-It

Summary: Tobirama is willing to give absolutely anything for Hashirama and his dream. Including his life.

A Lesson In Trust by Live Gen, Oneshot, Shikamaru & Naruto friendship, academy days, trust exercise, fluff

Summary: All Iruka wants is for his class to start trusting each other, too bad Shikamaru would rather watch the clouds...

Snow Is Serious Business When Your Business Is Being A Kid by vulcanhighblood Gen, Oneshot, Iruka and Naruto, Umino Iruka is a Good Teacher, Uzumaki Naruto Needs a Hug, Fluff, Snow

Summary: Iruka's trying to teach his class, but the first snowfall of the year makes keeping their attention more difficult than he would have liked.

The Consequences of Winning by tabjoy13 Oneshot, Gen, Team 7, Protective Hatake Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi is a Good Teacher, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Hatake Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi Is Trying, Wave Mission

Summary: Three days. It had been three days since Zabuza’s attack, since Kakashi passed out, and since Team Seven took refuge in the bridge builder’s home. Three days and Kakashi hadn’t shown a sign of stirring. Three young genin are left with the question: now what? Cross posted on FF.net.

discendo docemus by llamallamaduck Mature, Ongoing, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Trauma/Ptsd, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Good Orochimaru, A lot of talk about depression and mental instability, Also Sharingan fuckery and assorted eye-trauma, rarepair, Itachi & Sasuke, eventual Sasuke/Ukitake, Itachi & Tsunade, 

Summary: There are some things a seven-year-old psyche is not ready to endure. An S-ranked torture technique preformed by a traumatized thirteen-year-old is one of those things. Sasuke doesn’t enjoy hallucinating memories of his murdered family day in and day out, but he’s learned to be philosophical about such things. It’s everything else that’s the problem, really.

Nidaime Otokage by DuskBeforeDawn Ongoing, inspired by nukenin, Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Protective Hatake Kakashi, BAMF Hatake Kakashi, BAMF Dai-nana-han,Team 7, Team as Family, Non-Konoha Shinobi Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi is a Troll, Kage level Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi-centric, fluff, adventure, crack, mature, fun read

Summary: No one knew him.His father was still alive.His Sharingan acted like it had always been his.Kakashi was twenty-two years in the past of a different world.

French Kissing, the End of the World, and Other Impossible Ordeals by Tsume_Yuki Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Time Travel, Uchiha Sasuke Being an Asshole, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Time Travel Fix-It, Smitten Uchiha Sasuke, grumpy asshole/cheerful optimist, this fic is literally just Sasuke being soft for Naruto, Mature but like it’s fiiine the author could’ve left it at teen and up and it would’ve gotten a pass at least from me

Summary: This is it, centuries of excellent genetics, of carefully selected marriages to maximise the potential of future generations and it’s going to be Sasuke who introduces idiocy to the Uchiha bloodline. The ancestors must be rolling in their graves. In which Sasuke is smitten, Naruto is a badass, and time travel happens.

No Tomorrow by Authorship Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Clan, Shisui Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Longfic, Completed, Found Family, Fix It, Mature, Time Travel, Fuck Danzo

Summary: The water was crushing, pummelling Shisui's broken form, even as it swept him further and further from Konoha. 

And then Shisui woke up.

It's two months until the day he died. Two months to change the current of his life, of his Clan, of his village. And Shisui has no intention of letting history run its course.

¦ part 1 ¦ part 2 ¦ part 3 ¦

[an-intronerd]

thoughts on jaskier (+ geraskier) post episode 6: rare species

this was honestly supposed to be a teeny little rant but like, my hands grew minds of their own.

...

ok, so like, i recently binged the witcher (and i’m one of those people who has not yet read the books and never played the games, so going in, i had no idea who these characters were or what their dynamics in the other medias were like or anything) and next thing you know, i’m drowining in the geraskier fandom. 

as one does, i’ve seen a lot of geraskier content, including fics and the like, and one idea that’s always there is that jaskier is this heartbroken, sullen, pining thing after the Big Fight. like, 98% of what i’ve seen or read has sad!jaskier. and like, the general plot is always like 

jaskier is sad that geralt yelled mean things at him. 

jaskier sings heartbroken love songs. 

jaskier runs into geralt/geralt finds jaskier/somehow these two meet again. 

geralt is a dick/geralt feels bad but is emotionally constipated so he doesn’t know how to use words to apologize/geralt saves jaskier’s life. 

geralt and jaskier make up because jaskier knows how to read his witcher’s emotions and forgives him. optional: they bang.

the end.

and its like, people aren’t perfect?? i think that’s a little unrealistic. and yes, fanfiction can be like that sometimes, because it’s what we want to happen. but like, imagine this:

jaskier going through the 5 stages.

jaskier goes down the mountain, leaving geralt behind. what else can he possibly do?

jaskier spends a few nights wasted and crying because hey, guess what, the love of his life for the better part of two decades is a gaint wart-covered dick. he’s sad about it, sue him.

jaskier decides fuck this, his witcher is a piece of shit and though he is by no means the best person on the planet, he is at least good enough to deserve better than what geralt gave him. or well, was incapable of giving him.

jaskier decides he will move on, and it’ll start with him getting out of this mountainside village and heading to one of the first places where he truly found himself, oxenfurt. afterall, music has been and will always be the one constant and greatest pleasure in his life.

it takes time, but jaskier perseveres. he gets over his denial pretty quickly. he will not believe geralt didn’t care for him at all. he knows that’s an insult to both of them. geralt cared in his own way. thats the truth. unfortunately, the other, much harsher truth is that it wasn’t enough. so, no geralt won’t be coming for him, and jaskier won't be waiting around.

anger is a bit harder to get over. once it truly sets in, it’s all jaskier can do not to hunt down that fucking white wolf and tear him a new one. jaskier is a person, he is a human with feelings, and that damned witcher had no right to treat him like the scum at the bottom of his shoe. if it wasn’t for jasker, geralt would still be run out of every other town he came across, stoned and bloody. he’d probably have died in a puddle of his own blood fifty times over by now, considering all the times jaskier had to patch him up. that ungrateful prick. except, once he’s exhausted three supllies of parchment and written enough songs about the bitcher, (yes not his most creative insult but he’s too petty to care!) he knows none of that is remotely true. and he wants closure.

and that’s when bargaining hits him full force. all of a sudden, he just needs to see geralt one more time. once more great adventure and a song to go with it, one more meal shared, one more conversation, to see if geralt really ever cared. he needs to ask him, and have geralt verbally confirm or deny his doubts. he needs this, just once. one more time, he needs to see his witcher, and it’ll be enough. one more time. just once. he almost fails himself, on one lonely night. he knows he can’t, he doesn’t even know where he’d start looking but he’s drunk beyond the point where common sense dictates his actions, and he’s packed half his belongings... and he’s getting ready... to track down the white... wolf... he wakes up with a bitch of a hangover the next day, but he didn’t go after geralt. he knows deep down once will never be enough. 

anger was tough, but depression was worse. it came for him like a siren in all her glory, drawing him in and in and in until he’s drowing and he didn’t even realise when that happened and then it’s too much, it’s too painful... he isn’t really surprised. he thrives on emotion, the good and the bad, it’s how he writes such brilliant ballads, he admits he hadn’t really delved into his own feelings about geralt yet. he hadn’t dealt with all the heartbreak follwing the mountain, and maybe he should have done so earlier, but he doesn’t think it matters. his heart wasn’t going to hurt any less months earlier when the wounds were still fresh. and though they may have closed up over time, the phantom pain is always with him. there are days where all he can do is curl up under his blankets and sob. some days he goes without eating a single morsel, finds himself lightheaded from dehydration, not leaving his bed for anything more than to relieve himself. some days, he flips through old songbooks, filled with twenty-odd years of adventure, both the fun and the dangerous kind, and laughter and frustration, companionship and solidarity... what was it he used to say? death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak. words of a lifetime past. some days, he compartmentalizes and sets all that aside in a little box in his mind and goes about his day as if he isn’t weighed down by the constant weight of his loss. it’s almost too much, but he’ll manage, he tells himself. he doesn’t let himself think of what he would do if he can’t.

it’s a cloudless day outside, and he’s in the market for new writing materials, and he’s going over next week’s lesson plan in his head, when he’s hit with the sudden realization that he hasn’t thought about geralt in a while. he’s thinking of him now, sure, but that doesn’t count because he’s thinking of how he’s not thinking of him, it’s a totally different thing, and oh- it doesn’t ache as much as it used to. he feels lighter than he has in a while, and he doesn’t know how that happened, or when, but he’s... okay. 

that’s the thing about healing, it happens whether you realise it or not, you just have to give ypurself a chance. it’s pontless to hold on to the negative feelings because you’re trying to hold on to something or someone that isn’t there anymore or maybe never really was. he didn’t know when it happened, but. the bitterness that accompanied the memories of geralt’s last words is no longer there. neither is the anger. there’s a dull sadness, but mostly it’s resignation and a sort of comfortable if lonely acceptance that geralt is gone. but there’s also a bittersweet understanding that jaskier will always love him. the history they shared isn’t erased because of a few angry words. jaskier will have, if nothing else, a lifetime full of moments and memories. if he sees geralt again, it will no longer be with a vision clouded in pain or anger or sadness, but rather a deep-seated love and forgiveness. he will let geralt decide now what they will be to each other. but he will not accept anything less than what he is worth. he will not be geralt’s punching bag. if geralt wants to have a relationship with him again, it will be one of equals, the bard and the witcher. if he wants to go their seperate ways, well, jaskier will live content like that too. 

he’s moved on.

sometimes, moving on doesn’t mean finding someone else. sometimes, it means mending your own heart, piece by broken piece, and then tucking it away safely inside, giving it a chance to heal. it’s about making that very difficult choice to let go of the bad that you’re holding on to, because it’s a way of holding on to the person you lost. it’s about finding yourself again, and who you were before the pain and heartbreak, and, figuring out who you want to be now. i need more of that, because that’s real. that’s how i imigine jaskier would feel. he’s not perfect, and he has his ups and downs as all of us do, and he is angry at geralt and sad and broken but also he’ll pick himself up, because he was someone before geralt, too, and he’ll still be someone after geralt, not just the witcher’s bard. he doesn’t know who that is yet, but he’ll figure it out.

and because i’m at my core a geraskier + happy endings hoe:

geralt realises an important thing on that mountaintop. he has been running from destiny and anything real all his life. he needs to get his head out of his ass, and find ciri. clearly, he was destined to lose yen, and that’s happened, no matter how hard he tried to make it different. she’s destined to be his and he accepts that now, but everything else is up to him. 

he finds ciri, and then, he’s a father. he vows to be a better parent than the one he had. 

he finds yen, and they learn to be enough for each other without turning it into something more than a vague frienship. somewhere between a truce and a partnership. for ciri, they agree.

he returns to kaer morhen, to his family with his daughter and his yennefer in tow. 

he realises that he has everything he could ever want, and more than any witcher ever gets, but there’s still something missing. 

then he realises it’s his bard, the one person who wasn’t unwillingly tied to him because of some wish or destiny, someone who chose him every single time, and who he misses with such a fierce ache.

then he remebers how badly he fucked that up, and then yen tells him he’s a wart-covered, emotionally constipated dick, and dumb too, but hey thank god you finally got your head out of your ass long enough to realise that you miss your bard and you’re sorry for what you did and you love him, and geralt just goes what? yen, love? oh- okay so that’s what the constant turning of his stomach and insomnia is.

then he sets out to find his bard, and ciri asks if she’ll finally get to hear all those famous songs about geralt from the source, and he says he hopes so.

it doesn’t take him long to find his bard, now a professor at oxenfurt academy, and geralt thinks that makes perfect sense because where else would jaskier have gone but to one of the few bright bits of his youth?

he gets to oxenfurt and it’s a cloudless day, and there’s people millig about and he thinks he’ll head to an inn and give roach a well-deserved rest, and then his heart stops. because there is jaskier, exchanging coin for parchment, and he looks just as he did a year and a half ago, except less disappointed and more happy and his heart hasn’t beaten this fast since he was a child left on vesemir’s doorstep. he thinks of all the nights he’s been unable to sleep because he had gotten so used to the bard’s humming and how it had been the most soothing wordless lullaby. he thinks of his last words, and he feels his breath leave him, because jaskier had taken it to heart, and left him. he’d given geralt his one blessing, and geralt thinks that those words are something he will regret for as long as he is living. he gives himself a moment to wonder if perhaps he should leave jaskier to the life he’s created for himself, be unselfish for once and let jaskier remain happy and safe and free. 

he should leave, though he knows that jaskier deserves so much more from him, an apology to start, and then a real friendsip, one tat goes both ways, and wow, geralt really is a wart-covered dick because he had treated jaskier so unfairly and he doesn’t undertsand why jaskier kept coming back to him, again and again. destiny hadn’t entwined their paths. jaskier chose to entangle them anyways. and he deserves so much more than geralt of rivia, and he should let jaskier have that, he should...

but he couldn’t walk away now, not when jaskier, his bard, his life-long friend, is standing right there, and jaskier turns, collecting his items and geralt stops breathing because jaskier looks over, and geralt watched the recognition flit over the bard’s face as he sees roach and then up, up, up, his eyes trace geralt’s form until.

their eyes meet, and jaskier smiles.

tl;dr: i just want more realistic portrayls of jaskier’s emotions after the Big Fight in episode 6, and i want to see jaskier go through all the feelings, and more depth to him that just some pining, heartbroken lump of a person. he’s more nuanced than that, i think. 

p.s: a big part of this ended up being based on my own experineces with love and friendship, pain and hertbreak, and the process of moving forward despite it all. idk how much of that comes through, and i hadn’t really planned for this post to go in the direction that it did, but i like how it turned out. i’m still trying to figure out that tricky little thing about making the choice to let go, and writing this helped?

p.p.s: this ended up way, way, wayyyyy longer than i intended, oops? why do i do this lol

p.p.p.s: if fics like this actually exist, please feel free to tag me in them or send me links, i would adore you forever!

[ihavejarlsberg]

Warning Labels

A short Brightwell fic by ihavejarlsberg/Suitupbuttercup

Author’s Note:  I just love Brightwell and they give me a lot of feelings, so I mainly wrote this for me, but I hope you all got some warm fuzzies out of it, as well. (Also I’m insane and can’t decide what tense I want this in lololol) Special thanks to my pal @the-ginger-avenger who looked this over for me and assured me it wasn’t total trash. Putting a read more line in so no one gets too mad at me.   ;D   If you like this, reblog and tell me about it! Have a great day, everyone!

Summary: Dani Powell feels like she should have come with a warning label.

(Probably several of them.)

She feels like she's tricked Malcolm, sometimes--that he thought he was getting this strong, independent woman who has her shit together. And she's not that, at all.

(She's so far from that, it's not even funny.)

When Dani has a nightmare in Malcolm's bed, she expects him to be uncomfortable at best, completely freaked out by her at worst. But, as always, Bright is full of surprises.

Find on AO3 here. 

----

Dani Powell feels like she should have come with a warning label.

 Probably several of them. 

 Malcolm Bright certainly came with his own set. (They were more like flashing hazard lights.) Dani had known full well what she was getting herself into with him when they had started seeing each other. Hell, the disclaimers had been self evident when they were only friends. It was obvious to anyone who spent more than ten minutes talking to the guy; he came with baggage heavy enough to crush him.

 At present, these were burdens she desperately wanted to help him with, to share with him. She could never fully take them away, she knew, but she could lessen the load when he let her.

 He was so much easier to love than she had ever anticipated. Even her most half-assed attempts to empathize with him, to be understanding and help him, were met with such reverent wonder and genuine appreciation that her heart nearly burst with affection for him. She found herself in a precarious, uncharted place, emotionally, where she wanted to throat punch anyone who had ever hurt him, anyone who had ever even thought to wrong such a gentle, special soul as Malcolm Bright. 

 And being that vulnerable terrified her. 

 Bright was still annoying. He still had plenty of quirks she would never quite understand. And she knew that one day, he was going to get himself hurt for the most asinine reason, and she would have to pick up the pieces. She knew the day was coming where she would need to sit him down and explain to him in the simplest possible terms that she  needed  him to be safe, that he couldn't pull this shit anymore, and that he had to  stop  and  think  before he ran headlong into danger at the drop of a hat. It was a conversation she felt coming, in the same prophetic way animals could sense hurricanes.

 In spite of all this, she still feels like she's tricked him, sometimes--that he thought he was getting this strong, independent woman who has her shit together. And she's not that, at all. 

 She's so far from that, it's not even funny.

 So when he sees her break down for the first time, she expects him to be shocked. Repulsed, even. She expects him to recoil from her, or think less of her. She expects him to not know what to do with her.

 But he doesn't do any of those things.

 When he finds her, comes to her from the other room after they’ve both fallen asleep in their separate spaces, she's sobbing into his pillow so hard, so violently, she's barely able to make any sound at all. The air she does manage to take in comes in hard, painful gasps and shoots out in breaths that make her entire body tense up. 

 She's spent a lot of time in Bright's bed lately. Very little of that time has been spent actually sleeping, in the months they've been seeing each other. (She's not upset about that.) Usually, she dips out. Usually, she heads home late, sated and happy and buzzing with the high of infatuation. 

 But lately, she hasn't wanted to leave. Lately, she's wanted to fall asleep with her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart. As they lie together, he traces his fingertips over her bare back, or plays with her hair, or massages her scalp so gently and so tenderly that it makes her heart swell, and she just  doesn’t want to leave. 

 He doesn’t make her. But, he steadfastly refuses to fall asleep in the same bed. He tells her that if he hurts her in his sleep, he will never, ever forgive himself for the rest of his life. (She believes him.) 

 She thinks he's worth the risk, thinks that the weight of another person next to him in his bed would comfort him tremendously. But she doesn't fight him on it. (Yet.) This is still new, this thing between them, and she doesn't want to barge into his life and make him do things he's afraid of. (Yet.)

 So he doesn't make her go home, and she doesn’t make him sleep next to her. He lets her fall asleep curled in at his side, and when he’s certain she’s in a deep enough sleep, he slips away. Moves over to the couch, where he's installed a second set of restraints for himself, and a spare mouth guard is waiting in its case on the end table closest to the wall. 

 The bed feels lonely and cold without him next to her. And eventually, his absence bleeds into her dreams. 

 Admittedly, the preceding week didn’t help. Work has been difficult for Dani lately, with their current caseload. Malcolm thrives on it, says he needs it. But if Dani is being honest, she could use a break. She's getting burnt out. 

 And then, to top it all off, their newest victim turns out to be a child—a little girl, no older than eight, from the Bronx.

 Malcolm is uncharacteristically quiet as they unpack everything they know about the little girl in the conference room, his focus solely on the whiteboard as he scrawls out his notes and observations. They're all uncharacteristically quiet, truth be told, and incredibly on edge. No one wants to talk about it, but they have to talk about it, and the conversation that follows is stilted and forced. 

 But it hits Dani the hardest. Gil pulls her aside later, asks her if she wants to take a break. And truthfully, she does. She desperately wants to take a break. And she will, once they find the sick bastard that murdered an innocent child in cold blood.

She'll spend an entire day lounging around her apartment, watching stupid baking shows on Netflix, not thinking about dead children. But they have to catch the guy first. 

 In the meantime, she can't stop thinking about it. It keeps her up at night.

 Malcolm sees her unraveling and is desperate to help. But the truth is, he's nearly always in a state of unraveling, himself. And they may be friends—good friends—at their core, but there's so much about her that he doesn't know. So much she hasn't let him see. So she shuts down, shuts him out. It's the wrong move, and it feels wrong in the moment. She knows avoiding his probing questions and those eyes that seem to read her mind is only going to work for so long.

 So, she distracts herself. She distracts herself with his mouth, with his body. He lies with her for a long time after, with his head resting between her breasts and his hand on her hip, caressing her skin with the pad of his thumb. Eventually, his hand slows as he starts to drift off. He lifts his head and glances up at her; she's been still for so long now, it's easy for her to feign sleep. So he eases out from her side, takes her hand in his, and kisses her knuckles once before gently laying her hand back down on his comforter. 

 Eventually, sleep does find her. But it doesn't take her gently. It sinks its talons into her and pulls down hard.

 She dreams of all the children from the Bronx she hasn't been able to save. One after the other, she sees them lined up in the basement morgue of the precinct, lying on cold metal tables, their small bodies half concealed by white sheets. She dreams of finding the person responsible for this, pulling her gun on him, and freezing up. He gets away; he gets to hurt more kids.

 In her dreams, she's screaming. In her dreams, she feels a terrible mixture of rage and fear, and they blend together until they're so strong, she's choking on them both.

She can feel someone grabbing at her, and she fights, kicks, and yells her heart out. A pair of strong arms constrict around her from behind, holding her own thrashing arms in place. Panic seizes her so strongly that it wakes her up; she throws her head back, and whoever is holding her narrowly avoids a broken nose.

 When she finally tears her eyes open, the first thing she sees is the soft light of the street lamps coming in through a familiar set of arched window panes. She's panting, pulling in one ragged breath after another as she looks around, taking in the familiar setting of Malcolm's bedroom. As she stills, the constricting feeling around her chest lessens some, and she looks down to see Malcolm's strong arms holding her.

 Dani knows first hand how physically strong Malcolm Bright is. He isn’t a large man, but he also isn’t one to be underestimated. She learned that first hand after he tackled her to the ground in his sleep and fought her with flailing limbs on the floor of the precinct until he jerked awake, crushing her to him with a grip that only loosened as he regained consciousness and realized what was happening.

 He holds her almost this tightly again, now, pinning her arms to her side from behind, holding her back to his chest, until he hears her breathing change. “Dani,” he says brokenly, and she gets the feeling this isn’t the first time he’s called out her name. “Sweetheart, please.” There’s a note of pleading threading through his voice that just guts her. She reaches up and grips his forearm with her hand, squeezing it tightly, and he almost chokes on his relief. 

 He nuzzles her hair out of the way with his nose and whispers warmly into the shell of her ear: “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

 Wordlessly, she turns toward him, pressing her face hard into his chest. Her breathing is gradually evening out, and she’s able to focus on what’s real and what’s in front of her. Mainly Malcolm, and she grips him just as tightly as she remembers him gripping her that day in the precinct. She grounds herself in his solid presence, taking the material of his T shirt in her hand in a tight fist.

 One day, she'll find it funny she's never seen Malcolm in just a simple T-shirt until she started sleeping with him. Her nose is smushed into the organic cotton material, and it's so much harder to breathe with her face pressed into him this way, but she doesn't care. As soon as she turns toward him, his hand is in her hair, cradling the back of her head.

 “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, “I didn’t hear you at first.” 

 She shakes her head, trying to tell him it isn’t his fault, that he has nothing to be sorry for, but all that makes its way out of her throat is a short sob. He lets out a shaking breath and hugs her tighter. His other hand moves up and down the small of her back soothingly. 

 She’s crying, and her tears are soaking the front of his shirt; but if he minds, he doesn’t say. He just keeps shushing her quietly, whispering to her over and over again that it’s okay, he’s here now, he’s got her and he’s not going to let her go. And slowly, tentatively, she starts to come down, starts to believe him.  

 Eventually and inevitably, fear is replaced by mortification. She starts to pull away from him, ducking her head to avoid meeting his eyes. “Sorry,” she murmurs. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

 Immediately, his hand his under her chin, gently nudging her face up to look at him. “Dani,” he says firmly. His eyes are huge, intense, only made more so by how dark it is in the room and the way the moonlight coming in through the windows reflects off them. “Stop.” He leans down and brushes his nose over the tip of hers. “Darling, this isn’t your fault.” He’s never called her “sweetheart” or “darling” before tonight, but she decides then and there that it suits him--them--so well, she doesn’t ever want him to stop. 

 It doesn’t occur to her how fruitless it is to argue with Malcolm Bright, of all people, about nightmares, but she makes a valiant attempt anyway. “It’s been a while,” she starts, “But I’m not usually that loud.” She continues, despite the fact that he’s shaking his head vehemently at her. “At least, I--don’t think I am. I usually wake up. It’s j-just--this case has been--” Whatever she was going to say next is lost in a hiccup, and she can almost see Malcolm’s heart break through the expression on his face. 

 He leans down and kisses her cheek once, then darts over to the other cheek to deliver a second, and then pulls back to press his nose into hers lightly again before he touches his forehead to hers. “I know,” he says, and the weight with which he speaks those two words makes her believe he really does know how she’s feeling. Despite the fact that he’s spent the whole week talking about the type of person who would want to kill children, their background, their wants, motives and desires--as if he understands them. “I know,” he says again. “It’s not okay.  None of this is okay. But we’re going to find him, all right? We’re going to stop him, Dani. You and me--together.” 

 He sounds so sure that she finds herself nodding along with him. 

She decides, in this moment, that she loves him. The thought pops into her head and she latches onto it in eager agreement. She doesn’t voice it aloud (and won’t for several more months), but this is the moment she will look back on and know, as she looks up into his sincere eyes--eyes that shine with tears, eyes that tell her he’d do just about anything to trade places with her and relieve her of the fear that has her in a choke hold--that she’s let herself finally, finally, fall fully and fantastically in love with him. 

 He clearly misreads the stunned look on her face as residual fear, and he moves her hair back to kiss her neck, peppering her skin with kisses he hopes will ground her, until he finally makes his way to her lips and takes them against his own. He can taste her tears, and she can taste his, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is this, now, and how fiercely he’s holding her, and how hard she’s trying not to float away. 

 What matters is that despite her protestations, he stays with her the rest of the night. She needs him, and he knows it, so he stays. He keeps vigil at her side, refusing to let sleep take him, too. And with him next to her, Dani is able to drift off. This time, it’s dreamless. 

 And for the first time since she’s been seeing him romantically, she wakes up in the same bed as Malcolm. He’s the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. Feeling her stir, he looks at her, and her heart pangs at just how tired he looks, how prominent the dark circles are that cradle his eyes. But then his face splits into a beautiful smile, one she can’t help but return. 

 When they arrive at work that morning, Gil does a double take when he sees Malcolm and asks him if he even  tried to sleep the night before. Malcolm gives him a look, his eyes flashing, and, thankfully, Gil drops the subject without further quarrel. 

 Dani is almost positive she’s never loved Malcolm more than she does in that very moment, and when they sit down next to each other at the conference room table, she takes his hand in hers, squeezing it gently before lacing their fingers together.  His knee is bouncing, a conduit for his jittering energy, but it stills as he looks over at her. And the expression he wears is so tender, so adoring, that she just has to lean over and kiss his cheek. 

 JT chooses that moment to walk in--just in time to see it happen. “Oh, gross,” he mutters. “Seriously? That’s a thing now?” 

 “Shut up, JT,” Dani says quietly, though she’s smiling, as Malcolm leans in to kiss her for real.  ---- Gonna tag a few mates who might care about this. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (or if you do want to be tagged and I missed ya!). I won’t be offended!  :D 

@malclombright  @atomrealm  @thatsmytrope  @prodigal-sons  @incorrectprodigalsonquotes  @malcolmwhitly-bright  @badguywindow  @brightcinnamonroll  @brightwell-central  @malcolmshiny  @asmolwhumper  @zoejoy24  @prodigal-hyperfixtation  @malcolmwhumply  @endless-navigator  @prodigalsonheadcanons  @brightandwell  @hollyethecurious   @sherlock-freud  @higherthanakite  @thoughts-ideas-statements  @detpowell  @frankensteinsmomster  @paranoid-peaches  @lavenderspark  @missscorp  

[plaguerare]

Dawn and Marrow gifted their budding Clan the name of Dark Snow so very long ago, when they were younger and their future was uncertain; but not unknowing.

Oh, no, no, no. They knew.

Knew what curious things liked to hide in the shadows. Knew what sort of beings thrived in the cold.

Whispers that came from thin air; footsteps that echoed through empty halls.

Dragons that seemed to move unlike their kin; creatures that smiled wide and greeted strangers like they were one and the same.

Mortuus was the first--she had explained, quite simply, that the Scarred Wasteland no longer welcomed her home. And it showed in the way she held herself, her walk, her talk. The old and bloodied bandages that seemed to be wrapped almost too tight against her frame. The exposed bones that poked from her body in places that the average mirror didn't have. She lets the hatchlings, amazed by it's mystical glow, poke and prod at her amulet, but no one else.

Then there was Yersinia--and with her, she brought a looming fog and air that smelled like it shouldn't be breathed in too deeply. Though her eyes, at first so sharp and glowing with a green fire, settled into softness once she realized that they weren't going to chase her off simply for existing. She was eager to show her thanks; a gratitude of which was displayed by fending off malicious Outsiders with a quick, precise, inescapable sickness.

Then there was Equinox--fleeing from something that she seemed too broken up over to speak about. The scratches littering her skin left her weak and weary, and at first she regarded the Clan with distrust. But, soon, as the days passed and she realized that no more harm would befall her, she bloomed like a flower; taking leftover logs from construction and carving beautiful puppets out of them. ‘Old habits, you know,’ she laughed nervously when asked about her talents, though when her words were met with praise instead of resistance, she beamed. Her old family did not care for her gift, but her new family does, and that's all that matters.

Then there was Ritva--guiding a group of hatchlings that had snuck out back home by blue lights. For a while, she did not make herself entirely known, only visible due to the aimless wisps attached to her wandering soul. By morning daylight, she could be seen, and it didn't take much interaction for her to warm up to the rest of the Clan. Her vision is stronger, now, from where she is tethered to the halls and rooms filled with hospitable company, and for the first time in immeasurable decades she smiles.

Then there was Rogue--she appeared with a flurry of missing dragon posters and torchbearers with spears demanding justice. 'The fault is not mine,' she whispered through her mask. 'They are the ones who did not know when to leave well enough alone.' She hid within the Clan's furthest tunnels, until she didn't; until the Outsiders moved on and she had no real reason left to stay, yet she did. Her clanmates do not pry into her appearance, and so the electric storm that she contains, once raging and out of control and deadly, settles into a lulled buzzing.

Then there was Sarcophagus--when the old burial chamber was dug up during expansions of the Clan's denhome, it was quickly resealed and given a respectful distance, leaving the dead to rest. But he was tired of the stillness, of the suffocating dust, of the silence. He was found in the middle of the night, sat patiently by the hole in the soft earth that he'd dug through to get back to them. He does not remember his previous name, nor how long he waited in his so-called 'tomb.' He does not need to.

Then there was Phosphor--lost, weak, and unsure of her surroundings, though she had a hopeful smile on her muzzle all the same when she was found by a patrol. Her dark pelt glittered, dazzling under the light of the stars, and over time new shapes and patterns formed across it that looked more familiar to her new clanmates. The limbs at her back stretched out and grew into big, short-feathered wings, and her limbs constricted to be more proportionate with her long, mirror-like body. The others have found her, sometimes, sitting outside and staring up into the night sky. She's only mentioned her lost children once or twice in offhand comments, but the way she wistfully watches over the Clan's hatchlings says more words than she could ever manage to form with her tongue.

Then there was Wicker--no one saw him enter the denhome; one night he could just be heard wailing into the halls, followed by the smell of blown-out candle smoke. The hatchlings were the ones that eventually brought him out, tears cascading down his shielded face and his voice hoarse from his sobbing even long after they'd ran off to tell someone. He was carefully guided away, into the further dens where he wouldn't be disturbed, and soon he calmed back down and the once flickering flames of his candles blazed again. His spirit was small and weak, still raw from the tragedy of his life's end. He was thought to have left that night, only to be repeatedly seen running through the woods near the Clan in defense of it's borders, and, sometimes, curled up amongst a pile of slumbering dragons, keeping them warm by gentle candlelight.

Then there was Tundra--found sleeping by the steep cliffs that dropped to the freezing waters below, unbothered by the cutting winds. 'Those who reside within the land,' she breathed out, after questioning from the patrol as to what she was doing in the territory, 'learn to heed it's rights.' She stood to her full height, taller than a skydancer should be, and flashed her red-stained teeth at them in what was intended to be a friendly gesture. 'I have strayed from the Frozen Ones for long enough. Take me with you.' And so she was brought home, and so she has stayed where she can listen to what long-forgotten stories the ancient ice all around them has to tell.

And finally, most recently, there was Xquenda--inexplicably coming to the aid of dragons lost within blizzards and always guiding them back to a safe road. They grew attached to the Clan after a while, traversing with it's members even when the snowfall was light, and at one point simply followed a lone dragon back. Their soul wanders the denhome with a palpable curiosity, fascinated by all of the new-age things that they'd missed since. And whenever a clanmate needs to brave the outside weather, they're always right at their side, looking on with glowing eyes that cut through the fog of the horizon itself.

Of course, with the friendly, also come the hostile; distraught spirits that shake debris from the ceiling and leave claw marks in the trees. Things that aren't quite dragons that try to sow mischief and chaos.

But Marrow and Dawn look to their Clan, forged together with tight-knit bonds of kinship and unspoken protection, and they do not find themselves, nor any of the decisions that they've made, lacking.

For the name of Dark Snow invites all those that others have turned away, and offers them sanctuary.

[ten0rreaper]

can i get some helping to drink water and also brushing hair out of face, with maybe... possibly.... desperate handholding? maybe set between episodes 122 and 123, in the middle of the night....??

DEE UR MIND..... also this got long and kinda pretentious so

Jonmartin requests still incredibly very much open. Feed me.

Also pls reblog this instead of just liking it I thrive on feedback!! Same principal applies to writers that applies to visual artists

---------

Martin rubbed his face. His eyes burned with exhaustion, and common sense told him that he wasn’t going to get anything more done by staring at “Peter’s” Excel spreadsheet for another hour. But he didn’t necessarily want to go home yet, either. 

He sighed and closed out of the spreadsheet anyway, saving it three times beforehand. (A habit he couldn’t seem to break.) He was going to pack his things, and go home, and eat a cardboard TV dinner in front of the television, and sleep alone. And hopefully begin. like it within the next month. He shoved what few things he brought into his bag haphazardly and pulled the fog around him before he quietly descended from Elias’ office to the ground floor. The fog filled his nose with a bland, watery stench, drowning out the comforting scent of dust and books.

Nobody should have been in the lobby. It was a quarter til ten, and every sensible member of the institute had gone home for the night. Even Peter was probably wherever he considered home for the time being, alone with all the lights off. But there Jon sims was, for the first time in six months, shakily unlocking the Institute doors. 

Martin couldn’t breathe. Jon’s eyes were bleary, and his entire body trembled as he stepped through the door. His dark skin was entirely too ashy, and if anything was clear about this situation, it was that Jon shouldn’t be here. He almost looked as if he were sleepwalking, movements airy and listless. He didn’t seem real.

Martin doubted he was, even as he silently followed Jon down to the archives. The Lonely’s fog hid him easily from Jon’s eyes, let Martin watch as Jon leaned too much on the handrails, how the metallic echoes of his steps were muffled and seemed to fade far too fast. 

Maybe Martin was seeing Jon’s ghost.

Jon lingered a moment at what used to be Martin’s desk. It was covered with a layer of dust- neither Melanie nor Basira had bothered to clean it, and he found he didn’t much care- but Jon’s fingers left gauges in the dust as he trailed his fingers over the dust. Jon paused a moment to look at the grey coating his fingertips before wiping them on his shirt- a white button-up with some fancy looking logo on it, something that seemed almost too stereotypically Jon for him to wear. It still had a price tag on it. The dust caught and left grey smears on the fresh fabric. Martin’s breath caught in his throat as he registered the details, Jon’s increasing physicality, like being in the archives returned something essentially Jon to the world. 

Martin ran his fingers over his old desk, crossing the marks Jon left. He couldn’t feel a mote of dust on Jon’s tracks. 

Jon’s eyes darted up, lighting up with a sudden and unexpectedly intense hunger. Martin almost staggered back at the intensity of it. He had always felt the weight of Jon’s gaze, but it was nothing like this, like being scoured. Martin felt terrifyingly vulnerable. Seen.

Jon’s eyes fixed on him. “Martin,” he breathed.

“Jon,” said Martin.

Jon lurched forward, and his legs gave out. Martin quickly stepped forward and caught him, the instinct to protect returning like it had never left. Jon’s skin had that ghastly pallor again, and his breathing came too heavy. Martin gingerly brushed Jon’s hair out of his face, only to find Jon staring at him like a ravenous dog.

“You overdid it, didn’t you?” Martin said. He tucked Jon’s hair- too long, too loose, too brittle- behind his ear. “You don’t always have to push yourself that hard, you know. You just woke up from... whatever that was.”

“Martin,” Jon said again, voice painfully raspy. “You- Peter Lukas-”

“Yeah.” He let go of Jon, whose legs still shook. Martin felt a pang of guilt, but he swallowed it down. “You can blink, you know. I’m not going to disappear.”

“I didn’t see you.” 

“I didn’t want you to.”

Jon opened his mouth, probably to protest in that endearing annoying has to be annoying way of his, but instead he doubled over as he was wracked with painful coughs. He lurched to the side, and Martin caught him by the shoulder before he could fall. 

When the coughs subsided, Martin let him go again. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m the archivist.”

“You still need to rest after being dead for six months, Jon!” Martin blinked at his own volume, and took a deep breath. “Come on, let’s get you some water. Then... I don’t know, you can sleep in the cot? Do you still own a flat?”

Jon blinked, frowned. “That’s... a good question.”

Martin sighed and started towards the stairs, turning away from Jon. He walked slow, and the only reason he knew Jon followed was from the quiet, even slower sound of his footsteps on the stairs. Martin held the door to the break room open for him, and Jon practically collapsed into one of the cheap wooden chairs.

It was quick work to fill a glass of cold water, and he held it out to Jon. Jon took the glass carefully with shaking fingers that brushed painfully warm over Martin’s. The glass trembled in his grasp, water sloshing over the edge as Jon weakly lifted it to his mouth. The water came out unevenly, and all it accomplished was sending Jon into another coughing fit. 

Martin was hit with another sickening pang of guilt, and took the glass from Jon, rubbing his back comfortingly as Jon coughed. When they subsided, he gave Jon a moment to catch his breath. Martin’s eyes drifted to Jon’s chest, watched as it rose and fell, like it hadn’t in six months. He had watched Jon’s chest completely still, Jon’s hand cold, cold as ice, no heartbeat at his wrist no blood flowing through his body. He could feel Jon watching him back, eyes tracing his face. He finally lifted his gaze. Jon’s hair had fallen into his face again. He couldn’t fight the urge to brush it back behind Jon’s ear again. He wanted to do more, to run his fingers through it, to tie to back, to feel it on the back of his hand as it rested on Jon’s back. 

He did do the last one, but he was careful to place his hand low enough so as to not feel Jon’s hair has he raised the glass to Jon’s lips. Jon didn’t choke this time, to Martin’s relief, and the glass was finished quickly. 

“Do you need help getting back down?” Martin asked softly, and Jon shook his head.

“No, I- I’ll be fine. Thank you, though, Martin.”

Martin swallowed and nodded. He turned to the door, but before he could grab the nob, he felt fingers close around his own. He turned to see Jon, staring at him, but not in the starving way from before- it was softer, this time, almost sad.

“Martin, can you... can you stay? Can you stay a couple more minutes?”

Martin’s throat was dry. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. 

“Yes,” he said. “Of course.”

Jon didn’t let go as Martin pulled out his own chair. Jon leaned his cheek into Martin’s palm, held it there. Martin could feel him shaking still. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, almost too quiet to hear over the white-noise buzzing of the mini fridge. “I’m sorry for leaving for so long.”

“Jon-”

Jon curled around Martin’s arm. “I’m sorry about Tim,” he breathed, voice strangely choked. “I’m sorry about- about Daisy- and... and, and... Sasha...” Jon’s shoulders shook, and now Martin was sure that his own hands were trembling. “I’m sorry for being so cruel to you, and for leaving you alone, for leaving you with the lonely...” His fingers tightened to a desperate vise. “I’m sorry for not coming back human,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Martin’s throat burned, a pit deep in his stomach, and before he could think it through, he tugged Jon to his chest, curled around him protectively, held him tight. Jon was so warm. He could feel his heartbeat.

Martin knew that to Jon, his skin probably felt unpleasantly cold.

“It’s alright, Jon,” He said softly into Jon’s hair. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Then he let go, gently pried Jon off him, and stepped out the door, pulling the Lonely around him.

It wouldn’t do to see Jon again.

He couldn’t.

But his heart burned with new fire, and plans began to rewrite themselves in his mind.

[thefeckisthis]

being single and open relationship

hellooo lovely people. hope you are all well, sane and well fed. lately i did not write quite often, been reading a lot and gaming. life is not particularly interesting so there is not much going on.

even tho these are different times people still talk, chat and i’ve seen many guys making statuses how girls are not posting selfies now all the beauty salons are closed, making fun of them. well there are not many of you fuck boys around anymore either eh, hard to make some effort when you can’t ‘’score’’ and disappear? or you’re stuck with your girlfriends so its harder?

leave the girls alone, live your own life and mind your own business. even tho the number of fuck boys has drastically dropped, there are still people who make some effort and talk to other people. i’m not saying this only happened to me in the past few months, people keep asking me this all the time.

so why am i single?

im not super young anymore, im in that age where most of my generation is already married and are having their first or even second kid. not me tho, thank you but i’ll pass.

guys usually ask ‘’how can girl like you be single?’’... may i ask you, what kind of girl is that? i know they usually refer to the thing that im beautiful or good looking (in their words not mine) and i keep wondering what does someones looks have to do with someone being single or in relationship? does that mean everyone who is in relationships is beautiful or if youre beautiful you have to be in a relationship? someone please enlighten me. thank you.

on the other hand, some people think i still love some certain people and haven’t moved on emotionally and things like that and that is so not true. i dont have any ‘leftover’ feelings for anyone and i dont like anyone romantically at the moment (and on daily basis i dont like people in general, thats another story tho haha). someone being single for long time doesnt mean they cant get over someone from their past. i kind of pride myself on getting over people quicker than most people, that doesnt mean i cant develop feelings. i can, im just way more careful with that. also, that doesnt mean i never truly liked them (havent loved anyone in a very long time hahaha) its just i dont tend to dwell on it for long. that person is not in my life anymore, why would i spend more time thinking about them when it wont affect my present?

i close that chapter in my life and just move on. not meaning for it to sound as a sob story or trying to make people feel pity for me, every time i have had started to develop some feelings for someone it backfired. made me develop trust issues and i openly admit it. and every time it backfires at me it makes it slightly worse and worse and leaves scars and honestly makes me regret ever developing any feelings. it all developed in like a defense mechanism making me want to do it again less and less.

as ive said, this is not a sob story and im not looking for people to feel sad about me. that is definitely not the only reason why im single but it is a part of it.

i chose to be single. i love being single. i have grown to love myself so much that i dont require to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled or to feel ‘’whole’’. if you find someone you fall in love with that person should not be your second half because you are one whole on your own, that other person should be a beautiful addition to your life, not someone to fill in the gaps. and if you break up you should still be able to feel complete and happy. dont think i am in celibate or i dont meet people when im single. the amount of people thinking if youre single youre not having sex is ridiculous. like seriously people, it 2020, you dont have to get into relationship just to have sex. to think that in this era of fuckboys, internet dating and all that crap... cmon like

explanation is not my strong side so im sorry if i dont fully explain something. relationships and feelings for me are... good and bad. i like them and i dont like them. to me the concept of traditional relationship is like a cage. i dont have freedom (at least not the way i want) that i want, and all the ‘’obligations’’ (cant remember the term that would better explain it). sure, when you like/love someone you usually talk all the time, tell them what you do, where you go, but as an introvert sometimes i just want to shut the whole world out and be left alone for more than a day if that is how i feel. by nature im curious and love to explore, whether it is myself or the world around me and the traditional relationship ‘’wouldn’t allow’ that, its looked down on. why do you want to try something new if you already, lets put it this way, have someone by your side?

but like yes, surely that person can fulfill me both physically and emotionally, what if someone can add to it in a different way, why would i deny myself of that pleasure?

open relationship is something would be something that would be more of my liking. do i believe it is possible to love one person fully and still want to try something with other person? definitely yes.  it would start probably as exclusive until the mutual trust and understanding is achieved then we can add to it. and yes, its adding to what we already have, not replacing, not changing, not cheating - adding. that absolutely doesnt mean that the main partner is not enough, its just expanding the current experience. i was in a serious relationship where i loved the person so much and i did mention the possibility of open relationship and it wasnt accepted well and no judgement, it is not for everyone, we all dont seek for same things.

humans are creatures with needs and i believe that satisfaction can come from different people in different ways and that doesnt diminish the value of primary partner. rather than always feeling caged and limited,‘’scared’’  and suppressing your needs, you get the freedom to explore, to broaden your horizons. open relationship is not same as cheating  as long as both partners are aware of the nature of the relationship and mutually agree on that, at the end of the day you always end up with them.

dont get me wrong, im not out there actively looking for relationship, im just living in the moment. those kind of things happen on their own and should not be forced, and now days anything that is not according to some standard norms is looked down on. as well, i am perfectly happy on my own, i chose to be single and im loving it. im the main person for myself, i love myself and i am thriving. absolutely enjoying my life.

i dont feel sad or lonely or of any less value than your average person just because im single, not at all. this also made me selfish in a way, i want all the experiences for myself and my enjoyment and i dont want to limit them to make someone else happy or secure.

there are of course more reasons than these mentioned, if youre curious please do leave a question, dont be afraid! :D (my priorities in life are usually not focused on finding a partner)

 if youre not happy on your own and with yourself, how are you happy in relationship? so dont go asking people why are they single and think they are sad because of it and feel sorry for them, people do not have same needs and wants in life like you do. at the end of the day, the person who you should be most mindful of is you, your thoughts and your life. make sure you are happy with yourself because that is the person you have to live with 24/7. and once you are happy with the person you are, then you wont have the need to ‘worry’ about the others,

[innaandtheunicorn]

why am i single?

hellooo lovely people. hope you are all well, sane and well fed. lately i did not write quite often, been reading a lot and gaming. life is not particularly interesting so there is not much going on.

even tho these are different times people still talk, chat and i’ve seen many guys making statuses how girls are not posting selfies now all the beauty salons are closed, making fun of them. well there are not many of you fuck boys around anymore either eh, hard to make some effort when you can’t ‘’score’’ and disappear? or you’re stuck with your girlfriends so its harder?

leave the girls alone, live your own life and mind your own business. even tho the number of fuck boys has drastically dropped, there are still people who make some effort and talk to other people. i’m not saying this only happened to me in the past few months, people keep asking me this all the time.

so why am i single?

im not super young anymore, im in that age where most of my generation is already married and are having their first or even second kid. not me tho, thank you but i’ll pass.

guys usually ask ‘’how can girl like you be single?’’... may i ask you, what kind of girl is that? i know they usually refer to the thing that im beautiful or good looking (in their words not mine) and i keep wondering what does someones looks have to do with someone being single or in relationship? does that mean everyone who is in relationships is beautiful or if youre beautiful you have to be in a relationship? someone please enlighten me. thank you.

on the other hand, some people think i still love some certain people and haven’t moved on emotionally and things like that and that is so not true. i dont have any ‘leftover’ feelings for anyone and i dont like anyone romantically at the moment (and on daily basis i dont like people in general, thats another story tho haha). someone being single for long time doesnt mean they cant get over someone from their past. i kind of pride myself on getting over people quicker than most people, that doesnt mean i cant develop feelings. i can, im just way more careful with that. also, that doesnt mean i never truly liked them (havent loved anyone in a very long time hahaha) its just i dont tend to dwell on it for long. that person is not in my life anymore, why would i spend more time thinking about them when it wont affect my present?

i close that chapter in my life and just move on. not meaning for it to sound as a sob story or trying to make people feel pity for me, every time i have had started to develop some feelings for someone it backfired. made me develop trust issues and i openly admit it. and every time it backfires at me it makes it slightly worse and worse and leaves scars and honestly makes me regret ever developing any feelings. it all developed in like a defense mechanism making me want to do it again less and less.

as ive said, this is not a sob story and im not looking for people to feel sad about me. that is definitely not the only reason why im single but it is a part of it.

i chose to be single. i love being single. i have grown to love myself so much that i dont require to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled or to feel ‘’whole’’. if you find someone you fall in love with that person should not be your second half because you are one whole on your own, that other person should be a beautiful addition to your life, not someone to fill in the gaps. and if you break up you should still be able to feel complete and happy. dont think i am in celibate or i dont meet people when im single. the amount of people thinking if youre single youre not having sex is ridiculous. like seriously people, it 2020, you dont have to get into relationship just to have sex. to think that in this era of fuckboys, internet dating and all that crap... cmon like

explanation is not my strong side so im sorry if i dont fully explain something. relationships and feelings for me are... good and bad. i like them and i dont like them. to me the concept of traditional relationship is like a cage. i dont have freedom (at least not the way i want) that i want, and all the ‘’obligations’’ (cant remember the term that would better explain it). sure, when you like/love someone you usually talk all the time, tell them what you do, where you go, but as an introvert sometimes i just want to shut the whole world out and be left alone for more than a day if that is how i feel. by nature im curious and love to explore, whether it is myself or the world around me and the traditional relationship ‘’wouldn’t allow’ that, its looked down on. why do you want to try something new if you already, lets put it this way, have someone by your side?

but like yes, surely that person can fulfill me both physically and emotionally, what if someone can add to it in a different way, why would i deny myself of that pleasure? 

open relationship is something would be something that would be more of my liking. do i believe it is possible to love one person fully and still want to try something with other person? definitely yes.  it would start probably as exclusive until the mutual trust and understanding is achieved then we can add to it. and yes, its adding to what we already have, not replacing, not changing, not cheating - adding. that absolutely doesnt mean that the main partner is not enough, its just expanding the current experience. i was in a serious relationship where i loved the person so much and i did mention the possibility of open relationship and it wasnt accepted well and no judgement, it is not for everyone, we all dont seek for same things.

humans are creatures with needs and i believe that satisfaction can come from different people in different ways and that doesnt diminish the value of primary partner. rather than always feeling caged and limited,‘’scared’’  and suppressing your needs, you get the freedom to explore, to broaden your horizons. open relationship is not same as cheating  as long as both partners are aware of the nature of the relationship and mutually agree on that, at the end of the day you always end up with them.

dont get me wrong, im not out there actively looking for relationship, im just living in the moment. those kind of things happen on their own and should not be forced, and now days anything that is not according to some standard norms is looked down on. as well, i am perfectly happy on my own, i chose to be single and im loving it. im the main person for myself, i love myself and i am thriving. absolutely enjoying my life.

i dont feel sad or lonely or of any less value than your average person just because im single, not at all. this also made me selfish in a way, i want all the experiences for myself and my enjoyment and i dont want to limit them to make someone else happy or secure. if youre not happy on your own and with yourself, how are you happy in relationship? so dont go asking people why are they single and think they are sad because of it and feel sorry for them, people do not have same needs and wants in life like you do. at the end of the day, the person who you should be most mindful of is you, your thoughts and your life. make sure you are happy with yourself because that is the person you have to live with 24/7. and once you are happy with the person you are, then you wont have the need to ‘worry’ about the others,

[charmingturkeysandwich]

I Could Use a Love Song - Ch 1: givin’ up on love, hey love’s given up on me

Summary: Emma Swan, small town orphan and up-and-coming country singer, is known for her voice, her penchant for leather, and her overall (earned) anger toward the world. She’s had a rough go of it – rough enough that every single song of hers is angry or sad – but on the road something (or someone) happens that might change her tune.

(Spoiler Alert: it’s Killian. Cue the gasps of shock.)

Also on AO3.

---

The upside to a truly shitty adolescence? Lyrical inspiration.

Emma Swan grew up a little bit all over the place, but primarily in a small town that was most definitely above the Mason-Dixon line and yet half its population spoke with some kind of southern-esque drawl. Confederate flags were common on Chevy trucks. Friday nights in the Fall were dedicated to high school football and absolutely nothing else. Their town’s only radio station was country, though it played seven different church services on Sunday mornings. To say that the whole town’s dynamic read like a cliché country song… it was more obvious than Emma’s bright red leather jacket in a crowd of cotton camo.

So no one was particularly surprised when the beautiful, damaged orphan with the voice of a (really pissed off) angel hit the road with a country band.

They might not have been surprised, but oh did they talk. After her falling out with the pastor’s son and her quick escape to Pittsburgh, she was every negative stereotype of famous in a small town you could conjure. Lily, the closest thing she’d had to a friend outside of Neal, son of Pastor Gold, would keep her updated on the rumors and the hearsay. Not that she wanted to know, necessarily. She’d rather imagine that her name had simply fallen out of the collective memory of that god forsaken town. But it hadn’t. Her story was on the tongues of every bar patron, Baptist, and boy scout leader north of I-80.

It wasn’t her story, though. Not really. The tales they told of Emma Swan always somehow ended up with her as the villain and not the fairy tale princess, the lost girl with no choice but to suffer at the hands of assholes.

Her parents had been shit. Drug addicts, apparently, and she’d been taken from them. She’d been passed through the foster system from ages 3-12, the best foster parents mostly ignoring her and the worst… well, she couldn’t afford the therapy to even attempt to go there.

She’d wound up with an OK but definitely half-crazy woman by the name of Sarah just before she turned 13 and that’s where she’d stayed, that hick town that just couldn’t get enough of her little sob story. That’s where she’d met Neal, the charismatic son of one of the town’s pastors. His dad had seemed nice enough, did a lot of community work and even owned several businesses, boasting of his commitment to boosting the local economy. For once she’d thought she’d found some people who didn’t suck who might make her life at least somewhat normal.

She, as usual, was wrong. Pastor Gold was… well, off. Way too angry for a dude preaching the New Testament each week. But at least he’d never hurt her. No, that privilege was reserved for Neal, who would beat her to a bloody pulp and then tell his daddy’s flock all about saving his sweet girl from a drug deal gone wrong (poor thing ended up like her parents despite the best efforts of the system, you see).

It was pathetic. And after she went to jail for having the gall to defend her own life from that sociopath, well, that was it. She dropped out of high school during the homecoming pep rally and hopped a bus to the city.

That had been years ago now, of course, but it was her origin story, as they say, and something very important to her on-stage personality. And her internal struggle.

Life had fucked her over and she was pissed. And so for five years after leaving that sleepy, secret-filled little town, all she ever really focused on was her anger. She’d write lyrics on truck stop napkins and sit in a half-stranger’s basement strumming chords on the guitar she’d stolen from the church rectory (she wasn’t sorry). She started out performing at open mic nights and then somehow found some of Her People, those who loved country music but maybe hadn’t grown up in a Dixie Chicks song (if only she could have Goodbye Earl’ed that son of a bitch high school boyfriend of hers before he ever laid a hand on someone new…).

(At least he ended up in prison. You know, eventually.)

(And, hey, her rage got her out there and selling records. But that was on her, not him. Nobody saves me but me, she always said. And she wasn’t about to thank a monster just because she survived slaying it.)

Tonight’s show was in a dive bar in upstate New York and Emma was so damn ready for it. She and Ruby had done a few shots of tequila before slipping on their tight jeans and leather jackets, and David had just finished setting up their brand new sound system that made them sound like they could actually be on CMT and not just playing from someone’s garage. David and Mary Margaret, they were like Johnny and June with their sweetness and Emma could hardly stomach it. But they were her friends, her actual honest-to-god, wouldn’t-rat-her-out-to-the-forest-service-for-underage-drinking friends and she loved them. She loved them and Ruby and even Graham in the only way she knew how: teasing insults, cases of beer, and not running away in the middle of the night even when she was feeling like her whole world could crash town with one wrong word from herself or anyone else.

(She really did need therapy beyond the catharsis of angry singing to half-drunk strangers. Someday, maybe.)

Friend love was a strange, but manageable thing. Well, mostly. But romantic love? Absolutely fucking not. After she left Neal and that town, after she drank away the pain and the frustration, well she thought maybe she’d give romance another try. Turned out the next guy was even worse, somehow, leaving her bruised and bloody when she turned down his marriage proposal at a fancy restaurant in Cleveland (yeah, those exist). The physical pain she had been used to, but the emotional… he called her every name she didn’t deserve and a few that she probably did, and when he finished her off with a few choice comments about the baby she’d lost after Neal threw her out a moving car, well she was done. For good. Never ever would she trust a man again. Preacher’s son or furniture salesman – they were all just… evil. She couldn’t ever again take that chance.

But tonight – tonight she wasn’t thinking about romance or even the past, not beyond the bits and pieces that had made their way into her songs. She was happy, buzzed, excited. Their little tour bus (well, van) family was rising in the ranks and soon she could move far away and get her own apartment overlooking the thriving streets of Nashville. Soon she would be so busy with interviews and music video shoots that she wouldn’t have a single second to spare a thought to those who had hurt her. Soon she would be so rich she wouldn’t ever feel lonely because she’d always have male company in the form of all her Benjamins she’d backstroke through like Scrooge McDuck.

The previous night Mary Margaret had tried to set Emma up with the singer of their opening act, a guy they called August who carried a typewriter instead of a guitar (who she’d definitely seen leaving with a drunk after she’d turned him down, by the way), so Emma had already had her monthly I Don’t Want Love chat with her hopeless romantic friend. Meaning today she was free and clear to just… enjoy this new life she’d spent years building on the bones of all the good girls she could have been.

She high-fived Ruby and David kissed her on the cheek as they took the stage, starting the guitar riff as Emma sauntered out to the opening words of the song. This was one of her crowd favorites, a good one to set the tone for what kind of show to expect, and she was melting into her confident, badass, devil-may-care persona easily by the time they hit the first chorus.

I’m goin’ home, gonna load my shotgun

Wait by the door and light a cigarette

He wants a fight, well now he’s got one

And he ain’t seen me crazy yet

A few people in the front row were singing along and her heart was bursting with pride that she was on this road, that she’d turned such a goddamn nightmare of a life into something positive and productive and while overall it still wasn’t healthy… she damn well was on the road to actually being someone. To finally shutting up the idiots back in Pennsyltucky who were convinced she wasn’t going to amount to anything but a statistic just like her parents (despite having never even tried any drug beyond alcohol and nicotine, the judgmental fucks).

One thing that entertained her beyond reason was listening to Mary Margaret sing backup vocals on the songs Emma wrote. Emma liked to call Mary’s on-stage persona Snow White Trash and Ruby insisted that be the name of the band’s first mainstream album when their big break finally came and Emma actually fucking laughed in the middle of performing her angry song that night because she couldn’t stop thinking about the mismatch.

So when the song was over she apologized to the crowd, told them how much she loved her band and her friends, even the hilariously innocent of them, and asked someone to pass her a beer so she could stop the chuckles from trickling out during the next song.

Next on their set list was one that had been co-written by Emma and Ruby, two girls from two very different small towns, who still had so much shared experience. It used to hurt her to sing it, the depressing nature of where she came from threatening to swallow her whole, until Graham came to her one night after the show, quieted her tearful sobs with a kiss and told her to just pretend it was a movie. She was just telling a story. It wasn’t her town or Ruby’s… it was nothing but fiction.

And that’s how she belted it all out totally devoid of those pesky feelings that made her wish she could just crawl under a rock rather than relive her trauma for the seventy third time this fucking year.

If you ain’t got two kids by 21, you’re probably gonna die alone

At least that’s what tradition told you

This song was a lesser known of theirs so they don’t have as many mouthing the words back, but the energy in the crowd is still so high, despite this song being a little more bummer than banger. So she scans the crowd, watches the faces of the drunk, the joyful, the brooding, and best of all, those who understand.

Off to the left, just at the edge of the stage, she saw probably the hottest man she’d ever seen in real life. Black leather jacket, artfully mussed hair, a smirk that could charm her pants right off if she let him.

It’s not that hot guys didn’t come to their shows. They definitely did. But they were usually more the Jake Owen or Luke Bryan type, the ones that look like they were ready to meet your mama by the third date. This guy, he didn’t seem the take-home-to-parents type (just the kind for her, having no parents and all).

But there was something else different about him. Standing just off stage, standing alone, glancing toward David every so often. He looked a bit too confident, comfortable, like he already had some kind of connection to her makeshift little family, and that set up some red flags.

She was not accepting applications for any new friends at the moment. Or maybe ever.

She’d been staring just a little and people tended to notice stuff like that so of course he eventually locked eyes with her, for just a fleeting moment, and there was something in that one glance that told her he knew what she was singing, how she felt, on a level that most others just… didn’t.

So naturally she broke the gaze and didn’t look back.

Jack and Jill went up the hill.

Jack burned out on booze and pills.

Mary had a little lamb.

Mary just don’t give a damn no more.

From there, Mary Margaret had taken over lead vocals, her cover of Strawberry Wine a nice balm to the mood-dampener that Merry-Go-Round always was. And every show without fail, she always took that transition to gloat about how she’s most definitely not the Mary from that song because she has David and loves him so much and Emma almost always makes the universal gesture for “gag me” to the crowd eliciting laughter and a few errant woo’s.

She didn’t tonight.

First taste of love, oh

Bittersweet

And green on the vine

Like strawberry wine

(sorry Deana Carter, but there wasn’t always some sweet.)

They closed the show with Kerosene, like they always did: high-energy, twangy, and true-to-form for their actual fans. The whole bar was on their feet, jumping and swaying and shouting and spilling their $4 beers on the guy beside them but no one really cared because they were sharing a moment, Emma and each of them, singing out their anger and sadness and ten years of life’s-not-fair.

Crazy how a three minute song could effectively patch the wounds of a whole life.

And, yeah, maybe it wasn’t really patching anything. Maybe it was just distraction. Maybe she was just as much a drug addict as her parents, but her drug was the stage and the music and the connection she shared with every other person in each and every bar who didn’t get the benefit of a first love like any kind of wine.

She sang her song from the diaphragm – broadway voice – but it was like it came all the way from her toes. It was always her anger that defined her, drove her, made her feel alive.

Why not lean into it?

I gave it everything I had

And everything I got was bad

Life ain’t hard but it’s too long

To live it like some country song

Trade the truth in for a lie

Cheating really ain’t a crime

I’m giving up on love, cause love’s given up on me

Songs sung, merch sold, and bar tab closed, Emma headed toward the crew’s van, ready to sleep off the liquor in the third row seats while the lovebirds took the hotel room above the bar and Ruby and Graham found someone’s bed to put their boots under for the night.

It was odd, feeling like the fifth wheel when truly there was only one couple in the band. But Ruby and Graham, they were so in sync with where they were in their life – jand it was just not what Emma was looking for – that she still ended up left out.

Which was fine. Everything was just fine.

Until her path to the van was obstructed by the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life, the smoldering-eyed, confident guy who’d nearly made her forget her own lyrics before she’d promptly remembered to forget him and any other person who might possibly hold the potential to make her heart skip.

(Hearts aren’t meant to skip. That’s not love; it’s a trip to the cardiologist.)

He was definitely about to annoy her, so shouldn’t he look properly… annoying? Not like a goddamn model. That was distracting her from her annoyance and inevitable hate. Because a girl like her? Every song lyric and leather jacket was a clear message: leave me the fuck alone.

He clearly wasn’t receiving the signal.

“Swan, I presume?” he finally spoke, her eyes certainly glaring daggers at him despite her tiredness and BAC.

“Uh, obviously? What do you want.” (It wasn’t a question.)

“To introduce myself, of course! Killian Jones, at your service.”

She stopped a few feet from him, one hand on her hip and the other reaching for the cigarettes in the back pocket of her jeans.

“I’m not interested in any services beyond handing me a lighter. Can you manage that one?”

He smirked at her and reached into his jacket, the click of the zippo lighter in his hand echoing off the brick alley the van was parked in. With a quick flick of his thumb there was a flame and he offered it to her, his eyes burning with something other than the reflection of the fire.

“Ah, yes, that’s something even a one-handed bloke like me can manage.” He clicked the lighter closed and deposited it back in his jacket, only to reveal his left arm – ending at the wrist – from where it had been tucked behind him.

Emma deflated a little, some compassion left inside her despite the unwanted nature of his approaching her. “OK, Captain Hook, what exactly do you want from me?”

(She had compassion, but also very little candor. For the record.)

“Ah, yes, I’ve never heard that one before,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and finally looking like he was receiving her please-go-away signals, but he still soldiered on. “I was meant to be here before the show started, but I had some trouble finding this hole-in-the-wall. I presume by your attitude that Dave didn’t warn you I was coming?”

“You presume correctly. Can you please get on with whatever garbage is happening here? I swear if they put you up to asking me out or something I’m going to kill them. Mary Margaret especially. Because we just talked about this and I know that it’s not your fault that they’re such meddlers but I swear I’m pretty much the same girl who sings on stage in real life and I absolutely want nothing to do with men. Or women, for that matter… I’m not a person who dates and if they thought..”

“Love, please stop. No, I’m not here to ask you out. Believe me, I know I’m not what you need. I mean, technically I am, but not in the romantic sense.”

He paused and waggled his eyebrows and Emma was too tired to roll her eyes so she just closed them, willing the moment to pass. “I’ve been hired to work for you. All of you. Roadie. Can’t play notes on a guitar anymore, but I can haul them in and out of these dumps you lot perform in.”

Ah. He was the guy David had suggested they hire but the group had then rejected the idea and apparently David decided to overrule them all because why would Prince Charming listen to a democratic band vote, anyway? (Ugh.)

“Can you maybe stop insulting the patrons that pay us since that same money is going to be what pays you?”

Drunk laugher and electronic music pulsed out of the back door of the bar they’d played in not long before. Almost closing time now. Emma needed to get out of the open before she had to break someone’s wrist for drunkenly groping her. Again.

“Ah, of course, love,” he replied, finally seeming to be at least somewhat chagrined. “Now if you could point me in the direction of our sleeping quarters, I’ll leave you to your business.”

“First of all, I am not your love. We’ve covered this already and I need you to keep up. Second, do you really think we make enough to have quarters? I’m not entirely sure how we’re going to both pay you and eat. So.”

“So, what exactly does that mean for you or I, Swan?” he emphasized her last name in an effort to prove he was capable of using titles other than ridiculous British terms of endearment.

“Well, Jones, that means that either you go shack up with David and the missus (10/10 would not recommend; Mary gets very horny while drunk and her voice carries), or you do like Graham or Ruby and find a local to make gross sex noises with. Or whatever they do. Don’t know, don’t ask, don’t care.”

“And you, princess?” His tone was a challenge. He wanted her to object to the sickly sweet nickname. And she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“I sleep in the van. And I do not cuddle.”

“Oh, it’s not cuddling I’m looking for,” he purred, waggling his stupid eyebrows again. (This time she did roll her eyes, annoyed enough to expend the limited energy she still possessed.)

“Then go find someone willing, buddy. Like I said.”

He shook his head and laughed, already turning back toward the van. “Damn. David said you were difficult, but I wasn’t expecting this. I’ll sleep wherever you don’t. Unless you snore?”

“No, I do not snore!”

“Great. Then we’ll get along just dandy.” He waited next to the van until Emma pulled out the fob to unlock it, sliding open the big door a second after the beep-beep to signal entry. “After you, not anyone’s love.”

“Thanks, Captain. I’ll be in the back. Touch me at your peril.”

They each crawled into the van and settled at opposite ends. Emma tossed Killian a blanket and Killian tossed Emma a pillow that had been lodged in the front seat and they both drifted off to the sounds of Garth Brooks on the Pandora radio Ruby had bought her to ward away the nightmares that inevitably accompanied the silence.

[alpxcamin]

In Your Arms

Requested?: This one’s for my lovely co-owner of this blog uwu

Words: 810

Group: Stray Kids

Member(s): Felix

A/N: My baby asked so I provided :’)) Also yes, I’m aware the ending is a little odd, but I didn’t know how to end it oof...

"Hey, I know it’s been a while since we talked, but I just want to say my last goodbye...and...I never stopped loving you.”

Felix giggles at the sound of your voice. He closes his eyes, snuggling closer into your arms, basking in the warmth. He couldn’t have been more content...well maybe a few kisses would make this moment even better.

The freckled boy decides to rest and he tries to lull himself to sleep at the sound of your soft voice in the background. He had missed you so much since he is only allowed to see you about one or two times a week. He thrives in every second he is allowed to spend with you. You are a very busy person so it often led Felix to feel lonely, and if he had to be completely honest, it drove him crazy that he isn’t able to meet you as often as he wanted.

He pulls your arms tighter around himself and he leans back further into your touch. The soft giggling that comes from behind him comforts him. You’re always there for him and he knows it.

“How’s your day been?” Felix asks, giving up on taking a nap.

He listens carefully, eyes still closed, as you quietly ramble on about your day. He listens to every word and analyzes them carefully. He frowns when you mention that bothersome coworker you had. He hates it when you’re sad or bothered. He just wants to hold you in his arms and comfort you. But, he loves being held by you even more.

“It’s okay, baby. Tomorrow will be better,” he sighs quietly, trying to give you some relief.

He gives your hand a light squeeze to let you know that he’s there for you. He asks you to continue talking to help him sleep. When you had asked about his day, he tells you that he hasn’t been able to sleep well recently and how much he had missed you while you were gone.

Just as Felix is about to drift off to sleep, your voice stops. You stop talking and Felix’s eyes snap open. The white walls he hates so much simply stare blankly at him. He tugs a bit, but your arms are still wrapped tightly around him. He manages to roll around, a kind of rage in his eyes.

He coldly glares at the old, tired-looking man, sitting just outside, watching him carefully. Felix scowls at him, but the man simply shrugs and stands up.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you that you could stop,” Felix growls, his deep voice shaking the room despite the volume being so low.

“Sorry, buddy. You know the rules. Time’s up,” the old man shrugs, picking up the small recorder and walking away.

Felix howls in desperation as soon as the door slams shut. He struggles against the restraints. He rolls and thrashes, but he just can’t escape. Hot, angry tears pour out of his eyes and all Felix can see if you.

There you are, laying on the floor. You are as beautiful as always, but there is red everywhere. Felix attempts to reach out to you, but he can’t move. He leans down to kiss your mouth, hoping to wake you up. Instead, he’s met with cold, dead lips.

Eventually, all the thrashing and screaming drains him out and Felix collapses on the floor, sobbing. He just wants you back.

—

The two men stand outside of Felix’s cell. The old man with the recorder shakes his head silently. The other man observes Felix’s tantrum through the other side of the one-sided mirror.

“Poor boy. After his girlfriend passed, he completely lost his sanity,” the man sighs.

“Yeah, we should’ve never brought in those papers and showed him the news,” the old man stores the recorder back into his pocket, “He’s gotten so much worse since then.”

“But he would ask where y/n went,” the other man looks away just as Felix drops, “I think we made the right choice to let him know.”

“Poor kid has been in there too long.” Both men nod in agreement.

“Hey, play that last clip. I hope it calms him down,” the man suggested.

“I love you, Felix. I hope you get better soon! I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again~”

The two men walk out, making sure to lock the doors. Felix screeches at the sound of your soothing voice coming through the speakers. You promised to visit him in the asylum any time you could (despite having broken up with him for his sake), but you broke your promise. He didn’t blame you for that though, because you were dead. Oh, how he wishes he can join you.

~Admin Liz ♡