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hellothere-generalangsty · 4 years ago

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I HAD A BRAIN WAVE MOMENT

DO YOU REMEMBER WAYYYY BACK WHEN EVERYONE HATED ASOKA? DAVE DID THAT ON PURPOSE SO HE WAS IN CONTROL OF WHAT PEOPLE HATED ABOUT HER. OK NOW THIS MIGHT BE A LONGSHOT THAT HOPEFULLY DOESN’T END UP LIKE LONGSHOT THE CLONE, BUT, IM HOPING THATS WHATS DAVE IS DOING WITH TBB. BEING IN CONTROL OF WHAT THE FANDOM HATES ABOUT IT AND THEN IMPROVING IT SLOWLY BIT BY BIT.

PLEASE IM DESPERATE FOR A EXPLANATION!

(also where’s my explanation about why the clones are white washed, dave? hmm? where is it dave?)

OMG LOOK.

It wouldnt excuse the whitewashing or the weak scenario, because he got us used to some good stuff now (tcw s7, Mandalorian, that kind of things)

But it would make sense - to a certain extent - to work that season as a "cliché team in a cliché scenario" and see how people react to be able for a second season (if there's a second season) to improve it

Disclaimer: I'm a white, abled person so I'm not trying to speak on behalf of poc/disabled people, but I think it's important to support them and listen to the critics they make about SW and it's content

Also this is quite long I got carried away but worth it it is!

I linked some of @rebekadjarin 's post here because I read a bit through her blog today and agreed with her posts; and I invite you to check out the "#whitewhashed tbb" if you want more extanded and developed information about that matter! (As my knowledge on the matter is still quite limited/ incomplete due to my privileges, and this post is more of a summary than a real analysis)

So here, we know that the fans are unhappy about:

- the whitewashing of the Bad Batch (especially since they proved they could animate dark skinned people/ more generally poc with the first seasons of tcw, Kanan in Rebels and the Separatist in the latest TBB episode)

It is a real problem and it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Even if they are different, the Batchers are still clones and it's really not that hard to show their enhancement while keeping Temuera's features and skin colour (I mean, look at all the artists who did and do it everyday on this app; no excuse here)

Star Wars has wasted a lot of potential on numerous occasions because they keep doing stuff like this; and it's quite ironic (and very sad) to see that racism, ableism and stereotypes are prevalent in a universe where people fight for equality and peace...

Here and here are two posts about it (if you're the author of these posts and want me to delete them from my post please tell me so; I took the liberty of adding them because I think they highlight quite well the issue and do a clear job at showing the whitewashing in SW/ around the clones)

- the way Crosshair is treated; both by the Batchers and the writers, he's manipulated by the chip yet no one is talking about rescuing him and we see nothing about the effect of his absence on the Batchers (they don't mention him, don't try to save him, and Hunter is more distraught by Omega's absence than by his own brother's)

And don't get me wrong, Omega is a kid and she's nice, of course they have to take care of her and protect her

But they also don't know her purpose; why is she here? She could be a bad omen (maybe she doesn't even know it! The Kaminoans probably didn't tell anyone about her real purpose and I stand by the idea that the infos they got about her are all wrong and purposefully misleading) and I have the dark feeling that she will be the end/ death of the Batchers by the end of the serie, even if she didn't wanted it that way

But Crosshair is never mentionned, except for when he's needed in the scenario. Which is a shame, because he's a Batcher too even if he's mind-controlled and (for now) working for the Empire. He's supposed to be a main character, and he's a key element to the plot; yet out of 10 episodes we saw him in only 3, and only the moments where he was acting bad (i'm excluding the lonely moment at the end of ep2 because it had a lot of potential about him fighting the chip but that was all we had and i'm still bitter about it lol)

Here is a post about it

- speaking of plot; I feel like it's always the same disk playing since episode 2-3: They have a mission given by Cid, they do it, things go wrong, Omega saves the day and they get the money.

Crosshair is doing bad guy stuff so no need to tall about him (haha right?)

Now. I'm a good public. I know when to activate the Dummie™ in me and enjoy a show about a found family doing crazy jobs for a criminal and raising a newly adopted daughter at the same time. It's fun, it's sweet, sometimes it get emotional and the animation is beautiful (the lights are amazing I am always in awe)

I can enjoy it and be in awe and see Echo sniffing food and Tech smiles and Wrecker playing with Omega and feel happy about it.

But I also expected more. I hadn't any clear idea because I didn't wanted to set expectations (how ironic) but I can't help but feel sad about the wasted potential around Empire! Crosshair and the rise of said Empire.

If you want to antagonize one of the main character, do it, but do it fully and do it well. Show us Crosshair getting really invested in a plan to catch the Batchers and suddenly making a scene for a tiny detail that could blow it up; show us Crosshair and Hunter fighting each other hand to hand after they disarmed each other, and Crosshair getting the upoer hand until something holds him back; just enough for Hunter to take control again

Show us a complex character who suffers but doesn't fully realise it, and show us brothers mourning yet hoping to get the family back again you know?

- the way Echo is treated by the Batchers. And as much as it saddens me, they do him dirty in the show.

Echo is a war veteran, an ex- prisoner and a disabled character. He went through a lot; first he lost the Domino squad, then he lost brothers on Kamino (including 99 who was close to his squad), then the Citadel happened and he lost both his legs, an arm, his freedom, his brothers and probably any hope to be saved.

Then they found him in that freezer, and he probably realised that, if Fives wasn't here to save him, it meant he lost him too.

Then he left Rex to go with a team of 4 because he probably didn't feel like he belonged with "regs" anymore; he chose strangers over brothers because he thought he couldn't find his place there. Which in itself is sad and problematic.

And now he's with the Batchers, and they don't seem to grasp the importance of his trauma. I mean; they always had the 4 of them and never lost a brother (apart from Cross; which is another wasted potential here because they could have exploited that trauma and made a parallel with Echo being so used to losing brothers and them experiencing it for the first time on such a personal level you know) and they do some crappy stuff to him.

Selling him as a droid? Not cool.

Brushing off his trauma for a mission and some credits? Not. Cool.

And Echo can't say anything because he chose them, and now he has nowhere to go anyway because Order 66 happened; and he probably doesn't want to be a burden to Rex, and he probably doesn't want to abandon his brothers especially now that Cross is gone and they have a child to take care of

But yeah there are a lot of things happening - or NOT happening - around Echo and his trauma and his disability that are wrong and people are right to talk about it

Here is a post I read and I agree with it

- Overall, the way the show and the characters are handled; they often feel very stereotyped/ cliché and the basic plot doesn't really help for character development or improvement

I read a post about it and it was really interesting; they linked the whitewashing of the characters with their abilities/enhencement

Tech and Crosshair are the smartest and the whitest in the group (which is bad)

Wrecker is portrayed as the Bid Dummie™ and he's the one with the "darker" skin and the features closest to Temuera/ Maōri features (also very bad)

Hunter is straight up a Rambo with a face tattoo, and Echo - and you guys know I love him - is whiter than a sheet of paper (all so bad)

Not only this, but there is no improvement in their personality or thinking

They don't seem to evolve, and just like their mission, they end up playing the same song over and over again

Hunter is the broody soldier and though people enjoy talking to him as a Dad (count me in) but he's not a good dad for Omega (he calls her soldier and is always acting awkward and uncomfortable around her)

Wrecker could be a better dad for her; but again they display him as a big dummie and give the impression he couldn't take well care of her

Tech is here to be the smart one, we only see him when they need someone to do the smart speaking and the complicated computer things

Echo is the grumpy reg, the "more droid than man" and sometimes the Mom™ but they never show him talking about the Empire or the trauma or how the I am not Freaking Out™ I did came back for this Shit™ he's just here to... Be here and be grumpy and bring the oldest clone wars fans to watch TBB

And Crosshair is almost non-existent.

Here is another post about it

What could it be then?

So either Dave is pulling a Ahsoka on us; but he'll still have a lot of things to correct and explanations to give because I can excuse a bad plot but I draw the line at blatant racism ans ableism (especially when they KNOW the fans and they KNOW what people want and they KNOW it would probably bring more people to enjoy and get invested in the show)

- If he's doing this, he will probably work with the animator to correct the whitewashing (because it really is the only really wrong thing in the animation, the rest of it is quite good to be honest like the light, framing and all)

- Understand that Tbb and Mandalorian are two different shows and cannot be treated the sale way; so he'll get back to the main plot and hopefully work on Crosshair's arc and hos his absence/ him being controlled by the chip affects him/ the Batchers/ their relation

- He'll probably work more on displaying the effect of their trauma; collective and personal, and see how it reflects on their relations (and give Echo the healing he deserves)

- By extension, give the characters more depth and complexity, dig their stereotypical surface and reveal their true nature (show me a ruthless yet easily overwhelmed Hunter; a smart but constantly anxious Tech, a very emotional Wrecker playing the big explosive dummie to protect himself, etc.)

Well, that's what I would do

Or he's just... Doing this and not planning any changes; in which case I'll probably do what I did with SPN s15: stop watching, scroll through tumblr to get some infos and gifs and tell everyone about how dirty they did the characters, and they did us.

But I really hope he's hearing us and taking our remarks into account; the show in itself had a lot of potential and I'm still hanging on the thin hope that the ending could "save it"; but I also have no expectations and am in fact waiting for a disappointing ending

On a brighter note, I'm glad the fandom exists because I see artists and writers and gif-makers and theorists and all kind of people creating and sharing their own content, headcanons, art, writing and they all feel right and better than the canon

Like yes, give me a in-character dark skinned clone who deals with his trauma and the sudden changes around him in a realistic way

Tell me about the real effects of the war on soldiers, and the truth behind the corrupted government taking over the galaxy, and the efforts everyone has to make to survive, exist and live together

If Dave and his team cannot do it, I know you guys can and that's why I'm glad to be here too; you give me hope when they fail to do so 💙

I hope I like... Answered this correctly? 😂 I got carried away but yeah, though I'm usually not vocal about it and try to enjoy it with my Dummie Energy™ I still see and read about what you all think, and usually I agree with you; the show deserved better and we deserved better

Now back to ignoring the canon and writing a fic about my very much alive and beloved Fives 🥰

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #mesa shitposts #mesa answers #namesmox 💗#thank you for your ask!#it's a long rent #but I'm glad I did it #if you feel like I said something incorrect please do tell me #I am still learning #and I want to educate myself about these matters because it's important #echo #crosshair #tech #hunter #wrecker #omega #personal opinion

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thisdreamplace · 4 years ago

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I had a nasty fight with my former bff. This was long ago. She did the whole 'boycotting me' thing at school and afterwards had a mutual friend pass her msg to me, saying "tell her [me] to get it into her skull that she's not the center of the world, who does she think she is? Stop acting like a #" Im simplifying the words, her actual words were nastier

I got thinking today abt this fight, and her comment abt me that is still way too fresh in my mind even tho I hadn't recalled it in 2-3 yrs!, and I actually decided to use the law to revise my friendship to feel better as what happened after the fight was shameful on my part. But before I knew it, I started rmmbring my relationship with her. How I became a total victim. Got so stuck on her validation, begged her to be friends with me (after I got the degrading msg. 🤕 silly me w/o a backbone lol) and stayed her 'bestie' for way too long. Only after it's all over im noticing smth messed up abt out 'feiendship'. It wasnf that normal I think. She would get so pissed if I did anything that went against her thoughts/beliefs/way (which is why she called me a selfish # that major fight). It was so subtle the way she showed her disapproval. To her, if I did anything not aligned with her, or even makih decisions on my own which didn't involve her, it was wrong. And had consequences like her beinf distant for days etc, or getting angry if I didn't mind read her bla bla, I just had to keep her at the top 24/7 and she expected everyone else to do the same... which I thought was normal... It wasnt. And what would be even more crazy is she never realized how that meant she always wanted the attention. That she always wanted it her way! It just makes me feel... Sad.... When I look back. How couldn't I have notived it before? I used to be strong headed, opinionated before I became 'besties' with her.. That all has changed. I wonder why -_-

It may be dumb on my part but with the weak mind and insecurity I had then, I took that fight/her reaction to the heart and internalisef this stupidiy (DENY MYSELF if the other alternative was denying HER. I didn't think it was wrong. For the oldme, it really wasn't wrong smh). Aaah I'm so sorry old me :(

This fight started bcoz she asked me for smth and I refused, instead of relenting like I always would, and I see now that her reaction (to me not being an obedient # to her ig?🤢) was basically her setting rules. It was wrong of me to refuse, yes, but why did she react that way? Why did this pattern continue? That everyone was selfish if they didn't think of her ;_; like how do u deal with this? And the icing is when I too started to defend her and make excuses for her all the time. And ik I'm making her out to be so strong, don't worry... I accept the strong only rule when the weak submit. And I was weak as hell, so its understandable this whole thing. I think 😅

Idk. I seen your posts abt eyipo with other anons so i hope u can tell me figure out what this was. Its clear to me she was projecting smth about me, and mb throughout our whole friendship she was projecting me. And I would think it was her hurting me, that she was right and I was wrong or maybe I did smth wrong. Mb I thought I deserved being punished that way?!

Today I suddenly had an aha moment and I realised... this is how a victim thinks. I didn't know I was a victim when I was living that stoey aka thought I was powerless. When in fact I really wasn't?! Haha still accepting I 555% created ALL that. The law can knock you out haha

Enough old story I just want to ask, what du u think the msg she sent to me was? Did I really deserve such a reaction (did I mention she included other girls in the boycot? 🤢) just for standing up for myself? What about the whole 'fight' aka showcase of power? And the entire yrs of being friends why did I never realize I was only hurting myself so much by putting her before me? And also, with the everyone pushed out thing, how did it fit in? Like why the hell did I give her too much power in validating me by giving in after the fight in the first place?, and while I did have some fun times (saying this so anyone else who reads this doesn't think it was pure torture lol. We had some common interests tyat no one else in the class shared when we first became 'friends'), deep down I was so unhappy so why didn't this reflect on her? I mean why didn't she ever sense just how much she'd hurt me, why didn't she see how much I put on the back burner coz of her?! Was it as she saw it as her right? I'm just so confused

This is still a bitter pill to swallow tbh but I have to face this in order to move on. This person and my life with her has left me wit many scars and I got to understand how I did this so I never attract such a person in my life again. Its not even abt bejnf a victim. As I said, these victimy things were subtle and I only noted them when it was too late and I was a shell, like she getting super pissed and disapproving if I had a differing opinion and me blowijg it out of proportion and tailoring my views or not expressing them so as to not feel the disapproval...thanks boycott conditioning ig? 😭 Aaaah even talking agaunst her rn is making me uncomfortable. Which makes me think I still am scared of her subconsciously even tho she's no longer in my life. Like, what in me made me choose her? I haven't healed, obviously by this ask as u can tell, but idk what is it in my self concept that had this whole thing in my past even happen

My friend, I also want to say I think you're a beautiful soul 🥺. And im sorry for the long ask lol. And I pray you'll always have all your desires. And plz, was it hard for u at first when u learned about u creating everything? The good, the bad, and the repulsive (like this story)? How did u get over old stories? Ty ty ty 😭

To begin with you're being really harsh on yourself. Like, I know it's hard, but it's never that serious. And trust me, this is something I have to remind myself of regularly. Because there have definitely been moments in life where I look back on myself in that moment, and I feel like I was pathetic and would slap myself if I could. But the truth is, there's just no need for any of that. We always did the best we could. We always did, period. We couldn't have done anything differently and this will continue to be true our entire lives. Looking back on the past with such overwhelming feelings, is really not needed. I get looking back to learn from it, but practice coming from a place of love and acceptance instead. It will help you grow, rather than get stuck back in this cycle of self-hate and confusion. Plus, you actually never need to analyze the past to grow but that's beyond the point right now.

To me, by reading your ask, the message she sent to you was clear. You feel you deserve less in life, you feel you're not good enough, you feel like a victim to life and others, you feel like you're not empowered or the operant power of your reality. It's not about her being wrong and you being right, and I get this is one of the hardest pills to swallow. Everyone is you pushed out. Therefore, there's simply no such thing as who is right and who is wrong anymore. It was only ever you.

When it comes to everyone is you pushed out, you have to understand this person isn't this way because that's who they are. They were that way because that's who you were. Inside of you, you brought their character to life. Therefore, the same way you are not stuck to such an undesirable self concept, neither is that person. It's not that you chose her and attracted her in. You were just dealing with yourself. That's what I hope you walk away from this response understanding. Because by thinking she was outside of you, you're missing the mark. And this is such an important concept to understand when it comes to the law of assumption, because it's really at the forefront of everything. People play such a huge role in our lives, whether it's relationships, jobs, opportunities, etc etc. So understanding how everyone is you pushed out actually works is extremely important.

So instead of putting all this blame on her or even putting the blame on yourself, all these memories really do is give you a glimpse into who you were at the time. It shows you the beliefs you held about yourself. It shows you what your self concept was. That's all it's doing. So in that way, there's actually no one to blame at all. I know it feels good to put blame, even when it's on yourself, but the truth is there's no room for blame when you learn about the law. You simply take responsibility and become empowered by the power you have held this entire time. And you practice making it work in your favor.

If you want to see how something was apart of your self concept, all you have to do is pay attention to what you are thinking/feeling. Shame, not being good enough, etc etc is all just stories you once held onto. Now you don't have to hold onto those stories anymore. Now that you know the power you hold, you get to make a new decision for yourself. Rather than ruminating of the painful past, allow it to be and know how that's not your story anymore.

Was it difficult for me to accept how I created everything? Yes and no. It's been a journey. While I could accept it logically, emotionally it was still very painful. Many times I wanted to cry and lash out when I felt alone and felt upset that no one was there for me. Although, I knew deep down it appeared that way because of my own concept of self. So yeah, it's been a journey. And it's honestly not always delightful. But this is the journey we have to take for the rest of our lives, so we might as well get used to practicing and applying these concepts. Instead of continuing to hold ourselves in such painful lights. I got through old stories, and I continue to get through old stories, by feeling all the pain that came up. By allowing myself to cry and feel however I felt like during those times. And in the back of my mind I knew I was getting stronger in my power. I knew how I would keep persisting once the pain subsided. And little by little, old stories fade more and more. That persistence to continue choosing better for yourself, is truly more powerful than it may seem in a difficult moment. Have trust in how it's all working out for you regardless.

Hopefully this is helpful! Thank you for your kind words. 💖

#eiypo

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elliethesuperfruitlover · 4 years ago

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tw/venting

so everything’s bothering me again. one, school, to be expected, i hate school. literally would rather just not do it whatsoever. the thought of having to go through 8 more fucking months of near pointless information makes me want to go into hypersleep, and come back when i can leave and get a job and not have to do school anymore. i dont even need pre-cal?? I plan to do what I want with my future, and thrive in a business that I created, or enjoy working for, not slaving away to the machine that is capitalism. i dont want to be a doctor, or a CEO, or anything like that. i just want to be happy, at whatever job I’m at.

and im not getting “dragged” per se, into fandom shit, but it really just stresses me out seeing people leaving, or being unhappy. and still not being able to get all of my feelings across the way. hurting someone’s feelings is the last thing i want to do, but withholding how i feel about certain things hurts me a lot in the long run. I was doing just fine, but it seems like I keep getting hit with blow after blow. it makes me not trust people who i feel like i should. and i hate that. and i try my best to be respectful, and be nice, but I just feel like i’m being looked down upon.

georgia is the state with the highest COVID rates, or one of the states. my city was on national fucking news, CNN, to talk about how fucked we are. the only two times i’ve seen my city on the fucking news were both times talking about COVID, and high rates of deaths. and low vaccination rates. i dont get it. i really dont. it’s not that hard to go and get a fucking shot that’s free to save not only your life, but your neighbor’s life, and everyone else’s. and people are taking fucking horse medicine to get away from taking the fucking vaccine. it’s FREE for a reason. people are just so fucking stupid sometimes. what does it take to save your fellow fucking neighbor? or hell, since us americans are so fucking selfish, YOURSELF??? i dont get it.

and my dad also fucking pissed me off too. he’s fully vaccinated. so he decided to go out of state to go see a football game with a group of friends, who run a social club. they go to every football game the local team goes to, but im really upset. do they have no respect for the worldwide PANDEMIC at hand? there’s people dying day in and day out, and that’s what they do in response? go away and cheer on a team, and completely disregard everything else. i just cant anymore. why would he do that? put himself and his family in danger? i hate that. i cant do that. i refuse to. i cant willingly put myself at risk of literal death. and he masks up, and socially distances, but i just cant see why he would do that. or why the team would do that. people are dying, and you’re out here just?? going out.

i feel this weird sense haunt me when i think about people going out and getting back to their lives. i mean sure, go out and have fun, but there’s still so much going on right now. i really just cant see how they do that. and schools reopening and all that. my county does school on a case by case basis. like i mentioned earlier, georgia has the HIGHEST rate of COVID, literally every single county has high rates. and kids are still in school? people are still traveling? not wearing masks. i fucking hate it here. yes, go have fun, but people are DYING? i dont get it. sure, you’re doing it safely, but i just dont know. maybe i’m bitter because i literally have close to no people to go out and see because all of my IRL friends go to in-person school, and i just dont feel comfortable being around them with such high death rates and such.

also i got some like...really potentially bad news from a close friend that i cant even talk about so thats great.

im like really touch-starved, and im sure that im losing it at this point. which is everybody, i guess? i just feel really shitty close to all the time, not being able to go and see people, or do fun stuff.

nobody talks about a lot of the bad stuff in being a teenager, because it’s all glamourized. im not sure if it’s normal or not, because nobody fucking talks about it, but ive got bad anxiety, paranoia, intrusive thoughts, suicidal ideation, the whole fucking nine yards. but it’s all partying and “teens need to stop doing this and that” and i know that social media is a lie, i get that. but outside of that, nobody talks about how fucked up some things really are. or maybe it’s just because it’s not normal whatsoever to feel this bad, and have this many bad thoughts, and all that. im convinced that all this anxiety isnt normal (i mean, i do have an anxiety disorder, but y’know) the intrusive thoughts, all that. i really just dont think enough people talk about mental health, still, after so much has been done and talked. especially not teens, and definitely not teens of color. it makes me feel even more alone in the struggle to find out what’s normal and what isnt.

society doesn’t give a shit about teenagers, this much i know. i never see people talking good about us. it’s always “there’s a new tiktok trend about kids doing xyz” and “teens need to stop being in blank fandom space”. and it hurts my feelings because i feel like there’s a lot of good kids out there. but people are obsessed with painting us as bad people, and monsters, and it makes me feel like there’s no potential anywhere. for any type of change. because nobody thinks that we can do anything but fuck everything up colossally. so those are my thoughts on that.

i wish i had something good to say, but i really don’t. i want to punch a wall and scream at the top of my lungs that i literally hate everything about everything, even if it isnt true. i feel trapped. that i cant say everything i feel to the people who matter most. and it’s not my fault, i know it isnt. but thats not stopping me from being in this tiny bubble.

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chocolate-parfait · 5 years ago

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IM SORRY IN ADVANCE!!! It makes me feel horrible but like... 💀 for Mozart and Isaac... lowkey want Dazai but I think I’d rather die than to see his despair lmao. I hope hope youre well and take your vitamins~~

I'm (kinda) back for now!! Here ya go and sorry for the wait~

(TW; death and mentions of suicide)

☠️ How do they react when they find out their s/o is dead?

Mozart

Natural death:

The void caused by your departure is always there, lingering in his troath like the bitter aftertaste of a terrible medicine. Sometimes this tight and oppressing feeling squeezes his heart as if a sharp string constricting his whole being

The more you love someone, the more you find it difficult to move on one once they're gone. The same way, at least one part of Mozart's mind is always focused on the memory of you, your smile, your scent, the feeling of your touch. When his thoughts start overwhelming him as he's playing the piano, he suddenly changes tempo and transforms whatever he's playing into something more akin to a violent storm. Then, when he's finally relaxed a bit, the tune becomes what one would describe as a soft, light rain with a tinge of sadness underneath

Whenever he's not cooped up in the music room playing, he can be found wandering the empty halls of the mansion like a lost soul in purgatory. He's tired and his limbs feel heavy, and during the first months of his mourning he doesn't even have the force to throw his usual hard stares and harsh words at the other residents. After some time, despite his constant longing to see you, his mood improves ever so slightly, but he knows he probably won't be getting back to his tiptop shape anytime soon, not that he actually wants to. To feel happy without you by his side is almost a blasphemy to him, and this time he's not going to change his mind

Sudden death:

He will never be able to forgive himself for not protecting you. From the outside he's as pale and dull as the ashes left after a fire dies out, but underneath it all, there's a flame hotter than any star in the endless space, a raging storm of anger fueled by sorrow and utter desperation. Though he may not be as expressive, his music speaks volumes. His piano is now the only thing he focuses on, and anyone who passes by the music room can understand how well it must mirror the state of his soul. It becomes painfully clear how deeply affected he is even to Mozart himself when he nearly destroys some piano keys from hitting them with too much force. He doesn't really care, he just wants you to come back, but knowing how unlikely that is, he can do nothing but deal with his emotions in the only way he knows, through music

Once his overwhelming rage subsides, he's left with nothing but a dull ache that spreads from his heart and tightens in the coldest of embraces, the exact opposite of your warm and loving one

Ever since when you're no longer with him, no one has ever heard a happy tune coming from his piano ever again

Isaac

Natural death:

You're the first person who truly loved him, embraced him and supported him unconditionally, and after you decided to spend your entire lifetime with him, saying he feels grateful is an understatement. Of course there won't be a moment in which he won't be thinking of you nor missing you, but after the gloom and a talk with the other residents, he feels confident enough to try and face life again

This does not mean that the process is an easy one, and it takes him quite some time to get used to a life without you. He's so used to holding your hand and talking to you that sometimes he wakes up with the illusion that you'll be there to greet him. When he realizes that you're no longer there, his heart almost stops beating as tears start forming in his eyes

Sudden death:

He cannot forgive himself. Your death causes him to revert to his original hermetic state. His confidence is crushed, his heart hollow and his mind numb. He had always known he wasn't man enough to protect you, and now for his stupid mistake you had lost your life. If you hadn't met him you'd probably be somewhere happily smiling as you enjoy your life to the fullest. Though he feels guilty for doubting your love, his brain acknowledges that it's the very reason why you had to suffer so much

After uselessly pleading Comte to find a way to bring you back to life, he finally surrenders to the utter desperation that angrily whirled between the the walls of his heart. He starts neglecting his research, his job at the university, his own needs and hunger. More often than not he cries himself to a sleep haunted with nightmares and feverish visions of you. With you, a big part of him died, too, and there's no angel nor devil that can make him feel alive him anymore

Dazai

Natural death:

He had always known this day would've come, and surprisingly enough he's way calmer than what he thought he'd be. Maybe his brain hadn't yet fully realized what happened, but mostly it's because you had spent your whole life loving and protecting him from his dark and unhappy thoughts and tendencies, so now he couldn't bring himself to let your efforts be in vain.

Your positive energy has rubbed off on him, but though tries his best to smile it off, there's still a hint of desolation in his golden orbs. He's going to feel extremely lonely without you there, but he wants to try and keep up a front by focusing on the immense gratitude and love left in his heart for you. If he spent the rest of his days slumped over his tear stained pillow you'd probably feel really sad too, right? That's what he wants to believe and it pushes him to at least try pretending he's fine

Sudden death:

How could he be so blind and foolish to crave something so atrociously horrible during his life? Was this the salvation he had so much believed in? Dazai's heart fills with contempt towards life and destiny. All those times you told him life wasn't something that exists for the sake of atonement, he had believed you like a child would with their mother, but the truth was another

You, who didn't have any faults nor commit any sin, why was it you who had to pay the price for something you were not culpable of? But in his heart he knows the answer. The only mistake your pure soul could be accused of was loving him. He, who could not protect you. He, who had wasted an entire life running to reach the end as fast as possible, believing that all his wrongdoings would have been forgiven if he did so

But now what use does he have of all those worthless conjectures? Now that you are no longer there, now that he's left alone in his suffering, now he could perhaps embrace the cold end without the egotistical wish to be forgiven, but to meet you again instead

#my writing #answered #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp dazai #wolfgang amadeus mozart #isaac newton #osamu dazai

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blueeyedizaster · 3 years ago

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Oh Christmas tree! I spend the early mart of November being so excited that Christmas is coming! I’m a child trapped in this adult body! Now it’s like okay when can I take all the decorations down now that it’s over! Although I’m a believer in bad luck since I’m the one who either has the bad luck or none at all so I keep the tree up until New Years Day. 😏Anyhoo, When i was a kid, life was so simple. Fun. Not complicated in the least, although as that child I thought the world was coming to an end. Christmas was a huge thing and my parents went all out! The decorations, the food, the gathering of family and friends. We would eat ourselves to death and play a card game called 99. Oh the memories , how I wish I could go back! It all started to change when my step dad ( who was my dad because that man raised me as his own and we were inseparable) left my mom after 16 years of marriage. My mom who was already becoming bitter became more like stone. Sense of humor out the door, always walking around so serious, unhappy, snobby, and always that resting bitch face! A couple of years later she again married. I said to my mom, “This go around don’t expect me to call this one dad”! He’s a really nice guy but sucked out all what fun my mom had left inside of her. Then my grandmother died and boy she was the main glue! Nothing has been the same! I have tried so hard to keep tradition from my childhood. The games, the food, the togethernesses and being to my grandchildren the fun I had when I was a kid. Ya know , simple down right out family fun! It doesn’t work! My mom and her hubby just sit around and ignore the fact I’ve asked a thousand times if we should play a game and NOTHING but crickets. No other adult in this family wants to play games, laugh, or play that gambling game 99! Sh$t , they could win a dollar from each player but nope! Getting high, taking naps, being a humbug while their faces are stuck in their phones, tablets and switches are more important. Ugggh im just all in my feels tonight but maybe in about 6 minutes I’ll have that contact high with mixed menopausal emotions and start laughing for no reason while my face is stuck in my phone 🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤣 im going to whip this family into shape if it’s the last thing I do!

#streaming #beauty #web series #christmas #family #daily life #parenting #grandparents #80s kid

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loyally-unfaithful · 5 years ago

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—; but “sentimental boy” is my nom de plume

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

summary: it has been a year after the android revolution. humans and android alike settled down, an olive branch was offered as a sign of reconciliation. with newfound peace came along newfound love, and many open roads to choose from. this was no different for the rk800—connor. surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he decided to continue working at the dpd, this time as a bonafide detective. but he has also accepted the thrilling uncertainty of life that deviancy has brought; the same strings that brought his lover in his life.the same ones he hated and cursed, the same fates who ripped it all away.

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

maybe if you asked him one year ago whether he’d consider returning someone’s feelings, romantic feelings, he’d reply to you with a placid smile and a polite « i’m sorry, i wasn’t programmed to reciprocate romantic interest. ». he remembered that he’d sneer at them internally. now thinking about it, long before he questioned his obedience towards her, he already showed signs of deviancy.

you did what you were designed to do.

memories from his past would still torment him erratically, doubts would resurface on particularly dark days. but you were the light that cut through that haze. this wasn’t a “fake deviancy”. it couldn’t have been. not when he is holding your body so close to his, warmth radiating off of each other, two heartbeats—similar, but different—thrumming together. all the softly whispered and adoringly announced « i love you »’s; all the quick and coveted pecks and all the feverish and passionate kisses. no, he was alive, he was sure of it—alive and absolutely enamoured by you. all semblance of doubt ebbed away when you entered his life.

whenever he’s around you, he feels more alive: you make him feel everything, all the little precious things. tenderness and adoration when he shares tranquil mornings with you. he feels more alive when he’s with you, all the little habits and routines too endearing: the sweet post-it notes scattered over your shared flat; scribbled upon it are encouraging words or sweet nothings. conflicting work schedules meant that moments spent together were scarce, but that made them even more valuable and coveted. captivation, was another emotion that he felt around you. your mannerism, your dreams and interests, your physical attributes and quality of voice. logically speaking, you were just another human, insignificant in the grand scheme of things. you’d live and then one day, you’d die. as if you never really existed. but he wasn’t being logical. how could he be? when you were right there in front of him? you made him irrational, and he found that new aspect in life thrilling. confusing at first, but exciting. he was eternally grateful that you let him experience all these beautiful emotions with you. he was grateful that you allowed him in your short journey that you called life.

he was happy, absolutely content, with his shared life with you. you were both in perfect places in your respective lives: you both had a stable job, loving family backing you up, and a fulfilling love life. what seemed to be a mismatched couple at first turned to be 2 pieces of the same puzzle finally finding their place. life for the both of you couldn’t be better.

but along with the many exquisite moment that your romantic endeavours brought you, the android didn’t only taste the sweet delicacies of life; no matter how idyllic a moment may be, there were times when he had to taste the astringent and sour desserts life offered.

anger. that was an emotion that he felt. but that’s not accurate, no… it was frustration and shock and betrayal, all the unsavoury feelings in the world. perhaps it was due to his inexperience, maybe his lack of exposure to these negative sentiments, that caused him to snap the way he did. to hurt you the way he did. but it happened and there was no turning back the clock.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he was proud that you got the job offer in canada, he really was. and he, like any other caring boyfriend would, offered to accompany you there, an offer which you gladly accepted. that was the plan. but plans were difficult to follow. crime waits for no man, working for the law meant that connor must always be available for duty. no excuses, he was an android. but connor wasn’t just a simple android detective, no, he had a much more important role: he was the link, the messenger, between jericho and the police force. he was the crucial communication between the two forces. so when jericho contacted him about threats of anti-android attacks, he had to make an appearance at their base. the meeting coincided with the day you were meant to travel to canada. it was a simple trip really. it only took a few hours by train, stay in canada for 2 days (it was the weekend), and then return back to detroit, probably arriving in the late afternoons to their home.

but you were looking forwards to traveling with your wonderful partner after « [we] spent so much time apart ». the day he told you the urgent change of plans, connor was tired, overwhelmed. you were frustrated and expectant. a fight was bound to have erupted. accusatory statements, along the lines of: « you don’t actually care about me! it’s all about work and work and work! » and « i can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now! » in between shouting and yelling and frustration and anger and contempt–

you both went to bed exhausted but spiteful, still not forgiving each other. in hindsight, he felt so utterly pathetic, so unbelievably childish, for being that cruel, and uncaring. he didn’t want to be like him again. so many glares and insults were thrown at each other, tears threatened to spill, LED flashed and shone a true red, doors were slammed. he felt awful, plain and simple. you both lied in the same bed, under the same cover. so close yet so excruciatingly far apart. back facing the other’s, no one said a word.

you woke up before him. bitter and unhappy. no morning kisses, no whispered « i love you » to wake your other half. you wordlessly got yourself ready, grabbed your bag and quietly snuck out. no post it notes were left. no sweet promises or encouraging words. you could do this work trip without him. you were independent. you didn’t need a tin can to chaperone you everywhere. so you left. plain and simple. gone. since you woke up and left earlier than planned, you boarded an earlier train. how lovely and convenient. the carriages were mostly filled with androids. perhaps they were trying to immigrate to canada like the others. who knows. you paid no mind and absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, obsessively checking your messages to see if connor realised. to see if he apologised. because frankly, at that point you were tired of being mad and just wanted to spend the day in his arms. but prideful and petty as you were, you weren’t willing to apologise and admit your mistakes first.

connor roused from stasis a few moments afterward, less bitter and more regretful. he wished to right his wrongs but the normally warm presence beside him was not there. his system was slowly booting back up when his audio sensor picked up an incessant ringing from the living room. he jolted up and rushed out to pick up the ringing phone call and waited for the other side to speak up.

the room was so utterly quiet, a silence so suffocating engulfed the room, that you could hear a pin drop. the voice on the other side asked whether this was indeed your house and that he was indeed connor anderson. he swallowed dryly and answered with a soft, « yes ». running a quick check in his database, he matches the caller’s voice with a certain nathaniel edwards. first responder. he allowed his HUD to display the news. if androids could get pale, have all their blood drain from their faces, his would have certainly done so. he stood, rigid and motionless, consumed by shock and horror.

the news and the first responder’s words blended into one as he gripped the phone tighter: « this morning, at 7:48 am the train from detroit to toronto was caught in a devastating turn of events: the train soon caught in fire and exploded as it made its way over the border. it has been confirmed that there has been 0 survivors. it is unclear whether this was an unfortunate accident or the result of anti-android terrorism. »

the other person’s voice poured through the speaker but he wasn’t listening. he stared blankly in front of him. no way, he thought, it couldn’t have been… the only sign that the android was registering the other man’s input was the now constant red LED.

« sir? sir. i’m sorry to bring this— – no, this isn’t right… you must have the wrong number, he interrupted. there were probably others with your name… maybe they were mistaken... – sir that’s not possible, w— – you must have gotten the wrong house… not… it-it couldn’t have been…» but he knew how improbable it was that they got the wrong number. he was built to be logical, to believe statistics. the statistics told him you were dead. long gone. he hoped and prayed that you stayed back, didn’t get on the earlier train. the statistics told him you did.

he choked out a response, quiet and defeated. you were gone. he’d never get to see you again. « i… i’m sorry… i-i don’t understand… – we tried our best to find them sir, but… the fire was too severe… if we gain any new developm— – you didn’t save them. »

still in a daze, he must have hung up on the poor man and unceremoniously dropped the phone. its clatter the only sound in this deafening silence. the reality of it all comes crashing through and he collapsed, ugly sobs escaping him as the denial faded away to make way for the pure and unfiltered grief. he felt lost. for the first time in a long while since amanda he felt so utterly and completely lost. no more shining beacon during his dark and stormy nights. no more valued affection and coveted kisses. no more notes and no more smile to come home to.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesisonly gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

but now he’ll have to get used to not coming home to a warm embrace. he’ll have to get used to going into stasis alone, in the cold bed. he’ll have to get used to his aching heart being greeted by an empty house. every cold and lonely nights. it’s ridiculous how human he felt because of you. and he was both thankful and spiteful for it.

sadness and bitter regret ripped through him when he remembered that he didn’t share goodbyes before he left. he remembered how he couldn’t have apologised to you and tenderly held you. he regretted not being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him for the last time. ra9 only knows the things he’d do and the things he’d sacrifice, just to have you in his arms again.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

like my work? consider buying me a coffee // checking out my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

#detroit: become human x reader #dbh x reader #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #connor dbh x reader #rk800 dbh x reader #falselywrites #crosspost from main acc

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Three, “If It Kills Me”

A story about what happens when she can’t be just his assistant anymore, and he can no longer be only her boss. Now, can they be happy with being just friends?

Read this story from the beginning here! :-)

Inspo tag here!

*NEW* Spotify playlist in the works can be found here, songs that inspire me for the story and have significance in the story c:

Warnings: one brief mention of vomiting, and some mild language.

SNEAKY PEEEEEEEEEEEK

“And Becky’s face consumes my thoughts, much like it’s been captivating my conscience as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly.

There it remains for days, much like it has been. It follows me through the air as I stare out the window, floating above the clouds. It crops into my conversations, leeching any enjoyment gathered from them. I even see it in a crowd of people inside the walls of the courtroom before I deliver my closing statement. When I look a second time, I’m disappointed to find the eyes of a stranger.

I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. I miss all of it.”

Song Inspiration: If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz (click to listen)

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh electricity, you know?” - Steve Harrington, Stranger Things

The warm rays hit my cheeks as my sandals pound on the pavement. I wonder how I could ever be unhappy given the May sun shining down on me, and walking from my favorite restaurant. Without fail, the blissful idea is stolen away by a swarm of thoughts dosed in reality. And a particular one that reminds me of what I need to do, despite the dread I’ve been feeling. Not even the former respite of Asher’s hug after our shared lunch can keep them away.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I swipe through my apps until I find the right one. Stopping in front of my gray car, I lean against the door with a huff. My thumbs hover across the screen nervously, followed by a curse under my breath. Quickly, they flit across the screen composing words in front of my eyes. Sliding into my driver seat, I stare at the screen for a moment longer before hitting send.

I wait for the chime to come, telling me I have a new message, from him. Nervousness coats my limbs and only grows worse as the minutes tick by driving home. Waiting. But when I check my phone after walking in the door, my lock screen showing my dad and I’s smiling faces is blank.

No new messages.

Sliding off my black sandals, I pad through the shared living room and kitchen area before reaching my bedroom. My laptop beckons for me across the room on my desk, and I sit down before it. I hope that maybe if I don’t procrastinate this specific thing, maybe things will turn out a little better. But as I’m opening a study guide for Family Law’s final exam, I’m proven wrong.

The chime grabs my attention immediately, making my fingers still on the keyboard. Flitting my eyes to the lavender Speck phone case, I grow antsy at wondering who the text is from. And what it says. Inhaling nervously, I pick it up and wake up the screen. The few words of a preview I see of the text cues a sour anxiousness to grow in my stomach. Bringing my knees up onto my chair, I pull them against my chest as I open the text.

Hey I’m so sorry I’ve been terrible at texting back, finals these next two weeks are getting to me. Speaking of that I realized that I have to take a final at the time we’re supposed to get lunch in a few days. I’m really sorry but can we reschedule . . . again? I was thinking in two weeks when I’m finally free from the clutches of uni????? :(

Harry

sorry cant love. im in edinburgh all that week for a case. lets talk about it when im back. good luck w finals xx

Sighing, I type up a short response, agreeing to that. With guilt casting a shadow over me, I return my attention to the lengthy study guide. The gross feeling in my stomach remains, and with its arrival, my excitement for our lunch date is replaced with disappointment. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks since we rescheduled it the first time, due to me messing up the dates, again. Peeking my eyes at my phone, I turn away and slump against my chair.

It’s been a month since I saw him last, and although we’ve sent a handful of texts, they haven’t been enough for me. Skye, of course, told me that there’s nothing stopping me from showing up at his office door, but she’s wrong. I don’t know his schedule anymore, and for all I know, I’d be waiting around for him. Plus, my appearance would just yell ‘desperate!’ Sometimes, I wonder what little world Skye is tucked away into that’s far simpler, not realizing I still have to work during the day, especially more so this summer.

But as the days drag on with chemo and radiation appointments, and lectures upon lectures, I think maybe Skye has the right idea being so optimistic. Maybe.

Over the next few weeks, I see him at almost every corner I turn, and it hurts more than it should after all these weeks. The ignored texts shouldn’t feel like a fresh stab wound when I see that Scrabble box in the family room, get on that very same lift, or walk past the nurse’s station I found him leaning against that morning. Nothing compares to the piano and the pang I feel in my chest at the sight of it. It comes every time I walk through those doors and am reminded of the intimacy held on those keys. No, it didn’t get easier after the first time being back there with my dad, or the fifth time. Avoiding that gray sofa like the plague only reminded me of the texts I sent him that went unanswered. I can’t blame him though, because like a bitch, I took a week sometimes to reply to him.

The tight feeling in my chest only feels heavier as I sit on the plaid couch in my childhood living room. I can’t even enjoy watching FRIENDS like I used to be able to, as their faces bring forth the sound of his laugh. It pains me to turn down their voices as I dig my phone out from under the cushions. I try not to let it get to me when I, once again, find no new text messages. My attempt is futile and it only causes me to take longer to open the phone app. By now, I know his number by heart, but my shaky hands cause me to mess up a few times.

Pressing the phone to my ear, all I can hear is its ringing and the pounding of my heart. As the seconds drag on, I’m almost certain I’ll hear the voicemail next. But then I’m pleasantly surprised, although the bitterness in my stomach blossoms.

“Hullo?” His gravelly voice pulls my lips into an instant smile. Rubbing the back of my neck anxiously, the words fall from my lips hurriedly.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” he responds curtly, a clattering noise heard in the background before he mutters a ‘shit.’

“I’m sorry, did I call at a bad time?” I ask quickly, regret filling my veins.

“No, yer fine. ‘m jus’ makin’ dinna.”

“Oh um, nice. What are you cooking?” I inquire, twirling the braided silver ring on my pointer finger. Swallowing, I wait to hear his molasses drawl again, like music to my ears.

“Jus’ a stir fry. So . . . why’d ya ring?” Harry responds, a coolness hugging his voice.

“Um, I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” he hums awkwardly, followed by the sound of a door closing. Squeezing my eyes shut, uneasiness falls over me in a wave. Oddly, I wonder if all of a sudden I can’t call to say hi. “Ya, we’ve both been busy. Cases fer me, an’ prolly uni an’ yer dad’s treatments fer you.”

“Yeah,” I agree aloud, my chin falling to rest in my palm. But it leaves a second later to lose my fingers in my hair. “I wanted to tell you that I finished my finals last week, so now I just have clinical left in the fall. Oh, and my dad got to ring the bell today. He’s all done with chemo and radiation after his scans all looked good. It’s hard to believe that he’s cancer-free. His doctors will, of course, have to keep an eye on him in the future to make sure it doesn’t come back, but I couldn’t be happier.”

“Tha’s wonderful, love,” Harry coos into my ear, the first notes of happiness heard in his voice. It begins to put me at ease, and cause me to think maybe something isn’t off after all. “‘m really glad t’ hear that- well both o’ those things.”

Unbeknownst to me, I find myself nodding along with his words as if I needed his confirmation. But his words stop there, and the sickening feeling that something is wrong settles back in. A small ‘yeah’ stumbles off my lips as my fingers form into a fist in my lap, debating what to say next. Or if I should ask what I’ve been wanting to say the entire time.

“We weren’t able to get ahold of each other a few weeks ago to reschedule lunch. Would you still like to?” Going out on a limb, I let the words fly.

I watch for them apprehensively, uncertain if they’ll take flight. The loud sound from his side, the subsequent shuffling, and a voice saying his name shoots them down hastily.

“‘m sorry, I gotta go. ‘ll text ya ‘bout gettin’ lunch,” Harry remarks, his words stringing together swiftly. I barely have the chance to say an ‘okay’ before he abruptly hangs up, sewing together an unwanted thought for me.

Tossing my phone to the other end of the couch, I fall back against the cushions. Turning up the volume of the telly, I avert my gaze back to the make-believe world I’ve always taken comfort in. As the phone call gnaws away at my insides, planting insecurities every few steps, I let the characters whisk me away. Even if their faces and familiar jokes will now never stop reminding me of him, and something I let go of that I didn’t know I had. I only feel worse when I realize that I knew then that he’d never send that text, and I think he knew that, too.

“Staring at it isn’t going to make it ring, y’know,” somebody states, pulling me from my webs of thoughts.

Lifting my attention away from the black screen in my hand, I catch Myles looking at me impatiently.

“Wha- ‘m sorry. I was listenin’.”

“Then what’d I just say?” he requests, the hand propped against his chin rising in a silent question.

My lips fall apart to welcome my voice, but nothing comes out. Shrugging, he receives his answer and replies with a disapproving glare.

“Hare, this is important stuff. We’re leaving for Edinburgh tomorrow for the case, it’s a huge one.”

“I know, My. Jus’ repeat what ya said, please,” I huff, batting a hand at him. His eyes roll into the back of his head when he leans back in his leather chair.

“I swear to God, Harry, I-.”

“Stop,” I retort, growing annoyed.

He plays with the point of his quiffed blonde hair before clearing his throat. Although I try to listen the second time around, my gaze is lulled back to my laptop screen. My fingers itch to touch the keys and type up words, and when Myles begrudgingly answers his ringing phone, I find my chance. Sliding my silent phone into my pocket, I click on the blue thought bubble, only to be met with disappointment. Brushing it away, my fingers fly across the keys and my words are sent with a soft hum. Soon, Myles hangs up the phone with a perturbed sigh and resumes the conversation we were having. Again, I try to return to the bubble we share and the words that occupy it, but my mind is consumed with the anticipation of that coveted ding. And with Becky’s face, much like it’s been captivating my thoughts as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly.

It crowds my mind when I wait for the boarding call, tapping my fingers along the screen and watching the words be sent off. I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. All of it. I miss all of it. It gnawed away at me slowly, and terribly, burying doubts beneath my defenses. They sprang up when I least expected them, and when I thought about sending just one more text. A few words wouldn’t hurt anything, I thought, but at the same time, I distrust the ultimate impact they could have.

The pounding jars me from my reverie, bringing me to my feet slowly. Padding past the television and kitchen area, a yawn jumps from my lips. Another pound lands on the door, dragging my brow into a knot.

“Oh, shuddup!” I exclaim in disbelief, wrapping my fingers around the smooth metal of the door. Yanking it open, I find the grinning bearded face of my mate standing on my stoop. “‘m not goin’, Rore, I already told ya this.”

“C’mon, Harry, I’ll look like a right idiot being there all alone,” Rory responds, his steps telling me he’s following me inside once I turn around. “Help a mate out here.”

“Ya, ‘coz ya were so helpful tha otha day when I asked ya t’ consult with me fer the Starkey case.” Scoffing, his words pause between his lips as I fill a glass of water from the attachment on the fridge. “Why’re ya goin’ anyways, since it sounds like sumthin’ yer dreadin��? And since when d’ya even go t’ these sorta things? Last place I thought ‘d see you at, Rore.”

“I don’t, but it’s for me sister’s showing. I can’t miss it, she’s me baby sister. I’d hear about it from me mum for weeks.”

Snorting, I have to pull the glass of water away from my lips.

“Hope ya bloody choke on that water, mate,” Rory scoffs, only making me laugh harder. Water flies from my lips as I’ve forgotten the glass on the marbled countertop. “Are ya coming or not, Harry? Ya know it’s a good place to pick up chicks, too. They blooming love these art gallery places.”

Recovering from my fit of giggles, I turn my head to find Rory waiting with the question in his eyes. He huffs and riffles a hand through his tousled blonde hair a few shades lighter than that which covers his face. Shaking his head, he wiggles his head at me.

“I’ll consult with you on the next case, or even give ya first pick,” he whines, folding his hands together under his chin, as if he’s praying.

“‘m yer bloody boss, I always get first picks,” I murmur, a smile cracking at the end of my words.

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” he spits, pushing at a chair in front of the seated bar attached to the kitchen island. Clucking his tongue, he messes with the collar of his navy blue blazer thrown over a bloody Zeppelin shirt. Yeah, you sure look artsy there, Rore. But with the next words that fly from his sailor’s mouth, he pins me down. “What’re ya gonna do here anyways, sit and watch the bleeding telly all in your lonesome when ya could be with me getting damn a date?”

Biting my lip, my house slippers come into my view and when Rory’s eyes find them, a laugh explodes from his lips. “Go hurry up and bloody change before you’re too far gone, mate. I’ll be in the car,” he titters before his voice falls with a delighted sigh. Delight found in my pain.

“Two cases, Rore. Any two cases I want, ya consult with me on. Ya got it?” I argue, following on his footsteps.

“Whatever makes ya feel better, mate. I know you'll be thanking me later tonight.”

“Doubt it,” I mutter, watching him open the door, sure there’s a sly grin covering his face.

I turn to jog up the stairs until I arrive in my bedroom. Quickly, I toss on skinny jeans, a Keith Haring shirt, and a mustard button up smattered with faded white flowers. I look rather artsy, I reckon, I decide as I look at myself in my bathroom mirror. It’s an easy feat when you’re standing next to wannabe Rory over there, though. After taming my hair and finding a pair of shoes, I pad down the stairs.

“Alexa, turn off all o’ my lights,” I announce, slipping my wallet and phone into my pocket as my hous darkens around me.

“Take fucking long enough?” Rory groans when I slide into the passenger seat of his silver Sentra.

“Shuddup and drive, will you? So we can get this ova with.”

“If you’re gonna be an ass tonight, then just go back inside,” he almost laughs, beginning to back away from the towering walls of my house.

“Talking ‘bout yerself, are ya now?” I quip, bringing my phone from my tight pockets, tapping in my passcode.

“I’ve noticed, y’know,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for me to hear him. Looking up from the bright screen, his eyes don’t stray from the road. “There’s a girl, isn’t there? Or there was?” he continues, a man I’ve come to love over the last three years he’s worked with me. And somehow I thought I had fooled him, but it turns out, I haven’t. I can’t even fool myself.

“Sumthin’ like that,” I whisper, my attention straying back to the conversation lit on my screen. Another day of the ball being in her court, and she just leaves it in the bloody corner, neglecting it. “I see why ya wanted me t’ come now . . . jus’ don’ try t’ set me up with yer bloody sista. She’s like twenty.”

His hearty chuckle fills the space around us, the words of a song from Death Cab for Cutie lurking in the background. “I won’t, but y’know she’s not gonna let ya out of her sight, mate. She’s had the hots for you from day one.”

“Oh God, Rore, what’d I let ya drag me into here?” I joke, my lips curling into a nervous smile. But the smile feels good, and it feels even better when her name disappears from my screen, and I forget my phone in my pocket.

“What happened to making me dinner?” I whine from the couch, crossing my left leg over the other under the comfort of my blanket.

“That was when you were busy, and well, the other day when I was feeling generous. Not today, missy,” Skye scoffs, the sound of the fridge shutting marking her words. Something lands in my lap with a plop, startling me.

“Wow, how gourmet. Why thank you, I definitely don’t need to make dinner now,” I joke, picking up the wrapped piece of string cheese.

“I know you’re still going to eat it. Just eat cereal or something, you hobo. I’m going to bed at a decent time, unlike somebody.”

“Hey, it’s a Friday!” I argue, pressing the page down button on the remote, waiting for something to catch my eye on Netflix.

“Yeah, and some of us still have a job on Saturdays!” she calls from her journey down the hall.

“Party pooper!”

She remains silent on the defensive line, and so does the list of boring content on the television screen. Relenting, I click over to My Stuff and press play on the next episode of FRIENDS. Relaxing into the cushions, I unwrap the cheese and slowly eat it in strings. Giggles flow from my lips watching the scene unravel in front of me, and some eye-rolls because of Ross or Monica. After a while, my legs stray to the fridge, and I return to the tan sectional with a bowl of Cheerios. The milk threatens to spill over the side when I sit up suddenly, almost yelping in laughter at the scene when Monica and Rachel lose their apartment to Chandler and Joey. The sugary Cheerios soon disappear, and the milk follows them as the episode nears the end.

Placing my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, I hurry back to the sofa to catch a Phoebe scene. My cheeks warm with a smile, but they soon grow cold when my thoughts have to interrupt with a memory of his face. That god awfully sweet smile adorned with his cherry lips and precious dimples. Without knowing what I’m doing, the cartoon looking app appears under my nose, and pictures fill my feed. I take a second look at a few of them that catch my attention, the angry voices of Rachel and Monica tickling at my ears.

Soon, the search bar materializes and although it feels wrong, I type in letter after letter to create his name. I can’t remember the last time I glanced at his profile, just to catch a hint of him. Finding the profile I’ve become familiar with, I tap on his picture and wait for his profile to load. Glancing away, the tv captures my attention once more as I scratch at an itch on my leg. Yawning, I rub at my eye before it falls back to the blindingly bright screen. Blinking hard to clear the haze from my vision, I scroll down to see what new pictures he’s posted, although they’re usually few and far between.

I find the most recent picture I recognize and tap through them. Picturesque shots from high in the clouds. His unbelievably adorable niece. Food-grams. A picture of a homemade pizza is making my mouth water and is still stuck in my mind when I happen upon the next photo, and the most recent one. The moisture in my mouth is wicked away, suddenly bone dry when the image in front of my eyes slowly registers with me. But I can’t believe it, even though I’m seeing it. I don’t want to see it, or believe it. The moisture reappears in the corners of my eyes quickly as a sourness quickly knits together in my gut. The image shakes in my hands and then blurs in my eyes, accented by the thrashing of my heart inside of my chest.

“Skye!” I shout, the words leaping from my lips with little success.

My lip wobbles and I feel my entire face collapse from pain, disbelief, the whole shebang. The sob screaming from my lips is muffled by my fingers coming to my mouth.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I mutter, inhaling fast and feeling the tears in my throat. Because I can feel it everywhere in my body - the pain. In my eyes, my stomach, my hands, and my chest. The sight of Harry’s lips touching that of another girl’s sends knives into my heart, and my stomach roiling. “T-this can’t . . . ,” but my words escape me, because the multitudes of feelings punished with anguish and despair course through me.

“Skye!” I yell again, not realizing that I’ve gotten to my feet. I stumble at first, feeling the weakness reach my legs. Her name leaves my lips wet with tears as I run past the kitchen and down the hall.

Pushing open her door, darkness meets my eyes, and I swear in that moment it swallowed me. Hitting me, I grab the doorframe and feel my forehead fall against it. Leaning there for support, the sobs roll through me, the very reason still clutched in my hand.

“Whaaaaat?” she groans tiredly from her bed across the room.

But I only reply with a sob of her name, hiccups havocking my chest. My hands claw at the wall, darkness coating my eyelids.

“Ree?” Skye asks groggily, the click of her lamp following her words. “What happened? Are you alright?” she hurries, the pillowy patting of her covers being thrown back meeting my ears.

Her arms wrapping around me are almost numbing, and do nothing. And feel like nothing. But when I feel my head meet her chest, the slowed-down world I lived in for those few seconds vanishes.

“Skye, I-. . . ,” I attempt, once again falling up short as tears suffocate my voice, much like they’re making me feel. Shakily, I press my phone into her hand as I try to find safety in her arms.

I wait and then am rewarded with her intake of breath followed by a sigh. “Holy fuck,” she whispers, and retaliates by pulling me closer against her. “Come here, Ree.”

She walks me over to her bed and helps me under the covers until I’m surrounded by them, and her arms.

“Who i-is she?” I demand sloppily, searching for something to hold onto and to anchor myself with. I’m compensated with the smooth fabric of her shirt that I cling to the back of, my head falling into her hair. The mundane scent of strawberries wafting from her body tries to relax me, but to no avail.

“Ree-,” she begins, but I don’t let her start, let alone finish.

“I want to kn- I need to know,” I respond, sniffling against the warm expanse of her neck. There’s shuffling next to me before she sighs, and I sense the light of my phone. Tapping prods at my hearing as I try to form coherent thoughts.

I’m met with images of him. Harry. His dark curls, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and the high-pitched giggle that accompanied my tickling as well as his own. The intruding memories rack my body with shaking sobs, pressing my lips together as new tears gush over them. My belly contracts with each sob, and I don’t even register the cramping in my hands from holding on so tightly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Skye hums warily from above, pulling my head into her neck, leaving her arm there to shield me from her words. Or the image that I can’t remove from my mind even if I tried. It’s burned there indefinitely now.

His arms in a blue button-up surrounding her and his lips enveloping hers. A smile creasing his cheeks with happiness, and spreading to those of her dark cheeks. Her curvy body pressed against his, flowing ebony curls tickling her chocolate skin.

“Tell me.”

“Okay,” Skye caves, the tips of her fingers running marathons along my back, in attempts to calm me down. But I don’t know if the tried and true will work this time, although it has for every other, even when my dad’s life was painted with the C-Word. “She’s a London based artist, does some sculpting and gallery work locally. According to her Instagram account, anyways.”

“I asked . . who is she?” I repeat, my voice wavering under the dominance of the tears.

“Her name’s Bailee Taylor.”

“W-what does her page look . . . like?” I request, exhaustion blanketing me, and only adding another feeling to the rest. Blinking away the tears, I try to take in a deep breath, but my memories hit me with the safety I felt in his arms. Unwaveringly.

“It looks like they’re . . dating,” Skye announces quietly, squeezing me around the middle. The confirmation I didn’t know I’d been searching for hits me like a train, knocking the air out of me again. And all of a sudden, hatred pulses through me, asking me where to lay it. Where to feel it. “There’s a few pictures of them on her feed, looks like they met maybe a few weeks ago.”

“Why?” jumps from my lips finally, taking a nosedive to join a sea of unanswered questions. The word shakes the second it leapt from my tongue, and somehow it hurts more than all of the rest. “I h-hate him,” I cry, my nose smushing against her skin when I try to hold onto her tighter than I already am.

“No, you don’t,” she coos, raking her fingers through my hair slowly, and carefully.

“I know, b-but I wish I could,” I answer, the memories dancing through my head at hyper speed. Falling asleep in his arms, and waking up in them. The tickling fight. The almost kiss. The Scrabble game. Waking up to find him waiting there in the doorway. Him coming back even after the way I treated him. Finding him standing there at the front of the lecture hall. The reprieve of being in his arms again after so long spent away from them. And then, like a wall, my mind runs into the strings of unanswered texts. The canceled lunch dates. The both of us ignoring the other’s texts, but then at the end, it was him. It was him who was awkward during the last phone call. He hung up on me abruptly, and I heard somebody else was there. Was it her? It’s possible they would have already been together by then. He said he’d text me to set up lunch, and he never did.

“It won’t make you feel better,” she murmurs, cupping my head with her palm. The sound of tears edging at her words only makes mine come harder, and the feeling in my gut grows louder.

“Then what will?” I beg, wondering if I’ll ever forget the taste of the salty tears. A taste I thought I could forget just late last month when my dad was cured. News that I told him, and had been impatiently waiting to do all day. “I thought I was just feeling okay again, Skye.”

“I know, Ree, I’m so sorry,” she returns, placing her cheek against mine, the first tear peeking through in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

I unpeel myself from her anxiously, kicking away the blankets before my feet land on the floor.

“Where are you going?” she almost demands, the sound of her following me far away.

“I’m gonna be sick,” I confess, rushing down the hall before falling to my knees in front of the toilet. The Cheerios and milk from earlier make a reappearance, along with the string cheese, and mushy contents of my other meals.

Running a cold cloth along my face, Skye kneels in front of me, her face painted in sadness.

“How can it hurt so much, Skye, when he wasn’t even mine?” I croak, focusing on the lone tile in our bathroom that doesn’t match the rest of the flooring.

“I think you’re wrong, he was yours, Ree.”

“I was so close. I fucked up, again,” I weep, my lips collapsing with yet another sob.

“Don’t say that, don’t,” she insists, tucking her hair behind her studded ear when it goes every which way with the shaking of her head. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. She’s so pretty . . Of course she is,” I remember aloud, breathing in quickly before the tears take hold of me once more. Closing my eyes, I reach out for her and let my head rest against her shoulder.

“She really isn’t, Ree. A big pair of tits doesn’t make you pretty, and anyways, you’re far prettier. He could do much better, like you.”

“You’re just saying that,” I confess, trying to swallow, but my throat has tied itself into knots with the thoughts of him. And when that word falls out of bed inside of my head, I find that it can hurt worse. “I was his Becks, Skye, I thought it was right there. That it was gonna happen for us.”

“Oh, Ree,” she cries, sniffling against my hair when she pulls me against her. “I know, I’m so sorry . . so sorry.”

Nodding into her chest, it feels right as her necklace digs into my wet cheek. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and so does every other part of my body in some way. Somehow I let her bring me back to her bed, and hide me away in her arms. My head swims with questions, then fleeting hatred for him, and inconsolable longing the very next. I shed a tear for his smell, his contagious smile, that Scrabble game we’ll never finish, the churros I’ll never be able to eat again without him ruining them for me, the color of his eyes I could never forget, and the lost feeling of his lips I never got to kiss. The list miles long of things I never got to say to him, or do with him, or make him feel. Because now she does, and she isn’t me.

“I-I thought . . that he felt the same way about me, and that somehow he knew that I loved him.”

A whimper escapes Skye’s lips as my tears fall into her neck, adding to the puddle I’ve shed there.

“What does she have that I don’t? Am I not interesting? Does she have a nicer body than I do? Am I not pretty enough? Was I not nice enough or appreciative of him?” I weep, the questions flowing off my lips from the recesses of my mind. My name greets my ears firmly, but I ignore it. “I was trying to answer his texts when I could, but things got so busy with uni and my dad. All the driving, the tests in both places, and I couldn’t keep dates right in my head. Maybe if I’d texted him back sooner that one time, or made the lunch date on the right day the first time-.”

“Becky, don’t do the ‘ifs’ thing,” Skye urges, pulling the covers further up our shoulders before returning to combing my hair back again and again.

“But I can’t stop thinking about what went wrong, a-and how much I miss him, Skye. I miss him a hundred times more after seeing that picture,” I reveal, falling into her, my lips meeting her shoulder. My teeth dig into my skin and I let them, numb to the pain as the same word is too busy with my mind. “I don’t know if I ever wanna see him again.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to, I’ll always want to. Like something inside of me will always want him.”

The sunlight streaming in through the windows is the first thing I see when I awake. Ducking my head back under the covers, I pull them over me with a groan. The blissful ignorance of the first few minutes after waking up follows me, until it all comes crashing back.

“Are you awake?” a voice murmurs, sleep clinging to it.

“Unfortunately,” I whisper, staring into the muted light underneath the gray covers.

“I can stay home if you want me to, I was just making some breakfast,” Skye responds, the tapping of her feet along the floor following.

“No, don’t cancel your hair appointments because of me. I’ll be . . I’ll be fine,” I tell her, but then the tears greet me good morning.

“Oh, Ree, I’ll cancel and we can watch movies all day, or FRIENDS. Whatever you want,” she announces. The bed falls to one side when she sits on the edge, and I feel her hand find my back.

“Thanks, I was hoping you’d say that,” I return, turning around and sitting up to dive into her arms. “I was hoping I had dreamt it all and it was just a bad dream. But my life is the bad dream.”

“Oh, Ree,” she coos, surrounding me with her arms. “I know this is cliche and it doesn’t feel like it, but it’ll get better.”

“I don’t know about that. My life is a running joke lately because it feels like it’ll get better, and then it just gets worse.”

“Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it, Becky?” somebody asks. Looking up from my cupcake, I find the face of Sophie.

“Yeah, end of next week,” I answer, picking an orange sprinkle from the white frosting to eat.

“Do you have any big plans?” my boss asks as she places her lunch in the microwave.

“My brother and I hang out every year, we’re twins.”

“Oh, how fun! I remember meeting him once when he brought you lunch one day,” she smiles, turning to face me as she waits in front of the humming microwave.

I just nod and dip my finger into the frosting, feeling it melt on my tongue a second later.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yep, just tired is all,” I fib, taking a bite of the carrot cupcake, although I’m not wrong when I think about it. Skye has been a lifesaver for the last two weeks helping me get back on my feet. Thinking back on it and all of the tears leaves a funny taste in my mouth, but I try to brush it away with a forced smile.

“How old will you be this year, Becky?” Sophie asks, pulling out a rolling chair to sit to my right at the long table.

“Good old 26.”

“Wow, still a spring chicken, I’d say,” she comments, bringing a quirky smile to my lips. I almost follow her laugh with mine. “Well you know what, an early birthday present from me is you can have the rest of the day off. You always do a great job, Becky, and so you deserve it.”

“Sophie, I-,” I begin, my jaw falling to the floor.

“I mean it, go. Get out of here. Go do something that makes you happy, love, it looks like you need to,” she smiles, squeezing my arm from across the table. Standing to my feet, profuse ‘thank yous’ leave my lips before I leave the break room.

I drive around with my windows down, unsure of where to go instead of home. Before I know it, I find myself walking into my favorite little coffee shop. I’ve always loved to hang out here with a cup, reading a book, doing homework, or just relaxing on one of their sofas.

Soon, I sit down with a Cubano sandwich and an iced cinnamon roll coffee, my very favorite. Pulling a book out of my work bag, I crack it open to the first page, unable to remember when I last had the time to read a book for fun. The words of Ruth Ware stare back at me, slowly drawing me into a made-up world, and away from the desolate one trying to swallow me.

Quickly, I’m grateful for the respite from the thoughts mucking up my mind. Instead I lose myself in the sentences that spin a scary story, thanking my old self for stashing something besides a romance in my bag. That’s the last thing I could even think about indulging in right now. For some reason, the mystery entices me, a genre I’ve always had a love for. I think, especially now, it’s the aspect of being able to solve a mystery, and to fix a problem. If only I could do that now, I wish silently with a spiteful snort.

Placing my empty plate on the return area by the cash register, I return to my cozy spot on the couch and to my book. Losing my fingers in my hair, I prop my head up and open the book to where I had left off. Soft indie music trickles from the speakers as conversations float around me. Several more sofas are dotted around the large room and booths, as well as tables varying in sizes. Friends play board games borrowed from the shelf by the fireplace, and others do schoolwork or actual work. A laugh from behind the counter echos through the room, right as the bell on the front door jingles. Although across the room, I can hear the voices floating in from the sidewalk. Cars honking and birds chirping. The sounds make me itch to leave the air-conditioned room, and bring my reading outside into the June sunshine.

The words covering the pages root me to the spot, but they can’t protect me from what I hear. It’s a voice that I know inside and out, from the shortened words to the often used words. My vocal cords soon begin to tangle into knots in my throat at the mere noise. Beneath my baby blue blouse, there’s a clobbering in my chest as the voice grows near and then stops. Instinctively, hair falls through my fingers as I lower my head, wishing to remain unseen. Unknown.

I can’t stop myself, and there I am looking up to see that crinkly-eyed smile through wrenching tears.

Harry.

23 notes · View notes

taexual · 6 years ago

Text

HOLIC - 27 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: tiiiiiny bit of angst but also fluff?

words: 4.6k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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Calling in sick wasn’t an option the next day because that would have meant you’d have to stay home, in the exact same place where Jaebum had kissed you last night, and you didn’t think you’d have managed to stay there the whole day without going insane. You needed something to do so you wouldn’t think of what his lips had felt like. So you wouldn’t dream of kissing him again.

You’d managed to convince Eva to excuse you from working on the preparations for Jiho’s exhibition and, instead, you occupied yourself with what you usually did at the gallery anyway – customer service. Somehow, though, no matter how many obnoxious rich people you had to direct to the same paintings over and over again, you still couldn’t focus on anything but all that had happened before the kiss and all that had happened after – which was nothing.

Jaebum had left your room without saying anything last night and he’d stayed in his room this morning when you woke up to go to work. You wouldn’t have thought that he was avoiding you because he could have just been sleeping, but the lack of explanations about the kiss still left you wondering.

Why had he kissed you? Why didn’t he say anything afterwards? What was going to happen now?

Jaebum had insinuated that you were in love a few nights ago after you admitted that his song – that was meant to be full of bitterness – still seemed like a love song to you. He’d explicitly told you that people who were in love tended to see love everywhere and you didn’t object. More than that, he didn’t ask you to elaborate on why you didn’t bother to argue with him. In retrospective, you couldn’t really find a reason that would have explained why he wasn’t curious about your lack of objections. Unless, of course, he knew all about your feelings for him.

You groaned suddenly, shaking your head. You might have let your mind wander into the territory of hopeless dreams as you wondered if it was possible for Jaebum to develop feelings for you as well – hence why he might not have been bothered with the knowledge that you were in love with him – but you’ve never expected him to actually show you what he was feeling and then leave, raising even more questions.

Was it actually possible for him to fall in love with you, too? Was it possible for him to understand that you two had mutual feelings for each other and act on those feelings instead of talking about them? Was it possible that the reason why he couldn’t explain his jealousy that provoked him to text Suji, was because he’d been jealous of someone else being with you?

No. You couldn’t do this to yourself.

You put your headphones on, desperate to quiet your thoughts down. If you kept at it, either your heart was going to break a hole in your ribcage with its rapid beating, or you were going to break a hole in the floor of the gallery after dropping – for the fourth time that day, no less – your tablet on the floor again.

Here you’d thought your biggest problem today was going to be avoiding Jiho – you were still too aware of his presence somewhere in the building and you dreaded seeing him when you rounded corners during your shift – but you were completely out of it and Jiho was only partially to blame for that.

It was as if Jaebum’s kiss had teleported you to a galaxy you had no way of coming back from, not even if you distracted yourself with loud music, and not even if he explained his reasons for kissing you. That was just how scarily powerful he was – he didn’t just sweep you off your feet; he took you to a whole different world.

As you drove home from work that evening, heavy rain all around you, you tried not to allow yourself to get distracted even more than you already were, but you still couldn’t help but feel anxious about what was awaiting you at home.

You wouldn’t put it past Jaebum to just leave – he excelled in avoiding his problems – and stay at Jackson’s studio until he was sure you’d fallen asleep. You weren’t sure if you were comforted by this possible outcome, though. On the one hand, you wouldn’t have to discuss what had happened if you didn’t see Jaebum. On the other hand, however, you wouldn’t get to see him – and even despite the obviously messy situation between the two of you, you still couldn’t help but want to see him.

The car on the expressway in front of you was in no rush – you didn’t blame them, in weather like this, you weren’t in that big of a hurry, either – so, as you drove behind it, going at a far less than appropriate speed for the first time in your life, you didn’t just find yourself reminiscing and reliving the kiss through memory. You found yourself conjuring up scenarios where the universe aligned itself perfectly for you and Jaebum to share another moment of intimacy. Only this time, you wouldn’t get interrupted by the sudden reality-check, by your own insecurities, or by the unexpected nature of the situation.

This time, you’d get lost in the kiss and you’d stay lost.

A pathetic little pang of hope whispered that perhaps this was exactly what was going to happen when you got home tonight but you tried not to focus on this thought too much because the bigger part of you was able to recognize how unlikely that was. You and Jaebum were obviously not the type of people who, when confronted with a problem, found a common ground instead of fighting about it or just moving past it without stopping to discuss it at all.

You’d kissed. And, depending on which way you looked at it from, you could have either said that it was out of the blue – because, in a way, it really was – or that everything in your life had been leading up to that: all the fights, the make-ups, and, finally, the actual bonding that came like a calm after a torturously long storm. It was unexpected. But maybe it was also meant to happen.

You sighed slowly, suddenly feeling an unexplainable urge to get home and actually see what awaited you there for yourself instead of coming up with possible outcomes that just exhausted you and was now starting to give you anxiety on top of everything, too.

The car in front of you still hadn’t sped up, so, glancing briefly at your front mirror to make sure there were no cars behind you, you switched lanes, hoping to drive around it and carry on – but faster. The rain made it difficult to maneouver the car and, only when you had already pulled into the counterflowing lane, did you notice the headlights, headed right at you.

You hadn’t realized there was a car coming in your direction and, by the time you did, your heart was already in your throat as you turned the wheel of the car, the vehicle skidding off the main road, puddles of rain splashing all around you.

The car had passed you safely – beeping wildly – as you panicked, attempting to stop your car before you tumbled down the hill on the roadside or ended up in the middle of the lane again, causing an actual car accident. Although the hillside wasn’t too steep – you probably wouldn’t have died – you knew you couldn’t afford to total the car by allowing it to drive itself down to the bottom of it.

Still not breathing and only hearing a weird, constant beeping in your ears, you caught sight of the pole of the road sign when your car was millimeters away from it, thus driving right into it because, by that time, it was too late to stop and find a way to drive around it or return to your rightful lane. Colliding into the pole actually helped you stop the vehicle and you finally exhaled all the air that you’d been holding in ever since you nearly drove right into a car in the opposite lane.

By now, the cars were signaling all around you, confused and annoyed to see you stopped on the side of the road, the bumper of your car pushed against the pole that had stopped you. One of the cars stopped right behind you and a man got out, yelling something. You were deaf to most of the world – the only thing you could hear was the rain, pitter-pattering on the hood of your car, on the windshield, and all around you. The man, unhappy by how quickly he’d gotten wet, got back into his own car and generously offered you another tirade of soundless curse words as he drove past you.

Swallowing and trying to stop your hands from shaking, you opened your car door to check the damage.

For the first few seconds, you couldn’t see much of anything. The rain wasn’t just deafening anymore, it was also blinding. You weren’t expecting a downpour like this, so you didn’t bring an umbrella with you when you left this morning, but now you truly wished you had. Although, it probably wouldn’t have saved you from the accident.

One thing was obvious – you’d dented the front of the car and cracked the left headlight. The pole you’d driven into had surprisingly remained standing – alright, so it seemed like the car stopped almost immediately after you touched the pole so perhaps the impact wasn’t as severe as it’d felt to you inside of the vehicle – which was one less problem for you to worry about, but now you were left debating if you should have called the police or just the tow guys to take your car away.

You didn’t feel confident enough to drive again in rain like this. Clearly, you didn’t have the right mindset to get behind the wheel in the first place – what were you thinking, daydreaming in the middle of heavy rain while on the expressway? – but now you felt even worse. Thank God you hadn’t gotten hurt or, worse, hurt anyone else.

Another car stopped across the road and, this time, a woman stepped outside. She said something but, after you didn’t hear her, she waved her hands, loudly asking if you needed an ambulance.

The collision wasn’t that bad, you were fine. What you really needed in that moment was a shock of electric current to wake you up but you doubted the ambulance provided such services for people who were completely fine physically.

“I’m okay!” you called back to the woman, hoping she’ll hear you. After she didn’t respond, you raised your hand, giving her a thumbs-up. “Thank you!”

She watched you for another few moments before getting back in her car. She didn’t drive away and, as you continued to stand in the rain, still utterly confused and almost appalled that you had actually almost caused a car accident, you saw her step out of the car again.

“I’ve called the police,” she called out to you, turning her head both ways. She looked like she wanted to get to you but there were too many cars between the two of you for her to safely cross the two lanes separating you. “They’ll be here in a moment. Are you sure you’re fine?”

You nodded but then understood that it was nearly impossible for her to see you through the rain.

“I’m fine,” you tried to respond but your voice broke on the last syllable.

The policemen, of course, gave you a lecture before getting down to business. After that, they handled everything, including getting your car towed away to get it fixed and explaining the insurance policies to you. They had even taken you home, which would have been very sweet of them had they not continued to lecture you and make crude jokes about “typical female drivers” all the way to your house.

Being shaken up about the accident had provided you with a plausible excuse not to stop by the police station – and the officers took pity on you anyway, before joking about how “the road sign only suffered a minor whiplash, so it’s probably not going to sue” – and, instead, you were outside of your apartment door, ready to go home within two hours of the unexpected end of your day.

When you finally unlocked the door and entered the apartment, your empty eyes scanning the equally empty hallway, you realized you might have been here alone. Aside from the helpful woman who’d stayed with you until the police escorted you home, you hadn’t told anyone else about what had happened and, thus, didn’t receive any comfort from anyone you were actually close to, so realizing that the apartment was empty was awfully disappointing.

You were still far too shocked to text your friends about this and, looking back, the thoughts that had worried you before the accident – what were you and Jaebum going to do – seemed too childish to even remember in that moment – let alone talk about it – so you didn’t even try to contact them, choosing to focus on getting yourself to your bed instead.

“Oh, hey,” you suddenly heard and, consequently, noticed the door of Jaebum’s bedroom open. “I was—whoa, you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied automatically, your stomach clenching at the sight of him even despite having just decided that you had no energy to worry about where the two of you were standing anymore. “Collided into a pole on the expressway on my way home. But I’m fine.”

“You—what?” his eyes widened in shock as he walked out of his room and, in few quick strides, stopped right in front of you, his hands immediately reaching for your face to—gently—lift it to his so he could see your eyes. “What happened? Were you hurt?”

The unexpectedly bold gesture left you surprised and yet the feeling of someone else taking the control of what you were doing – because you absolutely did not know what to do or where to look – was almost relieving.

“No, I’m fine,” you repeated. “It was raining and I was stupid enough not to focus on my driving and instead… thought of other things. I almost crashed into a different car but I didn’t. It was just a pole. So, I’m fine. The pole is… fine, too.”

Jaebum frowned, wanting to question what was it that you were thinking of but choosing not to because the hollowness behind your eyes told him enough. You were still too surprised—and scared—by all that you’d allowed to happen and you needed to get your thoughts together before you could talk about today.

“Come here,” Jaebum said, letting go of your face and taking your hand instead. “You need to lie down.”

“N-no—”

“You’re lying down,” he rephrased himself, making the decision for you as he guided you towards his bedroom. You didn’t question why but – as he stopped by his bed, moving the blankets aside and helping you lie down on the mattress – your shock from the accident seemed to mold into surprise about the way Jaebum was treating you.

“I’m fine,” you felt the need to assure him again. “I’ll just change into something dry and I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, no, I can hear the way your heart’s beating from over here,” he shot back, refusing to let you leave the room. “Stay here. Let me get you some tea and some fresh clothes, and then you can tell me what happened.”

“I already told you,” you kept on insisting. “It’s nothing serious, I’m really—”

“I swear, you claim I’m the stubborn one in this house,” he cut you off, “but you’re making it really difficult for me to take care of you right now.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing your argument.

“You don’t have t—” you started to say but stopped when Jaebum shook his head.

“You’ve been in a car accident, the severity of which doesn’t really matter,” he told you. “It’s obviously great that you suffered no physical injuries but, clearly, it still affected you. So, stay here. Let me be—uh, let me bring you some tea.”

He looked like he wanted to ask you to let him be something else—a good rommate? A friend?—but reconsidered at the last moment.

After you didn’t respond, he left the room only to return a few moments later, a towel and a dark hoodie in his hands. He’d left you to change and only went back into the room once he had finished making the tea.

He closed the door of his room on his way back and, after placing the mug on the floor by the bed – the lack of furniture in your apartment would have been almost alarming if you didn’t constantly have bigger things on your mind – sat down next to you.

“Be honest now,” Jaebum said, his eyes full of genuine concern, “do I need to call an ambulance?”

“An—no,” you said, trying to sit up. “I’m fine.”

“I know you keep saying that but—”

“That’s because I am, really,” you said and then, after noticing that he still didn’t believe you, exhaled slowly before admitting, “I’m just shocked, I think. And worried about the car. I mean, the damage wasn’t horrible but it will take some time—and money—to get it fixed. Most of all, I guess, I’m just confused. I’ve been driving for years now and t-this was the first time that something like this happened. I rarely get distracted when I’m behind the w-wheel but the rain and t-the—”

“It could happen to anyone,” Jaebum said, catching your stuttering and quickly realizing that it was difficult for you to talk about it. He leaned down to pick the mug up and, after making sure it wasn’t too hot, he passed it to you. “You didn’t hurt anyone, did you? So, you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Well, no, but I could have,” you replied, taking the mug from him and ignoring the sparks of electricity that went through your body after your hand brushed against his. “I’m surprised I didn’t get fined for reckless driving. I should have. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve been out-of-it the whole day and I still didn’t think it was dangerous to get behind the wheel in that condition, on top of the horrible weather.”

Jaebum was biting his lip now. You didn’t know if he understood that last night’s kiss was partially the reason why you were so distracted the whole day today but you were more than ready to convince him that your accident wasn’t his fault. Sure, he’d kissed you and then left without an explanation, but it was your—deeper than you probably realized—feelings for him that had allowed the kiss to affect you this much.

“You could have called me,” Jaebum said then, tiny flickers of guilt hidden in his voice. He understood. “I would have taken you home. I have a car, too.”

It was as though both of you knew the reasons why you didn’t call him to take you home – not that you ever considered that as an option – and yet you successfully avoided talking about them out loud.

“Yeah,” you looked down at the mug in your hands. “I obviously don’t make great decisions in life. But, hey! Looking at the bright side, this is actually a very good excuse not to attend Jiho’s exhibition at my gallery tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Jaebum nodded, remembering. “You weren’t going to attend anyway, though, were you?”

“Yeah, but anything I’d have said as an excuse would have sounded stupid,” you said. “And now I have an almost totaled car to prove I’ve got far more important things to deal with tonight.”

Jaebum considered this for a moment, his jaw tense.

“You’re planning to talk to him again?” he asked then.

You shook your head. “Not if I can help it.”

“Hmm,” he mumbled, choosing to change the topic before he asked something else that could have made him sound even more suspicious—or, for the lack of a better word, jealous—than he had already sounded. “I still think you should let a doctor take a look at you. Sometimes, you don’t even see the injuries at first but—”

“No, I’m really okay,” you said. “The collision wasn’t that bad, I’m just—I’ve never been in a situation like that before. It’s the shock. I’ll be fine when I calm down.”

“Okay,” he finally gave in, a sigh following. “Drink your tea.”

A small smile crept up your lips. “You’re very bossy.”

Jaebum smiled back at you, glad to hear the playful tone of your voice replace the shaky one he’d heard before. He waited until you’ve tasted the drink in your hands before replying.

“I am,” he didn’t deny it, “but you make it hard to be.”

“Well,” you replied, settling on humor as a coping mechanism, “I can’t always let you have your way.”

“No. You can’t,” he agreed. “But it’d be nice if you let me win once in a while.”

“I let you win plenty.”

Once again, Jaebum paused when he saw you raise the mug to your lips – as if he didn’t want to say anything in case you’d get distracted and refrain from drinking the tea he’d made – and only spoke again once you’ve taken a sip.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, enjoying the playful banter more than he would have ever cared to admit. “I can never win with you.”

“Okay, this sounds very accusing and I’m afraid you’re using my vulnerable state to blame me for things that aren’t true,” you said, your voice full of obvious mocking.

“I thought you said you were fine,” he pointed out, grinning.

You took a deep breath, suddenly turning serious.

“I wasn’t,” the confession left your lips in a whisper as you lifted your eyes from the mug in your hands to look at him, “but I think I am now.”

Once your tea was finished and you and Jaebum have gotten into three minor arguments about three different and very irrelevant things – that were all, undoubtedly, meant to distract you from the shock you’d experienced today – you felt the drowsiness kick in. It wasn’t very late yet but once the adrenaline you’d felt after the accident had passed, you realized just how tired you were.

After yawning for the third time in the past minute, Jaebum called you out on it.

“You should sleep,” he said, getting up from the bed to stretch. He’d been perched on the bed across from you, his eyes not leaving your face even for a second as if he’d been afraid you’d only showcase signs of a serious injury if he looked away. “You’ve had a long day.”

Nodding lazily, you let yourself watch him for a moment longer before speaking up.

“Thank you,” you said slowly. “I’m sorry I distracted you from whatever you were going to do today.”

“Oh, not at all,” he replied. “Believe it or not, my plans for today included looking after you.”

You would have laughed if you weren’t so tired, so you just smiled and shook your head.

“No, I mean it,” you insisted. “You didn’t have to do stay with me all this time but I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t make it sound like it’s been a torture for me to be here,” Jaebum said, sitting down on the bed again. “You’re not that bad of a company.”

“Not that bad,” you repeated. “I’ll take it.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I, uh, kind of prefer to hang out with you when you’re not all shaken up and I’m not all worried.”

You smiled again, throwing the blanket off of yourself and yawning again before setting your feet down on the floor. You wanted to stay and talk – more than anything – but you knew you’ve already stolen enough of his time today already. Taking care of someone who was experiencing aftershocks of an accident was bound to be as difficult as going through the shock yourself and you weren’t sure if you had enough energy to feel guilty right now.

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” you told him.

“Okay,” Jaebum replied, a confused frown on his face. “Are you going to sleep standing up?”

You turned your head to look at him. “Uh… ideally, not. Why?”

“Well, then why are you getting out of bed?”

You looked down instinctively, not quite sure what he was asking you.

“Because this is your bed,” you said then, feeling awkward.

“And you really think I spent all this time making sure you were really okay only to let you out of my sight a few hours later?” Jaebum said. “Get back in bed. You’re sleeping here.”

Your heart – which had not rested for one bit today – was back at it with the rapid beating again. You were sure your ribcage was going to get permanent bruises from all the extra beats that Jaebum had given you ever since you moved in with him.

“I can’t,” you said weakly. “You’ve already done so much for me, I’ll just—”

“God, you really need me to say it loud and clear, don’t you?” he cut you off.

You blinked in surprise, wondering if the stress of the accident had affected your brain in more ways than you’d have suspected. “Say w-what?”

“I don’t mind taking care of you,” he said, speaking purposefully slowly. “And I want you to stay here with me tonight.”

The room was as quiet as it had been before your kiss last night. It was truly magnificent how few simple words from his lips could turn the volume of the whole world off for you and, similarly, it was almost impossible for you to imagine that the same few words – that were obviously very difficult for him to say; and yet he said them with an equal amount of confidence as vulnerability – would provide the reassurance for all of your lingerings doubts and create even more hope that you were now too tired to dismiss.

There was nothing wrong with being hopeful, you thought as you gave Jaebum a nod.

There was nothing wrong with not knowing exactly what the two of you were, you decided as you got back into bed.

There was nothing wrong with the feelings that had swollen in your chest and were threatening to spill out as you whispered, “okay. I’ll stay here.”

This wasn’t the first time you and him were going to sleep in the same bed together but this was the first time you’d both made the conscious decision to share a bed. And, after what had happened the night before, sleeping next to each other – with each other? – seemed like additional progress towards something you haven’t quite figured out yet. It was as though the two of you had voluntarily boarded the express train headed wherever and were both completely fine with whatever happened during your journey there even though you both knew that your actions right now, on this train, were going to influence what your final destination was going to be.

Last night’s kiss had seemed like a mere memory when you got home tonight but when, an hour later, you were still awake enough to feel Jaebum climb into bed with you, it was suddenly hanging heavy between your bodies like the metaphorical elephant in the room that both of you continued to pretend wasn’t there.

You would have considered pretending to have already fallen asleep if Jaebum hadn’t tentatively placed an arm around your waist. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of his hand on your skin and suddenly, he knew you were awake. He even considered retreating, not quite sure what to make of your reaction, but then he felt your fingertips gently come to rest on his arm as you kept it in place, enjoying the sense of security his touch had provided for you.

Jaebum wanted you to feel safe. Feeling bad about what you had to go through today, he wanted to do anything to make you feel better. A part of him suspected that the reason why you were so distracted the whole day was because he’d kissed you and then left with no explanation and, thinking that your accident was partially his fault, made him reconsider everything.

He may have not found it wrong to leave the kiss hanging in the air and never bring it up again unless it was absolutely necessary. Hell, he might have even wanted to move past it and never mention it again – but only briefly. Because now, more than anything, Jaebum wanted to kiss you. And, feeling his arms wrapped protectively around your waist as his heavy breaths calmed your tired mind down, you wanted him to kiss you, too.

But, with your last kiss still unresolved, neither of you moved. And resisting the magnetic pull between your bodies was almost as difficult as falling asleep when all you wanted to do was remain in the drowsy state between dreams and reality where Jaebum had his arms wrapped around you.

chapter directory

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trickstarbrave · 5 years ago

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i hate how i am basically as bitter and bitchy as i have ever been but when i was bi ppl tended to lay off the talking over me part more often on bi issues (not always, but more often than not) when i mentioned i was bi.

now that i ID as a lesbian, everyone thinks its okay to talk over me and lecture me on lesbian issues fully admitting they dont understand things or barely, if at all, researched it, but if i am annoyed someone has decided to educate a whole ass lesbian who has to deal with this kind of stuff every day, my anger is immediately turned against me. i am hostile, i am antagonistic, i am unjustifiably rude when ppl are just trying to have a conversation, i should be more open to ppl telling me they personally dont find something lesbophobic as though they are any authority on lesbophobia.

lesbians are automatically seen as more mean, rude, hostile, and bitter. unjustifiably so. we’re supposed to take being excluded, brushed over, ignored, talked over, and demonized very quietly and politely. when i talked abt wlw and bi issues it was understandable, i was angry bc i am bi and i have a right to be angry. the narrative was bi ppl are under-represented, the underdogs (and this is true in many instances, they face more violence and its important for ppl to still talk abt bi issues). lesbians on the other hand are seen as having more power, big mean bullies who just say things for the sake of making other ppls lives hell. everyone wants a slice of our culture and history but while still twisting as backwater, narrow-minded, and regressive. i face a lot more kickback from ppl for IDing as a lesbian than i did when i was IDing as bi.

my pain and anger is up for debate. my right to a pride flag is up for debate. everything from my pronouns to my presentation to my lesbian labels are a debate debate debate. even the fucking word ‘lesbian’ is now up for debate of whether or not i deserve to have it describe my experiences. before i had no problem finding bi pride merch, feeling represented. now i see half the things just conveniently leave out lesbian pride merch, and if i speak out on its right to be there i am loud, annoying, obnoxious, and controversial. dont i know no one wants to research what the “right” lesbian pride flag is? dont i know that ALL lesbian flags are controversial for any reason anyone feels like making up? why am i unhappy other sexualities and gender identities get a flag? the rainbow flag is right there, use that.

biphobia was a huge issue, but i had an easier time finding ppl willing to speak out against it. outside of fellow lesbians there are very few who want to comfort me or speak out against lesbophobia. outside of wlw, the numbers of people who want to speak out against it are nearly non-existent. no one wants to. lesbians are mean, theyre angry, theyre scary, theyre rude, theyre antagonistic, theyre the bullies of the lgbt community. as a bi girl there were always so many there to offer advice and be kind. now that i am a lesbian all i see is this shit.

i am tired of it. it is genuinely exhausting. even my anger is controversial and mean. yeah im being bitchy bc ur talking over me, but suddenly thats okay. im telling you this information is wrong, but yknow i should be NICER abt the fact youre spreading lies abt my community bc u didnt know better and maybe if i wasnt a bitch ppl wouldnt believe them. i am expected to be polite, calm, impartial, bipartisan. im supposed to consider why ppl might want to be lesbophobic and be nice abt it. even in lgbt spaces. especially in lgbt spaces. and if i fail to be as quite and calm and never angry while being actively talked over, lectured on my own history and issues, i have no right to speak at all. this is why no one likes lesbians, this is why no one takes your issues seriously, all lesbians do is attack ppl and are giant hypocrites asking ppl to listen to them abt their issues without coddling me when i want to politely disagree.

im fucking tired of it.

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pointedly-foolish · 5 years ago

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[ вut "sєntímєntαl вσч" ís mч nσm dє plumє ]

word count: 1916

pairing: connor/gn!reader

genre: slight fluff; hurt no comfort

a/n: everytime i convince myself i came out of my dbh hyperfixation i just look at connor and i become lovesick again.

gosh i know i should be finishing my other fic or work on the prologue script for my vn, but,,,,,,, i just had a sudden hankering for connor angst,,,,

written during a sleep deprivation induced moment of epiphany,,,,, (purple prose cuz im extra af uwu)

I’ve never written angst before so i’d love to hear your thoughts on it

you did what you were designed to do.

no matter how much he begged and cried for it.

he laughed bitterly, devoid of any humour. it was funny, just how cruel the fates were: made human life so fleeting. lachesis only gave them such a short eternity. and when he thought you both found your missing halves, bound to another by an invisible string, atropos cuts it. a small snippet that is so easily ripped away from you. he belonged with you, he felt at peace with you. he was able to be what he struggled to be for the majority of his miserable and artificial existence. with you, he was able to be happy.

instead he was faced with the bitter reminder that the last thing he’s ever said to you, your last memory of him, was a contemptuous and scornful « i wished i never met you ».

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

#detroit: become human #connor detroit: become human #connor x reader #connor dbh #connor rk800 #falsely writes

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