#so in a way drift would provide a 'starting fresh and new' sort of romance

[lord-squiggletits]

I don't know Drift's character very well so I don't feel confident doing this myself, but are any of my followers interested in Drift/Pharma or Pharma/Drift/Ratchet and willing to give it their best shot to describe how that might work out (positively)? Doesn't have to be art or a fic or something, could just be a meta or rambling in my notes theorizing about it

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Cat vs mouse prompt! >:3

Oh no my favorite g/t trope :0

--

Stupid, stupid, stupid, god, he was so stupid!

Actually, he was stupid long before this incident, considering he thought it was a positively brilliant idea to hole up in the walls of an apartment rented out by a fucking cat of all people. This was fine, he had convinced himself, he totally wouldn’t get captured and toyed with and eaten any time soon, how hard could it be to outsmart a feline who’s mixed up their sugar and salt bowls on more than one occasion? 

As it turns out, it was pretty god damn hard.

In retrospect, maybe he should have looked into one of the other apartments after the first (or third) time he was nearly caught by the homeowner. But aside from the cat’s random schedule of when he would nap or come home or not be entirely absorbed in whatever cringeworthy made for TV rom-com was on, he had too good of a setup to want to put in the effort of finding a new place. It was almost like he had the perfect assortment of odds and ends lying around for the borrower to snatch up and fashion into something, not to mention the guy was some sort of culinary genius. All the leftovers and produce he could get his tiny hands on were fresh, easily spoiling him into never wanting another stale crumb on the floor again.

Unfortunately, that was the beginning of his downfall. He was starting to get greedy, assuming the cat was too daft to have the wherewithal of knowing what was going on right under his nose, and as a result his runs were becoming more and more sloppy. The first time nearly gave him a heart attack, running and skidding all over the kitchen in an effort to avoid the pouncing feline until he was able to slip into the living room and behind the couch to the safety of one of the baseboard cracks. The third time he realized just how much of a game it was to the cat who was laughing all the while as they ran around the kitchen once again, always so close to snatching him up by his tail only to lose him behind the furniture. The sixth time felt like nothing more than a routine. Go out, get some supplies, almost make it home, spend the next ten to fifteen minutes running for his life, actually make it home.

Strangely enough, the cat seemed...unbothered by his presence once it was known. Maybe unbothered wasn’t the right word seeing as he definitely did have strong opinions on the matter every time he saw the mouse. But he wasn’t necessarily angered or annoyed at the thought of this tiny creature running around his apartment and (technically) stealing his things. No, every time his blue eyes would light up and he would grin, just having a grand ol’ time hunting down the poor borrower and yet never once being a sore loser when he would escape back into the walls.

“You’re good at this!” He had called out once, snickering breathlessly after the mouse disappeared behind the bookcase, “I think I might have to start investing in mousetraps just to stand a chance, huh?”

He never gave him an answer and the cat never did put down any actual traps to make capturing him any easier. It could have just been an empty threat in an effort to finally scare him away from the property, but the next day a little bowl of freshly candied strawberries were left out on the kitchen table. They obviously weren’t intended for him, yet he couldn’t help but notice that even though the cat was home a majority of the day, he made it a point not to go into the kitchen. Whatever. Easier borrowing for him. 

Now, this was their, what, fifteenth? twentieth? round of chase and he really fucked up this time. Once again, he had gotten too comfortable in the flow of things, underestimated the cat more than he should have. He had been napping on the couch after drifting off during one of those disgustingly sappy movies and the borrower had the brilliant idea that now was the perfect time to snag a few those decorative stones in one of the floor plant’s pots. Could this task have waited until literally any other time, such as when the homeowner wasn’t five feet away from him? Sure. But he was feeling bold, and now he was feeling pretty dead. 

One minute he peeked over his shoulder to see bleary eyes blinking at him from over the armrest, the next he was pinned to the floor under two hands mere inches from the safety of the underside of the couch. Probably shouldn’t have ran towards the cover the cat was currently on top of, but he was running on pure instincts in the moment. It seemed as if the cat was just as stunned at finally catching the fellow hybrid, silent and unmoving for an impossibly long beat. He was definitely wide awake, though, crouched over his prize and carefully moving his hands to keep them cupped around the mouse but allowing him to look down at his trembling form.

“Holy shit,” he finally said, a smile spreading across his face as soon as the words left his mouth, “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to catch you. You’re so fast!”

The borrower didn’t respond with anything other than a whimper, curling up tighter with his tail tucked between his legs and his arms protectively braced over his head. He was shaking like a leaf and felt just as breakable as one within the confines of such massive hands. Hands that knew how to chop and sauté and sear, that would most certainly be doing to him next as a midday snack.

He flinched when the cat huffed a quiet laugh, “It’s okay, dude. You can’t win them all, this is, like, one to thirty-seven, or something, right? You’re definitely going to win more in the future.”

He had absolutely no idea what the cat was going on about, but he didn’t dare ask. He wasn’t even sure if he could given how choked up he was with tears that now freely spilled down his cheeks. This was what he got for getting too comfortable. It was always a game to the cat, he was a natural predator after all, the consequences of losing never involving life or death. Not like for him. It was a cold dose of reality of the situation. He wasn’t a playmate, he was the treat.

“Hey,” The voice called again to him, softer, closer, yet he couldn’t bring himself to meet his captor’s eyes. He didn’t want to see the end, much less hear anything else about it as his ears flattened against his head, but the cat wasn’t deterred. “I didn’t...hurt you or anything, did I?”

What?

Watery eyes hesitantly peeked open to look up only to be met with...concern. The usual smile and teasing lilt the cat had during their previous exchanges was gone, replaced with a soft worry stemming from whether or not he’d actually manage to injure the mouse. Was he disappointed that he didn’t actually cause him any pain? No, why would he ask about it if he thought he was already hurt? As much as he was loathe to answer, he couldn’t help but fear what retributions would be in store if he continued to ignore him and so he shook his head as best he could given how tightly wound up he was. He almost couldn’t tell if the movement could be seen with how violently he was trembling, but the cat must have seen given how he visibly relaxed.

“Oh, good, it’s just...the way you’re holding yourself, I thought maybe I landed a little too hard on you.” Come to think of it, when the cat had pounced he hardly felt a thing. The hands had curled over him, but they didn’t actually press down with any of his body weight which most certainly would have crushed him into a paste. Said hands removed themselves entirely from the borrower’s personal space in favor of crossing over the man’s arms to provide a bit more support from how he was leaning against the floor. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow with a gentle smile. “Guess you’re probably not up for another game right now.”

Fuck no. No more games. He shook his head again. Even if he wasn’t terrified out of his mind right now, he wasn’t sure his body would physically be able to handle a round of chase right now, his heart already feeling as weak as his knees. The homeowner snorted, but the smile was still as genuine as before. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Maybe we should go take a break for a little bit.”

Before he could question the we, hands were moving again to brace against either side of him on the floor. He should have been looking up, however, as his cowering form gave the perfect opportunity for the cat to lean down those remaining couple of inches and pinch the back of his tunic between his teeth and heft him into the air as he pushed himself up. The poor thing didn’t even have the chance to scream before the cat was on the move. If anything, at least the trip in this ungodly hold was a short one as his intentions were only to return to the couch where he had been lounging before. After he situated himself into a comfortable position sprawled across the cushions, he released his newfound friend against the crook of his arm, the little mouse perfectly caged between the curled limb and his chest.

Though his shaking had noticeably lessened, it didn’t stop the tremors that still ran through his tiny body, nervously looking at every inch of his strange surroundings for some type of oncoming danger or potential exit. He could see neither, which he supposed was a both a good and bad thing depending on what he was searching for. The mouse looked back up at his odd captor who was in turn looking right back at him. It was mildly impressive just how long he was able to hold eye contact with the massive predator, but the moment itself only lasted a second before the cat gave him another warm smile. He leaned down to softly bump his nose against the top of his head, his attention then shifting back to the television which had moved onto the beginnings of another awful romance flick. The only reason he knew he hadn’t been forgotten in that instance was the fact the being around him started to vibrate with hushed purrs, nothing more than a white noise on top of whatever the actors were confessing to each other during the film.

He was definitely moving tomorrow.

[quarterfromcanon]

1-4. For the asks

Thank you so much for sending these! <3 

Once I started to answer them, I realized there were comparatively few recent television shows appearing on the list. I seemed to keep gravitating toward older ones I remembered from years ago. I took a handful of days to mull it over in case I was forgetting something, but nothing else comes to mind. Maybe my ongoing list of Shows to Watch During Quarantine will turn up some fresh results but, for now, it looks like I’ll be taking a little trip down memory lane. :) 

This turned out to be a pretty long and rambly post, so I’ll stow it under the cut!

Top 5 TV Shows 

1. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - I can’t imagine this surprises anyone who has been following this blog for the past two years or so. It brought fellow fans into my life, got me back into writing fic, and prompted countless tags of meta. It’s the show my mind drifts to on a weekly basis (if not daily) even a full year after the finale. Just when it seemed I’d reached an age where that level of intense fandom involvement and character attachment might be fading, it proved that quite the opposite was true. I’m very thankful to the series for that, and for the people whose paths have crossed mine as a result.   

2. Schitt’s Creek - This is my #1 Feel Good show and, though I’ve been dodging spoilers for the final season until it gets uploaded to Netflix, I get the impression that it will remain in that top spot. The world feels softer and more hopeful there. It’s healing for my soul. I’m going to have a dreadfully difficult time saying goodbye, but I’m glad there are six season to revisit whenever I want. 

3. Stranger Things - The theme song alone sends such a rush of excitement through me. I love the aesthetic and the atmosphere. I sometimes have mixed feelings about the romances but the FRIENDSHIPS sure do have a direct line to my heartstrings. I think the way they’ve combined media influences into their own story is really neat. You get something that’s new and engaging, but you can also go back and enjoy the sources of inspiration with fresh appreciation. 

4. Joan of Arcadia - I can’t help it. The snark, the jackets, the early 2000s songs, the performances -- the nostalgia for this show is so strong. It’s not without its problems, but it did have some really good things to offer as well. I remember an episode that was one of my earliest introductions to the concept of a trigger, and the effect it could have on a person if exposed to one of theirs. The series dealt a lot with grief and the many forms it can take (I STILL can’t hear Fiona Apple’s cover of “Across the Universe” without getting misty-eyed). I’m also surprised, looking back, at the somewhat positive way I recall them discussing homosexuality on the several occasions that it came up in the show. Not to give too much credit since I don’t think there were recurring canonically LGBTQIA+ characters but, for a kid who spent most days around closed-minded people of a certain religious leaning, it was meaningful along my individual journey. I’d like to provide the several examples that are most vivid in my memory:

A. A girl with short hair, short nails, little to no makeup, and a bulky leather jacket is generally assumed to be a lesbian by the bullies at school. The show directly confronts the fact that “gay” should not be used an insult, that identity should not be assumed without the person telling you so, AND makes sure that the character in question never pushes back by saying harmful things about lesbians despite not actually being one herself. 

B. A boy who is questioning is able to confide in his big brother and have a fairly calm conversation about it; the awkwardness mostly comes from neither of them being accustomed to openly discussing emotions, not from the possibility of a negative response regarding the subject matter. 

C. Another character is accidentally discovered to be gay (he only appears in the one episode, if my memory serves), and some of the leads have the opportunity to share that for personal gain. However, even though he is a popular jock who is a bit of a jerk in the hallways, the show makes it clear that the right choice is still to leave the telling of that information up to him and him alone. 

Like I mentioned, it can’t be said that representation was in abundance here - for instance, I don’t believe anything other than straight or gay was presented as a possibility - but any accepting acknowledgement in a faith-centric series was something for me to hold on to in my still-deeply-closeted days. As a final Very Important personal side note, this show brought Judith Montgomery into my life (pictured below on the left), and that feels like it merits a shoutout for being what I consider a rather significant marker in my awakening. 

THE OVERWHELMING CRUSH I HAD - and still have - is one for the books. 

5. Pushing Daisies - This is another show with an aesthetic I adore. The series has such a fun, whimsical energy. The crime-solving! The clothes! The cast! There's a lot to love. It’s the kind of world I wish I could visit... well, minus the evidently rampant murder rate. 

Top 5 Overrated TV Shows

1. Once Upon A Time - *deep sigh* I tried to stick with it for so long. I think I’ve seen five out of the seven seasons in their entirety. It just felt like everything got mired down by excessive (and increasingly convoluted) subplots, often for the purpose of tossing in as many fairytale and/or Disney characters as possible. Plus, quite honestly, there was too much emphasis on romantic love. For a show whose first season involved a curse being broken by [potential spoiler, I suppose] a mother kissing her son’s forehead, I ultimately found myself up to my ears in romantic ships. It reached such a stifling extent that, if you were not particularly attached to those pairings, there wasn’t a whole lot else to entice further viewing. 

2. Under the Dome - I don’t know for certain what the general public opinion of this series was, but it felt like the commercials always featured alleged rave reviews, so I figured I could include it here. I was vaguely interested in Season 1, mainly as a fan of Rachelle Lefevre’s work. Season 2 pulled me in with the introduction of a new townsperson and I threw WAY too much of my heart into that attachment, which backfired when that character was killed. I made quite the spectacle of my heartbreak, so much so that my family doesn’t let me mention this show around them anymore. :P Season 3 was, to phrase it delicately, not a great time. The series did introduce me to a few new-to-me actors, though, so that was cool. 

3. Bates Motel - Even the incentive of learning that the two characters I liked most share a lot of screen time later in the series hasn’t been enough to call me back to this one. I don’t know if it was the pacing that put me off or what, but the prospect of finishing the remaining seasons feels so daunting. There are evidently five seasons in total and I believe I’ve only seen two of them thus far. I will probably muddle through it someday just to see how it goes, but the fact that I am so disinclined to prioritize it made this feel like a fair addition to the list. 

4. Lost - My interest in this series unfortunately waned right before fervent fandom spiked. I don’t have any specific complaints that come to mind about what I saw; I just sort of drifted and then stayed away. Teachers I liked and peers I spent time with were starting to latch on to the show and I couldn’t find even the slightest inclination to give it a second try. However, did I still dutifully read all the latest installments in my friend’s Sawyer Ford and Kate Austen fanfiction when she passed me handwritten copies at lunch? Sure. I was glad it made her happy, even if I was no longer a viewer. 

5. Hemlock Grove - I say this as someone who still mourns the fates of some characters in this show, so I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the series stopped being able to make me feel anything. I’m just of the opinion that, in some ways, it might’ve been better off stopping at one season. That’s where the book it was based on ends, and things just didn’t feel as cohesive after that. Season 3 especially was - borrowing from my above review of Under the Dome - not a great time. That being said, there are also certain elements from the book that I could’ve done without in the Season 1 adaptation but... well... here we are. 

Top 5 Underrated TV Shows

1. Picnic at Hanging Rock - Another one that won’t surprise followers of this blog. I have rhapsodized about it quite frequently since I found it a little over a month ago. It’s a period piece mystery miniseries with LGBTQIA+ representation, gorgeous costumes, and Samara Weaving. This felt specifically designed to wedge its way into my heart, and I’m quite content with the space it now occupies.

2. Dark - I’m so intrigued by the overlapping timelines with all of the morally gray characters. It’s possible to like one of these people in the timeline where they’re young but dislike them as adults, or vice versa. It also makes me think of Rant by Chuck Palahniuk a little tiny bit with the idea that time travel, specifically tampering with your own timeline, might make you physically and behaviorally unrecognizable to yourself. And the SONG CHOICES! I have gotten some solid new music selections from this series. 

3. Sense8 - I still need to watch the finale. I really do. But I knew it would make me sad so I’ve avoided it for... two years now? Pretty close, I think. The concept is fascinating and the cast is so strong. Plus the cinematography! They came up with some of the coolest ways to depict the link these characters share and what it’s like when they connect over distance. The planning and careful editing it all must’ve taken... I remain in awe. 

4. Penny Dreadful - There were definitely some story/writing choices I didn’t particularly like along the way, but I did get engrossed in the creepy goodness and the performances -- Eva Green’s Vanessa Ives most of all. It left me wishing for more period piece “monster mash” stories, because having all those classic characters in one place was a blast. It also helped me understand why Helen McCrory was once slated to play Bellatrix Lestrange because she can be terrifying. Oh and Sarah Greene in her Wild West outfits? Perdita Weeks with short red hair in fencing garb, and later in all leather with boots and a long jacket? I WAS NOT PREPARED AND I HAVE STILL NOT RECOVERED. I NEVER WILL.

5. Wonderfalls - There’s some cringe-inducing handling of certain representation in the series, but I have such a weak spot for quippy outcasts who become reluctant chosen ones (Joan Girardi in Joan of Arcadia, Wynonna Earp, Jaye Tyler in this series, et cetera). I also really love the sibling dynamics here. They bicker, tease one another, help each other out of trouble, and have rare but genuine heart-to-hearts. Caroline, Lee, and Katie all did such a great job blending their characters’ adult personalities with certain childhood attributes that rise to the surface in the presence of family.  

Top 5 Movies

1. Addams Family Values - I’ve rewatched this movie at least once annually since I found it in Media Play at age 13. Usually, I’ll play it around Halloween or, at the latest, Thanksgiving. It’s mouth-along-with-every-line level ingrained in my memory. I find myself leaning forward in my seat before favorite parts because I’m still that excited to relive them. Why this movie, and why this devotion to such a degree? It’s hard to explain, even to myself. I can tell you, however, that I hold up every other portrayal of the Addams characters to the versions found in this. Everybody in the cast just feels that perfect for their part. 

2. Clue - I was already pretty fond of this movie to begin with, but then my sister got older and claimed it as a favorite of her own, so now she just supplies me with further excuses to watch it repeatedly. It’s also been a bonding piece of media with a couple of close friends and such through the years. It’s incredible to think not everyone in it was the first choice for their roles; what everybody brings to the table is so top-notch that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also LOVE knowing that it originally went to theaters with different endings depending on which showing you attended. I gather people weren’t terribly thrilled with the stunt back then, but I kinda think some moviegoers would be into that approach these days? Then again, one hit that tried something different tends to start a fad, so maybe I’d end up regretting the suggestion after a while. :P

3. The Craft - This. Movie. Yes, Act III is a major bummer even though I know it’s coming, and I’ll always wish it ended differently. Even so. This. Movie. I tend to headcanon mostly for shows and sometimes books, but The Craft is a beloved exception. I love so much about it: the magic, the music, the clothes, the settings, the dynamics within the friend group, the performances. I had no idea when I first got the DVD at 17 that it would become such a part of my life, but I’m so glad it found its way to me. 

4. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion - The soundtrack is a glorious ’80s and ’90s treat for my ears. The colorful costumes are perfectly suited to the main characters’ version of the world. There are so many great lines and it feels like everyone is having a lot of fun in their roles. I LOVE HEATHER MOONEY SO MUCH. She’s my awful, scathingly sarcastic, little grungy grump and she fills my heart with joy. 

5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - I was pretty sure at least one of the three had to appear on here. I think, if I were to tally them all up, The Return of the King features most of my favorite moments, so it wins the spot. “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”, ‘Edge of Night,’ Éowyn in battle, The Army of the Dead, ‘Into the West’... I end up crying during the end credits every time. So, yeah, ultimately, I would choose the third part of the trilogy if I could only watch one. 

Phew, that’s it! All the questions answered, all the shows and movies listed! Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it all, and thanks again to @monaiargancoconutsoy for sending in the prompts! <3

[valkyrieofsmut]

Engel de la Gargouille  Section 1 part 3

Engel de la Gargouille (Gargoyle’s Angel)

Kurt Wagner/ Nightcrawler x Female OC

Types: Smut, Angst, Mutual pining, Pregnancy, Romance, Love, Insecurity, Long as hell…

Overall series warnings: Smut, bit of violence, swearing, German (translations provided, but I have bad grammar… Sorry native speakers…) (Will be added as they come up) Chapter warnings will be added individually as well.

A/n- Most tags connected to child abuse, such as physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, and grooming for, but not physically sexual abuse. Self hatred. Thoughts about possible forced prostitution.  Self harm as a way of testing powers. Blood / scabbing.

Masterlist       Series Masterlist

Story!

Angeline woke in the middle of the night to sweat coating her and her sheets, her blankets had been kicked from the bed and her pillows were wet.

She rolled over, scratching at her shoulders.

She felt as though someone was poking needles at her from the inside, causing a prickly, tingly, sort of itchy feeling. She scratched and scratched, hurting as she was sure that she was clawing away at least a couple layers of skin.

Her mind was telling her to stop, that her mother was going to punish her for damaging her skin, but she couldn’t; even though it hurt, it was only in the seconds that the scratches were fresh that she had any relief.

“Stop, I have to stop- stop- stop!” She cried softly, trying to convince her hand to leave her back. She managed to switch hands and looked at the one that had been scratching.

Her eyes widened in horror; she was going to be punished, her mother was going to do more than hit her this time.

She’d thought that the wetness she’d felt was just the sweat that coated her, but her fingers were covered in red and were becoming sticky as they dried, and there was something under her nail that was probably skin.

Her other hand shot to where she could see it, and a sob pushed at her throat.

She had to hide this. She couldn’t let her mother know- maybe it would go away- maybe it wasn't that bad! she hoped desperately. She climbed from her bed and went to the mirror, pulling her shirt off.

Of course, she couldn’t see in the dark and turned her light on, going back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder.

Her back was covered in lines of blood and scratches, and panic was filling her stomach.

She had to hide this! She patted her shirt against her back, trying to get the blood off, running to her night stand and getting her glass of water. She dunked the shirt in it and washed her back, rubbing and rubbing, focused on getting the evidence off of her.

Finally, she thought her back would be clean and looked over her shoulder at the mirror.

She couldn’t see any marks, and her heart leapt with hope. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought.

She felt over her skin, and really couldn’t feel any cuts, so she focused on the next pressing matter; the rest of the evidence. She looked over her sheets carefully, looking for even the most miniscule drop of red. She didn’t see any, even though she went over it multiple times, and the mattress and pillows, then the area in front of the mirror and the mirror as well.

She pulled on different pajamas and stared at the stained ones. What could she do with them?

They were obviously covered in blood; obvious evidence that something had happened…

And if she got rid of them, her mother might notice…

She cracked open her door and looked out into the hall to make sure that no one was there before creeping out and down the hall to the bathroom.

She spent hours trying to wash the blood from the shirt, but no matter how hard she tried, there was still a pinkish red wash stain that she could see through the tears in her eyes.

She hurried into her room and stuffed them under her mattress, then tried to go to sleep, only able to drift off into fitful, disturbed rest due to stress and worry.

The itchiness that had woken her up and panicked her spread down her back, and lasted for two weeks, making her go crazy and use anything around her that wouldn’t hurt her to scratch it, the back scrubber's bristles, her hairbrush, a spoon.

.

One morning a couple if days later, Angeline woke up to strange bumps growing on her shoulders.

She had no idea what was happening, and she was afraid, not only of what was happening, but what her mother would do.

Angeline had to rely on the training she had received from her mother to keep her behaviour natural, because, while it was true that her mother didn’t care much about how she was feeling, or what she thought, she couldn’t start acting strangely all of a sudden.

She started spending most of her free time, what little there was of it, in her room instead of stretching and doing self study in the barre room, not wanting anyone to see the strange things going on with her, and deathly afraid that they would if she spent too much time around them. She went down for meals wearing a jacket over her small shirts, just telling her mother that she was chilly when she commented.

The bumps grew larger and larger, and she started to realize that she could move them, which helped as she tried more and more elaborate ways to hide them, but was soon able to hold them at certain angles as she put her bra on so it would hold them.

Throughout that week, panic attacks threatened to overtake her when her mother got close to her, but she managed to deflect her judging gaze by positioning her body so that the changes were less conspicuous, and keeping deep, even breaths moving through her lungs, as well as somehow managing to keep up with her responsibilities. All of which were mostly done in her room anyway, since her mother was becoming more busy with some things that she wasn’t privy to, as her mother never thought it important to involve her in anything that she didn’t actively need to be a part of.

.

As the week had gone by; after the first two days, she noticed that the bumps had feathers starting to grow on them, and a goose egg like bump had started growing at the base of her spine. By day five, they were no longer bumps, but long, jointed flaps, almost like a whale or dolphin's flippers, and the goose egg had turned into a growing tail, leanly muscled and getting longer daily. As her flippers finished developing, they filled out, spreading down and wide, becoming feathered wings, her tail, on the other hand, looked very much the same; longer, but still flesh colored and leanly muscled. It didn't do much, she had to almost focus on what she wanted it to do to move it.

By the end of the week, Angeline had a fully formed set of white feathered wings, and a very strong tail that was just a few inches over three feet long, which made it long enough to drag on the floor if she didn’t hold it up, or wrap it around her ankle. The wings were very articulate, able to lay the long first few joints close against her back and wrap the rest around her in a tight hug.

She pulled one of her tight shirts on, expecting it to tear, however, it seemed that her mother had wanted her clothing as tight as possible, and had gotten mostly spandex blend tops that stretched around her extra three inches or so of girth. Over that, she put her jacket, and, although very warm, her wings were hardly visible!

She smiled as she stared at her back in the mirror, tucking her hair behind her ear, and noticed that her ears had grown longer and pointed, almost like the pictures she'd seen of elves. She pulled it back straight and left her hair down, as it covered the tips of her ears so they weren't noticeable.

.

After a nice, hot shower, and blow drying her hair and feathers, Angeline rubbed her shoulders, feeling the soreness to her new wing muscles. She flexed them in front of her full length mirror, admiring them.

Freedom.

She could hold them close, keep them hidden under a longer coat, and her tail fit under her pants or skirt perfectly. Her pointed ears poked out from her hair and her hand touched the mirror, as though to reach her reflection.

Since her "audition", she had been afraid of what would happen when she went to filming in three weeks, but she’d grown these.

She looked like a freak.

She smiled wider as she stared at her hand, pressing her middle fingers together like she’d heard they had been when she was born.

She wouldn’t be able to go to the movie.

She wouldn’t have to be in any movies.

She couldn’t go to producers, or talent scouts, or managers anymore.

She wouldn’t have to listen to her mother telling her to kneel before them and do what she’d been taught so she could get the part. It had been bad enough the three weeks earlier when her mother had tried to make her watch

She looked up to her reflection’s eyes. “Happy birthday,” she told herself.

Sixteen was apparently the perfect age, just like she’d been told, although for a different reason.

She stretched her wings and tried to flap them as if to fly. They were powerful, and she nearly knocked herself over.

She had to try this out.

She flapped and fluttered, but really just made very large jumps using only her wings, as her room didn't have enough space to actually fly.

When she’d worn herself out, she realized that she was very excited and wished she had someone to talk to about this as she stood gasping for breath and smiling.

She looked in the mirror to admire her wings again, and realized that she’d been jumping around in her underwear for the last few hours.

She was so giddy that she just laughed.

...    ...    ...    

Angeline dug through her closet until she found her page boy hat, pulling it on and tugging it down over the tips of her ears.

She was going to have to go to school today.

She'd chosen a little fluffier of a skirt so that the outline of her tail wasn't visible, and her off the shoulder shirt hung low enough that it covered the bottom of her wings, and when she pulled on her jacket, it covered her shoulders.

She left her room, hoping that her mother wouldn't notice her perhaps strange outfit choices, and trying to act as normal as possible.

After she returned from her classes that day, and did her line practice, as well as the script practice for the movie, which she didn't want to give up all of a sudden in case her mother suspected something, she pulled her jacket off and tugged at her shirt until her wings could struggle out of the fabric.

That made it so that the shirt was choking her, though, so she quickly fixed it and found a tank top that she could pull on over her legs, since it would be hard to get it on correctly over her head with her wings either in the way, or trapped under it, and was glad to feel that the tank top ended under her new wing joints. She adjusted her shirts, finding the most comfortable way to wear them that would still let her use her wings.

She went over to her window and opened it, looking back into the room and running to lock the door before going back to the window.

With a glance outside, though, she turned back to the room, thinking that she needed to hide her identity; she couldn't let someone see her who might tell her mother, and of course the worry was so great that she didn't even realize that there was actually a very low chance that anyone she would see would recognize her, but in the end, it's better safe than sorry, and she grabbed a mask that covered half of her face, thinking this would be enough of a disguise, and went to the window again.

Pulling the mask securely over her face, she climbed onto the window sill and leapt out, flapping hard to gather the altitude she needed to get away from her house undetected. She flapped her wings, surprised by how natural it felt to have them, and how easily she was flying, despite having never done it before, or ever hearing of anyone else doing it before.

As she glided above the city buildings, she saw a bus speeding through the street, nothing out of the ordinary, except that she had also seen a flash of a boy chasing a ball into the street.

She'd seen enough movies to know that this is when the camera cut away to the ball bouncing away and tires screeched in the background.

The thought that she should do something popped into her mind with an urgency, and her wings automatically moved, tilting and angling so that she was shooting down toward the boy, crashing into him and grabbing blindly, her arms managing to wrap around him, as they careened into an alleyway.

Angeline sat up, sorting herself out quickly, and made sure that the boy was ok, pushing him to the edge of the alley before flapping her wings and taking off.

.

After a couple more days sneaking out to fly around the town, and stopping a man from kidnapping a teenager, she decided that she needed a bigger coat; her jacket did cover her wings, but it wasn't the most comfortable thing to wear, and wearing it out here was getting it dirtier than she expected, which was going to make her mother notice.

She snuck down to the hall closet, closing the door behind her to stay hidden, since there was a light and enough room to stand inside of it.

She looked through the coats, sure that there would be one that would work, especially since her stepfather was six feet tall, and she was only about five foot.

She found an older duster and knew that it would for sure cover her wings, as it fell all the way to the ground when she put it on, dragging just the edge on the floor as she turned around. She smiled and nodded in decision, but froze as she heard footsteps coming closer to her.

"Yeah, I know. It is depress- oh-"

Angeline threw herself between coats, turning so that the duster hid her from the view of the closet door as it opened.

"No, I agree with you, someone just left the closet light on," her stepfather assured, stepping into the closet and pausing, standing there as he continued his conversation. "I understand what you're saying; this new one is making it hard to spread the word about mutants when what it's doing is making them look good."

Angeline's brows met. Mutant? She had heard that word before, him saying it at the dinner table as he spoke about work, and maybe on a few of his work phone calls, she thought.

What was a mutant? Memory filled her mind; she'd asked that same question, and he'd told her that a mutant was a dangerous animal that looked like a human, and sometimes they didn't look human at all.

"No, for sure, I know that we will be able to make them see the truth, I mean, mutants are popping up more and more, and whatever that lunatic with the helmet does proves our point more; mutants need to be registered, and monitored." He turned off the light and closed the door behind him, still paused outside the door as he finished his conversation. "I really think that if we do that, if we can sterilize them to stop them from breeding, they'll die out naturally, and we still look good, like our only concern is for the public. Then we won't have to worry about those- animal rights groups,” he paused and made a sound like he was trying to get the taste out of his mouth, “protesting and causing a scene."

Angeline listened at the door for a few moments before opening it and hurrying upstairs.

She was glad that she wasn't a mutant; they sounded like bloodthirsty monsters, the way he spoke about them. She paused as she closed her bedroom door, pondering for a moment.

Was she a mutant? But she was a human, and had started out that way, not as an animal.

She shook her head in dismissal.

Besides, she was doing good things; saving that kid from getting hit by a car, stopping that man from kidnapping that teenager, if anyone was a bad guy, and therefore maybe a mutant, it would be the guy who was trying to kidnap people.

She was different, sure, but not a bloodthirsty animal monster.

After spending an afternoon going through her closet, Angeline found the best outfit for her excursions; a pair of older jeans that were tight, as nearly all of her clothes were, with her tail down one leg you couldn't see it, and with a tank top under her wings, and a looser, low cut, shirt over them, she could look completely normal if she had to take off her coat, but no one would be able to see her bare skin when she had to pull the bottom of the top shirt up so her wings could move freely, and the duster she'd borrowed from her stepfather not only made it so she didn't have to hold her wings so tight, it disguised the bulk from them when she just had them folded behind her, she had her hat to hide her ears, and the mask on her face to hide her identity.

For school she had nearly the same style, but with her regular jacket instead of her stepfather's duster, which her mother would never approve of.

Her mother had gotten angry at her over the week because she was eating more; she felt like she was always starving! Apparently, flying took a lot of energy.

Angeline had been afraid that her mother would hit her, or more, but she had glared at her and told her that she was lucky that her body had to be pretty for the movie and that she was too busy getting things ready for it.

Her mother's way to deal with her had turned to checking her weight daily, and looking to make sure she was appropriately dressed as she dropped her off at the school, but otherwise ignoring her so that she didn't get angry enough to hit her and leave marks where her skin would be showing for the movie.

.

Soon after getting her clothing situation sorted out, Angeline was flying across the city, watching the flow of traffic and the people wander along as she enjoyed the air against her skin.

She rolled in the air, laughing in amazement at how her wings seemed to know what to do; all she had to do was think of what she wanted to do, be it a dive, a roll, a flip, anything, and all she had to do was think of doing it for her wings to make it reality.

She looked down at the street, another laugh escaping her lips, but cut off as she saw a man pointing a gun at a woman. Her wings turned her to them without her even thinking it.

She landed on the roof and looked down, troubled and unsure of what to do.

The woman needed help, she wanted to help, but the man had a gun. He was dirty, and large, wearing clothing that covered him and made it hard to see his face.

“Just give me the money!”

The woman was shaking so badly that she couldn’t, and the man waved the gun at her.

Angeline felt her insides twisting, but- she was sure that the poor woman was going to get shot if she didn’t comply, and she could hardly control her shaking legs enough to not fall down.

Angeline took a breath and steeled herself, deciding to sneakily land at the back of the alley.

She could help the woman comply, at least, and that should help her survive.

Her wings let her land nearly silently on the street behind a dumpster, and she slowly left its shelter. “Please,” she said softly, and the man spun to look at her, the gun still pointed at the woman.

“Who the hell are you?! Where did you come from?!”

“I just want to help- I’ll get it for you, so please don’t hurt her…” The woman’s eyes left the gun and moved to her. “Just give him the purse and we’ll walk out of here,” she told her. The woman shook her head. “It’s the best way out of the situation,” Angeline told her. She moved closer, and the man watched her.

“Stop, don’t get any closer to her!”

Angeline stopped and looked at the man. “I’m only trying to help.”

The man was starting to react in a strange way, and Angeline didn’t know what to do to put him at ease. If she had wanted him to come closer so she could seduce him, or buy something for her, it would have been no problem, but this, calming him, she had no idea.

He waved the gun at the two of them, and neither moved. “F-fine, get the bag, give it to me!”

Angeline moved toward the woman, holding her hand out for the purse. The woman shook her head again, but Angeline stepped next to her. “Money and cards can be replaced, but not your life,” she told her.

The woman finally relented and jerkily let the purse strap slide down her arm so she could hold it out to the man. He reached out, and Angeline turned to keep her eyes on him.

The woman suddenly threw the purse at the man and ran.

Angeline and the man both jumped in surprise, and a bang echoed through the alley.

The man stared at her as she looked down to her shoulder, where it felt like she'd been punched.

Blood was starting to run down down her shoulder and chest.

The man turned and ran as fast as he could out of the space. Panic started building in Angeline’s stomach and thoughts started firing rapidly through her mind.

She had gotten shot- she had damaged her body; her shoulder was probably broken, defiantly bloody- she was getting blood all over her clothes- her mother was going to kill her!

“Oh no,” she whimpered as tears started building in her eyes.

She wasn't supposed to be out of the house without permission, which her mother only gave for school, and she was injured, had damaged her body.

Even if her mother didn't beat her to death, she would very seriously turn to renting her out to make the money back for all the trouble she'd been…

She didn't want that!

Maybe- maybe if she could get back to her room- if she could just get back to her room, her mother might never know she had left it! She would take her to the hospital and have them fix her shoulder, and everything would be ok. Even if she died, at least she’d be in her room and her mother wouldn’t find out that she’d left.

“I'm sorry, mama,” she whimpered as pain filled her shoulder.

It was different from the pain she'd felt before; that was all external pain, but this, it was a little like when her wings had started growing, pushing from the inside, feeling like it was deep in her bones.

She managed to gather herself enough to let her wings do their thing, flying her back home as she panicked.

‘Please, if mama never finds out, if everything is ok, I'll be a good girl, I won't go out anymore, I'll do what she says, I'll kneel down when she says,’ she started bargaining with an unknown force in the universe, anyone, anything, as long as it would stop the doom she felt awaited her if her mother found out what had been happening.

She made it to her house, flying high to the roof so no one would see her, then lowering herself to her window and climbing in.

The pain in her shoulder was less, now, like when her body became accustomed to her mother hitting her and stopped paying attention to it.

She hurried to the large mirror and stood in front of it, looking at her shoulder to see how bad it was.

Flying through the air had made a lot of the blood dry, and she was coated in a lot of half congealed and crusted blood.

She managed to shrug off her coat, letting the duster fall to the floor as she pulled the collar of her shirt out of the way.

She couldn’t see clearly what had happened, so she went to where she had left a bottle of water, and pulled out the ruined bloody pajama shirt she had left under her mattress, unsure of what to do with it.

She wet the shirt and started wiping at the outsides of the blood, expecting it to hurt the closer she got to the wound.

She had washed the whole outside, and couldn’t see anything wrong, or feel any pain. With slow, soft strokes, she started cleaning over where the shot had hit her.

She still couldn’t see anything…

With her face twisted in confusion, Angeline cleaned her entire shoulder, but saw only a red welt.

She blinked in confusion and poked the spot. It hurt, but only as much as she did after getting hit with a belt, maybe.

Had she made it all up in her mind? She looked down to her clothes, and saw that her shirt was still soaked with blood in the area around her shoulder and down her chest.

She poked it again, very confused.

She went over to her dresser where a vase holding a few roses was sitting, and pulled one of the thorns off, turning it and pushing it against the soft skin near where the bullet had hit.

It caught after a moment and sank into her skin, making her gasp. She pulled it out and wiped over the blood drop that had started welling out, revealing a puncture mark.

After a moment, she wiped again, and the small hole had disappeared.

She blinked in surprise. Had she healed? Did it really go that fast?

She stabbed herself with the thorn again, and had the same result.

After thinking for a moment, she changed and snuck to the room with her mother’s wardrobe in it, finding the drawer with the alteration things in it and taking a needle and the large, heavy cutting shears and quickly went back to her room, closing and locking the door again.

She held the needle up and looked at it, taking a breath to steady herself before doing what she was about to.

Angeline clenched her jaw, pushing the needle against her arm, closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to watch it sinking into her skin.

After feeling like she had pushed enough to make it in a short way, enough to be able to tell anyway, she opened her eyes and they widened in shock.

Without realizing it, she had pushed the needle halfway into her arm.

When she just left it there, she felt a strange tugging against the skin where the needle was, and watched as it was pushed out of her arm to tumble to the carpet.

Angeline blinked at it, wondering how it had happened.

She opened the scissors, and carefully cut her ribs under her breast, probably the only place her mother would never find the cut if it didn’t heal, and watched in the mirror as it healed.

She stood and went to the door of her closet.

It was a heavy, good quality door, like the rest in the house, and she braced herself, putting her fingers in the open space between the hinges, gritting her jaw and throwing the door closed with her other hand.

Angeline could hear the light, but solid snapping of the bones of her fingers breaking as the door bounced off of them and opened back up.

Angeline whimpered as she fell to her knees, holding her crooked and deformed looking hand to her, staring at how her fingers pointed in strange, unnatural angles.

It hurt so bad, she was nearly sobbing as she watching in amazement, seeing her fingers snapping and popping as, movement by movement, joint by joint, they put themselves back into order.

Angeline moved back over to where the shears were on the floor.

She held out the hand she’d just watch repair itself and managed to get the tip of her finger into the scissors, holding one side while the other rested on the floor.

She quickly pushed them closed, and a chunk of flesh fell. She took the shirt and held it under her hand to catch the blood running down her wrist as she watched her finger bleed.

Slowly, it got longer and reformed.

She rinsed her hand off the best she could and stared at her finger.

It looked perfectly normal.

She hurried to the bathroom and washed her hand, drying it to see that it was perfectly normal.

She looked up at herself in the mirror with wide eyes. “I’m indestructible…”

Tag List!

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[wearebrokenintheend]

Cars and Telephones {Keanu Reeves}

~This is the first fic I’ve written about Keanu and I apologize if it’s a bit lacking. I’m just trying to get back into writing and provide an example of my song fics and blahblahblah.~

“Cars and Telephones” by Arcade Fire

I read the pages about me In her autobiography They were brief and to the point

My eyes carefully scanned over the pages of the book, taking in every word that she had written about me. At first, she introduced myself and how we had met at a coffee shop in New York City. The memory made me smile to myself, remembering how beautiful she was when I first saw her. Continuing the book, she mentioned the basic details of most of our dates and our relationship as a whole. After only a few pages of our relationship, she suddenly stopped the chapter, and going on into the next one that was about her life after we broke up. I couldn’t help but shut the book and place it onto my coffee table. I sighed and sunk back into my couch, turning on the tv to drown out my intruding thoughts.

One flash while you are getting dressed A memory that needs to be repressed I'll just wait until it's over

After a half hour of watching the news, my mind drifted off to her, to a memory that I would always hate myself for. It was over a year ago when we were staying in a hotel room while on a trip to Florida for her birthday. It was long past midnight when we got back to our room after a long day of trying to enjoy ourselves as well as avoid the public eye at Universal Studios. She went to take a hot bath and relax, and I had swiftly followed and joined her. Once we made love and splashed water everywhere, she got out and dried herself off with a towel. As I let the water drain and found a towel, she began changing into one of my shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. Before she put on the shirt, a sudden flash made her stop and look out the large glass window. I felt a mix of confusion and anger and rushed past her, pulling the curtains together while almost ripping them off of their rods. “Keanu?” She muttered, her eyes full of shock and fear. I frowned and wrapped myself around her. I shushed her and grabbed the shirt from the bed, slipping it onto her to cover her bare breasts. She looked up at me and sighed, “I’m right here, (y/n),” I assured her. She nodded and pulled herself from my arms so she could walk over to the window. She carefully peaked from the curtains to see what was going on. I tried to stop her by putting my arms around her waist and pulling her to me, but she had already seen everything. I didn’t bother looking out the window because I knew exactly what the flash had come from. She turned around to face me, tears in her eyes. “Someone was watching us,” she whimpered. “I’m so so sorry, honey.” I pulled her to lay on the bed with me, and she began crying softly into my chest.

Since you've gone away I never know just what to say Since you've gone away I never know just what to say Cause I like cars more than telephones Your voice in my ear makes me feel so alone Tonight I'm gonna drive, the silver moon is shining bright Over the interstate, God saying hurry don't be late Soon the sun will rise, that's when the romance dies And I'm just tired of running around

Later that night, I laid awake in my bed, just staring up at the ceiling. I had tried to fall asleep for the past hour, but all of the thoughts of her kept me awake and empty inside. Everything, even my own bed, felt different without her. It all felt empty and meaningless. I felt this way almost every night since she left, only getting a break from it when I was too exhausted and instantly fell asleep or when I would drink that evening until I would pass out. After another half hour of thinking and even crying, my mind went seemingly numb and I was deep asleep. But I couldn’t get away from her, not even in my sleep. I dreamed of her, everything about her. Her body, her eyes, her lips, her curves, her laugh, her voice. Everything. I couldn’t take it anymore and I woke up, sitting up in my bed to find myself covered in sweat, like I had some godawful nightmare. I turned and look towards the clock on my nightstand, seeing that it was 6:00am. I noticed the soft glare of the moon and sun as the dawn was approaching. “I need her.” I mumbled to myself, “I fucking need her.”

I walked to get the mail today I guess your letter never came I'll just check again tomorrow The next time I woke up it was 9:30am, and the sun had since rose closer to the middle of the sky. I got out of bed and walked to my closet, putting on a pair of sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. My mind drifted between what I was currently doing and (y/n), distracting me as I ate breakfast and drank my coffee. After I finished my breakfast and coffee, I slipped on a pair of shoes and walked outside to get the mail. The sidewalk and driveway were coated with a thin layer of snow, and the grass covered in snow and frost. I carefully walked to the mailbox and retreated back inside. I shut and locked the door, kicked off my shoes, and sat down on the couch. I sorted through the few letters I had gotten, hoping for something from (y/n). When we were together, she would send me handwritten letters almost everyday, knowing that it meant the world to me. Of course, the only things I’d received were bills and the newspaper. I then went to look at my phone for a text, email, anything from her. My heart sunk once again when there was nothing from her. Why do I do this to myself every goddamn day? A flash while you are getting dressed A memory that needs to be repressed I'll just wait without saying a word

I succumbed to my loneliness and began going through my phone, reading all of our texts, looking at all of our photos together, and adoring every single one of the many photos I still had of just her. These were all outdated by almost a year, and I hadn’t actually seen her since we broke up. I decided to search the images of her online, wondering if she looked any different now. The first dozen photos were mainly of her and myself, and some new ones of her that were a month old. Before I could go back, I saw the photo that started all of our problems. It was from an old news article from a gossip magazine, talking about the trip (y/n) and I took for her birthday last year. The published photo had censored her chest, but there were some suggested photos linked to it that weren’t censored. I knew that if this was from a different situation, like if she had sent photos of herself to him during the many times they were away from each other, I would grin and admire her breasts. I would remember how perfect they felt against my chest, when I would kneed on them, the way she would moan and shudder at my touch as we made love. I loved the way they moved and bounced when she was on top of me. But this was different. This was from an intimate and private moment that had been intruded by a stranger.  Since you've gone away I never know just what to say Since you've gone away I never know just what to say Cause I like cars more than telephones Your voice in my ear makes me feel so alone Tonight I'm gonna drive, the silver moon is shining bright Over the interstate, God saying hurry don't be late Soon the sun will rise, that's when the romance dies And I'm just tired of running around After I spent all day planning and packing, I was in the garage and putting my bags in my car. I locked up the house and opened the garage door. As I pulled out, I shut the door and turned on my GPS. The hum of my Porsche soothed my mind and body, allowing me to focus on the road and not on my thoughts. I made my way out of the city and onto the interstate. It was still packed with people leaving work late or going out for the weekend. The full moon’s light glistened on the salted roads, reminding him of fresh snow. I kept driving until I was running low on gas, and had to stop at a gas station. It was already 2:00am, and I was physically and mentally exhausted. My body kept fighting with me, wanting to stop somewhere and get a room for the night. 

But fuck it, I love you even if, I'm gonna feel like shit By the time I get to you, now the sky is turning blue The stars they disappear one by one as the daylight nears And yes you're in my head, but that doesn't make you here And I've lost all my friends, but you're the one I miss the most And now I'm almost there, yeah, I'm almost to the coast And if I had any notion of how I'm gonna drive my car across The Atlantic Ocean I'd be fucking set

But I was only about three-and-a-half hours away from her. I had to keep going. So I got some coffee along with gas and sped back onto the empty roads. 

After another two hours, I stopped once more for gas and to use the bathroom, as well as even more coffee. Once I had finished with getting everything, I noticed that the sky was beginning to turn into a pale blue color, with the stars becoming slightly dimmer. I smiled softly as I got into my car and continued on the road to the love of my life. Once I got stuck at a red light, I heard my phone going off under the slightly louder music of the radio. I looked down at the phone screen and saw that one of my friends and neighbors had noticed that my house lights were all off and that I didn’t answer the door when he’d knocked. I turned my phone off and put it back into my coat pocket, knowing that it wasn’t that important at the time. I knew that a few of my close friends have been trying their best to cheer me up ever since (y/n) and I went our separate ways, but nothing ever seemed to be enough. I was always thinking back to her. She was the one who mattered the most to him, above everyone else in the world. My GPS alerted me that I was only a few minutes away from where (y/n) lived, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. She was so fucking close. When I arrived at her house, I pulled into the driveway and put my car in park. I grabbed my phone and called her without hesitating, I’ve come too far to quit now. 

...”I’m on a visit to London, Keanu.” She admitted, causing my heart to drop immensely. “I wish you had contacted me sooner so I would’ve stayed back. I’m so sorry. I’ll be back home in three days.” She said, her voice filled with sorrow and pity. “No, it’s my fault. I should’ve let you know that I was coming. It’s alright, (y/n).” I replied, trying so hard not to break down into tears. “I gotta go, Keanu. Goodbye.” I swallowed the emotions that were trying to escape me, “Goodbye, (y/n).” She hung up, and I sat there in complete silence. If only I could just drive across the fucking ocean for you.

[chasingeast]

I'm too rough

We met a few months back due to a series of coincidences. We spoke to each other a long time ago on a dating website, had plans to meet up, but never did. I don't really remember what we spoke about though. Forgive me. It's been a while and a lot of things have happened but I do remember writing to you about leaving. We became reintroduced due to a mutual friend's baby shower. And I admit that at first I was skeptical. Maybe we didn't meet for a reason, aside from that I met my ex that I dated at the time. But we talked. I spontaneously wanted to meet up with you because hey, what's the harm? So we met up at a Barnes and Noble and I was so nervous. Could you tell? I kept trying to avoid eye contact. Thank God that we were walking around constantly which distracted me. As our night ended we parted ways with the vague idea of keeping in contact. I got into a number of accidents and mishaps and after two weeks. You showed up again. It was easy. Fun. It was so nice. You were away down in Louisiana but had the promise of a return. And as each day crept on. I became fond of you. The things you'd say. The way you would ask and schedule phone calls. It made me smile. And made me really happy. And I thought to myself. Wow. I really like him. And what can I do to keep this going. We had a pretty mutual back and forth. I couldn't wait for you to come home. I had been so nervous to ask you to come and stay with me at my house. I really wanted to spend as much time with you as possible because plans changed. You got this amazing job down south and that promise of a return became shorter. But even still. I couldn't wait. Couldn't stop thinking of you. This Rush of feeling that I thought had left me, impossible to return was here. I was so giddy in excitement. Looking back I think I was borderline obsessive ...yikes! So finally we met again after 2 months. You're adorable. I love the stories you told me. Our silly talks and walks at Mitsuwa. I hold these memories very close to my heart. More important at this time I felt wanted. You gave me your full attention. I couldn't even doubt you if I wanted to. You came back to my house with me and showed me your boardgame that you worked on years ago. That's awesome! I wish we could have played it. And now I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to even see you again much a less play it. But regardless it was fun! Getting to know you. When I jumped on the counter to be the same height as you, I felt so empowered. I loved looking straight into your eyes and smiling at you. And then you pulled me in closer for a peck on the lip and out of surprise and nervousness I pulled back. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I was just nervous. And so you stayed and we had some very sweet moments and long talks. That weekend felt so nice. You were there. And I didn't have to worry about when I'd hear from you next. And so I took you to the farm by me we took pictures and were just there in the moment. I felt so nervous because I really just wanted to hold your hand. So I kept brushing up beside you purposely, nervously until I just grabbed it and looked at you waiting to see your reaction. You held on. And it made me smile and we walked back home. I got to see you again a few days later and we made dinner together. I was so happy that you wanted to prepare dinner together with me. Honestly, it doesn't take much to make me happy. Our silliness of tricking our mutual friend. More intimate nights. And the next day, you walked me to work. I held your hand and you brought me there. And I started to feel all sorts of feelings for you. Honestly it just exploded from happiness since then. When I couldn't see you I'd message you. We started to video call. We'd talk often. You became busier and I really just wanted to spend time with you so I became a little sad. I kept thinking to myself, well maybe he'll say something today, but you didn't promise me anything which I guess was a safe choice so that you couldn't disappoint. But it started to get a little Rocky. There were days I wanted to give you space as to not seem clingy but those days made me sad. Wondering if I should reach out, would I hear from you, will I see you again before you leave? And I did, but you were late and all I remember if my fueled anger. You were caught up due to something else and forgot about the time and out of spite I changed your plan and created new ones for us that day. But you still stayed a little longer than I thought you would. And I gave you a jar of wishes for your soon to be travel back south. I watched you drop it outside and I know it's not funny but I was laughing watching you pick them up. I wonder what you did with it. Did you bring it with you or leave it home? And then it was your birthday. I think I was too eager too soon. I drew you a picture of your cartoons fused with my style of drawing. I wanted to spend it with you. A day and with a person that I couldn't call mine. And I saw you again. But I wanted more though I felt that it wouldn't change at that moment. I wanted to sit close to you. I wanted you to hold me like you did when we first met up again. But you just sat there as I inched closer or pulled away. This continued in our conversations. We were drifting. And you went back south. Our daily conversations turned to every other, ever 3 days. I cried often because I didn't know what to do. I wanted more but I knew I had to be patient. You needed the time and space because you were busy with your exams, adjusting to your new life. I told you one day how I felt because I didn't want to bottle it up anymore. And you disappeared for 3 days. When I finally heard from you again you made no mention of what I poured out of my heart. And it cut me like a knife. And I cried more and more. Wounded. And then came the time that I wanted to visit you and I asked you to tell me by Wednesday. Wednesday came and gone and there was no mention. I met up with my friend for dinner the following day and when she poked and told me all the words I didn't want to hear I cried. I cried so pitifully so in a nice restaurant full of happy people. I cried so bitterly as she said no words of comfort only bitterness. And so I poked at you to ask if you remembered. And I broke down and cried to you through a video chat. I wanted to know that you wanted me to be there. That it mattered enough to remember. To say something. Anything. The only thing I remember from that conversation is how you said ' I'm sorry you're upset. Maybe we should just stop.' when really I wish you would have said ' I'm sorry I made you upset. Help me help you.' and so I backed off. Bitterly and blindly booked my ticket to a new Destination that I'll be flying to today. But I don't really want to go. I just wanted to visit you. I'm sad. Our conversations dwindled. They were lackluster and far and few in between. And comes the day that all the tests are over. You made me a birthday present. I was happy with it because it was a drawing and you thought of my favorite anime CCS. I think I prefer your cartoons but the picture was sweet. And now we have today. You've already passed your test. Finally this day has come. But it's over. Everything is over. I was upset with you because I wanted to be there for you. I wanted you to let me in your world. To let me be a part of it to nurture and comfort and support you when you felt down. But whether you knew it or not.. you didn't let me in. You never got back to me again about spending time with me yesterday. So I blew up at you. I raged spiteful and harmful words. I thought all this time that I was being direct. But now that I finally see what you said, I've been cruel. I've been mean. I lacked that connection that I placed blame on you for. And so I said all of my fears. And I haven't heard from you. My biggest fear. And I finally took a day to think about it. Talk it over and I sent you an apology. And as each time I watch that green light flicker on. I notice that our conversation never lights. And I cry anxiously and painfully because I've been too much. Expectations are good to have. It provides you with a solid foundation. But I was unknowingly asking you to be perfect. To be the one that I've been searching for and more. And you're not and I forced it on you. And now I realize that. I thought all this time that maybe all the pieces were falling together. That maybe you're that unknown reason to why I obsessively collect stationary. That I chose your favorite fruit as a design. That all these steps we're just falling in to place. But I was wrong. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry. And I wish even now I just want to be angry with you. I just want you to know how much you've been hurting me all this time because it's undeniable. When I don't hear from you, when you tell me that you think and care about it, but I don't see it. I don't see your care not feel your earnestness. I give you all the answers and keys but I never see it come true. Nothing happens. And it all probably could have been solved if I just stopped being stubborn and reached out to you. I just wanted to know if you would make the time. I've been so disappointed in myself. In my recent years choices. That I just wanted a fresh start. I wanted to believe that I deserved it. That I was capable. That I could. That I'm not just fated to hurt. That I can move on that I don't have to be punished that I'm allowed to make changes. And it hurts it hurts so badly. It's not a shed of a tear from a sappy romance movie. It's another cry from deep within. Those feelings that I want to avoid so much that I felt trapped due to. That I wanted to end all that I felt suffocated by for so long. It was painful. You didn't want that but it was painful. And now hours later you showed up. I didn't think you would. But you did and said that you'd still talk. A lot of things aren't falling in place for us. I kept running forward headstrong because I wanted to protect myself from being torn down with such oh so familiar feelings. But here you are. I just don't know. I just want to trust you. Trust you like I did that day you stayed over. Part of me wants to plow through and find the next sunset. Part of me wants to know if this will lead anywhere. I'm tired. I'm confused. I'm mostly hurt. And I didn't think about how my words might have hurt you. I just wanted to be able to feel. To not feel guilty about being upset. I'm sorry I'm too much. I'm sorry that I still have a lot to grow. I thought I was okay but I still need time. In 3 hours I need to wake up to get ready to leave. I wish I was headed your way. But I'm not so move the hell on. I basically have my entire itinerary planned. I just need to finish a few final details. Many details. Lol. All good. I'm still not okay. I still believe that you're wrong. I know I'm wrong. But I think the way you perceive your actions towards someone you say you care about is off. I want to believe that there's more to you than this. I have my doubts. But I have my hope. I need to lay low. 🦎 And make good use of this vacation I just paid for. Damnit.