#sometimes i think about the deep roads and my brain hurts

[martyrmarked]

dwarven lore is actually cracked. like what do you mean titans and the deep roads and lyrium and being able to sing to and hear stone?

[munsster]

road trip (trope bingo)

A/N: thought i might try this format out. also introducing a new face to my tumblr repertoire. i’ve written marvel before, just never on this site. enjoy!! (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You think Bucky is shallow for rejecting a pretty stranger in North Dakota. Little do you know. 1.6k words

Warnings: fluff, dummies not talking about their feelings, pet names (doll), slight angst but resolved, perhaps mutual pinging, a really good hug, playful bullying, cursing

"Ooh, she's cute."

You've been doing this for over an hour. He's downed at least four coffees by now. And the worst part is you call it finding a suitable mate. But he's just not interested in the women you're scouting for him at a rest stop a few miles out from Fargo, North Dakota. He would've just left, gone and sat in the truck, but he'd feel bad leaving you rambling to yourself when you're the one paying for this meal.

"Come on, Buck, you're no fun," you huff, dropping your spoon into the thick mug now emptied of hot cocoa.

"You're right. Can we go now?" He starts to slide out of his seat when you scoff. He goes still like a deer in headlights. This should be fun.

"James Buchanan, you're telling me none of the lovely ladies in this diner tickle your fancy? Not even third barstool? She's tall, Buck, like... model tall," you suggest with your brows raised.

"I'm not... we're in North Dakota, you think that's what I'm lookin' for?"

"Just one date! You wouldn't take her on one, single date? The little bar across the street seems sensible, why not?"

"Um—"

"Tell meee," you whine, leaning over the sticky, vinyl tablecloth with a pout.

He shrugs. "Not my type."

"Bullshit. She's everybody's type. She's my type, Bucky. Are you blind or just plain stupid?"

"I'm not interested."

You pull a face like you're offended on her behalf. Bucky rolls his eyes and wishes you'd drop it.

"Oh, I get it," you say. Leaned back, arms stretched across the length of the seat, you huff and glare at him. "You think you're too good for her, huh? Just 'cause she's a North Dakota ten, and you're a Brooklyn eight, you think that makes you better, don't you?"

"What? An eight?" he mumbles, shaking his head.

"Ugh, you men gross me out sometimes. Massive egos, teensy little brains," you say, slapping a twenty on the table and standing with a vicious squint. "Well, let me learn you something, James"—you loom over him and poke your pointer finger at his chest—"you're shallow, and you're no better than her. You prob'ly couldn't take her out if you wanted to. Goodnight."

You huff and walk away, but he chuckles and calls after you: "It's noon, doll." Flipping him off, you march out into the parking lot. He considers the woman for a moment. You called him a Brooklyn eight. She's pretty, he'll admit, but he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't interested. Bucky's seen the far stretches of the Earth, which means he's seen women of all forms. Accountants and soldiers from all over, all professions, all languages. All beautiful. But nothing intrigues him quite as much as you do.

...

"Did you ask her out, or are you choosing to remain a coward?" You've got your boots propped on the dashboard, the truck bumbling eighty down the highway. An emery board swipes back and forth at your middle fingernail as you snap your bubblegum.

"Come on, doll, play nice. We're leavin' anyway, didn't want to hurt her feelings," he grumbles.

"Tough. Doesn't make you any less of a pussy, Barnes."

You flick the nail file at his cheek and drop your feet heavily on the hot car mat. You called him a Brooklyn eight. You cringe at the remembrance while Bucky revels in it. He even grinned stupid all the way back to the parking lot. To himself, but still. He hates how deep under his skin you are. He hates how he likes the itch.

His tongue twists with all the things he could have said. He should have said. But he grips the steering wheel tight and drives till you cross the border into Minnesota.

"Wanna go anywhere before Wisconsin? They've got... lakes here," he shyly suggests, voice soft, hoping you'll just ignore him and turn up the radio. He doesn't think you'll ever ignore him, even if he did prefer it.

"Only if I could push you into one of them."

"Listen, kid—"

"Kid? That's great, Bucky. It's getting dark, why don't we just find a motel." You cross your arms. The cold is getting to you. Even in a down jacket and two pairs of pants. It gets like that up north.

He does what you tell him because the last thing he needs is for you to hold another grudge against him. This one's quaint, so he gets the last double available, chuckling nervously when the older woman at the front desk mistakes you for a married couple.

"Sure you don't want a single, honey? Not gettin' any kids outta separate beds—"

"Nope—thanks, miss—that's—double is fine, double's perfect, thanks," he huffs. You chuckle.

She gives a rolling, belly laugh, head tossed back as she croaks, "Won't file any noise complaints against youse! Have a fun night."

"Geez, she was great," you sigh, still smiling from the ridiculous interaction. You flop face down onto the bed closest to the window, rattling the ice from the crevices in your boots. It crunches to the floor and you wriggle out of your coat as Bucky locks himself into the pale yellow bathroom.

He starts mumbling from the other side of the door, so you sit up and toe your boots onto the floor with a thud. Digging your fingertips into the edge of the hastily tucked sheets, you stare at a wine stain in the middle of the beige carpet. At least it smells nice in here. Even if half the lights are out, and cable doesn't come through clear enough to watch.

You find yourself, cheek pressed to the door, eyes wide as you listen through the flimsy wood.

"I don't think so, Steve. No, listen, it's like... beyond repair. She wouldn't take an apology even if I knew what i was sorry for—no—she's way too good for me, I can't do that to her."

Still moping over women found in North Dakota's lowest rated diners? That's highly unlike him. But even Bucky's a wildcard six-thousand miles into a roadtrip. You press closer, chewing your lip and closing your eyes.

"No, no, everything—this stuff's easier for you, pal, you don't get it, 'kay? I'm just saying... I mean, even a stranger thought we were married"—What—"has to mean something, right? Even strangers are realizing... there's something... there. I just don't want to accidentally—no, I know, not like that, I mean...well, I like her a lot and I don't want it to scare her—"

You back up slightly, hands held in front of you like surrender. Not out of fear, but realization. That's why he didn't ask her out. Or even fish for her number. Because—

You hit the floor with a thump.

"Steve. I gotta go."

The door whips open and floods the room with warm light. You scramble to your feet.

"Were you... I was just talking to... Did you hear any of that?"

You shake your head. He shoves his hands into the shallow pockets of his jeans.

"Okay," he says with a nod, "good." He blows hot air out of his mouth and runs a swift hand through his hair. But he doesn't meet your eyes. Like a little kid so terrified of fibbing that he'd rather swim deeper into the abyss than float to the surface. Can't catch his damn breath around here.

"So..."

"Goodnight, Bucky!" you chirp, turning on your heel with a whoosh of air. And he stops you in your tracks, hand on your bicep. You don't turn back around, stuck staring at the foot of your bed.

"Doll," he whispers, roped up by fear and a pinch of self-pity. Attending his own funeral with a sick smile on his face. "Just how much did you hear."

You spin on the balls of your feet, going hot in the face, fueled by the electricity at his fingertips. "A lot."

"Oh."

You nod and try your best non-psychotic smile. "Sorry."

"No, no... don't be," he says, trying his own. So you're just a couple of smirking idiots at a stalemate in a stale motel room. A couple of idiots with feelings for each other. Unresolved feelings. Unspoken, too.

"I actually—could I?" You point behind him into the cramped bathroom, and he lets go of you like it's his last move before you put him in check. Before he has to hand you the game. Though, he'd do that in a heartbeat. Every game of his is yours. "Thanks."

"No problem." He shuts his eyes when you close the door with a calculated tenderness. Like you don't want to frazzle his poor heart.

But then why would you open the door again? Why would you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his back? Why would you make it all so much worse and spread your fingers over his abdomen, taking a deep breath when he runs his hand down your forearm and turns to face you. Then you melt with his strong arms holding you thisclose.

"Like you a lot, too, Barnes. You're just a big dunce a lot of the time. But that's like... half the draw or whatever," you mumble into his shoulder. And you've never been this close, and he thinks he could pass out. Become a chalk outline in a dusty motel in Minnesota. But if it happened like this, he'd be okay with that statistic.

marvel masterlist

[idkwhatever580]

Think about sex!

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Prompt: y/n has a crush on Natasha and Nat says something during a car ride with her and Wanda. Secrets are uncovered.

Warnings: swearing, kind of betrayal? Mentions of smut (thoughts?)

A/n : I know I started that whole series and I’ve only made one but I swear I thought it was going to be easier 😭 I’m working on things but please be patient.

Y/n’s pov

Nat is driving a car that I don’t even know the name of because we snagged it from Tony with me in the passenger seat and Wanda in the back middle seat.

We’re just driving back from our trip to the zoo when I suddenly get the overwhelming urge to pee.

I have some problems with self awareness so sometimes my body doesn’t tell me what it needs until it needs it desperately.

So I shift in my seat and say

“Nat is there any way you can get us back faster?”

She chuckles and says

“Why? You got a hot date waiting for you at home?”

I shake my head and say

“No”

Wanda leans forward and says

“Are you alright?”

I sigh knowing they’re my best friends and say

“I really have to pee”

Wanda snickers and nat says

“Oh! Think about sex”

It was so random and out of pocket that my face goes pale and I say

“W-what?”

She laughs at me stuttering and she says

“Sorry! I saw this thing on TikTok that said if you think about sex it makes you not have to pee”

I glare at her and say

“That’s so fake!”

Wanda shrugs her shoulders and says

“There is literally no bathroom for another 30 minutes. At this point if I were you I would try anything.”

I groan and roll my eyes. Then I go silent.

If this works. I swear to God.

I close my eyes and Wanda snickers but nat shushes her. So then the only sound is the radio playing and I sigh and picture having sex.

The only person I’ve ever been able to picture having sex with is of course, Natasha. So it just happens. I think about her every time I touch myself so naturally she is the first one in my mind.

Then my urge to go to the bathroom fades away.

My eyes open and I say

“What the fuck”

Nat smirks and says

“See it works!”

Wanda leans forward and says

“So… who were you thinking about?”

My face heats up and I say

“Uh- myself.”

Wanda sarcastically says

“Really? You were thinking about yourself?”

I nod my head and say

“Mhmm”

Nat shoves my shoulder and says

“There’s no way you think about yourself when you’re masturbating. Right?”

I nod my head and say

“Yeah. I mean. I think I’m very attractive”

My voice is hesitant and Nat and Wanda, being my best friends, know I’m lying. Nat stays with her eyes on the road but she smirks and says

“Wanda… read her mind.”

My eyes go wide and I shake my head

“No Wanda don’t read my mind!”

But it was too late. Her eyes are already red and she went into my brain to see that I was thinking about Natasha burying her strap deep inside of me.

She lets out a gasp and chokes on her own spit and after she is able to calm down Nat says

“Well… who is it?”

I look back at Wanda with hurt in my eyes and I quickly say

“It was my celebrity crush okay?”

She smiles and says

“I knew it wasn’t just you. So who is your celebrity crush?”

I sigh and try to make someone up

“Her name is- Scarlett Johansson”

Nat hums and says

“Huh. Never heard of her.”

I nod my head still curating a lie

“Yeah well she’s a small artist. Not a real famous person.”

Nat smiles and says

“Hey you know we’re pretty famous. I bet you could meet her and get to know her!”

I shake my head and say

“No no. She has someone else. And it’s just a silly crush. I just think she’s pretty.”

Nat keeps pressing and I say

“Just leave it Nat.”

She nods her head and looks back in the rear view mirror.

“Wands? You alright? You’re kinda quiet back there”

She nods her head and says

“My social battery just ran out suddenly. You know how it gets”

Nat smiles and nods.

“We’re about ten minutes to the compound. Everyone okay?”

We nod our heads and all settle into silence.

I look out the window trying not to cry when suddenly I feel Wanda’s presence in my mind.

She starts speaking to me in my head

“I’m so sorry y/n/n”

I roll my eyes and stay quiet. I can’t even turn around because I know nat is on the other side of me and I’ll start crying.

I speak to Wanda in my head

“Why would you do that?”

“I-I don’t know. I just thought it was gonna be funny. I didn’t realize it was Nat.”

“Yeah well how could you have known huh? Just. Please. Don’t tell her. It’s already embarrassing as it is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t talk about it.”

She leaves my mind and I get lost in my thoughts.

I mean. How embarrassing is it to have one of your best friends know exactly what you thought about the other.

And it was a vivid picture too. She must be disgusted with me. Imagine what Natasha would think. She would think I’m a monster.

Wanda invades my brain again and I say inside my mind

“What Wanda?”

“Your thoughts are really loud. I just wanted to see if we could talk when we get back? I feel horrible y/n/n”

I roll my eyes and say in my head.

“Fine. Meet me in my room. In five minutes”

We pull up to the compound and I walk off. I mumble a quick thanks to Natasha for her driving us to the zoo and I run to my room.

She obviously thinks it’s because I have to pee and yeah I do still have to pee but that’s not why I’m rushing away from her.

I slam the door, quickly pee, and then step out into my room to find Wanda waiting for me.

She steps up to me and says

“I’m so sorry y/n I didn’t know! I- I wouldn’t have done it if-”

I cut her off quickly

“If what Wanda? If you knew that I was thinking about our best friend?! I don’t care. It’s fine. You saw what you saw and I’m sorry you had to see it but it’s just what it is”

“Yeah but-”

I cut her off yet again

“But what Wanda? But what? Because I don’t think there is any coming back from this. Yes I have a crush on Natasha Romanoff. There. I said it. And now you’re going to tell her and she’s going to never talk to me again and I’m just going to lose both of you because you think I’m disgusting!”

I finish my rant and Wanda tilts her head, smiles softly, and says

“Have you never said that out loud?”

I look at her with confusion

“Huh?”

She steps close to me and grabs my hand and says

“Have you never said that you have a crush on her out loud?”

I scoff and throw my arms up and say

“Well of course I haven’t- ever.. said it.. out loud.”

Thinking about it now I realize that I’ve been needing to get it off my chest really badly.

She smiles softly and says

“Y/n I want you to know that I’m not mad or anything. And I won’t be telling Nat unless you want me to”

I suddenly become emotional and I say

“You won’t?”

She shakes her head and chuckles a bit

“No babes. Of course I won’t. Look. I know you feel embarrassed and I won’t ever be able to unsee what I saw-”

I feel heat rise into my cheeks and I look down

“But one thing I do know is that you are one of my best friends. And I won’t ever judge you for who you love. Honestly. I kinda ship it”

She says with a sly smile and I look up and say

“You do?”

She nods and says.

“So. Since we’re besties. And you aren’t ready to tell Nat can I ask questions?”

I sit down and nod my head. But before she says anything Clint opens the door and says

“Hey did you girls have fun at the zoo?”

We nod our heads and he says

“Okay Nat was just wondering since y’all left so fast. She was worried she said something wrong.”

I blush knowing that she was worried about the sex comment thing and I shake my head and say

“Nope we’re all good”

Thankfully. Nat and Clint are like best best friends and me and Wanda are like best best friends. But Nat Wanda and I are all besties too. But we can talk separately.

He leaves and the door is open but we don’t worry since we’re at the end of the hall so nobody comes over here.

We continue our conversation

“So… can I ask questions as your best friend?”

I smile and nod.

“Sure.”

“How long have you had a crush on her?”

I sigh and think

“I don’t know. A long time. Well let me think. I’ve been an avenger for about a year now. And I met Natasha two years ago when she was training the shield agents. So probably three years”

“Three years? I don’t think your math is mathing babes”

I smile and say

“Just because I met her two years ago doesn’t mean I didn’t know who she was. I have had a crush long before she even knew who I was.”

She smiles and says

“Wow. So you have had to watch her little Bruce phase too”

I look down and say

“Yeah. Um I definitely fell into work a lot over that period. It hurt but honestly I don’t think she likes me back anyways so I just need to get over myself”

Wanda smiles and says

“I don’t know. Neither of you have ever been very easy for me to listen to. I mean in the sense that usually people’s thoughts are so loud that I accidentally listen and find things out. You two have never been like that so I don’t hear your thoughts unless I try to. And I don’t try to usually”

I smile and nod my head and say

“Wanda. You don’t have to make me feel better just because you don’t know that she likes me back or not.”

She smiles and I say

“Next question”

She laughs and says

“Do you ever think about asking her?”

“Asking her what?”

“Asking her out. Like on a date?”

I smile and say

“I mean yeah. I do. But I don’t think I ever will.”

“You should!”

“Well what if she doesn’t like me back?”

“ but what if she does?”

I sigh and say

“I can’t argue with that logic. But I don’t want to ruin our friendship”

“How about this! If she says yes then you say yippee you got the girl and if she says no then you say it was a prank! You’re always pranking everyone so she’ll believe it!”

I smile and shove her shoulder

“Wanda you’re a genius!”

Nobody’s pov

Little did y/n and Wanda know that Natasha had heard about y/n’s little crush. But she came after she could hear it was about her. So she storms off and decides to just leave it.

Maybe she shouldn’t have let Clint get her hopes up about y/n liking her.

I walk into my room and say

“Clint you idiot!”

He throws his hands up and says

“What did I do?”

She rolls her eyes and says

“You almost had me confess my love to you/n when she doesn’t even like me! She likes another girl”

He furrows his eyebrows and says

“What are you talking about? Did you tell her?”

Nat shakes her head and says

“I was about to go into her room when I heard her talking to Wanda and she was talking about how this girl she likes doesn’t even like her back”

Clint says

“How do you know she’s not talking about you?”

Nat huffs and plops down on her bed next to Clint and says

“Because! I’ve made it so embarrassingly obvious there’s no way she could think I’m not infatuated with her”

Clint sighs and says

“Nat…”

She looks at him

“What?”

“I hate to be rude and all but have you met y/n?”

Nat raises her eyebrows to signal him to continue

“She’s like the most oblivious person in the world. I swear. One time there was this guy who was like all over her at the bar and she had no idea he wanted in her pants until after we told her!”

Nat furrows her eyebrows and says

“I guess you’re right. That was a funny night. She really thought he couldn’t remember where his house was so she was actually going to take him home!”

They laugh at the memory and Clint says

“Listen. I get it if you don’t want to tell her, but you can’t just wait around. What if you miss your chance?”

Natasha sighs and says

“I dunno Clint. I might wait a bit longer maybe.”

He sighs and says

“I will support whatever decision you make. No matter what okay?”

She smiles and nods.

Then they jolt when someone bangs on the door and nat spits out with a fiery tone

“Who is it?!”

The door peeks open and y/n pops her head in

Y/n’s pov

Nat sounds super annoyed so I tread lightly.

“Hey um I was just wanted to talk to you but if you aren’t in the mood that’s okay”

Nat’s stern and hard face immediately softens and she says

“Oh no! Come in! Clint was just leaving right?”

He furrows his brows and then says

“Oh! Right I was just leaving. Gotta go do… work and stuff you know how it is!”

I smile at him and say

“Yeah I get it!”

Once he leaves and closes the door I rub the back of my neck awkwardly and rock on my feet which causes nat to get a suspicious look on her face.

“Why are you anxious y/n?”

My eyes widen and I say

“Anxious? Why would I be anxious? I’m not anxious?”

I am definitely anxious

Nat sees right through me and she gives me a look as if she’s saying ‘you’re such a bad liar’

I sigh and my shoulders deflate

“Okay so I’m anxious what’s wrong with that?”

She pats the spot next to her and I go over but I sit slightly further than I normally would from her and she says

“Well. I don’t like seeing you anxious. I know it hurts to feel that way. I don’t want you to feel that way because you’re my- friend”

Hearing her say ‘friend’ sends me for a loop

Maybe she doesn’t like me. Well then I can just do exactly what Wanda said to do and tell her it’s a prank.

“So nat… I have to tell you something”

She raises and eyebrow and I say

“It’s nothing bad! Just- ugh it’s a little embarrassing”

Heat rises to my cheeks and Nat sends me that smile that never fails to make my heart pound.

Her smile turns into a smirk when she says

“Out of all of the embarrassing things I’ve seen you do this is probably not going to top it”

We laugh and then I mumble

“I dunno”

She smiles and says

“Whatever you need to say I’m here for you”

I sigh

Here goes nothing

“I- uh…”

Nobody’s pov

The panic starts setting in for y/n and suddenly she feels like she can’t breathe.

Her chest grows tighter, her eyes dart around the room, and she can’t focus on anything.

But then Natasha notices this and grabs her hand. She tilts her head and leans in to catch y/n’s eyesight and softly says

“Hey… I’m right here. It’s okay. Whatever it is I am right here”

This seems to calm y/n and she finally takes a breath and says

“I like you”

These words spark a sense of hope within Natasha but she decides to play it safe

“I like you too y/n you’re such an amazing person”

Y/n shakes her head and says

“No Natasha… I like you”

Nat smiles a bit but is still nervous she is going to get rejected so she plays safe again

“You like me?”

Y/n nods her head and suddenly jumps into action

“Fuck it!”

She presses her lips onto Natasha’s and it startles nat. Then she melts into the kiss.

They pull away and Nat smiles but y/n says

“I’m sorry! I should have asked and you probably don’t even like me!”

Nat grabs y/n’s shoulders to snap her out of it and says

“Y/n!”

“Yes?”

“I like you too”

A dopey smile washes over y/n’s face and she says

“Really? Well that’s a relief because I really did not want to have to play it off as a prank!”

Nat smiles and says

“Wait… you didn’t know I liked you?”

Y/n raises an eyebrow in confusion. Like a puppy tilting its head and says

“Huh?”

Nat bursts out laughing and says

“Oh y/n I’ve been dropping hints for like ever! I thought you just didn’t like me back”

Y/n’s face goes a little pale when she realizes how stupid she’s been. Then her face turns pink and she covers her eyes and face with her hands to hide from the embarrassment.

Nat smiles and pulls her hands from her face

“Don’t hide from me pretty girl”

This makes y/n gay panic and freeze and say

“Ah—“

Then nat smiles and kisses you/n on the lips to snap them out of it.

Nat smiles and says

“You’re cute”

Then all of a sudden her cocky demeanor fades and she says

“Um.. does this mean that…”

Y/n smirks and says

“That we’re dating?”

Nat nods her head shyly and says

“Yeah. That”

Y/n hums and says

“If you want to be but if you don’t I understand I could just go off and find another girl”

“No! I want to be dating very much”

Y/n smiles at her and sighs with a roll of her eyes and says

“I guess that means we’re girlfriends since you’re SO adamant about it”

Nat shoves her shoulder a bit and says

“Shit head”

This makes Y/n widen her eyes and say

“That’s not a very good start to being my girlfriend now is it?”

She straddles y/n’s lap and gets real close to her face making heat rush to y/n’s cheeks and nat says

“Just kiss me you big sexy idiot”

Y/n smiles and says

“I think I can work that into my schedule”

They start kissing and Wanda and Clint are standing in the doorway talking to themselves Wanda says

“I’m glad they’re not being stupid anymore”

“Oh there’s a lot more stupid to come”

Wanda turns to Clint and says

“Let’s go before we see things we won’t ever unsee”

He nods his head and they scurry of after closing the door for them. Wanda is the last to speak as they enter the elevator to go to their respective rooms with their respective partners.

“Friday, turn on noise cancellation in Y/n and Natasha’s room please”

“With pleasure Mrs. Wanda”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I hope you guys liked this one!! I spent a while on it and I know it’s not what I promised first but I swear I’m working on it😭

Masterlist

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao

[chrisevansonly]

Tutte le Tempeste Hanno Una Fine

charles leclerc x female reader

synopsis: sometimes you just need a hug and your favourite person to make the rain go away

warnings: mentions of mental health, sad reader, fluffy charles

a/n: this is so self indulgent and very small, i have never felt worse in my life, im so close to just giving up. i don’t want to do this shit anymore and im sorry i haven’t been writing much, its just been a bit hard for me recently…thank you for your continued patience<3

You never really see the real side of mental health online, often you see the glamorized version, not the sheer weight and pain you carry as you move throughout each day. How every passing minute is agony as you search for rhyme and reason as to why you are the way you are, or why your brain is wired the way it’s always been.

Having no motivation can start to make you feel almost useless in a way. Watching the world fly by without you as if you didn’t exist had a sort of darkness to it.

“Can I help?”

Your eyes moved to look at Charles, who’d crouched down to check on you, worry in his eyes. He loved you so wholeheartedly and to see you feeling this way, it hurt a part of him not knowing how to best help you.

“I don’t think so”

“Is there anything I can do…anything at all?”

A pause fell over the room as you kept your eyes on him, feeling tears begin to well back up to your lash line, the sight crushing Charles a little more, he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, especially not you.

“How about I just get comfy with you and hold you? Hmm? Would that help…?”

“M-Maybe…” you whispered back, and that was enough for Charles to quickly slip into bed next to you, pulling you in close so you could rest your head on his chest, his arms tightening around you.

Charles let you cry, never once interrupting you or shushing you, knowing how important it was to get that release no matter how much it hurt or how emotional someone could get.

Every storm has an ending, every rainstorm brought the sun, and even if you were stuck in a rut at the moment, deep down you knew there was a way to get back to that feeling of warmth and happiness. Charles was a key to that, because of him he never let you fall far, never let the ocean take you away.

“I love you, no matter how long it takes, how hard the road ahead is, or how much it rains, i’ll be here every step of the way to get you through it.”

Charles wasn’t expecting you to say anything back, but when your voice said a soft and tear filled ‘I love you more’ back to him, he knew maybe not right this second, but some time soon, you would be okay.

After all Tutte le Tempeste Hanno Una Fine.

[danmeichael]

Can u talk about why JC is your fave

jiang cheng was not my favorite character for a long time. specifically, i actively disliked him when i first watched the donghua.

a turning point, funny enough, was actually the scene in the donghua where he chokes wwx. which i think says a lot about me... much like that scene says a lot about jc.

that was a scene that really humanized jc for me and showcased really clearly what he was in that moment. a lost child, a helpless child desperately vying for any amount of control through violence and lashing out at those around him because of it.

i like when characters do that -- when they hurt the people around them in moments of weakness without really meaning it.

you know when a character asks a loved one to run an errand for them, and something terrible happens while they're running that errand? maybe their loved one gets into a car accident and dies, for example. and instead of blaming the conditions on the road that caused that, the other driver in the accident, the hospital for not saving them, they think "if only i hadn't asked them to go out?"

it's because it's smaller. it's easier to conceptualize that blame, it's easier to grasp guilt or to place fault on a single, knowable entity.

reality isn't like that. there is no one singular point of fault. it's not their fault, not really. but a single point of failure is easier to conceptualize, to cope with, more satisfying in the moment than "sometimes things just happen"

jiang cheng doesn't hate wei wuxian, he isn't really mad at wei wuxian for saving lan wangji. or rather, he won't be when he's calm or in hindsight.

but he needs something manageable to be angry at. he needs something smaller, some neat, easy solution this all stems from that he could say "this wouldn't have happened, if--"

he doesn't really blame wwx. but in addition to... everything, wwx is also the one stopping him in that moment from doing the thing he could do to, his monkey brain thinks, exert control and make it hurt less.

this is wwx's fault. this is wwx's fault, because he saved lan wangji, because he wouldn't let him go back to try to save his parents, because he wouldn't let him try to get revenge. but it's not, really. and deep down, he knows that. he knows the wens would have come for them eventually whether wwx saved lwj or not. he knows he could not have saved his parents. he knows that he would have died trying to get revenge and left jyl and wwx alone. he knows there's nothing he, or wei wuxian could have done.

but being out of control while you're in pain is scary. so he lashes out. because he can control being mad. because he can hurt wei wuxian. because he needs something, anything in that moment to feel like he isn't spinning out and about to crash.

i think that violent ugliness in response to his own suffering is compelling.

that sort of added onto the endless "what if" pursuit common of fandom, after finishing the novel and finding that jc and wwx were still estranged. logically, that was the best possible ending. them suddenly getting along at the end of the book for a happy ending wouldn't have made sense for either of their characters. them making up in a way i found satisfying would have taken another 2 english volumes and circumstances i can't even imagine, and mxtx might not have even written it in a way that i found satisfying even under the theoretical that she did devote an entire additional novel to making it happen.

but that ambiguous, unwritten, theoretical making up that exists in my minds eye haunts me.

even after all that, i still didn't *like* jc. he was compelling, i appreciated him as a mechanism in the narrative, but he wasn't my blorbo. i didn't *like* him in the way i *like* other favorite characters.

no, no. the real catalyst is that nobody who dislikes jiang cheng dislikes him for the right reasons and it pissed me off so bad that i became protective over him.

there's plenty of good reasons to hate jiang cheng but you're just MAKING UP ONES that DO NOT EXIST and IGNORING ALL OF HIS INTERESTING CHARACTER WRITING.

what do you MEAN he doesn't love his brother?! what do you MEAN he only warmed to jyl's marriage because he came to see her as a political pawn and didn't actually love her either?! what do you MEAN he should have just been GRATEFUL that wwx surgically placed his entire fucking martyr complex into jc's body while ACTIVELY LYING TO HIM ABOUT IT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S A MISOGYNIST? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S *COLORIST*????? AM I FUCKING LOSING IT????????? DID I READ A DIFFERENT FUCKING BOOK??????????????

being so pissed off by incorrect analysis of his character made me think about him as a character, his nuances, his relationships with his family and his position of power.

there's no specific trait or scene or thing about him that makes him my favorite. he's just a good shape. he clicks into my brain in a good way.

[probablydinosaurs]

five joking about his life or throwing it in their faces makes the siblings uneasy. they cant FATHOM it and it hurts. tbh i feel once they aren't all in such danger and ignoring his warnings and ring leader like behavior , they would slowly start spoiling him a bit. he wouldn't notice at all at first but over time, he gets a deep sense that everyone pities him but he cant place it. he'd start denying any hand outs or good will bc he doesn't want to be seen as a headcase that needs coddling. and i think different siblings are in different camps if u put "baby" and "old man" on a sliding scale. none of these are like extreme stances, more just the vibes they feel from five.

Luther: old man 80% bc hes the only one that see's five's "older" self and can 100% say. same guy no changes. mentally unsound…. but like five stated in that whole fiasco, Luther has daddy issues and cant like. see that old man in such a young man. Luther has 1 half a brain cell. his need to nod and agree to every old man he listens to illnesses wont allow it. so he weirdly flip flops. he also develops the habit of trying to pick five up to calm him down, witch ends very poorly each time.

Diego: protective brother energy. cant fathom his brother got THAT much trauma in him. and is older then him. 13 years of being all the same age. 13 years of sharing the same birthday. and now well everyone ages up together, five is in his own corner being like 67 well the rest are like mm idk math 40 something. Diego just cant…think that far. denial. every time he thinks he's used to this old man or starts seeing him as the same age as everyone, five info dumps about the inner workings of a specific gun or the how good the wine in the celler will be 37 years exactly from now and to wait…Diego just mentally reboots.

Allison: baby camp. didn't take him very seriously back in the day either bc his ego is the size of a watermelon. and oh look the lil guy thinks bc he has more life behind him then us, he thinks he's the smartest one here. yeah right. she makes him his coffee when he wakes up or folds his Landry bc she needs to do hers and he forgot to take his out. five just thinks shes being passive aggressive but its more "if i don't then he might hurt himself or mumbling to himself about how forgetful he has become and i do NOT want to here that right how. il just do it. " tough love babying. five sometimes lets her brush his hair when he's in a bad state of mind.

klaus: depends on the day. he is the one who tease him about his height the most. i think Klaus tries to pinch his cheeks at least once a day and nearly got a blade through his hand at attempt # 23. but he also is second one that weirdly respects him the most. complementing how happy he looks DUE to his retirement and not just in general. likes buying him the stuffiest old man clothes ever from off the road and down an alley thrift shops, thinking everyone would find them silly but five like. genuinely adores them and borderlines on feeling the want to hug him but neh. too stubborn. almost though. witch is rare. five will never admit that he thinks Klaus has a good fashion sense.

ben: the brother that ruffles his hair the most. the two that severed the family. they have a unspoken energy about them. you don't mention my death, i wont bring up your past deal. Ben doesn't really care anyway. on the "i got my brother back, that's all that matters." camp with viktor. fuels five's need to bicker on topics. their hard ass but still playful energy balances each other out. is the one that tells klaus that the clothes he picks out for five is too much and he will hate them but gets surprised every time five likes them. riiight right. he wouldn't have the tastes as the 13 year old i remember him as. he downs scotch like a mad lad. gotta remember that.

viktor: leader of the "he could have come back to us as an acorn like dad warned and id still keep him in my pocket." camp. just happy to have his favorite sibling back. though they admit five also being the most open with him makes him uneasy. he wants to listen about the past 45 years but it can be very existential for viktor. five understands and lets him breath if its too much. (stealing this from this post) i feel like five owns and somehow still has on him a very worn and well loved copy of viktor's book. with notes and highlights scribbled in them. the cover fell off and five sewn it back on then poorly laminated it with the commission's laminating machine . viktor would cry if he saw it. full blown meltdown together.

[ange1sang]

a little to the left

2.6k words, gallavich + brief appearance from liam

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic gallavich, hurt/comfort, trauma, dissociation, vomiting, gentle mickey milkovich

Most days Ian doesn't notice them. The blanks, the disconnect in his mind, the gaps in his memory like potholes in a road filled with oil slick and rainwater. They've been there since his late adolescence, weaving their way into his consciousness and embedding themselves into the membranes that separate his brain from his skull, so that he's used to them. He doesn't have to notice them, not when he can get by just fine without acknowledging them. But that's only on most days. 

Some days the blanks are deep and pitch black, tripping him up or even swallowing him whole. His mind becomes a black hole, everything in disarray and stretched, twisted, deformed until it's all unrecognisable. His childhood is a jumble of scenes from a movie watched on a drunken night, parts of it covered with lumpy, expired Wite-Out and others blotted with blood, smeared and dirty. The confusion makes his head pound and bile rise in his throat. For the longest time he didn't connect the two things. He's been having depressive episodes since he was seventeen, always accompanied by aches and nausea, and it was easy to lump the blanks and gaps in with everything else the depression brought on.

But he's older now, taking medication and watching his routine so that the depression rarely rears its ugly head anymore, yet the days of darkness, confusion and agony persist. They come when he least expects them, when he has a day full of errands to run with his brother or a day he's promised to spend babysitting his niece or nephew. He goes through the motions the way he's taught himself to do on even the hardest days, but it feels like wading through raw sewage in nothing but his boxers, grime and filth splattered against his thighs and clinging to the inside of his nose. He barely survives it, throwing up everything he eats, sometimes before he can reach a toilet bowl, and crawling into his bed deaf to the worried murmurs of his husband. 

It takes him years of survival, white-knuckled and tense-jawed, before it begins to make even a little sense to him. 

"Hey, Ian."

Liam's voice pulls Ian's attention from the comedy rerun he and a sleepy Mickey are watching on the TV. He looks to where his youngest brother is sitting at their kitchen table, school laptop illuminating his face and an old, chewed-up pen in his hand. 

"What's up?" Ian asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Mickey's hair. His husband grunts softly, pressing his face down against Ian's shoulder. Liam takes a breath, hesitating before he speaks again.

"You know the club you worked at?" he asks. Ian feels Mickey tense against him, and has to stroke his thumb against his forehead to keep him from cussing at the kid.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ian asks, trying to keep his voice lighthearted. "You aren't thinking of getting a job there, are you?"

"No," Liam says quickly, grimacing at the suggestion. Ian feels something in his chest relax. "I'm writing a paper on CSA for my psych class - you think it'd be okay if I interview you? Interviews get us extra points."

"CSA?" Ian asks, raising an eyebrow. Liam hesitates again, looking sheepish and guilty all of a sudden. 

"Childhood sexual assault," he clarifies after mulling it over for a long minute. The second the words leave his mouth Mickey lifts his head from Ian's shoulder and glares at the teen.

"Write a paper on those fuckin' drooling dogs or something, man," he says, which would be funny if it weren't for how his jaw clenches once the words have left his mouth. "Leave your family outta that shit, we got enough people lookin' at us like social experiments already."

"Right," Liam mumbles, but his eyes don't move from Ian, who feels his face stiffening like concrete. "Okay, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Ian whispers, his voice barely audible even though he tried to speak normally. He turns his head away from his brother, back to the TV. The blue light of the screen suddenly takes on a purple tinge, spotlights moving against the inside of Ian's eyelids and illuminating dark, dirty floors soiled with bodily fluids and pills that had been crushed beneath someone's shoe. His veins throb in his arms, skin suddenly too tight for his flesh, like he's waking up with a bad hangover, dry-mouthed and disoriented.

"Ian."

He feels his lips forming a frown on his face but they don't belong to him, invisible fingers pulling down the corners of his lips to turn him into a sad mime. Mickey's hand, warm and rough cups his cheek. He blinks and the dirty floor disappears, replaced with worried blue eyes and dark, furrowed brows.

"Hey. Baby."

"I'm fine," his reply comes, automatic and without thought, before he even thinks the words. Clearly, this does nothing to soothe Mickey, eyes darting around Ian's face. His thumb rubs Ian's temple, stroking the vein that feels like it's about to burst. "I'm... I'm fine."

Mickey draws in a sharp breath, looking like he's ready to scold him, but he doesn't say anything. He shoots Liam a brief but withering look, before leaning in to kiss Ian's forehead. 

"Okay," he mumbles, and slumps back against the sofa, but not without guiding Ian's head to rest against his shoulder. 

Ian's chest is tight and aching, but he's fine. He's totally fine.

When he wakes up the next morning it's to Mickey yelling from the kitchen.

"Ian! You want coffee?"

He stiffens in their bed, his husband's voice sounding foreign. 

"Ian?"

No, it isn't his husband's voice. It's the name. Ian. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to recall the last time he heard that name, but all his mind can offer are broken, fragmented memories of strangers whispering Curtis or Clayton or Benjamin in his ear, their breath hot against his skin. The familiarity of the names is soothing and torturous all at once, and before he knows what's happening his stomach is squeezing, pushing. He sits up but barely manages to lift his head from his pillow before a stream of weak, beige-green liquid pours from his mouth, puddling on the sheets and dripping down his chin. He stares at the pool of vomit, gears moving in his head like he's looking at an old friend. 

"Hey, man, you want coffee or-"

Mickey's voice stops just as abruptly as his movements, the man standing in the bedroom doorway like a statue. Ian turns his head to look at him, the small movement dizzying, and feels that same squeeze in his stomach. This time he has the foresight to move his hands, catching the little mouthful of hot, caustic stomach acid in his palms. 

"Ian, c'mon, don't do that," Mickey whispers, approaching slowly and taking hold of Ian's wrists. He allows himself to be manoeuvred, watching as the vomit sloshes from his palms and lands on the bed sheets. The name on Mickey's lips makes Ian's skin prickle, and he curls into himself. He's too big for it to really work, but he must have been small enough once. Must have been small enough to fold into himself like an ashen baby bird, all skin and bone and ruffled feathers. He tries to curl into himself further, trying to remember where the instinct comes from, but all he sees is a bottomless pit. Panic curls around his throat like barbed wire. "Come on, you gotta wash your hands. I can help you."

"No, I..." Ian mumbles, his own voice startling him. He stares down at his palms, feeling fabric against his skin. Expensive fabric, yarn woven into fine cotton with 2% spandex, fabric he's never been able to afford, not even on his wedding day, but that he must have touched at some point. Blearily, he looks at Mickey, meets his worried gaze through thick tears that refuse to pour down his cheeks even as he blinks over and over. His breath catches in his throat. "I don't feel right."

"That's okay. I got you," Mickey reassures him. Lips press against his forehead in a sweet kiss. "Come on, babe. It's okay."

Mickey takes his hands, not recoiling or frowning when the still-warm vomit touches his skin. He smiles, soft, small, scared, and helps the redhead stand up. 

"You're fine. I got you," he repeats, and kisses the dense patch of freckles on Ian's shoulder. The touch is familiar, and this time the familiarity is comforting without also being nauseating. He holds on tight to Mickey until their hands are under the running water of their bathroom tap, and as soon as their palms are separated he finds himself leaning into the other man, curling up again, trying to make himself smaller. He can feel Mickey watching him, gauging his condition, taking in his expressions and reaction to every little touch. "You're okay, Ia- baby."

Ian looks up, looks at Mickey's wet lashes when he bites back the name on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't understand why or how, but Mickey always knows what to say and, more importantly, he always knows what not to say. He drags in a deep breath that doesn't really reach his lungs and drops his head so he can hide his face against Mickey's shoulder. Hiding. Even if he can't seem to think of much right now, he knows he's good at hiding.

"Sorry I threw up," he mumbles into Mickey's shoulder, which makes his husband chuckle.

"I've seen you puke before, man," Mickey says. "That fuckin' sushi Debbie made us all eat last year? Playing drinking games with Sandy?"

Ian recognises the memories like the face of a quiet classmate in a yearbook - he can place them in the right environment, but can't picture them doing anything, not even opening their mouth to say 'present' for attendance. He winces, the effort of  trying to pull forth images he knows are there making him dizzy.

"C'mon," Mickey whispers, turning off the tap. "Let's get some breakfast in you. Pepto Bismol with your meds maybe."

"Wait," Ian pleads, not ready to open his eyes and face the world yet. Not when he can't remember his place in it. Again, Mickey takes it in his stride. He pulls Ian into a hug that's firm enough to ground him and gentle enough to remind him that Mickey loves him. The reminder is enough to ease the jelly feeling in his joints just a little, Mickey's thumb moving back and forth against his shoulder blade like it's all he's ever wanted to do, and Ian takes a deep breath. The just-woke-up smell on Mickey, a smell that he knows he's always loved, even if he's never been sure why.

"I love you, man," Mickey murmurs sincerely. Ian relaxes just a little more.

"I love you too."

The day goes by slowly, every bit of it like pulling teeth. He downs his medication and food Mickey gives him even though his stomach twists nervously with each swallow. They watch cartoons on the sofa and Mickey smokes through a pack of cigarettes before dinner, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ian and the TV so often that he must not be getting any of what's on the screen. The vigilance is comforting, a reminder that he really is sitting on their sofa and not just dreaming up the four walls around him, so he doesn't mention it to Mickey. 

By the late afternoon he's falling asleep, tired just from keeping his eyes open and his food down. He lays his head on Mickey's lap, nose pressed into his husband's thigh and shuts his eyes when fingers immediately find their way to his hair, running through his curls and brushing stray hairs from his forehead. 

"You wanna head to the clinic tomorrow, check your meds?" he asks.

"Maybe," is all Ian can muster the energy to say. Mickey hums, thumb rubbing his brow bone.

There's a long pause, long enough that Ian almost falls asleep, before Mickey speaks up again.

"You did good, Ian."

Ian. The name finally sounds familiar again. No bile rises at the sound of it and there's no ache in his chest as he tries to place it. Relief washes over him, icy and overwhelming, and pulls him under. 

The next day he wakes feeling disoriented but not nauseous. His head is on Mickey's chest, his heartbeat steady and reliable where it thumps against his cheek. He takes a deep breath in and lifts a hand to trace a fingertip along the tattoo of his name on his husband's skin, his heart fluttering the same way it used to when they were kids and Mickey would show up at the corner store looking for him. His body feels like his own again, every organ, capillary and freckle back in its rightful place. 

He makes coffee while Mickey sleeps in. He knows after a day like yesterday that Mickey must've been up half the night, watching him sleep as though his next breath might not come, and feels a little guilty at the thought. When he carries two mugs of coffee back to the bedroom and a pack of Oreos pinched between his teeth, Mickey is waiting for him, a smile on his lips.

"Morning, mister," he grumbles, voice sleep-rough in a way that makes Ian giddy. Ian drops the Oreos on the bed and leans in for a kiss, hungry for Mickey's touch more than anything else.

"Good morning," he replies, handing Mickey his mug and settling in next to him.

"You feelin' okay? Wanna hit the clinic after breakfast?" Mickey asks cautiously, watching Ian's expression for any telltale signs that he's hiding something.

"Nah, I'm... I'm okay," Ian mumbles, shrugging. "I don't know what was up yesterday, it was like everything was a few inches to the left or something. I couldn't remember shit."

He looks at Mickey and smiles at the crease between his worried brows. 

"I'm okay now, Mick. Seriously."

Mickey grunts, frowning in a way that lets Ian know he's sorting his thoughts into words that make sense. They're halfway through their coffee before he's ready to speak, but Ian doesn't mind the waiting. He doesn't mind much when it comes to Mickey these days, at least not as much as he claims to.

"Y'know, Svetlana had days like that," he says, slow and unsure. "She'd get pukey and shit, couldn't hold a conversation... It was weird, 'cause she was always so fuckin' headstrong y'know? Seein' you like that..."– Mickey pauses, reaches out to cup Ian's cheek for a moment and rubs his thumb over the freckles on his temple. –"Maybe you should see a shrink, talk about the stuff that happened at the club."

Something clicks in Ian's head at the mention of Svetlana, all of the blanks, disconnects and gaps in his mind making a little more sense now.

"Yeah. Maybe," he sighs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Mickey's palm. "Thanks for not freaking out."

"Anytime," Mickey says with a small, worried smile. Just a couple of years ago Ian would've felt guilty for being the cause of his worry, but he understands it now. They're husbands. They're always going to worry about each other. 

"I love you," he tells Mickey, which earns him one of those shiny-eyed smiles he adores with all his heart. 

"Love you too, Red."

Maybe tomorrow he'll book himself an appointment at the clinic. Today though, all he wants to do is make up for the time he lost yesterday.

[jaanwangji]

You listen to songs a lot, sometimes when you're on the road busy looking this way and that so you don't accidentally step on someone's feet, or get in someone's way. You do that a lot, because you get lost within the space you hold by yourself, so lost that you forget anyone else exists in the world besides you. You don't always mean to seem so selfish, so detached, so...not present, so someone they don't want to be around anymore because you make them feel unloved.

You don't mean to be any of that, but you can't help how you feel too big for your own body sometimes even though you're like not even that tall. Sometimes you feel like you're so big you'd surpass the Eiffel tower twice over, and sometimes so insignificant that even an ant wouldn't look twice at you.

There's something about listening to songs when you're not fully present in the moment, when you're staring out the window of a moving vehicle and wondering when your stop will come but at the same time not really paying attention to your surroundings. (Your stop might've been long gone, but in the present moment, you don't seem to care.)

The song travels through your ears inside your brain, and if you close your eyes you can almost see it swirl around in lavender within the dark corners of your mind: a momentary spark before the void sets in yet again. You think, if I were to take off my earphones, lavender would probably gush out my ears, and perhaps if I shake myself hard enough, they'd travel down my brain beneath my skin in waves lighting up the hair on my skin as they go.

There's something to be said about how everyone looks at you with concern set deep in their features. As if they're just waiting for the pen to drop, for the inevitable glass to shatter, for you to drop down on the floor and never find a way to get up again. There's something in the air that heaves a sigh everytime you laugh around people as if before that everyone was holding their breath, still in fear of setting you off again.

When the same song starts up again, because that's how you consume music, one song at a time, until there's nothing left of the song but static noises in your head that you'll remember once again a decade later and feel an epiphany, the kind you'll never get used to no matter how many times it has happened before.

When the song starts up again, you take a deep breath and you step into the room without looking up at anyone, trying to be discreet as you move, so they wouldn't look at you, so they wouldn't know you're here again, so they wouldn't know how much you need the help.

You find a seat at the very back as usual, you're trying to blend into the wall, but the walls are a bright blue (the kind you really like) and your clothes are black, a stark contrast that makes you uncomfortable, because you stand out. You think, anyone can look here and see me sitting. The thought disturbs you, so you turn up the volume high, so that the music blasts in your ears so loud that they drown any other voices in your head from speaking.

Don't speak tomorrow in the room, you had mumbled into the dark, face smushed in the pillow. Don't come out, I don't want you there. One of them let out a loud scream, so loud it hurt your ears, another laughed in their shirll voice and said, you think you're the boss of us don't you? It seemed like they didn't expect an answer, so you didn't give any, just sinked in deeper into the bed. Just don't talk tomorrow, you heard yourself beg. Let me talk, I promise I'll handle it.

But you always need help, you can never handle anything on your own. If we weren't here, you'd be nothing at all. Not even the things that you pretend to be. (That was the most vicious one of them, who hissed into your ears.)

None of them talked today, none of them came out, just like you told them to, and yet you couldn't talk, couldn't say what you had to say, couldn't utter anything even when you were pinned with the weight of thousand different stares. You stood there like a fool, and sat back down like a loser, because they were right, that's what you are, and that's what you'll always be.

You hear each of them laugh loudly. You can hear them celebrate your failure, a big feast with your head right in the middle so they can eat pieces of it and make you scream in their mouths.

You'd go to bed, just like you do every night, all the while they continue feasting on you, with you, for you but always, always against you.

[nwarrior777]

Hey there, fellow brain with problems here!

Mental health isn't a straight line to recovery! There's a lot of ups and downs, and sometimes it gets worse before it gets better. I know it really sucks right now, but you do have people willing to listen, even through texts.

You've recovered from having a broken leg before. That doesn't make it hurt less now, but you have the strength in you.

I believe in you!

hi!

i posted the hospital post like, what, minutes ago [i started it as draft earlier a bit], and i already have so much supporting people write so kind important words, i am melting

thank you thank you

also it hurt less! and less and less...

first my hospitalization was manipulative and in denial, i was said i am in just for check, i was a teen

second - i was hospitalized with psychosis [i am choosing to be open about my status. i wanted to make some videos even inspired by open mentally disabled bloggers. but its another story]. i was said back then i was actually could end up in a coma. 3 months.

after that i was starting taking meds seriously. before - doctors were failing at attempts (not actually trying tho) to explain to teen, which only life passion was art, that meds which "takes my imagination away!!!", as i said to them, was not making it in fact, but calmed that imagination from mania level to normal.

medicated, felt on one mood mostly, going to (very shitty one) free hospital, which have benefits from putting people at something inbetwen hospitalization and being at home (u suppose to come, getting free meds. some activities, like group therapy, but it was made very poorly so i always skipped). first it was nice, cause i had intrusive thoughts problems and sense of control gave me calm, but then they sent me almost everytime i say smth out of "i am fine" on doctors appointment, so it was not very good times. not very well being, but. not as bad as before psychosis

but, something still went wrong anyway. strange strokes, which i couldn't describe even then i tryied to many doctors, * wanting * some pill to get rid of that horrific in it's not-able-to-understand thing.

third time hospitalized. to not-free clinic (very not free, sucked all my savings... but worth it), after strokes go unbearable, finally getting treatment and explanation (it was "epilepsy aura". yes it's medical term and i hate that, i would never find it myself cause of that naming decision). 1 month in hospital. and finally remission for years, where i go to doctors mostly for paper to get meds

and now i feel very stressed and go by my will, just to get rest, but it's just more deep rest then my surroundings and current meds can give me. i want back on the road. just. need rest. a bit pause.. in a year of me, going to new country, with no plan, but making it. through year.

seems like actually i am having progress even...

i thought it's so sucks that my anniversary of year being it is like that. but now i think it's actually... good. it's miracle that i am still alive. i came through so. much. i deserve a rest and a bit of pause. for going on

i love you so much people, thank you, thank you for giving me care to understand this

[lieslab]

Hii!!

I know you're still sick (I hope you'll get better soon <3) but I do have a request, because I've had this thing in my mind for a while now.

I used to be really emotional and sensitive as a child. My classmates started making fun out of it and they used it against me. They knew that if they say a bad word towards me, it'll make me cry. I really hated it, because it made me so vulnerable. At some point I graduated and with my best friend's help I finally understood that being sensitive is actually a good thing. She's really sensitive herself so she easily could understand me. The problem is... shortly after I finally accepted being sensitive, I stopped being like this. Sometimes it's good, knowing that people have a tendency to use it against such people, but... sometimes I really want to show my emotions. I feel like everyone think that I'm cold hearted and emotionless. It's silly, but I want people to know that I also have a heart.

Could you please write a hyunjin x reader fic when the reader struggles with something similar? If you find time for it, of course. I really like your works, they're amazing! I've been reading them for a long time, maybe even a year? They always make me feel better. Thank you!! <3

Love!!!,

Your biggest fan <3

I am trying so hard to get back to normal, so thank you!! 🥹 I feel like you really came to a good spot to request this. I have so much experience with this topic, oh boy. My heart really goes out to you.

Growing up, I was the exact same way and deep down, I still am. I hate finding out kids used it against you. Being extremely sensitive and empathetic isn't something to be ashamed of. I'm happy you found her, it's easier to navigate the world when you have someone by your side that gets it.

It's not silly to want to be understood and known. I assume, if it's caused so much hurt and so many issues for you, you've probably numbed that feeling because you don't want to be hurt again. That's understandable because it's hard being so vulnerable to the world. When you've never known how to build up boundaries, it's hard to create them.

Being super empathetic and sensitive is a rarity. I wish I knew why people liked to take advantage of people and belittle them or use them for their own gain. Living when you have so much emotion in your body, it's challenging.

Please show your emotions. Once you graduate, the people you're around change. Elementary through high school can be the worst time to exist for some people. You don't have to fit into anyone's mold once you graduate. You don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. I know for some, it's safer to act a certain way at school. After high school, the sky is the limit.

If you like being loud and laughing, if you like smiling, do it. If you cry at sappy movies or cry over something that seems so silly, you don't have to change yourself for anyone. Before anyone else, you should be striving for your own happiness. Your own feelings, despite what everyone else (including your brain) says, they're the most important thing.

If I'm being honest, I cry at Disney movies. I cry if I see an animal dead on the road that was hit by a car. I see what people struggle with and I cry about it. One time, I worked at a grocery store and saw a grape that had fallen on the floor. I started thinking about how it was alone as people walked by ignoring it while it sat in front of other grapes. I disappeared into the bathroom because it made me tear up.

I sleep in a bed full of eight skzoos. I'll be twenty-two next month and I still sleep with a stuffed animal that I've had since I was five. It makes me feel safe and there's nothing wrong with that. Who cares if it's silly and dramatic to some?

Those feelings and things are always valid and yours are too. You're never going to be able to please everyone, but the people around you should be able to understand it and get it. Even if they laugh a little, you shouldn't feel ashamed. Not ever.

What you have is so special. I know some people think it's a curse, but it's also a blessing. I'm sure you're able to put yourself in someone else's shoes easily. You'd probably excel well with a job where you could work with people to improve their lives. Making people happy likely makes you happy too.

I used to hate my sensitivity until I stumbled across Felix and found out about him being at a concert and crying for a few hours due to feeling so much love for his fandom. I understand it exactly. The more he cried in the open, the more I realized that maybe some of us are just more sensitive and that's okay.

It's okay to be different from others. It's okay to fit right in too. We tend to see some of our best attributes as flaws. I hope you view your flaws and take the challenge to view them as a strength instead. Tears and sensitivity don't make you weak, they make you human.

So, of course, I'll write the Hyunjin drabble when I can. Thank you for reading my stuff and being vulnerable enough to open up. I know that's scary sometimes, but it always amazes me when people come here and feel like they can talk about their struggles. It feels so good to be human together.

No matter how you decide to present yourself to the world, please know that you're so loved. You can do amazing things with that sensitivity and empathy, if you want to <3

[exploringthemultiverse]

Cosmos’ Shifting Stories - The Impala Mini-Shift Incident

Of the handful of times that I (Phoenix, hi :3) have mini-shifted, this incident stands out as my most successful; but is also simultaneously my most embarrassing mini-shift experience. Allow me to explain:

This was sometime in the summer maybe a year or two ago, I can’t particularly remember as time tends to be a blur in my mind no matter how hard I try to make it not be that. At this time I was sleeping in a blanket nest in my bathtub (not particularly important to the story but I feel like mentioning it) and I was all around pretty apathetic to the concept of shifting. What I mean by this is that I had fallen in to a bad habit of completely avoiding trying to shift for a while due to a multitude of factors. I just wasn’t doing great mentally and didn’t care to try. On this particular day, though, I felt a push to try. It was around 2 in the afternoon and I was settling in for a nap, and something in my brain went “hey, try to shift, it can’t hurt.” And I thought ‘what the hell? Might as well’.

As I was getting ready for my nap, i started thinking about where I potentially wanted to go, and frankly, I had no fucking clue. Now, normally when I don’t know where I want to go with shifting attempts, this will kind of put me off attempting at all because of some weird self-punishing mentality of ‘if you can’t pick a destination you don’t deserve to try’ which I KNOW is ridiculous but it happens. In this instance though, something clicked. If I didn’t know where I wanted to go but I knew I wanted to shift, I decided to just leave it up to the universe. Instead of just letting myself be a self depreciating doofus, I settled in the intention of something to the effect of ‘I am trusting the universe to send me where I need to go.’

I think another key factor of this attempt was that I didn’t bother to put on any sort of guided meditation or subliminal or music or anything like that, I just sort of went for it. I laid down, closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths and accepted that whatever happened, at least I was gunna get some rest. I remember during the attempt I did say a few affirmations but I can’t really remember what they were outside of ‘I am putting my faith in the universe’ and things like that. This went on for several minutes and then my body started to go numb, I’m 95% sure I was physically falling asleep as I could hear my own breathing getting heavier but my mind was still very much awake.

As the numbness started to spread through my body, I started to feel really floaty, kind of like i was in water, but not really, just sort of like nothing was under me for a bit. At this point i was kind of internally like ‘oh shit okay this is happening time to lock in’ (not verbatim but that was the mindset) and as I began to accept that I was actually starting to shift, I started hearing a dull roar in my ears. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I started to become aware of the sensation of my body being gently jostled around and feeling a slightly squishy surface under me. As the sensations continued I realized that what I was hearing was the roar of the road, and that I was in a car, lying down in the back seat.

Once I clued in to this sensation and what it was, my vision started to go wobbly and i was seing morphing colors for a bit before it started to feel like my eyes were open even though I could still kind of feel that they were closed? It was a very weird feeling that I don’t really know how to describe, but I focused on the feeling, and my vison started to clear, and I could see that I was in fact in the back of the Impala. There was a brief thought of ‘okay, supernatural, cool, lets do this’ and then I started trying to mentally ground. I could see from how I was laying that my head was behind the drivers seat. Sam was driving, and I had the thought ‘Dean never lets Sam drive’ followed very swiftly by ‘right, but Dean hurt his foot, he can’t drive right now’, and as I was having these thoughts, Dean turned to look at me from the passenger seat and he smiled at me. He didn’t say anything, just smiled, and gods was it ever a pretty smile. When I first told my friends about this mini-shift, I described it as being like the sunrise. Warm and bright and beautiful, and like you never wanted to look away from it. Even thinking about it now just brings me so much fucking joy.

I wish I could say that I was able to fully ground, that I got words out, that I was able to experience this non-planned dr and just be around the boys, but alas, that’s not the case. When Dean smiled at me, I felt a rush of warmth through my body. I metaphorically felt like a giddy high schooler being around his crush and not knowing what to say, and as that feeling was rushing through me, I snapped out of my meditative state and was back here. In the moment, I was deeply disappointed. I even scolded myself about it for weeks, angry that I couldn’t just focus and keep my cool long enough to get settled, but over time I’ve realized that I shouldn’t be upset, I should be happy that I made progress, because I had gone from barely feeling connected to any of my drs do PRACTICALLY BEING THERE in what felt like an instant.

I haven’t had any mini-shifts since then, but it is still my current proudest moment in my shifting journey, and I can only hope that I get to go back and actually, you know, say words and be fully aware. Until then, I will hold on to this experience and continue to use it as motivation to keep trying.

Tl;dr my own dr s/o smiling at me flustered me so badly that I snapped out of my meditative state and got yeeted back to my cr

[starlightswitch]

Like Aunt Emma

@flashfictionfridayofficial Partway through I forgot how the prompt was supposed to fit and had to improvise

“But I don’t want to go to sleep,” Maddie complained. “I feel weird.”

“Well, if you feel weird,” said Brandon, with a quick glance in the rearview mirror at his daughter and a slightly longer glance at Amy in the passenger seat, “going to sleep will probably make you feel better. It usually helps me when I’m feeling weird.”

“Not like sick weird. Like, I don’t know, weird.”

Amy sighed, a deep inner sigh that maybe she didn’t mean to be heard. Brandon heard it. “You know the rules. We are more than half an hour from home so you have to try to sleep on the way home. Feeling weird is not a reason not to follow the rules. Trying to sleep is not going to hurt and will probably help.”

“The only time trying to sleep could hurt–” Brandon started. He stopped when Amy reached over and smacked his thigh. As soon as he thought about it he realized the mistake in telling someone, especially a kid, especially his daughter, the one exception to something he wanted them to do. Amy always said the problem with him being such an honest person was that he never thought how someone slightly less honest might act.

“What?” said Maddie, and Brandon could picture the wide-eyed innocent expression on her face without even looking in the rearview mirror.

Conveniently, once he thought about it he was wrong anyway. “Some people think if you hit your head it would hurt you to sleep. It’s not true though. Someone just has to wake you up sometimes to check and make sure you’re okay and didn’t hurt your brain when you hit your head.”

“So if you hit your head while you were playing hide-and-seek,” said Amy, in an unimpressed mom voice that made it very clear she had absolutely thought of what Maddie would have said, “we’ll be waking you up when we get home and we’ll check if you’re okay then.”

“I didn’t hit my head,” said Maddie. “I only scratched my leg when I was hiding in the bedroom. And my head doesn’t hurt. It’s just noisy.”

Brandon turned the radio down two clicks.

“That’s not what’s noisy,” said Maddie.

“What’s noisy is you,” said Tyler from next to her. “I’m trying to go to sleep.”

“Oh, aren’t you perfect,” said Natalie from the furthest back seat.

“I mean,” said Maddie, “it’s noisy in my head. Like lots of talking.”

Amy turned and looked at Brandon, looked at him for a long time until he glanced back at her.

“You don’t have to go to sleep then,” Brandon said to Maddie, looking at her in the rearview again, falling back on a method his mom had used when he was a kid. “But you do have to sit still and be quiet. If you want that to be the rule, that’s fine. When it’s dark out and it’s more than half an hour home, all children must be quiet on the way home.”

“But it’s not quiet in my head.”

“Did I say heads must be quiet?” He knew as he said it that there were going to be giggles. Thankfully, all Tyler had to offer was a nonsensical comment about disembodied heads and then muffled laughter at his own joke.

After that it was quiet. After about ten minutes he was pretty sure– after Amy had mentioned she could feel it, he’d started noticing he thought he could feel it too– the kids were all asleep.

And Amy must have thought so too, because she gave a slow glance behind her, leaned over a little, and said in a low voice, “Aunt Emma died in that bedroom.”

“What bedroom?”

“Where Maddie was hiding. It had to be the downstairs bedroom. I don’t think anyone went upstairs.”

“Okay?” Brandon said.

Amy’s voice got a little louder, a little crisper. “And she’s complaining about voices talking in her head?”

Brandon kept his eyes on the road, but his eyebrows went up. “Are you saying you think Maddie is being haunted by your aunt?”

“Great aunt. Or maybe great great. I don’t remember how it works.”

“I’m also assuming, by the way, that since I’ve never heard of this person she died of old age and not–”

“Basically, yeah. It was peaceful. I never knew her. Maybe I met her once when I was really little. But whenever anyone talks about her, they talk about her telling these long stories with lots of tangents and never quiet knowing when to stop talking.”

Brandon snorted. “Sounds like Maddie.”

“Blood is thicker than water,” Amy said, a little dryly.

Brandon gave her a quick look. “How come I never knew you believed in ghosts?”

“It was never relevant? It’s not like I go looking for them.”

They were off the highway waiting at the first stoplight before Brandon decided what to say. “All I’m saying is, if the options are our daughter doesn’t want to go to sleep or she’s being kept awake by the talkative ghost of her some-number-of-great aunt, I know which one I think is more likely.”

Amy shrugged when he looked at her, but if he had to describe her smile he’d call it skeptical. And not skeptical of ghosts.

[thespiral]

👾 I am ready for Fesno lore

cracking open my spotify that i haven't updated in 500 years let's freaking go

FRESNO: Turbo Lover - Judas Priest

oh boy we're starting off with a strong one. apologies to the audience but Fresno is the horny oc so this is going to delve into sexuality and intimacy and whatnot and it's gonna be really funny because iykyk.

anyway, Fresno's got going on. a lot of things, they're very contradictory and have a lot of conflict between their Freedom vs. usually some imposed limit on them from the outside, whether it be internally (their delves into femininity as a vulnerable, but comfortable and safe state vs masculinity that theoretically should protect them but is constantly crushing them from the inside out) or externally (literally just them vs. the legion) which is kinda funny when you put this kind of unbridled freedom in a place where repression and aggression is key. it draws eyes, opens up feelings, whether it be admiration, jealousy or hatred, but they're wanted, and who doesn't like being wanted. and sometimes Some People have strange reactions to being presented with a new element and not knowing how to express their feelings through it and it just kinda sets off a Chain Reaction. smile

continued under the cut

despite Fresno's big reservations towards love and attachment (thanks Hellmouth) they're a very lonely person. they were the scapegoat of Hell on Wheels when attacking Sac-Town in their frankly suicidal attempt to take it back (lol) and then shipped off to prison where the ideas of like, you can never be too close or vulnerable or they'll eat you alive essentially congealed into their brain. i think love and intimacy are still kind of a forbidden fruit, the heart entombed, even.

there's this thing of like, we'll race forever and ride together that to Fresno it's never been like an option (and. probably will not ever be since there's like a lot of Things revolving about their position in the 80s and if they even want to be an 80s, but for the longest time it really is their only. configuration to say) and it's kind of this cautious turning into confident approach. fury, also, it's not necessarily love, companionship that can be redirected into something bigger and doesn't deal with Them in a way? avoiding introspection and growing feelings but plants have a way to sneak in through the walls

there's this sort of craving of wanting to be Special but not in the way they were. being Wanted and not just like, another step in the endless road of being an 80s in Hell On Wheels as they aren't so much Fresno as they are. placeholder heir, murder when another one comes along. sex is fun for Fresno and very much kind of approaching the intimacy they want with gloves on in a way. if that's how people want them, then shit, why not? it's fun.

also just like. discovery of new feelings, giving this sort of this is what i've been waiting for my entire life and i never knew it. and that may lead to some disaster later but hey. hey. it's fine they'll deal with that later. <- clueless

also i've always liked the idea of them being kind of a threat for Some People in the sense of weird feelings but they don't even like, know. better run for cover.

despite their work together and how honestly they should probably contained together for safety of other people, for Fresno it may prove to be too much and trip that kind of alarm they have in their brain, but usually at this point in their stories they're in too deep. i've always kinda liked the idea that in a world where it isn't that fucked up they would sort of be like brain and brawns with Fresno being the person to dirty their hands and have a vulnerable place in return but hahahahahah good luck. with that

Fresno tries to break it off and leave as they've done many times but uh oh, turns out this bomb hurts everyone involved and may just get into worse trouble bc of it, and like, in a way it's kind of vaguely like have a taste of your own medicine because. they've hurt people like this and abandoned them many times. they're flight, you know. and they can only do it so many times before they're caught in the blast of them dynamiting their own relationships and bonds without a care in the world other than for themself.

their story shifts a lot from there on out but. *gestures* i love my little disaster.

[totsandnuggsrebloggs]

?!!??!? if youre alright with talking about it i am SO curious about your dinosaur nightmares??

This is so funny. Because I love talking about my dinosaur nightmares. And I’m not kidding when I say I have them almost every day.

So it starts:

When I was a kid, I watched the Jurassic Park movies a little before I was fully ready to watch people get torn apart by large predators that were REAL IN HISTORY at some point. And before I had known I had hallucinations I would sometimes have hallucinations of velociraptor claws on doors and t-Rex heads popping out of corners. And on top of that I also suffered from vivid sleep paralysis nightmares and hallucinations while sleep walking of those very same dinosaurs. So to say the least I was plagued with dinosaurs all throughout my childhood even with the reassurances by my parents that dinosaurs couldn’t be alive today and couldn’t hurt me. But in my kid brain they were, they were here! How did no one see them? How did no one hear them? Didn’t they see the second Jurassic Park movie!? There were dinosaurs in the year 2010, and I was sure of it.

Fast forward a couple years and I am 12, I am having extremely realistic and vivid hallucinations once again but no dinosaurs this time. At least it wasn’t dinosaurs, i thought to myself, I couldn’t do that whole ordeal again. And then it happened. My dad got a job working at Universal’s game studio and low and behold they were making a new VR game: Jurassic World Aftermath.

I have always wanted to be a game developer, even as a kid I have play tested hundreds of the games my dad worked on. So I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.

Despite my fear despite the warning signs going off in my mind I strapped the headset in and prepared myself for a wild ride.

I couldn’t even get past the intro to the game as I knew there was going to be a velociraptor and it was going to kill me. I kept trying again and again to play the desk level but I could barely move every-time I saw it’s claws walk past me under the tables and desks. I think I had maybe played like a total of 2 hours just trying to get past the first level but I literally was shaking out of fear that the dinosaurs were back and that dinosaurs are here and they are not dead and they are in my house.

And a little deep dive into the inner workings of my mind, you see, all of my nightmares are stress related whether it’s a dream about a report due for school or about our car driving off the road while we do our yearly drive to Yosemite, my nightmares are always stress induced. So, when my dad worked as an imagineer at Disney, it was stress dreams about Disney land. And when my dad went to work for Universal’s Jurassic department, it was stress dreams about (you guessed it) dinosaurs! But these dreams weren’t like the Disney land ones I used to have maybe only a few times a month, no, these were full on NIGHTMARES about dinosaurs EVERYWHERE. Dinosaurs were in my dreams about school, the doctors, our car, underwater, AT DISNEY LAND, on the fictional island Isla Nublar, LITERALLY EVERYWHERE. And it’s not like they start off as nightmares, they turn into them.

Every few days a week in my dreams I am hiding in cupboards from velociraptors, being carried away by a pterodactyl, or ripped apart by two t-rex’s. And everyday when I woke up I would be face to face with more pictures of dinosaurs from the newest game my dad was working on, more games to play test, more mechanics to talk about. Dinosaurs Dinosaurs Dinosaurs! My brain was being bombarded with dinosaurs all over again!

And even long after my dad left the company and we moved away, I still, consistently get those dinosaur dreams whenever I feel even slightly stressed out about something in real life.

So yeah. Short story long, dinosaurs have plagued my youth and now I pray that the world understands the messages of the original movies: don’t fucking bring dinosaurs back or I will cry :)

[dex-starr]

I wonder why you treated me like that instead of just talking about it. It might be something I will always wonder haha. Like I don’t think I was that stubborn, but I know I was broken down. I know I wasn’t me anymore. I know I shattered into so many pieces that I tried to pick up alone.

It’s just making me think a lot bc apparently I have a lot of desirable traits in a partner — I just undersell myself and amp up my mistakes so much. Look I’m not saying that I need to be with you now, I’m just saying that unfortunately the curious part of my brain will always want to know why. I’ll never get a straight answer from you though, I’ll either get a half truth or a misdirection because that in your nature unfortunately. I’ll only get what is true if you think it’ll hurt me — if I’m guessing correctly still. Or I won’t get an answer anyway. It’s not that it bugs me as much these days. It’s just that I want to know how to make sure people can see how much I love them bc clearly that did not work with you no matter what I did.

I don’t want to repeat that mistake, I am only my words and actions. Unfortunately sometimes my actions don’t fully match with my words through and it’s not because I don’t mean my words — I’ve moved past that so many years ago. I can’t say empty words. I feel like I have no time left and I’ll just wither away. I don’t want to leave things unsaid. I don’t want to not have my intentions and feelings be known. I want all that is me to be bare and for it to be known as the truth.

What I was trying to say is sometimes my actions don’t work with my words because my brain just doesn’t help me out there. I hate having to fight it but there are circumstances where I will fight it tooth and nail. Am I just saying that? No. I wouldn’t be here if I was just half-assing it. I wouldn’t be hurt still if I was not betting it all.

I think I live life knowing there’s a strong chance I’ll lose — through no fault of anyone or anything. Sometimes things are just stacked against you from the start and that’s an unfortunate truth. So I knew there was a strong chance we would fail, I knew there was a chance we’d break up. The bigger fear I had was that you’d decide not to be in this world anymore or that I would somehow get taken away from it. That’s the loss I would think of often bc of what you’d say and mention and what happened to me in all those years.

The big difference is that I had hope that it wouldn’t happen, I had hope. I has hope even at the end of the road. I had hope every time I approached you after that. I had hope for however long I mourned the loss of you too. Hell I think as of a few days ago I still had some hope there. But that is not something I would give up everything that I know for… not anymore at least.

I will always be me, faults and all. Good things and bad. I hope the scales tip more positively but I know there’s parts of me that I just wish weren’t a thing but they are.

You’ll always be you — good AND bad. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I knew what I was getting into and I knew my choice. I know I gave you the benefit of the doubt always and your word was always the truth and sacred to me. But I don’t think I quite that same unconditional treatment and the problem was that I was convincing myself because of the way you looked at me.

I think that was it. I think it was the way I saw you looking at me. It was what let you get nestled so deep in my heart. But these days I think maybe you weren’t really looking at me fully, part of me hopes that you were. Although part of me knows that realistically speaking if you did well…. You’d have actually believed me and believed in me.

[philharmonic86]

Thoughts, Pt 1.

Sometimes, I wonder why we do things that we do; specifically hold on to things that we know deep down will never happen again or the way we hoped. What makes us think that even though we know that nothing will happen, that we hold onto that person with the hopes that something does. Do we do this on purpose to hurt ourselves? Or is it that we are just in love with the idea of that person, or the idea that something can happen because we will not get them back?

I believe I have done this twice in my lifetime.

Once, with someone I was with a long, long time ago. However, I am still convinced that he is what most would call “true love”. I held on to him and the possibility of something happening for years, without knowing it would not happen. There was a time or two that it was mentioned but nothing ever happens…. Then we lost contact. We had a mutual friend who notified me that his mother passed away – I reached out and we have talked on and off for years since. I had not seen him since I was about 17, I flew out to visit him almost 2 years ago. We had not seen each other in nearly 20 years. It was nice seeing him, nothing happened. We got dragged all over the place and to Louisiana to do some humanitarian work after the hurricane hit about a week prior. I flew back home, things were a little weird then we had a conversation for many hours just talking about everything and well, that was really it. Have not spoken since. This is possibly for the best since it helps me actually LET GO of everything related to him and whatever my brain kept thinking would happen.

I’m not one to stop things from happening but I feel that this is a dead-end road. Yes, we have both grown much since I was 16/17 and he was 20/21 but it is likely that the damage that was done then was the reason nothing ever happened after.  

Micah, you will always hold a special place in my heart as my first love; the one I experienced so much with but…. It is my past, where you will remain. <3