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

[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

[pullupinarari]

Lean your weight on me [LH]

6. I always wanna die (sometimes)

Summary: a 9 chapter series where you are a famous singer, living the career of your dreams. But your chaotic schedule makes your body give in, making you lose your memory and forget (almost) everything.

Author’s note: I’m back with the series! Thank you for waiting for me to figure out my chaotic life 🙂‍↕️ this is sad and intense, get ready 🤧 hope yall enjoy it! Mwah

wc: 5146 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

all chapters here

It’s been a while since you’ve felt like yourself - if you even know what “feeling like yourself” truly means. You’ve had some good days before. And whether the days were good or bad, you had Lewis by your side. You were slowly recovering, making improvements while working to get your memory back. You would laugh, your eyes would shine with curiosity and amusement as Lewis would tell you all the stories about your old life. All of this happened before you felt like you were drowning in your sorrows, in an empty mind that brought nothing but misery into your life, dragging everyone around you into the deep end with you.

You can’t help but blame yourself every single day, trying to keep pushing even if you feel like a million thoughts and emotions are slowly choking you, until you finally run out of air.

You reached out to Grace after the whole cake situation, wanting to make amends after acting like a bitch to her. You know you hurt her feelings, and there was a possibility that she wouldn’t forgive you - not even wanting to look you in the eyes ever again. But that’s not Grace. Grace has a kind heart, and she still loves you as if you were 14 years old again. So she gave you another opportunity, wanting nothing more than to have her best friend back.

She is driving you to the shopping center - maybe a day out would be nice? Maybe it will help you, distract you from the darkness erupting in your brain, growing more and more each day. Plus, you feel like having some time away from Lewis might be good for you. Don’t get me wrong, you love him to death - you feel it in your bones, with the way your heart flutters every time you hear his voice, how his stare on you can make your stomach flip, and how you absolutely dread the thought of him being in danger, or something happening to him. But, it feels like you aren’t made for him anymore. You can’t shut out the thoughts that keep telling you to leave him, that you need to let him go - he deserves to be free from all this.

You clear your throat as a way to stop thinking about all this again, looking at the tall buildings through the car window as you pass by.

“Everything alright?” - Grace asks you, taking her eyes off the road for a second, focusing on your empty expression.

“Yeah, everything is fine” - you try to convince her, “I’m just really happy and relieved that you decided to give me another opportunity. I’m sorry again, but it really feels like I’m fighting myself and my mind, while trying to move forward with life. It’s been rough” - you admit, your head hanging low, embarrassed of your current situation.

She gives you a simple smile. “It’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself. Life has been tough, but you are the strongest person I know. You might not remember this, but you are a fighter, you have been your whole life, and we are not letting you give up now. We are here for you” - she holds your hand after she parks the car, making her words echo in your mind.

Walking inside an enormous shopping center makes you feel small, confused and lost, not knowing where to go. What are your favorite stores? What type of clothes did you buy before? Right now, you only want to feel comfortable, choosing a lot of Lewis’ shirts as an impulse - they are loose, cozy, and they smell like him. And even if his scent is enough to make your heart grow, it is also enough to emphasize the way your stomach drops, everytime you think about your marriage.

Either way, you follow Grace - she definitely knows where to take you, what clothes to show you, and as time goes by, you start to feel lighter, forgetting about all the bad moments that have been staining you lately. Your best friend cracks jokes that make you laugh, you try on some clothes that make you feel pretty, helping you see yourself in a whole new light.

But, when you two decide to head out to go get some ice cream, a group of teens approaches you with their phone cameras flashing you, screaming your name, and it’s like a volcano erupts inside of you.

How do they know you? Why are they taking pictures of you while you are having ice cream with your friend? You are scared, shaking, not knowing what to do, and Grace politely asks them to leave you alone, shielding you from them. Then, she grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the exit with her, leaving that place and taking you back to the car, as she sees your desperate state.

Once you sit in her car again, you close the door next to you and you finally feel safe, far from everyone else. You let yourself cry, trying to find a way to let go of all the emotions suppressed inside of you.

Is this how your life was before the accident? Did people disturbed you anywhere you would go? Would you ever be able to live a normal life?

The thudding in your chest grows bigger and bigger, making you hold on to the car handle for dear life as your head feels dizzy, while tears keep streaming down your face.

And it’s like a snowball that comes crashing down: you started crying because of the fear you’ve felt near that group of people, a million thoughts racing through your mind about your old life and how little you know about it, and you can’t help but wonder what part you play in all this, in this new life that you have now.

The more you think, the more you cry, your breathing getting caught in your throat making you struggle to catch some air. Grace hands you a bottle of water, “breath in and out, slowly”, she tells you, trying her best to help.

“What the hell just happened?” - you manage to get the words out after some sips of water.

“Those people recognised you and were trying to take pictures of you. Maybe they are your fans, you are famous, after all. Your life is splattered on the internet” - she reminds you. And it’s so crazy to hear someone saying that you are famous. Millions of people around the world know you, they know a big part of your life, and yet, you don’t know who you are.

After a while, you calmed down, and Grace thought it was better if she drove you back home - this was already enough emotion for today.

You walk inside your empty house. You knew that Lewis wouldn’t be home, he went out for a work meeting while you were supposed to be with Grace - he would probably have a nervous breakdown if he knew that you were home alone now.

You rush upstairs, entering your closet, searching every drawer. Your mind feels heavy with the need to understand how your life was before, and you know that your phone will have all the answers that you need. So you look for it, remembering that Lewis mentioned something about keeping it inside a drawer or something similar. Your movements are fast, racing as much as your mind right now, your fingers trembling with anxiety to find it.

And when you do, you look at it for a few seconds, having second thoughts, wondering if you should really do this or not. You gulp, feeling sure that you need to know who you were before. You grab the device and sit in your bed, your hands shaking as you hold it, the weight of everything you should know about your old life is inside of it.

You unlock the phone, your face is still the same, even if you don’t remember any of your passwords, and you silently thank technology for that.

Your eyes analyze the apps on the screen, it’s like an infinite world that you could get lost in. You decide to click the messages icon first, furrowing your eyebrows to the fact that you have more than 400 messages to answer. But you don’t feel like opening chats with people that you can’t remember. Instead, you open the chat you have with Lewis.

You never thought you could find such great comfort in reading the messages you shared with your husband. The way his words always seem right, caring, worried, the way he would always say how much he loves you.

But you also note that the last few messages that you guys sent were negative, in a much heavier tone, and you were talking about how tired you were feeling, how you couldn’t take it anymore. You proceed to look at your camera roll, scrolling through a never ending folder of moments in your life.

You see a lot of pictures with Lewis, and it’s incredible how you always look so happy next to him. You laugh when you see some funny, silly videos that you two have recorded together. You see pictures of you with people that you supposed to be your friends, family, and a lot of what seem like ‘work pictures’: there’s pictures of setlists, new lyrics written on a paper, empty arenas, sold out stadiums. You see pictures of yourself performing night after night, and you can’t help but notice the degradation in your state, as the pictures show a more recent date.

The last picture was taken on the last show you gave, the one before you blacked out. You zoom in on your face, your finger unconsciously caressing your features: your skin looked so pale, your eyes looked small and tired, and you genuinely looked so sad and defeated.

When your fingers close the camera roll, you search for new information, and that’s when your eyes land on a folder: “social media”.

You are hesitant to click on it. You know how Lewis always says that people spread a lot of lies and hate on social media, Grace’s words echo in your head, telling you how your life is all over the internet, and the thought of what you might find scares you.

But still, you open the folder, opening your instagram page first. Scrolling through it, you see the type of pictures that you used to post: concert pictures, photos of you supporting Lewis on his races - letting you know that you were, indeed, used to the environment surrounding you during race weekends, domestic posts about your married life. You take lots of mental notes about your life before, hoping that your small memory will remember all this.

You open the comment section in some posts, seeing how people used to be so kind to you, complimenting you, declaring their love for you, letting you know how much your music meant to them. Reading all those caring messages makes your heart grow - maybe that’s it. That's your path. Maybe your purpose in life is to help other people, by sharing your feelings through your music, seeing how your fans relate to your emotions and how it makes them feel seen and understood.

You open twitter next, hoping to find more positive messages. But, as soon as you open your profile and read all the comments, the posts that people are tagging you in, your stomach drops. It’s like a dark cloud stops above your head now, and a storm is about to wreak havoc inside of you.

It doesn’t take long until it starts raining - tears run down your face as you read some of the meanest comments you can find. People talk about your accident, they spread rumors about you cheating on Lewis? You don’t understand how people can act so differently on different platforms. Instagram looked like a fun, safe space, where you could share your life with your fans and get nothing but love back. And twitter looks like a war zone, where you are fighting all by yourself and everyone else is against you.

It’s like you can’t stop reading all the negative stuff, your finger keeps scrolling, your eyes keep reading every hate comment that you can find. It’s killing you to know how people feel about you, all these negative feelings hitting you like a ton of bricks. And the sense of revolt comes. How is it possible that you saw all this happening and yet, you never said a thing? You never stepped up for yourself, put an end to this?

Maybe you are just a puppet in everyone’s life. Maybe you’re here to do as you’re told: another show, another song, another comment - shut up, don’t you dare say a thing because that will ruin your image. Just sing and shut up.

You can’t help but feel like you’re not useful anymore. Like you already gave everything that you had to give. Your mind feels chaotic, like the worst place where you could be right now, but unfortunately you can’t escape it.

You sob into your pillow, letting it all out, and you’re so taken away by your emotions, that you don’t even hear the front door opening, revealing that Lewis was home already.

Your husband walks inside, going straight to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, taking it slow since he believes that he’s home alone. But, when he gets closer to the stairs, he’s taken aback by the muffled sounds coming from the top floor.

He rushes to your shared room, to find a crying wife, sobbing into the pillows so your cries get muffled - hoping no one would hear you.

Lewis immediately engulfs you in his arms, worry paints his chest as he hears your sobs grow louder as you feel yourself being held by him.

“My love, what’s wrong?” - he asks you in a calm tone, only to end up not getting a response from you, besides a sob. “Please, tell me what got you in this state. Let me help you, please” - he says again, his voice croaking, feeling emotional as well, his heart breaking at the sight in front of him.

You continue crying, feeling everything so intensely inside of you, wrapped up in your own head. But you gather the strength inside of you to hold yourself to Lewis, your grip tightening on him as you try to look him in the eyes, only to end up failing. You feel way too embarrassed by all this, and you wish that he wouldn’t have to see you in this situation.

“I’m sorry” - that’s all you blurt out, hiccuping as you feel all the wet tears streaming down your features.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure that you have nothing to apologize for, my love. Please, just tell me what’s going on” - he tries to insist, growing anxious now.

He opens the water bottle that he was holding before and hands it to you, signaling for you to sip on it. You do it, trying your best to stop your sobs now, scared that Lewis might get annoyed by having to deal with you - your mind is a never ending creator of negative thoughts.

After some minutes, you manage to stop your sobs, and you take some deep breaths while a few tears keep spilling from your eyes, silently now. He carefully wipes them with his thumb, as he kisses your temple, still holding you close to him.

“Everything is just very, very confusing, and very hard for me lately” - you open your heart to him, seeing how his facial expressions soften at your words.

His hands rub your back gently, comforting you as you gather your thoughts to let him inside your mind just a little.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take” - you take a deep breath. “I feel like I stopped making progress a while ago, and now I just feel so empty, but full at the same time - full of rage, frustration, anger. And I can’t stop myself from being consumed by all this, and I feel like it’s killing me. It truly is killing me. I can’t stand myself most days. The sound of my own voice annoys me. I hate myself. I hate my mind because the voices in my head never shut the fuck up and I just want a break. I want to have some silence inside of me, I want to be alone, everyone keeps reminding me that I lost my memory. I wish I was all alone because then, I wouldn’t have to force myself to remember old things. I don’t even know who I was nor who I am, but that doesn’t even matter anymore. I don’t matter anymore.” - you sigh, feeling like a weight left your shoulders when those words leave your mouth.

Lewis stays silent for a minute, speechless at what he just heard. He knows things have been hard, but he didn’t think that it was so bad. Listening to the love of his life saying that she doesn't matter, that she wants to disappear, it’s a bullet hitting him right in the heart. He quietly breathes, trying to keep some tears from falling - he needs to stay strong, for the two of you.

“I’ll be right back” - he says, kissing your head before leaving the room, leaving you with a curious Roscoe, staring at you from the ground.

He’s back before you know it, entering the room with his laptop in his hands. You furrow your brows at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he just joins you on the bed, signaling for you to sit on his lap as he puts the computer in front of you.

Your eyes follow his every movement, as he opens a folder of videos - the videos that you have been recording through your journey. He starts playing the first one.

“See this girl? This was the first video that you recorded. This was a month ago, Y/N. Four weeks ago, you didn’t remember anything about your parents, and now you remember how their house looks, you remembered your dad’s birthday. And you were so scared to open up and to talk to other people, and now you go out with Grace, and you even take my mom’s calls when I’m showering, and you’re not afraid to talk to her anymore” - he explains, moving to play a different video.

“And this one, baby, this was two weeks ago. You thought you didn’t know how to play the piano anymore, and your mind remembered all of it after I showed you a few chords. See? You’re still the old you, you just need some pushing until your mind gets there. Because you definitely have it all inside of you, things like these just take time, my love. We can’t rush something as important as getting your memory back” - he tries to explain, his voice sounding as sweet as cotton candy to your ears, as always. “And you have come so far in this journey already my love, and I’m so incredibly proud of you” - his words sound full of honesty.

You look him in the eyes, and he can read you so well. He can see how insecure you feel, all the doubts in your mind, the way your heart feels weak and fragile. And how badly he wishes that he could take all of that away - he would rather have the pain all to himself, than to see you suffering so much.

Then, his eyes notice how your hands try to hide your phone under a pillow, trying to distract him by calling Roscoe’s name. Lewis sighs to himself, now realizing what made you cry so much.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to keep things from me, like you have to do it all by yourself. Cause you don’t. I’m here for you, and nothing else matters. It doesn’t matter what other people say, it doesn’t matter what might happen in the future. It was always me and you, the whole time, and that’s how it will always be. I’m here for you, so please don’t shut me out” - he says, taking your phone from under the pillow now, letting you know that you got caught.

“Nothing that you saw here matters. The rumors, the comments, the hate. None of it matters. What truly matters is the people who love you, that are by your side through it all, that give you unconditional love. Nothing else is real, baby. Our love, our family, our protection is real. And you can’t focus your energy on people that definitely don’t deserve it” - he puts your phone on the bedside table now, seeing how your face is filled with guilt and shame. His thumbs caress your features as his hands cup your face, drawing a trail of kisses from your cheeks, to your nose, reaching your forehead, making a small smile appear on your lips.

There he is again: being an absolute angel to you. And there’s the big siren in your head, reminding you that he’s way too good to you. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve him, not after everything that you’ve put him through.

“Lew, can you leave me here alone for a bit? I have a headache forming, I need to process all this” - you say gently, not wanting him to feel like you’re pushing him again - while you are, indeed, pushing him away.

He gives you an understanding smile, nodding as he kisses your forehead once again. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me” - he says before grabbing Roscoe and taking the dog with him.

You take a minute to actually process everything that he told you. Your mind fills with thoughts and a few memories that you have - from all the pictures, the messages, the moments you’ve shared with Lewis for the past couple of months. You can’t shut the feeling in your gut that tells you that you should figure out your life on your own, and stop dragging him to the mud with you. You saw how his eyes were glossing when he was talking to you, you see how your health is taking a toll on him. The truth is, you’ve been needing a lot of attention, as if you’re a baby, needing all the maintenance possible. It’s like he can’t take his eyes off of you, or else he would find you doing something stupid - like he did just now.

You get off the bed, entering the room next door where your piano is placed, looking like it’s eyeing you, telling you to play it. Maybe that will help you get rid of some hard feelings. And just like Lewis told you before, it really comes naturally to you.

All it takes is a few chords until you feel the melody vibing inside of you, forgetting about the world surrounding you as you start singing about all the chaos that’s going on inside of your mind. You sing your heart out, letting some tears escape as you address your marriage - such a hard topic being accompanied by a graceful melody. Your words sound beautiful, but they hold a harsh meaning behind each one of them: how you should let Lewis go, how you’re not good enough for him, and how you feel like he does everything he can for you, but he can’t save you from all this, no matter how hard he tries. You mention your will to be by yourself, to find yourself in a new life, maybe even with the possibility of finding a new lover in a new place.

When you stop playing, you look up, cleaning the tears from your face, and that’s when you notice a crying Lewis leaning against the door. His facial expression lets you know that he was there all this time, listening to every single word that left your mouth.

You’re unable to speak, you two being wrapped in a suffocating silence, just exchanging sad, disappointing looks. Maybe this is proof that you shouldn’t be together anymore, and when Lewis turns his back at you, stomping through the stairs like he had lost all the reasons to keep pushing, your head hangs low.

You feel ashamed of your behavior, your actions are mirroring the desperation running in your veins, trying to find yourself. But it seems that, the harder you try, the more you actually lose yourself. And maybe it’s time to go search somewhere else.

You get up from your seat in a rush, sensing a shot of adrenaline racing through you. You run downstairs, finding Lewis in the living room, his hands in his eyes as he tries to control his tears.

He looks up at you when he senses your presence. He doesn’t dare to give you a word, while your breathing is accelerated as you gain the courage to say to him exactly what is going on inside your mind.

“Lewis, I think it’s better for me to leave this house” - you quickly say, and the anxiety in your stomach grows when you see his expression: he’s empty, confused, hurt.

“What do you mean?” - he questions slowly, getting up from his seat now, to meet your height.

“I can’t be here anymore, I need to find myself in a different place. I can’t be here” - you explain, walking through the space in front of him now, feeling way too electric to stay still.

“Listen, I know this has been very difficult - for both of us. But we can overcome this, we can go anywhere else then if you want to-” - you immediately cut him off.

“No! Not ‘we’, I don’t want you to come with me! I want to be alone, I want to figure it out by myself! I don’t need a babysitter Lewis, you need to let me go!” - you scream while tears run down your face now, making you run to the front door, trying to get away from this place as soon as possible.

It’s like you feel a rush of energy that’s telling you that you don’t belong here. You don’t know where you belong, but you need to act like a grown woman and stand up for yourself. You bet to yourself that you were a wild soul before meeting Lewis, and you need to find that freedom again. You need to find your wings, and maybe that will help you fly far, far away from here.

You find yourself outside, opening the gate of your house to step into the streets - you surely have somewhere to go… right? Your legs stop you for a second, your eyes looking everywhere around you, your brain trying to find a route that you can take on, on a mission of finding a place that you might recognize.

The cars passing by are driving fast, the wind is hitting your face, messing with your hair, almost making you lose your balance since you feel so lightheaded. You have nowhere to go. Your cries grow stronger, feeling absolutely lost, abandoned by life, in a world that you don’t know.

Some vehicles honk at you, since you’re standing on the edge of the sidewalk, and that’s when Lewis’ arm pulls you close to him, his hands go to your shoulders, trying to shake some sense into you.

“Y/N! What are you trying to do?! What the fuck is going through your mind?! Look, I know I’m not perfect, and I don’t mean to paint you a perfect picture of our marriage. I wasn’t always good to you, we have our problems, I did some things that I regret! But you can’t do this! You can’t just leave and try to figure it all out on your own! Sometimes we need to put our guard down for a while and let others take the wheel. And you need to trust me enough to let me do this, because I am not letting you go, no matter how hard you try” - he tells you, his voice rising without him even noticing - his heart is racing at the thought of something happening to you.

You feel breathless, still looking everywhere around you, almost with no reaction at all. When your eyes land on Lewis’, you realize that he is everything that you have, everything that you know. You hug him tightly, sobbing into his chest, hiding your face from him after another action that you’re not proud of.

“Please, please don’t give up on me. Please” - you beg him, your arms tightening around him more and more, afraid that he will be the one running away now, once you let him go.

Instead of leaving, Lewis holds your body next to his. Tears are now running down his face as he stays silent, taking in everything that happened in a matter of minutes.

“I’m so sorry, I know I’ve been making your life a living hell. But please, don’t give up on me” - you repeat the phrase that’s engraved in your memory, after realization hits you: you too are afraid of the things you’re capable of doing now when you’re alone.

It feels like the sun is setting down around you now, and you’re stuck in a dark space, one that makes you keep losing your light and your mind more and more - that’s life for you lately. And you feel like Lewis is the one that allows you to hide in him, the one who puts you to sleep every night, the safe source of peace and protection that you can always run to.

“I love you, I love you more than anything and I know I should set you free” - you say between hiccups and rushed breaths. “I should let you go, and I want you to go and be happy without me, but I need to be selfish now and beg you please, don’t go. The chaos is all in me, and you’re the only person who’s been helping me calm it down a bit. I know I make everything ten times harder, but please Lewis, please. Don’t leave me” - your fists tight around the fabric of his shirt, regretting all the shit you told him before, definitely biting your tongue and tasting your own venom now.

And how lucky you are that Lewis holds the purest form of love for you, being capable of turning the world upside down for you. No matter how hard things get, no matter how badly you try to push him away, he could never hold a grudge against you.

Instead, he kisses your head gently, promising you: “I will never give up on you”.

———

taglist: @illalwayswaitforyourlove @literallegendicon @goldenroutledge @scenesofobx @irishmanwhore @forza-charles @felicityforyou

[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.

[eternalmomentss]

What's your fave moment from each BH member?

Man, that's a tough question. There are so many moments - and so many amazing and iconic moments at that, for individual characters and the whole group. I'll try to pick the big ones I personally found the most interesting for the individual and their growth (not the group as a whole necessarily), but I am probably going to end up simply choosing the ones that made me cry hardest or something...

Fearne - I have a few that immediately popped into my mind, like the coin toss and her shaky "I don't like how this is making me feel." / "Can you please come back? Because I am getting a little scared." I am literally getting teary eyed just thinking about it. It's such a pivotal moment, because her well-constructed mask cracks for maybe the first time in her life. She is confronted - truly confronted with death and loss and it's a heartbreaking realization.

Another moment - or rather an entire episode I love is the one where BH fight (and eventually defeat) Zathuda. I am honestly so curious about what would have happened if Fearne actually left with him. Did she have a plan? Was it just a desperate move to protect her friends (that's what I believe tbh)? Genuinely, I just want to peek into her brain sometimes.

One last thing I want to mention is the shard incident. It was obviously a very defining moment for Ash, but it also showed her own deep-rooted insecurities and fears, especially her relationship with power and fate and how much a lack of free will and choice actually scares her.

Imogen - Again, there are so many amazing Imogen moments that it's almost impossible to pick. Her exalting during the Otohan fight is obviously a huge one for her, standing up for BH in front of the Matron, "you lied", everything surrounding her mother. There is so much.

But the one thing that I feel brings it all to a peak is obviously the choice to take in and the fight against Predathos. Her finally "giving in" to the red end's call after so many nights of restless terror and being pushed to be a vessel, etc and then eating a dying god and then breaking free on her own and then absolutely destroying Predathos with spell after spell, only to then finish it off with the ring of remembrance. That fight was absolutely insane for every single member of BH but she was shining the entire time. And she deserved that HDYWDT. It was such a satisfying conclusion to her arc.

Laudna - Again, too many. But it just has to be poor Bor'dor. It was tragic, it was sad, it was unfair for everyone involved and it was probably one of the most important instances of change in Laudna's narrative. It was straight up haunting. Not just the murder itself, but letting Delilah back in, which in turn let to a lot more complications down the road (and I love that for the narrative). The way it was described, of Laudna gaining control for just a brief second and the trauma and pain of being betrayed and powerless just eating her up. It was amazing.

Ashton - That one is very easy; the shard incident. I said it before and I'll say it again, Ashton being so desperate to stop hurting that they are willing to risk everything for just a fraction of relief is heartbreaking and haunting. The moment itself was so tense, everything surrounding it, every conversation before and after. It was everyone's worst moment, the groups' worst moment. And it was fantastic. They crashed and they got back up together.

It made me understand and care for Ashton a million times more than I ever thought possible, it gave so much insight on their feelings, fears and most-inner darkest thoughts. I know even some of the cast members were mad about the choice, but I was genuinely so glad it happened from a narrative standpoint and I cannot wait to see it animated one day. Hopefully.

Orym - Okay, as hard as it is, I am not going to include any EXU moments for Orym, Fearne and Dorian just to stay in the confines of C3 and Bells Hells. Obviously, Bor'dor is as much of a compelling moment for Orym's character as it is for Laudna's. It exposes some of Orym's faulty understandings of justice and duty and really changes his relationship with Laudna herself too.

But, I think another very defining breaking point for Orym is him "killing" Ludinus and then his following shutdown and realization that things are never going to work out the way he wanted them to. The killing blow didn't solve anything, it didn't fix his problems, the issue wasn't solved and the way Liam described that little guy finally breaking and just sitting there "shell-shocked" as the final realization kicks in. Tells you everything you need to know.

Another moment I loved is him claiming Otohan's sword and going through the motions of the Zeph'aeratam while reminiscing about his family and Ludinus and everything else that happened. Beautiful.

Dorian - You know I could yap about Dorian for hours on end but I'll hold myself back this time and try to choose one or two moments here. I have always enjoyed the instanced of Dorian's cold darkness. Him losing Cyrus to the same Betrayer God who tormented and manipulated him before and responding with commanding a spider to "kill your mother" and making Lolth flinch with his own disdain? Hot as fuck. And also sad as fuck.

I also adore the moment where he summons Coriolis for the first time. The way he stutters at first once he is asked about what he can do, deflects the question, nervous and insecure as always, only to then remember his mother, his heritage and to hum the spell on accident was masterclass roleplay and a beautiful moment overall. It really showcases just how far he's come, even if he still doesn't quite believe in himself.

Also, the war camp moment. Please, I need this to actually do something in the future. He put in so much into making sure that people trust his friends, giving them hope and reassurance. I hope it mattered.

FCG - The obvious answer is their sacrifice, but honestly I don't want to only linger on that moment, just because I believe it's not the only one that defines them. The very first original breaking point was an amazing reveal, "Why don't you shut up? Why don't you shut your fucking mouth?" still rings in my ears to this day.

Then there is also a small moment I remember after their big fight with Otohan, when FCG brought back Fearne and told her that even though she has a complicated relationship with her family they feel like she should come back because "you are making a new one with us." Please that robit cared so much about their friends...

Bonus: Not quite sure if that's cheating, because it was more of a player moment, but FCG's Banishment spell during one of their encounters with Otohan was so fucking smart, they really saved the day with that one.

Chetney - First of all, I know it was very early on, but his first transformation during their encounter with Ira was such a hype moment overall. I just had to mention it.

And I mentioned it before, but I love Chet's disgust and fury at I believe it was Tofor and Keyleth during their mission briefing just after they lost FCG and reunited with Dorian. Him standing up for his friends, angry at how they were spoken to and treated, looking authority in the eyes and telling them "with all due respect, fuck you guys." Oh I love this old man so much. He has a lot of these softer moments in which he proudly stands up for BH and he genuinely has so much love in his heart, you cannot tell me otherwise. Remember when he gave Dorian shit the first time they met but once he realized just how insecure that blue boy is, he started softening his attitude, made him his toyship and told him "you are not a burden, by the way." Watch how hard I can cry.

Braius - There is obviously not as much to pick from, but man, I loved his talk with Asmodeus on Ruidus and how that led to one of the coolest moments of the first half of the finale. Him coming face to face with Asmodeus and straight up telling him "guess i lied" to his damn face was so metal. The cow peaked here for sure.

I tried to really stick with important moments for individual people instead of group moments or romance etc. and I probably forgot a lot of small details over the course of three years. I really need to just sit down again and rewatch the entire campaign in one go so I can have a compilation of smaller moments ready on demand...

Thank you so much! I love gushing about my favourite idiots.

[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.

[lacucarachapisser]

HELLOOO omg i love LOVE love your colin fics n writing style! do you think we can have some colin n detective reader fluff where they're both dating one another and it's just about how their cases for the day are not that serious but since it's easttown it's got to be something weird but funny. probably will seem like a crack fic but it's sooooo colin.

you can decline this request but i hope you know i'll be excited for whatever update you'll have <3

situationship colin zabel x reader

contents : fluff, kinda slowburn, a very tiny hurt comfort i swear, friends to lovers, alcohol, drinking, kissing, mention of slight sex, mention of murder case, night road, i think that was it. 1,5k wc.

a/n : hello anon! thankyou so much for sending me a request. i love love the idea of colleges to lovers the thing about maintaining professionalism and feelings was so interesting. i change it a little because i am slut for plot so i put a sprinkle of hurt-comfort inside. believe me its just a little hehe. i know that my writing is far way beyond your expectation, first of i dont know how to write crack i am so sorry i am literally so unfunny 😭 and i realize that this is colin everything should be awkward so its not that hard cause i am awkward myself. this is not the best but i promise to myself for posting one fics per month so here we are! its getting too long i am so sorry especially for my too basic english and broken grammar. hope you still there to enjoy this! <3

you take a sip of your drink. it enough to calm a flickering amplifier on your brain. alcohol was never an option but in life, we stumbled over such stressful day and those liquid always worked magically. you slump down on your seat, expressionless. colin starts to wonder what episode of mental problems you have now. he moves the wheel quietly and take a quick look to see your flustered face. well, a few times of peeking actually. it’s quite noticeable.

“you alright?” he’d be already guessed that you’re not fine. but hey, asking will always help us to worry less.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you give him forced smile and throw your head back to the headrest and show him the bottle you have held. “you want some?” you tease him, although you would never give him that for sure.

there is a brief moment of silence before he open his mouth to answer. he gives you a quick glance before focusing his attention back to the road. “it’s very unwise of you when i’m practically the one behind the wheel,”

he sounds so frantically serious, albeit you can see how concerned his face was. he had seen you drunk, sober, angry, happy, hungry, good and bad. you’re his partner. you’ve been handling low-high class cases with him almost your life-career and seems like your life has been always revolves around him.

“suit yourself,” you take another sip, eyes out through the foggy windows. the night is pretty young and cold, sort of a perfect time to just snuggling under the blanket and rest your body and mind. but that won’t happen for now.

“i think we should get some place to stay,” you know there is something about him that is pleasurably calming, perhaps because of his caffeinated voice.

“can we get king this time?” you murmur, hesitating to look at his face.

“drunk already?”

“nope.”

this is just another trip with him. wait, why would you even called it a trip at the first place when you literally on a way of casing proof for the sake of the work? but yeah. it happen sometimes. unfortunately you stuck with him. usually you both end up with two queens, straight up sleeping like the dead.

talking about the dead, a murder case that has been assigned to you both been occupying more than a week of your time. this is why you have this trip with colin. trying to solve it by collecting all the crumbs of evidence, discussing all the what if, sharing resources, and driving 6 hours straight just to get a glimpse of the might be culprit. how romantic.

he forced out a slight laugh before giving a deep-throated cough. question, is this some kind of a green light to let each other finally open? you both won’t admit it, every time one of you brought those serious topic, either of you always come up with a cheap joke as coping mechanism.

king size? with him? are you out of your goddamn mind? you playfully tap the bottle with your nails, an attempt at buying time while figuring out what else to say.

“do you think it’s suicide?”

“now we’re working.” he commented, nodding his head without turning his eyes on you.

“my bad. was it supposed to be a date?”

he scoffed and smile. there is a significantly awkward pause. “you tell me, you’re the one who came up with the king.”

“well i didn’t ask you to sleep with me,”

you assume that, he’d be offended. does he? he’s very good at hiding it tho. you take another sip before you laugh. he doesn’t say anything for awhile so you turn towards him and study his face. you wonder if he often thought about you the way you often thought about him.

“would you?”

he chuckles and tilt his head. “what?”

“i won’t ask twice.”

he doesn’t look over you, eyes still on the road. oh man, how easy to get this guy flustered. “would i what? sleeping on the floor and give you the whole space?”

with your partially working brain, you thought that he is asking a rhetorically question, so you say nothing and keep the bottle close to your mouth. because as painful as it is to admit, who are you to complain such refusal, you can not force anything to happen. there’s something between you two —well, that’s what you thought. and so what? you and him have work to do.

“give me that,” colin grabs the bottle from your hand and chug it all up.

“hey i could arrest you, you know?”

“oh yeah?”

you smile at him, so wide you look so stupidly happy that he’d be an asshole if he doesn’t returns it. this was one of rare moment that will never happen again. colin is breaking the rules.

it was a quiet road. not like most of your drive with him had been. case so depressing you both start talking it with telepathy. once awhile you’d ask him to switch seat just to let him get rest a little (definitely not now) but he refused a lot.

“seriously, do you think its suicide?” you try to get back to the convo again.

“i don’t think it’s suicide,”

“because of the little bloodstains?” there is an unintentional disdain in your voice.

“you know what? here’s what. no fingerprints, no sign of anything besides the victim, it’s just planned so well we dug up the deepest possibilities,”

“by checking the little bloodstains,”

“absolutely,”

“out of mosquito,”

“out of mosquito.”

you know that things haven’t been going his way, and he’s been having a bad week —as well as you. hoping the mosquito to save your asses? not gonna lie the only pray you’d chant for now is; jesus, please let the mosquito mean something.

“it’s the only blood we found from the crime scene,” he said.

you’re not sure if he’s a genius or just crazy. part of you wanted to believe that this is the only way out, thereby creating a resoluteness to the possibility of what could have been.

“and what if it’s matched the victim?”

“then i guess we should drink more,”

“who are you and what have you done to my colin zabel?”

he laughs. the laugh you always wanted to hear, the laugh that eased an ache anyone could never soothe, the laugh that feels so comfortable and it makes you simply just happy in no matter conditions. and once again you told yourself it’s nothing? seriously.

he makes a turn to nearest motel. it’s just impossible to continue driving to easttown at this hour. he parked the car and shut the engine, you can feel that he has been arranging some words on his head before finally speak. his both hands still linger on the wheel, and he let his head rest on it while facing you.

“your colin zabel?”

you ready to sip your drink again without hesitation this time, but he took the bottle so that you stop and give your attention fully to him.

“mind to explain?” he slowly put the bottle away and lock his eyes on you.

you don’t want to show him how vulnerable you are right now but you bet that he already caught it. it’s better to pretend tough than busted in some silly way.

“look. i’ll be honest with you and you’ll be honest with me. promise?”

he looks extremely solemn and let out a soft cough and make it even more awkward. “a-are we… um..” he gulped his own saliva before continue. “are we going to discuss our feelings right now?”

“oh god this is gonna be so hard.” you mumble and close your eyes to avoid his semi ridiculous face. you don’t really know whether you want to punch his face with your fist or your lips. what?

“h-hey, i like you.”

WHAT?

“i like you and i do wanna sleep with you.”

your mind goes blank and the next thing you knew, you pressed your lips against his, unable to open your own eyes for a split second afterwards. it was a sweet kiss, you could feel how soft his lips touching yours, delicately playing and carefully undemanding.

his breathing starts to change and you remind yourself that you should take a breath too. you tilt your head a little but it freezes you when he starts holding your neck. it’s crazy how a single touch could affecting everything, not just the butterflies in your stomach but it rewinds all the non sexual forms of intimacy you’ve shared with him. you wonder how you stupidly unaware and decipher all of this thing to nothing.

“do you want me to stop?” he whispers and you get to ultimately open your eyes to witness how hardly he stayed in control by licking his own lips.

“quite the opposite,” a breathless smile appears on your lips before you lean back to his face.

he chuckles before continue to plant a super long kisses on your lips. “we’re totally getting king,”

and yes it took you that long to admit it, to realize, to accept, to tell yourself that it is not nothing. it’s never nothing.

[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.

[lazy-ahh]

Thinking abt the mark variants and i started licking my hungry chops ANYWAY what do u think Mohawk mark would listen to music wise? Im confident it has to be loud and in your face, personally I think it would have to be a combination of lyrics AND sound you know? It can’t just be noise and it can’t just be emotional with a terrible backing track.

I’m thinking shit like: minor threat, The Ramones, Dead Kennedys, She wants revenge , Rob zombie. You know things that would absolutely piss off his mom from playing it far too loud far too late in the night.

he’d def listen to some 80s-90s rnb things his mom grew up on (which she turned around and raised him on) and he stubbornly can’t let go of: New edition, Micheal Jackson, TLC, destinys child, Brandy, Aaliyah

I also think he has a secret playlist with “girly” pop songs Sabrina carpenter, Taylor swift etc etc (can u tell I don’t listen to a lot of pop lol) ALSO he’d totally be a physically media kinda guy right? Like he’d need something tangible something he can grab on to and FEEEEELLLL: CDs, cassettes, a Walkman, vinyls ANYTHING like that.

He’d be the type of guy to burn you cds with shitty love songs on them. The only reason he’d have something like Spotify would be for convenience during fighting, flying or (not) listening to Cecil.

I personally believe b4 he got his powers he had a shitty car that can barely get him two and from school and his job. that’s he’d sleep in whenever he’s fighting with his mom with the WORST speakers know to man he’d drive out to an old abandoned parking lot and he’d just blare his shitty music and let it wash away all of his feelings. after they developed he’d still use the car just whenever he didn’t feel like flying (or had to keep a low profile)

He 100% frequents his local underground club to listen to new bands in his area and to mosh with other angry people (he unfortunately has to hold back as not kill his fellow moshers ) this is also wear he got his first piercing ( an industrial which then preceded to tear bc he started headbanging in the middle of it) (do u also think all of his piercings have to be glued on after he got his powers bc he heals so quickly lol)

ANYWAY sorry for the rambling I’m actually so normal abt this guy I need someone to talk to abt him and you #get #it LOL have a good rest of ur day

-MM anon

NOOO please don’t apologise, i literally live for talks like this—hearing people’s headcanons and deep-cut thoughts about mark and his variants is my favorite thing. and this guy? mohawk mark? oh, he’s easily in my top five because of you, so PLEASE ramble about him whenever you want. i will always be here to scream about him with you <33

personally, i love the idea of mohawk mark having mommy issues (thanks to that one fic that lives in my brain rent-free), and it makes so much sense that he’d still cling to the music debbie raised him on—new edition on lazy sunday mornings, tlc blasting during road trips, brandy and aaliyah playing while she cooked dinner. it’s nostalgic, it’s comforting, but it also hurts because now he’s older and everything’s messy and sometimes he just wants his mom to hug him like she used to. so yeah, he’ll 1000% blast dead kennedys at 3 AM to feel something (and maybe lowkey piss her off), but then there are nights where he’s alone in his shitty car, listening to some obscure punk song that mentions the singer’s mom, and suddenly he’s aching, missing the way debbie would hum along to 'silly' by deniece williams while brushing his hair as a kid.

and even though he’s all 'rawr, loud music only', he absolutely has a soft spot for pop and love songs—whether it’s mariah carey’s ‘always be my baby’ or some taylor swift song he’d never admit to knowing all the words to (don't even get me started on sabrina carpenter LOL oh my god and tate mcrae). and OH MY GOD, the way he’s a physical media freak… cds with scratches he refuses to replace, cassettes he bought from a gas station for $2, a walkman held together by duct tape and sheer stubbornness. he’d spend hours curating the perfect mixtape for you, agonizing over every track, and then scribble some unbearably sweet title like ‘for when we flew over the city at midnight’ or ‘songs that remind me of your laugh’. and yeah, he claims spotify is just for convenience (and yeah you're right hahahah also for ignoring cecil), but really? he’s obsessed with the playlists you make for him on the app (even if they’re messy—he’ll teach you how to make a proper mixtape, and he’ll do it with so much fondness and patience it’ll make your chest hurt.

his fingers will brush yours as he passes you the blank cd, his voice soft when he says, "listen to the last three seconds of this one—that’s where the magic happens." and when you finally finish it, when you scribble his name on the front in your handwriting and hand it over like it’s something fragile, something precious? he’ll keep it forever. he’ll memorize every song, every pause between tracks, the way the third one skips just a little because you burned it too fast. he’ll play it until the cd wears thin, until the sound is fuzzy with love.)

little angst note here: and here’s the thing—when he’s dying, when his vision is blurring at the edges and his body is giving out, it’s those songs that play in his head. not the punk anthems he screamed to, not the angry shit he used to drown out the world—just your mixtape. just your voice in his memory, humming along to track seven, the one you said reminded you of the way he smiles when he’s tired. his last thought isn’t fear, isn’t pain. it’s you. it’s always been you.

i can see him so clearly—nodding along to minor threat like some brooding punk, but the second an rnb beat or a pop hook comes on? oh, he’s swaying, he’s belting the lyrics like his life depends on it, he’s grabbing your hands in his car and pretending you’re on stage together. and when the ‘hardcore’ songs hit? you two are air-guitaring, fake-drumming, passing an invisible mic back and forth like you’re headlining some dive bar show. those moments? they’re everything to him. it’s the closest thing to peace he’s ever known.

okay full disclosure i know jack shit about piercings but industrial ripped out mid-mosh is ABSOLUTE canon—like picture this: blood dripping down his neck, some crust punk yelling 'sick battle scars bro' while mark's just standing there holding his torn earlobe like 'fuck. again?' now he's gotta choose between supergluing that shit back on (gross) or repiercing it every damn week like some kind of self-punishing ritual. (regular earrings? those stay put. nose ring? gone before he even leaves the house. he's got a whole drawer full of clip-ons that he pretends to hate but secretly thinks are kinda cute.)

i'm obsessed with the idea of him rocking double eyebrow piercings—like little silver studs that catch the light when he scowls and furrows his brows. and YES those mouth corner studs! they're called side labrets i think and they'd look so good on him, glinting every time he smirks or laughs in that wild, chaotic way. imagine how they'd feel when he kisses you—cold metal brushing against your skin, warming up slowly as he gets more into it... don't even get me starting on a tongue piercing-

literally everything you said fits him perfectly—the shitty car, the underground mosh pits where he has to hold back so he doesn’t accidentally send someone into orbit. thank you so much for sharing your thoughts, MM anon! you get him, and that makes me so stupidly happy. i hope your day is as awesome as this take! <33 which is very awesome :]

[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

[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

[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.

[tales-from-nocturnaliss]

Personal Intro

Oh you're curious about me, eh? I guess there'd be a lot to say, so I'll try and keep it short (lol watch me fail)

(he is my spirit animal fr fr)

💁‍♀️ About me 🙋‍♀️

I'm a 40+ yo trilingual writer hailing from the Kingdom of Belgium, who discovered back in '23 that she's actually autistic. As mentioned in my Writeblr Intro, I am obsessed with psychology and emotions and my stories will always revolve around character lives and, sometimes, deaths. I'm also obsessed with Death. There are necromancers. Vampires. Ponderings on the meaning of life. Y'know. All that deep thought shit that my brain craves and that I therefore put down onto virtual paper because I must.

I'm also way friendlier than my stories/posts may make you think, I do like to talk with people, I do like Asks and questions and tag games (though sometimes I may be too tired/forget them - the side of my autism that is ADHD), and there's absolutely nothing you can't throw my way as long as it's respectfully done.

🤏 About my health 🏳️

As stated in my Writeblr Intro, I'm chronically exhausted. Executive dysfunction is a daily struggle, as is getting up, getting my head straight, trying to push past the mental paralysis… I used to work in retail (not all as bad as you'd think), but when my health took a nosedive in 2016 and I stopped working, I never fully recovered. Add in 2019 an attempt to work again that ended with my first fullblown melt/shutdowns and stress levels so high that the slightest effort got my heartrate dangerously high and my body breaking apart. I've been in autistic burnout since. This is in part why I struggle so much with socials despite genuinely wanting to connect with people.

Learning about the autism in '23 helped a lot with my mental wellbeing, not so much with my physical welfare. Understanding you're in a near-constant state of pain that is inexplainable to most people because it's not pain as they understand it was a huge relief. It's not me, you know? It's my brain. We are not the same entity, despite sharing a body. Or so it feels essentially all the damn time.

✍️ About my characters 💅

Weird that I mention them here? Thing is, they are an integral part of my personality. They are me, and I am them, in the way that a chunk of them came to exist in my mid-twenties as I built my fractured personality from the ground up, and that they have wants and wills of their own. I don't choose their lives: they choose. For better and worse. And if this sounds a little schizo, eh, well… Aside from Dwyn, I am in control of all of them (he grinned in my head, this is how not in control I am of him). They are parts of me. And channeling their lives and wills helps me to cope with my life, sometimes. I draw a lot of strength from them, and from a few in particular (the triptych Devon - Dwyn - Sokyte (the last one resurrected in '24 why did I ever kill him off why just why my cinnamon roll ._.)).

I'm also detached from them in the sense that they are me, but they are them, and I'll be first to roast them for their stupidity or weirdnesses or, sometimes, alas, iffy behaviour. You don't hurt me by mocking them. But I'm attached to them as with friends, so if they get upset, I'll be first in line to defend them.

🙏 Current goals 🧠

There was a time I really wanted to become a known author and try to make money off my skill. This definitely contributed to my burning myself out years ago, and it has taken all this time to get back to a semblance of regular ability. I still struggle. But I'm also growing older and becoming afraid that I will never finish anything worth sharing. I suppose I'll have to accept I will leave an incomplete legacy one day. It'll still be better than leaving no legacy at all.

So in 2025 I'm gearing myself towards building up the first real Tales from Aeyuu book (in a planned series) called Roads to Malmern that I'll self-publish/sell through Ko-fi. I haven't decided yet. The first step is to get the book done. Currently it is put together and has been alpha-read by my awesome writing buddy @cicidarkarts. The next step is for me to dive back in with all of her insights and feedback and mould the story into a narrative that is clear for the reader. I aim to start in May. And pray I'll be able to focus my brain on it, since I've been so distracted by the DnD AU.

Speaking of that AU though: it has created connections that have rekindled my hope I may one day write the one story I've been meaning to write since 2011: The Age of Silence. So it hasn't been purely distracting. It's brought some fresh new ideas as well that have made me rethink (yet again) what I want for that story. The combo Dwyn/Sokyte has been my fave discovery so far.

My current goals will always fluctuate, but I am determined to create some long-term goals for myself to gravitate towards. Roads to Malmern and The Age of Silence are those two main goals for 2025.

👇 Shameless plug ☝️

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I share my monthly writings through both in a bundle at the start of the month. Memberships also invite you automatically to a closed Discord server where you can discuss writing and life and basically exist in a safe and supportive environment (and yes you may ask me for the link without membership, but I only invite people I vibe with well).

And on Ko-Fi I offer feedback comms. I genuinely LOVE to help and my pattern brain as well as 20+ years of writing and improving my craft have allowed me to grow proficient in narrative flow and what just works and doesn't. And if all you want is to get some eyes on your work and to get praise on all you did well, there's a comm for that too. I'm honest with my praise.

Thanks for stopping by and don't hesitate to prod me for anything. I really do like to chat. I just suck at reaching out to people because exhaustion.