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etherealily · 12 days ago

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Based on this request <3

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Warnings : Dark. SFW but discretion advised. Drugs.

I made this slightly dark because you know me.

A.N: No way I managed to write something with a happy, non-cliffhanger ending. Are you guys proud of me?

P.S : My love for Elvis makes a cameo AGAIN.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: "Hello, You."

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Joe Goldberg had it all wrong.

Sure, stalking people when you know nothing about them is rewarding, yes, but hard, and time-consuming. Good on you, Joe.

But Nate didn't have time. He wanted quick and easy.

And let me tell you something, nothing is easier than stalking a house you already know inside and out.

Nothing is easier than stalking an Instagram profile that you already follow.

Nothing is easier than stalking a girl you already know.

He hadn't exactly prayed for this, okay? But when it did happen, it hit him all at once, like a freight train. Obsession - love - is tricky like that.

What started as a way to check on Maddy after being blocked ended up with scrolling past pictures of her on others' profiles and zooming into yours. Hands in his pants.

It's not even like you reminded him of her, so it was genuinely starting to disgust him, as well, to give him the creeps. You were a junior, it was weird, but it's not like love cares. Heart wants what it wants and all that.

The last name you shared with his ex was the only thing that haunted him. Like actually, haunted him. Like, he'd have dreams about trying to erase your last name and put his instead but it stayed on, like a stain, like a reminder.

Not to mention, he was exactly the opposite of your type.

He'd liked to have tried to say he didn't fit that bill, that he was quote-unquote, not like the other guys, but he genuinely couldn't say that. He was a dick. And he knew it. Badge of honour, baby.

Fucking yay.

The badge didn't really do that great in landing him a date, though.

Yeah, a date, not even a hookup. That's what he'd been reduced to. A simp.

You weren't even all that great, either, and he was genuinely wondering if he was secretly being roofied, the way all great Kings are before attempted regicide. Sure you were hot and not a cunt, but like, that was it. Was Nate attracted to the bare fucking minimum? Is that what your sister had done to him?

No, but then you weren't just not-a-cunt. You were also genuinely kind. Charitable. Genuine.

Fuck. Fucking Perezes giving him migraines and whiplash.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

He was about ninety percent sure you'd be there. You were always there, he'd noticed, at about four thirty sharp, at the bus stop. Your stupid fucking wired earphones on.

Get airpods, you fucking nerd.

Knowing you, you probably didn't want to, lest someone think you were ignoring them when they were talking to you, but you actually had earphones on. Ugh.

The sheets of rain barely let him see you, let alone allow you to hear him, as he leaned with an umbrella on the side of the bus stand, his elbow almost recoiling thanks to the sharp cold. "Yo, Little Perez!"

What the fuck did he just call you? Okay, whatever. He slipped up. Happens to the best of us. Luckily, you didn't hear.

"HEY!"

You frowned, taking out one earbud and trying to look around for the source of the sound. The source waved at you with just his fingers. 'Cause he was cool like that.

"Hey!" Jesus, even with the thunder and the incessant shattering rain, he could swear your voice just changed his brain chemistry.

"You're wet as fuck!"

"That's not how you catcall someone! You fucked up the line!" Ha. Fucking amazing. THIS kinda humour, he could get by.

"Are you womansplaining how to catcall to a guy?!"

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. "What do you want, Jacobs?!"

"Having a little moment?!", he asked, nodding at your phone. "Or do you need a ride?!"

"Bus!", you called back.

"Which one?", he asked, before looking at the sign on the side of the bus stand. "Wait, 4A through Kemper?! It's cancelled 'cause of the rain!"

"What?!"

"Yeah, check it out!", he said, whipping out his phone as you moved closer, tilting it so you could see the bus schedule update. That he totally did not find from months ago and edit to pass off as today's.

Your eyes widened and your fists clenched. "Motherf--!", you cut yourself off, kicking the bench slightly. "Still offering that ride?"

"Sure, I'm going through Kemper, anyway."

"Why are you going through Kemper?"

"My Dad owns the apartment complexes past there, so I'm just doing the routine drop-ins and shit. Keep 'em scared of the boss or whatever."

You were being uncommonly attentive to his reasoning. He had not expected that. Good thing he didn't slack off on alibi prep.

"So. Whaddaya say? Need a ride?"

You nodded. "Of course I need a ride. This fuckin' town, man. Stupid bus schedules.", you muttered, following him - and his umbrella - to his car.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"You sure it's okay?", you asked for the second time since you entered his car and graced it with your scent. "Like, it's all muddy."

He sighed, looking down under your feet. No, it irked him and if it were anyone else, he'd have tweaked out. Not you, though.

'And besides', he realised, grumbling as he looked down at his own feet, "I'm makin' it muddy, too.", he assured, completing his thought by saying it.

"Just this right.", you instructed, and he turned right. Where the fuck were you going?

"Where are you takin' me? Got a ransom or something?"

You smiled, rolling your eyes. "Left, then second right."

Okay, you wouldn't answer that, apparently. Fine. Elephant needs to be addressed, then.

"Aren't you supposed to hate me?"

You frowned, scoffing softly as you turned to him. "What?"

"I dated your big sister. All the shit that happened with us. No way she didn't tell you."

"Yeah, she did."

He waited for elaboration, but found none.

"So? You don't care?"

"Look, Nate, I think you're an asshole for what you did to my sister."

Yeah, you'd be weird as fuck to think otherwise.

"But I know my sister. She's not... she's not a complete saint, either."

Obviously, you're referring to the multiple times she's cheated on him. You're being deliberately vague because you think he doesn't know and it's that kind of concern for others' wellbeing that makes him want to tell you to do whatever the hell you want to him right now.

"So I'm just not getting into it, okay?"

Okay. "Okay."

"Yeah, right here. Right here's good.", you said, and he came to a stop, watching you gather your stuff and practically fly out.

"Rue Bennett?", you asked the - could he say receptionist? Or was this guy just out there with a ledger? - receptionist, breathlessly.

"She just signed in. Sponsor?'

"Escort."

Huh. Huh. WOW. You were charitable enough to fuck around with RUE BENNETT? Jesus, who were you, Mother Teresa?

"Hey, is this an AA meeting or something?", he called, elbow leaning out the window.

"Yeah, my friend doesn't have a good track record of attending, I gotta make sure she's there! But thanks, Nate, I owe you one big time, man!", you called back, scrawling your name onto the ledger before running into the building.

He watched you disappear until the ledger guy cleared his throat. "You an addict, too?"

Nate snorted softly, scoffing and shaking his head as ledger-dude started laughing. "Fuck off, man.", he replied, key in the ignition again.

"Don't blame you, kid!", he called, and Nate wanted to punch him. No way was he watching you go in, too. That shit was creepier than Nate wanting you. "Have a good one!"

Oh, he would.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"Yo, hey. Little Perez." Fuck, why did he keep calling you that? It was fucking retarded.

"Hey, Nate."

"I think you owe me something."

"You know that's just a thing people say?"

"Mm, yeah, but...", he muttered, shrugging. "I'm a man of my word, so I think everyone else should be too. Unless you think not keeping up your promises is good?"

You rolled your eyes. "You don't need to guilt me into it. Just ask."

"There's a party. You're coming to it."

"Nah, no parties."

"What are you, gonna give me some bullshit 'I-don't do-parties-I'm-not-like-other-girls' excuse? Or the 'they're-so-overwhelming' excuse?"

"Next week's finals week."

Oh. Okay, well, now he just feels like a dick.

"Oh, shit, my bad. Forgot you little juniors have it a month earlier than we do.", he muttered, watching you for a moment before he decided enough was enough. He'd just ask.

"What are you even doing?", he asked, watching you take the last sealed box from your friend and place it in front of the notice board at the school entrance.

You looked back up at him, before unrolling the chart you'd been working on during study hall yesterday. "Hm? Oh, fundraiser."

"For this hellhole of a school?"

"Uh, no.", you replied, shaking your head. "For the soup kitchen, through the school."

He snorted. "Right. Who's even gonna sign up?"

"Hey, they signed up for the ASPCA thing last fall. Must be the community waking up.'

Or guys wanting to dick you down.

"Yeah, but that's 'cause it's you who asked them to."

"Hey, you wanna sign up?"

He scoff-laughed, raising a brow. "Me? For the soup kitchen?"

You knelt down, ironing out the poster with your palms, looking up at him expectantly.

No way you weren't doing that shit on purpose. No way. Wait... you- you weren't. That was a genuine fucking question and you didn't understand that there's no way he could say no to you when you look at him like that? Jesus.

He sighed, magnanimously. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well, you're tall. So just help us hang this thing up. Ladder's not tall enough."

Humming, he took the poster from you, giving it a once over. Jesus. "You made this?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah.", you nodded, hands on your hips. "Cool?"

"Couldn't make this shit if I tried."

"That a compliment?"

"Supposed to be. But you're right, it's a toss-up. I'd never try in the first place.", he mumbled, nodding subtly at you before he climbed up a couple rungs. "Here?"

"Mhm. Maybe like a tiny bit higher?"

He'd climb Everest for you. He just wished you'd know that.

"Here?"

"Yeah, perfect. You need tape, or do you think you can hold it up long enough to use a couple push pins on each corner?"

"I think I can handle it.", he replied, unamused, but he hid a grin at your laughter. Not to call the Lord's name in vain, but Jesus, were you fucking with him.

He leaned down to get the clear plastic box of colourful pins from you, placing it on the top rung of the ladder for a moment and taking a couple out. "So like, two on each corner?"

No response.

"Yo, Little Perez?"

"Uh... maybe three?"

That wasn't you. Who the fuck was this dweeb?

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Cole.", the kid said, still holding the ladder down securely, as if that was his life duty.

"Did I ask your fucking name?"

He's a dick, but this was too much, even for him. But you'd just gone AWOL, so yeah, he was kinda pissed.

"No, I...", the kid muttered, kinda pathetically.

He huffed. "Where is Y/N?"

"She's over there.", he mumbled, and Nate's gaze followed his scrawny little hand to see you talking to Maddy. Huh.

Yeah, Nate was the problem. Maybe he always was.

Why, in his stupid little mind, you guys were totally different universes, he didn't know.

Why his stupid little mind didn't expect for those universes to clash, he had no clue.

You were sisters! Stayed in the same fucking house, maybe even sometimes the same fucking room! What sort of idiot would hope for the opposite? Him, apparently. He needed you as far away from her as possible.

Hard task, but if Joe Goldberg could do that to a girl and her best friend, he could do it to a girl and her sister.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"You're tweaking out, man, what is up with you recently?"

He rubbed his hands across his face. "The little sister asked me, okay, I didn't want beef with both Perezes, yeah? So just shut the fuck up and come."

"At least can we bring booze?"

"No, they're including East Highland Middle School, too."

Yeah, convincing an entire football team (plus Chris McKay, in hopes that he'd bring his college football gang) to take part in some soup kitchen fundraiser wasn't exactly simple.

Definitely not as simple as, say, mapping out your room in his head so that when the time came to inevitably kiss you against the door, he wasn't losing face looking for the bed or bumping into your snazzy little swivel chair.

Which he, of course, did a shitty job of. He refused, for his pride, to become one of those binoculars-using creeps. He considered himself more subtle than that. And sophisticated.

But anything was better than the mess he was making of this.

"What is this, like, a bowling thing? A raffle?"

"Car wash."

"With the cheerleaders in it?"

Maybe he should've led with that.

"I mean, maybe? I'm sure Y/N could convince them..."

"Shit, I'm down. It's one of those wet, soapy ass ones you gotta get into bathing suits for, right?"

Yeah, definitely should've led with that. He nodded.

He fist-bumped, dapped-up, and took as many shoulder pats as were thrown at him, before he raised a brow. McKay was still in there, his arms crossed.

"Was this what your whole question was about?"

"Huh?"

"You texted me last night."

Oh, yeah. Drunk.

"Shit, yeah. Just ignore that."

"Yo, McKay. Ever fallen for an ex's sister? How 2 deal with it? Lmk.", he read out, sarcastically trying to imitate Nate's voice.

"I was shitfaced, man."

"Right."

Nodding, Nate shoved his hands into his pocket. "You'll show up? To the fundraiser thing. I really am tryna be a good person, 'kay? Don't want to disappoint Perez Number Two."

"See, Nate, what's throwin' me off is that you're not saying you wanna fuck this sister, you're saying you're falling in love with her."

"Uh-uh, no, no, I said falling for her."

"Same thing, man."

"No, it's not."

McKay chuckled, and Nate couldn't help but reciprocate. "Seriously, Nate, I don't know if it's a good idea."

"She's completely fucking different, man, I'm telling you, she and her sister are, like... fucking worlds apart." Who the fuck was he trying to convince?

"That's dangerous, Nate, there's so much could go wrong--"

"Man, I just need some advice. I don't know how to do the boyfriend thing, clearly. I actually like this girl." Ew, what the fuck had you done to him?

"What are you, sweet on Lexi Howard, now?", he scoffed, clenching his jaw. "As if you haven't fucked up the Howards' life enough."

It's good that McKay thinks the ex he's talking about is Cassie. Actually kind of dumb.

He'd just tried to convince footballers to join a fundraiser for you, and he thinks it's Lexi Howard he wants.

Maybe this dumbassery is why he lost Cassie.

"Hey, Lexi did that on her own with that stupid fucking play of hers."

"Yeah? And it was the play that fucked Cassie for months?"

He fell silent. Yeah, McKay and him had never actually spoken about the whole fucking-his-ex-girlfriend thing, but he figured they weren't technically still together.

"Man, look, I'm not with her anymore. I- we're done. Yeah?"

"Yeah, I know.", he spat.

"She's all yours, man.", he muttered, before McKay scoffed.

"Like I want your sloppy seconds. And who the fuck are you, giving me permission?"

"If you think I still want Cassie, you're a fucking retard, McKay."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Chill, man, okay, I'm not gonna--", he cut himself off, rubbing his hands over his face. "We're cool, I just wish you'd have told me, and I didn't have to find out about it fucking... months later."

Huh. Wow. McKay was a better man than Nate was, for sure. If McKay had been fucking Maddy, he'd have committed double homicide.

"Alright, look, my advice is just don't put up a front. If you're a dick- which you fucking are - just own it, and make it cute."

"Cute?"

"Self-awareness. Girls love it. Pearl of wisdom, brother, you owe me with your life."

"Wait, so I'm just gonna have to continue being a dick?", he called, as McKay shouldered past him.

"Yeah, but consciously make an effort not to be. It's a delicate balance. But you'll find it!"

Either McKay had just ruined his life or given him the best advice in the world.

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"Jesus Fucking Christ."

Yeah, he was going to hell.

But what the fuck else could he say?

Who the hell would have thought the turnout for a fucking soup kitchen car wash would be this huge? Who even were half these kids?

Of course, nothing would beat the ASPCA thingie you'd organised in the fall, even Nate came to that. But that was just 'cause Maddy liked cats. Or whatever.

The fucking vibe of the place - you wouldn't think this was a school, no, it was some sort of car-washing-frat-party-cult. And you, absolutely fucking oblivious to this miracle you somehow conjured up, stood in the middle, with a clipboard and a very stressed out look on your face.

"Yo, Little Perez, you seeing this shit?", he mumbled, unable to force the awe out of his tone as he nudged you.

"Yeah, your little football friends are literally supposed to be vollunteers. Instead, they're paying more that actual customers."

"Money's money, hon."

"I suppose that's true. Horny teenagers are the best market."

There we go, you were a quick study, he'd give you that.

"Why do you look like you got a stick up your ass? Relax, maybe bring your car to be washed? It's a success!"

Normally, he'd have asked you to go topless and get to work. But something told him that kind of joke wouldn't fly with you. And besides, why the fuck would he wanna see middle aged men in cars grinning at you cleaning?

"People leave without paying sometimes."

"It's for charity, no one's gonna cheap out."

You snorted, loudly at that. "You'd be fucking surprised, man."

"Still, no need to be this stressed. You're fine. See? All that? You made it happen. Little Orphan Annies throughout the state owe their lives to you, or whatever.'

"It's not just for orphans, for like, anyone who's hungry and needs some food, so, like the--"

"Okay, so homeless people. The less fortunate. My bad." Dick, but consciously trying not to be.

You smiled softly, nodding. "Yeah. Precisely. And I just hope this is enough, y'know?"

He rolled his eyes, watching the footballers wolf whistle at the cheerleaders turning on the hose. "Money-making-machine right there."

"You know what would get more female customers?"

"I don't know, Brad Pitt? Penn Badgley?"

"The 6'5 star QB giving 'em a show."

He chuckled incredulously, raising a brow at you, arms folded. "Nope. No fucking way. You want me to strip? I already brought in so many people!"

"You're right, you're right. You've done enough. I was just kidding."

He grunted softly, though it was more out of amusement than frustration. "I do this, you'll come to the party?"

"Finals week. And I was kidding, man."

"If I host a party after finals week. Will. You. Come." , he asked, battling a grin. Yeah, he sounded annoyed but that's the last thing he could be when you stood there in flip flops with a pen tapping anxiously on a clipboard you've scribbled on.

"Sure."

"No bullshit?"

"No bullshit."

"And you'll drink and actually fucking participate? You won't try to turn the whole thing into an AA meeting?"

"Jesus, no!"

His hands moved to opposite ends of the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his body. "You are a fucking genius. Getting me to do all this.", he whispered, shaking his head before flipping you off as he jogged over to the next car in the lineup.

"You volunteered!", you called back, and he could hear the laughter in your voice. Fuck, RIP his brain chemistry.

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"What? No! You don't get it. None of my guy friends get it."

He's gonna pretend that didn't sting. 'Guy friends'. May very well be 'gay best friend'. Being reduced to a non-dateable-option wasn't the best feeling, but part of you was better than none of you.

And he couldn't blame you, even if it was you putting your guard up.

Everyone who asks you out is turned the fuck down. And they are all a very specific genre of human - sorry, subhuman. Jocks. No, sorry, that would make him fall into that bracket.

Idiot jocks. Who couldn't think about anything but fucking and fighting.

But luckily for you, he had the looks, the physique, and the smarts and sophistication that came with being a Jacobs.

Whole package.

However, the way this shit was going, he'd have to watch as some hippie tweaker who 'believes that animals are people, too, dude, go vegan or go home!' got to date you.

It's weird, right? How someone can change you so quick.

He just wanted you. Like, he wanted you.

He wanted to know your darkest secrets and never use them.

He wanted to know how tall your walls were and break through them.

He wanted to know why you were so fucking nice to people like Rue motherfucking Bennett, and he wanted to exploit it.

But most of all, he wanted to know what made you tick. What turned you off a dude. What could possibly make you blow a gasket.

What made you... You.

"I just think that you guys don't get how much like, potential Loki has. As a boyfriend."

"Yeah, but Thor's jacked, he's not fucking evil, and he's, like, a superhero!"

"Loki isn't evil, he's just--"

"If you say misunderstood, I'm going to crash out.", he muttered, pushing some hair behind your ear. With his luck, you'd ignore it, because of course friends help you when hair's getting into your eyes!

"But he is misunderstood, okay? Like, he was constantly made to feel inferior in every way!" See? Ignored.

He watched you take a bite of your pasta before taking a bite of his burger. "I swear, girls always do this, they go for the worst possible option and then justify it instead of going to the best option and enjoying it."

Shut up. Yeah, the irony wasn't lost on him. Hardy har har.

"Loki changed at the end. Okay? He'd just assumed that Odin's mistreatment was something Thor believed in himself, even though Thor thought of him as a brother!"

He groaned, a slightly pained laugh escaping him. "Next you're gonna say you're Team Cap."

"What? No! No, Tony was right."

He tilted his head. Huh. Brains. "Yeah. Good. 'Least you got something right, but now you got me thinking you have an aversion to blondes."

You chuckled and he swears he's going to lose it from your smile alone.

"How's finals going?"

"Good. Kinda scared for results, though.", you mumbled, shaking your head. "I'm so scared that every second I don't spend studying is another mark lost, and I'm losing it."

"Jesus, there's the fucking stick again. I swear, you should just--"

But it's like the universe was not okay with him winning, because in came your gang of nerds - sorry, your fellow student council members - to whisk you away.

"I'll see you later, Jacobs, okay?"

"Nate!", he called back, almost warning, before he was affronted with the sight of Maddy rolling her eyes at him. "Did you just call out your own name?"

"Shut up, Maddy. I was talking to someone."

"That's literally fucking pathetic."

Look who's talking.

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You didn't seem to actually do much to give him enough insight into your life, seriously.

You came to school, talking with your sister on the way.

You spent your school day doing nothing but going to classes and occassionally talking with Nate (fucking yay), and then you spent an extra hour and a half at school for some after school bullshit you did, he didn't care enough. And then you came home and studied.

Like, what a fucking nerd. What a sexy fucking nerd.

But finals week was over, and he'd even given you another week to wait for results, and now he was hosting a party.

Well, McKay was.

And you weren't coming.

One thing he couldn't stand for was you lying to him. Which was exactly what you did.

You had a date, you said, and that would have resulted in him getting into a car accident - that wasn't really an accident - on the highway if he believed you.

But he knew you weren't going on a date. You were going back to the fucking AA meeting for fucking Rue Bennett. There should be some limit to your charity.

But like the calm, level-headed individual he was, he didn't crash out, he simply schooled his face, took deep breaths - and maybe a can of beer - and parked his car gracefully.

His hand stilled on his seatbelt, and he looked down at the buckle for a moment, lost in thought.

No, no, fuck it. No second thoughts. He undid the buckle, getting out before locking the car with a beep.

The trees shrouding his sight slowly gave way as he walked, and right there, to his left, on the stairs, was you.

Ledger-guy wasn't there, and so you were aimlessly playing with the pen that hung from the spring tether attached to his table.

You watched it bobble around each time you pushed it away and then watched it swing right back to you, regardless of how hard you'd pushed it, albeit unknowingly.

There was a metaphor there. He was sure of it.

"Hey.", he said softly, carefully. "Thought I'd find you here."

You looked up at him, but didn't even seem to have the energy to act guilty. "Hey."

He sat down with a low exhale, his knees bending uncomfortably as he nudged your shoulder with his own. "Yo."

You turned to him, nodding.

"What's going on? How come you're out here? She could've snuck out by now."

"She won't. She's doing really well. She's been sober for almost two months now."

He let out a soft whistle, nodding, before looking back at you, frowning slightly. "So why do you look depressed?"

"Her withdrawals, y'know, um. They're gone, but like... this two month mark is usually where it goes downhill, so I'm, like... worried, or whatever."

"It's gonna stick this time."

"Told myself that last year."

"Look, we've all grown up together. Small town. I- I'm not, like, fucking 'BFFs'... ", he muttered, using air quotes, "...with Rue, but she's strong.", he continued.

You shrugged lightly. "I guess."

"Hey, look. She's been through a lot. Her Dad kicked the bucket a while ago, her little sister found her ODd, rehab, lack thereof, relapse, all that shit. She'll get through it. And she's doing well enough right now. I saw her at school yesterday, she looks good. Like, healthy."

He was seriously wondering if he'd been hexed, because here he was, admitting he'd noticed Rue Bennett's sobriety, and spoken in favour of her, all for you. To alleviate your worries. To get that sadness off your face.

You nodded. "But I'm just... I hate that I can't be there with her through every bad moment."

Like he wanted to be with you.

"Hey.", he sighed, shuffling closer, brushing hair from your eyes and moving your head to his shoulder both in one swift motion. "She's here, isn't she? In there? Talking about her sobriety? She's going to school, too. You got her there."

Scoffing, you shook your head. Your humility would be the death of you, he's sure of it. "No, her family did. Mr. Ali did."

"You escorted her to every single meeting, without fail. You don't miss a single week."

Please don't ask how he knows, please don't ask how he knows-

"I guess."

Phew.

"Right. Trust me, one step at a time. Okay? She'll be fine."

You hummed and he looked at his reflection in his phone screen so he could analyze what a fucking simp he'd become.

"Thanks."

"Oh, shut up.", he scoffed. "'Thanks' like hundreds of people - and animals - don't owe you one already."

"Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"Put me up on a pedestal?"

"You'd rather I treat you like everyone else?"

"How do you treat everyone else?"

"How you'd expect me to."

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Why did you strangle my sister?"

If he had a beer in his mouth, he'd spit it out. "Anger issues."

"Did you get help for them?"

Who the fuck were you? He tells you he strangled your sister 'cause he was pissed, you want to know if he went to a shrink to get that shit out of him. He shook his head.

"Why not?"

"It's just about the only defence mechanism I have."

He didn't like how your stupid questioning made him feel as if he really was talking to a fucking shrink. He'd never admitted that before.

"Oh."

He took a long, deep breath, before patting on the tops of his thighs, standing. "C'mon."

"What? Where? Rue's still in there.", you asked, looking up at him as he stood over you.

"We'll be back before it's over."

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The waves threatened to devour your feet, but didn't seem to have the power to actually make good on their threats.

"I'm driving Rue back."

"It's PBR. It's impossible to get drunk off it, trust."

You shrugged, taking the can and popping it open.

He watched your lips wrap around the edge of the can, and your throat as it cascaded down it. Holy. Shit.

Taking a sip himself, he shifted so that his elbow was resting loosely on his knee. "Never have I ever...", he mused, grinning as he watched your eyes roll.

"Oh, sweet Jesus.", you scoffed.

"You skipped out on the party. I refuse to let you spend tonight without a little bit of fun."

"And 'never have I ever' is the way to do that?"

He shrugged. "Never have I ever.... kissed a girl.", he finished, taking a sip.

He was pleasantly surprised to see you take one, too.

"Oh, this I gotta hear."

"Keep your panties on, it was my best friend, and we just wanted to practice kissing, get my first kiss over with."

What a liar.

"Your best friend?", he scoffed, raising a brow.

"...'s sister.", you admitted, biting your lip.

"There we go. Cassie Howard isn't a bad choice for a first kiss."

You shook your head. "Yeah, I know. Just felt weird. Like I was betraying Lexi or something. You never go for the sisters, y'know?"

Oof. Right in the heart. It was like it was directed at him.

"Yeah, but you weren't dating her."

"Well, yeah, but it's the principle."

He exhaled, before taking another sip. "Tell ya what. I'll drive Rue and you home. Get the stick outta your ass.", he muttered, pulling out a packet of pre-rolleds.

"Wh- no, what? You want me stoned in a car with a recovering addict?"

Okay. Fine. Fair.

"Fine, then here.", he replied, handing you his pocket flask. "It's whiskey, not poison."

You looked at it, contemplating for a while before sighing. "You know where she lives, right?"

"Uh huh."

"And where I- well, yeah, 'course you know where I live.", you mumbled, still gazing at the bottle.

"Don't you trust me?", he asked, softly, tilting his head.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

The door swung open and he stood face-to-face with Maddy, the ex he hadn't seen for almost the entire school year. Well, that she knew of.

"Hey."

"Jesus.", she muttered, gently grabbing you from his arms. You were - surprisingly- still coherent, but you couldn't really be trusted to stand on your own. "The fuck did you drink?"

"Whiskey.", he piped up, handing you over carefully.

"And you just happened to be walking by?"

"No, we were waiting for Rue's drug meeting thing to get over, and we just went a couple blocks away to the beach."

Maddy scoffed, still stroking your hair as she glared at him. "Where you gave her whiskey."

"Well, yeah, she's been stressed the whole week, which you'd know if you cared."

"Oh, please, like you care more about my sister than I do." she spat.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll see you around, Maddy. Bye, Y/N.", he mumbled, turning around.

See, this was why he had to get you the fuck away from your sister. She'd never trusted anybody in her life, but you were different, you had a heart.

"What did you say to her?", she called as his key turned in his car lock.

To Rue? He'd said that you'd told him to tell you that you had an urgent emergency at the soup kitchen, and to walk herself the fuck home.

"What?"

"She'd never drink while waiting on Rue."

Huh. Okay, fine, so she knew some things about you. But she was your sister, so it was less impressive than how much he knew. So there.

Not that it was a competition.

"I didn't say anything. Told her to get the stick outta her ass."

"Did you like... how did you convince her?"

I asked whether she trusted me and gave her the most solemn look ever.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Guess she needed a break that bad and I'm the only one willing to give her one.", he responded, getting into his car.

That was so badass. Write that down.

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"What now? Does UNICEF need your help?", he groaned, barely holding himself back from yelling.

"I got grounded for being drunk. Maddy tried to sneak me up, but my mom caught me."

He doubted that. Maddy probably took you upstairs slowly on purpose so that you wouldn't be able to come to this party, either.

"Just sneak out. Come on. You've already skipped out on, like, two parties."

"Hey! The first one doesn't count, I wasn't coming to that, anyway, it was finals week!"

Rolling his eyes, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "If you come I'll donate to charity.", he whispered in your ear, breathing in the smell of your hair.

You laughed at that, exactly like he wanted. "Is that all you think my life is?"

"Come on. Do it for the kids."

"I've never snuck out before."

"Maddy'll teach you, I'm sure.", he scoffed, shooing you off to your next class. "She's coming anyway."

"You're an ass."

"Badge of honour, baby!", he called, waving. Okay. This was good. Finally.

---

Watching McKay do a keg stand wasn't exactly on his bucket list for the night, but hey, he had to do something until you arrived.

He looked down at his watch. When he'd passed by your house, he'd watched you getting dressed through your window. Maddy was doing her makeup in the room next to yours.

That was a half hour ago. The drive from your place to McKay's wasn't even fifteen minutes. So where the hell were you? He was looking around - had been since he'd arrived - for your blue dr-- oh.

What an idiot. It's possible you'd changed after he had left. Right. So blue dress not counted. Now he was left just looking for you.

Logical deduction suggested you'd already showed up, but then again, you could be in a bathroom, seeing as you seemed so nervous about sneaking out perfectly that you hadn't really had the time to put on makeup yet.

Not that you needed it. But still. Would look nice.

And he was right.

You were right there, cutting uncomfortably through the crowds, beelining to the bathroom. He called your name, but the music drowned him out. Fine. Whatever.

He stopped the bathroom door from closing behind you. "There you are."

You watched him through the mirror, before turning around. "Have you seen Rue?!", you called, your phone to your ear.

Unacceptable. Un-fucking-acceptable. You cannot be this selfless. It's actually unhealthy.

"No, why?" He fought a frustrated eye roll. Let her OD, at least the rest of the town could have some semblance of peace once she's dead!

"She's here, that I know, but she isn't responding to any of my texts! Or calls.", you added, gesturing at the phone by your ear. "Straight to voicemail."

"She's probably just having fun, like you should probably be doing.", he reasoned, gently taking the phone from you and ending the call, shoving the thing into his back pocket.

"I told her not to come."

"Then she should have fucking listened. Hey- hey, it's not your fault that she doesn't take care of herself.", he whispered, his thumbs rubbing arcs on your cheeks. "Why are you so... just relax.", he murmured, kissing your forehead.

"No, Nate, you don't get it, she came because she thinks she's ready, and that she knows if anything goes wrong, I'm right here."

"Look, you can't let people depend on you so much, you're going to lose your shit. Trust me, I know. My mother doesn't have anything but me and my brother, and it's hell. She doesn't take care of herself, she lets our Dad walk all over her-", he muttered, still wondering how you're, yet again, effortlessly making him say shit he's never told another soul.

"But what if something goes wrong?"

"Nothing's going to go wrong."

"Hey, last time she was at a party, she met this weird kid Elliot, who got her hooked again."

"She won't relapse. It won't happen. You're right here."

"I'm not with her, though."

"You don't need to be. She's a big girl, she'll take care of herself. And besides, you won't be there with her her whole life, will you? Making sure she's sober. She'll graduate this year and go to college. She isn't going to depend on a high schooler to keep her safe all the way in college, is she?"

He can tell that you fully understand what he's saying, and that you even agreed, to an extent, but he certainly didn't blame you for not accepting it. You were just unnecessarily caring, almost to a fault.

This was all you knew.

"You need someone to take care of you, too, sometimes.", he said, bending his head so he was now looking up at you, from where he had you perched on the countertop. "Yeah?"

"What? What are you even- look, you're wasting time, Nate, I don't want her relapsing, I cant- I know it's selfish, but I can't go through all that with her again, Nate--"

Selfish? You were the antonym of that word, and it was disgusting that you couldn't even see it.

"I get it. Sometimes you need a break, too. Need someone to love on you. Need to know that what you're doing isn't thankless."

You looked down at him, a soft frown on your face that he wanted to hug off you.

"I can see it. You're not denying it.", he teased sing-songily, tapping your nose.

You grinned softly, trying your damndest to hide it. "Shut up."

"You're a good person, whether you're on Rue-watch 24/7, or looking out for your sister so that she doesn't get abducted by the guys she fucks, or being the most charitable bitch this side of... well... Earth.", he chuckled.

"Do you have a point? Or are you just doing the pedestal thing again?"

"My point is this."

Kissing you was exactly how he'd imagined it would be. Smooth, slow and correct. Not correct as in he was doing it correctly - god, he fucking hoped he was - no, correct as in this was probably the only purpose he'd had for his life.

He could feel you shifting away, and he shook his head. "No. No, no, no. Don't. The sister card's not gonna work."

"But it's valid.", you murmured, trying to pull away as he pulled you closer.

"No, the fuck it isn't.", he replied against your lips, pulling you toward the edge of the counter. "Shut up."

"That's mean."

"Yeah? Well, so are you. How's that for a pedestal?", he asked, his lips on your shoulder. "Look.", he sighed, finally, finally able to bring himself to look at your face. "Just say yes."

"To what?"

He scoffed. "World peace. What do you think? Me."

"You?"

He nodded, attempting to fix your hair as best he could. "I care, see?"

"Oh, sorry, yes, messing up my hair is, like, peak boyfriend."

"Fixing it is. I don't do that for anyone.", he retorted, kissing your forehead again. "One date."

"'One date' is wild. Because that'll totally convince me.", you laughed, and he tsked, shaking his head.

"You're not funny. Seriously. Like, one date. And it's gonna be completely secret. No Maddy messing with us. No Rue messing with us. No Cassie. No... no one else."

It had just occurred to him how many people really had messed with his life so far. No longer.

"One date?"

Huh, wow. You were considering it. That's more than he'd expected from you.

"One.", he assured.

"One."

════════════════════ 🔭 ═════════════════════

"I am?"

"Yeah, like, way different than what I thought you'd be like. Your whole thing was like, asshole."

One date had turned to a second, a third, and now, here he was, on the same beach with you again, watching you smoke the pre-rolled cig you'd declined a couple months ago.

"Can't say you're that different than I thought, though. You're exactly who you seem to be."

"Is that good or bad?"

"I don't know, you tell me.", he grinned, taking the blunt back from you.

"Aren't you the expert on all this personality stuff?"

He chuckled. "There's only one thing I am - and want to be - the expert on."

"What's that?"

"You."

He was, and, if his plans went well, he would continue to be. He could one-up your sister, he could one-up Rue Bennett, he could one-up every single loser in town.

Because he'd know everything about you.

He'd know you.

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eveningepiphany · 2 years ago

Text

far from sober | H.S, part II

my masterlist

part I

summary: the morning after harry taking a very drunk y/n back to his room— you hardly remember anything and harry has to remind you.

warnings: hangover, painkillers, fluff, kissing, sexual tension, swearing… licking?

a/n: I just hit 1k followers… I’m in denial. but I can’t wait for you guys to see what I have in store <3 stay tuned, because something is in the works.

———

Your head was pounding.

That was the first thing you noticed, it was a painful dull ache. The second thing was the light glaring over the thin of your eyelids.

A groan tore its way out of your throat without prompt, and you rolled over, head turning on the pillow.

And that’s when your brain clicked it. The pillow. Not your pillow.

The cogs started turning and your self awareness hit you like a freight train, your eyes flew open out of fear— where the fuck were you?

You were met with the celling of the hotel. And calmness came over you for a moment.

But, a hangover like this leaves no peace. Memories sort of flashback into your mind, in tiny grains, little bits and feelings coming back to you.

The feeling of a warm hand over your calf, or the dress you’re pretty sure was pooled at your feet?

Of course, the memories leave too much room for imagination.

You felt the presence beside you just as you heard the rumble of their voice, “Morning, lovie. Y’okay?”

You turned your head to the source of the sound, of course it was Harry, laying without a shirt next to you.

“Oh my god—“ you gasped, mentally tripping over the amount of things that were flying into your mind.

He’s laying next to you, shirtless. And you don’t remember any big chunks of last night, just little snippets.

And there’s, at the moment, a large gap between what you can only assume is being down at the bar and then ending up in his bed in his hotel room.

You push up on your elbows, wincing at the pounding of your head.

Harry’s hair is tousled, either from sleep, sex, or both and you’re scrambling to put the last two out as an option entirely.

You push the covers from your body, seeing his shirt and your entirely bare lower half aside from your underwear.

Denial is running through you a million miles an hour, and you stumble out of his bed.

“Woahwoahwoah, slow down Y/N!” He sits up as well, covers pooling at his waist.

“What am I doing in your bed? And in your room?”

You don’t give him time to answer as you continue, “Tell me… please please tell me I didn’t— that we did not have… not do anything… last night?”

He is silent a moment, “you don’t remember? Thought I’d be a bit more memorable?”

“No… no fucking WAY— ARE YOU SERIOUS— I CANT BELIEVE I-“

“Y/N!” He’s chuckling, like this is some kind of joke.

“Oh… oh Jesus, shut up!” You could cry. The first time you’ve had sex with him, probably kissed him and you don’t even remember the lead up, let alone actually doing it.

“Breathe, love— we did not have sex. Contrary to what you’re thinking, i have self control and you were clearly not in the mind frame to consent to literally anything last night.” He says, looking amused.

Your shoulders sag with relief, yet you scoff out, “I cannot believe you would joke about that!”

“Well if you’d had it your way last night, that would not be the case.”

Your hands flew over your eyes, another little crumb of your memory coming back.

You saying something along the lines of taking more than just your shoes off. God. You’re going to hell.

“I- what? Please for the love of god tell me I wasn’t like…” you trailed off, still looking for the right words.

This is foreign territory, and especially with Harry. You don’t talk about sex around him— let alone talk about sex with him.

“…forcing myself onto you?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any bett—“

“Nope! Do not keep talking.” You walked away, straight into the bathroom to the sink, running some cool water to splash over your face.

You turn the tap off, grabbing a face towel and holding it over your face to dry it— groaning into it.

He practically appears in the doorway after you take the cloth away from your eyes. He’s leaning against it. Still shirtless.

“Really, it wasn’t that bad!” He laughs, stepping into the bathroom.

You raise your brows at him.

“You really don’t remember anything?” He asks again.

“No!” You sigh.

“Well,” he begins, now leaning his lower back against the bathroom counter, “too start off, you were absolutely plastered down in the bar. So we’re most of the other girls.”

That’s right, you’d gone to the bar with all of them. That was still relatively clear.

“Then, all of us came back, and collected all of y’chaos causers. You left your wallet with y’key card in Molly’s bag, so I bought you back here.”

“Ok…” you nodded.

“You tried to word me up in the elevator if I say so myself, and then we got back— I took your shoes off—“

You kissed him. You’re now like 85% sure you did.

Because the memory slapped you in the face now that he’s relaying the timeline.

All you remember is pressing your lips down onto his. Which you’re pretty sure is real, and not a dream.

“Did I uhm…” your eyes appear hazy as you recall the memory again, “kiss you.”

It was whispered out of your lips, “or was that like— did I imagine that? Or dream it? Because I-“

“That er, yea that actually happened.” He blinked, and you flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry.” You sighed, cheeks burning as you recall chasing his lips last night, forcing him into a kiss.

“It’s fine, baby. Was nice. Then we took y’dress off, and I put you in my shirt,” he gestures to it, “which y’look good in may I add— and then we went to bed.”

“You’re leaving bits out, I’m assuming. Embarrassing bits.” You ask, even though you don’t really want to know.

“Well, I guess you could say that? You were just drunk, nothin’ t’be ashamed of. But you probably don’t want to know all the ins and outs.”

“I kissed you.” You repeat.

“Y’wanted more than that.” He says seriously.

“Did you kiss me back?” Your throat bobs after you ask, and you’re almost convinced you’re still tipsy considering how ballsy it was to ask that question.

You’re quiet a moment.

“Took a lot not to. That’s fuckin’ for sure.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Y’we’re drunk. Couldn’t 100% guarantee you wouldn’t end up regrettin’ it.”

You nod. Slowly. Processing what this means.

He has to have some kind of romantic feelings for you if he’s saying this shit. Your heart twists.

You rub at your temples, which are hurting and he noticed.

“Let’s get you some water.” He states, turning to go out the door, and you can’t help but follow him out.

He pours you out a glass, not handing it to you, just bringing it to your lips and guiding it into your mouth.

He watches you swallow.

“Thank you…”

He smiles a little at your profuse blushing, placing the cup on the bench.

But your redness only deepens as you continue.

“Thank you. For taking care of me. And uh, not taking advantage of me… that too.”

“Darling. Do not thank me for basic human decency.” He scolds gently.

“And you know your brother would have my head. Probably would just knowing I bought you back here.”

“He’d hate it.” You mumble, “if something were to happen… between us.”

You’re almost trying to convince the both of you it’s not a good idea, yet you’re unaware just how far gone you both actually are.

“Mm, he probably would. At first anyway.” Harry smiles, “makes it a little fun though, you can’t lie.”

“Make what fun?” Now you’re seeing how far you can push this.

“What between us?” He mocks your own insinuation.

“Do you have any pain killers?” You avoid the question.

“I do. I’ll get you some.” He walks over to his suitcase, rummaging through the front pockets, pulling out a small packet.

He ignores your bypass of the question, just popping two out of the foil.

His hand pauses, something ticks in his mind.

“Tongue out.”

“What?” You think you may have misheard.

“Put your tongue out.” He’s dead serious. And he’s not asking you, he’s telling you.

You do as he asks, sticking it out, allowing him to place the two little pills on it.

He picks the glass up again, just bringing it to your lips and letting you swallow it back.

“Good.” He mutters.

“Thanks.” You say, cautiously, suddenly hyper aware you’re just in your underwear.

You wipe the back of your hand over your mouth.

“So…” you begin carefully, “you’ve thought about it before.”

He brings his eyes up to you, “not exactly certain what it is you’re referring too, but I’m going to say the answer would be a yes.”

“Hm. Ok.” You state.

“Ok.” He agrees, furrowing his brows a little, waiting for more.

You step back, walking back over to the bed to lay back in it. Half because you were still exhausted, but also because you missed the smell. It smelt like him.

He followed you though, and you watched as he laid back next to you.

“You cuddled me last night.” You recalled.

“I did.” He nodded, and his own face had a blush to it.

It’s quiet another few beats, filled with the two of you just thinking.

“Do you regret it?” He asks, without prompt, and you’re not sure what he’s talking about.

“Regret what?”

“The kiss.”

“No.”

“Would you have regretted it if I’d kissed you back?”

Again, you don’t think as you answer, “No.”

His eyes find yours from where he’s laying, he’s not that far away.

“I just want to be on the same page. We’ve known eachother for a long time. And it’s not just us it would impact if I don’t know— something didn’t work out.” He says quietly.

You reach a hand out to trace his jaw, “I know. But just as you said, we’ve known eachother for a long time, and you always tend to put other people above yourself. What do you want?”

He leans into the touch with a steady inhale as he thinks for a moment, “Honestly, right now I want to kiss you.”

“Well then do it.” You say.

He leans forward now, fed up with beating around the bush.

He pushes his lips over yours, capturing them in a soft yet passionate kiss.

It’s a kiss that speaks worlds. It’s a hundred times more powerful than words ever could be. it’s almost a promise.

You kiss back, cherishing the feeling of it, and how he moved against your mouth.

“Fuck me,” he sighs into your mouth when you part it for him.

“Tongue out.” He asks again, but hearing it while he’s got his lips on you is out of this world.

It sends heat straight to your core, and you do again as he asks.

His hands are threaded in your hair and he gently kitten licks over your tongue.

It’s sensual in a way you can’t describe it, but what really sends you over the edge is when he whispers, “Is it way too early to be asking if I can suck on your tongue…?”

You laugh a little, tongue going back into your mouth as you talk, “I would’ve said yes if you asked me years ago. Is that weird?”

“Hot more than weird.”

You stick it back out and he sucks it into his mouth, swirling his own around it. It quickly turns into a French kiss though, and you start to move and explore his mouth.

“You’re beautiful. Always thought that Y/N.” He says, skating his teeth over your bottom lip.

You whimper at the sensation, “You make me feel so fucking loved.”

“Thats exactly how you should feel, darling. All the time.”

You kiss back and forth for a while, touching eachother gently over thin layers of fabric, but nothing more.

You’re in no rush.

And you’re just grateful that when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be able to remember it with ease.

———

thank you to all who requested a part 2, I hope you enjoyed it! there is plenty more to come.

taglist:

@holholliday @jackiehollanderr @itsmytimetoodream @cherrycolas-things @buckybarnessimpp @crybabyddl @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #best friend!harry #brother best friend #brother best friend! harry #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #soft harry #fanfic #bbf!h

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months ago

Text

Brother's Keeper: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, feeling broken and utterly helpless to the point of depression

Summary: The repercussions of every bad thing you did while being soulless hit you like a freight train at full speed. There are no words that can describe how broken you feel. Sam and Dean manage to break the spell and lift the curse but what did you let out in return?

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

"So, does this mean no more adventure?"

"I think we have all the adventure we can handle right here."

"What about Dark!Charlie?"

"She's quiet. I just have to keep moving forward. We all do." She looks once more at you and Dean before walking into the library to deal with the after-effect of her almost dying at both your hands. "We are going to fix this. I'm not letting what happened to me happen to you two."

"What if I like being this way?" you ask and everyone looks at you. "Have you thought of that?"

"I refuse to accept that."

"You can't fix what already happened," Dean sighs.

"Cain found a way to live with it."

"After centuries of murder," you say.

"Yeah, well, there's one thing that you two have that he didn't. You're a Winchester. I forgive you, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I don't."

"I know. That's kind of your move." She turns to you and smiles sweetly. "I forgive you, too."

You set your drink down and stand up. Everyone is on edge just from that single move, and you walk closer to her in intimidation. It seems to work since she backs away slightly but she is a brave one. Sam goes to stop her but you hold out your hand as if to say, "Don't worry, I won't hurt her."

"Let me get one thing clear. The only reason you are still alive is because of them. Had they not been there, I would have killed you. I do not feel guilty for what I did. I actually liked it. Whatever part of me found you tolerable is gone. You better hope that you don't see me without them by my side."

You're not you. You're not this person. Charlie has to remind herself of that before she allows herself to get hurt because of you. She knows you're only saying this to hurt her so she doesn't let you know that your words do affect her.

"I'm gonna get you back."

"Let the games begin," you smirk and back away from her.

Sam and Dean look at each other before lunging at you. You see their moves coming from a mile away. While Sam and Dean are fighting to subdue you, you're fighting to kill. You have nothing to lose. They have everything to lose.

Sam swings his hand to punch you but you grab it at the last second and twist it behind him. Dean comes running at you two so you kick his ass and they go crashing into each other. Dean is the first one up and runs at you. He grabs you from behind thinking he got you but you're two steps ahead of him. You let them believe he got you so when Sam comes over, you kick off his chest and swing over Dean. You land on the floor and punch Dean to the ground, almost breaking his jaw.

The problem with the Winchesters is you're too damn flexible for them. You roundhouse kick Sam in the face, and he sprays a line of blood as he goes down. They start to think you might win this so they have to pick up their game or you will kill them. Dean ignores the pain in his jaw as he grabs one of the chairs and smacks you in the back.

You crumble to the ground in a grunt of pain. He and Sam grab you on either side and refuse to let you go. You struggle as hard as you can to get away from them but it's looking like you might lose this fight. The more you struggle, the more you get angry. The more you get angry, the more your Mark flares and burns. The metaphorical pot inside your body is bubbling over, and the only thing fueling it is the Mark.

"Let me go!" you yell.

"Admit it! You lost this one!" Dean grunts.

"Let go of me!"

"You lost, Y/N, just give it up!" Sam yells.

"I said. LET. GO!"

Bright red magic explodes out from all sides of you, causing Sam and Dean to go flying into the walls behind them. The entire war room is covered in a red hue, and you look down at your hands to see red magic flow out of them. The power you feel right now is so... exhilarating. Your Mark is burning so much but it's the good kind of pain. The kind of pain you crave. The kind of power you crave.

You look at the brothers with an evil smirk. They're too scared to do anything. They know you've fallen over the edge. There is no coming back from this. You lift the brothers with your magic and fling them so hard into the wall again that it cracks from the pressure. Both of them are too weak to do anything which is exactly what you want.

You reach up and peel off the device from your neck like it's a goddamn sticker.

"You don't control me anymore. I win. I'm leaving. If you want to try and stop me, well, you can't. No one can," you laugh.

You grab your bag and head to the metal stairs.

"This isn't you!" Sam yells loudly. You pause by the stairs but don't face him. "You're the Sapphire Witch! You help people!"

"Honey, the Sapphire Witch is dead."

"Yeah? Then what are you?"

You face the brothers with a smirk and bright red eyes.

"I'm the Scarlet Witch."

"Come on, Dean. What did you expect of me?" you chuckle.

"I don't know, Y/N. I don't know who you are anymore. In fact, I don't want you in my life until you're back to normal. What you did today was out of control. You are becoming what we hunt!"

You can't help but laugh at him. His bravery amuses you. You step closer to him so that your toes are touching, and you lose your smile to show him how serious you are.

"What are you going to do about it? What power do you have over me?"

Dean leans closer to you.

"I'm gonna find that cure and shove it down your throat."

"You do that and I'll still be soulless. I'll find those children of ours and skin them alive in front of you. Stop looking for the cure. I don't want it. It's you or them. Pick one."

"Okay, I'm going to ask one more time." Everyone but Claire looks at you. "Cas, where are my kids? I know you know where they are." Sam and Dean look at each other with fear but Cas won't back down so easily. Still, no one answers you. "No one wants to answer me? Fine." You grab Claire by her hair and yank her up to her feet. You pin her to your front and wrap your hand around her throat. The other arm is wrapped over her chest and gripping the opposite shoulder. All three men immediately move toward you but you flash your eyes red. "Take one more step and I'll snap her neck."

"Castiel," she whimpers but you tighten your grip on her throat.

"Where. Are. My. Kids."

"I don't know."

"I don't believe you. I have been looking for them for the past two weeks, and they have not shown up on any camera across the country. They are children. They go outside and play. Tell me how they are able to do that and not get picked up by a single camera. I know you had something to do with that."

"Please, just let her go and we'll talk," Cas begs.

"I gave you the chance to tell me and you lied. Now I'm forcing your hand. Tell me who is more important to you. Your wannabe fake daughter or my kids?"

"Don't tell her," Dean says. "I don't care what she does but don't tell her where they are."

"It's kind of hard to talk without a mouth, Dean, isn't it?" Immediately, Dean's mouth is gone and he panics as he touches his face. Sam watches with wide eyes, too scared to say anything. "Tick-tock, Castiel. I'm waiting."

"Please, don't do this."

"Please don't do this? That doesn't sound like a location to me."

"Castiel, please," Claire whimpers.

You pull her in tighter and put your mouth next to her ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Mommy and Daddy are waiting for you in Heaven. Or is it Hell? I'm not sure where they ended up." You look at Cas. "You have three seconds to tell me or she's dead. Three."

"Please, Y/N, don't do this. Let her go and we'll talk."

"That's not a location. Two."

Castiel looks at Sam and Dean with sad and guilty eyes. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out of it. He doesn't know what to do. Guess I'll have to make the decision for him.

"One." You immediately snap Claire's neck and she falls to the ground, dead. Castiel yells out in anger and lunges for you but you blast him and the brothers backward. "I told you what would happen. Consider this a lesson learned."

The bathroom door opens and you stand there with a smile on your face.

"Hi, Charlie." You use your magic and fling her phone into the wall, shattering it and ending the call to the Winchesters. "You've been a pain in my ass, haven't you?"

"You're not going to win this one."

"Maybe not but you're sure as hell not going to be around to see it, will you?"

She grabs a knife and holds it out to you but you don't make a move against her. You walk over to the toilet and sit down while keeping an eye on her.

"It's not here, Y/N!" Eldon says.

"Keep looking for it! It's here somewhere," you lie. "Nice knife you got there. Do you know what I want you to do with it? I want you to stab yourself in the leg." Your eyes shine red as does hers. "Now."

Charlie cries but she has no choice in the matter. She turns the knife slowly on herself as she tries to resist your mind compulsion. She stabs the knife into her right thigh and cries out in pain. She falls into the shower, taking the damn curtains down with her.

"Do it again," you say and cross your legs.

She does and she cries more from the pain. "I forgive you, Y/N. Just know I don't blame you."

"That's a nice sentiment. Really. Again."

She brings the knife down on her a third time. Snot comes out of her nose this time and she tries sniffling it back up but to no avail.

"When the Winchesters find your body, I want them to know just how hard you didn't fight me. You're pathetic, Charlie. This time, I want you to stab yourself in the gut. Really go slow so you can feel every inch of the blade."

Charlie yanks the blade out of her leg and positions it at her stomach. She drives the blade in slowly, and you smile at her screams. Blood is everywhere in the bathroom, all of it Charlie's. She isn't going to last long if you continue this so you stand up and walk over to the tub.

"Now I want you to take that blade and run it across your throat. Ear to ear, and as you're dying, I want you to know how much of a failure you are. Hell's gonna be pretty hot when you get there so make sure to bundle up nice and tight. Say hi to Mommy and Daddy for me, yeah?"

Charlie looks at you dead in the eyes as she slices her neck from ear to ear. She's dead within seconds.

Charlie's screams are what cause you to shoot up in bed, panting and heart racing. You look around the room and recognize it to be the one you shared with Dean. Your head hurts, your entire body aches, and you're racked with guilt. There is such a heavy pressure on your chest that brings tears to your eyes. To say you're guilty is an understatement. To say you're sorry is beyond words. It hurts to breathe. You shouldn't be alive. You shouldn't be able to live after what you've done. How can I face Dean after what I've done to him? Sam? Castiel? How can they look at me and still love me? I don't even love me anymore. You pull your knees up and wrap your arms around them to hold them close to your chest.

"What have I done?" you mutter to yourself.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #spn #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural season 10

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

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Vin Jin x Reader: Confessing to you

Friends to lovers. In his own unique way.

"Who the hell would even date you? Duke Pyeon?!" Vin laughs uproariously at his own joke.

Fuck him. Seething, you stand to leave.

"Actually. It's that guy you hate in the fashion department."

That stops his laughter completely.

"What the FUCK!" Vin shouts at your retreating back. He turns to Mary, "Did you hear what they said?!"

"Vin." is all Mary says, levelling him with a look.

The lack of notifications on Vin's phone is deafening. He stares at it, willing it to buzz.

So what if you're on your 'date' right now. So what if you've been with that dipshit for the past 47, no wait- 48 minutes now. So what if you might be holding hands, and he's kissing-

Fuck. No. That's fucking gross.

Ok. He has a plan. You probably wouldn't be texting Vin, but Vin can text you. Something to remind you of him. To distract you a little. To derail whatever is going on.

His fingers hover, ready to compose a message. But then the words from your last few exchanges catches his eyes. They taunt him.

Y/N: this song reminds me of you! [link]

Vin: Cool

Y/N: Coffee?

Vin: Nah

Y/N: Hey the new blockbuster is out! Cinema this weekend?

Vin: Busy

Goddamn. It hits him like a freight train.

"Forget that loser, go out with me."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

Vin hands you a piece of paper, looking immensely impressed with himself.

You take it with caution, furrowing your brows at him before finally reading. Great, some more cringe from this idiot:

Yo I like your melons

It gets me in my feelings (Did he seriously rhyme melons with feelings?)

Fuck that fashion fool

Not literally, ho- (... the fuck?)

He's a massive tool

Without a massive tool (Ok, that line did make you snigger.)

Fuck Architecture

Fuck Comics, we're better

Fuck that Beauty guy

I fucking hate them all (This is taking a turn...)

I can smash them all to pieces, I'll break their legs

I'll make them puke blood, they think they're stronger than me?

CHEONLIANG ANSWERS TO NO ONE- (Wow. Okay. It devolves into absolute gibberish from here on out-)

"That's a yeah?" Vin grins at you expectantly.

You peer down again at... Whatever the hell this is, you don't even know.

You still grip it like a love letter.

Guess you're the actual fool.

#listen #LISTEN #the last part is meant to be unbelievably cringe and shit i swear #but damn he has his own charms #havent done a confessing fic in a while #lookism #lookism hc #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #lookism fanfic #vin jin x reader #vin jin #jin hobin #jin hobin x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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tzigone · 7 months ago

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Headcanon reboot - super tech for the masses

So one of the aspects of my headcanon reboot is that it kinds ends - people age and retire, we don't have to keep villains in play (the reformed ones stay reformed) and so on. And one thing I started playing with is that this world doesn't have to stay like our world. I completely understand why it does in the comics, and I do think it a good business decision, but this is just for fun, not money, so I can make characters do logical things.

So, when someone invents a potentially world-changing and fortune-making technology, it can actually be mass-produced, used by ordinary people, and change the world. Instead of being confined to heroes and villains with no proper reason given (because it would make the world our heroes operate in unrecognizable and be a barrier to entry for new readers).

Please do forgive me if I've misremembered the details on how these techs work. Or if they've been given multiple explanations, chime in with others.

Chronologically, the first one I have on my list is Ray Palmer/The Atom's tech (shrinking things or people and with the ability to alter mass while in shrunken state). This would be circa 2001. Originally he was thinking about how, with everything shrunk, farmers could grow more and freight trains transport more. But the tech only worked on him, so he wasn't ready to publish. But later, he did manage to get it work on others...and still never published or put it out in the world. At least, he unshrunk the Hawks. It's been a long time since I read it. Hope I'm not misremembering the details and that wasn't another "it only works this one time" sort of thing.

In this universe, he will. He's still a graduate student, so I guess we know what his thesis is. I'm undecided on whether to make the lens still made from white dwarf star (which makes no sense) or make it regular lens inspired by the idea of a white dwarf star (which also makes no sense, but lends itself to the mass use he was thinking about, since material for the lens would be available). A lens (that he crafted himself, so the precision shouldn't be an issue), a control panel, and an ultraviolet light - doesn't like it should be too expensive to manufacture (though end-user price may still be very high at first depending on supply and demand). I was modeling IP treatment after Yale's for compensation, but I don't really know how universities deal with tech patents like that - sell or license the patent and would licenses be exclusive? Anyway, he'll have a hell of thesis. But the rest of the comments on him are only relevant if the tech goes mainstream. Then he started traveling through phone lines. That has even more massive implications for goods transport (I haven't really put any thought into the agriculture, I admit - just transport). But it's not going to happen overnight. I would expect massive regulatory hurdles. Safety tests (both on goods shrunk and people). And if they use phone travel, there's other safety issues to be addressed. Do they use the same phone network? What about infrastructure improvement? Obviously some countries will move more quickly than others and some will be more likely to respect the patent than others. The mid and long-term effects as the tech actually goes mainstream - takes time for factories to be built or modified but it will happen. I could still see lots of loading and unloading jobs, of course. Eventually expect your Walmart's to have their own and get things shipped to them that way. Businesses like gas stations may still be getting last mile delivery of chips, but the number of truckers should go down a lot, so there's unemployment in that field. Not mention trains and shipping companies and ports. Recession time? Some countries even heavily hit. Job rearrangement from things it's more profitable to outsource now that shipping is so quick and cheap. This could really impact commuting. Many people love cities for the entertainment, etc. But then you have the folks with hour and half commutes from the suburbs. It may not be affordable to the average person to own their own for a long time (so they can dial a phone, shrink, then their desk phone auto-answers and they unshrink and thus have a 30-second commute), but bus-depot like places could allow someone in Lawrence, KS to park their car (pay a parking fee), shrink and transport the location a 5-minute walk from their work in Manhattan instead of having a more expensive home closer by. I find decoupling employment location from living location interesting (and often discussed in regards to remote work), but I'm not sure how much it'd happen. More useful for long trips than short ones, of course. We have to think about security implications (especially if used internationally). Gotta check passports, go through customs, etc. Could someone send a bomb via phone line? This is pretty fantastical tech to start with, but with the ability to not decrease mass, would it still have full explosive power - I really don't know how various bombs work.

Next up is Karen Beecher/Bumblebee in 2003. I am not using her shrinking, as I think it makes to much like Wasp. But from one of the guides, it was said the antennae of her costume were solar panels and that's what allowed her to user her mechanical wings and fly. That kind of solar panel and battery would make massive, massive impacts (I'm assuming it's easy to scale up/down). And quite likely move though regulation way more quickly than Ray's tech. Solar panels and batteries already exist. Now, like so many comic heroes (and villains), she's a genius, but she's still just a teenager (and not a wealthy one) when she builds it, so it should be very affordable to produce (possibly only a couple thousand dollars retail for car-size setup once competition is in place). She was on the Teen Titans with Roy, and Ollie is all for the environment, so Queen will be the first company introduced to her tech, and the first to license it. Non-exclusive licenses all the way (which Ollie is happy with and spreading the news himself, as it suits his personality). The solar panels are great for houses and cars and factories, but the batteries should end up all over the place - cell phones, children's toys, remote controls, etc. It'll take to time to get production chains in place, but she's going to be a billionaire very quickly. Geolpolitical consequnces are again rampant - based on who produces oil, who refines oil, who has the contracts for mining the material, where production factories are, etc.

Flash has some genuisy rogues who reformed (fora while) and they come later. As this universe doesn't have to keep them in play, I'm not flip-flopping them - if they reform, they reform. So I may have Captain Cold and The Trickster in play. The Trickster has anti-grav tech. I'm not sure how much planes are still in play, but it's a thought. Might be moving furniture around. Finally have flying cars (with regulations/mechanical restrictions that people will try to get around)? Now, Cold had freeze gun. A nice safe one that has no negative consequences. Good for home protection, since it doesn't really matter if you accidentally shoot your kid. And could you just have the ambulance arrive, freeze the patient and transport them to a hospital? That would effect EMT jobs. I'm not going to have the gun do some the wackier stuff (like de-aging someone - wow what a tech to to introduce).

#DC Comics #Karen Beecher #karen beecher duncan #Ray Palmer #The Atom #Bumblebee #Headcanon reboot #in-my-head-reimagining #James Jesse #Trickster #Len Snart #Captain Cold

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dee-writes-angst · 2 years ago

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BURNING HOUSE

FEATURING Steve Harrington x fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING mentions of possible character death, actual shit writing (like its really bad), loads of angst, sadness

SUMMARY Even a burning house couldn't touch your love.

AUTHORS NOTE I hate this so much, like it is so bad, but I wanted to post something for you all because it has been WAY too long.

TAGLIST @livsters

You jolted awake, the acrid scent of smoke assaulting your senses. It wasn't the familiar aroma of your laid-back indulgence; no, it was the ominous scent of something much more sinister—a house engulfed in flames. Disbelief washed over you as you lay there, momentarily frozen in a haze of confusion and shock, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation unfolding around you.

Steve was due to arrive in just an hour, an evening planned to be a pivotal moment when you finally confessed your feelings for him—those three words, so heavy yet so long overdue: "I love you." The anticipation had infused every action as you meticulously prepared a lavish dinner of two succulent steaks paired with creamy mashed potatoes and tender asparagus spears.

Yet, exhaustion from a day spent tirelessly working with the children had taken its toll. Unbeknownst to you, fatigue had lured you into an unintended slumber while the food simmered on the stove. Now, the reality of your situation hit you like a freight train as you sat perched on a barstool, head heavy against the countertop, witnessing the inferno that had consumed your kitchen. Flames danced greedily from the pan, hungrily devouring your countertops like a ravenous beast unleashed upon a feast.

The acrid smoke filled your lungs, searing with each breath, while the scorching heat of the flames licked at your skin. Panic surged as you realized the dire truth—you were trapped in a rapidly escalating inferno, the feeble extinguisher in the coat closet down the hall a futile defense against the voracious blaze.

In a moment of stark clarity, the gravity of your predicament spurred you into action. With a surge of adrenaline, you propelled yourself from the chair, the urgency to survive propelling you forward into the chaos that now threatened to consume everything you held dear.

Coughs wracked your body, each one a painful reminder of the toxic haze that enveloped you. Progress down the hallway to your bedroom, where a window offered a slim chance of escape, was agonizingly slow. Every step felt like wading through thick molasses, your lungs struggling against the suffocating smoke that blurred your vision and stung your eyes.

With each labored breath, the world around you seemed to shrink, collapsing into a tunnel of darkness edged with fiery tendrils. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other became an insurmountable task, your once steady gait reduced to a feeble shuffle.

As the noxious fumes tightened their grip, your body rebelled, betraying you as muscles weakened and limbs trembled. A wave of dizziness swept over you, sending you crashing to the floor just beyond the threshold of your bedroom, a heap of limbs entangled in desperation.

You didn't want to surrender to the engulfing darkness, to succumb to the relentless assault on your senses, but the overwhelming exhaustion and the crushing weight of the smoke rendered you immobile. Each breath became a Herculean effort, a battle you were losing with every passing moment. In the suffocating grip of the inferno, the line between survival and surrender blurred, leaving you teetering on the precipice of oblivion.

With Steve's image haunting your thoughts, the anguish of imagining his devastation at your untimely demise propelled you to summon the last vestiges of your dwindling strength. Dragging yourself across the threshold of your bedroom, you managed to seal the door behind you, hoping to stall the relentless advance of the flames, if only for a fleeting moment.

But deep down, in the recesses of your consciousness, you knew the bitter truth—you were trapped, a prisoner within your own infernal tomb. The window, a beacon of salvation mere feet away, might as well have been miles distant, for in your weakened state, the prospect of reaching it was as futile as grasping at shadows.

Resigned to your fate, you surrendered to the inevitability of your demise, seeking solace in the feeble comfort of knowing you had tried, however futilely, to defy the merciless grip of fate.

As you lay upon your bed, eyes closed against the encroaching flames, a sense of grim acceptance settled over you. The searing heat, once a torment, now enveloped you in a macabre embrace, consuming you in a maelstrom of agony. Each lick of flame was a cruel reminder of your mortality, each scorching caress a testament to the merciless whims of destiny.

And then, in a cruel twist of fate, the pain ceased, leaving behind a deafening silence that reverberated through the void of your consciousness. In that final moment of clarity, as the flames claimed you as their own, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air—an eternal lament for the love never declared, for the life never lived to its fullest potential.

Steve's frantic steps echoed through the sterile halls of the hospital as he raced towards the receptionist's desk, his heart pounding a frenetic rhythm of panic. Tears blurred his vision, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he approached the woman behind the desk, his voice trembling with desperation.

His cry of your name reverberated off the walls, laced with a raw intensity that spoke of his deep-seated fear. He reached out as if to grasp onto something solid in the tumult of his emotions. "Where is she?!"

The receptionist, a bastion of composure amidst the chaos, rose from her seat with practiced grace, her movements slow and deliberate. With gentle hands, she attempted to steady Steve, her touch a fleeting anchor in the storm of his anguish.

"Sir, please, try to calm down," she implored, her voice a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of distress. She met his gaze with unwavering empathy, understanding the depth of his anguish.

But Steve was beyond consolation, his anguish too potent to be assuaged by mere words. "No! You don't understand!" His voice cracked with emotion as he pushed away from her gentle touch, his desperation palpable. "I need to know she's okay. Where is she?!"

The receptionist's expression softened, a silent acknowledgment of his pain. "She's in surgery," she replied, her tone gentle yet resolute. "The doctors are doing everything they can."

Though her words offered a glimmer of hope, Steve's heart still clenched with fear. He hung onto her every word, his breaths shallow and uneven as he waited for reassurance.

"But for now," she continued, her voice a soothing lullaby in the midst of his turmoil, "she needs you to take a deep breath and stay calm."

As Nancy stood on Steve's doorstep, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her words seemed to echo in slow motion, each syllable weighted with a gravity that threatened to crush him. He listened in stunned silence, the world around him blurring into a haze of uncertainty and dread as he hastily grabbed his keys, his mind a whirlwind of fear and hope.

Driving to the hospital felt like navigating through a thick fog, his thoughts consumed by one singular prayer echoing in the recesses of his mind: "She needs to live." The words tumbled from his lips in a broken sob, a desperate mantra repeated over and over again like a lifeline in the darkness.

The hospital waiting room became his temporary sanctuary, a silent witness to the agony etched upon his features as he sat vigil, each passing moment stretching into an eternity of unbearable suspense. Visitors came and went, their concerned faces a blur as he mechanically recited the same refrain: "I don't know."

Hours stretched into an endless expanse of time, the rhythmic ticking of the clock a cruel reminder of the minutes slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. Exhaustion threatened to claim him, pulling at his eyelids like weighted anchors, but still, he remained, unwilling to abandon his post until he knew her fate.

And then, just as weariness threatened to engulf him, a voice pierced the silence, jolting him from the edge of sleep and back into the harsh reality of his uncertainty.

It was a nurse who had called your name out into the waiting room, waiting patiently by the door with a clipboard in hand.

Steve's heart leaped at the sound of those words, a surge of relief flooding through him as he declared himself her husband, a title that felt both surreal and achingly real all at once. The weight of those two words—her husband—pressed against his chest, filling him with a sense of purpose and belonging that he had never known before.

As the doctor delivered the news of her condition, Steve's mind struggled to comprehend the gravity of her injuries, each word landing like a heavy blow against his fragile hope. Severe third-degree burns, a long and painful rehabilitation process—the reality of her suffering threatened to overwhelm him. But amid the flood of information, one fact remained steadfast: she was alive.

Clutching onto that lifeline with all his might, Steve's trembling voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, a desperate plea to be near her, to see with his own eyes that she had indeed survived the ordeal.

"Can you take me to her?" His voice wavered, betraying the tumult of emotions raging within him.

"Of course, right this way," the doctor responded, his tone a beacon of reassurance amidst the chaos. With a nod of gratitude, Steve followed the doctor, his steps heavy with anticipation and trepidation.

As he approached her room in the ICU, anxiety gripped Steve like a vice, his heart hammering in his chest as he prepared to face the sight of her injuries. But in that moment, as he stood on the threshold of her room, the enormity of their love washed over him, a beacon of strength in the face of adversity. For even in the wake of tragedy, their bond remained unbreakable, a testament to the enduring power of love. And as Steve stepped into her room, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew with unwavering certainty that together, they could overcome anything.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #tw death #owchie #cries in shit writing #this is the worst thing ive ever written #youve been warned

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 10 months ago

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Nick Anderson

* * * *

SOTU DEBRIEF - DARK BRANDON BRINGS IT!

TCINLA

MAR 8, 2024

The Party of Class and Integrity celebrates another ass whipping - look at all those around the Dumbest Congressional Bimbo Ever as they realize how bad they got their asses kicked

Last night’s State of the Union was a punch in the face not only of the heckling MAGAT Morons, but the Otherwise-Unemployables of the DC Press Corpse. As well, the Democrat’s Professional Pearl Clutcher’s Caucus can join the others in officially retiring “He’s too old” once and for damn all. The Press Corpse stands today beside their MAGAt buddies, trying not to admit to the exact nature of the material covering their faces.

Over.

Done.

Finished.

The official Democratic response to this collection of clucks from now to November is, “You saw that State of the Union speech. Joe Biden is sharper than Donald Trump will ever be and is ready for the fight.”

You can tell November’s Losers saw their coming loss clearly when their majority criticism of President Biden was “He was too mean and talked too fast!” You know he left a mark. That was the most perfectly tuned-in SOTU speech I have ever seen, delivered with fire and energy by a man as far from the Press Corpse’s concept of a doddering old man, diminished in drive and energy as possible. The New York Times Opinion Section got hit in the face by a freight train of ideas and energy.

Joe was Old Man Strong. Dark Brandon. Killer Joe.

Biden delivered.

It was the best center-left populist presidential speech ever. Less technocratic than Obama; less curated than Clinton - a solid knock-it-over-the-outfield-fence.

As many Republicans feared, Biden was more than able to “spar with the disruptors,” as one observer reported, using their jeers to make his own policy points. (“Sparring with MAGAts” is also known as “shooting fish in a barrel”). It’s hard to believe the GOP could be so stupid with their heckling that they walked straight in to a second SOTU trap, that went off when Biden maneuvered them perfectly into taking their proposed $2 trillion dollar tax cut off the table. But then again, they are Republicans, and it’s well-known you have to score an IQ lower than ambient room temperature to get your party card there nowadays.

Biden’s speech was combative and sharp, the solid punch in MAGA’s face they’ve been asking for every day for so long. The “senile” narrative went flying into the dumpster fire. Once again, Republicans set the bar too low, and got knocked on their collective fat ass.

Joe argued forcefully from the strong side about America’s destiny, security, and purpose, laying down a fierce bright line against Putin and the forces of autocracy.

He more than made it through the SOTU address. That moment his supporters always fear never came. Politico, demonstrating that most real political knowledge is 20/20 hindsight, called the speech the “turn-the-tables SOTU.” They go on to report that the Biden campaign had their best two hours of fundraising so far in this cycle from 9 to 11 p.m. last night. A CNN flash poll finds that 62 percent of viewers thought the policies Biden laid out would move the country in the right direction.

The New Republic’s Osita Nwanevu wrote: “That overall impression—of a vigorous president, strong enough to take the fight to his detractors —will linger more deeply in the minds of most who watched than the substance of anything he said.”

But what was really interesting to me was watching the political midget behind Biden’s left shoulder. Mike Johnson’s histrionic facial expressions demonstrated everything wrong, idiotic, dangerous and treasonous about MAGA Republicans.

Johnson was both ridiculous and politically smaller than he actually is. He did applaud Biden’s call for aid to Ukraine early in the speech, which he does seem to support personally, even though doing so demonstrated how he’s too afraid of his crazy caucus to allow a straight-up vote. He is likely to go down in history as the one person who more than any other handed Ukraine to Vladimir Putin.

His mugging for the camera was more obviously overdone than what passed for “emoting” in silent movies. He nodded that solemn “more in anger than in sorrow” nod. He rolled his eyes more than a teenage girl listening to her elders.

What was really sad was noting what he rolled his eyes at! The most important was January 6 (of which he is a noted participant in the attempted coup). When Biden said: “We must be honest. The threat to democracy must be defended. My predecessor and some of you here seek to bury the truth about Jan. 6. I will not do that.” MAGAMike gave his most sustained eye roll. Close runner-ups were his responses to abortion rights and freedom, and the border bill that he killed when told to by Dear Leader. And he did that last one while Senator James Lankford - the chief GOP negotiator on the bill - listened to Biden lay out its provisions and nodded on camera, clearly mouthing “That’s true.” Mikey even shook his head at “buy American”!

His eye roll over “The very idea of America is that we are all created equal, deserve to be treated equally throughout our lives. We’ve never fully lived up to that idea, but we’ve never walked away from it either,” was the real demonstration of just how dangerous he really is.

The MAGA Republican Party doesn’t believe we’re all equal. MAGA, and MAGA Mike, knows that if you’re not a right-wing Christian, you are not a good American.

Of course, there was also Marjorie Traitor Goon, whose ridiculous getup and MAGA hat elicited a “WTF?” look from Biden when he first saw her - and which was in apparent violation of House rules (but then, she IS a violation of House rules). Lindsey Graham’s pasted-on embarrassed smile at least demonstrates he has more self-awareness than his fellow MAGA cockroaches, as he considers how far he has fallen. Watching the MAGA screamer in the gallery get arrested was nice. It came down to just how dumbstruck the Republicans were as this man who - according to the Volkischer Beobachter, er, I mean Faux Snooze - can’t remember his own middle name or string two sentences together, zingered them repeatedly as he publicly exposed their un-American extremism.

Overall, Biden’s speech showed how he can win, and how MAGA, being on the wrong side of history, will lose.

And then, savoing the speech, just when I had forgotten there was going to be an Official Response, there was “America’s Mom,” sitting on a stool in her kitchen, there in East Buttfuck, Alabam-bam. Katie Britt had the most scenery-chewing response to a SOTU speech I’ve ever seen, and given that her competition was the ever-thirsty Marco Rubio and the ever-hapless Bobby Jindal, that was quite a win. Just another example of The Rising Young GOP Star, Cursed Forever by the SOTU Response.

The kitchen setting was the perfect metaphor for what MAGA intends for women: put them back in their place - “Kinder Kirche Kuche,” as their wonderboy Adolf put it.

I’ve spent enough time in Hollywood to be completely conversant with serious failure in public, and Britt’s performance didn’t even rise to the local-dinner-theater overacting you see from those who never had talent to begin with. With a Republican candidate for governor in her state of Alabambam campaigning on revoking women’s right to vote, and all the other MAGA moves to make the Handmaid’s Tale a documentary, delivering her speech in a kitchen was…

A choice. One of those tiny moments that completely illuminate the larger reality.

And then…

Appropos of nothing other than I love it when a Real Asshole gets punched really hard in the face, the news this morning that Doctor Feelgood Ronny Jackson has “Gotten His” brings a smile to my face that might last the weekend:

After the Defense Department Inspector General report on the White House Medical Unit found “Doctor Feelgood” had engaged in “inappropriate conduct” when he was the top White House physician for Presidents Obama and Trump, the Navy removed him from the Rear Admiral list last June. Yes, Jackson, who was a rear admiral when he retired in 2019, is now listed as a captain.

A spokesperson for the Navy stated that the “substantiated allegations in the DoDIG investigation of Rear Adm Ronny Jackson are not in keeping with the standards the Navy requires of its leaders and, as such, the Secretary of the Navy took administrative action in July 2022.”

Hurrah!

The losers just keep on losing. It’s what losers do.

#Dark Brandon #SOTU #TCinLA #words and writing #Nick Anderson

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looselipssinkships-x · 1 year ago

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please ramble some more about the lyrics in campagne for my real friends

I didn't proofread this. It is roughly 1700 words. I have a lot of feelings. Buckle up.

Okay let’s take it from the top:

You are a getaway car, rush of blood to the head – okay so this isn’t a huge one for me but like, it sets the scene, sets the tone, starts painting a picture of this person. They are chaos, they are energy, and this song is sung directly to them while being about them.

I’m just the covers on top of your bed – I am waiting patiently for you to come home. I am warm, I am safe. I am an afterthought, I am no one, I am invisible until I am gone.

I keep you warm and not ask you where you’ve been – this line comes and goes so quick and the first time I actually heard the lyrics they hit me like a freight train. This line is the kind of shit I read and write stories about. It speaks to care, to compassion, the kind of gentle acceptance that we all crave (or maybe it’s just me and my emotional damage but I feel like it’s a smidge universal). You know I’m flawed and messy and sometimes the choices I make aren’t the best but you’re not leaving. You’re there when I am ready to return.

With your backless, black dress, soaked to the skin – the imagery and the syncopation of this line just, does things to me. I need to be in a club somewhere (preferably gingers in nyc ily) in something tight, black, and backless. This person is clearly the center of the singer’s attention, and the way I choose to interpret the song, they appreciate the attention of the masses but the only person whose attention really matters to them is the singer (y’know that feeling when there’s a whole crowd of people but it feels like it’s just you and that one other person? yeah. those kinda vibes.)

And when it’s said and done, they’re all scramblin – okay so I misheard this line for like, a while. I heard “we’ll all straggle in,” like the way everyone crawls into bed in the early hours of the morning after the bars close up. It continued painting the picture of the dichotomy between recklessness and security, with the imagery of the singer as the warm bed you return to for quiet comfort. ‘They’re all scramblin” paints a bit of a different picture, maybe this person’s energy is a little more reckless, sends people running. They’re someone you can’t tear your eyes away from until it all starts to crash and burn and then it flips and you can’t bear to look. The singer says “they’re all,” not including themself. They will stay when it all falls apart.

And we’re friends, we’re friends – The repetition of this line feels sooo intentional, like this person needs to be reminded, reassured. Especially with the first ‘we’re friends’ being a little more drawn out and melodic and the repeat being shorter and percussive, it’s firm, it’s no nonsense, it’s “this is not up for debate.”

Just because we move units – I don’t have a lot to say about this line, because I have no idea what it means, but I thought it said “just because we know you dance,” which feels like it fits the song, and seems like a allusion to the focal person supporting the singer/band. It expands the picture to this focal person coming to shows and maybe that’s how they met, because their energy has to be eye catching, intoxicating.

Strike us like matches, ‘cause everyone deserves the flames – I think every time I think about this line I debate how it can be interpreted. Are we keeping everybody warm? Are we putting everyone on display and shining a light on them? Are we lighting them on fire? Regardless of the interpretation of why everyone deserves the flames, the imagery of “us” being what initiates the fire is so vivid, especially the way striking a match creates a tiny little explosive reaction, such a significant spike in energy made through the strike.

We only do it for the scars and stories – We do it for the future, we do it to keep on living, we do it all to squeeze every last bit from this short little life we have. This is from the era where at least half of fall out boy still felt like they were living with a deadline. Do you know what it is to feel like the sand in your hourglass is falling faster and faster and you are desperate to make the most before that time runs out? You know it will hurt, by now it doesn’t cross your mind for things not to hurt, but this is what feels real right now. This person with their frenetic energy makes you feel alive, and you sink into that.

The sounds of this small town make my ears hurt – All you want is to get out. Small towns can be so suffocating, and the dynamic between two people desperate to make it out can be…fraught. It’s so hard. The context of this song in a small town?? Everyone is trying/everyone is shining?? God do you know what it is to love someone who shines so bright in such a dull town and have to watch as the dullness threatens and eats away at their bright? Maybe this is just me because goddamn everything feels like a fight, like pulling teeth, like i will never ever be free from that small town no matter how far I move, no matter how much I change, it will always eat at me.

They say, you want a war, you’ve got a war but who are you fighting for? – The desperation in this line, the angst, the way you can feel your heart rasping up your throat in this line, begging an answer “what are you fighting for?” and until you know what you are fighting for how can you do anything but lose?

Tide’s out, the ships run aground, we drown, traitors in shallow waters – syncopation bay-beee!! When i started thinking about all of fall out boy’s boat mentions I was like wow, kinda weird for a bunch of kids from the midwest, then I remembered Chicago is on a big ol fucking lake. (I am from the very landlocked midwest. The first time we had a flood warning after I moved to the east coast I almost threw up because I couldn’t figure out what was going to flood. Was the ocean going to flood? Is the Charles going to come into my apartment? I was unwell). ANYWAYS. This line always makes me think of that thing about like, drowning is still drowning whether it’s 3 feet or 3 miles of water, though the specific “traitors in shallow water” feels like someone is making an example of them, this was intentional. When did we go from car to boat though? Are we fleeing? Are we drowning upon departure or arrival? My personal heartache is upon arrival. We finally believe we might have made it, only to not have made it at all. That feeling of your dreams being just barely out of reach. The reference as “traitors” feels like a call back to the small town. Small towns feel like they can go either way? Depending on who you are I guess, and why you’re leaving, small towns are either “you can always come back home” or “once you leave you’re not welcome back.” But it could an accusation from either side, really. That awful in between feeling of feeling trapped in the small town but you have decades of small town instilled in you that you stick out like a sore thumb when you get to the big city. It takes trial and error to learn to assimilate yourself into this new place, and there’s a lot of time spent feeling like you don’t belong in either. (If you’ve stuck it out this far, I understand if you think i should go to therapy. You would be correct).

Everyone is trying, everyone is shining, everyone deserves the flames, but it’s such a shame – what!! an!! ending!! I know I already threw a bit of this line in earlier but I’m obsessed with both the lyrics and the way it’s sang almost as a call and response. Everyone is shining is fighting to be heard, the repetition of such a shame during previous choruses and the emphasis on each word as the song ends. What is such a shame? The way they’re shining? The way they burned out? It feels very much the way people from my town react when they find out someone they used to think highly of is now tattooed and queer. They’ve fallen from the path of the righteous, what a shame. It’s also the energy of like, how people react after people, especially young people, die from something like suicide or overdose after being bullied/demonized/what have you and left with no support system but everyone’s supposedly sad after they’re gone.

Conclusions: Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends feels very much like a tale of best friends/lovers escaping a small town. (Backless black dress feels like a manic pixie dream girl, but also I saw a post the other day about pete being patrick’s manic pixie dream girl, and it doesn’t not fit). The person the singer is talking about is such a bright light in their dead end town and the singer just feels hollow and empty and angst ridden, they’re both a little too jaded by life already. They try and make it out but it’s hard, it’s so hard, it eats at them and they wear on each other, but by god they’re going somewhere, they’re going to make it out. Only they don’t. They crash and burn. Their ending burns as bright as their beginning did, as bright as anything. They had a good run. They gave it their all. Look at how those good kids ended up, isn’t it sad? Champagne is for all the small town kids fighting for a life bigger than what they were told they had to grow into.

#thank you so much for asking ily <3 <3 #i started writing this idek how long ago?? and then work kicked my ass and i wanted to curl up and hide for a long time #fall out boy #fob #from under the cork tree #pete wentz #patrick stump #futct

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sentientsky · 11 months ago

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thank you so much, @fearandhatred for tagging me! <3

For as many as you want of your published works, pick your favourite line/paragraph and post it up here. Let yourself feel proud of your creations (not always proud of my work, but gritting my teeth and adding these 'cause my therapist would want me to, lol)

Until the Bitter End [40,760 words] Context: Crowley comes face-to-face with God

Dreadful memories of falling from a great height flashed through his mind. The taste of sulphur coated the back of his teeth, noxious and terrible. “You let me fall. You pushed me—for asking questions ,” he had hissed, all venom, all jagged teeth. So many eons of abandonment, of sheer loss…Well, it does something to a not-person, to a beating, not-human heart. You learn to go cold, to slow your breathing and keep yourself boarded up and hidden. Your body learns to react to affection like a rejected organ transplant. You carry on through life scared and spitting and backing against the wall like a cornered animal. You believe you don’t deserve tenderness. You believe it will ruin you. Because to love, to let yourself be loved, is to turn all vulnerable and underbellied—to show your hand in a game of cards with everything on the table. And yet…a very young, hands-shaking part of you yearns for it—begs, desperate and hungry and aching, for love. Like a starved dog with all its ribs showing. Like Sisyphus pushing that damn rock, knowing full well which way the hill slopes.

Confession Box Revelations [2,406 words]

Though Crowley himself couldn’t sense love, he knew what he felt for Aziraphale was far larger than anything a human was capable of experiencing. It was cosmic; it was ever-expanding, touching every corner of the universe and saturating every last quark in all of reality. The first time he’d become aware of it, it had hit him like a freight train and left him reeling. Even now, he heard a whistle in the back of his mind. It had never left.

Innocence Died Screaming [2,341 words] Context: Crowley encounters the Starmaker

Crowley doesn’t really think about it. In some inherent, axiomatic desperation for what-could-have-been, what-should-have-been, he strides forward (as much as anyone can stride in the vacuum of space) and pulls his younger self into an embrace. The angel’s hands grip the back of his blazer, fingers trembling, the scroll long since forgotten. “I know, I know. And I’m sorry.” I wish I could save you . And he means it. His chest aches with it. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. I’m so sorry for what She did—what She will do—to you. To me,” he draws in a shaky breath. “To us .” And so they stand, shimmering, in that impossible place—the place where centuries compress themselves into the vibrations between atoms and fracture like glass, where millennia tilt sideways, fall into slipstream and dissolve into empty air. The world rips into being, collapses, and begins again a hundred thousand times in the hollow of his chest. He lets the tears—angry and hot and eons-old—fall with abandon, and a quiet, ragged part of him begins to slowly knit itself back together.

no pressure tags: @actual-changeling (ik leanne tagged u already, but i'm doing it too bc i enjoy yelling in your notifs hehe). @foolishlovers

#not a huge fan of my older fics now hdaskdjajdsl #idk they just feel clunky and disorganized and i think i could've done the characterization and prose better lmao #sorry the quotes are kind of long too #can u tell that i have childhood trauma???? be so so fr right now!!!!#good omens #good omens fics #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #my writing #long post #tag game #the starmaker #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #angel!crowley

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justimagineitblog · 1 year ago

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KEEPER OF MY HEART - THOMAS SHELBY

CHAPTER 3

Here’s what I’ve learned in the 3 weeks that I’ve been working for the Shelby Family.

John is my closest friend in Small Heath. He warmed up to me the fastest, and I swear sometimes I have to remind myself that he’s not my actual brother. He laughs with me and tries his best to not make me feel like a complete outsider in Shelby Limited.

Arthur is a massive softie. He is by far the roughest looking of the Shelby boys, but he has the softest heart. He drinks a lot, sometimes too much, and I always know to look for the signs that its time to start watering down his Vodka’s with water. He’s usually too drunk to notice. Sometimes he stays so late that I walk him most of the way home just to be sure he doesn’t get himself into any trouble.

Polly, the most fierce and strong woman I have ever met, took a little longer to warm up to me. But one day when she caught me making sure Arthur got home safely, and invited me in fora cup of tea. Since then, she has been insisting that I start joining them occasionally for dinner. I’ve been declining because of one person.

That is Thomas Shelby.

Where do I start. If Thomas Shelby wants something, everyone around him will jump to make it happen. He instills fear wherever he goes. I’ve never known him to smile or laugh like the others do. He drinks a lot, I’m always bringing him a fresh glass to their private room in the Garrison, but he doesn’t lose his head like Arthur does. Tommy has a tight grip on everyone and everything, including himself.

On my rounds, making sure that everyone has been taken care of during their family meetings, he refuses to join in on any jokes and playful moments that I have with the others. In fact, when he sees me getting closer with the Shelby’s, his face grows even more sour. If that’s even possible.

And those eyes. He stares. A lot. Not longingly. Not anything. Just a thousand mile stare, straight through to my core. As much as I try to ignore that he’s there, I can always feel his eyes on me. Like I’m being watched. My every move being picked apart and analysed in his mind.

Today was different. Initially it was the same old. Bring them drinks, laugh with the boys, try to help them pick which horses are going to win in their races. And pretend that Tommy doesn’t despise every second of it.

After rushing around for an hour tending to the lunch time rush, I realise their drinks must be getting low.

“Alright boys, this rounds on the house” I joke as I walk into their private room. For the Shelby’s everything is on the house. Suits. Guns. Drugs. Drinks. Women.

“These drinks will be on you if I lose this bet Z” John teases back, listening to the radio intently to find out whether the Horse I told him to bet on has one its races.

“And I’ve never lost one yet have I!” I retort, topping up his Whisky and setting down a plate of bread and butter for them to snack on. Something to soak up all the alcohol.

I dare to glance over at Tommy, who unsurprisingly is already watching me with an extra disapproving look.

“Can I get you another drink Tommy?” I ask, pretending to not notice the daggers he’s shooting my way.

He nods in response, and I pour him a whiskey “I could make you that drink from a few weeks back…” I offer, trying my luck. Maybe today he will entertain me.

“Can I see you outside?” He snaps suddenly, and I swallow hard.

Fuck.

The last few weeks have felt like I was walking on a fine line with Tommy. I have proved myself time and time again. But he still despises the air that I breathe. Maybe I was getting too comfortable with the boys. Maybe he thinks I’m trying to manipulate and trick them all. God knows what he thinks I’m doing. Whatever it is, he doesn’t like it.

I follow him out of the room and into a quiet area of the Pub.

Without any warning, or lead up, he turns to me and looks me dead in the eye. “I know the boys like you. Trust you even. But I do not”

The words hit me like a freight train.

I knew he seemed different today. Like he was extra disgusted with everyone and everything. These words, he had been sitting on for a while. Keeping them inside as he watched me and scrutinised my every move for weeks. I could tell by the venom that he said them with.

I want to fight back.

I want to remind him of everything I’ve been doing for this place. The business I’ve been bringing in. The countless times I’ve looked out for Arthur and his alcoholic tendencies. Making sure he got home safe. And that no one took advantage of a drunken Shelby brother. The business I’ve heard them discussing that I’ve turned a blind eye to. That I’ve never uttered a word of to anyone. The things I’ve heard and seen, that have slowly been revealed to me about Shelby Limited that I’ve never questioned.

But instead I draw in a deep breath.

“Okay Tommy” I sigh. My brain goes back and forth frantically as I decide to let go of what I’ve been holding onto for weeks. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take. Or what I have to do. And to be honest I don’t care anymore. If you never trust me, then so be it. But you don’t have to be so cruel. I’m just here to pour the beer, remember?”

“Then how about you just stick to doing that, hey?” He spits back.

“I feel for you Tommy” I narrow my eyes, staring him down the same way he has been doing to me for weeks.

“You don’t know me”

“I’ve tried. But you won’t let me. And I’m starting to think I don’t want to anymore” I shake my head “But I see you. I’ve been watching you too, Tommy. You want to know what I see? I see a man who has everything, and a man who has nothing. You have everything and nothing”

He freezes. And there it is. The first time I’ve seen something in his eyes besides hatred. It’s still shrouded. Still unclear. But it’s something. Like he’s been exposed. Cut open. Like someone just dared to say the first real thing he has heard in a very long time. Someone made him feel.

“But hey, I’ll get back to pouring the beer, shall I?” I finish, brushing past him to continue serving customers.

I start taking orders and pouring drinks with a racing heart and trembling hands. I couldn’t believe what had just come out of my mouth. I don’t know everything about the Shelby’s, but I’ve seen and heard enough to know that people who speak to them like that do not last very long in Small Heath.

I dare to take a quick glance at him, to find him still frozen in place. Staring at the spot I had just been standing. As if he’s still reliving the moment. Reliving what I had said.

Fuck.

I expect him to turn around and fire me on the spot. Maybe even part of me hoped he would, so I wouldn’t have to face the wrath that I know is coming after I dared to peak back to Thomas Shelby. If I thought he hated me already, I could only imagine the hell he would rain down on me after that. I was prepared for him to make my life a living hell.

But instead, he adjusts the hat on his head, straightens his shoulders, and leaves the Garrison.

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fruitynancywheeler · 1 year ago

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Title: All I Wanted Rating: E Pairing: Caitlyn/Vi Words: 3,128 Summary: As Caitlyn descended down the halls of Stillwater to meet with the prisoner who caused her only lead to have their jaw wired shut, she didn’t really know what to expect. She imagined a myriad of burly, lumbering men to be the ones pounding against the concrete wall, but the last thing she expected was to see the first and only person she has ever loved.

AU in which Caitlyn and Vi knew each other before everything went down with Silco. Caitlyn, under the assumption Vi died in the explosion, works tirelessly to end the corruption that Piltover inflicts on the Undercity in honor of her lost love.

Violet’s last punch landed on the wall, her body going rigid at the sound of her name. She stood there sucking in deep, haggard breaths, sweat dripping down her body from the exertion of her workout. Caitlyn watched her like a hawk, not believing that Vi was actually in front of her. Seven years hadn’t changed the way her heart still fluttered in her chest at the sight of the woman she loved so deeply. She noticed the pink-haired woman squeeze her eyes tightly shut, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath that Cait couldn’t quite hear.

“You’re not real, go away,” Vi growled louder, taking Caitlyn aback with the hostility in her tone.

“W-what?” Cait stammered, wanting so badly to reach out for her love but uncertain of the reaction she’d receive if she tried.

“You’re not real!” Vi shouted now, moving swiftly towards the bars that separated them to glare at Caitlyn. Her bloody hands gripped the bars, and her face pressed in between them. “You’re just in my head, a ghost. You’re not really here.”

Even though her eyes hadn’t left Vi for a single moment, only now did Cait finally see Violet fully. She noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the pain that was written all over her face, and seeing Vi like this had her heart splitting in two. Vi had been in this horrible place the entire time, all alone, dealing with God knows what.

As if on autopilot, Caitlyn placed her notebook on the floor and stepped over the red line, the urge to reach out, to feel Vi again to prove to herself and to Vi that this was actually real, overpowering the fear of being rejected. She slowly lifted her arm out toward the bars, gauging Violet’s reaction to Cait intruding on her personal space. Vi flinched but made no effort to pull away, so Cait slid her hand between the bar and placed it against the woman’s chest, feeling the rapidly beating heart beneath her fingertips like she had all those years ago when they first kissed. With her other hand, she took one of Vi’s, prying it away from the bars to place it against her own thundering heart.

“It’s me, darling,” Cait whispered, feeling as if she spoke too loudly, it would cause Vi to pull away from her. She couldn’t stop the tears brimming in her eyes even if she tried; the years of pain she had felt hit her like a freight train as she gazed upon the woman she thought she had lost. Her own inner turmoil probably did not even come close to what Vi had dealt with being trapped in this dreaded place.

“I’m really here. With you.”

She watched as Vi’s eyes scanned her from head to toe as if trying to process that what she was seeing wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Cait squeezed Vi’s hand that was still resting atop her chest, hoping to convey that this wasn’t a dream.

Suddenly, the hand that Caitlyn had cradled gently against her was wrenched away. Vi put distance between them, a look of betrayal and anger on her face. The delicate features Cait knew and loved were now stone cold as Vi glared at her.

“You’re one of them,” Vi snarled, her fists clenched at her sides and shoulders hunched like a wild animal, trapped but ready to defend itself from a predator.

“Violet, let me explain. It’s not what it looks like!” Cait tried to reach out again– to get Vi to understand what she’s missed, being locked in here for the last seven years, but the woman she loved took another step back.

“Not what it looks like? How can you walk in here dressed like that and tell me, ‘it’s not what it looks like’?” Vi chuckled bitterly, her voice cracked and sounded slightly hysteric. Her eyes were like daggers cutting into Cait’s heart, but they were so hollow. It was as if all the life that once sparkled in those grey eyes had been completely snuffed out. “Do me a favor and stay the hell away from me, Cupcake.”

The nickname that had once been a fond memory of Caitlyn’s felt like a slap in the face, but she wasn’t ready to give up so quickly. She knew that Vi had to have an extreme amount of trauma to deal with from what had happened all those years ago, and adding whatever horrors she’d had to suffer through here in Stillwater wouldn’t be going to make that any easier. There was also Powder, Silco, and all this madness in the Undercity that Caitlyn knew Vi would dive into as soon as she learned about it because that’s just who Vi was. And Cait would be damned if she let the love of her life go through all of this alone, whether she wanted Cait there for her or not.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Caitlyn said determinedly, ignoring the anger radiating from the other woman. “I’m going to get you out, and I just ask that you please let me explain myself, and if afterward, you still want me gone, then I will respect that.”

She held Vi’s gaze, trying to see beyond the walls that Vi had constructed to try to find her Violet still in there somewhere. All she needed was a little crack in the impenetrable stone, and she could wriggle herself in and pull Vi back to her, breaking down the fortress that had been constructed within the seven years of complete isolation. Caitlyn waited for any type of reaction, and when she’d almost started to give up, she saw an almost imperceptible nod. If she hadn’t been looking so closely, she would have missed it.

“I will be back, I promise you,” Cait said before gathering her things and quickly making her way toward the elevator. She already had a plan set in motion in her head, and it may get her into some trouble, but quite frankly, she didn’t give a damn. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was getting Vi out of this awful place.

Once she was back on the boat heading into Piltover, her adrenaline wore off, and tears finally started to fall. The pain of knowing that the love of her life had been alive all this time, and she hadn’t had a clue about it, made her feel like her heart was shattering all over again. All the time that they had lost that could have possibly been avoided if she had just stayed all those years ago instead of returning home made her want to scream. She was grateful for the rushing water to drown out the sounds of her sobs so as not to alert the man steering the boat. When they reached shore, she wiped her tear-stained cheeks and quickly made her way home. Cait arranged another boat to bring her back within the hour, not wanting Vi to be in there any longer than she had to.

As she entered her house, she made a quick stop at her mother’s office before heading to her own room, glad that it was late and her parents were already in bed for the night. She’d been in here enough times over the years to know where her mother kept her important paperwork, easily finding the inmate release forms in the top left drawer of the desk. She grabbed a pen and quickly filled out the form, forging Jayce’s signature at the bottom. There was a chance this wouldn’t work, but the Warden hadn’t seemed to care enough to look into the fact that she wasn’t actually an enforcer anymore, so she hoped that he wouldn’t dig deeper now that she was requesting the release of an inmate. All she knew was that Violet was worth the risk of getting caught.

A couple of hours and a very unpleasant chat with the Warden that left her feeling sick to her stomach and anger boiling in her veins later, she was unlocking the cell that had caged Vi for the last seven years. When their eyes locked, it knocked all the air out of Caitlyn’s lungs, seeing that small spark of life in those grey orbs again. It was just for a short moment, but it was enough to give Cait hope that this could work, that they could work.

“What’s happening?” Vi asked, seemingly not believing that Cait had actually pulled this little stunt off.

“I told you I’d get you out of here,” Cait simply said, holding their eye contact so Vi would understand that this was really happening. It wasn’t some twisted joke being played on her. “Come on, before they start getting suspicious.”

“Why would they get suspicious of another enforcer?”

“I told you I’ll tell you everything, but not here. It’s not safe,” Cait quickly promised, trying to stay calm even though her anxiety felt like it was gnawing at her heart.

They quickly made their way out of the prison that had kept her lover locked away from her for years, and it wasn’t until they were back on the boat heading towards the Undercity that either of them released the air that had been trapped in their lungs from the anticipation of potentially getting caught. Caitlyn had very low expectations that her plan to speak to the tattooed man would even work. She really didn’t think she’d successfully aid an inmate to get out of Stillwater, but miraculously, her shoddy plan had worked out better than she could have imagined.

Once they were off the boat, they found a quiet location away from prying eyes near the bridge to get into Zaun to discuss everything. It was nearing sunrise now. Cait had been up all night breaking Vi out of that prison, and exhaustion was starting to hit her. But this was it for her– if she couldn’t convince Vi to trust her, she would end up losing the love of her life again, and she’d be damned if she let that happen.

“You have about five seconds to start explaining what’s going on and why you’re an enforcer, or else I’m heading off on my own,” Vi demanded, her tone still cold and detached.

“I’m not– I mean, I was, but not anymore. It’s complicated,” Caitlyn sighed, feeling frustrated that her brain wasn’t cooperating with her mouth to properly explain.

“Then how are you wearing that?” Vi snarled, a grimace on her face from just looking at Caitlyn. It broke her heart all over again that Violet couldn’t even look at her without obvious disdain. “Seems pretty straightforward to me, princess. I should have known not to trust a Piltie. I should have known you’d be just like every other Topsider–”

“I went back for you!” Caitlyn shouted, not being able to hear another dig aimed at her anymore. Her outburst made Vi’s mouth snap shut, shock evident on her face from what Caitlyn had said. “That day, when everything fell apart– I saw the explosion from my bedroom. I ran as fast as I could, but I was too late. I saw what happened to Benzo and Sheriff Grayson. I followed to where all the smoke was coming from, and I–”

She choked on her words, feeling all the emotions that she had spent so long trying to shove down into neat little boxes so she could continue to move forward. Tears were gliding down her cheeks, but she didn’t care to wipe them away. Caitlyn longed to reach out for Vi, finally seeing some semblance of emotion from the other woman aside from resentment. But she knew it was too soon. She knew that the trust they once had wasn’t there anymore, and it would take a long time to get it back, if they could ever get it back. But the tears that were brimming in those grey eyes that she loved so dearly gave her hope that maybe there was a chance.

“I found Ekko in front of Vander’s body. Saw Claggor’s bloody goggles clutched in his hands. And he said all of you were dead. I thought you were dead,” Caitlyn cried, taking a step forward into Vi’s personal space. If she hadn’t been so tormented by the memories of the past, she would’ve been pleased that Vi didn’t back away. “I mourned for you. Every day for the last seven years, I have mourned for you. I became an enforcer to try to figure out what enforcers were on Silco’s payroll. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly, and god knows Ekko wasn’t pleased with my decision either, but he saw the importance behind it.”

“You’re still in contact with Ekko?” Vi croaked, the first words she was able to speak since Caitlyn had started to rehash the events of the past. Cait nodded in response and saw a soft smile form on Vi’s face. “How is he?”

“He’s so good, Vi,” she whispered. “As good as he can be considering the downfall of the Lanes. He formed his own group. He has a place for orphans or anyone looking for an escape from Silco’s grasp. He’s become quite the leader.”

“You’ve helped him?”

“As much as I can,” she confirmed. “Not nearly enough as I’d like, but that’s why I decided to join the enforcers until my mother got me laid off after an injury.”

“How did you get injured?” Vi asked, almost sounding a little concerned for the ex-enforcer’s well-being.

The momentum of Caitlyn’s explanation died on her tongue with the realization that she was about to break Violet’s heart all over again. She knew the information that she had on Powder would create an enormous amount of pain for her refound love, and she hated that she had to be the one to break the news to Vi. Cait licked her suddenly dry lips as she tried to formulate a way to say what she needed as painless as possible, but deep down she knew that trying to sugarcoat the truth wouldn’t help in this situation.

“After– that day, I thought all of you had died, but…” Cait stammered, choking on the words she so desperately needed to get out. “Silco, he got–”

“He has Powder,” Vi interrupted, a sad, knowing look in her gaze. “I saw him approach her after everything went down. After I blamed her for what happened.”

Cait watched as Vi started pacing, a calloused hand rubbing the back of her neck as she got lost in her own memories of what happened all those years ago. The turmoil Vi was experiencing made Caitlyn want to reach out to her again, but she knew that she shouldn’t, so she stood by and waited for the other woman to process her feelings.

“I tried to get to her when I saw him approach, but then Marcus knocked me out and dragged me to Stillwater.”

“It’s Marcus,” Cait whispered, not surprised but angry she hadn’t found evidence on him sooner. “He’s the one on Silco’s payroll.”

“Yup,” Vi scoffed, hatred for the coward dripping from her tone. “That poor excuse of a man is why Silco has gotten away with destroying the Undercity. Why Silco has Powder. I need to get her back.”

“Vi, you have to understand… she’s different now,” Cait tentatively said, stepping forward to finally reach out against her better judgment to stop the pacing. Her hand gently rested on Vi’s shoulder, feeling her initially stiffen at the touch but relaxing shortly after.

“Different, how?”

“You asked about my injury before, and– it was due to an explosion that she caused. It killed four other enforcers,” Cait explained, hoping the gravity of the circumstances was properly conveyed to the woman who had not seen the outside world in years. “She… goes by the name Jinx now.”

Vi stumbled back from Cait’s touch as if she had been burned, tears immediately threatening to spill from those hauntingly beautiful grey eyes that Caitlyn had longed to look into again since the day she had lost Vi. Vi’s breathing became labored as the words washed over her as if she was fighting off a panic attack.

“This is my fault,” she cried, a tear falling that she angrily swiped away. She looked as if she was about to collapse, and Caitlyn quickly reached back out to catch her. They both crumpled to the ground, Cait’s arm wrapped tightly around Vi’s shoulders as the other girl sobbed into her chest. “This is all my fault.”

“No, darling,” Caitlyn soothed, stroking her free hand through pink hair. “The only one to blame is Silco.”

“I told her she was a jinx. I blamed her for all of them dying. She only wanted to help,” Vi continued to sob, clutching onto Caitlyn’s uniform. “She only wanted to help.”

All Caitlyn could do was hold Violet until her tears stopped falling and her breathing was back under control. There were no reassuring words that Caitlyn could provide the other woman because she didn’t know where this road was going to lead them. She didn’t know if Vi would even want her to be by her side through all of this, so she just held onto Vi while she still had the chance to. The ex-enforcer didn’t know how much time had passed as they sat there together, but when Vi finally pulled back, the sun had fully risen, and the rest of the city seemed to be waking up.

“I have to get her back. I have to get through to her,” Vi sniffled, a look of determination reflected in her eyes. She slowly stood from their seated position, and Cait suddenly felt cold from the loss of contact with her former girlfriend.

“I know you do, but Vi, it isn’t going to be easy. Silco has done a number on her over the years,” Caitlyn warned.

“I have to try anyway. I can’t give up on her again,” Vi said. Her grey eyes scanned Caitlyn’s face as if weighing the decision of whether or not she could trust the ex-enforcer. After a moment, a wrapped, calloused hand reached down towards Caitlyn. “Are you with me?”

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation. Caitlyn immediately grasped the hand extended to her. She wouldn’t allow Vi to slip away from her again after years apart. She was more determined than she ever had been to rebuild the relationship they once shared, even if it only ever led to friendship. Violet was far too important to her to let the other woman do this on her own.

“Always.”

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #cait x vi #violyn #cass writes things

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 1 year ago

Text

Just gonna talk about my current WIP

... and life. Because this is a nice cozy place where I can do that and only one of you knows me IRL.

So, in July, I was laid off. Well, my team was laid off. One of the many casualties in the "who needs DEI" wave. I can't even be particularly mad about it because that job was horrible. I dreaded work every day and I'm pretty sure that had I stayed, my health would have suffered more than it already had.

Then came the burnout. That shit hit me like a freight train. I've spent the majority of the last 2.5 months trying to give myself space to rest as much as possible (while also job hunting because I'm not exactly in a position that I can just BE unemployed). And y'all, rest is hard. Like really hard. But we're working on it.

While I 100% view this as a time I can and must rest, it also feels like an opportunity to actually focus on writing.

Hell, if I'm being honest, it feels like the universe went, "You said you would do this if you only had time to dedicate to it. Here you go." Now I've just gotta do the thing. Which... is also hard.

I've had several WIPs bubbling away for years now. Ones I've shared with folks, ones people ask me about. But the one I'm focusing on right now I haven't shared with anyone.

It's too personal, but not in a way that folks would assume. It's not autobiographical (though it is set just outside of Boston, where I'm now calling home) or anything of that sort. It's simply that I'm so in love with the two main characters I'm nervous to say anything about the story to folks close to me until it's finished.

But no one is likely to see this so I'm gonna share a bit here:

Toni. Bless Toni. She's a little me and probably a little you too. The definition of someone running toward something even though far too many people think she's running away. She is a woman who refuses to accept good enough and deals with the repercussions of that--especially as a fat woman (a through line in most of my femme MCs). In her case, she chose to end a relationship with a man most people considered a catch--ya know a catch who thought he could convince her to have a baby she said she didn't want--and move across the country rather than allow herself to stay in a situation that made her miserable. Now, alone--save for her best friend a few towns over--she's rebuilding her life and unpacking the baggage that says she's unreasonable and unreliable for choosing her happiness.

And y'all... Cillian. Lord. He's a local boy--complete with that Bahston accent--and built like a tank. Everyone around him can see how golden his heart is, not because he wears it on his sleeve but because he has an aura of goodness that is almost impossible to miss. Were you to tell him that, he'd tell you you're full of shit. The thing about Cillian is that he's the kind of good that comes from going through hell. In his case, hell was literal war. Now, 10 years out of the military and 8 sober, he's still reconciling with parts of himself he'd rather bury. Think a little Bucky Barnes with a dash of Frank Castle and then the rest, well the rest is just Cillian: The boy who should have been a musician, not a soldier. The man who runs his family's bar and escapes to his property in New Hampshire when the world is too much. The 6'2" 275lb brick of muscle that collects floral robes and buys expensive sheets and falls so in love with a gorgeous plus size powerhouse of a woman that it undoes him a little.

I love them. I love how they're going to open up with one another, to allow the other to see the parts of them that are still bleeding and know that it will be ok.

(They also fuck like rockstars so there's that.)

I'm still working on the first draft, but I think I can have it done in the next couple of weeks. From there, revisions and then MAYBE eyes that aren't mine.

Hopefully, someone other than me cares about their slow conversations, the softness of their fall, the low stakes but high emotion of it all.

-sigh-

Anyway. That's been my world of late. Thanks for being the void tumblr.

Love ya.

#wip #original fiction #personal #writeblr #author life

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xaospoiesis · 6 months ago

Text

Year 29

this is a projet I started about experiencing the last year of my twenties, trying to cope with it I suppose. I had it go up to my 30th birthday (then started a new one for the first year of my thirties because I'll only be thirty once). It's a bit long, almost a year after all, but here goes, I guess. I tried to keep it the way I wrote it in the first place (up to the little explicative text in the beginning that I wrote when I started it)

(Writing a line a day about my feelings until I turn 30, yeah I’m late (April 27th) bc I just thought about it fuck it), I will forget days so it won’t be like a full year but doing each day without missing would be inauthentic wouldn’t it?

2023

April.

2704 - 29 years old, 1 month, 7 days and I still cannot fathom that I’m alive.

2804 - I could run through a wall and it would have a hole shaped like me, that’s how insane I feel today.

2904 - I feel incapable of doing anything and that is a problem because I have many things to do.

May.

0405 - forgot this existed, wish I forgot I existed too.

0505 - I feel nothing good yet nothing bad, it’s not nothing at all yet but it’s close.

0705 - technically I am a mermaid. no I shall not elaborate.

0805 - I want to do the things I am supposed to, but I cannot bring myself to do them, so I am here, eternally in limbo, eternally distressed by my own lack of movement.

0905 - sometimes, being alive right here, right now surprises me, not in a good way, just in a way. Earlier today, I felt real, that’s gone now. I’m floating again.

1005 - I am sleepier than ever yet I cannot go to sleep at night, ironic.

1105 - it irritates me that I need something to regulate my life so I can just function, why can’t I just free rein it without crashing and burning?

1205 - I can’t tell the passing of time so it feels like i’ve been unsure of my feelings for days and forcing my thoughts out when I’m not sure I have any.

1305 - I am overwhelmed by life, by the people in it, by my incapacity to cope with it all and most of all by the crushing weight of existing in a capitalistic society.

1405 - I am stressed out and hating it.

1505 - I am trying (or maybe I am not) and I am so not succeeding.

1605 - I forget sometimes, that it isn’t about win or lose when it comes to mental health issues. It’s a matter of compromise, of fluctuations, of resilience too.

1705 - I do not know, things are stable and stable is scary sometimes.

1805 - I think I caught a cold and I’ve done some work but I feel it isn’t quite enough.

2105 - I’m not sure anything is happening but things should be happening right now.

2505 - In moments of quiet, there are no words, no movement and that’s it. Almost peaceful I’d say.

June.

1406 - There’s a disconnect between me and reality, and now, and here, and I’m not sure I want to write anymore.

1606 - time just seems to not move anymore.

1806 - it’s okay, it’s all chill.

2106 - ripped the skin off my finger by accident and this is honestly (insert saying about being at your limit).

2506 - I don’t know, I just feel sour. Annoyed. Annoying.

2906 - feelings are fluctuating and yet nothing is actually felt.

July.

0507 - I was well and then I wasn’t, just like that, feelings hit me like a freight train and I want to cry, I’m not sure why.

1007 - so for a while I felt that maybe there was no point writing anymore, I don’t know if I’m out of it yet but hey, doesn’t matter.

1107 - there it is, the weight in my chest I don’t have a name for, that I have to feel and can never explain or else it isn’t real.

1807 - I tell myself “this too shall pass” but this has not once passed, years of it, maybe born with it, dull, incomprehensible sadness.

2107 - again the feeling that I won’t last very long in this life.

2307 - I sort of don’t see the point of talking anymore, responding, giving opinions, existing loudly.

2907 - it feels insignificant, to live, to move, to laugh.

August.

0408 - one of my most repetitive thoughts is “and I’m sad again”, often after days and weeks of the same exact state of mind.

0708 - I’m just sad about being a little sister whose big brother doesn’t feel like one, and it isn’t his fault nor is it mine, life just happened that way, but I hate that I can’t call someone older and confide in them and trust them.

1008 - the loneliness is godawful sometime, but familiar, a daily occurrence, something regular.

1208 - what a strange yet gripping feeling, the one of knowing that the end is nearer than one would expect.

1308 - there’s just such a slowness in summer, and it isn’t enjoyable, I wish I was doing something because I feel like I should, not because I want to.

1808 - I’m kind of baffled that I have to hide about 85 to 90% of myself from people who call themselves my family.

2208 - I tell myself to be happy so often, yet can never obey, it’s a weird, weird life this one.

2708 - the thing with being so alert all the time, is that I forget that sometimes nothing is going on, sometimes, it is okay to not be worried.

September.

0109 - it is absolutely unfathomable that this is the last year of my twenties. And what have I done with them? Not much. I’m scared.

0509 - it’s too hot to even think coherently.

0609 - my whole soul is shaky, with sadness, with unshed tears and maybe the anxiety is trying to choke me down, I don’t know.

1309 - and all I want is to quiet down into oblivion so that I can’t say something stupid.

1409 - I grasp at air, hoping it’ll be meaning that I’ll catch instead, for life and all the things a person has to go through that can make them a person, and maybe when I do, I can stop fretting.

1809 - yes, everyone has their own things, but I do feel like others’ things seem to be heavier, more important than mine and sometimes, it hurts just a little.

2509 - I don’t know about wanting to share my writing anymore, if I want to or what it makes me feel, I don’t know anything at all.

2709 - I know my body is here, real, but the rest of me, the invisible, is floating, rooted nowhere and it isn’t nausea I feel, not in my body at least, it’s my soul that’s nauseous and I don’t know how to explain it in any other way.

October.

0310 - I spent all day internally screaming at myself to get my assignment done, and yet I don’t move.

0510 - perhaps I should stop thinking about death this much, but I have no control over those thoughts, they present, then impose themselves and then, swift as the wind, they leave me but their shadows remain.

0710 - I just remembered one of the times I had to talk myself down from a panic attack and it kind of sucked, because I had to be the calm and the panic all at once.

0910 - It’s one of these days where the energy outside of my body is as tainted with absolute chaos as my inside, and I realize I find some sort of joy in it.

1510 - this is a week that makes me look at some people with disgust and fear, because the cruelty of their words and their beliefs is beyond my comprehension.

2210 - there’s this feeling sitting in my chest and I think it’s anxiety and it just won’t pass, yet my brain knows it shouldn’t be here.

2410 - today’s a good day, I think, am I terrified still? Yes. Is it as overwhelming as usual? No, it’s a good day.

November.

0611 - isn’t strange? The rot I feel in my veins from existing in this moment and having no way to do anything about it.

1211 - I feel fairly gloom today, had a small reprieve last night, and now we’re back on schedule I suppose.

1411 - it’s weird to be so aware of my disconnect to reality, not all of reality, mostly my direct surrounding reality, but still, as aware as I am, I still am widely unable to reconnect to it, even if I painfully need to, want to even.

1711 - I don’t know, I don’t know if it’s the cold I caught or the existential dread that’s making my chest tighten today

2011 - felt like my eyes were too heavy for my head today and there was no way to alleviate it.

2411 - they’re giving Palestinians in Gaza four days of truce and acting like it’s an act of mercy after 48 days of genocide, I can’t fucking comprehend it.

2511 - I hate that the idea of going to class on Monday squeezes the life out of my chest and makes me want to drown.

2611 - I don’t feel alive today, not dead either, just in between two negative states.

2811 - I have this feeling I’m going to crash and burn because I’ve left all the things I need to do to the last minute.

2911 - it is ridiculously easy to distract me from important and pressing matters, I fear myself when I cannot prioritize, important matters can’t seem to be of importance for me.

December.

0512 - the sky is depression grey now, which only announces weeks of my thoughts fist fighting one another.

0612 - I have the irrepressible rage in my chest yelling a little loud today.

1012 - day to day life has been mind numbing, the past four days have been a blur, I am tired.

1512 - the sun is setting and the sky is a pink hue, for just a few minutes, all is well, all is beautiful, I wish it was always this way.

1612 - there’s simply such ease in being quieter, less pain there.

1812 - it is kind of funny that I am more invested in socially isolating myself than other more important things, and it’s not even fully intentional.

2512 - it’s Christmas, I feel nothing at all, the world is on fire, nothing makes sense.

2024

January.

0201 - so I forgot I existed and I could write for a short while, and I can’t seem to want to do a thing.

0601 - I am tired but today I am not worried, it’s a tired that solely rests in my flesh, that doesn’t creep into my mind.

1501 - time is passing and I don’t perceive it, all I feel is this dullness in my chest.

1801 - I just want a little bit of peace, I’ve abandoned the idea of grandeur.

2301 - I just feel gloom, and yes I do feel that a lot, it’s true, I guess being alive these past few days, weeks even, feels a little harder.

2401 - I do not care, or I can’t bring myself to do so, not sure.

2601 - I do not know what I feel, but it is something shaking, something unsettled, something screaming.

2701 - and so I feel like I am not acting truly like myself, or that who I am is someone I do not like.

2801 - at some point today I was worried, it isn’t the case anymore, and I can’t recall where the weight on my chest was coming from.

2901 - sometimes hearing mind numbing nonsense doesn’t feel worth it, I guess that’s what it’s like to simply be alive these days.

February.

0302 - I wish I was just done with it, whatever it is I have sitting in my chest right now.

0502 - I’m not rushing to reconnect with my intellect because there’s nothing to grasp, I feel a little stupid.

0702 - I still feel disconnected from everything and maybe I am partially sabotaging myself.

0902 - Last night was so confusing, because I wanted to jump out of my skin and couldn’t figure out why, and today none of that is left, nothing is felt at all, actually.

1202 - everything is so overwhelming right now, change is everywhere and I simply struggle to adjust to it all.

1502 - I think maybe I’m feeling under stimulated and it’s a little too hard to stay anchored because of it.

1802 - I do a whole lot of nothing in a day and end up exhausted and unable to think straight.

2102 - less than a month before the end of this, what a strange thing.

2402 - I cried today because my uncle is dead but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason, I was just sad I suppose.

2602 - I’m overwhelmed and hopeless about it, I wish I could just not give up but giving up is easier.

2802 - I am honestly not seeing the end of this semester, but I also know that it’s just the stress making my vision tunnel.

2902 - It is quite funny that the shortest month of the year feels like the longest.

March.

0103 - Just because I want it, doesn’t mean all will be well and that’s a bit tragic.

0803 - Life’s a blur and I think the amount of stress I’m under is definitely messing with my system.

0903 - my stomach, my heart, something fell in my chest and reached the bottom of my feet and I can’t pick it up.

1103 - this is going to sound ridiculous, but I just want to genuinely laugh and smile, just be happy. I want to be happy.

1503 - I wish I was just shamelessly myself, but I don’t know how to be that.

1803 - there really isn’t any reprieve to the big feelings, they shake me, decide for me, act for me.

2003 - so this is thirty.

#thoughts on thoughts 💭#documenting my year #random ass words #writing project #my 29th year #feelings #emotions #tw: sadness #tw: grief #tw: suicide ideation #tw: death #poetry ?#poetry #I’m not sure what to call this frfr it was meant to be a poem of sorts and then??? idek #writing

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