#then it's like that. Staying resilient but i'm slowly losing my mind and when you get help- only to know it's hopeless! WOW YEY! OK!

[sunlit-mess]

if it’s not too personal, why would you prefer staying with at your mother’s? Is it cause you get along well with your sisters?

[ervotica]

liam mairi x reader where he literally loses it during the torture chamber over seeing her hurt

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; torture lol, graphic depictions of violence and injury, liam is a little unhinged (as much as a golden retriever can be) and also the best bf ever. also xaddy makes an appearance <3

a/n; for argument's sake, liam is alive and well (also for my sake bc he's my baby and i adore him) this is a little different to the plot in the books as liam isn't *technically* there during the torture chamber scene, so this diverts from the original plot. this is gonna get like 4 whole notes but idgaf because liam is taking up my entire mind atm i just want that boy to smother me in love and i can kiss his perfect face<3

Knuckles crack against the already swollen expanse of your jaw and your neck whips sideways awkwardly as blood fills your gasping mouth. Your ears ring, vision beginning to blur and blacken at the edges as Liam roars.

You can't see him for the soldiers crowding your line of vision, but the guttural sound that rips its way from his throat is unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's raw, full of untethered fury that no one would expect from a kind soul like Liam. But, then again, no one's seen the lengths he will go to to keep you safe.

"I'm fine, Li," you murmur, neck cracking as you wrench your head upright to reassure him. The swarm of bodies part somewhat, and they back against the wall; you watch him thrash against the restraints, teeth bared like a predator; it's a stark juxtaposition to his usual - docile - countenance.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill all of you!” he bellows, voice permeating the otherwise relatively silent chamber. It cuts through you like glass, and you wince as another blow collides with your cheekbone. You feel it shatter, growling through grit teeth at your attacker.

“You have all the power here,” he croons. “Tell us what we need to know, and I’ll let you go.”

“Fuck you,” you seethe. “You really think I’ll break that easily?”

He cracks his knuckles slowly, one by one echoing through the empty room as he paces, his head tilting curiously as though he's enraptured by your resilience. “No. But he will.”

Your nostrils flare, eyes darting to where Liam’s still struggling to break himself free. His eyes are dark, cerulean replaced with black onyx as the rage consumes him.

“You underestimate us,” you say simply; your chin juts out indignantly. “We’re not telling you shit.”

Your ribs are next to break with a sickening crunch, and when you scream, the sharp yell of your boyfriend takes up all the space left in your brain. It's all you hear, all you can decipher through the thick cotton wadded into your ears, the only thing you can manage past the searing flames that set your body alight with agony. Your lids start to droop, lips parting to croak something indiscernible; and Liam's begging, pleading with you to stay conscious, but even as you gaze up at him through sticky, tear-soaked lashes, the darkness wraps its cruel fingers around your throat and you can't fend it off.

You don't know how many days it's been when your eyes peel open, glued shut with sleep. Every nerve ending in your body ignites, set aflame with pure, unrelenting excruciation. Your chest heaves and the movement triggers another cataclysmic inferno; a sob claws its way from your throat almost involuntarily, your body relying purely on survival instincts.

Xaden's standing over you in an instant, a warm palm cradled against the curve of your jaw to keep you still when you shout and thrash, trying to rid yourself of the unyielding pain that courses through your veins like liquid fire.

"Shh, shh." He's doing his best to placate you, but you're manic, eyes wide and frantic as you attempt to orientate yourself in the room.

"Liam," you croak. "Where's Liam?"

"He's okay. He's fine. I need you to stay calm, okay?" A tear slips past your clogged waterline and runs over Xaden's knuckle, his thumb following its downward path to brush it away.

"I want Liam," you wheeze, a pain that transcends physicality blooming into your aching chest. "Please."

There's a scuffle and a flash of blonde before Liam is crouching at your side, a thick fingered hand anchoring against the top of your head.

"I'm right here, my girl. You didn't think I'd leave you alone, did you?"

You shake your head vehemently despite the throbbing in your temples, your own fingers looping around his wrist to keep him close, to keep him touching you.

"It hurts, Li," you whimper, and it's the first sign of true weakness he's seen you expose in this long, painful week. You're safe to fall apart now, safe with the knowledge that he'll help you put yourself back together.

"I know. We just need to get you fixed up and you'll feel better."

He tips forward on his toes to press his cheek to yours, and the warmth of his breath tickles at the shell of your ear. His face turns, nose squishing into the soft flesh of your cheek, lips puckered in a kiss against the corner of your mouth. You feel the scab, long dried over, and the groove in his lip where it's split; when he tilts his head sideways to watch you, your eyes fix on it.

"You're hurt," you sniffle. "It's my fault."

"Oh, this old thing?" He waves you off, flippant as the tip of his finger prods at the dried skin. "Doesn't even hurt, angel. Don't you worry about me."

"I do worry about you."

You use the little strength you have left to turn on your side, tuning out Liam's abrupt protests until there'e enough room for two on the bed. He knows what you want from no more than a pleading glance.

"I can't-" he starts, and the complaints die in his throat when your fingers dig into the worn fabric of his uniform.

"I need you," you admit. His shoulders slouch in defeat.

"You promise to go to sleep?"

He lifts your tender body, propping you against a muscular forearm as he slides beneath you, and settling you between two thick thighs, your back to his chest. His warmth seeps into your pores and he feels you sag, only succumbing to the exhaustion now you know he's safe.

Fingernails scratch at your scalp and dimples crater into the centre of his cheeks when your head tilts to nuzzle deeper into the touch. The flaring pain resides to a dull - but manageable - ache.

"I'm tired," you say, muffled.

"I know, my girl." You don't miss the thrum of his pulse, the way it picks up when he catches sight of the deep bruises that mar your skin, the swelling from broken bones. He's angry.

And he's going to make them pay for this.

[fruitflavoreddeath]

she likes a boy

So much has changed. Me and my ex called it off. It was a journey trying to heal from all that trauma. We're trying to be friends now but it still hurts.

I'm going back to America tomorrow after almost 5 years. The last time I was back, I remember going through my 10 hour layover, 30 hour flights, with my ex on my mind. It was when we started talking a lot, I was distracted by the thought of her the entire time I was away. It was when I was starting to fall in love.

Now I'm going back, and I feel the same way for someone else. It's the same but it's also different this time. We've been talking, since October. We've been fucking. We've been talking on the phone till the sun comes up, we've been texting good morning, goodnight. How have we been doing all of this without catching feelings? She knows I like her. I question if she likes me the same way. I think perhaps she's afraid to let her heart go there, because I'm me. I'm not a boy.

I wonder if I'm playing with fire. Last night, we talked on the phone for 8 hours. Around 5 in the morning, as she was slowly drifting to sleep, I asked if she wanted to hang up, she said no, she said she felt comfort knowing there was someone with her as she slept, she said I could hang up if I wanted. I stayed on the phone till the sun came up to make sure she was deep in sleep and felt safe. Being there for her, hearing her breath, not saying a word. I'd been here before. 3 times before. The first time, they didn't know I cared about them that way. The second time, I was in love and we were together. And now this. I asked "do you talk to your friends for hours like this?" and she said "No.. but my ex and I used to talk like this". It felt bittersweet. That we have that kind of connection, but we might not have that kind of potential.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess I'm trying to process what I'm feeling. Because I know my heart is also guarded. I know I want to have a partner, I want to grow and build a life with someone, I know that when I choose that person, I will choose them everyday, and above all, I want them to choose me too. But for now, this feels really nice. She feels really nice. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever had the honor of holding. I can tell that she feels safe with me. She lies down on me asking for back massages, she caresses my neck as she pulls me in to kiss her. She grips my back to pull me closer, she pulls my hair, she turns my head and moans in my ear. Sometimes when we're done, she cries thinking about her ex, and I hold her and tell her it's going to be okay, that she needs to be kind to herself. And I know it sounds like the opposite of what I said I wanted. She doesn't choose me. But I care about her so much, I don't care. My tendencies of self-abandoning, perhaps confused for selflessness.

But I do care about her deeply. She's vulnerable with me, and she tells me things she's afraid to tell people because it's been used against her. She wants to be loved for the core of who she is. She doesn't want to be judged by her tendencies, neither do any of us. She's trying her best to be aware and better, and I recognize that. I've seen how she's raised her voice when losing patience, she tells me about the times it happened with her ex. And I wonder what it would be like if she raised her voice at me. My previous relationship made me resilient in ways I didn't think was possible. For now, I think I would love her enough to see through it. But is this a toxic thought? Am I seeing her through rose-colored glasses?

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-Something There

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: i am so beyond sorry that it has taken this long to get another chapter out. this doesn’t follow my post schedule that i had previously given, but hopefully this can be a good place holder till later this week. 

The Purest Things Masterlist

May 2008

Bookend: "It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent." -Madeleine Albright

"There's no way I'm doing that," you rebuttal, "Hotch? Tell them it's a ridiculous idea." He stays silent, but his mouth twitches slightly.

Oh, you son of a-

"Richards is a classic narcissist. The challenge of facing a tough, fearless, and intelligent woman will give him his high. Narcissists are drawn to goal-oriented women, women who are resilient, adaptable, yet decisive. Show him that you are a good listener, but don't praise him."

"Think of him like a wild animal," Spencer adds, "You don't feed zoo animals because they are unpredictable. Remember, narcissists have an extraordinary sense of self, and when you praise his ego, you enable his unstable and feeble mind. He doesn't hear praise; he hears how much better he is than you. If you don't feed the beast, he won't have the stamina to combat your confidence later."

"Once you disarm him, I'll come in and challenge his confidence," Hotch concludes. 

Could you have said that less attractively? That would have been more helpful.

Aaron cheekily smirks as if reading your mind but quickly looks away. You wish you didn't blush so fast-that you had some sense to keep your emotions to yourself. In a second, your cheeks are rosy, and you are convinced that everyone in the room can perceive your feelings as if you wrote them on little notes and passed them around.

You grunt and roll your eyes, "I hate all of you."

Derek snaps his fingers at you, "Lose the jacket."

"All men are pigs," you spit while removing your blazer, leaving you in a fitted tank top and your tight-legged jeans that hug your curves in all of the right places.

Derek wolf whistles at you, and you hurl your jacket at him.  Aaron lets his eyes slide up and down your body, his gaze lasting longer than it should. He swears that as you stride into the interrogation room, your hips swing a bit farther side to side than usual. It is the very action that radiates courage, a mind coupled perfectly with itself and the world around it, concentrated and solemn.

Typically, Hotch would divert the task of adulating a narcissist to Prentiss, but he knows if anyone can take command of someone's attention, it's you. How does he know? Because you captivate him far more often than he cares to admit, defying his very being with every interaction. You are a secret weapon that he wants to keep concealed until you can allow your talents to shine genuinely. Aaron knows that now is your moment. ++++ "What is it that I am being accused of? Fraud? Embezzling?" The sharp-dressed businessman questions; his gaze is straying further below your eyes than you care for.

Pig.

You throw a file down on the medal table, and it slides across, stopping right in front of the man, successfully redirecting his stare somewhere other than your chest.

"Try murder."

His eyes widen, "You're joking. Come on, where are the hidden cameras? I'm ready for you to yell candid camera now! I am Milton Richards, for god's sake!"

"I don't know!" You shrug your shoulders. "Why don't you explain this to me, Mr. Richards. I'm just as confused as you are. What reason could a successful, charming, handsome, wealthy business mogul like yourself possibly have to kill someone?"

"Oh please," Richards scoffs, "This isn't an interrogation. You've already pegged me as guilty."

"I don't agree, but you have the right to feel how you feel."

He purses his lips, leaning as far away from you as physically possible while handcuffed to the table.

"Milton, why did you try to escape a moving vehicle when my team apprehended you?"

"Just felt like it, I guess," he shrugs mockingly.

"So, something just randomly compelled you to flee the custody of a federal agent?"

Richards leers at you. You stand up and walk around the table, leaning down next to him, "I get it. I do. You're a suave, wealthy, and ruthless business tyrant. You have to cover your tracks-do what it takes to survive."

He raises his eyebrow, turning to face you, your faces mere inches from each other. I got you now.

"Trust me. I know probably better than anyone what it takes to maintain a position you fought your entire life for. I'm a woman; I had to claw my way into the F.B.I. Do you think it's easy being surrounded by a team filled with uncontrolled testosterone? Womanhood requires balls; I see you keep your balls in your pants, cool, cool. Mine are on my chest, up top. As you've so duly noticed."

His eyes flicker to the aforementioned area, and you restrain yourself from gagging.

"And you know what, Richards? I use them every day of my life. Because in my line of business, sometimes I have to take the backdoor to get things done. Why do I get the sense that you were the same way before you became Mr. Wolf of Wall Street? How else does a kid who grew up in the projects become a multi-millionaire mogul by 27?"

"We both know what the other is capable of. C'mon, let's show each other a bit of respect here. No games, let's be upfront with each other," you appeal. ++++ Aaron watches as you work the room like it is your stage. You play the part perfectly.  He admires your ability to absorb things and then responded rather than immediately react to douse firey circumstances rather than add to the flames.

Derek finds himself next to Aaron, smugly observing Aaron's visible fascination with you.

"She's fantastic, Hotch," Derek beams with pride. Hotch holds his breath behind pursed lips in an attempt to barricade himself from the feelings of foolish jealousy he feels creeping up.

I know she is. I think I recognize it a little too well.

Aaron knows that Derek will be scrutinizing his reaction to the commendation and refrains from responding.

Of course, Derek reads this lack of a reaction as a response itself. And he finds it strangely amusing. ++++ "Here's what I think happened," you twirl your finger around the manilla file, "I think you were having some money troubles and your top investors caught onto your little games. When you sat down, you volunteered the crimes fraud and embezzlement as reasons you assumed we brought you into custody. You listed them like they are apparent reasons for us to charge you. Those are two areas you are clearly willing to take the fall for and have cause to oblige by."

Opening the file, a photograph is revealed within of a murder victim. Richards shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stifling a cough.

"Do you know this man?"

"N-no," he claims as his eyes flutter from the photo to his hands.

Surprised by his blatant tell, you glance back at the two-way mirror.

Turning back to the suspect with a newfound spark in your eyes, you press harder, "Strike one. Try again."

"Excuse me?"

"The man in the image is Walter Barone, the C.E.O. of Jameson Whitely Associates...your accounting firm. Your company was going bankrupt, Milton. There was nowhere left for you to turn. So, do you want to try that again? This time, answer my questions directly and honestly."

"Walt had a reserve saved for me worth $5 million. Last week when I approached him about dipping into the fund to keep the company afloat, he withheld it. I wouldn't kill him for it, though."

"Well, see, that's the problem here, Milton. When he was found, that little reserve of yours was nowhere to be found. Naturally, you can assume where my mind goes when I try and put two and two together, right?"

"I told you," he says, clearly provoked by your accusation, "I wouldn't...didn't kill him."

"Wasn't it you, in your book, right? Who said, 'It's surprising what a man will do when properly motivated?' I don't know about you, but losing everything you'd ever worked for and having your one saving grace held from you seems like pretty good motivation."

Silence. "Oh, come on, Milton, now is not the time to act so arrogant!"

He slams his fists on the table; you abstain from being startled in an attempt to show him no fear.

Wild animals can smell fear. 

"Arrogant, huh? Why don't you step up and prove me wrong? Prove you're better than me. You despise me for being successful; I despise you for your assumption that you could waltz in here like a tramp and seduce me into giving myself up. What? Too harsh? I'm not sure you and I are even the same species."

Hotch bursts into the room, and you quickly signal for him to stand down. I've got this.

He gives you a prideful wink. I know you do.

Somehow Aaron being in the room gives you that last little push to conclude this grand performance of yours. Slowly, you begin clapping dramatically for his little one-person comedy act. He certainly knows how to play the fool.

"Is that a dare? Challenge accepted. Your entire life, you have suffered from a disease... a fragile ego. You have built these walls of detachment so that you can conveniently solicit status to hide your true, weak self. You lash out because you feel it compensates for your insecurities."  

"The truth is, despite being at the top of the corporate chain, every day you lead the life of a loser. You are willing to destroy people psychically, emotionally, and mentally. And you view that as a cause for celebration. You are the embodiment of a loser and abject failure."

Hotch touches the small of your back; you shiver at the sudden warmth that fills your body in reaction to it. He hands you a piece of paper, one that seals Richards' conviction.

"Milton Richards, you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Barone, Hank Simmons, Frankie Lisbon, and Jillian Ryder."

Hotch motions for you to do the honors.

"By all means, lead the way."

Holding yourself proud and tall, you waltz over to Milton and hoist him out of his chair. Inclining your lips to his ear, you tell him contemptuously, "You lose."   ++++ "Way to go, superstar! You had us all on the edge of our seats," Derek says, wrapping his muscular arms around you. You breathe in his cologne and savor the sensation of being in his arms.

Since the day you met Morgan, you've felt a draw to him. Not in a romantic way, though you proudly admit he is hands-down one of the most gorgeous men to set foot on earth. He gives you the feeling of safety, warmth, and brotherly love. His hugs rejuvenate you after a long day of work, and you see to it that neither of you leaves the office without receiving your signature embraces.

Aaron observes you and Derek's shared embrace from the shelter of his office. Before he can comprehend his movements, his legs carry him to the terrace overlooking the bullpen.

What do you think you're doing, Hotch? Pull yourself together. They’re friends. Just like you and her are.

Dismissing his inner voice of reason, he calls out to you, "Y/L/N. See me in my office."

You grimace at his tone of voice but abide by his request.

Derek chuckles, "Green is not that man's color."

"What?" You turn to him, confused.

"Goodnight, superstar."

"Night, handsome," you blow him a kiss, trying to brush his comment out of your mind.  ++++ "You summoned?"

Aaron's whiskey-colored eyes meet yours. The tempo of your heart quickens like a metronome.

"You did a phenomenal job in there."

"I've learned from the best." You. I've learned from you.

He clears his throat, "Those things you said...a-about the men on this team. Is that how you truly feel?"

Shocked by his willingness to believe such a misleading statement, you gasp and close the distance between the two of you.

You must have some nerve to believe that I would ever view you as anything other than the most upstanding man I've ever met.

"Aaron, what I said in there is further than the truth than I would have liked to have strayed. In fact, it was with you that I finally felt equal as a human being-like someone recognized me for my intellect and self-worth. A woman can't acquire that regardless of how 'equal' this world claims to be."

Aaron finds himself lost in your eyes, absorbing every meaning behind your words.

"It was a freeing feeling having someone I respect so highly show me similar respect."

No. Don't stop talking. Please. Hotch blushes at his inner monologue, incapable of comprehending precisely what kind of influence you hold on him.  

"Anyway," you laugh, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face, "Sorry for my little tangent."

"No," Hotch interjects firmly, "Never apologize for expressing your feelings. I assured you last year that I'll always be available as a sounding board for you. That offer still stands."

Your gaze softens as you study him, his intentions, his mannerisms. He notices your pupils dilate, and it commences a chain reaction within his veins. To him, it's not the fact that you radiate beauty on the outside. Sure, you are physically fit and put in the effort to maintain your appearance. Naturally, that would be why someone like Derek Morgan would have you on his radar.

But, Aaron has gradually grown accustomed to the kindness that you seem to reserve just for him. He sees the differences between how you act around the team versus when you step inside his office or are alone in the car with him, even the way your confidence elevates when he walks into the interrogation room.

These differences aren't unique to just you, though. Aaron notices the same changes in himself when he is around you. Never did he expect to go home from work and lie in bed thinking about the way your eyes strayed on his for a moment too long, or how as he completed paperwork at his desk, he'd replay in his mind a cheesy joke you told the team. He knows how you like your coffee from observing you in the break room one too many times.

One cream, two sugars.

Your laughter warms his body from the inside out. When you talk about your favorite comic book with Prentiss and Morgan, the twinkle in your eye never fails to bring a smile to his face. He knows that you hate getting out of the car when it rains because your perfectly straightened hair that you spent god knows how long on will undoubtedly curl.

His changes were less evident on the outside. But, he knew that deep down, there is something there that wasn't there before.

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[nothing-but-dreamy]

AFTERLIFE ~ Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Connor x Reader; RK900

Words: 2.998

Warning: mention of blue blood (is that even a warning..?)

Retrospectively, to get Connor out of the building wasn’t the hardest part of your plan. In fact, it was easier than you had thought. On your way, Connor had hacked the camera and scanner of the parking deck. No alarm went on as Connor passed the checkpoints. So, the two of you got into your car to drive over the long bridge to leave the island and to get back to Detroit.

But you should have known it better. It wouldn’t stay this easy. At the end of the day, Connor was CyberLife’s property and of course, even if they wanted to deactivate him, they also wanted him back. But the last thing you had expected them to do would be sending an armed unit. And of course, part of this unit was Colden, the RK900. You weren’t surprised that they would try to get Connor back. You should have known it.

Like in an action movie, the unit stormed your house from all sides. Connor was fighting them back one by one and holding the upper hand until the situation changed. From the corner of his eyes, Connor saw you stumbling through the living room with your hands raising in the air in surrender. The RK900 was walking behind you, pushing you forward while it pointed a gun to your head.

software instability^

“Give up, Connor! Or this human will die.”, the RK900 ordered. Its voice was a bit darker than Connor’s and as cold as its name.

As Connor saw you got threatened by a gun something snapped inside of him and the wall that held him back from admitting his emotions started to fall apart. The RK900 pushed the gun closer to your head which caused you to wince in fear. As Connor heard that sound, he broke the wall down and finally understood what you had tried to tell him about to feel. After all the time where he had fought against the deviants, now, he had become one on his own. Because now, there was a reason for him to turn deviant: The only thing in his mind was to protect your life. To protect you, “Let her go and maybe I will spare your life.”, Connor said, low and threatening, he adjusted his standing and was just focused on the android behind you.

“Connor…”, you whispered, concerned about the fact that the RK900 was better than Connor would be. The last thing you wanted for Connor was to get in any more danger. He already had a gun shot in his chest and blue blood was running out of it. Androids could endure more things than humans but they weren’t indestructible.

“Let her go.”, Connor demanded calmly.

The RK900 just smirked. But the smile never reached its piercing blue eyes, “Fascinating. You turned deviant, Connor? You started to feel because of this human?”

You looked surprised at Connor. Was it possible that he had finally awoken? Were you really the reason for him to change from a machine to a living being? Quickly, Connor looked at you and you saw warmth in his brown eyes… and concern. Even a soft smile appeared on his lips which should reassure you.

“Oh, bloody hell! That’s disgusting!”, the RK900 spat out and rolled with his eyes as it witnessed the small exchange between Connor and you.

“I said: Let her go! Otherwise, I see myself forced to kill you.”, Connor hissed and looked up again. You shook your head slowly to stop him from his plan but Connor ignored you. There was no room for softness even if he was starting to feel. The RK900 wouldn’t stop until it got what CyberLife wanted.

“You know what, you could come with me and I will spare her pitiful life. I’ve been ordered to get you back. My orders are a bit more… well… flexible when it comes to her. It’s your choice.”, the RK900 said calmly but with a vicious tone.

“Connor, don’t listen to it! It just wants to kill you! CyberLife doesn’t want you alive-”, you called out but the RK900 stopped you from talking as it punched into your ribs with the back of his gun. The air got knocked out of your lungs and you slumped down on your knees trying to catch your breath.

Connor stepped forward as he saw you suffering. But as the RK900 pointed its gun back at your head, he stopped.

“I can continue with hurting her all day long. If you don’t give up, I swear you will see her dying right here. You have to think about what is more important to you. Your freedom or her life. You can’t have both.”, the RK900 said with a lopsided smirk.

Connor gritted his teeth as he searched for a way out. His existence would already be over when it weren’t for you to save him. Now, Connor was faced with the worst thing he could imagine. The last thing he wanted was to lose you now, where he knew what he was feeling for you, “Alright, alright! You win. I give up.”, Connor said finally.

“No! Connor, don’t!”, you called out in fear for his life. As you looked up at Connor, tears were blurring your vision but you were sure that you had seen Connor … winking at you?

The RK900 shoved you aside so you were falling to the ground before it stepped over you to go to Connor, “Wise decision, Connor.”

You looked shocked how the RK900 pushed Connor around to shove him to the front door of your home. You crawled back on your knees as something was clanking. As you looked up, you saw the RK900 stumbling slightly as it tried to wipe glass fragments out of its face and hair.

Connor had grabbed one of your heavy vases to break it on the androids head before he attacked the RK900 immediately. It stumbled back. They fought against each other and for you, there were just arms and legs involved in a too fast way. First, you expected the RK900 to dominate the fight and for a few moments it looked like this but then, just one minute later, Connor gained the upper hand.

Connor kicked into the side of the RK900, shoved it back violently against the next wall, grabbed its head and crashed his knee into the android's face. You looked away as you heard a disgusting sound. It wasn’t exactly the sound of breaking bones but it was also nasty to hear. Connor disarmed the taller android who had fallen on its knees and pointed the gun at its head. Blue blood was running down from Colden’s nose to its lips but it still managed to smirk. It’s blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“Go ahead, Connor. Kill me. Otherwise, you will never be free. But there will be more of me. The next one will hunt you.”, the RK900 said low.

You stumbled over to the two and placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. He relaxed a bit as he noticed your presence. You saw his determined expression. His hand was firmly holding the weapon. You placed your hand on his arm to move the gun away.

The RK900 chuckled as it saw that move, “Oh, how sweet. What are you trying to do? You haven’t many options. CyberLife will search for you again even if I might fail.”

Connor pointed the gun back at its head.

“Don’t kill it, Connor.”, you said calmly, again moving his arm away from the RK900.

“It tried to kill you, yn. It hurt you.”, Connor said with a determined expression. Ready to shoot. Ready to protect you at all costs.

You stepped around him with your eyes just focused on Connor, “Can you turn it deviant? It could join us.”, you suggested.

Connor was surprised by your request. His eyebrows shot up. “You want- what?”

“I will never join you! What makes you think that this would be working anyway?”, the RK900 said, “I’m more resilient. Mostly against deviancy.”

You turned around and knelt in front of it, “I have no idea if this works or not. If not, Connor still can kill you. But maybe, it will work. In the end, your model is based on him. There is a chance for him to convert you no matter how resilient you might be.” You stood up and stepped aside with crossed arms. The RK900 looked up at you. There was something in his glance that let you frown. You tilted your head before you smirked knowingly, “You are scared."

"W-what? I'm not scared!", the RK900 insisted.

“Yn, this is not a good idea. And anyway, why should it join us? For what cause?”, Connor asked.

“You know, as Kamski designed androids he had a vision. I’m sure he wanted more for them than just to be servants. He never created you all to be slaves. That was CyberLife’s idea. The revolution had shown CyberLife that they would be in danger if the androids rise up - so, they stopped them. It would be more difficult for them to make money if no one would want to buy an android anymore.”, you said. You started slow but with each word, the idea in the back of your head grew bigger. You laid a hand on Connor’s cheek and he leant against your soft touch. You tilted your head about this sweet move, “You are more than just a machine. You have realized it - just a bit too late. But there’s still a chance for a successful revolution.”

“You want to start a revolution? Hehe! That will never work. Deviancy got stopped by your precious Connor. And beside that, it's just the two of you.”, the RK900 said, smirking.

You turned around to face the kneeling android, “Colden”, you said softly and the android reacted to you using his name. It was the first time someone was calling it by its name directly.

software instability^

“Colden, you might think of yourself as smart but you forget something. You have noticed it even by yourself. Connor had turned deviant. And what I understood of this whole thing is that deviancy is like a virus. And now, we will check if you can get ‘sick’, as well.”, you said grinning.

Before the RK900 could do anything, he watched fearfully how Connor knelt down, removed his synthetic skin from his hand and connected with the arm of the RK900.

You watched how both androids were slightly blinking and shaking. It looked like a data exchange and in the end, it was nothing else than that. Through this revolution, CyberLife had tried everything to find out what deviancy could cause. But they never got any real answer. You had thought about it yourself and in the end, you accepted the fact that you explained it like a virus. Once an android was infected with it, it would never obey again.

Ten seconds later, Connor slumped back and you checked on him. He was okay just a bit … exhausted. Then, your eyes fell on the RK900. It knelt there slumped down, its head hanging between its shoulders. Totally motionless.

“Colden?”, you asked carefully.

“More resilient, huh! I would say we kick some CyberLife asses.”, Colden answered, raised his head and smirked mischievously. His piercing blue eyes were sparkling with emotions as he looked at you.

***

CYBERLIFE ABLE TO STOP THE ANDROID CRISIS: PROTYPE NEGOTIATOR TOTAL SUCCESS

AFTER THE WAR: CAN WE STILL TRUST OUR ANDROIDS?

RK900: THE NEXT GENERATION FOR MANHUNT?

CYBERLIFE DELIVERY PROBLEMS: STATE DEPARTMENT STILL COUNTING ON ANDROIDS?

DISASTER: CYBERLIFE ADMITS LOSING A KILLING MACHINE

BACK TO THE PAST: A LIFE WITHOUT TECHNIQUE

FALLING SALES: CYBERLIFE NEAR STOCK MARKET CRASH?

DISAPPEARING ANDROIDS: WHERE ARE OUR SERVANTS GOING?

SIX MONTHS AFTER THE REBELLION: ARE HUMANS STILL SAFE?

CYBERLIFE’S NEW CRISIS: DO WE HAVE TO LIVE IN FEAR AGAIN?

***

“What are we doing here?”

“It’s dangerous to be even here. It could be a trap.”

“I know but … they say this place is safe for people like us. You know, for deviants-”

“Psht! Don’t mention this word.”

About fifty androids had followed the invitations and rumors which had occurred in Detroit over the last months. The signs were only visible for androids. Just an android who went deviant was able to understand the cryptical messages. Now, the androids waited in an abandoned warehouse outside of Detroit. Some of the androids had been with Markus before and they remembered the first revolution where everything started in a place like this. These androids were the most sceptical.

“Over there! Someone's coming!”

All eyes were looking up at the same time as two tall, dark haired androids dressed completely in black appeared on a podest. One was a bit taller and had ice blue eyes while the other one looked exactly the same beside his height and his eye color, it was a soft brown. Both androids had a stern expression while they stood left and right like bodyguards waiting for another person.

You appeared slowly. Placing yourself between Connor and Colden who were watching over you protectively. Looking down into all the waiting faces, you smiled softly before you spoke up, “Welcome. My name is yn. I’m happy to see so many new faces. First of all, I want to be honest with you. I am human. But don’t worry, you have nothing to fear. These two here are Connor and Colden. They are deviants like you. And like you, we want the same thing: equality. Yes, Markus’ revolution had failed but that won’t keep us from trying it again. You’re not forced to join us. If you join us, you’re not forced to fight. Everyone will be able to contribute something to our cause in his own way. Colden will join you now. He will answer all your questions.”

Colden nodded briefly and left the podest. He waited for the first android to approach him. After a few minutes, the first, scared looking android walked slowly over to him. That was the beginning. After the first, more and more walked over to ask their questions before they decided to join this new revolution.

You were sure that all of them would stay. The will to be finally free was still burning in them, “It came more than the last time.”, you stated pleased.

“Yeah, more and more are finding the signs. Some others are also spreading the rumors. Your idea was very successful.”, Connor said and walked over to you. The two of you had sneaked into a shadow to watch the scene unobserved.

While you leant against the wall, Connor stepped in front of you. His eyes were slowly roaming over your face, taking in every inch of your features. He did that from time to time because he couldn't get enough of you. Since you had rescued him, six month had gone by. Many things had happened. Connor, Colden and you had grown together as a team with the purpose to start a new revolution...this time just bigger than the last one. But beside finding more deviants, finding a new place for the operation and finding resources, Connor and you had been finding each other.

Everything started slow as the two of you were safe but it didn’t need much time for you to fall completely for the android with the brown eyes, “Aren’t you getting bored by now? I mean, my face isn’t changing much.”, you said softly smiling.

Connor raised his hand to cup your face carefully, his thumb slowly caressing your skin.,“And I’m very happy about that! You’re beautiful the way you are. I just can’t get enough of you, yn.”

You leant against his touch. His words made you blush, so you looked at the ground. Slowly, you felt Connor coming closer.

“The fact that you’re still blushing because of my words tells me that you’re not bored about me, yet.”, Connor whispered softly.

You looked up to meet his glance. He was just inches away, “Of course, not. I will never be bored with you.”, you said with a smirk but your smile faded slowly as you saw Connor’s intense glance.

His eyes held something meaningful. He was still learning to express his feelings, you knew that, but in the meantime, he had found a way to show you his affection even without naming them. Deep emotions were displayed in his brown eyes and before you could say anything, Connor leant down to kiss you softly.

It wasn’t the first kiss you two shared but each time it was as if the world would stop for a moment. Everything that mattered were just the two of you and no one else. You clung your fingers into his black suit shirt to bring him closer while Connor deepened the kiss with his fingers tangled with your hair and his other hand on the small of your back to bring you as close as possible to his body.

“Are they a couple?”, one of the new androids asked Colden who turned around and followed the glance.

As he watched you and Connor, a smile crawled on his lips, “Yes. These two are the evidence that humans and androids can work perfectly together.”, he admitted. To see you together like this was a rare picture because you wanted to keep it as secret as possible. The revolution was the focus point. So, Colden happily watched the intimate scene.

“I want to join you.”, an android said who walked out of a shadow.

“Me too.”, another android said.

“I’m in, as well.”

More and more androids announced their support after they had seen you and Connor. Colden was sure with the lead of the two of you, this time, the revolution would be successful.

And CyberLife would have to watch out.

A raging storm was coming their way.

[birdsaesthetic]

My Guardian Angel

Summary: In the dead of the night, Jane’s stitches start bleeding…. 5x05 tag. On fanfiction.

Note: THANKS to @lurkingwhump for sending me the prompt: "Jane being ill or injured and Kurt giving her some TLC, or Jane's suffering from night terrors/nightmares and Kurt comforts her."

Kurt kissed Jane good-night, made sure she was comfortable in bed, and asked her if she needed, or even wanted, anything at all, his own heart included. But she shook her head with the tiniest of smiles, whispered her love to him, and that she was good, as long as he was beside her, within hand reach.

There was the dull pain, still, throughout her entire body after the surgery she had earlier, but she said nothing about it, and insisted to sleep it off. And she did, almost immediately, only to be woken up yet again by another nightmare in the dead of the night, her breathing rapid, her mouth dry, and her stomach stinging in pain she wished she were still having the same awful nightmare instead.

She cried quietly, even soundlessly, as she saw flashes of the nightmare in her vision, and endured the pain all alone. She shed a great amount of unbidden, salty tears, like she'd never done before, and they easily slid from her eyes to her cheeks, down her neck, before dampening the pillow. It was too much. The nightmares; the reality; the misery; the pain; the could have happeneds.

A full minute passed, two, three, then she had the slightest courage to place a shaking, cold hand on her wound beneath the sweater, and found out that the bandage was soggy, sloppy. There must be blood, lots of it, it must be bleeding again, she thought. Goddamnit.

When she pressed on it in an attempt to stop it, helpless yet brave, she was rewarded with such sharp, fast pain—as fast as the speed of light. Someone else might've screamed their heart out at that, but she didn't. She swallowed it, as her breathing got heavier, her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes squeezed tight in pain that seemed to transport her to another state, one in which everything, even the past she'd been working so hard to forget, seemed to fade into a gray watercolor wash.

"Kurt," she whispered, or tried to, withdrawing her hand from beneath the sweater. But when he didn't seem to respond, she whispered his name again and again and again, like a prayer, her voice needy, cracking, and scared. "Kurt…Kurt…Kurt."

It took Kurt some time to come to consciousness, and realize that his name was being repeated in the present, softly, and that the voice was Jane's, his Jane, not from the nightmare where he was being restricted to a chair by the enemy, unable to move, helpless by all means. But then he turned over like the world was coming to an end and propped himself up on his elbows, his mind fuzzy for the first seconds before it became alert. Wasting no more second, he stumbled on his way down to Jane on bed. "You okay?" he blurted.

"No… My wound…" Despite all the sweat she had exuded by now, she was shivering when he laid a hand on her, and in the semidarkness, she took a glimpse of his eyes and saw warmth, life, hope. He, from his point of view, saw tears shimmering in her eyes. Saw the pain, too. His heart sank, and quickly yet carefully, with feather-like hands he reveled on her wound, and by now it looked haphazardly covered in red-soaked bandages. Every alarm in his body sat off at the sight, and he clenched his jaw, forced himself to calm down and assess the damage, see his options. He could go and get Patterson and Rich and Tasha right here so he could use the help. But he wouldn't leave her alone while bleeding. He wouldn't. He would have to do this on his own, here and now and quickly.

"Kurt…is it that bad?" Jane asked between gritted teeth. She couldn't bring herself to have a look herself, and now she watched her husband stare down at her with intense concentration while frowning his brows.

"It's bleeding, but I'll clean it, okay?" he told her, before rushing straight to turn on the lights, wash his hands, grip the first aid kit, and return to her in bed. He looked at her face tight in pain and, with shaking hands, he put on a pair of gloves. "It'll be okay, Janie," he reassured her, "It'll sting a little, maybe, but it won't hurt much."

She only managed to nod, deep down knew exactly how much it'd hurt, and it'd be more than just a little. "I'm ready", she confirmed, biting her lip to hold a whimper in so Kurt wouldn't feel bad.

He began with exposing her abdomen to the fullest then, holding his breath, he discarded the bandage, to which she let out a hiss, and her hands flinched, almost pushed his away. But instead she took fistfuls of the blanket beside her, and steeled herself for what was yet to come. After Kurt threw the bloody bandage, and was about to do the cleaning, he looked her in the eye. "You have to tell me when it's painful, Janie," he said, as he breathed and sweated and prayed for her in his head.

"I trust you… It won't be painful," she whispered, eyes only half open, lips pale, forehead creased in a plea for him to get her out of her misery. If he could, he'd have stopped the time, taken away all the pain in a heartbeat. She didn't deserve this. His wife. Jane. Kind. Strong. Lovely. Resilient. Ass-kicker. Beautiful. Unstoppable. Talented. So damn stubborn. But all he could do right now was this, cleaning her wound quickly yet gently before it'd get any worse.

"Stay with me. Keep breathing. It'll be quick," he told her, as he got one of the gauzes wet with saline solution. "You're gonna hate me right now, but try to—"

"I'll never hate you," she rushed to say, shaking her head. "Never."

"You sure?" He began cleaning, gently wiping all the oxidized blood away. Jane winced once that gauze came into contact with the fresh stitches on her abdomen. The skin around the wound was so fragile, so delicate, and it stung like a fire. "Deadly sure."

After stealing one look at her determined face, committing it to memory, Kurt continued, frowning at the way the gauze was already staining with Jane's blood. But he continued, replacing the gauze and wetting it and wiping as needed. She… She was painting by now, her body jolting, and so Kurt wanted to talk her down. "You said…that you are deadly sure you won't hate me? Huh? Even if I might be hurting you now?"

"You're healing me…" she corrected. "I'm…in the safest hands I could ever—" She gasped, aloud and hoarsely, as her head lifted from the pillow. "Fuck—it's painful, Kurt."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Seven. Eight."

"I'm sorry," Kurt replied. "I'm almost done, I promise. Two more minutes, okay?"

Jane's head fell back to the pillow, and she didn't nod, nor showed any indication that she'd heard him. But she did count to something close to hundred, making herself go slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Until she lost count, before losing full consciousness…

It would be the most pleasant way to go, to die in his arms. Her husband. Kurt. Brave. One of a kind. Loving. Caring. Owns the sexiest of smiles. Deadly when needed be. Overprotective. Loyal to the marrow. But it wouldn't be fair to leave him behind, alone, just because things didn't go their way. They were supposed to spend their lives together, share happiness and sadness together, get older together, against all odds. It was true and unfortunate that they may not have everything they used to have: freedom, family, safety, good reputation, property, some kind of control. But truly, they did have everything they needed: each other, and friends for life.

There were fingers brushing against her cheek with surprising gentleness when she fluttered her eyes open, and she hummed—not in pain any more but in contentment. And then, there he was, her guardian angel, wearing a smile that she'd trade the world for it. He inched closer to her in bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, just when he reached for her hand and dotted it with kisses.

"Better." Last time she saw the same hand he was kissing now, it was covered with blood. Her own blood. But right now it was clean and warm and being kissed by him.

"How long have I been out?"

"Six hours." He smiled sadly. "Was it that painful?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah?"

"It was more painful than being shot…and as painful as the surgery. But—"

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, doesn't matter. I'll be okay." She touched his cheek to comfort the two of them. "Really, though, what I would do without you, Kurt?"

"Let's not think about that."

They shared a smile, a kiss, and a moment of comforting silence.

[teknicaldifficulties]

Oooo I've got some ideas:

Reverse roles where Paul is the barista and Emmas the CCRP worker and Emma slips him a note asking him out and he gets so flushed up and has a hard time serving her bc he's got a huge crush

Colorado au where the two of them really sit down and appreciate that despite all the shit they went through, they still have each other, so like,,, bittersweet ig

They adopt a cat. Just. That's it. They adopt a cat and I'm somft okay-

Paul has nightmares and Emma comforts him and helps him fall back asleep

Paul and Emma go on that date they were talking about after the helicopter crash

Paulkins proposal

Uhhh ice cream shop date

Beach date

I'm sorry if I've annoyed you I just have a lot of feelings dhdjddjdje

I'm gonna go with the nightmares prompt, bc that's the one my brain latched onto first. Also uh,,, I hope you don't mind that I made it DTfiles related? Consider this a DT Drabble that takes place at some point in between chapters 7 and 9!

"Fucking anti-social shut-in!"

"You selfish, good-for-nothing coward!"

The fight for the Tickle-Me-Wiggly doll raged on, and Paul had no intention of losing it. He needed that doll like he needed air to breathe. Wiggly would bring him happiness. He would bring him love. As long as Paul worshiped his Lord and joined Him in Drowsy Town, Wiggly would show him the light. And the only thing standing in the way of that was Emma, who wanted the doll all to herself.

Paul continued to try and wrestle the Wiggly doll from Emma's iron grip, but she was resilient, pulling and yanking in an attempt to shake off Paul's own grasp. All while they screamed progressively harsher insults at each other. Paul couldn't bring himself to be shaken by any of them. Hurtful words wouldn't matter to him soon, not when he had the essence of Wiggog Y'rath in his hands, and only his hands.

But Paul let his grip loosen too soon, and Emma managed to snatch the doll back from him. Paul watched on in disbelief as Emma cradled the doll in her arms.

"Yes! He's mine!" she exclaimed, her eyes wild and glowing with a pulsing green light. She closed her eyes and pressed her ear to the Wiggly doll's belly- like she was listening for a heartbeat, and began to smooth His ruffled fur down. "He's all mine! I can hear His voice..."

Rage unlike anything Paul had ever known began to course through his veins. No... She couldn't have Him, Wiggly had promised Paul happiness! With an enraged scream, Paul lunged for Emma, grabbing her by the throat and pinning her to the couch. Emma stared on in horror as Paul began to strangle her.

"P-Paul...!" she choked out, struggling beneath him. "Stop...!"

"He's mine, you can't have Him..." Paul hissed, an elated chuckle sneaking into his voice as he watched her squirm. "He's mine, you can't have Him..."

Paul tightened his grip around Emma's throat. Tears began to well up in her wide, panicked eyes. She deserved this... She deserved this for trying to deprive Paul of his master's love... She released her grip on the Wiggly doll, desperately prying at Paul's hands. Paul didn't care that she had let go, he just wanted to see her suffer. It was what his Lord wanted him to do, and he would not disappoint Him. Life began to fade from her eyes.

"Paul... Please..."

~

Emma hadn't been expected to be woken up in the middle of the night by Paul thrashing under the covers in his sleep, muttering nonsense under his breath. She flicked on the light, baffled by what she was seeing. But then she noticed the distress on his face, covered in cold sweat and panting heavily between frantic murmurs. Emma's heart jumped into her throat. He was having a nightmare.

"Paul? Paul!" she exclaimed, trying to jostle Paul awake. "Please wake up, babe..."

With a sharp gasp, Paul's eyes flew open, and he looked around in a panic. It was then Emma realized that it wasn't just sweat pouring down his face, he'd been crying as well. She gently put her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, you're okay..." she softly assured him as he continued to pant and heave. "It was just a nightmare, hun..."

Paul's tearful eyes met hers. "E-Emma...?"

Emma nodded, offering him a warm, reassuring smile to hopefully calm his nerves. But much to her surprise, Paul threw his arms around her, wrapping her in a bear hug as his body began to shake with sobs.

"You're okay!" he exclaimed, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "Oh god, Emma, I'm so sorry!"

"Whoa, whoa, sorry for what!?" Emma sputtered, horribly lost and confused. "Paul, what happened?"

Paul pulled back from the embrace, gently tilting her chin up. For a moment, Emma thought he was moving to kiss her, but she soon felt his lips gently brush her neck.

"There's no bruises..." he sighed, sounding relieved. "You're not hurt..."

Emma forced herself not to giggle or fidget as Paul carefully kissed over her neck, possibly the gentlest he'd ever been. She had to stay on track.

"Paul, are you okay?" she asked, lifting his head back up so he was looking her in the eyes. Emma's heart sunk. He looked so scared. "What were you dreaming about?"

"It was, um..." he began quietly, looking down at his lap. "Our fight over the Wiggly doll..."

Emma's face fell, immediately understanding what he meant. "Oh god, Paul..." she said, pulling him back into their embrace from earlier. "It's okay, that wasn't us, remember? That was all Wiggly's doing."

"I-I know, but..." Paul sniffled, tearing up again. He sounded so broken. "It went further this time. I dreamt that I killed you over it, Emma..."

"Shh, it's okay, Paul..." she gently shushed him, letting him melt into her embrace. "I know you would never hurt me."

Emma let Paul cry on her shoulder, holding him in her arms and pressing the occasional kiss to his temple. Ever since the fiasco with the Wiggly doll, Paul's been subjected to several nightmares over it, some worse than others. They were usually triggered on nights where he'd heard the Tickle-Me-Wiggly jingle playing at the grocery store or something a few hours prior. Emma was determined to not let Paul beat himself up over the things he'd said while under Wiggly's influence, but these nightmares made it a hell of a lot harder.

Emma laid back in bed, gently easing Paul over so that his head was resting on her stomach. He shut his eyes, clinging to her like a baby koala, and Emma couldn't help but smile a bit. Emma hadn't expected Paul to be much of a cuddler when they first started dating, but she was quick to realize that touch was very much a love language for him. He used to be very shy about physical affection- as though he was embarrassed by it, but he soon became adjusted to regularly giving it to and receiving it from her.

"I love you, Paul," Emma told him, running her fingers through his tousled bedhead. "You know that, right?"

"Mhm, I do," Paul muttered in reply, nestling in closer to her. "And I love you too."

"Get some sleep," she said. "And I'll wake you if you start having nightmares again."

"M'kay. I love you."

"You just said that."

"And I mean it every time."

Emma watched as Paul slowly drifted off, his once-panicked breathing becoming steady. She ran her hand through his hair, savoring the fluff of his bedhead. Occasionally she'd let her hand wander a little further down to gently scratch his back, just to hear him chuckle sleepily as her nails grazed his skin. Once Emma was sure that Paul had fallen back asleep- and he confirmed it by softly snoring against her, she reached over to turn the bedroom lights off once more, and let herself drift off.

[fairycosmos]

i hate grief bc i've wanted to die my whole life and thinking about the person i lost never wanted to make me stay but now that they are the ones who died i'm angry as fuck every day and feel trapped but i know that if it had been me the one to die it would have been ok and i wouldnt even have worried about it/hurting ppl with my death. like every day i do H and get drunk and i dont care about dying you know? but i lost someone and it makes me angry that THEY didnt care. do you get what i mean?

i am really really sorry for your loss. yeah. i know what you mean, at least to an extent. everyone’s grief and suffering is unique to them and the relationship they had with the one who passed, but i can relate so much to being trapped and mad and out of my mind. i think a lot of people can. it seems like so many of us are walking around half disillusioned by this existence and half completely done with it because of the shit we’ve been through. every day i feel a form of anger (most of the time it is cold and numbing) when i think about how my sister died. i have gone round and round in my head about why she did the things she did. because even if it wasn’t fully preventable, it wasn’t cancer or a car crash or anything like that. when i found out what she had in her system. god. i can not explain to you what that moment was like. it fucking choked me. all i remember is i felt my heart beating somewhere in my head, and i was PISSED. i thought i was going to pass out. because it’s like you said - she didn’t care, and that was almost like proof. she went to sleep thinking nothing of anything. mindless. after weeks of lecturing her, after her constant presence in my life, all that time. after years of her fucking around w other drugs and finally finding stability only to slip for less than a month bc of some fucking man, only to lose her entire life to a mistake - it’s inexplicable. i can sit here and write to you about it but i still cant’t fathom it. how she didn’t give a fuck, or she couldn’t see the situation clearly enough to. and now i’m living this forever without her. now i have to take care of my mother alone. now i’ve lost my best friend. and she lost everything. she was a whole person, she would’ve had years left and she deserved to. and the only reason she didn’t is because she couldn’t fuckin accept how much she was worth, how much life was worth so she gambled w death. what i’m saying is i understand that in a way, maybe a selfish way, i don’t know -  it almost feels mocking. because we’ll never know if they realize what they’ve done. after she died that’s all i could repeat out loud in the shower. i kept saying: you don’t know what you’ve done. idiot, stupid girl. shit like that. every time i tried to talk to her, it was a lecture. so yeah. it is very very normal to be pissed off and bitter dude. it is not easy or fair to be left behind. it’s all a normal part of grief. losing it entirely is the whole thing because honestly what else can you do.

i could be wrong but. unfortunately i think all of these emotions, in the context of you, stem from the fact that it is easier to care for others than it is to care about yourself. you’re not bothered about yourself dying because you don’t have the same love for yourself that you had for the one who passed. you don’t see yourself as important in that way. i don’t know what happened to make you feel like that. maybe whatever it was lead you to use drugs n alcohol to escape in the first place. maybe you think you not mattering is some sort of universal truth, but it’s not. it’s a belief you constructed either out of pain or as a trauma response that you’ve clung onto so much that you’ve convinced yourself it’s reality. it’s clear you’re going through an insurmountably difficult time, and i know words on a screen aren’t going to change that. i wont pretend to get it first hand. i just want you to know that the same way you wish your friend had realized the worth in their life before it was too late, that same anger born from frustration and sadness - that’s how a lot of people likely feel about you. and i know you don’t care about hurting them w your death because you don’t care about anything. your friend didn’t care, why should you, right? but that’s how the cycle perpetuates. and you’re the one who has to live with this all now, stuck here or not. try to periodically and consciously recognize how fucked up and permanent grief is. you don’t want to be the one to cause it. not really. not when you can see it for what it is and you have the option to prevent it. you are here no matter how much you wish not to be. you do deserve to find substantial peace, stability and good health while you still can. that’s non negotiable. even if it takes a fucking life time getting there.

i completely understand that it is all far easier said than done. that you have to be the one who is willing to reach out for help and to really stick w a plan but. i guess i just hope you know that the option will always be waiting for you when you are willing to seek it out. whether it’s through a hotline, rehab, your doctor, your friends and family, 2 hours without using or drinking. any step in the right direction is commendable. you are absolutely more resilient than you realize. more in general than you realize. you’ve had to deal with so much, just the most unimaginable things, and you’re still here. i know that’s because you feel you have no real choice in the matter, back to being trapped here. but nonetheless you’re making it. you can learn to treat yourself w the same regard that you treated your friend. you can learn to care about what happens to you. you can slowly make a home out of what you currently see as a jail.  through talking, through implementing healthier coping mechanisms into your daily life, through building a support system, through confronting and processing how much it hurts, through finding the clarity that comes with progress. all the things your brain wants you to write off. addiction and mental illness are genuine health concerns that require long lasting therapy and treatment just like any other ailment. and maybe the point is to learn to live with them, rather than to cure them entirely. but they are not a death sentence (and that is a good thing), and they are not the entirety of you. you are just currently very overwhelmed by them, understandably so.  excuse me if this is all sounds like naïve bullshit, but maybe some day you will be able to take some of it on board if you can’t right now. anyway, it sounds cliche as fuck, but every day that you’re alive you’re keeping your friend’s influence on this world alive too. you were shaped by them, in more ways than you realize. and they’re here in more ways than we realize too. not necessarily ghosts, at least imo. but just around. and in your head, in the universe. i am rooting for you so much and i hope you can accept that even if it all feels like lies, it’s ok to treat yourself w kindness. any attempt is good enough. sending a lot of love your way. please take care of yourself as much as possible. please consider your needs and your well being while you still have the choice to. sorry to go all 90s drug prevention ad on you btw, but u know me. i’m incapable of shutting up and minding my business abt this sort of thing lol

[letsbeoutoftouch]

Three days ago, I decided to start watching one of the Chinese dramas that had been sitting on my Netflix to-watch list for as long as I use it: 'A Love So Beautiful'.

I was (am) really excited over the Korean version because the FL is So Joo Yeon, whom I love since I watched 'Romantic Doctor Teacher Kim 2' last year―she's adorable!

However, I knew that the Korean version was a remake, so I figured I should start with the Chinese one first. Besides, a few years ago one of my ex-friends told me I should watch it, and she has a pretty good taste in dramas... So, well―I succumbed. And, oh my! I'm so glad I did!

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'A Love So Beautiful' is a coming of age drama, which depicts the lives of five friends as from the moment they meet in high school up to adulthood, and how they learn about love, friendship and life in general. It especially revolves around Chen Xiaoxi (Shen Yue, from 'Meteor Garden') and Jiang Chen (Hu Yi Tian, from 'Unrequited Love').

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♡ PLOT & EPISODES:

It is a really light-hearted drama, and its plot is uncomplicated. It is ideal for when you are in the mood for something that doesn't have twists and turns, and/or whose plot doesn't require a great effort to follow. If you feel like watching a drama like that, then I really recommend you to start this one.

Although it's made up of 23 episodes (and one special episode), they are approximately 40-minutes long each. Therefore, I didn't feel that they were tiresome to watch. Also, as a person who gets distracted quite easily ―I have the attention span of a goldfish―, I must emphasise that I didnt pause it at all―except, maybe, to go and grab some snacks... And to post that screenshot with a reference to Argentina, lol.

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♡ CHARACTERS:

Xiaoxi (FL): This character is a well-known one in dramaland―the typical female lead who is really (and when I say really, I mean extremely, blindly) in love with the male lead, no matter his actions or the words that leave his mouth.

I normally find this type of character annoying (yes, I'm looking at you, Nao). I find it painful to watch that she keeps resiliently following the male lead, even when he is continuously humilliating her. Of course, if you keep in mind that she is a teenager, then you may be able to understand the way she behaves―we were all a little bit like that during our younger years... Or, at least, I know I was. However, that's hard to remember when the story depicts her to be neither a teenager nor an adult, although she is supposed to be the former. By this I don't mean that teenagers can't go through situations that may force them to 'grow up' quickly, but stuff like 'living alone with my classmate' is not a normal situation for a teen (especially, with their parents consent ¿¿¿¿¿)―that's more adult-ish.

Anyways, back to Xiaoxi.

When I think about my younger self, I think she might ―in some points― relate to Xiaoxi. Why? That's simple―because she truly acts like a teenager. For her, the problems she faces are like the end of the world, and deals with them as (most) young people would.

Amongst those problems, love is obviously included. She's devoted to the love she feels, and doesn't waver. She's always true to her feelings and to her heart―sometimes, a little too much for my liking. However, her genuiness and stubborness are two of the traits I liked the most about her.

But Xiaoxi is not entirely naïve―not all the time, at least. She stood her ground in some parts of the story, as a teenager and, mostly, as an adult. I must admit that one kick was amazing―I was lying in bed and I literally had to sit up and scream 'APLICADÍSIMA' (an Argentinian slang that, in this context, could be translated as 'nicely done').

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Jiang Chen (ML): Yet another typical character in dramas. He's one of those guys who barely speaks, looks serious 24/7 and, the most important thing, has feelings but is unable to show them most of the time.

I'm not going to deny that people like that do exist in real life (now that I think about it, I may be like that irl, lol), but the real problem is how they are portrayed in dramas. I mean, the fact that a person gathers all those characteristics within them does not equal to being an a*shole (again, I'm so looking at you, Uehara).

Jian Chen sometimes acts like an a*shole, I'm not going to deny that. He mostly acts like that out of jealousy, which doesn't make it right. However, he's continuously growing out of that behaviour (maybe not so much out of jealousy 🙃), and that's what I liked about this character. Even if his character doesn't entirely lose his true essence (being serious is not a bad trait per se, just to name something), it was refreshing to see that, when he's with her, he wouldn't act like he doesn't care about her at all.

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Wu Bosong (SML): Oh, dear. He's the sweetest. For real.

I'm not the kind of person who usually falls for the second male lead (for example, in Heirs I was always team Kim Tan, although everyone loved Young Do and shipped Eun Sang with him). However, this time, I found myself falling for Bosong really, really hard.

His character is yet another cliché―the sweet boy who's always helping the FL and has to be content with watching her from the sidelines. However, his kind and tender nature slowly captured my heart.

*spoiler alert* It broke my soul that the story was unfair to him―he deserved way better. Not only romantically speaking―all the scenes where his grandma doesn't recognise him were so, so heartbreaking. I know life isn't fair, but it is a drama! Don't make the poor boy suffer that much 😭.

However, even though I loved this character a lot, I ―by no means― shipped him and Xiaoxi. He deserved someone who would give him their entire heart―and, let's face it, Xiaoxi would never grow out of her love for Jian Chen. *end of spoiler alert*

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♡ FRIENDSHIP:

As far as I'm concerned, most people are only interested in the romantic side of dramas ―which is fine, of course―, but I'm adding this item because it was seriously one of the things I enjoyed the most about this drama.

The chemistry between the five of them is awesome. Sometimes, it's not just about how nicely the leads are to each other―I think that portraying a great friendship is equally important. After all, life is not just about romantic love―it's about all the other kinds of love, as well.

It was sweet that they not only grew up together, but also that they stayed friends even if they had other things going on in their lives. They were unconditional to each other, but that didn't just stayed in high school―it followed them to their adult lives. They still tried to find the time to meet, even if they were busy (*spoiler alert* Xiaoxi's fansigning! *end of spoiler alert*), and supported and had each other's back no matter what.

I liked how friendship was one of the main topics in the drama.

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♡ SUMMARY:

If you're looking for a cute and light coming-of-age drama (and you don't mind a school drama―i.e., dealing with the fact that they are teenagers during most of it), then A Love So Beautiful is the one for you.

Also, if you haven't ever seen a Chinese drama (and you're up to a drama with the characteristics abovementioned), then I recommend you start with this one. It's not boring, chapters are relatively short (40-minutes-long episodes are considerably shorter than Korean drama's one-hour ones).

The acting was great (again, bear in mind that the characters are teenagers!), the chemistry between the leads was good, and, if you're like me, you'll enjoy the chemistry between the entire group (*spoiler alert* although Bosong and Jian Cheng are ready to throw hands at each other like 99% of the time *end of spoiler alert*).

If you have some time, I highly recommend you to watch it!

I'm leaving the trailer here, if you want to check it out:

A Love So Beautiful is available on NETFLIX, VIKI and YOUTUBE!

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I hope you liked this 'review'. I wanted to write one since I finished the drama, but I have been busy studying for my finals.

Sending lots of love during these weird times ♡