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ranhaitanisgf · 3 years ago

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❝ three answers ❞ jyugo

[𖤐] it's 4am rn what did i just write....sorry about that LMAO if you want someone to blame blame sammy their the one who started all this. its all her fault. blame. them. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this all the same, for my nonexistent nanbaka fans <333

[𖤐] this does contain a mention or a pretty major manga spoiler, so read with caution!!

❧ masterlist

jyugo has never been one to want anything; it’s a fact that deep down, he’s always known. it was never something that bothered him too much, (maybe because he never wanted to think about it) and so he never really took the time to ask himself, ‘what do i want?’.

he answered this question for the first time when he almost lost everything he didn’t even know he wanted.

even when it was all dangling right in front of his face, even when he was about to lose the one thing he had wanted, his thoughts were still jumbled with confused thoughts and questions that didn’t clear up until he saw his chance walking away. his chance. a chance. i want…

“please!! give me a chance!!”

“...took you long enough…”

in that moment, when his number plate clanked against the stone floor, he suddenly knew how it felt to have the most important thing to oneself be almost taken away. in that moment, when he was given a chance, he swore that he would never let it happen again; that he would never let anything important to him be in danger, he never wants to lose the people close to him. he doesn’t want to be the monster that he was in the past, so he’s decided that he’ll do everything he can to protect the people he could never stand to lose.

the second time he answered this question is when he fell in love.

this feeling makes him feel like every other emotion he’s ever felt was fake; they all paled in comparison to this sensation. he still isn’t able to decide whether it’s a good or a bad thing, hell, he doesn’t even know what he should do with this feeling in the first place, (should he tell you? how does he handle it? it’s times like these when he wishes he knew his parents.).

he has never needed anything so badly that he would be willing to do anything to have it, that he would reach out for it so desperately that he forgets everything around him. he never thought that he would be able to experience such a vivid emotion such as this, and now that he’s feeling it, it almost feels like an amazing ride that he never wants to get off of.

i mean, how could he not fall in love with you? everything about you was just...amazing, (he wishes that there was a better word to describe you, but he doesn’t think there’s any words he knows that would be enough to do so). you had the kindest soul he had ever seen, always there for others and putting other people’s needs above your own, (he thinks you should worry more about yourself). he admired everything about you, and yet, what was holding him back? why would he avoid your gaze whenever you would glance over at him?

you can’t have them, you know that. you’re a monster.

oh, that’s right.

he almost forgot about it for a moment there, but how could he? the little voice in the back of his head was there to help him remember it; that little voice that sounded exactly like him, (he said that he would be able to control the elf inside him, but this was the sacrifice he made to have that control in the first place).

“hey, jyugo, is everything alright?”

“h-huh?”

“oh, sorry! you just seemed kind of down, like something’s weighing down on your mind...you probably wouldn’t want to, but you can always talk to me if you need anything, alright?”

just like that, you had saved him yet again, and you didn’t even know it. each time he was drowning in his own thoughts, you would pull him back out with just a few simple words. he would cling to them every time, holding onto them with such a grip that he didn’t even know was possible; you were truly something else, and he was forever grateful for it.

when he had finally managed to confess his feelings for you, (it was by accident, and it was caused by uno, nico, & rock) his world was turned upside down. he had surely thought that there was no way you could would like him back, there was no way somebody like you could love somebody like him, and yet, the words coming out of your mouth seemed to say something different.

“I-i really like you too jyugo!”

for a while, everything was perfect. now, he had everything he could ever want, and there was nothing that could take this away from him. sure, there was still the occasional incident, but as long as you were near, surely nothing would happen, right?

he’ll be able to grow up and go to an ice cream parlor with you and experience all the wonderful things in life with you, and he’s giving you a promise ring for now, but he swears that one day he’ll take you to a pretty spot with cherry blossoms and he’ll get down on one knee and ask you to marry him, and then the two of you would get married and you would yell at rock for trying to eat the cake before he was supposed to, and then he would take you to go do everything you’ve ever wanted to do and the two of you would buy a house and you would yell at him for trying to paint the walls himself, and it would all be perfect. for now though, he was going to savor every single moment with you; every late night that he spent having whispered conversations with you, every smile that you would flash his way, every time you would lace your fingers with his, he was going to have it for the rest of his life.

oh, how stupid he was to think that it could last forever.

he’s been left alone more times that he can count, so why was he so surprised when it happened again? maybe it was because it was his fault, or maybe it was because you didn’t want to leave him, you didn’t want to go just yet. maybe it was because you were slowly dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

“h-hey, stay with me, (y/n)! you can’t go yet, i-i have so much to tell you!!” he hurriedly pulled you into his arms, his eyes frantically looking over your body, only to find the color red slowly seeping through your shirt.

“you shouldn’t...cry, i think you look prettier when you’re smiling.” how could he smile in a situation like this?!

“w-we’re going to take you to okina-sensei, and he’s going to-”

“no, he’s not. jyugo, you have to keep going, alright?” don’t say that, it’s like you’re saying you’re gonna...

“stop talking like that, y-you’re not going to…”

“there’s...so much you can do with what you have...you’re special that way, so don’t go thinking that you need me to do what...i know you’ve always been able to do.” i need you though…!

“(y/n), p-please-!” no, stop looking at him with that smile on your face.

“ever since i saw you...i knew that you were different...thank you for letting me partake in a dream...even if it was for just a little bit…” stop talking like that, you’re not going to die.

“s-someone get okina!!!” you’re going to survive this; you have to.

“jyugo...hehe, are you going to...keep your promise…?”

“what? (y/n) please…”

“you said that you...were going to marry me, right?” please don’t do this to me.

“(y/n), w-will you marry me?”

“of course...i’ll marry you jyugo. hehe, i’m so happy right now...” even with the tears sliding down the side of your face, you were gently smiling up at him, almost like you hadn’t been coughing up blood just a moment ago.

“we’re gonna get married soon, and, and we’ll have a nice wedding and…”

“i know…” your hand shakily reached up to cup his cheek, the metal of the promise ring he had given you cool on his skin. he leaned into your touch, the tears in his eyes falling rapidly down his cheeks and over your hand. there was no way this was happening, not now, not to you...

“please don’t cry...can you please smile, one more time…?” it took everything in him, but because it was you asking, he was somehow able to turn the corners of his lips up just a bit, giving you a small smile despite the flood of tears pouring from his eyes. your gentle touch against his skin brushed his bangs from his eyes, a fond look in your eyes that were also flooded with tears.

“i’m so...happy right now...thank you for everything, jyugo, i love you...so...much…” the panic that was set aflame in his heart when he felt your hand drop from his cheek and when he saw your eyes flutter closed was akin to nothing that he’s ever felt before.

“(y/n)...? (y/n)!! don’t close your eyes, please wake up!! t-there’s so much i have to tell you, you can’t go yet! p-please…!”

why was it that everytime he found something that made him happy, it would get snatched away from him? was it these shackles? was that the reason why? if only he could have rid himself of this curse, then maybe he would finally be normal, maybe he would have been able to marry you.

the third time he answered this question, it was when he lost everything, and it was the final time he answered it.

nothing.

howd i do 😃

#˗ˏˋ𖤐 nanbaka ˎˊ˗#nanbaka #nanbaka x reader #nnbk #nnbk x reader #nanbaka the numbers #jyugo #jyugo x reader #jyugo nanbaka x reader #nanbaka jyugo x reader #angst #jyugo angst #anime #manga #x reader #reader #reader insert

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apocxlypticangel · 4 years ago

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sated (bucky barnes)

Prompt: Bucky helps you wind down after a tough day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Spoilers:None

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, mentions of unsatisfactory masturbation, hint of degradation, mention of muscle relaxer.(just shameless smut definitely not based off of real life frustrations)

Authors note: First time writing something like this, kinda nervous. Please leave your thoughts and positive feedback/criticism. Thank you, lovelies!

18+ puh-lease! thank you! :)

After about an hour of unsuccessful attempts to ease your stress, the clock now read 4:00am. Throwing your head back, you sighed. Fuck me. “Ha, that would be nice.” you snort, quickly throwing on a t-shirt and panties before leaving your room to find your way to the compound kitchen in the dark. You needed water and a muscle relaxer, anything to ease the tension in your neck and the pain in your head. It had been a stressful day... or week. Or month.

Once you reached the kitchen you flicked the light on, making quick and noisy work of getting your glass and filling it with water. You thought nothing of it, its 4am and the compound is like a damn castle. You looked over the counter into the living room, debating on whether or not to find something on TV to drown out your desperation, but quickly find a pair of sleepy blue eyes staring directly at you from the couch. Of course it was Bucky fucking Barnes. Suddenly you were very aware of your minuscule attire.

“Could you be any louder, doll? I wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet.” He grumbled out, raising one eyebrow at you and tracing your body with his eyes. Your surely disheveled hair, dry lips and eye bags probably weren’t helping your situation. “I could be louder actually. Maybe you should sleep in your room, Barnes?” You accidentally snapped and then sighed. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. That was rude of me.” His slightly annoyed expression quickly turned into a frown while he stared at your exhausted form. “What’s wrong, doll? Can I help with anything?” His eyes softened when you slumped down at his questions. Of course you could help. You could come fuck me. Before you realized you had even said it under your breathe Bucky’s eyes narrowed. You slapped your hand over your mouth, mentally cursing yourself for being so stupid.

“So that’s what’s wrong?” He hesitantly inquired. You were now pinching your nose between your pointer finger and thumb. “You know, maybe I’ve had a rough day and maybe all I wanted to do was fucking orgasm, but that’s not really any of your business..” You heard a faint chuckle, shuffling and then feet padding across the floor before they stopped in front of you, “It is when you ask me to fuck you, sweetheart” You could just hear the smugness dripping from his voice, but it dissipated as soon as the pet name came out.

Tiredly, you drug your eyes up to meet Bucky’s and sighed. After today, your brain was fried and you could have been defeated by Groot at this moment. “Do you want me to help you?” he offered quietly, eyes flitting away from yours for a millisecond. You stood there, looking at the boy- no, the man in front of you. It was only now you noticed he was shirtless with a pair of sweats hanging low on his hips. His abs carved perfectly along with the v-shape that disappeared into his pants. This man was built like a fucking Greek God.

“I-... I don’t-“ You stumbled over your words, cheeks flushing. “All you have to do is ask, doll. Tell me what you need from me.” His reply came soft with a warm smile creeping onto his face.

“I-um... yes, uh, please. I need it so bad” Your words came out jumbled as you tugged the hem of your t-shirt.

Bucky took your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, tilting your head to look him in the eyes. He let his lips graze yours for a few seconds before he connected his lips with yours softly. It wasn’t a needy kiss, he was feeling you out and you had nothing left to do but just take what his soft mouth gave you.

He walked you back and pressed you up against the kitchen counter, his hands made their way down your sides to your thighs and he caressed them. He slowly removed his lips from yours to kiss down your chin, around and down your jaw line to your neck where he nipped at the flesh just below your ear, his tongue quickly slipping out and licking over the place he surely left a mark.

You let out a sigh at the feel of his contrasting hands. His right is soft and warm while his left is firm and cold, the feel of his teeth and tongue on your neck adding to the sensitivity of your skin and the heat pooling between your thighs. “Bucky, bedroom please. We can’t do it out here.” He let out a small laugh against your neck and gripped your thighs to pull them up around his waist. Your breath hitched in your throat as you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. He walked to the elevator to take it up to his floor.

When he reached his room he hurriedly opened the door, moving you into just one of his arms, making your core rub against his covered cock. You let out a quiet moan and circled your hips against him; trying to gain any friction you could. He let out a deep hum and laid you on your back on his bed. He caught your lips in a hungry kiss and grabbed a fist of your hair to pull your head back. He licked up the column of your neck before grabbing the bottom of your shirt and pulling it over and off your body, discarding it to the floor somewhere.

Your cheeks flushed when he pulled his head back to stare at your breasts for a split second before he dipped his head and licked one of your nipples. You let out a sharp breath when he took your sensitive bud into his mouth and brought his cold, metal hand up to toy with your other nipple. He followed his first sharp suck with a light bite to your nipple, causing you to arch your back and let out a soft moan. You tangled your fingers into his dark hair and pulled ever so lightly, forcing a grunt from his mouth.

He flashed his eyes up to your face, a devilish smile dancing on his lips before he began kissing down your torso, down your abdomen to reach just above the top of your panties. He licked from the band of your soaked panties to your bellybutton before placing a wet kiss to your clothed clit. You bucked your hips against his mouth involuntarily. He pulled down your panties and tossed them beside your now exposed form.

You whimpered at the vulnerability of your state. Completely naked and soaked for the super soldier. He tugged your legs apart to take in the sight of your dripping cunt and smiled. “Look at you. Absolutely fucking soaked for me, sweetheart.” He placed small kisses to your inner thighs but never quite made it to where you needed him the most. “Bucky, please. Please just do something, anything.” You pleaded as you locked eyes with him. You could barely see the blue around his dark pupils that were blown with lust.

He brought two fingers up and spread your lips to lick up your slit to your bundle of nerves, drawing a wanton moan from your open mouth. He winked at you and lapped at your wet cunt. He gripped your legs so you couldn’t close them whilst he slid his tongue into your tight hole, thrusting it in and out before coming up to suck your clit into his mouth.

“Fuck, Bucky. Don’t stop” You choked out, gripping his sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. You could feel the coil in your stomach wrapping itself tighter and tighter. You were almost there. “Almost-almost, Bucky, please!” At that he let go of one of your thighs and slipped a finger into your tight core. You let out a breathy moan and ground your hips into his finger, needing more. He caught on and slipped a second finger in, thrusting and curling them until he found your g-spot; hitting it the first time and you couldn’t help but moan rather loudly, which prompted Bucky to find your panties with his other hand and shove them into your mouth.

You bit down on the fabric inside of your mouth as the thrusted his finger one last time and gave your clit a not so soft bite, tearing your orgasm from you. He watched your face intently, how your eyes shut and brows furrowed. He felt you clamp down around his fingers and go stiff in his hold as he finger fucked you right through your perfect, much needed orgasm.

Once he was sure you had ridden your high completely, he removed his fingers and sucked them clean while moving back up your body. You tore your panties from your mouth and grabbed the back of his neck to bring him down for a sloppy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself. He pulled away and looked at you through hooded eyes, “Think you can cum one more time, princess? Wanna cum on my fat cock, huh?” He cooed and you could only moan out in response, grabbing the top of his sweats and pulling them down, urging Bucky to take them completely off.

He was sat on his knees in front of you when you finally got a look at his cock. It was long and thick and your mouth suddenly went dry at the sight of him. You wanted it in you so bad that you grabbed his shoulders and drug him down onto your body, locking your legs around his waist. He chuckled, “Needy little thing aren’t you? So desperate to take my cock”

You didn’t even have time to think about answering him before he slid his red, leaking tip through your wet folds before pressing into your core inch by inch. You clenched around his length as he slid into you and moaned. He was only a little ways in but he filled you so perfectly. The stretch was perfect, the way it stung and split you open felt amazing.

He pushed himself the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt he left out a moan. “Fuck your little pussy takes me so well, sweetheart. So wet and tight just for me.”

You laced your fingers through his hair as he dragged himself out slowly, leaving just his head inside and then pushing himself back in at an agonizing speed. “Buck, please. No teasing. Need to be fucked, please.” You whined out and pressed the heels of your feet into his ass, urging him to move. He buried his face into your neck and complied, beginning to snap his hips up into yours at a vigorous pace.

Moans fell from your mouth as he fucked into you. Your eyes were screwed shut, trying to meet his thrusts with your hips but ultimately failing. He grabbed one of your ankles and slipped your leg up and over his shoulder, angling himself perfectly to hit your sweet spot.

You cried out, his name falling from your lips as you came closer and closer to the edge, the coil from only moments ago wound tighter than before. Bucky was grunting and panting, “Won’t you play with your pretty clit, baby? Gonna cum soon, but can’t until you do again.” You immediately obeyed, sliding your hand between the two of you and rubbing tight and fast circles onto your throbbing clit.

Bucky’s pace became frantic and impossibly harder as your pussy fluttered around him. He thrusted up into you and hit your g-spot roughly, snapping the coil in your belly.

“Shit, Bucky! Oh fuckfuckfuck yes!” He fucked you through your second orgasm, hips stuttering and grunts of your name falling from his lips. One last hard thrust and he was stilling deep inside you, spilling his seed. You moaned at the feeling, clenching and milking him for all he was worth.

Both of you stayed in that position, Bucky’s limp body on top of yours. He picked his head up and placed a kiss to your cheek before pulling out slowly and getting off the bed. You watched him walk into his connected bathroom and heard running water. He returned with a wash cloth and cleaned you up, throwing it back into his bathroom and collapsing beside you.

“Feeling better now that I fucked your brains out, Doll?” He turned his head and smiled at you.

“Didn’t know old men like you knew how to do that kinda stuff to a woman.” You quipped and turned on your side, laying your head on his chest and smoothing your palm against his toned abdomen.

He rolled his eyes playfully and wrapped his arms around you. “Go to sleep, before I put something else in that mouth besides your panties.”

You hummed thoughtfully, but decided you were too tired to argue. “Okay, thank you. Goodnight.”

“Anytime, dollface. Goodnight”

#bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #james barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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anobscurename · 4 years ago

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ocean eyes – chris evans

PART I

concept: this is a collection of happenings, the little moments with him, rather than a whole thought-out fic. the slowest of slow burns. this is the second part, the reunion. this is what happens when the night is over.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 2,618

warnings: none, except a little profanity

author’s note: part two is here! i hope you like it :)

The second time you met Chris, was while you were at work. You were a cocktail waitress at a relatively posh, incredibly elite, uptown bar. The kind that charges you way too much for a drink so little, and probably sells diamond infused vodka. This was the night spot of everyone who was anyone – gods that sipped golden champagne from fine, polished Baccarat flutes that were probably worth your house.

You had no problem with rich people. You just had a problem with the way some treated you – and that was to say, not very well.

“Hey.” A male voice startled you out of your near robotic drink making. They were a bit understaffed that night, so you had taken the liberty of helping out behind the bar while the tables in your section remained vacant. You were somewhat of an expert cocktail maker – you could even safely say you could do it blindfolded (an exceptionally wild bachelor’s party provided proof enough). So it wasn’t uncommon for your mind to drift elsewhere while you mixed a drink. You tilted your head slightly in the direction of your co-worker, letting him know you were listening, while still pretending to be way more immersed in your task than you really were. It was that anti-social kind of night, where you’d rather be curled up at home with Netflix and a mug of tea rather than be there (despite being fully aware of how many girls would kill to have entry to the most exclusive club in Los Angeles). But the pay was good – excellent, actually – and you did get some really nice patrons at times. And your co-workers? They weren’t half bad, either. “There’s a table that just sat down in your station.”

You swore under your breath, finished mixing the drink with a sped efficiency, and handed it off to the patron. “Your station” was the VIP section, and was rarely very busy so early in the evening. You knew club routine well enough by now: pre-drinks before the party were often done at home, in the limos, or in a relatively tame bar somewhere nearby. This was for the pleasantries, the catching up, the conversations that would inevitably be drowned out by the pounding music if done anywhere else. That usually occurred around this time. This club – and many like it – the kind that was where everyone who was anyone had to be seen at – was the second phase. The party phase. The phase where most of the time, drama, and scandal, took place. This was often from 10pm till 4am, depending on the stamina of the party goers. And then the wind down: after parties, often held at someone’s house. This was the natural order of the night world, and you respected people who respected that. You modelled your entire schedule around that.

That’s why you had assumed that your station would’ve been empty until much later – until after pre-drinks and conversations. Whoever just sat down in VIP – they were disturbing the natural fucking order, and you were not having it. Well, you were silently not having it; you still needed, like, money.

Your job didn’t come without it’s perks, though. A murder of stunning people were sat on the plush leather couches surrounding black marble topped tables behind the velvet chain that separated them from the masses. Some you recognised instantly from the big screen, and others from the tabloids. And one from a personal encounter… Your breath caught and you damn near choked.

There he was, reclined on the couch, so at ease with his arms spread over the back, grinning and laughing at something someone had said. He wasn’t looking at you. Yet. That changed abruptly, as soon as you (after having gathered your confidence) introduced yourself to them.

He faltered slightly in his laugh, but his grin remained – growing even wider, as slowly, he tilted his head to look over at you.

Immediately his eyes brightened. If there was any doubt in your mind as to whether or not it was really him, it dissipated with that single nod of recognition he gave you.

You cleared your throat as a small diversion to clear your head. “Are you ready to order?”

They rattled off their orders, almost all of them barely paying any attention to your silent exchange with Chris. Almost.

A (begrudgingly) stunning female on Chris left, who was pressed eagerly into his side, gave you a dirty once over and sneered out her order to you. Oh. She was one of those. The ones who looked down at literally anyone not a billionaire.

He noticed her disdain, and his grin fell. A small victory, he revoked his arm from around her – bemused by her display of deluded superiority. You had to physically hide your smirk as you got the last order – his – and slipped behind the bar with the orders engraved in your mind.

——————

The group departed after about two hours. Two hours of eyeing the table (mainly to check if their glasses were still full, or if they needed anything else – or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself), two hours of stolen glances – ones that you were always the first to pull away from, usually after the inevitable smirk that touched his lips when you looked for a bit longer than you should.

When they left, you cleaned the table. Who was he? He seemed to have friends in high places, but there was something else… You knew, when you first met him, that you knew his face. Ugh, that itch was back – the one in the brain where you know you know something but it’s evading your every grasp – and it was refusing to go away. Like an earworm of a melody, lyrics forgotten.

It plagued you for the remainder of your shift – which wasn’t necessarily long, just an hour or so more – and even as you got ready to go home.

It was approaching peak hours now, and so you knew the front would be bustling with paps and desperate social climbers begging for entrance from the surly bouncers, who stood as monoliths in churning seas. Because with peak hours, came the rich and famous; socialites, actors, singers, designers, models. And with them, the gods of the nightlife, came the screaming hordes.

God, you were dramatic. You smirked to yourself, at the internal monologue you were maintaining, as you punched in the code to slip out the back. Anything to keep a scrap of sanity in these long nights. So wrapped up in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice him following you until he laid a scopic hand on your shoulder.

You whirled, shoving him against a wall, knee approaching dangerously close to his crotch before you mercifully faltered at the familiar face.

“Chris?!” You were breathless with exhilaration, adrenaline thick in your veins at having been caught off guard. You released him, stepping away to run your hand through your hair to brush it away from your face. “What are you doing, hiding in a back alley, trying to catch unsuspecting girls off guard?!”

He chuckled at your scolding tone, at the way you pressed a hand to your beating heart, over the top dramatism at play in your actions. “Trying to catch an unsuspecting girl off guard. Obviously.”

You realised then how strange it was for him to still be here; his party departed at least an hour and a half ago. “Did you wait out here for me?”

“Can you promise not to kick me in the balls if I said yes?”

You laughed as he cautiously eyed your legs at his sentiment. “So, what, you’re following me now?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m not the one who waited an hour for someone, out in a back alley, in the freezing cold.” To punctuate your point, a cold blast of wind ripped through the alleyway, worming its way under your coat to stroke at your skin with cold tendrils. You shivered, crossing your arms to preserve the warmth. “You’re not an axe murderer, are you?”

He patted down his pockets. “Ah, shit. Must’ve left my axe at home.” His tone was dead serious, but at your roll of the eyes, he grinned.

You buried your hands in your pocket to stave off the chill. Weirdly enough, after the initial shock, you were glad to have someone with you to walk with you to your car, parked three blocks away to make room for the patrons’ stretch limousines. You inclined your head in the direction of your vehicle, nodding for him to walk with you.

He smiled softly, following you out of the dim lighting of the alleyway, into the lights of the main road. The clamour outside of the club was a roar, the leering of the paps at the celebrities who entered becoming a jumble of white noise.

You noticed how, as soon as you both approached the light, he ducked his head and upturned the collar of his jacket, avoiding the peoples’ attentative eye. You both pushed by relatively unnoticed, and you only spoke again when the bellowing crowd was a distant memory.

“So, who are you?”

The question took him by surprise. The action of lighting the cigarette he had propped between his lips stuttered, and he gave you an apprehensive look. He struck the match he had poised in his hand, looking down to watch where the flame licked. “You know who I am.”

“You just sat where Justin Bieber sat. I served drinks to the Kardashians on that couch. Only the VIPs of VIPs sit there. So, are you famous or something?”

Shaking the match out, he took a drag – prolonging his answer as long as he possibly could. He deliberated you, wondering what your reaction would be. Would you treat him differently, now? “Or something.”

You eyed him up, skeptical, before breaking into a massive grin. “Cool,” you said non-chalantly. Or at least in your head. What you really said was: “I fucking knew I wasn’t losing my mind! I fucking knew it, Mr I-Just-Have-One-Of-Those-Faces. Oh my God, I’m not crazy, fuck yes!”

The look he gave you negated that entirely, because indeed, he was looking at you as if you were a mad woman, in spite of the amused twist of his lips. “Are you done?”

After a moment of appraising him, you nodded, calm again. “Yeah, I’m done.”

You were less excited that you were in the presence of celebrity royalty, more relieved that you weren’t insane for feeling he was so familiar. That was refreshing for Chris; usually after someone discovered his identity, they would treat him differently – sidling up to him, for a favour or money or status or cloning DNA. Or for workout tips, but he got that regularly. Barring the brief moment of unhinged happiness you displayed, you treated him as you did before. Like when he stole your cab.

“Andy Barber!” You had started walking again, him alongside you, in a pleasant silence. Your outburst caused both of you to pause again. “Ransom Drysdale? Steve Rogers…”

He arched a brow in question, taking a pensive drag from his cigarette. “Are you having a stroke?”

“That’s where I recognise you from.” Mumbling to yourself, you muttered “God, I knew I wasn’t crazy.”

He chuckled, flicking the ash off his cigarette, both of you continuing on in a comfortable silence.

“So, what did I do to deserve the chance at having you escort me to my car?”

He stomped out the cigarette, smoke curling from his lips as he tried to find the best way to word his question. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh, you can proposition my fist to your face,” you chuckled in disbelief. “Just because you’re all high and mighty and famous doesn’t mean that every girl you meet is going to throw themselves at your feet even if you did buy me pizza and you’re all smug and handsome and have impeccable dress sense like, seriously, what is that? Armani? What? Why are you laughing at me?”

He had started laughing sometime during your rant and the sound, contagious and warm, had caused you to falter. You fought a smile that was threatening to rise. You were trying to make a point, goddamnit, and you would be damned if he was going to ruin it with his smug, handsome face.

“A business proposition, {your name},” he managed to say among the peels of laughter. “But please, do go on my impeccable dress sense.”

You were mortified. You probably sounded proper arrogant, thinking that he wanted to get in your pants. You groaned, hiding your face in your hands for a moment to conceal the fast rising heated flush of embarrassment. Conceal, don’t feel. Don’t let him know. Thanks, Elsa.

“What, uh,” you cleared your throat, turning away to continue your stalling trek (and to avoid his gaze). “What business proposition?”

“Do you like dogs?”

You ignored how laugh-drunk his voice sounded – gravelly and lilted with amusement. It just served to feed your embarrassment further. “Love them. Why?”

Now it was his turn to clear his throat. “I recently, uh, split up with my girlfriend and I’m heading to Vancouver for a few months for a film. She was meant to help look after Dodger and the house while I was gone, but, given the recent change in plans, that would appear to no longer be an option.”

He avoided your gaze as you glanced over at him, but you could see the throb of the muscle in his jaw, indicating the grit of his teeth.

“And you have deemed me worthy?” You tried lightening the mood a little, and was satisfied by his small smile and accompanying chuckle.

“I know it’s too much to ask of a stranger–”

“Why don’t you get a friend to do it?”

“I would, if any were deemed worthy,” he teased. Warmth swelled in his eyes when he looked at you next, and paired with that smile and the words he spoke next, you knew you would do anything he asked. “And I am asking a friend.”

A beat passed. “Fine. I’ll live in your stupid mansion and look after your stupid dog. Okay, I didn’t mean that last bit, I’m sure Dodger is lovely, but I’ll have you know: I don’t come cheap.”

“What, living in my mansion isn’t good enough?”

“Fuck no! I still need to feed the dog, clean up after it, clean the house, have money on hand for damages in case I get too wild by myself… There’s a long, fucking list.”

“I’m sure we can make an arrangement,” he smirked.

You shivered slightly at the double entendres laced in his words; good thing it was cold, so you could easily excuse it.

“What makes you think I’ll say yes?” You tip your head in the direction of the club from which you were making your slow escape. “They pay well, a lot better than house sitting.”

“Are you happy there?”

You balked at his question. “The money is good–”

“I wasn’t asking about the money, I was asking if you were happy.” He arched a brow, something close to concern crossing his face.

“I–”

He cocked his head, waiting for an answer. You knew you couldn’t lie to him.

“No, not really. Some people are real assholes, especially when drunk.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll come work for me.”

“Woah, hey now. I can’t just… Uproot my life and live with you. For starters, I have a lease and stuff. And I have a life, a job, a–”

“I have an adorable mixed boxer and a Jacuzzi.”

“When do I start?”

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans/you #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans/reader #chris evans fluff #dina writes #when the night is over #ocean eyes #part two

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crash-cinematic-universe · 4 years ago

Text

Hey Lover

pairing: Peter Maximoff/reader

summary: Peter agrees to be Erik’s best man at his wedding despite one problem: he can’t dance. Thankfully, you’re there to help him

warnings: panic attack description, Peter is insecure (no surprise there)

notes: hhh it’s 4am. this is based off the song “Hey Lover” by The Daughters of Eve. listen to it while reading for maximum immersion but also it doesn’t really matter whether you do or don’t. YES Erik is marrying Charles

taglist: @lokiqueenofasgard

Peter Maximoff never thought he’d get to meet his dad, let alone be his best man at his wedding. Yet, there he was, his father standing in front of him asking the question, the ‘I’m-getting-married-to-your-teacher-will-you-be-my-best-man’ question. Peter was at a loss for words, his mouth going dry as his jaw absentmindedly opened and closed as he searched his brain for an answer. His head was spinning, his thoughts floating around in his head like dandelion fluff. Eventually, he found his voice and reigned in his jumble of thoughts.

“D-definitely!” Peter’s voice is forced and unnatural, but his father didn’t seem to notice. Erik beamed before pulling Peter in for a tight hug before disappearing down the hallway, saying something about details as he left. Peter stood in silence for a moment, trying to process what the fuck just happened. His father, whom he had only known for about two years, just asked him to be best man at his wedding. His father was getting married to his TEACHER, who he had only known for about 2 years. Worst of all, Peter agreed. With enthusiasm. Peter knew exactly 0 things about the responsibilities of the best man, hell, Peter didn’t even know how to dance properly! The chaotically stressed man paced around his room, searching for a solution to his endless questions or a reprieve from his unending stress. Then, like a guardian angel sent from the heavens, like a beam of light at the end of a tunnel, you pop into his brain.

Peter finds himself knocking at your door before he realizes he’s doing it, his heart skipping slightly at the gentle sound of footsteps and the jiggling of the bronze door handle. The mahogany door swings open to reveal your smiling face, the bright grin faltering slightly once you notice the panic in Peter’s eyes.

“Hey, Maximoff, what’s up?” you speak softly, watching as his eyes dart around the pattern on the carpet. It’s easy to see that Peter is having a panic attack, his hands shaking as his breathing becomes more and more uneven with each breath. You quickly invite him into your room and watch as he sits down on the ground at the foot of your bed. His hands tangle in his silver hair, gripping the shiny strands tightly as he pulls, a strangled whimper escaping his lips. Your long fingers slowly grab his wrists and pull them away from his hair, lowering them to your knees as you sit in front of him. His eyes meet yours, and Peter wordlessly conveys his panic to you.

“Peter, take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?” your voice is steady and clear in an oddly calming way. It grounds Peter to reality as he inhales deeply, feeling the air fill his lungs until he releases; his eyes focus on the small paper balls that you began weaving through the air as a means to distract him. Peter is in awe over the power you have over him-- within a few minutes, you managed to take Peter from mid-panic attack to completely calm, his perilous thoughts subsiding into a gentle stream of emotion. You smile once you realize Peter had settled, the paper balls falling to the floor as you turn your attention to the man on the floor.

“You wanna talk about what got you so worked up?” Peter nods slowly, the image of his interaction with his father flooding back to him. He takes another deep breath before speaking.

“Erik asked me to be best man at his wedding.” His voice is shallow, a wispy undertone flying with his words.

“Okay, I can see why that’d be stressful. Did you accept?” Peter was slightly shocked at your understanding but continued.

“Yes, I did, and I don’t know the first thing about being a best man, and I’m fucking terrified that I’ll ruin Erik’s fucking wedding because I’m so fucking stupid that I don’t even know how to dance properly, and Charles will probably kill me if I fuck up his day and--” You gently silence Peter by pressing a finger to his lips. He shuts up immediately, his eyebrow cocking at your actions.

“First of all, you’re not stupid. I know right now it might feel like you are, but you’re not. Erik put a lot of pressure on you and now you’re feeling the effects of that pressure.” Peter takes your hand and rises to his feet, his eyes meeting yours as you speak. “You’re going to be okay, okay? I’m going to help you, and you’re going to go down in history as the coolest, raddest best man to ever exist.”

“You’d do that for me?” You laugh slightly at his words, taking his face in your hands.

“I’d do anything for you, Peter,” you lightly pat his cheek before turning away from him, walking towards the old record player in the corner of your bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Peter questioned as you sifted through your box of records, countless classics flying through your fingers. You’re searching for a specific song, though. You grin as you spot the record, gripping it in your hands as you remove the vinyl disc from the plastic casing.

“You said you didn’t know how to dance, right?” The record is placed in the player, the small metal arm hovering over the gentle ridges. You lower the arm and turn to face Peter, walking towards him as the opening notes to “Hey Lover” by The Daughters of Eve rings throughout the room. “Well, I said I’d help you, didn’t I?”

Peter’s eyes widen as you move closer to him, reaching out for his hands. His fingers grip yours a bit too eagerly, but you don’t mind. The silver-haired man watches you intently as you place his hands around your waist, humming the melody of the song. You catch his gaze and smile, and Peter can feel his heart flutter in his chest. It’s moments like these that Peter really understands the depth of his feelings for you, the dull ache in his chest amplified by your million dollar smiles and your warm touch. He tries not to let his feelings cloud his judgment; Peter came too close to confessing his love for you too often.

“Alright, Peter, now you just have to feel the song. Just… follow my lead and try not to step on my toes.” he chuckles. The two of you glide through the room, and the joy in the moment somehow makes Peter sad. He loves being this close to you, he’s cherishing and savoring the hope that you might love him as much as he loves you but then it hits him; you deserve better than him.

“Whatcha thinking about, Peter?” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughtful trance, a smile forcing its way onto his face.

“Nothing too important.” He knows you can tell he’s lying, but you also realize that he simply doesn’t want to talk about it. You pull him a bit closer.

“So, your dad is getting married.” You say as you extend your arm a bit. “Do you ever think you’ll get married?” Peter swallows hard at your statement. He almost spills his guts right then and there, those three simple words caught in the back of his throat. Instead, he splutters the first thing that comes to his mind.

“If I can find someone who stands me for that long.” Peter cringes at your reaction to his answer, a sadness overtaking the cheeriness in your eyes.

“You’re a good guy, Peter. It makes me sad that you can’t see that.” He scoffs.

“I’m a total loser, I’m incredibly annoying and clingy and I own almost nothing of value. I’m surprised that you stuck around so long-- whoever decides to marry me probably deserves better.” Hurt flashes through your eyes and Peter hates himself for being so honest. His wishes he could take it all back and say something shallow and meaningless but you made him feel so safe and so welcome that he decided it’d be a good idea to throw a pity party for himself. The graceful movement stops, the song that as playing looping for the third time as you gaze at Peter sadly.

“Peter, please don’t say that about yourself.” You whisper, raising your hand to brush his cheek. Peter stares at the floor, his hand coming up to cover yours. “I care about you, Peter, and I can tell you now you’re not annoying or clingy-- you’re charming and caring, and even if you’re not the wealthiest person on Earth that doesn’t matter. You’re kind and generous and passionate and smart and--” You stop mid-sentence, contemplation crossing your face. You seemingly make a decision, because you grab the back of Peter’s neck and pull his lips to yours. Peter’s grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you flush against his body, his heart racing faster than it ever had while he ran from bullets. You pull away slowly, Peter’s nose brushing gently against yours.

“Just listen to the song.” You whisper, and Peter takes a moment to listen to the lyrics following the gentle melody, his breath hitching as your eyes pour into his with the same burning passion that his heart has been feeling for years. At that moment, all his stress and panic and doubt melt away and all he feels is love.

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to be a king

Hey, hey, hey, lover

You don't have to have a thing

For I'll be satisfied

Long as you are my guy

Just give me

True love and understanding

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #xmen songfic #hey lover

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rubecso · 5 years ago

Text

The Insomniacs

I wrote this short story for my fiction writing module at university. Now it’s done and submitted I’d love to hear what people think of it. It was inspired by the real (and surreal) experience I had of being awake in the early hours in a Dusseldorf hotel.

Words: 2178

The Insomniacs

The hotel was like a museum with bedrooms. Every hallway was lined with paintings of misty, continental landscapes or old nobility with jutting chins. Glass display cabinets or sculptures with missing arms or noses lurked in every corner. Thomas’ flight from London to Dusseldorf had been one of the earlier ones, so he’d sat in the lobby and watched a succession of aunts, uncles and cousins gasp in delight as they arrived, before remembering the occasion and reverting to suitably sombre expressions.

He could see why Christoph had picked this place. It was a marvel, in the day at least.

At 4am, it had a different feel. Most places did, in his experience. The succession of dead aristocrats judged him as he passed. The rolling hills and Alpine forests gained a third dimension and beckoned him to fall into them. The sculptures were somehow both more human and less so.

He wandered down to the lobby, the marble tiles cold beneath his socks. Near the entrance was a semi-circle of peculiar chairs. They were red velvet with carved, wooden ornamentations (Baroque or maybe Rococo, he wasn’t sure). Yet they had a strangely modern shape, like something in a university common room. The backrest curved at the sides and overheard, so when he sat down it enveloped him.

He was so blinkered that he didn’t notice the man sitting in the chair next to him until he spoke:

‘Finden Sie auch keinen Schlaf?’

Thomas was startled. He was used to the world being empty at 4am. He looked round to see a pair of dark eyes looking expectantly at him from a wrinkled face.

He blinked, brain digesting the words. He was fairly sure the old man had asked him if he couldn’t sleep.

‘Oh, er, jah,’ he stumbled over the unpractised language, ‘ich bin… um, ich habe…’

He stopped and sighed.

‘Sorry. My German isn’t so good tonight.’

The lines around the old man’s eyes deepened as he smiled kindly.

‘English? English is fine.’

‘Thanks.’ Thomas wore the apologetic smile of the uncomfortably British. ‘I was trying to say I have insomnia.’ He paused, watching for confusion in the old man’s face. ‘You understand?’

He nodded. Then he gestured to himself.

‘Me also.’ He leaned forward in his chair and whispered conspiratorially: ‘I have not slept in three thousand years.’

Thomas chuckled, but the old man did not (he supposed something had been lost in translation). He searched for something to say, but the man got there first:

‘This is your first time here?’

‘The hotel? Yes. My grandfather stayed here, though.’

‘When?’

‘Oh, years back.’

‘Perhaps I met him.’

‘Do you come here a lot?’

He smiled, as if at some joke Thomas had not heard.

‘This is my hotel.’

‘Oh.’ Thomas gestured to their general surroundings. ‘And the artwork — it’s all yours?’

Another nod.

‘Wow.’ He would never have taken this simply-dressed man for a multimillionaire art collector. ‘It’s an amazing collection. Really it is.’

A spark lit in the owner’s deep, dark eyes. ‘You think so?’

‘Well,’ he gestured inarticulately, ‘of course.’

The old man stood up with surprising speed.

‘Let me show you around.’

***

As listened to the hotel owner speak about each of the artworks, Thomas felt like he should be taking notes. The old man spoke instructively. His accent was hard to place; close to German but with a melodic quality that sounded almost Italian. Thomas wondered if he was Swiss.

He seemed to know the provenance of every piece by heart; this was painted by Herr so-and-so, that was sculpted in such-and-such a century. For all Thomas knew about art history he could have been making it up as he went along, but he spoke with such authority that Thomas found it easier to believe he simply had it memorised. But more than these facts, he was full of odd little details about each piece, especially the portraits.

‘The Countess von Schrattenberg,’ he said at one point, pointing to an oil painting of a middle aged woman in an embroidered bodice with tightly curled, powdered hair and a pair of piercing, green eyes, ‘A very intelligent woman.’

He appeared to expect Thomas to reply.

‘You think so?’ he ventured.

‘I know so.’

Before Thomas could ask him to elaborate, he’d set off again. He walked briskly, hands clasped behind his back, a little bent but not overly so. He was certainly an old man, but not a frail one (or at least it seemed that way).

They carried on like this, Thomas following him up and down the hallways of the hotel and trying to take in the steady flow of facts and anecdotes. After a while, he decided the way the old man spoke about the artists and their subjects must simply be an eccentricity, or perhaps another joke that didn’t translate well. Or maybe Thomas was just too tired to get it.

One of the display cabinets stood out to Thomas. Its contents were a jumble of mismatched artefacts: fragments of pottery; metal objects twisted and bubbled with rust; some kind of carved, bone figurine; and a small, glass bottle. The bottle caught Thomas’ eye. It was green and cloudy, with a delicate handle. When he asked about it, the owner told him it dated back to Roman times. He fished out a set of keys and opened the cabinet to let him hold it. Thomas asked him if he was sure, having visions of it slipping through his fingers and shattering on the marble floor, but the owner insisted.

As Thomas turned the fragile flask over in his hands, the old man explained that it had been pulled out of the Rhine, along with everything else in the display cabinet.

‘The Romans had a fort here,’ he explained, ‘They brought in perfumes or oil in bottles like this, to trade with us Germans.’

(He meant the Germanic tribes, presumably.)

They got to talking about how long people had lived on this spot by the Rhine, how there were parts of the city where you could see the old town, and how before the town it was a village that grew up around the Roman fort, and how before that people settled along the river and lived off fish.

‘Ah,’ the old man sighed, ‘but you go back further than that, it becomes hard to remember.’

‘Hard to know, you mean?’ Thomas asked, ‘Because there aren’t written records?’

The owner regarded him silently for a few moments. Thomas wondered if he’d asked a stupid question or if it had been rude to try and correct him.

Then he shrugged. ‘Yes, perhaps.’ A thought appeared to strike him. ‘Have you walked by the river?’

‘No.’

‘You should.’

‘I might not get time.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well I’m busy tomorrow and then after that I’m leaving.’

‘Ah,’ said the old man, ‘What are you busy with?”’

‘I, er,’ Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at his socks, ‘I’ll be at a funeral. For my granddad, Christoph — the one who stayed here? It’s actually why we’re here. It was one of his requests.’

He glanced up at the owner, worried he was over-sharing. The look on the old man’s face was hard to read.

‘You were lucky,’ he replied.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘To get the rooms, on such short notice. Most of our guests book months in advance.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Thomas opened his mouth to say something more, but instead it widened into a yawn.

The old man smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

‘You should try to sleep, I think.’

***

The next night, when he heard the old man speak from the chair beside him, Thomas wasn’t surprised. Somehow he’d known he’d be waiting for him.

He’d tried to sleep. He’d been sure he would the moment he put his head down. He’d struggled to keep his eyes open all through the funeral service and the meal afterwards. Yet despite the exhaustion seeping into his limbs (nothing like insomnia to teach you the meaning of ‘bone-tired’), he still couldn’t sleep. So he let his feet carry him down to the lobby again, the marble floor somehow less solid than before. When he passed the portrait of the green-eyed Countess, he was sure he saw her move out the corner of his eye. When he sat down in the peculiar chair again, he felt like it had swallowed him whole.

Then the voice came again:

‘Did you get time to walk by the river?’

‘No. Sorry.’ He wasn’t sure why he apologised.

‘Perhaps next time.’

They lapsed into silence, deeper and heavier for the thick, velvet upholstery surrounding Thomas on all sides, muffling even the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the lobby. Perhaps the hotel owner was comfortable with quiet, but Thomas found himself grasping for something to say. He came upon something he’d almost said last night, and once it was in his mind it was the only thing he could think of. Finally it bubbled up through his lips:

‘We did book in advance. We knew when Christoph was going to die. He did it in Switzerland. Assisted suicide.’

He turned to look at the old man, expecting him to have shrunk back in surprise or disgust. But instead he had leaned in, his dark eyes gleaming and fixed on Thomas as if he were one of the artworks on the walls.

‘Tell me more about this.’

Thomas didn’t know if it was the calm confidence of the old man’s voice, or if sleep deprivation had stripped him of the usual restrictions he put on his speech, or if it was just that for the whole day no one in his family had brought it up, even though they all knew. He didn’t know why he wanted to tell this stranger about his grandfather, but he did. He told him how intelligent he’d been, how even when Thomas was a child he’d wanted to be smart like him. How he’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. How even before he’d lost his speech or his ability to dress himself, he’d planned his death in advance. How certain he’d been that he didn’t want to keep going once his memories began to leave him, how he wanted to die while he was still himself…

‘Still himself?’ the hotel owner cut in, ‘What does this mean?’

Thomas blinked; he’d almost forgotten he was talking to another person.

‘While he still had most of his memories.’

‘Ah, so.’ The old man nodded. His eyes were drifting, seeming to search for something Thomas couldn’t see. ‘This is what makes us who we are? Memories. Ah, but I did not know a person could…’ He trailed off, then gestured to Thomas. ‘Please go on.’

So Thomas told him about the clinic in Switzerland, that strange country between other countries where people went to die. He told him about the garden by the clinic, where he and his mother had walked with Christoph in his wheelchair. How it had seemed like he might change his mind at the last minute, but then he’d just stopped and said ‘Now then’, and that was it. How when he went, it was like he’d just fallen asleep.

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that.’

They were quiet again then, and this time Thomas was comfortable in it. He let the hotel owner break it:

‘I have one more item to show you.’

***

It was the bone figurine from the display case, the one Thomas had overlooked in favour of the Roman flask.

‘What do you think that is?’ the old man asked him as Thomas held it, running his thumb over the carved notches.

‘I don’t know.’

He waited for the old man to tell him, but instead he sighed.

‘Neither do I.’ He paused, then seemed to make a decision. ‘But I think it should go back to the river.’

Thomas looked up, frowning.

‘But it looks so old. Isn’t it valuable?’

The old man shrugged.

‘Perhaps. But what good is it if no one remembers what it’s for?’ He caught Thomas’ eye. ‘Even me?’

‘Even…?’ Thomas began, but then the owner reached out and grabbed his arm.

‘Will you do that for me? Give it back to the Rhine?’

‘I don’t…’

‘Please?’ His grip tightened. His dark eyes burned.

Thomas swallowed. Then he nodded.

***

Later, after Thomas returned to the hotel and found the owner was nowhere to be seen, he slept deeply. In his dreams he was by the Rhine again, but the city was gone. A thick, dark forest took its place, thinning out at the marshy ground by the river. The air smelled ancient.

The old man was sat by the water, dressed in animal pelts. He held a knife of flint and was carving something with it. As Thomas approached, he held it up to the light and smiled with understanding. The small, bone figurine.

He looked up at Thomas.

‘Thank you.’

#writing #original fiction #short story #cw: death #cw: assisted suicide #insomnia

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mooleche · 5 years ago

Text

A Tale of Ink and Venom

A/N - All I gotta say is I’m so sorry to mobile users for this lmao This is a long chapter so I’m posting it at 4AM to try and save people from it’s length.

If you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters lemme know!

Also another big thank you to @leo-writer for reading beforehand. I super, super appreciate it and appreciate YOU!

Chapter Two: Heart to Heart

“No no no, I’m so late!”

I shot out of my room like a bat out of hell, a jumble of keys in one hand and helmet in the other as I took to the morning bustle of the college sidewalks. Outside the scenery was a mixture of many things; remnants of winter slush that spring was finally beginning squash with a faint warm breeze. Not to mention the familiar scent of Brooklynn streets containing the disappointing waft of piss and alcohol it was so well known for. Or maybe I had just grown used to it in the year I had been here.

I stopped abruptly at a covered up bundle and ripped the cover off hastily to reveal a shiny black Vespa beneath and beamed. Her name was Queen of the Night, Queenie for short, and what she lacked in speed she made up for in aesthetic. She was the last thing my parents had gifted me before I had started college. A way for them to feel at ease about me being on my own, or so they said. I think they just didn’t want me to use door dash on every little thing I needed at all hours of the night. Regardless, she was my pride, my joy, and I was finally able to ride her again after the harsh winter months had kept us separated for so long.

My thoughts wandered as I got my belongings situated to head to work. About Bambi’s words, the news article, but also the strange group text Bambi’s sister had sent out as I had left:

‘There’s a big bad out. Stay safe.’

I wish I could say that wasn’t a normal occurrence for her, but Benni Banks had a knack of sending things just ominous enough to make you extremely suspicious of whatever she was saying. The only thing more suspicious was when she would walk with a startling pace out of our dorm with laptop in arms saying ‘This is fine, this is absolutely fine ’ on repeat. If you knew Benni like we did that usually meant one of her cockamamie hacking attempts had backfired and things were certainly not fine. Despite this, we loved her, even down to the cryptic warnings she sent us while submitting to her insomnia sleeping habits that left us more curious than cautious.

A villain like that could have meant anything. Hell, we had just seen Lizardman take on the town before he stopped on his own accord. A malfunction with the machine he used to keep himself human, or something to that degree. And not a single hero came to help during that situation. I slumped forward at a red light and sighed. Despite New York being a hot zone for superheroes and villains alike, it was apparent that the villains were just becoming too much for them to handle. But that was something I couldn’t begin to think about, because I had arrived to work and there were more pressing matters at hand.

Like how I was about to be reamed for being 20 minutes late.

I stopped in front of an ordinary-looking business building not far off from the campus itself and removed my helmet. My hair fell in loose lazy curls around my face as the braid I had made was all but destroyed. Flecks of blue and black melded over my face as I tried to hastily tie it back into its original style, but failed miserably. Giving up I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets, listening to the leather of my gloves squeak with discomfort before fishing out a flashy looking access card for the entrance. On one hand, I didn't know why I or anyone else needed one of these. Most of the sections inside of the building were offices doing god knows what. On the other hand, the lower levels were a different story entirely. I waited 3 seconds for the light to flash green before I stepped in, immediately greeted by a security guard I knew simply as Barry who nodded curtly to me as I took to the steps nearby.

“A little late today, Miss Knight,” I heard him chuckle, fading away as I entered the basement. This was where all of the action happened, a steady hum of electronics and murmurs of people lost in conversations of studies they were working on. Some made brief pleasantries with me as I zipped through the small groups of lab coats huddling to discuss, while others seemed to eye me with disapproval.

They didn’t matter though. The only person that mattered currently stood hunched over one of many counters in his lab as I watched from the glass window that separated us. I pressed my face against the glass to try to get his attention but he ignored me, making my nerves rise as I stepped within the sliding doors and opened my mouth to apologize.

“You’re late, Knight,”

I closed my mouth and puffed my cheeks out. He always had a knack of catching me off guard.

His name was Professor H. D. Renato, a man who I suspect would not reveal his initials to anyone until he was on his death bed. Even then that was being generous. He was a man of science and cleanliness, and the two coincided together nicely in his lab that he kept in pristine shape. It was ordinary for the most part. No colorful beakers, no boiling concoctions of evil ooze to take over the world with. Just a man with incredible dreads hunched over his desk studying something intensely.

I don’t know how our strange relationship came to be, especially when our first encounter involved him walking in on me attempting to delete student debts with my powers. I was lucky enough at the time that despite the criminal act I was committing he was intrigued by my mutation and wanted to work with me on the promise that I never try a stunt like that again. I was even luckier that I had somehow gotten a job out of it instead of making a call to my parents from the Deans office explaining how I got kicked out of college for trying to show up Robin Hood.

He now turned as if sensing me studying him and folded his arms, dark eyes studying me back with amusement.

“What’s your excuse this time then?”

“Would you believe traffic?”

“I would not,”

“How about saving kids from a burning building?”

“Try again,”

“Fine,” I rolled my eyes, setting my bag down on one of the empty tables taking up the majority of the room. “I got side-tracked talking to the girls,” I admitted before joining him behind his desk to get a glimpse of what his attention had been so caught up on. “Seems I’m not the only one distracted today though, huh?”

“You know me, I always have to see what fresh hell is destroying Brooklynn,” he muttered before turning the laptop to me. “You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?”

“Oh, no. Benni mentioned it before I got here but...” I whispered as I joined him in looking at the screen. The shots of whoever, or whatever it was were blurry. Though, it wasn’t hard to see the giant black humanoid looking creature completely demolishing a group of police vehicles like they were children's toys before the reporter I had seen so many times appeared on the screen. She had the same tense face on as always. Not that I could blame her, I’d look the same way if I were placed in a somewhat dangerous situation like this. And yet, she spoke in a strangely calm tone to give what little information she had on the matter:

" ...suspect is assumed to be a high-level threat that was one of few said to be lost in the recent events of the Ice Box criminal transfer after destruction hit- "

"Hang on, that was months ago. They still haven't found the convicts that escaped?" I asked in surprise. He shook his head in response.

"Apparently not. The majority were assumed dead at the scene of the crime but…” he motioned to the screen again as we watched another brief blurry clip of the creature climb onto one of the surrounding buildings as heavily armored police got involved.

I whistled in response.

“I really don’t think you should go out on deliveries today, Nina…” he admitted after a short pause as he turned to me, folding his arms like he always did when faced with a tough subject. I could only roll my eyes in response.

“Don’t think I’m capable of holding my own?”

“Really? You’re asking me this in a ‘Hangover Hoodie’?”

“Huh?” I asked with a confused frown but realized all too quickly what he was talking about. In my hurry to leave this morning I had shoved a blind hand into my wardrobe and picked out whatever hoodie I could find. Renato now stared at me with disappointed disapproval and sighed. It was no wonder his peers looked at me how they did now.

“I have always had the utmost faith in you, it’s your health I’m concerned about. You know this,”

“How could I forget when that’s all anyone ever talks about?” I answered shortly, watching his expression quickly fade to guilt. I knew he hadn’t meant anything by it, after all, it wasn’t his fault that my body was the frail shell of what it used to be. Like I said, I tried the vigilante lifestyle once. It hit me harder than what I was ready for and now I paid the price.

The result left me unable to use my powers without intense strain on my body, and a group of family and friends treating me like I was made of glass as a result.

He hovered his hand over my shoulder before reluctantly pulling back. Renato might have been a genius but his social cues were lacking in the compassion department. Or any social department in general for that matter. Instead, he did what he did every time there was an awkward situation and began furiously cleaning his glasses that had been sitting neatly on top of his head.

“I just...you know I worry. And with your parent's trusting me-”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them. But also, I’m almost 24, dude. Avoir une certaine foi,” I added with an innocent smile. He was not so taken with it

“You know I don’t speak French,”

“Have some faith,”

“That’s easy for you to say, you don’t have to be the one to deliver the news if something happens,” he responded shortly, striking my own guilt in response. Renato, despite his eagerness to take me under his wing, was still a cautious man. So cautious in fact that he had contacted my parents before solidifying his offer to work with me. They weren’t bad people, probably the farthest thing from that, they were just so overprotective. I couldn’t blame them after the chaotic introduction into parenthood I had given them, especially after being the first mutant in our family. There was just a point where it was too much.

There was a heavy silence between us as we both struggled to find something to say before he sighed and directed my gaze to the packages resting beside the counter.

“Alright, I’m trusting you with this, Nina. You’re lucky we have such a backlog to get through otherwise-”

“Otherwise you wouldn’t allow this, yes I know,” I called as I carefully scooped the boxes up and inspected them curiously as if the blank outer packaging would reveal their secrets.

They did not.

“Be careful with those. I put fragile on there for a reason,” he added as he tapped the large black font with a stern look. As part of his side job he was always cooking up interesting concoctions for his clients, considered the mutant savant by many because of how serious he was to learn how to help us function in everyday society. I had never seen a regular human so dedicated to helping our cause and I wasn’t about to make him regret hiring me to help with it.

Especially when it meant one day he could help me be myself again.

I scoffed at his words and tiptoed carefully to the exit to avoid more of his harping while I could. “I got it, I got it. Shoot me the addresses?”

“Already in your phone, make sure you get all of the signatures this time, Knight.”

“Yes, dad,” I mocked before shuffling out of the lab, careful to avoid any collisions with anyone out in the hall. Barry held the door open for me like he did every time I came up packed to the gills with boxes and we shared our usual polite nod to one another.

Ten frustrating minutes of getting everything bundled up tight on Queenie and I was finally off to do the real work of the day.

Being a courier was a fairly easy job. Renato excelled in helping mutants with noticeable mutations by creating temporary serums and little do-dads to aid in his search of making us feel more welcomed in society. Since the clients themselves didn’t usually want to be seen by people other than their kind it was often a quick in and out job. The hardest part was getting to them. Renato may have been science savvy but where he excelled in knowledge he lacked in direction, and it made me ever so thankful for GPS as I rounded the same corner I had been through multiple times in the last 15 minutes.

Thank god these weren’t timed deliveries.

Most of the stops weren’t an issue, usually consisting of an out of the ordinary mutant that just needed some basic supplies. My favorite was a man with red skin and facial hair that rivaled Jack Sparrows. He was charming and straight to the point, and yet his tips were always more than accommodating. His name started with an A but the scribbled signature never revealed the rest.

Others however were... strange. Some left specific instructions in order for me to get confirmation signatures; knock two times on the door to wait for someone to knock back, more than a few required me to face the other way so I couldn’t see them but when I looked back the papers were signed, sometimes tip attached, sometimes other odds and ends. I once received a large quill-like spike as a tip for my efforts. It still sat on my desk to this day.

Before I knew it my final client had come and I rode lazily in the familiar streets of Brooklyn to find the location. His was always my favorite to go to, settled in a small suburb area with people that always seemed to be out and enjoying life without a care in the world. I parked in a vacant area up the street and started towards a cozy-looking home that had seen better days. Not that it was in bad shape, it was just old and in need of some serious case of TLC that its owner was unable to give.

I stopped at the sun stained red door and rang the buzzer once.

No response.

Twice.

Nothing.

“Mr. Lee?” I called, pressing my ear against the door to hear if he was making his way to answer. I was greeted with silence.

I began a hail mary of mashing the buzzer in a last desperate attempt until a soft chuckle interrupted me and I turned. An older man in dark shades sat at a bench nearby and waved to me, beckoning me towards him and I followed.

"Hey! Buongiorno!" he called merrily from his peaceful-looking seat and I laughed softly.

"That's Italian, Mr. Lee. But bonus points for trying,"

"Ah, can't win 'em all I suppose." he chuckled before patting the seat next to him and I obliged, holding his delivery patiently in hand before he smiled warmly and stared forward.

"Relax a little, something on your mind, kiddo? You seem tense!"

Mr. Lee always had a knack for sensing these types of things. He was one of Renato's oldest clients, and he wasn't even a mutant. Renato just enjoyed this old man's zest for life so much that he helped him with simple tasks and now the occasional french tutoring on the side that I gave him during my trips.

"Ah, no. I mean, kind of..."

"Go on then, I've got some time," he chuckled as he nudged me playfully.

I sighed sheepishly in response. I couldn’t exactly tell him my life story. He knew bits and pieces of it, but I was still on the fence about revealing my mutation. Instead, I tried to word it rather poorly, tugging at my gloved hands as I struggled to find proper words.

“I just...I want to be something more, y’know? I worked so hard for this...thing when I was younger and now I’m just this...this burnout of a courier wasting away at college!” I started, unable to control the flood of commentary that was spilling out. “I wanted to be like...like Spiderman! Or the Avengers! Something! I have a gift, my friends tell me every day that I have the means to overcome this... this fear of breaking myself again but I know deep down my body can’t take it...that I can’t be this person they think I can be. And now everyone’s just waiting for me to break again like I’m glass! I hate it!”

There was a heavy silence and I snapped out of my stupor, now standing with hands held over my head in what was once frustration. I didn’t even know where all of it had come from. Like I said, Mr. Lee had a strange gift.

I shot them down sheepishly and took to sitting back to a quiet Mr. Lee who’s bushy white mustache seemed to wiggle with thought.

“I’m sorry…” I quietly apologized before he turned to me, brows wrinkling under his shades with a frown plastered on his face.

“Don’t you ever apologize for expressing yourself,” he ordered gently, resting a hand on my shoulder with a small squeeze. “Life is never completely without its challenges. But that’s what keeps it interesting.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! Listen, kid. I think you should do what your heart is telling you to do, 'cause deep down it knows that you'll do the right thing.”

“You think so?"

“I know so. I've been in the industry long enough to know a hero when I see one." he chuckled, a warm encouraging smile spreading across his face now. “You can't force these feelings out, kid. It’s got to come from inside of you,” he said while poking his chest proudly.

"Inside me..." I whispered, looking down at my hands in wonder. I knew what he meant, but what could someone like me feel when I wanted to do these things but couldn't? I knew in my heart of hearts what I wanted.

But would that be enough?

Before I could ponder more he stood and stretched his back, resting his weight on his cane. “Give it some thought, you’ve got time,”

“You’re leaving?”

“You’re not?” he teased before he pointed up to the sky and beamed. “I got a date with the universe soon, kiddo. Can’t keep her waiting.”

“Uh-huh…” was all I could muster as I stood and extended my hand out to him. I didn’t know if he was trying to be funny about his days being numbered or if he genuinely was expecting to travel the universe. Events in Brooklynn made it hard to shoot down either idea and Mr. Lee had a look so believable that for a second I actually believed him. “Well, if I don’t see you for a while...J'espère que tu trouveras ton aventure parmi les étoiles.”

“Oh?”

“It means ‘I hope you find your adventure among the stars,’”

“Ah! Mer...mer...merci!” he stammered before taking my hand in his and beaming at me, a feeling of pride radiating off of him at his accomplishment.

“You hang in there, kid. Your own adventure is going to find you soon enough! Remember,” he added, pointing to his chest once more before pointing to me. I nodded and smiled like some solemn promise had just been made between us and in some strange way, it had.

We said our goodbyes shortly after, a broken ‘au revoir’ from Mr. Lee as he sauntered into his home with delivery in hand while I took to Queenie with a little less weight on my shoulders. I was well over the time allotted for the drop-off, but I knew Renato would understand. It was why I always kept his deliveries for last after all, to have deep conversations that always kicked me back on track to the path I truly wanted to be on.

The path that would set things in motion not even an hour later.

#long post #oc shit #marvelsona #oc x colossus

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absentofcause · 6 years ago

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Too Much Caffeine Does Exist- Iron Dad

Platonic Tony and Peter

It was 4am on a Saturday when Tony got a text from Peter Parker. Then another. And another. And another about three more times. Tony was going to respond with whoa what the fuck are you doing up kid when he read the messages. The first five were a jumbled mess of words, but the sixth was readable.

WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T FILL A SUPER BIG GULP CUP WITH 5 HOUR ENERGY AND DOWN IT IMMEDIATELY EITHER MY HEART HAS STOPPED BEATING OR ITS GOING SO FAST I CAN'T FEEL MY PULSE!!!

Well, then. That was an emergency. Good thing Tony never slept and kept his ringer on at full volume when working. Heading to the door, one of his suits greeted him and he took off to Peter’s apartment.

The sight he arrived to was… interesting. Peter’s room was chaotic, clothes and trinkets tossed haphazardly around and on a maze of furniture, and in the eye of the hurricane stood Peter, vibrating slightly. He turned and saw Tony, smiling much too widely for a person up at 4.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, hovering at the window. Peter looked around as if he just realized how messy his room was.

“Redecorating,” He answered with a shrug, still vibrating. “Why?”

“You wanna come to the compound and work some of that energy out?” Tony offered, staring at the teenager.

“Really? Yes! Wow, I’m going to the Avengers compound! This is best day ever!” Peter grabbed his suit, was dressed and ready to go in seconds. Tony shrugged and led him to the compound.

“Alright, kid, I’ve texted and left your aunt a message about you staying here, so hopefully she won’t worry too much. You can use the training facility, rec room, the gym, but not my workshop. There’s too many dangerous things in there, and you need to be less…”

“Manic?” Peter supplied, and Tony nodded. “Okay, Mr. Stark! I’ll be in the training facility! See you later!” Peter swung off, leaving Tony in his suit.

“Fri, keep an eye on him, okay?”

“Of course, Boss. I’ll monitor his vitals as well as his location.”

“You’re the best, Fri. I’ll be in the workshop.” Tony stepped out of the suit and went back to his work, but he couldn’t concentrate. Goddamnit, Peter’s dumb idea was distracting Tony from his work. “Might as well check on him,” Tony muttered to himself, heading to the training facility.

Peter was webbing up the dummies, trying out different web fluids and fighting techniques. “Hey Mr. Stark!” Peter stopped for a moment, grinning less widely. “This is so cool! Thanks for letting me train in here!”

“No problem, Pete. If you get bored of training, there’s a bunch of games you can play across the hall.”

“Woah! Awesome!” Peter stretched, then went to the rec room. “Hey, Mr. Stark, you want to maybe play a board game?”

“Sure, kid. What do you have in mind?” Tony asked, following Peter into the room. Peter dug through some of the games, then snickered and held one up.

“Oh my god, I forgot about this,” Tony felt the Avengers Monopoly box, laughing. “Rhodey got it for my birthday after Ultron. He thought he was so funny, but we never really played with it. Good choice, kid.”

“Who do you want to be?” Peter asked, fidgeting less as they set up the game. “They have Rhodey and Vision in this one!”

“I’m gonna be Banner,” Tony decided, placing the Hulk figurine on the board. “He needs more love.”

“Mood,” Peter stated, his hand hovering over a figurine. “Can I-”

“Hey, if I’m gonna play as my hero, you play as yours,” Tony said, placing the Iron Man figurine on the board. Peter beamed, and they began to play. It took them hours to finish the game, Peter winning by a hair. Tony ruffled Peter’s hair and congratulated him on his win. “Hey, you’ve stopped shaking!” Tony realized, and Peter grinned.

“Thank God. I thought I’d never get back to normal. I’m never doing that again.”

“Why did you in the first place?” Tony asked.

“Well, I had to study for next week’s test and the upcoming academic decathlon and MJ dared me to do it.” Tony sighed, but smiled at Peter’s teen antics. It wasn't like he hadn’t done something stupid on a dare.

“Never ever drink 5 hour energy ever again, okay?” Tony warned, and Peter nodded. “Let’s get some breakfast, and then you go home and toss any energy drinks out.”

“Okay Mr. Stark, I won’t be having anything stronger than coffee anytime soon.”

“Good, now what do you want? My treat.”

#iron dad #spider son #tony stark #peter parker

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makesmewishiwasyou · 2 years ago

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I finally listened to everywhere at the end of time and holy SHIT there's so much i need to say.

(I know this isn't isn't type of stuff I usually post but I thought it'd be good to share)

1. the music is terrifying but also amazing at the same time and I was literally shaking as I was listening and I was paranoid for the next 4 or 5 hours but you know what it's okay.

2. I absolutely love how it's made and it's more than just some doot doot little saxophones. it portrays the effects of dementia and Alzhimers disease and its effects on people..and having somewhat experienced it by watching someone else's memory and brain just deteriorate (I will get into the story here in a sec) its so scary to know you could lose everything and die not even knowing who you are anymore

3. the story

my grandfather was diagnosed with dementia and my mother made me and my sister stay down at their home for what seemed like months. it was when shit started to go downhill..now. when we first got there he was doing okay and he was still walking around and he still remembered some things it was all just jumbled together. I was staying in the living room on a chair at this time and, as the teenager I am, I was the only one awake till 4am..sometimes my grandpa would walk in and just start talking about random stuff..and if I didn't pretend like I was asleep, he would try talking to me. one of the times he did this he asked me "hey [my mother's nickname], how's your dad doin?"

I was honestly baffled because 1 he was referring to my mom and he's her dad and 2. my dad died the year before this so it was a little unnerving to see how bad he was getting. as time went on while I stayed there, I heard what sounded like a record player in the distance. even tho yes they did have a record player it barley operated..it was super super old. one of the first ones w the horn yk? anyways. I also saw things. a lot of shadow figures in the bathroom or the hallway..this is more important in a little bit.

as he got worse and worse, they brought in a hospital type bed and he stayed in the living room and I got moved to his bedroom. there I started having sleep paralysis nightly and one of these nights there was a shadow dude staring at me in the doorway smiling as I heard talking and crying in the other room. I decided to just force myself to go back to sleep. the next morning when I woke up..or actually afternoon cuz I woke up at about 1pm..I went into the living room and the bed was gone. the living room was rearranged. and after a bit of thinking and talking to the rest of my family I realized I was having sleep paralysis the same time my grandpa died. wow. then my mom said we should stay longer for the funeral yk? and so I was forced to stay on the couch which was moved to where my grandpa's bed was. I had sleep paralysis there too. there would be shadow figures looking over the couch and watching me, the record player, etc. this even started happening during the day. I'd see shadow figures in the corn fields and sometimes other figures but that was probably just a SW if yk what I mean. I was scared shitless. I can't stay down there anymore due to how bad my sleep paralysis gets and just the overall vibe. there's something really bad happening on that property man it's not good.

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bixgirl1 · 7 years ago

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The Sexual Escapades of a Well-Informed Pureblood, Engaged to the Randy Prat Who Lived - Ch. 23

So… Um… On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you guys? You didn’t really think we’d split up Harry and Draco for good, did you? LOLOL. (Granted, they still might have some, er, stuff to work through, but…)

In this chapter, we have another visit to St. Mungo’s, some really good advice, and a revelation or two, which will lead us in to two more chapters next weekend that @l0vegl0wsinthedark and I hope you’ll be pleased with. 😉 (In a side note, Love is in an area for the next few days with very spotty wifi, so no worries if she doesn’t reblog immediately or her blog is a little quiet. <3)

Book One can be found here: Virgin Draco and previous chapters of Engaged can be found here: Engaged

Chapter Twenty-Three: St. Mungo’s Again

~Conference chamber#11, Ministry of Magic, just over a week later~ Draco, standing on jelly legs before all the department seniors: So...So I was saying-- *fumbles around for the right file, sending parchments scattering* Excuse me, I am so sorry-- Wizened old wizard, leaning forward slightly, head tilted in a concerned manner: Mr. Malfoy, are you quite well? *eyes the deep, dark pockets below Draco's eyes, the sunken cheeks and the slightly mussed hair* Should we adjourn this for another day, perhaps? Draco, turning red with embarrassment: *shakes his head vigorously, hair flying* No, not at all. I am quite alright-- I just-- *finally yanks out the right sheet, brushing his hair away impatiently* *clears his throat* So as I was saying, the license clearance for potions labs now depends on a whole new set of conditions, made mandatory by the DMLE owing to the recent-- *blinks as a large barn owl soars in through the open door, scroll attached, landing before him on the table, sending more sheets flying, clicking its beak and urgently scratching at the wood with his talons* *looks around apologetically* I am so sorry, gentlemen-- *nods gratefully as he receives a wave of the hand as permission* *hurriedly unties the scroll, rolling it out and reading, face draining of all colour as he stumbles back and sinks into his chair*

Draco, I'm sorry, I know you and Harry are apart, but if it were me, I'd want to know: Harry and Ron were injured early this morning and brought into Mungo's. Harry's fine--or will be, they think--but is delirious and refusing treatment. Your presence might help. For what it's worth, I know he misses you. Every day. Hermione

Draco, breaking out in a sweat, staring at the letter in horror: *under his breath* No. Senior Wizard: Is everything alright? Draco, looking up as he gets unsteadily to his feet: No-- I have to-- I have to go, sir. *already making his way out* I'm so sorry, I have to go-- *blunders blindly down the corridor, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the lift, bursting out into the Atrium and hurtling towards the Floos* *knocks aside a delivery wizard as he reaches for the Floo powder dispenser* P-pardon-- *throws it in and practically dives into the green flames, shouting out the address to Mungo's* *runs through the halls at the hospital, earning startled looks from those he passes, finally running into the VIP wards through the double doors that automatically fly open for him* *frantically* Where-- where-- Harry-- *opens two doors at random before following the buzz of activity and pushing into a crowded room, looking around wildly and spotting Harry and Ron in neighbouring beds, Ron motionless and surrounded by Healers, Harry bloodied and seemingly delirious* *hangs back behind a jumbled group of Aurors and nurses, one hand clamped over his mouth, the letter still clutched in his other hand*

Harry, suspiciously, as Healer's cluster around him: No, I don't want that-- I'm not taking a potion, I haven't checked it. Where's my fucking wand, I'll check it! What did you do to Ron? *bellows* Ron! Don't take their potions! Ron! *snarls* What did you do to him? *eyes catch on Draco's hair* *shoves Healer aside with one arm to see him* Draco! They're trying to give me poison! *imperiously* He has a Dark Mark! And he knows about potions! He'll fucking help me kill you if you hurt Ron! *when Draco inches forward uncertainly* Draco! Baby, come here! Where's my wand?

Draco, glancing at the helpless Healers as he approaches: *murmurs urgently to them* You'll need to be quick. Please don't let him die-- *cups Harry's cheek as he sits beside him, talking soothingly* I have your wand, love, you gave it to me to keep until you're Healed, remember? *quickly surging forward to peck him on the mouth, trying not to look at the way his head bleeds without pause* I've already checked, I've checked all their potions-- Weasley's too-- they're all-- they're fine, Harry, you need to let them-- *quickly draws his attention away from an approaching Healer* *blurts* I love you! I-- I love you so much, I--

Harry, irritably, to the Healer: *snaps* Get out of the way, I can't see him! *relaxes when the Healer shifts; looks at Draco warmly* I love you too. *confidingly* They thought they would get us, but you were there to remind me, huh? *voice lower* I kept thinking about that time after you said yes to-- *vaguely bewildered* --to that thing I asked. *chuckles with satisfaction* They even tried to take my ring, but Ron didn’t let them. Ron! *piteously* He's always been a heavy sleeper. *bats at the Healer tending to his head wound; looks back at Draco* You checked their potions? *glares at Healer; flicks eyes to Draco* Show them your Dark Mark. Tell them who we are.

Draco, biting his lip, desperately swallowing at the lump rising in his throat: I-- I did, they know who I am, love-- Harry, please-- *tries to hold Harry's hands in place as he bats away the Healer once more* *urgently* Just-- just get him under! Baby, please, I'm right here, look! *struggles along with two nurses to stay Harry's thrashing* Harry, please, you're losing blood!

Harry, snapping back to himself for a moment: *voice foggy* Draco? Are you here? *reaches out and releases a shaky exhale as his hand touches Draco's face* I'm sorry, they wanted to take my ring, could see magic on. It-- I won't-- I won't-- Oh, god, Ron! Is Ron okay? *struggles to sit up, snatching the potion the Healer has shoved in his face and downing it; tosses the empty vial aside* *sees Ron; horrified* Draco-- Is he--

Draco, firmly pushing him back down by the shoulders: Harry-- Harry, stop, Weasley is fine, he's being treated-- Your ring is right here, you're still wearing your ring, baby, stop fighting-- *gasps, startled, as Harry suddenly draws him close with a hand around his nape* Harry…

Harry, kisses him desperately, messily: I love you. I thought you'd hate-- Why are you here-- oh... *wobbles weakly as the potion hits his system* Oh. *suddenly mutinous, fighting it* What did they give me? Did you-- did you check-- *voice weak* He has to check all my-- we don't let people hurt each oth-- *eyes fluttering* Draco, check them. Don't-- don't leave…

Draco, gritting back tears of frustration: *gently unwinding Harry's hand from around his neck, kissing the palm and holding it pressed to his cheek* I checked them... *watches Harry go under, twitching bodily as he tries to fight it* I-- I'm right here. *lets his forehead drop onto Harry's shoulder for a second, whispering into his skin, holding his hand with both his own* I love you... *straightens up, pale and trembling, returning the Healers grim nod as he looks around* Is... Is he going to be alright?

Healer: He'll be fine. Thank you. Some head trauma and heavy blood loss, but he made it worse by fighting us. *sighs* Now instead of four or five hours, we'll be lucky if he's out by tomorrow. He took a nasty hex to the head and was splashed with a Confusion potion, which he absorbed through the skin. Frankly, I'm surprised he came out of it even for a moment. *eyes Draco speculatively* That must be a very strong bond you two have. *checks Harry's chart as the other Healers continue casting over Harry* *dismissive* His partner will be fine, too; under a medical coma as we repair some internal damage. His wife should be back soon; she can answer any questions. You're welcome to wait by Mister Potter's bedside if you wish.

Draco, getting to his feet, holding Harry's hand for support as his legs threaten to give away: *shakes his head weakly, eyes fixed on Harry's face, pale and scarred, lips slightly parted, breath rattling out wetly* I-- I can't. *kisses Harry's bloody knuckles before gently placing Harry’s hand back on hiss stomach* I can't. *turns away without a last glance, brushing the back of his hand over his cheeks* I'm sorry, I need to go now. *halts, turning back to the openly staring Healer* Can you-- Please would you ask Mrs. Weasley to owl me...? With details about the Head Auror's recovery? Th-thank you. *sweeps out, eyes fixed firmly in front of him* *gulps in huge pulls of air as he strides down the corridor back towards the double doors* *under his breath, frantic and helpless* He'll be fine, he's going to be fine, he's alive, he'll be fine--

~St. Mungo's, Observation Ward, 4am~ Harry, waking up with a start: Draco? *looks around wildly, voice louder* Draco? Hermione, hurrying over to his side: Shh, Harry. People are sleeping. *smooths his wild black fringe away from his forehead, inspecting his head wound with a critical eye* *softly* Draco's not here. Harry, confused: But I talked to him! ...Didn't I? When's he coming back? Oh, fuck, is Ron okay? Ron! Hermione, shushing him again as Ron stirs: *rolls her eyes with a sigh* He's fine, too…

Ron, leaning up on one elbow: *croakily* Mate, you're shit at Shields sometimes, and for fuck's sake stop intercepting every curse flying at me, I earned my badge with good merit-- *collapses onto his back with a groan* And just FYI, you fucked up so bad with Malfoy, you need another hex to the head--

Harry, glaring at him: *exasperated* I did not! He was here! *to Hermione* Where'd he go? Hermione, biting her lip: *exchanges a look with Ron* He left, Harry. He... He did come by, and he asked me for updates, but... He couldn't stay. *quietly* I think it was too hard on him. *suddenly vehement* Which I understand. You two, you don't know what it's like to be the one left home, worrying day and and out. At least when we were teenagers, I was with you. I could see you were okay. *fiercely, to Harry* You've been in St. Mungo's thirteen times in the last year. Six of those in the last two months! I don't blame Draco for needing to get away from that! Ron's only been in twice, and both times I've been frightened out of my mind! *sits down suddenly, huffing out a loud breath* Harry, taken aback: I... I don't blame Draco. He and I were... It wasn't just the job, Hermione. I mean, it was, but-- *swallow hard* He's not coming back?

Ron: Should he? You don’t bloody show any concern for your own well-being lately. Auror 101, mate, you don't just tackle someone after you've lost your wand, you fall back and work at retrieving your wand or find another-- *turning his head with a frown* 'Mione? I'm sorry, I'll never land up here again if I can help it, okay? I love you. And Rosie. And you.

Harry, rubbing his face with his palm: I know. Okay? But Hermione has never demanded you give up something you love so she won't have to worry. She complains and she scolds but she's fucking there! *shakes his head * Hermione, biting her lip: But I want to. All the time. Only... Harry, Ron and I have been through all of it together--with you. During the war, Draco... Well, he doesn't understand it in the same way. Right? Just because you caught glimpses of him doesn't mean he had the same advantage. It's like... A void of fear, for him. There's nothing but the worst-case scenario to fill in the gaps. *takes his hand; squeezes it*

Ron, sighing: Look, mate... I know you both have been together-- what, nearly two years? That's-- yeah, that's a good while but he doesn't really know the kind of shit you're capable of pulling. *turns onto his side with a grimace, waving away Hermione as he half rises to come help him* This is what I do when I feel like Hermione's fretting unnecessarily - I imagine her in my place. Exactly my place; where I stood, surrounded by three fallen Aurors and my best friend whose head was split open, while I could feel my insides start to rupture. I put her in that situation and-- *raises a shaking hand to rub at his face* Mate, I nearly pissed myself imagining it. Because-- no, just no, I can't ever let her be in that kind of scenario, leave alone on a regular basis. *sighs again, continuing haltingly* I-- I was thinking I'd maybe quit, you know? Go help George with the shop. Have another baby with my wife. Take a step back from all the action-- *smiles ruefully at Hermione and Harry's stunned expressions* We've had nothing but action since we were eleven. I have to say it's starting to wear me down a little now.

Harry: *abrupt* Right, then. *shoves off his blankets, and grabs his glasses, slipping them on* *stands, wobbling a little, as he finds his wand and Summons his clothing* *begins dressing rapidly* Hermione: Harry, what are you doing? the Healers will be on rounds in an hour or so-- Just-- Harry, wait, where are you going? Harry, walking away, with only a small limp: *throws over his shoulder* Ask Ron. He gets it. *determinedly exits the ward*

Ron, turning onto his back with a satisfied, slightly smug smirk: Prat. *at Hermione's bewildered look* He's going to get Malfoy, of course. And I'm willing to bet my left nut that they're going to be going at it like gnomes in about seven minutes. *takes Hermione's hand and kisses it* I hope I'm right because we'll need both my nuts soon. I saw your face when I talked about that baby, Mrs. Granger-Weasley. *grins, kissing her hand again, eyes soft and adoring*

#engaged #still perhaps?#but for how much longer?#this is the throwdown moment everyone #plus #only ron could reference his nuts in such a sweet manner #i love that boy so much #lol #make sure to check for next week #no teaser #but stuff is coming #randy prat #well informed pureblood #bixglows #safe for work!#wtf?!#or when loveglowsinthedark or I are #*hugs all of you for reading*

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thisiseverygirlsstory · 7 years ago

Photo

The countdown begins

day 225: Day 1 . Already begun to find ways to repair this busted heart. Counting up to day 10 so I’m able to remind self “in life, wake up & do it all over again.” There shouldn’t be so many days one must press in. THEIR linear order I flip, and logic that destroyed all of it, by ALLOWING ME ONCE TO rearrange & redeposit all of it. Just to see what happens?

Colors fade to grey. The only shade \ What rolls into folds of digital sheets \ The blinking light at 4AM is pretty neat \ Wondering where everyone’s attention’s been? After we’ve made up ways to lose hope in a maze, calling it a failed “connection,” these subtle misdirections explain the necessity of experience in all its various reflections. It’s felt. So deal with the hand your dealt. How to balance between the two? Between something very bad & something you must trust so you don’t think, just do? Impossible or wait, just hard to say | No boo-hoo, Somehow, Someday. No, someday, somehow & this is where I press in now...all my creative arts dispersed so just jump on every chance, never a need to rehearse, LIVE streaming is how ptsd memories WORK.

A new way to see old things

a past picture to remind me while standing and waiting in line, all the problems with being in a market--where to start?? All the sensory & stimulus!! So find a strategy: trace the white lines. Closing eyes, standing still, not having an outlet to move & head dizziness appears, oh shit, that feeling, gotta get out of here. Hunched over & people look & you & react like, “What’s wrong with you!?”

Fell & no one helped, it was like that denial of safety thing--how many years doesn’t matter when PTSD places you right back in the feeling! Of being left to die alone. That connects to TRAUMA & the feeling of having to always roam...homelessness, mental illness, the things that EXIST but we can change all this! Just because I QUESTION I’m treated like it’s okay to so easily dismiss...

Seeing visual lines & having control of what I’M LOOKING AT dampened the dizziness & allowed me to have MORE ABILITY TO MOVE head & “release”/increase ROM/move more & create TRUST of my body that this pain is going to be less. Keep pushing... these were the private, quiet movements that made it SAFE to be on a mobile again, so no one is paying attention to you as you’re tracing lines to make the MOST SUBTLE HEAD MOVEMENTS you’ll never see

The power of STIGMATIZATION OF DIFFERENCE & use of HYPOCRISY to do the most devious things

The abstract

It’s safe.

It’s safe?

These lines while waiting in line reveal how my eyes track until I see something that’s going to diminish the dizziness, it makes sense you have to safely get to where you’re going (yes, I said this!)

The secret to life is to stop talking & get to showing.

Decided today March 22, 2018 | ...trigger is the guide & why I know the difference between “hide & hide”... | what was happening in 2000, one, five | Now can say IT without triggering which was the hope in order to start truly living since I’ve been asked a specific line of questioning about violence to the body & what have I been doing?

Documenting these PTSD memories & now I’m going to put them in the places they belong

Literally, they will just pop up where I drop kick them to the sky & wherever they fall, they fall

I just get out of the way, which is what I’ve able to do. That’s my level. Don’t make fun & put me down. It’s different after head trauma & repeated acts of stigma that seriously related to greed & ignorance & individuals who have zero empathy & use cruelty to “get what they want” : it’s not that hard : there’s really evil people the world.

Correction today, March 23, 2018 | time does not make sense | What I’m going do do is what I’m going to do tomorrow since that is the one-two punch combo that I’ve been practicing. Jab & upper cut. That’s it, one-two, one-two over & over until my muscles memory takes. My body doesn’t work the same way. Until my fingertips stop being so sensitive so I can recall passwords from a pattern.

How do I know things are different?

MANY things that FEEL differently. I can describe them all instead of using one word for anything. It’s “good,” “fine” & “over” but it’s not so “fuck off” and let me realize that the words I’m learning now create IMPACT in my body so honesty & dishonesty are felt really strongly. Is that being bi-polar or having a body that doesn’t lie. What feels good feels really good. What is the worst, having to relive being physically battered and mentally pummeled by being lied to about safety that has my nerve on fire. So hose it down, but wait, every day, every thing triggers having been my profession, my education & my identity as an authority in behavior since I was telling the grown-ups to do smelting about self-harming children who were curious about violence. It was reported, over 100 acts of violence & yet nothing happened. So my nightmares are having to relive violence unto children & then I realize it’s not just children, the ones who require the most care becuase they are the least likely to achieve those independent self-regulation skills that means they will have control & that means less behavioral issues & less stigma & less judgement & cruelty.

The goal was achieved this month so it just took a while. I’m not on anyone’s time schedule & that is the luxury of saving your pennies for a rainy 5-years. What you build you get to keep. I build a way to walls self-educate after tragedy since we’re learning every day. HOW DID I FORGET THAT?

Just had to get stronger, physically & now that I am, my neck MOVES UP/DOWN & side-to-side, so I’ve regrouped in “safe spaces” with my family & even if they don’t realize their importance to someone who has been physically & mentally assaulted, it’s having nearness even though you don’t want to be touched in any way. Once violence is done to you, it’s in the BODY & the only way to remove this nastiness is to get dirty with truth.

EXIT

Please think about what your truth is? Even what it means to be asked ‘what is your truth’ and with anything please share as little or as much as you’d like. Every time you choose to put out something good back & if you use energy for hate, just be warned, I think there’s more good people than evil.

day 224:

TODAY YOU STATE WHAT IS THE MOST FEARFUL THING FOR SOMEONE TO KNOW because the next question is WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT FEAR

To explain that is why your mind jumbles it off. It’s helping you. How do I know? Been through this before, but didn’t know what it was. See, it happened before & in adolescence, so that’s being IGNORANT

1st truth : I have nerve damage that affects sensations in my body that I manage through voice, movement, stretching & doing more rigorous activities like biking with strict rules for safety. I will ride on the sidewalk, no ifs, ands or buts. My body dictates my behavior much of the time but through help from my friends who remind me my body can’t always be in-control, I’ve learned to better manage nerve pain that makes you antsy since nerves like to glide.

2nd truth : What to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do?!?!?

To explain how physical trauma FEELS means to go through it real time and reveal how I make no decisions because whatever I choose is going to have a consequence. Demands for safety went unnoticed & then felt out ignored, the time wasted for the outcome, additional denial of safety and a physical disability that has literally changed my life, forcing me into a life of advocacy since as a former teacher IF YOU LEARN SOMETHING that can help others & a firm believer that charity is the only decent human-quality that clearly defines someone’s soul, since I learned something NEW I have to share & that has been what my time & energy has been spent on. Trying to get strong to share...their shhhame...

trudging through snow, I just want to sweat not realizing that was what I needed but now, every time I hope for that & it happens 1/5. It’s never known when I will sweat, the physical exertion not the indicator of effort since I could be sitting & typing & break into one, often my palms which makes me pretty happy since it’s reminding me my body is still trying to do what it used to without so much drama! The sweat tells me to continue going to places. Curiosity is the desire to want to see “new” things or be in “new” spaces, the problem with assault is it makes your world very small. You don’t feel that subtle push&pull when stuck in the same space, just focusing on not triggering which is impossible so wasted a lot of time. I should’ve been allowing the triggers out from the beginning but who thinks to do that? It hurts so much & why you do CALL the people that have hurt you. You do TEXT the person when it’s SAFE to contact since tech allows that filter & the survivor/victim gets the right to CALL THEM OUT 100% when the recognition of SHAME is PRESENT. I spent so much time rejecting this amount of shame that I needed to sit with (years) just to be able to say, there is NO WAY I will be used as a punching bag in a space that MUST PROTECT ITS STUDENTS & EMPLOYEES. That’s it. It was not done & instead I witnessed how people effectively use emotion & denial to keep doing what they claim they’re not doing : adding to the problem. This environment of fear that is stifling and mimics the life I was entering that was mostly imagery & jokes about a topic that I’ve grown to realize is often the motivator for anything in this world & how gross it is when people succumb to their greed & insecurities. Fear wins when you stop GOING & DOING and these were the areas in life that I cherish most of all. That’s freedom, to go & to do. Everyone should have the opportunity to experience life in other times & places, transported through books, travel, culture, cuisine, we all have the potential to lead the lives we’re meant to if we’re able to innovate, imagine & create. I’ve seen a sunrise over a different body of water my entire life, a tradition I’ve maintained when I travel & lately have incorporated in my hometown to make sure I always remember the significance of one’s birthday. A special time that has to be felt post-tragedy since it will be different & this is what I’m trying to understand since this is what I lost--the ability to transition--so when I recall a rare view from a treehouse, the ability to return to that scene because every step to get there was felt in my body--the combination of self-awareness & nerve damage make me needy for sensation, but what I really want is one good sweat

3rd truth : every day is a reDO until I get sequencing, so one, two, three instead of “in the moment” the numbers represent a safe place to put a thought since everything is triggering after 12 years of education in a profession I took very seriously when violence was an every day thing & even before then as I found my students weren’t being taught : just accept there will be more DAY ONEs than any other number but once I get started & find that rhythm, it will be a flawless system as it was before. Flawless because the thought & decision matches the outcomes since I make good choices that don’t hurt others needlessly

DAY 1 : Noting some changes in colors. Eyes are fuzzy, blurry & not registering RED & GREEN. Just read the word. I see the D & A & I know that’s DECLINE & ACCEPT but why is not the same. TO DO Make appointment with eye specialist & provide notes of what is happening. Panic level : get information first & do everything that’s necessary to control symptoms. Conclusion, could be side effect of Rx so get off Rx as soon as possible since responsible for lost 26 pounds & inability to sleep, concentrate, that buzzing in my brain, is seriously, the use of narcotics when the message has always been the same. It’s the physical pain I’m trying to manage & in the meantime fight for my right to identify what is wrong in HEALTH CARE, since if when you lack KNOWLEDGE & SKILL, & EXPERTISE & EMPATHY, you simply can do real everlasting damage...

#storytelling live #an unravelling of sorts #a search for my true cohorts #it's all about collaboration #are you independent or mired in frustration?#ptsd recovery told in verse #mental abuse recovery told in images #physical assaults told in song #all the forms of writing in one place #NOT HERE #diana thater

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inenaffable · 4 years ago

Text

*hungry tummy noises*

they read it and they ask me "what the fuck is wrong with you" and i just can cry and laugh a little bit cause its funny, you know? its funny when no one else exists besides you and you still cant do anything. youre so stupid, you know that, you know that? you cant do anything because youre caged inside yourself so you create fantasies to pretend your life is interesting and youre not a hollow of a person, a carbon copy of whoever is the closest, unable to survive without a partner, a disgusting parasyte. god, youre not even good enough to ruin people, to mark them in any way possible. you just bore them, then your thrashed to the side. its not even dramatic enough to be written about, its just logical. youre so bad at being anything, its pathetic. you cant be good, great, you cant be filthy, despairful, youre nothing, notghin nothign nothing notghin nogthing nothing nothgin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! no one can hate you if no one gives a fuck about you and you know that you know that the only one who hates yourself is you and you are the only fucking reason to all your problems because theyre all in your head and theyre fake, fucking fake, fake fake fake fake fake because you cant entertain yourself on your fucking life because everyone leaves you when they realize you are just a shell a copy a parasyte that sucks and sucks and sucks and doesnt give a fuck and is locked inside their own head and blames people for the crazy things your dumb fucking brain created fuck fuck fuck fuck

no one asks you what the fuck is wrong with you because no one cares, and everyone knows those things are only in your head, because you tell them, and you know, you fucking know, and thats the worst part of it

i dont know how to be a human being , even when imbeing the most disgusting one that exists - but im not, because its all in your head and youve never done anything

im perfect, its incredible, its amazing, really, you should look at me,look at me

i do bad things and dont feel guilty for them, i guilty myself for things that arent bad, and then i blame people for my own judgement, but i dontknow how to live outside of this

its scary, scary, scary, scary, scary, scary,scary,scary so so scary outside of here, dont let me go, dont let me go, youre gona go back all over again

except you cant go back to something that never even existed

what am i going to tell my therapist tomorrow? lies, lies, unconscious lies that im very aware of, all over again, excuses after excuses

why dont you just fuck me, tell me, why? i dont have to think, i dont want to think, im spending so much time alone and yet im doing absolutely nothign, im disgusting

but im perfect, so perfect, how can anyone ever hate me? everyone loves me, right? you love me, right? hey, are you reading this? hey, hey, wont you just fuck me? wont you make me forget i have a mind of my own?

im so disgusting, how can you love me? you like it, dont you? how im so very fake, how i cant take no’s, how im just barely nothing but annoyment when striped down. what, what? you want to see me strip? silly, silly, if i do that, then youd want to go away. its just too bad i cant control myself, right? i just want to be seen oh so badly.

theres no liquor in this house and i hate it, i hate it how i could just ask for it, but i wont, and ill still hate that theres none. thats me, thats me for you. dont you like it, love it? dont you just want to fuck me now?

i dont need to pretend in front of you, if you dont like it, just leave, im tired of you. i can say fuck and i can act like everything i do is coated with so much honey its nauseating, annoying, because thats who i am. lousy, annoying, nasty, spoiled, a horrible liar and so much more. but im nothing you guys like, im nothing i like, so ill wear baggy clothing even though i want to show my tits to everyone. my room is just too hot. i must not forget, nobody cares about me, nobody remembers me, no one will come back for me, so i can tear it up. i can say fuck and i can lick every single inch of my mirror and i can be whatever i want to be, because, because-

she said i love myself, i said i loved myself, and thats why. but maybe that was a lie. see, how havent you seen through that? i actually hate myself. oh, i do, so very much. its funny. dont you find it funny? tell me, tell me you laughed, tell me you could tell from the start, and that its okay, that ill learn to love myself at somepoint. i want to have sex with so many people because i hate myself and i dont want to think

hey, look at me, arent i ugly? arent i destroying myself? say, dont you think no one will never apreciate me again?

i dont know if what im preteding is to believe or to doubt. do i love it, do i hate it? its so tangled, its funny. i cant remember what came first. does it really even matters?

im so very hungry. i want to drink and let people touch me and touch them back, i want to feel whole. dont you just want to fuck me? im perfect, see? i promise, i promise, you wont regret it! come, come, just fuck me already.

imagine it,, imagine me, miserably sitting down in my bed, sweating, hungry, and writing all this jumbled mess on my dumb little notebook, typing on this double keyboard, listening to dumb little rain sounds on my dumb little one-sided earphone cause im too scared of the silence but cant listen to music cause my brain is just dumb dumb dumb and cant concentrate on more than one dumb little thing at a time

im so hungry, and its not even a metaphor anymore

im not doing it on purpose, i promise, i could eat so so much but theres just nothing to eat and most of the things are just icky

i could eat a whole hamburger if i could go out

dad, please, buy me a hamburger, please, please, im so hungry, wont you just buy me one

hey, dont you want to buy me things too? that would be nice, so very nice of you. say, give me your money, wont you? i could buy so much with it! i need it, i need you

fuck, fuck, tell me, how am i supposed to sleep now?

i sometimes wonder if i should take pills for it, but that would probably be a bad idea

i dont need any of it, and starting it would probably get me into something worse

think, wouldnt it be cool if i could stay up till 4am?

but i cant, and i need to sleep

wont you kiss me goodnight?

pretty, pretty please?

ah! thank you! thank you so much! i love you, i love you, i love you!

#en #babling #safe

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nikelyzed · 7 years ago

Photo

JSeries Festival 2017 Report

Jakarta, 9th December Upperroom Annex Building 10th Floor

First of all sorry this report was written on broken English because I do believe it’ll be a total fiasco if I wrote it in Indonesian, trust me Please forgive me if there’s any grammar / spelling mistakes (´;ㅿ;｀) Also, taking photos was strictly prohibited when the talk show started inside the venue, that’s why I only have 4 badly taken photos on the photo session for the report orzz

If you’re looking for certain guest artist report please just scroll down because it’s gonna be a poorly written long ass report LMAO

This is the shortest dead-lined trip I ever done in my life, like it’s less than 2 weeks & I almost surrender because of office deadlines were crammed up into 4 days Also my phone was broken when the announcement was out Jakarta is a complicated place & I’m hella afraid straying there all alone, but luckily I have some friends who offer me place to stay ｡ﾟ(ﾟ^o^ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Special thanks to Maya & Shadent who let me stay at their place [and I still feel bad kicking Maya from her bed LMAO I’m so sorry orzz]

December 8th 2017

So the day before I was going to Jakarta, I woke up at 4am to pack my stuff but still almost late for the train departure LOL The train supposed to depart at 7.35am & I just arrived at the station at 7.20am I was running around like an idiot I swear 😂

I arrived in Jakarta at 11am went to the ticket venue as soon as I can I met with friends I already know & some new friends, which I forgot--😂 They even let me touch their bromide collection [& took photo of it gsxcvjgacxg]

I’m screeching like an idiot when I saw SatoKiyo bromide because-- do I need to explain this part??? ((유∀유|||))

After exchanging email reservation with the ticket & having lunch, we went to karaoke & I almost lost my voice in the process

At night I really want to bang my head because I’m contemplating whether I should draw a gift for Ogotan or not since there’s no announcement of gift box for guest artist & I forgot to ask the staff about it too orzz But I decided to draw art gift for him in the night yet unable to finish because I was too sleepy, exhausted, & nearly heat-stroked because Jakarta heat is never a joke to begin with If you’re weak against sun-heat like me please bring umbrella / hat & put as many sunscreen & sunblock as you can, I mean it

December 9th 2017

The next day I woke up at 4am sharp but was shocked to my spine because Maya was sleeping on the floor instead on the bed (´･_･`) Since we both still sleepy we decided to continue sleeping again but now it’s my turn to sleep on the floor ofc

We woke up again at 7am & doing satan speed preparations because the traffic is gonna be nasty if we’re late for real

We managed to arrived on the venue at 9am something I took a shortcut to get to the empty spot because my bag is hecking heavy & I can’t wait to sit, this resulting to the gate-border-thing to snap & fall, sorry security-san I’m too eager orzz

After that we sit on the line until open gate time I spend my time rolling around back & forth to some friends while waiting I even can continue the gift for Ogotan & finished it on time Since we forgot to buy envelope for the fan letter I decided to sacrifice my red folder file to contain all the letter for Ogotan

I swear I was nervous as heck when people start staring at it like hjvghcvaxhjdvvf no I’m not cheating on Ryuji this is just a normal gift yet some people still teasing me about it until now ((유∀유|||))

Oh I also met friends from previous karaoke session Alchemilla, Caneera, Kuyo, Maya, Evelyn, Salfa, Shadent, Nopi, Ika, Nindita, Nadya, & idk the rest please remind me because my memory was as bad as Higekiri or even worse--- ┏( .-. ┏ ) ┓

2:45pm Open Gate

We’re running a little bit late from schedule but finally we entered the hall I got the first row seat on the middle wing, I sit on the left side right across to the press chair row on the left wing Never have I felt so blessed before, it’s so close to the stage I swear I can even jump over the fence if I want to, but of course I won’t do that la I still have some sanity intact

The rest of this report was based on my memory so please kindly tell me if I made any mistake over the schedule / what the artist said or do OK? |ω･`)

The MC was Hiroaki Kato [the cool & kind oyaji] also a pretty lady who I failed to remember her name oops sorry (´･_･`)

In the opening we have many dorama screenings, & if you’re curious the list of dorama can be found here

Saso Yuki fangirl section

The first guest artist to appeared was Saso Yuki the P*cari Sweat girl on youtube I never think she will be this pretty up close I swear she’s prettier IRL, the photo / video you saw were nothing hvfkacvxgyuedf (///﹏///).｡oஇ

She greets & introduces herself in Indonesian. The rest of talk show was about acting & stuff. She also talk about the making of P*cari Sweat TVC Yuki Saso hope Indo & Japan can have greater relationship in the near future

IDK if it’s just me, but when I was too busy gaping like a fish & stare at her for solid minutes, she look at my direction and waved and smiled so bright AND I JUST DIED HDVGSHHJVCSJBC I swear she’s sooooooooo sooooooooooooooo pretty that you could melt when she’s smiling LOL I forgot things she said since I was dumb-strucked by her beauty

After that we had another screening time

Nano fangirl section

The next guest artist to perform was Nano She’s also gorgeous up close & she’s very happy to perform in Indonesia since she was cancelling her previous concert in Jakarta due to some circumstances She also told us that the venue her concert supposed to be held was this exact venue we’re sitting on & we’re going “whoaaa” in unison

When Nano was going to sing, the sound system died--- The audience was very supportive & cheer her up with kind words The Nano support team was amazing, you guys rocks! (≧∇≦ ) If I’m not mistaken Nano sing “Savior of Song” & “The Crossing” It was amazing performance, we stand & sing along together

Next we have another screening time

Isomura Hayato & Yahagi Honoka fangirl section

After screening time, there’s guest artist arrived & I scream on top of my lungs because I thought it was Ogotan But false alarm, It’s actually Isomura Hayato from Kamen Rider Ghost & I still screamed anyway ( ´༎ຶㅂ༎ຶ`) This talk session was also attended by Yahagi Honoka-chan & I was dumb-strucked by another beauty LMAO Seriously she’s so cute up close (灬ºωº灬)♡

Their first impression of Indonesia was it’s hot but they both like it since its freezing winter on Japan Both talk a lot of things, about acting & stuff. Both were asked if there’s drama collaboration with Indonesia will they interested or not but of course the fans said the deadpanned big big no since Indonesia soap opera quality is kinda-- well-- you decide la--😂

I don’t remember what they talk because I forgot to take notes of it But there’s this section when Hayato-kun asked why he become a Kamen Rider, he said it’s his dream to protect girls [he clearly said ‘Josei’ here] Hiroaki-san teases us “Who want to be protected by Hayato-kun?” And this dork whose name is Hayato-kun just casually stretch his hands out to audience direction while nodding, like offering a hug Of course the fangirls roars the signature “KYAAAAAAAA” including me Who don’t want to be protected by a handsome guy anyway?? (//∇//)

Another funny thing, when I was staring right into Hayato-kun [he’s so gorgeous IRL I swear] idk if he realized I was staring or he’s actually looking at the press which is right across my seat-- He look at my direction A LOT & I pretend to stare at Honoka-chan, this happened many many times it feels awkward LMAO o)-(;;; I keep chanting “Hayato-kun please don’t look over here, just lemme enjoy your gorgeous face peacefully”, but he keep looking at my direction once in a while Oh well, considered it blessings ( ´༎ຶㅂ༎ຶ`)

When the times up we had another screening TADAAAAAH it’s YOWAPEDAAAAAAA I was soooooo prepared to see Ogotan but since I can see towards the backstage entrance it’s actually a female silhouette walking to the stage

AND DAFUQ IT’S ACTUALLY YUKI KATO LMAO 😂 😂 😂

Being a country field person I’m, I still scream because she was also one of my childhood fav actress on Heart movie since she’s so cute & relatable as duck LMAO

She talked a lot about acting, awards she won in Japan, & so on The funny part is, when she was asked what kind of movie she like to watch she gesture “mampus gue” with her lips which can be roughly translated as “sht I’m screwed” 😂

No worries Yuki-chan, we understand that fangirl feeling, really 😂 😂 😂

After talk with Yuki-chan, the kameko-ninja-guy set some band property so I relax a little, thinking it was Rei performance

Never been I’d be so wrong in my life

Ogoe Yuuki massive fangirl section

When Hiroaki-san announce the next guest artist I nearly fell of my chair because FINALLY OGOTAN APPEARED HOLYDUCKXVHSVKVXHTXAKOZ

I wonder if I actually died on the spot because Ogotan look so gorgeous & cute & pure & angelic idk man I’m wheezing my life out (´×ω×`) He wore a suit which has the same color as my attire & I got teased again orzz

First he was greeting us with a broken Indonesian along with a sheepish smile His jumbled face when he ask Hiroaki-san how to read the Indonesian language, it was soooo so cute, so pure, so angelic, so fluffy hhhnnnggghhhhhhh He continue the gibberish Indonesian greetings cutely which we all failed to understand, the audience went “???” & he also went a little “???” 😂

Its okay Ogotan, we still love you 😂

His first impression of Indonesia was it’s extremely hot ofc Hiroaki-san offered if he had any intention to bike around while in Indo But of course the Ogotan support team won’t let him, giving him the no gestures and chanting “dame-dame-dame” together 😂 We don’t want Ogotan to bike in these messy road & of course Indonesian sun is unhealthy for his flawless skin so NOPE ლ(ಠ益ಠლ WE SHALL PROTECT OGOTAN AT ANY COST!! - said someone

He talked about acting, dorama, and also butai. He explained to us the differences between dorama & butai, their specialty & so on For example is when he’s on Yowapeda butai he only use bike handle, while in dorama he need to bike for real

Between the talk he sends lots lots of heart gestures, both Korean heart finger sign & full fledged love hand sign toward the audience & there goes the audible “KYAAAAA” signature roaring from back to the front including me LMAO

He keep smiling & shooting heart & sending loves & waving & idk man

I feel so attacked when he look at a folder file I was carrying earlier I decided to showed it to him when he’s looking & making “it’s for you” hand gestures He smiled at me, HE SMILED AT ME FOR DUCK SAKE & SEND ME A FULL FLEDGET HEART SIGN WITH BOTH HAND & I JUST MELT IN THE NAME OF LORD I WAS NEARLY DIED LMAO ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇωஇﾟ)ﾟ｡

It’s hecking embarrassing so I just cover my face with the folder file but Ogotan seems to know I was a weakling & he keep shooting me heart sign & tilt his head cutely & I died again & again LMAO OGOTAN STOPPP I CAN’T HANDLE IT GXBXCHSGLGBLTFXGKHS

[I need to apologize to Ryuji later I swear]

He talks about a lot of stuff but I barely remember what he talk on stage since what I heard & remember were just "KYAAA KYAAA KYAA” from start to the end I kinda feel bad for Hiroaki-san because his translations were drowned between sea of fangirl screams ( ；∀；)

When the talk session time is up, there goes another fangirl scream, the saddest one you’ll ever heard, it feels like you just kicked a kitten / puppy

I was also started crying without I realize because I always cry when fangirling By I mean crying was rolling literal tears from my eyes because I’m a weakling to every people I adore including actors, singers, whatever

Here comes the angst I’m so so sad because we only can see him for about 15 minutes & after that idk when will we can see him again so I started crying for real but inaudible one ofc

By the end of the talk, Ogotan said something like : “Thank you for loving me. It was my motivation & it supports me to keep going on. Thank you very much & please take care of me too in the future”

I don’t remember the exact thing he said but he does say ‘Aisarete’ something something & on here my friend who understand Japanese better was already bawling ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

AND CAN YOU GUESS WHAT?? HE LOOK AT MY DIRECTION AGAIN & SEND ME ANOTHER HEART SIGN & OF COURSE I WAS CRYING EVEN MORE LA OMFG WHAT A WRONG MOVE OGOTAN LMAOOO CRYYYYYYYYYYY .˚‧º·(ฅдฅ｡)‧º·˚. He also kindly send me a “nakanaide” gesture with his lips & I’m sending him an OK sign while wiping my tears LMAO what am I doing with my life, really I started thinking if I’m being delusional & Ogotan never did any of these but please, just let me be 😂💖

After that Ogotan fangirl time was over & I’m still crying LMAO HAHHAHAH He keep shooting hearts & smiles so bright it can light up the whole universe The audience finally fall silent after he return to the backstage

After Ogotan talk is over, it’s Rei turn to perform At that time my soul was still flying & can’t even process what’s happening because my head hurts so much from too many screaming & crying LMAO

BUT TADAAHHHH there’s a surprise attack by the end of the event LMAO.

There’s actually some envelope attached at the bottom of each audience chair Inside each of the envelope there’s a name of guest artist written, there’re 10 envelope in total

7 of the lucky audience will get a board which autographed by the guest The other 3 was the luckiest mustard ever existed on earth who got a chance to take a photo with the guest artist LIKE (ノ-_-)ノ~┻━┻ Since I’m bad in gambling of course I don’t get any la what do you expect

I can hear envy screeching from back to the front, in this segment finally we’re allowed to took some photos, & there’s a crowd photo from the stage too but IDK Press-san tachi, I’m waiting for the better photo here ( ˘•ω•˘ ).｡oஇ

I’m unable to took more than 4 photos because I was squished to the gate from back & it’s hard balancing phone with one hand so here comes the blurry quality photos I managed to snap between the chaos

While taking photos we managed to catch Yuki Kato attention Being the good fangirl we’re, we keep gesturing her “THIS THING IS FOR OGOTAN” while pointing at Ogotan continuously LOL She replied with hand gestures “How should I tell him about it???”

Ogotan seems realizing what’s happening & smiles to us cutely And the front row died again LMAO

I swear Yuki Kato is a fangirl in crime, thank you for helping us Yuki-chan! ヾ(｡>﹏<｡)ﾉﾞ✧*

Finally, the event end for real ( ´༎ຶㅂ༎ຶ`) I was running around to find a way to give Ogotan’s gift art & apparently there’s a gift box [which actually is a gift desk] prepared for it by the staff

We part our ways & I’m recharging my flying soul with friends, eating Yoshin*ya while contemplating whether is it a real life or just a fantasy

After that I went to Shadent’s home for resting, we watch some Kamen Rider episodes before finally collapsing on bed in less than 5 minutes LMAO

It was really a fun day, I’m having a great experience & I’m gonna cherish this memory forever ever ever and ever!! ｡✧*｡( ´∩•͈ω•͈∩` )✧*｡

Otsukaresamadesu JSeries Festival Jakarta! See you next time!! (｡•̀ᴗ-)و ̑̑✧

Please bring Ryuji in the next event, I beg you ((유∀유|||))

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cancatervation · 7 years ago

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favourite music 2017

The affording of enormous weight to barely concealed fragility and vulnerability; when I pore over the contents of my iTunes from the last twelve or so months it’s plainly apparent that this is the hill I’ve elected to die on. Almost all the albums I found myself infatuated with at some point or another in 2017 meditated upon desire, the transience of romance, and the anguish that often accompanies its pursuit.

I’m acutely aware of how oddly this contrasts with my own life, which for the past almost-two-years has been romantically fulfilling in the way that my previous 25 absolutely weren’t. On this, I would say two things. First, that stability is elusive even (maybe especially?) for the most outwardly rose-coloured of us, and that maintaining relationship hygge takes compromise and is not easy, and for those reasons feelings of vulnerability are never far from the front of my mind; and, second, that it’s testament to the skill of certain songwriters and performers that their work was able to make this gay-ass conventionalist really feel something every now and again last year.

I wouldn’t want to suggest that I only just worked out that the theatrical presentation of desire is something I’m drawn to, but certainly there were some things in the past year that I really did begin to understand. Theatricality is often used in a critical sense as pejorative; something that is too extra, that goes too far, that is all tell and no show. Despite its predisposition towards excess, musical theatre has, for instance, always played out as sterile and spurious to me. (Sorry. And look at it this way, you don’t ever need to worry about getting me tickets to Hamilton). It’s so dramatic that it becomes too dramatic; your self-awareness isn’t allowed the chance to be suspended, even for a moment. An album like Lorde’s Melodrama makes its intentions apparent before you’ve even heard a note of it, but its theatrics (and there are many - think of the wailed chorus of “Writer In The Dark”, the gory car crash of “Homemade Dynamite”, the bridge in “Supercut” that accelerates like you’re on a bike rushing down a hill) are as easily consumed by sitting silently in tears as they are dancing, or walking, or lifting heavy weights, or running up a hill (to make or not to make a deal with God), or lying in blissful supta baddha konasana. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that hyperemotional vulnerability is for all seasons and for all hours of the day and I am now happy to welcome it into every aspect of my life.

I wrote over fifty blurbs for various songs on the Singles Jukebox last year. Some I loved, some I hated, what’s new. I wrote a blurb for “Praying”, Kesha’s first solo single in nearly five years, which turned out to be both the highest scoring song on the site for 2017 and the champion of my personal “list”. I sort of said all this already on the Jukebox, but my love for “Praying” lies nearly entirely in the way Kesha leans so heavily into her aphorisms, finding new ways to bring profundity to ostensibly simple lines like “I’m proud of who I am”. (Contrast this with most of Taylor Swift’s 2017 work, which forewent specific detail in favour of portentously loaded maxim, but forgot about nuance and came up mostly dry). When Kesha punctuates her sermon with a thunderous kick drum, it’s basically game over. As the stories of survivors of sexual assault, abuse and harassment began to dominate news media in the second half of the year, the song only gathered further resonance.

Lorde’s album held court as my favourite for most of the year. A promo image released by Kelela at the beginning of August threatened a coup. The odds shortened a few days later upon the release of its lead single and the arrival of the full album at the beginning of October marked the tangible takeover. Take Me Apart is all juxtaposition, which when applied to albums is often code for jumbled quagmire, but here there’s too much attention to detail, steadfastness of narrative, and, er, feeling, to get mixed up in anything like that. It see-saws between playful flirting, introspection, self-acceptance, control, loss of control, falling slowly through the sky, and falling fast through the abyss. I love it so much. It’s also very queer and very Black. Support Black queer art! Especially when it’s this well crafted.

Aside from all THAT, my favourite things in music last year were Moses Sumney’s Tiny Desk Concert, attending the Lorde show in the Botanic Gardens, the line “every single day I fight another war; every single night I feel more powerful!” in Rina Sawayama’s “Take Me As I Am”, and Rihanna telling Diplo his music sounded like a “a reggae song at an airport”.

My ten favourite songs of 2017 were:

1. Kesha “Praying” - as above and here;

2. Lorde “Green Light” - see here. The score given, however, is wrong. Add another point.

3. Sigrid “Strangers” - see here. I can’t wait until she’s everywhere and everyone knows her; her potential to me scans as “unlimited / infinite / fucking enormous, if it must be quantifiable”.

4. MUNA “I Know a Place”. The album version is acceptable but I’m also partial to this live one, which involves some changes to the lyrics.

5. Tove Lo “Disco Tits”. Like a wonky, filthy Kylie B-side played underwater.

6. Kelela “Turn To Dust”. Refer also to the first set of songs below. She didn’t play this at her concert this week, which is lucky, because otherwise its title may have proved prophetic.

7. Nilüfer Yanya “Baby Luv” - see here. See also dirgey diatribe above re: vulnerability.

8. Rae Morris “Do It” - I’ve become more and more besotted with this as time has passed and am not sure whether I’m most impressed by a) the wordplay b) the ping-ponging percussion in the second verse c) the subtle yet giant switch-up halfway through d) the soaring vocals or e) managing all of the above in less than 3 and a half minutes.

9. Rina Sawayama “Alterlife” - it did not take me long to request for lamination of a stan card for a popstar who loves key changes and here deftly incorporates influences as diverse as the Need For Speed soundtrack, Samantha Mumba and Madonna at her glassiest.

10. Tove Styrke “Mistakes” - see here. I’m ready for her to run away with 2018, in or out of a wedding dress.

Aside from those, here are some other songs I enjoyed in 2017, variously categorised and (with the “top 10″) collected in a Spotify playlist, located here:

Songs that can make you feel like you’re floating slowly heavenward

Björk “Arisen My Senses”

Charli XCX “Track 10”

Julie Byrne “Natural Blue”

Julien Baker “Appointments”

Moses Sumney “Quarrel”

Rae Morris “Do It (Nico Muhly Dance Remix)”

Sampha “(No One Knows Me) Like The Piano”

Sevdaliza “Loves Way”

Slowdive “Slomo”

St. Vincent “Slow Disco”

Susanne Sundfør “Undercover”

Dance music that I barely pay any attention to throughout the calendar year and then become unusually enthusiastic about come end-of-year-list season

Bicep “Vale”

Gerd Janson x Shan "Surrender”

Honey Dijon “Catch The Beat”

Jad & The “Strings That Never Win”

Kink “Perth”

Minor Science “Volumes”

Octo Octa “Adrift (Avalon Emerson’s Furiously Awake Version)”

Shanti Celeste “Make Time”

SW. “Untitled B2”

The xx “On Hold (Jamie xx Remix)”

Yaeji “Raingurl”

Songs for the summer gloaming

Charlotte Day Wilson “Doubt”

Daniel Caesar “Blessed”

Frank Ocean “Chanel”

Jessie Ware “Stay Awake, Wait For Me”

Ladi6 “Guru”

Rachel Foxx “Happen To Me”

Sampa The Great “Bye River”

Sevyn Streeter “Before I Do”

Syd “Body”

Tyler, The Creator “Garden Shed feat. Estelle”

Plaintive songs for grey afternoon walks

Alvvays “Dreams Tonite”

Amandla Stenberg “Let My Baby Stay”

HAIM “You Never Knew”

Kehlani “Advice”

Khalid “Winter”

Lana Del Rey “Love”

Laura Marling “Next Time”

Paramore “Forgiveness”

Perfume Genius “Die 4 You”

St. Vincent “Happy Birthday, Johnny”

SZA “Prom”

Taylor Swift “New Year’s Day”

Best bangers

Amber Mark “Heatwave”

Charli XCX “Lipgloss feat. Cupcakke”

Charli XCX “Porsche feat. MØ”

Charlotte Gainsbourg “Deadly Valentine”

Charly Bliss “Glitter”

Drake “Get It Together feat. Jorja Smith & Black Coffee”

Dua Lipa “New Rules”

Haiku Hands “Not About You”

Ibibio Sound Machine “Give Me A Reason”

ionnalee “Samaritan”

J. Balvin x Willy William “Mi Gente feat. Beyoncé”

J. Hus “Did You See”

Jessie Ware “Your Domino”

Jorja Smith x Preditah “On My Mind”

Kah-Lo “Fasta”

Kelela “Truth Or Dare”

Kendrick Lamar “LOYALTY. feat. Rihanna”

Kllo “Last Yearn”

Leikeli47 “Miss Me”

Lorde “Sober”

Maliibu Miitch “4AM”

Miguel “Banana Clip”

Nite Jewel “2 Good 2 Be True”

Paramore “Hard Times”

Phoenix “J-Boy”

Rina Sawayama “Take Me As I Am”

Ronika “Better Than Ever”

Rose Elinor Dougall “All At Once”

Sigrid “Don’t Kill My Vibe”

Stormzy “Big For Your Boots”

The Horrors “Something To Remember Me By”

Tove Lo “Shedontknowbutsheknows”

Whethan “love gang feat. Charli XCX”

Wolf Alice “Don’t Delete The Kisses”

Finally, here are thirty albums I loved last year. Onwards and upwards!

1. Kelela Take Me Apart

2. Lorde Melodrama

3. SZA Ctrl

4. Fever Ray Plunge

5. Charly Bliss Guppy

6. Wolf Alice Visions Of A Life

7. Rina Sawayama RINA

8. Jessie Ware Glasshouse

9. Tove Lo Blue Lips

10. Charli XCX Pop 2

11. MUNA about u

12. Moses Sumney Aromanticism

13. Sevdaliza ISON

14. St Vincent MASSEDUCTION

15. Susanne Sundfør Music For People In Trouble

16. Ibeyi Ash

17. Sampa The Great Birds & The Bee9

18. Kink Playground

19. Daniel Caesar Freudian

20. Bicep Bicep

21. Sophia Kennedy - Sophia Kennedy

22. Miguel War & Leisure

23. Laura Marling Semper Femina

24. Ibibio Sound Machine Uyai

25. Jen Cloher Jen Cloher

26. Dua Lipa Dua Lipa

27. The xx I See You

28. Honey Dijon The Best Of Both Worlds

29. Kesha Rainbow

30. Leikeli47 Wash & Set

#music #musicwriting #2017 #2017music

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soaringwith-aladdin · 7 years ago

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A Jumble of Thoughts

I don’t even know where to start with this, forewarning, its going to be jumbled and honestly just me rambling about nothing.

This year hasn’t been easy, to say the least. Thought I had it all, but I didn’t. I lost a lot, I hurt a lot. I healed especially. Almost 4 months ago now, my life fell apart at the seams, and amidst the mess, I lost myself. I found myself seeking attention and validation from strangers, as if it would make me feel whole again, but it just hurt me more. I wanted it all to end at one point. However, I didn’t give up, I kept my head up, and as much as it hurt sometimes, I got through my days.

About 2 weeks ago, I had this realization that most of the guys I was talking to, were talking to me because I had boobs or an ass that they desired. They didn’t care about me as a person, they cared whether or not they could try me on for size. I spent a night sobbing over this, it made me feel so worthless as a person. Then out of the sea of absolute shit, someone was different. Rather than ask me for nudes, or make the conversation explicit, we talked for hours about just the day and what we were up to, a genuine conversation. it was refreshing. I talked to him until 4am, the next day, I woke up the next day and wanted to continue this conversation, and we talked all afternoon, and then he wanted to cook me dinner and hang out. Weary of what was to be, I still said yes, because there was something different. That night, he made me Pad Thai, we watched comedy shows and talked til the sun literally came up. Nothing else. it was wonderful. I went home at 6am, got a few hours of sleep and long story short, that same night I went back and stayed the night, then he stayed the night at my place, and me again at his last night.

I’ve never felt this way about someone, he makes me feel so insanely comfortable, and within hours I felt I could tell him anything about myself. I’ve never opened up about half of the shit I did as fast as I did with him.

now for the shitty thing, I AM MOVING HOME FOR THE SUMMER LIKE WTF LIFE THANK YOU. I’ll be coming up every weekend and by some grace of god, I really hope things work out because this feels like something special and I haven’t laughed as hard as he makes me laugh in a long time and that’s nice. i I’m really hoping life is on my side this summer <3

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perhapsvirginia-blog · 6 years ago

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#005

Aaaah, I forgot all about this account. Again. But I was just thinking I needed somewhere to vent a little.

Last time I wrote was almost a year ago. Funnily enough, I think my stats are going to be around the same.

As I said in the last post, I was in Amsterdam! And Berlin. And Prague, Dresden, Bratislava, Budapest, Vienna, some little towns here and there, I don't even remember anymore. I mean, I have it all written down, I took a shitload of pictures, but it's a jumble in my head. Three insane, wonderful weeks. I was only maybe three days per city? Probably even less? I need to visit Budapest again at some point. That city is crazy beautiful. Words won’t do it justice, it's like a urban Van Gogh painting. The Danube made me cry. And Vienna has some of the best food I've ever had, and it made me realize Swaroski ain’t worth shit.

I just... I love Europe.

So, venting.

Writing is hard now. My job changed so much since the last time I posted here. I work under a very good friend, which might sound great to some, but I'm not the sort to slack off, at least not deliberately, but I've been so stressed lately...

Ok, so I changed my diet because of the migraines I mentioned in the last post. Reduced sugar, stopped drinking and smoking. Started taking medication for my anxiety and insomnia. When I say my brain is weird I mean it; it doesn't work like most brains so all medication is hit or miss and it was A PROCESS. Exercise and meditating do jack shit. It's not psychological, I've been like this my entire life. I didn't even nap in daycare. Sleeping is hard. Chilling is harder.

But I got there eventually. Migraines... they don't ever go away but I've had like, one every two months or so. You learn to live with some pains.

So when I thought, "yes, I'm finally free" my body throws another fit and I start feeling... weird. I still don't know quite how to explain it, it's like I've been beaten up but from the inside. Like I have bruises all over the inside of my torso. And my stomach was acting up.

Yeah, remember my job changed? And my friend is now in charge? Our unit is just the two of us. Taking a break meant leaving her stuck with my workload which, between us, is so boring some days I want to die. A lot of days. I can feel how it's killing my creativity, bit by bit.

But technichally I'm still doing what I love, which is writing. And it pays well. And, you know, job security, all that shit. I'm 30, I don't have a degree and my body is slowly decaying. We take what we can get and we smile and we say, "thank you" because we are capitalism’s bitches.

Anyway, I go see a doctor who soon turn into doctorS. I get poked and proded. Doctors argue, because I'm fat so of course it's a fat issue but they can't find anything related to that but of course IT HAS TO BE THAT and I’m not even fighting it, I’m a sucker for authority figures. But nothing works. And then I end up with a wonderful doctor, PhD in obessity, told me right away I was fat, but "not that fat". She's blunt and kind and amazing and I love her.

I don't think anyone's reading this but just in case I'm not telling the diagnose because it's related to some sad, stupid stuff I did between ages 15-16 and I just don't want to get into it.

I get more pills. They're for protecting my liver and pancreas, helping their processes and things like that. Plus the ones for my brain, I'm taking two in the morning, three at night. When I have a headache or I take something for the flu I feel like... honest, I feel like I'm a doll and the pills are keeping me functional.

Sort of.

I don't know why but my main suspect is the sheer amount of medicine because even I know it's too much and like I said before, I’m not one to distrust modern medicine.

I have a special diet now too. Very strict. And for some reason, at the start, when I broke it... it would all come back up.

I lost 10 kilos in a month. I felt like I was dying. And you know, all those pills? They're expensive and I still could work, you know, so I didn't go to the doctor, I couldn’t really afford to go, much less to be told to stop taking pills that’d cost me an arm and a leg so I just... kept going.

And I felt so, so lonely.

Because while all of this was happening, I was just freaking out internally. I don't know how to tell people these sort of things. I have no sense of shame, I have no qualms about asking for help but I don't know how to do it when it comes to this. Being sick. My boss-friend had first sits to the mess I became but even she didn't seem to notice the extent of it and I still don't know how much she knows or doesn't and I've never wanted to worry her-- working with friends is shit. I honestly hate it. I feel like we have a stress loop going on, because we're always worried about each other but we never talk about anything because it's work and... I don't know, she's not a very expressive person. I try to assume the best, my instincts tell me to assume the worst, she goes entire days not saying a word to me (but she IS a quiet person), I just...

It's hard. And when I got sick it got harder. And my family’s the one that raised me to keep quiet when you’re sick because they’re allergic to vulnerability. I didn’t want to worry my friends. I don’t. So I don’t really have anyone to tell all of this. It doesn’t really do any good either.

But sometimes you need to say things. Just to put them out there, in the world, instead of letting them rot inside you.

I got better, anyway. Last few days I started eating normally again, I could even eat some "forbidden" foods and keep them down. I'm pretty sure I've gained all the weight I lost, if not even gained some extra, haha. Eating is so great, guys. I hate diets.

But I hate being sick more, which is why I started thinking about ways to go back to following the doctor's instructions and I remembered this blog.

Another thing that sucked this month is that I'm broke AS HELL. I spent literally all my money on doctors, exams and medicine. It appears to be working so yeah. I just need to stick to the plan.

A friend and I are planning to travel to Europe in March or April. I think we're going to start separated-- I'll start in Paris, then meet her later in London and travel together up to Edinburgh. There're so many things we want to do! We've both been to London already but we haven't been to the same places. I want to take selfies with her in the Madam Tussaud and she wants us to eat in Camden Market. And I simply NEED to show her Oxford's botanical garden.

When I was in England I didn't have as much time as I would have liked to traipse around the country AND I had to be back at the host family's home by midnight. They were amazing and I had no curfew, but I'm irritatingly well-behaved so I only visited nearby locations I could see in an afternoon-- Oxford, Bath, Brighton, London, etc. Oxford and London were, of course, my absolute favorites. London has my heart in all its packed, dirty, (dis)functional capital city glory. I loved its stuffy people who got all weird when I got emotional (I get emotional a lot).

Ah, London. I can't even think about it without getting emotional.

So I might be going back in March/April. And if that works, I'll also visit Paris! The Eiffel Tower can get fucked, I want to cry about Les Miserables in the corner that used to be the Musain. I want to see the catacombs and the history of a city that has seen so many revolutions and I'm honestly DYING to see a french supermarket. DYING. Also, it's another capital city and I adore urbanization because I'm a child of capitalism.

I urgently need to polish my french though. Because I can read it, but I'm far from being able to produce a single sentence.

So yeah, new plans. BEHAVE. Obey the doctor's orders and diet. Exercise!! Try and save money (not likely until November but a girl can dream). VISIT EUROPE AGAIIINNNN!!!

Now I'm off to shower and then update my stats. It's almost 4AM because this is what happens when I don't take my sleeping pills. I probably won't sleep. Maybe I should go for a run? I did last week and it was super embarrasing but I felt a little accomplished. I want to be the sort of person who runs. It’s cool. It's still dark so it wouldn't be safe but maybe in a few hours. Maaaaybe.

Good morning! -Reggie

#.txt #good morning!#health #traveling #weight loss journey #sort of #or the path to my downfall #whatever happens first

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