#to the point where the anxiety doesn’t even fester anymore. i just want everything to stop temporarily

[kyomito]

i love it when my day starts with:

you have one task today. one thing to do, all day to do it. just that for today along with other normal things like eating and showering.

and then my brain is like:

funny. and what if I said we are doing none of that. matter fact, we are going to do none of that and LESS.

[gentrychild]

Suspected Traitor Izuku Ideas

Note: Sorry this ended up being super long! I just really love the idea and wanted to put in some ideas of what I think could happen. It was all too long to fit into a couple asks, and I figured you would prefer a submission than 7+ asks in a row. These are also just some fun ideas I was thinking of for the au I thought you might enjoy lol

- - - -

Izuku gets interrogated and at first goes along with the questions. He doesn’t realize why he is there at first, until they ask more and more questions showing they suspect him for something. After the second or third question about his relation to the LOV he pieces it together. They think he’s a villain.

And instead of having a confused smile or nervous laugh, his eyes widen and he whispers “you think I’m the traitor.” It wasn’t hard for him to figure it out, after all he spent so much time analyzing and trying to deduct things quickly from situations where he barely was given any information, and they practically threw the answer in his face. He was probably one of the few students who was fully aware that there was a traitor from looking at the previous attacks.

He starts to shut down after realizing this, and when people start yelling or slamming things out of anger (because no one was actually going to get physical, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the room was off limits) he unconsciously reverts back to his old habits from when he was quirkless.

This can include, but is not limited to:

- A smaller frame to protect vitals and give less room to be hit

- A quite and passive voice to try appeasing their anger

- Distracting himself from the emotional pain by focusing on the physical stuff. Mentally keeping track over where everyone is, what they are doing, and how much of a threat they are to him

- Looking for any and all possible exits, even the ones that would result in him being hurt on his way out, just in case things get worse (and he fears that they may hurt him worse than before. In a world full of quirks, it’s easy for someone worked up to forget how easily they can kill someone, and Izuku probably has experienced more than once a situation that became life or death because a middle schooler was too worked up to process how much damage they were about to do)

- Eyes downcast due to fearing that eye contact would seem like he’s defying them or trying to irritate them in purpose (thanks Bakugou for that one)

- Holding back sudden movements or flinching, when going to the point of possibly hurting himself on purpose to prevent him from acting out.

- Holding his breath every time someone moves, but forcing his body to relax/tense up in case they attack him. When your body tenses up, it can absorb him impact, but can also cause other things like knives or needles to hurt more when they cut/go through the skin. So when there is someone who has a weapon visible (probably a means of intimidation) he quickly figures out which way will hurt less and forces himself to go through with that because of the constant thought of ‘just in case’

- Forcing himself not to cry or break down. That’s what some bullies want, but sometimes it also makes them even more upset. It gives them fuel, and always ends bad for the victim.

The teachers and others accusing him of being the traitor takes these signs as him lying or trying to hide the truth, those who don’t think it’s because he’s lying see the 'experience with interrogations’ aka trauma reactions and think he was trained by the villains to act this way. No one thinks about the fact that some of the reactions are clearly not helpful with interrogations and that the villains would train him to do the opposite (ex: stay calm and keep eye contact. You don’t have anything to hide and looking away makes it seem like you do).

The only two people who know his past refuse to acknowledge or bring it up.

All might doesn’t because he can’t risk the consequences of OFA getting out, but also because he only has a vague idea because of when he was shoeless himself.

Bakugou refuses to acknowledge the signs and the relapsing to his habits from middle school.

No one else realizes the cause, and as a result they accidentally reopen the trauma that Izuku hadn’t healed from. No, he had taken it and stuffed it into a box to avoid acknowledging that he was hurt. So he never talked to anyone about it, and as a result it just festered in his mind. His intrusive thoughts from all the victim-blaming he went through never went away (because let’s be honest, gaslighting and victim-blaming are things he probably went through as a result of the bullying. He couldn’t help being quirkless, but the bullies will latch onto anything and everything they can. And because they wanted to prevent themselves from having anything marked, if they made him think it was his fault then they felt it lowered the chances of them being reported)

During the pause of interrogation when they are having Tsukachi enter and he’s about to come in, he almost send himself into a dissociative/depressive episode because of his thoughts. He forces it back when the doors click open, thinking 'no, it’s just like before. No matter how much it hurts, wait until you’re safe. You’re not safe here, they will use it against you, so you have to wait until you’re alone and safe to finally break down.’

As a result, none of the adults fully realize how broken he is after the trap/interrogation is over. But its only a glimpse that they see, and nothing more. Because Izuku’s learned that weakness = vulnerable = targeted and hurt.

And now that he knows almost all his friends- no, his classmates were involved he knows he can’t break down anywhere near them. He can’t go over and let them know how broken he is or he thinks they’ll turn against him even more.

Someone brings up the 'logical’ aespect of the interrogation and their suspicions before he leaves and Izuku’s thoughts use that and forces it against him. 'It was only logical. Everyone was convinced you were going to hurt them, that you were evil. Of course they had to do it.’ He repeats it like a mantra in his head. 'It’s only logical, they did what they had to, and it’s almost over. You’re almost done, it was just the logical thing to do.’

And why is it this that he repeats this, instead of being angry or upset?

The victim-blaming.

His own intrusive thoughts were fuelled by the victim-blaming, and because it was what hurt the most, it was also what he was most accustomed to.

But when he finally gets back to the dorms, to the 'safety’ of his room, he knows he can’t break down. Not yet. After all, if they went through all that trouble because they thought he was the traitor, who’s to say they didn’t do more? His resurfaced paranoia/anxiety from the trauma makes him search his room for hidden cameras and microphones, desperate for at least one safe-space.

He finds nothing, thank god, but then he keeps pushing back his breakdown in search of exits, ways to avoid the most dangerous people or most likely to turn on him, ways to get by unseen and to avoid any situations that would be like Middle school. He stays up making notes and maps of the school and how to best protect himself because 'You’re already used to this. Shouldn’t have expected anything different. Stupid, idiotic, Deku. You put off finding the saferoutes because you thought it would be better to try playing nice. Look where that got you, now you have to stay up and make up the months of ignoring the inevitable.’

He doesn’t sleep that night, and when it becomes time for class he still hadn’t given himself time to break down. So he returns, but doesn’t pretend to be friends with any of his classmates anymore. He uses the ways he maps, brings out old tactics, just with the hope of making it through the day without being hurt or breaking down.

Lunch comes, but he doesn’t eat. He goes to the roof, finds an elevated area with no cameras and where people are unlikely to see him and sits down. It takes a moment, just a mere second of sitting there alone before he breaks.

He cries and let’s his regret and anger wash over him. All the feelings he had been pushing back finally breaking free and coming loose. He doesn’t eat, he never got the time, and right as he is starting to realize how badly hurt he really is, the bell rings signalling he needed to get to class. So he forces himself up, pushed all his emotions away, and tries to clean himself up in the bathroom.

He ends up in a dissociative state the rest of the way back to class, and when the others ask why he’s acting different or 'weird’, he doesn’t respond. He barely registers anything the rest of the day and when teachers try calling on him, hoping for some kind of reaction, they get nothing. He doesn’t process that he’s being talked to and just sits there dissociating in a desperate attempt of forcing himself not to break down again.

When classes end, the others try talking to him but eventually give up. He slowly realizes after everyone left that he was alone and he picks up his stuff and walks to the dorms on autopilot. He gets to his room and shut the door, and finally let’s himself finish the breakdown from on the roof. This time, though, he finally lets himself cry over everything. The entire past of abuse and neglect from his peers and adult figures in his life (minus his mom), the suicide-baiting, the victim-blaming, the bullying, accusations and mistrust, all of it. And he finally fully, truly breaks.

- - - -

[hopeatermeetsgodzilla]

Chapter 19

“Sir?” Jonah raised his head from his computer, frowning as he saw Emily. The young woman seemed worried about something. “May I come in?”

He softened his face a bit. “Of course.” Emily nodded, coming into the room and sitting down in front of her boss’ desk. Jonah took his hands away from the keyboard, folding them over his desk. “What’s wrong? Are you afraid Monarch knows of our headquarters’ position?”

“No! No, it’s not about that.” Following Florès’ exposing of their takeover of Outpost 32 to the military, the Titan Liberation Front had had to leave in an emergency, coming back to their base in Boston. It had quickly been followed by Emily doing a quadruple check of the security system.

The only trace from Florès she had found was an encoded message on a Word document that hadn’t been there before.

Remember, Jonah doesn’t trust you...

“Well then, what is it about?”

“... are you sure waking all the Titans is the way to go?” Emily asked, frowning. When Jonah narrowed his eyes, she quickly tried to correct herself. “I-I mean I know they’re the only ones who can save the planet at this point and that not waking them would just delay the inevitable, b- but what if when we free all of them, we end up regressing back to the Stone Age-”

“Emmy.” Jonah suddenly cut her off. She flinched away. Emmy was a nickname her parents had given her before they had died. Jonah was pretty much the only person close to her who was still allowed to use it. “Why are you so worried? Humanity going back to a time were they held no impact on the planet is an ideal scenario.”

“I- it’s not just about that... it’s Ghidorah.” She started. “It’s- they’re not from Earth, they’re not going to restore the planet- they’re destroying it- it’s not going to be the co-existence you told me about, they’re a walking extinction event-”

“Kane.” Jonah started, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Are you telling me you’re having second doubts now? You were fine with millions of people dying, but you’re going to draw the line at billions of people dying?”

“That’s not what I said-”

“If we’re a sickness,” Jonah started, circling his desk, “and the Earth Titans are a fever, then Ghidorah is both the cure and the vaccine. It doesn’t matter what our intentions are: what’s important is that humans won’t be able to rise up again once they’re done, and the planet will only benefit from it. Do you understand?”

“... yes, sir.”

 “And if we do live to see this mass extinction event through...” He placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder, making her flinch. “I trust you and your talents will help us out, yes?” Jonah smiled down reassuringly at her, patting her shoulder.

... And you shouldn’t trust him.

Emily hesitantly nodded, remembering the message Florès had left her. “O- of course, sir.”

-

“You want me to teach you how to absorb energy?” Rodan nodded, San turning away from the coast to look at him instead, still not getting up. The sun was starting to set, and Ghidorah had made it very clear they were fascinated with the sky and the objects in it. There was also the fact they drew most of their energy from it. “Any reason why this sprang up?”

“I’m having difficulties finding food, and your brother mentioned you could teach me how to do it.�� Rodan explained, sitting down and craning his neck up to look at San. “Something about being more spiritual.”

San nodded. “That is true. Ichi’s too clinical, and Ni convinced himself that if he allows himself to be vulnerable, he’ll die.” There was a pause. “Either way, neither can meditate if I’m not here. Can you absorb energy on your own, like, consciously?”

“Not consciously, I just start doing it automatically the moment I submerge myself in lava.”

“Partially, or fully?”

“Both. The more I’m submerged, the easier it is.”

San nodded. “Alright, that means you’re the unconscious type. We’re gonna try to meditate, okay? Okay. I want you to close your eyes, and breath in a pattern: 4 seconds in, 4 seconds hold, 8 seconds out. You think you can do it?”

“Yeah, I’m not an idiot.” Rodan hissed out, San giggling to himself before closing his eyes. Rodan watched the taller one do it a few times, before attempting himself. He started taking a deep breath. 1, 2- Heat, too much heat, feathers burned off, scalp burning, sides of mouth splitting, veins bursting, eyes burning, heart burning, too much light, no noise, nothing, lost everything-

“Hey, hey.” Rodan opened his eyes, craning his neck up to look at San. The blond had a worried look on his face. “You weren’t able to get it in. What went wrong?”

“I felt like I was burning from the inside out.” Rodan wheezed out in a shaky tone, before stopping and taking a moment to gather himself. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier. “Am I supposed to feel like I’m losing control of my powers?”

“You’re not. Probably. I don’t feel like I’m getting struck by lightning when I meditate, but I do feel like I’m floating... You said you felt like you were burning, right...?” San seemed to think for a moment, before holding his hands out. “Take my hands.”

“... alright?” Rodan hesitantly put his hands in San’s. He shuddered. Apparently, the cold from the ice had seeped into their very being. It felt as if frost spread were his hands touched San’s. Long fingers curled around his hands, and he shivered as he felt a shock run through his body.

“If you start feeling too hot again, focus on my hands, alright?” Rodan nodded, closing his eyes again as he took a deep breath. 1, 2- liquid fire in his lungs, in his heart, can’t breath, can’t talk, all alone- he squeezed San’s hands, all cold and long fingers and letting off small shocks each time they moved- shaky 3, steady 4. He opened one eye as they held their breath in, but quickly closed it again when he saw San’s were still closed. He let it out, and San giggled. “See? You did it!”

“Y- yeah.” Rodan couldn’t help but blush. “I guess I did. What now?”

“We continue. Try to find your own rhythm. I’ll follow you.” Rodan nodded, resuming the exercise as they slowly adapted to his own breathing- which was more along the lines of 5,3,8. He could practically hear his own heart beating, how the magma flowed in his veins. Slowly everything seemed to fade away, the only thing left being the hands he held. “Rodan?”

“Mmm?”

“Open your eyes.” Rodan carefully opened one eye, before looking around in confusion.

They weren’t on Mara anymore. The sky had become whirls of color he couldn’t put a name on, and the ground a flat expense of white sand covered by a thing layer of water. Thousands upon thousands of stars filled the sky. Rodan blinked in confusion. “What the...?”

“What, first trip to the Soul Realm?” Rodan turned toward San, and screamed in surprise, letting go of his hands. Instead of San, there was now a vaguely San-shaped golden floaty thing in front of him, three pairs of round white eyes staring at him.

“Wh- San!?” He exclaimed in surprise, the spirit nodding. “What happened? Where are we? Where did Mara go? Why do you look like that-”

“One question at a time, okay? First, we’re meditating. This is what happens when you successfully separate your soul from your body. This is the Soul Realm, or the place between life and death. Mara didn’t go anywhere, in fact our bodies are still on it, alive and soaking in energy. And I look like that because that’s what my soul is like.”

Rodan groaned. “Great. And I thought the moth’s whole deal was weird...”

San giggled. “Don’t be like that, fire bird. I mean, look at you! You’re practically wrapped in fire!”

“What are you talking about- woah!” Rodan looked at his hands. His sleeves had been replaced by feathers of fire, dragging after him like a train as he got up. He slowly moved his arms, watching the flames move in synch.

He slowly started laughing, running around in circles and watching the fire around him grow larger, brighter, encompassing him. He distantly registered San laughing along or telling him to spin as he danced around, but he complied anyway, flames growing with each gleeful pirouette he did.

“You’re even brighter than the precious Fire guardian!” Rodan came to a halt at that, the flow of flames around him dying. San tilted his head at that, Round eyes becoming ovals in an imitation of confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“... Quetz had similar flames?”

“Oh yeah!” San cheerfully said, seemingly obvious to Rodan’s distress. “She was really something to behold. A bloodlust that nearly rivals Ni’s, a flawless defense in her attack, and a passion-”

“-That shined brighter than the sun could ever hope to.” Rodan finished, his voice breaking a bit on that.

San tilted his head in curiosity. “... are you sure you’re alright? Each time the former Guardian of fire comes up, you get really sad.” Rodan said nothing, simply maintaining his lack of eye contact. “With how you and your people’s hierarchy work, I thought you’d be happy about a runt like you getting close to the top of the food chain-”

Rodan’s flames flared up again, this time in anger as he screeched. “WHY WOULD I BE HAPPY ABOUT MY MATE DYING-” The flame went back to a smolder as he realized in horror what he had just blurted out. There was no way they wouldn’t try to use that against him-

San looked impassive, but what he said sounded... horrified? “You... your mate died and you ended up taking her place!?”

“I- I don’t know why it happened either-” Rodan started, the pent-up frustration and anxiety and despair that had accumulated and festered over the years starting to come out as yellow flames started surrounding them. “It’s just- we were trying to start a family and one of the attempts finally took- and before I knew it the volcano we nested in erupted and we lost the eggs and I lost a wing and she choked on the smoke and I tried to join them but Terra wouldn’t let me die-”

Rodan came to a halt as he felt two hands come up to his face. San was looking down at him, all three pair of eyes narrowed. “How cruel.” He blankly stated. “Instead of letting you join her, your god- Terra, is it?- has decided to throw her death right in your face by making you her successor... are you not angry at her?”

Rodan grabbed San by the wrists, taking his hands away from his face. “Why do you care? It’s not like you ever lost anyone dear to you.”

“I have, actually.” Rodan’s eyes widened in surprise. He would’ve called bullshit, but something about San when he said it made him seem more... vulnerable. “Back when we lived in space. He often helped us, we had similar point of views, and he was very fun to be around. A bit similar to you, really. Losing him so suddenly is what drove us to come here.”

“Oh.” Rodan took a hold of San’s hand, squeezing reassuringly. “I’m so sorry for your loss... was his death brutal, or... ?”

“Oh, he didn’t die, firebird.” San started ominously, standing to his full height. “He betrayed us.”

“W- what?” Rodan’s eyes widened in horror. As far as he was concerned, once mated, you essentially pledged your very being to that person. And while a relationship between mates could die if given enough time, betraying them before breaking off was never an option. “Why would he do that!?”

“Weaker beings are afraid of what they don’t understand, and we are very hard to understand.” San stated, his voice back to it’s dissonant cheerfulness. “I mean, I’m very sure you’ve seen quite a few humans who didn’t like Titans and wanted them dead-”

Rodan didn’t process what came out of San’s mouth next. He was too focused by his arms breaking off, separated from his shoulders by tiny black, pointy sticks. He opened his mouth to scream, only for more sticks to lodge themselves in his lips and throat, chocking off any sounds that would come out of it. As those sticks started tearing into his chest, is vision went blurry, the entire world around him melding in a sick spiral of colors, gold at it’s center.

“Rodan!? RODAN! OPEN YOUR EYES!!!” Rodan opened his eyes, eyes turned to the ground and whole body shaking as he hyperventilated. He was back in the real world. ‘Hey, hey, it’s fine, you’re fine, there’s no danger- Look at me.” He slowly looked up. The light of the mostly set sun was casting strange, moving shadows on San, his glowing red eyes amplifying the strangeness of his sharp features. “What’s wrong?”

“C- Can’t breath-”

San frowned. “Breath, then.” He sang, his voice echoing onto itself.

Rodan didn’t know why he wasn’t ignoring the Ghidorah’s songs. Hell, they were the whole reason he had built up his immunity to all Calls, thanks in no small part to hanging out with Godzilla so much. But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the pull of it. And he was too shaken to not listen right now. He took in a large gulp of air, breathing in short, quick bursts as San held onto his hands.

“Do you want to talk about what that was about?” San asked, tilting his head. Rodan shook his head. Revealing his relationship with Quetzalcoatl could’ve gone wrong very fast, and he attributed San having someone similar to a pure stroke of luck on his part. There was no way Ghidorah could’ve ever been hurt by beings so much smaller and weaker than them. He hoped the other wouldn’t push it.

But San just nodded, letting go of Rodan’s hands and gently bending forward as his breathing calmed down. It’s then he realized. “It worked.”

San blinked in confusion. “Uh?”

“The meditation, it worked!” Rodan cheerfully exclaimed, pushing his earlier thoughts in a corner of his mind. “I feel stronger then befo-”

“Rodan.”

“GAH!” Rodan turned his head, only to see Ni staring down at him and San. “I told you not to sneak up on me like that!”

Ni simply shrugged in indifference. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Oh, hi Ni!” Ni nodded at San, before kneeling down, facing Rodan.

“I found something you might like.” Ni told him, handing him a handful of something. Rodan’s eyes widening in surprise when he realized it was a handful of small roots, nuts and grains. “You told me you couldn’t eat the fish around the island anymore, so I tried to find something you could eat in the human settlement. It’s not a lot, but it should be better than rotten fish.”

Rodan smiled, bringing the handful of food to his mouth and swallowing. He then turned toward Ni, his face glowing a bit. “And it is. Thank you, Ni.”

Ni frowned, bringing a hand to Rodan’s face. “Are you sure you’re fine? Blood keeps rushing to your face.”

That snapped Rodan out of his relaxed state of mind. He jumped up, the flush growing bigger as he did so. “Of course I’m fine, whywouldntIbefine-”

“Rodan, it’s fine, sit down-”

“AnywayitsgettinglateandIneedtosleepgoodnight!” Rodan exclaimed, followed by a strong wind that carried him off to the top of his volcano. Ni and San could see his silhouette collapse at the top of it, followed by a strange, quiet shriek.

San turned toward his brother, smiling. “Good idea to find him food!”

Ni blinked. “I didn’t think my efforts to make him like me were working.” When San gave him a confused frown, he shrugged. “Each time I try to be nice to him, he keeps getting... flustered. Embarrassed. That’s not a good thing.”

“... He’s touched.” San blankly stated. “You keep giving him gifts, Ni. Of course he’s gonna keep blushing.”

“How did you figure out he needed food?” The two turned toward Ichi, who they knew had been watching them for a time.

San waved as their older brother sat down. “Hi brother Ichi!”

“He... told me?” Ni tried hesitantly. “It’s why I told him to talk to San. So he could learn to absorb energy without soaking himself in lava. Help him stay not weak.”

Ichi nodded. “Either way, good job. The both of you.” Ni sighed in relief and San beamed at the praise. His good mood only improved as Ichi pat him on the head. “If we continue like that, we’ll be out of this place sooner than later.”

[heroacademiaimagines]

Fluff Alphabet: All Might/Yagi Toshinori

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

There’s no one thing that Toshinori likes to do with you, you could just be sitting watching paint dry and he would still enjoy it because he was with you. When he was much younger he enjoyed taking you out far more often, even if he had to do it while disguised, but as an adult (and an injured man) he finds that he’s far happier just spending the time around you doing whatever it is you desired. He felt like he had wasted so much of his time not being with you, instead choosing his hero career, and now that he had the time to think about it, he realized how empty it felt not having you beside him.

His free time with you is spent doing a variety of things, which can include helping him become a better teacher or even helping him train his successor (information you became privy to after his true form was revealed, after he promised there’d be no more secrets). He tries to take you out places where you’d never been before or that he think you’d enjoy, so that he can at least enjoy some of the time he has left with you when trouble isn’t afoot.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

To catch All Might’s attention, you really had to be something special. Your personality was bold, you were charismatic and flirtatious, but you always pulled back when he showed interest, leaving him wanting more. You seemed capable of playing him like a fiddle, keeping him running after you even long after you’d become friends. There was always a tension, unspoken feelings, and these things kept him hooked for the rest of his life. You were a person that seemed hard to pin down, but left him feeling like you could easily.

Aside from the fact that he thought you were beyond the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes on, there’s a lot of beautiful things about you. You were an admirable hero, a loyal friend, a bright soul in a world that seemed to want to dampen that hope and optimism that you carried on strongly every day. He could spend all day and night talking about you, gushing about all the things that made you who you were, but he’s often silenced before hand as it’s sickeningly sweet how much he loves you.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

His entire life had been about being a figure of peace for the people, being strong and positive and able to take on any problem that could possibly come his way. Fighting off your anxiety and depression is a battle he certainly couldn’t win with his muscles, but he could do all that he can to show you’re not alone. When he sees you’re in a mood, or having a panic attack, he’ll talk with you calmly, embracing you if the closeness comforts you, letting you know you were safe because he was there, even trying to elicit a laugh or another response out of you before he releases you.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Toshinori never thought that it would work out with you, not for lack of trying. He just knew that his vision for the future always included being the best he could be, saving lives until he physically couldn’t anymore. He didn’t think that that part would ever come true, and once it does, he finds he doesn’t quite have a dream to stand on any longer. But you’ve remained a constant, and even if the vision of his future has to change, it doesn’t make it any less bright. He wants to spend the rest of his time with you, and whether that ends with you two married or not, as long as he’s with you he doesn’t care.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He can easily go back and forth, depending on ‘who’ is talking with you. As All Might he finds the need to always be the one ‘in control’, the one who takes care of you to the point you don’t have anything else to worry about. It just comes more naturally to him to be dominant when he’s in that form, compared to his scraggly form, where he feels more useless and unattractive. He’s not necessarily completely passive, but he’s more passive than what he’d normally display, and he feels like it’s more a show of his true self rather than the persona he put on for the world. He’s still a gentleman though, and one who wants to keep you as safe as he can.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He forgives almost a little too easily, letting go of things that still stick in his head and annoy him. He can’t help but not want to fight, since he sees so little of you as it is, but he supposes that no relationship is perfect. Toshinori’s aversion to fighting is obvious, and it’s almost irritating how he dances around difficult topics. You want your time spent with him to be worthwhile, too, but it didn’t cause any genuine relationship problems to disappear just because you don’t want it to be there. You try to get him to understand this over time, a lesson he’s quicker to accept when he’s older, but it’s one of the greatest flaws in him.

Toshinori is very careful with the fights he allows to go too far, preferring to dim that fire long before it explodes into something larger. He knows how to deal with volatile people rather well, considering the line of work he’s in, and he’s endlessly patient when he’s dealing with a person he loves. He hates arguing or leaving an argument to fester with you, because he knows how dangerous his line of work is; he’s the number one hero, but life had proven unpredictable, and what if something happened to him? Would that anger you had for him last forever, since he would no longer be able to soothe it? He has many anxieties surrounding you, but this one is prevalent enough that it can cause actual problems if he doesn’t cap it while he can.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He would truly be marked as a fool if he wasn’t grateful for all the things you did for him, and all the patience you’ve given him. Even if the relationship had started with an understanding that he was All Might, and he had a duty to the people, he still knew he couldn’t just completely ignore you and expect the relationship to continue. He worked hard to prove that he thought of you even when he was away, and that the better, safer world he was fighting for wasn’t just for the general population, it was for you, too. He knows he cancels on one too many dates, that he comes home bloodied and bruised and makes you worry until you’re sick, but he also knows that he loves you, and that you love him enough to keep trying.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Toshinori finds it’s pointless to even attempt to hide secrets from you, and even from the moment you’d first met, you could tell there was something different about his Quirk. He ended up confessing after your first night spent together, being filled with sudden dread as he realized he let slip an extremely important secret. This, however, doesn’t prevent him from lying to you about an incredibly important secret that, once exposed, could potentially ruin your trust in him and your relationship.

The wound that prevents him from fully transforming into his All Might form is a well-hidden secret from you, something he’s ashamed of. He didn’t want you to know because he didn’t want you to worry, but there were parts of him that were sure it was because he didn’t want you to look at him differently; he didn’t want you to think he was weak, or sickly, and he was too stubborn to lean on you even when it got at it’s worst. Those years are ones where you didn’t see him in person often, putting a strain on your relationship, to the point where it could have easily broken you up once the big secret was revealed to the public. He’s full of apologizes despite being the injured one, but you greet him at the hospital with teary eyes, scolding him for thinking you’d love him any less just because his stint as All Might was coming to an end. The relief is immeasurable, and a great reminder as to why he’d fallen in love with you in the first place.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You made the world worth fighting for even more. You made his mornings seem brighter, his training less difficult, you just had this shine to you that made everything better. Even when the puppy love stage of your relationship wears down he finds that you’re still a great source of positivity and energy, a person who understands they’re supporting a man who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders. You also help him to feel human, letting him know that he doesn’t have to be perfect when it’s just the two of you, allowing him to vent his frustrations and his sorrows when the hero life wasn’t quite as positive and glamorous as he’d once envisioned it. He’s not afraid of admitting your positive influence, accidentally causing rumors to circulate about you for years when he mentions a ‘special someone’ in an interview that helped keep him motivated to being the best hero he could be.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

His jealousy comes and goes, and never seems entirely consistent. He doesn’t like seeing other people hanging all over you, or very openly trying to get you to date them, despite your relationship with him being a secret and there being no easy way for you to tell the person you’re happily taken. You’re the only one who can tell when he gets jealous because he keeps the forced smile on his face, but you can see the twitching of his eyes as he begrudgingly has to keep his mouth shut while you handle the situation. But for what it’s worth, he trusts you with every bit of his heart, so he knows even if others want you, your loyalty lies with him and you can handle yourself. His more possessive side tends to come out if another hero is the one flirting with you, or if he hasn’t seen you for awhile and upon finally getting the chance to, you’re busy with someone else.

Jealousy is another one of those feelings that Toshinori tries to shove deep down inside him, hoping that he could squash it out before it became a genuine problem. You can tell when he’s upset, and immediately pry, seeming almost pleased to hear that he was getting jealous in a situation. He takes great comfort in your words of confirmation, that you love him and only him, and that no one could ever compare to the love he gives you. He apologizes for feeling the way he did, even if he can’t quite help it, and you’re quick to ‘forgive’ him for it.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Toshinori is a passionate kisser, and when he was younger, he was particularly fond of spontaneous, sweeping you off your feet kisses. He also liked to pull a move where he spun you around and dipped you down low before pressing a kiss to your lips, normally as greeting after he had a good day on the job. He’s a focused kisser, one where you can tell his attention is on you, only you, and nowhere else; his mind was filled with thoughts of your scent, how you felt against him, it was a hijacking of the best kind.

The first kiss was electrifying, perhaps the first time he’d ever felt so connected to a person who wasn’t his mentor. You had met a few times before that, you were in one of his classes in college and lived nearby, so you were familiar with each other. When he swooped in to save you from the villain attack that day, he didn’t think much of it until you appeared on his doorstep that night, distraught. David hadn’t been present and he’d let you in, and after talking to you for a short while, it ended up in a natural silence. He can’t remember exactly who made the first move, and now it doesn’t necessarily matter, but the next thing he knew your lips were on his and you were practically on his lap, kissing him, finding comfort in him after your life had been in danger just hours before. He thought it was simply ‘hero syndrome’, where you were in love with him just because he’d saved you, but… well, his future self can’t help but think what a silly thought that was to have.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Would it truly be a confession from him if it wasn’t full of flowery prose, actual flowers, and so dramatic that you wonder if he ripped it off of some cheesy American romcom. There’s always a bit of glamour in everything he does, you think it’s embedded in him at this point, but it gets the mood across well. You’re surprised to hear the love confession, staring at him in stunned silence while he stares back at you, awaiting your response to his feelings. He’s almost positive he’s never felt more awkward in his life, backpedaling and apologizing for being too much, which finally snaps you back to reality that All Might, of all people, was confessing his love to you.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Marriage isn’t the first thing on his mind, even after your romantic relationship lasts for a few years. He wouldn’t mind the finality of it all, considering how much it took from you both to last this long, but to get married… he’s not sure why the thought makes him nervous. He would present the idea to you before going forward with anything, feeling out your personal opinion on the subject and then deciding from there if he has to plan a proposal.

Toshinori’s first proposal was much like his love confession was, dramatic, flowery, and full of love. The ring is incredibly flashy, and you tell him you can’t wear something like that in public without big questions being asked, especially since the two of you were openly connected. It’s a ring that you keep near and dear to you, but can never quite find the opportunity to wear (unless you’re appearing at a charity event and want to show off). The second proposal comes after All Might is no more, where Toshinori offers you a ring much less gaudy and far more practical, one that the two of you could wear without drawing too much attention. There’s still danger lurking around the corner, and he still mostly keeps out of sight, but he feels less urgency about keeping your relationship a secret (though he keeps it away from the media as long as he can).

Being married to him might feel a little too short-lived, as you never quite got to it when he was younger, until after the accident crippled him and prevented him from living a fast-paced life. He uses the rest of his time with you wisely, spending as many of his days with you as he can, taking you on all those dates he had once missed out on, and assuring you that he loves you more and more each day. He’s a loving husband who wants to take care of you, and who hopes you continue to be patient with him as he learns what it means to be a good husband.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Honey, baby, he really lays it on thick, but you can’t complain. Having him call you those things in his deep voice makes you feel some type of way, and you especially love when he lovingly whispers a nickname in your ear after you’ve been apart for a while. These aren’t generally said while he’s out in public for obvious reasons, but he slips up sometimes, and simply has to play up the flirty persona.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

All Might is like a lovestruck puppy, something that would surprise those that didn’t know him and his loving, more affectionate nature. He thinks the world of you almost instantly, and almost makes no attempts to guard his heart against your charms, feeling an instant connection and as though he could trust you with anything (which he ends up doing when he tells you the secret behind One For All). He acts like the perfect gentleman, opening doors, walking you home, doing anything he can to impress you and show you that he’s the perfect person for you to date.

It’s very obvious to those close to him how in love he clearly is, even in the beginning few months of the relationship. The longer it lasts the more support he gains from his loved ones to keep you close, but not too close, as life of a hero doesn’t just endanger him now. Still, he doesn’t make much of an attempt when not in his All Might form to show that you’re not someone special to him, even if the actual relationship is still unknown.

He tries to express his love in little gifts, sending you post cards from all over when he’s away with different ways to say ‘I love you’ and even writing little love notes that remind you he’s thinking of you and would see you as soon as he could. He can get mushy in person, too, seeming to ramble on and on about you to you before he cuts himself off and gets embarrassed. He knows he’s hopelessly in love with you, but he doesn’t need you to know that or to see the more ‘pathetic’ side of him that wants to do anything he can to make you happy.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

For the sake of your safety, your relationship must remain a secret, so unfortunately, All Might doesn’t get to show you off as much as he’d love to. He wants the world to know what a wonderful person you are, someone who captured his heart and kept it safe. If he could do so your relationship would be public, but as it was, PDA was almost expressly forbidden for your safety. It didn’t stop you from flirting with him in public, or playing holding onto his arm and calling yourself his number one fan, as this just seemed to be a regular interaction between All Might and one his many fans. You couldn’t go too far, but there’s a bit of a thrill in pulling him into an alley where you can kiss him to your hearts content until his absence is noticed.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

All Might has a taste for romance, and just seems to know how to make you feel loved after a long day of stress. His attention is all yours when it’s just the two of you at home, his phone elsewhere as he gives you a massage or simply cuddles up with you. It’s something he’s learned to do since he’s gone or busy so often, to fulfill your attention quota and to make you happy in any way he can. He’s good with gift-giving and appearing genuinely sorry when he breaks a date, making him a little hard NOT to forgive even if he’s disappointed you.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Incredibly! You’ve questioned whether he read a lot of romance novels from a young age, to which a flustered Toshi ignores the question entirely and simply says he just has a knack for it. He thinks about the things he would want from someone and then proceeds to treat his significant other the same way, and if there’s anything he’s doing that’s ‘too much’ to tell him, as he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He likes being able to shower you with gifts or give you a comfortable life, without you having to worry too much about little things. You suppose it’s just the benefit of dating the number one hero, but it’s not as though that’s all the relationship was to you; you’d dated him far before he’d become number one, attracted to him for a variety of reasons that didn’t involve his growing popularity.

Everything he possibly could! Even if he had been run ragged that day, if you came home and wanted something specific for dinner, or wanted to go out and do something, he would do it. You try not to ask for too much when you see he’s tired, as he’s likely to push himself to the point of exhaustion just to do the things you want to do. He’s pretty content just spending his free-time around you, and would be happy if you felt the same.

He goes back and forth between being both. He greatly enjoys a lot of cliché romance things, and sometimes you wonder if he should’ve been an actor instead of a hero. He tries to send flowers, fruit, or some other type of basket to you at least once a week, especially while away, and whenever he’s finally home again he always brings with him a gift of some sort. The gifts are generally tailored perfectly to your interest, and can involve fashion you’re interested in, books he knows you’d find fascinating, and little knick-knacks that just so happened to remind him of you.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Of course he believes in you! If you weren’t a person he could admire, look up to, and support, it’s likely you wouldn’t have been together for as long as you had been. He knows at times he seems like some type of generalized motivational speaker, and that it seems ‘expected’ of him to say these things to you, but he’s never been one to not try his best to be honest. He wants you to know that he thinks the world of you, that he’s confident in your intelligence and drive, and that he thinks you can achieve anything that you put your mind to. If there’s anything he can help with, he’d do his best, because he wants nothing more than to see you succeed.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Toshinori finds your relationship to be rather interesting, and certainly not conventional as it is, so he wouldn’t feel like there needed to be any more spice. The midnight rendezvous and the constant sense of danger, the worry that you might be discovered and targeted because of him, was quite enough spice for him. If there was something else you wanted to try out, he’d try to have an open mind, but he feels he’s more of a traditional person when it comes to relationships, so he’s perfectly okay with routine. Your relationship doesn’t seem to have a set routine until after his true form is revealed, and he can now come home to you at night as his days of a hero are over; it’s a sad time for him, but at the same time, he finally gets to spend his days with the person he loves the most, so it’s more of a bittersweet type of feeling.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He likes to think that he knows you rather well, though he can’t blame you if he feels like a stranger at times due to you not having much face time together. But he’s always talking to you about things that are important, always keeps up on knowing what’s happening in your life, and also keeps a list of your favorite things just in case he forgets. He’s also rather empathetic, knowing how much stress he must put you through with what he does, and how lonely you must feel when he’s gone (he feels the same), constantly trying to assuage your worries, or at least distract you from them.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Toshinori had to learn how to balance his social life with his work life, and at first, it was clear to him that his work life meant a great deal more. He cared about those close to him but he felt his true calling was in saving people, and that often didn’t leave him much personal time; being the symbol of peace was a full time job that often required overtime, so he had been positive he wouldn’t want to put any partner through that. Your appearance threw a clear wrench in his plans, as he found himself inexplicably drawn to you against his own will, unable to deny his own feelings and bury them far enough down so that he could continue on without having you in his life. His relationship with you is important, one of the things that keeps him inspired, that keeps him moving forward, and consistently reminds him of exactly what it is he’s fighting for, so he considers it to be very important to him.

You are someone who he values very highly, and he considers you one of his closest, if not the closest, friend he’s ever had. Even if he doesn’t confide everything in you, he has his reasons, and still considers you as the person who knows him better than anyone. He’s shown you every part of him, even the ugly, weak parts the media would be discouraged to see, and to have that type of trust built means the world to him.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

When you’re finally alone together, the man barely lets you out of his sight or out of his arms, always holding you or leaning against you to get the skin-on-skin contact that he’s missed. You almost think he’s touch-starved with how much he enjoys being cuddled up close to you, but you know it’s also because he’s trying to make the most out of the time you get spent together. He’s not quite the same after he obtains his wound, as he’s trying to hide it from you, thus he tries to keep a distance so you won’t discover it. It’s a rough time with him constantly hiding himself from you, to the point where you rarely saw him for long periods of time, but once you’re told of the secret, her returns to the same old affectionate Toshinori you once knew.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Toshinori doesn’t often have moments where he has the chance to miss you, since he��s kept busy so often, and when he finally does have a chance to rest, he instantly passes out. He’ll keep in touch with phone calls and texts while he’s fighting against villains, but on the rare moments when he finally has the chance to take a breath is when the loneliness starts to leak in. This tends to happen later at night, almost into the early morning hours, where he stares at pictures of you that he has on his phone and wishes you were awake so that he could hear your voice.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He would do just about anything for you, and would absolutely go to great lengths both to keep you happy and to keep you from harm. He fights the feeling that he’s being selfish by being in a relationship with you, thus not allowing you to potentially move on to a person who might better suit what you want, but after being told you’re not a child and you’re well-aware of what you’re getting in to, he relaxes. He knows he’s beyond lucky to have someone who’s both managed to capture his heart and who has the patience of a saint to deal with his busy life, and he knows the relationship is one worth fighting for.

[huxianposts]

.

i’m hyped up on caffeine bc i have to work a long shift today but ive been a incorrigible insomniac with only 2 hours of sleep last night, and 3 the night before, and 2 the night before that (the past 3 years has been insomnia central who am i kidding). caffeine is making the latent anxiety rise like a mfer and now i’m debating everything. this is probs a symptom of depression increasing my isolating behavior but ive been thinking about deleting everything, from tumblr and all my social media-- everything. its like i don’t want people to know me anymore. there’s this great shame i feel at being perceived, at people knowing me, even by just a name, and it freaks me out. i want to create but i can’t seem to finish anything. that inability to complete projects may stem from the fear of perceived judgement of the final product-- therefore, my anxiety is rationalizing that not finishing anything will prevent that fear from materializing lmaooo fmllll it’s just frustrating. i have. so many things and ideas, and dreams that want to exist and become physical and i don’t have the skills to make it the way i envision it. i can’t give it the justice and care it deserves. again, irrational thinking, but it is almost paralyzing. my art is terrible, and my writing doesn’t fit the tone in my mind. i think, man, what is the point then. me creating, when i merely make it terrible. but it’s this terrible conundrum where if i create, i feel like dying, but if i don’t create, i also feel like dying, this feedback loop of shame and frustration that festers in me like mold, and i am just rot, there is no cure. i’m in grad school and the academic setting is giving me structure but the fear of the future and my own doubts of this major is smiting me bc would i have chosen this major if past trauma/events didnt happen? who would i be without the baggage? that fixation on the lost potential is wrecking me, because i am so empty, of personhood and anything worth existing. i don’t know how to regain things i’ve lost, and i can’t regain it, i know-- but it kills me to think that said lost was all of me, and the me now is this cheap subversion of pandora’s box where hope is out but the monsters stay inside and i am the container. granted i can say the monsters are the ideas and desire to create-- i should want to release them. but i am my own jailer, a cowardly one. a disappointing one. i can’t afford therapy at the moment, but the ironic part is that i’m getting a degree to become a therapist so that’s just a kick in the proverbial balls. i can’t talk about this anxiety to friends-- they’re busy, or they just don’t care. and i don’t think i can handle that blatant disregard, not when i am this unrecognizable. writing here feels a bit better though, so i am pleased in that regard.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Athazagoraphobia (Last Part)

She wonders if this is what fire feels like as it splays across skin. The raw patch on her chest tingles painfully as though it is trying to let her know that it is spreading. 

She resists the urge to check, in part because she doesn’t want to know but mostly because she doesn’t want to raise suspicions in her father. 

Her mind drifts to her fire once more, for as single heartbeat she ponders burning the spot of rot. Maybe, by some miracle, it would burn the infection away. 

But she knows that it is too late; the same bruning tickles her hip and lower back.

“We just need to get past them and then we’re home free.” Zirin points. Azula follows the line of her finger to a band of afflicted.

Ozai, with no word of warning, blasts a few of them off the side of the pier. The remaining cluster faces them in unison. “Father!” Azula hisses. 

“They’re corpses.” He shrugs. “Don’t tell me that you’re slower and dumber than a corpse.”

He was the one who’d made the impulse decision, yet it is her cheeks that burn with shame. 

“She only means that rash decisions are dangers, Fire Lord.” Li comes to her defense. 

Before he can snap at Li for her disrespect, Azula mumbles, “let’s just clear the rest of them out.” 

Not that her father needs any further prompting. 

Zirin is another matter, she scans the docks for a moment before reluctantly attacking. Li lingers on the fringes of the first while Azula sets flame to the neglected wooden pillars that support the dock. Several more hosts dump into the waves where they disappear into the murk. The remaining few shamble closer and Azula’s heart seizes all over again. 

The girl’s braid is scraggly and unruly and her shirt is in tatters. Her stomach is wide open and dragging innards. She must have bled out already because the only other thing that trickles from her belly are waving tendrils. In a most morbidly uncanny way, the girl is still beaming from ear to ear as she had in life. 

Some manner of undignified and stressed sound escapes Azula’s lips. A pair of cold, wrinkled hands come to cover her eyes, keeping her from inspecting her former friend further. “You don’t have to look at that, princess, you’ve seen enough already.”

She silently thanks Li for the small mercy. 

When Li removes her hands, Tylee is gone and her father’s hands are still smoking. He looks at her with a rare expression of sympathy. 

It is nearly enough to unravel her. “Let’s just get on one of those boats and get out of here.”

Zirin wanders to the nearest dock. 

“Wait!” Azula calls. “Come here.” 

Zirin steps back and Azula releases her held breath. The has a churning carpet of silver-blue as though the parasites have eradicated the seaweed and took its place. It clings to the rotting wood in an evil parody. “Let’s use that one. This dock is about to crumble.”  Azula lies. 

The dock next to it looks just as rickety. But the boat tethered to it, though small, looks sturdy enough.

.oOo.

Azula had never been a fan of the open ocean but today, the salty spray is a breath of fresh air. And there is a certain comfort in knowing that, should she throw up, she can blame it on seasickness rather than infection. 

For the first time in a little over a month, she can truly rest easy. 

When night falls, she finds that her exhaustion is finally potent enough to overpower the nightly replays of her traumas. 

She finds herself out cold. 

Her waking is just as unpleasant as she knew it would be. Her belly burns and her chest flares hotter. She finds her sheets sticky with blood. It takes everything in her not to scream. Her blankets are thoroughly soaked and cling to her skin. When she moves them, chunks of skin peel away with it. 

Her head reels with a new found sense of fear. 

She wonders how Li is faring. 

She sneaks on deck and cleanses her disease riddled body with ocean spray. It stings like hell but she can’t let her father see that much blood. 

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” Zirin muses. 

“Finally?”

“It’s been three days.” 

Azula bites her lip, her anxiety swelling that much further. “Three days…” she repeats. Zirin nods. She rubs her palms against her eyes, feeling thrice as stressed. “How is Li?”

“Well enough, princess.” Li declares. 

She wanders to the bow of the ship where she finds her father at the wheel. “Ah, you’re awake. Would you like to take the wheel?”

She peers at the maps he has spread out and nods. She could use a distraction. He pulls up a chair for her. She takes her seat and falls silent. Ozai’s hand is on her shoulder. She flinches as a stabbing sensation fires off in her belly. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asks in a manner that suggests more annoyance than it does concern. 

She swallows and shakes her head. “My leg is just bothering me. I’ll cope.” She has no choice but to do so. 

Ozai smiles, “I raised you well. Your brother would have fallen as soon as his bone split.” 

“I see another ship!” Zirin declares from the mast. “Should we check it out? There might be other survivors. 

Azula doesn’t like it.

Doesn’t trust it. 

The boat is just floating there, directionless. Bobbing without aim. “It’s a dead ship.” She calls up. A new feeling of dread rises, knowing that the parasites have already reached the seas. It is an ill omen. 

An exchanged look with her father tells her that her father shares her thoughts. 

Not that it matters, her body is already decaying. 

She is already dead. 

Whatever control she may have had over the hosts and parasites, the possible answers and cure will die with her. 

She takes her father’s hand and squeezes. 

.oOo.

It has been nearly a week since they drifted away from the dead ship. Li has taken to ranting about how this must be the Spirit World’s way of punishing for the war and the disharmony it has created. “Sozin used that comet to disrupt the balance of the world and the spirits used it to take vengeance.” She declares again. 

Azula’s heart sinks; the old woman must be slipping. Or maybe it is simply natural for her mind to turn towards more divine explanations. Azula doesn’t particularly believe that the spirits have the power to embed disease into a comet. Especially not with an Avatar to act as a buffer. 

She doesn’t bother debating spiritual matters with Li. She hasn’t the energy for it and she would like to keep Li as a companion, especially now that her father has taken to avoiding her. It stings worse than the raw patches that have finally reached her neck and face. 

She thinks that she has grown used to the searing feeling that they bring. Perhaps the rot has eaten away the nerves in her cheek. 

Her leg is nearly healed, but the ship doesn’t provide her with many places to walk to. But she is restless so she takes to pacing from one end of the deck to the next. She holds her crutches just in case her leg decides to lock. She wanders below deck to wash her face. The action is rather pointless, serving only to make her feel like she has some semblance of hygiene. 

The face reflected back at her is red, flushed by the warmth of infection. She is beginning to think that the parasites like the heat and that, that is why they have imbedded themselves within her. She can burn them away, but perhaps freezing them out would be better. She had been a fool to delay getting to the tribes for so long. And for what? A man who can’t even look at her anymore. Azula fumbles through medical supplies until she comes to gauze and bandages.

She delicately covers up the oozing patch before returning to the deck. The exposed parts of her face are met with significantly nippier air that tosses her tangled locks all about. “Good morning, father.” 

The man doesn’t turn around. 

“We are nearing the tribes…”

“Do you think I am a fool?” He asks. 

“No, father.” 

“You hide an infection from me and then you imply that I can’t tell when we are close to our destination.”  He would strike her if he weren’t so disgusted by the notion of making contact with her.

“I only meant to start a conversation.” She mumbles.  

He waves her off. 

“I’m dying, father. I want…” what does she want. “I want you to care about me before I do. I want somebody too…”

He holds up a silencing hand.

A friendlier hand falls upon her shoulder. “Come on, princess, it’s chilly up here, lets get you inside.”

“Before what!?” Azula snaps. “Before I catch a cold.”

Li doesn’t even flinch. “Before that man takes the fight out of you.” 

“That man is my father.”

“No father would treat his girl like that.” Li grumbles. 

Zirin climbs down the mast, “I can see the main land.” She declares. “But with all of these glaciers to navigate it can take another week or so to reach it.”

Azula is in no rush anymore. “Thank you, Zirin. I’m sure that my father would be interested.”

“It’s almost over, princess. The journey is almost through.” Li reassures softly as Zirin saunters off. Azula isn’t sure if she is referring to their days of sailing or their days of living. 

“Yes.” Azula acknowledges. She stares off at the very distant landmass. She isn’t entirely sure that Zirin hasn’t mistaken a particularly large glacier for the tribes.

.oOo.

The auroras, she has always heard, are stunning. 

Mystifying. 

But Azula finds them eerie and unsettling. 

They blaze across the sky with spectral fingers that reminder her all too much of the ones weaving in and out of her festering skin. They lick and lash at the cosmos, reaching out to touch each and every star as the parasites had made contact with people. 

It is more than that though. Azula can’t place it, but she thinks that there is something in there, hiding between the teal and green curtains. 

Something sinister. 

Something that has touched the Northern Water Tribe in the same way that Sozin’s Comet had breached the Fire Nation.

She swears that, when Li and Zirin stop exchanging conspiracy theories, she can hear whispers  in the lights. 

Swears that the parasites flick and flit in time with the cosmic display. 

Azula shudders. 

She hopes that her mind is simply clinging onto residual paranoia. Not that paranoia isn’t due. She retreats to the semi-safety of below deck. 

She doesn’t return to the deck until the auroras are gone. 

They are a day away from the Northern Water Tribe and Azula can’t rid herself of unpleasant tingles of fear. Sunlight glints off of the snowy landscape before them. 

“Are you going to slow us down?” Ozai asks. 

Azula bends and unbends her leg. “I don’t think so.” She thanks Agni that she can walk again. She had anticipated her father having to carry her through the snow. In current she knows that he will sooner leave her behind than come close to her. 

His question was a fool’s question; she doesn't need to slow them down, the sheer amount of snow and lack of equipment does that. 

The port is close enough to the city that Azula doesn’t fear that they won’t make it but comfort is a lost luxury. Azula drifts closer to Li the nearer that they get. 

“Shit, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Zirin declares. 

Her optimism is somewhat vexing. 

Azula scans the faces of the guards atop the icy wall. They are stony and unforgiving as the terrain they overlook.  If they are guarding the entrance this readily, it must be a sanctuary. Still, her unease doesn’t subside. 

“We’re survivors seeking sanctuary!” Zirin calls up to them. “And warmth. Warmth would be great too.” 

Azula shivers to herself. 

Warmth. 

Safety. 

That would be heavenly.

The men exchange glances. And Azula shares a look with Li, her look of weary resignation is mirrored by Azula. She knows exactly how this is going to end. “Search them for infection!” One of the men declares. 

Li squeezes Azula’s hand. 

Already, they have noticed the distance between the two of them and Zirin and Ozai. “Which of you are the healthy ones?”

Ozai hesitates none before gesturing to himself and Zirin.

“Inspect them.” Says the head guard. 

“Strip.” Commands his partner. Zirin wastes no time. Ozai on the other hand scowls. “A Fire Lord doesn’t strip before peasants.” 

“But a refugee does.” The second guard replies. “Strip or get back on your boat.” 

Azula turns the other way as her father drops his robes. She waits a few minutes after the man calls, “clear” to turn back around. “Put them in the quarantine quarters until we are certain that they won’t develop symptoms.”

The gates open and Ozai and Zirin are beckoned inside.  

“Father…” Azula says. 

He has the decency to look back, but no more than that. 

A normal person might cry, but Azula finds that she has no more tears left. She has nothing but a solemn acceptance. She still has the dignity to hold her head high. The only warmth in her body and soul radiates from the infection. 

She watches her father disappear into the safe-haven. She wonders how long he will last; how long they will tolerate his intolerance and malicious intent. 

Flurries throw themselves violently at her as she stares at the wall. At the glorious sanctuary that she can’t enter. Even if they let her in, she likes to think that she has too much honor to bring a plague to the last cluster of humanity. 

“We’re alone…” she trails off. 

Li nods. “I told you that I would accompany you until my last breath, princess.” 

Just before she pulls her eyes away from the wall, she sees him. Her heart falters. He looks at her with pity and...regret? For a moment, she thinks that he going to plead with them to let her in. To give her a chance. But he doesn’t know that she isn’t contagious--she has a thought; a bitter acknowledgement that the cold might be enough to kill the parasites. That with time, the patches of rot might heal. 

She opens her mouth to try to convince him of this. 

He is not paying attention to her, other than a nod in her direction. 

She holds her breath and waits. 

His attention is fully on her again, his face grim. 

“I’m sorry that I left you there.” Zuko calls down. 

Once again she opens her mouth to speak. She doesn’t have the chance before one of the guards lifts his arms, dragging with them a large spike of ice. Azula’s vision goes hazy, she hears Li’s body thud next to her. 

She looks up at Zuko in shock more than anything else. He winces and mouths something akin to, “she’s not dead yet.” And to her directly he says, “I’m sorry.” 

A red spray soils the otherwise pristine white. 

Suddenly it doesn’t hurt anymore. 

Nothing hurts. 

There is nothing. 

She has time for a single parting thought. A thought that she is free. 

Finally free. Free of torment and fear and paranoia. Free of her own mind and of that which plagues her. Zuko had left her chained up and the parasites had made a prison of her own body. But Zuko has set her free.

Her decayed cheek hits the snow and her body goes still. 

With nowhere else to go, a cluster of pulsating  silver-blue wisps burrow beneath the snow. 

The strong adapt.

[lunamanar]

Walls

Therapist keeps telling me that I have problems “letting people in,” and I’m like...no, really? I totally haven’t been working on fixing that for over a decade, now, no sir. 

And...I mean, I’ve gotten better, I think. I feel like I’m generally open, at least with basic things. I don’t BS people (outside of work, where you kind of have to) or shut them down. Hell, I solicit questions, sometimes, which is...there’s a point in time I would have never, ever done that. Too damn terrifying. I talk about my anxieties, where I wouldn’t have admitted anxiety was even a thing I suffered from, in the past.  

But I guess there’s this...wall...where I do stop, in most cases. I feel like I’ve worked out, if only subconsciously, what things I’m willing to be judged on, and what things I’m not. I don’t just share everything, and that’s...normal, right? You don’t just pour your soul out to everyone you’re lunch friends or Internet acquaintances with. So I’m not sure what vulnerability it is I’m supposed to be holding prisoner. 

She brought up the fact that a lot of things that would really upset most people, I categorize as “no big deal” (or, alternatively, shrug). Like my mom being weird at me over text because I didn’t want to take her set of "historical” (*coughs*racist*cough*) dolls. I told her (my mom) no, she pitched a fit over it, I rolled my eyes and didn’t think about it anymore. Because what’s the point? It doesn’t matter. I can’t change her, I’m not going to change, and that’s just the way it is. No, I’ve never talked to anyone about it. Why would I want to? It’s one of many ridiculous things my mother does/says and I have no desire to subject other people to her nonsense. I don’t know what the point would be, or how that would make me feel better, rather than worse. 

I do reach out to people, when I think I need it. When I’m really sad, or in pain, or confused or lonely. But things that make me angry? Yeah, I don’t...really like to talk about those things. Because I’ll just get angrier, and no one needs my nonsense piled on top of whatever other nonsense is causing it. Plus it just makes me feel worse. Even if the person I’m talking to is understanding and sympathetic. It feels like a waste of energy on either end if it doesn’t result in either catharsis or resolution. I don’t think abstaining from that is me “bottling it up.” 

But, I guess I’m not the therapist. Not that therapists can’t be wrong, of course, but admittedly I have the same blindness to my own problems that everyone does, that I might not have if I were on the outside looking in. And from the outside looking in, she’s seeing anger as my purest expression of pain. And she’s not wrong about that. The things that really hurt me, that are so dangerous to me I am not willing to go near them, I shield with almost mindless, often explosive rage. And I know that anger like that is destructive before all else, so I don’t entertain it. And I certainly, absolutely don’t subject the people I care about to it. I will leave the room and go close myself up alone in my car before I let that happen. 

I mean, I get it. I have unresolved crap I have to deal with. I think everyone does. I don’t think that I shouldn’t deal with it, but I don’t think making those wounded spots--and particularly my behavior surrounding them--the responsibility of my friends to handle is wise or healthy. The sort of anger that protects pain and fear like that is destructive in a way that’s unfair to me, and that being the case, there’s no way it can be fair to other people. 

I know a lot of this probably sounds like I’m letting things fester to protect other people out of guilt or like I’m avoiding dealing with things because I’m afraid of being hurt. And yeah, there probably is a bit of that, but...I need to be believed when I say, no, some “walls” are there for a reason. Because I’m not capable of dealing with certain things in a non-destructive way, not unless the person I’m talking to has a very clear sense of the support I need for those things without me having to spell it out for them. And I’m sorry...that’s not most people, not most friends, not even close ones. It’s not an issue of trust, either, it’s an issue of time, experience and insight. 

I don’t know how to be more open and honest than I am, safely. Other than to say I’m human, and fragile, and damaged, just like everyone else. And where a lot of people contain tears or breakdowns with their deepest pains, I unfortunately contain rage and violence. That is absolutely not anyone's problem or responsibility to deal with but my own. So I don’t know how to do what I’m being asked to do this week, and I don’t know what I’m going to tell Therapist Person I did with her take-home exercise this week, except maybe to link her to this post. 

[marshmallowprotection]

Hello~ 4'10 anon here with yet another request! Can I have the RFA + Minor Trio reacting to an MC crying herself to sleep when they come home and comforting her? Thanks (��◠‿◠)

Coming right up, 4′10 anon! Oh boy, I hope this really does it for you. I got you covered. ♥w♥ Yoosung Kim° He's not exactly sure what's wrong but he knows that today, something just isn't right. You stopped responding to his texts early in the morning and you seemed to be radio silent for the rest of the day. You just didn't do stuff like that. He didn't understand. Could it have been something he did or said? Were you mad at him because he messed up? Whatever the answer was, he sure as heck didn't expect you to come home and glide right past him and go straight to bed. ° "Goin' to bed," you briefly mumbled underneath your breath. ° "Y/N, wait..." He tried, but you just ignored him and kept on walking. ° He decided that you needed some space. Whatever was wrong wasn't something that you wanted to talk about, and he didn't want to make you more upset then you probably were already. ° He gives you a half an hour, but when that time is up, he's going to bed to the bottom of this. He opens the door to the closed bedroom and calls your name. You don't answer him. He checks closer and realizes that you actually had fallen asleep crying. ° Something really wasn't okay. ° He slides into the bed next to you and stays by your side until you wake up and you're ready to tell him what's been bothering you. ° Yoosung is gentle, and he does his best to hold you close when you're sad. He's not the best person to make things better but he'll do his best to make you feel better by making your favorite foods and doing anything you want to do. Hyun Ryu° You've been sitting in the bedroom for quite some time since Zen got home from set. He hasn't been able to talk to you all day long but you weren't texting him as often as you would have and he thought that was a little strange. He had a bad feeling in his gut but he tried to ignore it while he was working. Surely you just had gotten busy with errands or you had met up with some old friends. You were just busy... right?° Yeah. He's not happy when he finds you slumped over in the bed and your face is red. You must have had a very bad day. And he wasn't here to help you, so you wound up crying yourself to sleep instead. It makes me feel pretty guilty. ° He sits down besides you and brushes the hair from your face, sighing wistfully. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner, Jagiya." ° His weight on the bed is what wakes you up, you rub your eyes and immediately apologize for the state that you're in. ° Zen holds you close. He pays no mind to those concerns, murmuring sweet nothings to you, and trying to find out what made you feel so terrible so he can put everything back together again. ° Zen is great about getting you out of a slump. He'll put on the hot chocolate, he'll turn on a movie, he'll do just about anything you might could like without even hesitating to ask. It's a little overboard but he's always above the rest. Jaehee Kang° You had been strangely quiet today at work at the cafe. There had been no sign that was something was amiss, per say. You just seemed to be in a world of your own! Which, wasn't all that odd. But, normally you're more lively and bubbly when you chat with the customers and Jaehee on the clock. It is strange to be working on a near quiet level... yes, there is often an ambiance where things are peaceful but this kind of quiet is not one that she has known often. What could it be that's got you in such a strange place? ° Jaehee assumes you might not be feeling well. When you tell her that you're going to go back to your apartment ahead of her today, she smiles and assumes you just want to get some kind of rest. ° She is susprised to find you curled up on your couch in a total fit of disarray. Your hair is a little askew, and you hadn't bothered to change when you got back home. Your cheeks are red and you look like you are miserable. ° She sits down on the couch next to you, unsure of what to do at first, except offer you her hand. ° "Y/N... why didn't tell me something was wrong?" ° Whatever it was... it was surely enough to make you upset, you collapse into her arms and tell her about what's been bothering you so badly, whimpering and letting it all out onto the surface. ° Jaehee stays quiet that time as you work through your grief. She offers a gentle touch but she doesn't press you for anything. ° That's it. You're going to have a nice night together watching movies and sharing a few drinks, that's typical of a good night for the both of you. Jaehee knows that while trying to rationalize your pain, its good to just work through it once you're calmed down. She does her best to put your head back in the right and make you feel okay. Jumin Han° Jumin definitely isn't feeling all that great himself. You often speak with him, being the one to reach out to him throughout the day to ease his mind and worries. It doesn't matter if you're working on if you're home, you always try to keep up with him and make his day. When you don't do this, that's when he knows something is wrong. When your responses are half answered and lethargic... he knows his prince(ess) is not okay in the slightest. ° Had he had his way he would have been home before you but he had a meeting he absolutely could not skip, but he did his best to get out just so he could see you and see what was the matter. ° When he walks in the door and finds you curled up on the couch with Elizabeth, he thinks he feels relief until he notices that you had been crying for quite some time. Ah, something had upset you and that explained why you stopped talking to him. ° "Y/N, you should have just told me you were having a hard day." ° Half between the state of asleep and awake, you couldn't tell him you would have felt guilty to steal his attention away from work and leave piles of anxiety-inducing work for Jaehee to contend with. ° Jumin lets out a sigh, and scooped you up from the couch. He would carry you back to the bed and stay with you the rest of the night. Whatever you want, it's yours, whatever's bothering you, he'll take care of it. Jumin really pulls out all the stops he can afford if he thinks he can pull you out of a slump. Saeyoung Choi° Is this what he gets for leaving you alone? ° If so, he would rather not do that anymore. ° Seven should have listened to the feeling his gut. Man, he really should have listened to that feeling. He thought you were fine when he checked on you through the CCTV, it seemed like everything was alright. It seemed like you were having a normal day but the way you responded to him on the phone told him otherwise. He tried to make sure that he would be able to meet you once you walked through the door but he was late... even hacking through traffic lights hadn't done him much good this go around. ° It pains him to see you upset in any way, shape, or form. So, when he finds you quietly crying, he instantly moves to make things better by cracking jokes and trying to make you laugh despite the misery you're feeling. ° "C'mon, I know I'm not that pretty but you didn't have to start crying when you saw my ugly face." ° Cue flying pillow at his face for trying to help that way. ° Seven deserved that one. He knew it. ° He only sighs wistfully and crawls into the bed with you, keeping you close to his heart. If you don't want to talk about what's wrong, he'll surely keep you close to his heart. You can't get anymore hurt as long as you're close to him. ° Seven honestly tries his best. He'll make a mess, he'll try to do anything you want, he won't always get it right on the first try... say, making dinner, or trying to coax the pain away. But his laughter always seems to help you even when you're crying yourself to sleep. Jihyun Kim° You've never been very quiet. ° He's known you to be very upfront with him about how you feel with him but today must not be a good day. ° He's had plenty of those but you haven't had many with him. ° V is no stranger to being overwhelmed by your emotions and feeling like you're drowning. Usually, he lets his fester and consume him, but he's been getting better about that with you in his life and with the help he's been getting for his mental health. He knows something isn't quite right when you walk in the door that afternoon but he doesn't want to press you. He knows that that isn't always the right choice when something is amiss.° He reaches out to you gently when you stare at him for far too long. ° It's a longing glance filled with need. ° He'll hold you and you'll hold him back tightly. ° "I'm not sure what happened today... but I'm here for you, Y/N." ° V is quiet about when he stays with you. He doesn't need a lot of words to get his point across, he just needs to keep you close and do what he can for you. He's always easy-going with his partner! He wants you to feel as happy as you make him... as best as he can. Saeran Choi° You were... not okay. Adjusting back to life on the outside had seemingly been easy for you, but he should have known better then to think that you were completely alright. Saeran noticed it when you spoke with him on the phone, your voice was dull but yet you continued to talk to him despite that. Always putting him before yourself. ° It's not the first time he's seen you cry but he always prays silently to himself that this might be the last time you ever shed sny tears with him around. He promised that he would try his best to make you happy but sometimes... outside forces make it very difficult to achieve that dream. ° He hates seeing you upset. ° It reminds him of all those times that he made you cry in the past and it makes him feel awful. But... he'll never mention that to you, not when you're still upset about something... maybe the next day when he feels a little more controlled. ° He holds you close and consoles you when you get home, you don't have to talk about it, he'll hold you close and pet your hair back out of your face and let you cry as much as you need to do so. ° "I'm here for you, Y/N. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it for you in a heartbeat."° He's gentle in what he does. If you fall asleep like that, he'll make sure to throw a blanket over you and stay like that until you get up again. He'll draw you a nice bath later and make sure to make dinner, anything for his prince(ess). ° Saeran wants you to be happy. But he knows that you can't possibly be happy all the time, but he wants to be there for you just like you were there for him. Having somebody to hold onto makes a world of difference and he knows it. Vanderwood ° Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy. Just what he always wanted. An emotional crisis in his living room, and no answers to solve this mess cleanly and quickly. Vanderwood didn't not expect to find you crying this evening and he has to admit he really doesn't like seeing you miserable. It's not the first time you've been upset but wow, he really hasn't had enough of these to know the right thing. ° He does not like to deal with these sorts of things in the first place. It's a wonder he can ever survive through an emotional barrage coming at him from all sides, but he's surprisingly good at keeping his composure. ° He's gone through plenty in his life to keep him from letting the smallest things mess him up. It's... either a gift or a punishment that he doesn't feel much as often as he should. ° You aren't like that. ° And for that, he considers you pretty lucky to still be able to experience such things. It still isn't a good thing to have you crying at his side. . "Y/N, you know that crying doesn't really solve anything. But... if that's what you have to do... Just try not to slobber all over me." ° It's his tone and attitude that probably get a solid laugh out of you for the first time that evening. He doesn't always know what to do, but he does do his best. Some people might call him heartless but he's the first person to make sure that you've got whatever you need. 💜 Mod Kait 💜

[insoucicnce-aa]

🔥🔥🔥 :teaemoji here:

🔥  the salt runneth over. | @nvrcmplt

you know what grinds my gears? when people are unnecessarily mean, to both friends and potential writing partners. in the current time period where anxiety and depression are at an all time high, it’s not okay to be complicit in someone’s emotional demise just because your day is fucked up. trust me, i try my best to get rid of negativity before coming on here to write but let’s be honest here, we’re all in need of validation every now and again. but we’re also in charge of our own emotions and that doesn’t give you a right to take out your frustrations on friends or just random people. get it together, that shit will never be okay. if you feel that strong, take a step back, breathe and go get fresh air but never dump that on my doorstep.

another thing, why are we still acting like female muses aren’t valid? that they’re not allowed to be over powered, that they rule over everything. why are they not allowed to be soft? why are they not allowed to be sex positive or sex repulsed? why does the rp community still shun female muses for the same reason they love and dote on male muses? like please miss me with the bullshit. grow up already. half of yall are out there with hard working single moms who are doing all they can to raise you and are doing such a fine job and you still out here being misogynistic to fictional women. it says a lot about your character.

lastly, why does no one communicate anymore? we used to throw our muses into inboxes without preamble. we even did silly stuff even before im or skype or discord. if you have a concern, it was told to your partner. if you wanted to ship, you told your partner. stop letting shit fester to the point where you explode on your writing partners and ruin that relationship. speak up now! it’s okay to feel down, it’s okay to feel a little left out or jealous, but express that when you feel it without making it seem like you’re attacking the other person yeah? just fucking communicate!!!!!

[mindlessselfdeprivation]

The Nothing

It’s just like The Neverending Story. It’s not darkness, it’s not even a hole, because even hole would be something. No, this...this is just nothing.

That’s depression. That’s what true despair is, it’s The Nothing that eats up your everything. It bleaches your life, nothing has any color or flavor or texture anymore. Food sucks, company is annoying, being alone is excruciating and substances exist only as a shit-ass temporary floaty. Recreation means nothing anymore, every desperate action during the day is taken only to distract me from myself for a little bit longer. Sleep will come soon, and in sleep there’s just that sweet fucking nothing. 

Which is what you feel like you constantly have, at any given time. Nothing. The Nothing has it now. And now every memory is covered in spikes, too painful to even go near.

Nothing can make you feel ok anymore, and your good days are the ones where you only brood and lament your life for a few hours out of the day. You know, as opposed to every second you’re awake. 

Those days happen so much more often. I swear to fucking God, some days I feel like the pain inside me is gonna open a fucking hole in the earth. Like I’m no longer going to be able to keep this horrible monster at bay anymore, and the scream that finally peals out of me will shred my lungs and crack open an abyss that swallows me once and for all. 

I fear for anyone that might be around when that bomb goes off. Which is another problem. Although I’m desperate to be seen and heard and known and loved, I’m fucking terrified of getting near anyone ever again, it seems like an absurd idea to even say it out loud. I’m a goddamned hurricane, I’m a fucking natural disaster on legs, an extinction level event taken human form. All of my relationships....it’s just a festering sewage basin, that whole area of my life. Everything there, flies and pestilence, disease and rot. 

That’s my heart in there too. Fucking rotten, like an old forgotten tree stump wasting away in a swamp somewhere in whogivesafuck. Thinking on it, can I even love anymore? Do I even know what that is anymore? 

An older woman I work with asked me for a hug the other day cause she was a little sad, thinking about her brother that died...and I was happy to oblige, she’s the sweetest little thing. And I realized - holy shit, this is the first real hug I’ve had in an entire year. I’ve hardly touched anyone for ten months outside of a handshake or a friendly bro-hug. 

And afterwards she thanked me and said I gave great hugs, and it dawned on me...I remembered being a guy who loved hugs, remembered a guy that was very romantic and affectionate, that insisted on using physical touch to remind those around him that he loved them dearly....then I looked over from that guy to the one that’s in there now. What a shadow, what a husk he’s become. Empty and hollow and discarded. A lost soul...an inevitable consequence of The Nothing.

The worst thing? I mean, if there is a blacker black than all the rest...

The Apathy. That’s what The Nothing shits out and leaves behind for you. You just don’t....fucking....care...anymore.

I used to have passion, play music, learn language or just about any damn thing else (I was always such a junkie for knowledge), write stories or poetry or music or any one of a dozen other things that enjoyed. And I don’t even write this out of sadness or with some sense of self pity, this is just a cold, apathetic recall of facts. There was a guy who knew love and there’s the guy sitting there now. And those are simply two different guys. And the insurance adjuster in me is fairly certain that at this level of damage, it’ll cost more to repair the existing vehicle than it would to just buy a new one.

I don’t have any real relationships anymore. I have the ones that are necessary to maintain normal social function, but even those I put in just enough to get buy and no more. I’ve lost too much and hurt too deeply and hurt others far too much to let anyone close anymore. It’s hard to describe how it feels to look around you and realize you’re standing alone, no one around. 

The only times I hear from someone is when they need something from me. I’m like a tool for rent. Why buy this thing when I only ever need to use it once in a blue moon?

Family? No, two sisters and two brothers in law that I don’t know anymore and they definitely don’t know me. A mom that taught me to use people like pawns and a dad so devoid of emotion and connection that it’s impossible to communicate, a daughter I never see or speak to anymore and an ex that swore we’d remain amicable for the sake of our daughter but slowly, methodically, and fucking brilliantly shut me out of her life completely...and my daughter with her by extension. Friends? No one there that knows me either, just people I talk to on occasion to spend a little bit of my distraction time with someone else.

But no one around me knows this. I put on a pretty decent mask I suppose, my boss apparently thought I was a really happy guy and married with kids. Ha. Cool, it’s working. I’ve gotten good at camouflage. It’s just another form of lying, and I’m incredibly good at lying. 

Talking about it, is like...what’s the fucking point? This is a tar pit, baby. I’m not bringing anyone else in this. Even if you were standing right next to me with a brilliant torch, this darkness, this Nothing around me is far too thick to see it. 

I miss writing though, maybe that’s why I’m finally doing this. Putting something down. I’m going to commit to talking to this fucking thing everyday. No one knows me here, I barely use this website. I only ever got onto it for....well, another person who eventually left. Maybe that’s why I feel I can be ok here, being naked and bleeding and fucked up and real.....no one who knows me by my mask will have to know what lives underneath it. This is my tree of trust.

I don’t want this to just be a dumping ground for depressed Emo bullshit though, I can go listen to Dashboard Confessionals while cutting myself if I wanted to go there. What I want is a true exploration and record of The Nothing as it grows stronger, what it’s taking, what fuels it, can I escape. I don’t want help either, I don’t think there is any such thing (see tar pit reference above). Maybe you’re always alone too, maybe you’re also constantly afraid that the house of cards will get blown down and people will see the real ugly inside. 

Maybe this is just me yelling into the wind that you’re alone, but not so alone. Maybe all of us are and none of us. Maybe I don’t know what to believe anymore.

I’ve tried to remember it, you know. Happiness. I’ve tried to find that motherfucker like Sherlock and his dear Watson, complete with cocaine and violins. You ever try to think of a nice warm fire while you’re soaking wet and freezing your balls off? And how’d that work out for ya? Same idea - “Just think happy thoughts” is like telling someone that just fell into arctic waters that they should “Just think of a nice warm fire”.

Hopefully, they’re still giving you the finger when their body gets frozen in place. It’d be a bit of justice, if there is such a thing.

That happiness is like the thought of a warm blanket when I’m currently buried in snow. Doesn’t actually exist.

There’s not a day where I don’t wake up wishing to fuck that I hadn’t. And there isn’t a night that I go to sleep that I don’t pray that I won’t wake up this time. Life has become a grueling marathon of pain and most days I have trouble figuring out why I fucking bother. 

Even as I’m writing this, I’m constantly stopping to wonder what’s the fucking point. 

I’ve gone on dating apps, funny enough. But every time I actually think about having a connection with someone, it honestly freaks me the fuck out. I’m so fucking damaged, there’s just no fucking way I’ll find someone with a back strong enough to help me carry all this baggage. I freak out and delete the account.

It’s completely not about the sex for me, if you can believe it. I’ve got such a low libido recently that even the idea of it lately gives me paralyzing anxiety. I don’t want to have sex if it’s not with someone I have a good intellectual connection with, and I never have. The problem with that is that sex in my mind is held on this strange pedestal where it straddles the line between sacred entity and foul beast, and it’s gotten so complicated and ridiculous that I just don’t care anymore. 

There isn’t anything even tempting or alluring about sex anymore. Even masturbation is almost completely without enjoyment, used every so often as a tool for general upkeep. And even this The Nothing has it’s hands on. The other day, I stumbled on a video that looked almost exactly like my child’s mother with another man...and I got physically ill. After throwing up 3 times and shaking for nearly an hour, I slowly pulled myself back from the panic attack I was having.

I didn’t eat for 3 days and I couldn’t get another erection for more than a week. Suppose it’s safe to say I’m still in love with that woman, I guess. Not only did I feel like absolute shit that whole week, I felt like shit for feeling like shit. My Yin and my Yang were both very very pissed off. This is just one of a number of broken fuses and faulty wires inside this broken machine.

Sometimes I wish we had the ability to do a form of Vulcan Min-meld, but with emotions and empathy. Especially when someone asks what’s wrong. Just grab their hand and rest it gently over my heart and let it tell the story for which I’ll never have the words. 

That’s also why I’d be scared like hell if that were possible, I’d be afraid the weight of it would crush them. I’m not trying to be really morose or hyperbolic, I’m fairly certain the vast majority of people walking around out there don’t carry this. I’ve talked to them, I know them. When you’ve spent a fucking lifetime perfecting your camouflage and your tower of lies, you can spot someone else playing that game from a mile away. And I’m not saying everyone else out there is skipping through a magic pixie lolly-pop fairyland or anything, but most people out there are general pretty stoked about being alive and doing stuff. People like me are out there, but I don’t see very many people that are under the spell of The Nothing.

I fucking hope not, this is an existence I wouldn’t wish on anyone, friend or foe. On that note, I also hope you aren’t going through that as well if you’re reading this right now. If you’ve never counted the different ways you could choose to end your life instead of counting sheep to fall asleep at night, you are truly blessed. 

I hope you stay whole. And with whatever capacity I’m still capable of feeling it, I love you. Cause maybe you don’t hear it that often either, and for that I’m sorry. I’d rather go without food than love, and I’ve been in both spots before.

I hope The Nothing never finds you.

Until next time.

[connywrites]

gala and delilahs 3

part [2]

It had been a week, with them conversing off and on until he felt like he could trust her enough to see her in person. Before he dared to try, he ensured he conversed with Markus first, double checking in case he changed his mind on the matter after all.

Luckily enough, they'd been allowed to meet, leaving Leo to sit and wait anxiously at the dinner table, peeling away the dead leaves from the purple hyacinth he held and spinning it between his fingers; remorse. Leaning back in the seat, he told the TV to turn on, grabbing the remote as he flipped to a modern alternative rock station and left it on low.

Once she arrived, he was on his feet before he knew it, a nervous smile crossing his face as he witnessed her in all her gorgeousness all over again.

"Oh my god, you look amazing," he said with a bit of surprise, admiring her for a second while she tucked her hair behind her ear - now a sparkling lavender, complimenting the crisp snowflake blue of her eyes - casting him a shy glance as she set her silver purse on the kitchen table with care.

"You too, Leo." Glancing at the flower, her eyes asked the question he already knew without the words.

"I-it's...an apology," he said simply, carefully leaning forward to tuck the stem behind her ear so it nestled into her hair, only proving to further add to her breathtaking beauty.

"I know you said no touching, but... can I give you a hug?" With a soft chuckle, he opened his arms, taking her into them with a comfortable, careful squeeze, holding and rocking her for a moment before withdrawing and pulling out a chair so she could sit, then sitting down next to her.

"So, uhm," he started, scratching the back of his neck in a moment of awkwardness as he searched for what to say.

"How long have you been sober?" Blinking, she glanced to the side, shrugging as she curled in on herself, always seeming shy in person despite her bravery on the stage. Something about that alter ego was all the more fascinating to him.

"Not that long. A couple months. And I slipped... more than a few times."

"It's okay. I've tried a lot too. I wouldn't have been able to keep up with it without Markus, anyway."

"What about you? How long has it been?"

"I had three months and then uh, I really messed up. But I'm done now, like, for real." Remembering how many times he'd already tried to say that, he shook his head as his eyes lit up.

"It's stupid, but I mean, I can't do it again or I'll probably die, and that's good enough of a reason as any I guess." Expression dimming, she glanced at his forearms in another silent question, then looked back up to his eyes. He shook his head.

"Nothing like that, not in a while. I mean - no new scars. Hard to want to kill yourself after you almost died and your brother's crying over it and all." Her eyes widened with enough fear it made him wince, regretting how blunt he tended to be about sensitive matters.

"It's okay. But I kinda owe him my life." Nope, that didn't sound any better. Shaking her head, she reached out her hand, each finger decorated with long, curved, snow-white nails as her fingers slid between his.

"I'm glad you're taking it seriously, Leo. Sorry it took me so long to get the hint." He shrugged one shoulder with a fitting half-smile.

"It's never too late. You already sound so much better. I dunno, that stupid NA stuff can really help sometimes, the whole, 'one day at a time' thing. Sometimes that's all you can do, even if you start over." Smiling, she nodded sagely, absorbing the wisdom in thought.

"I don't know. I never thought about it the way you'd said before, how you hate yourself and who it makes you."

"You kinda have to sober up to figure it out. Stupid catch, isn't it?" They shared a laugh, thumbing over the soft palm-side of each other's hands.

"That's why I just went to the hospital. I can't be around it, reminded of it or anything, or I just get caught up in it all over again, you know?" She nodded, but still leaned her head into her shoulder with a doe-eyed gaze of wonder he'd never quite fully fallen out of love with.

"You said Markus rehabilitated you this time, right?" He nodded with a little sigh.

"Twice, now. Like I said...I owe him one. Or three." Giggling through a pearly white smile, she nodded.

"How is he, anyway?"

"Weird as ever," he said with more ease after the time they'd spent together, and he'd gotten to know him more as a person, feeling like he could say such a thing without being worried.

"I don't know, I used to hate him so much. But I just hated him for what I couldn't have, you know?" Watching him with attentive eyes, she listened, bringing her other hand to wrap them both around his. Feeling embarrassed again, he shrugged sheepishly, glancing off to one side.

"Kinda freaky living with the android revolution guy, but whatever. He's taught me a lot. I still think it's annoying as hell, how smart he is, but I never thought it could really... help me, I guess."

“I still think that he could really help you get somewhere really cool, with all that knowledge. What could go wrong?” Facial expression falling, Leo quickly avoided the question.

“How’s it going living with your sister?” Glittery lavender eyelids with long violet lashes lowered heavily over her eyes with a look of dismay as he, yet again, diverted away from the suggestion of his own intelligence, but she let it go.

“She’s a pain in my ass. What do you expect?” Rolling her eyes, she withdrew her hands, running fingers through a strand of her hair as she carefully avoided touching the freshly picked flower.

“Good point, I guess. I remember living with her…wish I didn’t.” Crinkling her nose in a sneer, she let out a less friendly laugh with a roll of her eyes and tilted her head, glancing over at some of the decorations on the wall, admiring the curls of gold skulls and finely-painted tapestries.

“Yeah, I wanna move out, but I have to quit my job if I want to get out of hell. Which sucks, I can’t do much without my sex appeal these days.” Looking perplexed, he tilted his head.

“What? Why not?”

“Don’t what me like you think I’d settle for being a barista or a waitress,” she said with confidence and a wry smile in his direction. A familiar tingle ran up his spine that he did his best to ignore.

“I have a gift, baby, and a flawless body to boot. But where there’s strippers, there’s drugs and money. I can’t keep up with the scene anymore. Plus, with my, you know…” Her voice grew quiet, and he wasted no time scooting his chair a little closer to her.

“Right. Quitting will help all that, right?”

“Yeah. And not moving around so much. I was really pushing it, and I can still feel it in my elbows and knees.” Sighing, she popped her lips, leaning back in the chair with a sullen gaze.

“Talk about dying early, huh?” she offered halfheartedly. Leo flashed something of a cringey smile in response, but he could never help chuckling even slightly at morbid jokes, no matter how real or bad they actually were.

“Oh, come on. You’ve got a little while, right?”

“Ten years, if I’m real lucky. Kinda knocked myself back a bit with the, well, everything.” This time, his expression fell, eyes drifting down to stare at the wood of the table, taking a moment of extra thought not to scrape his nails into the surface in his moment of anxiety, biting his lip while he was silent for a moment.

“I don’t know. Tech’s always improving. Maybe there’ll be something…” he felt the doubt in her eyes and trailed off, sighing as he stood up – the conversation was beginning to grow stressful, so he wasn’t about to sit around and fester about it.

“Want some coffee?”

“I can’t, Leo.” Freezing in place, embarrassment panged him as he’d already forgotten.

“Oh. Right. Well, we have a shit ton of tea, if you want any.”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad,” she responded in a lighter tone for both of their sake.

“Do you have any…” pausing, she mused over what she could remember of herbal symbolism from their time together, and short exchanges over the matter. After a moment, she wore a clever smile, glancing in his direction as he opened the cupboards.

"Do you have anything with hibiscus?" Pausing, he scratched his chin as he searched, before turning back to her in confusion.

"You don't even like the taste of-" catching the irony in her request, as hibiscus generally signified a perfect woman, he rolled his eyes and reached for some ginger, thinking of strength, prosperity, and unique personality traits. Plus, as he'd learned from Markus using it to ease his upset stomach, he'd learned it generally helped with the digestive system as a whole.

"Clever. I'll see what you remember."

She smiled sweetly as she acknowledged exactly the intelligence and personal interest that he'd made a point of avoiding, finding a quiet irony in the silent symbolism within the language of the flowers.

"I remember the lilacs. It was the first bouquet you gave me. A few in each color." Pausing, he felt his cheeks warm up in response to the memory.

"That was tacky, is what that was."

"I dunno, better than roses in my opinion." Part of him wanted to defend the significance of rose symbolism, but the rest of him agreed that it was a tacky and cliché flower they both tended to avoid, alongside the fact he never took to touching the thorny plants.

"What are flowers all about, anyway? Tell me about the bees and the...bees," she said with a giggle. Somewhat still embarrassed, he returned to her side, standing with his weight on his better leg while he waited for the water to boil.

"Nothing, really. They're plant dicks. Sometimes cooters, I guess." Raising her eyebrows, she scoffed at his vulgarity, nonetheless expecting his snarky laugh in response.

"Great. I'll never eat pussy the same way again." That shut him up, at least for a second.

"Bees are just... delivery boys. Carrying around a bunch of plant spunk--"

"Oh my gosh, stop," she whined playfully with a swat of her hand against his shoulder.

"Do you really have to make everything so disgusting?"

"It's like, my one charm. If you don't hate it, then it's a challenge." Rolling her eyes, she stood up to fetch the tea for herself, aware his leg was hurting him by his posture alone.

"What's your favorite flower, Leo?" Eyebrows raising, he pretended he didn't honestly consider the question.

"Eggplant and peach," he responded in jest, only to get another ridiculing glare from her as she acknowledged the ages-old reference, just as perverse as the rest.

"Gross! Also, those are fruits, you dingus." Catching herself calling him a derogatory name - something he historically never took well to - a bit too late, she lowered her head in apology. She really appreciated how sensitive he could be and seeing him feel down about himself was worse than any of the anger or bloated pride he could have ever shown.

"Sorry," she said lightly to try to keep the mood steady, "I should say ding dong since you like dick so much." Leo cast her an offended glare at first, but even he couldn't take himself too seriously for long.

"Oh, shut up," he murmured.

"Don't be such a pansy, Leo," she snarked with a grin, reaching to ruffle his hair so as not to upset him too much.

"Joke's on you, pansies are for free-thinkers," he informed her with a few taps to his temple via an index finger in gesture.

"Well, orange ones anyway. Too many flowers just mean love if you're not careful."

"So... plant penis for your Valentine? Makes sense to me." With a pffft under his breath, he nudged her playfully with a kick of his leg.

“Show that to your next partner,” he told her, propping his chin up on his hands as he leaned over the table.

“They’ll love it.”

[endlesseden]

I dunno about you guys but hoo boi was Thanksgiving rough this year. 

Mom’s been carrying a lot of emotional baggage and ended up fighting with my uncle and his wife right at the end of the night Thanksgiving. She ended up getting very aggressive, loud, and we got kicked out of the house. My siblings and I then had to explain to her that, yes, while our uncle and his wife are indeed ignorant that is not a reason to lose our civility with them. Yes, their word choice was poor, but they were willing to talk and reason and she was the one who escalated the situation when she lost her patience. 

She talks about how “Why do we have to be the better people all the time? Like the fucking democrats to the republicans.” and that is a valid frustration, I feel that too. However, bringing it back down to the scale of a family dinner, where my uncle and his wife were explaining they were open and reasonable to having a discussion and talking about it while mom takes the slightest issue and just runs away with it until she’s shouting, cursing, and insulting them is not acceptable.

Then I had to be the one to have a discussion with her after we had gotten home because mags and colt by that point had lost their patience with her in the car and none of us wanted a scream fest anymore. We spend about an hour going back and forth, the whole time she’s just unloading her emotional baggage that she just lets build up all the time, ignoring my points, and then saying she feels like she’s being attacked by her family and accusing me and my siblings of not being loyal and willing to defend her no matter what, even when she’s acting Like That. 

We bounced from the fight that happened last night, to the divorce, to her last relationship, to current politics and this whole time she’s just oozing this anxiety and hatred that has been festering inside her. I’m fine with some emotional venting, and I’m happy to help her but I’m starting to think she needs some professional help beyond just hosing her oldest son down with her feelings in a big old mess after letting it brew for half a year. Not only that, I wish she would listen to me for a bit and take my advice. But as soon as I tell her like “I think the drinking is a problem.” she says things like “It’s not a problem, I’ve been drunk before and I’m not drunk, the issue tonight was not due to alcohol”. My dad was an alcoholic, I think I can recognize when someone’s let their filter loose because they’ve had too much to drink. She also does this thing where when she pulls this “hidden” context out of a conversation (like she did tonight) when really she’s twisting words to make it more aggressive then it was ever meant to be, and that’s frustrating for anyone. I can understand why it would lead to a shouting situation because you don’t feel like you’re being heard.

We talk a lot, but I never feel like I actually get to say much to her and when I do it just doesn’t go through. She’s such a dominant speaker, and meanwhile I am 100% not, and I’m so against escalating situations that I refuse to talk over others and inject my point in to the middle of other people’s sentences. I’m always on the receiving end of being talked at, I know how shitty it is when someone shouts you down or it feels like someone is not listening to you. I don’t want to be that person, ever. Plus there’s so many people that just listen and wait until there’s enough pause in the other speaker’s part where they can continue talking. I don’t work like that, I have pauses in my speech because I always want to be careful and thoughtful about what I say. I sit and listen to people who talk to me because when I respond I want to respond to everything they said, not just the one point that caught my attention. I don’t want to leave someone’s point hanging, or unresolved and they realize later that they didn’t get to it. Because that happens to me literally all the time.

In group talks I’m always playing the role of just injecting memes in to the conversation and not holding a talking spotlight for long because I get frustrated when my opinions get steam rolled over by people more articulated than me. 

Anyways, that aside. I’m tired of feeling like I always have to be more mature/more of an adult than the actual adults in my life. I’m tired of feeling like I need to keep it together emotionally all the time, and no one has that outward expectation of me, no one is explicit about it. But if feels like my duty as a man (toxic masculinity, I know), my duty as the oldest brother, my duty as the prominent male figure in the household, and just as an adult. After I calmed mom down through her stuff, I went in to the bathroom and cried for the first time in a year or two, who knows. And I felt ashamed of myself for it, like always. I wanted to sob and let loose but I absolutely did not want my family to hear or know. I have to be that even headed cool and calm person all the time. 

At least I have here where I can vent, and good friends to talk to when things are rough and I’m ready to work things out. I may not reach out to all of them often enough, but they’re the best friends I could ask for when I do talk with them.

[littlespoonevan]

RIGHTYO since you offered to make my day how about either "5. In the back seat of the car", "23: Reunion" or "14: in public" for andreil? :D I couldn't decide so whatever you like the best

asjkdhfks Tina, I don’t know how you managed to pick the three prompts that are all so tempting asjhd it took me forever to decide one which one to go with but amnesia aus are my secret weakness and I felt like it would be sO PAINFUL with these two, I couldn’t help myself

I feel like this got so long it should probably be on ao3 instead but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  lmao I hope you like it!!!!!

23. Reunion

*

From the very beginning, Andrew has been cautious inhis relationship with Neil.

It’s a self-preservation tactic; even before Neilstarted wanting him back he knew he couldn’t have this. He’s always beensilently waiting for the day Neil will be taken away from him.

He just didn’t expect it to happen like this.

Temporary retrograde amnesia.

After their game, the backliner that had beenhounding Neil all night had caught him off guard right as Neil had taken offhis helmet, barrelling into him and knocking him to the ground. Neil’s head hadbounced off the hardwood floor of the court with a sickening crack and Andrewwould’ve likely ended up with another assault charge under his belt had he notbeen so concerned with the fact that Neil wasn’t immediately waking up.

Now he’s sitting in the hospital waiting room,feeling anxiety roll off his teammates in waves and choking down his own furyas the doctor explains to them that Neil appears to have lost his memory as aresult of his head injury.

It’stemporary, she says.

Wecan’t say for sure when he’ll get his memories back,she says.

Supportand patience is what he needs from you most right now,she says.

Hedoesn’t seem to remember anything from the last two years, at least,she says.

The last one is what piques Andrew’s interest andhe’s immediately pushing himself out of his chair, intent on making a beelinefor Neil’s room.

“Andrew, they didn’t say we could go in yet!” Wymackcalls after him, sounding exasperated and exhausted.

“He doesn’t remember,” Andrew says, not bothering tolook over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door of the waiting room.“He’s going to run.”

That seems to spur the foxes into action and there’sa mini stampede behind him as he charges down the hall to Neil’s room.

Neil is in bed with a nurse checking one of themachines he’s hooked up to when they arrive. He seems calm from the outside butAndrew recognises the wild look in his eyes. He’s panicking. He’s trying tofigure out how to escape.

“Neil,” Matt says beseechingly and Neil stopsfidgeting where he lays, eyes wide as he focuses on the crowd in his doorway.His gaze travels from one of them to the next and Andrew’s stomach churns whenthere’s no flicker of recognition on Neil’s face as he looks at him.

He hangs back as the others crowd Neil. They allstart talking over one another before Aaron begrudgingly points out thatthey’re going to overwhelm him. He shoots Andrew a sidelong glance as he saysit but Andrew doesn’t return it.

He listens for a minute or two as Matt takes up therole of explaining to Neil what’s happened but he can’t stomach it for verylong before he’s storming out of the room and out of the hospital altogether.He sits on the bench out on the sidewalk instead, a cigarette clutched betweenhis trembling fingers.

He’s not sure how long he stays out there for – aslong as it takes him to burn through six cigarettes – before he’s joined bysomeone.

Nicky knows better than to sit next to him but herounds the bench so he’s standing in front of Andrew, hands stuffed in thepockets of his jacket to ward off the chill.

“Aren’t you going to come inside?” he asks after abelated silence.

Andrew raises his eyes to look at him, offering himno answer other than another drag of his cigarette.

“Andrew, he’s your boyfriend,” Nicky says, voice fraying at the edges and finallylosing some of his patience.

“No, he’s not,” Andrew replies dully and Nicky huffs.

“Now isn’t the time for your stupid riddles aboutyour relationship,” he snaps, expression turning pleading. “Andrew, he’s hurtand he’s fucking scared and he won’t believe anything we tell him. He thinkswe’re just feeding him back the cover story he thinks he’s fed us.”

“And what do you want me to do? He doesn’t remember me,” he says through grittedteeth. And that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Neil is here but he isn’t.He doesn’t remember Andrew; he doesn’t remember anything. And Andrew feelsunbalanced, unsteady, like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He- he lovesNeil. In whatever fucked up way he’s capable of feeling love. And he’s gottenused to it. The affection, the comfort, the steadiness he feels with Neil’spresence by his side.

And in one fell swoop it’s been taken away from him.

What’s he supposed to do now?

Nicky’s expression softens like he understands andAndrew hates that too. He hates that Neil’s made him vulnerable, that Neil hasmade him more open. Even if it’s just a sliver.

“Andrew,” Nicky says quietly. “Even when you twohated each other, you were able to convince him to stay. Can you just try?”

Andrew squares his jaw, stubbing out his cigarette onthe bench before standing up. He doesn’t say anything to Nicky or pause to lethim follow but Nicky seems to recognise his acquiescence for what it is andkeeps his thoughts to himself as they make their way back inside the hospital.

The rest of the foxes are waiting outside Neil’s roomwhen he comes back inside and he doesn’t slow to talk to them before he’spushing open the door.

Neil looks up in surprise at the sound of Andrew’sentrance and Andrew can feel his eyes on him as he casually drops into thechair beside the bed.

Holding onto his calm has never felt quite asimpossible as it does now with Neil watching him with a curious gaze but Andrewforces himself to remain impassive.

“You’re not Aaron,” is the first thing Neil says andAndrew quashes down the hope that festers in his chest. He and Aaron aren’tdressed the same and, as oblivious as Neil can be, he’s perceptive when itcomes to details he thinks might be important. It’s not recognition and hecan’t let his mind believe it to be.

“Astute observation,” he says blandly.

Neil continues to stare at him, eventually asking,“Why did they send you?”

“They’re under the impression you actually listen tome.” The truth is, it’s always been the other way around. Andrew always listensto Neil, even when it goes against his better judgement.

“Listen to you about what?”

Andrew finally lifts his head to meet Neil’s gaze andit hurts. It hurts to see the blankexpression, it hurts to see the spark of interest that’s usually evident inNeil’s eyes missing, it hurts to see there’s no affection that Andrew’s grownso accustomed to.

“They think I can convince you not to run,” he says.

Neil visibly startles at that, expression suddenlymuch more guarded than it was before. “What?”

“You’re on the third floor of the hospital. There’san elevator to your left and a stairwell at the end of the hall to the right. Thereare cameras but they have blind spots – I’m sure you’d figure those outquickly. You’d get to the exit but you wouldn’t even make it to the highway beforesomeone would find you. So,” he says plainly. “Don’t run.”

Neil is watching him with a calculating look now andat least it’s something familiar.Andrew has seen this look before. Not for over a year, but he’s still seen it.

“If you know me as well as you apparently do, youshould know I’d find a way,” Neil says after a too-long pause.

“Abram,” Andrew says softly, gut twisting at the wayNeil’s entire frame stills at the word.

He looks at Andrew, and Andrew decides to answer hisunspoken question.

“You’re not Nathaniel anymore. You don’t rememberNeil. But you’re always Abram.”

“Who told you that?” Neil asks, voice quiet to maskhis panic.

“You did,” he tells him. “A year ago. When you wantedme to trust you. I’m giving it back to you now. Trust me.”

Neil squints his eyes as though he’s trying to workAndrew out. The joke’s on him; Andrew can’t even work himself out. “Whathappened?” he asks eventually.

Andrew feels like releasing a sigh of relief but hesuppresses it. “Your mother is dead. Your father is dead. Your uncle killedhim. All his associates are either dead or in prison. You’re under Moriyamaprotection. You officially have permission to play exy for the rest of yourlife. It’s over, Neil.”

Neil releases a slow breath, digesting theinformation, before he finally meets Andrew’s gaze with vulnerable eyes. “It’sreally over?”

Andrew nods once and Neil closes his eyes.

They don’t talk for the rest of the night but Neil doesn’ttry to run and Andrew stays. It’s at some point in the middle of the night,with Neil asleep and the room dark save for the glow from the heart monitor,that Andrew finally allows the fear to settle beneath his skin as he turnsNeil’s keys over in his hand.

He’s scared.

He’s scared Neil won’t remember. He’s scared of Neillooking at him like he’s nothing, like thisis nothing. It’s never been nothing and Andrew has only just admitted tohimself – quietly, in the deepest recesses of his mind – that this iseverything.

He cranes his head back, closing his eyes andreleasing a careful breath.

The walls are collapsing in and he’s not sure howmuch longer he can keep them standing.

*

Neil has been in hospital for four days.

He still feels odd, referring to himself as Neil, butafter his conversation with Andrew, Matt had brought him his passport anddriver’s license to show him. It feels odd but at the same time somewhatfamiliar. The same feeling you get when something is on the tip of your tonguebut you can’t quite remember what it is.

Andrew hasn’t been alone with him since the firstnight and doesn’t stick around much even when the other foxes are there. Neilhasn’t asked but he can tell their relationship is different to the one heshares with everyone else.

Andrew had been the one he’d believed the firstnight, the one who seemed to know how to actually get through to him. Neilnever envisioned he’d let someone close enough to him that they’d know him thatwell but evidently, Andrew is an exception.

(Not to mention, the little slip ups everyone hasbeen making tell him all he really needs to know.)

A few of the other foxes are with him now, talkingabout how the doctors said Neil could be discharged tomorrow since he seems tobe recovering well – besides the whole amnesia thing.

“Oh. Neil,” Matt says, getting out of his chair andgoing to the corner of the room. He grabs a small duffle bag, coming over toNeil’s bed. “We brought some of your stuff just in case you do get to go home tomorrow.”

Matt drops the bag into Neil’s lap and Neil tugs atthe zipper to open it. It’s mainly clothes but what he presumes are his phoneand his keys sit on top of the pile. He takes them out one at a time, firstturning the phone over in his hands and inspecting it. He’s not surprised whenit doesn’t jog his memory but he can’t help feeling slightly disappointed.

He picks up the keys next, going through each one onthe ring. Kevin tells him the first three are for the court before Neil can evenask and he hears Nicky punch Kevin’s shoulder, telling him to let Neil try andfigure it out on his own first.

Neil doesn’t pay attention to them though, looking atthe other three keys. One is a car key – for what car, he has no idea. Theother two are similar and he guesses one must be the key for his dorm room.

“What’s this key for?” he asks, choosing one of themat random.

Nicky moves closer to inspect the key, letting out anamused noise. “That’s for the house in Columbia. Damn, I didn’t know Andrew wasthat serious. He must’ve given it to you when you guys were there this summer.”

Neil frowns. That doesn’t sound right.

“He didn’t.”

“Hmm?” Nicky asks.

Neil looks up, the tail end of a memory at the cornerof his mind. “He didn’t,” he repeats slowly.

Thekeys, the trust, the honesty, the kisses.

“He gave it to me last year, at the start of theschool year.”

Nicky’s eyes widen at that. “Back then?” he asks in disbelief.

“Nicky, not the point,” Dan cuts it, fixing Neil witha serious expression. “Neil, do you remember?”

The doctor had told Neil his memories could all comeback at once but he’s still not prepared for the onslaught that hits him, twoyears of memories flashing through his mind’s eye and pressing against the insideof his skull. It’s like a tidal wave and Neil shuts his eyes as he tries topiece through them all.

Some of it is a bit jumbled up but at the centre ofat all…

He looks up, unsure how long he’s been silent as hemeets the hopeful expressions of Dan, Matt, Nicky, Allison and Kevin. “Where’sAndrew?” he asks quietly.

“He’s back at the dorms with Renee,” Allison answersafter a beat and Neil’s fingers tighten around his keys. The weight of how muchthe past few days must have impacted Andrew hitting him full force.

He reaches for his phone, tries to turn it on andlets out a frustrated breath when he realises it’s dead. He looks up, findingNicky’s gaze. “Call him.”

“Neil, do you remember?” Matt asks, repeating Dan’searlier question.

“Yes,” he says impatiently, directing his next wordsto Nicky. “Call him.”

Nicky’s mouth drops open in shock before he springsinto action and fumbles for his phone in his pocket. Matt says something aboutgoing to get a doctor but Neil ignores him, full focus on Nicky diallingAndrew’s number.

It takes too long for Andrew to get there and Neil spendsthe time sitting through an examination from his doctor, answering questionsand getting frequently irate as they continue, eyes trained on the door to hisroom.

When Andrew finally arrives, pushing through thefoxes blocking the door, Neil feels his breath catch in his throat.

Andrew is watching him, visibly keeping a tenuous strangleholdon his emotions, though Neil thinks no one can really tell except him.

“Andrew,” he says and he hopes it sounds different.He hopes Andrew can hear the difference.

Andrew doesn’t react and Renee ushers the foxes outof the room – Neil makes a mental note to thank her later.

“Come here,” Neil tries again, softly, with feelinghe normally reserves for the privacy of their own room.

It gets Andrew to move though. He walks over to thebed on stiff legs, stopping just by Neil’s hip. Neil sits up, meets his gazehead on and raises a hand. He lets it hover in the air first, right by Andrew’scheek, but Andrew doesn’t flinch or move or sayno so Neil carefully lays his fingers against Andrew’s cheekbone.

Andrew’s eyes are ablaze and Neil wets his lips. “I’msorry I didn’t remember you,” he whispers.

There’s a split second of still and then Andrew ispulling him into a crushing hug.

Neil releases a shaky breath, hands clutching at theback of Andrew’s jacket.

“If you ever do anything like that ever again, Iswear to god, Josten-“ Andrew tries to threaten, pulling back for half a secondbefore he’s hugging Neil again just as fiercely as before.

“Okay,” Neil soothes, burying his face in Andrew’sneck and breathing him in. “Okay,” he repeats.

Neil can feel the tension slowly seeping out ofAndrew’s bones the longer he holds on and when Andrew finally sags against himNeil raises his head, gently bumping their temples together. “Lie down with me?”he requests.

It takes a bit of manoeuvring but eventually Andrewis lying on the bed with him. Neil is turned on his side, head pillowed on thespot where Andrew’s chest meets his shoulder while Andrew’s fingers curl lightlythrough his hair.

Andrew is quiet, staring up at the ceiling, but it’snot the peaceful kind of quiet they’ve both become used to. Andrew is deep inthought and Neil only needs one guess to figure out what about.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I promised you I wouldn’tleave. I meant it.”

Andrew’s hand stills in his hair for a moment but hedoesn’t look at Neil when he speaks. “I told you to stop making promises youcan’t keep.”

“I can keep it,” Neil protests, pushing himself up onhis elbow and leaning over Andrew too look at him.

Andrew stares at him, jaw working. “Two hours ago youwere in no fit state to.”

Neil huffs, feeling frustrated as he tries to thinkof the best way to explain where his mind’s been for the past few days. “Nobut- you were still the one I trusted the most. You were still the one I wascurious about.”

Andrew continues to look up at him, silent and stonyas ever.

“Why do you find it so hard to believe I could fallin love with you?” Neil finally whispers and he watches the way the words makeAndrew come undone. Just a little bit.

Andrew’s throat bobs and his eyes search Neil’sexpression like he’s looking for an escape. “It’s hard enough to believe once. Idon’t expect it to happen twice.”

Neil’s chest aches at that because how can Andrewstill not understand? How can he still not see it? He takes a second to let therevelation wash over him before he meets Andrew’s gaze again. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Neil leans down, connecting their foreheads beforetheir lips but when they do kiss he tries to pour everything into it. All thethings they don’t say out loud. All the things they don’t even say tothemselves.

He pulls back after a minute or so – neither of themare in the right headspace for any more right now – and he settles his headback on Andrew’s chest, seeking out Andrew’s free hand and playing with hisfingers. Andrew’s other hand returns to his hair and Neil feels contentment slowlysurround him once again.

“I promise I’m not leaving,” he says one last time.

Andrew doesn’t reply but he doesn’t pull away either.

The silence between them now is fragile, uncertainafter too many confessions, but Neil lets it be. Instead, he focuses onrefamiliarising himself with his sense memory.

Taking in the smoky scent of Andrew’s clothes,listening to Andrew’s quiet, measured breaths, lips turned in to remind himselfof Andrew’s taste, eyes fixed on the strong line of Andrew’s jaw where his faceis turned towards the ceiling once again and, finally, he feels.

Touching the callouses on Andrew’s hand, feeling thetingle down his own spine as Andrew’s fingers card through his hair, envelopinghimself in the warmth that emanates from Andrew’s body.

His entire world could be erased but this. He doesn’tthink he could ever forget this.

*

[stupidnephilimlove]

Office Hours - P7

Sorry, this took a little longer, but here’s part 7 (also, this thing got a title). Hopefully, it was worth the wait. Tagging @ifthingsgetcrazy @kindaresilient & @irisphryneadler as always. You can also read on ao3. If you’re wondering what this is all about it started here.

“Did you always know you wanted to lecture?” Alec asks Magnus.

The words are out of Alec’s mouth before he’s even thought about them. The conversation has been winding down in the past few minutes. As always, Alec craves just a little longer with Magnus, because for this limited space of time each week Alec gets to have Magnus all to himself. He yearns for the time to never end.

Magnus leans back leisurely in the chair next to Alec’s. His posture is relaxed and Alec’s relieved that there doesn’t seem to be any discomfort over his question. He sometimes wonders if it’s entirely appropriate for him to pry into Magnus’ life like this.

Without pause, Magnus says, “No.”

Sitting a little straighter, Magnus’ hair shifts with the movement and it draws Alec’s attention. Not that Alec’s attention hasn’t been 100% focused on Magnus since Alec walked through the door, but he’s been defiantly trying to stop his eyes from wandering to Magnus’ hair. The black strands that are coiffed up off Magnus’ forehead are woven with hot pink; hot is a very appropriate word choice.

Alec had just about died when he’d walked into the lecture theatre this morning. As they do each time Alec walks into a room where he expects Magnus to be, his eyes had gravitated towards the object of his daydreams. They’d nearly bulged out of his head at the sight of Magnus, head bent, and typing away on his phone. Alec immediately knew something was different, but with his brain addled by desire, it had taken a few moments to process the new colour. When the realisation had struck, his mind had point blank refused to function for the rest of the lecture.

Alec’s never really been a fan of pink. It might be his new favourite colour.

It’s only now though, as they sit close to each other, that Alec notices the thread in Magnus’ black shirt matches his hair. That shirt must be new, Alec thinks. He’s been so preoccupied with Magnus’ new hairstyle that he hasn’t taken in Magnus’ outfit today. As he does, he realises the shirt is most definitely new. Yes, that’s right, Alec has catalogued Magnus’ extensive wardrobe so far, and each outfit is ranked based on its level of distraction. Alec’s eyes rake over Magnus’ body. This one is coming out at a fifteen… out of ten.

“I really wanted to do more research…” Magnus continues, and Alec’s drawn back into the conversation. It’s a constant problem of Alec’s, just spacing out in the middle of a conversation with Magnus. Magnus must think he’s so weird. “...and the best way to get funding in this field is to lecture. Then I guess I fell in love with it.”

Could Magnus fall in love with him, please? Alec did not just think that. He’s often glad he’s not in that rom-com - the one where that guy can hear what everyone’s thinking (not that he’s ever watched that film). It’s embarrassing enough having the thought, so he can’t begin to imagine what it would be like if anyone had to overhear him.

“That’s… good,” Alec shifts awkwardly in his seat. His unease is partly from his ridiculous thoughts, but mostly because the question only fuels the anxieties he’s been feeling lately.

What must it be like to know what you want to do in life? Alec wishes he knew. He wishes there was a clear path in front of him, but instead, there are dozens of branches that all seem to intersect and twist together, and the more he looks, the more confused he becomes about which is the right path.

He could take the easy option, the one that his parents have laid out for him.

Just this morning he received an email from his father. It had been terse and direct and contained information on the opportunity his parents had put together for him. His father has resorted to email since Alec stopped answering his calls. Just like the calls, Alec refuses to reply to the emails. He hasn't read it. It’s some stuffy office job no doubt.

Whilst Alec knows that he doesn’t want the life his parents have set out for him, it doesn’t make his choices any clearer. He’s floundering, constantly second-guessing himself. Everywhere he turns he’s bombarded with talk about his career and his future. As if that wasn’t enough, the pressure to make the right choice just keeps growing. Who knows what the right decision is? Alec certainly doesn’t. How could he? It’s not like he has a magic ball to look into the future. What if he makes a mistake, though? What if he screws up his life with one little choice?

It doesn’t help that his friends all appear to have it together. They're always group messaging about this job application they just put in, this interview they got, or this internship they’ve got their eye on. Alec just scrolls through the messages; he doesn’t know how to contribute.

He’s thought about talking it over with Izzy, but he always manages to find some reason why he can’t discuss it right now. He tells himself it’s not the ideal time, or the right place, or that she doesn’t want to be dealing with his problems. They’re all excuses. He recognises this. It's just... he knows that as soon as he airs those fears, they'll become real, and then he’ll have to deal with them. Honestly? That’s more terrifying to him than just letting it all fester.

“What do you want to do?” Magnus asks.

Alec blinks, pulls his focus away from his insecurities. He looks at Magnus, whose face is earnest but open. Magnus might be the first person to say that, to just ask without any vested interest. Alec’s dumbfounded.

“I’m not sure,” his words are hesitant. His hand scratches at his hair before Alec stops himself. It’s a nervous habit that he doesn’t always manage to catch. He clasps his hands in his lap in front of him and just looks at them.

“It’s okay if you don’t have it figured out right now,” Magnus’ voice is gentle, and Alec has to blink his eyes a few times to clear the wetness there. Those are the words that he’s been waiting to hear; he’s just never realised it. His chest constricts, and Alec has to focus on his breathing.

“I know it feels like a big thing right now. I could say I've been where you are. I haven’t, but I can relate. Just... it’s good to think about what you enjoy doing, or what you’re interested in.”

When did this happen? When did Magnus develop this ability to say just the right thing at just the right moment? Something inside of Alec settles. It’s still there: the tension, but it’s not overpowering everything else anymore. Alec can think without panicking, and he takes Magnus’ advice. What does he enjoy? What is he interested in?

“I love books,” Alec blurts out.

Who doesn’t love books? God, what an idiotic thing to say. Magnus doesn’t laugh at him, instead one corner of his mouth raises into a fond smile and Alec sucks in a breath. How can this man be so beautiful? Just when Alec thinks he’s able to function around Magnus, he does something like this, something as simple as smiling and it short-circuits Alec’s brain.

“Do you want to work with books? There are a lot of opportunities and different types of jobs-”

Alec will reprimand himself for it later, but suddenly he knows, and the idea that’s sparked to life inside him can’t be contained. He just has to share it.

“I want to work at a publishing house.” There, he’s said it. “I don’t know what type of role. I don’t know what type of company. I just know I want to help publish books.”

Maybe it’s a silly idea, maybe it will all turn out to be nothing, but Alec has a direction.

Magnus’ smile blooms, bright and wide, and Alec wonders how a person can contain so much light.

“That’s fantastic. There are a lot of different jobs. There’s the book editing, the commissioning, the marketing, and art of course - every book needs a cover after all.” Magnus pauses, purses his lips in thought. “I have a couple of contacts if you decide you want to take that step. They could help you decide, give you some advice or erm… just explain what it’s like.”

“You have contacts?” Alec says, then mentally berates himself. The polite thing would have been to thank Magnus, probably decline or tell Magnus ‘he’ll think about it’. Alec just forgets about what he should do whenever he’s around Magnus.

“One of my friend’s runs a small publishing company — EPEOLATRY — she’s… we’re working on a manuscript together.”

He’s gawking, Alec knows he is, and if he knew a way to stop himself perhaps he would. He doubts it. Magnus is writing a book? Was this man created specifically with Alec in mind? It feels like it, and what a cruel twist of fate that Magnus has to be his fucking professor. Don’t chuckle at that, he warns himself. Fucking Professor, though. Now that’s a subject Alec would dearly love to study, especially if Magnus is teaching.

Alec clears his throat and asks, “What’s it about?”

“It’s mainly a look at how scientific discovery led to the persecution of occult practices. There’s a section looking at how the occult differs in modern society in comparison to past societies.”

Could Magnus please keep talking like that? In that official voice. Alec tries to follow Magnus’ words, he really does. His arms physically hurt from the effort of keeping them still. He’s been doing better recently, been able to control the urges to reach out and touch, but Alec’s fingers itch. He wants to know what that skin feels like, wants to run his fingers along Magnus’ bottom lip whilst Magnus talks like that. He wants to taste that long expanse of neck, wonders how long it would take for Magnus’ breath to become choppy and his words to stutter. How long would it be before Magnus lost his train of thought completely?

Alec only has to look at Magnus to lose his train of thought. He tries to gather the meaning of Magnus’ words.

“Like magic and stuff?” Ugh, way to trivialise someone’s work, Alec.

Magnus tilts his head, “To put it simply, I guess… yes.”

Then Magnus begins to talk about it and Alec just has to know more, just has to keep Magnus talking this passionately. Alec succeeds and neither of them notices that Alec should have left 10 minutes ago for another lecture.

and now there’s a part 8 here

[mangled-dreams]

Choice

As the title implies there is a choice you must make. Will it be the right one?

WARNING: This story does deal with self harm, suicidal idealizations, and depression/anxiety. Started this during a very low point a few months ago and just now finished it. I hope you enjoy. Also this introduces a concept I’ve been playing with (fairly unsuccessfully) about choosing your own story. Similar to Goosebumps’ Adventure Land series where you can chose between a few options to customize your reading experience. This story only have two choices at the end. Pick wisely and enjoy.  

It's not like the thoughts hadn't been brewing before. Black like space and just as never ending. They fester in the insignificant and over analyzing thoughts that linger long after they should. They grow with each self induced criticism and sliding glance that is taken out of context even as it's obvious there was not ill intent, simply two people passing in a public space.

The only solace from these thoughts are the few things that give even the slightest amount of joy in this harsh and rather cruel world. Watching favored YouTubers and menial tasks that bring some amount of peace and relaxation. Laughing, losing track of everything that's cause pain or discomfort, even forgetting responsibilities for a time...it's all anyone could as for. Even just for a short amount of time.

The first time he appeared it was like a dream. He just popped into existence near midnight. The fabled witch hour. Paying him any attention felt ridiculous given the circumstances. It'd been a bad night, the thoughts and the demons clawing without mercy.

Blood drips down on the bed. They will have to be washed once everything is said and done. The moonlight illuminates the wet fabric stained red. If anyone else lived in the house they would know...everyone would know.

“Does that make you feel better? Make it feel like you can control something?” He asks, his voice low and powerful.

“Yes.” It's a simple answer, but it rings true. There is very little that gives a sense of control anymore.

“What will you do if you don't stop bleeding?” He asks from his spot next to the window. Darkness becomes him, is apart of him. He emits power and danger, but is he really there?

“Be free.”

He shakes his head, his black locks illuminated in the moonlight. He doesn't move otherwise. His eyes looking over the broken pieces handing by tiny threads. Needle and thread can only do so much by unskilled hands.

“It's not freedom, it's a cop out.” He leaves.

Each night your world is too hard, or your demons are riding you too hard, before you can put blade to skin he appears. “Why do you keep coming back here?” You ask sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at him. You'd put a chair next to the window, his favorite spot.

“I come to help you.” He responds calmly. You look away to the video playing on your computer. “I am real.” You honestly question that.

“Will you ever stop coming?” you ask watching him lean against the wall and look out the window.

“Perhaps one day.” He responds before leaving for the evening. He's done what he came by for. He stopped you from further self harm. You don't have and desire to cut anymore.

“How do I know you're real? You only show up in the dead of night.” You sit with your back against the wall. You'd taken the head board off your bed long ago. Pillows are stacked around you as you flip through the channels.

Once again he stands next to the window, watching you from the shadows. He still doesn't take the seat you've left there for him. You'd placed a waist high table next to the chair. You realize what you're doing. You're inviting this figment of your imagination to stay a while. It's dangerous, you know this. Losing yourself in this delusion is dangerous.

“How do you know I'm not? Many things only come out at night.” he responds. He's always so well dressed, so immaculate in his appearance. It makes you a little jealous he's so well put together.

“True, but that's like animals, mythical creatures,” you respond looking away from him again.

“I assure you, I am very much real.” He says glancing out the window again. You watch him from the corner of your eye. He never looks at the expensive watch on his wrist. He always looks outside. You wonder sometimes...all the time really, what he sees.

“What's outside?” You ask without thinking.

He looks back at you. “The sky.” he tells you. He leaves again and you look at your clock. Five o'clock.

Midnight rolls around and he doesn't show up. You wait a little longer, but he doesn't show up. You fall asleep feeling a little hurt. Today had been especially hard. Once again you messed up and said the wrong thing and possibly lost a good friend...

It's day four and he still hasn't shown up. You're going a little stir crazy waiting for him. Nothing gives you the same amount of peace as talking to him. He never gave you a true name, simply allowed you to call him whatever you choose. You never decided on a name, not even nick name.

Looking to the window for the fifth time in ten minutes you want nothing more than to have him appear in his pressed suite and well groomed hair. With a sigh you roll away from the window and hold yourself together. You never thought you'd miss a figment of your imagination, although, if he truly was a figment of your imagination then he'd be in your room, watching out the window in peaceful silence.

Closing your eyes you let your dreams take you. Maybe, you hope, they'll take you to him.

“You haven't been sleeping.” He greets as you wake up once again. Sleeping is hard, staying asleep is even harder.

You sit up, a hand raking over your head. You glare at him for a brief moment before sighing and look away from him. “I thought you'd left.” you tell him without looking at him again. He's actually using the arm chair and it makes you happy for some weird reason.

“I did,” he responds calmly. “But I came back.” Leaning against your bent knee you view him. He looks the same, yet different.

“You look tired.” you tell him noting the wild stubble on his jaw. “What happened to you?” You add sitting up.

“Many things, but that is not why I am here.” He tells you brushing something off his leg.

You study him. There is something off about him tonight. He seems on edge, as if tense and possibly upset about something. “Then why are you back?” You ask scooting up to the head of your bed again, taking pillows to fluff around you.

He doesn't respond right away, looking out the window before looking to you. His eyes are red. You shiver involuntarily at the sudden change. “I came to tell you that I will be taking my leave soon. The time has come that I must move on.” He tells you, watching the look of fear drain color from your face at his words.

“What?” You can't move. What does he mean that he's leaving? He's been gone for nearly a week and it left you empty. How did you get so attached to him? When did he become an important piece in your life? “No, please, I... I don't want you to go.” You tell him rather pathetically.

He doesn't respond right away. He's watching you, watching your expressions. “I cannot stay forever,” he tells you truthfully.

You already knew that. No one can stay forever, but it doesn't stop you from whispering, “please, don't leave me.” Are you acting a little more than pathetically? Yes, yes you are, but you can't help it. He's the only person that hasn't judge you.

“I cannot stay here.” He tells you sternly, as if trying to convey more to you. It takes a moment, but it starts to click together.

“Can...Can I go with you?” You ask hesitantly. Do you really want to go with him? You don't really know. You just know the thought of never seeing him again puts you in a state of panic and fear.

You watch him raise a brow at you. “You would have to leave behind everything.” He tells you. You look around your room. Your things, collections that have taken you years to find. Your eyes travel to an old photo of your once whole family.

“Everything?” you ask softly. He nods and you look away from the photo. “Do I have to die?” you ask looking now to your wrists. There are scars there...but even as you say the words it feels silly. He's been trying to keep you from hurting yourself.

“In a way.” He responds coldly. You look at him. “You will cease to exist in this world.” He tells you, looking out the window again. “I'll give you three days to make your decision.” he tells you disappearing from your room.

You look at your hands again. Are you really going to leave with him? Or are you going to stay and try to tough out this life... You don't know. Ceasing to exist is the same as dying. You won't be able to see your parents, to see your siblings, or friends, or even to have a chance at love. You know it's not love that draws you to him, to choosing to join him. No.

It's the companionship. The understanding that there are things you cannot control well. He understands that. You know you'll spend the next three days in agony over your answer.

“Have you made your decision?” He asks appearing in the arm chair in your bed room. What is your answer?

“Yes.”                                                                                                              “No.”

[leadwithlove-blog1]

Let Love In

First of all, I think it’s important to talk about how I think the word love has been misconstrued. I googled love and everything that popped up seemed to tie into one theme, romantic love. Sure that’s one lane love drives in but I don’t believe it’s lane 1. Love is unconditional, no limits and I believe the person that taught us how to love best didn’t love us in a romantic way but in its purest form and that was Jesus. So why is it when I google love I feel like valentine’s day puked on my search engine. We wonder why people focus so much energy on finding a significant other…we forget what real love looks like. It makes it hard to love ourselves because all of a sudden that’s tied to whether or not a cute boy or a pretty girl does. I think we discount non-romantic love as if it doesn’t mean as much when it actually means more because it expects nothing in return.

Before I left my hometown to move to Seattle my best friend gave me a gift and a letter. The gift was something she had painted that said “Let Love In” and in the letter, she proceeded to tell me why it said that.

“If there is one thing you’ve taught me it is to let love in. I made you this painting to remind you that I have…Always remember to let love in, because even though you say I’m stubborn, you are too.”

Before then I hadn’t thought about my own walls. I had this perceptiveness growing up that I could tell when someone needed a little extra love. I fought so hard to get through to my friends but I had gotten so good at hiding behind this giant pretty wall I’d built that I didn’t realize how lonely and anxious I’d become on the other side of it. I knew so many people but no one really knew me. I didn’t want people to worry about me, to look at my family differently and ultimately I didn’t want to be vulnerable. There would be times where I would become anxious because I didn’t think I was loved. I showed up for so many people but I didn’t have people return the favor. A big reason for that is because I didn’t let them which created these self-inflicted insecurities. People don’t read minds if we don’t let them in it’s hard for them to love from the other side of the wall. I used to have to fight tooth and nail to get someone to open up to me, now I start it by being vulnerable first. It’s easier to love when people are vulnerable, you’re not wondering if they’re hiding things because the transparency shows they aren’t. When a relationship is one-sided in the vulnerability department people tend to drift away. There’s no substance to a relationship that isn’t shared and it is so hard to trust people who you feel don’t trust you. At this point in my life I’ve become an open book, if you want to know something I’ll tell you. I have no secrets because they fester. You start wondering who knows about them or can see through the act. They eat at you, creating this feeling of uneasiness and paranoia. As I was thinking about all the times I felt “anxious” it made me curious to see what the actual definition was.

Anxiety: A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

Uncertainty. Not knowing. That’s what causes anxiety, missing information. We’re about to take a test and suddenly become extremely aware of how much we don’t know. Our parents fight and no matter what we do we can’t stop it. Thinking about where we’ll be in five years, hoping we don’t lose anyone along the way. Sometimes it’s going to be something we have no control over. My relationship with God has me covered on the things that are out of my control. It didn’t use to, it’s come with time and intentionally building that relationship. He’s proven to me time and time again that he’ll show up if I’m patient, that he’s always got me. But there are plenty of times in our life where something is causing us to feel anxious and there’s something we can do about it. Most of the time that something is having a conversation. “Ask and you shall receive” it sounds so easy but we get in our head about how we think people will respond so we don’t go through with it. People don’t know how you feel if you don’t tell them and you don’t know how they’ll respond if you don’t give them the chance to prove you wrong. In school, if we don’t understand something we ask the teacher so we can learn. Why is it that we can’t seem to talk to the people we say are the closest to us. We let all these thoughts and feelings seep into our heads and let the anxiety take over. We begin to wonder if we’re being crazy or if what we’re thinking is true. Throwing us into this unhealthy circle of torment where we don’t even know what is actually true anymore. What if the second we felt left out, forgotten, unloved, not good enough, unworthy we just said so? What if we let love in so that the love could overcome the doubt. I started doing this through prayer, dumping it all out. Sometimes it’s brutally honest and I give myself a wakeup call. Sometimes it’s emotional which helps lighten the burden. But at the end of all of the prayers, I get up the courage to talk to the person I felt disconnected to. 99% of the time that little hole that was starting to grow gets some love stitches. The more I had the honest, loving, full of grace conversations the more free and loved I felt. It also becomes less and less necessary. I don’t doubt the things I used to, God has put people in my life that remind me every day I couldn’t be anything but loved. Because of this, I want to love people better, I want to be open to all perspectives including the pain so I can widen my view. See the things I didn’t before, show people they can receive love and that God has peace for them too. Through conversations, clarity, and curiosity I’ve learned how to love myself. God gave me this abnormal capacity to love people which makes me unique. I get to add to the lives around me and I’ve become so comfortable in that role. I haven’t felt anxious or lonely in years, I think that’s because I’m surrounded by so much love and I’m not afraid to let it in anymore. Obviously, not every relationship is going to work out the way you wanted it to no matter how much you communicate because sometimes the other person isn’t ready. Sometimes there will be people who you will need to forgive, even when they don’t say sorry. To acknowledge that their brokenness doesn’t define you. If I were still waiting for my dad to be a dad I’d still be broken. His lack of love doesn’t define my ability to be loved, that held me back for too long. Let God and the people he put in your life remind you just how much you are loved. Just like my best friend did for me when she called me stubborn (but really though if someone calls you stubborn and you immediately say no I’m not, you probably are). She reminded me that I have to let people return it, I can’t be the one kicking down everyone else’s walls and building my own. Life just doesn’t work that way and it’s so much better without a wall. The grass is always greener when there isn’t a side to choose from.

Psalm 34:4 God met me more than halfway, he freed me from my anxious fears.

Isaiah 41:3 When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you. When you’re in rough waters, You will not go down. When you’re between a rock & a hard place it won’t be a dead end.  

Matthew 6:34 Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, & don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.