#tw// suicide attempts

[anonymousj3ster]

Chapter 7- Digital Lake

Warning: The following contains the subject of suicide.

I pace in my room. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. The red and blue room seemed to shrink around me, along with my lungs in my chest, each breath becoming more and more rapid, feeling like tiny needles were poking into them, making each inhale torture.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth. I pause in front of the mirror in my room, staring at the thing looking back. Small pupils. Pale, waxy, plasticy skin. Brightly colors clothes. My one working hand curls into a fist, shaking slightly as I glare at the thing in the mirror. It glares back. I raise my fist slowly, wanting to punch it kill it get rid of it die die die-

A noise of pain and insanity crawls up my throat, half keen, half moan as I whirl around and slam my door open, speedwalking past the other doors, past the colorful icons, past the blank mannequins, past the dizzying colors, the blocks, the toys, the cheerful torture and out of the circus, into the artificial outdoors. The too-bright run beams down on me as I stalk down one of the paths. My fingers itched to draw something, but I must have left my sketchbook somewhere, because I had searched my whole room for it earlier with no success. Or maybe Jax stole it. I grit my teeth as the brown dirt path fades into-

The carnival. I freeze, staring at the colorful attractions. The Ferris Wheel. Roller Coaster. The blue tent. The tent.I flashback to that moment, when I had run from the tent. Blurs of blue, contraptions littered here and there. A small black book, filled with hopes and fears and thoughts, all captured in paper and pencil-etched lines. I had left it there after fleeing the tent. I groan and walk reluctantly into the carnival, shuddering at the eeriness of it all. I somehow hadn't noticed it before. There was something utterly wrong about how still, how empty, this place was, a place normally associated with joy and laughter and cheesy, catchy, irritating music, with children running about dragging exhausted parents, teenagers hanging around and laughing at dumb jokes, a flurry of high-energy motion. A place that should smell of sugar and fast food and sweat and maybe a hint of vomit, but was now just stale air and cold. I eye every shadow with suspicion, flinch at every creak and imaginary whisper as I creep toward the blue tent. I step inside, head whipping over my shoulder as I feel a nonexistent hand touch my shoulderCome on Pomni, get ahold of yourself. I stare at the door with the password lock on it, before my eyes slip down to the floor in search of my sketchbook.

It was lying forgotten on the floor, open to a page filled with doodles the thing I both dreaded and desired most. The exit door. A small, scoffing giggle escapes my lips as I stare down at it, slowly picking it up with trembling hands, closing it and walking out of the tent and out of the carnival, mind blank. I walk. And walk. And walk. My eye twitchs slightly as I pass the circus, the Digital Lake coming into view.

Drown yourself in the Digital Lake.

Drown yourself in the Digital Lake.

Drown yourself in the Digital Lake.

Drown yourself.

Drown yourself.

Drown.

D̸̡̛͉͍̘̤̗͉͖͕̮̣͈͉̯͈̻͇͜ͅͅ ̷̛̛̛͎̜̺̟͓̀͂̅̒̏̅̒̑̄͆͊̈͂̑̀́̿͊̏̾̑̃͊͑́̄͛́̈́͑̀͒̕̚͝͝ͅŕ̷̨̲͈̹͙̞̼̭̞̼̗̏͊̓̉̅̿̀̉̈́͊̉̐̀̾̒̌͒̇͊̊̆͑͑̇͘͘͝͝͝ ̶̧̢̛̳̮̣̜͕̙̱̥̭͓͎̩̘͙͈̘̭̜̮̝̰͗̐͌̈́͆̆̆̔̋͛͊͐͗́̉͂̊̈̽̌̈͌̏̂̈́͆͛̋͊̅̃̃͝ơ̴̬̝̟͈̯̫͈͓͉͓͖̩̥̮̱͎͉̝͖͎͚͚̞̜͕̦͎͉͔̣̲̱̒͑̿̐̄̆́̓̑̈̋̀̆͒̀͂̆͂͋͋̐̅̓̑͛͊̽͒̾͗͘̚̚͜͝͝ ̵̛̮̥̃̀̿̀̀͂̒̀̈́͑̈́͌͛͆̏̉̇̀̐̚͝͝͝͝w̴̡̧̼̻̲͔̣͍̹̱̥͈͕͙̘̳̖̳̥̮̱͖͖̦̩̲̪͈̖̤̻̳̖̼͖̼͔̳͍͌̒̓̉̔̾̀̌̅͑̏̈́͂̓̃͆͘͜ ̸͎̺͈͕̋̊̀́̉̆̾̊̀͌́̏̒̓̋̾̀͗͆̈́̔͋̈͒̑̈́͘̕̚͜͠ņ̵̥̰̦͌͆̎̏͛͗͒̅͒̊̆͌̄̑́̂̓̊͒͂̒̑̀̑̒̓̒̕̚͘͘

The words circle in my head like a demented merry-go-round as my feet keep moving forward. Why not? Why not try? I was already drowning, wasn't I? Drowning in all the colors, the jingles, my own thoughts, my impending insanity. So why not drown for real? Why not? Why not? I blink, slowly becoming aware of my surroundings again. I was standing at the edge of the calm, blue serene lake. Not a single ripple on it's smooth, shining surface. It was the complete opposite of my mind. I stare at it, remembering what Zooble had told my my second day here. How everybody here had tried killing themselves multiple times. At least once a week, even. I edge a bit closer, the tip of my shoe touching the water, making a small ripple.

...

I wouldn't even die, would I? So why even try?

...

Why not try?

I close my eyes, slowly turning around with my back to the mockingly perfect water. I slowly lean backwards.

A quarter inch.

A half.

An inch.

Two.

"Pomni?"

My eyes snap open, pupils small dots. "G-gangle?" The ribbon creature was a few feet away at the edge of the lake, staring at me. "W-what are you doing?" I stare at her, unable to think of an answer. And even if I could, I doubt I could open my mouth and say anything.

"You were going to kill yourself, weren't you?"

"..."

"Me two."

I stare at her for a moment, slowly registering her words. "O-oh..." We stare at each other in awkward silence that weighs on my shoulders like a brick.

"I-I know we normally can't die but...Caine's gone. And things have been weird lately..." Gangle whispers. I blink, letting her words sink in.

"So...You think we could actually..."

"Maybe."

I turn the words over in my head. So I could actually die. Maybe. I look back at the lake. That somehow made it... harder. Before, dying had been more of...of a wish, a hope I knew wouldn't come true but had to try anyways. But now that there was an actual risk...

I don't know. It made it more...real.

"Are you still going to do it?"

"Maybe. I don't know if I'm able to now...you know?"

The mask nods. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

Silence. Then-

"Whats that?"

I look where the ribbon was pointing, squinting. A small rectangle, floating on the water. I watch it for a moment, before slowly stepping into the water.

"Pomni?"

I walk further, until my feet hover above the bottom of the lake.

"Pomni."

I glance back at Gangle. "I'm not...I'm just gonna go get it. Promise." Gangle looks at me uncertainly, but nods. I swim out to the center of the lake, where the strange rectangle floated. I swim until I'm close enough to grab-

I snort, snatching it. I break out hysterically laughing, almost going under.

"Pomni?"

I keep snickering, waving the book at Gangle as I swim back.

"What are you la-" Gangle starts to ask in mild concern, but I throw the book near her, cutting her off as I wheeze in laughter. She picks it up-

And bursts out in snickers. I climb out of the lake, soaking wet and cackling. We laugh and laugh, until it dies out and we just stare at what had been in the lake.

A Bible.

A fucking Bible.

I stare at the cross on the small blue Bible,shaking my head.

"Well." I say simply. "Guess somebody doesn't want people killing themselves." Gangle manages a weak laugh. I smirk a little, before an idea worms into my head. I look at the cross, slowly thinking back to the tent. The code on the door.

"Caine and Abel." I mumble, slowly turning back to the path.

"What?"

I ignore Gangle, quickly walking, speedwalking, running back to that damn carnival, thinking of that cross. I hear a soft fluttering noise behind me as I run as the ribbon being follows.

"Pomni what are you-" I keep ignoring her, skidding past the carnival gates and racing into the tent, pressing the keypad on the door. The blue panels spring to life around me. I sigh, knowing this might take a while as dozens of different alphabets and symbols trap me. But...maybe it was easier than I thought.

I look an the English letters, pressing a few.

I.

f.

INCORRECT.

TIf.

CORRECT.

My heart pounds in my chest as I hear the door click, and the panels around me vanish. I slowly reach out with a shaky hand-

"Pomni, what-"

"I don't know."

I grab the handle, pushing down and pulling. It opens, revealing-

Nothing. A white room with nothing.

Except a black cane with a gold orb on top, hovering in midair.

Caines cane.

I step in and slowly grab it. A sharp, stabbing feeling ripples through my body. I hiss and drop my hand, but pause. That pain had driven out a different kind, one that had been in my right hand. I life it up and stare at it, hearing Gangle gasp behind me. The red gloved hand was no longer glitched. I life my eyes back to the cane, grabbing it again. There was a soft, thrumming, humming feeling that spread through me, before drifting away. I turn back to Gangle.

"So. That just happened."

[mooseymi]

"All you wanted was to make the hurt go away," is just the standards and practices friendly way of saying he was suicidal. "Some things are better left unsaid," is just the standards and practices friendly way of saying he committed (assissted?) suicide.

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

hey you know what would be like. the WORST possible thing? if no time had passed for mortals during God Games. if the entire time, Odysseus had just been frozen on that ledge. and at the start of the Vengeance Saga, Ody's still on the ledge. he looks to the skies, to the trees, out over the ocean. he looks for an owl with knowing eyes and strains to hear her voice over the waves, because surely, surely she'd come for him. the haven't spoken in nine years and he ruined whatever relationship they had when he stupidly, foolishly let the cyclops live, but she has to still care, right? she was his mentor. she was his patron. he meant something to her. he's sure of it

but she's not there. he waits, but she's not there. he closes his eyes, sparing himself the view, and steps off the ledge

and is saved by Hermes. and Odysseus briefly thinks that he has died, since Hermes escorts souls to the underworld. but Hermes assures him that, no, he's alive, Athena heard him, she bargained with Zeus, he can go home now. he can finally go home

his friend came through

[businessboybrick]

Without spoiling anything, PLEASE be advised that the first three episodes have A LOT of suicide shit in them. Like not just ideation, full on behavior and attempts shown on screen. Huge warning if you have any kind of trigger for suicide

[mythtakens]

9-1-1 + a thesis on love

[second-star-to-motunui]

It’s Going To Be Ok

✨feat. Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia✨

Summary: They found you trying to hurt yourself and stopped you. Now they’re doing their best to remind you that you aren’t alone.

reader is referred to as Yuu (they/them)

tw// self harm, eating disorders, suicide attempts

note: life hasn’t been easy lately. most of what’s written is based on personal experiences. I wrote this to comfort myself, and I hope it can bring you comfort too.

“Yuu? Are you crying? What happened—hey, hey stop that, stop doing that!”

Riddle stopped Yuu from scratching, their arms red and bleeding from their nails. He rushed them to the infirmary and it was there that they broke down and spilled everything.

Riddle didn’t know what to say in the moment, but he hugged Yuu and let them cry into his shoulder. He apologized for all the horrible things they were dealing with and swore to them that they could come to him if they needed.

He makes it a part of his routine to check on Yuu after that and provide anything they need, from assistance with studying to even just a hug.

“How has your day been? Good? I see… I bought these gloves for you. Anytime you feel like scratching just put them on, then you can’t hurt yourself. Please come to me if you feel like hurting yourself again. We can have tea and talk instead.”

“The hell? What the hell are you doing?! PUT THAT DOWN!”

Leona had come to the botanical garden for an afternoon nap when he smelled blood. He found Yuu hiding behind a tree with a switchblade. They had scars on their arms and they were about to slit their wrist before Leona caught them.

Yuu dropped the blade and burst into tears. Leona took them to his dorm room and took care of them. He was scolding them for doing something so dangerous, but it was clear that he cared and was genuinely concerned for them.

If he wasn’t already around Yuu often, he’s glued to their hip now. He’ll eat lunch with them, nap around them and wait for them outside of their classroom so he can walk with them.

“Look at me. Look at me. You are not worthless, ok? Whoever put that idea in your head, ignore them. And if there’s somebody bothering you, you better tell me and I’ll deal with it, ok? I’m here for you.”

“Yuu, I’ve been looking for… Are you alright? You’re not fine, you’re barely standing! YUU!”

Azul caught Yuu before they could collapse. He asked when they had eaten last only to learn that Yuu had been deliberately starving themself from stress.

Azul gently escorted them to Monstro Lounge to get them something to eat. He was reminded of his own struggles with eating when he was young, and he couldn’t bear to see it on Yuu now.

He sends messages to Yuu throughout the day to remind them to take care of themself. Jade and Floyd keep a close eye on Yuu too. If they get even a whiff that Yuu is falling into bad habits, then it’s off to Octavinelle for lunch.

“Angelfish, may I speak with you? Listen… I know what it’s like to hate who you see in the mirror, but trust me when I say that hurting yourself won’t make it better. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. We can even do it over lunch if that helps.”

“Why are you crying? Was it something I said? Wait, wait, please don’t do that, please stop! I can fix this!”

Kalim doesn’t understand why, but one second he was talking to Yuu and the next they had burst into tears and started hitting themself in the head.

He stopped Yuu and hugged them tight, offering to do something fun to cheer them up. He tried dancing with them, playing a game, but nothing seemed to help. Jamil ended up having to step in.

In the end, (after a difficult conversation with Jamil) Kalim learned that the best thing he could do was let Yuu feel their feelings rather than ignore them with positivity. He doesn’t like seeing Yuu cry, but he’s more than happy to hold their hand through it.

“Hey so… Jamil said there’s something wrong in your brain that makes you sad all the time? No, no, not wrong! Uh… different? … A disorder? I see… well, if you want to talk about it I’m here to listen. Just… please don’t hit yourself like that again ok? Hit me instead! No? If you change your mind you can do it, I can take it!”

“What do you have there? Don’t try to hide it, give it here! Are you an idiot?! Don’t you realize what this is?!”

When Vil snatched the potion bottle from Yuu’s hand, he really hoped they genuinely didn’t know they were about to drink a deadly poison. Yuu began to cry and Vil’s heart broke because he realized they knew exactly what they were doing.

Vil has a long talk with Yuu about their troubles. They hated their hair, they hated their body, they hated themself. Vil takes their hands and swears to them that he’ll do whatever he can to help them. But first he has to know where they got the poison so he can assure they’ll never get their hands on another one.

Self care days become a weekly event. Light exercises, home spa days, clothes shopping, Vil will even allow himself a cheat day for desserts if it means bringing Yuu comfort.

“Oh no, have you been pulling your hair out again? It’s ok, no tears, let me see… Ah, it’s not as bad as it was last time. Don’t apologize, darling. Hair grows back. Come, let’s see how we can take care of it now and you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Yuu? Are you here I brought… Yuu? Oh no—hey! Wake up! Wake up! Ortho, I need help!”

Idia found Yuu unconscious on their bedroom floor, having swallowed half a bottle of pills. Together, him and Ortho get Yuu to a hospital and don’t leave their side until they awake.

Idia beats himself up so much after that because he knew Yuu was in a bad place mentally, he just never thought they’d do something so drastic. He wraps them in the biggest hug when they wake up, sobbing and apologizing and promising to be a better friend.

Yuu spends a few weeks in Ignihyde once they’re discharged from the hospital. Idia doesn’t say much, but he does watch their favorite shows and plays their favorite games with them.

“… You’re moving back to your dorm today, right? Ok… um—t-this is for you! It’s a new phone, I know the one Crowley got you sucks ass. Just… call me if something happens again. Or Ortho! We’ll be there for you ok? W-We care about you…”

“The view from here is lovely, isn’t it? You should watch your step, the fall would be quiet devastating.”

Malleus appeared at Yuu’s side before they could take another step towards the cliffs edge, holding their shoulder firmly and keeping them in place.

He talks about meaningless things for a little while before he gently holds Yuu’s hand and invites them to join him on a walk and get some ice cream. They leave together, right after Yuu has short cry in Malleus’s arms.

Malleus drops by Ramshackle every single day after that. Sometimes it’s for ice cream dates, sometimes it’s to invite them to Gargoyle Studies Club activities. Often he’ll just be there while Yuu does whatever. Yuu doesn’t know it, but Malleus waits until he knows they’re safely in bed at the end of each day before he leaves them.

“Thank you for spending time with me today. I do enjoy your company… I know human lives are rather short compared to that of a fae’s, but please don’t try to shorten it. You aren’t a burden. You’re wonderful. I’ll remind you that you’re wonderful every day if I have to. You’re very precious to me.”

[ang3lofdivinity]

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊𝖲𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝖨𝗇 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖾‧₊༉‧

Relationship(s) :: Jinx + Calypso (slightly yandere)!Fem!Reader (romantic - can be interpreted as platonic)

Genre :: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Format :: Oneshot

Warnings :: spoilers for season 2 of Arcane, trauma!!, death mentions, some swearing (Jinx), READER IS NOT CALYPSO - more so takes her place, Reader is a TEENY BIT Yandere, Suicide attempt (Jinx), mentions of previous suicide attempts (reader) Jinx still has some remaining feelings for Ekko, but eventually gives up, reader supposedly written to have long hair? But you can imagine the braiding flowers into it as shorter (length is not mentioned), heavily inspired by Jorge’s “Love In Paradise”

A/N :: I LOVE MY WIFE. Anyways, enjoy this crappy thing I spent too much of my life on. (W.C :: 6.1k words)

Ⅰ - Ⅱ - Ⅲ

This island was paradise—lush, vibrant, and timeless, never seeming to ever grow anything out of place - fruits never seemed to rot, and animals always seemed to thrive on the island (that being if they didn’t die first thing upon arriving).

Known as Ogygia in myths long forgotten, or as you ever so lovingly referred to it as “The Garden” this place was hidden far, far away from any human civilization: the closest island around was Demacia, but even then it was way too far out for anyone to reach this place without any sort of aircraft or boat.

The place was more than a home; it was your prison. You’ve been cursed to remain on the island for eternity, your punishment was twofold: you could never leave, nor could you ever avoid the loneliness that came with immortality. It’s always been your punishment ever since you were a young girl, being only 11.

Once, albeit a long time ago: you were free from the shackles of this hidden island, able to wander freely around the world. As a goddess, you had more power than you could dream of - almost everything at your fingertips: magic, power, anything you desired would become true in an instant. And with your father, being the almighty being that he is, you were safe.

Or so you thought.

A war began to play out, and you were in the middle of it. You had to pick a side, nevertheless if you wanted to or not, you had no choice in that regard.

Nevertheless, you picked your fathers side to fight within the war, to which was your fatal mistake (though neither side of the war was fair, you really just wanted to stay out of it in the first place).

You watched as they killed your father with relentless attacks, no clemency shown to your father, now a husk of a god. You once believed that with his immortality, no god would be able to kill him.

This proved you wrong, didn’t it?

As you wept by his side, the golden blood pooling around him and splattering onto your clothes, the gods had decided your fate amongst themselves without your knowledge until the last moment: leading you to where you are now.

On an island.

With no way to get off it.

Though centuries had passed without company, you never allowed despair to claim you completely. You tended to your gardens, took time in enjoying the scenery of the island (even if you have already walked around more than enough times to remember every little detail of the island), and watched the ocean’s endless ebb and flow.

Time slipped by like the grains of sand in your palm by the beach of the island.

.

The day had begun like any other. You had been weaving fresh blooms into your hair, the freshest and prettiest ones you could find. Though you truly never had anyone to appreciate your efforts you put into your appearance, you tried your absolute best to look more pretty than yesterday. The skies above Ogygia were usually serene as they were right now, painted in soft hues of blue and gold.

But then, all of the sudden: a loud noise began to spurr.

You glanced up for a moment, surveying around. And upon seeing nothing, you simply hummed and continued what you were doing previously.

..but then the disaster happened.

The serene sky, once so beautiful, had now been tainted with the roar of a dying.. aircraft?

Your heart leapt as you immediately stopped what you were doing; quickly pulling your hands away from your hair as you saw the machine plummet into the ocean just beyond the shoreline of your island, smoke billowing as it sank beneath the waves.

Your first instinct was disbelief; surely it was a mirage or a trick of your own longing for companionship! I mean, you have been alone here for so long now, of course you want someone to be around you and so you can have someone talk or talk with you.

But when the wreckage washed ashore—along with the battered body of its pilot—you knew it was real.

You hesitated, standing a safe distance from the unconscious woman. Her clothes were tattered, her bright blue hair matted with grime, and her weapons—strange devices you couldn’t comprehend—were scattered around her.

From what you could see..: the woman’s hair was stained with streaks of purple paint, though it was rather.. short. At least the back of it was, her bang - which was streaked with purple - was far longer.

Her face is marked by smeared face paint, with streaks of pink underneath her eyes, wearing a top of.. bandages with neon graffiti-like splashes of color. Her dark trousers are similarly streaked with colorful paint.

The woman has layered straps, belts, and mechanical embellishments, adding a steampunk flair. She dons mismatched gloves, one of which is fingerless while the other is metallic in appearance from what you can see. Her boots are high, combat-style with heavy laces and metal accents, covered in the same paint-splatter as the rest of her look.

The stranger looked dangerous. But what mattered most was figuring out if she was alive or not.

You knelt down beside her, your fingers trembling as you brushed some sand from the woman’s cheek. Slowly, your fingers slid down to her neck- looking around for a pulse.

You let out a relieved breath when you finally found it.

“You’re not a ghost,” you whispered, more to yourself than the unconscious pilot. (Given the fact that she couldn’t hear you in her resting state).

But the stranger was injured. Badly.

You didn’t waste another moment. You darted back to your palace, gathering medical supplies you hadn’t used in centuries but always kept ready.

Returning to the beach, you began cleaning and dressing the stranger’s wounds with practiced care. For someone who’s been on an island for longer than you can remember, you definitely are surprised with the way you managed to fix up the injured woman’s wounds (even if you were.. slightly embarrassed to help bandage and clean some of them up due to the placement of them).

Though.. she’ll hopefully forgive you!

I mean, you’re saving her life. So it’s worth the embarrassment.

When she finally stirred, her vision was blurred, and her body ached as though she’d been through a war. The first thing she noticed was the faint tickle of.. sand touching her cheek. A groan escaped her lips, and she tried to move, only to wince as pain shot through her bandaged side.

Upon hearing the sound, someone glanced over. A soft smile curved at their lips as they abandoned their weaving of wildflowers into a crown and made their way to the stranger’s side. They crouched beside her, tilting their head to the side a bit, obviously curious.

The woman’s head was pounding as she stared confusingly at the person before her. They lay down beside the injured woman, propping their head on one hand and studying her face with unguarded fascination.

She blinked at them, groggy and disoriented. Maybe this was all just some weird dream she was having.

…but the sand on her cheek felt too realistic.

Reaching a hand up, she poked herself.

And that’s when she finally registered that someone was lying right beside her, her instincts kicked in, and she jolted upright with a panicked gasp.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” They chirped, unfazed by the sudden movement. They sat up slowly, brushing stray sand off their clothes before reaching for more bandages.

“You’ve been resting for a while. It’s a good thing I found you when I did. You were in rough shape.”

The woman eyed them warily, one hand subconsciously reaching around behind her, trying to find her weapons or anything she could use as a weapon at the time.

But they weren’t very threatening. On the contrary, they were …

What's the right word?..

“I swore you were dead when you washed up on my isle,” They continued with a light laugh, deftly fixing the bandages she had disturbed.

“But lucky for you, I’m very good at taking care of people.”

She groaned again, both from the lingering pain and the unfamiliar sensation of someone fussing over her.

“And did you know you talk in your sleep?” They added casually as if they were simply discussing the weather, their tone teasing.

Her cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze.

“Great. Just great,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

“Tell me, though—who’s Violet?”

She froze, her muscles tensing. It seems the name struck a nerve. She swallowed hard before muttering:

“She’s my sister.”

They hummed in response, finishing the bandages with a gentle pat. They didn’t press further, sensing the raw emotion behind the admission. Instead, they smiled and stood, offering the woman a hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up properly. You’ll feel better after a bath and some food,” they said brightly.

“Oh! I need to introduce myself to you! I completely forgot!! I’m (____)!”

You walked into the room, medical supplies in hand once more, your eyes immediately scanning the woman. The bluette sat stiffly on the edge of a chair, her towel now replaced with the clothes you had left for her—a slightly snug shirt that exposed her midriff and simple black shorts that fit her frame.

“Does it feel okay?” You asked, tilting your head as you set the supplies down on a nearby nightstand.

She tugged at the hem of the shirt, her lips pressing into a line as she figured out the correct wording for what she was going to say.

“It’s… fine,” she muttered, clearly unused to the softness of the fabric or the attention she was receiving. You’ve seen that look once before amongst the faces of others you’d taken care of before you were banished to this island.

You quietly nodded, brushing off the woman’s tone.

“Alright, then. Sit still for a moment please. Let’s take a closer look at those injuries.”

She grumbled something under her breath, but didn’t move as you knelt beside her. You carefully reached for her arm, inspecting a faint but deep gash near her elbow.

“You’ve got a bunch of wounds I didn’t notice before,” you murmured, voice soft but laced with concern. You reached for a cotton pad, soaking it in antiseptic.

“This might sting a bit.”

She didn’t even wince as the antiseptic touched her skin, but her muscles tensed due to it. Perhaps because she was unused to this kind of care for wounds such as these, she did use staples to close up her wounds in the past..

But you don’t know that!

“You’re really enjoying this, huh?” she teased, masking her discomfort with sarcasm.

“Not particularly. But I can’t just let you sit around looking like you lost a fight with a thorn bush.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” She muttered, deeply sighing after her little comment.

You moved as quickly but gently as you could, cleaning the wound and wrapping it with a bandage.

You glanced up at the woman, your gaze softening when you saw the woman staring intently at the floor, her brows furrowed.

“Hey,” you said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not going to hurt you, you know. You’re hurt, and if nothing is done about these - they could get infected and become worse overall. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable: and if I am, tell me. I wish to help you, that’s all I want.”

She looked up, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something in response to your words, but she just stayed quiet instead, giving you a small nod in the end.

You stayed quiet yourself before you eventually leaned back to examine her other injuries.

“Now, I saw a cut on your stomach earlier. Are you okay with me looking at it?”

She hesitated, her hands instinctively resting over the hem of the shirt before sighing.

“Just get it over with,” she finally said, her voice quieter than before.

You gave her a reassuring smile and reached for another antiseptic pad. You gently lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing a long, jagged wound stretching from her side to just under her ribs. Your fingers worked deftly, cleaning the area with care.

“You’ve been through a lot,” you said, your tone almost a whisper as the woman let out a dry laugh in response.

“You could say that again.”

You didn’t press. Instead, you finished wrapping the wound and leaned back to assess your work.

“There,” you said, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“All patched up! You’re good as new—well, almost.”

She smirked faintly, a way to show her gratitude.

“Thanks, doc.”

And you smiled, rising to your feet.

“Let’s get you something to eat. Then you should get some rest. No arguments.”

She didn’t argue, surprisingly enough to the both of you. You helped her to her feet, and as the two of you had began to leave, she spoke.

“You’re weird, y’know that?” She muttered, just audible enough so you could hear it.

And you laughed, leading the way from the loft to her new room.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jinx stood in the middle of the guest room, staring at the bed. Her eyes traced the pristine sheets, the neatly fluffed pillow, and the faint floral embroidery on the quilt. It was too… perfect. Too clean.

The kind of thing she didn’t trust.

Though her body ached from the day’s events, her mind buzzed with restlessness. She rubbed the back of her neck, fingers grazing one of the many bandages you had carefully applied. That woman had been way too nice. No one did things like that for free..

Jinx cautiously approached before she sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. As comfortable as the room was, there was no rug and no other way for warmth besides the quilt resting upon the bed.

She stared at her reflection in the dark window, barely recognizing herself.

You know, without her usual paint smeared across her cheeks, she looked… wrong.

Exposed. Vulnerable.

She pulled at the hem of the shirt you had given her, fingers curling into the fabric. The soft material felt foreign against her skin, and she hated how it smelled faintly of flowers. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to strip it off. It wasn’t like she had many options anyhow.

With a huff she laid down, legs dangling off the bed as her arms lay above her, staring at the ceiling above.

After she’d faked her death, she began to think about what life back home had turned into. Has it become chaotic? Better? Peaceful? War-like once more?

And then the thoughts of the ones she’d left behind in that once so bloody land.

Violet.. perhaps she would be in absolute disarray, in a state of depression due to her death. Or, perhaps she would be enjoying her freedom of being away from the one she’d referred to as sister.

She scoots up within the bed, now resting her head upon one of the pillows as she laid on her side.

As for others, such as Ekko…

…

Ekko..

The name strikes something within her, eyes now slightly wild as she stared intently at the wall.

..she should try and sleep. She can’t let these constant reminders of her past continue haunting her anymore. She’s supposedly dead, after all. Nobody knows of her current situation, and she has no way to get back home.

So, Jinx attempted to close her eyes, trying to fall asleep and forget about this incident.

But her thoughts wouldn’t quiet.

Flashes of the crash played behind her eyelids—the fire, the smoke, the suffocating silence of the ocean swallowing her whole. Not only that, but the explosion before she had escaped—the soft grip she had on Vander as he scowled up at her, the feeling of her free-falling, setting off the bomb…

How Violet looked at her before she let go..

‘Always with you, sis..’

‘BECAUSE YOU’RE A JINX!’

‘She jinxes every job!’

‘JINX!’

She bolted upright, heart racing, breath shallow.

Her eyes darted around for a mere moment before realizing she was still in your guest room..

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, running a hand through her damp hair. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong in places like this.

Sliding out of bed, she wandered over to the window nearby. The moonlight bathed the island in a silvery glow, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the night air.

..It was strangely soothing.

Her gaze drifted to the hallway. You had said you’d be “just down the hall,” as if that made everything better. She scoffed at the thought but still found herself lingering near the door anyway.

After a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed a pillow off the bed and sat down in the corner of the room, pressing her back against the wall. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was familiar.

Safe, even.

She clutched the pillow to her chest, her eyes darting around the room once more for any sign of danger. None came. The only sounds were the faint creak of the palace settling and the ever-present hum of the ocean.

She had once always stayed up, forgetting to rest and eat. She never was that healthy back when she worked under him, always tinkering with something - her projects always had her attention and care, more of it than she had for herself. So, she forgot to sleep, eat, and other essential things most of the time.

But now she feels oddly.. tired.

Perhaps it could be all of today’s events weighing down on her. Or perhaps it was just the fact she felt safe.

Though eventually, her eyelids grew heavy, and her head tilted back against the wall.

Sleep came reluctantly, but it came.

The woman didn’t know it yet, but you, ever vigilant, had cracked her door open just enough to peek inside. Seeing Jinx asleep—even in such an odd position—brought a small smile to your lips.

“She’ll get there,” you whispered to yourself, quietly closing the door.

“In time.”

Over the following days, you took care of Jinx—as you later figured out her name was, feeding her from the fruits of your gardens, washing the grime from her skin, and stitching her tattered clothes with delicate precision.

Jinx, at first, was wary. She didn’t trust the kindness you gave her, especially due to the fact that she didn’t even know you (that was the way she was raised, you know). You could tell by the way she looked at you. But your genuine warmth was.. hard to resist, in her eyes. You were a goddess-turned-caretaker to the broken woman before you, a woman who was once an innocent girl called a ‘jinx’ .

You didn’t know that though..

But still, she had forced herself to remain silent. Though, she did stop treating you with such resistance and harshness, eventually just allowing you to do your thing.

Everything was going fine, surprisingly enough. The two of you had begun to bond.

..then those damned hallucinations started to come back for her.

“Jinx?” You called out, receiving no reply. You huffed in frustration: this was the last room she could possibly be in. You’d looked ALL around your palace with not a single bluette in sight. This had genuinely got you to begin worrying about the woman once more, the heavy rain pouring outside only making everything feel more tense.

You paced around in the parlor downstairs, thoughts racing as you tried to think of places who hadn’t checked or anywhere you could possibly find her outside of the palace.

That’s when it clicked.

The cliff.

There’s a cliff at the edge near the palace, giving a wonderful view of the landscape below. After all, the palace was perched at the top of the island..

…

Quickly, you grabbed any random coat of yours you could find to cover you (even if it did a poor job of protecting you from the rainfall), you swiftly opened up the back door of the palace, rushing outside without even bothering to close the door behind you as you ran.

You ran, ran, and ran. Never stopping for a moment as you began to feel tears falling down your cheeks, hair sticking to your face due to the constant rainfall. Of course you were gonna get soaked, but you didn’t care at this moment.

What mattered? Finding Jinx.

And as you finally arrived near the cliff, clutching onto the now wet coat which ensnared you, desperately trying to catch your breath: you finally noticed a silhouette of a figure standing at the edge of it.

“Jinx?..” you called out, tone firm but as gentle as you could possibly make it.

“Stop! No—no, it was a mistake! I didn’t mean to!” Jinx’s voice cracked as she yelled into the void, her arms flailing before clenching into fists.

“Shut up! Just shut up! I can’t think when you’re all SCREAMING at me!”

“Jinx!” Yelling out her name seemed to work in catching her attention as she snapped her head over to you.

You could still see the illumination of her red violet colored eyes within the dark and rainy night, noticing how they stare at you in pure shock.

“(____)?.. no- no, just get outta here. I’m in no mood!” She returned to gazing over the cliff, rain clouding your vision as you stepped cautiously closer to her.

It’s like.. she was afraid that you were going to hurt her.

So you did what you could to reassure her.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, if that’s what you're worried about..” you drawled out your words slowly, trying not to cause any more panic or worry for the already clearly distressed woman before you.

“STOP! I TOLD YOU LET ME THINK!!” Jinx screamed out to someone you couldn’t see, you supposed, arms flailing rapidly around as she balled up her fists, noticeably getting closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Please get away from the ledge!!” You cried out, trying to get closer to her without slipping.

“Why should I?!” Jinx whipped around again, her voice breaking as it rose.

“You don’t know what I’ve been through! You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed!” Her nails dug into her arms so hard you winced at the sight.

“I’ve lost everyone!” Jinx screamed, her voice raw and guttural.

“Every friend, every comrade—they left me! Lied to me! Betrayed me! Or worse, they died, and I couldn’t stop it!” She stumbled closer to the edge, her knees buckling as the storm battered her.

“And now I hear them, I see them- even though they’re not here!”

“It’s going to be fine, Jinx. Listen to me: just come back inside. I know your life’s been hard, but it would be so much worse if you had died.”

Everything within you made you feel like you couldn’t speak, but still tried your best to push through the lump in your throat that had formed over time during this predicament.

“Just please.. stay away from harm. I’m begging you.” You’re desperate at this point, trying to get her to come back to you as she slowly gets closer and closer to the edge of the ledge, seemingly muttering something to someone who you still cannot see. You slowly reached your trembling hands out, offering your hands for her to hold.

And you’re stuck calling out to her and her not even paying attention to you, you’re getting closer to her but everytime it’s like she gets further away from you.

Jinx’s shoulders shook as she let out a bitter laugh.

“You don’t get it. You shouldn’t care. I’m too far gone for that.”

“No, you’re not!” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through.

“I care about you! And I’m not the only one. You matter, Jinx. You’re worth so much more than you believe. Please—just step back. Come inside. Let me help you.”

“I’ve tried this before, and it never worked! It’s not going to make your life better, it’s not going to make anything better! It’s not the answer. And sure, you’ve probably heard that a thousand times before, but let me tell you this: not everyone sees you the way you see yourself, and that means you mean so much more than what you believe you’re worth.” Your hands grip at your scalp, nails digging into your skull as you feel the salty tears, restrained for so many years begin to fall and mix with the pure rain pour falling relentlessly.

She stared silently at you as you’d begun to break down before her.

She stood perfectly still, the tension in her frame palpable. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her expression unreadable as she gazed over at you through.

“I care about you, and others you might not even expect to care about you! We’re proud of you! I’m proud of you!” You now hug yourself as you see her stare at you for a moment longer.

But then, you see her turn back around to face the ocean.

..wait.

What.. What is she doing?..

“..Jinx?” You nervously called out, trying to see if she would respond to what she was doing.

“I hope someone else can be your friend. Someone better than me.”

“Jinx, no!” You screamed as the bluette suddenly lunged forward.

Just what you had been dreading this entire time.

Without thinking, you surged after her, your legs propelling you forward with every ounce of strength you had. Just as her feet left the ground, your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back with all your might.

You both collapsed onto the wet ground as you clutched Jinx tightly, closer to you. Sobs wracked your body, lowering your face so she could not see the pathetic display of emotion.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you choked out, your voice muffled against her damp hair.

“Don’t you dare leave me.”

“Please..”

She didn’t fight you.

For once, the bluette was silent, her trembling form yielding to your desperate embrace as the rain continued to pour around you both.

. . .

The storm had quieted by morning, though the rain persisted, a steady rhythm against the palace’s windows. Inside, the air was warm, Surprisingly enough.

You sat in the main hall near the fireplace, your hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea, though you hadn’t taken a single sip.

Your.. attention was occupied by something else this morning. Last night, to be more precise.

But then, you heard the faint creak of a door behind you, followed by light, hesitant footsteps. Turning your head, you saw Jinx standing at the entrance of the room. The bluette looked a little better than the night before—her hair was damp from an earlier shower, and she wore the same borrowed clothes you had given her earlier. Still, her eyes were puffy and rimmed with dark circles, her posture stiff.

“Morning,” Jinx mumbled, avoiding your gaze as she shuffled closer.

“Morning,” you replied softly, setting your cup down and straightening in your seat. Your eyes searched Jinx’s face, looking for any sign of how she might be feeling.

“How… are you feeling?”

Jinx shrugged, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the back of a chair. She stayed quiet for a long moment before speaking up.

“I’m alive. Guess that’s a start.” Her voice was guarded, though there was a flicker of something vulnerable beneath the surface.

You let out a sigh, relieved to see her here, even if she was still clearly shaken.

“That’s more than a start. That’s everything,” you spoke gently, motioning to the chair across from you.

“Sit with me?”

Jinx hesitated for a moment, then walked over and slumped into the seat. She didn’t say anything at first, her eyes darting to the fire, then to her hands, which fidgeted with the hem of her shirt once more. It’s become a habit, you suppose.

You leaned forward, resting your forearms on your knees as you spoke.

“I’m glad you’re here,” your voice cracked ever so slightly, trying to keep your composure.

“And I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard yesterday. I was just… scared.”

Jinx’s fingers froze for a moment before resuming their restless movement.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” she muttered, her voice low.

“I don’t get why you even care. I’m just a mess.”

“You’re not just anything,” you replied firmly, causing Jinx to glance up, albeit briefly.

“You’re allowed to feel broken. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worth caring about.”

Jinx scoffed, though it lacked her usual bite.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

You smiled faintly, letting out a small giggle at her words.

“Maybe. But I’d rather be too nice than leave someone I care about to suffer alone.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the patter of rain against the windows. Jinx shifted in her seat, her defenses cracking just a little.

“I don’t know what to do with all this,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“The noise, the memories… It’s like I can’t escape them.”

You nodded, now finally understanding what she was doing last night; trying to be rid of those thoughts and people that haunted her regardless of how horrible or how good she was doing in life.

“You don’t have to figure it all out at once. Healing takes time, and it’s not something you have to do on your own.” You reached across the small table between the two of you, your hand resting palm-up.

“Let me help. Even if it’s just for now.”

Jinx stared at your hand for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and placed her fingers lightly over yours, her touch tentative.

“I don’t know if I can be fixed,” she murmured.

“You don’t need to be fixed,” you replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You just need someone who won’t give up on you. And I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jinx didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away or try to ignore you either. For now, that was enough.

You never really wanted her to find out the truth this way. Never!

But of course, it’s how it happened for the two of you.

As you sit upon a rock, staring off at the endless ocean you’d grown too familiar with, you recollect what had just happened within your memory.. 

It starts with an argument. Jinx, ever restless, grew impatient with her confinement on the island, and although you’ve tried your absolute best to try and make her feel comfortable- you cannot stop her from wanting to leave. She’s fiddling with her makeshift tools, trying to repair her weapons or fashion something capable of escape, when she presses you for answers as you listen.

“Why can’t you leave?” Jinx demands while glancing over at you, tossing a hunk of scrap metal into the sand.

“You’ve got all this magic stuff—but you’re telling me you can’t poof us outta here?!”

You, seated a little ways off on your usual favorite rock, glance up from the basket of fruit you’re weaving. Your eyes flicker with hesitation for a moment before looking back down at the basket.

“It’s not that simple..”

Jinx scoffs, rising to her feet as if in retaliation.

“Not that simple? You’re full of magic! You’re a GODDESS!! I’ve seen you grow a whole damn tree with a wave of your hand. What’s stopping you from getting us off this rock?!”

You let out a shaky exhale, setting the basket down. Your usual demeanor dims, and your shoulders slump under the weight of what you're about to say.

“The island isn’t just my home, Jinx. It’s my prison.”

Jinx freezes.

“…prison?”

“I’m bound here by a spell,” you start, your voice soft.

“I’m being punished by powers greater than me for… for simply siding with my father, I suppose. I can’t leave, Jinx. Not now, not ever.”

The words hit Jinx like a punch to the gut. For once, she’s speechless. Her wide red violet eyes staring at you as if trying to tell if you’re lying to her or not.

“You’re serious,” she finally mutters.

You nod, avoiding her gaze.

“I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve suffered enough. I didn’t want to make you feel trapped, too.”

“Because one day… someone is going to come and take you from me. Take you from my island. Because that is your wish, to get off this island. The gods will see how desperate you wish to get off- and they will grant you the opportunity. Whether you like it or not.”

“And after you agree…”

That’s all you manage to say before you begin to feel the tears well up within your eyes, causing you to sniffle.

“Sorry- I.. I have to go.” You choke out, hand resting over your mouth as you hurry off away from the beach and to the palace on the hill. She watches your form as it retreats back..

Jinx eventually spirals after you leave. The revelation tears at her, dredging up feelings of guilt and helplessness she’s long tried to bury. She storms off to the shoreline, pacing furiously, yelling at the gods she doesn’t even believe in nor know of for their cruelty.

“This is a joke, right?!” she shouts at the sky.

“You put her here, and now me, too? You think this is funny?!”

“Fine! You wanna play games? I’ll show you who’s in charge. NOBODY traps me!”

As days pass, Jinx’s bravado gives way to a quieter resolve.

She starts spending more time with you, observing you - being the goddess you are, in ways she hadn’t before. She notices the way you smile, even though you’re clearly lonely. The way you tend to your garden, pouring your heart into nurturing life despite your own emptiness. And the way your eyes light up, even if just a little whenever she laughs.

Jinx starts to realize something she never thought she would’ve felt before: how much you mean to her. You’ve taken care of her without asking for anything in return, not for a price, not for your advantage — none of that. But just because she was someone who was broken, and you wished to piece her back together, even with her cruel behavior.

And so the thought of leaving without you becomes, for lack of a better term: unbearable. Even annoying.

. .

Weeks later in the evening, a storm begins to brew on the horizon of your island. You feel it first with the magic, obvious to be that of someone powerful coming to your island.

You eventually find yourself with Jinx right behind you heading over to the shore to see what’s going on outside.

And what do you both see?

A rather abstract figure; a concept of pure light.

You know exactly what this is.

A messenger.

The gods have sent a messenger.

Just as you had predicted.

“Jinx,” the figure announces, tone godly-like as it echoes.

“You have been given a choice. The gods have seen your struggle and your spirit. You may leave this island and return to your world.”

Jinx’s first reaction is excitement—she will get her freedom once more! But the messenger’s next words make her stomach drop.

“(_____) will remain here. Her fate is unchanging.”

Jinx’s throat tightens. She turns to look at you, who stands a few paces behind her, but your expression is unreadable.

The messenger continues:

“Choose wisely. Once you depart, you cannot return. And the longer you stay, the harder it will be for you to leave.”

. . .

Later that night, Jinx finds you sitting on a rocky outcrop overlooking the ocean.

The goddess, you, are quiet, your hands idly weaving a flower crown, though your movements are slower than usual.

Jinx approaches cautiously, unsure how to start. She finally plops down beside you, the silence stretching between the two of you.

“They want me to leave,” Jinx says finally, her voice gruff.

“I know,” you reply without looking at her.

Jinx hesitates.

“But they won’t let you come with me.”

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“That’s the way it’s always been. Anyone who comes here is free to leave—except me. You’re not the first to come to my island, and you’re not going to be the last. They all will leave, and I will remain here.”

“Yeah, well, that’s stupid,” Jinx mutters, kicking at the sand at her feet.

You laugh at her spirit softly, setting the flower crown down into your lap. You turn to Jinx, eyes glossy.

“You should go, Jinx. You have a life waiting for you out there. I don’t want to be the reason you miss it. Besides, you’ve wanted your freedom back after all this time: now's your chance!”

Jinx clenches her fists, her heart warring with her head.

“You think I’m just gonna leave you here? After everything?!”

“You can’t save me, Jinx,” you speak so matter of factly, it genuinely makes her angry. You let out a sigh, glancing down at the flower crown within your lap once more.

“No one can.”

“Bullsh—” Jinx stops herself, her voice breaking. She glimpses over at you, taking a moment to simply.. scan over your form.

“I’m not leaving,” Jinx says firmly.

Your breath hitches as you hear those words.

Not once has anyone ever said that and meant it to you.

But with her tone and her personality.. you don’t doubt she’s telling the truth.

“Jinx—”

“I’m staying,” Jinx interrupts you.

“You’re stuck here, fine. Then I’m stuck here, too. We’ll figure it out together.”

For the first time in centuries, you feel something you thought you’d lost forever:

Hope.

Even while being stuck in paradise..

You’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted. Companionship. And yes, perhaps it’s a bit selfish..

But in the end, it’s Jinx’s choice.

No matter what, you’re always going to be stuck in paradise, even if she leaves or stays. Though, facing it together would be better..

[ossiethegreat]

kimya dawson and color spectrum duo … grrr….

@howlsofbloodhounds

Color belongs to superyoumna

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

Song - Anthrax by Kimya Dawson

there’s so much fanart of killer sinking in water or something and honestly it’s kinda funny

[losthavenmine]

Clown (2014)

[mooshkat]

i haven't watched the episode. don't really care to. but apparently eddie is looking at houses in el paso?? and i've always related way too much to buck and the way people in his life leave so much so.

listening to 'please don't go' by abbey glover while writing this is devastating btw. highly recommend to add to the hurt.

tw for suicide attempt. now on ao3.

Buck drops Eddie off at the airport and then just...doesn't go home. He doesn't think as he drives, taking turns and just alert enough to be safe on the road, but honestly? He has no fucking idea how he ends up in the mountains, parking in the small dirt lot at the end of the hiking trail.

Everything feels numb. Static fills his brain and spreads down his neck, all the way to the tips of his fingers.

He turns off the Jeep and takes out the keys. Drops them carelessly into the cup holder.

He should've seen this coming, right? People leave; they always have, and always will. Everyone from his own sister to his ex-girlfriends, and his ex-boyfriend. Now his best friend.

There's just something buried deep into his very being, something built into the coding for Evan Buckley, that makes people leave him. No matter how much he clings and wants to fight for it, they'll walk away from him and his love.

It's him, it has to be.

Buck leaves behind his wallet, his keys, his work bag. Everything is left in the Jeep except for his phone, because no matter how much people leave him with barely a goodbye, it goes against everything that makes Buck, well, Buck to do it himself.

He knows this trail. Tommy and he have been on it before, once or twice after Buck dragged him along with him. They'd stopped at the top, where a small cliff overlooks the beautiful scenery with LA off in the far distance.

He remembers the way Tommy pushed him against a tree and sank to his knees, looking up at Buck with an adorable, bright grin with scrunches up his nose. Buck misses that grin fiercely.

The sun is just beginning to rise as Buck starts his walk. He doesn't go up the mountain with a specific plan in mind, didn't wake up to take Eddie to the airport at four in the morning, and think I'm going to kill myself today, but the higher he gets on the trail, the more he knows.

It's early enough that he has the trail to himself. That's good. It's not, he needs to turn around and go back to the Jeep, go home but his feet keep moving him up, up, up. There's nobody around who will have to see what he's about to do and be traumatized by it.

He's seen more than his share of deaths through work, he knows how badly it can fuck you up. He doesn't want to do that to someone else.

When he gets to the top, Buck stops and just breathes. The air is fresher up here, cleaner. It makes some of the buzzing in his head quiet down. He can feel his fingers again, feel the way his heart pounds from the cardio workout of climbing, and make his hands throb.

He walks to the edge of the cliff and sits down, his feet dangling over the edge. There's a boulder a few feet away from the edge that holds memories of him leaning back against it as Tommy kisses him, holding Buck's hips with hands hot enough to brand him.

His very soul feels branded by Tommy. His chest aches every day, making his stomach sink with a homesick feeling he hasn't had since before he moved to LA. His apartment is still full of the baked goods that he creates every time he has to try to not call or text him.

He doesn't stop himself from calling him today.

Buck almost thinks it's going to go to voicemail before it's picked up at the last second.

"...Go for Kinard?" Tommy answers, clearing his throat. His voice is sleep-rough and deep, and Buck hasn't heard it in so long that it's like applying balm to very shattered, torn edges of a wound. "Hello? Who is–Ev—Buck?"

"Did I ever tell you," Buck starts, and he sounds just as rough, but he's more awake than he ever has been, despite the bone deep tiredness that fills him, "about the fact that I was made to be a savior baby for a brother I never met? My parents made me in a science tube so that they could use my bone marrow to heal my brother, Daniel, but it didn't work. I thought for a little while after I found out that it was because I was defective, but I get it now."

Sheets rustle on the other line before Tommy sits up again. "What are you talking about, Evan? What's wrong?"

Buck continues talking, bowling over Tommy's questions like he didn't hear them. "I think there's something inside of me that's toxic. Toxins drive people away, it makes them sick, it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense for why everybody I love gets sick of me and leaves. It has to be me, right? Nobody stays, not forever. There's something wrong with me and I've finally figured it out."

"No, Evan," Tommy says, voice soft. He can hear the concern, though, the urgency hidden under his tone. There's the sound of jingling keys and a door opening and closing. Tommy's too far away to stop him.

"Sometimes, people leave. It's just what they do, it is nothing about you or what you've done. It's them. Their problems. My problems, that we should–we should sit down and talk about. Evan, where are you? I'm worried."

He almost doesn't want to tell him, but maybe it'd be better for someone to come out and collect his body so he doesn't ruin the trail. Leave it as you found it, or whatever. He gives Tommy his location and ignores the way it starts a mental countdown in the back of his mind. He doesn't have long now.

"It is me, Tommy. I want to believe you, but I can't. Not when hard evidence for almost my entire fucking life says otherwise. My parents emotionally left before I was even born. Maddie. Abby. Other girlfriends. I even lost the 118 at one point–thanks to that stupid mistake with the lawyer. Everybody leaves. And–and now with you, and Eddie. I'm tired, Tommy. I'm so goddamn tired."

Tears drip down Buck's cheeks. It's exhausting, viewing every relationship as a ticking time bomb waiting to go off, waiting for them to exit left out of his life. He thought things might be different with Tommy, it was one of his longest relationships, but he was wrong.

"You know, when you broke up with me that night, you said you'd be my first, but not my last. You were wrong. I-I love you so much, Tommy, even though you broke my heart. I hate you for leaving just like everyone else, but I also love you. You'll always be my first and last now. It's my turn to leave."

"Evan!" Tommy shouts into the phone and Buck cringes. "Evan, please, don't do anything. I'm on my way, okay, baby? Please just sit still and wait for me and we can talk–about everything. Please."

It'd be so easy to lean forward and let gravity do the work to drag him off the edge. The side of the cliff digs into the bottom of his thighs and he kicks his feet, knocking against some of the dirt and watching it tumble down.

His phone starts buzzing insistently in his hand with texts. Tommy must have sent out a message. He doesn't look at any of them as he pulls his phone to set it on Do Not Disturb before putting it to his ear again.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants the hurt to stop, he just wants it all to stop, but he's afraid. What if he's too weak to commit? Just like he's too weak to not let people back into his life, even if he knows they'll just leave again.

Weak and toxic.

He drops his phone onto his lap and hunches down, elbows pressing into his knees as he covers his face. He can hear sirens in the distance getting closer.

A strangled sob rips its way from his throat and he makes his decision.

"Okay. I'll wait for you."

There's an audible sigh of relief from Tommy. "Thank you, Evan. I'll be right there, okay? Keep talking to me, baby."

He doesn't know what to say anymore and tells Tommy as much.

"That's okay, Evan. I-I heard from Howie that you were baking lately? What have you been baking?"

Buck knows what's Tommy's doing. He's stalling so that Buck doesn't kill himself before Tommy and the first responders can get to him. He's done it dozens of times before to people on the edge while he's rescuing them.

"A lot of bread, really. Pumpkin bread, banana bread, butternut squash. I even, uh, have a sourdough starter that I've been feeding for a couple of weeks now. I named it Billy because it looks sometimes just like the, uh, boils I got from the curse when it expands."

Tommy lets out a watery laugh. "Of course, you'd name your sourdough starter." He clears his throat and the sirens are suddenly much louder in Buck's ears before they cut off abruptly. Quiet, rushed talking that Buck doesn't understand before Tommy starts running. "What else?"

"I made baked Alaska pretty soon after we broke up. It took me hours to make, and the entire time it was setting in the freezer, I had to bake other things to stop myself from calling you. I-I don't know if Chim told you that's why I started baking, but it is."

When Tommy responds, it's not through the phone. He comes to a stop beside him. "It sounds like your coping mechanism was more productive than mine, at least. Want to get away from the edge for me, Evan?"

He holds out his hand and Buck takes it with a shaky laugh. "Oh, yeah? What was yours?" The knowledge that Tommy was moping just as bad as Buck makes him feel...something.

"Eating entire pints of ice cream by myself on the couch while watching rom-coms." Tommy pulls Buck to his feet and wraps his arms tight around him. Buck can feel how badly Tommy is shaking. "Thank god you're okay. Thank you so much for calling me, Evan. Fuck."

Buck hugs him back and ignores the paramedics lingering behind him. He knows he's going to be taken away in the ambulance and put under a 72-hour hold because of this. He doesn't think about that, or what it means for his job when he's let out.

He focuses on Tommy and the way he clings to him. He came back. Sure, maybe he'll leave again when the initial scare of everything fades away, but it's more than most people have done in the past.

Tommy pulls away first and holds Buck's face gently in his hands. There are tear tracks on his cheeks and more spill over as he looks Buck over. "I love you too. I didn't say it earlier and didn't say it then, but I am now. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.

It doesn't fix everything, doesn't even scratch the surface, but it raises something dangerous in Buck's chest.

Hope.

[tradgedyinwaves]

part two (final) of this

Tw: coma, attempted suicide, successful suicide, death

The first few moments after you were hit were a blur to Kate. She heard the crunch and your scream, her own voice screaming into the mic of her phone as she called out to you.

Quickly, her rational brain took over and she ended the call with you, quickly calling emergency services. 

It took them 10 minutes to arrive, 25 to get you out, and 10 to the hospital. You were placed into a medically induced coma so that the swelling in your brain could go down and give your body a chance to possibly heal. 

Kate’s next call was to John.

“ ‘Ello?”  “St. John’s. Get your squad and get there” 

Click.

Kate kept her words to herself for the time being, bag already slung over her shoulder and out the door by the time her short conversation with John was over.

On the other end of the line, John sat still for all of 15 seconds as he processed Kate’s words. Shooting texts to each of the other members of the squad, he grabbed his coat and was out the door. 

The team arrived shortly after Kate, who was pacing in the waiting room. The doctor had already been out to speak with her and it hadn’t been good news. 

“What’s going on?” “What happened?” “Who got hurt?” “Are they dead?”

Kate stood and stared at the four men in front of her. She only knew from what you’d said that John and Soap were involved and she could see it from the way they stood close to each other. Stepping forward, she reached up and slapped John across the face before doing the same to Soap, tears staining her cheeks. The way the other two men stared, they had no clue about John’s infidelity.

“If she wakes up, I hope she kills you, John.” 

“If?”

“Who?” 

Kate turned to the other men and sighed, wiping her eyes as she whispered your name. “If, Kyle. Her brain is swelling too much. They’ve put her in a medically induced coma while they try to save her ability to walk.” Kate shot the Johns another glare, vowing to kill them for you if you couldn’t do it. 

Her announcement was followed with silence as the four men took seats in the waiting room. Kyle and Simon stayed close to Kate while Price and Soap sat off in the corner. They knew it was their fault. You wouldn’t have been on that road if you hadn’t seen them. 

Hours later and the doctor came back out. He approached Kate immediately, seeing as she was the first one there. The others gathered around to hear. 

“-lost a lot of blood, but we’re hoping that with the rest, her brain will stop swelling and her spine may heal enough that she could walk. But for now, she’s stable.” 

It had broken the team apart. Kyle and Simon were transferred to another team at their request. Soap was sent off to help other teams all the time in an effort to keep Price and him separated. Which only left the Captain. Except, the title was hollow. He didn’t have a team to lead anymore. 

Kate didn’t speak to him anymore either. So when he found out you’d woken up, it wasn’t for a couple weeks after the fact. When he did find the courage to visit you in the hospital, he was told you were no longer there. 

He called Kate, or Laswell as he was only allowed to refer to by her last name now, to ask where you were. 

“Not that you deserve to know, but she’s in the psych ward now. Tried to take her own life.”  “I-” “Don’t bother, Price. This is your fault.” 

A click on the phone and the call ended. He stared down at the device before throwing it and shattering it. He was weak and in that weakness, he’d ruined everything good he’d had and most importantly, your life. 

After a two month stint in the psych ward, you were cleared to go home. Which meant Kate set you up in a spare bedroom in her house. You’d been cleared, so she wasn’t worried that you’d try again. 

But boy, had she been wrong. A month later, you’d locked the door and broken the window, taking a piece of the glass and stabbing it into your legs that you could no longer feel. By the time they got the door open, it was too late. You’d lost too much blood, but you were finally free. 

When Price tried again a few months later, he was informed of your death. 

Seven months in a coma and you woke up to be told you were paralyzed from the waist down. Told you’d never walk on your own again. 

In another two, you would try to take your own life. 

Another three and you would succeed. 

In just a year, the world was left without your sunshine. 

John Price and John MacTavish never forgave themselves, living lives of solitude until the day they died.

Spoiled the hell out of you guys today. 2600 words that includes an alternate ending? Damn. lol

[sad-leon]

TW Suicide Attempt

we all talk about him portal chopping an arm off but,,, it would be so easy. so quick

KoFi || Patreon

[krystaljungs]

DEAD FRIEND FOREVER เพื่อน ตาย (2023-24) episode 7 dir. Ma-Deaw Chookiat Sakveerakul, Chantana Tiprachart

[tommykinard6]

TW: past suicide (not main character), past attempted suicide, suicidal ideation, mental health crisis.

The water was dark and choppy below his feet, dangling over the river from where Eddie sat on the bridge.

It was one of those bridges with a good footpath, but tended to be deserted at night so a car only passed Eddie every once in a while. None slowed, not seeing his shadowy figure leaning against one of the pillars. His car was pulled onto the shoulder just off of the bridge and he’d been there just long enough to wish he’d brought a jacket, but not long enough to convince himself to leave.

What was he going home to? An empty house? To a life that no longer felt worth-

No. He shook his head to disperse the thoughts, but he didn’t get up, kicking his feet as he looked at the water far beneath him.

He barely heard the footsteps before someone sat beside him. He turned, ready to say any excuse or to run in case the person was weird, but any words he had died on his tongue when he saw Tommy Kinard sitting beside him. The older man was watching him with a carefully blank face, but his eyes were worried.

Eddie waited for the other man to speak first and an awkward amount of time passed before he realized it was on him. “What are you doing here?”

He then kicked himself. He could’ve struck up a friendly conversation, said anything else to get that worried look out of Tommy’s eyes, but he didn’t and the look only grew deeper.

“Passing by, saw your car. Could ask you the same thing, Eddie. Perilous place to stargaze.”

“I’m fine.” And maybe it was something in his tone or maybe Tommy was never going to be fooled anyway, but his answer only made the worry lines in his friend’s face deeper. “Really. I’m just clearing my thoughts.”

Tommy hummed and looked down at the choppy water below just as a gust of wind washed over them. Eddie shivered. “There’s a nice park across the bridge. That’s a pretty good place to think. Been there a few times myself. Less dangerous than here. Less cold.”

“It’s not too bad.” Eddie was, in fact, freezing, but he could barely feel it. He felt a flicker of irritation that Tommy was still there. He just wanted to be left alone. “Seriously man, I’m good. You on your way to Buck’s?”

Tommy hummed an affirmation. “Yeah, but I’m in no rush. Might sit here for a minute, if you don’t mind. Pay my respects.”

Eddie couldn’t help the curiosity, even over the growing irritation that he tried not to examine too closely. “Your respects?”

“Mhm. Lost someone here about seven years ago.”

“A call?”

“Nah. Someone more personal.”

“I’m sorry.” The irritation died down as he took in Tommy’s distant look.

“He was a bastard, but he deserved better.” Tommy turned to look at Eddie and the younger man felt a little too seen under sharp blue eyes. “Wouldn’t think it, but it’s not an uncommon place to pitch yourself off of. We attended more than a few calls here, back when I was at the 118.”

The irritation flickered back to life and Eddie swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Yeah. We got a call like that last week.”

“Did they survive?”

“No. DOA.”

Tommy hummed softly. “Sorry, man. Those are rough.” He nudged Eddie’s shoulder. “Probably should head back, man. You don’t want to fall in.”

“Seriously, I’m good, man. Thanks. I’m just going to hang out here.”

To his annoyance, Tommy didn’t move. Eddie stared out over the water, shoulders tense as he waited for the other man to either leave or say something. He finally did, voice tentative as he asked, “You doing ok, Eds?”

The irritation snapped into something bigger. “I’d do a lot better alone, Tommy. No offense man, but I really don’t want company right now.” He dared to look over at the pilot and the man’s blank face made him snap, “Seriously, man, you’re acting like I’m going to throw myself off!”

“I did.”

It took a moment to register in Eddie’s brain, but when it did, the irritation flickered out like an extinguished candle. “What?”

“Rather, I tried.” Tommy’s face was stony and he wasn’t looking at Eddie, eyes turned towards the water. “The guy I lost here seven years ago was me, Eddie. Or rather, the man I used to be. And I tried to throw the rest of me in with him. This very spot. It’s the deepest. I jumped from where you’re sitting now.”

Eddie was lost for words, jolted out of his own head for the first time in a while. “But you’re alive.”

“I never hit the water.” Tommy looked down, fiddling with his hoodie string. “Someone caught me as I stepped off, dragged me back onto the bridge no matter how much I screamed for him to let me go.”

Eddie tried to wrap his brain around it, the little pieces of a picture he had no idea existed with the man sitting next to him. “Why?” His voice sounded wrecked.

“I thought my life was over. I thought everything I’d worked for, everything that I’d fought for, was gone. I’d faked being someone I wasn’t until I was and that person was someone I despised but I thought I was protecting myself until that night. I thought I’d given up everything and it was all for nothing. I was going to be ostracized from the only family I had. So I came here to end it all.”

His voice was matter of fact, but quivered slightly towards the end. Eddie floundered for a moment, feeling like he’d been pushed off of the bridge into the cold waters below. “But you were saved?”

“By the person I thought was going to end my life. By one of the people I thought I was dying to avoid. He’d followed me here, knew what I was going to do. He…” Tommy paused, swallowing harshly. “He hated who I was. He wanted me to hide who I was. But he didn’t want me dead. So he pulled me off of this bridge and took me home and didn’t allow me out of his sight until he knew I wasn’t a danger to myself anymore. And then he left my life. He hated who I was too much to stay, but he didn’t hate me enough to let me die.”

There was a lot to unpack there. And if Eddie was a good friend, he would ask more questions, listen to Tommy. But he didn’t think he could be a good friend to anyone right now, including himself. “You think I’m here to jump?”

“You have the same look in your eye that I had in those days leading up to me stepping off of this spot. I don’t know if you’re here to jump Eddie, but I don’t think you’re going to catch yourself either. Like hell am I going to leave you here. So please, Eddie, let me take you off of this bridge, alright? Because I’m not leaving until you do.”

Eddie looked down, lump in his throat as he watched the waves. “But…”

“Trust me, man. It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Because it’s temporary. Chris is coming back and you guys will sort it out. You have a family that loves you and friends that want you. And you have a hell of a lot to live for. So you’re going to come back with me to Evan and you’re going to stay with us. Tomorrow we’re going to call your therapist.” There was a pause. “You have a therapist, right? Cause if not, we’re getting you one.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “Frank.”

And he shouldn’t expect Tommy to know who Frank was, but the man nodded immediately. “LAFD Frank? Good man. We’re calling him.”

Eddie turned to look at Tommy, shivering slightly as he felt the next gust of wind. “But you and Buck-“

“Don’t even think about it. Evan wants you there too.”

“You haven’t told him though.”

“I don’t have to. Eddie, will you let me get you off this bridge?”

And every fiber in Eddie’s being screamed at him to say no, to pull away. But Tommy was there, gaze unwavering and determined. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Eddie wasn’t even sure he wanted him to anymore.

He was so confused. He was so tired.

“Ok.”

[the-badger-mole]

A Bend in the Stream

Zuko sat up in bed, gasping. He looked around wildly. It took a few moments for his confusion to wane, but soon he was able to recognize the familiar trappings of his room. The one above the tea shop that his uncle was making famous with his delicate blends. There was no smell of floral garden air from the windows. His blanket was scratchy and stiff wool, and not the down stuffed silk that would be in King Kuei's suites.

After registering his surroundings, Zuko sighed and let his body flop back onto his bed. His racing heart slowly returned to a steady beat. It had all been a dream after all. Being captured by the Dai Li; the moment with the waterbender in the caverns; Azula offering him a chance to redeem himself; the death of the Avatar... It was all just a bizarrely vivid dream. Just as Zuko was drifting back off to sleep, his door swung open and Iroh came in with a wide grin.

"Good morning, nephew!" he said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities."

"Uncle," Zuko groaned, letting his head loll back onto his pillow.

"Don't take too long," Iroh said. "I have wonderful news! We're serving tea at King Kuei's court!"

"What?" Zuko sat upright and stared at Iroh in disbelief. That was how his dream had begun. Iroh, however, seemed to have taken his nephew's reaction as excitement.

"I got the news last night," he told Zuko. "It seems word of my mango jasmine blend has spread farther than I realized! I would have told you sooner, but you weren't here. Hurry, hurry! We still have to help with the morning rush before we go."

"Yes..." Zuko said distractedly. "That's right..."

"Breakfast is ready when you are." With that Iroh nearly skipped out of his nephew's room, humming a cheerful song under his breath.

Zuko got dressed and hurried through his meal (rice porridge with nuts and dried fruit was too common a breakfast for Zuko to read into it's similarities of his dream breakfast). Then he dressed and headed down to the tea shop. The feeling of deja vu was annoyingly sharp, but Zuko reasoned that his life had become so unusually predictable lately that his mind was still adjusting to the similarities of the day to day grind. So many of the customers were regulars at the tea house, it was no wonder he was learning all the orders already, despite his indifference.

At last, it was time to go serve tea to King Kuei. Something in Zuko's stomach turned. It was a sharp turning feeling in the pit of his stomach. King Kuei's palace was too familiar. He'd never been before, so how could he have dreamed it up in such detail? Zuko's hackles were up as he and his uncle were led to the room where they were to be received. It was just like his dream. Why were they being kept waiting for so long? Eventually, the wait began to grate on Zuko, and he paced the floor nervously.

"Calm down, Nephew," Iroh chided. He poured himself a cup of tea, completely unbothered.

"What's taking so long?" Zuko growled in frustration.

"Perhaps King Kuei overslept," Iroh said, smiling slightly at his nephew's discomfiture.

"Something's not right," Zuko said. Then he froze. It was just like his dream. Just like his dream. He looked at his uncle with wide, frightened eyes.

"What's the matter?" Iroh asked, setting his tea cup down.

"I think-" was all Zuko was able to get out before the door opened, and the next part of Zuko's dream came rushing back to him. Azula walked in, flanked by Dai Li agents, and smirking at Iroh and Zuko smuggly.

"It's tea time!" she said with a saccharine tone.

"No way!" Zuko gasped.

"Have you met the Dai Li?" Azula nodded to the men immediately at her sides. "They're earthbenders, but they have a killer instinct that's so firebender. I just love it." Zuko could only gape at his sister. He knew what she had been about to say. How could he know that? This moment felt less real than the dream had. Iroh stood up beside his nephew, and Zuko knew the words Iroh was about to say to his niece before they were ever spoken out loud.

"Did I ever tell you why they call me the Dragon of the West?"

Zuko was ready to grab Iroh's arm and run the minute Iroh created the hole in the wall. When Iroh used lightning to blast a hole in the second wall, Zuko froze again. Iroh jumped into the bushes below and turned back to his nephew.

"You'll be fine!" he assured Zuko. "Jump!" How could Zuko explain to his uncle why he couldn't? He hardly understood himself. He was just frozen into place. Moments later, Azula and the Dai Li caught up with him and Zuko turned to face his sister.

"You're so dramatic," she taunted him. "What? Are you going to challenge me to an Agni Kai?"

"You're not interested," Zuko murmured. Azula blinked in surprise, caught off guard for the barest moment. It wasn't enough, though, and her Dai Li guards sprang into action before Zuko could do much. He was quickly bound in stone cuffs, and throne into the catacombs beneath the city. And just like so many things that had happened that day, he was unsurprised to find himself trapped with the Avatar's waterbender (Katara. He'd known her name for some time, but Azula herself couldn't have tortured him into admitting it).

His mind was reeling as his memory of his dream and the reality of the situation crashed together, and he had the unpleasant sensation of remembering everything Katara had said before she'd spoken it. Particularly painful was Zuko anticipating her confession about how he was the face that for months she'd been picturing when she pictured the enemy. When she offered to heal his scar, Zuko was ready to break the walls down himself. Still, he submitted to her touch on his face. He wouldn't have been able to explain why for anything. Fortunately, he was spared thinking too hard about it when the Avatar arrived.

Azula caught up to them not long after. When Azula made her offer this time, Zuko froze, completely unable to thinks about anything beyond his own confusion. It was his dream. It was exactly his dream. Right down to the Avatar being struck down, and his uncle being taken prisoner so Katara could escape with the Avatar's....corpse? Zuko watched her go uncertainly. She met his confused gaze with a flinty one of her own. A shiver went down Zuko's spine.

Later that night, Azula congratulated Zuko on his choice. He barely registered any of it. Had he done all of this, he wondered. Had he literally dreamed his success into reality? He settled down into the bed of the room Azula had given him. Where King Kuei was, Zuko couldn't begin to hazard a guess, but for the time being, Azula had claimed his palace as her own, and given her brother the second best room available. Despite this, sleep came reluctantly for Zuko, but still, it came.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko sat up in bed, gasping. He looked around wildly. It took a few moments for his confusion to wane, but soon he was able to recognize the familiar trappings of his room. The one above the tea shop that his uncle was making famous with his delicate blends. There was no smell of floral garden air from the windows. His blanket was scratchy and stiff wool, and not the down stuffed silk he remembered falling asleep under in King Kuei's suites.

A few moments later, his door swung open and Iroh came in with a wide grin.

"Good morning, nephew!" he said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities."

This time, all Zuko could do was stare. Iroh was as excited as ever as he admonished his nephew to get out of bed and get ready for work. Zuko was not at all surprised when Iroh announced that he had been invited to King Kuei's palace to serve tea.

"It's a trap," Zuko warned him. "We shouldn't go."

"Don't be silly, Nephew!" Iroh chortled. "Why would Kuei want to trap us?" Zuko wasn't sure how to handle that question without sounding insane. He went along with it. Perhaps he was still dreaming, Zuko reasoned. He had been asleep the entire time, and his brain wasn't allowing him to wake properly. He went through his day for the third time. He remembered most of the orders he'd taken the last couple of times, so he was able to devote most of his brain space to figuring out what was happening and how to stop it.

This time, he said little as he paced the floor in King Kue's palace, but he still hesitated just long enough that he was once again caught by Azula's Dai Li agents. And once more, he landed at Katara's feet. As before, he submitted to her tirade silently. This time, he was caught by the pain in he voice when she told him how his family had taken her mother from her. He wondered about her story. How long ago had it happened? How had it happened? How young had she been?

Katara wasn't much younger than he was, Zuko guessed. Maybe a year or two. He wasn't certain. She was still young enough to need her mother. It wasn't fair that she'd lost her mother so young. He said that, too, after commiserating with her over the loss of his mother. What would Ursa say? What would she think of her son sharing this with a Water Tribe girl?

When her hand came up to his face, Zuko had already accepted that she wouldn't have time to try her healing water on him. Sure enough, as her thumb grazed his lip, the wall on the far side of the cavern burst open, and the Avatar came in, followed closely by Iroh. Katara threw her arms around the younger boy, relieved to be rescued, and completely forgetting her offer to heal Zuko.

Zuko hesitated longer on his sister's offer. Little else changed, after all, how could he not help his sister? How could he not take his chance to go home? Still, Azula's suspicious gaze lingered on Zuko a bit longer afterwards. Zuko felt more eyes on him in general for the rest of the day. By the time he turned in that night, he was certain his sister had eyes on him even as he climbed into bed, sore, tired and confused.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko opened his eyes, somehow unsurprised to find himself in the familiar trappings of his room above the tea shop. There was no smell of floral garden air from the windows. His blanket was scratchy and stiff wool, and not the down stuffed silk he had fallen asleep under in King Kuei's suites.

A few moments later, his door swung open and Iroh came in with a wide grin.

"Good morning, nephew!" he said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities." Zuko sat quietly as Iroh told him the good news. That they had been invited to serve tea to the King of Ba Sing Se. Iroh's smile dimmed a bit when he realized that Zuko wasn't reacting.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He sat down on the edge of Zuko's bed and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Are you sick?"

"...no," Zuko said after a moment. "I just...didn't sleep well." That may have been true. Zuko didn't remember falling asleep. Didn't remember dreaming. It seemed to him that he had just closed his eyes for a moment and then the world had reset itself. What was happening?

"Alright," Iroh said, unconvinced. "Breakfast is ready when you are." He got up and started to go. He paused at the door and stared at his nephew. "Or you can stay home, if you'd prefer." Zuko shook his head.

"I'm alright. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Zuko had heard all of his customers' orders so many times by this point, he didn't even need to pay attention to them. He did the cursory work, pretending to jot their tea preferences down on his note pad before he turned them into his uncle in the kitchen. Maybe that's why he was able to pay more attention. Maybe that's why he saw Katara this time. Their eyes met across the crowded tea room, Katara's eyes wide in horror. Zuko's eyes wide in shock. Had she always seen him that day? No wonder there was more anger than surprise when hours later, the Dai Li threw him into the catacombs before her. This time was no different.

She launched into her tirade, hurling her accusations, her pent up anger, her grief at him. This time, Zuko understood a bit better. She wasn't angry at him- or rather, she was, but it was a deeper wound she was purging. So when she spoke of her mother, Zuko said,

"That's something we have in common." And then... "What was her name?"

Katara was thrown completely for a loop, Zuko could see it in her eyes. She turned to him, wiping the tears from her eyes. She stared at him quietly for so long, Zuko didn't think she would answer him. But then...

"Kya," she whispered. "H-her name was Kya." Zuko shut his eyes and repeated the name to himself. Kya sounded like a poem. What kind of person was she? Was her daughter anything like her? Zuko thought she probably was, and if Katara was like her, then Kya must have been a very fierce...pain in the neck. The thought made him smile a bit.

"Are you laughing?" Katara demanded. Venomous rage bled back into her voice. Zuko met her gaze head on.

"No," he said. "I was just wondering if she was anything like you." That froze Katara once again, and this time Zuko did have to bite back a chuckle. There was a long, awkward pause. Then,

"My...my grandmother says I am," Katara said quietly. Zuko wasn't entirely sure she was speaking to him directly, or just didn't care if he heard her. "She says that I'm just like my mother when she was my age." She went silent again, casting furtive glances at Zuko. "What was your mother's name?"

"Ursa," Zuko sighed.

"Are you like her?" Katara asked. Zuko considered that for a moment. Then he shrugged.

"I hope I am," he said.

They didn't get around to Katara touching his face or her offer to heal his scar. They were still on opposite sides of the cave when Iroh and the Avatar burst in. This time, Zuko hesitated a beat too long, and he was crushed by a rock from one of the Dai Li agents.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko shot up in bed, choking down a strangled scream. He could still remember the agonizing pain radiating from his caved in chest, and the feeling of blood filling his lungs as he gurgled out his last breath. He ran his hands over himself looking for any marks, or bruises. Any evidence at all from what had happened....last night? Tonight? What was going on? A hiccupping sob escaped Zuko just as the door opened.

"Good morning, nephew!" Iroh said cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, full of endless possibilities." Iroh froze abruptly when he saw the look on Zuko's face. "What's wrong?"

Zuko didn't say anything. He just leapt out of bed and threw himself on Iroh and wept like child in his uncle's arms. Iroh let him, alternating between comforting Zuko and trying to understand what had him in such a state. It took nearly ten minutes before Iroh managed to calm Zuko. Then he bundled Zuko up in his scratchy blanket and guided him to the little kitchen table, the one that wobbled and was hardly big enough for the both of them. Minutes later, he pressed a fresh cup of soothing tea into Zuko's hands and squeezed into the other side of the table.

"What happened?" he asked. Zuko choked down an errant sob and shrugged helplessly.

"You won't believe me," he muttered.

"Try me," Iroh implored. He reached out across the table and squeezed Zuko's free hand. "Please, Zuko. Did something happen last night? Did you get into some trouble? Did you break up with your lady friend?" At that Zuko laughed. If only if it were something that small.

"No," he said. "Jin and I haven't spoken in..." Zuko frowned. How long ago had it been? How many times had he relived this day? Did it count towards how long it'd been since he'd seen Jin?

"Then, what is it?" Iroh looked ready to cry himself. That startled Zuko. And it loosened his tongue. He told Iroh everything. How he'd live this day already, several times. How the invitation to King Kuei's palace was a trap. That Azula was not only in the city, but in the middle of a coup. He told Iroh about being trapped in the cavern with Katara (despite the situation, Iroh managed to look arch at Zuko using the waterbender's name). Zuko hid his shame, but he told Iroh how Azula won at the end of the day. Then he told Iroh how the last time, he'd died. Iroh was stricken at that. He scanned Zuko for injuries that they both knew weren't there.

"No wonder you were upset," Iroh said.

"You believe me?" Zuko stared at his uncle in shock.

"I have little reason to doubt," Iroh shrugged. "After all, I haven't mentioned tea at King Kuei's yet. I've seen far too much in my day to dismiss your claim out of hand."

"What do I do, Uncle?" Zuko pleaded. Iroh shook his head sadly.

"I don't know myself," he admitted. "This has the marks of some spirit's intervention."

"So, I just have to keep living today over and over until whatever spirit is doing this decides they're done?" Iroh pursed his lips and blew out a long slow breath.

"It's rare for any spirit powerful enough to do this to act arbitrarily," he said. "There must be something you need to do. Some lesson you need to learn. Have you done anything different?"

"Not really," Zuko said. The only major changes had been his conversation with Katara and his hesitation in that final battle.

"Maybe you should try."

So, Zuko did just that. Neither he nor Iroh ended up going to the palace, or to work that day. They stayed inside. Katara never saw Zuko at the tea house. Zuko never ended up in the cavern. Beyond that, Zuko didn't know what difference it had made. He didn't know that without Iroh there to distract his niece, Katara and Aang both died in the cavern. He didn't know that Sokka and Toph had just barely made it out of the city, or that Chief Hakoda driven more by grief than logic had ordered a failed attack on the city that ended with half the Southern Tribe warriors dead or captured. It wasn't until the Dai Li agents arrived at their apartment that Zuko realized that Azula knew where he and Iroh lived. There was no need for her to keep him around now. The Avatar was undeniably dead. The stone cuffs made it impossible for Zuko and Iroh to defend themselves, and in a rare act of mercy, Azula killed them quickly.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko woke up with the memory of lightning scorching his internal organs, and the echoes of Iroh's agonized screams in his ears. He flung his blanket off and threw the door open, startling Iroh, who was just coming in to wake him. This time Zuko didn't hesitate to tell Iroh everything. This time instead of waiting around the apartment all day, they stole out of the city. They were miles away when the city and the Avatar fell. They didn't stop until night fall, and they made an impromptu camp. They sat around the fire quietly, picking at their meals.

"Do you think this will end the loop?" Zuko asked his uncle. Iroh pursed his lips and blew out a long, slow breath.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I hope it does. But maybe I'm not who you're supposed to save."

"It must be," Zuko insisted. "Who else?" Iroh shrugged.

"Who can say with the spirits? It's rare for any spirit powerful enough to do this to act arbitrarily, though." Zuko didn't agree, but he said nothing. Finally, Iroh turned in for the night. Zuko offered to keep watch, determined to stay awake until the sun rose the next day. He drank a whole pot of the strong morning tea they'd packed. Despite their desperate flight out of Ba Sing Se, Zuko wasn't the least bit tired. He was certain he'd be able to stay up.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko opened his eyes and let out a long, loud string of expletives when he found himself in the familiar trappings of his room above the tea shop. Iroh poked his head in, frowning in concern.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"No!" Zuko shouted. "Nothing is alright! I hate the spirits!"

Zuko didn't want to explain anything to his uncle this time. He disappeared into the city, picking fights with anyone who crossed him. Eventually he was caught by the Dai Li and taken to the underground lake prison. His last memory was of a flashing green light and someone trying to hypnotize him. The next few times he woke up, he tried breaking into the palace and catching Azula unawares. He lost three times, died once, reached a stalemate four times, and killed his sister twice.

Most often, he ended up back in the cavern with Katara. Once, she managed to use her magic water on his scar. It worked, sort of. The scar faded until it was just a pinkish blemish over his eye, but then Azula hit the Avatar with lightning just before Zuko took her out. The Avatar died because Katara didn't have the water to heal him with. She was kind enough not to blame Zuko, but the sound of her sobs chased him into the new day. He never let her try that again. The next few times, he found Katara earlier in the day. He managed to get her to listen to him most of the time. She was, he found, more inclined to trust than he expected. These days still ended up with Ba Sing Se's fall, but Katara usually managed to escape with her friends, sometimes with Zuko's help, sometimes on her own, but Zuko never took her up on her offer to join them. Something inside him still balked at the idea of helping the Avatar, though he'd long since given up on returning to his father. Being murdered by his gleeful sister in increasingly creative ways had dashed any real hope he had that his father wanted him home. He learned a lot about Katara on those days, when he managed to get her to hear him out before attacking.

Today, he was exhausted. He went to work his shift at the tea house, because he didn't know what else to do. He was rude and snappish with the customers all morning, barely stopping to listen to their orders, and even though he didn't get a single order wrong, the owner of the shop sent him away early. That was fine. Zuko didn't stop to answer his uncle's calls as he stormed out into the street, running into a smaller person. He reached out instinctively to steady them, ready to berate whoever it was, but he froze. Katara was in his arms, staring up at him in horror.

Of course...

This had happened before, and the last time, both he and Katara had been taken by the Dai Li to that underground prison lake. Now, Zuko let go of her and turned to run in the opposite direction before she even had a chance to react. He expected to feel water snaking around his ankles, an icicle in his back, to hear her screaming for the Dai Li behind him.

None of that happened. Instead, he ran into two more girls. Girls in Kyoshi Warrior makeup. Girls who he'd recognize anywhere, no matter how much paint was on their faces.

"Oh no," he groaned.

"Is that anyway to greet old friends?" Mai asked mockingly.

Zuko ended up in the cavern with Katara. He wasn't sure how she'd gotten caught, but he was there first this time. Whatever tirade she had been preparing to launch into stopped abruptly when she saw him hitting his head against the rock wall with alarming force.

"What are you doing?" she gasped. Zuko was too dizzy to be surprised when she pulled him away from the wall. He could feel something trickle down his face, and whatever it was had Katara staring at him in open concern.

"Let go!" Zuko tried to shrug her off. "I have to get out of here!"

"Zuko!" Katara pulled him away from his wall, and he was too dazed to stop her. She pulled water from...somewhere, Zuko wasn't sure. Maybe the walls. The cave was damp enough. Her hand glowed a soft blue, and the pain in his forehead faded, to his disappointment.

"What did you go and do that for?" Zuko demanded, rubbing his hand over his unbruised forehead.

"Why were you hitting you head against the wall?" Katara countered sharply. She folded her arms and glowered at Zuko.

"I was trying to kill myself, if you must know," he sneered at her. For all the times they'd met and all he had learned about Katara, this was a new day. They were not friends.

"What?" Katara looked stricken, and Zuko felt bad, despite himself.

"Forget it," he said, turning away from her. "It doesn't matter."

"Zuko, what's going on?" Katara ran around him so she could see his face. "Tell me what's happening! Why are we here?"

"Trust me, you couldn't have picked a question I want answered more," he scoffed. "I don't know why I'm here. I've been here too many times to count at this point, and I don't know why! I've tried not coming here, but that doesn't work either."

"What are you talking about?" Katara asked, staring at him as if he'd grown another head. Zuko almost laughed. Maybe he had. It would make as much sense as anything else.

"I'm cursed, Katara," he said a bit hysterically. "I'm cursed. I've lived this day so many times... I...I don't know what to do. I'm losing my mind, and I'm scared." Zuko crumpled to the floor and sobbed into his palms.

Katara didn't know what to do. He could feel her hovering over him, uncertain of what, if anything, to do for him. Finally, she sat beside him, and hesitantly wrapped her arm around him from the side. All pride had utterly fled Zuko. He threw himself into her embrace and sobbed on her shoulder. Katara stiffened, and for a moment Zuko thought she would throw him off of her, but kindness, or compassion, or whatever drove her overrode her hatred for him, and she held him stiffly while he cried.

Zuko composed himself as fast as he could, and pulled away from Katara. He'd left a large wet mark of sweat and tears and snot on her dress, but she was a good sport about it.

"Will you tell me what's going on?" she asked.

"You won't believe me," Zuko said. The words brought back a memory of a similar conversation with his uncle.

"Try me," Katara said, with a wry smirk.

"I already told you," Zuko said. "I'm reliving today and I don't know how to get out of this loop."

"What?" Katara stared at him as if his second head had sprouted wings and started earthbending.

"I told you wouldn't believe me." This time Zuko did chuckle. "I've been here in this cavern with you, so many time's I've lost count. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"I-I," Katara stammered. "Zuko, this isn't..."

"I can prove it," Zuko told her. "We've spoken before. You've told me things. Personal things."

"Excuse me?" Katara stared at him, aghast.

"You have," Zuko insisted. "How else do I know that you have magic healing water from the Spirit Oasis?"

"Y-you were there," Katara said. "You could've been spying." Zuko shook his head.

"Nope," he said. "That's not it. I also know that you lost your mother. We've talked about her nearly every time we've met." Rage flashed across Katara's face at that.

"How dare you-?"

"I'm just saying what you told me," Zuko said. "You told me her name was Kya. And you told me how your grandmother said you're just like her when she was your age." Katara gaped at him in shock.

"How did you know-"

"You told me," Zuko sighed. "Just like you told me that your favorite color is seafoam green, and you miss the dancing lights in the sky back home, and your brother Sokka once got two hooks stuck in his thumb. One time, you ate papaya even though you hate it because a fortuneteller told you to. I have no other way to know any of that except from you. I'm not lying. I'm stuck in some sort of time loop. I don't know how to get unstuck."

"Oh-" Katara sat beside him quietly for a long time, processing the new information. "And I just..told you all of that? Why?"

"I don't know," Zuko shrugged helplessly. "I asked, and if you were in a good mood, you'd tell me. I don't always see you, and when I do we don't always talk." More silence, though, Zuko could almost hear her brain working double time to process all of this.

"Do you know how it started?' she asked after a long while.

"No," Zuko shook his head. He had tried to recall if he'd crossed any priests, or accidentally touched some relic, or walked under a ladder, but he couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary until he woke up and the day repeated. He told Katara as much.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I am, too," he shook his head. "I'm the only one who knows it, but you're all stuck in this loop with me, it seems. I really am sorry."

"That's got to be so lonely," Katara said. Zuko let out another shuddering sob. He hadn't let himself admit it yet, but she was right. It was incredibly lonely. No matter how many times they'd spoken, Iroh didn't remember why his nephew sometimes woke up screaming. Katara wouldn't remember this conversation, or that she and Zuko had made a connection and had more in common than she realized. In a few hours, Zuko would wake up and they would be enemies again. Katara pulled him into another embrace, and Zuko clung to her like a life line. He didn't cry on her anymore, though.

"I'm so scared," he whispered. "I can't even die." Katara stiffened in his hold, but instead of pushing him away, she held him tighter.

"There's got to be a way out," she said. "There has to be." Zuko didn't bother telling her that he'd tried everything he could think of. He pulled away slightly, not quite ready to let go of her yet, and rested his forehead against hers.

"Maybe I'm not dying the right way," he said.

"Why do you think you have to die at all?" Katara asked. Zuko snorted.

"Wouldn't it make your life easier if I were dead?" he asked. "If I die and end this loop, you wouldn't have to worry about me coming after you, or betraying your trust, or...or..." Zuko clenched his teeth tightly. Katara unwound an arm from his mid section and cupped his jaw.

"Where's that stubborn mule-ox who chased us around the world?" she demanded. "Where's that fighting spirit that led you to do stupid things, like challenge me while I was surrounded by my element?"

"I think that bit of me died around the fortieth time I woke up this morning," Zuko laughed mirthlessly. "Katara, I can't do this anymore. I have to figure out a way to end this. Even if it means I die. I can't go on like this!" His grip tightened around her waist, and he felt the tears coming again.

Then his world came to a screeching halt.

Katara's lips were pressed against his. Every thought in Zuko's head flickered out and all he could focus on was how soft Katara's lips were.

She pulled away with a jerk. Already she was babbling an apology, an explanation that she didn't know how else to distract him, other words that were lost on Zuko. Then she stopped talking when he leaned in to kiss her again. It was an urgent, awkward kiss between two inexperienced and desperate teens, with too much teeth and too many hands uncertain of where touch was okay. They kissed until they were breathless. They kissed until the wall imploded. And when Iroh and Aang burst in and the dust settled, they were still clinging to each other in a way that left little doubt of what they'd been doing.

They sprang apart, but instead of rushing over to Aang as she'd done so many times before, Katara stood awkwardly beside Zuko. A bright red blush covered her face and neck, and she looked a bit ashamed of herself as she avoided her friend's devastated face, but she didn't leave Zuko's side. Her knuckles bushed against his reassuringly, but neither of them made to entwine their hands.

There was no time to discuss any of what had happened. Azula and the Dai Li agents had heard the commotion as they always did, and soon they found themselves in the middle of a battle. Zuko had long since given up on joining his sister's side. And maybe the kiss had emboldened him, but this time, he joined the fight against his sister without hesitating. That enraged her, but between him, his uncle and Katara, she and the Dai Li were on their back foot. Zuko tried to keep his sister's focus on him. This time he would see Katara and his uncle escape safely with the Avatar. But something went wrong, and Aang was struck by Azula's lightning.

Katara in her rage was a sight to behold. She caught Aang as he fell, and almost simultaneously called up a wave with all the water in the cavern and froze Azula and her guards. That hadn't happened before. Neither had Zuko and Iroh ever managed to actually escape the cavern with Katara and Aang.

Later that night on Appa's saddle, Zuko watched in awe as the spirit water literally brought the Avatar back from the dead. He was glad that Katara hadn't wasted it on something as frivolous as his scar. Especially not when she looked at him, almost weeping with relief when her friend's chest began to fall and rise again.

In the chaos, Zuko and Iroh's presence had gone unremarked by Katara's other companions, but now that Ba Sing Se was miles behind them, and the Southern Tribe Warriors' camp lay before them, Sokka and Toph finally stopped to question their new companions. Katara told them in no uncertain terms that they owed Zuko and Iroh both hers and Aang's lives, and that they were fine to travel with them as long as they liked. Iroh offered his services as a firebending master for the Avatar once he woke. Zuko was quiet and stuck by either Iroh's or Katara's side- the latter was noted by Sokka with more than a hint of suspicion, but Zuko didn't care. It wouldn't matter in a few hours.

When they landed for an hour to plan their next move, Zuko told Katara as much when he managed to capture a few moments alone with her. She squeezed his hand.

"It'll be okay," she said. Zuko thought she was going to kiss him again, but Sokka appeared, inserting himself between them, with a suspicious glower levied at Zuko. Katara scoffed and went to go check on Aang.

They arrived at Chameleon Bay not long after that, and Zuko and Iroh were welcomed, albeit coldly by Katara's father and his troop. Zuko wasn't sure what Katara said, but he and Iroh were given a room on the Fire Nation ship Chief Hakoda and his men had managed to take possession of. Zuko couldn't sleep, though.

He ended up on the deck of the ship as the moon was nearing its zenith. It was close to the time that the day would reset for him. Zuko had timed it before. He figured he had about twenty minutes before he blacked out and woke in his room at the tea shop. He dreaded it, but he also felt a bit melancholy about it. No one would remember what happened today. His new allies, as fragile as the relationship was, would not know what happened tonight. His uncle, sleeping safely (as safely as was possible, at least) would soon burst into his room, excited about the trap that had been set for him at King Kuei's palace. Katara wouldn't remember comforting him in the caverns. She wouldn't remember kissing him, and when he saw her next, they would be enemies again. He didn't dare hope for a repeat of this particular version of the day, either.

Light footsteps came up behind him, but Zuko didn't so much as flinch. The worst that could happen would be someone slitting his throat. He wasn't overly worried about it, though, and he wasn't all that surprised when Katara sat down beside him, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the stern.

"It's late," she said.

"Yeah," Zuko agreed.

"Aren't you tired?"

"Aren't you?" Zuko scoffed. He glanced at Katara out of the corner of his eye. She was still covered in gore from where she'd caried Aang out of the cavern. Her hair was stiff with dried sweat, and there were smudges of mud and blood on her face and hands. She was gorgeous, Zuko realized with horrified clarity. He looked away from her and cleared his throat. He turned his gaze out on the the water of the bay. The moonlight scattered across the surface of the water, and danced across the waves.

"It's getting close to the time when my day starts again," he told Katara quietly. He sagged against the railing of the ship and rested his forehead against the cool metal. He was exhausted. He was always exhausted when he reached this part of the day.

"What if you stay up?" Katara suggested. Zuko shook his head with a sigh.

"I've tried," he told her. "If I don't fall asleep, or get knocked out or die, I just sort of black out. I can't fight it." Katara gasped, but didn't say anything. She slipped her hand inside of his and held it tightly. It was a nice sensation to end on, Zuko thought. He didn't fight it when sleep came to claim him.

Sunlight on his face woke him. Zuko looked around in confusion. He was not in his room above the tea shop. Above him, he saw the lightening dawn sky instead of the ceiling he'd been expecting. There was no scratchy stiff wool blanket over him. There was something soft and warm, and much heavier than a blanket on him though. He looked down and found Katara asleep on his chest, her arm draped across him protectively.

She must have heard the change in Zuko's heartbeat. Katara began to stir. She sat up and looked around blearily. She was not a morning person, Zuko thought giddily. When her eyes finally landed on him, several things crossed her face; surprise, fear, then dawning realization.

"Did you do it?" she asked. "Did you break the loop?" Zuko nodded, swallowing hard.

"It looks like it," he said. He looked around himself in awe. It was a new day.

[confessionsdiaz]

as someone who's been there, hearing Ryan say "luckily it didn't work, luckily i got a second chance" i feel like crying, because while for a lot of us its a shared sentiment, saying any of that out loud is so fucking hard. Being able to speak about what we have been through is so fucking hard. to anyone in the same boat i love you im proud of you and im happy you are here <3