#- TAKE IT OUT ON ANOTHER PERSON. I don’t want to be who I am but I have to. I’m trying so hard and I’m failing

[idkwhatever580]

Are you mad?

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: Natasha is jealous and y/n is a bit sensitive. Y/n overthinks wayyyy too much.

Warnings: slightly toxic nat (in the middle), cheating accusations, cussing, lmk if there’s any I missed.

A/N: I have a good idea for this but idk if it’s gonna turn out. Lmk if you like it and my requests are open! Also she’s so pretty like pepper spray me pleeeeeeaaassseeeee

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s pov

Another night full of loud noises and bright lights. This party had no significance. No birthday, no win, no nothing. But Tony Stark will always find something.

Even if it is nothing. He will use it.

So like I was saying, I’m sitting here at this party just wanting to go back to my room. But unfortunately I need to be here for publicity purposes.

I make it through most of the party with minimal effort. Not many people have the urge to talk to me aside from the occasional drunk person. But Bruce comes up to me and sits down with his drink.

Like me, bruce doesn’t really do big interactions and stuff.

Natasha on the other hand, is one of our most popular avengers and the most sought after. So she must deal with people all night. I don’t mind though. She has her fun. And I watch.

Bruce cuts into my thinking with a sigh and I look over at him and say

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He looks at me and shakes his head a bit.

I nod knowing sometimes people just don’t want to talk. But I still leave the offer open.

“Well, if you need to talk I’m here till Natasha gets drunk. Which, knowing her, won’t be for a while.”

He sighs again after a while and turns to me and says

“I like this girl”

I immediately perk up and say

“Ooh! What’s her name? Do I know her?”

He blushes and nods and says

“Who she is is not the problem I’m having”

And I nod my head and say

“Right… so… what is the problem?”

He thinks for a bit and says

“How do I know that she will want me even after she sees the other guy.”

I sigh and take a minute to think about it. That’s a tough one and I don’t want to say the wrong thing. After a second I decide to try a different approach.

“Why don’t you think she will like you?”

He gets a bit awkward and says

“Well, you’ve seen the other guy. You know how he is. How could anybody love a monster like me?”

I frown and say

“I don’t think you’re a monster”

He scoffs and brushes my comment aside and I tilt my head and I say

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

He looks at me and says

“No! No you’re not a monster!”

I nod my head and figure out where I’m going to go with it.

“Do you think Natasha, or Wanda, or the rest of the team are monsters?”

He shakes his head and once again says

“No! I’d never think that about you guys”

I give him a look and then say

“So what makes you think we would think of you any different? Or better yet, she”

He thinks and says

“Well- the other guy, he’s dangerous and scary. And he hurts people”

I nod my head for him to continue

“And I can’t control him.”

I nod my head and sigh. I think for a second while biting my cheek and I say

“Well. Like I was saying. We have all been dangerous and scary before. But that’s not what makes us us right?”

He nods his head and I continue

“And as for your worries about losing control, have you ever thought about the fact that you desensitize him?”

I reference hulk and he shakes his head

I nod mine and say

“Well, I think that maybe you are having a hard time controlling him because you’re constantly fighting with him, and you never really have given him the chance to be anything other than angry.”

He nods his head and says

“Yeah.”

I put my hand on his knee for reassurance and I say

“Bruce, if you take time to learn more about him and if you work with him instead of working against him, then maybe he’d be more willing to work with you as well. Maybe the switch between you and him would come easier even.”

He looks at me and says

“Well how would I do that?”

“Maybe give him a safe space. It sounds weird, but when I am feeling trapped and like I can’t breathe, I freak out and lash out on everyone. Maybe he does the same. Maybe if you give him a space where he doesn’t feel any pressure, then he might be able to work with you better”

He nods his head understanding and says

“Thank you y/n, you always have the best advice”

We hug each other and I say

“Now go get Dr. Cho.”

I smirk when he blushes and I say

“I knew you had a little crush the whole time. Sorry. I couldn’t help but let you have your moment though”

He laughs it off and gets up to go talk with her.

What I didn’t see happening during our conversation is Natasha.

I turn around to see her starring daggers into my soul. I walk over to her with a confused look and say

“Hey baby!”

She has a really tight grip on her drink so I softly take it from her and hand it to a random person who gladly takes it.

She grabs my hand and pulls me to an empty hallway and as she’s pulling me her grip on my wrist hurts and I say

“Ow! Baby you’re hurting me”

She grips tighter as if she doesn’t even hear me. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care.

She only lets go when we’re in the hallway and I say

“What’s wrong?”

I rub my wrist which now has a growing red mark on it and she says

“What’s going on with you and Bruce?!”

I look at her confused and she says

“Huh? Are you just gonna sit there acting dumb or are you gonna answer me?!”

Her voice is laced with venom. And I say

“Baby I don’t know what you’re talking about”

She huffs and says

“You and Banner! You think I wouldn’t see how you were both giving each other googly eyes and how you put your hand on his knee?! And that hug! God that hug was so touchy!!”

I furrow my eyebrows and say

“Baby nothing is going on between us! He was asking for help about a crush. And I also talked to him about hulk”

She scoffs and says

“You’re lying to me. You’re such a fucking cheater!”

she goes to walk away but I say

“Wait! You don’t get to call me that and just walk away! I didn’t do anything baby”

I try to think on my toes since if I don’t act fast she’s leaving. So I do what my heart says to do.

I pull her into me for a kiss and she melts into it. Once I pull away I know she is calmed down a bit and I brush some stray hairs from her face and say

“Baby, I would never ever in a million years cheat on you. I’m sorry it looked like that but I can assure you I only have eyes for you. And he likes Cho anyways”

She sighs and mumbles

“You’re right. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry”

I nod my head and say

“We’ve still got a few hours before the party is over. We better get back out there before we get in trouble”

She nods her head and leaves promptly. I take a minute and let out a breath. She didn’t even say I love you to me. No kiss. No nothing. Just left.

I look down and my now slightly raw wrist. I sigh and roll my eyes knowing that I have to cover this up before going back so I run to my room and use my makeup skills to cover it up and for good measure I put on a few bracelets. Then I head back down to the stupid party.

I sit in a corner hiding from everyone even more than before. And I think about Natasha. I immediately get lost in my thoughts.

Did it really look like I was cheating? Maybe it did. Maybe I was cheating. I mean. That hand on his knee was weird I guess. I thought I was comforting him though. Oh my god. I was cheating on Natasha! She had every right to be mad at me. God I’m such a bad girlfriend. She should have broken up with me!

“Y/n?”

I snap back into reality when Wanda waves her hand in my face.

She looks worried. I furrow my eyebrows when I feel hot liquid running down my cheeks.

I reach up to touch it and realize I’m crying. I softly look back up at Wanda and then before she can say anything I bolt.

I run to my old room. I don’t stay here anymore since I’ve moved into Natasha’s room.

But there’s still some essential things in there in case someone needs a place to stay.

That someone is apparently me now.

I can’t go back to Natasha. I can’t face her. I’m a fucking cheater. She hates me. That’s why she didn’t say she loves me when she left.

She must not have known how to break up with me. So she just walked away and that’s how she broke up with me.

I snap back out of my thoughts once again and I get in my pajamas and in my bed. It’s not comfortable at all.

I’m only comfy when Natasha is with me. When her warm touch combats my cold one.

Guess Im never gonna be comfortable again. She is leaving me.

A soft knock comes from my door about an hour later. I check the time and see that the party is probably over by now.

I don’t answer but they come in anyways.

“Y/n?”

I look over and see Wanda and she immediately comes over to me and envelopes me in a hug.

“What’s wrong sestra?”

I shrug my shoulders and she says

“Don’t shut me out. Please. It’ll only make whatever is happening worse. Please talk to me”

I sigh knowing she’s right and I try to find the right words but I can’t so I just blurt out

“I cheated on Natasha!”

Her eyes widen in shock but she quickly recovers the best she can and tries to assess the situation before making assumptions.

“Okay. Um. What happened? With who?”

I look down and say

“With Bruce”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“I thought you were only interested in girls?”

I nod my head and tears are falling but I don’t let them affect me

“I am! I’m only interested in Natasha!”

She is confused and she says

“Okay then how did you cheat on her?”

“Well. During the party Bruce came to me about his crush on Dr. Cho, and I ended up talking with him about her and the hulk. I tried to be comforting for him and I put my hand on his knee. Then we hugged and I went to Natasha and she pulled me out and yelled at me and got all sideways. Then when I tried to clear it up she agreed with it and dropped it but when she left back to the party she didn’t kiss me or say I love you to me or anything! So she just didn’t know how to break up with me for cheating on her!”

Wanda listens to my rant but before I can go any further she stops me and says

“Y/n you did not cheat on Natasha. Sure she might be a bit salty but you didn’t do anything wrong okay?”

I sniffle and nod my head and say

“But she still doesn’t want me”

Wanda shakes her head and says

“No. That’s not true. She loves you. You just need to talk to her about it okay? I’m sure she is missing you right now”

Right as Wanda says that, we hear another knock from the door. And in comes Natasha.

“Y/n? Are you in here?”

She says softly and then sees us together and says

“Oh. Hey.. Are you alright?”

I sniff and nod my head still thinking she is mad at me and Wanda gets up to leave. I try to make her stay but she whispers softly that I need to talk to nat about it.

Wanda goes to nat and says

“Listen and talk okay?”

Nat nods her head and immediately after Wanda steps out she rushes to me and says

“What’s wrong baby?”

I sniffle again. Damn snot. Then I whimper out.

“Are you mad at me?”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“Why would I be mad at you baby?”

I shrugged my shoulders shutting down a bit but Natasha knows this all too well.

“Baby don’t shut me out. Tell me please”

I sigh once again and say

“You were so mad when you said I cheated on you.”

She shakes her head a bit and says

“No. I was not thinking straight. I let jealousy overtake my reasoning and I blew up at you. It was wrong of me.”

I look up at her and say

“So you’re not leaving me?”

She laughs a bit and says

“You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily did you?”

I giggle a bit from her laughter and I shrug my shoulders saying

“I dunno.”

She pulls me into a tight hug and whispers in my ear

“Baby. I am not breaking up with you. Not now not ever.”

I sigh at her reassurance and nod my head. Then I yawn and she says

“You wanna head back to our room?”

I nod my head and say

“Can we cuddle?”

She frowns at me and immediately gets tense and says

“No”

She starts walking away and I look at her in surprise and bow my head low and say

“Oh. Okay”

I trail behind her and she turns around and starts laughing and says

“Baby I was kidding. Of course we can cuddle”

I look at her and immediately get excited again. She holds her arms open for me and says

“Come here detka”

I run into her arms and hug her. Then she ends up picking me up and carrying me to our room.

She carries me to our room and since I’m already in my pajamas, she just plops me on the bed and gives me a kiss.

Then she trails her kisses down to my neck and I say

“Baby not tonight I’m tired”

She doesn’t listen and keeps kissing me. I go to say something and she suddenly blows a raspberry into my neck and makes me laugh and I say

“Stop! Stop! That tickles!!”

She giggles and pulls away and says

“Sorry. I had to”

I smile and hold my arms out for her to cuddle with me but she pulls away and I pout.

She smiles and says

“I have to get changed first baby. This dress is uncomfortable”

I nod my head and curl up in our sheets.

She comes back and snuggles up behind me. She decides to reassure me once again and says

“I’ll never leave you. Not in a million years.”

I smile and say

“I love you”

She kisses my shoulder and says

“I love you more”

I smirk and combat

“I love you most”

She giggles at our little battle and says

“I love you mostest”

I smirk and say

“I loved you first”

And she scoffs and shoved my shoulder a bit saying

“You can’t use that! It’s not fair!”

I smile at her and say

“Life’s not fair. Suck it up buttercup”

She smiles and kisses my lips and says

“Sleep detka. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow”

I smile and close my eyes softly.

“I love you”

I hear Natasha mumble into my neck and I squeeze the hand that’s wrapped around my waist a bit to say it back without words.

I love you too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: man that took a while. I forgot about this one lol. Don’t forget I take requests!! Not gonna lie I was way too nice to Bruce in this one. I love me some good Bruce slander. So I might make a fic with Bruce slander lolololollll (it’s not the fact that I hate him. It’s the fact that he likes my girl)

#avengers #fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader

[ecstarry]

@jegulus-microfic / rank / 705 words / game of truth or dare goes wrong, or not?

“Trust me Sirius, you will regret this,” Regulus whispered in his brother’s ears as everyone around them cheered for the next game. 

“I’m your big brother, I will never regret embarrassing you.” Sirius took Regulus by the shoulders and made him sit on a chair in the middle of the circle. It was the first party where both Sirius’ group of friends and Regulus’ were hanging out, it was Dorcas and Marlene’s idea now that they were dating. 

“The game is really easy, you take a drop of veritaserum, and someone gets to ask a question. Got it?” Everyone around the room hummed in confirmation as Regulus drank his dose of the potion. His eyes met James’ across the room, his boyfriend tried to conceal his nervousness with a smile. If their friends were smarter, Regulus was sure they would’ve picked up on their relationship by now, without the need of a veritaserum. 

First, they went through the normal round of questions just to make sure that the potion was working. No more than three questions in and Sirius decided it was time for the actual fun.

“Do I actually embarrass you, Reggie?” Sirius teased, but he was clearly eager for the answer. 

“No, you’re my favorite person and I love you.” A round of loud ‘awwws’ echoed in the room. “Oh shut up, and just ask another question,” Regulus blurted out. 

He immediately regretted it as he saw Barty’s mind clearly plotting something. 

“Okay, I have one. Dear Regulus, would you be so kind as to rank your best kisses?”

“Ew! NO!” Sirius quickly protested. 

From the corner of his eye, Regulus could tell how the question made James' heart race. This was not how they had planned to tell everyone they were dating. 

“Shhh! I want to know,” Remus insisted.

“I don’t! Knowing you two kissed when you did perfect rounds together is all the information I need about the matter!” Sirius was hysterical. 

“Just answer the question Reg, start with the third place,” Barty instructed. 

Regulus tried to fight the truth, this truly was the last way he wanted his brother and friends to know he had been dating Gryffindor’s golden boy. He once again searched for James’ eyes, and James was already looking at him, so lovingly. His boyfriend mouthed the words ‘it’s okay’, so Regulus took a deep breath and answered. 

“Fine. Third place would be Evan.”

“Quite the kisser you are too, love.” Evan blew him a kiss in response and everyone started laughing and commenting. 

“Shhh, I want to know who is in second place,” Dorcas intercepted. 

“Sirius, don’t hate me,” Regulus said as he closed his eyes and fought once more the words that were about to come out. “Second one is Rem-”

“I’M LEAVING!” Sirius announced loudly as he got up. 

“Sirius, don’t be dramatic, don’t you want to know who is actually first?” Remus said, trying to distract him. 

“Don’t worry, it’s me,” Barty said with an immense amount of confidence. 

“Ugh, it couldn’t get worse I guess,” Sirius mumbled as he sat on Remus’ lap. “If you say James I will fucking kill you, Regulus.”

Regulus' eyes widened and a violent blush crept from his neck towards his cheeks, without thinking he snapped his head towards James who was the same shade of crimson as him. Fuck. His reaction had been too noticeable. Everyone around had caught it, especially Sirius. 

“Regulus! Say right now that James does not have the first place in your fucking kissing list!”

Silence. 

“He does…”

The room erupted in a million loud voices laughing, screaming and questions aimed at both him and James. 

When did this happen!? 

How am I not on your list!?

Are you dating!?

Or are you fucking!?

Regulus began feeling dizzy and overwhelmed, he got up the chair to try to breathe but felt his legs falter. He felt familiar hands, calloused hands, warm hands steady him. James.

“It’s okay, baby,” James assured him as his arms wrapped around Regulus’ waist. 

James’ voice brought him back to reality, he saw Sirius approaching and couldn’t help the words that left his mouth with a laugh, “I told you so.”

They never played with veritaserum again.

more microfics here

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #marauders #james x regulus #gay dead wizards #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus microfic #moonwater #yes a bit of a reference to are we dating or are we fucking at the end #cant take that fic of my mind #marauders fic #maraduers fanfic #the marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #rab #jfp #barty crouch junior #evan roiser

[freyito]

ꜰᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀʀʟɪɢʜᴛ

✭ pairing(s): argenti x ftm reader

✩ inspo: Watch What Happens by Chris Montez

★ summary: Argenti adorns his boyfriends fading scars with hundreds of kisses and all the worship he can show.

✧ a/n: this (and the second part of this fic) may be my most self-indulgent fic yet... uhmmmm this is (in essence) kind of a more 'serious' fic then i write. still fluffy of course just definitely some heavy undertones, so please be careful if anything in the cw triggers you. also before anyone asks YES i am a person with scars and YES this is my form of healing. and also YES it does get better... just so you know :)

🗒 cw: ftm reader, hurt/comfort, mention of self-harm, sh scars, mention of suicide attempts, depiction of depression, mention body dysphoria, proofread

✎ wc: 1.3k

You are beautiful, plain and simple. You can’t remember how many times Argenti has told you that, in all his poetics and knightly glory. So beautiful that he had broken his vow of asceticism. Even with how disheveled you look in the morning, when your hair is unruly and hard to tame, when all you can do is yawn and stretch and ask for ‘five more minutes’. Even when you don’t want to look in the mirror in fear of looking like someone else entirely. Even with the raised skin that peppers your skin from the blades of the past.

Argenti makes sure you know day in, day out. Even when he’s away, his words take hold in those moments that you feel lost. Melancholy holds no place in your home, he makes sure of that. Any tears that dare to fall he kisses away, he chases off nightmares so diligently, and leaves no room for doubt, in yourself, or in him. Everything he does is not only an act of love, but an act of devotion, bordering on worship.

He is afraid of losing you, of course. As most mortals are afraid of losing what is close to them, the fear always lingers. But it is not because of your scars, or your body. He is simply afraid. He treats your scars as if they are the most beautiful brush strokes of a painting, your body is a work of art and he’ll be damned to not enjoy it.

Tonight, he is showing his devotion once more, holding your hand with his lips pressed against your palm, your head in his lap. Your hands aren’t necessarily the softest, skin picked and chewed around your fingertips, your nails bitten, all sorts of small cuts decorated your fingers, some covered with bandaids, some scabbed over. Argenti doesn’t care, he simply presses another kiss to your palm, mumbling something about how wonderful your hands are, something you don’t quite catch. His eyes are half-lidded as his gaze meets yours, that small shimmer of admiration shine back at you within those emeralds, making you blush ever so slightly.

His lips move from your palm to your wrist, another chaste kiss pressed against the first scar of many. It’s a little ticklish, is all. He has never looked at your scars with pity, his gaze never lingers for too long. He never frowns when he sees them, only gives you that soft smile, and maybe even a head tilt.

Before, when he had met you, the scars that decorated your wrists and shoulders were scabbed over, and he looked at you all the same. As if he had recognized it. Not as if he had pitied it. Of course he was worried, who wouldn’t be? But he never pushed the topic, not that he was silent about it. The more days you were sober, the more praise he showered down upon you. He never admonished you if you had relapsed, he never gave you anything but a reassuring look. And he’s kissed the scars, bandaged or otherwise, all the same.

By now, your scars are fading, albeit, slowly. Neither you nor Argenti can tell if you… like it. It is jarring to watch those reminders of what you’ve done fade, disappear as if you had never taken a blade to your skin. You know you should be glad, and be proud, because you had made it past all those nights where you could barely breathe, where your vision was blurry and the only thought on your mind was ‘i want to die’. Some of those times, Argenti would come around, sweep you out of that mind space, lay down and trace over your scars before you had the chance to open them. Those had been the only time he gazed upon you with anything other than reassurance and love. The most clear expression of worry, when he wiped away your tears, the way he was ever so hesitant to leave you alone when you wanted space.

However, it is a celebration tonight, despite the precarious feelings about these marks fading. Every scar Argenti pays homage to, a fleeting kiss pressed to it before moving onto the next. You both stay quiet, the only noise filtering into the moon-light washed room being the soft, wistful sighs of the wind. It is a tender moment, the knight’s eyes focused on your skin, thumb running over the scars he had kissed as he moves onto the next.

Every kiss feels like a new beginning, your sins against your own humanity, your own being, etched into your skin as a haunting reminder to the void of Nihility that had built itself a home within the hollow of your heart. Yet, his kisses, his attentions, even those small, sweeping glances, and the even smaller huffs that you translate to soft laughs, they are the most perfect repentance. A feeling of whole, perhaps even happiness wells within your stomach as Argenti’s kisses become more frequent, fluttering and ticklish. You hold back a snicker, trying not to disturb the tranquility of such a tender, meaningful moment.

Yet, the knight takes notice, of course. His normally content half-smile breaks into a full-on smile, his eyes crinkling slightly as he takes in your laughter and doubles it. He leans down, urging you up by your hand. You meet him half-way, his lips gracing yours in a slow kiss, one that would last longer if you hadn’t let a giggle slip through. You feel Argenti’s smile widen against your lips, and he breaks the kiss, nuzzling his nose against yours.

Despite how close you had been to him for about the past hour, his cologne washes over you now. It’s light and airy, carrying the faint scent of petrichor and vanilla, and an even fainter scent of leather. It is a scent that brings back vivid, winding memories. Your first dance under the stars, how Argenti was so confident as a lead, laughing as you stumbled over every other step, how close he was to you, hair cascading around you two like a veil everytime he dipped you. Another memory, the way his eyes softened when he first saw your scars, yet there was no judgment passed from him. All he did was smile, his eyes showing no pity, no words exchanged, and kissed your cheek.

His rumbling, oddly giddy laugh brings you back from your nostalgic daydream, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek once more. His hand releases your wrist, coming down to help you properly sit in his lap, thumbs caressing your waist. Those sweet, gentle eyes stare into yours, nothing but devotion glaring back at you. It’s enough to make butterflies blossom in your stomach, your cheeks heating up like it was your first date, despite being with him for a year and some change. It’s a wonderful feeling, really. Soon your own laughter joins his as he begins to pepper your face in kisses, one on your nose, on your cheek, your lips, under your eye, and so forth. The only words that dare to break the comfortable feel of the atmosphere come minutes later.

“I’m proud of you.”

No monologue follows after as you are used to, and the sound of Argenti’s smooth voice echoes through your mind. You blank for a second, relishing in those words. It’s as if sunlight draped over you on a spring day, and suddenly there’s no need to feel… melancholic. There’s no need to feel guilty over your scars, there’s no need to feel scared, sad, or anything else but happy that your scars are fading.

All chapters end, you know this. There has always been something somber about finishing your favorite book, your favorite show, your favorite game. Perhaps you have a sequel, or even a prequel to get to. But it has never been the same as the story before, left with some sort of mark of the past, and that was it. Scars.

Perhaps you are okay with your scars fading.

After all, even stars fade. They explode, really, become supernovae, and shine even brighter than they once had.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

#⁺◟freyito #argenti x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #argenti x male reader #hsr x male reader #honkai star rail x male reader #argenti x ftm reader #hsr x ftm reader #honkai star rail x ftm reader

[writingmeraki]

project : get the guy — enha hyung line smau.

project one : this is literally targeted hatred.

synopsis : chaos ensues when you're assigned to do a project with the four supposed "cool kids" of the university and even more chaos when apparently one of them likes you, just that you have no idea who. warnings : cussing, bit of baby slander (?)

word count : 2.4k

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"L/N Y/N."

Confusion flooded you as you thought Jungwon had called you but he wasn't in your class.

Keyword being thought.

You looked up from the bent position you'd previously been in due to texting on your phone and your eyes widened when you finally realized who had called you.

Now, Mr. Jeon was in no way a mean teacher, most of the time how he dealt with students was pretty lenient, so you couldn't help but feel guilty when he caught you doing not-so-fit for college things.

Which was right now.

Clearing your throat, you shoved your phone quickly into the side pocket of your bag firstly to make sure it wasn't what got confiscated.

"Y/N, tell me am I that boring for you to put your head down for almost 15 minutes."

Mr. Jeon looked at you while glaring and you scanned his face wondering how he had the patience to deal with students this early. It would certainly make his life easier if he chose another job but then again who were you to judge his career choices when you didn’t even know what you wanted to be?

Mumbling a small yes under your breath, you stood up and you smiled at him, one where your molars were grinding against each other.

"No…sir of course not! I was just…a bit unwell."

“The health center is always open, if you feel unwell, you can go there.”

If it were any other student, they’d probably be insulted and embarrassingly sit down. But you were not just any student especially nor was he just any professor.

You shrugged and were about to grab your bag, anyway ready to ditch the class. But he glared at you so harshly, that you just sat down quietly, not wanting to push his limits. He might just fail you, Jungwon’s words flashed through your mind.

“Sorry sir. I'll pay attention.”

You said it softly, biting your tongue for any snide remarks because you knew you'd only get in more trouble.

All your professors were great. You even behaved properly and they'd also be polite towards you. You just didn't understand why Mr.Jeon had such a problem with you.

Perhaps it was because you may have accidentally hit his car during that one time you were parking.

Or that one time you bumped into him and all his coffee spilled all over his white shirt.

Or that one time you made him trip when you'd kept your foot out while he was making rounds during a test.

Actually, he may have reasons to not favor you.

“Alright class. As previously mentioned I was rudely interrupted,” He quickly narrowed his eyes at you before he continued,

“You all will be given a project which will account for around 50% of your total grade for this course. This project is something where the process of how you handle it till the very end will also matter and not just the result.”

“And it is a group project.”

Groans could be heard and a few whispers and murmurs going around about taking people in the groups while you silently looked ahead.

This is where you felt a slight sense of regret for not making any sort of friends let alone acquaintances in this course.

It’s not that you were not a social person, you had your fair share of friends and even close friends. It’s just your social energy could only deal with so much and hence you decided to not make even more in a course where you probably would never see them again after the semester ended.

“I hope I don’t get you in my group again.” You heard someone say behind you while groaning and you turned your attention to him.

As cliche as it sounded, you paused a bit, eyes widening at the unrealistically pretty boy.

How did you not notice him before? Like ever?

You’d seen your fair share of attractive people, you were friends with said attractive people, but the guy in front of you was like attractive on another level.

“I deal with you enough in my life, not this time again.”

You turned your gaze to the other person he was speaking to.

You were sure if Niki was here, he'd definitely make fun of the way your eyes widened even more as you felt your jaw slack a little.

Since when did this class have attractive men?

Both of them looked like actual models, you couldn't even comprehend synonyms enough to describe them.

Mr Jeon cleared his throat which made you snap out of your weird daze, glad neither of them noticed you staring like a creep.

“And as much as I know you might hate me for this but the groups are already chosen. By me.”

It seemed the entire class collectively groaned in disappointment while someone like you was sort of happy because for one you weren't even sure who you would have been in a group with.

Although, you somehow hoped you'd get into at least one of the two hot guys. That is if fate was with you.

Mr Jeon smiled gently and continued,

“So what I'll be doing is giving you all a brief on what this project is. Then I'll list down the groups and member names, to which all of your members have to come upfront and take your material. Material which will soon arrive.”

That made most of the students perk up in curiosity including you. The university, despite making most students go into debt paying for the fees, rarely gave out materials without extra payment. It was ridiculous.

“This project is called ‘The Baby Project’ ”

You cannot believe you'll be playing with dolls in university but here you were.

"I suppose the majority of you would have this question, why? Well this course is about human psychology. As most of you would know. What will be observed in these four weeks is how the physical behavior and surroundings would affect the growth of a child in their brain development stage.”

“Another question you may have is why isn't it a set of two people, like parents. But for that, the issue is the number of students is more than what was expected hence you'll be in groups of four and due to odd numbers two or three groups will have five members.”

Of course the one time they provide materials, they don't have enough.

The classroom door was knocked on, to which you assumed a teaching assistant entered with a cart. Full of baby dolls.

It was actually pretty creepy with how realistic they looked.

“Your task is to simply take care of the child. Write reports on its behavior down to what you've been doing to take care of it. By the end, essentially we'll see how well developed your child has become and that would be your grade for the project.”

You were sure this was some sort of hatred towards you. You weren't a fan of children. You didn't hate them but you just mildly disliked them. Let alone toddlers who'd only scream, cry and throw up on you for no reason.

“Now before more of you start dozing off, I'll announce your group number, names and you all come and collect your child. Preferably, discuss a name in class and get it noted down by me.”

“Group one, Lee Soohyung, Kim Wonyooung, Sarah…”

Three more groups passed before it was your turn. Finally.

“Group four, Lee Heeseung, Park Sunghoon,”

You heard a low cheer and groan behind you,

“...Park Jongseong, Sim Jaeyun…”

You heard more cheers and sigh of either disappointment or relief you couldn't quite tell,

“...and what do you know? L/N Y/N.”

You blinked in disbelief. You were paired up with the pretty dudes? Did fate finally open up their chances to you?

“Did we really get that person who Mr.Jeon hates? We're going to fail what the fuck?”

Pause.

Your mini celebration was disrupted as you heard one of them whisper. Whisper about you more specifically.

“Please come and collect your child.”

You stood up, grabbing your bag and hooking it over one shoulder,turning a bit before snapping back at the guy who said that about you.

What a waste of a perfect face.

“You won't fail if you put in the effort.”

His eyes slightly widened when he heard you reply. He didn't know you heard, and felt a bit bad for saying that.

You turned forward, not paying attention to the rest, as you went near the place where the dolls were.

You didn't notice the four moving to stand besides you.

Turning to them, you calmly spoke,

“So we should introduce ourselves first I suppose.”

The first to speak up was the first pretty guy, and his voice matched his face, it was soothing and just…

“Lee Heeseung. Third year music student.”

A senior? Oh, he got even more attractive.

And the small smile he gave off after he spoke definitely did not help with your heart fluttering.

Another guy cleared his throat and it was pretty guy #2.

“Park Sunghoon. Second year psychology student.”

Your eyes widened a tad bit before you pointed out,

“Oh woah, same!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, second year psych.”

You smiled at him in content, glad you found someone who was having the same major.

“Uh, I am Sim Jaeyun but you can just call me Jake. Second year too but major in Physics!”

You really liked the sort of excitement he carried, it showed how he was a bit nervous but it was kind of…cute. And a physics major?! He was probably very intelligent.

In fact all of them were.

“I'm Jay. Park Jongseong. Second year culinary arts student.”

It was the guy who had some beef with you even when you didn't know who he was until now.

Too bad, such a good looking fellow had a weird prejudice issue.

You just nodded in acknowledgement at his introduction, trying your best not to roll your eyes with the way he spoke to you like you were just a bother in his routine. Dismissively and just merely out of convenience.

“Well. Nice to meet you guys, I think you must have figured out my name but yeah I'm Y/N, second year psych.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon nodded as they raised their hands to shake yours. You were a bit taken aback but you gladly shook their hands one by one.

Even Jay’s despite, and you may have squeezed his hand a bit tighter. Just a little for him to perhaps get a message.

“I see you've introduced yourselves.”

A voice spoke up from beside you, to which you internally groaned as you faced him.

Mr Jeon, was a psychologist. He was a teacher so it means he was a master in the subject because after all to be a teacher in anything, you have to be a master in it. He surely knew a fake smile when he saw one.

And you were wearing one right now as if your entire grade depended on it.

“Yes, yes we have.”

He turned towards the rest of your group, briefly smiling at them all and they were the typical college adults, smiling back awkwardly.

“Well, now pick your child and tell me the name, so you all can go as you please.”

“Right, yes, we're just doing that.”

To say the least, picking the child was something you didn't realize was as tasking.

Tasking because it seemed none of you could come to an agreement to choose which one.

Too creepy. Too ugly. Too dull.

“Guys. Come on, it's a fucking toddler. Just. Pick.”

As displeasing as you were to say it, you were glad Jay was able to control them. It seems it was something he did a lot.

Now that that daunting task was done. Another hassle comes. A bigger one.

Picking a name.

“Ethan.”

“No, we are not naming it your English name.”

“You have different names??”

“Bob.”

“I am not naming my child Bob, like what is that, a Bob cut?”

“Bob-bob cuts are hairstyles how is that even—”

“Jerry.”

“Wow, a mouse. You're so smart Y/N,”

“ If you don't shut the fuck up—”

After a whole bunch of disagreements, friendships almost breaking, a lot of seeing things you shouldn't in the first meeting, you finally got a name.

“Jaeyhoon.”

“What like a combo of Sunghoon and mine's name?” Jake asked to which you nodded and also added,

“Yes but Jay is there too, a Y after J-A-E. Fully spelt J-A-E-Y-H-O-O-N.”

“Hey! Where's my name there?” Heeseung asked to which you rolled your eyes at his pout. It was cute though.

“You can put your last name. Lee Jaeyhoon.”

And unexpectedly, Jay spoke up,

“And what about your name?”

“Uh I didn't think about adding mine.”

“How about its middle name? Lee Y/N Jaeyhoon.” Sunghoon said to which you actually didn't mind the sound of it.

Picking up the baby from the cart you raised it, “Welcome to the family Lee Y/N Jaeyhoon.”

It seemed as though it was happy with the name because next thing you know it's giggling to which you got slightly horrified and almost threw it out of your hands.

Luckily, Jay was there near you and was able to catch the child before any damage could be done right from the beginning.

“You should be more careful.”

“Sorry, sorry I didn't expect it…it to laugh.”

“It's not it, it's a he.”

You narrowed your eyes at his demeaning tone, about to retort when Heeseung waved his phone in front of you.

“We're going to be needing your number, so we'll create a group chat where we'll discuss how we go about this whole thing.”

You agreed by nodding and grabbed his phone. Typing in your number, you gave yourself a call so as to have his number.

“Okay. I think we're done for today aren't we? We can discuss what to do ahead after the lunch break?”

You didn't even realize it was almost 12 pm and your stomach grumbled in hunger.

“Righttt, well who's going to take the little human around for now? We can talk about what and how to go about after lunch?”

You asked around to which Sunghoon replied,

“How about we all just sit at the same table? Seeing we'll be talking afterwards anyways.”

Seems fair.

Though I should probably inform Niki, Sun, and Won.

“Sure, let's go then.”

a/n : GUYS ITS UP🙏🙏 FINALLY. also yes this is very much more writing based but it's just for you all to get an idea/brief intro to the characters, further going it'll have less written and more smaus parts! ( I hope) don't worry next chap you won't need to wait 29921 days. also Jay alr having need with u liek 😭😭 anways I'll do my best to upload asap <3 let me know what you think of this!!

taglist ( open ) : @strxwberry-skiess ; @whippedforbeomgyu ; @urszn ; @cha3w0n-hearts ; @cassie6392 ; @nicholasluvbot : @xiaoderrrr ; @eleanorheartschishiya ; @wonunuwoo ; @antonsgirlfriend ; @aygotnobitches ; @dimplewonie ; @hoeinthehouse ; @belovedsthings

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

links : main navigation | enhypen masterlist | info

#— gtg 📃 #[ pri works ] #heeseung x reader #sunghoon x reader #jake x reader #jay x reader #enhypen #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #jake #jay #sunghoon #heeseung #enhypen smau #heeseung smau #jay smau #jake smau #sunghoon smau #enhypen fanfiction

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me Final🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - get some tissues..

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 24

In time, it became evident that he was letting his health go. His behavior at times was deliberately self-destructive. On a few occasions he’d say, “I’ll never make it much beyond forty.” We’ve all made such statements, but with Matt the thought was deep-seated and chronic. Mary Lou had died at forty-two and, like Mary Lou, he wanted to go before his father, sensing that he himself couldn’t bear another loss.

From time to time, I’d hear that he had checked into the hospital. Concerned, I’d call, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he’d say, laughing a little to show me it was all a big joke. “I just need a little rest, Sattnin.” Then I realized he’d gone to the hospital for the same reason he had during his Army days. It was his way of taking a little rest; he needed to get out of Graceland and away from all the pressures.

By 1976 everyone was becoming alarmed over his mental state as well as his physical appearance. His face was bloated, his body unnaturally heavy. The more people tried to talk to him about this, the more insistent he became that everything was all right.

The Colonel was even concerned about Matt’s actions while onstage. Matt started forgetting lyrics and resorting to sheet music. He was acting erratic by ignoring the audience and playing to the band. A few shows were canceled and no one could predict whether or not he’d appear onstage.

In the absence of any significant professional challenge, Matt created his own real-life dramas. His fascination with guns was now an obsession. He became paranoid over death threats, and from his association with the Boston local police, he had access to lists of local drug pushers. He felt he personally should get them off the streets. Phoning me late one evening, he said, “y/nn, you have anyone you want taken care of? Strictly top secret.”

The style, grace, and pride that for the past eight years had been the hallmark of a Sturniolo live performance now bordered on self-parody. Frustrated with the lack of challenge of each passing show, Matt resorted to sheer flamboyance, symbolized by his costumes, each more elaborate than the one before, loaded with an overabundance of fake stones, studs, and fringes. There were voluminous capes and cumbersome belts to match. He was performing in garb that added thirty-five pounds to his weight. It was as if he were determined to upstage himself instead of relying on his raw talent.

There were times in his final year that he would be criticized on how he related to his audience. Some people observed that he joked around with his band too much and left his songs unfinished. Once Matt even complained from the stage about “bad management” at the hotel, citing a certain employee at the Hilton who was being fired. The following day Colonel William asked Matt to stick to his own business—entertaining—and let the hotel handle its help. James tended to take Matt’s side on this as on every issue, but the Colonel had a right to be concerned.

One of the guys actually told Matt he was beginning to look more like a Liberace act in the hope that Matt would take the hint and come to his senses and rely on just his talent. But from the beginning Matt had insisted: “I just want to read positive reviews. I don’t want to hear any negativity.” As a teenager he’d been shielded by Mary Lou from criticism. When she’d filled her albums and scrapbooks, she’d used only the favorable clippings. If he hadn’t been so sheltered, he might have had a better perspective on his career. At least he’d have been aware of what was being written about him and possibly used some of the comments constructively.

No matter what he did, his fans still cheered him on. They were faithful to him through good performances and bad, and eventually their love was the only real gratification he received. They endorsed everything he did. Maybe as long as he was getting their cheers, he thought he was doing fine. But in fact Colonel William was right when he told Matt that he’d better get himself straightened out or his whole career would go down the drain.

His personal life was not helping the situation. He was seeing Ginger Alden, who was twenty years his junior, and the difference in their ages was becoming more and more of a problem. He’d say, “I’m tired of raising kids. I don’t have the patience to go through it all over again.” There were conflicts—many. Ginger did not like touring, one-night stands. She was close to her family and didn’t want to leave them. Matt tried bringing half her family with them, but that only created other problems. “She spends more time with her sister and mother than she does with me,” he complained.

In discussing his dilemma, I asked, “Do you think you can really live with just one woman?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Now more than ever. I know I’ve done some stupid things, but the stupidest was not realizing what I had until I lost it. I want my family back.”

I wondered if there was some way we could make it work. “Maybe it was just too early in life for us, Sattnin,” I said. “Maybe one day there will be a time for us.”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “When I’m seventy and you’re sixty. We’ll both be so old we’ll look really silly, racing around in golf carts.”

In April 1977 Matt fell ill and had to cancel his tour and return home to Graceland. Charlotte and I were there visiting Dodger. He called me up to his room. He did not look himself; his face and body were bloated. He was wearing pajamas, which he seemed to prefer these days when at home. He held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers and told me there was something he wanted me to read. His curiosity for answers had not abated. He was still searching for his purpose in life, still feeling he had not found his calling. If he had found a cause to espouse, whether a drugless society or world peace, he would have had the role he sought in life. His generosity was evidence of this part of his nature—his legendary penchant for giving, even to the countless people he didn’t know.

But he never found a crusade to pull him out of his cloistered world, a discipline strong enough to counter his escape into drugs. That night he read to me, searching for answers, just as he had done the year before and the year before that and the years before that.

It was August 16, 1977, overcast and dreary, not a typical Southern California day. When I walked outside, there was a stillness, an unnatural calm in the air that I have not experienced since. I almost went back into the house, unable to shake my uneasiness. I had a meeting that morning and by noon I was racing to meet my sister Michelle. On my way into Hollywood I noticed the atmosphere had not changed. It still seemed unusually silent and depressing and it had begun to drizzle. As I drove down Melrose Avenue, I saw Michelle standing on the corner, a look of concern on her face. “y/nn, I just got a call from Dad,” she said as I pulled up. “Nate’s been trying to reach you. It’s something about Matt in the hospital.” Nate Doe was Matt’s road manager and right-hand man. I froze. If he was trying to reach me, something must be terribly wrong. I told Michelle to take her car and quickly follow me home. the hospital all year; there were times when he wasn’t even sick that he’d check in for a rest, to get away from pressures, or just out of boredom. It had never been anything too serious.

I thought about our daughter, Charlotte, who was visiting Matt at Graceland and was supposed to come home that very day. Oh God, I prayed. Please let everything be all right. Don’t let anything happen, please, dear God.

I ran every red light and nearly hit a dozen cars. At last, I reached home, and as I swerved down the driveway, I could hear the phone ringing from inside the house. Please don’t hang up, I prayed, jumping out of the car and running toward the door. “I’m coming,” I yelled. I tried to get my key in the lock, but my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally I got into the house, grabbed the receiver, and yelled, “Hello, hello?”

All I could hear was the hum of a longdistance line, then a stricken, faint voice, “y/nn. It’s Nate.”

“What’s happened, Nate?”

“It’s Matt.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me.”

“y/nn, he’s dead.”

“Nate, don’t tell me that. Please!”

“We’ve lost him.”

“No. NO!” I begged him to take back his words. Instead, he was silent. “We’ve lost him—” His voice broke and we both began to cry. “Nate, where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“She’s okay. She’s with Grandma.”

“Thank God. Nate, send a plane for me, please. And hurry. I want to come home.”

As I hung up, Michelle and Mother, who had just arrived, embraced me and we cried in each other’s arms. Within minutes the phone rang again. For a moment I hoped for a miracle; they were calling me back to tell me that Matt was still alive, that it was all right, that it had all been a bad dream.

But there were no miracles. “Mommy, Mommy,” Charlotte was saying. “Something’s happened to Daddy.” “I know, Baby,” I whispered. “I’ll be there soon. I’m waiting for the plane now.”

“Everybody’s crying, Mommy.”

I felt helpless. What could I say to her? I couldn’t even find words to comfort myself. I feared what she would be hearing. She didn’t yet know that he had died. All I kept saying over and over was, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to stay in Grandma’s room, away from everyone.” In the background I could hear a grief-stricken James moaning in agony. “My son’s gone. Dear God, I’ve lost my son.”

Fortunately a child’s innocence provides its own protection. Death was not yet a reality to her. She said she’d go out and play with Laura, her friend.

I hung up and walked around in a daze, still numb with shock. The news hit the media instantly. My phones did not stop ringing, with friends trying to cope with the shock, members of the family grasping for explanations, and the press demanding statements. I locked myself in the bedroom and left instructions that I would not speak to anyone, that I wanted to be alone. In fact, I wanted to die. Love is very deceiving. Though we were divorced, Matt was still an essential part of my life. Over the last years we’d become good friends, admitting the mistakes we’d made in the past and just beginning to laugh at our shortcomings. I could not face the reality that I would never see him alive again. He had always been there for me. I depended on him, just as he depended on me. We had a bond: We’d become closer and had more understanding and patience for each other than in our married life. We had even talked of one day  . . . And now he was gone. I remembered our last phone conversation, just a few days before. His mood had been good as he talked about the twelve-day tour he was about to begin. He even laughed when he told me that, as usual, the Colonel had papered the first city they were scheduled to hit with his posters and that his records were being played constantly in advance of his arrival.

“Good old Colonel,” Matt had said. “We’ve come a long way. He’s still puttin’ out that same old stuff. It’s a wonder people are still buying it.”

I loved hearing Matt laugh, something he had been doing less and less. Just days before that last call, I’d heard that his spirits were down and he was contemplating breaking up with Ginger Alden, his girlfriend. I knew him well enough to realize that this was not an easy move for him to make. If only I’d known that would be the last time I’d talk to him, I’d have said so much more: things I wanted to say and never had, things I’d held inside me for so many years because the timing was always wrong.

He had been a part of my life for eighteen years. When we met, I had just turned fourteen. The first six months I spent with him were filled with tenderness and affection. Blinded by love, I saw none of his faults or weaknesses. He was to become the passion of my life.

He taught me everything: how to dress, how to walk, how to apply makeup and wear my hair, how to behave, how to return love his way. Over the years he became my father, husband, and very nearly God. Now he was gone and I felt more alone and afraid than ever in my life.

The hours went by slowly before Matt’s private plane, the Charlotte Grace, arrived. Behind closed doors I sat and waited, remembering our life together—the joy, the pain, the sadness, and the triumphs—from the very first time I heard his name.

We boarded the Charlotte Grace around nine o’clock that evening, just my parents, Michelle, Jerry Schilling, Amber Doe, and a few close friends. At first, I just sat alone, in despair. Then I went to the back of the plane, to Matt’s bedroom. I lay there, unable to believe that Matt was really dead.

I remembered the jokes Matt used to make about dying. He’d say, “It’d really take something for me to leave this earth.” Yet he wore a chain around his neck that had both a cross and a Star of David on it. He would joke about it, saying he wanted to be covered in all areas, just in case.

He’d had a fear of flying, but he never showed it. Matt never showed any of his fears. He felt he had a responsibility to make everyone else feel secure. So he gave the impression he was self-assured, because he didn��t want to let any of us down.

I thought of a time when we were on a flight home from Los Angeles. There was a lot of turbulence, and the plane was shaking badly. Everyone on board was frightened. Everyone but Matt. When I looked at him, he was smiling, and then he took my hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re gonna make it.” Suddenly, I felt safe. There was a certainty about Matt. If he said it was going to be, then it was going to be that way.

The trip seemed endless. By the time we reached Boston, I was numb. We were ushered into a waiting limousine, to avoid the crush of photographers. Then we sped off to Graceland, where we were met by frantic, disbelieving faces: relatives and close friends, the maids—the same people who had been around us for so many years. I had spent most of my life with these people and seeing them now was devastating.

Most of Matt’s close family—James, Grandma, her daughters, Delta and Nash, and others—congregated in Grandma’s room, while his friends, and the guys who worked for him, were mostly gathered in the den. Everyone else seemed to just be walking in and out of the rooms, silent and solemn, glancing around in disbelief.

Charlotte was outside on the lawn, with a friend, riding around on the golf cart that her father had given her. At first I was amazed that she was able to play at a time like this, but when I talked to her, I realized that the full impact of what happened hadn’t hit her yet. She’d seen the paramedics rushing Matt away, and he was still at the hospital when I’d arrived, so Charlotte was confused.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is my daddy really gone?”

Again, I was really at a loss for words. She was our child. It was difficult enough for me to believe and confront Matt’s death myself. I just didn’t know how to tell her that she would never see her daddy again.

I nodded, then took her into my arms. We hugged and then she ran out and started riding around in her golf cart again. But now I was glad she could play. I knew it was her way of avoiding reality.

The night seemed endless. Several of us sat around the dining room table talking, and it was then that I learned the circumstances of Matt’s death. I was told that Matt had played racquetball with his cousin, Billy Smith, until four o’clock that morning, while Billy’s wife, Jo, and Matt’s girlfriend, Ginger, watched them. Then they all presumably retired for the night. But as Ginger slept, Matt stayed up to read. He called down to his Aunt Delta for some ice water and said he was having a hard time sleeping.

Matt was still reading when Ginger woke up at nine o’clock that morning, and then she went back to sleep until about 1 p.m. When she awoke, Matt was not in bed. She found him lying face down on his bathroom floor.

Ginger called downstairs, and Al Strada and Nate Doe came running up. After calling the paramedics, Nate gave Matt CPR until they arrived. As the paramedics were leaving to rush Matt to the hospital, his personal physician, “Dr. Joe,” arrived and rode in the ambulance, working on Matt all the way to Baptist Memorial. There the staff tried for another half an hour to revive Matt, but it was all futile. He was pronounced dead on arrival of heart failure. James then requested an autopsy. The body was taken to the Boston Funeral Home to be prepared for viewing in Graceland the following day.

As I sat listening to the events leading up to Matt’s last hours, I became more and more disturbed. There were so many questions. Matt was seldom left alone for any length of time.

Suddenly I knew I had to be alone. I went upstairs to Matt’s private suite, where we had spent so much of our life together. The rooms were more orderly than I’d expected. Many of his personal belongings were gone; his nightstand was bare of books.

I went into his dressing room and it was as if I could sense his living presence—his own unique scent filled the room. It was an eerie sensation.

From the dining room window I could see thousands of people out on Matt Sturniolo Boulevard waiting for the hearse that would bring his body back to Graceland. His music filled the air as radio stations throughout the nation paid tribute to the King.

Soon the casket was placed in the entrance hall and opened for viewing. I sat in Grandma’s room most of that afternoon as thousands of mourners from all over the world passed by, paying their last respects. Many wept; some men and women even fainted. Others lingered at the casket, refusing to believe it was him. He was truly loved, admired, and respected.

I waited for the right moment for Lisa and me to say goodbye. It was late that evening, and Matt had already been moved to the living room where the funeral was to be held. It was quiet; everyone had left. Together we stood over him, emotional. “You look so peaceful, Sattnin, so rested. I know you’ll find happiness and all the answers there.” Then I joked, “Just don’t cause any trouble at the Pearly Gates.” Charlotte took my hand and we placed a sterling silver bracelet depicting a mother and child’s clasped hands on his right wrist. “We’ll miss you.” I knew my life would never be the same.

Colonel came to the funeral wearing his usual baseball hat, shirt, and slacks. He disguised his emotions as best he could. Matt had been like his own son. From the old school, the Colonel was considered a coldhearted businessman, but in truth he had stayed faithful and loyal to Matt, even when his career began to slip. This day he asked James to sign a contract extending his position as Matt’s manager. He was already planning ways to keep Matt’s name before the public. He acted quickly, fearful that with Matt gone, James would be too distraught to handle correctly the many proposals and propositions that would be in the offing. James signed.

At the service, Charlotte and I sat with James and his new fiancée, Sandy Miller, Dodger, Delta, Patsy, my parents, Michelle, and the rest of the family. George Hamilton was there. Julia Ernst attended with her husband, Roger Smith. Julia expressed her sympathy so sincerely I felt a genuine bond with her.

J.D. and the Stamps Quartet sang Matt’s favorite gospel songs. James had chosen the preacher, a man who hardly knew Matt and spoke mostly of his generosity. Matt would probably have laughed and told his dad, “Couldn’t you have got a comedian or something?” Matt would not have wanted us to grieve.

After the service we drove to the cemetery, Charlotte and I riding with James and Sandy. It was three miles away and for the whole three miles both sides of the street were lined with mourners, and at the cemetery there were thousands more. The pallbearers—Jerry Schilling, Nate Doe, George Klein, Steven Wright, Billy Smith, Charlie Hodge, Dr. Joe, and Gene Smith—carried the casket to the marble mausoleum where Matt was finally laid to rest. There we held a short ceremony and, one by one, walked to the coffin, kissed or touched it, and spoke a few words of farewell. Shortly after, for security reasons, he was moved to Graceland in the meditation garden, his final resting place.

Before Charlotte and I returned to L.A., James called me to his office. He was overwhelmed with grief. Did I know anything that would help him to understand why his son had died? He never fully accepted it, and I believed his pain led to his own death, just as Grandma later never recovered from James’s death.

When Charlotte and I returned home I was torn, trying to decide what was best for her. Many conflicting stories were coming out in the national publications and I knew these could have a lasting negative effect on her memory of her father. I decided to send her to summer camp. There she could be protected from radio, TV, and newspapers and could be with her many friends, including Debbie and Cindy, Nate and Amber’s children.

By the time she returned, I’d already made plans with Michelle for a long trip to Europe. Anything to get away from the constant reminders that filled the media.

Matt’s death made me much more aware of my own mortality and that of the people I loved. I realized I’d better start sharing a lot more with the people that I cared about, and every moment that I had with my child or my parents became more precious.

I learned from Matt, often—sadly—from his mistakes. I learned that having too many people around can sap your energies. I learned the price of trying to make everyone happy. Matt would bestow gifts on some, making others jealous, often creating rivalries and anxieties within the group. I learned to confront people, and to face issues—two steps Matt had avoided.

I learned to take charge of my life. Matt had been so young when he became a star that he was never able to handle the power and money that accompanied his fame. In many ways, he was a victim, destroyed by the very people who catered to his every want and need. He was a victim, too, of his image. His public wanted him to be perfect while the press mercilessly exaggerated his faults. He never had the chance to be human, to grow up to be a mature adult, to experience the world outside his artificial cocoon.

When Matt Sturniolo died, a little of our own lives was taken from each of us who knew and loved Matt Sturniolo, who shared in his music, his films, who followed his career. His passion was entertaining his friends and fans. His audience was his true love. And the love Matt and I shared was a deep and abiding one.

He was, and remains, the greatest influence in my life.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad endings actually kill me. i cried multiple times. thank you so much for all the love & support on this story i really enjoyed it. let me know what kind of writing you would like to see next🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

[shawtythatluvsurgut]

i have something i’d like to say. my OF has all my content on it. when you subscribe, you are subscribing for access to that content. an OF subscription does not make you entitled to a custom or any content you desire. tipping is what gives you that privilege. most people are respectful and converse their idea with me before they tip so that i know how they want the video made. i appreciate that a lot. if you don’t do that, i will film it however i want to because you didn’t specify. but coming into my messages, demanding a custom without tipping and then getting mad after i film it that it’s not done a certain way is bullshit. “i already paid for the subscription though” yes and you get access to over 900 pieces of media with that subscription. i have to make general content on top of customs, so i ONLY MAKE CUSTOMS IF YOU ARE WILLING TO TIP. customs cost money to make due to how much i tend to eat for them, and they’re more personal so they take more time and effort. a lot of you understand that and respect that, but the people who don’t are really starting to drive me crazy. i had to block TWO people on OF today, one because he was demanding and rude without paying me anything even AFTER i made his video, and another because he straight up started insulting and degrading me when i refused to make him a free custom.

if you want to act entitled, go do that somewhere else. i know that some spaces in this community are fine with that, but this is not one of them. i have a nice community that helps each other out and i am not going to let that be ruined. take that bs elsewhere. respect content creators. we’re human beings with feelings and limited time in the day, too. life gets busy. try to treat others the way you want to be treated. i’m tired of being degraded everywhere i turn. it’s just annoying.

thanks. psa done.

#nico speaks #ffa #onlyfats #female feedee

[brainrot-of-a-thot]

requests are officially open.

so, I have decided to open my askbox permanently for those who wish to request something from me. however, before sending in a request, there is just one thing I ask of you to keep in mind —

I’m the mother of a toddler, and I survive pretty much off of caffeine and my own daydreams.

edit: as another note to this, I was very recently diagnosed with asd (autism spectrum disorder), and it does affect my writing from time to time; for the most part, it doesn’t affect it horribly, especially when I’m hyper-fixated on something. but it could kill my motivation at times.

the reason I bring this particular fact up is that, depending on the length/detail of a particular request and whether or not it coincides with particular events in my life, it could take me awhile to write it. so, I guess all I ask is you keep in mind that patience is a virtue? lol. okay, with that out of the way, I’ll move on to my rules.

fandoms: this blog is exclusive to the windbreaker (nii satoru) fandom

maturity/genre: I essentially don’t have a filter on this. e for everyone, pg-13, nc17, rated r; fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort — it doesn’t matter. I will write anything.

is dark content okay to request?: to an extent, yes. I haven’t ever really written anything explicitly dark (just a few fics with dub-con elements) but I’m also not triggered very easily, so I am open to dabbling in darker content. [pedophilia is an absolute no-go; I will not write fics about an adult abusing/taking advantage of a minor/child.]

what constitutes as dark content?: this could vary from person to person, but for me, dark content consists of: stalking/yandere, non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, drugging, extremely toxic relationships, and other things along those lines.

how many reqs can I send in?: there is no limit. you can request as many fics as you want, with differing themes, characters, and ratings. [the only thing I ask you to keep in mind is that I do not work requests in a ‘first come, first serve’ sort of way — for me, it’s a matter of interest and how well my brain flows with the idea. my creative juices aren’t infinite, unfortunately.]

where do I send my requests?: preferably, through the askbox. I like the fact that it offers the option for requesters to do so anonymously — as an introvert who would be highly embarrassed to send in a super detailed req with my blog name attached to it, it warms my little heart. though, if you’d rather send in a req through the comment section of a post, you can do that too. [note: it may take me longer to find your request that way.]

requests and anonymity: as mentioned above, requests can be sent anonymously — but I can also take it a step further for your comfort. rather than creating the post directly from your ask, I can create it via an entirely new post (meaning, your specific ask won’t be linked to the resulting fic). all you have to do include that within your request, such as saying ‘can you make the post separate’ and I will do it. if you wish, I can briefly summarize your request within the post — or, if you’d prefer, not do so at all. you’re in control here, love.

I know these rules were long and probably pretty boring to sift through, but I appreciate anyone who did. happy requesting, my loves! let’s get some more windbreaker content on here!

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker #windbreaker x reader

[judesmoonbeauty]

Alfons Sylvatica Chapter 3 - Semi-Summary

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a SEMI-SUMMARY of each chapter. I am roughly translating this with out much research other than specific lines from certain scenes. Why? Because it's a huge task to translate a main route chapter line by line. So, this is what we're working with, and I appreciate your understanding ♥︎ Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my summaries elsewhere. Minors: Please DNI or consume this content. CW: Dub-Con. Dividers: @/natimiles

From that day forward, Kate becomes his exclusive fairytale keeper, but she tries to keep her distance from Alfons. Since Alfons is a quiet person, you never know when he will show up and she is anxious about that. Alfons pops up behind her and scares her when he says hello, and she immediately hides her neck with her hands. Alfons calls her cute, and tells her that he won’t do anything so she should come closer to him.

Of course, she doesn’t trust him and she tells him that she doesn’t want to do that and not to follow her, but Alfons tells her not to be such a bore. She recalls that since she’s tried to avoid Alfons, she’s gotten to know the other Crown members better - like Liam. A witty, talented actor, who sometimes does dangerous things with Alfons when he loses control. As for Harrison - although aloof, he often lends a helping hand with a casual attitude. And though is curse is that of the lying fox, she feels he his a gentle liar. Jude & Ellis - are often absent because they run a company. Jude is difficult to approach, but Ellis is gentle. Victor & William - she can never tell what the two founders of Crown are thinking, but you should never make enemies of them.

And about Alfons, when she asks about him, they all say: “He’s a pleasure seeking criminal who likes feeling good.”

In the kitchen, Kate feels tired after a long of information gathering on the Crown guys, so she is making tea and bread, and naturally Alfons pops up behind her without warning.

Alfons: Thank you for another hard day’s work

Kate: Alfons?!

Alfons: I’ll make tea for the hardworking miss robin myself.

(When did you get into the kitchen…?!)

Kate: I’m fine, thank you, don’t worry about it…..

Alfons: Well, don’t say that.

Alfons took the pot from her hand and began to elegantly make tea which impresses her because of how graceful his movements were.

Alfons: Here you go.

He places a tea cup and saucer in front of her and she quickly accepts them to cover up the fact that she was admiring him just now.

Kate: Thank you very much.

When she looks into the cup she asks what kind it is because it is blue, and Alfons explains that it’s an herbal tea called “Mallow Blue”, and over time it turns purple in color. Kate watches it curiously has the deep blue color slowly becomes a mottled vermilion. She’s never seen such a tea before and Alfons tells her with a smile to try it. She takes a sip and enjoys the faint aroma while remarking that it is tasty. Kate enjoys it so much that it puts her at ease, something she hasn’t felt in a while and so her feelings of cautiousness weaken.

Alfons: That’s good to hear. There’s one more interesting change, would you like to see it?

Kate: An interesting change….?

A few drops from a vial change the tea into a pale pink color. Kate thinks it’s beautiful - just like magic! It made her feel like a frolicking child again. Alfons sneers at her with a smile and asks if she’s recovered her mood a little bit? Kate replies that she’s been trying to avoid him and now that he finds her, this is what he does?

Alfons: Yes. I’d like to talk more with you.

Kate: ….!

Alfons pokes her on the nose which makes her heart skip a beat, and Kate tells him that if he wants to talk to her then not do that recalling the sweet sensation of them touching when she was under the perception of being his lover. So, every time he touches her, she tingles. Alfons sits at the table and starts drinking his portion of tea, and Kate mentions that it’s not polite to just invite himself to sit at the table and sip tea.

Alfons: I cheated a woman to bed the day after we met, and you think I have some integrity or respect for manners?

Kate calls him mean to stirring up the upset feelings she’d been trying to forget, and Alfons retorts that that’s disturbing since he was the nicest guy in bed to her. After all, it’s better to be occupied with things that feel good and bring pleasure. He asks her that she’s heard stories about him, hasn’t she? He loves to feel good. She looks at him and notices something about his smile, which makes her feel uncomfortable.

Kate: ……..is what you just said true?

Alfons: Yes?

(Oh…..what am I asking?)

Kate thinks she must be going crazy for asking him such a thing, but she just can’t ignore the discomfort that had rose from within her mind.

Kate: Just now….Alfons…. I somehow feel that you weren’t really smiling.

Alfons: ………

Alfons blinks at her as if caught by surprise and Kate felt that was a genuine expression. She leans forward and looks into his eyes like she was trying to reach for something, but before she could grasp it, it crumbled away like sand.

Alfons: ……is that the kind of me you’re looking for?

Kate: What?

Alfons: I’m an empty person who likes to have fun, but in fact I’m not having any fun…..That’s the way you want this.

Alfons: Hmm, I see.

Kate: I’m not talking about my preferences. That's easy to hide...

Kate’s words were interrupted only because Alfons pressed his lips against hers.

Kate: …!!

Alfons: ….Hehe.

Alfons: Keep up the good work and keep your mind occupied with me.

Dumbfounded as their lips part with a chuffing sound, he left the kitchen with a glossy smile on his face. She wipes her lips and swallows down the last of the blue mallow tea. Kate is upset and says she doesn’t care about his wanting to feel good or the meaning of his smile, she doesn’t want to be pushed around by him anymore. And while she wished for that…….

It had been several days since she had seen Alfons, it was like he had just disappeared. While she didn’t mind that he wasn’t pestering her she asks Roger if he knows where Alfons is at, and he tells her this sort of thing happens all the time. Elbert chimes in that he thinks that he’s in London somewhere….maybe. Kate thinks about his relationship with Elbert, and asks him why he let’s Alfons act on his own if he is Elbert’s attendant?

Elbert says it’s a little different than an attendant since Alfons is like a childhood friend who’s been with him since he was little. Kate is surprised since Elbert is an Earl, and while she doesn’t know the names of the noble families she wonders if they use the term “attendant” since Elbert has a higher title. She heard that because Elbert’s curse, he is searching for the most beautiful thing and Alfons is helping him.

Elbert always looks melancholy and Alfons always has a smile plastered on his face. It’s hard to believe the two are good friends. Elbert interrupts her thoughts by saying that he doesn’t hold Alfons’ actions in his hands and apologizes. She says it’s okay, and asks if they know where he usually goes and Roger says clubs, speakeasies, or opium dens. Roger asks if she’s worried about him and she denies it, but she wonders if Alfons genuinely laughs while in such places. If so, then how would he laugh? Not that she’s really curious about it. She slaps herself on her cheeks and Elbert asks if she is okay?

[Next] [Master List]

#alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #ikevil translations #ikemen villains #Ikémen villains translations #IkeVil JP spoilers

[infiniteeight8]

If you're still interested in the series... Soul and Tony? IronStrange

I am absolutely still interested in this series, Anon! I have so many notes. I’d have written more of it already, except when I have other prompts I feel compelled to keep up with those, instead. So you have resolved this dilemma for me. 😀

After last the last ficlet in this series, Tony was due for a bit of a freak out...

The other parts of Tony & Soul can be found here. 

-

The more Tony thinks about Soul’s powers, the more unsettled he gets. 

If a ghost was effectively a soul—and both Stephen and Soul had said it was—then it followed that the nature of the soul was independent of the human body. Which made sense given the transformations he knew Stephen was capable of: no matter what he did to his body, his soul remained the same. 

Further, given that astral projection was a thing—and Stephen had demonstrated it several times—the body didn’t have to be dead in order for the soul to go walkabout. 

So if a soul could be removed from a living body, and a disembodied soul could be encouraged to pass on into the afterlife, what was stopping Tony from killing people just by pulling their souls out and sending them on?

Soul? Tony demanded.

Nothing, the Soul Stone admitted. Such a thing is entirely within your power. Tony shifted uneasily, and Soul stirred. How is killing them this way any different than shooting them with a gun? 

It just is. Tony hadn’t even believed in souls until recently, but they still felt sacrosanct. The core of who you are should be something outside of anyone’s control but your own. 

An isolated soul is a damaged soul, the Stone insisted. All souls are connected, and therefore all souls are subject to influence. Your influence is greater in many ways, this is just one more.

Influence is one thing, control is another, Tony says. No matter how much someone influences me, the choice is ultimately mine. Even if the options are shitty, I still get to pick from the shitty options. But what I can do, what you can do, is more than that. If I can pull a soul out of someone, can I put it back?

Yes.

Tony took a shaky breath. What if I wanted to put it back somewhere else? Can I play musical chairs with people’s souls?

There’s a pause. Soul feels reluctant. Tony knows the answer before it comes: Yes.

When you warned me not to make contact with that boy’s ghost, Tony goes on, despite the dread that was slowly filling him. What would have happened if I had?

Several things are possible, Soul hedged.

Give me the worst news first, Tony says. Soul hesitates, and Tony waits. He needs to know this.

You could have consumed him, Soul admits. Absorbed his soul and used it to strengthen your own.

Tony swallows down a surge of nausea. His knees feel shaking, but he’s already sitting down. His breath is coming faster. His heart is racing. He drops his head into his hands, struggling to breathe. This wasn’t right, this couldn’t be his life now, he wasn’t the right person, he couldn’t, he couldn’t—

Slowly, Tony becomes aware of a hand resting on his back and another curled around his forearm. A deep voice is murmuring nearby. Tony’s breathing slows bit by bit, and eventually he raises his head to meet Stephen’s gaze.

“Soul called Time, and Time directed me here,” Stephen explains. 

“Makes sense.” Tony takes a shaky breath. “Soul and I were talking about some of the things I can do now. Which apparently includes consuming people’s souls to make my own more powerful.” Stephen winces, but doesn’t seem surprised. Tony stares at him for a minute. “How does that not horrify you?” he demands.

Stephen grimaces. “Sorcerers can do something similar. Not with souls specifically, but with magical creatures, some of which are sentient. It’s frowned upon, but… not forbidden.”

“Not forbidden,” Tony repeats, swallowing down an edge of hysteria. “I really didn’t know what I was getting into when I said yes to this whole deal. I don’t want to be doing this, Stephen. I don’t want to be dealing with ghosts, I don’t want to lie to all my friends, I don’t want to be the guy who gets to decide when it’s okay to suck out someone’s soul, and I don’t want to live forever!” 

“I know,” Stephen says simply. That’s… not what Tony was expecting. He stares. Stephen goes on: “When I found Kamar-Taj, all I wanted was to heal my hands. I didn’t want to be a sorcerer. I didn’t want to be the keeper of the time stone. And I certainly didn’t want to spend 14 million lives facing down Thanos and losing.” He spread his hands. “But the alternative was the death of half of all life. For both of us. Even now, would you choose that instead?”

All the anger drained out of Tony. “No.”

Stephen slowly, carefully takes Tony’s hand. “I know this is hard, but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Tony doesn’t know the name for the feeling rolling off of Stephen now. It’s deep, and intense, and a little like love, but not exactly like that. Whatever it is, there’s a certainty to it that steadies Tony. He takes a deep breath and gently squeezes Stephen’s hand. “Okay, then.”

#IronStrange #ficlet #Tony & Soul

[whentheleahvesfall]

Hero & Partner Week - Day 2 - Evolution

Writing (Diary Entry)

A dark, everglowing night. One that I've grown so accustomed to that it stands to reason that it remains the same ever since you left me Sprout. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? ...I've lost count of it all at this point.

Not that... it makes much difference anyway in the grand scheme of this world. I mean, who would even remember it anymore anyway? Me? The sole member of the Kipsaurs left? The one who keeps you in my mind so much that ever since you disappeared, I've felt hollow and well... lost? I don't know what's real and what's not anymore at this rate.

...

So um... I guess I'll write about what's it been like since you left. Um... well, as things stand, here in the Expedition Society - and in Lively Town in general - life has been progressing slowly. For what it's worth, I guess the people in town still look at me as someone helpful. I am a person who does look out for Pokemon in need! But... who's to say I'm the one who needs help? Heh, the hero of the world, the human who came from another era to save this one in the present and now it's all just... gone. And here I am. Now the one who needs saving after all this time. I just... don't really know what I'm missing from myself. Yet as time ticks away, does it make much difference anymore? I don't even know.

...

There's my reflection in the window. Staring back at me is the one person I don't want to see, and it's a Mudkip with a gnawed scar scraped over his right eye. With that stare, I remember a dream coming back to me. You were there. In it, I feel a fleeting feeling come and go, mostly from a reminiscence of when I tried to fight for the world's safety and then... there was a point where I snapped and I ran. I ran away so so fast that it was back in Serene Village and you raced to find me in the spot we would meet up in so much.

The place I said goodbye to you.

The place I wore this scarf as a way of remembering you.

The place where we formed our team, we laughed, we made a promise to each other and the place we cried together.

The place of the beginning and the end. Up there... on the hill with the big tree and with it, the most beautiful view of the valley I've ever seen in my life.

For however long it’s been, I’ve had a lot times together with you in my mind Sprout. A lot of memories. But those memories… slowly begin to fade away as I run away from who I am. Who I’ve become inside.

And you were there in my dream… to tell me to keep moving. You looked at me, those caring eyes of yours, and you stayed behind. To protect me from the demons that were created from my nightmares.

But why? To why were you even here, just looking at me like that? Did I even manage to do something that would warrant any form of recognition? Why would… or rather why would… you even want to help me?

And so on the cusp between dream and reality, the only person keeping me alive in this world was and still is you. Because you gave me no words, only a smile before you faded away and then my scarf began to glow.

My harmony scarf made me evolve, to continue fighting in that dream I had. My scar reminding me of you, when I first met you in this world… and still I fight even now. Whether it’s a dream, whether it’s reality, I don’t even know anymore. Whether I’m a Mudkip, or a Swampert, or whatever form I take now, I guess I still persist in this world, because I’m still me.

And it was only you who ever had complete and utter faith in me that I was only able to ever move forward. You - the outcast of Serene Village - took in the real outcast who came one day without warning.

Me.

And… and you promised me, from that day on, no matter how far apart we were, no matter how hopeless it would seem, you would always be my friend. And now, with you gone…

Can I even keep that promise?

I… I don’t even know anymore. What do I even do? Can you tell me Sprout? As… this scarf means I’m the only one left in the world with the ability to evolve near the Tree of Life, I… I don’t know if I still have some purpose left to fulfill.

Why? Why did you accept Dark Matter? Why did you stop me from destroying it?

To prevent it from coming back?

If so… then… am I the reason it’ll come back anyway? That I have so little faith in myself that I can’t do anything right anymore? I… I don’t know. I just don’t know.

You cared. The others seemingly care.

But do I ever feel properly cared? I guess, if it means anything, just for you… maybe I’ll evolve. Evolve myself… by ridding myself of this guilt of mine. Because my only hope, one way or another and even if it means running away from the Expedition Society…

I just want to see you again. My best friend. My one and only friend.

I miss you Sprout.

…

I miss you so much.

And… I’ll go anywhere, to the ends of this Pokemon world, just to see you again.

…

I’m uh… talking to Xerneas right now and am beginning to also remember my past. About who I was, how I came to be in this world and meeting you… so, so many years in the past before you reincarnated as the Mew of today. My lovable, kind, adventurous and gleaming partner.

How I’m beginning to remember I don’t even know. Mawile said it had something to do with some sort of ancient tablet she found when excavating the site on Showdown Mountain, and that on it was my name. But… just what is my connection still to the past?

And even so… is that even theoretically possible though? You told me I willed myself to this world so I could save it, but I sacrificed my memories so we wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of the future. But now… now I’m having an identity crisis, as the human who was supposed to forget is now the human beginning to remember.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Even now, I think I realise the reason as to why I even forgot was so I couldn’t bear the pain of seeing you leave again. I did it because I cried so much on the hill that sunset came and went and Carracosta began looking for me until he found me still just lying there in a worried mess.

Nothing’s changed though… I’m just… I’m just repeating the same mistakes again over and over. Wherever I go, bad luck follows, or at least that’s how it feels. And no matter what, I just can’t shake the feeling I’m still the reason why you left. Why wasn’t it me who went with you that day?

Am I still fated by this last thing I have of you that I’m never taking off again because without it, I feel so insecure I’m never going to get it back?

I need to… no, I have to keep it. It’s just so important that I can’t evolve without it anymore.

Can’t evolve as you’re my biggest strength in all this. You were my biggest helper. And you’ll always be my light that shined when we were stuck in the Voidlands.

…

It’s getting late now. I’ve written enough now that I guess my thoughts have been fired out onto this little diary of mine. I saw you writing one when I couldn’t sleep one night and this habit of yours kinda just… well, stuck.

I hope you’re still okay, somewhere Sprout, whenever and wherever you are.

Goodnight bud. I… I hope you still care about me, just as how I still care about you.

…

I’ll always remember you.

-Cormac

@heropartnerweek

#pokemon #psmd #pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon super mystery dungeon #cormac/mudkip #writing #heropartnerweek #I wanted to write something for this prompt and rather than do a fight scene I decided instead to go with some angst #not sure how long or short this is in the grand scheme of things but here is something for day 2 #hope you guys enjoy reading it :)

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

ugh had a conversation w someone and i thuink i upset them but also i was in the right

#me: ur neglecting ur pet snake and i think u should find a new home for him bc this is not good for him #them: i am so offended and i can’t do that bc i love him #me: if u loved him u would not neglect him tho #them: so if i take better care of him u will believe that i love him and leave me alone #me: if u need me to tell u to take care if ur pet’s basic needs to do it then i don’t think u really love them #them: i am so fucking offended and i am upset u can’t tell me how i feel #but also like this person was getting pissed bc another person we know takes care of their dogs like the bare minimum and we both were #upset by that but then?? they also don’t take care of their snake and now they’re upset bc i called them out on it? #they’re also upset bc of the “u don’t love ur pet” thing bc like. i can admit that i don’t like. feel love. a lot. like i like the cats #and i would be sad if i could never see them again but if i knew i could not take good care of them i would absolutely find them a new #home. like. idk if i can really feel love a lot? like i don’t love my family and i don’t know if i’ve ever loved my family and i don’t even #know if i’ve ever loved anyone. maybe except for goose i think i would die inside if something bad happened to him. but for the most part #i’ve only ever liked animals not loved them but i would still take care of them bc it’s my responsibility like they deserve care and even #if i’m bad at loving i would never want them to feel unloved and i just find it annoying that this person can claim to love but be content #with this kind of neglect. like i don’t need love to still be nice and take care of pets bc it makes me happy for them to be happy and #healthy so it’s weird to me that someone who claims they love so much (and they do this a lot) to not be bothered. like what is your #love doing for you? like i care but i don’t really love but they love and don’t really care and idk i think they should still care #i wonder if they’d let me take the snake. originally he actually was mine but we got him literally a week before smth happened that made #me fucked in the head so i gave him up because i knew i wasn’t fit to take care of him but i’ve been getting a lot better recently so #i think i’d be able to step back in atp #the real question is if they’d let me

[fingertipsmp3]

Last night’s dream was the first one I’ve had in a long time where I wanted to fall back asleep and stay in it/experience it again

#so i’d moved back to the states under false pretences (student visa whilst having zero plan to do another degree) #and was living with my favourite of the three roommates i had last time i was there. they had however given up weed completely and become #a full blown alcoholic. our apartment was messy as fuck and i was the only person who was cleaning it #at one point a couple of our friends were helping me and they were criticising all the mess and i was like ‘it’s literally not me’ #i was taking classes to maintain the ruse that i was doing something to deserve my student visa and every class i showed up to everyone was #wearing surgical masks for covid. i also had this weird thing going on where i could see everyone irl #but if i wanted to i could see everyone in video game sprite form and i could see whether i’d met them yet and how many hearts i had #with them. and there was this guy i realllly wanted to flirt with so i tried sitting in what i was pretty sure was the seat next to his #but this other guy sat next to me instead and kind of looked at me funny #then he started talking to me unprompted about covid rates on campus and then started flirting with me and then was like ‘btw did you know #who i am?’ and i was like ‘no lol. i mean i know your name because you introduced yourself but other than that’ #and he’s like ‘oh that’s such a relief’. turns out he’s the famous lead singer of a kpop band. he’s like ‘if i took off this surgical mask #and styled my hair a bit differently i would get mobbed immediately’ i was like ‘yeah i don’t listen to kpop. i have kpop mutuals but the #whole thing is a mystery to me’ anyway he told me his name but i just called him kim to help him maintain anonymity #we made a date to hang out and study together and i went back to my horrible apartment to discover that my roommate had broken their #sobriety from weed and there was a drug dealer in my flat trying to sign me up for ‘a weed raffle’ #i was like ‘i’m not interested but what can i get for $20’ she lists off two incomprehensible measurements and weed strains and then says #‘i can give you weed hot chocolate’ i was like ‘that sounds fucking delicious sign me up’ she’s like ‘this is a good deal darling’ #i’m just like ‘okay’. i woke up still waiting for my weed hot chocolate to arrive and also waiting for my date with kpop boy #overall a really nice dream. like yeah the covid stuff and the mess was bad but honestly… honestly that’s just life atm #personal

[strohller27]

.

#hoo boy lads I’m going out of my mind I have so much to do and no time to do it #‘you could have planned this out better’ Bitch I am the first person in my immediate family #who has even thought seriously about moving to a different country #and I HAVE ALREADY lived in another country before but it was within the confines of an exchange programme #nobody knows what I’m doing this time around and therefore nobody can help me plan #I’ve been feeling burnt out since Fall of 20-goddamn-22 #and last semester I learned that my master’s degree programme cannot accommodate the thesis I want to write #life took my plans and ripped them up into millions of little pieces #and yeah you can say ‘tough shit. that’s life’ but I’m SO TIRED of this happening #because my whole life has been like that #‘you can make your own decisions when you have your own house/apartment/life’ #OKAY you’ve been telling me that my whole life BUT WHEN IS IT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN? #I am TRYING to take my life by the horns and make things happen but #I can’t help noticing how precarious my position is #I have to drive across country hoping my only form of transportation doesn’t somehow fail me #I have to set up a new life in a new country where I don’t know anyone and I have never lived before #it’s like trying to build a house off the side of a cliff. one wrong move? one really bad day? and I’m toast. #and yeah I signed up for this but it’s because I’M SO TIRED OF WAITING for things to fall into a place that would make this change easier #nothing’s getting easier! everything just keeps getting harder! and no matter how many times I keep beating my head against the wall #hoping I can make things fall into place…nothing seems to change for the better. and I’m sick of it! #they say good things come to those who wait but I’ve been waiting for twenty!! goddamn!! years!! and things are still the same #like standing water it just sits there and festers #I want to stop merely surviving and start LIVING for once #I want to *do* something but I need support and I feel bad asking for it #why is it so hard to make myself believe I’m allowed to take up space? why is it so hard to ask for help?? #maybe because I’m worried that I’m not allowed to take up space..and I know that when I ask for help #it’s often met with non-committal sayings and shrugs and ‘well okay. you tell me what you need to do and we’ll figure it out.’ #maybe I don’t know what I need to do! maybe I need help figuring that out! it doesn’t help when all I hear is ‘yep. adulting is hard’ #LIKE I DIDN’T FUCKEN KNOW THAT. maybe instead of stating the obvious we could FIGURE OUT A WAY TO MOVE FORWARD?! #I’m going absolutely out of my fucken mind

[tariah23]

Another annoying day at work

#I want to say a lot but I’ve already complained and had an attitude at work all day and got so worked up I was out of breath and my boss #gave me a gummy I was like 😑 I’ll take it #don’t even feel like going into details I’m tired man i just got here and it’s already- #I don’t want to quit tho #good money #but man I am not a slave either gtfoh #and don’t make it seem like I’m not doing enough/ my part when you got everybody else sitting on their asses on their phones and eating and #shit and standing around acting like they’re doing shit (the concierge’s 😑 they literally don’t do anything but greet guests and show them #to their lockers and stand around looking pretty like that’s literally it) so don’t get up in my face talking about we need this and that #like I’m only one person I’m one nigga we keep telling them to hire more ppl in our department there’s like 4 of us and 3 of them are #transitioning soon then it’ll just be me all by myself like bro this is so unprofessional #even other departments are like they need help 😵‍💫- #rambling #Sunday’s aren’t usually hectic but today sure was #and the coworker who I usually work with #well they forced her to come in to close instead of coming in as a mid like usual because I was wondering if she called off #it’s so stupid #my sis usually closes but she’s on a trip rn #and there’s another girl who doesn’t show up on sundays and misses work a lot anyway because of school/ family stuff #its literally never anyone’s fault if they call off it’s always the jobs fault for not having coverage/ hell never the person #then I already had a feeling that today was gonna be annoying because the girl who calls off often wasn’t coming in but I figured that #someone else would’ve finished the shit in the back at least but nope I had to play catch up and do the shit from yesterday and this morning #so there was a lot to do and this bitch comes back there talking about some you need to prioritize this and that and do this and that as if #I don’t know how to do my job as if I wasn’t just doing what she said needed to be done etc etc like she isn’t even the boss she’s just #another worker like girl get your bosse’s pet ass out of my face #killing stabbing slamming

[ettucamus]

aggression against trans people is truly so exhausting like of course there are abrasive and loud trans people on the internet but for the most part. actual trans people are just trying to go about our days managing this very personal struggle while trying not to get hatecrimed. and so much of the discourse about being trans is so removed from what it’s like to be a trans person irl.

#th.txt #like for me personally being trans is more a medical condition than anything like sure i am trans in the same way i am adhd #dysphoria has largely been this pain in my ass for my entire life and i have actively done as much as possible to try to mitigate it #truly the only thing to help has been medical transition and that’s what i don’t get about transphobes #who are so into shaming people for transitioning like it’s truly just another medication for a condition #at this point idek what a gender is or how to go about interpreting my own feelings #i do know physical transition has alleviated my dysphoria and that’s the end of it #i truly am a gender abolitionist in the way that i wish my gender and sex just wasn’t even a topic to discuss ever #nonbinary for me is just a stand in for my feelings that gender is a nebulous social construct i do not support #idc if this is going to ruffle some feathers on many different sides but i am just so tired #i just want to exist and look the way i’d like to and not have people tell me i’m mutilating myself #or that i can think my way out of dysphoria because that’s just simply not happening #after 20 years and more of fighting against dysphoria i think by now it’s clear that it’s an immutable disorder #in the same way i take meds for other mental health struggles physical transition is the medication for dysphoria #maybe other people are stronger than me for being able to withstand the experience of dysphoria without transition #but i’m not one of them! and that’s okay!

[thesunbrokeyourskull]

-

#I would kill my ex ‘p’ to become rich. #I would kill my ex ‘m’ to obtain even more beauty and attract even more people. #I would beat up my ex ‘b’ to the point of him almost dying to have a nice house and the best of the best of things. #I would beat up my bf ‘d’ to be more mentally stable so that I am balanced and at peace with myself and my life. #I would kill my ex ‘k’ to become a well known scholar who has many degrees in maths science and philosophy and to preform surgery&research #I would step on anybody to get to where I want to be in life if it meant making myself happy. #I just manipulated my bf into feeling bad for me because I genuinely just want to feel good and secure even if that’s at his expense. #he’s right.. I don’t care about anyone more than myself and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. why should I put someone above myself? #I’ll tell you what.. until someone can show me that being a good honest generous person can get me anywhere I’ll keep doing what works :) #grey god #puppets #and I genuinely just don’t like or care for others. there’s always something I want in return when it comes to relationships with others. #I find humans disgusting and faulty and I don’t care if I add to their pain because it’s usually to benefit me and if it doesn’t it’s to- #-get back at others for hurting me. or I’m bored. I probably have the most sick and twisted mind of anyone I know. I think people know that #-tho but they still keep me around and help me out whenever I need it. it’s all a show for me and for them. people are so stupid and they #-genuinely think doing the right think helps them. it doesn’t. it’s kind of sad. I just know that once ‘d’ realizes I’ve taken him for - #-everything he’s got it’ll be too late and he’ll have to deal with how much better I am than him and how much I’ve grown leeching off of- #-his emotional labor. I just jump from one person to another taking what I want and what I can. I don’t think I’ve genuinely loved anyone. #I’ve always been this way. I almost love people but then I just truly don’t. it’s more fun to see how far I can break them before #-they can’t do it anymore. I hope that everyone I’ve ever hurt continues to hurt forever and that they never grown or evolve. #’d’ told me tonight that I ruined his life. ‘b’ told me I ruined him. ‘m’ is a coward and he said he’ll never love again. #’k’ is a used up simple minded loser. ‘p’ is a stunted delusion addict with me issues for the rest of his life. notice I said me issues and #not daddy or mommy issues lol. I have tricked them all. they are all pathetic and whimpy fucks. #the day I grinded against ‘d’s sluty ass again after I ‘raped him’ he told me to go slow but it made me think.. what if I just raped him? #I could just do it and he won’t do shit about it. he’ll forgive me like always. he’s an insecure loser. I wanted to just take my dick- #and shove it down his throat and then ruin his hole with it #but I didn’t. I respected what he said but the fact that I thought about it isn’t good.