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askaborderline · 1 year

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[Somewhat time sensitive, no rush or pressure though] Okay, I’m gonna keep this as brief and non-specific as I can since there’s a bit of a backstory;

A while ago, my girlfriend (who’s probably also my FP, if she’s not then she’s the closest thing to an FP that I have) did something that hurt me really really badly. She didn’t realise the harm it would cause and I know that if she realised I’d be hurt she never would have done it, but regardless it’s left me extremely wounded and emotionally scarred, and while I have healed a lot over the past couple of months, I’m not sure the scars will ever go away, they’ll probably just get easier to cope with like most of my traumas.

Like I said, I am healing and I’ve improved a lot over the past few months that we’ve been working through this together. I don’t want to end things with her and this whole incident has helped us to realise where we were failing to communicate and interact with each other in healthy ways, so honestly it feels like our relationship is getting stronger than ever, it’s just a really tough journey. Like that thing where people burn down old dying trees and a beautiful new forest grows in their place.

All that being said…I’m still angry. I’ve been holding myself back and trying not to lash out at her in anger, even while splitting I managed to only let a few bitter comments slip through on occasion. But I’ve repressed the rest. And it is damaging to me to keep it inside and sometimes it does cause me pain (sometimes I don’t even notice it though) and make it hard for me to move on and heal past a certain point, but I’m terrified to take it out on the person who hurt me because I’m scared I’ll hurt her (not physically, just emotionally, but still) so badly that we can’t recover from it, or at the very least it’ll just send us back to square one. I know the guilt and regret has been tearing her apart and she’s been trying so hard to fix things and make it up to me and support me, and I don’t trust myself not to break things beyond repair if I let it out.

I’ve explained this to her, and she really doesn’t want me to keep repressing my feelings. I’ve explained why I’m so terrified but she’s worried about me and really wants me to deal with the anger somehow so that I can properly recover. But it feels like my only options are either to keep it hidden forever and hope it goes away on its own without hurting me too badly, or to express my anger towards her directly and risk ruining what we have and hurting her too much for her/us to heal from (I’ve tried expressing it just to myself like in a diary and stuff, it doesn’t help, I just end up making myself have a breakdown). I ended up reluctantly agreeing to a compromise - I’ll try to find some other way to cope with my anger, and if I can’t find anything, I’ll express my anger towards her directly as a last resort (I’m still not super thrilled about this idea but she insisted).

So, advice. Do you (or anybody in the replies) have any advice on ways to let out my anger towards somebody without hurting anyone? I’ve tried a bunch of things already so I’ll take as much advice as people can give, I want to make sure I exhaust every other option before resorting to taking this risk. Even if something doesn’t make the anger go away properly, it might help it fade a little to soften the blow.

If I felt that a conversation I was having with an FP was getting into the territory of snide, guilt-trippy comments, then there would be times during that where I would say to them “hey look can we just yell it out for a few minutes” and they would agree and then we would just send those anger-fueled messages about how we really feel instead of trying to “sugar-coat” it which often led to messages coming off as super passive-aggressive. If things don’t get dealt with head-on sometimes then they do boil and fester and that’s worse. If you and you’re FP are both comfortable with it, setting aside some time to just get really angry and say everything you want to say to someone (within reason) can be really healthy when it lasts only a few minutes and then you have that cool-down time to sort things out properly instead of letting it drag on by not outright addressing the issues. It sounds like she is okay and willing to do this because she recognizes that this can be healthy but you’re worried about going too far. Everyone’s level of control when they are angry is different, so if you really don’t think you can’t say anything that will irrefutably damage a relationship then I understand that. I can get angry at my FP and yell “I hate you!” over text all I want and not let myself slide into saying ANYTHING worse than that like “I hope you die, I hope you go kill yourself” etc. this is obviously an extreme example. Me yelling at my mom “I hate you!” and storming up to my room isn’t going to irrefutably damage our relationship. Texting my FP “I hate you!”, while not the best also isn’t going to damage that relationship irrefutably. But saying things like “You make me want to kill myself, you’re so horrible, I wish you would just stop,” etc. is a line that is a very slippery slope and can be crossed easily. I had enough confidence in myself and my self control during these “therapeutic angry outbursts” to know I wouldn’t say anything that hurtful, so it WAS healthy for me and them both, at the time. I mean, to get personal in a way of being transparent, since then our relationship has broken down and they have chosen not to speak to me I assume because of my bpd, but like I still stand by my decision that sometimes, at least for us personally, those small moments of “can we just get really mad for five minutes and then make up and solve our problems now that we got all that built-up resentment out of the way” really was the best decision and the way to go.

There are a lot of things that FP did to me that put me in a lot spirals that took me years to get over but I did get over them. I’m not saying that holding out on doing anything in hopes in a few years it will go away is good but like honestly all the sketchy things my FP did to me like 7 years ago I’m fine with and I only resent how he decided I was bad for his mental health or whatever during this past year that bothers me. And like that’s they’re prerogative and I don’t hate them for choosing their mental health over me but obviously I’m dealing with that feeling of rejection from someone I had plans to marry. So like I really do think that you can heal over the things people did to hurt you (intentionally or not) even if it just takes a few years depending on who you are as a person. I mean as someone who listens to true crime I get families who are like “I forgive this person for killing my loved one and I just hope they find peace” and I get families that are like “I hope this person dies and goes straight to hell”. I don’t think holding on to being hurt is any sort of moral failing even if it is tiring and frustrating etc. so I understand why you want to be rid of that resentment. I do hope whatever you choose works for you and her both and your relationship grows stronger and healthier again because of it.

#aab #mod spooky #tw: suicide mention #tw: murder mention

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bilgesnipebitch · 5 years

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1.5K Writing Challenge

Well, here’s my submission for @myattemptatfanfic‘s 1.5k writing challenge! Hope you enjoy!

Title: The Eyes of a God

Author: @bilgesnipebitch

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 3177 (whoops)

Warnings: angst-ish, swearing, tiny bits of fluff I guess?

Prompt will be in Bold

And huuuuge thanks to my two idiot friends who helped me edit! (jk, love you guys <3)

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” his soothing laughter bounced its way through your apartment.

You could hardly control your own laughter, holding your stomach and nearly in tears. “Yes yes. I’m sorry, Loki. Please continue.”

“Anyways, there we were—staring down this disgusting, 3,000 pound creature,”

“Was it Thor?” you cracked, knowing just how much Loki disliked his brother.

He let out something between a cackle and a howl, “You wouldn’t be too far off there, Love.”

You grinned like an idiot, your eyes sparkling with joy, “So come on, what happened next?”

“Well, we just ran as fast as our legs could carry us and returned to the party like nothing had happened at all. Mind you, we absolutely reeked of manure, but I suspect nobody had the nerve to tell us.”

You both doubled over, rolling around the couch hysterically. You could feel your eyes begin to tear up and your cheeks ache, but, for just that small moment, you were at peace. You let the rush of endorphins wash over you as your laughter died down, and you wiped your dewy eyes.

“How do you come up with such great stories, Loki?” you turned to face the raven-haired man, taking slight notice that his greasy mop was beginning to get pretty long.

“I keep telling you, Love; these things really happened to me.”

“Mmmhmm,” you gave a playful eye roll, to which Loki snickered.

“Ok, fine, maybe I just have the loveliest muse in the nine realms to inspire me,” he reached out to delicately stroke your soft cheek with his thumb.

“Damn, you’re smooth,” you laughed and looked into his familiar eyes, morning-blue with just a dash of grey, and you never wanted the moment to end.

But of course, the fates are a cruel bunch of crones, and all good things must eventually come to an end. You savored every single day you could spend with Loki, but as much as you tried to make those small moments with him last for the rest of eternity, the tiny little moments just kept marching on, virtually whizzing past, turning into hours, days, weeks, months, and soon enough, those little moments of peace became a scarce commodity, few and far between. You began to notice a change in the man you loved so dearly; he started to become more… calloused, cynical, closed-off. It confused you, and honestly hurt you, to see him so obviously struggling with something beyond his own strength, but he would just never open up to you. He would never let you share some of his burden, so you could do nothing but watch it fester and boil inside him.

You looked out the window and sighed, the steely grey sky that had loomed over you the past few days had finally begun to let down a gentle drizzle: not enough to soak any unfortunate soul who happened to be caught in the storm, but just enough to make them uncomfortably damp. You chewed on your lip in habit and walked up next to the sofa carefully.

“All I’m saying is, well, I’d like a little more... respect? I’m not your maid after all, Loki.” He inclined his head toward you from his spot on the couch. “I know, Love. And I respect you.” You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, keeping your eyes fixed on the carpet. “I... I know. I guess I would just like you to... show it a bit more.” He set down the remote with a sigh and turned to face you fully. “What’s this about? The Christmas party? You’re the one who turned it into a scene.” You furrowed your brows and looked up to meet his capturing blue gaze. Those eyes that you’d seen hold such joy and sorrow and love now sent a shiver of fear down your spine, but you didn’t dare look away. “Loki, you showed up an hour late, immediately asked me to go get you coffee from a shop across town, and refused to socialize until I did.” “I don’t know my way around this place, Love; we’ve been over this. And I offered to go with you.” “Yes, but I wanted to stay at the party. I was having fun. Why should I have to drop everything I’m doing to fulfill your every whim?” “Oh, well excuse me for asking for a bloody cup of coffee,” his voice dripped with contempt. “But would it kill you to pick up a map sometime and actually learn how to get around town?” “I don’t have time for that, Y/N. I have much more important matters to attend to.”

You could practically feel your anger bubbling up inside you at this point. He’d used this excuse one too many times to fool you anymore.

“Oh, but you have time to sit on your ass and watch tv?” “I happen to be listening for a crucial bit of information on the news. Not that you’d understand, of course; the Midgardian mind has its limits.” You clenched your jaw and balled your fists. That was it. You refused to stand there as he blatantly insulted you and your entire species. “You pompous asshole. I’m sick of you pulling this shit, thinking I’m too stupid to see through all your lies. I’m not an idiot!” He scoffed grimly and stood to his full height. He began to step toward you, towering a good foot over your head, but you stood steadfast. This also wasn’t the first time he’d pulled the height difference trick to intimidate you. You may well be a small, insignificant Midgardian, but you’d be damned if you didn’t finally stand your ground against this man. You were done being a doormat at his beck and call. “I think you seem to forget—Love—that I am a god. And you... well, not so much,” he reached down to pull your chin up so your eyes met his imposing stare again. Your heart beat out of your chest and legs threatened to give out beneath you. Gathering all your strength, you clenched your jaw, swallowed your fear as best you could, and stared directly into his steely eyes.

“God or not, you will treat me with respect,” you paused to keep your voice steady, “or you will leave my apartment right now.” Loki’s eyebrows raised and settled in a jeer that made you absolutely livid. “That’s cute, you think you can order me around.” “I can when I pay the rent, the electricity, the water, and the food you leech off every time you decide to grace me with your presence.” “Oh, is that what you think whenever I take the time out of my schedule to come visit you? Well, if I’m that much of a nuisance, maybe I should just never visit again!” “Sounds like a plan to me,” and you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Loki gave a dry, sardonic laugh, “so that’s how it is, then?” He bent down, planted a small kiss on your cheek, and disappeared without another word.

And just like that, you were completely alone. You could only stand there in silence, the droning, deadpan voices of the television melding together and contorting themselves into unintelligible noise. What have I done? was the only thought that occupied your head.

You could hardly believe it. Sure, you and Loki had your little spats every now and again, but you always made up afterward. You always found a way to work through your differences (which there were certainly plenty of). But now you’d gone too far. With a mind of its own, a single tear traced over the spot Loki’s lips had rested only a second before. You felt... numb. You were hurt and relieved and worried and confused and all your emotions swirled together inside you to create an absolute mess and they came flooding out of your eyes as your jelly legs crumpled uselessly beneath you. You looked at your phone on the counter and reached up to contact the only person who knew the whole truth about just who exactly had been your lover the past year. “I-“ you took a deep breath to steady your trembling hands before typing out the rest of your message. “I think I just broke up with Loki.” Reliable as ever, hardly a minute passed before your best friend in the entire world responded “on my way.”

Mia was her name; you two had become friends in your grade school days and have been absolutely inseparable ever since. Oddly enough, you first met her when she stuck a piece of gum in your hair and felt so guilty afterward that she promised to do your homework for a week. From then on, she was with you every step of the way, even when things got pretty ugly, and you both did the best you could to support each other through it all. To be frank, she was one of the strongest people you’d ever met and you had no idea where you’d be without her.

Your heart threatened to stop entirely at the sound of the doorbell, but you slowly rose to your unsteady feet, finally remembering that you had a visitor on her way. You opened the door, eyes bloodshot and body visibly trembling. “Hey Mia,” your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Oh hon,” she pulled you into an embrace before entering and sitting you down on the couch with her. And you told her everything that had happened, that you felt, that you wished you’d done or said differently, and it was a strange sort of catharsis to just have somebody else who knew.

“You see? I told you he was no good. I knew from the way he would push you around like you were beneath him or something.”

You gave a dejected sigh, “but you don’t know him like I do... er, did. He never opened up to strangers very well, but when it was just the two of us, he was funny and charming and sweet and he would tell me the most intricate stories and he took me to the most beautiful places and—“ your voice began to waver again. Mia took your hand in her own, “but that doesn’t mean you have to put up with all his manipulative bullshit. That kind of relationship isn’t healthy for you, and you tried to talk to him about it like a rational adult. If he can’t respect you as an equal, then he doesn’t deserve you.” And for the next six months, you clung to those words for dear life. “He doesn’t deserve me,” you’d say in the mirror every morning. “He doesn’t deserve me,” you’d tell yourself every time your mind began to wander recklessly. “He doesn’t deserve me,” you’d remind yourself every five minutes on dates with people who could never even compare to the man you’d let go. And you almost believed it. Almost. It was the annual Stark gala, and you, being an employee of Stark Enterprises, were “strongly encouraged” to attend. You were dressed to the nines, all done up in a flowing, emerald green gown Loki had brought you from Asgard nearly a year ago. As much as you hated the idea of wearing it, you owned absolutely no other “fancy” clothing to speak of and could barely afford your own food at this point. Apparently, unbeknownst to you, Loki had been making regular deposits into your bank account and had stopped doing so ever since your breakup. God knows where he got that money anyways. He could’ve stolen it. Or maybe even killed for it. I don’t want his filthy murder money, you tried to reassure yourself. And then it all went to shit. There he was, in the goddamn flesh, laughing next to the cocktail bar. You really regretted not inviting a date with you now. You looked around the room for some coworker you might know or a bathroom or something, anything to avoid talking to Loki, but it was too late. Your heart skipped a beat as the man you recognized as Thor, whom you’d met only once before, pointed you out to his brother and motioned for you to join them.

You contemplated simply running out the nearest exit, but your feet seemed to have plans of their own as you found them carrying you closer and closer to the bane of your existence for the better half of a year now. You tried your best to put on a polite smile and greeted Thor warmly, as well as his date, not daring to even glance Loki’s way. “Hello, Y/N,” You heard the devil himself croon behind you.

As much as I don’t want to respond, I don’t things to be awkward the rest of the night. And I certainly don’t want to cause a scene.

You let out the smallest of sighs and turned around to face Loki. “Oh, Loki, I didn’t see you there,” and everybody present knew that was a big, fat lie. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He wore that mischievous, shit-eating grin of his that made you just want to punch out every single one of his teeth. “Yeah, 6 months...” you lowered your gaze from the chiseled features of his deathly pale face to carefully examine the enthralling subject of your own shoes, the floor, or anything really—anything except that man. You just couldn’t stand to look into those crystal-blue eyes.

“Oh, Layla, have I introduced you to Stark?” Thor broke the tense silence, and your heart immediately sank into your stomach. You pleaded with any deity that might exist, but nevertheless, Thor politely excused himself and walked off into the bustling crowd with his date, leaving only Loki and yourself at the bar. Damn you, Thor.

You cleared your throat, sat down next to the man you thought you’d never see again in your short, insignificant, mortal life, and ordered a drink in hopes to make it even shorter. If you were lucky, maybe you’d drop dead right then and there and be able to avoid the awkward conversation you knew lurked just moments away.

“Lovely dress, Y/N. Where’s it from?” Loki quipped with a sideways glance.

“The dollar store, probably,” you didn’t dare even look at the man, keeping your gaze fixed directly in front of you.

He let out a light hiss of air and chuckled, shaking his head.

“Good to know you hold my birthday gift in such high esteem.”

Aaand now you felt like an ungrateful bitch. Boy, did he know how to play the guilt card.

“So, how have you been?” He straightened up to take another swig of his mead. Awful. It took nearly all your strength to keep the thought from tumbling right out of your mouth. “I’ve been good... how about you?” you managed to spit out. “Honestly Dove, not too well.” The bastard did that on purpose. He knows I loved that nickname. “Oh, well that’s too bad I suppose. At least you and Thor getting along now apparently?” “Yes, we’ve made our peace, settled old squabbles, the like.” “Good, good,” You took a sip of your drink, which had finally arrived, and nearly choked on it at the next words out of Loki’s mouth. "Do you miss me?" he asked, a hint of a devilish grin in his eyes. "No," you reply, stopping your real feelings from creeping up your throat and satisfying his cruel curiosity. But you never were able to lie to him. He chuckled and turned to face you, expression slowly melting from amusement to something more akin to gravity, perhaps even sincerity. “Listen, Y/N, I acknowledge that... perhaps I wasn’t treating you fairly.” You wanted to say something, anything, but words completely escaped you in the moment. Loki just glanced downward, took a deep breath, and continued. “And I’m aware that I can be a bit entitled sometimes. And I can be an oblivious idiot and sometimes... Sometimes, I end up hurting those I love the most,” his eyes flicked up to catch your gaze, and unlike the last time you’d seen them, they seemed full of a familiar, genuine warmth once again. “Loki, I-“ you sighed. “Look, Y/N, I know I have a lot to make up for, but all I’m asking for is a chance to do just that.” “I don’t know, Loki...” He reached out tentatively to take hold of your hand. He cupped it delicately, as if it were made of fine porcelain. “Just one more chance?”

You sighed again, entirely at a loss for words. You felt almost like a ship inside, violently whipped around in a storm of your own emotions and barely managing to hold yourself together. On the one hand, spending some time away from Loki had allowed you to realize that your relationship just wasn’t healthy. You let him take advantage of you. You rationalized his twisted motives. Honestly, you had just never felt like his equal the entire time you were together. But as much as you hated to admit it, you could never deny that your heart ached at the mere thought of him. You were still in love with Loki, there was no doubt, but your better judgement screamed at you that giving this man a second chance might just prove to be the biggest mistake of your life. You swallowed dryly.

Taking one final deep, grounding breath, you opened your mouth, but your words caught in your throat, refusing to come out. “I’ve changed so much since we last saw each other, Y/N. I’m getting along with my brother now, for heaven’s sake!” he added with a small chuckle. It was true, Loki did seem different. For one, Loki would have never pleaded with you like this for a second chance. No, the Loki you knew had far too much pride for that. So what in the world could have possibly happened to him in the last 6 months? “Loki... I think—“ you sighed. “I don’t think we should get back together.”

Loki’s features began to droop ever so slightly. “But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just stay... friends?” He perked back up somewhat and put on a smile to mask his disappointment, “I would like that, Y/N.” You gave a thin smile as well, and you both sipped your drinks in a moment of silence. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the story to catch me up on though.” “Oh, you have no idea,” he laughed.

And he told you all his wonderful tales of adventure, drama, love, and loss, and it felt like you were back in your apartment on some cold winter’s day with freshly brewed tea and everything was right with the world. It felt as if nothing at all had changed between you. And it gave you hope that perhaps... you two could make this work.

#Fanfic #Loki x reader #angst #loki fanfic #reader insert #loki angst #1.5k writing challenge

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guidingbolts · 6 years

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on people, their complexities, flaws, and virtues-- and the simplicity of it all. (at least, in theory.)

Journey is careful, quiet, predictable in her reasoning, and reliant on fact. People are simple once you boil them down to their very core, and Journey likes to think that she’s gotten very good at cutting down her perceptions of people to something manageable.

on the fire in your chest-- or perhaps fireflies. on unexpected kinship. on fairytales.

Every child grows up hearing stories of knights in shining armor, of princesses in tall towers waiting to be saved. Journey has never thought of herself as a princess-- and who would let someone like her think like that, child or not-- but there’s something that resonates with her in those stories, of someone helpless that’s saved by a dashing stranger and whisked away.to a happy ending. A childish wish. These things are fairytales, she knows now. No one will save you, you have to pick yourself up and claw your way out yourself or else that’s all you’ll ever know. You pick up a sword and you be your own savior, you climb your own fucking tower.

It’s impossible, though, to not remember the stories of knights in shining armor when she looks at Venralei. She is light, light, light. Hard to look at directly without something painful stirring in her chest. It scares her. Ven is a wildfire, destructive and powerful and angry-- and the next moment she’s the soft, flickering flame at the end of a candle, comforting and warm.

And she’s confused. She does a good job of hiding it, but Journey knows somebody that’s lost when she sees one. There’s confidence too, but the uncertainty is hard to miss once she’s seen it, and Journey sees it in the little things.

What once was fear, of nerves and the feeling of being an impostor around someone like her, has softened, turned to a quiet understanding. She knows uncertainty, to not know your place in the world.

on broken bones left unhealed and old aches and pains. on anger and the things we bury. on reflections.

She doesn’t hate anyone. Hate is a strong emotion that... takes a lot of emotional energy. To be frank, Journey doesn't have the capacity for that much emotional energy at this point. She’s too tired. She doesn’t hate anyone, but the closest thing, maybe--

She sees too much in Elanora. A warped reflection, like a mirror turned inwards revealing all the wounds left to rot, festering with instances of it’s fine, I’m fine, if I ignore it it’ll go away, gouges stuffed full of distractions and nothingness that do more harm than good. It hurts. A dull ache of something long since broken that was never set properly.

Elanora is nothing but bruises and cuts and scrapes, open wounds and anger, so much anger. Or maybe that’s all she wants people to think she is. There’s a sadness there too, lost beneath the anger and aggression. And loneliness. It reminds her of a child, afraid and confused and desperate for any kind of attention-- for affection-- and lashing out, even if it means self-destructing and taking others with her in the process.

Journey doesn’t hate anyone. But there are some people so painful to look at, so raw and in pain, they’re hard to really see, to really focus on.

Journey sees Elanora, for better or for worse.

on the feeling of belonging-- or not belonging, for that matter. on quiet sadness and soft music in the dark. on good people.

Few people are good, in Journey’s experience. There are people who do good things, but they do them with selfish motivations. She’s not one to judge, she’s the same way. She’s driven by preservation, as are most people that walk through life. She has, however, met a handful of people that she would really, truly consider good people. Mason, she thinks, is one of them.

Oh, he’s nervous and excitable and maybe he talks too much, but there’s something truly good about him. A genuine spark of kindness for the sake of kindness, despite all that the world’s done.

She can’t help but wonder, as she looks at him, what he’s doing here with the rest of them. She wonders if he feels it too, that maybe he doesn’t fit perfectly. The rest of them are rough around the edges, even Ven. The more she thinks about it, the more she wonders less if he knows and more if he worries about it.

And the more she looks at him, the more glad she is that he’s here. Maybe he doesn’t fit perfectly with them-- but maybe he doesn’t fit anywhere else either, and maybe that thought, that possibility, hits a little too close to home. Maybe none of them fit together perfectly, but they make it work. A bunch of broken pieces fitted together like a puzzle, sharp edges against sharp edges making a bigger picture.

He’s a good person, she thinks, but a sad one. Unsure of himself, carrying something heavy on his shoulders that he doesn’t talk about, just smiles and plays through it.

She thinks of the beach, of his insistence that, “Nothing is a waste if you like it!”

He reminds her a lot of another good person she used to know, right down to the music that follows him.

She hopes he sticks around.

on the weight tied to your feet as you sink under. on exhaustion and restless nights. on inevitability.

Journey knows what it’s like to be tired. She knows the way it sinks into your bones, your blood, drags you down and holds you there, leaves you helpless as the world spins on without you.

Ophelia looks like somebody who has been tired her entire life. Broken down, reduced to nothing but the dark circles under her eyes, the weariness in her movements. Still, Journey can’t help but think that she wasn’t always like this.

She knows trauma when she sees it, and whatever happened to Ophelia, it was bad.

Opehlia is hard to focus on. She slides into the shadows, blends in and hides. Journey can’t help but wonder how much of that is intentional. It’s a good way to avoid wandering eyes-- or anything that could hurt you, for that matter. (She knows that the things that hurt you will always find their way back to you, though.) She also wonders, if she were to pay close enough attention, if Ophelia’s hands shake, or if they’re deathly still. (A clap of thunder leaves her hand and her entire arm goes numb as it shakes, her heart in her throat, vision blurring.)

Because sometimes, Ophelia seems more dead than alive to Journey. It’s unnerving. And it’s sad. It’s like she’s waiting for something, but even she isn’t sure what she’s waiting for. An endless cycle of unsureness, of weariness and heavy eyes and restlessness that persists no matter how much sleep found.

She’s somebody who left part of herself behind somewhere, with someone, with something-- and hasn’t dealt with the aching void left behind. Somebody who has accepted parts of her being ripped away.

Journey wonders less what happened to her and more what will happen when whatever it was rears its head again, as trauma inevitably does.

on the things that hold us back. on the weariness of feet that try so desperately to move forward towards something better. on masks.

There are many kinds of masks. Tiny, intricate masks in bright colors meant to catch the eyes and intrigue. Masks meant to tell a story, to seem like someone else, worn by entertainers as the weave their narratives. Rough fabric pulled over the face with holes cut out, meant to conceal quick and dirty crimes.

And there are masks that aren’t physical, masks that people carry with them with a smile even when they bare their face for all to see, and Adalynn wears one of those masks.

Adalynn is blunt. Perhaps that’s why it didn’t stick out to Journey at first. Adalynn speaks her mind, is excitable and to the point.

It’s hard to look past that, when Adalynn puts that part of her out there the way that she does. But beneath it, if Journey looks long enough, she can see the little cracks. The wistfulness of someone who doesn’t quite have what she wants-- perhaps she doesn’t even know what she wants, but it isn’t this. She’s somebody who wants something more, something better, but whatever it is, it’s just out of her grasp.

She’s somebody reaching desperately for something, somebody; somebody who doesn’t want to look back at all that’s happened, who wants desperately to move forward and untangle herself from the things holding her back.

Maybe she’ll be more successful at that than Journey has been.

on the stir of something in your stomach that you can't explain. on the taste of iron at the back of your mouth. on the unexpected.

Ari’kithel is something alien, an amalgamation of everything and nothing she’s ever known turned on its head before her. A swirl of silver and a shout of excitement, the click of boots as she leaps on a table; the thunderclap in her hand that sends shivers down Journey’s spine and makes her stomach churn as the gun fires. She is flashy, arrogant, and lonelier than Journey thinks she realizes.

The most incomprehensible thing about Ari, Journey thinks, is that the other woman sees something worth looking at in her.

#journey #fic #meta #voidwalking campaign

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