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inhonoredglory · 3 years

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another character based question - how do you feel about mikasa? a lot of fans dont like her, im curious about how you feel! - armin anon

Hellooooo Armin Anon. OMG it’s been forever since I had the time to sit down and do a proper meta, and I apologize.

First off, I finished the manga!!! (So, spoilers ahead for anyone else reading this.) I had to lie down after reading 139. It’s a tremendous story and I’m still taking it all in. The set pieces and personal/emotional stakes of everything that happens is just astounding. If it’s one thing Isayama does good, it’s the gut-wrenching personal anguish that underlies the action. I’m absolutely floored. My favorite bit was probably the timey-wimey stuff in Paths and Eren. That blew my freaking mind. But onto Mikasa!!

A Cruel Yet Beautiful World

I remember way back when I started the anime that I started liking Mikasa first out of the group. I liked how sullenly silent and no-nonsense she was, and I liked her loyalty to Eren. Her emotion, especially when Eren died in Trost, was palpable and terrifyingly beautiful. Her grief was incredibly realistic––rushing off with a death wish that even she couldn’t succumb to in the end, because of the drive to fight that she got from Eren. In a world like SNK, her relentlessness breaking through her grief was incredibly moving. And her philosophy is basically the driving theme of SNK: “This is a cruel world, and yet so beautiful.”

This is the same moral message she gives Eren when he can’t find the strength in him to fight Annie––and gives him that warm, understanding, inscrutable smile that allows him to finally accept his own monsters, fight Annie, and save her and Armin. (One of my favorite panels of her from the manga, actually.) Mikasa is basically the first character we meet who embodies this contradictory morality, which grows to engulf SNK and other characters as well (Levi, Reiner, and Armin especially come to mind). Which could be why I was drawn to her at the start, since the complex moral outlook of SNK was the primary reason I fell hard for this story.

(And gosh, it’s tragic to realize that it’s teaching moments like the scene above that made Eren into the person who could influence his own child self to murder, the person who could wipe out so much of humanity, the person who could take Ymir’s challenge to free her by destroying the love of the person who cared the most about him. I’m still processing yo.)

Acker-parallels

I started really analyzing Mikasa when I had to defend her from a friend of mine who accused her of resenting Levi (for beating up Eren) and that’s why she attacked him so violently in the RTS serumbowl. Because of my research into rebutting that, a lot of my affection for Mikasa now comes in seeing the little ways in which she cares and trusts other people, including Armin, Levi, Gabi, and Jean. And her quiet sensibility that goes beyond her love and protectiveness of Eren.

With Levi in particular, I find a lot I like about her. Because you can definitely see her annoyance at him, but she also trusts him more than anyone else in the Corps outside of Armin. After Levi’s violent encounter with Historia, she was the only one who implicitly trusted Levi’s judgement, backing up Armin’s more reasoned logic. She sees beyond her own emotions and even moral feelings and realizes the world is cruel enough that sometimes people have to do dark things to help others and survive.

This is very much the same statement Levi made to the 104th when he had asked them to follow Erwin’s orders when the commander’s plans were questionable on the surface: “Do you trust him? Those dumb enough to say yes… come with me.” These two understand each other on a moral level, and they ask for their comrades’ loyalty without demanding it, because they each know that everyone’s conscience is their own.

There’s a clear parallel between Mikasa and Levi, not only because of their Ackerman heritage and sensibilities (loyal to a fault to their chosen person, impossibly strong, quiet and grim), but their frustration when they cannot protect the people they are responsible for. They both know they are the strongest around, and if they cannot fulfill on that power, a lot of people will die.

There are many moments in which Mikasa puts aside her personal feelings to do her soldierly duty, from leaving Eren to help with the evacuation of Trost to leaving Eren and Armin to fight the Colossal Titan alone in Shigonshina.

And then there’s the fact that Levi’s the one who could break past Mikasa’s headspace and distraction so that she can do the right thing. He understands her strong emotion, he respects it, but he also knows when that has to be put aside for the greater good. But he doesn’t put her down for having those emotions, either.

Strength from Eren, Humanity from Armin

Mikasa’s love and loyalty to Eren challenges her tremendously after the timeskip and her sorrow at Eren’s change is what really stands out to me about her character in the Marley arc. The absolute grief in her eyes when she tells Eren what he’s done is devastating, and it shows just how much goodness and compassion she does have.

And yet she longs to understand Eren, to trust him, to believe there can be something redeeming, and not merely jaded and tired, in what he taught her so many years ago––to fight, to win, to live.

There’s such a difference between these same words said here by Mikasa, so many years later, after so much heartbreak, to the anger and flame that were in them when she first heard them, back when she realized that this was the way of the world. That death and killing happens in the natural world everyday and that’s how you survive. That the world is both cruel and beautiful.

And yet as the years wore on, as Mikasa grew closer to others, found purpose in protecting others, sought a life with Eren… as she wandered further into the forest of life and society and relationships, she lost some of that simple injunction... to live is to fight, to fight is to win. She, like so many of the 104th and the others on this journey, found that it’s not enough to just fight and live and be satisfied. We really want it all to mean something, to have our actions be redemptive. To allow ourselves to believe that we do what we’re doing because we’re not just saving ourselves, but saving others, “saving the world” like Yelena points out (in the forest therapy session pfff). And it’s that drive for something bigger in our actions that grieves her so much with Eren, because as she wants her own actions to be fundamentally good and selfless, she wants his actions to be moral as well.

So while Eren is the person that frustrates Mikasa and motivates her to become stronger and braver than she ever was, Armin is the person who humanizes Mikasa and allows her the space to be gentle and vulnerable. She comforts Armin, confides in him, puts her faith in him, and puts her life in his hands.

She trusts Armin with Eren, and she values Armin’s intellect and compassion, qualities she doesn’t have in nearly as much quantities as he does: “There are only so many lives I can value. And… I decided who those people were six years ago. So... you shouldn’t try to ask for my pity. Because right now, I don’t have time to spare or room in my heart.”

This bit from her confrontation with Ymir and Historia was a defining moment for me with Mikasa. It’s honest and realistic in a way that few of us care to admit about ourselves, and it’s just super chilling and badass coming from her, too. It also shows how much she fights for Armin and Eren both. They are the two people she loves the most in the world, and she never gave up on saving either of them––from death or from themselves.

I’m looking back on Trost now and finding so much irony with the ending to SNK. In Trost, she was the one to give up on Eren, telling Armin that it was hopeless to try to extract Eren’s personality from his Titan form. And yet, like in the end, it’s always been between Armin and Mikasa to try to salvage Eren’s humanity. In Trost, Armin tells Mikasa to leave––to go do what she’s good at (saving lives)––and to entrust Eren to him.

It’s a huge expression of both Mikasa’s trust in Armin, and her belief in Armin’s abilities and friendship for Eren. And in the end, it’s the two of them again debating on if there’s any humanity left in Eren. The bond they share is intimate and deep. With all the military doubting Eren and scheming to take away his Titan (with even Jean and Connie unavailable to them emotionally), it’s only Armin and Mikasa against the world––the only two people who can truly consider Eren’s actions and hold off on judging him. And you can feel their love for him even as they doubt him.

And like back then, it has always been Armin who understands Eren most, the one who recognizes his own evil and Eren’s and finds a redemption in having others stop you, because you cannot stop yourself.

And that’s the thing I really take away from SNK and from Mikasa’s journey, that we all have devils inside us, and yet there is still beauty to be found, within us and in the world––from the natural wonders that Armin dreams of, to the comfort of purpose and companionship that Mikasa has in Eren. Love and wonder is what redeems us of our devils. And yet love itself is complicated, and can turn ugly in its obsession. That giving up that love is what makes the love selfless and beautiful, what absolves us of the selfishness within us. That’s what Mikasa learned. And in the end, she was able to release that love for the good of the world.

So I guess to sum up, I really love Mikasa. I can see why her dogged loyalty to Eren might annoy some fans, but I think there’s a lot more to her than simply that, and in fact, her journey and growth is heart-rending and one of the most symbolic arcs of SNK and fundamental to its entire theme. She’s a badass with a lot of emotion and depth behind her cold mask.

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

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Angel of Mine

College Boyfriend Mark X Reader

Genre: FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF, Doting boyfriend Mark that we all deserve

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: You and your boyfriend Mark are cuddled up in your bed watching a movie when you are reminded that you have an essay due in a couple of hours that you haven’t even started on. Before you can completely break down, your boyfriend comes to your rescue and offers to write your paper for you. It’s in the moments of watching him so focused, typing away at your laptop do you realize how lucky you are to have Mark as a boyfriend.

A/N: Hey guys! So it’s the beginning of midterms here in Hawaii and i’ve already cried seven times I am not kidding you I have two semesters left of college and this is the hardest it’s ever been. I wrote this imagine for shits and giggles; i’ve never had a boyfriend before (HAHAHAHA CRIES IN FILIPINO AND KOREAN) so I wouldn’t know if there are guys out there who are actually like this (If you are, God bless you) (and if your boyfriend is like this, MARRY HIM) I actually watched a tiktok post on instagram right after I finished this where this girl said she was doing her boyfriend’s homework because he was stressed or whatever and if that isn’t couple goals than I don’t know what is (btw I do not condone having someone else do your homework) (especially if you force them to do it because you don’t want to it’s your responsibility and your education, but if they offer...it’s a different story) (LOL) anyways, enough of me blabbering, please enjoy reading while I cry in a corner.

“Remind me how I got myself in this situation again?” Your boyfriend gave you a knowing look and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a faint giggle at the sight of his furrowed brows.

“Because you love me.” He playfully rolled his eyes and continued typing away at your computer.

“Yeah, sometimes a little too much. But if I remember correctly, you promised to suck me off once I’m finished writing this damn thing, so don’t think I’m going to forget our agreement babe.”

To say you were a procrastinator would be the understatement of the year. Just a few hours ago, you and Mark were comfortably cuddled up together in bed while you both watched the live action version of Mulan. When your boyfriend excused himself to go use the bathroom, you decided to scroll through your Instagram while waiting.

After looking at a couple of posts from some of your friends and family, you were curious as to what everyone was doing and you found yourself going through some of their stories. Finals were less than two weeks away, so you were used to seeing your friends post pictures of them working their many assignments or studying for exams.

What you weren’t expecting to see was one of your classmate’s working on an essay for your English class that was apparently due in less than four hours. Only then did it hit you; you had yet to write the paper and it was worth 20% of your grade. For weeks, you told yourself you were going to start on it and when it was first assigned over two months ago, you thought you had all the time in the world.

Two months went by quicker than you could even fathom and you were frustrated with yourself for not writing it down on your calendar or completing it earlier. You practically ran over to your laptop and began looking up the rubric to see how your professor wanted you to write your essay and you could feel your heart sink to your stomach as soon as you read the requirements.

Mark was confused when he saw you no longer lying in the bed; the two of you decided to have a lazy day indoors and you’ve only left the bed twice to use the bathroom and to get something to snack on. This past week has been extremely rough on your mind and your body; so when you told Mark you had no intention on doing anything other than laying in bed and watching movies, he knew to trust your words.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

Your flustered expression only made him even more curious as to what could have happened in the few minutes he was in the bathroom for. You bit your bottom lip in frustration; knowing how Mark could be whenever it came to your education, you were afraid he was going to be upset once he found out you had only a few hours to write your essay. Since you were too much in shock to respond to him, he took matters in to his own hands and looked at your computer screen.

“Wait—I remember you mentioning this essay a couple of weeks ago—eight pages?! Six educational sources—and it’s due by 11:59 P.M. tonight—y/n what the hell?!”

This wasn’t the first time you waited till right before your assignment was due to start working on it. Matter a fact, most of your important assignments; research papers, group projects, essays and online tests were completed on the day they were due. Sometimes it was on purpose; you felt as if some of your best work were the ones you’d work on right before you were supposed to turn it in. You knew it had a lot to do with the fact that you felt pressured to do better knowing you had a time limit; but most of the time you were just lazy and didn’t want to do any work at all.

You and Mark knew about each and every single thing there is to know about one another. He knew of each and every beauty mark on your body and where it was located, he memorized all your aunt’s, uncle’s and cousin’s names, he knew the exact shade of blue that you claimed was your favorite color and he knew how you liked your tea in the morning.

The only thing he had no control over, was the way you handled your education. Mark thought the entire world of you; he believed you were the most hardworking, courageous, determined, generous and golden-hearted person he had the amazing pleasure of knowing. And he wasn’t being biased because you were his girlfriend, but you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen before. In his eyes, you were flawless; you could do no wrong—well; the only problem Mark really had whenever it came to you was the fact that you didn’t know how to prioritize your responsibilities.

After what happened to you right around the time you were introduced to one another, Mark would’ve thought that your mindset and outlook on how you managed everything going on in your life would change. He knew you were capable of great things; when you put your mind to it, you could finish any task that you were given and you were great with multitasking. Mark saw how much time, persistence and effort you would put in to your job or whenever you’d lend a hand to anyone who needed assistance; he admired your work ethic and how passionate you could get when it came to the people and things that you loved.

It was just harder for you to put time in to your essays, journals, blogs or reading the books your professors would assign. School was never something you ever really cared for; it wasn’t like you were really learning anything anyway. For years, you tried your best in being good at all subjects. You’d stay up studying for hours on end only to not retain any information that you learned and it wasn’t entirely your fault. The educational system was just fucked. In this generation, it isn’t even about learning anything; the main focus is turning in assignments on time.

The professors could give less of a shit whether or not you understand any of the material being taught. During your relationship, Mark tried his best to motivate you and even bribed you with food and kisses. He even offered to make flashcards for you if that meant you’d have an easier time studying, but nothing ever worked.

As much as he wanted you to be successful with your education, especially because he genuinely loved attending school, he knew not to force anything on you and making matters worse. This time was different though; this class was one you were already having a hard time with and this essay in particular would determine whether or not you pass or fail by the end of the semester. Your boyfriend tried his best to hide his disappointment, but it was only natural for him to be upset. Attending college was not cheap at all.

He was completely aware of the thousands of dollars you had to fund on your own because your parents weren’t able to help you financially as much as they wish they could. Since he was extremely supportive of you and each and every single one of your endeavors, he even helped pay for quite a bit of your tuition which you haven’t completely forgave him for, but you both showed him and told him on a daily basis how grateful you were that he did such a thing; and that he never fails to take care of you in ways you didn’t think you deserved.

A part of him wanted to continue his poor attempt at scolding you, but as soon as he saw tears building up at the brim of your eyelids, all his anger and frustration dissipated. If there was anything Mark hated, it was seeing you cry. The reason behind your tears didn’t matter; it just broke his heart knowing you were sad and right now, he pushed the idea of your procrastination to the back of his mind. He motioned for you to stand up and kissed both your cheeks to get rid of any trace of tears. Then, he pulled you in to his embrace and placed his chin on the top of your head before he comfortingly ran his hands up and down your back.

“I’m so sorry Mark—I’m sure you’re upset with me and you have every right to be—I’m so stupid—“ if this were under different circumstances, the cheeky pinch on your butt would’ve earned your boyfriend a punch to the shoulder, but you knew this was his way to stop you from degrading yourself. Before you could ever say anything negative about yourself, Mark would try and divert your attention away from bad mouthing yourself.

Although you and Mark were together for three years now and you knew he was the man you planned on spending the rest of your life with, there was an annoying voice in your head that would remind you almost every single day that you didn’t deserve him. He’s sacrificed so much for you and you knew it was because he loved you; but you never understood why. You weren’t anything special; sure, you loved him with every fiber of your being and you knew he was well aware of that. Yet, you knew he deserved so much more but there was no way you’d ever be able to let him go. Not when he was the one who saved your life all those years ago. The only person who meant anything to you.

As much as you loved your family and your friends, nobody could ever compare or mean as much to you. Nobody could ever be as important as Mark was. He was the only person you were sure you would die from heartbreak if you were to lose him. It was selfish of you to continue dragging him down with you and your toxic ways, but you needed Mark; you’d be nothing without him. He was your own personal guardian angel sent to change your life entirely for the better. He was the only good thing going for you and with the way he treated you as if you were the most fragile and rarest jewel in the world, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’re not stupid baby—a little irresponsible and careless, but not at all stupid. Hmph, I’ll tell you what, seeing as how I’m better when it comes to writing essays, let me handle it this time.”

��No, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you do this assignment for me Mark, I’d rather take the F—“ the soft kiss he placed on the corner of your lips made it aware that Mark meant business. Whenever he’d say something, he meant it. However, you refused to allow him to work on something you kept pushing back for months. Your essay was your full responsibility and it wouldn’t be fair for your boyfriend to have to write something he didn’t benefit from in such a small amount of time. God, he really did love you.

“The more time you spend trying to talk me out of helping you when I already made my mind up, the less time I’ll have to work on this paper. I don’t want you stressing over this; you’re already so worn-out as it is. This’ll be a piece of cake babe—you just sit on the bed and look pretty while I get started.”

Mark had to be a figment of your imagination. There was no way someone as thoughtful, kind-hearted, selfless and caring as him could exist. Most people would groan at the idea of having to do more work and if it were anyone else, you were sure you would’ve gotten a completely different reaction. You were quick to pull him in to a tight hug and left multiple chaste kisses all across of his face.

“I love you—more than I can ever fathom in to words Mark Tuan. You don’t understand how much this means to me—I’ll do anything you ask of me. Ugh, I will never get over how amazing you are and I could never thank you enough for all that you do for me.” He cupped your cheek and placed a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Anything huh? Maybe you could do some loads of my laundry, but that’s pretty much it—oh. I um—maybe you could—ah never mind.” You looked at him in curiosity and giggled when you saw the apples of his cheeks grow pink with embarrassment. Whatever he was probably referring to had to be something he was shy about. Your boyfriend was the definition of an introvert and he had a hard time asking people questions or even favors; this sometimes also included you. If you wanted to know what was on his mind, you’d have to pry it out of him.

“What is it babe?” He gave you the most adorable shrug and nibbled on his bottom lip as he began to look everywhere around the room but at you.

“Don’t feel as if you have to do this for me, I really don’t expect anything from you, but I wouldn’t mind a blow job if you’re up for it later.” One thing you loved the most about Mark, was how gentle and awkward he would get whenever it came to initiating sex or insinuating that he wanted a sexual favor from you. It was cute, yet it also turned you on for some reason. Maybe it was because he’d act totally innocent and submissive since he never wanted you to feel uncomfortable and he preferred to take things at your pace; but once the two of you actually made love, his attitude would take a 360 degree turn.

Sex with Mark was your favorite past time; he could get very naughty and rough in bed, but he could also take things slow and sensually. It really depended on the mood, but your boyfriend was an extremely generous and passionate lover. He knew what you liked, what positions you enjoyed the most, how to lick, bite and suck on all your sensitive body parts in order to elicit any kind of needy reaction out of you. It really boggled your mind that someone like Mark—someone so perfect without a flaw at all actually existed and what was harder to believe was that you were the lucky girl who was extremely blessed to call him yours.

That was something you would never take for granted; nor did you think you would ever get used to having him in your life. You seductively made your way on to his lap and began leaving sloppy kisses against his nape. This beautiful man sitting in front of you was willing to do your homework in order to prevent you from having a mental breakdown. He was willing to sacrifice his time to work on an assignment that wasn’t his responsibility to take care of just so that you didn’t have to suffer. Honestly, what world war did you fight and win in your past life to be the one that receives Mark’s love every single day? Whatever it is that you did to be able to call Mark your boyfriend, you would do it again and again if it meant having him in each and every single lifetime.

“Fuck—babe—as good as that feels, I only have three hours—y/n—you know, I’m actually thinking about taking you on your offer—just settle for the F and I’ll get settled in between your pretty thighs—“ you couldn’t help but stifle back a giggle once you heard the soft whine fall from his lips after you got up from off his lap, but he was right. He was already doing your homework for you, the least you could do was sit on the side and prevent yourself from bothering him.

“Oh yeah—you’re definitely taking me down your throat as soon as I turn in this paper. Now do as I said and sit down on the bed. Your presence alone is such a distraction and fuck—I’ve been hard since this morning when you walked out in my shirt. Damnit y/n—I really want to have my way with you right now. Please use this experience for future reference. I can’t believe I’m being cockblocked by a research paper of all things.”

You watched as Mark quickly skimmed through the rubric; you knew your boyfriend wanted to make sure he understood the material before typing out a bunch of nonsense. The last thing he needed was to spend all this time and effort looking for resources, citing them and looking for both spelling and grammatical errors only to earn you a bad grade. If Mark wasn’t there and you just so happened to find out about the essay, you wouldn’t have even attempted to write anything.

Your mindset in college was that if it seemed impossible, you would just give up on it entirely. Mark’s mindset however, was more realistic and you wished you had the motivation and enthusiasm that seemed to live in his bloodstream. Watching him so focused as he typed away like nothing was such an inspiring sight. English was one of your boyfriend’s favorite subjects; he loved reading all kinds of books—from murder mystery to comics and romance novels, Mark always preferred reading over watching a movie or television shows.

But, if there was anything he enjoyed more than reading, it was writing. Normally, the day his professor would assign him an essay, proposal, research paper or journal entry was the same day he would complete it and turn it it. There had to be something wrong with him. What person in their right mind genuinely enjoyed writing thousands of words, making sure there weren’t any errors and that the paper in its entirety actually made sense? You knew not to bother him, but you couldn’t help staring at him in all his handsome glory. His brows were furrowed and he began biting his lip in concentration; you didn’t think it was possible for someone to look like a model straight from an ad or a magazine while typing out an English paper.

“Can I get you something to eat or drink babe?” He quickly shook his head in disagreement without even looking up—he was too focused in whatever it was he could be typing.

“I think I need a couple of kisses though, you know—to help me reenergize.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his cheeky request before getting up and placing a few soft kisses against his mouth.

“So how’s it coming out?” He scrunched his nose before giving you a slight shrug.

“If I’m being honest, this probably isn’t my best work, but I’m sure it’s fine. I’m almost done by the way—so I’ll have you look it over to make sure it’s to your liking and then you can turn it in. Maybe you should start preparing your gratuity and tie your hair up. Might as well take your pants off while you’re at it—ow! I’d be careful if I were you baby. I might just replace your name with mine and confuse the shit out of your professor—yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, be a good girl and return back to bed.”

As much as you wanted to continue messing around with him; only because you were enjoying how demanding he would get when he was under stress, you knew better than to distract him. You decided to find something else to occupy yourself with as Mark returned to typing profusely at your laptop. It was extremely fascinating how he didn’t even take a second to think about what to write. The words seemed to just flow out of his brain like it was the easiest thing in the world and you were growing envious of his ability to come out with such quality and detailed work in such a small amount of time.

Around twenty minutes later, Mark let out a sigh of relief and brought his hands behind his back—a sign that he was finally finished. He motioned for you to walk over to your desk and had you sit on his lap. Out of habit, he snaked his arms around your waist and placed his chin on your shoulder; wanting to be as close to you as possible.

“Ten pages, twelve sources and it’s only 9:15. Tell me what you think baby.”

Right as you finished reading just the first paragraph alone, you were at a loss for words. Even if you were to start writing this paper when you first received the assignment from your professor, you were sure nothing you could write would be at least half as amazing as this paper was. It wasn’t repetitive—nor did he use nonsense words or anything you were sure you probably would have added in. He put all his sources in alphabetical order and inserted page numbers at the bottom of each page.

You could see why Mark’s previous English professor had asked him on multiple occasions to be her TA. The word brilliant wasn’t even enough to describe the kind of student Mark was. For someone who never really cared about reading English papers; whether it was an assignment for class, or when you had to give constructive criticism on one of your fellow classmate’s work, you would always skim through their essays—but you found yourself reading each and every single word Mark had typed out. His essay had you hooked; it was one of those writings that you were sure anyone would actually enjoy having to read. How was he able to finish all of that so quickly? By the end of it, you were in tears and you didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt Mark giggle in to your neck.

“Why are you crying Bub? I don’t think what I’ve written is at all that depressing. I literally wrote about biodegradation and how to save the earth—“

You didn’t give him any chance to continue his explanation as you roughly smashed your lips against his. Mark did so many things for you on a daily basis. He didn’t have to say he loved you for you to know that he did—his actions spoke for him. Knowing how most guys could be, you were sure no boyfriend would waste his time completing an assignment, especially one so time consuming needed all your knowledge and effort—for his girlfriend.

College was rough on everyone; so to take on something you thought was extremely difficult in order to prevent you from stressing out more than you already were—it made tears fall from the brim of your eyelids. You continued your ministrations, licking his lips and bringing both the bottom and the top in between your teeth before sucking on his tongue. Feeling him hum in to your mouth sent warmth to your core. In your relationship, you were the more extroverted and talkative one. You could go on and on about any subject you were passionate about.

However, just like Mark; you were more about actions than words—mainly because you felt like there weren’t enough words in the English dictionary to actually form sentences that would describe just how much you loved Mark wholeheartedly and exactly what he meant to you. When you felt his excitement press up against your ass, you knew what was right about to happen; but you wanted him to know verbally how grateful you were for him before showing him physically.

“Fuck—how did you—what kind of drug are you on Mark? That was one of the best essays I’ve ever read. There’s no way my professor is going to believe I wrote that. This is honors worthy—you’re—I can’t even find a word good enough to describe you. Otherworldly? Wonderful? Perfect? I love you so much Mark. Fuck, do I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t know what I did to have you in my life, but I would do it again and again to have you forever. I know you hate when I say this, but it’s the truth baby—I really don’t deserve you. Thank you, not just for typing this essay—fuck I still can’t even process this entire situation you need to sign up for scholarships or some shit you are so fucking intelligent and such a hardworking student. But—thank you for loving me. You really are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am forever grateful for whoever it was that decided to bless me with you as my soulmate. I love you Mark Tuan.” His wide grin and the way he looked at you so adoringly made your heart melt.

“I’d do anything for you—you know that baby. It’s just—seeing you so distressed—so frustrated and unhappy with school, watching you overwork yourself to the bone—it fucking sucks. Especially when I see you beating yourself up over grades you have no control over. I know you try your best in every single thing that you do and I know that it’s easy to forget some important things and fall behind, but I will always be there to catch you—and to assure you that everything is going to be okay. You’re my person y/n—it’s my life duty to take care of you. However—don’t get used to this baby, as much as I love you—trust me—I love you with every breath I take and with every beat of my heart—but shit, that was rough. Oh—and I never want to hear you say you don’t deserve me ever again. You take care of me just as much as I take care of you. It’s a team effort babe. Now, with that being said, you caused a big problem in my pants over half an hour ago and I think it’s time that you solved it.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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vtforpedro · 3 years

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LONG POST, medical update. ptsd, suicide TW: I’m really tired. I feel like I’ve been saying that for a year but I am exhausted. mind, body and soul exhausted my head got better after I lost the water weight my chemo pill was packing on (I was 15lbs lighter than the three weeks previously. so it was pretty bad lol) but now it’s getting bad again. it never gets to the point of relief, but it gets manageable and now it’s becoming unmanageable again. it’s not water weight but it might be cause I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays (just barely a couple pounds, I’m eating much lighter in general) anyway I don’t see the point of being scared to name what it is my neurosurgeon and I believe this is anymore. my psychiatrist thinks it makes sense, my pcp, even the ER doctor I saw on dec. 2nd lol but I am 99.9% sure this is what I have and it does makes sense but every fucking time I think about it for a while it makes me so angry. so so so angry y’all. I wish I could sit every single medical professional I interacted with over the last year or so who didn’t believe me and tell them it’s all been real, they failed me to such a degree I have ptsd and anger problems that I’m going to need therapy for, and tell them to learn how to be better providers. blegh so I saw my neurosurgeon (one of the best in the country) for the first time in april. his thoughts? anxiety with muscle tension in my back and neck that led to tension in my head. as in the muscles around my bones, not inside of my skull. didn’t listen to me or believe me, thought all my crazy symptoms were just anxiety and possibly the chiari malformation but there’s no treatment for that beyond surgery and mine is so mild no one wants to go that route (me most of all lmao) I put off seeing him again because I saw different neurologists and my PCP over the months who basically all said the same thing. like my PCP believed me and gave me referrals to the neuros, but one told me to ‘stop worrying about this and just enjoy life’ and the other sat with me for an hour, the first half of which she was all on board the ‘anxiety is fucking with you, none of this is real’ train until I had to tell her to LISTEN TO MY SYMPTOMS firmly enough that she did. she went the opposite way then and said yeah ok something ‘mechanical’ is happening, you need to go back to a neurosurgeon. turned out she loves the neurosurgeon I saw in april (worship the ground he walks on, were her words) but told me maybe I still needed a second opinion. she did also mention that I’ve been living with this for so long that I’m ‘married to it now’ which still implies I’m making it worse than it actually is but :) whatever, she couldn’t think of what it could be decided to just go back to that neurosurgeon and tell him the physical therapy he prescribed in april I had to stop because it made things worse. his PA tried to prescribe me more PT on the phone before I firmly told her I needed to SPEAK with him face to face because my quality of life is gone, because I get close to killing myself weekly because of how bad this is and nothing has improved since april. only gotten worse. so I had my appt with him in late October I think? I explained all of my symptoms (again) and told him how nothing has changed, things have gotten worse, when I do x y z I have an episode, etc etc. he said he still doesn’t think it’s the chiari but he said it *might* be IIH idiopathic intracranial hypertension first time I’ve ever heard of it and even though it was over 11 months into this, it might just save my life now that I have idiopathic = we don’t fucking know why this happens, intracranial = HAPPENING IN MY SKULL AND BRAIN, hypertension = technically high blood pressure, but for here just high pressure cause my BP is good it is rare, it is unknown why people get it and why others don’t, it is most common in women of child bearing age who are obese. the thought is that the weight on the body causes the brain to very slightly inflate, decreasing spinal fluid flow and increasing pressure in the brain, sometimes CAUSING a chiari malformation to appear, which can cause other symptoms on top of IIH it used to be called pseudotumor cerebri because IIH makes the brain behave like it has a tumor while no tumor is actually present (which means normal MRI/CT scans and the main reason everyone told me I was faking it) I gained 80lbs in less than two years due to severe depression and ptsd. I’ve been at the same weight for almost two years now and was at that weight in Feb 2019 before things started happening in Dec 2019. sometimes it does just come on one day. it can be chronic, it can randomly go into remission and come back, and they have no idea why it even happens. it’s rare enough that no neurologist I saw could even think of it. rare enough that one of the best neurosurgeons in the country didn’t think of it until he decided he believed me lol he leans even more heavily into this because I gained weight so quickly (one of the hallmarks of getting IIH) and I had not a single symptom like it before the weight gain I don’t trust anything or anyone right now and I am extremely pessimistic and have no hope. but the one thing that’s given me a little hope, that’s made me believe this is what I have, is the fucking wikipedia page on IIH. it lists one specific symptom that I’ve seen nowhere else (and is EXTREMELY specific lmao) that I have and that everyone thought I was crazy explaining. beyond destroying your quality of life, the one thing IIH can do is cause permanent blindness. I’ve had a fuck ton of problems with my vision since this all started happening. one of the worst is that if I’m in the middle of an episode and I look up or to the left, it makes it h u r t and makes the episode worse. which is on the wikipedia page! which explains why I couldn’t fucking do EMDR therapy which involves rapid eye movement from side to side :) :) :) even my therapist was thinking this was all in my head and I was just letting my anxiety tell me EMDR would send my head into an episode instead of it actually happening lmaaaao god I am so angry y’all my mom and my uncle The Doctor wanted to commit me in March/April. I had an entire ER nurses station mock me for ten minutes for coming in repeatedly and having bizarre symptoms that, because they were unexplained, they thought I was faking. they belittled me when talking to me. one put the tv remote (no tv in the room) instead of the call button in my hand when I was too out of it to notice. the ER doctor that day told me I was making up a story, none of this was real, and to continue seeing my psychiatrist. I went home that day, told my mom I was fine for her to go back to work (she was angry with me and wanted me to go to a psychiatric hospital), took a shower and planned on swallowing a bottle of pills. I was in agony, utter agony, every single day multiple times a day I thought I was going to die, and it was being made clear to me that no one, not even my mom, believed me. I told my best friend and she talked me out of it, but I came very close and I will forever be heartbroken and angry beyond belief about this (my mom came around not long after this after seeing that this wasn’t going away and has thoroughly apologized for wanting to commit me. she has been helping me every single day since this started even tho she thought it was anxiety. I’m angry but I don’t hold it against her, not after the incredible sacrifices she’s made for me for a year) so yeah. every bizarre symptom, every agonizing thing I go through, the weird discomfort, pain and burning, vision problems, etc etc, all explained by IIH. the very specific ‘looking in a certain direction makes it worse’ has been there since day one. it’s because pressure has increased on the nerve behind my eyes so looking in a certain way aggravates the affected nerve further gaining all that water weight and having my head get so so so severe, enough to send me to the ER again, made me also think this was a real possibility and the ER doc agreed that the fluid retention was making pressure in my brain even more severe and it did ease quite a lot once that was all gone, another reason I believe this is IIH if you read up on IIH or read stories by people with it, it is life altering, debilitating, and agonizing to live with. most people will also have the same story of doctors not believing them and saying it was anxiety before getting this diagnosis the good thing? there’s a cure and while some people may need additional help later on, it works for most people. and it is, very simply, losing weight. 10-20% of body weight (some places say relief can start at just 3%) seems to completely cure it for most people because the brain is no longer inflated and because of that, any chiari malformation (cerebral tonsils sitting in the spinal cord opening) will actually go away, because it makes room in the skull for the tonsils to go back to their normal place I have some trouble knowing that I am partially at fault for gaining weight like I did, but my mom keeps telling me it’s so rare and how could I have possibly known and it was after severe trauma so. trying to deal with that too lol but yeah! weight loss journey. my chemo pill, if you read my last update, completely fucked me up for a while (including the fuckin weight gain despite a low calorie, low fat diet since like nov 1st) so it’s made it hard to lose weight. but now that I’m off of that pill, I’m down 7lbs and I will continue to lose. I have never been more motivated in my life to lose weight lmao and I’ve successfully done it before! I can’t exercise but my neurosurgeon said as the weight comes off and my symptoms start getting better, I will probably be able to incorporate more movement in my life. I can’t even walk around my apt for too long right now cause it builds pressure in my brain. it fucking sucks because this is something they don’t understand, it’s really only diagnosed if everything else has been ruled out (and with a lumbar puncture, but I am too fucking traumatized to have that done. but if I showed high pressure with no reason for it, it would be an ‘official’ IIH diagnosis). but I’m choosing not to do the LP because if I start to have my symptoms relieved as I lose weight, it’s pretty obvious that’s what this has been from the start my brain thinks it has a brain tumor and is going absolutely batshit insane and no matter how much I tried to get people to believe me, it took 11 months to get there. I will carry this with me for the rest of my life and once covid eases, I’m finding a good trauma therapist and working through this if my symptoms DON’T ease, we’ll talk brain surgery. but I think this is what I have and I think I’ll be okay when I lose enough weight (and I’ll feel better all around lol) anyway I’ve had an extremely bad couple of months and I wanted to get this off my chest, sorry it’s so long. if you can please, please, please cross your fingers for me and wish me luck that this is what it is and that over the next handful of months I lose the weight and get my life back, I will appreciate it more than I can say I’m going to thank all of you ahead of time because I lack spoons to reply right now and I also want to thank you all for your support over this last year and never doubting me. for always offering me words of encouragement and for being angry on my behalf. thank you thank you thank you I love you all <3

#personal #medical #health update #tw suicide #long post

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bunnieresources · 4 years

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WASTEISOLATION by the blackdresses sentence starters.

“ you’ll never find a way out. “

“ someday you won’t recognize me. “

“ someday you won’t even know who i am. “

“ it doesn’t matter, even if i get it wrong. “

“ sometimes i think that i’m dreaming. sometimes i know that i’m not. “

“ i think i fear you. “

“ i know you’re scared of me, so i’m scared too. “

“ the difference is... i don’t want to kill you. “

“ i live in sickness. “

“ feels kinda like my soul is burnt. “

“ this shit’s too evil to be stylish. “

“ i want to crush you with my jaws. “

“ i don’t feel like i can be anything more than this. “

“ i just want to be whatever you want me to be. “

“ i don’t want to have a soul. “

“ i don’t know what i am but i want you to show me. “

“ i don’t want to have the capacity to feel lonely. “

“ i want you to destroy me so i’ll feel better. “

“ i want to go to hell together. “

“ tell me how to feel. “

“ i don’t know what’s real. “

“ i want to replace myself with the best parts of you. “

“ i don’t want to be anything close to what i knew. “

“ i want to empty out my mind and make it something i can use. “

“ i want to burn away my childhood and scatter something new. “

“ it doesn’t matter if i die. “

“ is there any truth to what you tell me you know about me? “

“ i am not like you. “

“ i want to forget myself and be lied to. “

“ i don’t know if anything’s right, i’m just a girl who can’t look herself in the eye. “

“ it’s the fucking worst, isn’t it? it’s so fucking cursed, isn’t it? “

“ i don’t fucking want to hurt anyone. “

“ i just want to feel anything before i’m done. “

“ you cannot pretend to be close with me. “

“ i burn so fucking bright but your eyesight only sees ashes. “

“ look in my eyes and see the person you damaged. “

“ i run away but they keep following. “

“ what did i do to incur a body that just screams, and dies, and hurts? “

“ i feel like a kind of human curse. “

“ i know i don’t belong, but i have nowhere else to stay. “

“ i’m so sorry i’m here. please don’t kill me. “

“ if i was a killer, i’d kill me too. “

“ i don’t want anything, i just want to survive. “

“ i know i'm nothing to you, i know i'm not even alive. “

“ i’m sorry that i scare you. “

“ i know you’re something different. “

“ you can’t hide it, you can’t miss it. “

“ sometimes i think i’m dead. “

“ i feel like someone else. “

“ i don’t know where i’ve been and i’m scared to ask. “

“ i have zero tolerance for bad little shit heads who only seem to fuck around. “

“ you need to fuck off, you need to go away. “

“ i don’t wanna talk about it, that’s all that i came to say. “

“ who the fuck do you think you are?! “

“ is this how you want to spend the last few years of your life? “

“ you can be the fucking evil monster. “

“ everything around me felt like a bad dream. “

“ just a little further, one day it will make sense. “

“ who am i if i can’t assign a name and place to what this is? “

“ everything that's mine feels rotten from the touch of it. “

“ who the fuck are you? stay the fuck away from me! “

“ i want to love myself but memories are killing me. “

“ i want to live but all the years that came before wont let me be. “

“ i could make peace with what i’m not. “

“ i could be real again someday. “

“ i don’t really know why i see rotten things inside myself. “

“ i don’t really understand a single thing that's said to me. “

“ i’m just a pain that hurts too much. “

“ i'll get away and i'll be all that i dreamed of. “

“ i'll become everything that you were so scared i would be. “

“ you’ll never see me again. “

“ this anger burns out too quick to hold. “

“ am i a character in some sick fantasy that's getting old? “

“ what happens from now on if it turns out i never told you? “

“ i want to start again, i want this hurt to die. “

“ i want it to destroy me so i'll have a reason not to lie. “

“ i want to hear your voice and tell you it’s the last time ever. “

“ i want to cut away; i want to separate and sever. “

“ listen, i don't want to go here. “

“ this is almost as bad as going back there. “

“ this is a wound and it’s closing. “

“ please don’t try to love me. “

“ i don't even feel like those memories are mine anymore. “

“ i don't know your motive but i just want to get out of this mess. “

“ i remember trusting you, but now that's something i don't think that i could ever do. “

“ the truth is i don't want to know what happened to me. “

“ all of us had someone like you to run from. “

“ i wish it was easier to hate you. “

“ i wish you were a bad person, but instead i just think that i am for wanting that. “

“ i wish you knew what you did, but i don't want to tell you. “

“ it would be easier if you were something i had nightmares about instead of ugly, complicated dreams. “

“ please don't look for me. i promise i'm okay. please go. “

“ it's not my fault that my soul is a war. “

“ i blame you. but i don't want to hate you ...but maybe that's because i'm afraid to. “

“ what comes next? is there anything after? where will we go to now? who will we become? “

“ i wonder. i’ve never wondered before. “

“ everything always changes but its always the same. “

#devi mccallion's albums make me wanna go crazy and stupid and i love that #Ask memes #ask prompts #inbox memes #inbox prompts #roleplay prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay resources #roleplaying memes #roleplaying prompts #roleplaying resources #rp prompts #rp memes #rp resources #sentence starters

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bellakitse · 4 years

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Okay, Cupid

While hiding in the bathroom from the worst online date of his life and trying to find a way out of it, Carlos Reyes meets a beautiful man with green eyes who convinces him to escape the restaurant together.

Written for Lone Star Week Day 3 - Alternate Universe (AU)

He’s hiding in the bathroom.

He, Carlos Reyes, an Austin Police Officer, is hiding in the bathroom stall of a very nice Italian restaurant from a genuinely horrible online date, and he needs to call his best friend to scream at her since really it’s all her fault. He informs her of this the second she answers her phone. Forgetting his manners, he doesn’t bother with even a hello.

“Try online dating, Carlos. What’s the worst that could happen, Carlos. You’re going to end up old, alone and with a dozen cats, Carlos,” he throws back at her the mocking words she said to him a few days ago.

“What’s the worst that could happen, Michelle? Well, I could be on a date with someone who is obviously a fan of Jeffrey Dahmer. At least if I die and my future cats eat my face, it’s for survival, not because they have a fetish,” he hisses at her.

There is silence on the other side of the phone for a second before she speaks. “Hello to you too,” she starts dryly with a hint of laughter, causing Carlos to roll his eyes at her tone. “I take it the date is going well.”

“Sure,” he shoots back sarcastically. If she thinks she’s going to out bitch him, she has another thing coming.

“Let’s see, where to start – ” he pauses for effect. “How about that he looks nothing like his picture. It’s not catfishing but close enough, or how about that he barely blinks when he looks at me. I counted to forty-five before his eyes actually shut for a millisecond,” he tells her, letting out a full-body shake as he remembers the creepy stare.

“Or how about the heavy breathing thing he does when he’s talking about how soft my skin looks,” he continues, his voice going higher. “Obviously, I have found my soulmate, and I’m calling you to let you know I’m eloping to Vegas.”

“Congratulations, I wish you endless happiness,” Michelle shoots back, and this time there isn’t just a hint of amusement in her voice, the laughter is clear.

“I hate you; this is all your fault, and I’m never listening to you again,” he hisses back at her, rolling his eyes when it does nothing to stop her from laughing. If anything, it sets her off even more.

“If he’s really that weird, then bail.”

He opens his mouth to yell at her some more. She’s the one that’s been nagging him about wasting his youth, telling him he needs to find someone. He doesn’t have cats, but he doesn’t see what’s so wrong with having some. He hears another snicker and realizes with embarrassment that it’s not coming from his phone and his supposed best friend, but from outside his bathroom stall.

“Michelle, hold on a sec,” he says quietly. He opens the door of the stall to find a man by the sink counter, leaning against it with a grin on his face.

“Sorry,” the stranger says with a smile that contradicts his apology. Carlos takes him in, his fit build, his artfully tousled hair, stunning green eyes, and a gorgeous face.

“Michelle, I’ll call you back,” he mumbles, ending the call.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really,” he continues, the smile on his face is friendly for a moment before turning wicked. “Or to laugh at the fact that you’re obviously out with a serial killer that will probably try to make a skin suit out of you before the night is over.”

Carlos shivers at the mental image the words evoke. “Fucking hell, thanks for the lifetime of nightmares, mean stranger.”

“TK,” he introduces himself, the grin never leaving his face. “And to be fair, if my prediction is right, it won’t be a very long lifetime.”

“Carlos,” he answers back dryly, a hint of amusement flickering inside him even if it’s at his own expense. “Let me guess; you’re a motivational speaker, because I gotta say this conversation is going great.”

TK lets out a delighted laugh, and Carlos takes in how it makes his already pretty face even more stunning; he can feel the corners of his mouth tick upward against his will.

“No, but it’s nice to know if I want a career change – ” TK trails off with a grin. “I’m a firefighter, recently moved here from New York.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at the fellow first responder. “Austin Police, at your service.”

“You’re a cop,” TK exclaims, his green eyes widening. “Then what are you so worried about, just arrest the weirdo.”

“I can’t arrest someone for being creepy,” Carlos argues, rolling his eyes. “The prisons would be full if that was the case. Not to mention none of my buddies would ever let me live it down if I’m so weirded out by my date I bring him in.”

TK snickers softly, raising his hands when Carlos gives him a dirty look. “Is it really that bad? At least your date showed up; mine didn’t even do that.”

“You got stood up?” Carlos questions in shock. “Who would stand you up? Look at you.”

Carlos feels his cheeks heat up as TK raises an eyebrow at him, the hint of a satisfied smirk on his face at Carlos’ unintentional compliment.

“I don’t know; I was supposed to be on a blind date. I had a rose on my table so he could know who I am. We were supposed to meet an hour ago,” TK shrugs, unconcerned. “Maybe he came in, took one look at me and bailed.”

“Not possible,” Carlos blurts out, unable to help himself. He blushes hard, but it’s worth it for the way it makes TK smile, this time a little softer.

They stay quiet for a moment, neither sure what to say. Carlos knows he can’t stay in the bathroom much longer. His date is waiting outside, probably more than ready to get to the part of the night where he moisturizes Carlos’ body before he uses it.

Carlos shudders again at the thought. Jesus, he really doesn’t want to go back out there.

“Ditch him,” TK says suddenly like he can read his mind.

Carlos opens his mouth to argue, that wouldn’t be kind, right?

“I know it’s not necessarily nice,” TK continues quickly before he can speak, and Carlos is starting to really wonder if the guy can read his mind. “But you’re a cop, which means you listen to your gut. So what does your gut say?”

Carlos chews on his bottom lip as he thinks about what TK has just asked. Chances are he’s overreacting, and his date isn’t a crazy person, if he genuinely thought he was, he wouldn’t be thinking of him as a date but a perp. But he freaks Carlos out enough that everything inside him is screaming to leave.

Then there’s TK – he’s been in the bathroom with the guy for less than ten minutes, and he’s had more fun bantering with him than he has had all night, or any night in a long time.

It’s not nice, it’s downright rude, but his heart is already pounding with excitement before he even gets the words out.

“Come with me,” he blurts out, his hands sweating when TK raises an eyebrow at him in surprise. “You said your idiot date stood you up,” he pushes on quickly. “And that you recently moved to Austin, right?”

TK nods slowly at him; there is a hint of a smile on his face that encourages Carlos to continue.

“Well, if you haven’t been here long, then you probably don’t know Lupita’s Tacos over on Walker,” he tells him with a grin. “Her tacos are a religious experience; even racists don’t complain about Mexicans after they try them.”

TK lets out a snort, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Well damn, that’s one hell of a sale pitch, how can I say no to tacos that can solve racism.”

“You can’t,” Carlos answers, grinning, excited in a way he hasn’t been in the longest time. “So, are you in?”

TK bites down on his lip, but it does nothing to diminish his smile. “Hell yeah.”

“Great,” Carlos answers happily, letting out a breath before he starts planning their next move. “Now, to get out of here without Hannibal seeing me.”

TK pushes off the counter, walking towards Carlos until they’re only inches apart. “Leave that to me,” he says, the twinkle in his green eyes is full of mischief, completely charming and more than a little disarming for Carlos. He’s always enjoyed playful partners.

He feels himself blush at his thoughts, just because TK agreed to help him bail on his weird date and get tacos doesn’t mean anything is going to happen between them. It doesn’t matter how beautiful TK is or how he’s totally Carlos’ type.

He’s not finished with his thought when TK is extending his hand to him.

“Shall we?” TK asks teasingly, wiggling his fingers at him.

Carlos takes his hand, inhaling a sharp breath as he feels a shock go through him when their hands touch. Eyes snapping up to TK’s, his heart beats a little faster when he finds that TK looks stunned himself. He tightens his hold on TK, fingers interlocking.

“So you got a plan?” he asks after a moment where they both look down at their hands.

“Through the kitchen and out the back?” TK suggests with a shrug. “Tell me he didn’t drive you here.”

“No,” Carlos shakes his head, with an online date, no way was he going to let anyone pick him up. “I drove here.”

“Perfect, I ubered,” TK says with a grin as he guides Carlos deeper into the restaurant. “Guess you’re our getaway driver.”

Carlos chuckles softly, shaking his head, he’s not sure what he’s doing, trading one stranger for the next but it feels right even if he still feels kind of shitty for his date.

“Maybe I should leave him a note?” he questions right before they step into the kitchen. “So that he doesn’t spend the night waiting for me to come back?”

TK looks at him for a moment, seeming to come to a decision he waves over the waitress that coincidently had brought Carlos and his date their menus and waters as she stands by a cutlery station.

“Hey,” he starts, smiling brightly at the young girl, Carlos can see how she’s instantly affected by the power of TK’s smile and feels a little relieved it’s not just him. He listens as TK explains the situation; bad date, trying to leave without making a scene.

The girl nods as she looks at him, he’s thankful she’s not giving him a judging look.

He pulls out his wallet, taking a couple of bills out to cover anything the guy might order and a tip for her.

“You don’t have to go through the kitchen, that exit leads to the parking lot,” she explains as she points to a different door. “Also, that guy is totally bizarre.”

Carlos smiles at her, he’s not sure if she picked up on the same odd vibe or if she’s trying to make him feel better for bailing, but he’s grateful all the same.

He and TK make it out to the parking lot without a problem, and while he still feels terrible for leaving, he also can’t help the relieved breath he lets out the second he’s inside his car. He pulls out of the parking lot quickly and sets towards Walker St.

“So how long have you been in Austin?” he asks, his eyes straying off the road to look at TK for a second.

“Almost four months?” TK adorably wrinkles his nose as he thinks. “My dad got offered to help rebuild the firehouse we’re at, I had a bad break-up, so we decided I could use a change of scenery, and came here.”

Carlos itches to ask about the break-up, but it isn’t his place no matter how curious he might be. “What company are you with?”

“The 126,” TK says with a smile, and Carlos feels his eyes widen at the number.

“You’re TK Strand then,” he says, amazed at the coincidence. “Your dad is Captain Strand.”

TK looks over at him; his eyes are wide and curious. “That’s right, how did you know that?”

“Well, for one, I have been on a few of your calls,” he starts, letting out a chuckle, he can’t believe he’s been in TK’s orbit without running into him.

“That’s impossible, I would have noticed you,” TK answers back quickly, and Carlos feels his pulse spike at the blatant assurance that TK found him attractive.

“Ditto,” Carlos murmurs, feeling his cheeks heat up even as he smiles when TK flashes him a smirk. “Maybe we just haven’t been lucky enough to be on the same calls. But I know Judd, and Michelle Blake is my best friend.”

“Well, damn,” TK shakes his head, his shoulders shaking a bit. “We’ve been running in the same circles and missing each other; fate is not always kind.”

“We ran into each other today though,” Carlos points out, looking over at TK as he parks outside a small storefront with blue writing. “Maybe fate is making it up to us?”

TK nibbles on the corner of his bottom lip, it’s an appealing shade of pink, and all Carlos wants to do is lean in and soothe the teeth marks TK is leaving with his tongue. TK lets out a small noise, and Carlos forces himself to drag his eyes off his mouth to look at his eyes. Even in the dim light of his Camero, TK’s eyes are mesmerizing, they’re a shade darker than earlier, and there is a look in them that Carlos recognizes as what he’s currently feeling.

Desire.

“What are you thinking right now?” he whispers, leaning forward over the center console and swallowing hard when TK does the same.

“You know what I’m thinking about,” TK whispers back, he wets his lips slowly. “You’re thinking it too; it’s all over your face.”

“Tell me anyway,” he shoots back.

Carlos sees the smirk on Tk’s face seconds before he presses his lips against his. TK traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, the action is playful, and Carlos parts his lips instantly for him, his stomach clenching and fluttering in a way that it hasn’t since he was a teenager. He’s known TK less than an hour, and yet the touch of his mouth against Carlos’, sends his heart racing. TK flicks his tongue against his, and Carlos can’t help the needy noise that escapes from his throat. TK answers the sound with one of his own, a low moan that vibrates between them. The kiss turns hard and dirty as they desperately grab at each other, hands coming up to each other's faces as the kiss gets desperate, they’re practically fused together, and it’s still not enough.

Carlos can’t remember the last time he wanted anyone as much as he wants the man who is kissing him like he’s staking a claim on him.

God, he hopes he is, because after tasting TK, Carlos doesn’t think he can go back to swiping right on Tinder.

Maybe Michelle is right, and he does need someone, he just wants that someone to be TK.

They break the kiss when breathing becomes a problem. Still, and even though he’s breathing heavy, TK gives the corner of his mouth a small kiss, he lingers there, lips soft against Carlos’ skin in the gentlest of caresses while his hand touches Carlos’ opposite cheek just as tenderly.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out with a wide smile, his eyes shining with unbridled happiness. “Where have you been all my life?”

Carlos lets out a laugh, the joy of knowing TK is feeling the same as he spreads through every inch of him. “Going on shitty online dates, obviously.”

“Hmm,” TK murmurs, still smiling as a mischievous look takes over his handsome face. “Proposal. I’ll take you on non-shitty dates; some would even say amazing ones. I won’t make you feel like you’re out with a serial killer, and at the end of the night as a reward, you kiss me like that, what do you say?” he asks him, the smile on his face is shy, his eyes hopeful.

“I won’t fear that you’re going to eat me?” Carlos jokes, feeling his face go red when TK smirks at him, the smile is absolutely filthy. Carlos is embarrassed and turned on before TK even speaks.

“I mean,” he starts, there is a slight drawl to his words that should be ridiculous instead of hot, but it still makes Carlos’ stomach flip. “I can promise that if I eat you out – “ he grins, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll enjoy every second of it.”

TK laughs at the look on Carlos’ face, but Carlos doesn’t respond, he can’t when his face is red and his dick hard. Instead, he pulls a giggling TK back into another kiss until the laughter trails off, and TK is begging into his mouth, telling him to forget the tacos in favor of taking him home.

Carlos turns his car back on; he figures he can cook them something back at his place later, and while he does that, he can delete his tinder profile.

As TK kisses his cheek and down his neck, whispering how good it’s going to be between them, he figures he won’t be needing the app anymore.

#911 lone star #911lonestarweek #911lsweek #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #tk x carlos #my writing

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so-i-dont-forget-again · 3 years

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So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 99: Lookout Post

We stayed up all night star gazing. His glowing spots were just as memorizing as ever. We read through my journal and his letters. When we got to the part when my mind went to a dark place Sidon simply held me close and said that I at least knew what he would do now. I felt so secure and safe in that moment. So happy. How does he always to this to me? How is it that he always makes me feel so, I don’t know? Any negative feelings or thoughts welding up inside, he doesn’t just make them go away he somehow manages to find the heart of them helps me find a way to change it. Like with my dark thoughts we talked through them, not just ignored them, or my feelings for Daruk and all the others who’ve passed, or my realization that what he pointed out I knew a hundred years ago. We explored and talked through all of them just like that night when I broke down and my conflicting feelings about my past and Mipha came pouring out. He never did anything for me or in my place, he supported me allowing me a greater chance to do it myself. Whenever he speaks of how great I am, that makes me want to do even better! Not just for him but for myself. I feel I have this self-motivated drive that I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t help me kick start it. He doesn’t simply get rid of things he helps to make changes that last. Sidon’s just so amazing. I wish No, what he’s done for me I will do someday for him! I’ll change his life for the better someday! I will be the Sidon to his Link! I try my best but what he does for and to me I can’t truly describe. I can only work towards being the kind of person whom could do the same for others, and for him.

As much as it would have been lovely to stay together longer, I could not just let Sidon stay here. I led him back to where the canyon and desert meet when the sun was rising. Before leaving he gently held my right arm and asked how it was fairing. It was behaving as usual honestly, it was much slower to heal than the rest of me, it still hurts even now honestly. He then closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on mine, asking me to be a little more careful, and to treat my right arm better because it seems to get injured often.

As he started walking away, he stopped, turning to me saying that he wanted to say one last thing. He said that whether I’m a Voe or a Vai I am adorable. He then paused for a moment before that toothy grin took hold on his lips, saying especially when I blush. He put a big emphasis on the ‘especially’ part. Then added that either way it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the greatest person he’s ever met. With that said he left me with a racing heart and my face feeling as hot as the desert in the afternoon. HOW DOES HE DO THIS!? I’M JUST THINKING ABOUT IT AND MY HEART’S RACING AGAIN!

I’m so happy and so scared to see him go. I believe that he should be safe in the domain, but he was with me when I killed the Yiga clan’s leader. They may target him. There are way too many ‘what if’s’ in this situation. Thankfully some Gerudo women agreed to travel with him so at least they have safety in numbers. Oddly enough, though I was worried about the Yiga in that moment I was more worried about how upset Muzu and possibly his father would be. He ran off without saying a word to anyone I believe.

On the way back to Gerudo town we bumped into Vilia. We chatted for a bit about what had happened and about Sidon. She remarked that we seem very close. It was a short chat though. I’m not exactly sure how long it’s been so I wanted to meet with the chief as soon as I could.

When I reached the audience chamber Buliara asked me what took so long, then said that it didn’t matter. The Chief had given me permission to see her in her room if she wasn’t at the audience chamber so not so willingly Buliara led me to the Chief’s room and stood guard at the door.

Chief Riju stood at the edge of a balcony which overlooked the whole town. She told me that she had been waiting for me. I was apologizing when she raised a hand and said that it wasn’t needed, after all, she was the one who requested that I get the helm back. She thanked me for saving that one guard. She then said that I must have noticed that she is a child. She said that people only look on her kindly but that in of itself hurts a little. She’d tried so much to prove to be worthy of her role to her people and herself. When the Thunder Helm was stolen she felt as if a shadow had fallen over her. She then said that my arrival amongst this chaos must have been the work of Lady Urbosa, the Champion of the Gerudo and a chief too. She then placed the helm on. It was a bit big, so she had to hold it up.

That helm… It lay by their sides on a few pillows. They sat on a blanket, looking out at the marvelous view of the night desert from so high up. Princess Zelda had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She said that I certainly gotten there fast. She told me Zelda was out surveying all day. Then she asked if we were getting along. After a few moments she said that it was okay, my silence spoke volumes. She told me that Princess Zelda gets frustrated every time she sees me with the legendary sword on my back. She feels like a failure when it came to her own destiny. She told me to not worry, none of it was my fault. She said that for her whole life the princess had gone through rigorous daily routines to show her dedication, there was even a time when she had passed out in freezing waters trying to gain her spiritual powers. Yet she has nothing to show for it. She said that’s what motivates her to do so much research. She then added that if she were in her place, she’d do the exact same thing. She said the princess was quite special as she placed some stray hairs behind the princess’ ear. She told me to make sure to protect her with my life, it was an honor to do so. She said that the nights here are freezing so it was time to take the princess in. She paused for a moment, smirking before snapping her fingers causing lightning to strike, startling the princess awake. Seeing her reaction, she couldn’t hold in that hearty laughter.

Chief Riju asked if something was wrong for I had been staring for a while. But then said that it didn’t really matter. She asked how it looked on her. I said it was a tad big. Then in that moment it slid off her a little. She swiftly adjusted it and started to speak of Vah Naboris. She said that within the time it took me to get back it’s reach had already grown exponentially. We could both see a massive sandstorm brewing not far off in the distance. The town, and the rest of Hyrule would very soon be in danger. She told me that as chief it was her duty to protect her people and asked me for help. I obviously agreed. She commented on how funny it was that right before such a dangerous battle ‘hearing a simple, confident pledge of support from you would be what puts me at ease.’ Hearing that gave me a kind of joy I hadn’t felt before.

We left for a place called the ‘Lookout Post’ It was near the storm, but not quite caught up in it yet. There was her personal Sandseal, Patricia waiting for us. Sandseals are the creature used as transportation here since horses can’t run on sand. The rider stands on a large shield or something similar. You use straps to control the Sandseal. They swim though in the sand so a person can’t exactly ride on their backs. The plan was for me to shoot at Vah Naboris’ feet with bomb arrows. It draws it’s power from the ground so if we damaged those enough we’d probably get an opening to the inside. Chief Riju controlled the Sandseal and provided protection from the lightning by wearing the helm. The helm can provide some protection to the area around her so by both of us riding on the same shield I should not get hit by lightning.

Before the fight I changed into my Champion’s tunic since it’s my best armor. I at least wore some ruby jewelry since the sun was setting and it was about to get cold. Chief Riju was surprised to see me. She rarely gets to see voe since they’re not allowed in town. Yet though I certainly look different I wasn’t that different. Though I’m a guy I really liked being a woman for a while. Honestly, I’ll probably wear my Gerudo clothing when traveling even though I don’t need to.

We looked out into the storm and could just barely see the Divine Beast lurking within. It was pretty intimidating. When she asked once more if I was sure I was prepared I said of course. She really liked my confidence. She also told me that if I got too injured or struck by lightning even once she promised that we’d retreat to the lookout post. Though we were going into battle she didn’t want us to do anything reckless under any circumstances. It was then that we finally set off.

The wind was ferocious, and with sand being kicked up aiming and firing was nearly impossible. I was only able to get any shots in if we got extremely close. Lightning exploded all around us, and the crashing noises it caused was defining. I had to focus all of my effort into simply drawing my bow let alone shooting. I have no idea what would have happened should Chief Riju not have been there. Vah Naboris quickly became more aggressive, moving faster and making the storm more like a tornado. The Divine Beast even kicked out one of its legs which got me to fall off the shield. The Chief tried to come back for me, but the Sandseal was scared off and she too fell off the shield. It was about to stamp one of its feet on her when I tossed myself holding a Sheikah bomb at it. My head was ringing, and my body felt numb. Thankfully Sheika bombs don’t use fire or gunpower so all that hit me was just the force of the explosion which is much more powerful than a regular bomb arrow, but I had the sand to cushion my fall, so I was relatively fine. I tried explaining that to the chief, but she was furious with me for doing something to dangerous. Though this did not last long because we realized that Vah Naboris was now falling on us. I swiftly took her under my arm and booked it out of there. We just made it in time to not get crushed. The storm quickly subsided, and the lightning had completely stopped. But I knew that like the other Divine Beasts it wouldn’t stay down long so I went searching for an entrance. I told her that it would be best to return to town given the fact that going in there meant you’d have to fight a living nightmare but she refused saying that it’s her duty to protect her people, and if I continued to throw myself into danger then I’d die before appeasing Vah Naboris.

As we found an entrance it was already getting back up on it’s feet. Once we were inside, though our footing was steady we could still feel ourselves bobbing up and down with the Divine Beast which was such a strange feeling. A voice echoed about in my mind leading us to the guidance stone. This beast seemed to be much more open. There were so many places where I could see the outside from inside.

Whenever I had to fight, I had the Chief stay back. At one point she asked that when she was a little older if I could teach her. The Gerudo are known for being amazing warriors but she could be even greater if she could learn more than just the traditional Gerudo style. I wasn’t sure what to say. I believe learning different styles of fighting is important, but… The battle against the Calamity will be unlike anything I’ve faced before in memory, and last I faced it, I failed. So, how was I to say that I would even still be around to teach her? But I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘no’, so I agreed. I just feel awful now.

Each time we took back a terminal I heard confident words of affirmation and praise in my mind.

Soon all that remained was a control panel. Before placing the Sheikah Slate on it I told the chief that she needed to stay close to me. After placing down the slate for a moment I took the chief’s hand and ran as a mucked black and purple mist exploded forth from the control panel, then taking the shape of a disgusting creature wielding a sword and shield. With that same damned bright blue eye. The thing that had killed Urbosa a hundred years ago. It moved so fast it was simply a blur. Next thing I knew I was clutching the chief against my chest as that thing’s sword was swiftly pulled out of my side. I swung at it as much as I could before it disappeared. I was able to jump out of the way of its next attack while still holding the chief. It soon used lightning attacks which thanks to the chief we were unaffected by. It soon threw down metal rods. Lightning bounced across them, using the magnet ability I threw one of the rods at it, electrifying and shocking it. It was then I was able to land the final attack, finishing it off.

I asked her if she was alright to which she said she was, thanks to me. But she was extremely concerned about the wound I had in my side. I told her that as long as I ate something, I’d be fine. I quickly got back to the control panel and apologized to the chief for her having to deal with my body after I fainted. I then placed the slate on the panel. I heard foot falls behind me. She thanked me for freeing Naboris, and her. We could finally do what we set out to a hundred years ago which was a relief since Gerudo have no tolerance for unfinished business. She said that she’s been waiting for so long for me to rush Hyrule Castle, and for her to use Naboris’ full power against the Calamity. She knew how the princess and I both greatly suffered due to the after math of the Champions falling but that just was how things had to happen. No one need carry the blame. She asked me that I make sure that the princess understood that without a single doubt. To tell her to shed any worries. And to let her know that she couldn’t be more proud of her. Then she told me to take good care of her and Hyrule.

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beloved-judged · 3 years

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Learning not to stfu

I don’t have it in me, yet, to be joyful when I am tested. I wish I did--I know I should be grateful. And after the fact, I do feel grateful. But good god, during testing is no picnic.

One of the mambos in my papa’s house says of this that the ATRs are not for the weak. In my experience, they are not for those who are not willing to do it anyway (which is really just where I am in terms of development): to do it when you really don’t want to. To do it when you’d rather be doing just about anything else, because you know that if it’s coming up, it must be necessary.

Yesterday, they took a very unpleasant meander through one of my defense mechanisms: no matter what it seems like on here, I really don’t talk much. I have a long and absolutely awful history of getting hurt when I talk, from people balling a fist up and taking a swing, to people dicking with my job or my academic funding.

I learned a long time ago to stfu, and often do, even when people are yelling at me, just sitting there while people howl and yell and call me names. Safe, in my quiet shell--and honestly, given how many times people have hauled off and hit me, or in one case tried to get me arrested, a little yelling often feels mildly painful by comparison.

There have been times where, looking into someone’s red face, their spit spattering on my glasses, I have wanted to say: Look, if you aren’t trying to send me to jail or beat me up for being uppity, this really isn’t shit, though it will annoy me, upset me, and set my hands to shaking with adrenaline. So yell, you sad motherfucker. Yell all you want to.

But lay hands on me and you can find the fuck out.

It’s a distinct improvement from the flinching and cowering I used to do as a child and young adult, my head ticking to the side in anticipation of someone’s fist.

Unfortunately, this means that I am strongly inhibited when it comes to self-expression, in a number of ways. I don’t talk, sometimes when I should--and I definitely shouldn’t just sit there, looking at someone calling me names. I should definitely move through life expecting to be able to speak. Maybe not all the time, but enough to make myself known, where possible.

All to often, it feels as if I am wearing a gag. I am locked into silence. Even when I know what will help. Even when I know what the problem is and how to solve it, even when it will make the difference between success and failure, or the difference between suffering a financial loss or physical damage and not suffering it.

Silent. Even when I want to speak, desperately.

And the thing is.... the thing is, I make up all sorts of justifications for that silence, designed to make me feel better. Maybe no one deserves to hear me--maybe I want to keep my insights to myself, to hoard my knowledge and skills. Maybe I’m just so much smarter, so much better than the people around me. Maybe it’s too much to risk, their reaction and the hurt it could cause. Maybe I don’t want anyone to know me, not really, so that they can never find the things that matter to me, to hurt me.

The little voice in my head--shut up, shut up, no one wants to hear it, no one wants to hear you, they’ll hurt you, shut up.

And that is what the lwa took aim at, yesterday. One of the things that has changed since that accident is the distance between thought and action for me: I’m a lot more likely to act on what I’m thinking, and yesterday during a meeting I was far, far more talkative than I usually am.

While thinking the whole time that I should shut up, but I just kept asking questions and engaging the vendor, part of my brain howling that my god, I was just asking for something bad to happen, what was wrong with me. But I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

And as soon as the meeting ended, slumped down in my chair, anticipating being fired. Waiting for my boss to DM me and tell me that I was doing it wrong, for it to result in the awfulness that is people’s reaction to feeling upstaged or simply to someone being different than they thought.

Shame. Fear. My cheeks aflame, my eyes welling up. Uncharacteristic, at least since the last time I was in a relationship with someone who beats me, and something I thought I had left behind.

I wanted to be hysterical. And yet.... the strange sensation of ‘knowing’ that you should be hysterical, but underneath it a stubborn refusal to be hysterical.

To be split, unevenly, a consciousness of memory and pattern that still possesses the power to move me to tears, washing over a stone in my consciousness. The water seeming overwhelming and yet shallow, the thing underneath it unmoved.

I snapped at my best friend, who was also unmoved, even slightly amused, remarking that if I found myself speaking when I did not intend to, perhaps someone needed to hear what I had to say.

I wish I were better at trusting the lwa with this thing--with the ability to speak, to express, that my first instinct was not to curl up around myself, bracing for a blow, physical or other, to try to refuse participation. To trust them with the future that might come, losing jobs or funding or relationships.

This process I’m going through... I often describe it in terms of consciousness, because I have no other way to describe it. The story I tell myself, the story that makes up ‘me’ as I know myself, keeps changing: not the small ripples of change in reaction to people or circumstance, but massive, seismic changes of consciousness that leave me, temporarily, feeling as if I am inhabiting two minds at once, and woven through consciousnesses that are not mine, invaded more utterly as time goes by.

I am not in the consciousness that is not mine--I can ‘see’ myself in the ‘me’ made up of the memory of the past, made up of reactions and lessons learned, a weak voice where once it was compelling. I can ‘see’ myself in the ‘me’ that I am now, the reflective agent, the actions taken, a great space where once I was a cramped hut.

And then, there is the other, whose motivations can only be described as alien until I come to reflect them, dimly, in my meditations a liquid white to surpass whiteness welling around my body, starting to glow itself underneath the tarry splotches of my faults, slowly being burned away.

I do not possess the ability to fully understand that consciousness (and it is actively harmful to try; it’s not possible, and you end up getting in the way of what’s happening, causing you to start to accrue unpleasant consequences that are not yours).

Just, on occasion, the ability to see some fragment of that motivation, some specific instance of their actions taken and the overriding knowledge that this is part of a process that they are ultimately familiar with, that they are managing.

Consciousness--that part of what I am from which thoughts flow, that is not thought but creates thought.

It is not for the weak. I can’t possibly understate how uncomfortable, distressing, and alien going through catastrophic changes to consciousness can be. Even though I know they have it, they have me, that these things are for my good, even still.

Even still, days like today, I must grit my teeth and be at the exercise my papa has given me.

I wish I were graceful enough to be grateful at the time, in this, instead of afterward. And maybe that will come.

In time.

#lwa #vodou

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holdyourbreathfornow · 3 years

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Like Father Like Son (ch.3)

(3rd and final part. I really took some liberties with headcanons, especially with a headcanon I had about Gordon so feel free not to post if it’s too out of touch with your canon. Admittedly kind of phoned it in near the end but I wanted to make sure I didn’t run out of motivation and leave it unfinished)

Coomer double checked the control panel screen displaying Gordon’s vitals for what must have been the hundredth time. He knew they were all stable, but he couldn’t help a bit of parental over-caution.

Gordon had been out of the danger zone of temperature fluctuations since he’d first woken up, briefly, almost nine hours ago. It’s why Coomer’d been able to convince Bubby to finally change over watch of Gordon to him and go to sleep in the first place. He’d assumed that, after alerting everyone to Gordon having no longer been comatose (to everyone’s great relief), Bubby would be glad to finally rest, but instead Coomer had had to argue that there was almost no chance for any kind of relapse at this point for nearly ten minutes before Bubby finally relented (a headlock might also have been involved at some point).

Bubby had been adamant about staying, despite his clear exhaustion, to the point where Coomer almost worried Bubby doubted in his ability to do so himself, but Bubby had gotten cagey when Coomer pressed him for the cause of his hesitancy. He drew into himself and quickly agreed to give up his vigil, hurrying away before Coomer could inquire further.

Certainly not an entirely comforting sign in regards to Bubby’s emotional state, but Coomer couldn’t say he was faring very well himself. He’d barely been able to sleep at all, jerking awake every time he drifted off, thinking he heard the blaring of Gordon’s tube’s vital readout alarm, indicating another temperature spike or drop in blood oxygen levels or erratic heart palpitations.

Coomer hated seeing Gordon in that tube.

He and Bubby had discussed, back when they first conceived (ha!) of the idea of creating their child in a fashion similar to Bubby’s own creation, the likely necessity of supplementary time in a growth tube later on in Joshua’s life. Bubby had needed many throughout his life and, though Gordon’s creation and genetic structure was much more stable than Bubby’s had been initially, due to being based off of existing DNA, instead of entirely from scratch, as Bubby had, it was still likely that, somewhere along the line, his body might need a “tune up”, so to speak.

They’d planned to build him his own tube around ten years old for that purpose, but then…well, they hadn’t ended up needing to.

So now, instead, Gordon floated inside an old tube of Bubby’s they’d specifically made for emergencies, ever since a terrifying incident back when Bubby had first been able to live outside of Black Mesa and they’d moved into this house together. The sudden changes and stress of living outside of Black Mesa for the first time caused Bubby’s molecular structure to almost entirely destabilize.

The frantic drive back to the laboratory, Bubby in the passenger seat, condition rapidly deteriorating, was one of the most frightening experiences of Harold’s life.

Since then, they’d made sure they always had a tube similar to Bubby’s at Black Mesa available outside of the facility. Years of fine tuning had stabilized Bubby’s physical makeup significantly, and eventually they’d moved the tube to storage, not having needed it in many years, but still wanting to have it available in case of emergencies.

Coomer supposed that was part of what made seeing Gordon like this so terrible.

This tube was one tied to painful and terrifying memories. Unlike Gordon’s original one, which was associated with the creation of their child, and even Bubby’s tube at Black Mesa, which at least held memories of how they met, this one was associated only with things going horribly wrong.

And how wrong they’d gone now.

Coomer had seen Gordon hurt before, of course, during the Resonance Cascade, but it had been different this time, to an extent he hadn’t expected.

Since learning of Gordon’s true identity, the memories of every time he’d come to harm, come so close to death, during their journey through Black Mesa and Xen, had haunted him, of course, knowing retroactively that it was his own child that he’d seen so battered and broken.

Coomer hadn’t expected just how different it would be seeing Gordon hurt while already knowing it was his child. He’d felt sick to his stomach, like he was going to break down or pass out. Luckily, Harold Coomer was nothing if not good at compartmentalizing, and had managed to keep it together while they worked to stabilize Gordon.

Now, thankfully, it seemed Gordon was out of the woods. His skin had grown back, to at least some extent, over nearly every burned area, and his temperature was completely stable, if still high. Likely, it was as low as it was going to get without him intentionally lowering it.

Which was precisely why Harold was making very sure everything was in no danger of sudden change for the worse. He needed to leave for a moment to talk to Bubby. Gordon’s temperature was still high enough to simmer the fluid around him and he’d likely need instruction from Bubby on how to control his newly developed powers before he could be released from the tube. The sooner such instruction could begin, the better.

One last check, and Coomer was confident enough to leave Gordon alone long enough to fetch Bubby.

Climbing up the basement stairs into the main hallway, he glanced into the living room.

Benrey and Tommy were fast asleep, leaning shoulder to shoulder on the couch, having apparently worn themselves out with worry.

Coomer smiled. He was glad Gordon had the two of them, it was clear how much they all cared about each other. He didn’t see Bubby in the room however, nor in the connected kitchen, so he didn’t dwell there.

He headed towards the room to his and Bubby’s room, but paused as he reached the door. He could hear a faint noise coming from inside like a soft sniffling and uneven breathing–

Oh.

He opened the door just a crack to see Bubby sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and body shaking with soft sobs he was clearly trying to muffle.

Coomer rapped his knuckles against the door.

Bubby startled, and whipped his head around to see Coomer. His face was red and his cheeks streaked with tears.

“Fuck–I-” Bubby roughly wiped at his face to clear away the tears, and fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. “Harold, I didn’t…I didn’t hear you…”

Coomer simply sat on the bed next to him as he composed himself.

“How’s…how is he?” Bubby asked, after clearing his throat. He stared at the floor, not looking towards Coomer.

“He’s stable. Tissue regrowth is coming along well. He’s as stable as I think he’ll be able to get until he can bring his temperature down,” Coomer replied. “I think it’s best to start teaching him to control it sooner rather than later. If he can learn at least how to regulate his temperature while he’s still in there, he’s far less likely to lose control again as soon as he comes out of the tube. You can work on teaching him all your flashier tricks once he’s out.”

Coomer chuckled, lightly.

Bubby, however, only turned even further away from him.

“Do…do you think that we could…” Bubby trailed off, then started again. “That tube is made for post decanting genetic alteration. If we could just…if we could nullify or remove the gene responsible for pyrokinesis…”

“What?!” Coomer cried, agape. “Bubby you can’t be serious! You know better than anyone the risks involved with that! That tube is made for emergency stabilization, not tampering with genetic code when there’s no reason!”

“No reason? There’s a damn good reason!” Bubby said, turning at last to face Coomer. “Look at him! Look at what’s happened to him! That’s the reason!”

“But you’re living proof that’s something that he can control! Something that doesn’t have to hurt him!”

“You don’t–you couldn’t understand!”

“The fucking hell I couldn’t!” Coomer snapped. “He’s my son, too! You think it doesn’t break my heart seeing him like this?”

“But it isn’t your–!” Bubby cut himself off.

“My what?”

Bubby grit his teeth.

“My what, Bubby?!”

“YOUR FAULT! IT ISN’T YOUR FAULT!”

Any rage that had been building in Coomer was doused instantly.

“Not my…Bubby, do you think…?” he stammered, almost at a loss for words. “This isn’t your fault, Bubby.”

Bubby stood up, sharply, hands gripping at the side of his head.

“Don’t you see?!” he cried. “Everything that’s happened to him is my fault! Everything that’s happened since I included my DNA in his design. I should never have included my DNA. I didn’t want to! I told you I didn’t want to! Why? Why did I let you convince me?!”

Tears were streaming down Bubby’s face again.

“We agreed to include both our genetic codes together!” Coomer said. “We wanted a child. One that was both of us, not a clone. I’ve had enough of those. We wanted a child that would be like us both.”

“Don’t you understand? He is like me! And I wouldn’t wish those words on anyone!” Bubby sobbed. “Seeing him like that I just–Everything they did to me. Everything they put me through–they would have done it to him, too. All the awful tests, all the cruelty, all the pain, oh god…he went through it all. Because of me! They took him because of me!”

“Bubby, we’ve talked about this a thousand times, he was sick and we were both scared. It wasn’t–”

“Not just that! I read it in his file! It wasn’t happenstance, Harold! They targeted him! Because he was on their record! Because he was…” Bubby’s voice broke. “Because he was mine. They took him because he was mine…”

He choked out a sob.

“They took him and they hurt him in every way they hurt me, and more. And now he finally gets out…and he’s just hurt more. Because he’s like me. Because he inherited my powers,” Bubby hugged his arms around himself, shaking. “Pain and misery…is all he got, all he could have ever gotten, from having me as a father…”

Coomer stood, slowly, from the bed, and placed a gentle hand on Bubby’s arm.

“Tell me how your powers work,” he said.

“You know how they work.”

“Tell me again.”

Bubby shook his head.

“I-I don’t–I can’t talk about that now,” he choked.

“Bubby, please,” Harold said, insistent.

“I…I absorb direct and…and ambient thermal and electromagnetic radiation and expend it at will, controlling…controlling my external temperature to induce localized combustion,” Bubby said, voice still shaking.

“What do you absorb?” Harold asked, his voice lilting as to imply a conclusion Bubby wasn’t drawing, but Bubby wasn’t in the mood for guessing at it.

“Damn, it Harold, why are you asking this now?” he snapped.

“Just say it one more time, out loud. Please, Bubby.”

“For the love of God, thermal radia–”

Bubby cut off as the pieces finally clicked into place.

“Radiation,” he breathed. “I absorb radiation.”

Coomer smiled, softly, as he saw realization dawn on Bubby’s face.

“Gordon absorbs radiation!” Bubby exclaimed, grabbing Coomer by the shoulders. “He absorbs Xen radiation! His cells absorb and expend it instead of being destroyed by it! He didn’t die from being sent to Xen because he absorbs Xen radiation! He didn’t die because…because…”

“Because he’s like you,” Coomer finished. “I had my suspicions from the moment they explained how Gordon was able to build up a tolerance from just the exposure to Benrey’s low levels of Xen radiation, and with so few negative repercussions. Once this happened, my suspicions were all but confirmed.”

Bubby released Coomer’s shoulders and sat heavily back down on the bed, as if his legs had been turned to gelatin. His eyes, red and puffy from crying, were wide with disbelief.

“They took him because they were cruel and evil people,” Coomer said. “He lived because he’s your son.”

He gently cupped Bubby’s cheek and guided his face up to look him in the eye.

“And your son needs you now,” he said. “Not to try to remove any trace of yourself from his genetic code. To show him how to accept and control what he inherited from you.”

Bubby breathed in a deep, steadying breath and nodded.

–

When Bubby returned to the basement, Gordon was just blinking his eyes open again.

With his facial skin growing back rapidly, his cheekbones no longer looked so gaunt and pronounced, but Bubby still saw his own defined bone structure reflected in them.

Not entirely alike, but not entirely different.

Not entirely a stranger, but not entirely himself.

Someone who was a mix of things that weren’t him, and of things that were.

For the first time, Bubby felt like that might not be a curse after all.

#submission #you can't see it but I'm rubbing my hands together and cackling manically #i love these so much!!!#AND THE SCIENCE #DIFFERENT KINDS OF RADIATION BEING ABSORBED CAUSES BOTH THE PYROKINESIS AND GORDON'S XEN DEPENDENCY #YOU'RE A GENIUS #family of three au

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msjr0119 · 4 years

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One Temptation

Part 8

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags-if you want to be removed let me know 😊: @pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @drxkewalker @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @kozabaji @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @jared2612 @princess-geek @desiree---1986 @indiacater

Finally started this series back up- sorry for the hiatus! To refresh your memories click the link for Part 7. This part is set a few days after the last part ended- showing POV’s from the main characters; Drake, Riley, Liam and Leo. Part 9 will lead on straight from the ending of part 7.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of rape, affair?

*****

Drake walked through the ranch, hoping that Riley had just gone for a stroll- waking up without her this morning made him think back to all that happened in New York as well as their few days in Texas. The thought that had constantly kept crossing her mind was if she was having second thoughts about their relationship. On the road trip down to Texas, she showed a genuine smile- excitement to have a break from New York City and all the drama that had occurred. As the days went by she suddenly became distant with him, every time he asked her what the matter was- she would just respond with the one word answer ‘nothing’.

Returning to the ranch, the coffee aroma flooded the kitchen- he saw his mom and aunt look at him with the same expression- disappointment.

“What?” He questioned the two of them, feeling unwelcome for the first time since he had returned.

“You can do better than her Drake. She left this morning.” Not really comprehending what his mother had just said, he wondered what had happened whilst he hadn’t been around. On occasions he would check the animals, do chores around the ranch, get food in from the shop- leaving Riley to bond with his family. Possibly her future family, in his mind.

“Left? What do you mean?”

“She’s gone back to New York. You obviously don’t mean a lot to her. Or she would have said goodbye.” Leona just shook her head, excusing herself from the situation- knowing that her nephew was about to blow his top.

“Why didn’t you fucking stop her? I’m going.”

“Drake! Stay here. You don’t need her. There’s other women, or should I say another woman.”

“I do need her, and she needs me. I love her. Goodbye mom.”

******

Riley returned to New York, not knowing what her plan was- all she knew was that she needed a new job, that she needed to avoid her friends for a while. The Walkers unknowingly to Drake made her feel unwelcome at every given opportunity.

Are you using my son for his money? Sluts like you will never be loyal partners.

My nephew can do so much better than a stripper. You was probably just lust for him, nothing more.

Thinking about the word slut as Bianca labelled her, made her think about the day after the rape. Did she deserve all that had happened to her?

The day after waking up in Liam’s penthouse, Riley kept watching the video- grimacing every time. The tears wouldn’t stop forming. Assuming Liam didn’t use protection, she knew she had to pay a visit to the hospital or the local clinic but also to the police station. At first she didn’t want to go and report the crime, it was still trying to sink in what had happened- hence why she put herself through the torture of rewatching it.

Walking to the clinic, she wished she had the guts to tell her friends and Drake what had happened. Feeling ashamed, she believed that they would judge her. Not listen to her. Possibly blame her. Would they ask personal questions? Would they ask why she couldn’t stop him, prevent it from happening? Drake. What would he think? Their ‘relationship’ was complicated to say the least. Deep down, Riley was utterly in love with him but wouldn’t admit that anyone- only her drunk drugged mind spoke the truth to her abuser.

Giving her name to the reception, she turned around to sit down- her jaw was agape seeing the ghost from her past gulp at her as they locked eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m going for a swim, what the fuck do you think I’m doing in a clinic you bimbo?”

“You’ve not changed one bit have you Riley? Still the sarcastic, stubborn little bitch. Did you enjoy your night the other night BELLE?”

“Go away Madeleine, I assume you’re here because you can’t keep your legs closed for more than a second.”

“I’m not a slut, who has a ‘sleepover’ at my house then mentions the word rape infront of my daughter.”

“He raped me Madeleine. I didn’t realise that Alice was there when that word slipped out....I just want to thank you, for everything that you did to me. See you around.” Leaving the clinic, she headed to the police station- hoping that they would believe her.

“I’d like to report an incident. My ex boyfriend raped me and he and my boss drugged me.” The police officer led her into the room, after the interview in the back of her mind she believed that it would be a waste of time. Due to the fact that she wasn’t a reliable witness because of the affect due to the drugs and alcohol- she held on to the hope of the video. Hoping that it would be enough evidence.

“We will arrest Mr Rhys and bring him in for questioning. You was very brave reporting this type of incident, many people are too afraid to do this.”

“Could you wait? His company has a charity event- could you wait until after that? Or do it during that?” The police officer looked at her confused not knowing the reasoning behind the unusual request.

“This could delay court proceedings, you do understand that Miss Brooks?”

“If you arrest him now, he may suspect it. If you do it unexpectedly- he won’t have time to come up with excuses.”

“Very well, but if this backfires it will be your fault. If you change your mind let us know. We will arrest your boss now though.”

If it wasn’t Liam trying to split them up, or Madeline- there was now Drakes family. Whenever Drake walked back into the room, the two women would act differently- as if they were happy that Riley was there.

Walking the streets of New York, she entered every bar asking if there were any vacancies. With no luck, she felt like giving in and just moving out of New York completely.

*****

Over the last few days Leo had become like a sloth, not having the motivation to do anything. Feeling guilty that he had allowed his brother to hurt his friend yet again.

“Why did you do it?” Leo held Liam against the wall, out of the way of prying eyes. At this moment in time, he wanted to kill his brother or at least inflict a slight bit on pain on to him. No pain would be as much as the pain he had put Riley through the years.

“I love her Leo. I fucked up losing her.” Attempting to remove his brother’s hand from his neck, Liam failed as Leo’s grip became tighter every second that went by.

“You don’t fucking rape someone you love!”

“You don’t shag someone who’s your friend. Don’t lie to me, you have feelings towards her too.” Leo released his tight grip knowing what he was referring to. His fling with Riley in Florida.

“It was just sex! If I did have feelings for her, don’t you think that I’d have brought her back. Made us an official couple. Hell, if I was lucky enough to call her my girlfriend I wouldn’t have let her go.”

“So you do like her more than a friend. Why am I surrounded by betrayers? Who’s next? Maxwell? Riley is mine. No one else’s.”

“Yes I do love her. Possibly more than a friend. Happy now? But she doesn’t love me back that way. She loves Drake. Let her be happy- she isn’t yours!”

“And this is why you’re defending her. Acting like the knight in shining armour- hoping that she would fall for you. What would you do? Dump Olivia? I’m glad I raped her, money buys you everything. I’ll get her back.”

“You bastard!”

Beating his brother to a pulp that day of the charity event, Leo felt guilty not informing Riley about the truth. Knowing she would berate him for stooping so low.

“Leo... who’s blood is that on your hands?” Fuck. Leo looked at Riley as Drake held her protectively on the bed. Gulping, he knew he probably shouldn’t have reacted the way he did. Realising that they all need to just ignore Liam’s existence instead.

“It’s my blood. I was so annoyed with Liam- that I punched the wall. Please don’t ever talk to him again. You have all of us. He will pay for what he’s done. I hope you two are very happy together- you deserve it Ri.” Riley looked at him, jumping out of bed- she hugged Leo. Cupping his cheeks, her eyes searched his hoping for some truth and answers.

“You’d tell me if you’d hurt him? Right?” Leo gulped as he nodded, knowing that she possibly had some inkling as to how he had received his injuries.

“He won’t hurt you again. Stay with Drake, he’s a good guy.

*****

Liam had decided to work from home ever since the disastrous charity ball. Losing trust from his clients, this time at home made him think long and hard about his actions. I didn’t want to rape her. I love her.

“You love who daddy?” Not realising that he said those words out loud, he couldn’t lie to his daughter. Even at such a young age, the girls mind was as bright as a button.

“Daddy loves Belle.”

“Is she going to be my new mommy? She was angry with you the other day. I don’t think she loves you.” Kneeling down, he held his daughters hand as he spoke the next words.

“Belle used to love daddy. Before you was born, daddy and Belle lived together.” Thinking back to the times that they shared, they was happy- like love struck teenagers. If it wasn’t for Alice’s existence, he would go back in time if he could. Save his relationship.

“You need to say sorry daddy. That’s what Miss Parkins says at school. She said if you upset someone, you say sorry. See you later.” Taking in Alice’s words, he knew she was right. But he would never admit to anyone that he was in the wrong. That he had gone too far. There was a knock at the door, Liam ran his fingers through his hair as he stood up to answer.

“Come in Gordon, thank you for coming.” The lawyer sat down, sighing at Liam.

“So you’re on bail. I need you to be truthful. Did you rape Riley? And did you harm Leo before you was arrested?”

“You bastard!” Liam didn't know how Leo threw the first punch, all he remembered was feeling that pain suddenly slamming into his jaw. It happened so quick. Blood pooled in and around his mouth as Leo backed off. They was only apart for a brief moment - possibly to catch their breaths before lurching back towards each other, both sets of baby blues narrowed - both determined to not surrender. Leo has dodged a few fists that Liam threw towards him- until he aimed for his ribs. Falling to the floor, Liam hovered over his brother- pining him to the floor with no escape route.

"Is that all you’ve got big bro? Or can we call it a draw? End it now?” Leo was about to raise his knees to knock Liam off him, as he was feeling like he was being suffocated.

“Liam Rhys I am arresting you on suspicion of rape. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence".

Everyone at the event, gasped. The echo filled the room, as did a crowd around the puddles of the brothers blood on the floor. Bastien shook his head, not knowing what to do. Not knowing if the press had managed to catch wind of what was happening.

“Leo! Why would you call them? I’m innocent!” Liam shouted as the police dragged him away.

“I didn’t! Maybe the woman you hurt did that! Rot in hell Liam!” Leo held his ribs, the relief that Liam was about to get some comeuppance was over riding the pain that was lingering.

“Would it sound bad if I admitted to both? You know I love Riley, you have been our families lawyer all my life. I went the wrong way about it all. When she returned, I called off my engagement to Madeleine- all of my feelings for Riley resurfaced. I lost her Gordon.”

“We will work this out Liam. But you need to admit to Riley what you did and apologise. She may drop the charges if you’re truthful with her. Possibly try and rebuild the relationship with your brother. I’ll see you in court. Remember, the truth.”

*****

Drake arrived back in New York, hoping that Riley was going to be in his apartment that he shared with Max - hoping that she was going to jump out from somewhere and shout ‘surprise’. Possibly jump into his arms. Walking through the door, Maxwell just shook his head, sorrow in his eyes. Pulling Drake in for a hug, they both decided to look for her.

*****

It was late at night, Riley was exhausted walking the streets. She believed that her luck was in when she stumbled across a dive bar which was advertising for bar staff. Walking in the stern looking man at the bar, asked her if she wanted a drink.

“I’m here about the job. I’ve worked in a str- bar.” The man looked up and down her body, then focused his eyes on the blonde stood behind her. The top she was wearing flaunted her assets, and the man immediately offered her the job over Riley. Ordering a drink, she gulped it in one. Leaving the bar, she felt defeated- the heavens had opened up and she was now drenched. Continuing to walk down the street, her phone rang constantly. Maxwell. Her heart wanted to answer to answer it immediately, but her stubborn mind refused to acknowledge the importance of the call. Ignoring it, as she pressed reject the phone slipped out of her hand and smashed on the concrete. For fuck sake. Sitting in a puddle, the tears from her eyes were uncontrollably flowing matching the weather- not giving a damn that her clothes were now soaked to the rafters, she believed that karma was hitting her right in the face - not expecting any good luck to appear anytime soon.

“Hey, don’t cry. What’s up?” Looking up at the woman, Riley softly smiled as the woman helped her stand. Wiping her tears and her clothes, she felt like an idiot.

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay?”

“I just need a bed, a job. Is that too much to ask? I’ll do anything. I’m desperate.”

“Well I have vacancies. I own this club.” Looking towards the club entrance, Riley sighed. Great another strip club.

“Can you dance?” I can, it doesn’t mean that I want to though.

“I used to work at Wildcats. I didn’t dance though.”

“The offer is there if you want it. I also have a spare room in my apartment. Look after yourself honey.” Riley stared at the building, not knowing how long for until a decision was made. “Wait!” The woman turned around, smiling at her.

“I’m a fast learner. I’m labelled a slut anyway. I only have $200 to my name.” Laughing at Riley, Gill hated it when people described dancers as sluts- it was a common nickname. But not in her club, the local punters knew that if they took advantage that Gill would possibly place their bodies in a body bag.

“My names Gill. What’s your name?”

“Riley.”

“Come on Riley, come inside before you catch pneumonia.”

*****

Drake pressed the button in the elevator, taking him up to the highest floor. Walking towards the desk, the receptionist looked Drake up and down- wondering who he was and what his intentions were.

“I’m here to see Mr Rhys. Before you ask, no- I haven’t got an appointment.”

“Name?”

“Just tell him his worse nightmare is paying him a visit..” panic was written across the woman’s face, leaning closer towards her desk- her hand hovered over the security button. “Just tell him, it’s Drake.”

Hello Mr Rhys, you have a visitor. His name is Drake.

Hanging up, she explained that Liam would be with them momentarily. Sitting down on the leather chair, Drake was unsure how Liam would react to seeing him- would he throw him out? Would he play mind games?

“Drake. It’s nice to see you.” Not. “Follow me into my office.” Drake followed his instructions, as the two men walked into the room. Liam poured them both a drink, however Drake politely rejected. Not knowing if Liam could have potentially added poison to it as revenge.

“What can I do for you? I never thought I’d see the day that you’d pay me a visit voluntarily.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here. I despise you. Have you seen or heard from Riley?”

“No. Why would I hear from her? She wanted to send me to prison for raping her.” Hearing that word, Drake grit his teeth- knowing that Liam was still in denial with his past actions.

“Well you did do that. Listen, you probably know her better than any of us. We need your help. She ran away, she left me in Texas.” Liam laughed in Drakes face, just picturing Riley riding off into the sunset wearing a cowboy hat.

“What did you do?” He asked Drake, assuming he was the reasoning behind her disappearance- from past experience he should know how her mind ticked. She did the same when he hurt her.

“I did nothing, my mom and aunt Leona spoke to her. Then she went cold towards me, and was gone. Do you know anywhere that she could have gone?” Liam now knew the reasoning behind her departure- he was the reason why. Instead of acting like a dick, he felt empathy towards everyone who was looking for her- guilt for his past actions.

“Bianca, this is Liam Rhys- a friend of Drakes.” Bianca recognised the name immediately- clearing her throat, she provided a fake posh accent.

“Hello, Sir. How may I help?”

“Has Drake arrived in Texas yet? His flatmate was just wondering but he’s broken his phone.”

“No not yet. I assume he should be here shortly. I’ll get him to ring you once he arrives.”

“Okay, thank you Mrs Walker. I hope the prostitute he is in a relationship with doesn’t ruin your families reputation. Have a good day.”

“I don’t know where she is Drake. I’m sorry I can’t help you. I’m sorry for everything.” Fuck what have I done? What if she’s gone for good? What if she’s in danger? I’ll have blood on my hands. I knew I shouldn’t have interfered, twisting the truth to Bianca.

“Cut with the shit Liam. You are not sorry for anything that you’ve done. Don’t worry, we will find her, and when we do I hope she has some answers. Liam, stay away from us all.”

“Drake... I’ll get a private detective to search for her. I’ll come to your apartment tomorrow with any updates.” Drake just wanted to punch him for his past actions, however if this was the only way they could find her he would be civil for now.

“Can I trust you?”

“Yes. I swear on Alice’s life. We all love Riley. If she’s in trouble, she will need you. I now understand that I’ve lost her and that she loves you. I’m sorry Drake.” Placing his hand out towards Drake, he wasn’t sure if Liam was being sincere. Not being able to trust him just yet, he just turned around and left the building.

*****

The day after, Drake and Maxwell began pacing the room- both frustrated that they hadn’t found Riley. Both frustrated that her phone kept going immediately to voicemail every time they attempted to ring her.

“Will you both just sit down. You’re both going to injure yourselves somehow.” Leo said, watching the two of them. There was a knock at the door- the three of them all ran towards the door, hoping that it was Riley. Drake knew if it wasn’t Riley it would be Liam, as he promised. Opening the door, he pushed Leo away- not knowing how he would react, not wanting another fight to break out. He understood Leo’s anger, but at this moment in time they all needed to hold the anger back.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Leo questioned Drake and Maxwell as Liam walked through the door.

“I come in peace.” Liam said sarcastically, holding his hands up in the air.

“Get the fuck out of here before I kill you!”

“Leo, leave him. Have you got any news Liam?” Leo looked at Drake confused, wondering if he had forgotten what Liam had done to the woman that Drake loved.

“She’s working at another strip club. Downtown. The Phoenix.” Liam sighed at he waited for the men to respond. Drake grabbed his coat, whilst searching the clubs details on google.

“I swear to god if you’re lying Liam, you won’t need to worry about Leo killing you....”

“I’m not Drake. The limo is outside. Bastien will take us all.”

*****

There was silence in the limo on route to the club, Maxwell tried to break the silence with stupid jokes until he realised that no one was interested. Walking into the club, they was greeted by Gill who assisted them to a booth- followed by a tray of shots.

“If you need anything else gentlemen, the girls will be walking around - just ask them for anything that you may require. You’re just in time for the main event. Enjoy.” The lights dimmed, and music began to play. Men, who they assumed were regular punters gathered around the stage- all retrieving their wallets out of their pockets. As the woman strut down the stage, she gripped onto the cold steel pole, climbing up on the pole- she immediately spun around gracefully. Sliding down and eventually coming off the pole, she walked closer to the older men- removing her dress, she stood in front of them wearing just her lacy underwear- her breasts in full view, as well as her high heels. Teasing them, she provided sexual movements as they threw money towards her.

“Erm, Drake?” Leo narrowed his eyes realising who it was. They all looked towards the stage- Seeing their friend degrade herself. Noticing one man try to unclip her bra, Drake stood up abruptly. Pushing through the crowd, he stood on stage and carried her over his shoulder. Liam noticed Gill run over, distracting the woman with money as bribery- he explained why Drake did what he did, causing a riot between the punters. Gill refused to take his money and suggested to take Riley out into the back room.

Drake put her down, surrounded by men ‘booing’- potentially about to cause a fist fight with him for ruining the entertainment. Before that could happen Liam grabbed Riley’s hand and dragged her into the back room, with the others following. Folding her arms, they all surrounded her scowling at her- covering her body up, she was unsure as to why she was doing this. All of them have seen me like this before, three of them have slept with me. Fuck I am a slut. Why do they look so pissed? Two of them have broken my heart, the other two are just my friends.

“What?” She snapped at them all, after coming out of her thoughts- leaving the lingering questions roam through her mind.

“Care to explain what’s going off?” Leo asked in a stern tone of voice, knowing that Drake was in a state of shock once his adrenaline rush had deteriorated.

“Well I’m a slut. So may as well act like one.” Shaking his head, Drake wondered why she was talking about herself in such a manner- looking at the other men he could read that they was probably wondering the same.

“Why did you leave me in Texas?”

“It was too hard to say goodbye, your family hate me. They said I was using you for your money; they called me a slut, they said I was a stripper- which at the time I wasn’t, I’m not good enough for you. So I made their words become a reality.” Empathising the word slut, until the morning that she left Texas she was sure that they had a future together.

“Riley, you have three men stood in front of you who love you. Quit, and make at least one of us happy.” They all faced Liam as he said this, only Leo and Liam knew who the third man was. Leo. Hoping that she assumed the third man was Maxwell, Leo needed to change the subject- change his sheepish expression that was brewing into something that wouldn’t expose his secret.

“I think, Riley and Drake need to talk alone. Don’t you think Liam and Max?” Riley’s eyes pleaded with Leo for them not to leave- she would rather have four men berate her than be alone with the man who she abandoned without saying a word to prior to leaving.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She whimpered, as she made a move towards the door Drake put his hand on to her bare skin.

“Oh no. You are not running away from me again. I need answers. I love you, why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“I was just going to get dressed Drake. I love you too.”

“Then come back with me. Please.”

“I can’t Drake. Your mom and aunt.. they... they told me to leave you and to never see you again. Somebody rung them and told them that you was dating a prostitute. They offered me $10k to leave that morning I left but I didn’t accept it.” Ten grand? They haven’t even got that type of money. Drake knew exactly who had that type of money, someone who wanted Riley all to himself. Was all of his ‘sincere’ words that he mentioned fake? Did Liam actually pay his family off as he threatened to do all those months ago. “They said that I wasn’t good enough for you, and that you would eventually forget me, forget about New York and return to Texas. Before I left they introduced me to someone. I’m a slut, I’m Madeleine. You’re Liam. Go back to Texas Drake, go back to your fiancée.”

#trr #trr fanfic #trr au one temptation #drake x mc #drake x riley #liam x mc #liam x riley #leo x mc #leo x riley #drake walker #liam rhys #leo rhys #riley brooks #maxwell beaumont #trr bianca walker #trr leona

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missbrightsky · 4 years

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I didn’t know where else to go

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Chapter 2: Rhysand

fuck

FUCK

I had an unconscious detective on my couch and her blood on my hands.

It was a quiet evening, cleaning one of my guns with Friends reruns on in the background, shattered by a barely-there knock at my door. Ready to chew out whoever decided to disturb a crime boss on his night off, I had only cracked open the door to see her there, blood coming from a nasty cut on her head and practically bent in half from pain.

It was reflex to catch her as my name slipped from her mouth along with those damning words.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Feyre Archeron. The detective who was hell-bent on arresting me. Who had managed to resist my flirting, much to my chagrin. Who was now on my couch but not how I pictured it happening.

Why I couldn’t get a cop out of my head for the past few weeks? I wish I knew the answer.

I watched the even rise and fall of her chest, grateful that whatever had happened to her wasn’t truly life-threatening. At least that’s what I told myself as I waited for her to wake up.

Thankfully she stayed out cold while I stitched up her face, I was fresh out of painkillers from my recent injuries. The glorious life of the head of the underworld, if only they knew how much work it took, then maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with so many hot-headed insubordinates.

Whatever had happened to her probably warranted a hospital visit but no way was I showing up with my face all over the news and a bloody cop in my arms. I did as much as I could for her wound but didn’t risk checking the rest of her body. A small smile played on my mouth as I imagined the foul words that would surely come from her if she found her other injuries tended to.

A sharp intake of breath followed by a small whimper of pain cut through the TV in the background. I froze in the most non-threatening pose I could think of, crossing my left leg so that my ankle rested on my right knee and slinging an arm over the back of the chair, dangling the glass of dark amber liquid that was keeping my nerves in check.

Feyre’s eyes cracked open, even surrounded by darkening bruises, the intense blue-grey still made my breath catch in my throat.

“How is it you always look like you own the world? Even in Deadpool PJ pants?”

A startled laugh barked out of my chest, the bourbon nearly splashing out of my glass with the sudden movement. In my haste to patch her up and unwillingness to leave her alone, I hadn’t changed out of the comfy clothes I had put on as soon as I stepped through my door.

“Years and years of practice, darling.” There it is, the fire returned as her eyes became clearer, taking in the room.

From the outside, my apartment didn’t look like much, all cold stone and steel. The inside was much more hospitable, warm wood floors nicely complemented the exposed brick, tasteful furniture that you could still relax in took up most of the space. The harshest part of the room was the wall that was covered in guns, big and small and a few illegal in the country, but I liked to live on the wrong side of the law.

Open curiosity rested on her face, making her look years younger than the small frown that was there most of the time. It returned when she took in the weapons, reminding her that she showed up to her suspects' house and promptly passed out, leaving her at his mercy. She forced herself to sit up despite the obvious pain that would linger for weeks, her face guarded again.

I found myself immediately missing the side that she hid from me, where she was an actual human and not someone out to destroy all my plans.

We regarded each other silently for a few moments, taking in the other in their current state until she blushed and looked away.

A few words mumbled from her mouth, too low and unintelligible for me to understand.

“I’m sorry, what was that, darling,” using the nickname she so clearly hated.

“Thank you, prick,” she spat out, wincing at how her muscles pulled at her stitches.

“You’re welcome,” I leaned forward, “but who did this to you?” putting as much concern as I could into my voice.

“I’m surprised you don’t know; it was your men that drugged me and had me beaten.”

The accusation was a slap to the face, my teeth gritting at the venom she threw at me. “My men would never fucking do this to anyone, cop or not.”

Her eyes burned, leaning forward much as her balance allowed until we were only inches apart.

“I went to the bar I know you frequent; the bartender gave me a club soda laced with something and the next thing I knew, some assholes were dragging me out back and kicking the shit out of me. Who else would have given orders like that?”

I forced my breathing to stay even, to not grab her and shake some sense into her. For all the crimes I had committed, not one single fucking person had been harmed in the process. Was she willfully ignoring that fact or was she so convinced that I was a truly evil motherfucker?

“Did you recognize any of them?” My question caught her off guard.

Her eyes flicked up, trying to sort through recent hazy memories. “No…”

“That’s what I thought. You’ve been after me and my organization for so long, I’m sure you have every one of my peoples’ faces memorized. So why did you think that I would have such a lovely, dedicated, hardworking civil servant drugged and beaten?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, having the grace to look ashamed as she leaned back into the soft couch cushions, attempting to rearrange herself into the least painful position.

“I’m sorry but I don’t have any painkillers, and I’m not sure where else you’re hurt, I didn’t check.”

“It’s fine, it’s my fault for showing up on your doorstep anyways.” She lifted her shirt, carefully picking at where dried blood had plastered it to her chest. A patchwork of black and blue was settling on the skin, but no lacerations at least.

“I don’t think anything is broken, just really fucking sore,” she surveyed, taking in the damage. I was too worried about her injuries to notice the black bra edged with lace that perfectly hinted at the curve of her breasts.

Ok maybe I was worried, but it didn’t completely escape my notice.

I almost whined when she dropped her shirt but managed to contain it as she settled deeper into the cushions. She froze, realizing that she was getting too comfy at basically her arch enemy’s place.

“I need to go,” but she stood up too quickly, swaying and unable to catch herself as she pitched to the side, heading straight for the solid corner of my end table.

By the grace of the Caldron and a bit of luck, I managed to catch her, pulling her close to me to steady us both. She let out a yelp at the handling, but it was her fault for trying to move too fast with her injuries.

“That’s twice I’ve caught you, would you like to make this a habit?” I purred, my mouth on the shell of her ear completely not by accident.

A shudder she couldn’t suppress or hide skittered down her back, slightly arching her body into mine.

All too soon her reason returned to her and with a surprisingly firm shove, she distanced herself from me and promptly plopped back onto the couch, refusing to acknowledge the electricity that just flowed between us.

“Prick,” she seethed.

“Don’t say what you don’t want.”

Confusion that morphed into fury consumed her. “If I wasn’t so fucking injured, I would kick your ass right now.”

“You’ll have to give me a rain check then,” parting my lips in a feline smirk. She blushed even harder and looked away, looking utterly pissed that she couldn’t leave.

“Would you like a glass of bourbon? I promise it’s not drugged or anything, and it’s much better than what they serve at that bar. And it will ease the pain a bit.”

“Fine.”

I wove fluidly around a chair to the bar cart that was tucked into the corner next to the TV that was still somehow playing the aimless show when much more interesting content was playing out right in my living room.

I poured her a generous knuckle worth of the expensive liquor, maybe this would make up for the lack of painkillers. Hopefully whatever she was given was enough out of her system that it wouldn’t react badly.

I returned with the drink in hand, passing it to her waiting hand, she still refused to make eye contact with me.

This was too good of a situation to mess with her. I sat in the middle of the couch, forcing her to either stay where she is, contact points connecting up the sides of our bodies, or to move to cram into the corner closest to the TV, making her crane her neck to see the screen.

She chose the latter and decided upon ignoring me as much as possible with less than a foot of space between us.

We sipped our drinks, intermittently paying attention to the show, punctuated with our derisive snorts at the characters' shallow problems.

At some point, a comment was made, leading us into a conversation about what we hated and loved about this show or that. Sharing new series, daring each other to watch them in our little free time.

The alcohol loosened our tongues and worries about the other ulterior motives, simply existing in the moment.

She was incredible. So amazingly opinionated and alive and passionate. If she had seen something he had, she questioned his every motive for liking or disliking it. If she hadn’t seen it, endless questions poured from her mouth and promised to watch it soon.

Hours ticked by and more liquor was poured. The show completely ignored, our bodies had turned toward each other, knees grazing, and body heat slowly being shared. She laughed at something, I’m not even sure what I said, too caught up in the music she made.

Once she stopped giggling, I couldn’t bring myself to continue the conversation. I could stay here for hours, simply taking in the red that graced her cheeks, highlighting the freckles that were gently dusted there. Her eyes seemed to shift between blue and grey depending on her current emotion, full lips punctuating every statement.

Those lips in question parted. We were so close now, her legs practically slung across my lap, her arm across the back of the couch, brushing against mine often.

The lapse in chatter grew, neither of us attempting to restart it.

Watching.

Waiting.

Until

One of us moved forward, only the Caldron and its forgotten gods knew who moved first.

Careful to not put too much pressure on her injuries, I cupped her face in my hands, molding my lips around hers.

Just as I had too often fantasized, they were soft and fit perfectly with mine, the sharp taste of my bourbon tinting them with dark desire.

There was no hesitation on her part, only enthusiasm. If she was in pain, there was no sign of it now.

Soon it became too uncomfortable for our bodies to stay far apart with only our heads meeting in the middle. I slid my hands down her neck, gently resting on the curve of her waist, a request she responded to with straddling my hips, effectively sealing her fate and mine.

We were both so, so fucked.

Next Chapter

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #Cop!AU

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nanamicide · 4 years

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Red Butterflies - Chapter 2

It doesn’t seem like anyone read chapter 1 on Tumblr, but I’ll keep updating the fic here anyway.

Chapter 1 is here.

Read on AO3

Izuru turned off his console and set it down beside him. Munakata-sensei was the only reason why he hadn’t been terminated along with Enoshima. That was why he had to do everything he demanded from him. However, despite all his abilities, his teacher’s latest request made no sense to him. He understood very well that he was meant to be the embodiment of talent itself, and that as such, he had to compete against all the other Ultimates enrolled at Hope’s Peak. What he did not understand was why he had asked him to interact with Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer, through the messaging system of the game they were playing, especially after he had already beat her twice. He did not understand why Munakata-sensei could have considered, even for a second, that this would entertain him in any way. Every single game was predictable: he always won. Every single message Nanami typed was predictable: she kept asking for more games. And it was boring. The entire thing bored him to death.

It was past midnight, and Izuru had had enough of it. Munakata-sensei hadn’t told him just how long he was supposed to keep this up for, but given that the older man had gone to sleep, he assumed that it was fine for him to stop now. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his silky black hair, letting out an inaudible sigh. Everything bored him. No matter what he did, ever since they had created him, nothing seemed to have any meaning. There was a time when he had been curious about whether some things could remain unpredicted by him, but after everything that had happened with – and to – Enoshima, he knew for sure that such things did not exist. Izuru lied down, gazing at the ceiling. He wondered if there was some sort of hidden motive behind Munakata-sensei’s request. If so, he should have been able to predict it. Pushing that thought aside, he let out yet another bored sigh and closed his eyes, deciding to call it a day. He then very quickly and easily fell asleep.

He did not particularly like sleeping, nor did he need it. He merely knew that if he did not get at least a few hours of rest per night, the next day’s activities would not only be boring, but also annoying. Still, sleeping was the most boring task of all, for he did not dream. Izuru knew that it was due to all his talents. Knowing almost everything there is to know about the world meant that he had no unresolved unconscious troubles, which according to Freud were the roots of all dreams. He still wished he could dream. Even though he had no evidence of it, he still assumed the content of his dreams would be harder to predict than the content of his day to day life. His entire existence, no matter what state of consciousness he found himself in, was nothing but boring.

XXXXXXX

Every morning for the past year, Miaya Gekkogahara had followed the same routine. She would wake up at 6:00am, have a quick breakfast and shower, get dressed, quickly style her light blue hair and put on makeup. Only then would she head to the underground floor of the faculty staff building of Hope’s Peak Academy to check on Izuru Kamukura. This morning was no different. She muffled a yawn under her scarf and opened the door to the room where all the neurological equipment was set up.

The first step was to check Izuru’s brain activity, which was constantly recorded on the electroencephalogram. She dreaded that task more than anything, as she had never been too good with actual medical equipment, even though she was trained to use it.

If the Ultimate Neurologist were still alive, I wouldn’t be in charge of this. I would just have to talk to Kamukura-kun every morning. As uncooperative as he is, at least I know exactly how to deal with it. This isn’t beyond my reach, no, I’ve been trained for this as well. But the extra time spent trying to interpret this graph is time I can’t spend helping those who were directly affected by the Tragedy. I know Kamukura-kun’s case is important – he could turn out to be a ticking time bomb if we didn’t keep close watch of him but—

Miaya’s train of thought was cut short when her eyes reached the brain activity that had been recorded between midnight and 3:00am. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Ever since Munakata-kun had entrusted her with this task, the results had mostly been the same. Normal brain activity throughout the previous day, with a slight variation in the alpha waves when Kamukura-kun would eventually fall asleep, which was entirely normal. The only difference between Kamukura-kun’s graph and that of a normal patient, would be that Kamukura-kun’s would show a lot less variations, regardless of the activities he would take part in. But this morning was different. Miaya caught herself smiling a little too excitedly for her taste, rolled her eyes at her own reaction, and tried to figure out what she would do next. Something different was going on, she was sure of it. But recording brain activity was too vague. She couldn’t know if this was good or bad news. Getting excited over this was stupid. Realizing that, she could almost hear Matsuda-kun telling her about how she needed to be more careful and not have so much faith in other human-beings. She thought about her late friend, mentally talking to him. That was another thing she did every morning after handling the tasks that should have been his.

Well, you were right when you said I’d be disappointed in you if I had known about all your secret projects, but you weren’t as bad a person as you made yourself out to be publicly. You did care about your research more than about other people – except for Enoshima, that is – but you were also following orders, weren’t you? You liked the Neo World Program as much as I did. There’s no way you could have thought whatever you had to do to create Kamukura-kun was right. I know you were protecting her, and that they probably threatened to lower your funding if you refused to do what you did to him, but we were friends. If you’d told me about this I could have helped you. But you didn’t. And now I have to do your job on top of mine!

She paused and closed her eyes. She had met Matsuda-kun when she came up with the idea for the Neo World Program. As a result of working together everyday for months, they’d become friends. Their fields of study weren’t entirely different. Matsuda-kun fixed brains while she fixed behaviors and thought patterns, the produce of brain activity. Collaborating had enabled them to reach new standards in their research, so it was obvious that a friendship would be born from it. It was a shame that he hadn’t trusted her as much as she trusted him.

Opening her eyes again, she pressed a few buttons on her wheelchair and stopped in front of the door that lead to Kamukura-kun’s room. She wasn’t sure what to expect. She was excited that something had changed, but remembering Matsuda-kun’s way of nagging her had made her almost wary of what was going to happen today. Despite her worries, she knew she had to face it. At least, this morning would be different from every morning she’d been through since Munakata-kun took over the Academy. A few seconds later, she opened the door.

“Good morning, Kamukura-kun!” she typed, letting Usami be her voice.

“Good morning,” he replied in his usual monotonous tone. Somehow, this reassured her. Despite the change in his brain activity, he still seemed as bored as usual. She knew that being Talent itself, Kamukura-kun could have been faking his current state of mind. Yet, she was confident enough to believe she would have been able to notice if he were putting on an act.

As always, the sight of the room Munakata-kun kept him in bothered her. It was too simple, devoid of any character, and looked as though no one really lived in it. She knew it wasn’t entirely her former classmate’s fault. He had given Kamukura-kun all the freedom he needed to change things. But the fact that the space felt so small, in spite of how neatly organized it was, was to be blamed on him. She knew her client – could she even call him that? – did not mind it, but she did. How could someone grow when they were stuck in such a place, with no option to ever leave? She knew Tengan-san, one of the former headmasters of the academy, had carried out the Kamukura project to create the Ultimate Hope, but did the room really enable such hope to bloom and shine through?

Setting her own questions aside, Miaya carried on with the usual check-up interrogation. She disliked it, thinking it didn’t give her the freedom she needed to really connect with Kamukura-kun. It felt almost artificial, even though she genuinely cared to hear what he had to say in response to it.

“So, what were yesterday’s activities?”

“I was instructed to play video games against Chiaki Nanami. As predicted, I won every single one of them.”

“Hm, and how did that make you feel? Did you have fun?”

“It was boring. I didn’t feel anything particular.”

“Really?” She typed in a command to make Usami frown, “but your EEG shows-”

“I know, last night’s brain activity is different from what it’s always been. You want to know why. I seem to have experienced something similar to a dream.” Miaya made Usami nod, urging him to continue. “It was as though I were looking at a photograph, nothing more.”

There was a moment of silence, as Miaya thought about a way to find out more about what Kamukura-kun had seen. She didn’t have to ask anything, though. The young dark-haired man continued on his own, as if he had guessed what she wanted from him – she knew he probably had.

“It looked like a pixelated spaceship, but it was too small in size to be an actual spaceship. It was more like a representation of one.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

She was used to his short answers, but she still wished he’d tell her more about his dream. There had to be more to it, even if just in the form of a background around the spaceship he had told her about. Yet, since she knew Kamukura-kun knew just as well as her that every detail of a dream could be important, she assumed he’d purposefully decided to withhold that information from her. It seemed pointless to pursue it any further. He wouldn’t respond. Instead, she carried on with the rest of her daily questions, asking him if he felt distressed, how he felt towards the academy and its staff, if he missed Enoshima, along with a few other questions that helped her assess his current mental state.

As Miaya was about to exit Kamukura-kun’s room to report back to Munakata-kun, he spoke:

“I know you have to report everything I tell you to Munakata-sensei but I also know that as your client, I am entitled to confidentiality. I don’t want Munakata-sensei to know about this dream-like experience I had.” Fingers hitting her keyboard, the Ultimate Therapist made Usami raise an eyebrow, silently questioning the young man. “He will assume that yesterday’s activity and the dream are related, so I predict he will ask me to play more games against Nanami. But they bored me. I don’t want to play video games against her anymore.”

The blue-haired woman was surprised, and was grateful that she used an avatar to communicate and could hide her lips behind her scarf. Even though Kamukura-kun had extremely sharp analytical abilities, he still couldn’t read her mind. Besides, he’d been careless enough to request something from her for the first time. This meant that the dream, or playing games with Nanami-chan, was making him feel something different. Something that he didn’t know how to interpret or deal with. As the Ultimate Therapist, Miaya couldn’t hide it from her former classmate, but she wasn’t sure whether she could lie to her client. Usami’s voice eventually filled the silence in the room:

“I think you know he has someone else look over your medical results. That means he will find out about your EEG results form someone else, if not from me. I’m sorry, Kamukura-kun, I will have to tell him. But playing video games with Nanami-chan shouldn’t be such a bother. After all, every activity Munakata-kun has put you through ever since he took over has bored you as well.”

She looked up, trying to catch a glance of his face, only to realize that despite what had happened yesterday, his face still wasn’t showing any sort of emotion whatsoever.

“So, I will see you tomorrow, Kamukura-kun.”

He promptly replied, and she left the room, closing the door behind her. For the first time since she had been working with Kamukura-kun, Miaya was excited about reporting to Munakata-kun, and about the project as a whole.

#kamunami #izuru kamukura x chiaki nanami

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spiceferret · 4 years

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I hate my mental illness relapsing because I always feel like a fake worthless asshole everytime it happens.

I feel like I'm getting better, I feel like I'm happy in my life, I'm at peace. Until I go and look at the things I like, youtube videos (like carson/callmekevin/rtgames/etc) Or until I look at fanart of games I enjoy.

I look at youtube and I feel like shit because these are people just having fun with their friends, and they're able to make a living off that, and have the money to meet up with them While I have no friends near me whatsoever. None. I have maybe 1 friend in real life. There's technically more but one I still talk to. Even that's rare though.

Or I look at fanart, I see people getting love and attention for their ideas/headcanons. Often they're similar headcanons to ones I have too, they just, have more motivation to draw them. They're not afraid of showing their ideas.

I don't mean it in an angry "Well I could've thought of that >:/" way. I love seeing people having ideas like mine but being able to put them in a better way than I ever could.

But it still makes me jealous. And then I feel terrible for being jealous, it feels wrong of me.

I end up sitting there, crying, wishing it could be me. But it never can be. Not anymore. I don't know what went wrong with me, but I struggle speaking. I can manage things, I can speak well as a mediator in situations, maybe make a good joke, rarely. But not anything else.

I try to talk about things I enjoy, I freeze up, nobody cared when I was young, why would they care now. I can't express myself and I don't know how to fix it. Even if I knew how, I just feel like it's too late. My childhood is gone

I'm not old. Obviously. I'm only 19. I have plenty of life ahead But my /childhood/ is gone. My malleable years are gone. Changing is harder now and I don't know what to do And maybe I'll have an easier time when I'm not just stuck in my dad's house, when I have my own place

But it just feels too late. It's not soon enough, but I know if I were to try and leave now, i'd crash and burn. I'm not ready. I don't know when I will be.

I fucked my life up and it's my own fault. I was too scared to express myself, I was too scared to try and make friends in my school, the only people I had I don't think ever really cared. I was just someone who was there. Never someone they'd want to invite anywhere.

I have one friend who still sort of talks to me. Barely. But it still feels like that. Like they would forget about me in an instant. I don't leave anything impactful or memorable. I'm too scared people will hurt me somehow.

And then I calm down. I try to forget about it all, I shove it inside myself. I feel happier again. But it's not real. It just feels hollow, not actual happiness, just a lack of sadness.

But it'll always loop back. Sad again. But while I'm sad I remember when I'm 'happy' and I feel like I don't have the right to be sad. I know it isn't true, I know that mental health doesn't care about 'privilege'. It can affect anyone.

But when I'm upset I'm not thinking right. I look at myself and I'm like. Well my dad is kind to me, he's supportive, my brother is nice, even if annoying sometimes, I have a girlfriend who I love very much, and she loves me too. I've never experienced poverty. At least, not really. We've had times where we're broke and have to wait to get more food. But it's not often, we have enough money for me to spend nonchalantly on plushies, clothes, games, etc.

So why do I feel so hollow?

I constantly feel detached from my surroundings and people. I have a group of online friends, but they're often busy. They have things going on in their lives. I have a computer. I'm on it all the time. Sometimes I volunteer at the shelter, And at the shelter I feel more normal, I can talk to people, even if it's just me talking about the adoptable cats to people who are interested in adopting. But even then, about halfway through the day I'm just tired, I go home and I have no energy.

It feels like because I have moments of normalcy, that I'm not allowed to feel so upset. But I am, and my ADHD/Possible autism(?) never helps.

I'll never feel normal.

#long post #sylv speaks #negative #bad feelings this morning #this still doesn't really explain how i feel properly #but i don't have the words to know how to describe what i feel #it's just unending emptiness no matter what i do

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vanaera · 6 years

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Your Side of the Bed

Synopsis | Hoseok will bask in the crumpled sheets of your bed until you learn to erase your past’s name on the duvet and replace it with his. It’s been long since the sheets were changed. He’s got a better one, a much warmer one and he hopes you could see the permanence laced in its every thread.

Genre | slight angst, fluff

Wordcount | 1,749

Play Your Side of the Bed by Loote

Have you ever felt happy in something that you’re not supposed to want?

The eight o’ clock daylight seeps through your blinds, stirring Hoseok from his sleep with an answer on the tip of his tongue. The question has long loomed over his head for some time now, the answer clear to him everytime he has to assure himself of his stand in your life. But today was too early and what he can only do is look at you - hair a mess, bare face, tired body engulfed in the sheets by his side. Hoseok smiles and tucks the few stray strands of your hair behind your ear. The steady rise and fall of your chest makes him reminisce the steady pounding of last night’s rain.

The clouds weren’t gray that evening; a darkish cerulean even, yet the rain was heavy, dropping on the pavement like thunderous claps, hitting the hood of his car in a clangorous downpour. But to him, it was ironically mellifluous – to find beauty and calm in tragedy and noise. It shouldn’t even be therapeutic to him. He liked it in a kind of a pathological extent. And the same goes for you. He turns his head to look at you picking at the bits of the worn rubber on the handle by your side. He refuses to have another image of you leaving so he speaks up, “Have you ever liked something that is quite mismatched?”

The pale peach of your lips curve a little. Your wine red lipstick he knew you always liked has long served its purpose. The hour ago was intimate, having you straddled on his lap to “just kiss,” peppering his jaw in butterfly kisses and breathy wonders of “I really like the way your lips feel on mine.” Your lips are satin on his heated skin and wasted no time reciprocating the intensity you paced, devouring your mewls and moans with the plush of his chapped lips. But what he liked most was the aftermath, the scene after the onslaught of his affection on you – tousled hair, smeared lipstick, and trying to catch the breath you lost because of him. Toning down your aggressiveness, balancing out your edges with his softer ones, he thinks you’re pretty in peach. Well, you’re pretty everyday. It’s just the way you looked now that only he is privileged to see, was stupefyingly beautiful.

Your voice makes him divert his eyes from the plush of your lips toward your eyes. You let out an amused laugh, “Stop staring at me,” and Hoseok giggles. Grinning wide, you answer his question, “I don’t know, maybe some of your parts.”

"Why just parts of me?“ He chuckles, quickly drowning the bitterness that unexpectedly dropped in the pit of his stomach.

You look at the gray ceiling of his car, pondering on thoughts warring in your head. You always tend to think too much and Hoseok knows this ever since he’s been by your side in high school. Until now when you’re living the rest of your prime years as adult-like the both of you could be. He’s still wishing you could let some of them bother his mind too, so you won’t need to always endure the mess your thoughts create. Someday, if you’d let him, he’d always gladly do so.

He watches you clear your throat, body angling to your side to completely fill his view of you. You lean, body facing towards him just in time he did the same. “You make me…feel happy. Sometimes,” you quickly add, “Especially when I need to. Yeah, you do that to me.“

Legs crossed on the leather of the passenger seat, your fingers twiddling the frayed ends of your plum-dyed hair. He’s only a few inches away from you, fingers aching to tuck those strands behind your ear. But he’s not in that place…yet. He keeps his hand on the wheel and focusses on the monotonous symphony of the wipers for his beaten-up car and beaten-up heart.

It’s only hopeless because he knows there are weaknesses that will weigh down on your back until you’re on your knees. He just chose the wrong time to give in. “Why sometimes?”

Especially when you are his weakness.

"Hmm?“

Hands leaving the wheel, he leans on the side of his locked door, fully facing you. It’s no use to refuse when temptation and desire has always been in his reach. "I said, why sometimes? Don’t I make you happy always?”

You only look at his imploring eyes, snickering before you tore them to settle on the fogged glass of the window. “I’m happy, Hoseok, I really am. It’s just-”

"Him?"

You pause before affirming, "…yeah."

And someone else happened to be your weakness. Someone who left you for another woman. It was two years ago, why are you still holding on your pointless hope like a naïve child? Hoseok clenches his fist, nails digging crescents in his palms. He wishes he could also do those impressions on your mind just to wake you to your senses, but he can’t do so. He loves you and he can’t hurt you that bad. He can only say something that has been established true from the start. “You know he’s not coming back, right?”

"I know, I just-“

"Wait?” He faces you one more time; you’re still looking outside. “You know you’ve been doing that for a very long time.” Waiting for nothing, refusing to look at him - he meant both of these but he doubts if you could actually notice them. Your eyes had been long blinded by the scraps of his so-called love.

“I know.”

The prolonged silence suffocates the air conditioning inside the confines of his car. He revs up the engine and pushed his foot on the pedal. He talks about his yesterday’s dance class and you animatedly joined him with another misadventure in your office. He’s always been good in diversion.

By the time the downpour has receded into a shower, Hoseok has already pulled the vehicle in front of your apartment. You beckoned him to stay for the night, just like always, and he finds himself stumbling inside the threshold of your home.

But last night was different, and he could assure that because he felt it too.

You didn’t ask him to make you forget, to erase him from your mind, to make love to you. It was the first for the countless nights you invited him to fill the empty space of the bed on your side. It has always been lonely to keep a large fraction by your side empty and cold. For the years that has passed before you met him and after he left, Hoseok has been trying to tell you that your bed is not designed to just hold two lovers engaged in physical passion. For overnight tornados of desire and lust cannot warm up a frozen heart when it could easily leave wreckage and ruins that may lacerate the fragile organ.

Hoseok admits to his faults - he’s given in too many times to your pleas, a hipocrisy in act when he’s trying to keep you away from the toxic waters but is willing to toe them until he’s knee-deep if you ask him to - an excuse to touch you, a motive for him to love you. His Achilles’ heel you truly are.

"Can you just…lie by my side? You don’t have to do anything, I just-“

"Need someone to fill his space?” Hoseok didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter before he could think about what he spewed.

But it’s not what’s on your mind. “No, I just need you to be by my side.”

Hoseok was astounded and can only nod.

That night, he curled to your side and pulled you close to him, the warmth emanating from his chest lulling you to sleep. In the thin line of consciousness and sleep as he closed his eyes, Hoseok felt you tug his hand draped on your waist to lay them on top of yours. One, two, three - you enclosed your fingers and locked his hand with yours. Like what lovers do. Like what he usually dreamt of doing with you. And while the night is dead, Hoseok pressed a loving kiss on your hairline.

The indigo dips and creases on your bed are now cream and white and Hoseok looks at you snuggled deep in your sheets. Loving you may hurt but it’s not enough to drive him away. You turn to your side, facing him, and still asleep. Looking at you with peace unusually painted on your un-creased brows and parted mouth, the porch of your chest vulnerable and opened wide, Hoseok decides to drape himself onto you, to embrace and inhale the scent of you with his hands wound around you like the lover who’s capable to hold his love in his arms. He can only grant his heart some peace when you’re sleeping, all his wants and needs muddled in a plethora of affections he could only lay on your doorstep:

I want to be your friend you can hopelessly fall in love with, the one you could take willingly into your arms, into your bed, into the world you keep to your head unvisited by anyone. I need to love you and know how to touch you – how I could make you stare at your pains in one of those sleepless nights and only feel my love supersede anything that is contrary.

And Hoseok could only wait until you decide to bask in the daylight, to go out and pick up everything you need to know about him, you, and the both of you.

Have you ever felt happy in something that you’re not supposed to want?

You slowly opened your eyes, meeting his.

He doesn’t need to think twice; the answer has always been clear. Loving you is something he has always wanted and needed. He’ll always be happy when it comes to you, regardless of conditions and conventionalities - he will be happy through and through, no second thoughts, no regrets. Just you and him, him and you. You don’t have to toss and turn anymore.

Hoseok smiles. “Good morning, Y/N.”

You return his smile, your hand in his hold squeezing his. “Good morning, Hoseok.”

He would wait.

What are you doing?

Re-arranging the furniture.

Why so sudden?

It’s been a while since I gave my home a make-over.

View more songs in my masterlist

A/N | Hello hons! I experimented a new writing style for this and hmm, I’m not sure whether to be happy with it or not (everything feels too new!) Anyway, I liked the new experience! Hope you liked reading this!

BTW!!! I have 3 consecutive exams coming up this week (uni is killing me) so I may not be able to post your requests soon but be assured I’m working on them! (I’m actually already editing some of them as my breather in-between studying) I just don’t want to rush them because I want to give you guys a good content! :D So for the mean time, enjoy my following posts that I queued for these weeks that I will be freaking busy studying and writing papers :’D

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hopeduckling13 · 5 years

Text

A Wish Come True: Chapter 21

Summary: How quickly can your mood change from pure happiness to pure horror? In a millisecond.The day Killian and Emma found out they were true love, they were ecstatic. That is until, they were forced to say goodbye to each other. For forever. Or so they thought.Can they still manage to find their true love for each other after five years of seperation or is it too late?

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Ship: Captain Swan

Rating: M

Setting: 5 years after 5x20 Firebird

Also on AO3, FF.net and Wattpad

Catch up on Tumblr: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Reblog to be tagged in future chapters: @mcakers @mackietack @teamhook

~~~ EMMA’S POV ~~~

Me and my two boys have a nice late lunch at Granny’s. Henry mostly catches Killian up on everything that he missed during the last five years, and I just watch them interact. It makes my heart flutter, seeing the two most important people in my life get along so well. I missed hanging out with both of them. I’m really glad, that I’ll get to do it all the time once again - and hopefully for the rest of my life.

I know, that I will do everything in my power to make sure, that no one takes either of them away from me ever again. Other Savior duties be damned. I won’t put the town first anymore - not after what I had to sacrifice for it five years ago. So, if I ever have to choose whether I save everyone or my family, I’ll choose my loved ones. I can’t care more about everyone else’s happiness anymore - I have to put my own happiness first. The selfless Emma is dead.

I’m the Savior and from now on, I’ll take fate into my own hands. Starting with putting my mother’s mind straight.

So, when Killian and Henry talk about going sailing together soon, I see the perfect opportunity and I take it.“Why don’t you just go now? It’s still pretty early and the weather is perfect for a little trip on the Jolly Rodger.” I propose.

Henry smiles softly at me. “That sounds great, mom. Will you come with us?” He looks at me with puppy dog eyes.

I almost say yes because I do want to spend time with them, but I also know that I can’t right now. I have an important talk with my mom ahead of me after all - one that can’t wait any longer.

“No. I’m sorry, kid. I still have some errands to run. But you two have fun. I’ll come with you next time.”

Henry looks at me with a bit of sadness but soon gets over it as he starts talking excitedly about his and Killian’s little trip.

Soon, Granny arrives with our check.

Then, Henry gets up to the toilet before leaving and Killian and I wait for him in front of the small diner.

I interlace our fingers and hold on to his hook with my other hand. I look deeply into his eyes. “Make sure Henry wears a life vest. And promise, that you’ll both be back alive.”

Killian nods. “I promise, my Swan. I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” He gives me an adorable smile, before placing his hand on my cheek. I lean into his touch as he steps closer and places his lips softly on mine. It’s sweet and thanks to someone clearing his throat in the doorway also short.

“I’m ready,” Henry says from the doorway. He walks towards us and gives me a hug. “Bye, mom.” Then he leaves.

“Have fun on the ship,” I say to both of them.

“Don’t be too hard on your mother,” Killian says.

I look at him perplexed. How the hell did he figure that one out? I didn’t tell him - I didn’t tell anyone!

Killian smirks and pecks my lips once, before giving me a hug. “I told you, that you were like an open book, Swan.”

I scoff and he pulls away. He kisses my cheek one last time and then follows Henry to the docks.

I soon start walking in the other direction to my parents' place. I just hope dad won’t be there yet. It would be a lot easier to talk to just my mother for once. I don’t need peacekeeper David right now.

…

As I reach my parents home and walk inside with my key, I realize that it seems to be just mom. I sigh in relief.

She’s standing in the kitchen, baking a cake, and looks up as soon as she sees me enter. Something in her face changes instantly. Looks like she’s still upset with me or at least uncomfortable with recent developments aka my break up with Carter.

I walk towards her and take a seat at the kitchen counter. I look at her pretty coldly. But I just can’t help it. The way she acted this morning was just not okay. “We need to talk.”

“I suppose we do, Emma.” She says. “And now that we’re alone, you can be honest with me, Emma. Did Hook threaten you to break up with Carter or what the hell is going on?”

What the fuck?!

She can’t seriously be that ignorant to reality, can she? Why would Killian need to threaten me for me to be with him? And how the hell could she even think, that Killian would ever harm me? He clearly loves me a lot. He would never abuse me. It’s just not who he is. He’s a loyal person, who would do anything for the people he loves.

It’s one of his qualities, that I fell in love with a long time ago.

“No! Of course not! It was my decision. Why would you even think that?” I ask angrily? I’m sort of dreading the answer, but I’m also curious.

“What you and Carter had was great, Emma. I mean you were basically engaged and you were so happy with him. Everything was perfect. And then you just suddenly break up with him for someone who broke your heart before and will do it again? That makes no sense to me, Emma. He must have done something to you.”

Someone who broke my heart? When? When he died? Because that was clearly out of his control! He didn’t choose to die, well, he sort of did, but it was me or him, so he sacrificed himself for me.

That’s love - not betrayal. How can my mother just not see that?

Other people would love for their daughter to be with someone they can count on - someone who would always put their loved ones before themselves.

But she clearly doesn’t. She rather wants me to be with a boring coward, who cries like a baby just because he got punched in the face a little.

“He never broke my heart! Sure, I was obviously grieving him, but that wasn’t his fault. It was Hades’. And no, I wasn’t happy with Carter. Honestly, I didn’t feel anything for him. I was just with him because you put so much pressure on me to just move on when you should’ve known that I wasn’t ready for that!” I hold back a tear, that is threatening to stream down my cheek.

“It doesn’t matter, if he broke your heart without meaning to, Emma! Motives don’t matter in this case. All that does matter is that you were hurt because of him. And his death was his fault - not anyone else’s. He brought all those Dark Ones here to Storybrooke. We all almost died because of him.” She almost yells but manages to keep it down for my brother’s sake. He seems to be upstairs, watching some cartoon, judging by the sounds.

It’s actually quite funny, that she just ignore the fact, that I said I was only with Carter for her sake. She probably just believes that to be a lie, right? Wow, she really is naive!

“So, what? You didn’t die because of him. He sacrificed himself for all of you! He doesn’t deserve you being so mean to him! He hasn’t done anything to deserve that rudeness, and neither did I. You do realize, that hurting him hurts me too, right?” I can’t help my own sadness anymore. The first tear slips down my face. What have I ever done to make my mother not care about me at all? Was it Regina’s curse, which was probably my fault in some way, according to both of them.

Or what was it?

Why can’t she just love me like she loves my little brother?

Am I really that unlovable?

“Do you care about me at all?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I once again sound like the lost girl, who didn’t matter and never will. I sigh. I don’t think I even want the answer to my question. It’ll just upset me further. She’ll probably just lie to me anyway, which just proves, that she doesn’t care. That she doesn’t love me much.

“Of course I care, Emma!” Her voice sounds soft now. I can hear her shuffling around the kitchen until I feel her hands on my shoulders. After a moment of hesitation, I look at her with uncertainty.

Does that mean, she’ll stop insulting both my boyfriend and my relationship now? Will she finally see that I wasn’t happy with Carter?

“Which is why I want you to be with Carter, sweetie.” Never mind. “He’s a great guy. He loves you so much and he’ll never hurt you. He’s a good person - unlike Hook, who is a pirate and a villain. Nothing bad will ever happen to him because he’s always been good.”

I let my head fall in both of my hands and sigh loudly in frustration.

“Are you really that naive? Bad things don’t only happen to bad people - as you should know!” I sigh again, looking for any sign, that she agrees. But there isn’t one. Not a single one. “I think you live in a black and white world, where there are only good and bad people and you’re the judge of who is good and who isn’t. It’s sad though, that you’re able to forgive Regina for all she has done to our family without having the least amount of regret, but you are not willing to give Killian - who fought so hard to become a better man and succeeded at that - a damn chance - not even for my sake. I’m not asking you to love him, I’m just asking you not to treat him like a jerk, and you can’t even do that for me.”

I get up and start to walk to the door. “I’m sorry for wasting your time. You clearly don’t give a damn about my feelings, which is a crappy quality for a mother. So, I should be on my way. You’re obviously not going to change your mind and I’m tired of caring about that. If you don’t want me in your life - the real me - then I suppose, I won’t bother you again. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. Goodbye, mother.” I say coldly.

Then, I open the door and start to walk out, but just as the door almost shuts behind me, I feel a pull on it from the other side. My mother opens the door up again and looks at me sadly. “Emma, wait!”

#a wish come true #captain swan #cs #Emma swan #killian jones #ouat #once upon a time #captain swan fanfiction #fanfic #ff #fic #cs fic #s5

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