#sorry this is a useless rant but goddamn it i feel so fucking alone these days

[omarfor-orchestra]

.

#the fact that my birthday is getting close and every year i hate it a little more #there's no explanation i just hate that I don't have people to celebrate it with beside my family #and i hate being in the centre of attention because it always looks fake #and I'm thinking about my graduation party (god i hope I'll graduate) and the fact that everyone plays games and stuff #and I don't even know whom i should ask to come because everyone is leaving again #and it's always like this #every time I'm not ok for reasons everyone leaves and i get it ok? i do. i can't exactly burden people with my problems #but will it always be like this? #i hate my birthday i wish it didn't exist i wish it was sept. 22nd and then i woke up on sept. 24th #sorry this is a useless rant but goddamn it i feel so fucking alone these days

[igotbulletproof-insomnia]

TW: depressive thoughts, thoughts of death, rants about corporatized American society.

I just listened to A Supplemental Story: You Never Walk Alone for the first time in a very long time.

"You and I, if we're together, we can smile."

This is probably still my favorite line in their discography. YNWA is probably higher up on my favorites than I give it credit for. I've been feeling really down and depressive recently. I was involved in a hit and run which has left me handicapped and out of work for the time being, and that in itself is very frustrating. I feel useless. And looking at the hospital bills... I almost wish I had been killed instead; it would have been much cheaper.

I'm scared. Like. Really, really scared.

I want to cry thinking about it. This world fucking sucks. There is literally no reason why we have laws in place MEANT TO PROTECT THE PUBLIC, but someone can just pass someone a couple hundred dollars, a couple thousand dollars, some insider knowledge, a fucking trip overseas or seats to the goddamn opera and they'll turn a blind eye to doing their fucking job. I don't like being "the cost of doing business." My life isn't a toy. It isn't fair that hospitals have been corporatized. That government has been corporatized. That even fucking job searching has been monetized. it's depressing to think that I only work to make someone else rich, meanwhile I'm stretching nickels into dimes.

But it had been nice to listen to BTS for the first time in longer than I'd like to admit as a fan. I've been listening to their solo projects, but I haven't touched their group albums such a long time. 화양연화/The Most Beautiful Moment in Life (I like the Korean so much it's hard to remember the English) made me so happy. I forgot how much of their lyrics I knew! It felt so good to be able to sing along to more than just the English bits, even if it was still random bits. And then I got to the WINGS/YNWA album and 2!3! played and Outro: Wings and, finally, A Supplemental Story: You Never Walk Alone.

I have actually never looked up the lyrics to this song beyond a translation of "너와 나 함께라면 웃을 수 있으니까:" You and I, if we're together, we can smile. It might be somewhere on this blog. Or my other one. And maybe on twitter. I ought to get it tattooed xD But yeah, I read the lyric translations and just. They're so... I dunno. As much as I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself, I am so, so proud of them. And as cliche as this sounds, they won't like to hear me wishing I had died instead of surviving and continuing on with my family. So yeah. I should shift my focus into doing what I can. I've been -- hopefully -- on leave of absence from my job since mid-February. I've been in good condition medically since about mid-March. And for the past two weeks, I have been weight-bearing on one leg. I can at least find online work, as difficult as that is. But it is manageable. It's a lot more manageable than turning a startup music label into a multi-billion dollar giant. Things are going to be alright. Just like we as fans put enough faith and good energy into BTS to raise them into superstars, I need to keep enough faith in myself and the people around me to ensure things turn out well. I don't need to come out flying; standing tall and jogging will be enough for me.

#bts #a supplementary story: you never walk alone #you never walk alone #personal #diary entry #tmi #fml #i hate it here #bts army #inspired #depression #barely kpop related #bangtan #the most beautiful moment in life

[scarletttext]

This is a long ass rant, read at your own risk (or don't, I don't control ya)

You know when you feel like you just don't belong somewhere? I felt that today, again, and it sucked. Gosh darnit man, I'm tired of this shit, tired of feeling like I'm never enough, like I never belong. I wrote a text yesterday for a wip, but it really ended up being me projecting, I saved it, but it will be basically useless to my wip, and I brought myself to tears, again, writing it. I'll copy it here, but really, if you're not in the right place of mind, I recommend not reading it. Because as much as I try to be positive, to overcome stuff, there's somethings that are just... those are wounds too deep, that I don't even know how to heal or where to even start. And whenever I get into another downslide, they resurface and bring their ugly heads up again, and it's not pretty for me, lemme tell ya. I'm functioning today on barely 3 hours of sleep, so keeping the bad thoughts at bay is hard, I'll probably put a lot of things on the ''reasons to stay alive tag''. Anyways, lemme stop rambling and copy paste the dang text here.

""You're exaggerating"

The moment those words left his mouth, something in me snapped, and I was on him in a flash, pushing him into the wall with a loud bang, cracking the plaster and shaking the house.

" You try to tell me that I don't know what I feel? Do you know what it's like to spend all your life alone? Do you know what it's like to grow up watching everyone around you smiling, having fun, being together, while you do your best to be part of it, just to be shunned?" I screamed at his face " Tell me, do you know what it's like to never have anyone around to tell you you're doing good, hell even tell you you're doing terribly? Have you ever looked around you, looked for anyone to lean on to, anyone to offer you even a smidge of comfort, and found no one? Have you ever had to beg, to humiliate yourself, just so you could feel some kind of human touch?" I was crying by now.

"Because I had to. And the worst of it is that I was always surrounded by people... But I was always just a shadow, or better yet, their Erysed Mirror, they only looked at me and saw what they wanted, never who I am. And no natter what I said, what I asked, they did what they wanted to me. I tried to be louder, noisier, I tried to be the best I could be, but it was never enough, I was never enough to be considered a fucking person. I was made to regret every time I trusted a person, I was shunned every time I tried to get close to someone, and you say that I'm exaggerating when I tell you that I don't feel like a person? Well, I never got the chance to BE a person, I loved and that's all I have that makes me feel like I am still human, but I was never LOVED, I never felt the love that I needed, and sorry if you're too uncomfortable to hear that, but it's the truth! I had no one to run to when I needed comfort, I never felt the human touch of someone who loved me offering the comfort I needed, I was GODDAMNED ALONE. I'm afraid I don't even know how to have a connection at this point, so excuse me if I don't trust you, but I was raised as an object to be looked at instead of loved, and who's to tell me you won't do the same?"

#meus #I'm def not okay. better than a lot of times in the past but not okay #oh hell I've been through it before and I'll go through it again #if things get too hard I'll tattoo a little reminder on my wrist (impulsive as it seems) #like... having something to look at whenever the nervous habit of rubbing my scars surfaces again #is very good. because then I can focus on how much I survived already #in the past all I had to look at were the scars and the shame and pain they brought me #now I have one huge tattoo in each arm to look at #and if this fucking shitty mood persists I'll very soon have another one

[a-tale-of-legends]

A deep-dive to N's relationship with Alexis and Elliot.

Part 1

Part 2: Neo

It's been 2 years after the events of black and white. Unova, for the most part, has been peaceful. Which means life moves on.

It....kinda hurt when Bianca and Cheren started to drift away. Bianca had her studies and Cheren was training to be a gym leader. Elliot's happy for them, she is, but it still hurts. She feels alone. Maybe she wouldn't if her brother didn't leave for a green haired weirdo, but okay. Sure. Choose someone who doesn't want to be found over your own goddamn sister! Not like she care( she does).

N, amongst his travels, have learned a lot. He meet different people, different pokemon, all of which have varied reactions upon meeting him. He's glad to have meet those he can.

He thinks about the twins. He realizes that his farewell.... wasn't the best. "Hey I'm sorry for the things I caused, follow your dream and farewell?" That's leaves lots of room for confusion. He...feels like he could have done that better. Maybe if he hadn't rushed out there. He needs to make it up to his friends( even if they don't see the same way)

Though that might to have to wait: Reshiram is sensing the pain of another pokemon, Kyurem she says. N hopes that this pain is merely natural, though given Reshirand's worry....it is not. N steels himself and rushes over to Unova.

Neither of them were expecting to dumb into each other in Nimbasa City( the irony). Upon seeing N again, Elliot felt all the anger and sadness she felt for the past 2 years just well up. One minute she's trying to punch him( she keeps missing, why is he so nimble?) , the next she's crying on the Nimbasa streets, cursing at N, at Alexis, at everyone. At herself.

If this was two years ago, N probably would have left the minute Elliot was about to swing at him, and he was, but.... the anger in her face, the sadness in her eyes....it felt all too familiar. All due to him, no doubt. So he stays, barely managing to dodge her punches, and sitting next to her as she cries and rants about everything that has happened the past two years.

Including Alexis " going to find him"

" He left to look for me?"

" Yes!"

"....That's.... incredibly illogical"

" I KNOW!!"

The two stay like this for a while, Elliot ranting to N, unintentionally catching him up with things( Cheren became a gym leader, Bianca is an assistant to....Juniper), and of course, Alexis disappearance. Which is strange given how Reshiram would have probably sensed at least something from Zekrom. Then again, running away and being in deep danger are two separate things. Unless Alexis put Zekrom back in the Dark Stone. Wait-

Before N could voice his( probably unwanted) concerns, Elliot, for some reason, invites him to her and Alexis' house. Why? He doesn't know. Well he do know, because " you look a trash goblin". She then proceeds to pick up twigs and leaves from his hair.

Oh.

Well alright then.

The kind gesture ended up with awkward family meetings, apologizes, crying, and a sleepover. It was.....good. N even allowed Elliot to braid his hair.

Though that was the calm before the storm. Opelucid City was reported to be frozen over by a floating ship. Plasma. Thankfully, two kids( Eva and Wayne) manage to drive them off. But still....

With their minor bonding moment under their belts, N and Elliot come up with a plan:

1. Try and locate where Ghetsis is through Kyurem. It may be weak, given Kyurems state, but they have to try.

2. Try and get the old Team Plasma to help out in anyway they can( N is a bit hesitant at this, but he'll try)

3. Try to fucking call Alexis again, he better not have Zekrom in the Dark Stone , they need the man power-

4. Alert Bianca , the professor and the other gym leaders to prepare for an emergency evacuation. Just in case things go for the worse.

Step 1 and 2 were easy enough, Kyurems connection to Reshiram was still very weak, bit it was there. Seeing Team Plasma again was a weird experience for everyone( though N was happy to see his sisters are well....even if he got scolded for leaving). Step 3 was....hard. Just like the two years before, Alexis wouldn't pick up any form of communication. When N asked Reshiram could sense Zekrom... nothing. Alexis must have put Zekrom back into the Dark Stone. N tries not to judge him on that.

The best they could do is leave a very lengthy voicemail and pray that it reaches him, let alone he will come.

For now they just act.

Upon reaching Gaint Chasm, they meet an almost icicle impaled Eva. The good news is that they came just in time. The bad news is that Reshiram got forcibly fused with with Kyurem, N literally has no other pokemon, and Elliot is busy with literally the dozens of grunts heading there way. Eva( bless her soul) is managing to fight Ghetsis on her own, but with a fused Legendary and a maniac with a Hydreigon that hates it's trainers soul, things don't look so good-

Oh.

Wait.

Is that-

Wait, wait, no time for that! They have a region to save.

N can't help but feel entirely useless in the whole thing. Watching a strange, but brave girl take on her fa- Ghetsis. Ghetsis. Then there's Elliot, holding of as many grunts as she can.

And then there's Alexis. Zekrom on one side. Kai on the other, facing the fused Legendary. He.... doesn't look happy to be here. In fact it looks like a great discomfort to even be here. He looks terrible. Worse than the last time N saw him. His eyes are beyond tired, heavy eye bags under each eye. His clothes are in tears and his hat is no wear to be seen. Going back to his eyes, there tired, yes, but also seem....lost? It seems so glazed over, so.....lost? That's the best way N can put it.

Did....did Alexis really leave Unova to look for him?

Alexis doesn't move, his eyes only focused on the fused Kyurem. He doesn't look anywhere else. Not at Eva. Not N. Not Ghetsis. Not even a glance back to see his sister. He'll help where he can, and then he'll leave. Just... don't look at them. It'll just make the guilt feel worse.

Soon the battle is over. Sadly, Ghetsis got away, but given his sickly response....he won't be back.

Alexis ignores the nervous attempts of the stranger( Eva, she said her name was), returned Kai to her ball( also ignoring the look she's giving him) and tries to get on Zekroms back before-

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Elliot was already there before, her fists slamming into his face,in a rage. Bianca and Cheren then enter the cold cave. They looked worried, asking about Eva( ah, they already replaced him....fair), then confusion to why Elliot is yelling, to shock. Bianca had tears in her eyes. Cheren....it's hard to look at him( any of them really). But then he hears yelling and he already knows what he's in four. Great.

Elliot is, rightly, pissed. Does she miss her brother? Absolutely! Is she glad that he's alive? Of course! Is she pissed that he left without a word and didn't maintain contact at all, bascically leaving her and her family clueless? FUCK YES. She's beyond ready to give Alexis a fucking lecture of the century.

But then she looks at him.

The person in front of her looks broken. So terrible , terrible broken. She thinks she saw in flinch once, which was when she punched him. But after that, he just sat there. Eating in all the words that she let out. That's .....that's not right he- he's already broken. Her words will just make it worse. So she stops. Cheren picks up for her.

N watches this.... reunion, and can't help put feel out of place. Not that is wasn't anything new to him but....it hurts to see them like this. All angry and sad. He has lots of things to say to Alexis, but now doesn't seem like the right time. So he quietly tells a very shaken Eva to go to the league, all while escorting her out if the blasted cave. Only Bianca notices, and through her tears she gives them a small nod.

And it just leaves an angry but confused Elliot, a just angry( but also very worried) Cheren, a crying Bianca, and a tired, broken Alexis.

What a reunion.

#oc: elliot jones #oc: alexis jones #n harmonia

[spideyy-girl]

Dating Richie Tozier Would Include...

Request by anon: hey are u writing richie fics??? if so can you just do one where he realizes he really loves her or just a dating richie fic?

Summary: pretty simple,,, what it would be like if you were dating the infamous “trash mouth” of Derry (spoiler it’s fukin awesome)

Fandom: IT

Warnings: swearing, abusive parents are mentioned, serious injuries and talking of death, making out

Word Count: 1480 (4.3 pages)

A/N: so this was requested in May and to the anon who did request this I’m so sorry it took so long! Also, I hope you don’t mind that I did a headcanon instead cause I just had so much to say. But anyways hope you enjoy!

~~~

Dating Richie is just so like nice and just perfect

you guys would've met a long time ago, he defended you when Henry Bowers tried to take your animal crackers in kindergarten

and ever since then you two were thick as thieves

being the closest friends out of the entire Losers club

you started to get feelings for him in sixth grade...

it was one of the many nights when he had come over to your house in the late hours of the night due to his mother drinking again or another family issue

you had stayed up and let him rant to you, holding his hand in yours and gently brushing your thumb against his knuckles as he tried to keep his tears at bay

he hated crying in front of you more than anyone

after he had gotten everything out he was exhausted

he fell asleep right away as you were finding extra pillows

still dressed in his jean shorts and stupid hawaiian shirt

you had seen it many time before but this time it triggered something in you and you knew you were fucked

you not being able to hide your feeling for him and told him two weeks later

you never kept any secrets from the other so it was bound to happen

but thank god he felt the same whoo

and this BOY he was just so EXCITED like YES

after you turn around he definitely starts dancing and pumping his fist in the air

you catch him doing it too

your first date is at the arcade (obviouslyyyyyy)

he teaches you how to play mortal combat

you guys get slushies and it somehow ends up in spilling the entire thing on each other

"SLUSHIE FIGHT"

but as I was saying he's just really the perfect boyfriend right y'know

cause he's already your best friend and you guys aren't awkward and you can trust him and tell stupid jokes to each other

but also Richie has a soft side (fight me on this)

tells you stupid pick up lines, gets you little gifts and flowers, always spoiling you with little things like that

is SOOO into pda but only if you're comfortable with it of course

soft pecks: YES 

forehead kisses: MORE YES

hand kisses: BIG YES

hand holding: ALL THE TIME

hugs: EVERY DAY

always has to be touching you, sorta clingy but in a good way

especially after the events of IT, he is always nervous and always has to have his hands on you

because you got seriously hurt during the events of the Well House in the final battle

this poor boy thought you weren't gonna make it and was just so distressed

staying by your side at your hospital bed every single day without fail (not like he had many other people to be with)

crying silently into your hand when he was alone 

but when you woke up he was so happy he started to cry more

showers you in kisses and cries to you about how scared he was about you leaving him and his nightmares about the clown from the sewers

slips the big L-word while rambling without even realizing it

and even though you guys are young you knew that you felt the same way, but would save that conversation for later

when your nurse walks in to check on you she finds you and Richie asleep on the tiny hospital bed, cuddling

his head was on your shoulder and your hands were threaded through his long black hair, that was pretty greasy but you didn't mind

his glasses fell off a while ago and cracked but neither of you really cared

Richie practically living with you after his household becomes too much so he's just always over

him always acting like an angel when he's around your parents and them actually loving him and basically adopting him

him wanting your parents to think he's a good influence because all of his other friend's parents despise him for some reason

OMG SLEEPOVERS 

your mom and dad wouldn't think much of it before agreeing like once a week since you used to have them all the time when you were younger and before you were dating

you two making out in your room and Richie being really nervous because "what if they just come in?"

(they never do anyways)

doing dumb karaoke sing-alongs to songs like africa and bohemian rhapsody

MOVIE MARATHONS

would usually consist of multiple star wars movies and stupid romcoms that your mom has a stash of

groaning at all the cheesy scenes even though they were exactly like the two of you in real life

cuddling on the couch and sharing a blanket awwww

him feeding you popcorn as you're watching the movies AWWWW

you guys eventually tire yourselves out and sleeping on the couch LIKE JUST SO GODDAMN CUTE WOW

you guys go to your first school dance together

Richie bicycles to your house and makes sure to bring you the nicest bouquet of flowers not so much money could buy

he was for some reason so nervous, like his palms were sweating as he rang the doorbell, and was constantly smoothing down the one regular white button-up shirt he owned

when he sees you in your cute little dress with your hair done in little curls and the small amount of makeup your mother had done for you, he felt like he was gonna faint

how did he get so damn lucky like... SERIOUSLY

little did he know you were thinking the exact same thing as you smiled brightly back at him

you guys had an absolute ball, dancing all night like crazy people, not even caring about the popular kids at school judging you

slow dancing at the end of the night to put your head on my shoulder and it being really sweet

him kissing you at the end, and even though it's still awkward middle school kissing it was just the best thing ever

"I sorta think I may be in love with you"

"I know, you told me last month" 

going into highschool still strong as ever just POWER COUPLE

still being nerds and bullied a lot but also everyone wanted to be you cause your relationship together was PERFECT

you guys had one small fight in junior year because of some nasty freshmen were trying to get him to ask them to prom

the poor boy was absolutely oblivious and didn't know what was happening until you started yelling at him

you guys break up during the summer but just before school starts he shows up at your door with a big teddy bear, a bog full of chocolate, a handpicked bouquet of daisies, and a very practised apology

you couldn't help but run into his arms again

you went through everything in life together after that, graduation, college, getting jobs, finding a place to live, and eventually getting married and having a family together

you guys have one little girl named Annie and she's just so perfect

her being such a daddy's girl and having Richie wrapped around her little finger

Richie is the best dad imaginable, despite his not so similar upbringing, going as far as to play dress up and having tea parties with his little girl

living in a cute apartment together in new york, where Richie worked as a radio host for one of the biggest stations in the country

your loves being complete and everything was just how it was supposed to be finally

well, that is until you guys get the phone call from your childhood friend Mike

when IT comes back Richie insists you don't come with him back to Derry, saying that you had to go watch the Annie while he was away

you gave up after a long few days of fighting over it

never being able to sleep since whenever you closed your eyes all you could see was that stupid clown hurting your husband

always keeping Annie close to you all the time and never letting her leave your sight, even though you no longer lived in Derry, or Maine even and there was technically no threat towards you guys

when he gets home you've never been happier in your life

taking Annie to the airport to pick him up and running into his arms when you finally see him, your little girl in your arms as well

"It's over now, it's gone for good this time"

you guys grow old together, and are both really happy and love to recall useless memories from when you were children and everything turns out great

wow honestly I'm crying at this point

you guys are just so damn perfect and everything is perfect I love this 

okay sorry I'm done now have fun

~~~

TAGS:

Permanent: @phonegalhelp @caswinchester2000 @gwenebear @morganvanilla

Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist!

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier #richie tozier headcanons #headcanon #it #it 2017 #it chapter 2

[softjeon]

Better Together

• Pairing: Rapper!Yoongi x Dancer!Jimin • Genre: Fluff • Words: 9,1k |  ↳ AO3 • Disclaimer: a bit of anxiety and nervousness / insecurities

written for the ‘Printed Melodies’ Event @yoonminficrec → Prompt: Yoongi’s rap crew competes at a hip hop competition and Jimin is also there as a competing street dancer.

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ “C-can you please close the door again?” Jimin averted his gaze, trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. Yoongi ignored the boy’s half-hearted request at leaving him alone and instead furrowed his brows in concentration as he scanned him for real. When he dropped his gaze to the younger’s feet he could see that he was barefoot and awkwardly trying to hide it with the way he was sitting. “Are you crying because those cheerleaders out there stole your shoes?”

It was useless. He was useless. Why did he even think coming here would be a good idea in the first place. The day had started out bad already and it was proving itself to be the worst day Jimin ever had. First, he almost came too late for the sign ins and now he had forgotten his shoes. The most important item a dancer needed. He had been so nervous, anxiety driven all day and forgetting his shoes had been the last straw he needed to tilt over.

Jimin sobbed, burying his face in the palm of his hands and curled in further into the corner of the locker room he had hid in. There were loud noises outside, people passing but no one bothered to look inside these rooms. They had other things to care about, competitions to win. Closing his eyes, Jimin pulled his knees in and leaned his forehead against the cold wall, trying to count to ten and start again. He would be okay. He could practice the routine without shoes. Try it out a couple of times and see if it works or he could just keep hiding in here. Where no one could find him and sneak out without anyone noticing. They maybe would call out his name a couple of times, but then they would just disqualify him.

That was it.

Jimin gasped when the door suddenly burst open, eyes wide in fear and shock alike. Hand pushed over his mouth to keep from breathing too loudly and not make a noise. He stared at the closed bathroom door in which he had locked himself, seeing shoes walking closer to where the sinks were and Jimin held his breath.

The voices of the people outside were still in Yoongi’s head, bouncing around like a pinball machine, over and over again.

‘Oh, I never heard of you!’

‘Who are you again?’

‘Wait, you are a rapper? You are so small I thought you were one of the background dancers’

‘You must be so nervous to be here’

He had smiled and talked and tried to make connections as he knew he should be while his inner tension rose and rose until it was so close to snapping that he just needed to get out RIGHT ABOUT NOW: He burst through the door of the first empty room he could find, growling out his anger and frustration. “Yes, I’m new and I don’t look like the typical rapper and most of you haven’t heard of me I know that so fucking thank you for reminding me!” He kicked against the bench in the room while having no idea that he wasn’t the only one hiding in here.

Jimin jerked violently, a squeal passing his lips in fright, when the man had kicked out and he pressed his palm a little harder over his mouth. It was silent. Only the heavy panting from the stranger audible. Eyes wide, Jimin tried to push himself as far as he could in the corner of the bathroom stall, when he heard the footsteps coming closer.

Yoongi flinched just as hard as Jimin as he had heard the youngers frightened sound. His defenses went up immediately and his heart was pounding when he went over to where he assumed the other person was. He had run out of there to not have any witnesses of his outbreak and now he had been watched, nonetheless.

Couldn’t he have some goddamn peace for five damn minutes!?

Jimin whimpered when the door busted open and stared up at the man that had just ripped the door open angrily, eyes wide and filled with tears. He was about to open his mouth, apologize and tell him to not hurt him when the angry stranger began to shout at him, pouring all of his frustration out on him and all Jimin could do was listen.

“What are you doing in here? Did you follow me? Trying to tease me some more, huh? Do you want to watch me crack under pressure, is that it so you can tell the others that they were totally right about me and that I’m just some tiny stupid no name rapper who can’t even hold his temper before a competition?” Only after he yelled at the boy was his head clear enough for him to really look at him and he saw that the younger’s eyes were remarkably glassy.

Jimin waited for him to finish his rant, confused on why the fuck the other thought that he had spied on him. A tear fell onto his cheek and Jimin hastily wiped it away.

“I...I wasn’t listening in on you and I don’t care who you are,” He whispered, voice sounding croaky from the crying. “Also, I was here first!” His voice broke a little again and he awkwardly smoothed down his team jacket that he wore, even on days where he competed alone like today. Jimin had been the only one who was able to qualificate himself for this competition. Not many were invited to the final rounds, even though many tried from all across the country - dancers and rappers alike. If you made it though, then you had a good chance to be seen by either one of the top managers of the entertainment agencies. And there was a grand prize awaiting for the winner. But even if you didn’t you could get lucky that someone found you interesting enough to pull you out of the many competitors to hand over a card, maybe invite you to an audition. Something Jimin was dreaming about night and day.

“C-can you please close the door again?” Jimin averted his gaze, trying not to be embarrassed by the whole situation. He wished the ground would swallow him whole.

Yoongi ignored the boy’s half-hearted request at leaving him alone and instead furrowed his brows in concentration as he scanned him for real. “Wait - you are one of the dancer’s, aren’t you?” He had seen a group of them standing around before, chatting happily and acting more like cheerleaders on a trip while the rappers were acting all cool and hard-boiled. “Obviously,” Jimin pointed at his jacket where the name of his dance school was printed on and slowly got up. “And you’re a rapper,” He nodded towards Yoongi, noticing his simple outfit.

“What are you doing in here?” Spying definitely wasn’t it and now that his anger had subsided his head was clear enough to realize that it was apparently him who had interrupted the boy’s quiet, not the other way round. When he dropped his gaze to the younger’s feet he could see that he was barefoot and awkwardly trying to hide it with the way he was sitting. “Are you crying because those cheerleaders out there stole your shoes? Is that still a thing between grown up people?” He asked bluntly, ignoring that the boy had tried to hide his tears as well.

“I guess, I have been doing the same thing you did,” Jimin answered and leaned against the cold tile wall, “Having anxiety and getting away from the people and what they are saying.” Jimin smiled faintly, squeezing through the door and over to the sink to let cool water run over his wrists for moment and then washed his face, trying to get rid of the salty tear stains. When he pulled out a tissue, drying it, it still looked swollen and red. Looking down at his feet, Jimin added, “No, they can be mean but not like that…I don’t really need them to be a failure. I do that very well on my own.”

“Sorry that I didn’t recognize your probably awesome dance studio right away, princess. I had a few more important things to handle.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I’m .. I’m not anxious! I’m angry, there’s a difference.” He watched the younger wash his face and then look resigned at his reflection. It went like a stab through his heart when he realized that he recognized the boy’s expression; lot and desperate and full of self-hatred. He had seen it before, many time. In his own mirror. His voice was a little softer when he gently pushed further, “Why, what happened? Did you disqualify yourself?”

“Doesn’t matter what happened and no, I didn’t. I wouldn’t be here if I did. It’s only the finals today.” Jimin said and turned around to the stranger, “While you guys only have one day of competition we already did pre-rounds a week prior. We’re already only a selected group of people who compete today…or else it will take days. Do you know how many people want to be here today? It’s the competition,” A sad smile pulled at the corner of his lips, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“It’s making you nervous, right? You want to prove them wrong.” Jimin bit his lip. It felt good to talk to the stranger, somehow lifting the heaviness around his own heart. He knew that feeling all too well. “And you fear to not be able to show them how wrong they are… I bet you’re really, really good and they just don’t know you, yet.” Jimin crossed his arms in front of his chest, “You’re new and the rappers are always weird with new people. Believe me, they are worse than the dancers…I don’t really hang with the rappers, but some of my friends do. It’s all about being known already…whether it’s through social media or not. And they fear the unknown. They can’t access you, that’s why they want to make you nervous, so you fail, and they can say that you had no confidence or not enough experience.”

It was downright creepy how easily the younger saw through him while Yoongi could have sworn that he was perfect at hiding his own insecurities. He swallowed hard, not sure if he should defend himself - or if that would just make it even more obvious that the boy was right. Also, he was a bit confused as to why the boy was so kind to him. He had barged in, yelling at him and asking him questions and the other was building him up in return. “Th...thank you?” He answered; voice so unstable that it sounded more like a question than a statement. Also, while the other had described Yoongi’s situation pretty much on point he hadn’t told him a single thing about himself which meant that Yoongi could only assume. “So... if you know all this and you aren’t new then why are you scared? You must be good or else you wouldn’t be here. Is your competition that heavy? Is there something other at stake for you than pride?” He figured if the boy knew so much about him it was only fair to even it out.

“It’s my third year i’m competing here,” Jimin sighed, not wanting to say how good or not-good he was but the fact itself that he had made it into the finals three times in a row should be information enough for the rapper, “And you always see the same people with the same choreographies at every competition. You'll get used to it, believe me. Don’t listen to them. And I...I...I’m just nervous.”

He bit his lip, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze and rubbed over his face making it grew paler than it already was. Jimin didn’t want to think about how much of a mess he was. He’d rather hide in the corner again until the competition is over and then find a good plausible excuse for his trainer to tell him that he had been disqualified in one of the most prestige and important hip and street dance competitions. Walking over to the bank, Jimin sat down, startling when it moved as if screws had been loosened from the impact of Yoongi’s kick and the wood would crash any minute now. He froze, eyes wide as he looked up at Yoongi, “That you rappers always have to be so aggressive. They really made you frustrated, huh?” He shook his head and smiled, “I guess, I’ll take the floor again then.”

Sitting down, Jimin pulled his legs in and when Yoongi still didn’t move along or walked out again after a while, he cocked his head aside. He really looked at the stranger, gazing him up and down without trying to be creepy but he only noticed now how nervous the other really seemed. His white hair standing in contrast to his dark attire, cute button nose and lips that were pursed into a pout. He was pretty handsome...and cute. Jimin had to smile, he really wasn’t the usual type of rapper. But neither was he the usual type of hip hop dancer and still both of them were here.

“What are you doing in this part of the gym anyways? Isn’t your competition in the other half? So that dancers and rappers are not mingling.” Jimin giggled, winking playfully at the stranger. Patting the floor next to him, Jimin offered him the floor to sit on, “If you want to be with the outcast though, hide until the competition is over and they disqualify you then you’re welcome to stay here with me.”

“No, I won’t stay here and hide. Actually, I came here to calm down enough to be able to go on stage. Are you really going to let it get to you?” Yoongi cocked his head a little looking at Jimin challengingly. “Isn’t it worse to hide away in here and not even try?”

Jimin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s stupid but…I forgot my shoes,” Wiggling his toes a little, he looked up at Yoongi, “The most important thing for a dancer…my routine it’s…it’s tricky and I need the right kind of shoes. It’s not like I can lend some. And I’m not sure if I can do it barefoot…the floor we’re dancing on is not made to dance barefoot on it so. It will be a mess. I will be a fucking mess.” Jimin’s eyes filled with tears again and he quickly avoided Yoongi’s gaze. He knew he sounded stupid, but he needed to be the best. He couldn’t fail. He didn’t want to miss one step. Jimin would beat himself up for it forever. “I’m alone here today. I’m the only one out of my team who got a qualification. And…it just got to me. Sometimes it just gets too much, you know?” Jimin looked up with tear filled eyes. “But it’s okay, you can use the room to calm down…I’ll stay here and not say a word. I promise you won’t even notice me.”

Yoongi huffed, “You are definitely very hard to ignore, I can tell you that.” The boy was too pretty and too interesting for that, besides talking to him helped a lot more to calm his nerves than screaming into the void or kicking things. “What shoe size do you have? Maybe you can take my shoes?” He dropped his gaze to Jimin’s feet again and frown when he realized that they definitely weren’t wearing the same size. “Can’t you just try without shoes? I don’t know when you’re on but maybe you could train barefoot in here? If it doesn't work you can still go back to hiding, right?”

Jimin listened, biting his lip in thought while Yoongi was talking, saying out loud what he had thought about before. “I still got time,” Jimin whispered, wiping over his eyes in the process. “Can you help me?” He asked and blinked up. Whatever it was about the stranger, he had lured him in with his calm voice and warm eyes that made him want to try. He had thought about it too. He could still stay inside if it doesn’t work. “I…I’m not very good with judging myself,” Jimin tried a smile, cheeks blushing, “Will you give me an honest feedback then?”

“What?” Yoongi's eyes widened as he blurted out, “I can’t dance!” Before he realized that what Jimin was asking of him wasn't to be his dance partner but just to look at him and his skills without shoes.

“Uhm, sure.” He shrugged his shoulders, feigning nonchalance when in reality the prospect of having this beautiful boy dance just for him here where it was just the two of them had him swallowing hard. Even though they didn’t know each other it felt... intimate somehow.

Jimin smiled and got up, shaking out his stiff muscles and jumped on the spot a couple of times. Rolling his shoulders back, Jimin began to stretch his neck, moving his body just enough to warm it up a little. He had already done a whole warming-up process right before his melt-down, so he deemed this good enough. There wasn’t much time now anyways. “Can you hold your hand up like this please?” Jimin reached for Yoongi’s hand, not hesitant about touching him and placed it just like he needed and then smiled. “I can’t dance without stretching myself first and usually I have someone from my team with me and it’s not as effective to do it against a wall….anyways,” Without even preparing Yoongi further or telling him what was going to happen, Jimin swung his leg up gracefully and placing his foot in Yoongi’s hand so he could help him stretch. “You can pull it up a little higher, please.” Jimin giggled, “Just do it…it won’t hurt me.” With his hands placed on Yoongi’s shoulder, he looked at him with his puffy and still red eyes. “I’m Jimin.”

“Woah!” Yoongi almost took a step back in reflex as Jimin swung his leg at him but instead of kicking him he just gracefully placed his foot over his arm as if he was made of rubber. “How..?” He stood there, absolutely stunned as the younger held his balance and easily bent further showing off his toned leg and incredible flexibility. Yoongi tried not to look but with them being so close and him being way too curious for his own good he let his gaze wander down the boys leg to his ass. His cheeks heated as he thought about what else being this bendy could be good for...

Jimin cocked up an eyebrow when Yoongi wasn’t answering or telling him his name. Letting his leg fall again, Jimin took a step back. “You don’t want to tell me yours? You can tell me your rap name, too if that makes you more comfortable. I just don’t want to call you stranger in my head anymore.” Jimin genuinely smiled, before he simply slid into a split right in front of Yoongi.

“Ah, sorry, your witchcraft here slightly distracted me. You won’t start walking upside down on all fours next, will you?” He joked hiding the truth that he had been distracted. “My name’s Yoongi. My actual name.” He made a little pause to have Jimin realize that he did feel comfortable with him and that he wanted the other to know his real name. “Nice to meet you Jimin. Wait, what did you think about me in your pretty little... oh my god! how can you even do that?” He had seen girls do the splits but the thought alone of landing like this as a boy had him clenching his thighs.

“Witchcraft?” Jimin shook his head and got up again - feeling a lot better now. He could almost blend out the music that came from the inside of the gym, the voice that announced new numbers to step up on the floor. “It’s just a matter of training. You can do it, too. I can show you.”

“Nope, no way, no thank you very much my legs will stay in their natural position,” He was quick to decline Jimin’s offer. There was no way that he would try this without getting himself seriously injured. Which might be a little counterproductive for his ‘swag’ on stage.

Jimin winked at him and added, “Well, what I thought of you was…aggressive rapper, great, one of those again and then I noticed your warm eyes and very soothing voice. And now I think that I like your name.” Jimin took Yoongi by his shoulders and placed him against the wall, before taking a few steps back to have enough room to move. “My warm eyes, hu?” He chuckled, a little bit embarrassed and a little bit flattered. He raised his brow in a silent question when Jimin just moved him, but he went willingly, letting the younger put him where he wanted him to be right now.

No matter how flirty Jimin had been, now he felt anxious again to show it to a stranger, to Yoongi. He wasn’t sure if he could do it barefoot, so the risk was pretty high to fuck up and for Yoongi to tell him to just keep hiding. His heart began to race. “Be honest with me then, will you? There’s no need to lie to me.” Jimin said and took a deep breath. “I can’t do everything here since this room is pretty narrow but…I will do a few moves. Once that I’m not sure I can do on barefoot.” He nodded reassuringly, more to himself than to Yoongi. 

Jimin breathed in - and then his body changed. Just like that he became something delicate and graceful, using his arms to elongate the form of his dance move, using his legs to jump and twirl like gravity wasn’t a thing for him. Yoongi knew exactly why Jimin had qualified for this; because seeing him dance made you want to dance as well, because it looked so easy so beautiful, like purest joy formed into motions. When his awe had ebbed down a little for him to actually concentrate on what Jimin had asked him to do he noticed that the younger’s turns were a little bit shaky and that his expression turned a little scared whenever he did a really difficult jump or turn. However, his expression was the only thing that gave away that he was nervous, the turns and jumps still came out beautiful.

At least in Yoongi’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Jimin stopped himself short. Tears were burning in his eyes, clouding his view right away and he only hated himself even more. His lungs were burning from trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to spill over. Taking in another shaky breath, he ignored Yoongi completely and tried another turn. He didn’t even make a couple of twirls before he fell out of it. His hands were shaking when he tried once more, but it was harder to do it on barefoot, having no solid shoes that helped you give the best performance.

Yoongi realized too late that Jimin was spiraling out of control - not in reality but definitely in his mind. “H.. hey, Jimin!” He reached for the boys hands, squeezing both of them as he could see the younger falling into his own mind, the same way he knew oh-so-well from late nights at the studio with nothing but coffee when he had played the same part of his song over and over again until everything felt so wrong and useless that he was ready to rip everything to pieces - including himself.

“Look at me! You did amazing, okay? You might dance horrible from your point of view but people on the outside don’t know how it was supposed to look with your shoes on. They just see what you show them now. And I’m not lying to you if I say that you are a fucking revelation when you dance. It’s goddamn beautiful!” He paused when he notices how used he was to swearing, spoiling the compliments out of habit. “Uhm..,” He awkwardly scratched his head. “I’m sure one could have said that better and more elegantly. But it’s true. I promise. You dance amazing. If you don’t let it show in your face how nervous you are and if you practice those long-ass turns a little more than you’re basically flawless.”

“They will see if I fall out of a turn, though. The jury will know,” Jimin’s voice sounded weak, but there was still a blush on his cheeks from Yoongi’s compliments. “I need something to look at. Usually I look at my dance teacher,” He almost whispered, his eyes flickering around the room nervously. “If my face isn’t right….” Jimin whined, “How am I supposed to smile when all I think about is to nail those turns? I need to nail them, Yoongi! I just have to! They all dance the same shit, the same moves. The jury sees it all day…I want them to know I am different. That I’m worth to be looked at.” His eyes stopped at Yoongi and Jimin could swear his heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Please don’t panic now. You’ll do it, Jimin. Even if you make a mistake if the rest of your routine is gorgeous you’ll still get points. And I’m sure you can find something else to look at. It might be safer to choose a point on the opposite site of the room, something that won’t move like a person’s face could and that will help stabilize you. If you need me to I can make a stain onto the wall if that helps you.” He was only half joking at that.

“A stain?” Jimin chuckled and raised his eyebrows, “They would kick you out…I don’t want that. Y-you have a competition too.” Having his hands in Yoongi’s the whole time, Jimin was now reminded of their contact and the time that was passing. With a gasp, he reached for Yoongi’s wrist looking at his watch and luckily sighed again, not letting go off him. “When it’s your turn? Can you watch me?” Jimin asked bluntly, biting his lip for his straightforward question. Yoongi could just say no. He wasn’t owing him anything, but he was the only one Jimin knew here right now.

“Can I.. uhm, sure, yes I could.. I can do that.” He normally didn’t fluster that easily but how could he stay cool if some crazily talented, lovely and pretty dancer boy who was right in front of his face was looking at him like that while more or less asking him to be the fix point he wanted to rely on for his dance performance in an important competition.

“If I mess up or fail, I give you permission to just kick me like you did with the bench,” Jimin chuckled, feeling a lot more relief now with knowing he knew one of the faces in the crowd. He grabbed Yoongi by his wrist and then pulled him along and – finally – out of the empty locker room and to his own dressing room. “Deal.” Yoongi nodded though they probably both new that he was talking nonsense; would never hurt Jimin no matter the outcome of the competition.

He got flustered again when Jimin pulled him along, right through the crowd of other dancers all while not even letting go of his hand for a second. Jimin ignored the other dancers that looked at the two of them as they burst in (very obviously one of them not being a dancer but a rapper, as they could tell by his competing number). They got stares that Jimin didn’t notice and because Yoongi didn’t want to let go of Jimin’s hand either he jutted his chin forward and pretended to not see them either.

Taking his water bottle and his make-up, Jimin quickly fixed himself up in the mirror as best as he could, before he shrugged it off, “Ah, well I guess whiny and red puffy eyes is my look now.” Yoongi watched Jimin doing his makeup, as quickly and efficiently as Yoongi could only dream of, wishing he could ask Jimin to do his too. “Let’s call it real and vulnerable and leave out the self-bashing okay?”

Turning around to Yoongi again, Jimin couldn’t help but laugh at the way some of the dancers were oozing over the rapper. “They just like you because you’re one of the rappers.” Jimin raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t you say they act like cheerleaders? It’s always the same…the rappers pretend we don’t really exist but secretly drool over the dancers while we…well, they just drool right away.” Yoongi gasped in fake shock at Jimin’s observations and puffed out his chest in an exaggerated show of fake pride before answering, “Drool over dancers? We would never! We are way too cool and smooth and… wait, did you just say you people might be interested too? What does one need to do to get a chance at dating a pretty dancer?” He was teasing Jimin slightly though his spine tingled at the thought of actually dating Jimin for real.

Must be the pre-stage adrenaline talking.

“Sure, they are,” Jimin put on a little bit of tinted lip balm, making his lips shiny and giving them a rosy undertone. He couldn’t ignore the little stab in his heart, when Yoongi talked about dating one of the dancers, maybe he meant even more than one. Maybe he was just like the other rappers when it came down to looking for sex. Jimin nodded over to the other dancers in the dressing room, the ones who kept staring at Yoongi, “Just go over there then and ask. I bet they will gladly give you their phone number.” He shrugged his shoulder and turned around to the mirror again, putting on a little more lip balm. “I need to get dressed anyway.” Jimin smiled faintly, trying not to show that he was a teeny tiny bit jealous at the thought of Yoongi simply ignoring him for superficial (at least in his mind they were or maybe it was just the jealousy speaking) dancers. Getting out a shiny, silver top out of his bag with a sparkly jacket and what looked like leather pants, Jimin sighed. When he noticed that Yoongi didn’t move, Jimin looked at him, hands already holding onto the hem of his shirt, revealing just enough of his stomach for Yoongi’s eyes to drop down. “If you stay though,...ehm, could you turn around maybe?”

Yoongi licked his lips, the answer already on his tongue, something along the lines of ‘why would I go over to them and ask for your number if you could just give it to me directly?’ but he hesitated for a second to long and then Jimin lifted his shirt and his thoughts were just gone. The younger showed off his smooth, flat stomach, shirt riding up enough to hint at his abs. Though what was even more mouthwatering was the little happy trail that lead his eyes naturally down further and further until it disappeared in the hem of his pants and all Yoongi wanted to do was get the fabric out of the way to see where it lead, to get a glimpse of… he coughed when he realized that Jimin had spoken to him but he hadn’t really gotten what the other had said so he just stood there, blinking at Jimin who was still standing there like he was about to strip right in front of his eyes and didn’t know how to react.

“Pardon?”

“Turn around, please.” Jimin blushed a little, holding his shirt in front of his chest now, “I’d like to undress...and…” He motioned for Yoongi to turn and only then did the other react and Jimin could have sworn he saw blushed cheeks. Had he blushed because of him? Jimin quickly pushed that thought back and got out of his pants and into his dancing outfit. “You can turn back now.” He was still securing the belt, fixing the top and then smoothed over the jacket. “What do you think?” He did a little turn, bending over to his feet and turning up his pants that now, without shoes, were a little too long.

“Yeah, that’s.. that’ll go.” Yoongi’s voice was a little too affected for his liking though he couldn’t help it: Jimin looked stunning! Not that he hadn’t looked pretty before but his stage outfit was simply unfair! His pants were a little tighter and so they accentuated his muscular legs. It was almost impossible to keep from staring at them. His shirt had a low cut neckline and gave a hint of collarbone and chest, something that Yoongi was just weak for. On top of it he wore a sparkly jacket that was glittering and shining, making him look like an actual prince. “You look amazing.” He finally confessed, almost a little shy now that he was faced with so much beauty.

“Thank you,“ Jimin averted his gaze, not really sure what to say now and if he should complement Yoongi back or if this was awkward or…

“You’re not bad either,“ He could have slapped himself for that in the face. He had panicked, wanting to tell Yoongi that he thought of him as handsome, too – even without sparkles or a fancy outfit. “I mean…I just…you’re handsome. That’s what I was trying to say ehm…“ Jimin rubbed his neck awkwardly. He was almost relieved when the door opened and a man, holding onto a clipboard was announcing their group of dancers next.

Yoongi burst into laughter, breaking the tension. “I’m ‘not bad’ hu? What a nice compliment..” He felt relief that he wasn’t the only awkward one - and that his interest didn’t seem so one sided or else Jimin wouldn’t have gotten so adorably shy. Before he could deepen that assumption the door opened and Jimin snapped back into focus, body tensing up immediately and so quickly, that Yoongi was afraid the other might have pulled a muscle. The blush on Jimin’s cheek vanished and instead he paled again.

“Hey...” Yoongi reached out for the others shoulder, gently digging his thumb into the hardened muscles until Jimin lost a bit of the tension. “Don’t do that. No overthinking please. You were doing great before; you’ll do great on stage. I’ll be in the crowd so you will have something to focus on and the judges will be absolutely blown away by you. You’ll see, I can predict the future. Those of pretty dancers at least.”

“Why are you so kind to me?“ Jimin whispered, unsure eyes searching for Yoongi’s in a weak attempt to ground himself. Nervously Jimin pulled at his bottom lip. They let everyone else exit first, before Jimin took a deep breath again. “O-kay, let’s do this.“ Jimin didn’t move. “Okay…now.“ Jimin was still frozen, hands shaking. “M-maybe if you drag me outside?“

“Because I want to. And soft people deserve kindness.” He shrugged his shoulders. Yoongi thought of himself as simple. If someone was nice to him he was nice to them back - which also applied for the other direction of course. But Jimin was nice and even though they had a rocky start he liked their way of talking to each other. Unfortunately, even kindness didn’t get Jimin to move so Yoongi did what Jimin had asking him to. Kind of.

“As you wish.” He commented, the only warning that Jimin got before Yoongi bend down, getting an arm under his knees before sweeping Jimin literally off his feet and carrying through the door bridal style. In the hallway he gingerly set him down looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Can you walk the rest, or do you want me to carry you like this on stage?”

“I…I just …wanted to hold your hand again but if you want to carry me everywhere from now on…I’ll gladly let you do so,“ Jimin giggled, the sweet gesture of Yoongi loosening him up again. “Thank you.” Reaching out for Yoongi’s arm he squeezed him lightly, hand falling down to his to interlace their fingers. There was another announcement and Jimin jerked violently. This time, he just took a deep breath and walked ahead, leading Yoongi into the gym and into the crowd of people that surrounded the stage. It felt strangely right to hold hands with the dancer that he had barely known for an hour now. Yoongi allowed himself to think about how amazing it would feel to get to know him even better, to take him out to dates and talk through the night and then hold his hand (or foot just to help him stretch again) but his thoughts were quickly cut short when he felt Jimin flinch again. The boy was so jumpy he felt like there must be some bunny genes in him. He inched a little closer, hoping that his presence would calm him a little (he had been told before that his ‘lethargic appearance was as grounding as a ton of bricks’).

Jimin kept his gaze low when he squeezed through the people and to the left side of the stage where the dancers entered the stage each time their number got called out. They were getting closer to his own. ”Y-you can stay here,“ Jimin said a little breathless as he began to warm up his muscles again. Then he hesitated. Only two more dancers in front of him. “Thank you, really.“ Jimin smiled at him and before he could think about it, the boy leaned in placing a soft kiss on Yoongi’s cheeks and then quickly ran off, while his heart felt like it was jumping right out of his chest – and it wasn’t because of his nervousness.

He waited, jumping from one foot to the other while the music was thumping loudly out of the boxes, but he ignored the other dancer completely. It would only make him more of a nervous wreck to watch how good he was. Jimin only looked up to search the crowd and meet Yoongi’s eyes again until someone stepped in front of his view.

“Number?”

Jimin looked up at the man with the clipboard again, telling him his number quick and then lined up at the side of the stage. Closing his eyes, Jimin inhaled deeply. His stomach churned, heart beating fast and he felt like he was about to faint. And then his name was announced.

“Number 78, Park Jimin, Arts and Dance Company Seoul.” The voice said over the speaker and a gasp fell over the crowd. They were still clapping, but it sounded a little off, as if they weren't sure. Heads were turning as everyone tried to get the best view.

All eyes were on Jimin.

“It’s him.” A young boy next to Yoongi exclaimed and squeezed himself in front of him, eyes wide and mouth opened in surprise. “Who?” His friend followed him close, apologizing quietly to Yoongi when he bumped into him. “The one I told you about! I want to be like him so bad!” He answered and pulled his friend up to the front row so he could see the performance perfectly. To say Yoongi was confused would have been an understatement. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but suddenly everyone around him seemed to talk about Jimin. The boy he found crying in the bathrooms, wanting to quit because he had forgotten his shoes. It just didn’t add up. There were too many voices, too many information’s pouring down on him and he couldn’t process one bit of them as he tried to keep his gaze on Jimin - just like he had promised.

“If he wins this again it would be the third time in a row.” Yoongi shook his head, looking at the man that passed and said it so nonchalantly. But hadn’t Jimin said that it was his third time competing in this competition? That would mean…

“Do you think he’ll give me an autograph?” A what? Yoongi snapped around to that person, whose eyes were shining while they followed Jimin as he walked up on stage. “Why is he barefoot?” Another one asked and Yoongi turned back to Jimin, trying to concentrate on him and solely him. “He lost weight again, right? And he dyed his hair. I loved his pink hair.” Yoongi gulped.

“So, that’s what he looks like,” A group of dancers came closer, all eyes on stage where Jimin was getting into position. “I think he’s overrated. This whole ‘I don’t show my face’ thing is just...” He rolled his eyes. “What even is he trying to keep up with his mystery. He should be showing off, don’t you think?” The other dancer just shrugged their shoulders, crossing their arms in front of their chest. “I think he’s amazing. I wouldn’t hide if I were Park Jimin.”

“Especially not when all of the rappers are drooling over me. Last time, they were all up Taemin’s face because he knows Jimin. You don’t want to know how many asked for Jimin's number. It was so annoying.” His friend chuckled, “What would I give to be him. And he doesn’t even care. He never shows up at the after party.” Their chatter died down and the whole gym hall went quiet when the music started.

All eyes were focused on the stage and on Jimin, whose expression completely changed with the first beat of the music. The unsure gaze was replaced with a dark gaze, smile turned into a wicked smirk as he licked over his lips sultrily. His walk oozing confidence and Jimin raked a hand through his hair, showing off his sharp jawline (the girl next to Yoongi had to hold onto her friend, looking as if she was about to faint). Perfectly timed on the music, Jimin snapped his head around and winked, just right before the beat dropped and the crowd went crazy.

Whoever this was, this wasn’t sweet Jimin anymore.

Jimin was completely gone in his own world, in which he didn’t need to think about insecurities or shoes that he had forgotten but simply dance. His routine had started off with a rough hip-hop beat, hyping up the crowd perfectly when it suddenly changed. Yoongi felt whiplash. The audience was going crazy, when Jimin lost his jacket, throwing it somewhere and then the isolated and fast dance moves were now replaced with something much softer. Jimin was one with the music and Yoongi had never seen something as beautiful as this, recognizing some of the movements he had done in the locker room. He was about to convince himself that this was just a beautiful dream, that something as mesmerizing as this couldn’t exist in the rough world he was living in, maybe he was still in bed and it was the day before the competition, when Jimin’s eyes met his. For a second, the insecure boy was back, searching his eyes to reassure himself and Yoongi smiled.

He was the anchor Jimin needed whenever he was at risk of losing his confidence which luckily wasn’t that often. Yoongi was pretty sure that people who didn’t know Park Jimin, who hadn’t seen him like he had wouldn’t even recognize the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes or the shape of his mouth.

“Ah, I see this is why you’re here,” A familiar voice next to Yoongi startled him effectively as the song faded out. There was silence for a couple of seconds, where Jimin bowed and then the crowd suddenly went crazy. People cheering loudly, but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice it. The anxious gaze was back, a faint, nervous smile and then Jimin turned around. Yoongi’s eyes followed the dancer who hurried off the stage to get some air into his lungs and only then he looked at his friend - Hoseok. “Fuck, man. We’ve been looking for you!” Hoseok nudged his side, “You okay there? I see you found something to get your mind off things?”

“I.. I was just..,” Yoongi cut himself off as he saw the knowing smirk on Hoseok's face. Babbling like an idiot wouldn't convince Hoseok that he had just been ‘chilling’ like he had tried to make it seem. He probably had seen him staring at Jimin in awe already. So, he just shrugged his shoulder. “ I needed something beautiful, so I went to see the dancers. Why were you searching for me? Are you already lost without me?”

“Yeah, do whatever, man. We’re on in thirty minutes, that’s why I’m here. You better be there or Namjoon will behead you.” Hoseok patted his shoulder, cocking up an eyebrow, “You know how nervous Namjoon can get and I don’t want him to accidentally break a microphone. That’s your job to piss of the tec’s. After that there will be enough time to drool over the dancers.” His friend chuckled low at the many memories of Yoongi mic dropping and giving everyone at the venue a heart attack. “So, you coming?”

 “Yeah, sure…,” He went along but his eyes weren’t on Hoseok or the direction he was walking, he was looking at the part of the gym where the dancers were mingling, trying to find Jimin and give him a sign that he had to leave. He didn’t want the other to think that he had just run off. Though hopefully Jimin would get it himself that he had needed to change positions and get ready for his own stage.

Jimin had seen Yoongi leave with a weird feeling in his heart. He waved awkwardly but Yoongi had already turned around.

Now he was alone again.

There were people congratulating him, strangers patting his shoulders and Jimin nodded, thanking them politely – but he didn’t want to stay and watch the competition any longer. He wanted to be somewhere else. With someone else.

“Park Jimin?” A man in a suit smiled at him and Jimin bowed in respect, knowing immediately how important that man was when his eyes flickered down to his press ID card hanging around his neck. Jimin looked nervously over his shoulder, biting his lip. He could see the other hall from where he stood. Could hear that someone was beatboxing, people waving their hands to the beat of the music at the rap competition. His heart began to race. He wanted to watch Yoongi so badly.

“Y-yes, that’s me.”

...

Yoongi warmed up his voice with a few casual raps, lines flowing more quickly the longer he rapped. Now that he wasn’t focusing on Jimin any longer he could feel his own ‘stage butterflies’ fluttering in his stomach, telling him that even though he had been on countless stages the nerves still tingled within him at the thought of basically spilling his thoughts and feelings in front of so many people.

Hoseok was rolling his head, jumping on the spot a couple of times. “You’re going to win this.” He kissed Yoongi on top of his head, very well aware that his friend hated this. “If not…I will tell everyone you sleep with a bunny cushion.” The announcer was calling out Yoongi and his opponent, hyping up the crowd and Hoseok smiled. “So, you better win this, baby!”

“You asshole!” He pushed Hoseok, no real venom behind it. He had way too many blackmail material on Hoseok as well so the other would never risk spilling anything if he wanted Yoongi to keep his secrets.

But it was enough to light the spark in Yoongi, the one he needed to spit fire on stage.

…

Jimin took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he leaned back his head. The sun was setting low, dipping the buildings around in a beautiful light and Jimin yawned. It had been a long day, one that had started out awful but turned into something beautiful. Something that made him feel light.

He had made a few mistakes in his routines, movements he needed to work on but Jimin didn’t feel the urge to drive back to his dance studio and do it immediately. Most of the dancers were already out, either back in their homes or hotels to get themselves ready for the night. Jimin had never been interested in the after-show parties. He didn’t care much about anything but dance, actually. At least until today. The doors opened again, and a bunch of people stormed out, some with medals around their necks, some discussing vividly, while others just simply parted ways. Jimin bit his bottom lip, trying to adjust his hold around two cups of coffee he was holding, trying not to lose the bag around his shoulder while also holding on to a trophy. He wouldn’t dare to let anything of it fall. He’d rather let his hands get burned from the hot coffee.

Yoongi was animatedly talking to his friends, all of them still on their post-stage high and with their medals in hand. In the end it hadn’t been enough for first place, but a medal was a medal and it was only pushing Yoongi further, making him want to work harder so that next time they would get the gold medal for sure.

The boys had persuaded him to go with them to the after competition party. Normally he didn’t like them as he wanted to go over their stage again, write new lyrics because he felt so inspired, fixing mistakes, listening to all the new music he had discovered during the competition, that kind of thing. Though he figured that if he went along then maybe, just maybe he had a slight chance of seeing Jimin again. Maybe this time he would be there, too? Speaking of which… he stopped short when he saw the younger standing at the entrance, two coffees in hand (which promptly resulted in someone running into him because there were so many people trying to get out the entrance). Who was Jimin waiting for? Would he get picked up by someone from his dance team? A trainer?

When Yoongi noticed him, Jimin’s heart skipped a beat and the younger instantly smiled at him. He couldn’t wave with everything in his hands, so he waited awkwardly but Yoongi wasn’t making any moves to come closer. He sighed.

“These are getting kind of hot!” Jimin called out for him, motioning to the cup of coffees, giggling softly in the process when it took a moment for it to click with Yoongi.

“Wh...oh!” He awkwardly started moving again into the opposite directions of his friends who were stopping and looking at their conversation with confusion written all over their faces (except Hobi who wore a shit eating grin). “Sorry, I didn’t realize...” He gingerly took one of the cups from Jimin, avoiding the other’s eyes as it suddenly became a little harder to breathe. “I thought you were waiting for a friend.” His gaze trailed down until it landed on the trophy. “I see you won the competition. Again. Your fans must go crazy right now.”

“Who is that?” Namjoon asked, eyes scanning the young dancer and then Yoongi’s reaction, but before he could ask more Hoseok already pulled him along. “Yoongi, you still coming right? Yoongi? Yon-,” Namjoon got caught off by Hoseok who pushed him forward, telling him kindly to shut and let Yoongi be.

“My what? Again? Who told you?” Jimin laughed and shook his head, awkwardly holding onto the trophy. “Yeah, I was waiting for you, actually…” Jimin blushed, “Hope that’s okay? Not weird or anything? I wouldn’t have made it without you, so this is as much yours as it is mine. And I couldn’t say ‘thank you’, yet…so, the coffee is yours.” Averting his gaze, Jimin blinked into the distance, not sure what to say, “I…I saw you. On stage, I mean.”

“Basically, everyone around me when I was standing in the crowd. I learned a lot of things. How you drink your coffee. What you think about after parties. How cute you looked in pink hair.” He was shamelessly teasing the younger just to see the cute flustered expression on him again. It was totally worth it. “Thank you.” Yoongi took a sip from his coffee while trying to figure out how to say that he would have preferred his phone number as thanks without being creepy when Jimin’s added comment had him freezing. “On stage? You mean you watched me…” There was a shy smile stealing its way on his lips and he quickly hid it in the coffee cup.

“Yes, in my opinion you would have deserved to win.” Jimin nodded eagerly, “You were amazing, and you definitely told those people off who made you feel like shit before. They will watch out for you now.” The younger noticed the smile on Yoongi’s face nonetheless and mimicked it. Adjusting his trophy again (seriously, who thought making them so big and obnoxious was a good idea) Jimin pointed somewhere behind him, “Usually, I go back to my dance studio now…work on the mistakes I made and everything b-but I thought…m-maybe, if you want to and are not busy. I could understand if you want to go to the party or something, but I would have liked to ask you if…”

“If…what?” Yoongi’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach again just that this time they weren’t because of a competition. “If you…” Jimin sighed, taking a deep breath, “If you want to come with me? Not for polishing my mistakes but…the coffee machine in our studio is really, really good and if we go up a few floors you have a great view over the skyline.” His eyes flickered nervously as he waited for an answer, heart jumping in his chest.

“Well, I already got some great coffee thanks to a certain someone…,” He tipped his cup a little, “...but how can I say no to a beautiful view?” He let his eyes linger on Jimin, making it clear that he wasn’t talking about the skyline here.

Jimin smiled at the rapper and then leaned in without any hesitation. He just let his heart decide for once. This time he didn’t kiss Yoongi on his cheek but on the corner of his lips. A kiss, barely there, too soft to be true. Then he let his hand fall down to Yoongi’s and took his hand again to lead the way. “I just wanted to say, ‘thank you’ properly.”

Pulling the rapper along and into the opposite direction of where he had initially gone with his friends, Jimin couldn’t help but laugh softly at the rosy blush on Yoongi’s cheeks. “Your friends won’t mind if you come with me instead?”

“Ah, no, they won’t mind.” Yoongi turned back to check on them and saw Hobi waving him goodbye in a nonverbal way of saying ‘what are you still doing here? Go with him - and tell me everything tomorrow!’

“Let’s go see your studio then.” He couldn't wait to get to know even more of Jimin.

A/N: Our second story for the Yoonmin Event :) Cat and I hope you liked it! ♡

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[littleoldrachel]

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) - part two

guys. the response to this has just been. unreal. thank you so much for all of the kindness and support you've shown me and this little fic. i couldn't be more grateful. y'all are wonderful and i don't know why i was so nervous to post in the first place. thank you.

for now, part two! (look, it's gotta get worse before it gets better!!! (it will get better though, i swear))

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) [on ao3]

summary: in which virgil falls apart, learns how to put himself back together, and realises he doesn’t have to do it alone.

word count: 3.6k ish ( part 1/5 | part 2/5 )

warnings: mental health issues

timeline: i suppose this is set in early TAG verse?  jeff is missing and nobody is Coping Well.

happy belated birthday, nutty!! <3

ii. 

He’s not better in the morning. Waking up is an unpleasant experience for Virgil at the best of times, only gratified by a large mug of coffee or the necessity of a rescue, but today - 

Virgil is aware of the heavy weight on his chest before he even opens his eyes. It’s even larger than it was last night, sucking him dry of what little energy sleep has reclaimed. 

Virgil glares down at his chest, half-wishing there was some outwards sign that something is wrong on the skin there. But there are only the same patches of bruises and still healing scars as adorn his whole body. 

He takes a deep breath, and feels the strain of it against this heavy weight. 

Is he getting sick? He can’t be - he’s only just had the flu, dammit! He has a job to do, and Scott will never let him get away with flying Two whilst sick again if their last shouting match about it was anything to go by. 

And even if he were getting sick - which he’s not - that chesty ache is different to this weighty nothingness. Instead of feeling ill, he’s just… tired. 

A Scott-like voice sounds in the back of his head, though it’s far harsher than Scott could ever be: concentrate on your job - on the people who need you.

But it’s right. That’s what he needs to focus on - that’ll be what gets him out of this awful funk. 

(Because that’s all it is. A funk).

(It has to be). 

*

It’s not better the following morning either. Nor the morning after that, no matter how many rescues he pushes himself through.

His go-to coping mechanism has always been music, and so he makes his way to the piano without even bothering to raid the kitchen for breakfast/lunch. He’s not hungry, which should probably trigger alarm bells but he’s too tired to care.

Instead, he plonks himself down on the piano stool, lifts the lid to his precious instrument, and stares at the keys, waiting. 

Only, nothing swells inside of him, desperate to be expressed - no emotion, no thought, nothing. 

Virgil has never been in front of a piano and felt nothing. Even before he could play, the very sight of a piano had him awestruck. He remembers his mother playing L.O.V.E just to make him smile, stressing over his finals with endless Rachmaninoff, and pouring out his grief through his own stormy compositions. The piano is and always has been less of an instrument and more of a mouthpiece, a beating heart, a lonely soul that he has bound to himself. For a child stricken mute by tragedy, a teenager struggling in his siblings’ shadows, an adult who can never save them all, his piano is the best way he’s found to dig those feelings out of himself. 

Scott has always said Virgil feels things too deeply. He’s right - even in this nothing-ness state, the depths of it are chasm-like inside him. 

And so, because he knows Scott would want him to try, Virgil half-heartedly plays the opening melody to one of his most recent compositions - a gentle, comforting little thing - but stops almost at once in frustration. 

He just doesn’t feel like it. 

(The upset this causes him is almost better than the awful emptiness because at least it’s a goddamn feeling).

*

The one place he feels semi-normal is the gym. At least there, he can distract himself with the burn of straining muscles and the clanging of too-heavy weights. 

At first, even the thought of venturing down here and working out is Too Much, and he can’t quite bring himself to do so.

But then - 

The image of a child buried beneath rocks he's too weak to lift propels him forward, a sharp twinge of anxiety in his chest. 

And so he rows until his shoulders are throbbing, pounds the treadmill till he can’t feel his feet anymore, presses weights more suited to the exosuit than a man. 

His whole body is trembling with exertion as he runs through some cool down stretches. As he makes to stand, his vision tips sideways, flecked with dark spots. 

It's a good twenty minutes before he tries again, this time leaning heavily on the weights racks. 

He pushed too hard and he knows it. Thank God his brothers weren't down here to see it or he would be in serious trouble.

But it has helped, at least a little. It quiets the worry in his mind that he's useless and the guilt of lives lost. The endorphins of exercise lessen the load on his chest momentarily and though he hurts all over, he'd rather this physical pain than the ache of feeling nothing at all. 

*

Virgil hasn't drawn anything in weeks now, despite the not-so-subtle hints from John that he would really, really like something new for his room on Five (and honestly sending Virgil breathtaking photos of double-ringed galaxies would usually have him mixing up colours at once). 

He wants to draw John something - heck, he just wants to draw something. Or maybe, he wants to want to draw something, but every time he sits down with a sketchpad or canvas, his mind empties and his heart is tired.

Like now, curled up in the window seat of his room with a pencil and pad in hand. It's been well over an hour and the page is still glaringly blank, both physically and mentally. 

A knock at his door startles him, and Alan's head pokes round it. "Hey, Virg, you busy?"

Virgil throws the pad and pencil aside, almost grateful for the distraction from his utter failings as an artist. "Never too busy for you, Allie, what's up?"

"Oh wait, you were drawing?!" Alan hurries over, reaching for the pad. "That's great, it's been ages - can I see?"

He turns over the pad before Virgil can stop him and deflates. "Oh."

"Sorry, Alan," Virgil says, tugging the pad back so that he doesn't have to see the disappointed worry in Alan's eyes. "Waiting for inspiration to strike."

"Oookaaay," Alan says slowly, "but if you're busy, you should have said... It's fine if you are! I can ask John instead. Or Brains."

"I'm not busy, honestly. What is it you need?"

Alan looks torn. "But your art time is so important to you.. and you haven't had time in weeks."

Virgil sighs, "it's not that I haven't had time. I just don't feel like it at the moment." He means it to be reassuring - confirmation that whatever Alan needs is more important than doing fuck-all - and it's the most honest he's been in weeks. 

But instead, Alan looks even more worried. "You don't feel like it? … why not?" 

Shit. It's easy to forget with King Smother Brother in the building that his younger brothers have learned from the best. Virgil doesn't know what to do. There's no way in hell he's spilling how horrible he feels all over his littlest brother. And so he does something that will only make him feel worse in the long run but that might disperse the concern in Alan's eyes. 

"I mean… I wanted it to be a surprise," Virgil says slowly, hating himself for the way Alan brightens at his lies. "But I've been working on something special for John's birthday."

Alan beams and it's almost worth the guilty squirm in Virgil's chest. "Can I see?!" 

"No, no, it's - it's not ready yet." Or started, planned, conceptualised… he's gonna have to get his shit together to fix this lie. 

"Okay, okay. Aw man, I can't wait to see it, Virg!" 

The guilt only swells, and with it, anxiousness. "What was it you needed, Allie?"

"Oh! Right, yeah, it's Physics."

Virgil blinks. "Isn't John your go-to guy for that?"

Alan bites his lip. "Yeah, but you have an Engineering degree. And also…" Alan sighs and flops down on Virgil's bed. "I don't get it and John's great except he doesn't get why I don't get it and-"

"Say no more." Virgil has himself been on the receiving end of John's frustrated rants; not only did he have to bear the humiliation of asking his younger brother for help, but he came away from it feeling even more stupid and hopeless. Thankfully, he'd had a Jeff to explain it to him in terms he could understand - it's a choking grief when Virgil realises that Alan doesn't have that same luxury. 

"It's this equation," Alan is saying, dragging Virgil back to the present. "I just don't get it."

A glance at the page and Virgil feels much steadier. He knows physics, and for once, this is a situation where he can help without failing anyone. 

*

Both on rescues and at home, Virgil has always been the focused, steady rock upon which his brothers can ground themselves. And he's still that, even worn out and perpetually empty, it's just a little harder to maintain it. He's vaguely aware that he's sort of falling apart and he should probably tell someone, even if it means Gordon will be flying his precious 'bird for a while. But the larger part of him is still working to convince himself that he's fine, because he should be fine.

The facade slips a couple of times and each time there's a cost that leaves Virgil so angry at himself, at his uselessness that he can't bear to face anyone. 

Scott watches his usually perfect aim fail three times in a row, and is forced to launch himself out of Thunderbird One to fire his own grappling hook. It takes on the first go because he's Scott fucking Tracy, but they’re too close to the ground thanks to Virgil's ineptitude and there's blood everywhere - oh God, it's everywhere - and Virgil is left with shaking hands staring at the man whose wounds Scott is desperately trying to plug.

John hears when he blacks out momentarily in the tunnel system beneath Mexico City. It's just a temporary dizziness from the heat of the packed soil (is what he's telling John, even though he doesn't remember the last time he ate, and forces himself to choke down an energy bar in guilt) but it distracts his brother from wherever else he is needed and Virgil hates himself for it.

Gordon is the one who wakes him sweating and yelling from a nightmare. There's such worry in his younger brother's face as he asks about the dream, but Virgil can't bring himself to explain that it was his father going up in flames over and over, as it has been for months now. A week later, when it's Scott's face replacing Jeff Tracy's, Virgil wakes to a panic attack, but Gordon is nowhere to be found. 

Alan seizes his arm at a landslide in south Wales, drags him to a man who is pale, sweating, clutching his broken leg, and Virgil goes into medic mode at once. Bind the leg, treat for shock, arrange transport to the nearest hospital.

Except the man never makes it to the hospital.

Because there’s a hard, swollen bruise up his ribcage that should have indicated internal bleeding. And he didn’t spot it - why didn’t he spot it? He has one job: help people, and he can’t even fucking do that right. The man dies on the way to the hospital, and Virgil can’t breathe. Alan tries - bless his good, generous soul - to reassure him, reminding him that there’s relatively little they can do for internal bleeds, they aren’t equipped for that kind of injury, but Virgil pushes him away with a roughness he’ll later regret.

He’s falling apart and this feeling wasn’t supposed to affect rescues, it wasn’t supposed to be a problem he actually had to face. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why did this happen, why, why, why - 

*

Scott is the one who drags him away from his bedroom, where he’s taken to moping alone. 

He doesn’t even knock, simply sweeping through the door in shorts and a tank top, trainers dangling by the laces. “Right, get changed, we’re going on a run.”

Virgil, who hasn’t moved (can’t move) from his bed since getting back from a rescue a few hours earlier, glares up at him. “Nope.”

“Move it.”

“Make me.”

Scott narrows his eyes. “You know I can.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Virgil regrets the words the second they leave his mouth, because no way in hell does he have the energy to wrestle with Scott right now, but his older brother does something much, much worse. 

He tickles him. 

Virgil goes into survivor mode: kicking, flailing, shoving Scott away all whilst breathlessly begging him to stop. When Scott finally relents, Virgil flops back on his bed, panting. 

“I - hate you.” 

“I know,” Scott says cheerfully. “Now, get dressed.”

They begin on Scott’s usual circuit across the beach, chasing the trail up under canopies of forest, and then break away to run alongside the cliff-edges. Most of the heat of the day has faded with the sun, but it’s still warm enough that they’re both sweating by the end of the ascent. Scott pauses at the crest of the cliff and stands silhouetted against the sunset. Virgil slows to a halt next to him.

"What's wrong?" Scott says suddenly and Virgil almost flinches.

"Nothing," he says. It's enough of a half-truth that he doesn't even feel guilty at the frustration in Scott's eyes. 

Scott stares at him. "Please don’t lie to me, Virg. Are you getting sick? Are you injured?”

“What - no, I’m not - I’m not lying -”

“Because I swear, if you ever pull that ‘pushing through pneumonia for the mission’ bullshit again, I will ground you for life-”

“Scott, I’m not sick!”

“Come on, Virg, you’ve always been a shit liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then what’s going on with you?! This is your favourite route." He sweeps a hand over the view of endless ocean, soaked pink and gold beneath the setting sun. "Normally you're urging us to get back so you can get it all down on a canvas, and today, you haven’t even noticed. Please, Virg?” Scott takes a step towards him, resting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Talk to me?”

The unbridled concern in Scott’s tone hurts and Virgil simultaneously wants nothing more than to fix it and to stop being its cause. 

Except that - he's fine, he's okay, he's coping with whatever this is. And he doesn't even know what this is so he would rather set himself on fire than trigger another of his brother's nightmares.

“I’m okay, Scott, really.” Scott shakes his head and Virgil doubles down. “I am, I’m just tired.” (So tired, so fucking tired but no amount of sleep seems to help). “It’s been a crazy couple of months.”

Scott frowns, and Virgil forces himself not to cringe at the intensity of his brother’s stare. This feeling is shaping him up to be a damned good liar, and Virgil hates it.

“You have been looking tired,” Scott says eventually, and Virgil sighs internally. “Do I need to give you leave to rest up - and tell me the truth, Virg, I swear to God -”

“No, no.”

Don’t leave me alone with this feeling and nothing to distract from it. 

“Swear it?” 

Virgil nods and watches the relief bloom in his brother’s eyes. He almost doesn’t hate himself for it, because he’s trying his damnedest to convince himself that he is fine, even though it’s becoming increasingly apparent he’s really, really not. But he doesn’t know how to explain how empty and tired and fragile he feels, and so he can’t.

“No more skipping family dinners though, Virg. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you aren’t around at mealtimes lately, I miss you.”

*

The thing is, he's just not hungry anymore - not for Scott's special blueberry pancakes, nor for authentic Italian pizza from his favourite restaurant courtesy of Gordon on the way home one day. He's especially not hungry for Grandma's (literal) rock cake, no matter how hurt she looks by his rejection. 

Virgil knows he's losing weight - he can feel it in the looseness of his uniform around his limbs and in how he has to cinch his belt a little tighter than before. He also knows that in intensifying his workouts, he should be increasing his intake to match. 

He’s also not sleeping - or at least, not sleeping restfully. His nights are riddled with horrific dreams that he wakes from in a panic, or he spends hours unable to switch his mind off for all the terrible thoughts echoing round it. 

The thing is - he can't quite bring himself to care about it all. He’s finding it so hard to care about anything at all (besides his family and the rescues, of course, though even these are draining him beyond all reason), least of all himself. 

*

After one sleepless night, Virgil wanders aimlessly through the house in the groggy rays of the rising sun. Scott will already be on his morning run and Gordon will be halfway through his pre-breakfast swim. And Virgil -

He should be in bed, dead to the world, only to be woken up under dire circumstances or so help me, Gordon - 

Instead, he finds himself in front of his piano. It’s been long enough that a film of dust has settled atop the lid, and he traces his finger through it absently, then decides to try. For Scott, if not for himself (definitely not for himself).

He rifles through boxes of sheet music waiting for something to grab him. When nothing inevitably does, he snatches up whatever’s sticking out sideways, and begins to play. The notes are familiar enough that he closes his eyes, waiting to lose himself in the melody.

But that tug never comes. 

Virgil finishes the piece just as empty and useless and tired as he started it, and opens his eyes to see Gordon standing there, toast in hand.

“Morning,” Gordon says grinning wickedly. “Long time, no see, Mr Piano Man.”

“Hey,” Virgil says quietly, filing the sheet music away again. He’s not in the mood for Gordon’s joviality right now - then again, when is he ever these days? He feels guilty for thinking it at once. 

“What’s wrong?” Gordon demands, his eyes narrowed. He leans across the piano and Virgil glowers at those buttery fingers.

“If you get grease on my piano, Gordon, you won’t live to regret it.”

“Sheesh. Someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning. But seriously, what’s up?”

“Gordon. I mean it.”

Gordon rolls his eyes so hard it must physically hurt him to do so, but raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Now will you talk to me?”

Virgil looks down at the keys. “Why would anything be up?”

“Well,” Gordon says slowly, “numero uno, I don’t remember the last time I got to have crunchy peanut butter on toast, which means you’re not eating us out of house and home, which is Highly Suspicious Behaviour. Y dos, you only play that when you’re feeling down.”

“I’m surprised you remember that,” Virgil says, caught off guard enough that he doesn’t even attempt to deny it.

“I listen,” Gordon says indignantly. “Chopping is what you play when you feel sad.”

“Chopin.”

“Bless you.”

Virgil half-smiles, in spite of himself. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled. 

And there’s a moment, where he thinks: tell him, tell him there’s this horrible feeling inside of you and you’re afraid it’s going to swallow you whole, and he’s going to - he wants to - he means to, but-

“I’m okay, Gords, honest. Just nostalgic.”

Gordon looks at him with eyes far older than his years. “You know it’s okay if you’re not okay though, right?”

“Sure.”

“I mean it, Virg. You’re always here for us. Let us be here for you too, yeah?”

There’s a lump in his throat and Virgil can’t trust himself to speak, so he nods vigorously instead. His brother looks uncharacteristically sad as Virgil makes his excuses to hurry off to the gym and it hurts, all these lies hurt, he’s hurting so much.

He’s just dropped the weight when the floor lurches beneath him and he staggers. 

Hm. Low blood sugar. 

The medic in him is furious at himself, but that guy is also buried beneath a thick layer of exhausted indifference, impenetrable sadness and an overwhelming nothingness. 

And so, Virgil does what he does best. He keeps going.

Keeps going through the motions of gym, rescue, take care of brothers, rescue, repairs, sleep, gym, rescue, because what else can he do? 

*

Until he can’t.

There’s a day that dawns bright and beautiful like every single goddamn day on their tropical island. The birdsong is melodic, the butterflies are a tapestry of colour, the sea sparkles beneath lazy golden rays. 

And Virgil can’t get out of bed. 

Not won’t, not doesn’t want to - physically cannot. 

The weight on his chest has finally become heavy enough that it pins him beneath his covers and he cannot shake it off. Every single particle of the emptiness inside him has insidiously become a despair so absolute and almighty that Virgil cannot bear it inside of him but is powerless to get it out. It’s the worst feeling he has ever known - worse than watching his mother die before his eyes, worse than his father turning away from him in his own grief, worse than trying to keep a splintered family together with frayed nerves and a broken heart. He’s not okay. He’s falling apart. 

It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to accept these as facts, rather than fears.

But the realisation only makes him feel even more alone. 

#thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #littleoldrachel writes #happy belated birthday nutty!

[janiedean]

What are your thoughts on Sansa becoming queen in the north?

+

I know you said you were gonna shut your mouth about Sansa but I've been dying to know what you think of her queen in the north moment T_T

*deep breath*

okay guys I waited a few days to see if my feelings somehow mellowed, if anything the contrary happened so at this point I’ll just go with it.

premise: book!sansa is one of my favorite characters. show!sansa is imvho not at all her book self anymore and I have disliked her writing and openly said it since S5 so please don’t take this as bashing because it comes from loving sansa, not the contrary. if you liked that scene or thought she had a nice ending please stop reading now and skip this post.

this say: I hated it, I hated how they framed the starks’s ending and I loathed how she was written this episode even moreso than this entire season which is saying all. specifically:

of course no one held her accountable for having betrayed jon’s trust and basically pulled a lf on him, but then again she had to be framed by the narrative as ‘she was right’ re dany which I found... really... in bad taste because I don’t think book!sansa would have ever done it, but I wasn’t expecting that;

her asking bran for nothern independence when the iron islands and dorne have been wanting them for centuries and no one batted an eyelid and it went like WELL SURE THE NORTH IS INDEPENDENT GO AWAY WE’RE COOL esp. when the king is a stark is out of this world ridiculous, but never mind that;

the fact that she basically went ‘lol shut up’ at edmure, her UNCLE, who has been hostage for years, who was the only arse lord in these books who risked a lot to have the smallfolk inside his castle and save them when everyone thought he was too *soft* and it was a bad political movie, when her mother’s house words are fucking FAMILY DUTY HONOR, in that frankly unsufferable smug way, about made me lose every last inch of fucks I had when it came to giving her writing some leeway. like, sansa stark ‘courtesy is a lady’s armor’ does that to her goddamned uncle who has literally bled and lost family members for her family and who ended up caught in the red wedding to help robb and cat and who has been a hostage for years also because he sided with them......... and she doesn’t even let him talk? when excuse me but he wouldn’t also have been a bad choice whatsoever at least he cares about the people? like fuck that noise that was it for me, that’s not sansa, that’s a bodysnatcher they made out of cersei/lf and dusted with some vague book characterization when they remember it and forgot it, and honestly I’m not here for that.

on the queen in the north scene:

.... it was fucking depressing?

and ooc?

I mean, I should believe that sansa stark, who in the books has spent all the time wanting her family back, who wants to name her children like her brothers, who does want children, who wants still her brave strong and gentle knight (btw, GOOD JOB FORGETTING THAT ROMANCE IS AN ESSENTIAL PART OF SANSA’S SL and that half of it is about finding out that *beauty* on the outside =/= inside, but hey, we went for the feminist TM narrative where strong women need no men and we forgot that it’s a fundamental part of what sansa wants), who only wants to go back home and be with her family........ gets her crowning achievement becoming queen in the north at a coronation where there’s literally no face she knows present, where her family isn’t present, where she’s utterly and totally alone doing the ice queen business when she’s not an ice queen in canon, with no friends at her side and no relatives and........ nothing? that’s it? I should be happy she’s on her own ruling the north without her sister or brothers or anyone she knew because she got her badass crowning moment and the north is independent when literally no stark in these books wanted it ned first and robb later, robb only took it because they elected him and couldn’t say no? because......... that was the only way for her to come out on top and having a throne is it when the entire underlying messages of these books is that thrones don’t mean shit and political power on your own is useless and corrupts you if you want it specifically and no one helps you with it?

sorry but I can’t buy that. I cannot. not at all. that’s not the character I signed up for, I didn’t sign up for the starks getting scattered in all four winds as if they don’t care at all for seeing each other again ever (THE PACK SURVIVES WHEN???), and the fact that it was a beautifully shot scene doesn’t mean I liked it for one second.

also: this entire thing reeks of a book storyline they most likely cut off with ten hatchets. specifically, that robb’s will exists and it had disinherited sansa and arya and made jon heir thinking bran and rickon were dead. like, you know what’s way more likely to happen? that jon gets hailed kitn because ROBB MADE HIM IT, davos shows up with rickon who DOESN’T DIE, jon then gets the show ending because that actually felt like a thing grrm might do, bran gets it the same (I’ll rant on it in another ask I’ll reply to asap) even if better-written, and sansa, who at this time has managed to come back to wf, has come into herself and has her family, stays there being rickon’s regent along with arya unless arya gets with gendry which I also think is endgame (this stark/baratheon marriage has to happen or not??) and plays a leading role without this bullshit single ice queen in the north storyline, possibly along with whoever it is the brave strong and gentle knight she ends up with, because that is not a thing d&d have realized, but a lot of *good* and strong female characters in these books have storylines that revolve about getting both what they want and the romance, but apparently it makes people weak? we just don’t know. that is a *sansa rules* ending that would make sense to me. not whatever the hell I watched in the finale, and believe me I’ll forever dislike it. the only good thing about it tangentially was that they didn’t drag brienne into it, and that’s everything I have to say on this subject. sorry but it wasn’t earned, it was built on giving her someone else’s storyline and on forcing sansa into being basically the nice/ethical version of cersei/lf and ignoring 85% of the themes in her arc and giving her an ending that’s all the contrary of what her book self wants, and I can’t bring myself to like it.

also, the edmure thing was really out of this world the most ooc thing in existence and if edmure doesn’t talk to her for the rest of his life no one would blame him, me first of all, and sure af catelyn tully was tearing her hair out in the afterlife asking herself where did her daughter end up. end of story.

ps: I know this is an unpopular opinion and I don’t have much interest in discussing it any further, so like.... take it for what it is. sorry but whichever way I look at it I can’t find any positives in it. :/

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #anti show sansa #got negativity for ts #game of thrones spoilers for ts #Anonymous #ask post

[heavenxpiercing]

In Regards to Aiko

A short series of ficlets from Ichigo’s point of view on Aiko, his little sister in all but blood, and how her death affected him. 

For @aikouo​ || suffer, bitch. uvu

As much as he’d like to deny it, there was a small splinter of jealousy in his heart when it came to Aiko and her relationship with his father—their father. It was stupid. Petty almost. Being jealous of this girl he considered a sister in all but blood. This girl who had almost nothing. Yet it was there. 

Isshin was so loving, doting, and goofy with her—just like he was with Yuzu and Karin. Watching them had always warmed Ichigo’s heart, glad that his family had accepted her so easily into their fold. 

Yet there was still that splinter—aching in his heart. 

A feeling of not belonging. Isshin would not cease harping affection on this girl who he’d only known for such a short time, yet would hardly spare his firstborn son a second glance. An ounce of affection. All the praises and adoration for his daughters: Karin, Yuzu, and Aiko, but what for his son? A swift series of blows meant to be parried and a brief rant about Ichigo’s bristly demeanor. Nothing more, nothing less.  

But that wasn’t her fault. 

She had a tough life and deserved nothing less than every ounce of love the Kurosaki family could pour out for her. Ichigo would never fault her for that. 

Besides, he was pretty sure if he asked Isshin about it, Isshin wouldn’t hesitate, and that was really all he needed… He didn’t need to take any attention away from his sisters. The mental assurance that his father did indeed love him in his own weird way was enough. 

☀    ☀    ☀ 

After her death, guilt consumed him. 

Why couldn’t he protect her? 

It had been by her own hand, he knew, and that tore him up inside. Why didn’t he do more? Why hadn’t he been around that night? Why did he let his own goddamn problems take up so much of his time that he didn’t realize that she wasn’t alright? That she needed him? 

Ichigo wasn’t so arrogant to believe it was only his own inattention that led her to it. Of course not. Things like this were too complex and messy to say it was entirely his fault. He knew that much from his own musings on the riverbank when he was nine. It wasn’t just because his mother was gone. It was also the confusion and pain and guilt all on top of not really knowing what happened that night. It was the despair in his sisters’ eyes. It was Isshin not looking him in the eyes for weeks. 

That knowledge wasn’t enough to assuage the guilt in his heart though. It wasn’t enough to stop the image of her lifeless body from haunting him. It certainly wasn’t enough to blot out her cries begging him not to send her to the afterlife from ringing in his ears.  

“I’ll find you, I promise Aiko. I promise.” 

“Don’t do it! Don’t do it, I’ll never forgive you!”

A roar pierced the night.  Ichigo’s blood ran cold.

“You’re not safe here. I have to. They’ll devour you like this.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.”

☀    ☀    ☀ 

He didn’t remember the funeral. He wasn’t quite sure he even went. In fact, he wasn’t sure he remembered much of anything from the weeks following her death. He only knew he existed during that time because of how he screamed himself raw demanding that the Shinigami allow him into Rukon. He begged everyone from the Soutaichou to Rukia to Urahara to let him go look for her only to be denied by everyone he turned to. 

“The Arrancar are coming. We need you here.”

“She can manage on her own for a few weeks in Rukon. In the meantime the Arrancar take priority.”

“We’ll send squad members out to look for her. Right now, focus on the Arrancar.” 

It was like a broken record. Excuses. Arrancar. Lies. Arrancar. Broken promises. Arrancar.

Didn’t they understand that his sister needed him? 

☀    ☀    ☀ 

Grief made him stupid. It made him more vulnerable to his own hollow.  

When he finally turned to the Vizards for help, he was already a wreck. Guilt, anger, sorrow, and grief made him more volatile than usual, but also more prone to the Hollow’s whims. The mask could form at the drop of a hat, and Ichigo often found himself paralyzed for no reason other than the hollow’s sick amusement. 

“Daydreaming about that dead girl again? You fool. You should be more worried about me! Any day now I’ll be close enough to devour you whole!” 

“Leave me alone goddammit!”

☀    ☀    ☀ 

Shinji was the first person to notice that he wasn’t always all there when it came to training. Probably because he was the only one who’d known Ichigo—no matter how briefly—before Aiko’s death. 

Sometimes he was so caught up with the task at hand, they could hardly get him to stop or settle down for food or rest. Other times, he seemed so overcome with melancholy he could hardly move. Still others, he seemed akin to an animal in a cage, just itching to burst free and leave everything behind. 

After a couple weeks, Shinji had enough of Ichigo’s mood swings. 

When he confronted the substitute about it, Ichigo could do nothing more than break down. Whatever Shinji had expected, the teen guessed it probably wasn’t this. 

Then again, who would expect they’d end up with a sobbing 15-year-old in their arms for their trouble? 

☀    ☀    ☀ 

The good thing about Shinji was that he didn’t have any expectations of Ichigo. None of the Vizards did, not really. He wasn’t a weapon or a soldier or a tool to them. He wasn’t a hero either. He was just a standoffish kid going through something they’d all already been through before. It wasn’t that they liked him or anything. They simply understood. And fuck if that wasn’t exactly what he needed right now. 

However, Shinji was…different. 

He cared.

For all his annoying quirks and dramatics, he could be surprisingly serious. In a way, he reminded Ichigo a bit of his own dad… Like if Isshin had ever bothered with any semblance of dignity at least. 

Unlike his dad though, Shinji didn’t shirk around affectionate gestures. A pat on the head or shoulders. A one armed embrace. Hell, he even went as far as to ask about how Ichigo was doing and feeling every now and again. 

It was foreign. 

It was nice. 

☀    ☀    ☀

After he lost his powers, he was numb. 

He didn’t want to die… not really… He just wasn’t quite sure how to live… how to move on. 

Some nights he would find himself sitting at the riverbank, staring down at the water. He didn’t know how to live without the dead being such a prominent presence in his life… And she was there… waiting for him on the other side… 

Those thoughts that haunted him back when his mother died never really left, but they were background thoughts. Intrusive and unwanted and ultimately fleeting for the most part. Now though, they didn’t seem to want to leave. They itched at the forefront of his brain. 

‘You promised her. You promised her. Just do it. There’s no other way to get to her now. Just do it.’

‘You wanna do it anyways. Why don’t you.’

‘You’re useless at being a person. You weren’t meant to be alive. You never even made any plans for growing up. What’s holding you back?’

What was holding him back? Only the same things that held him back 8 years ago. Yuzu. Karin. Tatsuki. Now there was Chad to think about too. Uryu and Orihime… Mizuiro and Keigo as well… Sure… Chad, Uryu, and Orihime hadn’t been around much lately… but that was his own fault. 

Aiko would understand, right? 

Him living for Yuzu and Karin? 

As much as he loved her, as much as he wanted to be with her and make sure she was okay… Yuzu and Karin were his sisters too, and he couldn’t make them worry and more than they already did. Couldn’t hurt them more than he already had. 

He had to go on living. For them. He had to do his best… 

Besides… Rukia promised she’d look for her for him… She wouldn’t break her promise… right?

☀    ☀    ☀ 

Living was hard. 

He resolved to live and he refused to be swayed from that---Zangetsu would never forgive him should he allow his resolve to crumble---but that did not change the fact that living was hard. 

Some days he had too much energy. Some days, too little. 

When restlessness bubbled inside him, he’d wander the streets until he found himself in places that made his heart ache. The library near the train station where he and Aiko went to study sometimes. A bakery that sold numerous treats---strawberry milk, chocolate cakes, and milk bread amongst them---that he’d taken her to multiple times. Several times he found himself standing at the spot he found her and his blood ran cold every time. 

Ichigo could never get away from that spot fast enough. He’d turn around and sprint away as fast as he could, paying absolutely no mind to where he was going. As long as he could get away.

Once he found himself at the Vizards’ warehouse. Once. 

He even went so far as to go in, breaking his rule of not going near his connections to his old double life. It was one thing to avoid Urahara Shoten like the plague. It was another to not even say ‘hi’ to the people who helped him get stronger and kept him from going insane when he’d already practically run-up to their doorstep, right? Besides, he owed them a thank you at the very least. 

Finding the place abandoned was a little unexpected. But it wasn’t at all upsetting. Not at all. That was the lie he told himself on the way home at least. 

From then on, Ichigo made sure to steer far from the now-abandoned warehouse. 

 Other days, those when he had no energy whatsoever, Ichigo found himself weighed down with grief and exhaustion and a heaviness he had no name for. He didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed. 

Yet no matter how much he wished to sleep away the day, he rarely let himself give in. He was supposed to be living, dammit. Loathsome though it may be, he would force himself upright and out of bed with every ounce of willpower he could muster. 

Rare was it that he made it to school on those days, but at least he was not wasting away in bed, he resolved. Instead, he often found himself at the cemetery where his mother was buried. Longing for the company of the dead wasn’t exactly living, but it wasn’t dying. If nothing else, it wasn’t dying or contemplating his own death, and that was something. 

Lighting incense and praying for his mother and Aiko was… cathartic in a way. Atheist in that he believed in no higher power, having seen the injustice of the afterlife first hand, he was not above the Shinto practices he grew up with. It was strange how much he took comfort in such things as praying and lighting incense at the family shrine, but it was nice nonetheless. 

Aiko wasn’t buried there. He never actually found out where she was buried, but he knew it wasn’t there. His dad mentioned something about her “father” claiming the right to bury (maybe that’s why he couldn’t remember the funeral? Her father didn’t let them go?) or something along those lines. That didn’t deter his family in the slightest from adding Aiko to the family shrine. They put a grave marker for her right next to Masaki’s with the inscription, “Aiko, beloved daughter and sister, a true Kurosaki in every regard”.

“I can’t… I can’t look for you now… but I will. As soon as I can, I will… I really hope Rukia found you… Or at least… at least that wherever you are… you’re okay, Aiko.”

☀    ☀    ☀ 

#aikouo #drabble #long post #( ☀ || headcanon ) #( ☀ || musings of the black sun ) #uvu #suicide tw #depression tw #death tw

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Shattered Peace: 2

Masterlist

Shattered Peace Masterlist

Loki Laufeyson x Plus!Size Reader

Warnings: Cursing, reader giving Loki shit.

A/N: WOW! A lot of heart break and we learn just how desperate Loki is to keep the reader to himself.

Words: +2,100

For the first time in ages, Y/N was surrounded by the silence of the small craft borrowed from Stakar, the old ravager seemed to have a soft spot for the young god that had adventured around with him several years back. The quite eerie, unpalatable, gazing into naught but vast space that had no end, mind tormenting as her own voice screamed out to Siggy, burned out seidr useless as little hand was enveloped in the large purple one, tear sliding free but pushing it away harshly as the comm rang in.

“What,” Y/N snapped out at the picture of Loki that plastered on the screen before her, noting he looked tons better than when he left with Thor, Groot & Rocket, the god looking over the ravager gear she wore puzzling at why it fit as if made for her but snapping out of it.

“Are you alright pet,” Loki began to worry, noting how her eyes look even more haggard as red seidr flashed over Y/E/C irises.

“Of course, not HUSBAND! Thanos has our daughter! I don’t see how I would be alright,” Y/N snarled out so harshly her voice cracked & strained, almost losing it completely, red flame shooting up her arms.

“Are you finished,” he commenced, obvious he was trying to keep his temper in check as red seidr finally died down, quick glance to her lower stomach before meeting her dartey gaze, a sign his wife was trying not to cry.

“No, I'm not,” she bit out hatefully voice cracking while hand shot up to push the tears away once again.

“WHY DO YOU CARE! You're the one that played dead for five years! Five Loki! I had to raise her alone! And suddenly you care about us!? Goddamn you Laufeyson… how can you still care for me! How! I…,” Y/N ranted before the god seemed to have held it together long enough, the fact she called name to his lineage driving him over the edge.

“It was to keep you two safe! I… after New York I knew the safest place for the two of you was away from me! Frigga told me Odin began to banish you for carrying our daughter, but she wouldn’t allow it! I'm sorry Y/N! I brought this on us! I fucked it up as you have been so keen on pointing out on Sakaar,” Loki shouted out, taking Y/N off guard by his admittance the goddess sitting back in the chair warily.

“You son of a bitch,” Y/N breathed out, head falling into clean, gloved hands trying to keep from puking up what little food she had taken form the guardians & Stakar, looking up as she heard Thor ordering that Loki move.

“Look, Y/N, I'm sorry for this Hel, but I need you to meet us on Midgard, Thanos is on his way there. It may be our chance, to get Siggy back, can you meet us there? Can you keep it together long enough,” Thor spoke stoically to the troubled goddess that immediately pushed all feelings to the side to nod in agreement the screen going black & the goddess knowing what she had to do as she reached for the controls.

It gave Y/N sick gratification to pounce onto the titan’s shoulders to help shove him into the blade of the battle ax Thor wielded, taking the leap over Loki to do the deed, having found out their daughter was on Titan. Heart falling to her stomach as the titan told them they should have aimed for the head, Loki jerking Y/N to him as the titan snapped his fingers.

Y/N felt an emptiness where the flutter once resided as she watched others turn to ash, hands holding crushingly tight to the ones that gripped tightly under her breast trying to keep her calm, this couldn’t be happening.

“Siggy… Loki… find Siggy… please find her…,” Y/N panted, filling like she was about to pass out, filling the gods hand move to her stomach to fill no flutter.

The god knew she hadn’t the strength, letting her gently to numb knees to appear on the space craft she had piloted in, but froze at the image on the screen of Titan showing no one. It was nothing on the planet but for swirling ash, Tony Stark & one other. He knew, Loki knew, he knew it break her to know they had lost another child, quick to hurry back out to Y/N who had gotten to her feet, supported by Thor who looked as dazed as her.

“Come here wife,” Loki breathed out so only she heard, taking Y/N from Thor who looked at him for news of Siggy, the look, a slight jerk of disheveled raven black hair telling the blonde god all he needed to know about the fate of his niece.

It was a lot, to much really, blood stained hands clutching to the ruined leather Loki wore as she buried into his chest with a sigh of dread. Sweat soaked head buried into leather chest to hide tear filled eyes, grabbing hard enough she was bruising him but he didn’t dare deprive her of the gratification of inflicting pain on him as he kept her close while others gathered around to ask what next.

Slowly, Loki entered into the small room Y/N had been given, it was late, very late, but that meant nothing to the goddess standing, biting nervously at the skin around raw fingers knowing Y/E/C orbs focused on nothing.

“Y/N,” came the quiet gentle voice of an old lover at her back, swallowing thickly at what he would possibly want, tugging at the baggy clothes she wore with the free hand.

“Wife,” Loki ventured once more, careful to approach slow stepping flush to scorching back.

“What Loki,” she sighed out, staying ridged as he leaned into her slightly.

“You should get some rest… allow me to help put your mind at ease…,” he ventured hands making the familiar track up curvaceous body to thread into loose Y/H/C locks, but she was quick to step away.

“I don’t need your pity. Shouldn’t you be glad that I am no longer carrying your brothers bastard? I mean at least we…,” Y/N began but didn’t get to finish as Loki snapped anger returning to the gods eyes in a vengeance she had never witnessed.

“THE BABY WAS MINE,” the fuming god snapped so violently she had to step back, gaze puzzled, eyes searching for the lie that she knew had to be there, but it wasn’t.

“What…,” Y/N puzzled at the god, taking a step forward, head swimming & trying to comprehend what he was telling her.

“I… I had to see you… the last time you came to Asgard, I wanted to command that you stay… so a month ago I came to the gala that Tony was throwing on behalf of the captain & I… we…,” Loki explained quietly, knowing now she truly would hate him.

“You… Loki… he was yours!? God! I hate you! Why would you allow me to believe that!? It…,” she began, it was too much, losing two children to the snap it was…

“I knew if you remembered it was me it would put you two in danger because of Thanos… if he realized… but I wasn’t intending on you becoming pregnant… I’ve missed you… Y/N! Look…,” was the last she heard Loki speak before she decked him in the nose & was gone in seconds, leaving the god wallowing in his own self-pity & blood.

A quick blink & she stood in the corridor just outside of her room, debating on going to Thor to tell him of the latest bullshit his brother had pulled. Looking back to her room door she could hear the god she had just decked cursing in what she would call polite curses before he shouted for her to come back. With a smirk she lifted muddled head in defiance & started for the common room where she could hear some one stirring, it sounded like Bruce.

“I'm not letting you go again,” came a snarl behind her, strong arms wrapping around befuddled body to drag her back into the room Loki had been given, making it apparent he wasn’t about to let anything, including Y/N go.

Fowl curses fell from her lips as the grip around plump midsection tightened to keep the warrior from getting away as the door slammed shut to be ingulfed in green light, the gods seidr sealing it to prevent her from leaving with out his OK. Y/N realizing that it seemed Loki had finally lost all patience with her, becoming violent, throwing her to the bed, side hitting the edge to bounce to the floor looking up at him in horror.

Never had he looked so mad, so crazed, so violent, even when she secretly visited him in the dungeons, it made her seidr flare to protect herself, but he was older by a centuries. Y/N was strong, stronger than him, but in this feral looking state that caused his body to become ingulfed in green seidr she wasn’t so sure, not to mention her seidr was burnt out still, barely able to cover her arms. Recoiling the instant he stepped forward to do whatever it was to her, pulling legs under plump ass to cower readying for the impact.

A shaky breath in before looking up into troubled emerald eyes as he reached down to get her to bed & sat down. Body limp & allowing him to do as he pleased. Loki was trying to get Y/N, his wife, to look him in the eye, but she just couldn’t & he in no way could blame her for all the lies even if it was to keep them safe it was still callous.

“You stay here with me, you’re not to leave this room for any reason, I don’t care what the others think. I need to keep you safe,” Loki finally spoke, it sounded cold, demanding, a quality to it telling her not to test him in anyway or there would be consequences.

Y/E/C orbs focusing on the drops of blood that stained his shirt as he kept her upright, cool hands cupping heated face in attempt to get Y/E/C orbs to look at him. Hazed eyes still not looking away from the stain before a harsh shake & barking demand forced her to focus.

“I can leave whenever I want,” Y/N croaked out, a single tear falling as heated hands wrapped around his wrist painfully tight, eyes gleaming with red flame trying to pull free, to leave but felt the coil of a serpent winding around tender throat knowing what it was as the golden seidr burned into her skin to disappear.

“No,” was the last thing she whimpered as she fell lifelessly into his lap, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he soothed over her spine.

“You will grow used to it. It may take a while but I can’t afford to let you leave, you're to precious to me Y/N, now more than ever,” he explained to the creature that stilled in his lap filling her shift to put her legs on the mattress face hiding in her own hands as the realization set in of all that had happened & now instead of wife she was slave, prisoner.

“You have your seidr, it can’t be used to leave me or on me so put your next thought out of your mind wife. I love you Y/N & I don’t expect you to understand my actions, but I expect you abide by them. A war far worse than the one we just fought is coming & I need you to focus, to survive for our children when we get them back love,” he spoke quietly, soothingly, oddly enough helping with the tension he felt all over curvaceous body, gentle strokes along tired spine.

“Yes husband,” Y/N sighed out as a hand threaded into tousled Y/H/C locks to soothe her worry & help to sleep.

Tags open! And re-blogs are ALWAYS welcomed!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99  @prettybubblesintheair  @gramaeryebard  @reallyheckinggay  @jovanna-shewolf  @andiyholly  @katstablook   @nickyl316h  @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @aslandia726 @moonfaery @furstinnajoelle   @itsbqueenthings @lookwhatyoumademequeue

@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega @moonlightprime @bambamwolf87

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki #loki (marvel) #loki x plus size reader

[betwitchd]

Your situation is the same as me and my coworkers and undoubtedly many young Americans across the country. I'm not saying it's time for a revolution...

it’s time to kill our government. I don’t have insurance because being employed full-time, I make too much to qualify for affordable insurance. Even with Obamacare, my best option was a $5000 deductible for $117 a month. Fucking useless. I make too much for insurance but not enough to pay for my medical bills. My job has 0 benefits in terms of insurance. I have savings that I’ve already been using and am going to have to continue using to pay for my wisdom teeth (which HAVE to come out, I can’t tolerate the pain anymore) and for my cat’s bills. My savings are quite literally saving my ass right now, but they don’t go on forever. I’ve had to settle for giving my cat pills that aren’t curing her but at least help with her symptoms because I can’t afford her treatment, it’s $1000 and there’s still a chance it may not extend her lifespan at all. Plus I just had to pay close to $1000 in repairs for my truck, the only benefit is I’ll be selling that truck soon so I’ll get some of my cash back to turn around and spend on medical bills. And this doesn’t even TOUCH on the mental health care I have needed and not had for the last 4 years due to accessibility and cost. I did make it into the campus doctor while I was in college since the visit was covered in my tuition, and was told I’m “just too hard on myself” and given an extremely low dose of clonazepam as a consolation prize. Unsurprisingly the dose was not enough for me and did nothing to help me after the first dose. And like.... I don’t really get it? Because if you don’t think I have an anxiety issue, why medicate me? And if you think I do, why give me a bullshit prescription? She wouldn’t change my dose until I visited the school counseling center, which was completely booked for the entirety of the semester so I couldn’t get in. And if that doesn’t say something about the state of our mental health as a nation right there, idk what does. Very shortly after that went down, I had one of the most horrific panic attacks I’ve ever had, failed my entire semester across the board (after previously maintaining A’s and B’s the three semesters prior), and dropped out.

I’m sorry for ranting I know you didn’t ask about any of this lmao it just. doesn’t end. And I know I’m not the only person going through this. I’m angry that this is life in America. I absolutely feel entitled to the healthcare I need, considering I work my goddamn ass off Monday-Friday and have to fit my entire life of errands, chores, appointments, social life, and the alone time my introverted-12th house stellium-ass requires into two days before going back to work for 5. Honestly I need those two days alone just to recharge for the next work week. I feel like a goddamn rat. 

[worldoftheskeptic]

"Dr. Venkman, do you plan on moving any time in the next few decades?"

"Hmm." Janine barely elicited a response from Peter, who sprawled on the couch with one arm dangling.

"I brought food." She dropped a takeout box on the coffee table. This garnered a mumbled thanks and a glance in her direction. His eyes fixed on the television again after a moment.

"Whatcha watching?" During these late night hours, Janine tended to get bored. She really should have gone home, but with Winston working on the car, Egon in the lab, and Ray running between the two, she figured she'd run interference in case anything went wrong. She had paperwork to catch up on, after all. And there was Peter, suffering through an intense bout of interest in the TV.

She tapped on his head. "Whatcha watching?"

He pushed her hand away. "I honestly don't remember." He watched the screen blankly. When he was like this, he had the unique talent of watching anything for hours and absorbing none of it.

Janine sat down at the foot of the couch, leaning where legs would usually dangle. She was not about to infringe on Peter's territory. It was too late, and she didn't have the stamina.

Once Peter had resolved that she wasn't leaving the room, he picked up the takeout box. It was his usual order. He picked at the food as a car raced through the streets of Gotham on the TV screen.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing paperwork?"

"Sure. Aren't you?"

Peter would have thrown the chopsticks at her if he had the energy. And anyway, he was hungry. He hadn't bothered to eat all day.

He sunk back into the couch, resigned to try to ignore Janine. She was being a busy body anyway.

Peter was surprised and irritated to find her hand on his forehead.

"Just checking." She responded to his glare, the hazel blue eyes looking particularly icy.

"Go away." He spoke through a mouthful of fried shrimp, adjusting himself to lean on one elbow.

"I'm so grateful that you're concerned for me, Janine. I'm glad you brought me food and let me slough off all day and you didn't even hassle me about it. Gee, you really are a great secretary, you deserve a raise and two weeks paid vacation."

Pete didn't seem to register her passive aggressive rant, instead he decided to conduct an orchestra with his chopsticks.

Janine huffed past her red lipstick and crossed her arms. "Fuckin jerk."

"Thanks, Janine." He was pretty quiet, but she heard it. It was belated and not even that sincere. Whatever. She'd bother him about it later.

"You're gonna sleep here?"

"Mm hm."

"You should have a blanket I guess."

"Could you not?" Peter looked up from his meal to give her a look that was something between scolding and pleading. He was feeling humiliated as it was. He didn't need the extra help.

"It's just a blanket. I was gonna grab one for myself anyway."

"Then stay downstairs."

"I like the company."

"Egon is downstairs."

"Egon is working and won't talk to me."

"This is a better arrangement?"

She rolled her eyes and left. When she came back, Peter had moved to lean against one arm of the couch, his legs curled underneath him.

"I thought you were incapable of movement for a minute there."

"Surprise."

Janine tossed one of the blankets at him and took the other end of the couch. She took the liberty of changing the channel, too. This was one of the worse Batman movies, she didn't care how cute George Clooney was.

Peter set his takeout box back on the table without commenting on the channel switch. Now it was a soap opera. Hot guy A sleeping with hot chicks B, C, and E, and none of them knowing about each other. The guy had amnesia? He really wasn't following.

Peter grabbed his takeout box and chucked it at the trash can near the door. It missed the rim by an inch and he sighed like it was a deeply troubling thing. He wasn't cut out for basketball. In fact, god, he was getting fat. And old. This too, he found deeply troubling enough to sigh about it and incite a glare from Janine.

She muted the volume on the television.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm dying, what's it to you?"

"You're dying. Should I get Egon up here with the adrenaline shots?"

"If he touches me once, he'll lose a limb. Your favorite one, too, I'll make sure."

Peter rested his cheek on his hand, pushing it up enough that it squished one side of his face into a squint. He sighed like a goddamn horse.

"Touchy." She scooted a little further into the opposite arm of the couch. She even leaned the opposite way, resting her chin in her hand instead of making herself look ridiculous.

"You'll be okay." Janine's eyes flickered over to observe his face for a nanosecond. He caught her nonetheless.

"Yeah? You psychic or something?"

"Yeah. About these things, yeah. I'm very psychic. I'm so psychic, I predict you'll see a therapist or something."

"Uh huh. How do you figure?"

"I'm telling you, that's how I figure."

Peter grumbled to himself and gave up supporting his head with his hand, instead burying his face in the arm of the couch.

"I really think you should be medicated sometimes."

"I can't, it's not on our insurance."

"You sprung for optical."

"Half of us have glasses."

"And dental?"

"Winston wanted it. Impacted wisdom tooth, hurt like a bitch."

"You didn't think this would be an issue?"

"I don't like therapists."

"You don't trust therapists."

Peter looked up. She just sat there and read him like a book. Over her fucking glasses, for Pete's sake.

"I get awful thoughts, if I tell them, they lock me up. It's happened before."

"That was that Hardemeyer guy. What a dick anyway- a jerk if I ever saw one. He's worse than you and Walter put together. Worse than Ron."

Peter almost laughed.

"I feel awful. I feel sluggish, and I can't eat, I can't sleep right. Sometimes I wish I were dead because then I'd feel better rested."

Janine looked over at him, her pinky resting on the edge of her glasses. "You're not gonna hurt yourself, are you?"

"No. I don't want to feel any worse. I just-" his voice skipped a couple notes higher, his throat tightening.

"Don't make fun of me if I tell you this."

"I gotta know what it is first. If I have to call someone-"

"No, it's not like that. When I feel this way, I..." there was a long silence as Peter tried to strategically avoid the sobs rising in his throat.

"I just want to be held, and then I get angry, because it's too frustrating to feel so useless and then have somebody tell you they love you. I feel so disgusting I have to leave the room so no one can look at me."

Janine frowned, but said nothing. She could predict what was coming next.

Peter wiped at his eyes and kept his profile to her. "That used to drive Dana crazy. I could barely stand being in the same apartment as her and go sleep on the couch. I couldn't even return the littlest gesture, the tiniest bit of affection. She was like, I love you and I'd come back saying, haha, that's so funny. I don't even get it. Hilarious."

He rubbed his nose on his sleeve, hiking the blanket over his face. Janine tried not to look like she pitied him, or felt disgusted, but she failed at both.

Somebody else might have told him to get over himself, that he was lazy, that if he just had the strength of character, none of this would even faze him. Janine might have too, if she didn't know a little better.

She scooted over to sit next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, like she was propping him up. Not affectionate, not loving, but supportive nonetheless.

"Peter, you fuckhead." She squeezed his shoulder. "I don't know why you told me that, but I won't tell anybody."

Peter sniffed, trying to scrub the tears off his face before they could leave his eyes. "I'm sorry. I wanted to be alone and I acted like a fucking jerk."

Janine leaned into his shoulder, resting her head against the plaid of his shirt. The shoulder part of his sleeve was still dry.

"Yeah, you're a jerk, but that's not all you are." She didn't bother listing off any positive qualities. He'd just go and shoot them down as she said them, so she left them for him to contemplate. She didn't bother making eye contact either. His face was hidden as it was and it was difficult to ignore the undignified whimpering he was doing. She gave his back a reassuring rub and stood up.

"Try to get some sleep, okay? I'll get out the insurance forms and you can call them about the policy tomorrow." She patted his shoulder. He seemed to have calmed down quite a bit, breathing even with his face buried in his arms. She was sure there were still tears streaming down his face.

"Tissues are right here. Goodnight."

He slumped facedown into the couch. "Night."

#drabble #long post #Janine and Peter are just siblings #suicide cw #depression cw #mental illness tw #this is actually an okay reference for dealing with him #why is Janine better than all of us?

[mysticmessimagines]

Rfa reacting to MC breaking up with them?

Oooh nonny, you’re speaking my language. I love me some angst ;))) I consider V part of the RFA so I’ll put him below a a four line break because the rest of this is really long so it’s going under a cut. I suppose Seven’s route has spoilers too kind of so make sure you’ve done his route/all the routes or only read the routes you’ve done pls I don’t want to accidentally ruin anything for anyone. Also I love Unknown so if someone wants me throwing him in the bunch hit me up and I’ll do it.

Yoosung

The LOLOL never stops

You care so much about him, and you know he cares about you too

It just hurts to see him neglecting himself for the sake of playing his game

He misses dinners you cook for him, or he’ll leave them untouched on his desk

You offer to help him study, only for him to go right back to gaming thirty minutes later

After talking with him and letting him know how worried you are for him trying so hard not to say that you yourself are feeling neglected, you don’t want to seem needy and controlling but ofc you wouldn’t be gaming is more than okay, this is just excessive he agrees to stop gaming and promises to come to bed early with you that night

He doesn’t

You fall asleep alone in bed, and when you wake up around 4am you’re still alone

From the other room you can see the glow of his computer, hear the keyboard taps

It’s the final straw

You haven’t officially moved in with Yoosung yet, so you just gather simple things like your phone charger, hoodie, and bag

He’ll be so invested in his game, he won’t notice

He notices

But you’re not there anymore

You don’t have the heart to answer his frantic texts and calls - you would never do something like what you need to do over the phone

You’re camped out at Jaehee’s when he finds you

He’s a mess; a dirty pair of sweats on and a sleeveless t-shirt despite it being winter

His hair isn’t combed, his eyes swollen and his face wet with tears that are still streaming down his face

“MC, thank God you’re safe! I thought something bad happened to you.”

Tears well in your eyes as he hugs you desperately, it’s so tempting to just forget all about it and live in this constant cycle of misery

But you don’t

“Yoosung, I can’t do this…”

“Do what? What do you mean?”

It hurts so bad to explain, and you can’t help but cry as you tell him how you’ve been watching him ruin his life at the computer, how you’ve felt like you didn’t have his heart anymore, how you felt that LOLOL came first to him

He’s endless apologies, on his knees as he clutches helplessly onto you and buries his face against your stomach

“I’ll stop! I swear, MC, I’ll never play again, just please- please don’t think those things, you’re so important to me!”

“I’m so sorry, Yoosung. I love you, I do. But I just can’t anymore. Goodbye, Yoosung.”

You shut him out

He stays outside in the cold, sobbing and pleading for you, until you finally ask Jaehee to escort him home

You hated sleeping alone, it’s part of what made you feel so uncared for when Yoosung would play late - but this time, sleeping alone on Jaehee’s pull out couch despite her offering you her bed, your heart shatters completely

Zen

W H Y did he let that fan kiss him on the mouth??

It wasn’t even close to being okay

You are not a jealous person

He can hug them, take selfies with them, kiss their cheek, he can braid their goddamn hair but he let that girl kiss him on the mouth

And he knows you know

He brings home flowers and chinese food

You’re already pacing back and forth in the living room, tears running down your face

Sometimes a quick peck on the lips is okay in some cultures but fuck this - this is not okay there was tongue

“MC I am swear I’m sorry-”

“Don’t tell me sorry. Tell me why.”

He’s babbling then

She kissed him

It was an accident

Her friend took the picture

He certainly does seem upset that you’re crying; his hands are outstretched for you like he wants to hold you or dry your tears

You’re far too upset for that

“But you didn’t tell her no. You didn’t push her away, did you?”

“I… no. She was a fan, MC, I have to be nice to-”

You stop listening then

An explanation was what you wanted, but what you were getting were excuses

If he had outright admitted he had messed up, then maybe you’d be more willing to listen

But he was only defending himself to avoid trouble

You’re still crying as you start stuffing your clothes into your bag

You’ve lived with Zen since you left the apartment, you don’t even know where you could go

He’s still following you around, saying he’ll make it up to you, saying it didn’t mean anything

You don’t want it made up to you, you want him to admit he had made a huge mistake, one he would never make again

And if it’s not something he can realize on his own - then maybe he should just be left to kiss his fans freely as a single man

Jumin is the only person you can think to call - it’s a low blow for Zen, but he has plenty of space and Jumin can of course get you a ride to him

Zen stumbles after you outside, and as you wait for Driver Kim he clutches your sleeve and makes you meet his gaze

It’s pouring outside, but you think his eyes look damp aside from the rain

“Why are you doing this, please, please don’t run off to him. Are you trying to make me jealous, too? I said I was sorry, MC, please.”

You recoil, your tears unfaltering as you shake your head

“I’m not trying to make you jealous. You’ve hurt me, Hyun, and you can’t even own up to it. I can’t do it. Kiss all the fans you want. I’ll send someone for the rest of my things, but I won’t be coming back. Goodbye, Hyun.”

Driver Kim helps you in to the car, leaving Zen standing in the downpour

You’re still sobbing as you drive away, watching Zen in the back window

He doesn’t head back inside, and then you can’t even see him anymore

Jumin is waiting for you with a warm towel and soft blankets to wrap you in, and he sits and offers to let you rant

All you can do is sob against his shoulder

Your heart has never hurt so badly

Jaehee

The coffee shop means everything to her

And it means everything to you too

But for her, she lets the desire for perfection smother her fun and happiness

Evidently, her desire for perfection outweighs her sympathy for you as well

You’re preparing scones to place in the glass case up front

The shop is busy

It requires you to go up front and help out for a bit, leaving the scones in the oven a little past the timer

Of course they burn

Not badly… but they burn

Definitely not worthy of putting out in the case

Jaehee hurries into the back to figure out where the scones are, and when she sees them the disappointment is clear on her face

“Oh no, we can’t serve those. MC, I trusted you to be able to make those. We’re at our busiest time of the day, too. Just… let me handle everything, go do some dishes or something.”

She barely lets you get a word in

She’s small, but she’s fierce, and it almost feels like she snatches the scones away from you before she’s shooing you away

Well then

You do the dishes, but you also attempt to help make a few coffees up front

When you accidentally use 2% milk instead of low fat, and the customer somehow knows they chew you out

Jaehee is right there in an instant - and she doesn’t defend you for your accidental mistake

Instead, she nearly shoves you back to the back as she offers the gentleman his money back as well as a freshly made coffee

Any normal person would assume she was having a bad day - but no

It’s become a norm for Jaehee to treat you as if you’re incompetent at work

She won’t discuss it at home, changing the subject to finances or something completely off topic

When you burn your arm preparing cookies and drop the pan on the floor, she completely tears into you

“Why is it so hard for you to bake? Don’t even bother touching the oven anymore. You make so much more work for me to do, MC, and I-”

You don’t even let her finish, clutching your burnt arm

“Okay. Okay, I won’t be such a bother to you, anymore. I didn’t know how difficult I made things for you. I’ll go.”

Normally you wouldn’t just abandon her at work, but there’s a few additional hands helping out - so there’s no reason for her to be so snappy

But you don’t just plan on leaving work

You go back to the apartment you and Jaehee share, grabbing as much of your belongings as you can, and you go to the only person you can think of - Yoosung’s

It completely scares the shit out of this boy when you show up at his house that evening, sobbing with your belongings

He immediately thinks someone is dead, but you tell him everything that’s happened, and he just hugs you tight and strokes your hair

But then Jaehee shows up, and Yoosung looks like he wants to cry too as he asks if you want to see her

Of course you oblige, you go to her

She seems extremely concerned, and she’s still wearing her work uniform with flour all over it

“If I upset you today, I truly did not mean to… I was worried when you weren’t at home.”

It’s with a shaky breath that you tell her, “That can’t be my home anymore. I can’t take much more of feeling worthless. We opened the shop together to spread love, happiness, to have fun and be able to see each other and so neither of us feel like we’re actually working. But you’ve made me feel so useless. And I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”

She stands stunned, completely pale after hearing your confession

“MC…”

You try to close the door before you start to cry - but she catches it, her eyes wide

“Please just go. You can have the coffee shop.”

Somehow that finalizes it for her, makes her realize just how serious you are

Her hands are shaking and she can’t seem to speak, reaching out and clinging to your arm

“Wait- I’m so sorry, MC, let me make it right. Tell me what I can do!”

“I’ve tried.”

It’s with a heavy heart that you gently shake free, and before you shut the door you hear her quiet sob

You can hardly stand it, sprinting to the bathroom and locking yourself in

Yoosung sits right outside and pleads with you to at least come out so he can comfort you, but all you can do is sob into your hands

Jumin

You knew from the beginning that your relationship would be difficult at times

Jumin had never truly been in love before you, he was still learning

You were always patient with him, reminding him that relationships required communication

He was finally learning to accept trust in the relationship - you weren’t going to be harmed and you would always come back to him when you would leave the penthouse

Work actually came second to him for once, you always coming first

But there were still times where he’d shut down - and in times like those is when it hurt the most

Seeing him suffer in silence was painful

It would happen in spurts

But these spurts could last anywhere from two days to two weeks

He’d be absent, glassy eyed, and he’d work from dusk until dawn, only crawling into bed when you were already half asleep

You weren’t even sure how much he would eat during these times

The shut down he had when it finally all came to a boil happened shortly after a project of his failed, causing quite a drastic drop in C&R’s sales

Jumin’s father had been extremely disappointed, making a point to tell Jumin so multiple times over the phone

If there was one thing in the world that could bring Jumin Han to a stuttering halt, it was Mr. Han Senior

Almost immediately you could see just how deeply it was eating at Jumin

He was already upset with himself, he didn’t need the weight of his father’s disappointment either

Out of desperation you tried to coax him to head to bed early with you, cuddling and talking probably in nothing but one of Jumin’s shirts because he loved seeing them on you always worked when he was stressed over a less drastic problem

Instead - he headed back to his office

At 8pm at night

You brushed it off, assuring yourself that he’d be back in a few hours, but when you awoke in the morning, his side of the bed was still made

It panicked the shit out of you

You called him endlessly, but he didn’t pick up

So of course you rushed to C&R, hurrying up to his office and barging in without bothering to knock

Pale skin, a loose tie, messy hair, and dark eye circles greeted you

Or rather, didn’t even acknowledge your presence

Jumin was at his desk scribbling at something like a mad man, papers askew across his desk

You hurried to him and touched his shoulder gently but he flinches away

“Jumin… Jumin, love, you need to come home and rest. Did you sleep at all?”

He doesn’t answer verbally, only shakes his head, and continues to write

A glance at his desk reveals crumpled papers, chicken scratch writing that is so vastly different compared to his usual elegant penmanship

“Do you want breakfast?”

Another head shake

With a gentle hand you try to cup his face, turn his head so he’ll meet your gaze

“Go back home. You can’t even imagine all that I have to do now, I messed up and now I have to fix it. It’s not just going to fix itself. There’s no time, just go. You’re distracting me.”

Which okay, he’s been like this before… kind of…

“I’m worried about you, let me at least get you something to-”

“No, MC!”

Never does Jumin raise his voice, not even at other shitty company owners trying to seal a deal with him

But he definitely wasn’t quiet as he slammed his fist down against his desk, his jaw tense

And he still won’t look at you

One last time you try to touch his arm; it’s unbearable to see him so unshapely, the Jumin Han you know would never loosen his tie in the workplace and it makes you worry about how truly upset he could be

Your hand settles on his fist clenched on the desk

His other hand… the one gripping his pen… moves to shove it off

“Damn it, MC, get out.”

A small gasp escapes you as the pen in his hand roughly scrapes against the soft skin on the side of your thumb

It’s already bleeding - not much, but it stings and you can hardly wrap your head around it all

He’s been angry before, but he’s never been so rough from anger

His eyes snap to your face before they fall on your hand clutching your bleeding scrape

He pales even more if possible, looking completely crushed

Before he even has time to speak, you turn on your heal and walk out

Surprisingly enough, he comes home shortly after

You’re already waiting with packed bags

Talking is a must

You tried to talk to him - and he had lashed out physically, something you swore you would never stand for

No matter how much you loved him

“MC… what… your suitcases, what are you doing?”

“We need to talk one last time, Jumin. I… I love you more than you will ever know. Seeing you hurt kills me, and I just wanted to be there for you. I can handle you shutting me out as long as you let me back in, but when you shut me out and lay a hand on me…”

“God, is your hand alright? How badly are you hurt-”

You don’t let him see, but rather pull away

“I promised you at the beginning that I would never leave you if we kept communication and trust. But you broke your promise, you pushed me away and you broke my trust… I’ve already made up my mind and called a cab.”

His entire strong posture completely shatters, his shoulders slumping and his generally tall frame seeming so small

“Oh.”

Which is all he has to say??

He wasn’t even going to try to fight for you, and it breaks you even more

However, he leaves the room and leaves you standing with your heart thumping in your chest

When he comes back, he picks up your suitcases for you and heads for the door

He’s just going to kick you out so easily?

“What are you doing?”

And fuck, you’re crying

“I cannot allow the person who means the most to me to go out on their own without a plan. Driver Kim will pick you up and drive you around until you have somewhere safe.”

You can hardly wrap your head around it all as he leads the way downstairs and loads your things into Driver Kim’s car

He’s got that look on his face at your tears, the look he gives you whenever he’ll hold you close, thumb under your eyes, and kiss at your hair as he whispers soothing things to you

But you’re giving that up - the man he was that morning was not the man you knew

“Will you text me when you’re somewhere safe?”

It’s whispered, but you hear it as Driver Kim helps you into the car

“No.”

You can barely choke it out, slumping into the vehicle and peeking at Jumin out the window

He’s now wearing a face you’ve never seen before - his face his crumpled, and a single hand raises to cover his eyes as he turns his back on the car, his shoulders hunched

Driver Kim hands you tissues as he drives away and you sob into your lap

Seven

This boy would go to the ends of the earth for you

He’d die for you

And you’d die for him

But when he puts himself in danger, more so than necessary, to keep you safe…

You make him promise to always tell you when something he’s doing is dangerous

He doesn’t have to tell you how

Or why

You just want to know, and you deserve to know

The memory of him shutting you out for your own safety is so fresh in your mind

How cruel he had been thinking it would protect you in the long run

Even so, he swore he’d never do it again

And for the longest time he didn’t

Until… he did

All other times he’s the funny 707

Defender of Justice

But then on one certain day of him spending nearly fourteen hours at his computer, you begin to worry

When you finally head to where he sits as his desk (where he’s typing away) and gently move the headphones from his ear, he all but smacks his screen off

“MC, don’t do that! Classified information here, okay?”

You hold up your hands in defense, expecting him to smile and stand stretching only for him to do his thing where he pretends gravity has grown too strong for him and that he needs your support to remain upright

But he only stares at you expectantly

“Don’t you want to come find something to eat for dinner with me?”

“Uh… no, I need to stay here a bit longer. Eat without me.”

You don’t of course, you take him a plate of food and then leave him once more

He doesn’t come to bed that night

When he’s still on the computer in the morning, you brush it off

It’s probably just a major assignment that he needs to complete

You remember just how… demanding his old boss had been

But that evening, when he’s still at his computer and seems half asleep in the clothes he’s worn three days in a row, you intervene once more

This time when you touch his shoulder, snapping him out of a light sleep, he ends up knocking over a full glass of water you had left him

It spills all over his keyboard, and you immediately apologize and lean to help clean it up

“Fuck! Don’t touch anything, just- I told you this was classified, why do you keep bothering me? I need to get this done, and I know I’ve told you that you cant see this shit.”

A sudden cold wave of fear churns in your tummy

“Saeyoung, baby… are you safe? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fucking peachy.”

He shuts his monitor off, glaring at you until you take a step back

“You promised you would tell me about dangerous assignments, Saeyoung… I deserve to-”

“You don’t deserve anything. I don’t have to tell you anything, did you know I could be killed just for you knowing who I am? And then they’d fucking kill you too, so just- just get out of here.”

He’s cold, his face emotionless

You can’t seem to find your words, or your legs even

The last time you had seen a Saeyoung like this was back before you were together

And it felt like a thousand tiny pin pricks in your chest

“Saeyoung, I know that… but I trust you and I know we’re safe and-”

“You don��t know shit. You don’t know what trust is. Damn it, I should be working but now I have to clean up my keyboard and- why the hell are you still in here? I said get out.”

It hurts

He swore he would never treat you this way again

This time even seemed… worse

As if he wanted you gone completely

And if he was in that much danger over this assignment, if he was trying to protect you… then you’d protect him

You don’t bother going back to tell him that it’s over

It’s a horrible thing to do, but instead you write it in a letter that you tack to the bathroom door - he’ll have to make a trip there sooner or later

Saeyoung: I love you more than you’ll ever know, and if I cause you this much pain, if I put you in this much danger… then I’ll go like you asked. You did promise that you’d never shut me out again, so I trust that if you’re doing this it’s serious and that maybe we really should go separate ways if it’s for the best. Don’t worry about me, not that you would. I’ll get out of your hair. I’m so sorry for the trouble. Goodbye, Saeyoung. -MC

It’s numbing as you leave his bunker, blinking back tears as you catch a cab and head to the one person you could get a hold of, which so happens to be Zen

Zen makes you warm tea and hums to you softly as you sob out as much as you dare sharing

You don’t let Zen tell him where you are, and you ditch your phone just in case he (or someone else) tries tracking it

You don’t see the way he searches for you madly in all the places you’ve been together

Or the way he pleads Jumin to send out a search party only for Jumin to tell him that he knows where you are, that you are safe but wish for your location to remain hidden

Zen swears up and down you aren’t there as you hide in his wardrobe

You don’t see the way he curls up in the bed you shared and sobs brokenly into a forgotten sweater of yours

He breaks things

He pulls at his hair, his clothes, his skin

And he clutches onto the note you left him and begs for you to come back

V SPOILERS UNDER THESE LINES

V

You know how much he had loved her

Everyone had loved her

She seemed like she had been a very wonderful person before her mental illness had taken over her life

And in no way did it mean that she could be forgiven for all that she had done

She had hurt V

She hurt him in so many ways

And of course you didn’t expect to heal him in the ways she hurt him

You just wanted to give him all of the love he deserved 

He is so, so wonderful and deserves the world

You know he loves you too - you can see it in how he accepted vision repairing surgery so he could see you better and he wasn’t fully healed but he could see you and he thought you were beautiful, could feel it in the way he held you and kissed you, and could hear it in the way he spoke to you

But at times, it’s evident that he still holds on to who she once was

It’s only fair, they had been engaged

You are not jealous and you do not hold anything against him in the slightest

But one day, you find him knelt on the floor in his room, digging frantically through a box of photos

He’s desperate, photos strewn across the floor

“I can’t find it, where is it? It was in here!”

He’s always so calm and collected, it almost scares you to see him this way

Even so, you drop to the floor next to him

The box he holds is full of pictures of her

It was a box you didn’t even know existed

It hurts a little - not that he still has things involving her, but that he never showed you or told you about them

Even with the significance she had held in his life, she was a part of his life, a life that you were now in and loved so much

Of course you would want to know about the pictures and all they meant to him

“What are you looking for, Jihyun, maybe I can help?” 

You place a gentle hand on his arm, but he shakes you off

“No! Don’t touch them!”

“Jihyun…”

He scrambles to scoop all of the photos back up, shoving them into the box with shaking hands

You try to help, but in a haste to snatch a photo from your hand, the photo rips in two

And it just had to be a photo of the two of them together, now completely torn apart

“Oh no! We can tape it, I’m so sorry, we can fix it-”

He’s gone completely pale, his hands shaking as he takes the other half of the photo from you

His cloudy turquoise eyes well with tears, and he makes a choked sob sound

“Did you take it? Did you take her ring out of here? I’ll never have the old Rika back MC, why are you still so jealous of her? You ripped this on purpose and you took her ring, didn’t you?” 

His voice rises in volume until he’s shouting, his face livid

All you can do is gape at him

How could he even say that you were jealous?

You tried your hardest to let him still have pieces of her in his life, to talk about her with him even if he brushed it off, you knew that he didn’t love you any less

Or maybe he did…

If he would accuse you of such a thing, then maybe he loved Rika far more still than he would ever love you

You could handle a different love - you didn’t need loved as he had loved Rika

But you didn’t want to be loved less - you wanted a fresh love that both of you could share equally

And it didn’t seem that Jihyun was after the same thing

You stood shakily, feeling your throat and eyes burn

He was still glaring at you, still clutching his photos

“I am not jealous. You have never given me any reason to be jealous, and I don’t care that you still have her things. But if you’re going to accuse me like this, if you think I would take away things that make you happy and let you heal… then you don’t love me like you say you do. I hope you find her ring, and I hope it gives you the happiness that I can’t.” 

You can see as realization dawns on him, as he looks down at his hands and the photos

You’re already out of the house and headed for your own apartment - not her old apartment… before he can stop you

He knocks on your door endlessly - and he has a key, but he doesn’t dare abuse it

You can hear him crying, begging for you to open the door and talk to him

But you don’t

Instead, you remain curled up in your bed with a pillow that smells like him

You love him so fucking much

But if you can’t make him happy…

If it’s memories of Rika that make him happiest…

Then you’ll let him have them uninterrupted and without him feeling like he needs to give his love to you as well

EDIT I added in Unknown upon request so there’s spoilers under this! and maybe some trigger warnings? Like... PTSD and like yeah, if you know this boy’s history you understand

Saeran

He’s been through so much

And this boy has to be the strongest person you have ever seen

For the longest time he wouldn’t let you near him - and granted Saeyoung had a large part of that as well

But when he does, he is so. sweet

Talk about caring

His touches are never anything but feather light, always so gentle and careful

He tells you constantly how he never ever wants to hurt you, that he wants you to never let him even come close

He’s medicated, but accidents can happen and PTSD can really affect the mind

It’s not like he can just magically be cured by medication and support

But he is healing, and you’re so proud of him

And then one day, it all goes to shit

Saeyoung calls you to let you know that Saeran is having some sort of meltdown, that something had to have triggered him

You rush to him of course, and you find him in the kitchen tossing whatever he can get his hands on

Saeyoung is desperately trying to calm him down, and apparently thinks that if Saeran sees you he’ll come back to his senses

It definitely does not work that way

A plate is most certainly launched at you, hitting you in the forehead hard enough that you’re seeing stars

It shatters at your feet as you yelp in pain, but then the commotion just stops

Nothing else if thrown

Instead, there’s a quiet gasp

Saeyoung is trying to pull you from the room, but it’s too late

“MC...?”

“Saeran-” 

“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, you’re hurt- I hurt you, oh god-” 

You try to go to him, but he bolts, and you can hear a dry sob as he sprints from the room

Saeyoung won’t let you go after him

Rather, he takes you to the emergency room to get your head checked and you’re fucking fine damn it, Saeran needs me!

Saeran is evidently with Jumin, who is keeping him safe and watched after in the penthouse

But he doesn’t come home that night

Or the next day

You’re all but camping out at Saeyoung’s place, harassing him with questions over his brother, when finally Saeyoung hands you a piece of crudely torn paper

MC, fuck (and the fuck is scribbled out), I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to I swear but- I’m so fucked up, I can’t control it sometimes and what I did isn’t even slightly okay. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you again, and I’ll keep my promise this time, because never again will I be near you. I love you so fucking much but (it’s scribbled out as well, seemingly much more violently). We can’t do this. We shouldn’t have done it to begin with. I’m sorry. Goodbye.

Your chest is so tight, it’s hard to breathe

You aren’t aware that you’re sobbing until Saeyoung is helping you sit down and mumbling apologies

You can’t stand the thought of Saeran loathing himself so greatly

It wasn’t his fault

You want to fix it. You need to fix it, you can’t let the person you love the most hate themselves

But you don’t even know where to begin if he won’t let you back in

And it feels like when he left, he took your heart with him

WOW TWIST FOR THIS ONE Saeran breaks up with MC bless

EEEE RIP my heart. I hope this was angsty enough for you and somewhat what you wanted. So like… who wants a part two where they all make up BECAUSE MY POOR HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS HONESTLY angst is only okay if fluff happens in the end :((( 

But this was fun to write so thank you for the HC Request ;) I’m secretly a sucker for pain I’m kidding when I say angst has to have a happy ending. You all are the bomb! Don’t forget about our VALENTINES RFA WEEK I’m hype for it.-Mod Krys

#mystmessimhcs #mystmessimangst #mystmessimkrys #mystic messenger angst #mm angst #mystic mess angst #jumin han angst #yoosung angst #seven angst #saeyoung angst #jaehee angst #zen angst #v angst #jihyun angst #hyun angst #Yoosung Kim #jihyun kim #hyun ryu #Jaehee Kang #Jumin angst #Jumin Han #Saeyoung Choi #v mystic messenger #angst #mystic messenger #mm #mystic mess #mysmess #otome game #cheritz

[janiedean]

It really sucks how judgmental you and some people in this fandom are of anyone who doesn't interpret the text the same way as you or who you deem as intellectually inferior to you. I agree with so many of your ideas about the characters, but I hate how high and mighty you are about those ideas. Someone isn't an idiot if they interpret Jon or Cersei differently than you.

......

lmao

okay anon, thing is: one thing is being high and mighty, one thing is telling you that you’re not reading the text.

like. I read yesterday someone being like ‘omg I read someone dared saying C. abused people and murdered someone before puberty HOW STUPID CAN PEOPLE BE’. it’s textual evidence that a) she molested tyrion sexually and that’s even without taking account my opinion re lann*ncest, b) that SHE KILLED MELARA WHEN THEY WERE TWELVE THROWING THE POOR GIRL DOWN A WELL, which means that whoever said it cannot fucking read the text because it’s black on white that she did both those things and refusing to accept it is Not Reading The Text. that’s not even text interpretation, that’s basic textual reading.

now: never mind cersei who gets a pass for about every fucking shit she pulls because she’s a woman, and don’t tell me she doesn’t because if she got as much shit about robert’s fifteen bastards that she ordered dead without even blinking as theon got for two kids that he’s felt guilty about since it happened then we could discuss it but she doesn’t and that’s not even the beginning of it. now: do you see me tagging my opinions? like, honestly, if I think something shitty about cersei, do you see me tagging it? I didn’t even tag the one time I ranted about the valonqar prophecy with her, I only tagged it with the prophecy/meta/the two characters I thought were the v. and the younger and more beautiful queen, because in the middle I said that imo cersei only cares for herself and I know ppl on her tag aren’t into reading that opinion. so: I didn’t tag it. now: how many people came in my inbox informing me my opinion of c. sucked, was biased and so on never mind lann*ncest never mind actually harassing me for it? well, enough that I had to shut down anon to avoid feeling like shit for two days about it. so like, I’m so high and mighty that I keep my opinions about people I don’t like untagged even if I think that the other side can’t read. but okay.

now, about jonc: listen, fact is, there’s exactly ten people in this fandom that I know of who give a shit about jonc period and three of them are fanartists who show up once in a while. like. exactly TEN. I made peace with the fact that no one gives a fuck about jonc, I 100% embraced that if I want content I have to do it myself, fine, whatever. but what I’m really getting sick of is that every goddamned fucking time I see the jonc tag updating (as in, five times each month if it’s a good month), it’s someone informing us of how selfish, pathetic, useless and dumb he is FOR THINGS THAT ALL OF THEIR FAVORITE CHARACTERS ACTUALLY DO ALL THE TIME and for which fandom at large praises them. or something about how him being in love with R is the most horribly pathetic thing that’s happened to adwd, or how he’s an idiot because he apparently hasn’t understood that aegon is fake because his eyes aren’t the same color as R’s when not even dany’s or viserys’s are, but no one says they aren’t targs for THAT now, do they? and sorry but reading that this dude would treat either rhaenys or jon snow like shit when this is canon:

Last night he'd dreamt of Stoney Sept again. Alone, with sword in hand, he ran from house to house, smashing down doors, racing up stairs, leaping from roof to roof, as his ears rang to the sound of distant bells. Deep bronze booms and silver chiming pounded through his skull, a maddening cacophony of noise that grew ever louder until it seemed as if his head would explode. Seventeen years had come and gone since the Battle of the Bells, yet the sound of bells ringing still tied a knot in his guts. 

Others might claim that the realm was lost when Prince Rhaegar fell to Robert's warhammer on the Trident, but the Battle of the Trident would never have been fought if the griffin had only slain the stag there in Stoney Sept. The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince.

now: it’s there black on white that he feels guilty for BOTH elia’s and rhaenys’s death, it’s not interpretation, it’s what is fucking written in there same as you can’t interpret that ned’s head got cut or cat’s last thought before she died was about ned loving her hair. so excuse me but I’m tired of going into a character who’s in my goddamned top ten and have to always, always run into people assuming he’s a pathetic selfish asshole (and the one time I tried to argue that there’s no way he’s *selfish*, maybe all the contrary to a pathological degree, the answer was basically ‘lol cannot hear you’ and not even a reblog but nvm that) rather than actual content because any of those people who have a obvious hateboner for jonc can’t just fucking tag it with *anti* jon connington. no, they have to use the character name and it’s never *content*, it’s just this drivel over and over again. and since I don’t do it with characters I don’t like, I’d appreciate if I could have the same courtesy spared for this asshole.

that said, the situation is that *one* single person (that I blocked but that’s apparently not enough for tumblr to spare me from seeing them on the tag) has asked that question to multiple blogs which all agree on jonc being shitty which means that it has popped up on the tag a whole lot in the last month and like....... if you don’t like that character why do you care so much, IDEK, but wow, I wrote one post, that I tagged with the character only, saying that ppl don’t bother to read his chapters (btw, one of the people who replied that he’d have been shitty to both jon and rhaenys was someone I ended up blocking because they were on the tag like ‘lololol grayscale I’m sure elia is laughing from the afterlife’ and when I told them it wasn’t funny and if they could avoid tagging that stuff I got told to fuck off but fine I guess, that was me being holier than thou I suppose...) which is true because they don’t, they only base their reading of jonc on that ONE line about elia which is a) obv. proof he’s jealous, b) way less bad than anything cersei and barristan think about her just to say two but lmao I don’t see them getting dragged for it, but everything else? what? two full chapters? do they exist? tyrion’s chapers? never knew them.

like.

anon, tbqh at this point if you wanna think I’m holier than thou just think that because while I like to think I’m not, if there is one thing I know I’m good at is text analysis (okay, last time I said I got two degrees based on text analysis I got told ‘ah okay so if she studies she’s obv. bragging so she knows nothing’ by someone whose main theory was robb stark is the unsung villain of these books but lol I mean having studied this counts for nothing, right???) and it irks me that in a fandom based on books/text analysis I have to read **meta** which is obviously made by people who haven’t read the text and then when given a counterargument ignore it. but even with that, do you see me engaging with it? nah. I can 100% assure you none of the people I would like to see out of the jonc tag actually go on the jonc tag nor follow me, so they will never know that I think their opinion is shit unless they go looking for it. and this because I might have engaged with at least two of them on the topic once - and nicely, not *judgmentally* - and no one gave a shit or reconsidered their stance, so like, excuse me if once per month I write a post on my own blog venting about how imo a character I like gets a shit treatment.

and for the love of god, anon, sorry, glad you like my opinions, but the fact that you’re coming at me assuming I am judgmental when I come from a fucking month and a half of people literally harassing me on anon over my fucking triple-tagged opinions on c/ersei and lann/incest and ignoring anything I said about how uncomfortable it was making me just because I happened to, in the most generous explanation, WRITE A META WHERE I C/P-ED CANON QUOTES WHERE C. WAS AWFUL TO J. WHEN IT CAME TO HIS DISABILITY which GRRM wrote, certainly not *me*, and it happened to get reblogged by asoiafuni, is really, really rich.

like, I tagged that shit to hell and back so people who aren’t interested in jb wouldn’t find it, I made sure to warn every time, I even tag anti-c/antijc posts so they don’t show up on mobile search in case ppl don’t have the anti tag blacklisted because I’m THAT invested into making sure other people can blacklist if they feel like it, but I can’t fucking say on my blog that I think some people in this fandom pull their meta out of their asses and haven’t even read the chapters of the character they’re supposed to discuss? like... really?

also, I’ll tell you a secret: I don’t remember 90% of what happened in dany’s adwd chapters and I don’t remember about 60% of what happened in her got-asos chapters. zero. now: do you see me meta-ing about dany and/or discuss her arc if not in extremely broad terms unless asked? no, because while I don’t particularly like her, I also don’t think it’d be fair for me to meta about her BECAUSE IF I DON’T REMEMBER HER CHAPTERS THEN I’D BE PULLING OPINIONS OUT OF MY ASS, and I don’t go judging anyone’s opinion re dany beyond the basics because mine is that her chapters are so boring I can’t even remember them. at most I’ll discuss the show version and I can swear to you that even if I’m not a fan or anything I’m still more lenient with her than about 90% of people who aren’t fans, and since I don’t pull meta out of my ass for people whose chapters I haven’t read, I would be extremely grateful of the rest of this fandom paid jon connington the same damn bloody effort, especially when he has TWO of them and hating on him that way is like... why would you, just ignore his fucking existence and let us ten ppl into him have a decent tag.

btw, the ONE time I dared say on a post that wasn’t tagged to hell and back to avoid people finding it ‘it’s kind of hypocritical that people fight themselves over bi!CHARACTER headcanons *because asoiaf doesn’t have lgbt POV CHARACTERS* when they ignore jonc exist and he actually is an lgbt pov character so maybe it’d be nice if they cared about the rep’, I got someone like WELL HE ISN’T LGBT REP ENOUGH, and on the other side I’ve had people actually giving me shit for liking him/writing him content because I’m straight so how do I dare writing a gay dude, and like, idk, since I can’t like him in peace in that sense, can the universe allow me to at least not see bullshit on the tag or is that too much to ask?

and to end this rant: anon, not to be that person, but fyi I’m hardly the person who dictates how the wind flies in this fandom unless we count maybe theon/robb fandom as a ship, my opinions aren’t nearly as popular as opinions belonging to ppl who imvho don’t read these books and that’s fine, I don’t particularly care beyond cultivating my garden as voltaire used to say and see if anyone else wants to come and see the flowers and in case they’re more than free to take some, but like...... the idea that me expressing an opinion about the fact that people in this fandom don’t use the same standards when judging characters and some haven’t read the book or forgot it and assume they know anyway is somehow being high and mighty when I also don’t tag that shit 99% of the time (with jonc I do it just because I know no one but me and ten other ppl goes on that tag) when there’s people in this fandom who outright deny what’s written black on white and actually literally harass you on anon for it when I can 100% swear to you that the only times I’ve gone on anon in my entire life were for a) memes that required being on anon, b) sending people headcanon requests, c) sending people I ALREADY KNEW and who KNEW IT WAS ME personal things that I didn’t want ppl to attach to me because I don’t owe 100% of my life history to tumblr dot com and I always put my face to my opinions.

like, glad you like my opinions, but honestly, if you think this is me being judgmental, fair enough but maybe I’m also tired of having to read stuff that’s based on not having fucking read the book.

thank you.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #i mean IDK MAYBE SOME OF US ACTUALLY LIKE JONC BUT THAT'S LIKE TOO WILD TO ASSUME #idek #ch: jon connington #anti-cersei lannister #anti-cersei #anti-lannincest #anti-jaime x cersei #long post for ts #anyway jonc would <3333 any kid of r's thanks for coming to my ted talk bye #Anonymous #ask post

[crimsonpassion]

Sad introspection below the cut.

I really just don’t know what the point is anymore. I’ve got no reason to stay here (Murfreesboro, this country, this fucking life? I don’t know man.) I hate everything I am and everything I’m doing. My life is disgustingly meaningless and I have no way to fix anything. I’m worthless. Garbage. I don’t feel things like I used to. Things I used to enjoy are just muted and uninteresting. I can’t find anything else to care about. I want to do new things, but I can’t afford them with this stupid go nowhere job that, SURPRISE, I fucking decided to take, and even there I’m useless. I’ve tried to better myself, and failed at every attempt.

Every decision I’ve ever made has been one mistake after the other. I picked a useless-ass major in school. I didn’t take an internship. I didn’t make connections. I pushed her away. Every. Single. Decision. All failures that have lead me to this pathetic, monotonous hell. And it all comes down to the fact that I’m not good enough. I’ve never been good enough. Not good enough to stand out. Not good enough to learn new things. Not good enough to keep my first love. Not good enough to get the one person that cared about me more than anyone in this whole god-forsaken world back. 

Don’t get me wrong, I guess I’ve moved on or some shit, I don’t literally want to die every time I think about her. I genuinely hope she’s doing well, but who knows since I’m literally not worth talking to. And that’s not some bitter comment, it’s just the truth. Why would she talk to me? I’m completely replaceable and offered absolutely nothing worth holding on to. Honestly, what she saw in me I’ll never know. I’d love nothing more than to just talk. As friends. Like, be pals again or whatevs, but I know that won’t happen. Hell, if she ever says a single word to me again it’ll be a goddamn miracle. Fine. I just hope that whoever she’s undoubtedly found to move on with treats her well. 

And while we’re on that subject, I am absolutely gonna die alone. First because, as previously stated, I’m literal garbage with no redeeming qualities (I’m not smart, I’m not talented, I’m not good looking, I’ve got no prospects, no future, nothing to strive for) Secondly, since I just fell into relationships with friends while I was young, and they were so long lasting, I have no idea how to even find a partner. It’s not like I ever meet new people, my dating pool is literally less than zero. Finally, I’ve just completely ruined ever being in love with anyone ever again. I can’t imagine it. I’ve wrecked myself so badly that I just...broke that part of me. I can’t fix it. No one can. I don’t even know if I want it. I just miss the little things. Having someone to hold when things weren’t great. Having someone tell me they’re sorry that I had a bad day (and there have been A LOT of bad days since I fucked things up.)

I really don’t know why I stay alive. Some selfish need to cling to life I suppose. But really, I’ve just got nothing.

End pathetic rant.

#personal #venting or something #suicide mention #maybe?