The Curse of the Uncursed (Thranduil x Feanorian Reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue |

Summary: What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

AN: thank you everyone for your kind words for the last part of this fic. I enjoyed reading every single one of them after long hours of work. That being said, sorry for the delay but here is the last part of this series. I may work on some headcanons about the plot in the future but nothing is set right now. I hope you enjoy this.

Legolas feels the lands of his birth leave him as he watches the shores of Aman greet him. His kingdom, his father, his people, and their memories are all left on the nether shores. All but his friend, Gimli, who stands beside him.

Maybe someday, in some peaceful age, he would welcome his father to these shores. A lungful of grief and a heartful of joy fill him as he finds his grandfather, King Oropher, on the shores.

He embraces his grandfather in the way of men, a way taught by Aragorn. And his grandfather, although taken aback, hugs him back with equal vigor. None of them mention Thranduil. They cannot bring themselves to.

Legolas' eyes wander, looking for someone else. Someone he has never seen, someone he does not remember yet knows. His mother. He looks for you, whose name he has not heard once from his father's lips.

Yet, he knows that you have loved him more than life. And now that he stands on the shores of the land that you live on, Legolas does not see you in the crowd of people welcoming him.

"Her kind is not welcomed on these shores," Oropher speaks, noticing Legolas' wandering eyes. "Not after what they did ages ago."

Hot, seething rage fills Legolas at the hostility he sees in his grandfather's eyes. Was this what his mother faced while bearing him? Such hatred that she had no part in. "Her son is a part of the reason that Arda remains peaceful and the Dark Lord Sauron stays defeated," for the first time, Legolas lets pride and steel of wrath seep into his voice.

"And if these shores cannot welcome my mother, who has been forgiven by the Valar, then I see no reason to be here any longer," with these words, Legolas finds his feet walking away from his grandfather, who does nothing to stop him.

He is aware of Gimli calling for him, but he continues walking as his Dwarven friend complains about emotionally constipated elves. Everything feels too unfair. Why did his mother face such hostility when she did nothing wrong? How sad must she have been with how everyone treated her? And he…he wasn't there for her.

Guilt builds in his heart, and the streets of Alqualonde blur as tears cloud his eyes. He wants to leave so badly. He wants his mother. He wants to comfort her and take away her pain. He wants to reassure her and make her smile.

Legolas bumps into a figure, and a warm voice greets him. "And here I thought I would welcome my grandnephew with smiles," a voice he does not remember. A golden-haired and silver-eyed elf smiles at Legolas.

Atandil, or "Friend of Men," King of Nargothrond, Finrod, beams at Legolas.

"Yonya, your pacing would help little. I recommend you sit and wait. That Findarto is pretty good with his words. He would definitely charm your son into coming here," Celegorm comments, perched on a chaise as he observes you pacing around the room.

His own anxiety is well-hidden behind his cocky exterior. You turn to look at your father, "Do not talk like that about Uncle," you warm him. It had taken decades of your work to mend the broken ties between the Finweans. Your father and Uncle Finrod had been one of the toughest ones to work with.

Your heart races as you imagine your son somewhere on the shores of Aman. So close, yet so far. Only your respect for the Teleri holds you back from rushing to the shores that would bear your son's ship.

Your son, who played a big part in the destruction of the rings once forged by your cousin, Celebrimbor. "I will definitely brag about my grandson to that Curufin. Let him know the actual hero of Arda," you shake your head at your father's obnoxious words. You would have to make sure that he truly does not offend your uncle or Celebrimbor, who seems to be recovering well.

What would your son look like? You did not get to see him when you gave birth to him. You did not get to see him before your death. Only remnants of his movements in your belly remain in your memory.

As Celegorm's words linger in the air, your pacing slows, and you reluctantly settle into a nearby chair. The room is filled with a mix of anticipation and unease, and your mind drifts to the memories of your son, Legolas, whom you have never met in person. It has always been a painful void in your heart, knowing that you couldn't be there for him in his formative years.

Your thoughts turn to the events that shaped his life—the battles fought, the sacrifices made, and the role he played in the destruction of the rings. Pride swells within you, mingled with a bittersweet ache. Legolas, your son, is a beacon of hope in a world plagued by darkness. The knowledge of his accomplishments fills you with immense joy, but it also deepens the yearning to be with him, to hold him in your arms.

You gaze at your father, whose tongue always seems to wander freely, his remarks occasionally straying into offensive territory. The mending of broken ties within the family has required delicate care, and you have worked tirelessly to foster understanding and forgiveness. The last thing you want is for your father's words to undo the progress made.

"Ata, please," you implore gently, your voice tinged with a mixture of weariness and determination.

Your father sighs, his expression softening, "I will welcome my grandson and offer all that we have, but never, in this eternity, will I ever welcome his father," steel of hatred fills your father's jovial voice as he talks about your husband, Thranduil. "He who made you suffer, made you cry, made you pay for wrongs you had no part in, has no place in my heart," your heart shudders as you observe the wrath in your father's eyes.

"He held no mercy for you, not even when you bore his child, not even the decency to let you meet your son," Celegorm gets up from his seat, and his eyes brim with tears as he cups your face in his hands. "He made you suffer for my crimes. He made my daughter go through the worst of fates ever. I cannot forgive that. Not even in this blessed land."

Thranduil remains one subject that your father never switches his views on. Of all the repentance and grief, your husband is a thorn in your father's heart.

You do not speak anything on the topic of your husband. You cannot bring yourself to. Guilt, remorse, and regret make it hard to do so.

As Legolas steps through the magnificent halls of Tirion, his heart beats louder than ever. He cannot bring himself to be awed by the glamour of the city or its palace. All he can do is steel his mind to keep up with his granduncle Finrod's steps.

Yearning greater than the depth of the ocean, the endurance of a mountain, or the vastness of the entire sky seems to fill his every pore.

Anticipation, fear, and joy all crowd his heart. The mother who loved him greater than life,

would she love him still? Would she be pleased to see him as he would be to her? Would she let him be a part of her grief and allow him to share his?

With all these questions plaguing his mind, Legolas finds himself rooted in the spot as he watches Finrod push open the doors that separate his mother and him. Mere wooden doors that seem to be most potent at that moment.

A curtain of long silvery hair and sparkling green eyes, like the beginnings of the spring that Mirkwood was once known for, greets Legolas. You… his mother…

He does not hear the background voices of Finrod or others. Nothing matters in that moment. Legolas feels whole for the first time in his life.

He watches as you rush towards him, your steps hurried, and when in the haste of your movement your feet falter, Legolas finds himself supporting you, catching your arms and holding you.

"Yondo," after a separation so long, Legolas cannot will himself to stop his tears at the first mention of an address from his mother. He does not stop you when, with trembling hands, you cup his face and kiss the top of his head.

Maybe not all the wrongs in the world can be undone, maybe Arda truly can never be unmarred, but it remains beautiful nevertheless. And Legolas believes it to be true at this moment.

Feanor's heart weeps. He has yearned, raged, and lamented for many, but never has a sorrow been so potent as the hurt of his grandchildren.

Since he first caught a glimpse of Celegorm's child from the solitary halls of Mandos, he cannot help but feel endeared towards you, who resemble his mother so much.

Maybe, in those long years, it was your well-being that kept Feanor looking out for the nis growing up in the lands of the Sindar.

Your grief, your joy, your love, all feel too personal to Feanor. Closer than the Silmaril or the pains of his own children. But that means that Feanor witnessed your fall. With an irony stronger than ever, your fate is similar to Miriel's.

Feanor's soul burns with the hatred of a thousand suns for the Sinda who abandoned his granddaughter, who left you alone and cold, yearning for your son. In those moments of despair, even the confines of Mandos's halls tremble at his rage.

This restlessness only grows until he meets you. You, who, even in the grief of your own death, came to console him. In those moments, Feanor's soul cannot help but mellow down at your gentle urging.

So, Feanor spends ages in the desolate halls of Mandos, looking over his family that resides in the blessed realm. And his great-grandson, who fights against the Lieutenant of Morgoth.

The lands of once Greenwood the Great now lie overrun by wild vines and overpowering fauna. A forest that was once a kingdom now speaks only of ruins. The elves who once resided there have long left for the shores of Aman.

Only one remains. A fallen king who wears no crown. A king who does not sit on a throne. Instead, he spends ages trapped in a room. No lock, no shackles bind him, but he remains seated by a window.

A window that witnesses changing seasons and the paths of the sun and moon.

The one called Thranduil awaits his redemption or any form of forgiveness. He does so now that he remains free of his role as the king to his people or a father to his son. For now, he remains Thranduil, who once wedded you and Thranduil who once loved you more than his soul.

In those moments of solitude, Thranduil allows himself to read every single one of your letters from long ago. Long ago, when you waited for him in the same room. He grieves as he reads. He allows himself to mourn for the loss of his love, you, your marriage, and his very self.

Maybe the age of elves is over, but Thranduil's repentance stretches long into the eternity of Arda.

'cause you loved her too much // never to touch and never to keep part two

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Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader

A/N: No one wanted it, but I still wrote it so here you go: Part 2 to my last Kaz fic, because I wanted to write some Hurt/Comfort and not let this end like my Glimpse of Us fic again.

You can find part one here!

Summary: Inej and Jesper are sick of Kaz acting like he doesn't care about the reader leaving, so they take matters into their own hands.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Feelings and an emotionally constipated Kaz Brekker

It wasn't unusual for the streets of Os Kervo to be crowded, but Sundays were always the worst. Merchants were yelling and praising their goods, while the masses of people ran their weekly errands. However, even with the constant chattering and noise, it still felt way more peaceful than anything you had ever experienced in Ketterdam.

This didn't stop you from missing your old home - your old friends. It had been almost two years since the last time you had set foot into the town that you once held so dear to your heart. You missed getting drinks with Jesper after a successful - or less successful - job. You missed Inej appearing out of nowhere just to say make you aware of her presence. You missed listening to Matthias ramble about whatever bothered him about Kaz today. You missed helping Wylan with his new projects, which would eventually end in disaster most of the time. You missed baking waffles with Nina, even though the kitchen always looked like a complete mess afterwards. And Saints be damned, you even missed Kaz.

But going back now wasn't an option. They wouldn't want you after disappearing without giving them the courtesy to leave a note. You couldn't even be sure whether Kaz had told them about what happened, so for all they knew, you just abandoned them for no apparent reason. But most importantly, Kaz didn't need you. He said it himself. So why should you even bother coming back?

The thoughts still clouded your mind as you unlocked the old creaky door to your parents’ house, struggling a bit to keep the contents inside your baskets from falling onto the floor. Immediately upon entering, the welcoming scent of freshly made tea and biscuits invaded your nose. You paused for a moment. It wasn’t even late noon? Your parents didn’t serve tea until the late afternoon. This did strike you as odd.

“Ma! Da! I’m back!” You called upstairs, setting the baskets down on the kitchen counter and shrugging off the thick woollen coat Nina had gifted you for your birthday a few years ago.

“Thank you, dear! Leave the shopping on the table, we’ll deal with it.” Your mother called from the top of the staircase, leading up to the cosy living room area that always painfully reminded you of the one at the Slat. “You should come upstairs, there’s someone here for you!” Someone was here to see you? You dreaded the thought of who it might be. Since coming back to Ravka, your parents were keen on setting you up with some of your former classmates, most of which you didn’t even recognize at first glance.

When you trudged up the stairs, suspicion and apprehension written all over your face, you were met with a sight you didn’t expect. Two people happily lounged on the couch opposite your parents. But they weren’t the people you had anticipated.

“They arrived at our door just minutes after you left. They said they are your friends?” Your father explained, drinking the last sip of his tea, whilst giving you a warm smile.

“You should have told us that you expected friends to visit! I barely had any biscuits left.”

“Oh, it’s fine Mrs Y/L/N. She couldn’t have known. It was more of a surprise trip. We apologize if we have caused any inconvenience.” The girl completely clad in black reassured, giving you an apologetic glance.

“It’s fine, don’t you worry, dear. I think we should leave you three alone now. You might want to catch up.” With that, your parents stood up and left the room, allowing you to take in the scene in front of you properly.

Before you could say anything, you were pulled into a tight hug that almost managed to cut off your air supply. Jesper had his arms wrapped around you firmly, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate his gesture. His clothes still smelled of gunpowder, whiskey and smoke, but you didn’t mind. You missed this.

After you finally pried yourself out of Jesper’s embrace, Inej was quick to do the same. She didn’t hug you as tightly, but you were just glad that she apparently didn’t hate you for leaving without any notice. Neither of them seemed to, for that matter.

“What are you doing here? No, wait, how did you find me?” You sputtered after sitting down, letting the realization settle in gradually. They were here. In your childhood home. Without you ever telling them where you lived. Something had to have happened.

“You used to send monthly letters to your parents.” Inej began, and you could already suspect where this was going. “We stole the archived postal protocols and figured out where your letters went. And now we’re here.”

“She did that.” Jesper corrected, earning an eye roll from the girl sitting next to him. “I had nothing to do with the actual illegal part.” As if that would matter, you chuckled in thought.

“Saints, Kaz has been a terrible influence on you.” You sighed, giving them a tired smile. You had missed them so much that them being here just seemed like the beginning of a joke leading up to a cruel punchline. “But seriously, what exactly are you doing here? You could have also just written me a letter.”

“We wanted to see if you’re ok-.” Inej started, only to be hastily cut off by Jesper.

“Kaz is driving us insane, and we need you.” He looked at her with a sorry look on his face, quickly trying to divert your attention off of what he just said. “We also missed you terribly and are mainly here to see whether you’re still alive, of course.”

“This feels way less sincere after knowing that you’re only here to get my help because Kaz is annoying you.” You retorted sarcastically, watching as they exchanged an uncomfortable glance with each other. As much as you wanted to make a joke out of the whole situation, it was painfully obvious that they had come here with an ulterior motive.

“Y/N, please, I know you really don’t want to hear this, but we need you.” She paused for a brief moment, cautiously observing your expression. “And you probably want to hear this even less, but Kaz needs you too.” You couldn’t help but let out a huffed breath. You wanted to believe this. You really did. But hope was a dangerous thing to hold onto.

“I think he made it pretty clear that he doesn’t.”

“Y/N,” Jesper started with an exhausted look on his face. “He told us what happened, and we don’t expect you to forgive him. But he does need you. We haven’t been on a proper job in forever, because he can’t focus on what he’s doing. He’s a mess! And we’re talking about Kaz Brekker here, so if he’s that much of a mess that we're starting to get concerned that has to mean something. He doesn’t even come down to the club with us anymore. He only sits in his office and sulks. We can’t go on like this anymore.”

“He misses you. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he regrets letting you go. We all know it.”

“What does he miss exactly? My contribution to the team? Me bringing him coffee? Or me keeping him company? All of these things can be done by someone else, Inej. He doesn’t miss me. He misses the things I did for him, not me. I’m tired of trying to get his attention, while he only sees me as some sort of accessory.”

“But he doesn’t want someone else. Even before you left, do you think that he would’ve tolerated anyone else in his office? He just doesn’t know how to express it.” Inej urged, putting a comforting hand on your thigh in an attempt to calm you down.

“Which is not surprising, at all. Kaz Brekker is the definition of emotionally constipated.” Jesper groaned, yelping over dramatically as Inej gave him a smack on the biceps.

“You have feelings for him.” You wanted to deny it, but she stopped you with a quick hand gesture. “And he wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but his feelings aren’t mainly platonic either.”

“I’d love to believe that, but I’m not sure if I can do that yet. I think I need a bit more time.” Jesper looked slightly defeated by your verdict, but Inej seemed to be a bit more hopeful.

“We can’t and won’t force you to do anything, Y/N. You have every right to be hesitant to see him again. All that I’m asking of you is, that you think about coming back to the Slat. That doesn’t have to happen now. You don’t have to come with us. But I think it would do both of you some good.”

“I won’t promise anything, but I’ll think about it.” You nodded slowly, smiling softly when you noticed Jesper’s victorious expression. “I have one question though. Does he know that you’re here?”

“Well…”

He did, in fact, not know that they were in Ravka, nevertheless that they were off to see you. He actually didn’t even know that they were gone. This did convince you that it was better for you to join them. At least they would have some sort of explanation for their two-week absence. Whether Kaz liked that reason, or not.

“Inej! Jesper! Thank the Saints that you’re back!” Nina called out happily as she saw the two carry themselves up the stairs. “Kaz has been giving us hell since you’ve been gon-” She wanted to continue talking, but upon seeing you enter the living room area, she couldn’t help the squeal of joy that left her mouth. “Y/N!” She stood up from her seat next to Matthias, hurrying over to embrace you. Wylan joined in on the hug, noticeably relieved to see you again. Everything felt right at that moment. Even though the worst was yet to come.

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, once he figures out that you’re back,” Wylan added anxiously before turning around to greet his boyfriend.

“Damn right you will.” Kaz’s voice sent chills through everyone’s bones. He was leaning against the door frame next to the staircase, visibly pissed. From where he was standing, he didn’t seem to be able to notice you, and maybe it was better that way. These weren’t necessarily what you would call good starting conditions. “Where have you been?”

“Ravka,” Inej answered truthfully, taking a step back towards the other entrance.

“What possessed you to disappear to Ravka for two weeks?” It was almost frightening how calm his voice sounded, whilst everyone in the room could see the anger simmering behind his poised demeanour.

“Aren’t they allowed to visit an old friend in a while?” You stepped a bit forward, just to make sure that he would now actually be able to see you. And when he did, his face dropped in an instant. He had expected everything. Everything but this. He had tried to tell himself that he had made his peace with you being gone. He never did, of course, but having you stand right in front of him again made him bitterly aware of how little he had actually processed.

“Kaz, we-” Jesper tried to defend himself, but before he could even finish that sentence, the man in question left for his office.

“He seems a little…tense.” Jesper joked, causing Wylan to give him a really passable imitation of Kaz’s death glare.

“It’s fine, I’ll go after him.” You groaned, not letting your friends get another word in before following him up the stairs. For a man relying that heavily on a cane, Kaz was surprisingly fast when he needed to be, so he shut the door to his office before you were even half-up the stairs.

At this point, you knew that it was futile to knock or announce your presence, and the adrenaline rushing through your veins didn’t grant you the decision of thinking this through.

“I didn’t say you could come in.” He said firmly as you pushed the door open. It didn’t surprise you that he was already busying himself with another heist plan.

“That’s because I didn’t ask.”

“Why did you come back?” His eyes shot up to meet yours, and for a split second, you thought that you saw something akin to hurt flash over his face. He really was miserable. “I suppose you were doing just fine wherever you spent the last two years.”

“One of us had to.” You retorted sarcastically, letting your eyes roam around his office a bit. Kaz had a very particular sense of organization, but even with that, he wouldn’t normally have allowed this kind of mess to build up in his room. His desk was completely cluttered, discarded plans, notes and more unreadable files were occupying most of the space he was so fixated on keeping clean before you left. What caught you even more off-guard was the book that laid on top of the side table next to the couch you used to spend your days on. It was the book you started reading before your fight two years ago - the page where you stopped reading was marked with a crumpled piece of paper, that you did not put there.

“What do you want from me?” What did you want from him? An apology? An explanation? You weren’t sure, but you wanted something.

“I don’t know, Kaz.” You sighed, letting yourself fall into the padded seat across from him. His eyes never left you as you crossed the room. “I really don’t know what I expected from coming here, but I want something. Whatever you can give me, as long as it’s constructive.”

He stared back at you without saying a word. A thousand thoughts seemed to rush through his mind as he was trying to process your words. He had imagined that you would’ve never wanted to see him again. That you would have despised every chance of any future interactions. But you were here. He had another choice. Or at least he could try to work towards getting another one.

“If you don’t want this, it’s fine. I just don’t want to be the person responsible for the Slat burning down at some point.”

“No, stay.” He answered a bit too quickly, but the words were already leaving his mouth, so he didn’t see any point in stifling them. “The others need you.” His Adam’s apple bopped as he collected every piece of courage he could find. “I need you.”

You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows at his last comment, causing him to cringe ever so slightly. This was not that you had expected to hear so soon into the conversation - or ever, for that matter.

“I thought you didn’t need me?”

“So did I.” One of his bare hands flexed around the body of his fountain pen as he spoke, while his eyes were fixed on anything but your own. It was an odd thought, but you had never seen Kaz Brekker act this nervous. “I don’t particularly enjoy people pitying me. Not even you. It drove me mad that you, out of all people, felt the need to look at me like I was some bird with a broken wing in need of fixing.”

“Kaz, have you ever considered that I don’t pity you? I do hate watching you struggle. But that’s not because I look down on you or see you as someone weak.” At this point, you were glad that Nina wasn’t around. If she had any idea how fast your heart was beating right now, she would have never let you live this down. “Maybe it’s because I genuinely care about you?”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why do I care about you?” Saints, you knew that Kaz had a wild array of issues, but him having self-image issues seemed to be so incredibly unrealistic, that it was almost comical. “It’s incredibly sad that you feel you have to ask that, Kaz.”

“I don’t necessarily give people that much of a chance to care about me.”

“You may have not realized it, but you have given me more than enough chances to care about you. You’re far from being an earnest righteous man, but you’re just as far away from being an awful one. Do you really think that I would have stayed in your office for hours on end if I hadn’t enjoyed your company? I never knew whether you felt the same, but I didn’t feel like asking would have been fruitful.” You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen Kaz Brekker - the Bastard of the Barrel - look this confused. He looked as if someone had just told him that Matthias grew a pair of wings and flew out of the Slat.

“Your presence overwhelms me, but I grew sick of your absence just as much.” He closed his eyes, savouring the words that just rolled off his tongue without him even having to think about it.

“And what does that make us?” You leaned forward, just enough to be slightly bent over his desk. You knew that he was probably able to feel your faint breath on his skin by now. You knew that your hands were only a few inches away from his exposed ones. You knew that this was already testing the waters. But you also knew that you wanted - needed closure.

“It’s most likely to make both of us fools.”

“And would that be too bad? Being fools together?”

“Only if that is what you would also want.”

“Also? So this is what you want?” You inquired, feeling the corners of your mouth quirk up a bit.

“It doesn’t sound like the worst possible thing to happen.” The faint ghost of a smile flew over his face and for a moment you couldn’t even imagine how you managed to survive the last two years without him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He mirrored your current position, torso slightly bent over his desk, one hand only a few inches away from yours. And much to your shock, he reached out to take yours. His bare hand was on yours. Without talking about it first how you practised with him before you left. The touch only lasted mere seconds before he gave you a gentle squeeze, and pulled away again.

“Does that mean that you’re staying?” He asked, watching a wide grin form on your lips.

“It doesn’t sound like the worst possible thing to do.”

“Do you think they are alright?” Wylan inquired quizzically as he stared up at the ceiling that separated the living room area from Kaz’s office.

“Emotionally or physically?” Jesper snorted, however, also having quite an unnerved look on his face.

“Have they ever been alright emotionally?” Matthias groaned, completely done with all the tension that had built up over the last few hours.

“The fact that they haven’t yelled at each other at all since they’ve been up there makes me a bit uncomfortable,” Nina added, fiddling with the binds of her dress nervously.

“At least that also means that they haven’t killed each other yet, so I’ll take that as a win,” Inej murmured, earning amused glances from the other Crows.

“Wait, guys! I think I can hear somebody coming down the stairs!” Jesper whisper-screamed as he heard the wooden stairs creak underneath the impact of feet coming downstairs.

“I can’t believe that I left you alone for two years.” You chuckled, carrying a stack of old heist plans as you entered the room. Kaz wasn’t far behind you, trying his best to stifle an honest smile. “How did you even manage to survive without me? These plans are over one year old! Why didn’t you throw them away?”

“What if I’d ever come to need them again?” Kaz argued playfully.

“What if I throw this pile of useless paper down the stairs with you following right after it?”

“Good argument.” Both of you crossed the room quickly, barely acknowledging the other Crows that had basically been buzzing with anticipation.

“Are they, like, friends again?” Wylan whispered after your footsteps disappeared again.

“I think they have just become something way worse than that. At least for my mental stability.” Matthias let his head fall back in defeat.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Kaz Brekker: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @juneberrie @writingmysanity @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @brekkers-desigirl @fall-writes

just running with more gentle/la brava and bkdk parallels

I’m not bringing anything novel to this space - I just want to rant about bkdk because they’ve had me in a chokehold ever since August 2021 when Katsuki apologized in the manga.

This panel really makes me think of how Izuku is such a fanboy and was Katsuki’s true first fan - and Katsuki knows it too!! He eats it up whenever Izuku has his eyes on him. Just like how La Brava really motivated Gentle with her adoration and respect, Izuku constantly motivates Katsuki. 

However, Gentle responded to La Brava immediately by being touched and moved. With Katsuki, he’s so emotionally constipated that even though he likes and wants Izuku’s attention, he can’t get over how simp worthy that is of him so he just yells and tells Izuku to go away like a true tsun. 

This is pre-apology. Like... look at how Katsuki already has a huge frown on his face from Izuku just making a small comment. He KNEW Izuku would notice him, and Izuku is just all up in his business that Katsuki can’t contain all the emotions bubbling up. People called it anger issues at the time, but every one should know now that anger or aggression can be a coping mechanism and a farce to hide many things. It’s too many things coming up at once that are too hard to process so why not just bite a speech bubble yah. He’s ridiculous, and it’s so childish and funny. 

Post apology. Even though Sato is being used to mock what others may say about Katsuki’s character development, it begs to be asked - why ARE you still so aggressive Katsuki even after airing out some deep issues between you and Izuku? Is there perhaps more to say? More you’re hiding? More you’re scared about revealing? Of course there is. Izuku still doesn’t know how much Katsuki cares - how much Katsuki has been chasing Izuku his whole life too. He may also just be super embarrassed and shy about Izuku being so happy that they’re talking more. THAT BEING SAID. Look at our boy Izuku just taking this new development between them and just absolutely RUNNING with it. He is not afraid to show off their new closeness and almost seems like he’s flaunting it? He’s on cloud 9 and it makes Katsuki want to absolutely blow that grin off his face. 

I just find it so interesting that Horikoshi made Gentle and La Brava seemingly come out of nowhere with such an elaborate romantic plot line. They could have just been partners in crime or best friends or anything else platonic. I think he just really wants to hone in the fact that love for a special person can make one capable of incredible things. Heroes can be motivated by helping/saving the world for sure, but these personal stories, feelings, and care for those beloved to them are what truly keep them fighting tooth and nail. 

And finally... just to satisfy my delusions... what if bkdk has something similar to this panel as a climax to their feelings reaching each other. I would be so so so so FLOORED. I can even see Izuku saying exactly this to Katsuki in the OFA realm. It can be interpreted in a romantic way or not between bkdk, but honestly, it’s already canon that they are each other’s person. They may not say “I love you”, but that’s pretty damn close. Horikoshi, I’m keeping my expectations high, and it’s all. your. fault.

PS. thank you to whoever made this below - you’re great.

Yijun Bai

Author's Note: this is 1 of 3 mcs, I'll link the others when they're posted.

Credits: This is a mc for the interactive fiction game-thingy Infamous. Find it here @infamous-if

Preferred Name: Yijun Bai

Alias: Juniper

Gender + Pronouns: man + he/him ("I know I look feminine, you don't need to tell me")

Singing/Voice Claim, if any: Cowboy Malfoy for his singing voice and his speaking voice lol

Age: 26

More About Him: Yijun Bai and Juniper are like two completely different people. Juniper is Yijun's stage name/act, as such he acts very different. The change is so stark it's often jarring to strangers, acquaintances and even friends.

Juniper is portrayed as a flirty drunken fool. He acts drunk or tipsy even when it's been days since his last drink. He flirts with everyone; fans, interviewers, other bands(👀). He often seems clueless as to what happens around him and acts overly laid back. Contrasting Yijun's usual punk-grunge clothing Juniper wears loose, flowy shirts and pants in various shades of wine red, purple and black. He has a sense of careless laziness that clouds everything he does.

Yijun himself is serious and has a no-nonsense attitude. He seems to despise the stage act he's made, but can't seem to shake it no matter how hard he tries. He has a 'devil make care' attitude and does mostly whatever he wants. He's loyal to a fault, and once you make it into his inner circle it's hard for him to hate you. Yijun is willing to do anything for his friends. He tends to be very calculated and aggressively blunt.

Two things that don't change between 'personas' is his general non-conformity and his love of nature. He strives to stand out in as many ways as possible; the blatant promiscuity and generally flowy-ness of his stage act and his normally aggressively in-your-face view points about the world are the first examples that come to mind. And his love of nature. He does everything he can to lessen his effect on his environment and cares a great deal about the wilderness. He hikes when he has the time and is known to go camping regularly. He's stated that sometime after he retires he wants to live in a cabin in the woods, away from people and engrossed with the forest around him.

Fun Facts:

His Pinterest here.

His(and the others because I'm ✨uncreative✨) band is called The Cult of Dionysus, specifically so he can call his fans Dionysians since he thought that was cool as fuck. Does NOT promote any of the shenanigans that actually went on and is willing to publicly denounce someone if they try something. ("Guys, don't try to replicate anything the actual fucking cult did. For the love of fuck, do not. That's a warning.")

He's fairly superstitious, thanks to his family also being superstitious.

He has a routine he tries to follow closely and if it gets messed up somehow it ruins the rest of his day.

He tends to suppress his emotions and gets frustrated when he does end up feeling them. This also makes him kind of oblivious to some things and a little insensitive, but he's quick to apologize. He's emotionally constipated, please bare with him. ("I'm sorry I said something hurtful to you, I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I don't have a excuse, but I truly am sorry.")

He wants to be covered in tattoos and is getting there slowly but surely. If you ask about them, he'll explain why he got them and what they mean.

Yijun is not close to his family; they're very traditional and conservative people while he's the exact opposite. ("My family? You don't need to know about them")

He likes photography and specifically favors those polaroid cameras. He'd like to have a photo wall, but hasn't settled in a place long enough to build one up.

Yijun doesn't like interacting with his fans, not because he doesn't like them but because he's scared he'd say something wrong and hurt or offend them. Will happily give hugs and pose for pictures if asked.

While Lani wants a PO Box, I feel Yijun would actually have a PO Box and treasure each and every little thing sent to him. You could send him a rock and he'd be 🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰

You know the way parents embarrass their kids by constantly bragging about them? Yijun does that with his fans lol

He's a fucking tsundere lol would absolutely accidentally say some variation of 'it's not like I like you or anything!' lmao

Yijun is one of my regular ocs and has his own story. His 'pre-made' backstory is that he met Lani when he was like 8. In high school he met Storm, and shortly after started a band. In said band he's the lead singer and drummer, among other things.

"I'll stick with you from now on, so you better not fuck this up."

Fellswap Skeleton Brothers

Aster (FS Sans)

- Age: 26

- Height: 5 ft

- Tail Length: Pass his knees

- Voice Headcanon: Kristoff in Frozen

- Personality: Kind, pretty stubborn, selfless, wears his heart on his sleeve, focused but sometimes oblivious and absent minded, carefree, soft

- Love language: Acts of service and physical touch

- Strongest magic is green magic. He’s also pretty capable of defending himself

- Formerly a sentry of the Royal Guard, but became a bodyguard/medic at NTT Tower

- Always helping out others, even those who intend to hurt him

- Mostly sees the good in others unless they really are just terrible people

- Really wants to repair his relationship with Cyrus but isn’t sure where to even begin

- Loves animals and reading. His favorite genres are sci-fi and fantasy

- A big hopeless romantic. Yes he also loves those cheesy rom-coms

- Has a Chow chow named Pluto, a snake named Monty, an axolotl named Happy, and a ferret named Saturn. No he doesn’t have separate pet blogs of them. He posts pictures of them on his own blog

- He currently works as a veterinarian

- Aster doesn’t blame Cyrus for how he got his scar. He only worries how Cyrus is doing and is upset that Cyrus pushed him away

- He is currently learning how to cook. His favorite thing to make are cupcakes and decorating them

- Aster can and will pull you into a movie/tv show marathon of anything

- Arguably has the best puppy eyes

- Despite being the best in green magic, Aster is also good with blue and yellow magic.

- Remembers a bit of his older brother Locke and is kind of looking for him right now

- He loves to dance, swimming, boxing, and horseback riding

- Loves greasy food and smoothies. Hates sour food and whatever terrible food combination Cyrus comes up with

- Listens to anything but he loves listening to 80s and 90s music

Cyrus (FS Papyrus)

- Age: 22

- Height: 6’9” ft

- Tail Length: To his ankles

- Voice Headcanon: Cloud from Final Fantasy VII Remake

- Personality: Serious, cool and collected, thoughtful, cynical, a bit sarcastic, quiet, smart… but still an idiot, calculative, protective

- Love language: Physical touch and acts of service

- Lieutenant of the Royal Guard (in charge of Snowdin) and Judge of the underground. Actually hates both of his jobs

- Severely touch starved and emotionally constipated

- Loves flowers and plants. He’s also into flower language

- His taste in food is horrendous. Do not make him in charge of cooking or he’ll come up with a new abomination

- Sometimes when he has trouble sleeping, he reads himself to sleep

- He currently works as a bartender and a musician. Plays both bass and guitar

- Has a York Chocolate cat named Calli

- Got into an accident at the CORE that left him in a month long coma. Plagued by nightmares since then. He assumes that something terrible happened to him specifically during the accident due to the increase in his LV

- Pushed a lot of people away after accident. Has developed a bad habit of pushing others away when they get too close

- Has killed in defense and for his job. He regrets it each time

- His reputation is mixed. Most people called him “Bane” and “Mutt” (he hates both nicknames). He made himself a patch for his jacket. The patch has his own logo that is a wolf’s bane flower with cross bones behind it.

- Loves mint and gum. He’s always found chewing some NTT spearmint gum.

- Doesn’t have any memory of his older brother, Locke

- He loves running, swimming, and boxing. He also loves reading and playing guitar.

- His green magic is considerably weak, but he will push himself to his limits to use it. Otherwise, he’s one of the strongest Papyruses.

- Somehow can sleep anywhere in the strangest positions

- Has a really good sense of hearing

- Listens mostly to rock, EDM, and rap

wait a minute, is MALACHI 'MAL' BIELER still in town? i thought i saw a flash of a busted lip and bruised knuckles, patched up pants, mud stained footprints on a clean tile! last i heard they were working as a GAS STATION ATTENDANT nearby. when it’s the cancer’s birthday on 7/10/1994. i forget that they’re HOTHEADED and celebrate that they’re PROTECTIVE. i hear CAN’T WAIT TO BE DEAD by FINNEAS every time i think of them. ⌠ angus cloud. 27, bisexual, cis male, he/him.⌡

A B O U T

⫸        born in a nearby town. something small just like centralia, just without the fire and the smoke. but the vibes all around just as... liminal.

⫸        he was born to an addict- to be fair, to this day he is not sure why or how he made it past three years old alive, but he believes it’s got to do with a mission to take care of his two younger siblings since his mother is clearly not fully capable of it.

⫸        he didn’t have a good childhood. he spent his early years learning how to survive - very matilda style - he learned how to make himself pancakes and makes mean mac and cheese from scratch.

⫸        he doesn’t remember his father. he’s seen him probably three times in his life, but he doesn’t own a photo just a check he tried to deposit at the bank when he was seven, but it bounced back and kept it. his name is nicholas bieler. that’s all he knows.

⫸        all his siblings have different fathers. none of them present any longer than a few months, and never actually showed their face again.

⫸        his mother has been in and out of jail and rehab too many times to count. at some point, the system tried to get them into foster care, which is how their uncle comes into their lives, and how they end up in centralia.

⫸        he was not the richest man, but he was the closest family member they all had. it was better than ending up in different foster homes, so they moved to his home in centralia, and were forced to work at his gas station for money.

⫸        because of survival, mal isn’t exactly well prepared academically. he finished school a few years later, since he had to work extra shifts to make sure his siblings had something decent to eat and has had his run ins with the cops here and there for theft and drug possession.

⫸        he wishes he was better so he could have enough money to take his siblings away, but the youngest is only eleven years old, and he cannot fight for his custody, so he’s still in centralia, working at the same old gas station.

M I S C E L A N E O U S

⫸        he has very big Lip from Shameless vibes. i did not plan for it to be this way, but oh well.

⫸        he doesn’t do a lot of talking. he keeps to himself a lot, and if he is disturbed it is 99% likely he will try to fix it with his fists, which are usually bruised. if not because of a fight, because of training boxing in his uncle’s garage.

⫸        he doesn’t have a lot of patience for anything at all. if he has something to say, he’ll find the shortest way to say it.

⫸        he can always be found taking five from his job for a smoke or a blunt.

⫸        lots of tattoos. most of them hidden under his hair, under his clothes, in his hands- it’s like a treasure hunt.

⫸        he is... very emo. even if he’s emotionally constipated. he feels a lot of feelings and doesn’t know what to do with those. catch him crying in a dark corner, then pretending he’s going through allergies.

⫸        if he’s your friend, he will dress up as a clown, do a headstand, and juggle all at the same time to keep you happy. would stand before a bullet or any knife for his people.

⫸        you could call him dominic toretto because of how much he loves family and the word family. absolutely values chosen family over blood, but his siblings come first.

@liminalintro​

Forget Me Not

@hogwartsmystory and I co-wrote a short story involving Jaxson (Ethren’s brother) and Konnor a few years after the Order. Hal Greywind belongs to @one-very-angry-hufflepunk and Idmon Malin belongs to @zuulosdovah ------

The pitter of rain bounced off the roof of the colonial farmhouse and dripped down every window. It had rained from first daylight to evening, turning the grounds outside to muddy puddles, while animals sought shelter in barns and enclosures sparsely populated throughout the owned land. 

Inside, the dim glow of a single living room lamp and the hearth of a fire lit up the room where Konnor lounged tiredly in a reclining armchair. His feet propped up atop a fluffy mass of white fur as a large dog chewed idly at a cow ankle bone that crunched beneath its jaws. A book’s spine was broken across the arm of his seat, untouched for hours unlike the glass of red wine he turned in his grasp.

Somehow the day off work had been longer and more exhausting than if he’d gone. With no papers to keep up with or assignments to see to, Konnor was left to his thoughts alone in the empty house he called home. Hal and Charlie had invited him over to stave away the blues of the day, but as he denied every year, he’d insisted anniversaries shouldn’t be skipped.

Even the bad ones.

The glass lifted to the edge of his lips as he took down a long sip and set it on the nearby side table. In his other hand, he gripped tightly to the crumpled and dirted remains of a photograph. Taken several years back in shoddy quality and with minimal color, a light leak consumed the entire lower half of it. But the importance of it remained. Grouped all together, Konnor could still make out the faces of those he’d joined the Order with. Talbott, Chiara, himself, Hal, Tonks, Ben, Eileen, Ethren. 

He sucked up a breath and his gaze tore from the photograph. His head knocked to the cushioned back of his chair. Like flashes of moments from harder times, they lingered in his mind. The day of the final battle nearly broke him. He ended it with several broken ribs and a scar that ran from his hip down to his thigh, but the worst injury had been the heartbreak after, when bodies were fished from where they laid. 

A crack of lightning flashed outside the window, followed by the rolling boom of thunder that shook the shudders. Konnor parted from his thoughts to rub a hand over his face, massaging tiredly at a temple. Beneath him, the Great Pyreneese stirred and gathered to her feet before making off for the kitchen.

“Yeah, I get it. Bit too miserable in here, huh?” he called after the dog. The picture was set aside his wine glass with another fleeting glance before he drew the book in hand again. It was some shitty mystery novel to pass the time. 

Konnor read for another half hour until he came to a stop at the end of a page, hardly remembering a single word from the entire chapter. Too distracted. Another gulp of wine disappeared behind his lips. Mourning the dead was like getting your soul devoured by dementors. 

He lost himself to thought again, droning out to the crackle of the fire as the rain relentlessly poured outside. Then a knock came. Several harsh repetitive raps that sent Iris into a loud barking frenzy from the other room. “Quiet, quiet!” Konnor yelled out, pushing up onto his feet. He crosses the room, quietly muttering to himself about how Hal couldn’t leave well enough alone. But that wasn’t who he found.

As the door swung open, Konn straightened in surprise, half shielded from the gust of wind and rain. 

A cold, unforgiving rain poured down from the angry grey clouds above. It pelted the tattered, brown leather duster of the man who stood beneath its rage, auburn hair plastered against his face. 

Konnor's eyes widened. "Jax?" 

"Konnor." Tired bags hung under his eyes and rain dripped off the end of his nose. "Mind if I come in?" 

Konnor shielded himself half behind the door from the blustering wind. "It's late. Why are you all the way out here?" 

"Maybe I just needed to drink with someone other than a little kid." Jaxson caught on to the look of disapproval on the man's face in seconds. "Don't worry," he mumbered, long fingers fishing through his hair. "I didn't just leave him alone. Summer has him for the night."

Konnor sighed. "Come on in," he murmured as Jax stomped into the house, shaking his hair out like a wet dog. "You really need to stop bouncing him around so much. It's probably confusing. And uh... pick your poison." He motioned to a liquor cabinet near where the TV rested. 

"It's better than being stuck with me. Believe me." 

“Maybe when you get like this, yeah.”

Jaxson made a beeline for the whiskey. He swiped up a bottle and heaved down into one of the chairs. The neon glow of the screen reflected in dull eyes, and wordlessly the man tipped the bottle back. 

Konnor eased down next to him, eyes searching the man. "If you're going to drink me dry, you can at least tell me what's going on." 

"What. Can't just come over and visit my brother's best friend?" 

"Then you should know better. I'm practically a professional at dealing with you emotionally constipated Whitecross boys. And you don't make a habit of visiting. I'm always hunting you." 

"The kid keeps me busy. Sorry." Jaxson took another long gulp. Red had flushed onto his cheeks. 

His eyes caught the photograph that Konnor had left on the table. The Order always made sure to photograph its members... to remember those gone, or killed during the war effort. That particular one... had been the recruits of 1995.

Ethren. 

Jaxson dragged his gaze away, heart twisting into painful knots. “...Ethren and Tonks?”

Konnor grimaced. “...I always pull that dusty old thing out on the battle’s anniversary.” He retrieved his own wine glass, polishing the dwindling remainds and held out the glass. "Don't leave me out. How is Alaire doing? Feels like time has flown." 

Jaxson sighed. "Perfect," he murmured as he poured the man a glass. "Somehow, he's managed to dodge a bullet. He doesn't have his dad's cynicism, or his mother's cruelty. He's... growing up to be a very kind and thoughtful boy."

"..he's three now, right? Think you'll consider preschool for him? He'll just end up going to Hogwarts or Ilvermorny, but muggle schools before then aren't so bad." 

Jaxson's jaw tightened. "I... I was thinking of just schooling him myself. At first." 

Konnor arched a brow. "Yourself? No offense, Jax, but what do you know about current day curriculum? You're already here looking like death just getting by as is." 

Jaxson's teal gaze flashed with a sudden rush of anger. "I'll manage!" He shouted, cracks tearing down the cup. A deep breath followed, as fingers massaged his face. "...it'll be fine." 

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. 

"You're not alone, you know," Konnor said, his voice gentle. "In any of it." He stared down into his own glass. "I know you think you have to do it all yourself... but it's not healthy for you. Or the kid. Ethren wouldn't want this for you."

"Ethren's dead. Doesn't matter what he wants." 

"That's horseshit. Don't make him come haunt your ass." "Horseshit?" 

The edge of Jaxson's lip lifted. “...he's gone. Enjoying whatever paradise he's found, or maybe just...nothing. It's us, the ones who survived who are fucked over." 

"Well, I'm sure as hell am not going to sit here and wallow because he made a dumb decision." Konnor's eyes searched Jaxson's face. "There's still stuff we can do. We can live our lives now. I put everything I had on the line to make sure of it just like he did, and now his kid can have a good life and a family if you'd just let him have that. You can't push all your shit onto that little boy."

Jaxson's eyes were tinted with red as he stared down at his hands. Calloused, and decorated with the scars of nails digging into his palms. With a breath, they curled into fists. "I know. Alaire... he doesn't deserve that. I need to get over it. That's why I'm here. I need your help.”

Konnor grabbed Jaxson's shoulder. "Ethren was my best friend. Anything, Jax." 

"It's come to my attention that you're proficient in a rare caliber of magic." Jaxson glanced over. "You know how to obliviate."  

Konnor's hand lifted up from his shoulder and hovered. "...I learned it in the order." His eyes narrowed. What does that have to do with you?" 

"Take him away." Jaxson's voice unraveled into a whispered beg, and he snatched Konnor's hand in a desperate grasp. "Ethren. Please. I... I can't do it anymore."

Silence lifted from Konn as a wave of sadness twisted his features into something soft and knowing. He sighed, letting his shoulders fall. “You can’t seriously be asking me that, Jax. I can’t do that… It’s not right. I know it hurts but that pain is something you have to push through.”

“What’s the point!?” Jaxson snapped. “It’ll never go away! It… it fucking hurts. And it's hurting the kid too. I can’t be this broken husk taking care of Alaire, he deserves better!”

“Obliviating those memories won’t help you any. It's dangerous. It creates holes. Empty spaces... If you completely cut ties with everything that could remind you of him, maybe it could work but that's not the case. Which is why I'm saying you can lean on all of us. We can help you get back on your feet and manage that pain. To give the kid a good life.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It has to be, Jaxson. It’s all we’ve got.”

Jaxson tore up to his feet, knocking the bottle of whiskey aside and it teetered on the end table. Konnor quickly leaned to catch it from spilling as the older man tangled his fingers up through his hair. “You know…” he finally growled. Jax locked his gaze on Konnor. “I thought you of all people would understand.”

Shock rippled over and Konnor pushed up after him. “I do understand. I know where this is coming from, but it’s not the answer.”

“You took Allston’s memories!” His eyes clouded with a lingering wetness. “He was your own brother. How dare you deny me what you did for yourself!”

“Don’t,” Konnor snapped sharply. In a few short steps he got right up into Jaxson’s face, the roots of his hair beginning to bleed from pink to a darker red. The two were level with another, tension crawling between them. “I have to live with what I did every damn day! I have to miss him like he's as good as dead! I took his memories so he would live, Jaxson. You know how easily I could have forgotten him too?! But that's not the point. The point is we have to remember for them. To protect what is left."

“And what about what I want?! Allston didn’t even ask for you to take his memories, you forced it on him. This is… This is something I want! If you were able to take the coward’s way out then I have every right to do the same.”

Crack.

It happened in a flash. A cold anger burned and strangled in Konnor’s throat as the rest of his hair bled with crimson rage and his fist snapped against Jaxson’s jaw. Then he shoved him. With fingers wrenched up in his jacket, Konnor sent Jaxson to the ground. “Don’t you dare call me a coward! What I did saved my brother’s life, I’m not running from what I did. You… you don’t get to come here and do this to me, Jaxson!” He grasped at his throbbing knuckles, turning away as the sting of tears met his eyes. “Especially not today. I lost my best friends. My brother. And you want to call me the coward?”

Jaxson caught himself on an arm as he hit the ground. Stunned. Fingers drifted to the dull ache of his jaw before his teeth ground together, ignoring the slightest twinge of metal on his tastebuds. For a long while he didn’t meet Konnor’s gaze and when he did, a faint sheen of wetness marred his cheeks. “I can’t make it like this,” he whispered. “I’m trying to save my life. I…” His voice cut off in a choke and he bowed over to hide his face. “Everything I did. Everything I was, it was to keep him safe. Now...now.. What am I supposed to do!?”

The hurt strangled in Konnor’s chest. “Find something,” he hissed bitterly. His hands shook and he fell back onto the couch, collapsing to sink his face into his palms. “Find even the tiniest shred of happiness and live. We don't get fairytale endings, Jax, we just have to make the most of what's left and you've got a whole lot waiting for you with Alaire." He dared glance up, wiping a sleeve across his own face. “I’ll be damned if I lose another one of you because you couldn’t stop dwelling on one single thing.”

“An arrow killed Ethren.”

“An arrow didn’t god damn kill him, Jax!” Konnor lashed. He retrieved the bottle up from the table and knocked it back for a long swig to ease the matching ache of his fist and heart. “He couldn’t move on. He couldn’t let go of the poison that is Merula fucking Snyde. She was never going to be good for him.”

Jaxson hadn’t moved from his place on the floor, staring down absently at his own hands. “You mean his obsession.”

“What else?! You’re all selfish bastards. Chasing after your obsessions like starving dogs with little regard for who it ends up hurting.”

“Is that why you did it, then? Allston couldn’t move on?”

Konnor let a sad chuckle rattle from his chest. Angry locks of fiery red had returned to their soft, white shade. "Towards the end.. my cover got blown with some death eaters. I hadn't seen Allston in a while and it seemed like I never would. I was hunted and somehow.. somehow the second I was cornered he was there. He got himself captured and tortured and I know the only reason he knew was because he was doing things illegally. When I found him I got him out, Jax. Before he could kill himself."

“...Sounds like your brother and I have a lot in common then.” Jaxson drew a sharp breath as a tear dripped down from the tip of his nose. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of falling into the same things he did. Falling until it… I just want to stop feeling like this. How am I supposed to move on?”

"...do what Ethren couldn't. What Allston couldn't. Let go. Be what they couldn't be. Be someone who cares for who they have left, even on bad days." 

"That feels impossible," Jaxson muttered. Still on his hands and knees, his fingers gripped his soaking wet shirt, like he was trying to grab at his heart. "I feel like my soul died with him. I wouldn't have made it this far if I didn't have Alaire."

"Maybe you two should go on a vacation. Go somewhere new for a couple weeks... find your soul again, being his guardian the right way. You cut away from your family wealth, right? Look, I'd cover it for you." 

"..yeah. Sounds great." Jaxson's voice was numb. Cold. Slowly, he pushed to his feet. "Thanks, Kon. Sorry for... this." 

Jaxson went for the door. Konnor chewed on his lip and exhaled in an exasperated breath. "Stop." He motioned to the cushion beside him. "Stay the night, Jax. I think... we can afford a night of booze and talking about him. A night to break." 

Jaxson didn't turn. "I thought the point was to not break." 

"The point is to not let it consume you." Konnor's let his gaze travel to the picture on the mantle. His smile was sad. "We're just people,” he murmured as he pushed up to take it in hand. His thumb drew over Ethren’s face, and he ignored the sharp twist of his heart. “We hurt. We ache. Sometimes, things feel like it's too much. So a night of drinking and accepting that is good, every once in a while. Otherwise, we just burn out."

Jaxson's head turned. Rather than anger... appreciation glittered in his eyes and he sighed. "Guess that's true," Jaxson said. "Won't do Alaire any good to pick him up and still be wallowing," he muttered as he eased down into the seat. 

Konnor followed close after, tipping the bottle his way. "Did Ethren ever tell you about our trip to Paris?" 

"You two went to Paris?" 

"Oooh yeah. He put me on his damn death trap of a bike." Konnor shook his head with a snort. "Your dad was screwing my mom, so we decided to pay a visit and have a luxury dinner on them after." 

Jaxson stared at Konnor for a long while before laughter bubbled from him. The first semblance of a real smile. "That... really doesn't surprise me. Our dad... he was always with other women until..." Jaxson's eyes darkened. His jaw tightened and he downed another gulp. 

"...I know. My dad's dead and my mom is basically dead to me. Aren't we just pathetic?" 

"Ethren wasn't," Jaxson muttered. "When mom was in danger... he dropped everything to find her. Even used all the unforgivable curses. He would have torn down the world to get to her." He leaned back. His wet hair flattened against the back of the sofa, and the neon light of the television reflected in his eyes. "That was just the kind of person he was. Friend, family... lover. When he bonded with someone, he would never give up on them." 

"You really idolized him, didn't you...?" 

"Idolize him?" Jaxson considered that. "Guess it's only natural to talk about... the good things when someone isn't here anymore. But no... I didn't idolize him." Jaxson snorted and leaned forward, auburn bangs falling with him. "Ethren was selfish. Selfish and obsessive and downright cowardly , at times. He didn't want to live for himself, so he lived on the whims and needs of others. And when he did want to live for himself, he threw it away, for a war he should have never been a part of and a girl that never deserved him."

"Good. I'd have to hit you again." Konnor stared at his knuckles, already beginning to bruise. Likewise, Jax's jaw was swelling in a rush of blue and black. "We had a no bullshit policy. Sometimes, while we were in the Order, I'd make a phone call to him or he'd make one to me. Like we weren't at war, and no time had passed... we'd laugh or talk or cry or curse until we lost our voices. Something like that would completely undo the stress of having to get up the next day and go right back into a room full of enemies." He grimaced. His hair had dulled to a bluish grey tint. "We had a deal that after everything was over, a few of us would high tail it to some remote island and piss away a few weeks." 

"Yeah?" Jaxson said quietly. "Probably Tredyffrin Island... the one  our family owns... no one ever goes there anymore. It would have been perfect." The elder brother sighed and poured himself another glass. He stared at the downpour of red pooling at the bottom of the crystal goblet while thunder roared outside the glass window. "He made me a lot of promises, too. Like when he was an uncle, he was going to spoil the shit out of whatever kid Idmon and I adopted. He insisted he'd never have a kid of his own." Jaxson dragged a sharp breath. "...fuck."

"Everything changed... you ever still think about giving Alaire someone to grow up with?" 

"...no. Between Idmon and I... we probably only have enough sanity between us for one brat. And that's with the girls' help. Aisling and Summer... they’re absolute life savers."

 "Well, I can't blame you for that," Konnor said with a tired smile. "Shit, I always imagined a family and kids one day, but... I think after everything, I've only got it left in me to help all of you guys manage your own rascals. Hal and Charlie have two right next door. And ever since Barnaby found out I've got my own little menagerie, he drags Aisling and their kids over all the time. And Alaire is always welcome." 

"He's been so excited to come back and see Uncle Kon." Jaxson's smile was short-lived. "...how do you manage it all?" 

"Depends on what you mean by 'all.'" 

"Losing Allston. You'll never be able to talk to him again. Losing Ethren... Tonks... Your dad...everything." 

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I have a healthy supply of alcohol. But I don't make a habit out of that, my position requires me sober, obviously." He swished his drink thoughtfully. "What really drives me is knowing what all I've still got. Lots of people still want and need me around." 

"I don't actually want to forget him," Jaxson whispered. "Remembering the good times...it's part of what pushes me forward. And Alaire deserves to know those stories. It just seems so much... harder this way." 

"I know." Konnor leaned over, and his fragile fist punched Jaxson's shoulder lightly. "Don't ever ask me to take away your memories again. That magic can go right to hell." 

Jaxson smirked. "...Ethren always hated that spell. He said to be obliviated... it was the deepest violation a person could endure. Those memories are precious." He gave a deep breath and lifted his goblet. "...to remembering the fallen. And living in their honor." 

Konnor lifted his glass in turn. "Help me finish this bottle, and the guest room will have your name written all over it."

-------

Morning came with the promise of clear skies. As the sun painted the sky a beautiful array of pinks and purples that began to open up to the blue of day, Konnor rolled to the other side of the bed with a tangle of sheets around his legs. At the end of his bed, Iris snoozed with soft snores. 

From downstairs he could hear the rustle of footsteps cascading against the hardwood floors and with a tired rub of his head, Konnor swung himself to stand from the bed. His hair poked out in all directions as his hands raised up in the air and a series of pops crawled up his spine. “Jax?” he called out through the house.

No answer.

Konnor sighed and crossed the room with last feeble attempts to pat his platinum hair down into something presentable. The stairs winding down from the hallway just outside his room creaked with each step. He passed several pictures of Hal, Charlie, and the twins on the way down until his feet stalled on the bottom step. 

Jaxson stood at the doorway in the living room, dragging his jacket over his shoulders.

“You’re leaving?”

Jax’s gaze darted up. He looked rough. From the clear as day hangover to the black and blue bruise in the size of a small fist surrounding the right side of his jaw. “...Yeah. I figured I’d leave you to your day.”

“You could always stay for breakfast, you know. Bet you could use it.”

“Nah, I should probably go pick Alaire up. But uh… Konnor?”

Konnor finally touched down into the living room, flicking on the light to join the flecks of light illuminating from the window. “What’s up?”

“Sorry for last night, and thanks. I needed that.”

“Yeah I’ll bet you needed that knuckle sandwich. Just don’t be so much of a stranger. You better haul yourself and Alaire back over here soon or I’m going to lob you another one.”

Jaxson hid the beginnings of a smirk. “Do that and I’ll have to get you back. Don’t worry, we’ll visit soon. I think I just need some time to clear my head first.”

“Then do that. You can always call too, and tell Alaire I say hi.”

Fingers curled around the doorknob, opening it ever so slightly. “I will.” He opened the door, and all but fell backwards as a small toddler came barreling into the house to cling to his legs. 

“Found you!” Alaire giggled as he buried his face into his Uncle’s leg and Jaxson blinked. 

“Alaire?! How did you-”

“Summer mentioned that you’d gone for the night... and that you might need me.” That voice. He’d know that voice even in a symphony of voices. Idmon Malin came from around the corner, blue eyes soft, his smile kind as he lifted Alaire up into his arms. Blonde hair fell down his back. “I thought I might drop- Merlin’s beard, Jaxson, are you all right?” 

Jaxson, still stunned at his boyfriend having shown up out of the blue, blinked. “W-wha?”

“Your face. Bloody- did you get hit with a bludger last night?”

“A...oh.” Red bled onto his cheeks as Idmon’s long, delicate fingers gently brushed his bruise. “No, there was an uh... accident last night involving an erumpent and a... uh-”

“I slugged him,” Konnor purred as he leaned against the doorframe.

Idmon snorted. “Well, I imagine he deserved it,” he said. As Alaire began to fuss, he put the child down and he rushed over to jump into Uncle Konnor’s arms and his gaze searched his lover. “...are you alright. You look... like a mess.”

Two short steps brought Jaxson to his boyfriend. His arms hooked tight around his shoulders and he rested his head against Idmon’s, a ragged breath drawing from his lungs. “...it was a long night.”

“..the anniversary,” Idmon whispered. His palm found Jaxson’s cheek. “You should have stayed with me..”

“Shouldn’t have run,” Jaxson agreed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize... did you find what you were looking for..?”

“Uncle Konnor!” Alaire tugged on Konnor’s shirt. “Aunt Summer gave me a toy snitch!” 

“Did she?” Konnor lifted the boy up into his arms. “That was very sweet of her. And speaking of sweet... I think I have some biscuits in the cabinet. Want some?” 

Alaire giggled. “They’re cookies, biscuits are... biscuits!”

“Oh, no,” Konnor grinned as he tickled the squealing boy.  “Do not start that, your dad and I got into so many fights about cookies and biscuits!”

Jaxson’s eyes softened as he watched Alaire smile and hug Konnor around the neck. His hand found Idmon’s, squeezed, and gave a breath. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I think I did... let’s stay for a bit, then go home.”

One Piece Fic Recs

Okay I’ve been obsessing over One Piece lately and I have a need to spread the One Piece love with these fics that I recently found and can’t stop thinking about now. Hope you all enjoy!

-

Sleeping Arrangements by Altiria 

Ship: Law/Luffy

Nightmares plaguing Law keep him awake most nights, an unusual arrangement keeps him blissfully dream free. Some miscommunications form from the result.

(listen, LISTEN, this summary doesn’t do this story justice when it comes to showing the sheer hilarity and chaos that happens in this fic. this is basically a story of Luffy doing his best to try and marry Law and everybody gets dragged into it. and when i say everybody, i mean EVERYBODY. this is the funniest fic i’ve read in ages and i guarantee you won’t be able to breathe at some points when reading this fic.)

True Love's Kiss by Altiria

Ship: Law/Luffy, Marco/Ace

The Whitebeard crew converge upon Marineford to rescue one of their own. As they arrive, they and everyone nearby is cursed by the powers of the fairy-tale fruit. Luffy, the only one with his memories intact, now needs to find a way to break them all out of the story with the aid of almost stranger; who deeply regrets his involvement.

Starring: 'spontaneous singing', 'definitely not a princess,’ 'I'm too old for this,' and a group of pirates who are never ever going to live this down.

(discovering this author was the best thing that happened to me this week, so i had to rec two of her fics in a row. i swear there are some scenes in here that i can’t unsee and it’s burned into my memory now. and i absolutely do not regret it cause just thinking about it has me cackling like a mad man.)

A Test of Endurance by RememberThePetrichor

Ship: Doflamingo/Crocodile

It’s strange the things that tie people back together. A backwards glance. A rash decision. Or in Crocodile and Doflamingo’s case, a severe psychotic episode in a dank alleyway at three in the morning. [Dofladile anthology with a tiny dollop of smut, now also with plot]

(never in a million years did i think i would ever like this ship, yet here we are. the fic explores these two unexpected, jagged people together and it’s amazing how well they fit. and crocodile is so emotionally constipated and i’m laughing at him the entire way. a smitten doflamingo is an image i didn’t know could exist, yet the author somehow managed to bring it into the world. it’s brilliant and i definitely rec this if you like complicated, stretched out timeless romances. will continue to keep an eye on this.)

Prospects by BrambleFuzz

“I might end up having to kill you. That makes me an enemy, don’t you understand?” “But enemies are supposed to hate each other, right?” Straw Hat questioned, drawing his eyes back to Katakuri’s face. “Do you?”

(Luffy is insistent that he and Katakuri are friends, and Katakuri is insistent that they are not. One of them is very much in denial, but perhaps for good reason.)

(no one is safe when it comes to luffy’s unending charisma and stubborn insistence of friendship. it’s beautiful and i love this.)

Heed the Siren's Call by missmungoe

Ship: Shanks/Makino

Rumours on the tide say he's got a girl in every port, but sea-sayings tend to exaggerate. There was only ever one port—and the one girl.

Pre-series. Bookish and wilful, Makino is not even twenty when her legal guardian leaves her on her own, and with a bar to boot. And it figures he'd choose the greatest personal upheaval in her life to make his entrance. After all, he's that kind of guy.

Part 1 of Shanties for the Weary Voyager

(i don’t know what’s up with me reading shipping fics, i usually go to gen when it comes to one piece but i definitely don’t regret it. wow, this fic was honestly a journey and it’s stunning. i honestly can’t unsee the potential of this ship now and god, i wish this is canon. i really, really do. also, this is part of a series and i’m going to be honest, it’s Sea Songs that completely won me over. it’s the sequel to this story and it’s what made me completely fall in love with this series and this ship. But, reading the first of the series definitely adds more depth to their relationship and is the beginning of everything, if i have to be dramatic about it. which i do, cause it deserves it.)

Unwritten by missmungoe

Ship: Mihawk/Hancock

She's used to flattery and pretty words.

What she gets from him is...not that.

(bet your didn’t expect this, cause i sure didn’t. but man, this ship just works and i love it so much. you have no idea how much i digged for more fics on this pairing and it’s disappointingly low to say the least. can’t regret it though. honestly, the author is just so good at shipping two characters i don’t expect to work, yet it does.)

sic itur ad astra by donutsandcoffee

Humans can make out patterns out of nothing. Like discovering shapes in the cloud, or images between the stars. If you listen to static noise long enough they start to form meaningful words, even when there isn’t any.

This is the closest approximation to how Ichiji feels things.

It is almost fascinating, then, for him, to watch Sanji, who seems to feel everything with his entire being, so visceral and open and raw.

(such a fantastic character study on a character that isn’t explored much. ichiji is so complex here and the author gives him more nuance in how he rationalizes emotions and who he is as a person. his relationship with sanji is given more depth and i’m so happy! definitely read this!)

Memoirs of a Suicidal Pirate by alkhale

Getting murdered while trying to kill yourself is bad luck. Getting reincarnated after that is just a bad joke. But Toonami reruns and cheap commissions info have taught her this world has plenty of chances to get yourself killed. It can't be that hard.

"So you're actually trying to die?"

"Yes."

"You know you're his nakama now, right?"

"So?"

"...Good luck with that."

(this is a fic that i’m literally waiting at the edge of my seat for to update. every time it does, my heart soars and my day, no, week improves instantly. i swear, the worldbuilding in this is top notch and if i didn’t know one piece at the back of my hand, i would absolutely believe the OC self-insert character was a real character in One Piece, i am not kidding. the author hits the tone, the WORLDBUILDING, the characters, literally everything that makes One Piece what it is, right on the nail. i laughed, i cried, i felt incessant rage at the very One Piece existing cruelty of the world, i really felt like i was reading canon One Piece, and that’s no easy accomplishment. seriously, please for the love of god read this. @adelmortescryche and i freak over this all the time and i need to spread this fic like a wildfire to other people, god.)

Sick In Love

2.2k words

i have no idea where this came from i just feel hella compressed with emotion right now. probably depression, definitely procrastination.

edit: in light of the rolling stone article, let’s all try to remember that shawn is his own person and a literal human being and he really can do whatever he wants as long as he’s not hurting anyone or himself. i hope he’s having the best day right now.

it’s another pining for friend trope cause that cliche slaps ok 

the reader is holding in her feelings for Shawn and now she’s getting sick and insomniatic as a result. Shawn’s had enough of it.

warnings: slightly angsty fluff

...............

I love you. I’m in love with you.

(Y/N) stood there on Shawn’s doorstep in the snow, having every intention of knocking on the door and tearing her heart open right there on the welcome mat. By now, video chats and texts weren’t enough anymore. She had to tell him how she felt before it killed her. (Y/N) was never good at hiding her feelings from anyone and this was the hardest she’s ever worked at it. Sometimes she’d have to go away for while or find someplace desolate to just scream and break things.

It must have been 2 AM, although she couldn’t be sure anymore. These feelings and thoughts have kept her up for weeks now and at this point her perception of time was a blurry mess of hours and minutes. She was falling asleep in class at least once a day and making weekly trips to the local clinic for a new cold medicine.

So she stood there, in the freezing cold, wringing her hands, wondering if she should still knock. This originally started as an insomniac’s walk through the neighborhood, but (Y/N)’s feet and legs somehow carried her here. At Shawn’s doorstep. In pizza print pajama pants. Looking like she just escaped a psych ward.

She raises a trembling fist to the door for the third time. Just do it quick without thinking, she tells herself, but it’s easier said than done. A weak and shaky breath leaves her mouth in small little cloud of vapor. And as soon as her hand hits the wood with one knock, she panics and tries to bail. But a hard gust of cold wind hits you in the face the minute she turns around and it becomes unclear what’s up and down. Her nose is running and she’s almost certain that she’s contracted yet another cold just from standing out here. Hopefully this one turns into pneumonia and finally takes me out, she think to herself.

The sound of the doorknob turning stops her dead in her tracks. “(Y/N)?” says Shawn, clearly confused as to why his friend is out here in the middle of the night strolling through the snow. (Y/N) turns around to face him and he looks visibly upset and very tired. Her mouth opens, with a good explanation she hopes, but her mind is completely blank. Shawn doesn’t even wait before he takes her by the hand, gently pulling her into the warm house. (Y/N)’s fingers ache from the change in temperature.

“Haven’t you had, like, three colds this month? What are you doing in the snow at,” he checks his watch, “1:32 AM?”

(Y/N) shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep again.” This has happened before, but never in the snow. “Why are you awake?”

He takes her into the kitchen and starts preparing some instant noodles in the microwave. She takes a seat at the island. “I was binging Grey’s Anatomy again. And I was just about to go upstairs when I heard the door.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. Shawn shrugs the blanket off his shoulders and wraps it around her, pulling it tight in the front. (Y/N) ears start to burn with blush.

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t go in the snow anymore. Next time you can’t sleep, just call me.”

“I didn’t want to bother anybody, especially you.”

Shawn walks back over to the microwave, stopping it before it’s little chime can sound off. “How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t bother me.”

“You say that, but I see the articles and the online comments and I know you do too. You’ve under the most pressure out of anybody in your circle. What good would I do to add to that?”

“(Y/N) I don’t come home to see you and my family because it adds to the pressure. It takes it all away. You take it all away.” He pushes the cup of noodles closer to her. “But you going out at this hour in this weather is definitely problematic. Please don’t do that anymore,” he chuckles, softly. Sweetly. It’s so heartbreaking that she can’t laugh back.

(Y/N) stirs the noodles, not saying a word. She couldn’t even think of a witty rebuttal to such a heartfelt compliment. Her throat was starting feel tight and the corners of your eyes were starting to sting with tears threatening to fall into your microwaved soup. She wasn’t even sad, just emotionally constipated. Just say it. You’ll feel so much better. Like a band-aid.

“(Y/N)? Why did you walk all the way here?”

She looks up at Shawn, forcing her best smile, but the squish of her cheeks only gives the first tear clearance to fall. Her hand reflexively tries to mask it with scratch of her nose but it’s already too late. Shawn is already squeezing her in his muscular arms, squeezing more tears out. (Y/N) shakes her head, trying to pull away, but this boy wouldn’t budge.

“Shawn please,” she says, pulling back enough to wipe more tears. Shawn’s hands rest at her elbows. “I’m fine, really.”

“Nobody cries when they’re fine, (Y/N),” he disputes.

(Y/N)’s throat tightens some more. This was going to turn into a full on ugly cry if she doesn’t just tell him. And then she’d have no choice but to explain or make something up. Her brain was running low on convincing lies.

“That’s not true. People happy-cry all the time.”

“(Y/N) you are not happy right now. Why did you walk all the way here in the snow in the middle of the night?” He wasn’t joking anymore and (Y/N) has never seen him this serious about anything unless  it concerned his career. “You’ve been lying to me and everyone about why you’ve been so sick. Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“No! I’m okay, or I will be. I know why I’m sick and I’m handling it.”

Shawn’s not listening though. He’s already grabbed his car keys and an extra coat for her. “Come on, let’s go. I’m not going to sit here and watch you fall apart in front of me.”

“Okay!” (Y/N) steps in front of him, placing both hands on his toned chest protruding through his shirt. His muscles were tense underneath her fingers. “I would tell you but--” (Y/N)’s words cut off abruptly. It’s like there’s a roadblock on her tongue preventing the words from falling out.

“But what? Why can’t you just tell me? I thought we were friends, (Y/N).”

He was whispering, but if there weren’t other people sleeping in this house right now, (Y/N) knows he’d be yelling at her right now. He’s expressed his frustration with her not being open before and never pressed on until now. “Tell me right now, or I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I like someone,” (Y/N) blurts, a little too loud. She covers her mouth and listens to see if any of the other Mendes’ heard her. Shawn pauses for a moment too. Silence.

“Now was that so hard?” Shawn asks. It was that hard, and even though telling half of the truth relieved some of the pressure in (Y/N)’s chest, it didn’t get rid of it all. She was still standing in front the cause of her stress.

The two friends sat on the couch, legs tucked under themselves in a sea of blankets while (Y/N) finished her cup of noodles. Shawn watches her intently and kind of absentmindedly, knowing there’s more to this than she was letting on. He didn’t want to force it out of her though. That might hurt too much. (Y/N) has never really dated anyone before, let alone had a real crush. That last thing he wanted to do was ruin this for her.

“So,” Shawn starts, cautious with his next few words. “Did you want to talk about it?”

(Y/N) had eaten her noodles so quickly, she couldn’t use them to fill her mouth and stall to come up with perfectly vague answers. Everything would have to be right off the top of her head from now on.

“Not really, no.”

“Well you didn’t walk five blocks in the snow to talk about nothing.”

“Maybe I did Shawn, you don’t know what’s going on in my head all the time.”

Shawn sighs heavily. “At this point, I wish I did. So I could know how to fix this.” He tugs at her blanket, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index finger. He wasn’t even touching her and (Y/N) still felt so intimidated by the proximity. She struggled not to pull it away from him.

Shawn was struggling too. He’s always wanted to be closer to (Y/N) but she only ever kept him at arms length. Even since they were kids, she never really became a part of his friend group. Like she intentionally wanted to be on the outskirts in case she had to leave one day. And that scared him.

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?” (Y/N) sips at the broth left in her cup.

“Keep everything to yourself? It’s like you’re scared of being open with anyone. If you don’t tell your parents everything, and you don’t tell me, and you don’t have a therapist, who do you really talk to?”

She thought about this for a moment then shrugs, “No one I guess.”

“Don’t shrug like this is no big deal, (Y/N). You’re getting worse.”

She waves a nonchalant hand at him. “I’ll be alright. This is just another crush phase, it’ll be over soon,” (Y/N) lies.

Shawn purses his lips, trying to be patient with this stubborn girl. “You have never gotten this sick over a guy before, so I know it’s not nothing. Why don’t you just tell him? The worst he can say is no.”

(Y/N) hangs her head. More stinging tears. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” A salty drop of water drips from her nose and taps the bottom of the cup in her lap. Shawn scoots closer to wipe the sleeves of his jumper under her flooded eyelids. (Y/N) lets him.

“Isn’t that your Armani shirt?” she mumbles.

“What the hell difference does it make? You’re crying.” He continued to wipe her cheeks. Shawn tries to use this opportunity to look into her eyes a little deeper, but they don’t really say much of anything except hurt and seclusion. It suddenly occurred to Shawn that he’s never been this physically close to (Y/N) before and a few bursts of adrenaline release in his belly, making him sufficiently nervous. He expresses something he thought would only ever stay in his head.

“No one as beautiful as you deserves to suffer this much.”

(Y/N) is stumped for words. This was the last thing she’d expect Shawn to say to her. This was the last thing she’d expect any boy to say to her. And for a moment she’s flattered, but something in the back of her mind, something mean and skeptical, told her he was just saying it to get her to stop crying.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I promise you I’m not,” he gently shakes her shoulders, and she looks right at him. You’re beautiful, (Y/N), inside and out whether you like it or not.”

Shawn can tell by the furrow of her brow and the slight pout in her lip that (Y/N) isn’t buying a letter of what he’s trying to tell her. She was a gorgeous, multi-faceted human being. When she felt anything, she felt wholly and without restraint, which is why he couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell him what was bothering her right now. It drove him wild with confusion, so much so that he couldn’t think straight.

This is what Shawn tells himself when he leans in to kiss (Y/N), just for a second, completely on impulse. He felt in his heart that's what he was meant to do. It was a small peck at most, but with just that brief piece of time, when his lips touched hers, he was already addicted.

(Y/N) doesn’t really process this at first. She can only stare back at his cocoa brown eyes, filled with fear and excitement. He was just as surprised as her.

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

(Y/N) still doesn’t move. Can I tell him now, she wonders. Should I still tell him? Does it still make sense to tell him? 

Nothing made sense anymore. Every thought in (Y/N) had been turned on it’s head. She glances back down at those lips. The same lips attached to the guy who just kissed her. The same guy who she thought would only ever see her as a friend. She nibbles on her bottom lip.

“You know I’m still a little sick.”

“I don’t care,” says Shawn, pulling her close again, crashing his mouth into hers, desperate for another fix. He inhales sharply, taking her scent in. She smells like lavender and something else he can’t really place. (Y/N) opens her mouth a little more, welcoming his tongue to tastes hers. She feels like she’s being crushed and inflated at the same time. All the pressure and angst she felt before melts with every touch of Shawn’s fingers, which were now travelling elsewhere on her body. Then he pulls away. His eyes are significantly darker.

“There. Now we can be sick together.”

*Jisoo vc* IT’S ME! Hey guys, I’m definitely not a newbie here lol it’s Kim (Guanting’s mun) and this is a revamped version of my old muse, Eunhee. She’s had a lot of revamps and she’s had a lot of FC changes, but I think this version of herself is the best one yet. If you’re interested in any of her plots, you can find them here and if you see anything you like, you can click that heart bottom in the bottom righthand corner of this post and I’ll shoot you an IM! And before I forget, you can check out her profile here!

She was born in 1993 and was the only child for the first few years of her life

Then her brother came along

Her parents neglected her in favor of her brother, who did acting as a child

While they neglected her, she learned how to fend for herself and started developing talents of her own

She asked her music teacher to give her private singing lessons after school, and that went on for about four years

They weren’t aware that she could sing until she asked if she could audition for record labels

She was almost immediately offered a spot as a trainee at her first label, and her parents were shocked when she passed the audition, but signed the papers allowing her to become a trainee

She didn’t really speak to them during her time as a trainee, and only called her brother every once in a while when she knew her parents wouldn’t be around

She was a trainee for about fourteen months before she debuted as a soloist in September of 2008 when she was just fifteen years old.

She was on cloud nine at first, but then she slowly began to realize that the music she was given wasn’t what she wanted to perform. She didn’t feel a connection with the music, and she was left with an empty feeling whenever she performed.

After her contract with that label expired, she left and found a new home with Gold Star in 2009.

Her next few singles garnered her a small, yet loyal fanbase, and it wasn’t until she released Good Day that she blew up and everyone started to learn her name and fall in love with her. 

Gold Star capitalized on that, of course. They sent her on variety shows and pushed her on the public. Usually that would make people sick of someone, but the Korean general public loved it and their love for Eunhee grew and grew.

They forced her into taking on a supporting acting role in a drama in 2011, something she didn’t really want to do at first. Then she chose her own supporting acting role in 2013 and found out that she actually did like acting, not as much as singing, but enough for her to want to pick it up as a hobby when she had the free time and when she found a role that she connected with.

Eunhee was never really an outgoing or vivacious person. She was/is an introvert and likes to stay to herself. The only time she’s really outgoing or lively is when she’s onstage or when she’s acting (or when she’s drunk lol). She also has a horrible case of Resting Bitch Face, which doesn’t mesh well with an introvert. Some netizens began to push the narrative that she was a bitchy diva that was stuck up and thought she was better than everyone else, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Eunhee’s actually really, really sweet, she’s just quiet and shy and doesn’t speak much. 

Some trainees and idols avoid her because they hear that she’s a stuck up bitch.

In 2015, she was caught up in a dating scandal. He was a fellow celebrity that she had met earlier on in her career and they became close friends. She went over to a dinner party at his apartment and ended up falling asleep there after one too many glasses of wine, and she left the next morning wearing the same clothes. Dispatch snapped pictures of him walking her to her car and the netizens had a field day. It almost completely ruined her because her fans, mostly her male fans, felt betrayed by her “relationships”, some even going so far as to burning her merchandise and photocards. It took a lot of damage control and an issued apology from Eunhee herself for it to blow over, but her reputation still took a huge hit. Netizens still try to push her as a promiscuous girl to this day, which she hates because not only does she not date often, she hasn’t even slept with anyone, so it’s a major lie. What hurt her the most was the fact that the guy got away with it unscathed. 

Now that she’s over a decade into her career and she’s been at the top of the charts for over half of that time, she mostly has control over her music, which is why she doesn’t make releases often. She’s a perfectionist when it came to her art, and she only wants to release albums that she’s proud of because she wants the best for her fans (and because she doesn’t want to lose the public’s love and attention like she lost her parents’ love and attention when her brother came along.)

Fun Facts!!

She loves to cook and bake!! Let her fatten your muses up

She’s small (5′1″) although her official profile claims that she’s 5′3″

Don’t make fun of her height unless you want her to have a permanent frown saved just for you.

Out of the closet nerd. She loves anime and comics and all that good shit and she’s not afraid to admit it

A huuuuge supporter of the LGBTQA+ (as well as a member of it), and she often posts happy coming out day messages and stuff on social media

Can be lowkey crude, although it’s not really like?? outwardly crude. The type to make dirty jokes that people don’t pick up on as being dirty until a few seconds after the fact.

Seems emotionally constipated but she’s literally the most sensitive ass girl you’ll ever meet like wow she gotta keep a box of tissues on standby.

Bbibbi is her favorite song she’s written because it’s her polite way of telling netizens and the public to butt the fuck out of her private life. 

Shipping Info Meme

Answer the following for your muse so people know how shipping works on your blog.

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER?:

Light/older!Hope and Light/Noctis. Also Light / @dromii‘s Cloud is prob my OTP on this blog, even though Hopurai and Lightis are my jams. ( I love when a writing partner makes you love a ship that you only ever considered in passing~ )

WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO WRITE WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?

All the things! Fluff, angst, smut ( so long as it’s not the sole basis for our ship ). I’m also willing to jump around/dive right in ( provided there’s some plotting ). I love both the development aspect ( though it can take a while with my muse, lbr ) and the relationship aspect.

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

They’re fine as long as both parties are of age, but I probably wouldn’t ship Light with someone over 50 ( weird timelines/crystal stasis/immortality/etc not withstanding xD ); that would probably be where my discomfort lies.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

Yes and no? I can honestly see a lot of ships working with my muse ( surprising, considering who I’m writing ), given the other muse puts time and effort into helping Light tear her walls down and actually trust. She may be emotionally constipated, but she’s also so fiercely loyal and protective.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NSFW?

I think when there’s heavy petting and/or clothing starts to come off. Generally when anatomical terms start coming into play, too. Sometimes I don’t throw under a read more early enough because idk when to do the read more thing.

WHO ARE OTHER THE CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?

Hahahaha. HOOOOO BOY. I ship with so many FF characters, it’s kind of gross. 

For XV ( since a lot of my stuff seems to be set in that verse lately, given it’s the most recent game ): Light/Noct, Light/Prompto, Light/Ignis, Light/Aranea, Light/Luna, Light/Ravus, Light/Nyx, Light/Crowe. Maybe Light/Gladio. ( SO BASICALLY ALL OF XV IS WHAT I’M SAYIN’. )

For XIII: Light/older!Hope, Light/Fang, Light/Caius. Tbh I can get behind shipping with most XIII characters, except maybe Sazh because he’s constantly in dad mode. ( But I will abso-fucking-lutely not do Farroncest. Don’t even fucking ask. And anything with Snow is gonna have to be hella AU because Light would never do that to Serah. )

General FF: WoL, Firion, Cecil, Kain, Cloud, Zack, Squall. Possibly Tifa, Aerith, Yuna and Terra.

tbh, whenever I see fanart or random prompts in the Lightning tag, I literally go “AH SHIT I SHIP IT NOW.” xD

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:

Yeah, but you could literally jump into my IMs and be like “YOU WANNA SHIP? LET’S SHIP!” because that’s how I’ve gotten into 90% of my ships, especially shit I didn’t think I would ship.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?

As often as I can. xD Provided there’s some plot, or at least HCing. 

ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?:

I’m in the middle. I fucking love shipping, but I also love letting Lightning cultivate friendships. I think her forming any kind of bond is so important ( hell, even having enemies is fucking aces in my book ) and I just ... love exploring relationships of all sorts with all kinds of characters.

ARE YOU MULTISHIP?

Hell yes! Also, I generally don’t practice exclusivity. Everyone’s interpretations are so different and great, and I don’t want to limit myself or my partners.

WHAT IS/ARE YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP(S) IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

I think Tidus/Yuna is my canon OTP in all of FF. I tend to waffle on Serah/Snow, but as long as that fucker finally marries her, I’m willing to forgive the big idiot. Fang/Vanille because you can’t tell me they aren’t gay af ( if you’re a Fang or Vanille who doesn’t ship it, that’s cool, but man; they gay in my book ). Squall/Rinoa. Cloud/Aerith ( though I think this is mostly nostalgia; it was my first ship for Cloud; when I replay it, I probably won’t give af about Cloud with either Tifa or Aerith ).

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:

Ask. Throw rocks at me. Like my romantic shipping call. It’s really easy, all you have to do is ask. Worst case scenario? I say no, but offer to plot with you otherwise.

Tagged by: @triggerxhappy & @asouldivided

Tagging: anyone. everyone. if you see it, do it, you cowards!

Chapter 6: You Deserve to Be Loved

This most certainly was not a date, despite Emmet insisting that it was. This was not a date. He simply had to speak with the company that had been hired on to do routine maintenance for Gear Station.  

White tagged along with him because she was as stubborn as a Bouffalant, and followed him. And because fate seemed to have it out for him and his productivity schedule, his destination just happened to be in the entertainment district of Nimbasa City, which led to-

“Ingo, Ingo look! What’s that?”

-White being captivated by everything and anything. She practically pulled his arm out of its socket as she led him to one of the concession stands. A middle-aged man had set up an expansive array of bright, colorful hand-made sun catchers. White was enraptured by a particularly intricate one, depicting four Horseas swimming happily against a deep blue backdrop. “They’re all so pretty, aren’t they? Oh, look!” White picked up a smaller piece and waved it in Ingo’s face. It was a Chandelure, and while it was a stunningly crafted piece of artistry, all Ingo could think was that it was a pale comparison to the real thing.

“Do you like that one, miss?” The vendor asked. He had completely gone into bartering mode, giving White a disarmingly charming smile. He looked towards Ingo with a particular gleam in his eye, “it does’t cost that much. Maybe your boyfriend will buy it for you.”

“I am not her boyfriend,” Ingo snapped coldly. The man looked taken aback at the harsh retort, and Ingo inwardly scolded himself. “White, can we move on please?”

She pouted, looking back at the Horsea sun catcher longingly before putting the Chandelure back on the table.  “Fine. Okay. We’ll go and do your boring stuff.”

“I warned you ahead of time what I was doing wouldn’t be fun,”  Ingo sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose  as they walked away from the stand.

“But look at this place!” White skipped ahead and spread her arms out, “there’s that giant ring thingie over there, and those fluffy pink clouds those people are eating, and- OH HOLY KYOGRE!” She dashed away from him before Ingot could even begin to question what she had just seen. He was beginning to seriously doubt if he would ever get any work done today.  He found her at yet another vendor’s stand, gushing over the Pokemon plush toys that were on display. “They have stuffed Seels!” She exclaimed, pointing at one of the objects in question like she had found some sort of holy relic. “I mean, actual Seels are way cuter. But I could hug one of those and not have people look at me weird.”

“…Do you want one?”

“Can I?!”

Ingo’s growing susceptibility to White was becoming concerning. He would readily admit that he found her likable and charming, if not clingy and short-sighted. She was childish and naive for her age (what he assumed to be her age, anyway), and all he wanted to know was why.  It was a mystery that needed to be solved, and he… he always was fond of mysteries. When and if he solved it, his interest in White would go back down to a more reasonable level.  He would stop actually looking forward to seeing her at the end of his shifts. He would stop worrying whenever she showed up late.

His feelings were becoming too dangerous. Too frightening. He needed to snip them in the bud while he still could.

“On one condition,” Ingo began evenly. “You will stop climbing into my bed,” the vendor of the plush stand of the gave him a suggestive look. He glared back in response before continuing, “during thunderstorms.” He stressed.

“But I like being in your bed,” White argued, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at the Seel plush longingly before heaving an overly dramatic (something she learned from Emmet) sigh. “If it means I get an adorable not-real-Seel baby, I’ll accept your dumb con-di-tions.”

Ingo paid for the toy, firmly telling the vendor (who would not stop wiggling her eyebrows) that White was afraid of thunderstorms. Nothing happened when they were in bed together, and he hated that he had to stress so firmly that he and White were not a couple. The warmth he felt in his chest when he saw White happily skipping along side him, clutching her new toy to her chest, was perfectly normal, perfectly platonic fondness. 

(Stop, stop,stop, stop.You know what happened last time. Don’t do it. Don’t let yourself. Don’t do this to yourself again.)

It was when he heard Elesa’s painfully familiar cadence did Ingo seriously think that Arceus had a personal vendetta for him.

“Well hey there, you hermit~” She trilled, slinging an arm around Ingo’s shoulders like she had any right to invade his personal space. “Fancy meeting you here. And you’re with a little cutie!” Elesa looked at White, appraising her like she was some poor, disillusioned girl auditioning to be Unova’s next top model. It made Ingo’s stomach lurch.  

White, for her part, didn’t seemed to be too thrilled about the idea of someone else hanging off of Ingo. She clutched her plush a little tighter, her eyes narrowing at Elesa slightly.

“Hi.” She said in a cold, suspicious, clipped tone.

“Sheesh, tense. I can see why you two are friends.” Elesa said with a chuckle, poking Ingo’s cheek playfully.  With a barely-hidden grimace, Ingo shrugged her arm off his shoulder and took three full paces away from her.

“To what do I owe this… pleasure, Elesa?”  He asked.

“Oh, what? I can’t just say ‘hello’ to my old childhood friend? It’s been ages since we last spoke.”

“I saw you two days ago when you were with Emmet.”

“Yes, you saw me. You then proceeded to avoid speaking to me at any and all costs.” Elesa replied, cocking her hip to the side. “Are you still upset that Emmy and I started dating without your permission? For goodness’ sake, Ingo, we’ve been honest with you for a year now.”

“I would find irritating even if you weren’t dating my brother.” Ingo said firmly. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re no fun. But since you’re so insistent, my gym has been temporarily closed for maintenance.  I also don’t have any shoots scheduled for today, which means I have nothing but time on my hands. You’re here, I have time, can’t we spend it together?”

“I am trying to get something done, Elesa.” Ingo groaned into his hands. “I’ve already wasted enough time with White dragging me to see every little frivolous thing that catches her eye.”

At his side, he could feel White tense up. The temperature dropped several degrees, and his stomach with it.

“Okay, wow. That is not how you talk to about lady.”

“That isn’t what I- I didn’t mean-“

“I think what you meant came across clearly.”  Hearing such an ice-cold tone from White was alien. Unnatural. Her voice was controlled and her speech as precise as her accent would allow. The material of her hoodie flashed to something that did not look like cotton, before shifting back again. Ingo blinked against the sudden headache building in his skull.  “I’ll just explore by myself then.” She marched off into the crowd. 

Elesa tsked, “I’ll go after her. Cute little thing like her is bound to get some unwanted attention. You go off and do your super important business.”

Ingo groaned into his hands again. He looked up through his fingers towards the sky, and wondered what he had done to deserve his afternoon becoming such a travesty. ~~~

“Excuse me- pardon me- no, not now- Hey! Girl with the plush!”

White stopped when Elesa called out to her, drawing her shoulders up to her ears.  “I finally caught you. You’re quicker than you look. I feel like our first meeting started on the wrong foot,” Elesa held her hand out to White, a warm smile on her face. “My name is Elesa, the gym leader of Nimbasa City, and one of Ingo’s friends.”

“He didn’t seem to like you very much.” White returned, staring at Elesa’s hand skeptically.

“Oh, he’s always been like that. I give him a hard time, he gets upset at me; deep down we’re best friends. But let’s forget about that for now, and focus on the the fact that I don’t even know your name.”

“Why did you follow me?”

Elesa blinked in surprise. “You stormed off in such a huff, I was worried. There are plenty of guys here who would take advantage of a pretty girl who looked like she was upset at something. And if that happened, Ingo would not be happy.”

“He wouldn’t care,” White said, hugging her Seel plush tighter. “I annoy him.”

“Sweetie, everyone annoys him. But, trust me when I say this, when I first saw him it was the most relaxed I’ve seen him in a long time.”

White perked up, looking at Elesa with wide and hopeful eyes. “Is that a good thing?”

“Considering Ingo is emotionally constipated, yes it is.” Elesa clapped her hands together, “I’ll tell you what: since it’s pretty obvious you like him, why don’t we go get something to eat and I’ll tell you how to break through to him. He’s actually a real softie underneath that constant scowl.”

Even if White wanted to protest, Elesa didn’t give her much of an opportunity to. The blonde laced their arms together and began leading her off to the nearest concession stand.  “Now the most important thing to remember about Ingo is that….” ~~~

The good news was that Ingo had finally done what he needed to do before it got too late in the day. The bad news was that he saw White and Elesa talking. He couldn’t hear them, but he had a horrible feeling that they were talking about him.  He breathed in through his nose and walked towards the two, deciding that he might as well accept his fate. Maybe that would appease whatever deity had decided to torment him.

“Ingo, hi!” White greeted once he was within her range of sight, waving a hand high above her head. She didn’t seem to be upset anymore, which was good. “Why didn’t you in-intro…” She cleared her throat, “introduce me to Elesa earlier? She’s the best!”

“Yes, Ingo, why didn’t you?” Elesa chimed in, resting her chin on the back of her hand and grinning like she was privy to some scandalous secret.  “You know I always make time for you and Emmet.”

“I have been busy,” Ingo replied slowly. “But listen, White. I didn’t mean to upset you earlier, and I apologize.”

“I told you he’d apologize,” Elesa said, grinning in White’s direction. The latter smiled so brightly, it was almost blinding. “We were just talking about how you could make it up to her. A ride for two on Nimbasa City’s famous ferris wheel! Honestly, it’s a crime she hasn’t been on it, yet. And I just so happen to have two tickets right here,” Elesa pulled two ferris wheel tickets out of a hidden pocket of her dress and waved them in front of her face like a fan. “Funny how that works out, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s almost like someone I know planned this.”

“I am as innocent as a baby Deerling.” The way she smiled betrayed that statement so much, Ingo didn’t even feel the need to comment on it. Elesa handed a ticket to White, “Sweetie, why don’t you go save a spot in line for the two of you? I just need to talk to Ingo for a quick second.”

“Okay!” White replied, snatching the ticket out of Elesa’s hand and practically skipping in the direction of the ferris wheel. “If you take too long, I’m going without you!” She called back over her shoulder.  

Elesa laced her fingers together and looked back at Ingo from beneath her bangs. “She really likes you. You realize that, right?”

“I’m not oblivious, Elesa.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” She rested her cheek on the back of her hands. “I’m going to give you my opinion. My serious opinion, no sass or teasing involved.  I think she’d be good for you. It looked like you were actually relaxed when you were with her earlier.” She held up a hand before Ingo could interject, “I’m not going to force you to go for it. I am going to tell you that, despite the self-deprecating bullshit you tell yourself, you do deserve to be loved. But,  don’t listen to me prattle on. You’ve got a ferris wheel to get to.” She waved the remaining ticket in his face. “Go on, get!”

Ingo gave Elesa a dubious look before carefully taking his ticket from her hand.

-----

Previous chapter (Comic): http://gcqaiumi.tumblr.com/post/174348681250

DR. FEELGOOD

There's an opiod crisis in America. I read about it everyday. Thousands of people who take narcotics to get high. To blunt the pain of whatever is hurting them. Physically, emotionally, whatever. I don't even pretend to have any kind of solution.. I can only offer you an insiders perspective. My very first experience with the good stuff was right after I got married. I'd had a migraine for the third straight day.. I'd get them several times a year.. but this one wouldn't stop. My mom says enough is enough.. I'm taking you to urgent care. Kat had the kids.. otherwise she'd have driven.. she was concerned by now as well. Never had one last this long. At the urgent care.. the guy checks me out.. "are you allergic to anything?" "Are you ok with a couple of shots.. we'll get you feeling better" Not allergic.. hate shots.. but ok fine Demerol and Thorozine Nectar of the Gods I remember it to this day. Full disclosure time. I'm 24 now.. haven't yet run into the issues that are about to start soon. I dont really drink.. been drunk a handful of times. But I dont drink.. just never cared for it.. don't like the taste, don't like the feeling. I smoked some pot when I was 20-21 but I was always paranoid about getting busted.. plus now I have kids.. and you know what that means.. no money for pot. Tried cocaine a couple times. Kat and I would get a little for "date night". But we're talking birthday or anniversary stuff. So, pretty vanilla for a party guy. Just wasn't much of a chemical romance for me. My how things do change. Demerol and Thorozine No ecstasy so wonderful.. no bliss so complete. I went from being almost blind with pain.. to walking on a cloud.. I floated out the door to mom's station wagon. Such a pretty station wagon! My God.. look at that wood paneling! It sooo beautiful! I opened the door and folded myself in half to get in. Mom says "whatcha doing?" I don't wanna hurt the car by banging into it.. It's so tiny and beautiful... "I think you're covered.. put your feet on the floor.. put on your seatbelt please" Home again after the beautiful magic carpet ride full of neon and colors. In mom's beautiful woody station wagon. I floated thru door.. "Oh my, you look better" Kat laughs You are sooo. Pretty ! You know what would great ? Brownies! And sex!.. and sex brownies! And pizza.. we should have everybody over and BBQ. I'm going to lay down for few minutes, watch a movie.. but then sex brownies! Zzzzzzzz. 2 days later when I started coming around. I honestly have never felt that good in my life. 2 days of being completely pain free.. and floating on clouds. Never before.. certainly not since. The problem with being in chronic pain is this. It's chronic.. that means it NEVER stops. Some days arent too bad. You feel crappy... but honestly.. any person over 40 is familiar with feeling pain every single day. I just got a big headstart from everyone else. A lot of days.. far too many days. The pain is crippling. But most people like me have to figure out how to have a life despite that. So, on we soldier. I'm mid 30's... just really getting bad sick. My doctor is an Internist. The kind of general doctor that does innards. Dr. Feelgood was an amazingly good doctor. Everyone in town knew and loved him. Everything's going wrong all the time.. But Dr Feelgood is working overtime to fix it. I'm in serious pain.. everyday.. all day. But he gives me pain meds. Vicodin, Percocet, fiorinol, demerol, pills, patches, shots. We tried everything. I had access to sleeping pills, xanax, valium. Not all at once of course. But in hefty doses. I was dying.. and I just wanted it to be as pain free as possible. Dr. Feelgood was trying his best. There was a point in my life.. because of the years of taking so many narcotics.. I could take absolutely lethal doses without getting even a little buzz. I could get a migraine.. which at the time was common. Go into the office and get a shot of demerol.. and off to work I'd go. It got rid of the pain ok. But no more highs for poor Steve. The party is long over.. and I'm still always in agony. This was a big reason why I quit everything all at once. For the past 5 years Dr Feelgood has been banging his head against my wall. But we had the opportunity to move to another state.. I'd had my 2nd resection.. so this was as good as it was going to get. Off we go. For the next 3 years.. nothing. Some good days.. some bad.. but no drugs at all. But reality does tend to insert itself. The fact of my life is.. I Have to use narcotics most days..and there are millions of people like me. Used properly they are a miracle for us. Buy there are too many people who see how glamorous its is.. being a drug addict looks like one long party for Steve... lets try it! I do make it look glamorous. The problem today in 2017 is the government is seriously clamping down on legitimate prescriptions for legitimate patients. Every time my doctor prescribes narcotics. She gets a letter from uncle Sam. It tells her all the good drugs she's given out vs. How much other doctors have written. You never want to be on the naughty list. Dont stand out! That means they now have to ration out the good stuff. They can't have several patients getting narcotics. So those of us who have a legitimate reason to take them. Can't always get them. Most doctors practices will not even take you as a patient if you are on narcotics! Wont even talk to you about it. So here's my current nightmare. If I lose my current doctor.. I may not be able to get another.. ever. All because of the opioid epidemic It's happened already.. About 12 years ago.. after my 3rd bowel resection.. my GI. said we could try... Morphine. It's good for guts like yours. It helps with pain.. it causes constipation.. which can balance the scales with the diarrhea you always now have. Cuz of the fact that you have almost no intestines left. But there's rules.. you can only get so many per month. There will never be more. Don't ask. No other drugs from any other doctors. Ever. No drug seeking behavior. Ever. Dont feed it after midnight or get it wet. In 12 years I've never broken the rules. Not once. But I had started going to a pain management Doctor. She took over all prescriptions.. but same rules. Thats what they do. And again.. I followed the rules. But she was willing to up the doses over the years. And eventually I was getting some pretty good amounts. Now to be clear. I haven't gotten high from morphine since almost ever. It just helps the pain some.. keeps my guts pretty calm. But one day I get a form letter.. they're closing down the pain management aspect of their practice because of government pressures. Too much hassle. So I go back to my original GI who started me on it, to take it back over. But he just had to retire after serious back surgery. And his partner wont talk to me. RuhRow! What do I do Scooby doo? I was lucky enough to find someone for about a year.. she cut me way down.. but at least there was something. But this isn't really her specialty.. and she's getting the letters from uncle Sam. So.. fuck it.. I quit ! Cold turkey.. I planned it out so I could take off a month from work. Stocked up on ensure.. and T.P. Got ready for withdrawls. They were as horrible as you see on t.v. or movies. Basically it's like having the flu really bad for a couple weeks. After a month I was clean.. but my new nightmare was in full view. I am missing a large portion of my intestines after 3 bowel resections. It's called Short Bowel Syndrome. Everything that goes in.. goes right back out.. fast. No sight seeing along the way. If course the rapid pass through causes severe spasms and pain. I could no longer leave my bedroom. Not ever. I was on the toilet 10 times a day or more. And I barely ate at all. My new GI wasn't to happy about going the morphine route. I remember our appointment a couple months after I'd quit cold turkey. I wrote down my reasons why I wanted her to put me back on. I was bawling as I tried to convey how miserable I was.. I wanted my sad pathetic life back! I don't want to only be able to get out of bed so I could shit myself to death. I begged like dog. She agreed at a much lower dosage.. and of course.. all the same rules apply. Most days.. it's not even close to enough. But at least I can get out occasionally. Work a few hours a week. Play Pokemon Go with the grandkids and my beautiful wife. I get to have some little bit of a life. If anything happens to her.. or she just decides otherwise. My life will literally be over. My entire life is on the line. Every month. I go to pick up my refill prescription from her.. I think.. is this the month she cuts me off? I don't wanna die. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't have the answer to any of this. All I know is that there are thousands, maybe millions of people in this exact same boat. Narcotics are the only thing keeping them alive or letting them have some measure of relief from pain that you couldn't imagine in your worst dreams. Our governments solution right now is to take away all narcotics from everyone.. let God sort 'em out. Crack down on doctors who are trying to keep them alive. Cut funding for rehabilitation services and mental health. The 2 best tools to curb the opiod epidemic. These are just facts I'm sorry to say. I just don't understand how they can be so callous and cruel. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't deserve this.