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#and i am also being consumed by The Loneliness again <3

finalfrontierpublishing · 10 months

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So it's been a while since i posted any books - mostly because i've been hiding my progress like a little sneak.

I just finished this bind last night of The Desert Storm by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, or really it's volume 1 out of like ??? 15, maybe. Please take whatever i say with a pinch of salt (I have had 0 sleep for more than 24 hours, and that tends to make me a little very sleep-deprivation drunk a.k.a. unhinged). Okay, on to thoughts! The Desert Storm was foisted onto me by @celestial-sphere-press who told me under no uncertain terms that I WOULD FUCKING LOVE THIS SHIT. Well, I did. This more than 1 million word epic about Ben Fuckin' Kenobi is pretty much god-tier fanfiction. It reads like a goddamn novel. I can never think of canon again without thinking that this good shit should be canon. I read it and then consumed half of it within a week, and I have zero regrets. @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning, i absolutely love you and love your writing. It is the best thing since sliced bread. It is better than sliced bread.

I also had the benefit of @celestial-sphere-press saying, hey would you want to use the typeset? MY GOD, i am grateful. I love this fic, i would have typeset it if it hadn't been typeset but Des did such a beautiful job that i am absolutely in awe and thankful that she and the author allowed others to use it. Look at it - it's so beautiful. I only had to think hey, i just gotta design the cover and et cetera and so the book happened.

Please also check out @celestial-sphere-press 's amazing post here and here, who is the only person i know who's started and is almost complete in fanbinding this epic, and is also making an author a copy of the entire series.

Some stats, if you will.

96215 words || 380 pages

Title font: Ghaomiec

I took some inspiration from starblight bindery's lovely desert scape as well as this amazing cover of Dune which i own. I love that the landscape emanates Dune vibes while being oh so Tattooine - just sand and heat, relentless loneliness and melancholy. This fic centres around Obi-Wan Infinite Sadness Kenobi so it needed SAD VIBES TM, which i tried to deliver in desolate landscape form.

Also thank the heavens for Renegade members, who in a masterful stroke of Group Buy Saves Money, managed to source extra-out-of-production colours of Colibri and help a fair number of us get really cool limited edition versions of bookcloth. I am now a proud owner of a lorge stash of Duo and Colibri of which i am now sitting on like a shifty dragon with a hoarding problem. Good luck getting your bookcloth now, Folio Society, ha ha (gloating)! This particular bookcloth is Colibri Copper which has been wholly stashed for The Desert Storm series. I am leaning on transitioning to Malachite for Rise and Fall when I get to it.

The front cover design was done with a stock image and converted to a PNG, which i then fiddled with and did some HTV magic with. It was remarkably easier to weed than expected. I tried something new and ironed the design on the naked bookcloth first before gluing it to the boards, which was a new challenge in making sure everything was aligned.

Endpapers are marbled endpapers (Renato Crepaldi) which I got from Hollanders, which perfectly fit the colour scheme of the bind. The only hiccup was as I was cutting, I realized the sheet was running in the opposite direction of his usual papers and half the size, and only yielded 3 A5 size endpapers and so my heart went noooooooooo. oh well. i guess i will use it for quartos.

Endbands are my favourite - silk in 3 colours in the french doublecore style (as i was binding this i did not have the mental capacity to handle the difficulty of 4 strands). the truth is i usually only can do 4 when I have higher brain function and am willing to spend 80% of my time unraveling it from getting tangled.

I also forgot to mention I had mild fuck-ups, I got glue on the front endpaper which I had to hastily remove with wet cloth, and the back square is preposterously bad but I'm ignoring it for now.

Anyway, i've actually managed to complete a few other binds which have not been mentioned here as they've all been gifts/ surprises or event books in some form. I am SO EXCITED, also because I am travelling in the latter half of July to San Diego and L.A. and I get to meet some bookbinding friends in the flesh. Renegade is fucking amazing y'all. I am ready to embrace these crazy lads who have enabled me for the last 1 year, even when i'm the solitary (1) weirdo from my country of origin in the server. Also... potentially bookbinding trip early next year??? I am enthused.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #renegade bindery #my books #star wars #clone wars #obi-wan kenobi #ben kenobi #ben naasade #infinite sadness #the desert storm #the ben naasade epic

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gavisuntiedboot · 11 months

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Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 8

Warnings: ANGST! Idk if it's actually that angsty but I made myself sad. Very very brief mentions of kind of hurting yourself but not really? I actually can't remember what I wrote so if I miss something that needs a warning pls lmk

Word Count: 16.0k (fun fact: if you've read the whole series, you've read 105 pages single space)

A/N: y'all it's literally almost 1 am but I need to start this before I get crucified by the cult following I have created with this series. GIF credit @gavidaily

"You... are considering leaving Barca?"

Xavi looked at you with one brow raised. The same girl that had been fighting for her position at the club just 6 weeks prior was now thinking of quitting her job?

"You know Miss y/l/n, we are about to lose Antonio, and with how hard we push our players, we need to retain the largest amount of medical talent possible. You know that we think extremely highly of you and your ability, which is why you were selected specifically for this role. What can we do to make the job here at Barça more compelling than that of other clubs?”

You took a deep breath. You knew this question was coming. You had worked jobs and been in negotiations before. It would be a lot more expensive for them to hire someone new than to just give in to what they predicted would be a demanded increase in pay.

You looked at your lap, sighing with the weight of the feelings you had carried for God knows how long. It had sat on your subconscious, but was now bubbling to the surface, too powerful to be stopped. “Honestly, mister, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done.”

There’s a funny thing about women letting go. Some people call it the severance theory. Men are heavily guided by their emotions, contrary to popular belief. In a fit of rage they are capable of anything: screaming, blows - any number of crimes of passion. So when an extreme emotion overcomes them, be it sadness or anger or fear, they can end a relationship suddenly. Once they return to a base state of logic, that’s when the crawling back and groveling begins. Because they come to realize that her absence is a stronger pain than whatever drove him away. They exist in binary states: zeroes and ones. Either hatred or love. They don’t understand gradients or in-betweens. They don’t understand that there is another person who must also decide to return to the relationship.

Women on the other hand are much more resilient. It’s why we find the most gorgeous muses with the slimiest excuses for boyfriends. A woman will fall in love not with what she sees, but rather what she hears. What she is told. All the flowery, lovely promises about a glowning future, that’s what she clings to in the midst of a gray and bleak present. The soft whispers of “I love you” and “I don’t know how I would live without you” act as bandages, plugging the gaping wounds left by his actions. But her resolve slips the longer those promises go unfulfilled. The longer those holes go unfilled. She begins to see the truth of her situation, and realizes that the road she’s skipped down is a dead end. She imagines once again. She thinks of all the possible ways that he could change and be the man she wants. She searches for glimpses of it in his words, his movement, his aura. She does the silliest, most foolish thing a woman can do: she hopes. She holds on until not even her delusions can be a comfort. She realizes that there is no way for her to be happy with this man. That’s when she finally leaves. There’s no groveling, no tears, no remorse. It’s a clean severance of dead weight. She’s empty, and it lightens her being enough for her to walk away. There is no way to save it. The bridge has been burned and she was gone forever.

The funny part was, this didn’t just apply to men. That’s the thing about emptiness: it consumes everything. Loneliness is a black hole that swallows every ray of light that it encounters. That was your life recently. No light and no joy - not even sadness. You couldn’t feel anything strongly anymore. You picked up little habits to try and feel. You heated your food to scalding temperatures just to feel the heat on your lips. Your showers were icy, the pinpricks distracting you from the desire to cry. You no longer felt strong anger or desire or really anything. The color was slowly draining from your life, grays and sepias replacing the once vibrant existence around you. The beauty around you had mangled into gnarly trees and threatening uncertainty as you foolishly waited for the sun to peak through. But it had abandoned you. The sun had taken its rays and warmth elsewhere, almost mocking you as you shivered in the dirt. So maybe it was time to crate your own light: burn down the forest and start anew.

“Nothing? La, that can’t be true Doctora.”

Your eyes shot up at the title. There was, in fact, one feeling that you still sensed: pain. You could still feel physically pain, and inflicted it on yourself often just to experience an emotion. But nothing could compare to the sharp stabs and dull aches that lived in your heart. It was hard to look at Gavi without feeling like you wanted to fall on your knees. Realizing that you were in love was not beautiful or romantic. It was torturous, like snakes and thorns taking home in your throat. Reality was the salt in the wound; the knowledge that you two were destined to fail before you had began was a pill too big to swallow, suffocating you instead.

“If I can be honest, mister, I don’t feel like I belong here at Barça. I’ve been here for six months and I still don’t feel like part of the team. Maybe it’s just not a good environment or fit for me. That’s not something that can be fixed with just a salary increase. I just can’t tell if this is the place for me.”

Xavi looked at you, bringing his elbows to rest on the table and interlocking his fingers. He wanted to adamantly refuse, but there was truth to what you said. It was evident that there was a disconnect between you and the general environment of the team. You were close to some of the younger players, but had difficulty gaining the trust and respect of the older crowd and the medical staff. Your ideas for treatment were too modern - too far removed from what everyone else was used to. Hell, you were upsetting one of his players, and that was the opposite of your job as the support staff. But he would by lying if he said you weren't effective. The plan for Dembele that you had first presented got the striker back on the field weeks earlier than any other predictions. Your diligent maintenance had prevented players from getting injured as often, keeping the ones you were closest to on a strict exercise regimen, ensuring their continuous improvement. He cared for his players and his club. And if you were the miracle cure to keeping them healthy and playing, then he was going to keep you there, even if he had to tie you to the columns of Camp Nou.

"There must be something we can do to keep you. You're very familiar with the players and the equipment, as well as the workflow, and you're very good at your work. Hell, Gavi hasn't even had a cough since you started here, and he's quite accident-prone. Please let me know what I can possibly do to keep you with us."

"I really am not being shy or sneaky. I really have no demands. When then team heads to the UK for the game against Man U, I will visit the Chelsea facility and meet the staff. If I like what I see, I'll be moving there. I'm just... not happy here anymore."

There it was. The confession you had not even made to yourself. You were at the club of your dreams, living everything that your younger self had always wanted, and you just could not be happy. This was a disappointment that was hard to describe. Everyone always talks about shooting for the moon, but no one talks about what happens when you actually make it there. You work hard and your dreams become a reality: you're on the moon! But the moon is so, so far from Earth. And when you're cold and lonely and looking down on all of the people that could be loving you, then the moon doesn't seem so worth it anymore. When you realize the moon is just a rock, then what hope do you have left?

Thinking back, you recalled all the people that you pushed away to further your career goals. You think of the family gatherings and events that you missed to study and work. You think of all the friends you have lost touch with because they were never a priority. They were never smart or driven enough to keep up with you, and so they were left in the dust. You had a few, but none you could confidently say would pick up a call from you at 2am if you needed help. Boyfriends were even worse. Since your heartbreak in college, men had fallen to the wayside. You justified it to yourself, saying that you just needed to be successful, and you would attract someone at your level. Someone who wanted an equal. But here you were: alone, depressed, and thinking of running away from what you once thought was your life's purpose.

Before Xavi could respond, a loud thud from the hallway distracted the two of you, followed by shouts that chilled your blood.

"Gavi!"

You were out of your seat in seconds. There was no force that could stop you, feet and hands moving on their own accord as you entered the hall and laid eyes on the body on the floor. There was no air in your lungs or your larynx to make a sound, let alone scream.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your hearing was shot, like you were underwater. The faces of those surrounding were panicked, and all eyes were on you, shouts and points and calls for action flying straight over your head.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

Your stomach was twisting itself into elaborate knots, coiling tighter while pushing the bile further up your throat. Your eyes went in and out of focus, willing the scene in front of you to disappear. You blinked hard hoping for the image to change when your eyes opened again.

Why was Gavi on the floor?

"Doctora, please look at Pablo - he collapsed suddenly and we need to make sure he doesn't have a head injury. Move!" It was Antonio's hands on your shoulders and shouts that finally got you to move from your frozen position.

Kneeling over, Gavi looked even worse. His skin was pale, and he was crumpled like an aluminum can - limbs everywhere, like his life force had just abandoned him. You had to remove Gavi from the situation and pretend he was a practice dummy at school. You had to pretend he was plastic and rubber, because that's the only way you could go through head injury protocols with a calm mind. He couldn't be Pablo, because if he was, then the thought would have to fester in your head: Pablo was hurt when you had been distant. He was hurt because you had been distant. Worst case scenario, he could disappear from your life now, all because you hadn't been able to handle the proximity like a normal person. Your thoughts were spiraling now, painting scenarios of death and disease and making it even harder for you to stop the tremble in your hands.

But you had decided that his cold heap of flesh before you wasn't Gavi. It couldn't be. It wasn't even a person. You recited the head injury checklist under your breath: consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. Placing a hand on Gavi's neck, you felt a pulse, stopping you from performing CPR. The last thing you needed to do was unnecessarily crack a rib. You shook him several times, and received no response.

"Shine a light in his eyes!" "Shake him harder!" "Should we pour water on him? Get some water!" "You're not yelling his name loudly enough!"

You ignored the shouts of the peanut gallery, repeating the list like a mantra in your head. You would have time later to be angry at the staff for their utter uselessness in the situation, but right now, you just needed to keep going. Blood was pounding in your ears as you opened one of his eyelids. Consciousness, breathing, vision, vomiting. It snapped back into place, and Pablo's face was now in view. Other than his pale complexion, he looked perfectly at peace. His face was identical to the night you had spent sleeping next to him - sleeping atop him. His breathing was deep, as if he had spontaneously fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway. He was beautiful. And for the first time in days, it had allowed you to be filled with a warmth somewhat foreign to you now. Pablo was in your arms and beautiful, and you could not imagine how you were meant to go on with life seeing him every day and being denied this privilege. You didn't allow yourself to dwell on the thought. Breathing? Yes. Consciousness? No. That needed to be remedied.

"Pablo, if you can wake up now, it would be really helpful. Otherwise I'm going to have to cause you a lot of pain."

You waited for a response, but none came. You sighed deeply, moving your hands from the supple skin of his cheeks downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it upwards, exposing the expanse of his chest. You made out the sounds of taunting and whistles, but they were promptly silenced by staff who reminded the crowd that this was not an appropriate moment for jokes. Forming a fist, you placed your knuckles on the center of Pablo's chest, pushing down and rubbing. Hard. His eyes shot open within seconds, and he threw your hand off, howling in pain. His breathing was shallow and panicked, vision erratic as teammates, coaches, and other staff all yelled questions and instructions at him.

"Everybody shut up! Let me do my job."

That was the voice he needed to hear. As the yells settled to murmurs, his breathing slowed and he began to see more clearly. His eyes fully focused on you, and it soothed the ache in his chest. His heart was racing faster than he had ever felt, causing Pablo to grab onto your shoulders to ground himself.

"Pablo, can you hear me?"

You were here. You were real. He could still hold you and feel you. He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. The nausea that he had felt before he blacked out still lingered, and the last thing he wanted to do was projectile vomit on you. He flinched slightly at the feeling of your hand returning to his face, but settled quickly, listening hard to your instructions. There was nothing easier than focusing on the sound of your voice.

"Look at me." You said, shining a light in Gavi's eyes, checking for any hemorrhaging or internal bleeding. What a silly request, he thought to himself, squinting under the brightness. How could he look anywhere else when you were in the room? How could he ever tear his eyes from you? How could he waste a single second of you before him, especially with the prospect of you leaving at the end of the month looming?

"No bleeding. Are you experiencing any double vision?"

A headshake no. You instructed someone behind you to grab a bottle of water, and then turned back to Pablo.

"Good. What is your name?"

Gavi swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath before speaking. "My name is Pablo Gavi."

"Good. And who am I?"

"Ah don't worry, Doctora. Even with amnesia, I could never forget you." There was that stabbing feeling in your chest again. That feeling that accompanied Pablo's sweet words and kind eyes. The cold shard of reality that reminded you that he would fade away into an Instagram mutual in a matter of months.

"Alright, Gavi. No internal bleeding and no memory loss. We need to go through more of the concussion protocols and make sure you're okay, but we can do this in my office. Are you okay to stand?"

After a curt nod, you helped Pablo stand, and began walking with him towards your office. You informed Xavi of the next steps, and he told you to do whatever necessary to make sure his 'golden angry bird' was okay. But of course, you could never know a day of peace, as each one must be filled with the noise pollution that was Ferran's voice.

"If the door isn't open, just know that Pablito isn't moaning in pain." A round of snickers was heard from both players and staff. But before they had time to add on to the nasty comment, you swiveled around to face the group. You were seething with anger, and one very important realization came to the center of your mind.

You had nothing left to lose.

It was Pablo Torre who was closest to you, and he was the person that received the start of your wrath.

"What the hell are you laughing at? The fact that your teammate could have serious head trauma? Or at the fact that, with Gavi potentially out of commission, they might take you off the bench long enough for you to remember what grass feels like?"

He was silent instantly, eyes wide. He had never received words this harsh from anyone at the club. Or anyone not on Twitter. You turned to two more assistant physios, Luca and Gabriel, who stood next to him, still muttering to one another in hushed tones.

"And you two! Do you want to know why everyone has to rush and get me whenever someone hits their head? Because out of everyone here, I'm the only one that knows proper concussion protocols and how to identify trauma. I have more medical knowledge in my fingernail than in both of your heads combined. I have to take him to my office because you two are incompetent at your jobs! And instead of doing anything useful, this is how you occupy your time: slacking, cigarette breaks, speculating who I'm sleeping with, and doing absolutely jack shit when a player gets injured. So keep giggling like school girls. I can't wait to see you both giggling on the street corner while begging for spare change."

You held Gavi harshly, storming off to your office. Your speed and the bounce was making him nauseous, but he knew better than to speak in this moment. His chest had swelled with pride. He was patiently waiting for the day that you would put the guys in their place. None of them were bad people - it had just been a while since most of them interacted with a woman they didn't want to sleep with. Gavi loved that you were capable of defending yourself, but could not ignore the part of him that wanted to be the one to defend you.

Call it a toxic trait if you want, but Pablo had always taken pride in his ability to intimidate. He had eventually come to terms with the fact that he was done growing at a sweet 5'7, despite his desire to break at least 5'9 (because his friend Hanna at La Masia told him that was the shortest a girl would go for. Looking back, taking this information from a 5'10 female footballer was probably not the best idea he's ever had). It had taken a while, but after weeks of daily affirmations in the mirror about how short Messi was, he held his chin higher. Once he started receiving praise from fellow players, coaches, and media, Pablo gained more confidence in the fact that he could be part of the next generation of great Barcelona football. This allowed him to go up against any player with no worries or fear, winning headers against people with a foot of height on him. Pablo began building his upper body in the gym as well, compensating with strength. A broad and reckless teenager, there was almost no one he wasn't ready to take on.

He sensed that same quality in you as well: a desire to prove yourself, no matter the cost. But he didn't want you to. He never wanted to see you scowl or have to hear you yell (despite it being semi-hot). Pablo wanted to be your knight, whose sole purpose in life was making sure that you never experienced feelings but joy and pleasure. He wanted others to go through him before daring to speak to you. Because how could every person just have access to the beauty that is you? To the radiant soul and shimmering aura that fills the room? How could he be content with you shouldering the burdens of living in this world? Even if he never got to have you romantically, Pablo wanted to shield you from every harm in the world. And not a day went by when he didn't feel it.

This was one of those moments. He wished he was able to verbally berate Ferran for the garbage he spewed on a regular basis, but he could do nothing except let himself be dragged by you through the halls of the sports center until they reached your office, where he was promptly flung towards the exam table. He watched as you brought him your small office trash can, setting it beside the bed. He was brought back to your first month at Barca, when he had challenged you and been proven wrong. There was a confidence in yourself and your abilities that had dissipated from then to now. Pablo smiled stupidly as he remembered the excruciating pain and discomfort of trying not to throw up in front of the pretty physio. If only he had known then that it was nothing compared to the pain of holding back these feelings.

"Lay down on the bed. Look up at the ceiling. If you need to vomit, do it in there." You instructed curtly before moving to sit at your computer. Short nails clicked harshly against the raised keyboard, keys slamming down rapidly, sound reverberating around the room. Gavi wanted so desperately to flip over, lay on his stomach and stare at you. Just to see the curves of your face and the way your eyes reflected the light. But he looked up at the ceiling like you asked, more worried about pushing you further away than watching you type. He took several deep breaths. This didn’t feel like the last time he was concussed. Last time, he had felt his brain rattle against his skull, waves of nausea starting immediately. His head ad throbbed, spots forming on his vision. His jaw was clenched, and he could’ve sworn there was a crack down the center of his cranium, blood oozing out of it onto the practice pitch.

He remembered that day so vividly despite the head trauma. He had been livid, Ferran dragging him to a new and inexperienced physio. Gavi had interpreted it as sabotage to that Ferran could get the left wing back. And then he saw you. Angry that he was he wasn’t receiving treatment by the best, he couldn’t say he was upset to look at you. You were a stunning kind of beauty, young and lively and clad in cool gray scrubs. But you were three years older than him, wildly advanced and talented, and he couldn’t swallow his pride - especially not with this nausea. He could not swallow the fact that you looked so damn familiar. He had seen you somewhere before: those eyes had looked at him with that same distress and concern. But he could not place it for the life of him.

Pablo thought back to how sweet you had been to him that day. How you had encouraged him to take pride in himself and be confident in the fact that he deserved all the success he had seen. He was so overwhelmed that day. His brain was absolute porridge, and he was doing his best for it not to pour out of his ears, all while his cheeks burned under your gaze. He was too preoccupied by his desire to muster one ounce of hatred to replace the overwhelming admiration in his brain that he could not determine where the hell he had seen you before.

And now here he was, once again staring at the ceiling, head throbbing, and the thought came to him again: why did you look familiar? Despite having known you for half a year now, the feeling that there was history had not left him. It wasn't that you had a common face. There was something about the way you looked at him, with a knowing and sadness, that touched a part of his soul. Like you knew things he had never even admitted to himself. While he thought that was just your way of being, he was coming to realize that look was one reserved specifically for Pablo. Now he wasn't nauseous, and focused on the rhythmic sounds of keys being slammed. He poised himself to ask a question, but not the one gnawing at his brain.

"What're you typing so excitedly? Hopefully not your resignation."

You looked up in time to watch Pablo's chest heave with the breathy (and very fake) laugh that he forced out. Your fingers rested against the keyboard, pausing your aggressive typing. How did Gavi know about your plans to leave? Had he been listening at the door? How long had he been standing there before-

"Is that why you fainted in the hallway? Because I'm leaving the club?"

"So you've already decided that you're leaving? You aren't even going to wait until you see whatever shithole you've been offered a spot at?"

There was an emotion that made Gavi's voice wobble, and you couldn't pin it exactly, but it sounded akin to betrayal. You finished the last sentence of your email, the swooshing sound indicating the message had been sent. Pablo bit his lip and stared hard at the fluorescent light. He didn't want you to see the distress in his face, but he couldn't help it. He hated how the dynamic between the two of you had been so warm, so close to the spark he desperately sought, just to go back to how icy your interactions began.

You pulled up a stool to sit next to him, and grabbed a pair of gloves as you approached. You noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and turned away to put your gloves on. The deep sadness in his eyes, the way his body tensed, the voice like a hurt child - was this all because of you?

"I was doing what I should've done my first week working here: I sent an email to HR about Ferran's nasty comments. Barca can't have a sexual harassment scandal right about now, especially not during the transfer window. And if they fire me, then they..." Your voice trailed off, throat closing up. It was still hard for you to process the possibility.

"If they fire me, then that's one less decision that I have to make."

You ran a gloved hand across his crown, feeling for any bumps or lacerations because of his fall. You felt worse the longer you continued the exam, the feeling that this was your fault sinking in. You had pushed Pablo away wordlessly after brining him in so close. But the majority of your brain screamed back at you how selfish it would be to drag Pablo into your black hole, ruining his career so that he could run after a girl who didn't even feel. If the sun in its greatness could not warm you, then how could ask this of Pablo?

"Now we need to talk about your fall in the hallway. It's quite obvious that you fainted but-"

"Were ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to freeze me out until you left the country?"

Gavi propped himself up on his elbows, eyes meeting you directly. You didn't know what to say. You couldn't tell him how you felt, especially not now. Not right before you disappeared.

"Have you ever fainted like that before? What have you eaten to day?" You asked, moving to throw away your gloves. "If you're having frequent spells of losing consciousness, then we need to have your blood iron tes-"

"Are you being serious right now, y/n? You're on the verge of quitting your dream job, packing up and leaving the country, and isolating yourself from everyone who cares about you, and you're asking about my blood iron? No."

Pablo stood, getting off the table faster than someone with a head injury should. He walked towards you, anger evident.

"No. You don't get to change the subject and talk about my iron. Or sit and try and diagnose me with anything. You know that I'm perfectly healthy. Want to know why I fainted? I'll tell you, Doctora."

Gavi was right in front of your face now, heavy breath fanning against your skin. You swallowed thickly, breathing just as heavy as you met his blazing stare. For the first time in weeks, your eyes started to moisten. Why was this scolding from Pablo going to bring you to tears?

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

Pablo was now cupping your face, holding it like it was the only thing that would tether him to the earth. He rested his head against yours, and suddenly it was too much. All the feelings that had escaped you for so long were coming back all at once, stacking on top of each other and smothering you. Your eyes welled with tears, and you wished the ground would swallow you whole to escape Gavi's piercing eyes looking straight through you.

"But you have to know that I don't just see you as a friend, Doctora. You have to know, even if you don't feel the same way, that I am -"

"We met before I got my job here. That's why you recognize me."

Gavi let go of your face, taking a step back. He looked at you with confusion and hurt. You both knew what he was about to say, and he couldn't understand why you wouldn't just let him get it off his chest. And as selfish as it was, you just couldn't take it. Pablo deserved better - someone that would lift him up, not hold him back. And if he said it, if it was out in the open, then you would never be able to put his needs first.

"The week of my interview, I went to pick up Angelika from the club. Angel went to get her from the VIP section and he left me in charge of keeping an eye on you."

"You... were watching me while I was drunk?" Pablo's brain was processing a thousand things at once. You had met him and remembered him? What had he said while drunk to make you hide that fact from him?

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

There were so many ways to answer this question that you didn't know where to begin. How could you explain to Gavi that you had been so captured by his beauty that night that it had thrown you off your axis, making you wonder if you had died and this was the angel sent to guide you to the pearly gates? How could you describe the intense pull Pablo had over you, tugging at your soul, urging you to stay with him? How were you to say the way your heart broke on his behalf, wanting to hold him in your arms and protect him from everything that made him feel less than the most special person alive? All you had wanted was to kiss him, to pull him in, to never let him go. But none of the words materialized. Because to you, the cruelest thing you could do to Pablo was keep pulling him into you. He was pure light, and you couldn't bear the burden of being the one to extinguish it.

"It was an insignificant moment in a club. Nothing worth mentioning. I didn't even remember until Pedri reminded me when I started."

There it was. The sentence that made Gavi crack. You watched the hurt seep into his features, and a heavy air filled the room. Brows coming together, he looked at you expectantly, waiting, praying, that you would take it back.

"Meeting me was ... insignificant?"

Eyes locked, there was nothing you could say that would erase this moment. You swallowed the lump in your throat, playing with your fingers. You spun the ring you wore around your finger, trying to occupy your mind with anything other than the thought that you were the human embodiment of garbage.

The silence remained, growing thicker with each passing second. It enveloped the both of you, tendrils wrapping around and ripping the two of you apart, fraying whatever string of fate had brought you together.

"You think it was just a coincidence, meeting me in the club weeks before we become coworkers? Friends? Something... beyond that...and you think that coincidence was so forgettable that it wasn't even worth mentioning?"

There it was. The cold front that you put up, the one that pushed everyone away, no matter how hot their love for you burned. You were the ice princess, destined to go through life cold and untouchable and alone.

"Some people you just meet, Pablo. It doesn't mean they're meant to be together. I needed to get my friend out of the club and I just ran into Angel. He left me in charge of you so that you wouldn't do anything stupid or childish while drunk. I was in a club babysitting an 18 year old kid who was pouring his heart out to me while wasted. I didn't say anything to save you from the embarrassment."

That was the straw that broke Gavi's heart. He stormed towards the door, unable to look at you any longer. Had he really been lead on; allowed to believe that you were his friend, or at the least respected him, when this entire time you just saw him as a little kid. His last line to you was spoken so softly you almost didn't hear it over the deafening slam of the door.

"They're going to love you in England."

"Your English is very good for someone educated in Spain."

You looked up at Steve, flashing a practiced professional smile that showed no indication of offense at the objectively offensive statement.

"Thank you, Dr. Hughes. I did complete my baccalaureate degree in the United States, but I'm glad the last two years in Barcelona have not damaged my language."

Now it was his turn to laugh uncomfortably as he lead you through the garish blue halls of Stamford bridge. The entire plane ride you had told yourself that this could be the fresh start you needed. This could be the opportunity to turn your life around, and so you should approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind. But the walls were hurting your eyes, the blue and white making you think of Martin in his kit. You were lead into the trophy room, which was a lot smaller than you were used to.

"Here you can see some of the club's shining moments. We have had an... interesting season this year, but you know that performance fluctuates between seasons. We hope to be back on top again very soon, especially with an entirely new medical team coming on board."

You scanned the shelves and glass cases, admiring the look of trophies you were familiar with, and ones you had never seen before.

"An entire new medical staff? No one is staying on?" You asked, confused. What kind of club replaced everyone all at the same time? Usually at least one person remained to pass the torch, to maintain familiarity. It set warning bells off in your head.

“Ah, well, many of our staff members were quite loyal to Dr. Henry, you know he was here for 17 years after all. So they all followed him out. But we are excited to usher in a new wave of sparkling young medical talent!”

You swallowed hard, still feeling from the information. You still hadn’t finished your degree, and yet you were being offered a head position at what was supposed to be a huge and well-respected club. You couldn’t help but think of the blaugrana.

Something flitted in your chest, a feeling that surrounded you whenever you walked into the camp. The feeling of family, like you were home. The coldness of Steve’s answer didn’t spark anything close to that feeling. Not every workplace needed to be a part of your heart, a new family. These days. You had no idea what your family was supposed to be, or if you had one at all. Your brain begged you to ask what the environment was like, how close the staff was, what created such a high level of loyalty that they would all follow this man wherever he went, abandoning club and home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, asking instead,

“Do you only display the most recent. Champions League trophy?”

More laughter from Steve, but of the fakest nature. “Yes we have one on this side, one on the other. They’re … ehem, all of our UCL trophies are displayed here.” Your cheeks warmed with subtle embarrassment. You knew nothing about this room or this club, and if you were honest with yourself, you had no desire to. You missed Barca. But you had to give this club its chance – an honest shot to be your new home.

The two of you continued through the halls as Steve showed you all the medical equipment and facilities that would be at your disposal should you accept. At the end, he led you to the players’ lounge, offering you a seat. The blue had given you a baby migraine, and you were incredibly grateful for the ability to sit and rest. You refused the gracious offers for food, sipping on a bottle of water to dull the throbbing against your skull. You searched the room for something, something familiar – a face, a number, to make you feel like everything was going to work out in the end. But it never appeared, the bright colors and foreign faces more of a discomfort than anything else.

"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor. Let me get some of the players that you'll be working with, and you can hear from them what the environment is like."

You nodded sweetly, sitting up straight with ankles crossed in the way Princess Diaries taught you to. As the footsteps faded slowly into the distance, a sigh passed between your lips. What were you doing? Despite the lecture given to yourself on the uncomfortable plane ride over (Chelsea would only pay for economy), it had all gone out the window. Your gut was in knots, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and the screen lit up in your hand to read "One Football: FC Barcelona vs Manchester United - Starting lineup now available." The notification had been pressed before you registered what was going on. Your eyes scanned the list just to land on one name. Your mind went back to the last conversation the two of you shared. The most venomous words had slipped past your lips, and you had finally done it: you pushed the last person who cared for you away. The sentiment was harsh. How could anyone ever recover a relationship after shattering it so completely? Despite how much much it hurt to grip the broken shards so tightly, you held on nonetheless, packing Gavi's hoodie in your bag, the '6' embroidered into the pocket cutting open a gaping wound in your heart, and yet you enjoyed its presence there.

"Doctora, I'm pleased to introduce Kepa and Christian. They have been with the club for a while, and they would be happy to answer all your questions."

"A scoreless first half here at Old Trafford as both Barcelona and Man U return to the locker rooms for half time. As we saw Pedri went down in those final minutes of the half, and we've received a report that he is out for the rest of the match. His injury status is unknown, but if the magician is out of commission, this could be a very easy steal for United."

The sounds of fists slamming against lockers was loud enough to be heard all the way home in Spain. Pedri Potter, the star, the leader of Barca's new era, was now in icing his right hamstring in some medical examination room, while the rest of the team scrambled to figure out a scenario in which they would win without him in a mere 15 minutes. Gavi bounced his leg anxiously, eager to see his friend and make sure he was okay.

"Listen up boys. We can win this game without Pedri. The score is now 1-0 to Man U, and all we need to do it score once to tie. Then we are back home, our turf and our fans. Robert, Rapha, your goal is to put the ball in the net. I don't care what you have to do. The middle, you need to get the ball in a good position for these two. That means Gavi, you'll be- Gavi pay attention!"

Head snapping up, Pablo's eyes met Xavi's directly. He knew he should be paying attention - this was the first of several games that needed to be won until they reached a trophy. He needed to be on his A-game, and yet, his mind was drifting. He wished it was just concern over Pedri capturing his attention. But in the corners of his mind, your voice lingered. "Babysitting... insignificant... embarrassment." All words you had used when talking about him as he was on the verge of pouring his entire soul out onto the linoleum for you. He didn't understand the anger that flowed through him. It was a sense of ... incompleteness. If you had let him finish, let him say the words that he didn't fully understand, then he would have been okay. He would have watched as you kicked his beating heart against the wall, telling him that you could never feel that way towards him. He would have been okay: relieved. But you had left him dangling off the edge of a cliff, with no relief in being pulled to safety nor mercy in being allowed to fall.

Xavi gave his instructions to the midfield and the defensive line, going over the weak points that needed to be addressed.

"Pedri is most likely out for the next eight weeks, missing both the next match and the SuperCopa, so this is your opportunity to adjust to playing in high-stress situations without him."

Gavi's head raised fully at this. Eight weeks? It has been forever since someone was out for that long. Since the beginning of the season... since you had joined the team. A pinch in Pablo's chest. His brain repeated over and over that the best thing to do was let you go. To let you be your own person, grow and be independent, saving himself the heartache because the one girl he wanted was the one he couldn't have. Yet his heart held on with an iron grip. It refused to release you, reminding him of every sweet moment shared in cars and offices and bedrooms. It was quick to forget the pain of being perceived as a child. Pablo's heart begged him to wait for you, because it was incapable of letting go of a devotion so intense. His heart ached for you, longing for the day he be deemed worthy enough to love you wholly and completely.

"Eight weeks is insane - we have never gone that long with our midfield handicapped. Is there no way to speed up recovery? Who gave the estimate?" Robert asked, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"Luca is the only one from the medical staff who is here right now. He is the one who made the determination. Of course, the rest of the staff will be free to reevaluate when we return home. But Luca will be the one continuing with the course of treatment, and so we will go with his estimate."

"What? Where is y/n?" The question came from Alejandro, followed by hushed agreement. Even if you were not the first point of contact for all the players, you were a team staple, becoming as familiar to them as the crest embroidered on their uniforms. The older players had watched as you performed medical miracles on their teammates that rivaled what Jesus did for the blind, allowing the team to prosper all season. 15 points at the top of the table, and at least half had your name on them. The youngers had felt your impact directly, following your instructions like gospel. They knew how much care you showed to every single one of them, from the starters to the bench warmers. Your hands had put them back together. A touch of you lingered in all the success achieved, and your absence felt closer to abandonment than anything else.

"You should ask Pablito - he would be the first one to notice that his girlfriend wasn't on the flight." Ferran's voice: the closest human equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. After everything that had taken place, it was a wonder he still had the energy to be an ass.

"Maybe you should ask Ferran about his HR investigation, which is a main reason that she's touring the Chelsea facility fight now. Hey, maybe you'll see her this summer when you get sold there. They're always looking for people to keep the bench warm while the important players are on the field." Gavi spoke calmly and evenly, like he was stating pure fact. He stood, leaving the room to avoid the round of questioning that was about to occur regarding HR and the doctora's new home.

The click of Pablo's cleats echoed loudly in the hallway a she approached the medical room, where Luca was fumbling with bandage and his laptop, while Pedri waited on the exam table like a fish at the market. His head turned at the sound of Gavi's approach, and he gave a weak smile to the younger player.

"I finally pushed it too far. Great timing, eh Hermano? It's only a Champion's League, a SuperCopa, and a potential classico that I'll miss. Nothing significant."

Gavi could do nothing but let out a slight laugh, cupping Pedri on the back of the neck. His heart hurt for his friend. This is what every player dreamed of: playing for cups, winning with the team of their dreams. And Pedri was going to miss all of it because they had relied on him to heavily, asked him to bridge too many gaps.

"Please don't say that word to me ever again. Luca, how's it looking? Eight weeks seems a little excessive for a sprain." Gavi knew that Luca was doing something wrong. Or stupid. Or, the most likely option, both. When Ansu had sprained his hamstring, he was back on the field in 28 days under your care. Alejandro had a minor tear in his meniscus, and yet still he was faster than the speed of sound 6 weeks later. Now there was no you. No melodic voice explaining muscle strain and stride length and tissue recovery. Just a stupid, lanky Spaniard in free Barca merch putting "leg hurts" into Web MD and seeing what he can diagnose with this time.

"Why don't you let the medical professionals do their job, Gavi, and you go back to putting your head in front of peoples' feet."

Looking to quickly diffuse the situation, Pedri turned to his friend, wanting to stop looking at the man who might end his football career with a wrong move and an 'oops'.

"I'll just let y/n look at it when I get back home. She'll fix me up in no time. That is, if you give me one of your spots on her schedule."

"Yeah, that's if she even comes back to work."

Pedri looked at the younger boy with confusion. It had been several weeks since he had seen Gavi with his favorite physio. Initially, he thought the crush had faded - that Pablo had found another pretty thing to maintain his interest, and you had fallen to the wayside with the other failed football loves. But Pablo was so clearly unhappy. He was more irritable, spending more and more time on his phone while avoiding the group all together. He sat silently in Pedri's passenger seat, screen illuminating his face but remaining silent.

[Doctora]: Good morning Pablo - running late. Will bring you an apology smoothie

[Doctora]: im going to need you to send me a video of you tying your shoes as proof

[Doctora]: i'll tell you when i see u tomorrow

Gavi had spent two weeks going back over every message you had ever sent him. He watched the way your tone changed from proper and professional to something lighter, more friendly and familiar. Over and over your voice played in his head.

"Pablo."

Pride be damned. He missed you. As he stood behind his teammates, whispers about the staff still whirling around the tunnel, it dawned on him. Barca, the club of his dreams, the fantasy of his childhood, would never - could never - be complete again if you left.

"And we're back in Old Trafford for the second half of this UCL match between the Historic FC Barcelona, and the red devils of Manchester United."

"That's incredible that you went to school there! I'm a ride or die for their basketball team, so you already have my respect."

You flashed Christian a smile - a real one, the first genuine display of joy you've been able to muster in a while. Both of the players had shown a genuine interest in getting to know you, trying to sell you on the idea of joining the club. Kepa had gushed over how much he loved living in London, citing his experiences as a fellow Spaniard.

"You're around so many Spanish speakers at the club, you hardly miss home."

Christian, the more injury-prone of the two, talked about his experiences with the medical team, and the close relationships he had built there. All of the medical team had become family to him in some way or the other. It calmed your previous anxieties. Maybe it was just a fear of change keeping you tethered to Barca, and all you needed was time to adjust.

"I think you'd get along really well with the other players, of course, the ones that opt-in to working with you."

This statement from Christian caught the attention of both you and Steve, who rushed over before you could ask for clarification. Opt-in? How could you opt-in to medical treatment?

"Miss, I think that Kepa and Christian have both done a wonderful job of providing just a small taste of what it means to be part of the Chelsea family. We don't want to keep them from afternoon training."

You said your thanks and goodbyes, but before they left Kepa turned to you, as if suddenly struck with a lightening bolt of realization.

"You're the Barca physio that works with Gavi, right?" He asked in Spanish. "He mentioned a girl physio during international training."

Another knot in your stomach at the mere mention of his name. "Yeah that would be me."

Kepa's face shifted, brows downturned and lips pursed. "Let me give you my contact information, in case you have any more questions." This line was in English, spoken more in Steve's direction than in yours. He approached, taking the phone from your hands and switching back to Spanish.

"Don't leave Barca. Gavi talked about you a lot during the break. They respect and value you a lot there - don't throw that away." He handed the phone back to you as you tried to contain your expression, suppressing the shock you felt from displaying itself on your features. What could Pablo have said that would make this man go out of his way to prevent you from joining this club? What had been so compelling that Kepa worked against his own best interest?

It was now just you and Steve in the room, and you turned to him, his skin flushed, to ask about Christian's little slip.

"There was something mentioned about players opting out of treatment?"

"Ah, just a small clause in your contract. Just says that players can choose not to be treated by club medical staff and find their own if they feel uncomfortable. It's all there in the paperwork somewhere. You can call my assistant if you read over it again and have more questions. Now, I know that you need to go soon, but I wouldn't be able to let you go without meeting one of our new signings. Someone else who knows what it's like to decide to make the shift from La Liga here to the old PL. Come with me."

You rose from your seat, migraine returning from the stress onset. What was being kept from you? Obviously you hadn't read your employment offer close enough. You walked through the passages somewhat mindlessly, following Steve with your body as your mind drifted elsewhere. What was being hidden from you?

"Joao, nice to see you again! This is Doctor y/l/n, and we're trying to convince her to make the same switch from Spain to London."

All of your medical education had told you that the masticator and other jaw muscles were voluntary; that they could be controlled and moved when you wanted. Not today. Your jaw went slack, and it refused to shut as you stared at the Portuguese beauty before you. There was no way. How had you missed the news of his move. How unprofessional was it to say 'pinch me' during what was essentially an interview.

"Nice to meet you, Doctora. I'm quite relieved that I don't have to speak in English - apparently my accent is not as good as I thought."

Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You had yet to say anything or even shut your mouth. Joao Felix was shaking your hand. You laughed lightly at his statement, muscles moving independently of the pudding that was your brain currently. Joao Felix was shaking your hand.

"I'm sorry, it's so nice to meet you, I'm just a little overwhelmed. You're one of my favorite players in football right now. I've been following you since your debut. Oh my God."

It was Joao's turn to laugh, a light and glorious sound. You had made him laugh. You wished someone was recording so you could send the video to Angeliika. And your mom. They would both go into cardiac arrest. His skin turned slightly pink as he scratched the back of his head, flattered by the admiration of someone so accomplished (and, as he would later reflect, gorgeous). Despite not understanding a lick of Spanish, Steve knew he had made a winning move by introducing you to Joao. The two of you leaned into each other as you spoke, and he motioned towards the field, inviting you to a stroll around the turf to chat.

All of your pride and prejudice fantasies were being realized in this moment. You were taking a polite stroll around the grounds with a man that you had salivated over while watching football on TV. A golden boy and future champion. He was something incredible. Witty and charismatic and easy to talk to. Everyone says not to meet your heroes, and yet here you were, floating several inches above the ground beside Joao.

"So, what club are you moving from? Can't be something in Madrid - I would remember you."

Lord, this was too much. You gave a silent thanks to the heavens, all the good karma you had accumulated throughout your life manifesting on this day.

"Oh no, not a Madrid club. Just a small Catalan club called Barca. Heard of it?" You teased as Joao stopped in his tracks. It was his turn to go wide-eyed and slack jawed.

"You're the Barca girl physio? I have heard of you! One of the physios at Atleti is your classmate. He said you're crazy smart."

How were you staying alive when all the blood in your body was in your face? How had so many people in the football space heard your name with you blissfully unaware. The smile on your face was not just due to the compliment. Maybe there were people ready to be there for you, and you just needed to reach arm out to them.

The conversation came to a close as you watched other groups come onto the field, preparations being made for upcoming matches. You thanked Joao for his time, once again involuntarily gushing about how surreal this experience was.

"Ah, there's really no need. The pleasure was all mine. I hope that I'll get to see more of you, Doctora, no matter what decision you end up making." Stretching his arm out, pulling you in for a hug. He enveloped you, arms wrapped tightly around your frame in a way that was borderline inappropriate for a goodbye. He smelled heavenly, the warmth radiating from his body akin to a fireplace. This was the stuff of dreams and imagination.

And yet, Joao was not the name on your mind. He way he smelled was beautiful and yet unfamiliar. Your thoughts traveled back to the last hug like this you had shared with someone. To the scent of One Million and powdery deodorant, mixed with something that couldn't be bottled. To the feeling of strong arms sitting lower on your waist. To brown hair and brown eyes and a brown leather couch. To white shirts and white bedsheets. To the soft voice and smooth voice that called for you.

"Doctora."

Logic be damned. You missed Pablo. And then the empty expanse of your soul filled with a feeling of dread. You had made a mistake. So many mistakes. Pushing away Pablo, lying to your friends about how much you needed them. Considering another job. Nothing in the the blue and white had given you even 1% of the feelings you experienced walking into Camp Nou every day. But you would never be able to go back if Gavi was angry with you. Ferran was cattle waiting to be sold. Gavi was a contender this year's golden boy, a powerhouse on the field, a bright star for both club and country. You reached into your bag, staring at his name in your phone. But your fingers shook too violently to press the call button. You remembered the hurt on his features, the way he couldn't even look at you as he passed in the halls. You weren't ready to see [Call Declined] appear on your screen. Instead you rested your phone on your lap, reaching in to retrieve your Chelsea contract.

Obviously, your eagerness to run away from your current life had blurred your vision. On page 22 of 31, there is was in what appeared to be a smaller font than the rest of the agreement.

"Under FIFA and British Football regulation, players may refuse treatment from club-appointed medical staff for any reason, including but not limited to feelings of fear, discomfort, lack of safety, and lack of confidence. Providers will be compensated on a fee-for-service basis, where compensation is scaled based on the number of players consistently treated. Should more than 40% of players request alternative treatment, the club may terminate the contract with the provider before the term of the contract has elapsed."

Your eyes widened, brows knitted together in confusion and borderline disgust. Women in medicine were already at a disadvantage, and that increased tenfold for women in sports medicine. Should the players feel uncomfortable with you because of your sex or age, you could spontaneously be out of a job after picking up and moving your whole life?!

Before you could pick up the phone and tell Steve that he would need to find someone else to fill this cursed position, a buzzing came from your bag. Who was calling your work phone?

"Hello?"

"Good evening Doctora y/l/n, hope that your visit at Chelsea went well." Andreas was Xavi's secretary, and he was the closest thing you would ever get to the cast of The Devil Wears Prada. He was rather cold in the way that he spoke, but never rude. Well dressed and straight to the point - commanding of respect.

"Went very well, Andreas. I got to meet-"

"Mister Xavi has asked for your presence on the flight back to Barcelona to discuss your future with the club. It is of the utmost importance that this meeting occur as soon as possible. So you need to be in Heathrow by tonight at 11pm for check in with the rest of the team."

"But my flight back to Barcelona is tomorrow and I-"

"You'll be fully reimbursed for the cost of changing your travel. We are leaving from Terminal 2. Have a wonderful evening."

Just like that, you were wondering how fast you could pack everything and leave in the next 6 hours when your personal phone buzzed in your lap.

[Pablo]: I know u said u need space but

[Pablo]: i rlly need to talk to u

[Pablo]: can i meet you somewhere?

Heart racing, you typed back as fast as you could with trembling fingers, telling him that you would be so happy to meet him, giving him the address of a café near your hotel. You didn't want him to see what your salary could actually afford (since Chelsea didn't cover your travel accommodations). You let out a sigh of relief. He wanted to see you. He wanted to speak with you. He wasn't completely lost.

Packing had been fast - you had only brought the essentials to London to avoid paying a bag fee on the budget airline you had traveled. Fixing yourself in the mirror, you let out a deep sigh. What were you even going to say to Pablo? Begging for forgiveness seemed the most logical choice. You practiced your apology in the mirror, and yet froze every time. How would you respond when he asked you why? Why it had been so easy for you to push him away, to strike him down, to make him feel so utterly unimportant to you and your life? You didn't know how you would respond.

Feelings of the heart are often the easiest to articulate. They're not like emotions. Emotions are straight forward: happiness, anger, sadness, jealousy. Things that were caused by one identifiable source, and could be expressed easily with words and actions. But the matters that went beyond feeling, those were the most difficult to understand, let alone communicate. Despite his form, it wasn't lust that drew you into Pablo. Those thoughts had made you breathe heavy and push your thighs together. The glimpses of Pablo's bare form were painted on the edge of your mind, soft skin and hard muscle, inviting you in for a touch, a taste. It was an exciting idea, but not the one that riled you up the most.

No, it was something different. It was a scene that had plagued your mind for weeks upon end, always causing you to wake in a cold sweat with a tightness in your chest, breaths labored. You pictured yourself laying on Pablo's bare chest, drawing circles on his skin as his heart beat rhythmically for you to listen to. As you drifted off, he would place a kiss on the top of your head, running a soothing hand down your spine. It wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him, as he whispered softly.

"Mine."

It was a magnetic pull that Pablo had, a force of nature that you were unable to escape. It could be described as nothing other than desire, like you would make the world stop spinning until the two of you were united. There was a higher force tying you to Pablo, and etched in your bones was a knowledge that you would never be able to leave him. But the sentiments died on your tongue before they could ever take to the air, never to fall on the ears of a certain Spaniard.

As your heels clicked against the city pavement, a sense of calm washed over you. He had reached out to you. There was an olive branch being extended. He was ready to hear what you had to say. Yet upon entering the small space, a different voice called out your name.

"Pedri?"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment in your voice. You had built up the confidence to come here solely based on the premise that Gavi wanted to see you. Your ego had deflated, back to feeling like utter garbage for the way you had treated the person who, in reality, was your closest friend. Before the self pity could fully sink its claws in, you noticed the full-leg brace that Pedri was sporting.

"I'm sorry that I used Pablo's phone to text you - didn't have your personal number, and it would be a little... salt-in-the-wound-ish to ask him for it right now. Especially since you asked him not to speak to you."

"I never said that!" You exclaimed a little more enthusiastically than intended, causing a couple people to glance in your direction. Pedri escorted you to a table in the corner, offering to go and get you a coffee to fight the chill of a London January.

"No please. It's completely fine. You shouldn't be standing with a torn muscle anyways."

Pedri looked at you inquisitively. He had not seen you in a while, especially with you and Gavi not on speaking terms. He had missed the quips and sarcastic comments he was able to catch during training. He missed the feeling of safety whenever you cared for himself or others on the field, as he knew that you were to be trusted with their bodies. He missed the fire you sparked in Pablo, leading to unparalleled passion and unprecedented performances. The air of natural confidence that you spoke with is what brought the smile to his face. Not hesitation or wobble in your voice. No need to consult a dozen others. Medically, you knew your shit.

"A tear? Luca told me it was only excessive strain on my hamstrings."

A scoff and an eye roll that widened Pedri's smile. "I wouldn't let Luca perform medicine on a Barbie. That's the wrong kind of brace if it's a sprain. It's immobilizing. You need something with compression - a thigh sleeve most likely. Have you been icing it?"

"How could you leave Barca when your successors are idiots like Luca?" His arms folded across the table in front of him as the realization spread across your features. You were acting like his physio on impulse.

"How did you know I was thinking about leaving?"

"Everybody knows. No one could focus on today's second half because of it. When I went down everyone was scrambling to find you and call you. Everyone, myself included, was waiting for you to run across the field, bag in those magic hands ready to come and give me a new leg. But then you weren't there. And I was just praying that Luca didn't schedule me for an amputation."

A shy smile and a breathy laugh. You met his kind eyes, piercing though you. It was surprising when you felt the wetness on your cheeks, registering you were crying only after the tears had rolled down to your chin. He brought his chair in closer, holding your hand, and you held on for dear life. Your tears were falling in earnest now, fat and fast enough to hit the table as you used Pedri as a lifeline.

"Come back to Barca."

"I can't Pedri. I've... I've just made such a mess of everything."

"You're talking about Pablo."

"I'm talking about everything. I have a player that actively hates me and is looking for every opportunity to get me fired. Everyone on the team thinks that I'm sleeping with Pablo. And Pablo - I can't even explain how much I messed up. I told him to stay away from me. To give me space. I don't want space." You rested your forehead against the cool wood of the table. "I just want him to talk to me. When you sent me that message I was so excited. I thought he was ready to forgive me."

"Don't worry for a second about Ferran. We heard about the complaint to HR and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf about the dogshit he says to you. Everyone with a brain knows you're not sleeping with Pablo - they all have so much respect for the work that you do. Dembele came to me after the match and told me to contact you. He said your first assignment for Barca was to work on his leg recovery, and it was the best treatment he's ever had." You raised your head, tears turning your eyes red and puffy as they stained your cheeks.

"This may be selfish of me to say, but I would do anything to have you stay at the club and work with me. I can't miss all of these cup games because the physios don't know what's going on. This is everything I have ever wanted in my life. And if you're the person that can help me get there, then nothing, especially not Ferran and the other airheads at the club, are going to hold me back."

He moved to grab your other hand as well, looking you straight in the eyes. There was not one indication that he was exaggerating his sentiments. He wanted to win more than he wanted to breathe.

"And Pablo? Don't worry about him."

"How can I not worry, Pedri. I was so cruel to him. He'll never speak to me again."

"Doctora, don't you know that there's no one on this earth he holds in higher regard?"

The terminal was surprisingly quite busy upon your arrival. It seemed that everyone was catching an international red-eye, causing you to stumble through crowds with your small bag and exhausted demeanor. You approached the airport staff, utterly lost in trying to find the meeting place. It was 10:56pm, and you didn't have the money to be missing the company-sponsored return flight.

"Excuse me, I'm with the F.C Barcelona team. Where can I check in for my flight?"

"I don't remember them becoming a unisex team.'' Your expression remained neutral as the staff member chuckled at his own joke. You didn't have time to give a lecture on the dangers of misogyny. "I need to see your Barca ID."

"I don't have my team ID badge, but if you let me speak to-"

"Don't you women have something better to do than try and fuck a footballer? Lord, you even have a suitcase and everything. I suggest that you go home and stop with these little charades - it's embarrassing."

You stood speechless as the man walked away, stationing himself in a different area of the terminal. Behind you, screams were heard coming from the door, followed by flashes of light in rapid succession.

"Gavi I love you!"

"Pedri Pedri! You're my idol!"

"Xavi have my babies!"

Your attention shifted to the security guarding the entrance as the Barca squad filtered through the doors, all dressed in coordinated pale yellow. You speed walked towards them, pace catching the attention of one of the guards.

"Miss, you need to maintain space."

Gavi turned to look at the person that was causing a disturbance. Usually it was a child who had gotten a little too excited to see their favorite players, and often the soft spot in his heart compelled him to give them a picture or signature. It was hard to have your dreams crushed as a child by a celebrity that didn't care, and he was determined not to be that type of person. That's when his eyes locked with a pair oh so familiar to him. He stood in place, frozen as his teammates narrowly avoided bumping into him and causing an awful domino effect. It felt like forever since he last looked at you this way: like you were the only person in the room.

"Ah, Doctora y/n, glad Andreas was able to coordinate with you. Sir, she's with us." Xavi's word was law, as usual, and you were allowed to pass through with the rest of the group, ushered to a more private area of the terminal, the screams of fans echoing behind you.

Pablo watched as you stood alongside the coach, chattering away about God knows what. Eric and Pedri were beside him, making conversation about the new additions introduced in the FIFA update.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" Gavi asked, interrupting Pedri's rant about how expensive different skins and expansions were. He had been desperate to see you, thinking of all the ways he might reconcile once he saw you again. But not now. He wasn't ready to face you - not ready to be told 'no' again. For the first time in years, a cold vein of fear ran through him. Was this it? Were you handing in your resignation, coming to Spain only to collect your things before moving to the gray fogginess of the Premier League?

"Yeah. We had a little chat earlier." Say what you want about the IQ of footballers, but Pedri was incredibly intelligent. He himself had given up a career in medicine to explore football greatness. This meant he was smart enough to have deleted the messages that he sent from Pablo's phone before he did his 78th re-read of all your text messages. He was also smart enough to figure out that Gavi had wanted you practically since he laid eyes on you. Contrary to what many may think, Gavi didn't really look at girls. He was usually absorbed in conversation with a friend, whether in person or virtually, and was not prone to looking at every pretty girl that crossed his path. He was hard to please and even harder to impress. So when he started seeking you out more often, mentioning you during random drives, he knew that Pablito was infatuated.

It was several months, however, before Pedri realized the extent of Pablo's affection towards you. It had been during the international break, when Pedri sat and played FIFA with Nico, the only worthy opponent among La Roja. Pablo was half watching the game, half staring at the illuminated screen when he stood suddenly. Pedri watched from the corner of his eye as Gavi stepped out onto the balcony in shorts and his training shirt in the bitter chill of December. When the match had ended (3-1 to him of course), he followed the younger outside, and found him with his phone pointed towards the horizon. The sun in its retirement had painted the sky the most vibrant shades of oranges and pinks, bleeding into a royal purple. The hazy, circular glow kept the sky warm, and the colors stretched out over the wide expanse of the city, painting everything in the golden light of dusk. That's when Pedri heard the shutter click.

"Since when do you take pictures of the sunset?" He was teasing again. It was always fun to rile up his fiery teammate.

"I'm sending them to the doctora. It's so pretty, I want her to see it."

"Isn't she in Barcelona right now? She's probably looking at the same sunset."

"But it's just so beautiful from this high up." Gavi said, eyes still transfixed on his phone as he searched for the most worthy flick to send you. "I just want to send her something beautiful. I want to send her every beautiful thing in the world."

Yes, Pedri was a smart man. Smart enough to see that Pablo's feelings to you were stronger than he had ever experienced for another. Probably the strongest he had ever experienced at all. He was smart enough to approach Alejandro and Ansu, while Gavi chewed on his lip at the prospect of speaking to you, to organize the seating during the flight home.

"Don't get too comfortable, Doctora. You'll be joining me upfront for a chat after takeoff." You laughed politely at Xavi as he boarded the plane. You gathered your things, acutely aware of Ferran's gaze on you while you bent over.

"Have a good time at Chelsea? Try and ruin any lives while there?" He asked, voice laced with annoyance. HR had approached him about your complaint, informing him that they would be asking other players and staff about comments made at your expense. While he could keep his friends quiet, he had done too much to piss off Gavi, leaving him vulnerable to everyone in his camp. His only hope was to get you to leave before the investigation had concluded.

"I would prefer we didn't speak about non-professional matters. Thank you, Ferran." You said, smiling so sweetly he felt his teeth throb. You boarded the plane last with the rest of the staff, Luca rushing past you like he would be left behind if he wasn't seated soon. Glancing down at your ticket, you read out your seat number. Row 6, seat G. Walking onto the aircraft, you were stunned by the beauty of the first class cabin. It was furnished completely with plush leather, with every two or three seats getting their own dividers from the rest of the passengers. You walked to row 6, and made your way across the aisle to the right side of the plane where your seat was meant to be. In row 6, seat F, sat Pablo. He looked up at the aisle at the sound of shuffling, and the two of you just stared at one another, wordlessly communicating a shared hurt. All you wanted was to pull him in and say how sorry you were. You just didn't know if he'd be ready to accept.

"Um, I think I'm in the seat next to you." You told him sheepishly. He moved from his place, allowing you to sit next to him by the window.

"I thought the staff usually sits together." He said, trying to prevent it from sounding like a complaint, because it truly wasn't. He wondered what force of fate had allowed your seat to be placed next to his. Little did he know that fate was from the Canary Islands. You sat next to him, adjusting your seat and the belt, before bouncing your leg nervously. The speed increased when you felt the vibration of the engine, watching the plane move from its parked space onto the runway. You wanted to say something - anything - but your throat was dry and the words failed you. You didn't know what to say to ensure that you would be forgiven. That was probably the scariest part: knowing that the forgiveness may never come.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

You turned your head at the question. Gavi's eyes were fixated on your sweatpants-clad thigh as it bounced at incredible speeds. There were many things you were scared of in that moment, but the plane didn't help quell any of them. You were going to be stuck next to Pablo for the next two hours at the least. The anxiety of not knowing how he felt towards you gnawed at your skin, eating you alive. You nodded your head, because in all honesty, it was the same fear, wasn't it? Flying, falling - all terrifying prospects.

Gavi put one airpod in, extending the other to you. It was a peace offering, the olive branch you had waited for. You accepted it graciously, muttering a quiet thank you as you slotted it into place. Your body turned back towards the window, 'Sky full of stars' playing softly in the right half of your brain. As the plane continued to move slowly down the runway, you felt a hand rest atop yours, bringing your bouncing leg to a halt. The skin on skin sent shockwaves through you, electricity running up and down your arm. His hand moved sideways, sliding under yours to lift, and then proceeding to interlock your fingers. The warmth of Pablo's hand, the strength of his grip. The slight squeeze as the plane began picking up speed. Despite lacking the confidence to look at him directly, you peaked at your joined hands. Pablo was here. And through the presses of his fingers and the soothing motion of his thumb, he reminded you that Pablo would always be here, so long as you would have him.

"y/n, Mister Xavi would like to see you now."

You hadn't even realized your hand was still laced with Pablo's until one of the assistant coaches came to collect you. Gavi had drifted off into a light sleep, waking as he felt the cold hit his once warm palm. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to follow the assistant coach.

"Don't leave." He said, voice dry and raspy. You weren't sure if he meant now or the club. You moved your hand to join it with the one on your wrist, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, as he had done for you.

"Don't worry. I'll be right back."

This was your first time on a plane that had a lounge. The coaching staff was spread across all four sofas, drinking champagne and discussing the efforts from this trip. Xavi sat at a table, an empty seat across from him.

"Doctora, welcome back from Chelsea. Did you enjoy your visit?" He asked, offering your a flute that you politely declined.

"It was wonderful. The staffand players were all great. I'm grateful for the opportunity."

Xavi raised an eyebrow at the diplomatic answer. You were not giving him much of an indication as to your decision. He reached into his bag and extracted a medical file, sliding it over to you.

"As I'm sure you saw on TV and online, Pedri suffered quite a severe injury during the Man U match. Pedri is a key component of our midfield, and Luca has estimated eight to ten weeks for his recovery. I'd like you to take a look at his medical examination report and recommend a course of treatment."

You took the papers in your hand, looking at Xavi cautiously. What was the purpose of this exercise?

"Well, I've already told Pedri that his brace was incorrect, and gave him the specifications for a sleeve to buy once we return home. The eight to ten weeks metric is based on the healing with this immobilization boot. Using the correct compression sleeves and ice, as well as rest, Pedri should be back on in 4 weeks. Five if you want to be safe. That would mean his first appearance back would be the SuperCopa semifinals."

Xavi laughed to himself, collecting the files and returning them to their place. He pulled out another sheet of documents, the words "Adjusted Contract" in bold at the top.

"Doctora y/l/n, it has become increasingly evident as I watch you practice and treat our players that you are a generational talent in sports medicine. You have a deep understanding of the body that few others, both in the club and outside, can fully grasp. At Barca, we strive to do everything in our power to keep generational talents in Camp Nou. I would like you to consider remaining at the club until the summer, when contract renegotiations occur. This would allow you to see out a season that you have contributed so greatly to."

"Why the new contract now then?"

"Just a few clause adjustments. Firstly, we have increased your compensation to absorb your living costs. Those will now be covered by the club. The other change is on this page here. It states that your main focus must be on starters, injured prioritized before healthy. So, if you choose to accept, Pedri would be the top priority as an injured starter. You would dedicate all the necessary time to his treatment."

You scanned the document, and it was just as he said. No other nonsense, just the clauses on compensation and prioritization.

"This is all so flattering sir, but..." Your voice trailed off, shy to speak in front of a legend and the man holding your future in his hands.

"What can we do to make this deal irrefutable?"

"The contract is perfect sir. What I would need is a promise from you. Chelsea's base compensation was higher, but the compensation was based on the number of services the medical staff provides. I could be fired at any moment if not enough players were comfortable being treated by me. I felt, or well rather I didn't feel the sense of loyalty, of family, that I get as Barca. And so I would need a promise from you."

"Name your demand."

"When the summer comes and my contract needs to be renegotiated, keep me on the team. Don't try and pawn me off to someone else. This is my team, my club, my family. So you have to promise me that I have a future here, or else I'll save the heartbreak and leave now."

Xavi placed a pen on the table, bringing his chair forward to be as close as possible to you. "Doctora, you are an incredible and frankly priceless asset to us. We were able to hand select you from the best of the best new physios in Spain. Our successes, any trophies and titles, we owe them in part to you. Help me finish the season with a strong and healthy squad, and I swear to you on my life that you will have a place at Barca until the day you die." He stretched out his hand, and you took a deep breath, meeting the shake midway. It felt weird, signing your contract again, but for more money. You definitely didn't expect to be in this position before you've even graduated, but it brought a pride to your soul. Xavi saw something in you. A generational talent. Somebody believed in what you could do.

You returned to your seat and found that it was Gavi's turn to bounce his leg. You sat down, and he followed you with his eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Very much so. I got to meet Joao Felix."

Gavi's face turned to you, catching the beaming smile that broke out across your face.

"Yeah? You like him in person, or was he a disappointment?"

"He was less... dreamy than I had anticipated. But still sweet nonetheless. It was a cool experience."

Gavi responded with a hum, turning his music back on and looking away from you. His other airpod sat on the tray table, right where you left it.

"Pablo," it was your turn to rest a hand on his bouncing leg, "we have to talk."

Pablo turned to you, eyes sad and lip between his teeth. "Do we? I feel like you've said everything there is to say." He knew he was being difficult. He knew he was being petty. But Pablo could not let himself get hurt again, especially not in front of the entire team. If he was going to mourn your departure, it was going to be in the comfort of his own guest bed, the one piece of furniture he could sleep on for 7 continuous hours because it held no memories of you. It was your turn to find his fingers and slot them between your own.

"I didn't mean it. Any of it. I have so many reasons why I didn't mention meeting you, Pablo, but I'm just not brave enough to tell you yet. It wasn't because it wasn't important. It could never be. You are one of the most important people in my life. You're one of the only people I have left. Please don't push me away."

His eyes met yours, and he knew there was no way he could remain angry. It was you, after all. The person that made Pablo believe in the possibility of a soulmate. The one that Gavi thought of whenever songs about incredible love came up on his playlist. You were it. He gripped your hand tighter.

"Going to be hard to support you from several countries away, but I will try my best."

"You don't have to. I'm staying."

Gavi's eyes widened, face lighting up like a kid who had just been gifted an entire candy store. "You're staying?"

"Mhm. Barca is my home. My family. No matter how bad it gets, I could never leave this place behind." It felt as though you spoke those words right into his soul, breathing life back into his very being. You were staying. Your voice, your laugh, your energy - all of it would be at Camp Nou, waiting on the sidelines as he fought tooth and nail to capture your attention. "And plus, Pedri and Xavi basically begged me to come back so Luca doesn't have to treat him."

Gavi let a laugh fill his lungs and spill from his throat, maybe a little louder than necessary on a midnight flight. But he was feeling genuine joy course through his veins. He was a man on death row with a second chance at life. He removed his hand from your grip, bringing to above you and resting it across your shoulders. Professionalism be damned. He just wanted to be close to you right now.

"Xavi was more convincing than Joao? I bet that would be a blow to his ego if he found out." It was comfortable, sitting with Pablo in this way. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. You pushed up the hand rest so that the two of you could get even closer. Professionalism be damned. They wouldn't fire you while Pedri was still limping.

"Oh yeah. Portugal boy is cute, but Xavi in 2010? That was my first love. I could never refuse a request from him." More giggles from Gavi. You wished you would bottle this moment, eager to make his happiness perpetual. He was human sunshine, and he deserved every light and happy and beautiful moment life could offer.

"The spiky hair? Really?"

"Shut up!" Coupled with a smack to the chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, exhaustion of the day and its stressors finally catching up to you. "Every man looks hotter when carrying a trophy."

Gavi let out a light laugh, turning to hide his blush. Yet another motivation to lift as many cups as possible this season. He offered you his other airpod again, which you accepted, inserting it as a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyelids were heavy, and you were drifting in and out of consciousness.

"One day, we'll need to talk about it properly, you know." Pablo said from above you, voice soft and serious.

You nodded your head, letting out a quiet "Mhm" in a agreement. You knew it was an inevitable conversation. You would have to eventually face the music, let Gavi free himself from whatever feelings were sitting on his chest. But you couldn't do it now. Not with your future up in the air. Not with your feelings for Gavi still a massive tangle of emotions.

"Not tonight." You said to him softly, as he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"No, not tonight."

Your eyes finally closed and you began drifting off. Pablo's arm remained wrapped around you as he leaned in closer, basically cuddling you on this plane. Thank the lord for blessing the engineers with enough foresight to install dividers. As you breathed rhythmically against his chest, he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing deeply. Why was everything about you so intoxicating?

In the haze of your sleep, you heard Pablo speaking to you. You listened intently, hoping to catch these special words that he only released to your sleeping form.

"Doctora, I would wait for you forever. Even when you hit rock bottom, I'll be there, waiting for you with a ladder. You will always have me, no matter what."

~~~~~~~

A/N: Guys I did it!!! My longest part to date! I am so flipping tired. It's 4am. I don't remember a time before I started writing this part. Anyways, we are chugging along y'all! Only two parts left in the main story!! I surpassed my 15k word goal. Maybe next part is 18k? I think the next part is going to be my favorite. I haven't decided if I want the big boom pow event to be in part 9 or 10. We will see. Again, apologies for the long time between updates, but semi-decent writing takes time. As usual, please leave thoughts, feedback, predictions, etc. in the replies - I love reading all of them so much!!! If you notice any easter eggs/ small details, feel free to point them out!!! There are so many and I love when y'all get them. IDK when part 9 is coming out but when it's done y'all will be the first to know. Ok love y'all byeeeee.

Also please comment if you want to be added to the taglist ok bye

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738

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yanderelucy2 · 11 months

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When You Are Away - Tears of Themis

When you are away... they start to act differently, let's see how they change! Tears of Themis MLs when you're off away for 3 months, with no way to contact them due to "reasons."

"When you are away, I begin to lose myself. I need you, it's dependence... or is this what you call... addiction?"

F!reader

A/N: These may not be canonically accurate to the character's personalities. You may also find that sentences are formed or written strangely, I do apologize that I am not the best writer!

PART 1 - Away, PART 2 - Together Again

Artem Wing

1 WEEK - After just one week the changes in him are noticeable, he's like a walking zombie as he consumes himself in his workload. In order to not worry too much, or feel the dreadful feeling of loneliness he occupies his mind with work. Not until Celestine reminds him "You mustn't overwork yourself as a form of distraction, if she comes back and you're ill she won't be satisfied."

1 MONTH - At this point he's recovered from overworking himself. Instead, he simply accepts the feeling of a cold bed in the morning, and he gets ready with a frown on his face. At work, he's getting more stern, and the workers and interns begin to get fearful something is wrong. He doesn't notice a difference in himself, only in his surroundings as he sees others distance themself from him.

3 MONTH - He's getting back to normal slowly as he knows you'll return any day, while he heals he finally notices just how he'd been acting. Cold, stern, strict. In retrospect he regrets it, he buys the law firm all kinds of desserts as an apology, but he can't figure out just why the sudden change in his personality. He tells himself though... "I need her... I couldn't survive in this world without her."

Marius Von Hagen

1 WEEK - A change at work isn't too noticeable until a problem arises within the company... once again he's at the center of it. His authority is being questioned. He's more serious than normal, he doesn't necessarily need to hold back with you gone. It's noticeable in his way of approaching the situation in trying to solve it.

1 MONTH - The problem was solved swiftly, but the public's response to how he reacted differently than normal still lingers. People still question him, and paparazzi question him, as to what's happened for the sudden change to happen. The less he replies the more it crowds the internet until he gives his public reply. "There is no reason as to why I solved the situation how I did. So I hope you will all end the questioning."

3 MONTH - It was revealed after someone who had been watching Marius spoke up after a while saying "His lover he always showers with affection, hasn't appeared at his side for 3 months now." The public love to assume, and the assumptions angered Marius... because how dare they say "They must've broken up... poor Marius." Since he knew you would return soon, he quickly admitted to an interview. "My fiancee is away on a work visit. Our love is everlasting, so do not go making assumptions that I would ever leave her side." His defensive manner, instead of deterring the public... won their hearts.

Luke Pearce

1 WEEK - No change is noticeable within the first week, at least to the exterior. Peanut though notices, and won't leave him alone. As if comforting his lonesomeness. "Peanut.. didn't I send you off on a mission? What are you still doing here." Luke tilted his head whilst furrowing his eyebrows. Peanut simply flies to his shoulder and sits.

1 MONTH - At this point in time it's becoming more noticeable as he's seen acting more restlessly, and recklessly as well. One of Luke's superiors ends up asking him... "Luke, how about a break. You don't seem yourself. You haven't been taking the right amount of precautions. Pull yourself together, or I'll shape you up myself." This snaps Luke's brain, he doesn't see a difference in himself. Why would he need a break? No one noticed, but he was using work as a coping mechanism, as a withdrawal drug.

3 MONTH - He's getting so excited to see you his mind goes almost insane. After the break, he was close to being back to normal, but every morning seeing no message, or a cold bed... his heart couldn't hold his sorrow long enough. He needed to see you, it physically pained him to not see you. "I need you by my side, please return to me quicker. Or I might just steal you... I can't be without you any longer."

Vyn Richter

1 WEEK - The change is almost immediately noticeable in his lectures, as his students question him. "Professor Ritcher! Are you okay? You're teaching has been more... well I don't know what's different, but it's different!" He feels bad for worrying his students, so he simply comforts them saying everything is okay, excusing himself with an "experiment" and "research purposes."

1 MONTH - He begins to notice the differences, so he takes it upon himself to take a break from work, but it doesn't help him in any way. All it makes him realize is just how much he needs you by his side, he's afraid he can't remember your touch, your voice, your soft breath between a kiss, your scent, he's afraid that with 2 more months remaining he'll forget.

3 MONTH - He's gone back to work, more out of obligation. He knows you'll return soon, so he hurries up his work in case you'll return that day, but every day you're not he finds himself with a gloss over his eyes. He misses you every day. "Why are you not by my side... is it selfish to need you so badly? Why haven't you returned to my side, I need you here with me. Please I must hold you in my arms, I must feel your soft skin on my tragedy-calloused hands. Being without you for so long... I think my heart is beginning to stop."

PART 1 - Away, PART 2 - Together Again

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pralinesims · 2 years

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Uhm, hi. Hello?

First of all, I am sorry for worrying some of you guys so much. I truly can't express how grateful I am to everyone sending me messages, trying to get in touch with me, supporting me, etc... I read all of your messages, I will try to reply to them piece by piece. I am so sorry that I can't do that immediately, but currently I am not in the capacity for that. Please forgive me, and know that your words reached my heart, I seriously mean it.

How should I start? Recent months were... Rough. Damn rough. Mentally, I've been the lowest I've ever been in my life. Even lower than usual. Bottom-pit low. It's uncomfortable talking about it, but it was... hazardous, if you understand. Won't say more about it. Around christmas holidays, my depression started getting more extreme. Main catalysts were probably the feelings of abandonment, issues with myself, loneliness + social disappointments, family deaths that happened, experienced sicknesses, world events, etc. All this stuff kept piling up with time, bad things never seemed to end, day by day I felt more awful and wanted to disappear. I also deleted all social media from my phone, plus I changed my phone number. I just was sick of everything.

After a few months of feeling like shit, I thought I would get a little bit better. Nope. Covid had to strike 2 of my immediate family members, and me. Worsening my mental health again, plus physical health after thinking I maybe recovered a bit. This put a real blow to my mental health once more, after desperately attempting for years to not catch it. And it still got me, while being 99% only at home. FML.

That virus lasted 3 around weeks, it was horrid. Had all kinds of different symptoms in a limbo, when thinking it would get better, it got worse again. Coughed like a madman, and still do. Some symptoms don't seem to disappear yet, even after testing negative for weeks now. My asthma got worse aswell, breathing is way harder and I get dizzy real fast.

I still don't feel good mentally at this moment, but at least not as severe, and a bit better to allow myself to go online a bit and interact here a little. Baby steps, right? I can't promise I will be online now all the time, but it's been first for me now since a few months. I realize I have to adjust to this again. Feels nice, and a bit scary too if I'm being honest. Kinda unfamiliar to do social stuff again. I really missed being here, but not being online also felt good. It was what I needed, everything else would have overwhelmed me.

Not everything was completely negative though, during my abstinence, I got into some new interests while trying to stay sane and keep myself distracted & occupied (or you could say, reawakened some old hobbies): I've really gotten into fragrances, baking, collecting dolls, decorating with flowers, and drinking tea. Yes, me. Some might remember my rants about tea tasting like warm water. During covid, after losing my taste and smell senses, I learned to appreciate softer taste profiles. I'm consuming almost every day something that contains tea leaves. Call that growth.

Anyways, thank you for reading this. I don't know how to end this, and this text just doesn't need to be longer. I'm so happy for you having interest in me as a person, and not only as a CC creator and Sims player. Much love to you 🤍

#personal

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wave2tyun · 1 month

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it may sound a little bit dramatic but sometimes it takes a day to die in order to feel like you are able to breathe again.

i keep on having those kinds of days where i seem to get so incredibly overwhelmed by emotions that it ends up being incredibly consuming and almost paralyzing. but unlike perhaps a few years ago or even months ago, i feel like i try to put in at least a bit more effort in stopping myself from wallowing in those things too much. recently i needed a good cry and getting myself to do a few basic tasks in order to have my heart be lighter the next day, but i still felt a bit funky after.

there's always this lingering feeling of wanting to be understood by someone else, sometimes that is also enough to put your mind at ease. and i feel like maybe there's also this desire to patch up this peculiar loneliness and probably also homesickness. i think a lot of changes and uncertainties have been dawning upon me now- that i most likely don't allow myself to fully process until i really "have to".

i don't even know where i am going with this to be honest asbhsaj i used to post small rambles like this on my old blog too and i think it's because i hope i could maybe reach out to whomever might be feeling the same, because then maybe both us would feel a bit better?

on another note, perhaps a bit similar, i've been feeling the need for comfort towards the things that i can't bring myself to say out loud, or just having something to take my mind off things, and if people are in the same boat- would anyone be interested in me bringing back the sunday sleepovers for a while......? maybe not every sunday (cause uni leaves me too drained), but twice a month....? if anybody would like that kindly please let me know<3

#wave2tyun thoughts (~˘▽˘)~#i'll be going to sleep now though #hope you all have an easy week!!#night night<3

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darklyndivinely · 2 years

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Mirrors of Night - A Regret So Deep

Fandom(s) - Obey Me!

Character(s) - Lucifer

Warnings - Angst and sad!Luci

Wordcount - 600+

A/N - I've wanted to write this for a while. And tbh idk what this is. Originally this was supposed to be a letter but it ended up being a diary entry instead. I wanted it to be more angsty but *shrugs* maybe I'll make this a series or something, tell me if you'll like that. Also please don't ask me about the title, I just wanted it to be that. Enjoy a father's agony!

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September 15, 2022. 2:32 AM

It has been a while since I’ve written an entry like this. Events leading to emotional turmoil have been rare, but today I couldn’t resist penning down my thoughts.

While going through the trunk in my room I came across many of our family albums. One in particular really pushed me across the stream of memories. It was filled with Satan’s childhood pictures. He is so young in them, naïve, free. His eyes big with curiosity and mischief. I suppose that is something that time has been unable to change. He’s still just as curious and naughty.

Looking through them affected me more than I had anticipated. I have clicked many of these pictures, flipped through this album a dozen times, and yet, today, upon going through it again all the emotions swept over me with a frenzy.

There’s so much happiness in these pictures, moments of genuine laughter frozen in time. All of us look so young, less weary and coiled. And yet, there’s also a sadness in these captured memories. A raw grief recognizable in every alternate picture. A grief that is very much like mourning.

When Satan had been born, more than five millennia ago, I had felt no love for him. I was in pain and aching severely, I had also been in anger but by then Satan had taken and absorbed most of it. In the absence of that explosive emotion all that was left was guilt and my raw and bleeding soul. We had failed and fallen into a realm so different than what we were used to. We had been condemned and cast away and it was all my fault. I didn’t know how to cope with that.

For a while the date of his birth was synonymous with pain. He, himself, was synonymous with pain. A living, breathing reminder of all we had lost, all we had become. For a while the sight of his full grin and bright eyes were the trigger to the phantom pain in my scars. The sight of him used to tear open the scars of wings he had been shaped from. He was the personification of the wretched horns on my head, the dark color of my wings, the filthy thing I had become.

Then, with time, things changed. The searching touch of his fingers on my eyes didn’t seem so annoying anymore and his wheezes of joy became the reason I woke up every day. Reading bedtime stories to lull him to sleep became a peaceful tradition and the sight of the excited swishing of his tail started to bring me immense joy. He loved the bumps on my horns and feel of my feathers against his palm, and so I started to appreciate this new existence I had been granted.

There was still a glaring chasm of loneliness in all of us, the absence of our eighth member was consuming. Satan lessened it though, that loneliness that we were all drunk on. Recognizing that same loneliness in these pictures brings me regret now. I should have savored the closeness of him sooner, not spent so much time despising his mere existence. He was but a child, my child.

Today we are farther apart than I could have ever fathomed. So much distance separates us, animosity like no other piercing it. Sometimes, I wonder exactly when we fell apart. When exactly did all the love turn into such bitterness.

At the end of the day, however, he is family. Child or brother, he will always be family. Protected from afar. Loved from afar. I just wish things were different. I just wish I were different.

Like this? Leave a tip as appreciation! My entrance results are gonna be out soon so any help is appreciated <3 Also fill this to be notified on my future works.

#obey me #lucifer obey me #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #lucifer #lucifer angst #lucifer morningstar #lucifer avatar of pride #obey me angst #obey me shall we date #omswd #omswd lucifer

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crestfallercanyon · 1 year

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yasssssss love these ask games! there were so many good ones i had a hard time picking ones! but i'm most curious about the following ones:

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

🍭why did you start writing?

💎why is writing important to you?

🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

+ 1 i didn't ask but you'd like to answer

Ahhh, thank you tea!! I’d love to answer!!

💫 my favorite type of comment or feedback? I just kind of love getting some kind of interaction — I started on original stories which is very solitary, so having people comment on what I’m doing still is so new and exciting. If I had to decide? People get embarrassed about leaving novels but I love when people point out symbolism or what certain things mean to them — I do the same when I comment and I really appreciate the anecdotes <3

🎈my style as a writer — I don’t really know how to describe it! I just know when something’s mine, lol. Very character driven, I suppose. I tend to focus on drama of contrasts at first and then slowly show how actually two people are part of the same gradient, which is my favorite thing to explore. Also, when I’m writing original fiction or when I’m writing like angst I tend to be very visceral, I enjoy writing the “horror” and intensity of things as common as grief and loneliness. Think that’s why crack fic is such a rarity from me, I don’t really know how to do it. My style is not fixed, but the way I write is becoming more “me” all the time. While my writing will forever be influenced by what I’m consuming, I feel like I no longer mimic styles I like but rather take what I like and adapt it to me. I dunno, just thoughts that hopefully don’t make me sound pretentious 😂

💝a fic that got a different response than I anticipated — Shiva from the Flash (coldflash). It got a much more positive and receptive response than I thought. I thought it was going to be very niche and honestly thought I’d be accused of being ooc (which it’s not finished yet so there’s still time!) but it was for me so I decided I’d deal but then people seemed really touched by it which I’m so thrilled by. I love the concept and still want to finish it! (Also honorable mention, The Last Eye to Open, because I was expecting no one to read it and it has been actually quite well received in a fandom that is on what I would call fandom-hospice)

🍭why did I start writing? because I love stories, and I love the art of stories, and there were stories I wasn’t able to find that I decided I just would write myself.

💎 why is writing important to me? Similar to the last question, I love it. Other than being out in nature, it’s my favorite thing to do. And if I didn’t write, well, my head can run away with stories and ideas all day. If you’ve ever played Where the Water Tastes Like Wine, there’s a character — Cassidy — (spoilers) that when you see the true version of himself his head is full of smoke and he’s got pages churning out of him like a runaway fire. I think I’d look something like that if I DIDNT write. Think I’d just be daydreaming all day.

🎙️what fic do I want someone to make an podfic of? Blanket permission on any of them, honestly 😂 but if I had to pick — Look Who’s Inside Again, a TMR Thomally fic about being back in the Glade post-canon. Either that or Everything Must Go from the Flash (coldflash) about Len leaving.

💌 something from an upcoming project that has me excited? I am slowly putting together the spin off of Conflicts of Interest (already have a title and plot and everything) which will focus on Minho and Newt. I feel like I have FINALLY hammered down my own characterization of Newt, and I’m excited to get into his head and root around in it

And then, oooh bless you tea, for my plus one? I could answer this several times but I’ve got something in mind from our last conversation that I want to share —

💘what’s a fic I want to rework? Stranger than Your Sympathy. On the one hand, it does what I wanted it to, it reads like a romantic “dramedy” in its own way. On the other hand… I’m not a huge fan of any of the characterization. Particularly Newt. And while I know how I want to end the story for like, my own soft reasons, I know the best arc for him would be to end it very differently and I don’t know how to reconcile that. If I just redid it, I wouldn’t really have to choose.

And that’s all I got! This is from the Real Fanfiction Asks, and I appreciate you so much for asking! I love these kinds of things and find them very fun so thank you ❤️

#memes and games #ask box games #coldflash #the maze runner #writing asks #my writing stuff #tea 🤍

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adventures-in-asexuality · 1 year

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3, 7, 10, and 17 for the writing ask meme :3c

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

It's not quite on the level of 'writing on the bus on a phone', but I suppose the closest match is: I tend to write everything in sequence. Not in chronological order, that is, but in the order that I think it's going to appear in the final work. It can then get changed around in editing, but my brain just does not gel with writing scenes out of order. (One day! One day it'll work for me.)

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

I feel like - a lot of things stick with me, of course, because I read too much, but I feel like a haunting is more in the memory/longing/regret venn diagram, rather than just being a part of the compost pile that is a brain. so on that note:

Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit and Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal by Jeannette Winterson both haunt me; they're an intersection of a bunch of life factors that fulfil all the haunt functions, and they're also very well written. If I had to pick a sentence to quote here, it would be 'There was no Elsie. There was no one like Elsie. Things were much lonelier than that.'

A Desolation Like Peace by Arkady Martine - especially the ending - haunts me because it's a longing-ghost, a map of loving people that I want to keep in the back of my own relationship-maps to reference. 'Language is not so transparent - but sometimes, still, we are known.'

Similarly (kind of), Nona the Ninth haunts me, with the way it talks about grief - and, not to be that person again, but it's a similar way to the way that Shadowbringers and Endwalker haunt me. 'Life is too short and love too long' pairs well with - well, I was going to try to find quotes, but pretty much the entirety of Endwalker; and yet also the stripped-down awful grief of Harrow and Nona pairs well with Shadowbringers.

There's a lot more I could add. We Are All Where We Belong. That one post about falling into a hole that is not our grave. Johnny fucking Joestar. I consume too much media; I could go on; but also I want to finish this post.

But also - 'has your own writing haunted you?' I feel that a lot of the time writing is itself an exorcism, transmuting one's own emotions and ghosts into a creation. Which leads to...

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

When I successfully manage to do that! I'm pleased when I can write good passages of text, or when I think I've nailed a characterisation or written a joke I think people will like, but ultimately I am happiest when I finish a work and I have transmuted a fairly vague feeling into a cohesive piece of work.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

UNFORTUNATELY my current WIP is ffxiv-based, so it would not be super interesting for you :( as ever though, the extra details are going to come from my developing habit of figuring out what's going on with all of the side characters, what their stories are, and then not telling those stories because they wouldn't fit in the main narrative of the story. (For example, there's an entire story between Lucia and Ameliance that straight-up does not belong in there, but is part of the background I can work off emotionally.) (But if I ever finish it, anyone who wants to know specific side-stories is welcome to ask >:D)

(from this writing meme)

#writing asks

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mean-hare · 2 years

Text

august and september parts of my eddiary, as shitty as always but I need to put these notes somewhere so let it be here

part 4

august, 1 i had a lot of energy and almost no appetite. i cleaned my room, rearranged toys, watched movies, and even talked with danny. unusually good day

august, 2 i cant find my fav cheap and tasty 0kcal cola-like soda. now i should spend my money on more expensive cola to drown my inner self in it

august, 3 actually i spend money my mom give me. i have no job and maybe never will have. i am too nervous, too mad, too inacurate and too depressed for it. all days long i only draw shit, watch movies and go to market to spend money on junk foodd to harm my body or to throw up and on drinks to replace food with them. sometimes i buy toys or stickers but most of time theyre way too expencive

august, 4 i watched stupid comedy film with lot of stereotypic cliches and draw danny in various clothes and poses. i dont think ill show him, it looks like he dont want to talk with me again. our friendship may lookunhealthy but the only guy who blame and harm me there is me myself

august, 5 i woke up after 1hour long sleep, i used to sleep in late morning hours but today i couldnt. me and my mom arrived by the bus to the beregszasz town. its pretty close to the hungarian border and many people there talk in hungarian. i love it i dont really remember what i ate but not too much i think. i was feeden by emotions of homelike language. and also i wanted an energy drink all the time and finally got it

august, 6 days in town were and will be full of eating like a human being i think. i try to feel myself alright and try tasty meals in cafe. i love cafes. palacsintas, waffles, icecream, milkshakes, pizza. i walk with fluffy doggy bagpack, i have notebook and water in it. this child just need to have fun

august, 7 my mom realised how much energy drinx i drink per day and she doesnt like it

august, 8 i walked alone aimlessly down the hot towns streets with a can in my hand. streets was empty most of time. just one grumpy man called me an animal while walked in opposite direction. i donk know what he meant by that. and some granny said to me "its so hot, eh". i draw ppls attention to myself involuntary, as always

august, 9 wow much zero coke i drank here! there was a market with the cheapest cola cans i ever saw in past 3 years

august, 10 i just hope that many hours of intense sweating and headbanging to breakcore in headphones while sitting in hurrying bus back to a city burns a lot of calories but i cant stop it anyways

august, 11 still not enough sleep, overwhelmed by all the information i wanted to consume (pointless but interesting) few minutes ago, gnawed by a loneliness online and offline, all this shit led me to (obviously!) very stupid binge

august, 12 lived this day not better nor worse, just average boring

august, 13 hey you. they created a big pack of chips for a big merry company, not for lonely asshole with eating problems like you

august, 14 corpsey greenish moon gazing thru the night haze, pale as pus, menacing like in dying

august, 15 i walked down to the market to buy cheap icecream and cheap cola. bazaar near it was closed due to evening hours and there were no people on the ways between the iron and concrete walls. somehow liminal

august, 16 things went not perfect but better that could be. i decided to spend last money on energy drink instead of bag of cornflakes

august, 17 i started my day with nausea because of sound of fucking drills (my mysophonic panic), found and ate some pain killers, burned my mouth with spicy junk dinner and pointlessly fooled around my room till morning affected by another bunch of cola and energy drink

august, 18 i bought a pink plastic horse. brutal metalhead in toyshop looks hilarious. brutal metalhead who buys pink horsey looks very hilarious. i saw this toy almost year ago and i couldnt forget here sinse then. that mare looks special. most toys has neutral faces or slight calm smile on them. but that sassy gal had really bitchy moody face with grinned teeth. and finally i got her and feel no regrets. at least i knew what i want.

august, 19 i was at first time in little village house my dad bought for himself. it was simple boring house with almost no furniture beyond the kitchen and i think it never will be interesting because my dad loves stupid boring monochroom minimalistic design with wooden details. parents, sister and their friend went to a backyard to roast sausages. i dont eat meat so all the time i read library book or played with lil green car toy i found in this house

august, 20 you know who am i? i am a person who dont look like one who has an ed. i am a boy who look like a girl. am i? i trust the liars and suspect when people tell me the truth. im looking like cool adult with interesting life but im still that ugly child who feels itself the worst way posiible everyday.

august, 21 im into gabber music sometimes and i think it would be fun to learn hakken dance. i also want to dance tectonic, c walk, lezginka and csardas. but i dont know how to and dont think i can do in. i like dancing sometimes. but my body often feels to heavy and clumsy to move

august, 22 i failed. but at least i tried. but how i failed!

august, 23 parents leaved this city before ukrainian independence day because they thought that russia will throw much more bombs here and my mom was afraid. i stay because i dont want to go with them and better spend time here with movies and tumblr than in their boring little village with them for 2 days long. so i chilled all day along with few liters of caff drinx and little annoying kitten

august, 24 it was another chilling day alone. i bought some drinx again (but one l less than yesterday bc i a little nauseous of already consumed caffeine), i even find a little purple cheap pony toy and bought it. today was really more air alarms than other days but as i know nobody was killed (i may be wrong, i dont watch news)

august, 25 this normal late night i was ready to drowse with john frusciante songs in cold laptop light but suddenly i saw some movement on my bed. i saw one tiny TIC. i dont afraid insects but the tics. they are the main reason why i almost never walk in the forest. today i even didnt go anywhere but this little shit somehow appeared here. i took a piece of paper, kill and throw into a sink. im shocked

august, 26 i had one little job of redacting one little text. (i cant even call it freelance job, it was more like accident job) anyway i got some little money and spent it all on a toy. beautiful blue plastic toy dog. and unique rare (in this country) energy drink in beautiful 500ml can. im so glad, i smiled like an idiot all day. so cute doggyyyyy…. but now i have no money and no food

august, 27 my mom was concerned that i eat nothing but the junkfood. well i dont find other food tasty and dont want to choke on awfull tasting meal. parents went to the bazaar while i sleep (before 3 pm) and bought the boring fruits and disgusting vegs. now kitchen stinks because of beefroot

august, 28 i buyed pepsi black, cheap blue erergy drink bottle and some little wafers. when i went back some 12yo(i guess) teens laughed at me because i had an "emo" pin. i am probably the only emo in this city, its kinda sad

august, 29 my dear friend danny despise and rejects me. im going to starve myself to death

august, 30 i will never be ready for the cruel words from the last person i love. i cant stay sane after that.

august, 31 i watched the famous film "pianist". theres a melody the main character plays, chopins nocturn do diez minor or something like that. i cried because danny loves this melody. just because of that. stared with teary eyes at the screen, then tears went dry, i forgot about everything and watched that movie. and at the end he played that nocturn again. and i cried again, i couldnt stop, i cried till the end of the movie, cried after the end, cried painfully endlessly and was disgusted by my reaction. i watched a beautiful and sad film about loss and real suffering completely tearless but cried like an idiot just because of that damned melody just because my cruel friend loves it.

part 5

september, 1 sadness, yearning and envy driving me bad, my thin body will be a product of pain and limbo

september, 2 my dad is sick and stay at this house. i dont leave my room mostly. i dont want to be in same room with him. not that he is so bad, most of ppl considers him as good man. he just exhaust me without knowing it, we like a different species that cant live together without problems

september, 3 autumn is always fast in this city and september started with cold weather as always. i took a long walk. i love long walks when its cold and dusky, i just need money to buy something at the middle and end of my way. it makes me confident. i walked near the park that everybody call "a forest", i walked near abandoned shacks that once were paychecks, i swinged on wet swings and i felt better than yesterday (tbh i cant remember how i felt yesterday). i found a market near the "forest" there were many foreign items. i bought few cans of drinks and realised that only one had calories. i also boulgt a clipper. i dont smoke, i just love flame and that clipper was cool, black, with skull and "love dead" written under it. thats so relevant and relitable shit for me, even that funny mistake is symbolical

september, 4 i cant concentrate on reading, on every thing, everything is blurry, my head isnt working right, my stomach is hurting all day

september, 5 successfully restricted. i found the place where hobos live. theres some concrete blocks near the school and small church. i bought few drinx and sat on blocks to chill and drink one of them (one with watermelon taste) and then i hear harsh voise underneath these blocks: "fucking teens! get the fuck out from here!!"

september, 6 i saw so perfect boy working in the market. how thin he was and how delicate. i bought few cool zero cal drinks: barr soda with icecrem taste, cola, foreign cherry lemonade. i saw him once, he is cashier there, his name is volodimir and thats all i know about him. he reminds me lead singer of emo band marakesh, he doesnt looks alt at all but he is thin like an anorexic emoboy. i like him not judt because of it, he isnt just another thinspo stranger. i think about him constantly. i feelin like i love him and its stupid, very stupid. i dont know him and i dont think id talk with him someday, i am too bad for people, unatractive. and i dont talk. i am silent always.

september, 7 i only drank some dairy and took random quizes on idrlabs. almost all of them told me that i have mental problem

september, 8 i went to the market with my dad. it was wery strange, liminal experience. there were not many items and almost no people around. it was 9:30 pm. of course i binged (first time this week) but it was not the worst of my binges, and i throwed up some of it. perhabs it was tiring. my back hurts now.

september, 9 ate the rest of snacks and cokes and feelin really shit

september, 10 every day is so same, timewasting, tumblr and movies, day after day and times goes by so senseless, and what should i do, what else can i do? you are lucky if you have friends, if you have someone to spend some time with.

september, 11 its something like an instinct of bear. i bought sweet and greasy food but ate only bag of chips and 4 cookies. soon i felt asleep in unusual early hours, 10 pm or something like that, just lied under blanket in sweater and socks and jeans, i didnt take my clothes off. im feeling cold everyday and sleepy

september, 12 i drank low cal milk and black tea. then i ate jogurt with plums. and again milk. 900 kcals i started this dusky day with movies, not really good ones. then i just browsing aimlessly. talked with my friend danny. thought that he maybe loves me despite some of some of his earlier very mean messages, today he was kind. i send him pic of hobo who lays on concrete under the blanket and hugs his dog and wrote "we?". he answered "we". i said ":3". he also said ":3 i want to sleep more

september, 13 i wanted to eat nothing today but then i wanted to eat something and its bad. only good thing is my mom learned how to make low fat fries

september, 14 i woke up and ate homemade cookies and i even dont know their kcal values then i fall asleep. then i woke up and only drank tea and watched boring movie. im ill, i cant think

september, 15 good things: i restricted i found funny gypsy song about weed danny said something fummy to me (i forget what) i watched "the boys" bad things: i feel shit every minute my memory is getting worse and i forget everything (i forget)

september, 16 im sick. im cold. im coughing. im always irritated. every fuckin day i wake up in sweat, eat too much, feel like a shit and almost dead

september, 17 warm homemaid plain food, milk with honey, hot tea. common things. i probably loosing many calories when coughing that hard. it feels like someones heavy boots strongly kicking my ribcage

september, 18 spicy chips was the only food i didnt regret after consuming it. surprisingly it made my sore throat less sore for some time and made the pain weaker. but other food was ugly mistake, used again to fill that permanently rotting void, all in vain

september, 19 today after piglike eating i understood that every time i try to eat vegan it ends up with massive gross binge. maybe veganism is not an option for person who hate every vegan food option but few fruits that cant make body full

september, 20 mmy belly scrached by all the claws of mine, painted in shiny dark color. i will never be normal or alright, i kmiw it well.

september, 21 i am eaten by sorrow. i am gnawed by grief. why dont you understand me, dont you mind. why dont you listening to me?

september, 22 i wasnt in my room all day from 11 am til 9 pm. it started with a sound of drill and i leave the house bc i cant stand yhe sound of drill. it was there all that time so i couldnt back. i bought cheap bottle of blue energy drink in local market and went to auchan. it located at the very city edge. i walked familiar path thru the field when suddenly there appears the huge fuck. the fucking giant bog spot. it took me half of hour to find my way through. but i did it and i came to the market with boots full of mud and singing the cotton head joe i needed to waste more time so i walked many shops with toys, books, decor art supplies and other. then i spent some money for diet cheap cream soda, energy drinks, some little sweets, black nail polish and spicy chips. i sat at the 1 floor, ate chips and read book from library about pianist with heterohromia. then i walked down the trace down the one of the longest streets in this city. my backpack was heavy because of few litres of drinks, books and notebooks and ome other unknown items. i walked near the bus station where were many people and fat mongrels wanted to sniff me. then i walked in unknown part of the road, lost behind plattenbauen. there were bricks and trees and weird wet trees (today every plant was wet) and cat. i saw one very ugly and attractive buildind, i cant explain why it makes me like that. it looked like theres livevery marginalized and wrathful people and it looked like it slightly burned some time ago. i am obsessed with this one now. i walked those unknown beutiful decaying post soviet streets sometimes stopped to take photos and drink and the sky became darker and more gray. the sky became dark evening. and it started to rain, the downpur. i still walked that longest streets but i turned to its more popular and lighted part and waited for the bus at the buss stop. i was a little tired by the weight of my bag, i could walk some more but i didnt really liked the idea to wear wet clothes when 5 km far from my room. so i returned by the bus. when i walked last few metres to my house i quickly became wet and rain was pouring the rest of the day and all night long

september, 23 another boredom shopping and boredom eating, nothing new. my legs still hurt after yesterday i talked with one guy online about my yesterday walk and i searched that fucked building in google maps and found it. i also tried to find some information about it or at least photos but found nothing but the ad about selling room and private massage salon that may be no longer exist. i started feel paranoic feeling that theres something hiddden there. i thought that someones hides it, maybe to cover places that may be considered by strangers as repulsing, ugly, revolting, to show only fine, good or at least ok=ish places of the city. some may show some good buildungs in bad state with "the dark side of the city" and "scary and dangerous places in lviv" but it will still be something pop and plain and known. i feel that many dont know and dont find and some are hide.i feel that theres something tremedous in That building, something that should be found and shown, something that hidden by someones. i still feel that. well, i can be right or it can be just my paranoia or delusion.

september, 24 too many liquid calories.but also activities to burn it. i was in the countryside today where my grandfather live. i was climbing trees, picking fav sour apples, stinged by nettle, gathering wallnuts, shivering at cold autumn evening. some new bruises on my knees, it feels like a childhood

september, 25 i talk with danny, my last friend. i know that he is not really good friend but i have no one by my side. he is the only person who makes me feel loved even if in rare. sometimes he kind. sometimes he tries to understand what im sayin, sometimes he tries to be a good friend. i still love him. anyway i am much worse friend than him

september, 26 very gross binge on healthy food 1

september, 27 very gross binge on healthy food 2. fuck the healthy food

september, 28 i saw my almost naked body in the mirror at night when went to the bathroom. i was shocked by how ugly i am. i dont want to see it again. now i dont take my clothes, i sleep in jeans and sweater. i didnt wash myself for few weeks because seeing this body naked is really awfull and i cant stand it. i know its gross but i dont even contact with people so who cares. i hide my body from myself under clothes, i avoid looking in the mirrors and reflections. i dont want to see this body, i dont wwant myself.

september, 29 i dont remember what i ate thru tis day, but not too much i think. kitten ronald felt from the window. my mom ran down and pick he up. he is scared and meows painfully sometimes cus he broke his leg. he will be taken to the vet.

september, 30 average day. average restriction, average food intake bc theres so much normal food. average time killing. i dont feel good, nor bad. i dont feel…i dont care about anything, just nothin

#mhwnbcb #ed bllog #male ed #ed life #mental disorder #stupid #bpd #disorder

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kabziag · 2 years

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Better Me

Even though I've spent the last 3 years on my own again, I haven't really felt like myself or alone. It seems as though I'm consumed by many things, but at the same time, nothing at all.

At times I wonder what I'm doing, where I'm going. I feel like I've always been here, but I remember that I haven't always been here because here is different. Every time I wonder where I'm going, I always end up somewhere and I believe most of the time somewhere is right where I'm supposed to be. Sometimes being here and not there - where I used to be or where I wanted to be - makes me sad. I think of all the what ifs and doubt myself. I wish things were different back then so they would be different now, but would things be different now?

I recently spent some time doing things I used to do. Things that for some reason have come to seem scary and foreign, but these were things I loved. I told myself to be brave and I pushed myself to do those things again. It was scary, but great, yet it still felt like I was missing something. I also thought to myself why I stopped doing the things I loved, why I stopped being independent. Then I wondered why I always doing things on my own. Why it felt okay to be alone and doing things that I enjoyed and loved. Then comes the feeling of loneliness, not the feeling of needing someone, but the loneliness of not being enough for myself. The feeling of who am I? Regardless, amidst the thoughts in my head, I continue to push on, keep going, move forward to get to where I want to be.

These days, I feel like I'm in between so many things. I'm in between two cities, two lives, two completely different worlds, two different desires, two different feelings, two different career paths, two different me. Now, I'm not saying I'm two different people completely - not that mental illness, I'm just saying, I'm trying to make two different things work because the different things in my life are so important to me and I don't want to let them go. I love my family, but want to have my own family. I want to live in the city I choose, but I want to live in the city where my family is. I want to be independent, but I'm also dependent on all my loved ones. I want to do what makes me happy, but is my happiness this or that? What will make me happy? Perhaps it's time for me to focus on a better me. A me that can be okay with being just me and doing the things I love and supporting my loved ones in a way that will make me feel good about myself.

I read a quote today that said "Maybe you're not healing because you're trying to be who you were before the trauma. That person doesn't exist anymore, because there's a "new you" trying to be born, breathe life into that person." Perhaps there is a reason I came across this quote. Maybe I'm holding onto a person that no longer exists. Someone who no longer is the person I need. Perhaps when I start breathing life into that "new me" I will be a better me.

Here's to focusing on a better me, one day at a time.

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danielxricciardo · 3 years

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Cheater III

Summary: You found out Max cheated on you part 3.

Warnings: angst and fluff by the end

Word count: 2.5k

Part 1 and Part 2

Cheating in a relationship is the saddest thing. It can kill the personality from the inside. Bring changes a lot mentally. These situations turn into you to be good or bad. Some may be helpful to be stronger.

It feels bad when our loved one cheated, cause we are well connected to our partners. We had a lot of plans for that person to spend a most valuable time of ours. When it isn't going to happen then it feels unsuccessful or bad. Expecting something from another person is common in humans. When it turns down we feel such pain, like stabbing with words, The words have the power to kill or to give life to the opponent's mind. The reason why people say 'think before you talk'.

True love doesn't involve multiple people... You knew that.

When you are in love with someone, you don't cheat and you're not talking about just finding others attractive. You just don't desire to be sexually intimate with other people when you are truly "in love" with one person. You're not talking about caring for someone or loving in general.

You're talking about the head over heels, you're soulmates, the stars have aligned and nobody else has what you have, a type of love that consumes your whole being and makes you want to give that person the world. And that includes giving them the greatest physical pleasure that they can possibly experience. Cheating takes that away from you and that is why it hurts.

The person you are in love with and desire, who you thought felt the same way is revealing to you that intimacy with you is meaningless when you thought it was special. They do not desire you in the same way that you desire them. They are not "in love" with you in the way that you thought. All of your love is in vain.

“Why do we feel bad, even horrible, when our partner cheats on us?"

A trust, expectation, a promise was broken. This type of violation hits you closer to the heart because you have let that person through all your external defenses. Because you fear the loneliness that you are going to face. Nobody wants to end alone. When you put in so much for your relationship, you want it to last. But when your partner cheats you think that you would end alone, gradually realize this happens and life doesn't end here and someone else is going to come into your life.

Why do guys cheat on girls?

Both men and women cheat. In some cases, the reasons are simple: humans are animals with sex drives. We are biologically programmed to "spread our seeds." We have other instincts, such as loyalty, honesty, and guilt feelings. Those drives duke it out with lust in our brains. Sometimes, lust wins. It's more complicated than that because we tend to associate sex with so many other things: youth, freedom, adventure, personal attractiveness, you name it.

You know people make all sorts of excuses like, “I wasn’t happy in my relationship” or “I didn’t know what I was doing” or “I don’t find my partner attractive anymore” or “someone convinced me to do it.” You’ve heard these. But it’s funny to you.

A cheater can never have any excuse. They do not deserve to have that say after cheating on someone.

If you weren’t happy in the relationship, then why didn’t you break up first and had sex with someone else? Why didn’t you say that you needed a break and then had sex? Also, how can someone even convince you to cheat on your partner? It’s nonsense.

Some people will even go as far as to say that the other person made them feel loved, so they got swayed away. If you are not feeling loved by your partner and someone else is doing that job, then aren’t you supposed to figure out your feelings first, maybe break up with your partner and then be with someone else? That’s common sense.

Nobody deserves to be cheated on. The blame is ALWAYS on the cheater. Nowadays people even try to justify cheaters. It’s insane. To you, all the answers to “why” are simply just excuses trying to justify their unacceptable behavior. You know, how they always say that a person who cheats once will cheat again.

Since you found out that Max cheated on you and until this moment, so many months have passed that you have the impression that you have started to heal. You were with a man who made you feel fulfilled, happy, and loved. There were days in a row when you didn't think about Max, but even when you thought, you had in mind only the beautiful moments. Like when, for your first date, he rented your entire favorite restaurant and he cooked for both of you, even though he didn't know how to cook more than just one egg. Or when you first visited him at a Grand Prix for the first time and he won and came to you and kissed you in front of all the cameras, telling everyone that you are his lucky talisman. Or, your favorite memory, when you were at his house after you met his family and heard him talking to his father about you. Sure, you didn't understand a word they said, but Victoria translated to you what was most important about that conversation: Max loves you so much and if he doesn't get to marry you, he'll never marry anyone else.

As dear as your last memory may be, it is also painful because it is like a slap in the face to the fact that there was a time in your life when you were in love and now you were no longer together.

When you told your family that you started seeing another man, more than 6 months after you and Max broke up, your mother asked you how you could get into a relationship so quickly. relationship.

To be honest, you weren't ready yet. You were damn scared but Stephen, your boyfriend now, went after you a lot and you decided that if you don't give him a chance now it will be many years before you think about going on a date with someone else. You knew it wasn't going to be a long relationship. You didn't have much in common with Stephen, but he was a good, sweet boy, and you needed someone who wouldn't make you hate all the men in the world.

"Look, I'm not saying you didn't go through something traumatic, but it's been almost a year since then and I think it's time to come and show everyone that you're not afraid of anyone or anything," says Anthony who called you on facetime one Sunday night after the race.

"But I'm afraid."

"Just shut up, no one needs to know. You just come here, you smile, you laugh, you act friendly with everyone and you're going to look like you're better of without him."

You sigh and get out of bed, and go to the kitchen to get a pill for your headache.

"But he will be there..."

"Okay, so? Who cares about him? I'll always be by your side, I promise he won't talk to you."

"Can I come with Stephen?"

"You know I can't stand him, Y/N. Take him with you to the next Grand Prix, I don't feel like seeing him now, okay?"

"I'll think about it."

You have decided, however, to go to the last Grand Prix of the season, in Abu Dhabi. No one but Anthony knew you were coming to the race.

You forgot what a busy atmosphere it was on Sunday. However, everyone who saw you came to you to talk a little and to tell you that you missed them. You smiled and answered that you missed them as well.

The road to Red Bull Racing was long and short at the same time.

"Do my eyes see well? Y/F/N Y/L/N!" says Christian Horner, who comes to you and hugs you.

You first see Sergio Perez who waves at you, happy to see you, then you see Max who comes from somewhere in the back. Had he just heard your name?

"Hey, guys! I'm so glad to see you again. I missed you all."

"And we missed you, Y/N!" Christian answers on behalf of all Red Bull Racing employees. "Welcome home."

You giggle.

"Thank you."

In less than 10 minutes since you got there, Anthony broke his promise. He promised not to leave you alone so that Max could not come and talk to you.

"Hey," Max says softly, coming behind you.

You shivered at his voice, a voice you've dreamed of every night since you broke up. You turn to him and analyze his facial features. He was the way you remembered him, maybe even more handsome.

You look left and right for Anthony but you can't see him.

"Hey." You answer Max and your heart starts beating much harder.

"I'm so glad to see you... I missed you."

The desire to take him in your arms and kiss him was so strong that you felt dizzy. You couldn't focus on anything, not even a few words to say.

"Do you think that we... We could see each other after the race to... Talk?" he asks, moving his weight from one foot to the other.

"Okay," you say and regret it the next second.

"How stupid am I for wanting to get back together with Max after he cheated on me?" you asked Anthony.

"First of all, you're not stupid for wanting to get back with your boyfriend. Relationships are the most real things anyone can experience. We're growing while we're together. As we grow, we also go through many different behaviors in life. Behavior does not make that person. Behaviors come and go as we grow into who we are. No one is perfect. You cannot name one person you know to be 100% perfect, right?" you shake your head and he continues. "We all grow organically, and the best thing about being in a relationship is that you get to watch each other grow. You get to experience the person you care about to develop. Relationships are like walking through a door that you don't know what's on the other side. But you go through the door without any fear, doubt, or unbelief. Relationships are the livest-realest- life experience. He is a man. A man can only love once or twice. Just because Max has sex with a woman, doesn't mean he loves her. He just wanted to get his rocks off for a moment. When it is all said and done, he loves you. It may sound strange but just think of all the men you knew. Think about all the relationships you knew about. Think those who have been together for years on out. So, no you're not stupid for wanting to embrace your boyfriend's "only temporary behavior". You're smart for wanting to have the courage to walk through the next door. You're smart for being optimistic and knowing that things will get better with time. You realize the importance of maintaining a companion."

You blink several times.

"Why do I feel like you've practiced this speech in front of the mirror several times?"

He laughs and runs his arm over your shoulder.

"Maybe because that's what I did?"

You laugh and you hug him.

"Thank you for being my friend. So you're saying I should give Max another chance?"

"You don't have to give him a chance if you don't want to. But listen to your heart. Don't just do it because I'm saying so because you might regret it and you'll blame me. If you want to give him another chance, just do it. He's not the kind of man to cheat. I don't know what was on his mind when he did it with Kelly. But something tells me he regrets what he did and he will never cheat again."

"Hey, can we talk now?"

"Sure. Congrats on the win!"

"Yeah, thanks."

You both went to his room to talk. You were scared and your palms were sweating. You didn't want to start the conversation because you had different scenarios in mind, all different, depending on what Max would tell you the first time. You swallowed hard when you entered his room. The last time you were there, you two broke up.

“I’m truly sorry for hurting you.” he started saying after he closed the door behind you. "I care for you more than anything. I’m deeply sorry for hurting you… Hurting you is the most painful thing I have ever done. With a bruised heart and a deflated ego, with a sad soul and a head hung low, I apologize to you. An apology is nothing to what I’ve done; but still, I know you have a forgiving and understanding heart and won’t let resentment destroy our love. I have shown you what an idiot I can be by making that mistake. Now it is your turn to show me what a darling you can be by giving your anger a break. Without you I feel lonely, I never want to lose you in my life. I am sorry and I’ll work hard on changing my behavior. I know that I caused you a lot of pain. Whatever happens, remember that I am the guy, who will always be there for you in good and bad times. I know you’re angry now, but I want you to know that I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for hurting you. I am ready to make amends. If I could, I would have wiped your memories about all the terrible things that I have caused you, but all I can do is to promise you that I’ll create only happy memories for you. I hope when you feel ready you can forgive me."

His words took you by surprise. You knew he would try to apologize, but in your mind, you weren't crying. You knew before you came to the room with him that you would forgive him.

"I forgive you. To be honest, I think I forgave you before we broke up but my ego was hurt and I couldn't forgive you so quickly. What you did was horrible and I hated you for so many months for making me feel so small and insignificant. But I love you. And I want to give ourselves another chance."

tag: hellolipoops, taina-eny

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen #f1 fanfiction #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 2021 #f1 fandom #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula one #formula 1 #red bull racing

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dangermousie · 2 years

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Thanks, for your wonderful answers.....do you mind if I ask again, who are your top 5 (or top 3) favorite characters from yuwu? And what are your top fav moments from the novel?...Thanks.....

Awwww, I don't mind at all - talking about Yuwu is second in pleasure only to talking about 2ha :) It's not as fresh in my head because my 2ha reread was more recent than my Yuwu read but...

Top Yuwu characters

I am gonna do 4 (though I felt strongly invested in the swordsman and his OTP, it was too brief an appearance so.)

4 Murong Chuyi - he broke my heart. Someone who was warm and good and tried to be kind to people and got punished for it. And he never got compensation for his years of enforced loneliness and profound emotional and physical suffering. The one moment that sticks in my head is when they travel to that island and everyone wonders why he doesn’t want to go on the same boat with JYX and in retrospect the concept of having to be on the same boat as his torturer!

3 Murong Lian - I spent a large portion of the book loathing this cruel useless and snobby twit as @andoqin kept telling me she was a member of Murong Lian defense squad and I was wondering “how?” Well, my name is dangermousie and I am a member of the Murong Lian defense squad now. I still remember the moment things started slating into place - when Gu Mang is taken in for torture/experimentation and Murong Lian is running around frantically trying to stop it and I started going “but, wait a minute...”

I love that the character does not really change as much as gets revealed and I love that he’s no misunderstood saint. What you see in the beginning is not a lie - Murong Lian is messed up, supercilious, arrogant and has a serious vicious streak. He is also brave, smart and frighteningly disciplined and even more ruthless with himself than he is with others (he calmly takes drugs that will ruin his life for years so as not to incur suspicion. He hides his military talent for same. He keeps working to bring down the monster of the emperor steadily and with cold nerve that is something else.) He is not a nice person. But he is a righteous one, if that makes sense. He is also someone who was brought up in a way designed to twist him in the worst way and yet despite being damaged by his upbringing, he manages to climb out of it not just in finding his own path in life but by ultimately trying to protect Gu Mang, the half-brother who his mother convinced him would steal his birthright (it’s not a kind way of protection in the beginning of the novel but he is as hard on himself; and also that brothel was a safer place since they said even an emperor couldn’t get there. In retrospect, it’s clear the moment Mo Xi was back in town, he orchestrated things for him to bring Gu Mang over.) He was a monster of a child but he grew up into someone who becomes Gu Mang and Mo Xi’s ultimate refuge and home and I am so glad at the end he gets to slowly detox, run his school, and horse around with his half brother, his half brother’s starchy boyfriend, and an ugly mutt of a dog.

2 Mo Xi - I love love love love Mo Xi. He is different from Meatbun’s two other gongs but much as I love them, I love Mo Xi’s upper-class icy reserve and self-control that hides so much passion and longing and intensity just as much. I also love how utterly subsumed he is in Gu Mang. He’s imprinted and that’s it. Gu Mang loves Mo Xi, loves him very much, but ultimately, he can put him second to his cause(s) (and at one point he thinks about that fact with guilt) but for Mo Xi, nothing in the world exists except for Gu Mang. He is consumed by him when they are young and have their secret relationship, and is consumed again once Gu Mang is back (mixed with longing and bitterness and so much confusion and hurt), but in between, when Gu Mang seemingly betrays the country and him, after Gu Mang literally stabs him through the heart as Mo Xi begs him to turn back and is willing to be stabbed for that, he becomes a living memorial to Gu Mang. He swears that insane oath and gives away a decade of his life to protect Gu Mang’s army - the people he knew were important to a man who drove a weapon through his heart.

The other thing is unlike two other Meatbun gongs, he never truly wrongs Gu Mang (yes, Mo Ran has an asterix next to his name since flower.) He quite reasonably believes the man betrayed his country, killed a ton of their countrymen and stabbed him through the heart and almost killed him. And yet the worst he does/says are mean words and removing that nobility headband.

Honestly, in his character, Mo Xi has more in common with Chu Wanning and Xie Qingcheng than his fellow Meatbun gongs.

1 Gu Mang - how can anyone not love Gu Mang? I loved him when I thought he was a traitor (that horrifying slave-holding society that treated him and his men like dirt deserved nothing else) but when we found out how he sacrificed his body, his heart and his mind for his country and his men, I went feral. Gu Mang goes through so much constant and utter hell (I mean, he gets reassembled on a basic physical level and that’s just the start of it, and that is if we don’t discuss his horror show of a childhood) and his mind is not his own for most of the novel and yet he is ready to do it again and again.

He is so good. But not a perfect saintly way. He has a ridiculous sense of humor and he is just such a laid back, low drama person. Some of it is a coping mechanism and some innate and I love it. Almost as much as the fact that he nicknamed his tall, terrifying boyfriend “princess” (and in one heartbreaking moment, “silly princess” - when he is worried about dying without planning “his silly princess’ future.”) When he tries to hold on to his slipping memories by writing them down! When he is consistently at his base the same kind of person with or without memories. When Mo Xi reads his memories of school days, which were horrific but all he sees there is Gu Mang writing down good things “as if all he met was kindness” that about ended me.

Top 5 Moments

Yuwu has so many amazing plot twists - the truth about why Gu Mang defected and why he stabbed Mo Xi, how he ended up missing some of his souls, Murong Lian and Murong Mengze characters’ reveals, Mo Xi’s weapon, Murong Chuyi’s story, Po’an, etc but I will go for the emotional moments instead.

5. Happy Ending - I love that Mo Xi and Gu Mang get to live in happy obscurity, and get to teach the new generation (and it includes slaves as per Gu Mang’s dream) and Gu Mang, who’s always longed for home now has one with his lover, his one remaining family (his half-brother) and just peace and Mo Xi has the only thing he ever wanted - Gu Mang.

4. The bed scene on the demon island - not for the sex, I honestly don’t even remember most of those details (and most web novel sex makes me want to clamp my legs shut anyway) but for the sheer longing and angst of it. Gu Mang is affected by the demonic aura and basically must get relief. By that point he got his memories back and he’s pushing Mo Xi away on purpose and Mo Xi still doesn’t know the truth of the defection so things are baaaaad but then Mo Xi finds that out, his reaction is “you hate me so much, you’d rather suffer than let me bring you relief?” and he blindfolds Gu Mang so he won’t have to see Mo Xi bringing him relief and THE SHEER ANGST OF BOTH OF THEM IN THAT MOMENT IS !!!!!

3. Mo Xi finds out the truth - just because the reveal was so epic to me as a reader as so many things fell into place (and also the horror of that system!) but even more so because Mo Xi’s utter devastation and remorse and regret and all-consuming self-loathing were my catnip.

2. Mo Xi decides to take the emperor down - he knows he will die due to his oath and says fuck it and tries anyway. Because that is beyond amazing.

1. Mo Xi rescuing Gu Mang in that torture chamber - if you don’t love that scene, we can’t be friends. The way Mo Xi, who is himself on the brink of physical collapse, forces his way through, imperial diktats be damned, and lurchingly runs to him and holds him in his arms in front of everyone, giving no care in giving away his big secret of how much he is devoted to that “traitor.” How he is so broken and the peace Gu Mang finally finds and Mo Xi takes him away and nobody dares to stop Mo Xi but, because it’s Meatbun, it’s not a true fix because Gu Mang’s memories have already started destructing and JUSTTTT the devotion, the intensity, the pain, the love, the PAIN!

#asks #yuwu #cnovel #meatbun doesn't eat meat

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strangerthings4theories · 3 years

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Billy's Story Is About Recovering Lost Innocence (Billy's Sexuality: An Overview)

Billy's sexuality is a subject of debate in fandom, and for good reason. The guy's a mess. He's clearly fighting against something, all while putting on a hypersexual womanizer persona. And so far, we've gotten no concrete answers. Is he secretly gay? Did something happen to him?? What the hell is going on?

In this series I'll sketch out what I think is happening: why Billy's so tortured, how his sexuality comes into play, and what we can expect for his story moving forward. Because yes, I do consider this topic more evidence for his return. His arc isn't finished!

Please keep in mind my only goal is to give my best answer to the question, "What's the show doing?" You may have a different answer, and that's okay. Most importantly, I am not judging anyone's preferences, headcanons, ships, or fan creations. You can ship Billy with whoever you damn well please. You can also have your own opinion on what the show should do with him. Even if we agree on what it's actually doing, that doesn't mean you have to find it satisfying.

And that's the beauty of fandom. It's creative, collaborative, and transformative. However you interpret the show, you have the power to respond as a creator in your own right. You can say, "Hey, there's potential here," or "I don't like how they handled that," then go explore with no one else's permission. Canon ain't the Bible, and you're not a heretic for having your own views.

I hope you find these posts interesting and inclusive. If you don't want to read them, you can filter the tag #theories: billy's sexuality

Okay. Everybody comfortable? Got a hot beverage? Here we go~~

My theory: Billy's journey is about turning away from a false, oversexed persona to reclaim his lost innocence.

I base this on several lines of argument. I'll summarize them here, but each will take a LOT of analysis to establish. Since I'll have to do that in future posts, I beg your patience and understanding.

The Argument, Summarized

1. Billy is driven by one wound above all others. He believes he was a pussy as a kid, and because of that, he wasn't able to protect his mom from Neil. Because he couldn't protect her, he lost her. The show tells us this story via his memories (one of the most crucial scenes for his character).

2. He's afraid it could happen again with someone else he loves. He's still a pussy, after all - still that little kid inside. So the threat isn't over. It's always with him, a sword hanging over his head. (We see this play out with Max especially.)

3. Billy thinks being a pussy means showing any sign of softness. Compassion, love, romance, and friendship are all suspect. If he wants to avoid a repeat of the past, he must reject them.

4. Billy's interest in women is genuine,* but because he can't be a pussy, he only lets himself express it in rigid, hypermasculine ways. Sexual conquest is okay and even encouraged. Feelings are not. Women can be tools for his gratification, nothing more. This leads to a profound loneliness.

(*This doesn't have to mean he's straight, fyi! Bi and pan men are also interested in women)

5. Because Billy's so lonely, he overcompensates. He doesn't just separate feelings from sex; he hypes up his sexuality until it's the first thing you notice. He sculpts his body, shows it off, and practices his moves in the mirror, all so girls will fall at his feet. If enough of them do it, maybe he'll stop feeling so damn lonely.

By my theory, his journey will go something like this:

From...

oversexed

hostile

afraid to express any feelings other than anger

consumed by trauma and guilt

To...

balanced sexuality

open to connection

expressing the full range of human emotion

healing from his trauma

letting go of the guilt

It begins at Starcourt. Stirred by the memory of his mother, Billy takes the first step to free the little boy locked inside. Hence why he looks so youthful when he stands up to the Mind Flayer. The boy is out of his cage.

This is the foundational tension of his character: the oversexed monster-man vs the inner child.

Again, explaining my argument in full will be a process, so bear with me. If you've read this far and aren't interested in reading more, feel free to filter the tag #theories: billy's sexuality

In the meantime, I welcome questions and respectful discussion!

#theories: billy's sexuality #it will probably take me a while to follow up on this because - ugh - life #and i have other series in progress that demand my attention #but i figured i'd go ahead and put this out there

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sweeethinny · 3 years

Text

Come and sit a while with me

It's been a year since I started all of this, that I wrote a fanfic to celebrate Ginny's birthday, and here I am, posting once again, keeping the tradition <3

This story will deal with grief, suicidal thoughts, but it has a happy ending, I swear

Happy birthday, Ginny.

AO3 | FF. NET | SIYE

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It was a normal afternoon at the Potters' house, Ginny wasn't working today and the kids were on vacation, James had gone out with friends, Lily was at the pool with her friends, and she and Albus were enjoying their free time before they had to get ready to go out to dinner and celebrate Ginny's birthday, so they lay on the sofa in the living room, both of them with moisturizing masks on their faces and hair, and the TV on.

The perfect day for her, if she was sincere.

"Mom," Albus muttered, looking at her curiously. "When did you know you loved dad?"

''I always loved your dad.''

''No… when did you know you really love him?'' Albus looked at her, his hair in a bun and his green eyes staring at her in the same way he had since he was born, as if he wanted to know the whole truth, and not half lies. "I mean, when did you look at him and realize he wasn't just another one?"

''Let me see…'' Ginny changed the channel when the movie ended, trying not to smile at the memory. ''I guess I never thought he was just another one, but there was a specific day when I was sure he was the one I wanted to marry…''

August 11, 1998

Ginny loved birthdays, it was simply her favorite date, along with Christmas.

How could anyone not be happy on the day that was entirely and unique to them? Everything revolved around her: the cake, the celebration, the attention, everything. It was her day, the day that Ginny didn't share with anyone, and even though she sometimes felt a bit of a bitch about it, she was glad none of her brothers were born on the same day as her..

She didn't want to have to share this too.

But today wasn't that happy day. Today wasn't sunny and as much as Molly had become more involved in her garden, Ginny's favorite flowers hadn't bloomed in time, as if they knew she was in mourning.

It was the first time that someone would be missing at the party.

Even Charlie called her over the Floo so everyone could sing together and celebrate, but today, it would be eight Weasleys for the first time, not nine. And Ginny didn't know how to deal with that, with that pain that seemed to consume her in every way, and that made her close the bedroom curtains and hide under the covers because she was exhausted.

Exhausted from fighting. Of having to be strong. Not being able to afford the privilege of just crying and admitting it hurt. It hurt a lot. At times it seemed almost impossible to bear. Ginny wanted for the first time in a long while, someone to take over things for her, letting her sleep and cry freely, without judgment, without trying to fix what was broken.

She didn't want a solution.

But she couldn't do that, Molly was doing her best to make this date happy, so that Ginny would realize that there was reason to celebrate, that Fred wouldn't want her to spend all day in her room. She also thought this was unfair, because Fred didn't have to bury one of them, Fred didn't have to go through grief, he never faced that pain, so what would he know?

Ginny knew. She knew what it was like to want to die every day since he died, she was the one who felt this agonizing loneliness that seemed to get bigger every day, she was the one who lay in bed at night and thought she could go crazy at any time because it hurt so much and it was so exhausting.

"May I come in?" A knock on her door made her jump as she tried to hide her dark circles with some of the makeup she had on, and his voice made her curse herself for still being in her pajamas.

''Yes.'' She tried to hide her nervousness because things were still a little awkward between her and Harry, even though she had kissed him a few days after the war ended, on the sofa in the living room in the middle of the night, when her room looked very cold and lonely, and Harry looked so cute wearing plaid pajamas and with his hair cut.

He clearly blamed himself for Fred's death, and Ginny still hadn't gotten over all the latest events: the Carrows' tortures, the war, the deaths, Fred…

Ginny had certain doubts, even though she didn't like to think about it, that they would last.

Maybe they were that couple that everyone looks at and says 'what if life had been different with these two?', figuring they could be something more if there hadn't been so much destruction in their midst.

"Happy birthday." Harry still looked tired, he hadn't regained his weight, but he was already showing signs of improvement, which was good. Ginny was happy to see him look good.

He was wearing the outfit she helped him buy for his birthday when they, Ron and Mione went for a walk in Muggle London. A light blue T-shirt, dark jeans, and black sneakers. A simple outfit, no big deal, but one that seemed to make him look even more handsome, if that was even possible.

The woman who would marry him would be very lucky, Ginny thought.

''Brought it for you.'' She hadn't even noticed that he had his hands behind his back, looking nervous as he showed her a bouquet of honeysuckle, tied with a red satin bow, and a cream-colored card pinned there with his name signed. "I know they're your favorites, and I thought you'd like it." He smiled awkwardly. "I noticed yours didn't bloom this year, and I thought you might want to continue the tradition."

"You didn't have to worry about that." Ginny had to swallow hard to keep from crying in front of him, even though there wasn't a reason to.

"Of course I did, it's your birthday, I want to see you happy." Harry shrugged, his cheeks flushing as if he'd been out in the sun for hours on end. He was so cute, Ginny wished she didn't like him so much, because that way, when their imminent separation came, it wouldn't hurt so much. ''How is your day? I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I think your mom made your favorite cake.''

"It's okay, as far as possible," she shrugged. "Mom is trying to keep me away from the kitchen and all the preparation, so I decided to stay in the bedroom."

''Are you going to be here until party time?'' She thought Harry would start the same speech Hermione gave her when she said she was going to do it, which was the same as Bill and his father: Fred wouldn't like it. Besides, you need to celebrate that you're alive, enjoy life…

Ginny was ready to fight with him, just as she had with the three of them.

"Is there a problem?" Ginny crossed her arms, careful not to crush the flowers.

Harry was bigger than her, but that wouldn't stop her from kicking him out if necessary.

''No. Want company?" Harry looked sincere though. "We can assemble that puzzle you bought, remember?"

''Do you want to stay here? Assembling a puzzle?' Ginny followed Harry as he walked around her room as if the surroundings had been familiar to him for years already, looking for the box on her shelves, which was a total mess of old books, photos and other stuff.

"Of course, it's your day, we'll do whatever you want, ma'am."

August 11, 2021

''How did you know you loved him? Because he wants to assemble a puzzle with you?" Albus asked, no longer paying attention to the TV.

''No and yes. See, unlike everyone else that day, your dad respected my grief. He didn't try to make me go outside, see the bright side of things, nothing. He just stayed there with me, accepting that on that day, I wanted to stay inside my room, putting together a puzzle… He paid attention to the flowers I liked, in the cake." Ginny smiled. "That dawn, after everyone else went to sleep, I finally managed to cry, and son, it's a pain I can't put into words." She swallowed, not wanting to get emotional. ''Over time it gets a little easier, but that year, it was a pain that seemed to tear my chest apart. And do you know what your dad did? He sat with me, hugged me, and listened to me cry for an hour, not saying anything, just standing there by my side.''

The memory was no longer as painful as it had been, and Ginny allowed herself to smile as the image of Harry lying beside her on the bed, his arms around her waist, came back to her mind.

"He never tried to save me, he just stayed there with me, helping me when I needed it, and that was the most important thing."

"He saved you in the chamber," Albus remembered, a mischievous smile on his lips that reminded her of Fred when he was younger. Ginny didn't even know it was possible, but it was always the image that came to her mind when she saw Albus smile like that.

"It was a different situation." She shrugged.

"Did you doubt you would marry him after that day?"

"Never again." And it was true. ''Since that morning, when I woke up and he was still sleeping with me after I cried and sobbed things I don't even remember anymore, I knew he was the one I would marry.'' Ginny touched the ring that was already on her finger for over twenty years now, still smiling like a fool as she remembers the marriage proposal and the marriage itself.

"And why weren't you sure you'd be with him before that?"

''It's not that I wasn't sure, it's just that when you go through something really bad, everything around you seems to fall apart together, it's like nothing else has a solution and you are bound to fail whatever you try. It's a horrible feeling, I hope you never feel that.'' Ginny shifted on the couch to give him a closer look. ''Why this now?''

"Just curiosity." Albus smiled, his cheeks a little flushed. "Happy birthday again, Mom, I love you so much." He kissed her forehead, as she usually did.

''I love you too, my love.''

#hinny #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #harry potter next generation #next gen harry potter #albus severus potter #albus is a cute boy <3 #my fic #happy birthday ginny #harry and ginny

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inb4belphienaps · 3 years

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warnings: angst (i think?), mention of blood, introspection strikes again word count: 1264 A/N: with peace and love, this is written from lucifer’s perspective <3

When you sigh, I feel the ghost of your breath against my lips.

When you stop and reach upwards towards the sky in an attempt to stretch your stiff back, I feel the weight of the world rise and fall from your shoulders.

When you whisper to yourself in the quiet of the night and watch the darkness shift like the tide, I feel your hand in mine.

With the oath I took, you and I became connected. In that one instance, there was no longer a “you” or a “me”. There was only us.

There was only and is only the bond that we share, this immovable thread, never to be severed even by our own design. Though we may each have the power to do so, I have no intentions of cutting it.

I just hope to be able to say the same about you…

Longing. Yearning. Aching. Knowing. But do you know?

Do you know how quickly you infatuated me? How readily my affections grew to such proportions that seemed impossible? How easily the desire to have you look at only me spread throughout my entire being? Like wildfire, like an untamable spark, it had engulfed me before I could even recall what used to lie there in my chest, what had occupied that empty space before you.

Struck so suddenly I withdrew into myself. I watched you through walls that could neither contain your presence nor discourage mine. I heard you read to yourself, brows furrowed as shadows danced along your silhouette, and I would close my eyes so as to remember your voice. Your voice that can do so much with but an utter of my name. One look. One word. That’s all I need.

And yet, I am selfish. Incapable of letting you be.

My expression sours and the formication of anger does nothing to dampen my hunger. This craving for you is new. But it is also irony. In the past (though some still practice this custom), humans were used as sustenance to demons. Sacrificed and hunted down for sport for generations. Why then do I covet you instead?

What are you to me?

This question bounces around in my head. Sometimes with a speed that I cannot fathom. Other times, it lingers, almost hovering in the air, drifting along on the stream of consciousness I call my thoughts. In the silence of my mind and in the desolate hallways of this flesh, I picture you as clear as day.

How can you know, I ask myself. How can you possibly know?

Those human hands, soft to the touch yet strong enough to mend the broken. Those livid lips, full of emotion and yet unreadable on occasions wherein I wish I could understand. Those eager eyes, like glass, reflective and transparent but glazed over when met with disfavors.

Those eyes that seek me out draw me near. Wordlessly, I walk forward. Two steps become three, then four and suddenly I come face-to-face with your visage, and yet still, the urge to close the gap between us grows ever stronger. I’m not sure what this means exactly. I have a hunch.

The Ancient Greeks had the right idea.

…I think.

You know how it goes, don’t you?

A single body with four arms and legs. A single head with two faces. Complete and whole and happy in their absoluteness. It’s obvious, isn’t it? That the Gods were jealous. The supposed “fear” for the humans’ lack of devotion is but an excuse.

Wrathful and spiteful Gods – what a familiarly arduous concept.

No power, as well-intentioned as they may begin, can resist the sins of temptation. And I’m sure you’re aware by now that temptation can come in many forms. Even you, you who appears to have no weaknesses, aren’t immune to its effects.

With this at least I know that I may have some influence over you. That as indirect as this said influence may be, I am still the one behind it.

So why does this notion do little to dispel the loneliness?

Why does the brief moment of satisfaction fall away to give leverage to something deeper? Something more profound than whatever lies beneath the term “loneliness”? It does not describe the extent to which such melancholy resides. It does not describe the misery that threatens to plague me when you are not by my side. It does not pacify the fear, or the regret, or the ever-looming presence of whatever confusion brews inside.

Why did I dismiss you so early on in our acquaintance?

Because I have lived through the pain of love (regarding humans in particular). The way it ravages the soul and bears its destruction with no care for the consequences such violence reaps.

I have witnessed the anguish, the way it consumes one’s mind and leads them astray. I have seen to what extent this manner of delirium, like the seed of a forgotten weed, can flourish when left alone and unplucked. I carry this knowledge within me, and I recognize its devastation.

And I am torn.

For I have also seen the opposite. The other side, the one veiled in devotion. In such pure and unadulterated tenderness that has, I’ll admit, affected me. Even after the fall, I could not shake it. I cannot deny the existence of love in humans. How they can be infused with passion, and how that passion can snuff out any evil that may cause them doubt.

As enticing as temptation can be to humans, they are just as strong to push back against it. To resist and to surpass the limits that have been used to contain them. I see that in you.

In how you act in front of my brothers. But most importantly, in how you act in front of me. Do I amuse you? Do you think me off-putting? Is it not different now? Between us…

Why won’t you give yourself to me?

Why won’t you let me in?

How can I take back what I may have done that unknowingly tainted your view of me? How can I tint your gaze with desire like my own? How can I decorate my words with the fondness that I hide so that I may appear as unstirred as you?

So many questions that I hold close to my chest, like roses in the breast-pocket of my vest. They are left unanswered and better thought of as unmentioned in your absence. Their thorns, however, tear through the fabric and prick my skin, drawing beads of blood.

This bond, it grows. Yet I fear that it is one-sided. That if I were to draw a scale, it would undoubtedly tip and crumble at my feet. Hesitation makes a mockery of me, my love. May I call you as such?

Do I dare to reveal my intentions so blatantly?

My love…my dearest…it grows. It blooms. It flowers and it’s beautiful. Would you allow me to imagine it? Us. Not just the idea of us. I want to imagine the reality of us. As tangible and as visible as both the warmth and the flush on my cheeks when I think of you.

I want to hold your hand in mine and feel you squeeze my fingers. I want to kiss your lips and drink your affections. I want…

…I want you to tell me that you love me. That I am not alone in my realizations. That you’re as helpless as me to succumb to them.

That for me, you will not resist the temptation of love.

#i know i bully him but really it's so that i don't let on how much i like him #there is only (1) lovesick fool in this house #and this is he #obey me writing #obey me angst #obey me lucifer #obey me! lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x gn reader #my writing 🐇

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