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pipsqueakparker · 5 years

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bc im sleepy and also haven’t posted any writing in a while, have a scrambled together inktober prompt i just wrote while trying not to fall asleep (aka don’t get your hopes up and don’t be mean. this is just communication porn pretty much.)

Frail

Baz is staring at me.

Who knows how long he’s been awake, but he’s always watching me sleep. I should be properly creeped out, I’m sure, but Baz has been watching me since we were eleven. It’s hardly unusual. Now he just has a different motive, he’s no longer plotting my demise. (I hope.)

I’ve still not figured out what he’s plotting these days, actually. He must be plotting something, he’s always staring. Staring and thinking. Sometimes he thinks so loudly, so hard, I’m almost afraid he’ll hurt himself. Have you ever heard of a cranial sprain? I’ve not, technically, but if a doctor told me that Baz had one I wouldn’t be surprised. What with all that thinking.

He’s thinking so loudly now I can’t sleep. I’ve been pretending to be asleep for the past ten minutes, and he’s been letting me. Because that means he can just keep staring.

“Truly leaning into those vampire stereotypes, aren’t you?”

I don’t have to open my eyes to know Baz is raising one of his perfect brows, I can practically hear it in his voice.

“How do you mean?”

His voice is rough. He’s been too busy staring and thinking, hasn’t used it yet today. I like it.

“Watchin’ me sleep.” I do open my eyes now, just as he furrows his brow. “Haven’t y’read Twilight?”

“Have you?”

I roll my eyes. “Saw the movies.”

I shift onto my side, facing him. He doesn’t look away, though his stormy grey eyes look lost in thought. ‘Course he is. I poke at the crease between his eyebrows. I don’t know if vampires can get wrinkles, but if they can, he’s bound to have a nasty one right there. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” He answers too quickly. He takes the hand that just poked him into his own, brings my palm to his lips. I barely feel the kiss, it’s so gentle, but he doesn’t let go of my hand after.

“Baz Pitch doesn’t just think of nothing.” I murmur. “You never stop thinking. It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted for you.”

“Then go back to sleep, Snow.”

“Can’t.” I tug at his hand. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s not important.”

He lets me tug at his hand again, doesn’t tug back or anything. Sometimes I wish he would do anything back. But all he does is lay there and stare and think. That’s all he’s done since...

He’s been soft, and gentle. Always so gentle. He’s been utterly un-Baz-like.

Not that I don’t appreciate it, the gentleness, the being soft with each other.

But I’m almost tired of it. It’s not like I want to go back to fighting, I still like this all so much better than fighting, but that doesn’t mean he’s got to lose his fight completely. Baz is beautiful, and brilliant, and strong. And he’s stubborn. And that’s what I love about him.

“‘m not made of glass, y’know.” I shut my eyes again, because I’m almost afraid to say anything. Maybe it’s an all or nothing deal, maybe it’s either being soft or fighting, no in-between. If that’s the case, I can’t watch myself ruin it all. But I also can’t put up with all the staring and thinking and being too gentle anymore.

“What are you on about now?” He doesn’t let go of my hand. I want to take it as a good sign. I squeeze his fingers.

“You’ve just been... gentle. And you won’t tell me what’s going on, in your head.” He and Penny both, actually. They’re both always thinking, and speaking in too soft voices.

It’s because they care, I know. They want to help, but don’t know how.

“What would you prefer?”

“I want you to talk to me.” I open one eye a bit. He’s still staring, right at me, and I can almost see gears turning in his head. “I want you to be you again.”

“I’ve always been me, Snow.”

“Baz.”

He blinks. Sighs. I squeeze his hand again and he squeezes mine back. He still doesn’t say anything for a while. I almost think he’s not going to say anything at all, but then -

“I’m worried.” It’s so soft I almost don’t hear him, but he finally pulls his eyes away from me as he says it.

“‘Bout what?”

“You, you numpty.”

“Baz, I’m fine.”

“Simon.”

“I’m serious!” He jumps, my voice is too loud in the quiet of the room. Good. It’s been too quiet, too soft, too gentle for so long. “I’m not gonna break, I just - I get it, I do, but it’s -“

I’m spluttering for the right words, and just a few months ago Baz would be making fun of me for this. He doesn’t now, he just looks at me with those understanding eyes. Baz has never looked at me with understanding eyes.

“Stop it!” I sit up, it catches him off guard again. Good.

“Stop what?”

I don’t realize I’m tugging at my hair until he’s sat up and grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands back down.

“That. This - the being careful - being nice -“

“You want me to be mean to you?”

“Yes! No - I don’t know.” I slump back against the pillows with a sigh. Baz watches me, as usual.

“I don’t understand what you want, Simon.”

“That makes two of us,” I mutter. Baz keeps watching me.

Then he shifts, scoots closer to me. He swings one of his legs over my lap, straddling me. This is new. We’ve been close, we’ve spent a lot of time holding hands and sometimes he would kiss my forehead or my temple or my hands, but this is different. This is Baz in my lap and still watching me intently, and leaning in closer to me, and pressing his mouth over mine, and my brain short-circuiting for a minute because when was the last time we actually kissed?

My hands fall to his hips and his find my shoulders, then he’s pulling back.

“I’m worried about you because you’ve been through hell and back, Simon. Because I can’t read your mind and I don’t always know where you’re at. One minute you seem fine, and you’re acting like your old, unbearable self but the next you’re... somewhere else. And you’re fucking awful at talking about any of it, so I have no idea what you need.”

I don’t know what to say, so I push my face forward and kiss him again. I’m not good with my words, but maybe I’m still good with my mouth. Maybe I can get the point across like this, with fistfuls of his shirt at his waist, with the press of my lips and the jut of my jaw. The thank you, the appreciation, the...

He pulls back again and I growl, I can’t help it. It just comes out, and he chuckles. I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh without mocking me.

“I’m worried because I don’t want to fuck up, because I care about you, you absolute nightmare. I’m in love with you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I can see the panic in his eyes once he’s said it, but there’s something else there, too. Anticipation, maybe? Hope? But it moves further and further to concern the longer I watch him. The longer he waits for my mind to jumpstart itself enough for me to respond.

“Fuck,” I breathe, because I can’t be anywhere nearly as eloquent as him. “I love you, too, don’t I?”

“Do you?” The hope and anticipation seeps into his voice now.

“‘Course I do.” He leans in and kisses me again. “I’ll try,” I promise against his lips. “To talk, be better with that - if you will, too.”

He doesn’t need to say anything, he’s just as eloquent with his actions as he is with his words. He presses the promise into my lips without saying anything, I can feel it to my core.

Was this what he’s been plotting? Does he plot anymore? Or has he just been thinking about loving me? Maybe these are questions for another time, maybe I’ll get my answers later. We’ll both try, at least.

#simon snow #snowbaz #baz pitch #carry on #snowbaz fic #carry on fic #drabble #my fic #inktober #unedited #im falling asleep #whoops

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the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers · 6 years

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I Miss You (Inktober Day 2 - Tranquil)

Title: I Miss You

Word Count: 2,183

Warnings: Okay so this is my first actual angst story when it comes to selfshipping! So this time the warnings are legit! So there are mention/implications of death and a second of self-deprecation. But other than that I believe we’re good! AND THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING!!! (Message me if you’d like anything else tagged)

Ship: ((CAN YOU GUESS??)) The Storyteller and her Shield (Gladio x Myself)

Summary: (So I’m participating in Inktober and today’s prompt is Tranquil and what’s more tranquil than peace of mind!) So it’s been about a month since my unexpected and unknown passing. Though since I haven’t been laid to rest I decide to check in on someone I hold dear. I’m honestly surprised by what I find.

Smoky charcoal clouds passed through the sky covering any stray ray of moonlight that tried to shine down on the streets below. The lack of light would have been a problem for the single soul who dared to be out this late, had it not been for the flood of flickering orange street lamps that were littered throughout the neighborhood. If anyone else was insane enough to be out this late, the sight of the one hooded figure with their back to the street would have been eerie enough. It truly appeared like a scene from any modern day horror movie. But this was the real world, and surely demons and nighttime monsters didn't exist. The figure covered by the washed-one-too-many-times hoodie was just someone who had trouble getting to sleep and thought a little nature might help. But if someone were to stumble upon this sleepless soul, they wouldn't be able to help but wonder what the other was looking at so intently in the pitch black. That is until they listened to the sound of rushing water that came from the flooded stream beneath them. The sound of the burbling brook seemed to have the power of putting anyone at ease, which made it one of the hidden gems of the neighborhood.

Tranquility finally set itself into the aching hole of the blue hooded figure, a hum of content filling the otherwise silent air. Though quiet is something that rarely remains in the town that this silhouette called home and soon enough tiny patters of water droplets diving from the sky and onto anything in the world below filled this silence. The sounds of rain crashing into several surfaces of the sidewalk, stream, street lights, and leaves were almost like a melody to the figure. But as much as the lone soul loved any form of song, the hatred of being soaked outweighed it in every regard. So much so that they felt the need to vocalize their disdain to the sleeping world,

"Oh come on, can't one day go by where it doesn't rain?" Anyone could practically hear the eye-roll the figure was making as they continued, looking to the sky. "I guess that's your way of telling me to get my butt to bed, huh Mother Nature?"

As the figure continued to send glares to the heavens above, the hood fell off the figure's head, revealing a messy strawberry pink ponytail and a pale face, that of a young woman. At this she groaned once more, rubbing her cheeks before beginning to fumble with the difficult behaving hood. When the hood covered her head once more, it now only covered the back side of her head since it had caught on their ponytail leaving her face easy to see. Knowing that this was the best she was going to get, hands of ivory dropped to her sides before slamming themselves into the hoodie's pockets, trying to get dry and warm. Beginning the journey in the opposite direction of the place they now called home, the sleepless soul made her way towards the home of her partner, Gladio.

Surely he won't mind if I spend the night. It's so much warmer at his house than it is at mine! As she thought of where she'd soon be, a sad laugh drowned out the drowning rain. He probably won't even notice I'm there. Though I do wanna make sure that he at least got to sleep, it has been rough on them this past month... The teal hood nearly fell off her head once again when she shook it in an attempt to get rid of the thought. She knew thinking like that would only confuse her and be of no help to anyone, so it was best not to mull it over.

Rounding various corners and trudging through the orange lights that flickered when the girl who was getting damper by the second approached, she listened the quiet of the night. Another pit settled inside her as they thought back to the noticeable thumping that her boots usually made, so she began trying to listen for that over all the other quiet ambiance. Yet no matter how hard she tried, all she heard was the pittering of the rain. It was unsettling in a way, but she'd get used to it all soon. She had to since it seemed like the situation they were in wasn't going to change any time soon. So again, it was better not to think about it.

The rest of the walk was almost like the girl had set herself on autopilot, focusing on nothing but the movement of her feet and ground under them. Tired eyes only lighting up when the roof of the oh-so-familiar home was in sight. The scarlet hue of the street lamps making the ebony color of her eyes that much brighter. Grounded footsteps picking up their pace to a light sprint, which only halted when they stood on the expansive oak porch and in front of a sliding glass door.

The girl turned her head both ways, scanning for any other potential intruder. Once they were sure no one else was around, she bent down and picked up an inconspicuous grey rock that laid beside the outer frame of the door. Flipping it over into their other hand dark eyes scanned over the crudely etched "G + R" along with a small doodle of a heart next to the letters on the bottom of the rock. The drawing was so small that if she hadn't been the one who had drawn it, she wondered if she would have even noticed it. When she questioned it, she began to question what her partner thought of it, if he noticed it at all. Nevertheless, the small sketch made her lips curve upwards while she continued to think. The girl was only pulled from her thoughts when a particularly large raindrop fell on her head. Her nose scrunched before she stepped closer to the door to step out of the rain. She then twisted the bottom of the rock, revealing the key to the back door

“Ah, the special key to my special entrance.” She held back a giggle while reflecting on the memory of when Gladio had shown her this key. How he told her that she could use it whenever she needed to, even when he wasn’t there. It was such a sweet gesture, one that helped the girl in more ways than she could ever express. For a moment one question came to mind, but it vanished quickly since there was no point in questioning something that couldn’t be changed.

Fitting the key into the lock after a few misses, the girl unlocked the door and stepped inside. The everlasting chill was lightened ever so slightly when the door closed behind her. She wandered inside, placing the secret key in its container and on to a nearby bookshelf. Although the house was darker than it was outside due to the lack of light, the girl made her way around just fine thanks to her prior knowledge.

This is just a quick check-in and then maybe I can get some shut-eye as well. Remember that! The girl reminded herself repeatedly since the last thing she wanted was to disturb her partner and any company he may be keeping.

The floorboards seemed to creak with every few steps she took, making her recoil back in her own horror. They had never done this before, but all the girl could say to justify it was that times were different now. Although, that didn’t stop her from at least wincing with every sudden noise. After failing miserably at her self-given mission of being stealthy, the girl finally made it to her destination, Gladio’s room.

She twisted the door open, expecting to see a fully occupied bed, but what she saw broke her heart even more. Gladio laid in his bed, alone. Clutching for dear life, a bear that the girl recognized as her favorite that she used to own. Looking closer she took notice that his cheeks were... tearstained? Bringing a hand up to her lips and clasping it over her mouth, she held back her own tears. There was no way that he could still be this upset after this much time. Not because of her. No one should be. In her own eyes, she wasn’t worth it. Yet here was the cold hard truth laid before her. She wanted to go to his side and wipe away the tears, comfort him! But she couldn’t, she’d cause more harm than good, right? She just used both hands to hold back her cries and shook her head, trying to avert her gaze. But any resistance the girl had broke when Gladio called out her name. Something that the young lady nearly didn’t recognize from not hearing for so long.

The young woman hurriedly made her way to her partner’s side, sitting on the edge of the bed to wipe away his tears. She never wanted her partner to suffer, not because of her. Not knowing whether or not he would be able to even hear her, she placed her hand over his lightly grasping it.

“It’s okay sweetie, I’m here,” She tried to soothe, rubbing her thumb along the side of his hand. “I’m here.”

She saw Gladio reach out for her, and the young lady had to shut her eyes so hard that her head started to hurt. All so she wouldn’t break down crying.

“I miss... you,” Gladio confessed, his voice a mix between a mutter and sleepy groan.

Another quiet wince left the girl’s lips. “I miss you too, hon. So, so much. But hey, I’m no longer in pain, so that’s a positive.” The girl whispered, mustering up a positive attitude. “But I am so sorry if I caused you any pain! I never thought that I...” She paused trying to keep her composure, “That I meant that much to you. I do know that you’re really strong and you’ll make it through this. And even if I can’t do much, I’ll do my best to help you! You’re going to be just fine, I know you will. But still take all the time you need, that’s what’s important.” A glance at the clock that sat on the nightstand reminded her of the time, 4:47 in the morning. She should be going soon, after all, it would be rude if she wasn’t prepared for her final big day.

Letting go of Gladio’s hand, the young lady let it fall to the bed as she stood from the bed. She turned around, leaning against the bed to place a butterfly kiss on her partner’s forehead. “I don’t know if you’re even hearing any of my thoughts but I just really want you to know that I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused but I love you more than I can ever say.” She then leaned back, taking one last look at the sleeping brunet who she had held so dear. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Gladio woke up just moments later with chills running through his upper body. Despite the intensity, they were oddly soothing, though, by the time he could realize where he was or what they might be, the strawberry-haired lady had already vanished. Even though the dark sky held such devastation the night before, as amber eyes gazed out towards it now, for some reason Gladio felt as though things would begin to feel okay...

"And that's the ending!" The young lady beamed while closing the document she was reading from. Ebony eyes looked around at their audience expectant for any responses. "Well, what do ya' think? It's not my magnum opus or anything, but I did just spend ten hours straight writing this, so please give me some credit." The young lady was about to crash her head into the table mat below, but mere centimeters away she felt a hand tug at the back of her collar. "Thanks, babe."

Gladio gave a content hum of acknowledgment while lowering his girlfriend onto the table to where she rested her head.

"I kept tellin' ya when you kept askin' me for opinions, you did good. But I think you broke Prompto."

The lady author lifted her head to see where her usually upbeat friend sat quietly. "You're not gonna die, are you?" He asked, with his voice being only a whimper.

Gladio tried to hold back a snort as he watched his girlfriend practically leap out of her chair and begin freaking out in an attempt to calm down her friend.

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING!" The bright strawberry shot at her boyfriend, who just stood marveling at her actions...

#ship: the storyteller and her shield #gladio x myself #self shipping #selfshipdom #self insert #selfship community #self indulgent stuff #romantic #real world au #platonic #selfship #ghost #ghosting #inktober #haunted #death #hurt #comfort

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yamlog · 5 years

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12 oct 2019 (i have decided that in my remaining time i might as well just be all Dear Diary-ish and the lack of date/time in the formatting is quite alsdkfj. anyway, so here goes:)

dear diary (?)

i calmly explained my thoughts and my decision to a friend who’s been through similar struggles and for the first time there was no pushback, no ‘why are you so stupid’ or ‘why are you so dramatic’ or ‘why can’t you see the bigger picture’ or ‘i’m going to call your housephone and speak to your parents’, all of which don’t really help. the only thing she tried to do was extend the deadline from the dec of my 28th birthday till my 29th birthday, which i acceded to. there was the ‘uhh but 2.5 years is really short arh it’ll go by like nothing’, but other than that remark there was no judgement and no protesting or disapproval. and it soothed me, i guess, to be heard and accepted and not told that i’m doing something wrong. and i felt less alone, and just a tiny bit more understood.

i told her about the book i was reading, and the injustices of a school system that failed a child who sought help. i think it takes a certain bravery to seek help. i don’t have it in me. i want to do this on my own, not because i am brave but because i am afraid and tired. i’m tired of feeling anything at all, especially of having feelings for someone i really really really really wish i didn’t have feelings for anymore. i want to turn it off like a tap but i just can’t, and nothing i do or he does can change it. he could become a serial killer or a woman-hater and i would still find myself unable to stop loving him. i think there’s something lodged in my brain that makes me unable to reason and rationalise my way out of attachment and emotions. nothing. i. do. works. i am tired of feeling erased - like the story he removed from his highlight - and discarded. and i am tired of feeling like everything is out of my control. i don’t think talking about it to an adult (as if i weren’t one) is going to fix my feelings. i don’t want to take pills and rely on them. i don’t believe that i won’t be reliant on them long-term, no matter what MR says. i just don’t believe it. if a tree can’t bear fruit because something is wrong at the genetic level, no amount of high-grade fertiliser is going to make it.

and since i set the deadline, things have started to sharpen into focus. i have a list of affairs to settle, and things i want to do/ get done before i expire.

the first being, i want to use the camera more, the crazily expensive vintage camera MR saved up really long for to buy me, which he then put in a wooden box with a coating and locks that he installed himself. it was a testament to how crazy teenage love can be, and i have done similar things in my time. but this is the best instance of me being at the receiving end. i took out the camera today, dusted it off, and loaded in a fresh roll of ISO800 film. i took a few shots downstairs when i sent my friend off. it feels good to hear that crispy click. it’s reassurance that the photo will come out right, that the settings were correct, that i didn’t mess up. i’ll take more especially when i am overseas, visiting my cousin. because it might be the last time i see her, if i don’t get a chance to visit again by my 29th birthday. it’s going to be winter time, and i can already recall how painful my fingers felt as they’re out in the cold fumbling with the even colder metal gears and knobs. i have also decided that once i can, i will sit down in my room and post everything that i’ve taken so far. i want there to be a clear demarcation between then and now. the photos that i have taken in the past, when i was happy and content, they Cannot and Will Not be mixed with the ones i have started taking today. there must be a line between pre-decision and post-decision, pre-break and post-break. it feels wrong and messy and unacceptable otherwise. there must be a line. i’ll get to it.

aside from this, i haven’t decided what else to sort out. i thought that maybe i should write those stories ive been dreaming up, the wacky ones that take place in singapore. ghost stories too. but try as i might, i can’t figure out a resolution. i feel like i should have the whole storyline in my head before i even start writing, so i can work towards an end. but i’ve also read somewhere that sometimes it’s better to let the story write itself. just start writing it, and then go with the flow. my fear is that i won’t be able to reach an end, and i’ll just keep going and going and going as the story grows and expands beyond my control. i guess i really fear losing control now. it’s just too much risk that i’m no longer willing to take. i guess i’m damaged, irreversibly.

i want to make small zines and give them to my friends. i made one during invigilation, as part of inktober for my drawing twt acc. it’s made of scrap materials and i manually snapped a rubberband in half so i could use it to bind the scrap paper i poked holes in with my only pen at the time. we can’t really bring stuff to invigilation so i had to make do with existing trash on the table.

hearing horror stories about teachers getting in trouble because of what they post on social media. ive been open about attending p*nkd*t and now i’m not sure if someone could dredge up a photo of me at the park from 4 years ago and use it to justify my unsuitability for the job. it really is a nightmare. and im not one to be paranoid, but i think i should be.

long, long day tomorrow. my legs are battered and bruised all over and tomorrow it’s go time again.

i tidied up some things i’ve collected in my bag - pieces of things from small gifts from friends that i had saved to stick into my journal. i arranged them on the page and stuck them down, it took about 3 minutes. as i worked, my friend said that she could never do that. do what? i asked. make things look nice so effortlessly, she said. she said she tried to bujo for six months but nothing she did turned out looking nice. it ties in with her drawing style. she said she wanted to participate in inktober, but she hates having to go over pencil with a pen, but at the same time she cannot bring herself to just draw with pen first. i’m not like that, i guess. i just draw with pen without hesitation, the same way i write or tape things down in my journal. it’s not bravery, it’s recklessness, i think. i recklessly commit all the time. i don’t think ‘what if i fuck up? what if i stick wrong and in the process of trying to remove it i end up tearing the paper?’ i don’t think, i just go. and if i make any mistakes i just work around it. draw over it, stick something over it, extend the line into a box or a part of a doodle. i’m meticulous when it comes to some things, but completely not when it comes to creative expression. or with love either. i don’t backtrack, and i don’t think ‘what if i fuck up’ i just Go and give my 100% and love whatever’s there. i don’t think my approach is wrong. i think i need to look before i leap, but still leap. some things are fundamental to me.

my memory’s really bad today. my friend said it’s the shock and grief and crying, it affects your ability to retain information or remember things. even when im trying to remember what ia te for lunch just 10 hours ago, i have to struggle to remember. i ate downstairs. chicken rice, for the first time in ages. it was hard, taking that first bite, and i couldn’t finish half of my plate because i just felt so sick with grief my stomach protested when i tried to scrap up another spoon of rice. i made myself finish the soup. i think i’m still running a fever. it’s just the impact. i’ll be wobbly and insubstantial like a spirit for awhile. then i’ll come back, and solidify, i hope.

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