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odysseywritings · 7 months

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I'll Never Know

@flashfictionfridayofficial

It was a nightmare that kept repeating in my head. The image of my dad as he died of a heart attack tattooed itself in my sight every day. I always hated death, and I don't have comfort thinking about an afterlife since it's all bunk, and I never wanted to go back to the cemetery after his funeral. He wasn't even 50.

There was a pit in my gut every time I passed by the cemetery. The thought of death, of pure nothing, paralyzed me from taking risks that might've made living exciting like hang gliding or urban exploring. Yet the graveyard itself seemed to have a light or an aura around it. Even weirder was that I'd see a silhouette roaming it, and it wasn't any of the normal workers, but I didn't think much back then.

One night I had a nightmare that still haunts me. I woke up to find people surrounding me in the dark, their hands stretched out and pushing me down, while the blue and yellow lights around them dimmed. Even after I woke up, my body couldn't move out of bed from shock until at least an hour.

After talking with my therapist, I wanted to confront death, or grief, or something. I went to the grave site where my dad was buried, part of exposure therapy I guess, just to settle with this crippling fear. It was an empty place and the crisp autumn wind added to the chills, making me rush to Dad's grave and getting it over with.

I used to love this season even if I hated going back to school. The Halloween parties he'd set up were amazing and full of creepy decorations and music that gave me the right adrenaline rush. But really I just miss him, and the warmth he gave when he'd hug and kiss me after a breakup or being bullied, how he'd travel with me for miles to enjoy a great ice cream shop. And then he's just gone. No new memories or love. Only flashbacks and pictures.

"My condolences," I jumped back and held my chest when I turned and saw a woman. "Death is always painful. Yet it's the truest thing."

I saw her closer and she looked unreal. Like a skull painted to look like a human with flesh. The rest of her clad in white clothes like an ancient priestess. I stepped back and he followed with a step. She smiled and pointed at my dad's grave.

"I won't be so poetic as to call death a pleasant peace," she said as a plot of the land instantly opened up. "But would it not be better for your health to embrace it and not hide it away? Like the filth and trash discarded from plain sight, away from weak senses, into a landfill to be repurposed."

Her finger pointed again to the empty grave and the skin dropped off to reveal a bone. My breath quickened and my eyes budged to the site despite my instincts to run. The grave had my dad as he looked before being embalmed. The body then transformed into me with my mouth agape and my skin thin enough to be translucent. I stumbled from delirium and fear, I almost fell into the grave, a scream coming out of me, until I was yanked back by my coat.

"In due time," the woman was just a worm-riddled skull in clothes surrounded by red light, "but not today. Your reservation isn't so cut and dry. It's not very lively, so please, do make the most of your time while the sun still shines."

The light around her grew and absorbed my senses as everything was just red like a star engulfed me. And just as quickly it stopped. The cemetery was normal as ever, the wind still wailing, and my dad still dead. But I was still alive for whatever that's worth.

It seemed like a waking nightmare yet I felt every second of it. Another thing to talk to my therapist about if she'll even believe me. Maybe it's for the best that I don't know because I'll never be satisfied. And I'm feeling that way about death, too. How I'll never really understand it, or if anything comes after, but I'm never getting an answer until my time. I'll still have fears for myself and grief over my dad, but I can't fight the inevitable. I just have to thank him for the time we shared and the time I can share with others while I'm here.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #death #horror #surreal #mywriting #njm

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misumeaw-blog · 3 years

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13 Days 13 Fanfics | Counting down Albedo’s Birthday

Pairing : Albedo x GN! Reader

Genre : Fluff | Established relationship

Warning : None

Word count : 1,699 words

note : I can die peacefully now, I believe the entire family can hear me screaming. Day 13 will be based on Albedo's mail. I suck at kissing btw, sooo I tried

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Day 12 Moment of Birth Part 1: Midnight

Light from houses in the city of freedom starting to turn into darkness; but not all, liveliest place in the slumbering city in the lake still filled with drunkards and music from the bard. Angel share, is night-active with drinks and socializing drinkers.

You have a meeting with your friends to discuss what to give Albedo for his birthday, Although..

“You guys seriously haven’t kissed yet? It’s been nearly a year”

things seemed going in the completely wrong direction “Shhh quiet please, Captain Kaeya. It’s not a big deal, I understand he wanted to take things slow” Still, there are times where you yearn for more than hugs and pecks on your face.

“Our Chief Alchemist has really taken your advice Too well, Kaeya” Lady in purple attire and a large witch hat, decorated with roses spoke up “That little genius never opened up for this sort of relationship” eyepatch man took another gulp to his mouth “I’m still surprised you managed to make him fall for you”

“Kaeya, rude” lightly zapped the one-eyed captain before turning to you “If he doesn’t make the first step, you’d need to do it” she placed her finger on your lips “Alright, alright, stop everyone” you harsh your friends before things getting out of hand “I just wanted a piece of advice on what to give Albedo for his birthday, so how did this turned to-“ Yup, that sparked your idea.

Both Knights of Favonius glanced at each other then back to you “Do you still need our help?”

The following morning you knocked on the Acting Grand Master’s room “Come in” an assertive voice flew out from the wooden door “Good morning, Master Jean. Do you know where Klee is?” “Good morning, I think she’s by the lake near Wolvendom. Oh and if you’re going to meet her, please make sure she doesn’t explode all the fish” she spoke without looking at you, eyes on massive amounts of paperwork

“One other thing, Acting Grand Master. I would be greatly appreciated if you kindly grant Albedo’s leave on his birthday” you figured your boyfriend might need a day off, in case he wanted to spend time with you and Klee “Oh right, his birthday is approaching” she glanced at the calendar “Yes of course, please do send him my regards if I couldn’t inform him myself” Closing the door after thanking her, ‘alright, off to Wolvendom’ you recalled your plan

Explosions can be heard from afar, the little girl should be nearby. Fish flying out in the sky, big splash easily visible. A small girl in red clothing having fun tossing bombs into stilled water. You called for her and she turned around “Y/N! Klee missed you” red coat sprinting to you, hugging you as soon as you’re in her reach By now she sees you as another sibling, despite you’re actually dating her brother. “Having fun today mh Klee?” glancing at the amount of dead fish on the ground “Yup! The kind uncle at the fishing asso..asso..” “Fishing association?” “Yes! the fishing association told Klee there’s a bunch of new fish all over Mondstadt, Klee will blast them all” You know fishing normally is better for the fish, but you let it slide for her happiness “Hey Klee, I have to borrow your brother the day before his birthday; well, tomorrow, is that alright?” You crouch down to the little girl’s height “Aw, but Klee wanted to be with big brother Albedo..” “I know Klee, but by that time you would be asleep. Would you like to help me prepare snacks for Albedo then?” “Yayy, Klee wanna help!” “Alright, keep it between us m’kay?” Holding out a pinky finger for the young one to hook with hers

‘And to keep Albedo busy..’ You head to the fountain plaza to one of your boyfriend’s assistants, Timaeus. “Morning Timaeus, do you know where Sucrose is?” A bit weird to start a conversation about her, since you and Sucrose don’t really get along “Sucrose? I’m not sure. Do you want me to help find her?” “No, no no no, uh, Timaeus, I need you to help distract Albedo tomorrow, mild difficulty experiment, anything” “Is that all? All Right” Scholar alchemist agreed to lend you a hand “Thanks, Timaeus”

You headed off to your next destination ‘Alright, time for a hard part’ the last part of your plan is rather hard, you wondered if he gonna help you

“Mark it as done!” wow that was.. easy, perhaps it’s because of three high-quality bottles of wine in his hands. You asked.. or rather, hired anemo bard to play songs for the night and extra requested to let the wind carry the song to you.

In the evening, you have scouted the area you wanted to give the alchemist your gift and found the perfect place. An area where you can see both the city of freedom and the icy summit, high enough for the gentle breeze to flow, beautifully decorated with flowers and greenery. Starsnatch cliff, also the home of the flower which held meaning, the truest feelings of prodigal son, Cecilia.

The next day everything went according to plan. Light meal fully prepared with the help of the pyro girl, Timaeus kept Albedo busy so he couldn’t come home and caught you and Klee in action.

Quite late night when you knocked on Alice’s door, the blonde, still in his usual attire opened to greet the unknown guests. “Y/N? What are you doing here this late hour?” Judging from the angle of the moon, it's around 9-10 PM “Hey, what about me?” eyepatch covering male’s hand and he placed his elbow on the opened door, the alchemist only nodded to his presence “Evening Bedo, I would like to show you something, could you come with me please?” you don’t normally use the formal language after being with him for so long. He can sense your shyness from the way you speak and your body language “I’d love to go but Klee..”

You pointed to the man behind you “Don’t worry about little Klee, just go enjoy your time” he basically dragged the alchemist out of his house

Chitchat along the way, fingers intertwined with his “Not sleepy yet aren’t you?” you bent down and look at him in the eyes “Not at all, I’m rather excited about what you prepared for me” giggled to his answer “Good, 'cause the night is still young!” you have reached your destination, Large fabric covering the grassy ground, a basket filled with snacks lies atop, along with a flower vase to decorate the scenery. Log of wood has bags and books resting against it. The wind bringing the scent of white flowers and the tune of the harp. Moon and star shining bright, needlessly of other light sources.

“Didn’t know you had anything romantic in mind” he teased your boldness “..well, what do you think?” hiding your embarrassment and teases the alchemist back

Sitting down to the location you prepared, he started to examine the scene “There’s no musician nearby, nor to any instruments.. Am I the only one hearing the melody?” Trying to find a scientific explanation for a strange event “The wind carries messages. Was music not a kind of message too?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, drowning in the love you gave him

“Enjoying it hmm? Here, I prepared some light food for us” slowly getting plates and snacks out from the weaved basket, the fabric is soon filled with various types of dishes "You’re not gonna sit on your seat?” his arms tightened, head bury to your shoulder “..I don't want to move” it’s rare seeing him clingy to you like this “you’re adorable you know” finally commented on his action

“We got your favorite,” one of your dishes has turned to Albedo’s favorite “These are canapés, I chose bread base, topped with different types of savory” bite-sized dishes, you know he prefers smaller portions

Pointing to each topping one by one, explaining what each one is made of. In his eyes, you’re like a professional chef

“Bedo, check this one out” you pulled out Fisherman’s toast with clover ketchup, onions, cheese, and heart-shaped parleys “..Fish-Flavored Toast, Klee’s specialty. You’re so thoughtful, I have to thank her later” he pecked your cheek, definitely in love

“And we got desserts- after savory alright Bedo?” His hand was already reaching for the dish, you have to stop his fast hand Brownies, Berry Mille-Feuille, and a jar of chocolate chip cookies are all making him drool “Shall we dig in?” He suggested, perhaps the desserts engaging him.

Your hypothesis was turned down after seeing him having a high appetite for savory, you figured he actually wanted to savor your cooking

Hours passed and you both are finally full, cuddling against the wooden log, enjoying the melody floating in the air. His platinum hair reflects the elegant moonlight, half-lidded eyes resting against your neck, handheld on yours. You looked up in the sky- its almost time

“Albedo?” He replied with a sweet hum, glancing up at you “Do you know what day is tomorrow?” “..my birthday. but I still don’t understand why you chose to celebrate it tonight” “Wouldn’t be nicer to receive a gift directly after the clock strikes midnight?” Lifted his chin to face you, he’s so close to you, closer than usual

Both yours and his cheek painted rosy, he cupped your face and look deeply into your eyes. “was all this not my birthday gifts?” “nope.. would you like to find out what it is?”

Moon motions overhead, the clock strikes midnight, soft breeze touched exposed skin, the sound of the harp soaring in the sky. stars as the witness, Cecilia as the oath, feelings as vow sealed between the two bodies.

Hand slide by the side of his neck, placing on the backside and pulled him closer, half-lidded eyes slowly closed, chest-pounding hard, tilted your head to the side a little-

sweet lips finally placed on his loving ones, passionated and full of affection, butterflies flying in your stomach. After a while, you break the timeless kiss

“Happy birthday my beloved Albedo”

#albedo x reader #albedo genshin x reader #albedo x you #albedo x gn reader #13Days13AlbedoFanfics #genshin x you #genshin x gn reader

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killiansprincss · 3 years

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Never Forget You ch.14

Season 6A Canon Divergence.

Emma is happy. Finally happy with her parents, son and boyfriend. But this happiness is taken away from her when the Evil Queen curses her and turns her into a toddler.

Heartbroken and angry, Killian and Henry run away to Neverland to wait for Emma to break her curse.

But when she does break it and comes looking for them 25 years later, she soon realises this Neverland is very different now it is no longer under Pans rule.

Will she be able to save Henry and Killian in time, or will this new ruler of Neverland keep them hostage forever?

Hi all here is the newest chapter in Neverland fic and it is angsty from here on out ;)

this fic means the world to me it brings me such joy writing it so if you liked it please let me know I’d love to hear what people think of it!

Link to AO3

“So I still don’t understand why she wants to keep the two of you?” Snow asks the next morning at Henry’s treehouse.

Killian and Henry look at one another, “You want to tell them the truth, Lad, or should I?”

Henry looks over at his family, “It’s my blood that has allowed us to stay for so long, I’ll tell them.”

“Blood? Excuse me?” Emma asks ready to murder the fairy.

“It’s okay love. Listen.” Killian says putting his hand on her back. It felt like normal again, with his hand finding the spot on her back that always managed to calm her. David and Snow were glad to see them all working together again.

“Gold told us that because I still have the heart of the truest believer, a few drops of my blood would restore the youthfulness of this place. So when we came here, I gave a few drops, but it needed more. I sorta passed out because a voice was telling me it needed more blood.” Henry explains, but seeing the look on his mother's face, he then quickly adds, “But I was totally fine, Killian saved me before it was too late. But now I think our time is running out, if I don’t give this Island more of my blood then the fairies can’t stay here and the magic will be gone.”

“Not too dissimilar from Pan then.” David comments. “So how do we defeat her?”

“I have a theory I’ve been sitting on for a while, but it’s dangerous, and I don’t want a repeat of History.” Killian says gesturing towards David.

“No. No. No.” Snow yells. “I almost lost my husband once, we can’t risk it.”

“It might be the only way.” David tells his wife. “Do you want to get off this Island as a family?”

“Okay someone fill me in please. Unless you forgot, I was not born when this happened!” Neal interrupts.

“Dreamshade.” Emma tells her brother. “It’s Neverland's most deadly poison. Dad got infected last time and almost died.” She turns back to Killian, “But the water saves you as long as you stay on the Island, so how does that help us?”

“Wait hold on-Dad got poisoned? And almost died?” Neal suddenly realises there is so much about his family that he didn’t know about.

“I have a concentrated dose on my ship that I’ve been working on. In theory, even if she does drink the water, she can’t leave, she cannot try and stop us.” Killian explains.

“A concentrated dose like the one you gave Gold in New York?” Emma asks, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Aye. Except, a much stronger dose. Hopefully to a fairy, the dose will reach her heart much faster than it did the Dark One.” He looks over to David and Snow. “I’m fully aware that it could go wrong and I don’t want to put you in any danger.”

“We’re aware of the danger, but it’s nothing we haven’t faced before. We can handle a fairy.” David says confidently.

“With all due respect Gramps, these fairies aren’t like blue or any of the other fairies in the Enchanted Forest or Storybrooke.” Henry explains, worrying about their newfound confidence. “In Neverland they play by different rules, they use dark magic, darker magic than mom used as a dark one.

_________

Cecelia was angry.

She didn’t like visitors. Especially if those visitors were the ones trying to take away the magic that kept her alive in her home.

She needed a way to stop her new visitors, especially the blonde who was taking the pirate away.

Normally she would spend her nights in Pixie Hollow with her sisters, but she had a feeling the blonde wasn’t going away. At the end of the night, she flew over to the Lost Ones clearing and what did she see? The blonde with Hook. This could not happen. She needed a plan to separate the two of them, get the blonde back to wherever she was headed, and keep Hook and the boy here.

—

Pan was a nightmare. He was ruining her Island, though he called it ‘his Island’. He had been here a hundred years and already the Island had changed, the pixie dust was running out, in another hundred years or so the Island would likely die. Pan was apparently searching for a boy that would save the Island, but Cecelia didn’t buy into it-prophecies are 99% of the time wrong, if this boy ever did show up she wonders if he would save the Island.

Thankfully Pan was not able to enter her safe haven. And neither could Tinkerbell since her wings and magic were gone. She could easily avoid her, and if she did see her again, what could the little green fairy do anyway she was powerless. But it did affect her access to fairy dust, he used most of it on his pack of Lost Boys who were typically using it to fight with real weapons, or use it to battle the Pirates that were now stuck on this Island.

Cecelia decided she was sick of hiding in Pixie Hollow, she wanted to see what Pan had done to her home, and see if she could stop it. That’s when she saw him for the very first time. The Pirate. With a Hook for a hand. He was dressed in all leather, a red vest with a large black leather coat and leather pants. He had scruffy black hair and eyes as blue as the sea in Neverland cove.

She transformed into human size so she could follow him. He was with another pirate, this one short and stocky, blue and white striped shirt and a red hat. Not nearly as gorgeous as the man with the silver Hook. She tried to understand what they were saying, something about a weapon, a dagger.

“The dagger is the only weapon that can defeat him. If I can get my hand on it I can skin myself a crocodile at last. I just need a way off this blasted Island.” The one with the Hook said, he sounded angry, whatever this crocodile was, was sure to be a force to be reckoned with.

“Even if Pan gives us a way off this Island, how do you plan on getting the dagger? Baelfire said-“ the shorter man begins to say before the Hooked pirate cuts him off.

“Don’t say his name.” Whoever this Baelfire was, he clearly made a lasting impact on the Pirates lives, the way he sounded upset by the thought of him.

“Sorry Captain. But say we get back to the Enchanted Forest, how do you plan on getting the dagger if he has it on his possession?” Ahh it made sense now, the Hooked Pirate was a Captain, the way the smaller one almost quaked with fear when speaking to him.

“I have a plan.”

One moment Cecelia is walking a fair few paces behind the two pirates, hiding in the darkness so they don’t see but still within earshot, and the next moment the leather clad Pirate had a dagger to her throat and her back against the nearest tree.

“Who are you and why are you following me?” The Pirate asks. It was the leather clad Hooked pirate, the smaller one had scurried ahead leaving just the two of them in the hot Neverland Jungle.

Cecelia laughs as she clicks her fingers and the dagger against her throat disappears and reappears in her own hand.

“A fairy.” The Pirate states, not asks, as he takes a step away from her.

“You know of my kind?” Cecelia asks him with a seductive smile.

“I’m not fond of fairies. Especially the ones I’ve met on this Island.” The Pirate sneers.

“Let me guess Tinkerbell?” Cecelia asks, she assumed Tink was the only fairy who would run into a pirate, but she couldn’t be sure, she needed to protect herself in case there was someone working for Pan who would report her.

The Captain laughs in a husky tone, “not a fan of her either I take it?”

Cecelia shrugs, “she’s not my friend, but she may see me as an enemy.”

“Whatever did you do to the poor girl?” The captain asks. He was very handsome, Cecelia had encountered many pirates in her life, yet none quite like this one.

“Well like Pirates I’m sure, a fairy never reveals her secrets.” Cecelia was flirting, the Captain was sure of it, so he decided to flirt back.

“Hmm secrets are a delicate thing. Is your name a secret too, or do I get the pleasure of knowing it?”

“Cecelia.” She replies with a glint in her eye. “And yours? I can’t just call you Captain now can I? Or would you like that?” She whispers the last part into his ear.

“Hook.” He tells her smirking as he uses his Hook to bring her closer.

“Clever.” She muses. “You’re a pirate, I assume you have a ship.”

“The Jolly Roger, she’s the most powerful in all the realms.”

Cecelia fondles with his Hook for a moment, “Would you like some company?”

Hook grins. “Are you offering?”

________

Her talk with the blonde Hook was in love with, didn't go down well as well as she had hoped. Cecelia threatened her, told her to leave and she didn’t. She was a stubborn stupid human, but she needed to take it to the next level.

Show her what Hook and her had, how it was nothing compared to what the blonde experienced with him in her land. She couldn’t kill the blonde right away, not with her whole family here. No, she needed to make her leave and she will get Verena to help kill them all if necessary.

____

The next two nights Cecelia watches the blonde with the Lost Ones. She sees how Hook looks at her, and how she looks at him. It makes her sick. The Lost Ones even look happy, they’re never happy. What was it about this girl that made her so special? Why of all the women, this plain girl was the apple of her Captains eye.

“You know you kissed me for the very first time right around here.” The Captain tells his blonde. She listens in, to see what she can find out, and what she can use against them.

“I remember. You were annoying me, I thought I would just kiss you to get you to shut up!”

“And you realised you’d made a huge mistake as you fell in love with me?” Cecelia couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not, their relationship was still a mystery.

The blonde hits him playfully, “you’re such an ass. If you recall your confession in the Echo Caves, you were the one you realised you couldn’t live without me.”

“Now, now Swan whose rewriting history. I am amazed that you still chose me, you love me after all I’ve done.”

The blonde runs her fingers through his hair, “hey. Stop. We talked about this, you’re not that man anymore, I fell in love with you because you chose to change, you said you wanted to be a better man and that’s exactly what you are. I don’t care what you did on this Island while I was cursed, it doesn’t matter, you’re still the man I fell in love with who risked everything for me, who is selfless and chooses to do the right thing.”

Cassandra turns away as they start to kiss, she doesn't need to see that. So, the Captain has insecurities, that she can take advantage of.

The Echo Caves.

Cass hadn’t heard of those in centuries. She knew Pan liked to use them to trap his unwelcome visitors, but she hadn’t known her Captain was a victim.

They were used in the olden times of Neverland to reveal the darkest secrets of fairies who were going bad and had to reveal the truths of their actions, but Pan ended up using it as a trap and to cause a rift between friends. And that’s exactly what Cecelia was going to plan. She would cause a rift by making them reveal their darkest secrets, and the blonde would go back home.

“Verena! Verena! Wake up!” Back in Pixie Hollow she decides to let her sister know of her plan, and how she can help her.

“The Echo Caves? Are you serious Cecelia?” Verena had heard the stories of the caves, how fairies were forced to reveal their darkest secrets and it was never pretty.

“Whose side are you on?” Cecelia was suddenly starting to doubt her sister, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yours obviously! But is it safe?”

“I heard the Pirate talking to the blonde, they went through it before when Pan was still in power. If it didn’t break them before, this time it will.” Cecelia feels confident, Hook had been here for 25 years all alone, his desires had clearly changed.

“So what’s the plan?”

_____

On the fifth night of watching the Pirate and his blonde, Cecelia decides this is the time to intervene. She’s sick of seeing Hook, a fearless and deadly Pirate turned into a “hero” by his lover.

The Lost Ones are finishing up, slowly disappearing back to their beds. Hook luckily is still in conversation with the young boy, the blonde however had finished talking to her lost girl, she was all alone.

Shrinking down to fairy size, she flies into the Lost Ones clearing, and freezes Hook and Henry before returning to human size.

“Cecelia.”

Cecelia smiles at the blonde, “the one and only.”

“What do you want? I already told you, I am not leaving this Island alone.” She was brave. But bravery almost meant stupidity.

“You and Hook just look so happy together. But I’m afraid he’s been keeping secrets from you.” She says, in a sweet but also malicious tone.

“What secrets?” Emma was convicted this fairy was just trying to mess with her head, Killian had been honest the past few days since they reconciled, no way would he be keeping secrets.

“I trust you’re familiar with memory magic?” Cecelia asks as a dream catcher appears in her hands.

Emma nods, all too familiar with dream catcher magic.

She watches as Cecelia makes the dream catcher glow as scenes of her in Neverland start to play out.

“I really don’t need to watch your life story.” Emma says rolling her eyes. But then.

Killian. She sees Killian in those memories. Well, he was in Neverland for 300 years and their paths were surely to cross. The dream catcher doesn’t have any sound, but she doesn’t need sound for what she sees next.

It’s Killian and Cecelia. Together. Lips on one another, bodies pressed together and legs tangled up.

Emma feels like she could vomit.

“You’re lying. This is, this isn’t true.” She manages to say, thoughts whirling around in her head.

Cecelia smirks. “You’re familiar with memory magic, you know how it works. I couldn’t tamper with it even if I wanted to. I guess Hook hasn’t been as honest with you as you thought, such a shame.”

Emma stands there for a few moments, resisting the urge to bring up everything in her stomach. Cecelia just flies away looking satisfied with herself.

“Everything alright love?” Killian appears a few minutes later, completely unaware of the situation.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Emma feels betrayed, how could he do that to her?

“I’m not sure I understand love.” He says, giving her a puzzled look, “are you feeling okay? Want to take a sail on the Jolly, clear your mind a bit?”

“The Jolly? Where you’ve been fucking Cecelia? I’m good thanks.” She spats.

Killian is lost for words, “Emma what the hell are you talking about?”

Glaring at him, she tells him of Cecelia’s visit to her, and the memories she saw of the two of them.

“Emma, please understand. That was a long time ago. It-“

“Oh so you’re not denying it happened?” She cuts him off, how dare he.

“I would never lie to you Emma. But whatever she showed you, happened a long time ago, long before I met you.” This was all part of Cecelia's plan to drive them apart, Killian was sick of her tricks.

“Just because I was cursed doesn’t mean I’m stupid. How am I meant to believe it was before you met me?”

Killian takes a step toward her, to take her hand but Emma snatches away. “I can’t prove it, but you’ve gotta trust me.”

“I’ve been cursed for 25 fucking years, Hook. That doesn’t give you an excuse to fuck the first woman you see just because I’m not around.” Her voice was getting louder the angrier she was getting.

“Emma I love you. Don’t act innocent though, like you said you were cursed for 25 years, you’re telling me you didn’t jump into bed with a man that isn’t me?” Killian was now just as angry, sure it had been 25 years but he expected better of her.

Emma doesn’t answer his question.

“I thought you said you saw me in your dreams.” Killian says tremulously. “That you were always seeing me. Was that all a lie to get me to go back with you?”

“No! Of course not! I did see you in my dreams, but that’s the thing you were a dream. I had no idea who you were. But don’t change the subject, I was cursed I could sleep with as many men who weren’t you and it would be okay. You on the other hand, slept with the fairy while you were waiting for me. You clearly don’t love me, so I think If we defeat Cecelia, I’m taking Henry and my family back with me, you fsnnstau here I really don’t care.” Emma’s voice was wobbly she felt like the was about to burst into tears.

“Emma. I do love you, whatever she’s shown you is a lie. I never touched her while you were here, I would have never do that to you.”

He tries to call out after her, but it’s no use, she’s walking back to her camp angry and upset, he was going to kill the fairy.

#never forget you #Captain swan #cs fanfic #cs ff #fanfic #cs fic rec #my writing

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moonlightjeno · 4 years

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𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 :: san x reader

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 :: angst, fluff ??

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 :: 2k

𝙖/𝙣 :: i’m not dead. this was actually gonna be a lot sadder than it actually is. and hey i’m writing for ateez now. kinda? idk man inspiration. any ways, i’m still kinda in a hiatus of sorts andi wrote this in the span of like an hour because a. san and b. i’m in an angsty mood. this is not proofread.

[ 6:09 pm ]

the dirt is still wet from what seemed to be a never-ending thunderstorm. The booms are a constant echo in your mind, that separates you from the rest of the world. When you look at the ground, a single flower greets you, the lilies white petals the only white in the dark and clouded day. Even it’s the stem, usually green seemed dull compared to the pureness of the white flower. The stone that stands behind it manages to clench at your heart, and you can feel your hands curl around the soil. Fingernails covered in dirt, that you would worry about later. It takes three breaths, for you to look up, and the coming sun causes an almost rainbow in front of the grey cobblestone.

The words seem to get stuck in your throat, you can feel them, a jumble of thoughts and emotions that you have pushed back for almost a year now, threatening to spill and tumble out of your mouth. But every time you open your mouth, no words leave, instead, the water that rims your eyes begins to spill down your cheeks. The water droplets are salty as they land in your mouth and into the soil, creating a pitter-patter on your hand. Breathe in, breathe out. The lily in your hand seems to stare back at you, the symbolism of it making your heart clench with each breathe, and you know that you can’t breathe the words that can’t get out and block any air into your lungs until a sob rips from your throat.

Pit, pat, pit, pat. Pitpatpitpatpitpat. And breathe.

It’s too much, the memories that flood you. His dimpled smile, and childlike behavior. It’s too much how anytime you laugh, you think that you don’t deserve it because you were supposed to be laughing with him. You were supposed to hear his squeals and feel his arms wrapped around you in a never ensign bear hug. You were supposed to get more time, more time to share your love, more time to know him, more time.

Time. the one thing that is limited in this world, the thing that we can never promise each other, but make the most out of. And you know this, you know that every time you visit the grey headstone, every time that you’ve tried to make it to where you are now your feet are no longer in your control, you are detached from the world and the world seems so far. So far that you are longer part of it, you know that you are in it but the words the sounds around you are all muffled never clear. You know that you are alive only by the beating of your heart and the constant breaths that leave your body, and the never-ending ache in your heart. They’d all visited him. Every single one of his members, it had all happened to fast for you to process one moment he was net to you, the next he was gone. The only thing you had left were the memories, like a shard of glass. Glimpses into a life, that were now broken. Though beautiful, and capturing everything you loved, but sharp and ready to cut you. The instinct to lock the memories up is instant, it’s what you’ve done for the past year shove the memories, every laugh and smile that you’d never have again to that place in your mind that you’d never reach. But this time, this time you breathe again.

“I…” the tears rush forwards again, their warmth a weird sense of comfort, and then a small smile grazes your face when you take out the old camera the last tape you’d recorded of san on it.

Breathe in. breathe out.

“I… there’s… it’s so much” you start. The video is playing over and over again, the clips lasts exactly 22 seconds. You know because you’ve counted them, you know because you can’t remember the number of times you’ve watched the clip of his smile shining above everything else. You start again and this time there seems to be no end. “When you left, i didn’t understand. Why? Why out of anyone did you have to leave me? So many people have left, so many have passed and gone, except you. It had always been me and you, san. No matter what, that was always the plan” you smile, the memory of the two you when you had met for the first time fresh in your mind.

The lock that you’d latched onto the memories, open and the flood came. It’s a rush you realize now that you’ve finally let yourself let go on the tight lock of emotions. “Damn it.” it’s almost a yell, but it doesn’t reach very far, before you can’t breathe again the salt in your mouth making it dry. “It was supposed to be us, to forever. But I guess that’s what everyone thinks when they lose the person they loved the most, don’t they san?” you can’t help but ask him, willing that maybe he’ll materialize next to you, a dimpled smile directed in your direction, and if you close your eyes and think hard enough, you can hear the filter of his laugh. Wooyoung and Seonghwa talking in the background as san cracks a bad joke, when you open your eyes you see him in the old black and white camera. Looking at you, with those eyes that held the world. And you’d know what he’d say, hoe there was no point in dwelling in the past luv, to just focus on now, on all the happy things on the bright spots you have in your life. And you did, you shut your eyes, a grim smile on your face as you clutched the old camera close to your chest, forehead resting against the cool surface of the cobblestone. If you opened your eyes you would have seen the engravings, on the tombstone.

CHOI SAN

THE TRUEST FRIEND ONE COULD HAVE

1999 - 2021

“I miss you. I miss your laugh, i miss you dragging me on random adventures at two in the morning with wooyoung because you two were hungry. I miss going to sleep, only to wake up with your arms around me. I miss how no matter how long of a day you’d had you’d always have a smile on your face, and be ready to be there and be you. There are so many things i miss, so many things i would take back if i knew, if i just knew that you’d be gone. And i sure as hell hope they’re treating you well where you are, or i might just have to go fight them myself” and you almost swear you could have heard the faint chuckle of your best friend, from somewhere but when you open your eyes for a second you don’t see him, but it’s as if you know he’s there listening somehow. “It’s been a year. You know the moment the beep paused at the end of the line I was almost sure I was dying with you. But I am still here, and you’re not. I was going to play this video for you, the members helped me make it, it’s a compilation of all the times you’d made us mad only for then for us to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. But the moment i opened the camera, this video of you plays. It’s at one of you’re rehearsals, a dance practice for a competition, I can’t really remember which one, you guys went to so many. But this one in particular, was the first time you sang. You were scared, you kept asking me and the rest of the team ‘what if the public doesn’t like my voice? What if i break? What i a forget the lyrics?’ ” it was also the day you realized you’d fallen in love your best friend. And you knew the tears were threatening to come again, but you found your words again, the rainbow seemed to dance in front of you, it’s different colors and bright light.

“You killed it though. I knew you would, wooyoung even made a bet about it. But that’s not it. I look at this video, and you look so happy san. Your eyes whole the world, the dance in the light and seem to captivate everyone and everything. And i can barely keep focused for more than five seconds before i start to break down again” the last words come out almost as a choke, but the ease on your lungs seems to have softened. And the pitter-patter has slowed down, your hands are no longer clenched together and your heartaches even if just a little, but it’s less. The video continuous to play on its a never-ending loop, and the lily seems to be blooming a little brighter than when you had first arrived. The wet soil, is still cool against your knees but it’s become somewhat familiar, the grey cobblestone you can finally read. The engraving still pangs you hear, it still makes you want to scream and rip something to shreds because at times you can’t believe that he isn’t here anymore, and then the never-ending pain becomes a little warmer with every note he sings, and every giggle you hear over and over again. Until it’s the only thing you hear, and you can breathe again.

Death. No longer by your side, the moment the white machine from the overly white hospital bed beeped monotone. Dead, but not always gone, the memories stored in the box of memories you have never being able to be separated from pain and joy. The never-ending mixture of both emotions, and so many more that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to truly filter out, or get a grasp of. It’s times when those two hit you so hard, and the memory of his smile stops your breathing when it feels like nothing will ever go back to normal, and you know that it never will. But you think you can create a new type of normal, one with that box of memories not shut away but next to you the mix of emotions always swirling, and you ready to take them on. It’s when you feel the tap of the shoulder, and turn to face seven other boys, that the weight of the memories and everything that is san seems to loosen a becomes happier. Because you know that he will always be there, always be with you in your memories even if they hold pain because the pain comes from the love and joy those memories hold. In time, you hope, in time, maybe you can breathe again. In time.

#write kpop #i neeed to join more ateex netwroks #san #san imagines #ateez x reader #ateez san #this is so bad help #choi san #san scenerio #san scenerios #san im sorry #also this banner is disgusting #tags please work #feedback would be great o #ok ok luna will shut up now

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isant-it-great · 4 years

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“How To Be A Writer” (Hall Blog Post 1)

Becoming a writer is incredibly easy. I usually find myself asking why everyone hasn’t chosen this career path yet, considering that it is the easiest of them all. It’s just scribbling down some words onto paper and making them into a coherent, legible, statement, right? ...Right?

The day you become a writer, you’ll wake up and state, “This is the day I want to become a writer”. You’ll spend the day tending to your normal list of errands, maybe walking the dog then going to the market. Once that’s done and you’ve returned home, you’ll be sitting on the worn leather couch and suddenly remember, “Oh right. I was supposed to become a writer”. It’s not until you’ve sat down at your desk and pulled out a piece of paper that you will start to become a writer. As you’re sitting there trying your hand at poetry one moment, you’ll find that the next moment, you’re halfway through a bottle of scotch and your ashtray is almost full. Your heartbeat pounds against the concave cavity of your weak chest just like the rain pounds constantly against the window outside. You are not a writer until you’ve experienced sleeplessness. It’s hours later, late into the night, the television quiet and the dog long asleep. You think of your wife. You wonder how she is. You remember your wife died several years ago in a tragic accident, along with your son. You go back to writing. You are not a writer until you’ve felt pain.

You’re trying haikus next. You feel like it’s a lost art form that should be more widely appreciated. You’re trying to remember the format. Five, seven, five…? No, that’s not right. Write. Writing, you’re writing! You’re going to become a writer! You will become the next Lovecraft or Steinbeck or Poe because you are a writer, damnit, and you are a good one. You pour yourself more scotch. You realize the bottle is empty, but you cannot get up from your desk until you’ve become a writer. You’re not a writer until you’ve experienced withdrawal.

It continues to rain and the dog snores soundly on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. You look over to the dog and smile, you wonder if you should pet him. As you raise your hand to gently scratch behind Fido’s ears, you see the pen, now stuck to your hand, melded to your skin. You’ve been writing for so long that your skin has now permanently grew over the pen, the handle now sunk into your epidermis as if it is now an extra appendage, created only so you can write. You are not a writer until you have experienced confusion.

More time passes. Your candle has now completely burnt out, both literally and metaphorically. You decided you’d had enough practice and that you’re now ready to begin your autobiographical masterpiece that is sure to upstage any award winning author to date. As you are attempting to write about that time your mother spilt coffee on your back on accident when you were eight, you feel your body finally begin to give out, as if your lungs are collapsing and your shoulders are sinking in. You figure maybe you’ve been pushing yourself too hard? Whatever, you’re not a writer. You need to keep going. As you are pushing your pen so hard into the notebook that the ink bleeds and the pen cries out with every word, you hear a rapid hammering from the front door. You didn’t order pizza, at least not as this hour. Who could that be? As you peel yourself up from the desk, your skin slowly unsticking itself from the priceless mahogany desk chair, you leave your study and silently slither to the front door. The knocking continues, echoing throughout your suburban palace. Fido, your canine companion, does not bark. He only follows you and watches as your one normal hand reaches for the doorknob. You slowly open the door, awaiting the possible pizza you may have ordered in your writing induced drunken stupor. There before you in all her glory is your late wife, holding your late son on her hip. He holds fistfuls of her blonde hair in his cherub like hands, as they stare at you with their hollow, sullen eyes. They are both crying as they watch you— dirt, mud and blood covering their bodies. “Why, Henry?” She sobs out, her cries startling your son. Your name is not Henry. “Daddy, you didn’t save us.” Your son looks at you with sad, pleading eyes. You look down at your hand, the one with the pen directly absorbed into your skin. You look to your other hand. You are holding a kitchen knife. When did you get a kitchen knife? Your wife takes the knife by the blade. You cannot let go. You cannot pull away. You are scared, and you are unsure as to why she is doing this. She stares into your eyes as she walks closely to you, plunging herself onto the knife. You watch as her body slams on and off of the blade, dark crimson staining the beautiful white gown she was buried in. She continues this pattern over and over until you are no longer able to tell the difference between the rain outside and the tears in your eyes. Either way, both are pouring down endlessly with zero signs of stopping. You watch as she collapses onto the ground, your son still alive in her arms. You try to drop the knife, but you can’t. Your flesh has grown around its handle like vines to a tree trunk. You cannot drop your murder weapon. You look down at your hands, no longer yours. One a tool for destruction, one a tool for creation. You look down at your son. “Daddy?” He reaches up to you with those short, chubby arms.

You look up at the wall in your home, searching for your wedding photo. Instead, a photo of you and your dog sits in its place. It isn’t until that moment that you realize: You’ve never had a wife. And you never had a son, either.

You shut the door and return to your desk. You are not a writer until you’ve experienced fear in its truest, most unadulterated and evil form.

Congratulations, you’ve done it! You are now a writer.

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shironekooo · 6 years

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Art in it’s truest form

Chp. 5 - Beauty and the Beast

Kamski x Reader

Words: 2314

Note: So sorry for the delay. Had a lot of things to do. If chp feels rushed, that’s why:/ enjoy!

A couple of days have passed. Since those disturbing events you didn’t have a chance to stay alone with Elijah more than for five minutes. It was pretty obvious that he was avoiding you. His office now was shut and he was even leaving you home alone taking trips without telling. These were the most boring days and all you could do is wonder what’s going to happen next. Chloe didn’t say much either. She was still nice and helpful, but everything regarding Elijah was so cryptic, that you gave up after a couple of times…

It was an early morning, around 5am, when you woke up feeling thirsty and got up to get a glass of water. Your attention caught lights coming from farther room accompanied by subtle sounds of music. What could Elijah possible be doing at this hour? You decide to investigate.

Source of commotion appears to be The Room. Record player in the library is playing 30’s melodies creating such an eccentric mood, that you feel out of place. Still half asleep you peek into the forbidden place and freeze. There is a girl there, hanging on a hook, chest fully open and empty. Elijah and Chloe are there too, wearing scrubs, standing over a table and packing something in coolers, which raises so many questions. Your presence is noticed only when Chloe picks up bags and turns to leave.

-You shouldn’t be here, - Elijah quickly approaches and pushes you back, but you’re not taking any of that.

-Wait, no, Elijah, we need to talk. You’ve been avoiding me and I need to know… is this the reason? – you can’t look away from the morbid sigh.

-We can talk later, go to sleep. There’s nothing for you to see.

-But… - you bypass him and rush into the room, getting closer to the girl. This is so surreal…

Elijah sighs and walks up to you. No point in trying to hide it now.

-What was in those containers? – you curiously ask.

-What we harvested from her, - Elijah moves aside to change out of his medical attire.

-Are they…for eating?

Elijah starts laughing. This is a first.

-What? No. Where did you get that idea from?

-You said you put them away for later use…I don’t know what that means, but it didn’t sound good at the time, - now you feel stupid assuming he goes full Hannibal.

-I sell them. I have no real use for organs.

-Is that why you’re wearing scrubs?

-Yes. I assist Chloe, since I don’t have any real medical degree. She’s more precise and careful.

That could mean that a piece of her is still living somewhere there. Giving life to someone else. It isn’t so bad and the dead body doesn’t look so horrifying anymore. There’s even something poetic about it.

-What’s her name? – you look closer, examining her face – it’s very pretty.

-Anna.

-What was she like before this? – you start circling her looking at the body from different angles, being fascinated by it.

-Does it matter? – Elijah finishes changing and begins to watch you.

-I’m just curious… What role do you think of giving her? – you touch her hand and it’s cold and stiff. In your eyes she’s starting to loose human form and look more and more like a doll.

-Well, I haven’t finished my flower installation.

-You’re giving her my role? – you turn to Elijah with a look of betrayal. Elijah chuckles.

-Does it make you jealous?

You stop and face the girl trying to imagine her as a forest goddess. She’s very different from you, so it’s doesn’t make you feel too bad about her getting the flower treatment. It’s going to be a lot different than what you could have looked like.

Elijah takes a couple of steps and stands behind you. The reason he was avoiding you, was so he could set his mind straight. Ever since sparing you and letting you stay here, he wasn’t sure what he’s going to do and how is this going to affect him. And it did affect him. His attraction to you wasn’t so apparent until that night, when you visited the bedroom. You found a side of him, that he thought he lost many years ago, and all suppressed feelings rushed back at once. If he wouldn’t have stopped, he might have hurt you again. Now, after some time of thinking and getting in touch with his inner demons, he feels comfortable again and even a little needy… Elijah puts his hands on your shoulders, moving hair to one side, then pulls your tshirt down a little.

-Don’t worry, you’re the only goddess around here, - he says it in a sensual manner while planting kisses on your shoulder and neck. You can’t help, but be swept away by his voice and touch. Does this mean that everything is fine between you two again? You turn to face him. Elijah’s expression is alluring making you almost forget what it was that you wanted to discuss in the first place.

-I actually have a favor to ask.

-What is it? – Elijah doesn’t seem to care, being caught in the moment.

-I want you to let me go.

You could almost hear a record player scratch. Elijah takes a step back and looks at you in disbelief.

-You want me to let you go? – he sounds surprised. This is the last thing he expected to hear from you.

-Elijah, it’s been what, a week? They’re going to declare me missing soon enough and I’m not missing! What will I do? Live here for the rest of my life, until you get bored and kill me? Let me visit my flat, my university. I will show up, put everyone at ease and come back.

-Am I hearing right? You’re going to return... – he was never this skeptical in his life before.

-Yes, I will. I’m not stupid. I realize what’s going to happen if I won’t. It’s going to be messy for both of us and honestly, I would like to avoid it. Just for a day. Please?

Eijah is dumbfounded. It’s five o’clock in the morning and his initial victim, that he became fond of for some sick reasons, is asking him to let her go after she was kidnapped, threatened with murder, beaten and witnessed his other victim dead…promising to return. One of them was out of their mind and honestly, it was probably him, because…

-Sure, go ahead, - he decides to let you.

You sigh with relief and smile.

-Thank you.

Giving him a kiss on a cheek you get ready to leave, since in the morning you will have some serious stuff to deal with. Elijah still stands there unable to comprehend what made him decide to just throw away his life. There’s no way this is going to end well.

-You return, - he finally manages to put some weight in his words.

-I will, - you assure one last time. - Goodnight, Elijah.

You’re not gonna lie, you feel nervous getting ready to leave. Back to the city all by yourself. Elijah doesn’t come to see you off, but you don’t blame him. He’s probably going to be cleaning all day, brandishing his alibi, just in case you decide to show with a police or something.. Again, understandable. You weren’t quite sure yourself what exactly is your plan of action once you’re back. It feels like you spent an eternity here.

Around noon you are back at your place. Feelings of familiarity and comfort immediately surround you, but you don’t feel like you fit here anymore. It’s even hard to believe, that just a week ago it was your life. A normal psychology student with a dream of cracking the secret of human brain, hoping for a carrier, nice apartment and a pet. Casually drinking, smoking and writing, like a French woman in her thirties already disappointed in life and men, spending her days behind a copywriter or at a bar downstairs. Your imagination was running wild, taking you to various places, but never to the one you are now. You could’ve never imagined that…

Picking up every little thing, that holds some memories, you walk around the flat. Eventually pack essentials and close the door behind you. Everything you though you’re gonna be stays behind too. Goodbye.

Next stop is the university. You try to avoid the contact with people who might know you, just so you could save some time and energy feeding them lies, and go straight to the professor to whom you knew you will have to submit your thesis work at the end of semester. He’s slightly surprised that you skipped classes, but you make up an excuse about getting food poisoning and losing your phone. Trouble doesn’t walk alone, as they say. He has no reason to doubt you, so you two discuss other matters and you get an approval to focus more on your early thesis and less on classes, since after new year those are gonna end anyway.

It’s actually surprising how the world just goes on, not even noticing how much you had to live through. No one was actually too suspicious or worried. In a way it made you feel better. Less chaos, less drama.

Since you have the whole day to yourself, you decide to stop by your favorite Mexican place and get some tacos as a reward for a good work. You get to the food truck around fifteen minutes away from university and place an order, standing around in cold, breathing white.

-(Y/N) ? – a familiar voice calls out to you. For a second you ignore it, hoping that the person will walk away, but of course that doesn’t happen. – (Y/N), oh my god, where have you been? I haven’t seen you since the gathering at a pub.

-Hey, Jessie, - you turn around and greet your classmate. You two hang out occasionally, since she’s a very bubbly person and you don’t have it in you to turn her down, but right now you weren’t in the mood for a chit chat. – I’m sorry, I got food poisoning. Couldn’t get out of bed…

-That’s bullshit, - she laughs, but gives a suspicious look. – I stopped by your apartment. You were definitely not there. What’s going on?

Well of course she would come to check on you. Unfortunately now she sees through you and there’s no other choice, but to tell the truth. You sigh.

-I…met a guy.

-What? No way! – she immediately gets excited. - Oh my god, so you spent the entire week with him?! Girl, spill it.

-I don’t know… it might not be so serious, so I’d rather keep it to myself, - you try to avoid the topic, but to no avail.

-Nah ah, you spent seven days with a man with no call, no nothing. It is serious. What’s his name?

-Uff…ummm… Thomas, - you say the first name that comes to mind hopefully convincing enough.

-Quit being so shy. I’m not judging! Should we find a warm place to sit?

-Actually, I’m getting the tacos and going home for the day. Sorry.

-Your home or his home? – she cheekily smiles.

-You got me there, - you laugh nervously. When will this end…

-At least tell me what he’s like. He must be pretty special if he caught your attention. You’re so picky with men, I honestly though you will die alone.

-Still might. But if you must know…

You think for a second, imagining Elijah sitting behind his office desk, wearing glasses and seriously working on whatever project interest him at that moment. Always so tired. He never takes good care of himself, honestly. If not Chloe, he would be such a mess. That image makes you genuinely smile.

-He’s intelligent, handsome, talented, very creative and open minded. But also sensitive and attentive. Honest. He challenges me and I do the same for him, - even you haven’t realized how fond of him you actually are until this very moment. He truly took over you.

Jessie awww’s and your order is called. You take the food bag, thank the guy behind a counter, and say your goodbyes to Jess. She doesn’t ask anymore being simply happy for you. And you feel the same. Maybe this encounter wasn’t so bad after all.

Lights are off in all the rooms, the house is empty and silent. Only moonlight is casting its light through the open windows coating everything in a soft silver layer. The smell of winter lingers in the air. Occasional snowflake swirls in sparkling like a fairy, creating a wonderland image. The sound of piano only enhances it. It’s Clair de Luna. Such a fitting melody haunting emptiness of the house. Emptiness of his soul.

Elijah is hunched over the piano, smoothly moving fingers across its keys. Sound is very clear and passionate, with him pouring everything in this performance. It’s only natural that it attracted a spectator.

Elijah doesn’t seem to notice and you don’t interrupt. Until the last note goes silent…

Elijah raises his head and finally sees you. A surprised expression follows relieved one.

-You’re here.

-Of course I am, - you give a warm smile and start walking towards him. – There’s no other place I would rather be right now.

He welcomes you back, taking your hand and pulling you closer. You press your palm against his cold cheek in return and gently caress it. You feel home. Here, with him. With his twisted mind and poetic murders. You’re falling for him and he does the same. And you know it because at this very moment he’s the first one to kiss you. You answer, warmth filling up your chest.

This night Elijah holds you in his arms.

#elijah kamski #fan fiction #kamski x reader #elijah x reader

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healthgnome · 6 years

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Dear, Isaiah because it’s come to my attention.

It has come to my attention that the past back-and-forth of abuse accusations have been slowly resurrected and I see now that it is certainly within my time to once more explain my side. I truly wish not to be slandered and lied about on such a big platform and I wish the same for my friends, Ryan and Zayne. I genuinely try very much to be a decent, good, and helpful person. Sometimes I slip up as anyone would but I certainly know that I would never try and genuinely bully or hurt someone. For any time I might have joined in on some fun-making - trying not to go overboard and apologizing if I did end up actually hurting- I once again of course apologize for that. I go with the flow of how I think a dynamic is working and sometimes a dynamic does involve some making fun meant in no big harm. A prime example of such would be the friendships between Mark (Markiplier), Bob (Muyskerm), and Wade (LordMinion777). Where it is within understanding that they are all good friends but Wade gets the brunt of a lot of jokes. Any time there is sincere hurt, not that we have seen- but I guarantee there would be apology.

In Any Case, now that that introduction is out of the way I shall diffuse all that has been said in a post made by former friend Isaiah AKA (currently) @for-abused-kids about myself, Zayne (@thevvytchbytch) and Ryan (@literallyrealdeadstuff).

Not one of us have “stalked” your blog on a daily to find out if you have talked shit. If you mean during that whole giant commotion, sure there was a lot of digging in order to actually provide evidence for the claims we make. After that? Maybe checked out some posts to make sure there wasn’t still any sort of slander on any of our names, or we were informed of such a thing taking place. And yes, you have had their name(s) and mine on your blog in a “talking shit” kind of way.

We did not go to your house after dark, how would you know if you weren’t there. That is assumption. (and you know what they say lol) And a letter was written to your parents coming from a place of concern and explanation. I had not wished any abuse on you to happen.

As well, you are repeatedly saying that we lied to your mother telling her you ripped up the note. It was not meant to be a lie or anything of the sort, we simply had no contact and therefore wanted to make sure the note was actually read.

Hmm. I would really like to point out though that you claim that Zayne had the audacity to go to your home and deliver this note with someone who stole from your home while at the hospital. Do not act like you are not leaving out very important parts to this statement, and that the counterpart, leader, truest perpetrator, and manipulator to this was someone mentioned throughout this letter.

There was a lot of yelling between yourself and Zayne. A lot of it was not meant in harm, which was understood at least eventually; a lot of it was out of anger because something had happened, was done, or was said. And there was a lot of back and forth.

Allan was a friend of all of us for a while until he was slowly let go from all of us because he is a bad person. Personally, I stayed friends because my really fucked up brain could not handle being any more alone than I already was. You had liked him for a long time. Told us about it, or when certain things may have happened; sometimes these feelings went away (which is normal), and sometimes they were strong. I can provide proof for this too. Yes he was an awful person, and I was usually on your side when he did bully you. I did exclaim, and of course I understand how feelings work, that perhaps not being friends would be a good idea. I also told Allan this countless times but he enjoyed messing with you and I am not him nor could I control his actions.

The competition? There was a small friendly barely-a-competition thing going on in regards with Zayne. And it had barely lasted as well. At least from what I understood.

Ah yes the cum stains things. We used the word cum out of what we thought would be respect for your identifying away from femininity. Just as we would use the word “dick” or any variations thereof rather than vagina when referring to most of us and genitalia. Which sounds gross to say but we are teens, most of us horny, most everyone on T, genitals were a common point of discussion. And yes, you did leave vaginal discharge stains, or cum stains or whatever you feel most comfortable calling it, on the futon. And this is a pretty normal thing from what I know. People “get wet” and people have sexual liquids. It be like that.

From what I, and many others know, you do talk to a lot of people, including children, about your trauma.

I don’t remember you purposely triggering Zayne with Ed Sheehan, you did not have control anyway; Allan was the controller and was persistent on having that song on. However, you have attempted to physically hurt Zayne when you punched them. It did not actually hurt because it was frankly weak (not that I could do much better). What next you’re referring to after this is that Zayne was allowed by yourself to punch back; they simply know how to and are stronger than they appear.

Oh god. The Asian thing. That’s a huge bag on it’s own and has been talked about previously, you want more info on this or another post? Talk to me. Here is a link to a post with a bunch of evidence of this and other things & here is a link to a quick post by Ryan. There will also be a couple of photos at the end of this. But simply, Isaiah, your evidence was hardly; you have very white features, two very white parents, and have never presented otherwise, this coming from a very white person.

Congruently, have you seen Ryan or a picture of him recently? He has anything but thin lips. If you’d care for an example of thin, look at me. His hair is quite thick, has varying curls throughout as has been complained about and explained in the past. As well, it does deeply tangle itself if not taken care of daily. I, on the other hand never brush my hair- at the same length- and it barely gets more than a little disheveled. There is evidence of all of this. He does not at all have a small nose. Whilst not the darkest person, the summer provides a pretty good tan, more so in his youth. His father is actually not white- which is a known fact rather than a guess. If he is at least a quarter black, and has those features, I think it’s fair for him to claim that he is mixed on a hookup/dating app.

Oh, and I am quite aware of all of the arguments you’ve had about your father and his heritage. It’s what sparked that one post about the “Native American” 80’s/90s festival necklace. Which was a genuinely funny incident if you look back on it.

I have heard varying things to do with you imagining sex with anyone you are friends with. Just as I have heard varying statements about a lot of things that you exclaim to have or currently happen in your life.

We have called you straight as you have called yourself straight or straight-passing because of the fact that you were or are masc-aligned and would now prefer to date fem-aligned individuals due to trauma. But considering you are not mono-attracted to only men/masculine leaning individuals, you are not completely gay either. So if you can call yourself one you can essentially call yourself the other since you seem to be comfortable enough doing so. (I’ve recently seen a word to use for nonbinary-straight attraction! it’s “strayt”; similarly, there is “gai.” I bring these up not to make-fun or cause harm but they may be useful to you.)

In regards to Ingrid, as far as you have spoken to us and as we have seen, you have changed what you claim to have identified as whilst dating her. From secretly trans, to a cis girl, to questioning (not in this order, necessarily). Regardless, for many reasons it seems as though this was an unhealthy relationship.

You have taken stories right out of others lives and claimed them to be your own, these would be delusions, dear, not hallucinations. And it is at least a possibility that a lot of other things are delusions, too. This coming from someone who has had experiences with some sort of psychosis, delusions, hallucinations, gas lighting (from yourself, Isaiah. as well as from others.) and other such things that I can explain more if asked. And there is evidence of this all, as well.

I have never been abused by my parents. They are wonderful individuals who also try to be good, decent people. They have taken in my friends (including you, Isaiah) and done a lot to help them in times of abuse and need as well. That being said, there can be, from what I’ve seen, varying degrees and methodologies of abuse that different groups take part in. They are all horrific and I absolutely, full-heartedly, condemn all of it. But that is a fact given by apparent evidence. This being said, your parents have Not admitted to doing all of this, at least not to yourself, but to your sisters. I am genuinely curious as to why, if they’d admit doing harm to them both to you and in writing, why would they not come through with all of this to yourself?

On this topic, Stockholm syndrome, while something truly awful, is a kidnap-specific symptom. You can google how it affects others, but those websites are a lot less trust-worthy. We both went through the Hell of the junior research project and you are an academically intelligent person, you should be able to tell the difference between a trustworthy site and an untrustworthy one.

As far as your gender, speculations have been made based upon a lot of things you have said, and some seeming fetishization of nonbinary people. This is not said to invalidate your feelings or anyone else’s for that matter. It is simply that you are a rightfully suspicious individual. Again, this coming from trans people both binary and non- alike.

Regarding what I’m pretty sure is the video of you sitting on my legs, Isaiah, I don’t remember if there was an apology (whether or not in the video) but this wouldn’t be the first or last time something like this had occurred.

Finally, you have abused me. You have done me harm and I now understand that. I have tried to do a lot for you but you have done a lot to and taken advantage of me and my mental state.

Once again here is a link to a post with A Lot of evidence. Want more? Contact me.

As always, best regards to your mental health,

former friend, Alana.

PS; Please, for the love of everything, do stop misgendering Zayne and use *their* correct pronouns ( they / them ) !

The photo below contains obviously curly hair, not-at-all thin lips, a not-at-all small nose, etc. You can see.

#forabusedkids #firstnonbinarypresident #usedandchildabused #firsttranspresident #bullying #abuse #toxic friends #toxic friendships #abusive relationships #abusive friendship #toxic relationships #tobias #isaiah #depression #anxiety #psychosis #child abuse

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thisisabouta · 6 years

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This is About a... Moment In My Mind.

I am right in the middle of it and it seems fine. It seems okay and not wrong at all. I don’t know if anything is ever completely black and white. There’s right and wrong but there are so many different opinions and variations of what those things are. Suicide is thought of as the wrong action to take. It’s death which is essentially seen in a negative light. There's killing which is also seen in a negative light but that also depends on who you are and how you look at it.

Killing is wrong but people still get abortions. Opinion on that is skewed based on who thinks terminating a fetus is killing a child. People kill animals every day and then in some cases, turn around and eat them. People kill other people and of course, that’s terrible but sometimes it’s in self-defense. Killing is killing but there are exceptions. Things like having a rational reason for killing are what makes it seem a little less ‘wrong’.

Suicide is… I don’t know. Right now, it doesn’t seem wrong to me. Or bad. Just slightly painful but depending on how I did it, it may not be as bad as the pain I’m in right now. I honestly do think there are people on this earth who are “test dummies” for tragedy, for lack of a better term. I’m sure I could refer to something else but nothing is coming to mind. Some people have had it rough since they were conceived. There are people whose mother did drugs while they were in the womb and they come out strung out. They may be beaten because they’re unwanted, they don’t develop properly and don’t have an education because their parents don’t give a shit, can’t afford it, etc; They don’t know how to love properly because they were never shown how and they never find anyone to love them because they don’t know how to live a normal life. They can’t get through anything because they’re emotionally and mentally fucked up.

Some people will walk around with darkness in their souls that will never go away. There are people like me who have also been through a lot of shit and are born with an underlying mental illness that causes them severe amounts of pain almost every single day of their lives. I may have one day a year when I wake up and I feel outside of this mind that I can’t control. Good and bad go hand in hand and unfortunately, some people have to live in the bad. People on the other side don’t get it and they never will. Bad things happen to everyone but those people ‘on the other side’ can work through it. There are even people who have nice lives, everything's smooth sailing and those are the cards they were dealt. There can very bad and there can be very good.

“Without suffering, there can be no compassion.” “Yeah well, tell that to those who suffer.”

I always think of that quote. It’s one of the truest things I’ve ever heard. Some people have to suffer but who looks out for those people? Who cares about these people? Who cares that I’m suffering. I am facing jail time right now and they do not give a shit that I drink because that’s the only way that I ever feel anything. That’s the only relief I have. And if I died right now, what would it be for? I would hurt some people but that’s honestly fine. That is a fucked up thing to say… it’s not so much that it's fine because I sound like a hypocrite not caring about hurting people when I don’t want them to hurt me but I guess I mean they’ll be fine. And they would be. I’ve experienced the aftermath of suicide and here I am. It didn’t end me, my problems would end me. And it would be unfortunate, yes but all of these people I would hurt, where are they right now? The only person I talk to is my roommate. My other best friend would be sad but I don’t even talk to her and she has no sympathy for this part of me. Years will pass and she’ll be fine. My Godkids are too young and won’t remember me after awhile. Other people have written me off and I just really don’t fuck with the others who claim to be my friends. They would say they should’ve done more knowing that they’re only saying that out of guilt. At this moment, they don’t give a shit about how I’m doing.

No, I’m not reaching out so it is not entirely fair to say no one cares when they don’t know what’s going on but I have reached out before and the result was a disappointment so all of these assumptions come from experience. People don’t know what to say, people don’t know how to act, some people try hard to care but they really don’t. I can’t steer people on how to manage a suicidal friend while I’m exhausting all of my energy trying to convince myself to not commit the act in the first place. All of those people who have killed and been to prison, attempted suicide but didn’t accomplish it and people who have lost children or lost the love of their life due to death, these people go through these extremely bad things and can now go into the world and tell stories about how they triumphed through all of these terrible situations and now they can uplift others. Good for them. Apparently, in the grand design of how the world works, there have to be people who go through shit and come out screaming how strong they are, how “you can be strong too” and they uplift so many people. Some people can’t get through their problems without knowing that other people have gone through it too. Some people’s lives are completely fucked so they can be an example to others. And they accept that or they’re just completely unaware that that may be the case so they go on with their lives nonetheless.

Then there are people like me who don’t want to put up with the bullshit and don’t want to be an example for anything. I was brought into this world with problems. They are there every day, all day. Sometimes it’s so bad that I can’t breathe. I don’t want to. And I’m supposed to push through this to show other people it’s okay to fight? I am in PAIN every, single day and I am tired of it. All of it. And I’m supposed to stay sober during all of this. Whoever may be affected by my decisions and actions will feel pain as well but their lives will go on. I have to live with all of this. Just me. In this body, in this mind. And it’s a pain that no one should have to bear.

#pain #sadness #depression #mental illness #bipolar disorder #mental health #relate #disappointment #mind #thoughts #suffering #life

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