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reinvent-and-believe · 3 years

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48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.

“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.

The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”

A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.

“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”

Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”

Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.

He’s not sure why he bought it.

He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.

They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.

“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”

“So...it’s a pretty weed.”

“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.

Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.

The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.

Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.

Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.

Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.

In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.

It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.

It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.

(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)

The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.

Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.

The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”

Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.

(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)

“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”

Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.

“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.

Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.

A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.

“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”

“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”

There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.

Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”

“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”

“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”

Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.

Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.

It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.

“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.

“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”

Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”

“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”

Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.

“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.

“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”

Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.

He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?

Except...

Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.

The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.

Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.

Sometimes I want things I can’t have.

“Geralt?”

The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.

“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”

Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.

“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”

When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.

“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.

Geralt nods.

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.

His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Geralt.”

He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?

“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.

And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”

And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.

His kiss tastes like sunlight.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #the witcher #my fic #anon asks #prompt fill #thank you so much for this absolutely lovely prompt!!!!! i'm so sorry it took me months to actually filling it!!!

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manjuhitorie · 5 years

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Hitorie’s various antics + bonus bursts of trivia - Mid June-July 2019

I’ll begin this long digest with news of ygarshy’s recent involvements! Because he has been dipping his toes into a few pools of waters and his bass is *chef’s kiss* precious.

It’s been disclosed that he played for the song ‘Shadow Tag’ on Ken Kamikita’s new album! Kamikita is a singer songwriter, also once known as KK, who belches out vivid vocals from his diaphragm while the substructure of skilled technique is there as instrumentals, holding it together sturdy. His songs are very thought-provoking alone, yet music isn’t his only reign as he writes scripts for his shows, he puts careful consideration into his visuals: and abracadabra! ygarshy is continuing to be supporting Wasureranne yo with concerts for the summer.Concurrent reports consist of ygarshy smiling, poker facing to hide his smile, yet his smile seeping out because of Shibata’s noble passion for music. Shibata will do risqué shouts or gatling release the word "sex" out of his mouth, when which yg will subtly sip his water in a means to dodge, or just knifesharp glare at him. I love these drunken bards. Wasureranee yo's twitter posts clips of them performing after ever show also!

Also Wasurerannee yo with The 50 Kaitenz↑ good. June 8th was the Kankaku Pierrot x Hitorie concert, which was originally meant to be a joint show for their tour, yet was now turned into a jamboree of respects and thunder... Rie themselves were unable to attend yet Kan-ero nevertheless performed a cover of Ao, Polaris, and clenched a spiritual presence...! The cover of Ao is a tear trenchcoat I'm a trench of water... Kan-ero so good...

I was finally able to tell Shinoda-san that “These lyrics are way too long.”. For the sake of today I had to spend the whole week sleeping on the couch, as my bed is practically buried by all the alphabet He wrote, yet still I simply want to thank him for leaving us with so many words. They’re really all so cool. I’m sorry for being unable to sing them well. Let’s meet up again soon. The photo shows a large cloth-covered bed-like surface strewn with printout papers of World End Dancehall, Montage Girl, Imperfection, and Senseless Wonder lyrics.... Because..... The setlist for Village Man’s Store’s concert on 6/13 went like this. 1. Senseless Wonder 5. Montage Girl 7. Imperfection 13. Ao Encore 1: World’s End Dancehall

Thanks for coming to our show, “The Holy Land Pilgrimage - Village Man’s Store VS Hitorie”! Utmost love and gratitude goes out to Hitorie and all of you who made this day possible. P.S. Hitorie, cheers to doing even more with you in the future. From vocalist: Mizuno Gii. Mizugi “I sent Shinoda-san a LINE message reading “I'm going to be playing this song and this song and this song and~~... at the next show”. And normally right, you’d think someone’d reply “Sorry ‘bout making you do this” right? Yet Shinoda replied “Why’re you doin’ that many lololol” Han (drummer): “He laughed at you" After all is said and done, have y'all properly purchased 'Tsuiraku, Kurushiku wa Lucky Strike’ yet or what. It’s fire isn’t it

youtube

((I hate(love) how Mizugi has (14 years old pun) in his profile, (63 years old) in this MV while dressing up as a slanky old man, and is actually 31 years old.)

When is the rain going to stoppp

youtube

There's a lot of people who dislike Weezer's Green Album but I like Green Album Is it cause the music takes such a different turn? Reply from Saito Shinya, the vocalist and producer of ONIGAWARA: The drums suddenly neatened up so it hit by surprise. Also Matt Sharp left. SND: Ahhh so it’s because of Matt Saito: Fans of their first-second album’s more squishy sound went into denial I think

I can’t believe 'Sayonara Dake ga Jinsei da' isn’t here *The late 90's band 'Eastern Youth’ has uploaded the majority of their discography unto music streaming sites. Except for the niche EP which SND is fond of, but all their albums are cool so zipper your lips and open your eyes shuuush!

Is Tanktop Shoutai's new video out yet They're a posse of blurred out faces with burlesque bases. Their current series is one where they dress up as Yugioh characters, roleplay them with accurate voices and cult-like enthusiasm, before the instigation of the series’ famous ~Shadow Games~ together. Which are all uhh, epic card games, yeah, like tabletop Jenga or or Mariomaker or electric Russian roulette, pick them up like they’re Kuribos. It’s a riot.

I’m sure I’ve said this for the umpteenth time now but, my favorite album from syrup16g is “delayed" syrup16g are an indie band who began in 1993 and keep resurging again to pop off. With performances in Budoukan and high Oricon points on their back. This pivotal album of theres is mellow with whimpering instruments and ephemeral sounding visuals and it's really nice, thank you SND.

Media outlets have been making misleading headlines like “A manga opposing the legalization of euthanasia”, and I bet there’s a lot of people are blindly dissing Death Harassment now Death Harassment is a comic written by Yoshida Yori, challenging the problems which could come with euthanasia, and a society which might pressure departure unto the unwilling. Euthanasia has been becoming a uproarious subject in Japan, ever since a woman fled to Sweden because she suffered brain diseases, and wanted to die while still preserving her sanity and dignity. People are now starting to welcome the prospect and yearn for a mercy fate but, please consider the demerits and the demoralization also, is the message. I translated the comic for fun also here.

This evening as I was eating soba alone, in front of me were a middle-aged couple throwing curses at each other with sullied mouths, but by the time I finished my soba they were smiling together. I think that’s perfectly peachy. That reminds me, I ate 4 whole eggs today. I think I ate too much.

My habit of getting the urge to play with people only at this time of the day, is really bad. Posted at 3 AM JST.

Yumao, also at 3~ AM JST. Bubble milk tea for sensible people has been gaining traction on twitter but, the fact that it's not Chinese tea milk tea is the nonsense to me. There was a post about purchasing uncooked tapioca pearls at a Seijou Ishii (an exotic super market chain), and putting them inside of a convenience store bought bottle of cheap tea. Budget bubble tea. In regards to Yumao’s comment, the Chinese oolong tea is such a standard I’m assuming he’s referring to that. Is this more flavor wars, the civil wars over various flavors of integrated foods from equal or same brands is rampant throughout Japan’s domestic history. It’s kinoko VS. takenoko etc. Why such fervor over flavor YUMA

I gotta buy toothpaste I can’t sleep whatsoever so I thought if I drank I would get sleepy but I drank and it’s somehow backfired by revitalizing me so now I got no idea what the fuck to do, I’m screwed I’m screwed I know that feeling when your stomach is in a frenzy, too well

I haven’t heard the term “moe” used in a while I kinda want to go heavy on it now Replies: "Shinoda you’re moe” “Shimoeda” “Your expression when you got kicked was so moe" (He was kicked by yg during SLEEPWALK ref: the 6/1 report)” “The term moe technically d- (*The definition copypasta-ed from wikipedia*).” Within a split second replies have already turned into hell so I’m putting the lid back on moe, please forgive me Damn it’s hot.

I saw Tokyo Syoki Syodo in concert for my first time today. It was the best. I seriously thought I was gonna burst into tears. It might be a long time since I was last this excited to see a band live - it's been a long time since I even saw a concert live but still,,, I was surprised by how much of the lyrics to Saisei Button I subconsciously remembered. It just shows that Tokyo Syoki Syodo's songs are that good. They are a group who indulge in the typicality of cutesy culture, instagram filters, sparkling make-up, and all while flexing the power to whack you with whamming hard rock. He mentioned them again in his June 9th twitcast also, calling them natural and epiphanic to how bands can just be just as they are. I have no doubts that this is my top-played song these past few months. This is my anthem. -Saisei Rock, their most recent music video, check it out! I don’t even know how many years I’ve lived at this point but it’s not commonplace to find a song this great.

This example will only be understood by super like-minded folk, but I haven’t felt this way since I got obsessed with Sakasama Cider.

He’s expressed countless times how much he likes this song and the artist, Gucha Gucha's, Though the story behind SND’s partiality may be ultimately uncertain, it can be easily understood from one listen. The guitarist and cofounder of the Gucha Gucha’s, Shimoyaka, borrowed Shinoda’s guitar for their first live. Chikyuu Monogatari chapter 3 uses Shimoyaka as a model. Shimoyaka has posted porn on forums, getting banned from youtube, he was on a team with infamous Shotacon Kurage, here’s SND’s cover of Sakasama Cider playing over the team, nowadays he does retro~modern gaming livestreams or his own cooking episodes because he got kicked off a cooking show, he slipped at the Niconico Douga Game Party, he’s videos are quite civil now though Shinoda even joined him for a stream and is watching them often. Shinoda on the July 9th live said not verbatim “When I heard Sakasama Cider and ‘Sad Delay-chan’’ live, I was amazed by Shimoyaka that he can actually make good songs. Justice doesn’t have to be one-sided~ Gucha Gucha’s are unrefined and shitty and helpless, but then they bounce back up with a sudden good song and it’s irresistible. I’m always yearning to meet those sort of exciting experiences.

We are people who clench our fists until our palms are red with blood, and we keep going on singing. Though we tend to forget it

Happy birthday ygarshy!! ygarshy's birthday is on June 17th and I hope you celebrated. SND’s birthday is also on June 6th. And I Hope. If not they can still be celebrated 365/24. Because even SND had proceeded to tweet these words of celebration at…. 12 o’ clock AM June 18th. Right when the clock changed!!

Look at this simultaneous trickery. Then Yumao RT-ed them both. I love you Rie… I love you so much...

I liked when Brocken Jr. was hit by Prisman's rainbow shower and super fucking glowed. (Timestamp 1:38) Also Mariposa’s victory pose was freakish-, ly cool (Timestamp 3:14) Kinnikuman is branded as Ultimate Muscle foreignly, if you recognize it! This youtube video is is a short promo reel celebrating the 40th anniversary of the series, Yudetamago has been in it for the long haul and is well honored by the lords of the wrestlers.

Wooooooooooah

I wanna eat a negitoro bowl Raw tuna and scallions plomped on top of a bowl of rice The special issue of Kinnikuman, I didn’t think it would put me on the verge of tears like this. Chairman takes way too many goods to the table. Plus everyone is cheerfully chit-chatting about how absolutely maniacal of a character Robin Mask is. Robin Mask really is one loony mister. Most characters are weirdos on thin ice but Robin Mask is in a whole different league of weirdo so,,, Also for the 40th anniversary, an original episode was spotlighted in the 29th issue of Shounen Jump magazine. and taken for another spin! Chairman, AKA Harabote Muscle, had an emotional arc in it too. Robin Mask I'm guessing is as rambunctiously malicious as ever in it.

The final episode of Sarazanmai had me bawling like a baby.

A photo of the possession of Kinnikuman -Supermen Dictionary-.

futurrrrrrrreee funnnnnnnnnnnk

I spent about 4 hours dancing alone in the club I am a party person Party people(パリピ is just ENG articulated into JP)* is a slang which means just that. It’s believed to have been originally popularized by a song called Let’s Party People from Illmania. Since then it’s curved to hold different nuances for all kinds of different people also. It can indicate ‘avid partygoers' or ’normies’ or it can just be for people who’re having a good time.

Puuuuuuussssshhhh! An issue of 100M, an upcoming shounen manga by the author Uoto. It's bout a runner who’s world revolves around his sport and nothing other, who then meets a boy who runs only to forget the troubles of the rest of the world. The story spurts off from there. 笑顔いっぱい！ https://youtu.be/QXuGweSMxUI @YouTubeさんからときめきメモリアル　キャラソング【��サカナになりたい～1000wに願いを～】～虹野沙希～（TokimekiMemorial music） https://youtu.be/rV16KgKKUi8 @YouTubeさんから YUNG BAE - Fly With Me https://youtu.be/BWgQvj0Nd_U @YouTubeさんから TenmaTenma - September https://youtu.be/6VsJgk5Qw6s @YouTubeさんから ~~~A slew of various song recommendations~~~

People that're posting pics of ramen while talking about being on a vegan diet, and people who gang up on them both, aren't they all becoming a clusterfuck of boringness without even heed to their actions

People who were peacefully posting their favorite music until suddenly bursting blustery onto the net, ain’t that the definition of emotional instability SND are you heeding your own actions Seven-eleven when are you gonna sell microwavable mugimeshi (rice with boiled barley mixed in) Task-san (a trusty companion of all of Rie’s, and an even more lovable animator who runs most of Minaken): *Replied to SND with a photo of Seveneleven brand microwavable mugimeshi* SND: So they do have it

As I was frying some fried eggs, it hit me, people who heedlessly throw heavy words at other people tend not to let anyone else complain about the heavy weights they themselves may put onto other people huh.. But actually that’s not necessarily true so whatever

I just recently caught up with Murata-sensei’s version of One-Punch Man but, thanks to the insanity of the quality level, Tatsumaki has gotten so sexy I burst out laughing See: ONE VS. Yusuke Murata

Clever folks, I’m positive you could figure out who my favorite One Punch Man characters are. There’s two of them. The answer is King and Unlicensed Rider Oops there’s Zombieman too

I’ve noticed that washing ashtrays squeaky clean seems to put me in a better mood The Marías - Cariño youtu.be/QHVp9xiUr9U @YouTubeさんから The Marias are soo good The 3 monkies game, the host is so cockeyed that I’m laughing out loud I think he’s talking about サルヂエ(Sarudie), a quiz show about 3 people donned in hyper-realistic monkey attire, overseeing the “homo sapiens” as they try to solve unique questions. Which are usually twists on daily life concepts, find the difference, or digesting puns on pop culture. The word Sarudie(猿知恵) itself refers to something which seems profound but is actually simple and shallow, like monkey business etc, and the hosts are spoofs of The Three Wise Monkeys, while they hooked in a lot of famous figures to be the quiz undertakers. I want the DVDs. Though if SND is talking about a different 3 monkey game then I’m oopsie-doopsie. I heard a voice for the first time in a while

I can feel my manga-artist muscles crippling

nico.ms/sm35308083?ref… #sm35308083 #ニコニコ動画 It’s here!!!!!!!!!! Ref his tweet from earlier 'Is Tanktop Shoutai's new video out yet’. So if any youtuber works with a band on a music video then everyone’s going to assume they’re Starmie next I guess A recent cause of discourse was the twitter account A Starmie Who Wants to Quit My Band(@shhf9kr)*. It originally was suspected of being the side-account of KANA-BOOM's bassist, Meshida, due to the timing of the account's appearance and the unsettling content. Meshida had gone missing for about a week’s time, much to relief he’s returned home, but upon return he’s now taking a break from the band to heal from pressure/anxiety… Which is a huge worry in itself (On top of Alexandros’ drummer going on hiatus because of physical issues and then MONGOL800.....) though for now we only have the power ease his soul.. BUT ANYWAY - This Starmie twitter account tweeted “I’m so far gone with band work that I’ve devolved into a Starmie. ~~~~ I feel so disgusting.” on the exact same date as the dilemma. As the situation progressed the details Starmie revealed about financial problems and wage didn’t match up with KANA-BOOM, so they’ve continued to suspected to be SEKAI NO OWARI, now signing salient as someone named Ishihidari from BASEMENT TIMES, the writer of a snazzy sassy J-Rock blog and band of that same name. Shinoda here is a direct reaction to Starmie’s recent tweet under the lines of “I hate having to work with a youtuber.” Yeah SND you're 100% right, it's now on the radars of us curious critters. Why is the J-rock scene such a pain hoho. I bought new shorts but it’s chilly out today so I’m in a sort of pickle

I tried out lo-fi hiphop style for a change of pace and I ended up making songs I get to feel like I’ve done good work as easy as fast-food, lo-fi hiphop is good Maybe this is fine, we have flowers here (The word in the insta video means "to hide from the rain")

I don’t wanna add screentones

He used a southern accent on this, unlike his usual slurry casual city boy tone. I notice that southern JP seems to simplify the connotation of tone by omitting certain sounds or replacing them with vowels and then they’ll proceed to make the whole phrase more musical, it’s like ending your sentences with a “~” but it’s a whole accent done that way~ vowels are cute, gimme more~ Or maybe not idk It’s a hardship to even work on my manga because of my back pains, people who’ve actually wrecked their back must go through serious hell Kobayashi Doumu (*ref: later in this post): *sends SND a photo of himself hospitalized with crutches and bandages for his back* I was watching Kura-kyun’s stream but, does that guy actually still live in Aichi…? This seems like a rabbit hole I don’t want to dip my toes so I’ll take a step back but… Shotacon Kurage is a long time streamer who seems to get up to a lot of unfavorable antics. のどちんこって呼び名、いくらなんでもメチャクチャ過ぎないか No matter how you put it, isn’t the nickname “throat schlong” just a little too messed up Kids super often call the uvula part of the mouth by that nickname I don’t like the rain because I can’t go out drinking

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ボディメンテナンス怠るべからず

A post shared by シノダ (@snd_vs_snd) on Jun 27, 2019 at 11:14pm PDT

One mustn’t slack off on their self-care The drawing says “Shoulder pains”.

シノダ「地球物語 35話 – BABYBABYの夢 – 」 | MEETIA After a 2 month break period, the 35th issue has been topped off. It’s full of all the ideas and memes I’ve accumulated over the whole 2 month span, so please if you may, take it easy on me. And please give it a read. Shinoda “Chikyuu Monogatari: Chapter 35 - Dreams of BABYBABY - meetia.net/manga/shinoda-… #meetia

Shiohigari, fantastic artist of 1 panel light-heavyhearted gags, girls who share their feelings and a Picasso-esque mascot named after himself. He also happens to share many interests with SND and a decade-long historic friendship with him: That part there, that’s the Robin Mask moment! During the Survivor Match for the Kinniku Throne Arc, the match against Kinnikuman Zebra and Parthenon! SND: I’ve been exposed Trivia: ●The title "Dreams of BABYBABY” is a reference to the song by TANUKI of the same name. SND’s interest in future funk grows. ●The Chikyuu Monogatari chapter has a parallel to a Kinnikuman scene. When that manga went on hiatus for 3 months due to an illness of the author's, right in the middle of a fight scene's cliffhanger, he returned and doubled-down on it. By making the characters do this:

And SND’s comic has this parallel:

“Wake up!” “Please excuse me. How could I not get sleepy after being left here for 2 months….”“Are we allowed to say this stuff, I’m sorry Yudetamago-sensei.” ●Please keep having fun Shinoda-sensei.

I made 10 lo-fi hiphop songs *They’re magnificent and they’re incoming, check his Instagram for the ongoing bonanza! https://www.instagram.com/snd_vs_snd/ Laundry is so draining Harassment sentences are going to such extremes that now it’s as if they’re the one’s doing the harassment meow, said the kitten who’s sleeping next to me There’s not actually any kitten sleeping next to me: it’s the imaginary friends in my head

What an article. Don’t be releasing things like this into the world. Do they have no dignity, mishandling words while trying to write about the subject of words. Emo, in terms of usage and genre, has especially been through a lot of change. But upholding only the era you lived in and then proceeding to feel nostalgia and begrudging the next generation for being different is amazing in itself, not to mention their absolute subjectivity combined with presumptuous usage of “Us”.

Or, so had spoke the kitten sleeping next to me... In reference to his retweet of this article: https://letters-to-you.life/emoi It’s a petty, convoluted text rebuking the masses for a simplicity and resisting the implacable evolution of language. The word “emoi” in Japan (which is super equivalent to the English "emo") is transforming from not only the emo band subculture or a descriptive of emotional experiences, but also to mean the likes of an adjective for any emotion-evoker and the author is uhhh conservative. Let us get emotional over things!! wowawa lived through all the evolution also and he’s still an enthusiastic user of all definitions of “emo” too...

I’ve been cooking nukaduke at home recently and all I have to say is that home-cooked nukaduke is the best.

Trivia: Yumao lives together with his super duper saikou cool mother, Yurika.

My nukaduke paste is getting better and better, and the pickles I’m making are amazing. I need to consider cutting back on the salt a bit though.

Ah nukaduke is emo

Yumao has nowset his location to nukaduke, hunger ensues

Kobayashi Doom congrats on a good run & Congrats on the new issue #SupportForLet’sMeal

The picture shown is SND’s face was drawn in the background of Meshi ni Shimashou(Let’s have some food!), a manga by Kobayashi Doom. It’s a story which digs into the lives of a a manga artist and her assistant, who bask in the dying embryos of production and then cook meals with crazy twists or gimmicks to restore their “MP”. There’s an official sneak-peak preview of it here! It’s only available in JP though… If you like the look of it please feel free to yell at your local manga provider to officially translate it, Kobayashi Doom is someone SND is so undeniably influenced by. Especially their series Negi nee-san. A webcomic about a surreal girl drowned in surreal antics. It’s usually rooted in nonsense and that’s the grandest appeal. The visuals consist of copy-pasted collages, intricate professional art dynamics, cute girls, to stoic jokes such as “’seven eleven is an integer so seven & I is a complex number” and mostly references to mathematics or science or Jojo. The most parroted one is “Yes” “Not yes”. Also worthy of mention is that things resembling Negi-neesan’s various nameless beasts will show up as backdrop etc. in SND’s manga Chikyuu Monogatari. And most importantly here, there’s even a comic about Shinoda on that link, with the Let’s Meal characters! It reads: Madare ”Who's that?" Omega "From the band 'Hitorie',His name is Shinoda and he seems to be a zealous fan of mine, (sign reads: zealous whatever food hall) He told me he wants me to experience his recent works so he sent me the mp3"Madare “Ooh Isn’t Hitorie that [insert amazing praise here]“. Omega “Look, he’s even wearing a Negi-T (Negi-nee-san’s surreal brand) in this video” (Reference: In the Talkie Dance MV he wears this one) Woah　Click-click Omega “So now, I’ve listened to it 100 times but in sheer honesty I don’t know anything about rock besides the band Ningen Isu so I thought I’d use this comic as an equivalent of an answer to him, a sort of "guess my feelings" quiz. Madare “I see you're popping your conman skill again. (You’ve even beaten me with that skill before )” “I’ve been eavesdropping. Time to cook a meal and get together with him” Omega “I like it." *The chorus lyrics to Hitorie's NAI from ai/SOlate are written on the top left corner, Kobayashi Doumu on the right, and the beastly text written next to the youkai-looking Shinoda in slide one I believe is an feisty ateji encrypting ‘For Shinoda’. SND replied to that comic too! Saying “Even insane miracles can happen huh, Doom-sensei thank you so much!! No this is seriously sick, wtf…." Q.E.D. Kobayashi Doom is strangely important for SND’s character development.

This isn’t specifically concurrent with my current feelings but The text on the video reads “I like you I like you!l I snuck a glance at myself in the mirror and my back has a hunch far worse than I even imagined SND’s RT: ONE BY ONE RECORDS, the indies label, is hanging up the hat after 12 years of service…. Ahhhh… Congrats and good luck on future ventures oh employees.. Key to this article is the band, JONNY. A Weezer cover/original group of which, a certain familiar chestnut-headed rock hero played for. I’ll save the stories of the explorations into that beloved dark past dungeon for another day but, yes, click that link and you’ll see, that glasses fella is a young Shinoda in the flesh. I woke up in the middle of the night. Have a listen to this if you plan to go to bed anytime soon. instagram.com/p/BzV23p6HpRl/… Written on the drawing is “Poyashimi”, which simply means “Oyasumi (Good night)". It was originally just a misspell due to “O” and “P” being so close on standard keyboards but, it’s cute so it’s been adopted in it’s own rights. Can been paired with “Pokita (= Okita = I just woke up)” in the morning. Cute. I wanna go to the beach instagram.com/p/BzawsWGHaGg/…

I wrote MUNEYAKE but I myself don’t have any muneyake heartburn, that’s all there is to it I couldn’t make the bubble tea visible without making the emblem on the hat invisible, and just fought a weird-ass battle with this https://www.instagram.com/p/Bzh7fqRnkBQ/?igshid=1hmx49pswt6ns … “Yasumi" means like “take a breather"

I recorded drums for Sasaki Sayaka’s song, the ending theme for 'Ultraman Taiga’. I used a big and powerful setup for this. The broadcasts start on 7/6. I can’t wait. Also Taro's son is crazy. Ultraman Taro's son is the main character of this new spinoff tokusatsu series! The ending song is called “Hitotsubishi” and will premiere along the first episode, I’ll update this if an official video arrives later, so we can listen to it! I watched the first episode of Taiga, I’m think I’m gonna cry.

This morning a drunken me slipped while walking down the stairs, and turned into the Kinnikuman side of the Kinniku-Buster. My butt hurts. Smack down on the floor, legs aflight.

colormal’s concert was downright fantastic, everybody listen to colormal https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJ83BZ_BIHA&feature=youtu.be

colormal, a galvanized nerd who turned his hobby into a hopping constitution for his livelihood, his quest for the alternative rock. He makes music alone and he’s namely even inspired by Shinoda’s past solo project “cakebox”. He’s bound to mention a cakebox song in his interviews, on top of a whopping list of other western or indie bands. His music itself has flows of climaxes into unfluctuating concord and it’s either guitar or guitar with pretty effects and I enjoy it SND. His filling bassist, Matsuyama, was even thrilled! https://twitter.com/mtymJb/status/1147537998898069504

My body isn’t able to finish even the small size ramen with full toppings. “Mashi” is a trademark menu option of the chain Ramen Jiro. It’s under the lines of “Pile it up”. You can choose to pile up a bit of everything like Shinoda seems to, or you can choose from specific topping such as veggies or meats. If you ever go into such a ramen shop, try shouting “yasai mashi mashi!” or “buta mashi mashi!” for a heap of piggie.

Tokyo Shoegazer are definite They’re an indies band who had a concert in Shinjuku that day! One of their most recent tweets draws my attention 👀 The wheat and grated yam beef meal at Yoshinoya is delectable but, the sign says the large rice portion and refills are given for free until 11 PM, but when I go there’s a fee on the large portion, how am I supposed to interpret this Reply: I work at Yoshinoya but the free portions and refills is a recent offer, the menus just haven’t been reprinted to represent it… The meal packages generally all have free refills and large rice portions. Shinoda: Thank you. Ref: their ENG menu. Feel free to use this information if you ever get the chance to go to a Yoshidora!!(?) SWEET https://www.instagram.com/p/Bznm6DTH-Gs/ I want to see Siamese Cats live They’re a definite J-rock band who have tinges of psychedelic and a sort of 80’s pop style to their music. They had an outdoor show the day before SND tweeted this, but they also have a 10th Year Anniversary Celebration concert this December. SND GO! Siamese Cats - Escape Eve (Official Video) 2018　　シャムキャッツ - 逃亡前夜 https://youtu.be/5Jtd5nmI0Fc

salad days was on Amazon Prime so I gave it a gander but it was really fucking good. The walking alone Straight Edge scene or at the beginning when everyone was partying together until strange people starting flooding in one by one and the safety of the concert went downhill Or how the terminology “emocore” doesn’t resonate at all with people who were directly associated with it at the outset.

The fact that controversy which we’re still having today has existed since the 80’s is an astonishment  Also once the Smells Like~ MV wrought the knowledge of crowd-surfing (stage-diving) upon the world, and then the crowd became a flood of stage-divers so much that Fugazi lost his temper, that scene was so good

The joint show with Trouble Funk, when they were reflecting on what became the final Minor Threat show, everyone was vocalizing the horrors, the turmoil of it, yet I laughed when only Ian said it wasn’t that bad

Not disregarding how these types of issues really did exist those days, ultimately the concerts and their music really are awesome, the energy and thrill everyone held was amazing

Formidable figures such as Thurston Moore and Dave Grohl are shown looking back on the past, and then pops in J Mascis with such batshit indifference that I laughed again  Why does Ian MacKaye not have a Japanese wiki page If it draws your attention here’s the link!:https://www.amazon.com/Salad-Days-Fred-Armisen/dp/B01MAV0YAH I’m not specifically feeling emo https://www.instagram.com/p/BzqVd4wnaOX/?igshid=nhnyzm9vipdi …“emoi”

#ヒトリエ #hitorie #long post #Shinoda played violin in the twitcast yesterday how do I report on this #SHINODA VIOLIN

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nautiscarader · 5 years

Note

Milanda Kinky prompt #77/#26/#46/#96/#58/#33/#62 (hopefully it's not too much to ask)

Well, it wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t delivering prompts with a monthly delay.

Hope you will be satisfied anon, tell me if I have fulfilled your checklist :)

(Ao3) (twitter) (waterfall, whatever that is) (kinks)

Milanda, 2.8k (WTFBBQ)

For a moment, when she opened the door to her house, Amanda froze, staring at her guest. Absolutely the last person she thought she would like to see at this precise hour would be her boyfriend, Milo Murphy. But of course, after so many years with him, she knew she should have expected the unexpected, especially on that very special day.

- M-Milo! - Amanda curled her lips - What-What are you doing here? - Well, you have sent us all a memo to help with the birthday party, haven’t you? - he showed her his phone - And I’m always glad to lend a helping hand. I’ve got a spare set of balloons in my backpack!

Amanda chuckled, slowly walking back, inviting Milo into her now-empty house, slowly accepting her fate.

- Yes, Milo, but well, first of all, it’s not really a party for a kid anymore, is it? Since secondly, it’s… - …for me, I know. - Milo added, pulling her into a sudden hug - But don’t worry, I’d love to help with my own surprise party as well. That way, I know what will happen, and the unknown will be even more exciting! - Oh, Milo…

And before she knew it, she closed her eyes and pulled him into a slow and deep kiss, letting their arms tighten their already heated hug.

Dating Milo Murphy provided both a series of problems, as well as solutions to complete new ones Amanda would never consider to begin with.

On one hand, he was the walking disaster that disrupted the balance and order, causing aberrations whenever he’d go. On the other, this was precisely what Amanda felt she needed in her organised life, and what she found so alluring and intoxicating in him. For a perfectionist like her, he also felt like an icebreaker, able to deal with all the calamity around him, regardless whether he caused it, and she’d be damned if that spirit didn’t make him more attractive than all the guys at the school. Not many men would find acceptable to be called a “lovely glitch in the system”, but Milo not only did so, but also thought it was the cutest phrase in the world.

This was Milo: he stormed into her life one day, and from now on, some pieces of her puzzle would always be misfit, misplaced, missing or mishandled. And Amanda loved it.

As she deepened the kiss, she glanced at the clock. It was now 2:05 PM; Melissa, Zack, Mort and others would arrive around 3 to help her, so she only had few seconds to take a very important decision. Perhaps it was because she was running out of breath, and her brain worked slightly differently with lack of oxygen, or maybe she was just unable to wait any longer hiding her needs, but she tossed her planner to the table and dug her fingers into Milo’s hair, slowly pulling him towards her comfy recliner.

- Milo… - she gasped for air - You know… I-I was meant to do it around 6-6:40 PM… But I…

She stopped for a moment, looking into his round, brown, innocent eyes.

- … I guess we can change the plans a bit. - Oh, wow, that must be something important if you’d be willing to skip a time slot. You sure you have time for this? - I always have time for you, Milo.

Before Milo could reply, world around his spun for a moment, when his girlfriend toppled him back onto the spacious chair with a gentle push. For a quick while Milo wasn’t sure what Amanda had on her mind, but when she undid first button of her blouse, he understood her intentions perfectly. Suddenly he found himself unable to look anywhere but her, especially when she leaned over him, giving him a quick peek of the undergarments she wore.

- Okay, just for the record, I thought you’d be on the bed in my room - she pointed to the ceiling - And I-I was gonna be in the dress, you know, the violet one… - Oh, I love that one… - Milo muttered, watching as Amanda spun her hair when she took her band off. She paused for a moment, as if to contemplate Milo’s suggestion, but quickly came to her senses. - I’m afraid we don’t have time for wardrobe change, though… - she leaned even closer, speaking in low, borderline smoky voice. - Yeah, I-I agree…

Milo closed his eyes again and grabbed her by her waist, and he quickly found that while she gladly embraced him in another kiss, Amanda had very definite plan on where she wanted to be. Reluctantly, she broke contact with her boyfriend and moved back, stepping from the recliner, just so she could continue her show, now that all of the buttons of her blouse were undone.

- I… I was also gonna wear something… You know, sexier underneath…

She spoke sheepishly, taking off first piece of attire. Absent-mindedly, she moved her legs as if in tune, when she realised that only she could hear the music by which she’s been training to for the past few days.

- Amanda… You are already beyond sex- - Wait! This can be done here!

And she ran towards the stereo, plugged her phone, and when she returned towards Milo, she didn’t walk, but danced, swaying her hips with every beat of the slow, relaxing music that filled her living room. Milo was about to compliment her, but then his girlfriend turned around, leaning her bottom above his crotch where an itch has burned ever since she pushed him decisively into his position. From it, Milo observed how Amanda turned around again, undoing the buttons of her jeans, all in the rhythm of the smooth jazzy music seeping from the stereo. Completely mesmerised by her entrancing, sensual moves, he found himself unable to say anything, and as he watched her progressively more naked body, Milo noticed he was even drooling just a bit, which would explain her giggling.

Though it seemed to have taken her forever, her trousers finally fell to the floor, leaving Amanda with just two pieces of attire - those that Milo would gladly take off himself, though given his previous record, he realised it might be more effective and sexier if Amanda disrobed herself.

Thinking the same way, Amanda turned around, wiggling his butt at him, unhooked her bra, and spun around, making it fly across the room, revealing her modest, perky breasts. When she looked at her boyfriend, she noticed he wasn’t idle anymore. Though she wasn’t sure when he did it, his striped sweater and his shirt laid neatly folded on the ground, and he was about to reach to undo his zipper, but Amanda promptly stopped him. Not with her hands, but with her foot she raised and put gently over his crotch, getting the definite proof her striptease worked, as if his reddened face and heated, half-naked state wasn’t enough.

Amanda stepped closer, this time climbing onto the chair, as well as her boyfriend, just so he could watch getting rid of her last article of clothing from the best seat possible. Moving her crotch tentatively close to his, she grabbed his shoulder for stabilisation, when she begun sliding her panties down. As she expected, Milo helped her at once, and a moment later she was truly naked, moving in his laps, much to Milo’s delight. Previously he was only able to smell her perfume, but now he was able to detect the unmistakable, intoxicating scent of her wanton inches away from his watering mouth.

- Amanda…

That was the only word Milo could speak, as he observed the slim, athletic body of his girlfriend slithering so close to his laps. Unless he was very much mistaken, a single drop of thick, clear cum fell from her exposed opening, forming a strand between her and him, until Amanda decided to move her sex away from him, much to his disappointment.

But that move was calculated either, since her quick, skilled fingers soon begun ending the job Milo’s started before. She grabbed his trousers and boxers, sliding them down in one, slow move, exposing his cock to her. Though she knew exactly what to expect, her eyes widened a bit when Milo’s penis sprung to life and slid right into her hand.

- Just relax… - she cooed, when she spotted his chest moving up and down in a series of irregular, quickened moves.

Of course, Amanda knew perfectly well that Milo was going to do anything but that when she closed her lips around his naked head, already coated with slick, salty precum. She giggled when his legs jittered, and just to see if she can repeat that effect, she kissed him again, affixing her stare at him.

- You know, I was gonna kiss your whole body… - she spoke, taking a lick on his underside - … but again, I think we… - …we can do-do that later. - Milo finished for her, hoping his tone might hasten her work.

But despite her nature, Amanda took all the time in the world caressing his cock, peppering it with kisses and sliding her lips up and down. She was still slightly anxious about taking him into her mouth - after all, it would be just her second blowjob, and she still had vivid imagery of her first one, which definitely required deep cleaning.

Reluctantly, she had to stop herself from pushing her limit further, much to Milo’s dismay as well, though when she climbed back into his laps, and Milo saw the familiar spark in her eyes, he understood she was just preparing him for her final move. She brought his lips to his, letting him, just for a bit of cheekiness, taste some of his own medicine, though Milo didn’t seem to mind it, and continued the heated kiss, while his arms closed behind her back, subconsciously moving her into a proper position.

He could practically feel her around him already, even though her yearning pussy was only inches away from his throbbing cock. Milo wasn’t sure if he wanted to prolong their kiss, thus building up the appetite, or to end it now, but fortunately, Amanda decided for him.

- And now…. Time for the main present…

Amanda whispered, and slowly lowered herself onto his stiff cock, though the sudden jerk of Milo’s body made her stop her acrobatic move.

- Wait! Amanda, condoms! - he shouted - I’ve got them in my backpack…

And he was about to stretch his arm to try to reach it, but her hand cupping her face quickly brought his attention back to her.

- No need for those, Milo. - a wicked smile appeared on her face. - See?

And she turned around, or at least as much as she could, showing him his back. Only now, when he was able to look at it properly, he noticed not one, not two, but four translucent contraceptive patches placed on her shoulders.

- These should work… - Amanda spoke, perhaps just to reassure herself - Besides, I’m also taking the pill, as usual… - Are you sure…? - Milo raised his brow, feeling that another copious portion of her liquid wanton dropped on his head. - I-I won’t mind if you… - Yes, Milo. - she cut him off decisively - I want to finally feel you inside me… Properly… - she leaned and whispered into his ear, watching as the tiniest of his hairs stand at her lewd declaration - I want to feel you cum inside me…

Even if Milo wanted to protest, the next thing he felt was the overwhelming, mind-blowing warmth and wetness of his girlfriend’s pussy around him, when Amanda abandoned all pretences, and slammed herself down onto his cock, crying his name. She grabbed his head, bringing him as close to hers as possible in the slightly uncomfortable position, not only to kiss him again, but also to provide some counterbalance to her bouncing. The arms of the recliner prevented her from just letting her legs freely reach the ground, but fortunately, Milo understood her intentions perfectly, and soon his hands was on her butt, helping her pin herself completely onto his cock each time.

A moment of equally acrobatic move later, her legs found their way onto his shoulders, letting Milo reach as deep inside her as possible, generating cry after cry of pure bliss escaping her lips. Though the striptease was a present for him, their act was a gift for her as well; without the rubbers, Milo and Amanda could finally feel the textures of each other’s sexes properly, and that seemingly tiny detail multiplied their sensations tenfold. Without any physical barriers between the two, Milo felt the need to push himself, as well as Amanda, to the limit, and though it was more than difficult in their position, he tried his might to lift her up as much as possible, letting gravity do the rest of the job.

Her voice cracked every time he hilted himself inside her, and while the world around her bounced up and down, she was not surprised at all that she felt her climax already building in her loins, fuelled by Milo’s tell-tale grunts that got progressively louder with each slam.

- Yes! Yes, Milo, cum! Cum inside me! Inside! - her fragmented plea, cried with all the energy she had, only made her sound even more ravenous and desperate for their climax, and its messiest aspect.

She pressed her lips to Milo’s, and at the same, seemingly infinitesimal moment, several things happened.

The strongest, last push of her body onto his cock drove her over the edge, and her body quivered when first wave of her orgasm tore her muscles, only strengthening her grip on Milo.

Then, she heard a wooden crack underneath her, and she felt their joined bodies fell down a couple of inches, only to be sandwiched between the two parts of the recliner that didn’t withstand their passion and broke, bringing them even closer in the almost-physically-impossible position.

And finally, when Amanda was unceremoniously shoved onto Milo, she felt the long awaited, soothing warmth shooting deep inside her, filling her to the brim when Milo came hard, screaming her name with each portion of his seed he fired into her. Unable to dissipate their energy through moves, their orgasms felt even stronger, and each stream of Milo’s warm cum flooding her hopefully protected sex only seemed to start her orgasm anew, continuing the vicious cycle. Moreover, the feeling of Milo filling her with his potent cum would normally set al of Amanda’s nerves on fire, but today, that extra rush of adrenaline only helped her prolong her orgasm, already fuelled by the indecency they’ve committed.

- I… I’m sorry I spoiled you a bit, Milo… - Amanda cooed, catching breath, her voice still cracking with last few spurts of his cum being shot into her. - No… no problem, Amanda…. - Milo wheezed, reacting similarly to the last waves of his orgasm. - As I said, I already can’t wait for what’s gonna happen between 6 and 6:40 PM!

He winked and Amanda burst into laughter, weak from her tired state and pressed her lips to his again. The two lovers remained embraced in a long and sensual kiss, until Amanda, reminded by her boyfriend’s comment, first regained senses after her orgasmic bliss, and she tried pushing her arms to the side to slid off from his cock.

- Uh, Milo, can you move? - she asked worryingly, jittering in place.

Milo flapped his arms, trying to wriggle himself from their doubly-locked position.

- Eh… not really.

Seeing the consternation in his eyes, Amanda tried lifting herself as well, but the two, thick parts of the chair’s rest trapped them for good, not to mention that in the process of their heated sex, their limbs made a pretty good job of tangling the two together as well.

- Milo, ca-can you reach your backpack? - she asked, the tone of her voice reaching slightly higher octaves. - Maybe… maybe… uh, no. - Milo gasped, leaning to grab the item that usually came to save him.

Milo looked at his frightened girlfriend, and then, thinking the same thing, they turned their heads to the wall. Seeing the time on the clock, Milo and Amanda realised that unless the two would think of a way to get out of their erotic lock in under seven minutes, they will find themselves making love in a very, very public place when the guests will start arriving.

#nautiscaraderfics #milanda #milo murphy #amanda lopez #Milanda #Milo Murphy's Law #Milo Murphy #Amanda Lopez

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trampledcactusboy · 6 years

Text

Second Chances

Genderbent Castiel X Male Reader

Y/N’s POV

“Cas, get out of the way!”

I slammed the startled angel into the wall behind me as I shielded her with my body.

I managed to get in one good shot before crumpling to the floor like a loose piece of paper spilling with red ink.

“Y/N!” I heard Dean scream from across the room, heavy and fast footsteps headed my direction.

I slumped back into the soft trenchcoat beneath me, realizing the body in it belonged to none other than the celestial being I had just saved but not having enough strength to prevent myself from falling further into it the more I bled out.

My breaths started to get shallow, a slow but painfully high pitched sound ringing through my ears, blocking out everything else.

It felt like a movie.

It was weird, I always used to think that these moments were so cliche, so overdone and overdramatic.

But now, as my vision blurs and my hands shake with the touch of cold that rushes inot me, I want to laugh at the accuracy I’ve mocked all these years.

I saw everything happening in slow motion.

Perhaps, God just wanted me to remember this well.

Remember the faces of my best friends. Remember the feeling of Castiel’s gorgeous hair cascading down my neck from underneath my withering form. Remember being a ‘hero’, even if it was a short-lived career.

I always had a nagging fear in the back of my mind, telling me I wasn’t really making a difference, telling me that I wasn’t hunting for the right reasons.

But right now, in this moment, that constant voice finally quieted down.

Because I knew, with every organ in my body, every slowing pump of my heart and every ounce of my corrupt soul, that what I just did meant something. It meant something to me.

If saving Castiel’s cute ass was how I was going to go out, then so fucking be it. There could be worse ways to die.

The ringing and slow motion all began to subside when I gasped out for a breath of air, coughing as blood dripped out of the corner of my mouth.

Dean was beside me, trying desperately to close the wound temporarily with some cloth.

Sam was standing above us all, eyes watering and heaving like he was about to have a full blown panic attack.

And Castiel, bless her pure self, was still beneath me, eyes widened and looking straight ahead whilst clutching onto my arms securely.

Her warm, small hands wrapped around my thick biceps in a way I wished would’ve lasted forever.

“Why would you do that?”

I looked over at Dean wearily, not knowing how to respond to such an obvious question.

“DAMMIT, Y/N! SHE WOULD’VE BEEN FINE! YOU DON’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO SACRAFICE YOURSELF!”

Castiel’s eyes watered at the sound of the older brother’s shouts resulting in me to rub up circles on her hands that surrounded me to soothe her.

“I didn’t miss…did I?”

I smiled softly, Sam scoffing at my ability to make any situation lighter.

“You better not die on us, Y/N. I don’t know how I’d explain to Bobby that we couldn’t save you.” Sam’s voice cracked, attempting to hold back sobs.

“Don’t bullshit me when I’m dying, Sam. We both know you just can’t stand the thought of going back to fast food dinners every night.”

He laughed, tears falling as he did and even Dean had a tight lipped smile slide across his face.

“You’re a great cook.” Castiel whispered, still not looking down at the scene playing out before her.

“Yeah? Be sure to write that exact quote on my tombstone, will ya darlin’?” I coughed out another low laugh.

“This isn’t funny.” She said, louder this time, finally staring down at me.

Her big, captivatingly blue eyes sparkled with what I knew was tears but convinced myself was her depleting grace leaking through her beautiful vessel.

“Hey now, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m sorry.” I reached up a hand to caress her flushed cheeks that any other time would be such a vibrant pink.

“You should be. I didn’t need saving.”

Her tone was stern but the waver in the delivery gave away her true emotion.

“I know you didn’t. You’re strong, you never need anyone to save you. I just wanted to show off, you know I can’t resist that disapproving look you give me. It’s sexy.”

My voice was now horse and weak, volume so shallow I was surprised she heard me.

A tear fell down her face and I wiped it away, smiling up at the angel who had taken over my life since she flew into it three and a half years ago.

“Cas, I…”

My body was shutting down, now. I could sense the drowning within my own self occuring as I tried to swim to the surface, selfishly wanting just a few more minutes with her.

But it seemed as thought my time was up, I had wasted too much of my energy stalling the inevitable that I lost my chance to say what I had been needing to say for much too long.

It felt like fainting, not dying.

And I guess, in a way, I was grateful for that.

I expected something painful and excruciating but wa sgreeted with something of elegance and gentlness instead.I felt trapped inside a pool of complete darkness.

Nothing and no one around me to guide me thrugh whatever I had been sent.

I scratched my head in confusion, not understanding what had happened.

This wasn’t hell.

This certainly wasn’t heaven.

This wasn’t even enough to be considered purgatory.

I wandered around aimlessly, calling out to any that could hear me.

“GOD!”

No answer.

“GOD!?”

Nothing.

“HEY, ASSWIPE! I THINK THERE’S BEEN SOME KIND OF MISTAKE! YOU SEE, I DIED! I NEED SOME CELESTIAL TRANSPORTATION PLEASE!”

I pulled at my hair in fristration before plopping down on the black ground.

Was there somplace besides heaven, hell and purgatory that we hadn’t known of yet?

Was I the first to be brought here?

Were they just holding me here while they decided my fate?

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I spent what I assumed to be centuries sitting in that damned pit of despair, only thing to acompany me being my own thoughts.

Some days I’d cry.

Some days I’d scream.

Some days I’d try to speak with God again.

Some days I’d just lie there and try to remember what clouds looked like.

And some days…Some really rare days…I’d hear Castiel.

Or at least, I thought I did.

I couldn’t tell if it was actually her or me just going insane from the torturous isolation.

But when I did hear her, I chose not to question it and instead would admire it like a magnificent ballad.

She would say all kinds of things to me.

Usually it’d be about her day with Sam and Dean, never refraining to tell me how she think I would have handled the situation. Other times it was about a movie or show she had seen or even a song or a picture or a skyline or a car, anything that reminded her of me and how much I would’ve enjoyed those simple things from life.

Sometimes, though, she’d get real depressing. I’d spend hours not being able to hear anything other than her crying and it made me feel like I was dying all over again.

These moments, however rare, were a double edged sword.

I loved them but resented them all the same, for I yearned to be with her again, to stroke her hair and hold her close to me and reassure her that everything was alright.

Eventually, I came to terms with the fact that this is where I belonged.

God doesn’t make any mistakes, he’d unfortunately made me quite aware of that during our encounter on Earth.

Why he decided to give me the silent treatment, I had no idea. But I’m sure he put me in here for a reason, and that was something that was easier to find peace in than fight considering I had no legitimate choice in the matter.

I took up mediatation, yoga and even singing to occupy my infinite time.

Sure, it wasn’t the best routine in the world and definitely wouldn’t comfort me forever but it was something and that’s better than nothing at all.

I’m sure the boys and Cas would’ve laughed their asses off at the sight of me prancing around here, stretching, hopping and singing to those stupid songs Dean has gotten stuck in my head after all this time.

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Another two years went by.

Castiel spoke to me a few months ago.

It was shocking, she hadn’t taked to me since a year ago.

I was beginning to think she was gone, that maybe my mind had settled down and I was sane once again.

She informed me that it was New Year’s. She told me of all the things they did to celebrate, how Sam had tried to make it fun and cheerful but her and Dean just weren’t having any of it. How Dean had snapped at the sight of decorations and kicked down the small christmas tree his brother had brought in. She told me how christmas was the same, neither of them bothering to open the gifts Sam had sought out for them in protest of the holiday as a whole. She told me how Sam made a joke about her having a first kiss to egt into the spirit of New Year’s, offering Dean as a pair of lips. The way she described how disgusted she was by just the mere image of that exchange had me smiling to myself in both amusement and relief, even if she was just a figment of my vivid imagination. She told me how she always thought I would have been her first anything, how she didn’t find it possible to even contemplate another person to replace my role. She didn’t verify in any detail on what she meant by ‘role’ so I could only hope she meant what I wanted her to mean by it.

She ended the converstaion, if I could even call it that, by telling me she was sorry for abandoning me lately. She vented about how guilty she had been feeling because my birthday had come around and the memories of me consumed her like a vicious beast. I wanted to tell her I forgived her. I wanted to let her know I didn’t mind and that i hadn’t even known my birthday had passed, make her aware that time in here was only an abstract construct of my own consiousness. I wanted to tell her to live her life to the fullest, to stop wasting her time on me and start taking Sam’s positive influence as an excuse to forget about me.

After that, I spent the next couple of months concluding a hypothesis I loathed to be true.

I figured that God was behind the lingering voice of his child, my angel castiel.

That he had to of been using my care for her as a cruel form of punishment, forcing me to face the reality of my hurting the ones I loved by the actions I took in my leave.

At first, I was enraged by such a theory but gradually accepted it as a lesser of evils.

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Today marked what felt like the third century.

That’s 300 years for those who don’t know.

I had no watch, of coarse, so I was probably off a good 50 years but whose to say I wasn’t in here for longer than I thought?

I honestly had no clue, and I didn’t strain myself with the stress of craving taht sort of knowledge.

I was jogging around in circles around the vast, endless darkness, clearing my mind when I heard a flutter.

I stopped in my tracks and spun around to see a woman in a grey suit.

She had long, wavy red hair, a pale complexion and navy blue eyes that could have easily been mistaken for black.

I debated speaking to her, not sure if this was another trick from my own head.

She giggled, taking a small step forward.

“I’m as real as it gets, Y/N. Shameful to believe your mind is so weak that it would conjure me up. You should give yourself more credit.”

I tilted my head a bit and furrowed my brows, standing in place.

“Who are you? You dead, too?”

She smiled a scarily happy smile, almost like she was a pushy salesperson trying to sell me some load of garbage.

“I’m no person, Y/N. I’m an angel. God sent me here for you.”

“God sent you here?” I asked in the most ‘I-doubt-that’ tone I could muster.

She simply nodded and I stepped closer to her, scoffing with a fake smile drawn on my lips.

“God’s long forgotten about me, sweetheart. So why don’t you fly on out of here? I didn’t ask for no angel.”

“Oh, but you did.”

I placed my hands on my hips and rose an eyebrow at her words.

“Well, not me. But you did ask for an angel, didn’t you? Have been ever since you landed here.”

“Get to the point, ginger.”

“Why? We have time.” She spoke so sweet but so deviously all at once, pacing around the empty space as she continued her little speech.

“You weren’t brought here on purpose by anyone, Y/N. You brought yourself here…”

She paused in her spot, then stolled back over to me, placing a hand and wacthing as it slid down my chest to the spot where I had been wounded but now looks as if nothing ever even grazed the area.

“When you took a bullet to the chest.”

I eyed her carefully, stiffening under her touch. She snapped her head back up to me, hand resting on my chest.

“How brave you were and yet, how naive. So willing to risk your mortal life over a creature that couldn’t ever understand why you had saved it.”

“Her.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s not an item, she isn’t an ‘it’. And I don’t care if she knows or not, I chose my fate and I’m not apologetic about it in the slightest.”

Her grin widened as she slipped her hand away from me.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I hope you still have that attitude when you’re in Purgatory.”

“What?” My voice held panic inside it, I didn’t want to leave this place, not anymore.

She began pacing again and she explained herself.

“You know, it’s not often I get to do this type of thing. I’m happy there’s a change in schedule, I was getting quite bored of the same old ‘you get to go to heaven!’ and ‘you’re going to hell!’ bullshit. I was craving something new…”

She spun back around to me, biting her lip.“I guess I owe you a thank you for that.”

“No…wait. There’s gotta be a misunderstanding, I’m supposed to be here.”

“What aren’t you getting here, honey? You were never supposed to be anywhere but the land of prey. You’re meant to be some demon’s dinner. God doens’t have any sacred plans for you. God doens’t even know where you are right now. You think you’re the first to have the plug pulled on ya? You’re nothing special, baby.”

“Plug? What plug? What the fuck are you on about?!”

“Oh dear, you haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

I just stood there, breathing rapidly at the spinning of an ensuing headache.

“You’re not dead, Y/N. You’re in a coma.”

My breath hitched in my throat and my body went limp.

“Or at least, you were in a coma. But it seems like Sam’s had enough of your dreadful existence. I have to admit, it took longer than I bet on. Gonna lose some good change over this. But dropping you off into a sea of hungry misfits will make up for that.”

“You’re lying. Sam wouldn’t do that.”

“You need some proof? That’s fine.”

With a wave of her hand to my temple my body jolted and the view of my hospital room came into view.

Sam and Dean were arguing by my bedside, Castiel gripping my hand and not tearing her sorrowful eyes away from my unconscious body.

“YOU CAN’T JUST DO THIS, SAM! IT’S NOT YOUR CHOICE!”

“IT’S TIME, DEAN! HAVEN’T YOU HAD ENOUGH OF THIS CONSTANT SUFFERING? BECAUSE I KNOW I HAVE AND Y/N WOULDN’T WANT IT TO BE LIKE THIS!”

“YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT Y/N WOULD HAVE WANTED! NO ONE IS PULLING ANY PLUGS HERE!”

“HE’S NOT GONNA MAKE IT! WOULD YOU RATHER WAIT UNTIL THEN? WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE TO SPEND THE NEXT GOD KNOWS HOW LONG CRYING OVER THE INEVITABLE, HUH?”

“NOT THAT YOU GIVE A DAMN, BUT YES, I WOULD! I PREFER TO HAVE HIM HERE AND YOU’RE NOT DOING HIM ANY FAVORS BY ACTING AS IF HE’S ALREADY GONE!”

“BEING IN A COMA ISN’T CONSIDERED AS BEING HERE, DEAN! SO, YEAH, TO ME HE’S BEEN GONE SINCE WE BROUGHT HIM HERE! START LOOKING AT THE REALITY OF THINGS FOR ONCE!”

“THE REALITY?! YOU GO-“

“ENOUGH!” The brothers looked over in surprise at the yell of an angered angel.

Castiel stood from her spot, releasing my hand as she turned to face the the hunters.

“Neither of you has the right to dictate what happens to Y/N. you are not God! You will let Heaven decide what is best for him and if either of you-!”

She gulped and took a deep breath in.

“If any of you dares to try and take Y/N away from me…I will not be held responsible for what I’ll do to you.”

Sam’s eyes were wide with fear, Dean’s had relief wash over them at the threat, knowing Sam wouldn’t deny Cas of her wishes.

“Okay…Okay…” Sam stepped one foot forward about to reach out to Cas in comfort but she moved away, not breaking the stare they shared as she did.

She sat back down on the chair beside me and put her hand over mine as the room fell silent.

“You sure you don’t have enough juice in those tinkle toes of yours? Not even a little? Even a drop could go a far way-“

“If I could, don’t you think I would’ve by now, Dean?” Cas growled at the older man, not even glancing up at him.

“Sorry…I know you would’ve. I just miss him.”

“We all do.” Sam confirmed, walking out of the room, an expression of distress from the situation evident on his face. He wasn never able to be around people when times like this arose.

But just as he left, a beeping sounded throughout the small room.

I was flatlining.

Fast.

And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Castiel started to freak out, latching her hands onto me and shaking me, fisting my hospital gown, stroking the sides of my face, any sort of contact she could perform she did as she spewed out all kinds of pleas, begging me to stay alive.

Dean was rushing out into the halls, screaming for assistance on the top of his lungs, running back in with nurses and docters as he tried to pull Castiel off of me to no avail.

Sam skidded back in, helping pry Cas away from me into a corner of the room as they watched the workers attempt to revive me.

The image then faded away, my eyes opening to see the redheaded angel in front of me.

“Guess Sam was too little too late, huh? I was really pulling for him.”

My mouth hung open, jaw dropped at the realization that this entire time I could of been fighting. This entire time I should have been searching for a way out. The realization that Castiel wasn’t in my head, but out there visiting me, and I never bothered to put any weight to her words.

“Sorry, was pulling not the proper word? Too soon?” She snickered as I closed my mouth, swallowing a knot in my throat.

“Oh, have a sense of humor, will ya? Now let’s go, steamboat.”She dragged my arm but I yanked back refusing to move.

“I’m not dead yet.”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

She tried dragging me again, this time more forceful but again, I yanked back.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Listen, I admire your determination to outlive your own body, I really do. But my job is to send you to your designated place of rest, or lack there of, and you’re starting to test my patience.”

“I’m not even a demon! I’m not a monster of any kind. I don’t belong in Purgatory!”

“Sweetie, every rule has it’s exception, and you’re purgatory’s. Your actions on Earth have been a fair share of both good and evil. When it comes to something like that, the person’s own mind determines their sentence. Normally, being the egotistical maniacs humans are, they all believe themselves to be worthy of Heaven. But you...”

She stepped a bit closer, digging her long nails into my arm.

“We both know you’ve been anticipating this for a long time. You’re ongoing battle against yourself has lead you to this, Y/N. You can’t decide if you’re a man of justice or a man of revenge and because of that you’ve managed to climb you’re way into Purgatory. Where there is no good and bad, no damned and righteous, there is only what you do best… hunting.”

She scratched down my forearm, a long trail of red in the carved marking. I winced and hissed at the pain, using my other hand to shove her down.

She shot up and charged at me, her wings extending out of her back.

She tackled me down, me writhing underneath her as she punched me in the face.I kicked her off of me, her rolling beside me and I stood only to reach down and pluck a handful of feathers from her wings as I returned the favor by bashing her head back into the floor.

She screamed, a scrunched expression of sadness overtaking her from the loss of feathers.

I started to run, to where I didn’t knoe, there really wasn’t any place to go in here, just a never ending blank canvas of black. She didn’t take long to bolt after me, trying to land a few ‘zaps’ at me, thank the lord for my yoga because I was now flexible enough to jump high over the blasts she repeatedly shot at me.

Then, the wildest idea came to me.

If I wasn’t dead, I could still pray to Castiel.

I was such an idiot, how had I not tried this before??

I chuckled distatefully at myself as I lunged, tumbled and glided out of the way of numerous attacks from the mad angel behind me, knowing if this didn’t work I was toast.

This was my last resort.

“CASTIEL!” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping my vigorious effort to get in touch with her would be heard through all the chaos in the real world.

“CAS, PLEASE! I’M HERE! I’M TRAPPED, BUT I’M HERE! CAS, DON’T GIVE UP ON ME! DON’T LET ME DIE, DAMMIT!”

“You’re precious Castiel won’t be able to hear your cries! Stop wasting your breath and give up! You can’t outrun me forever!”

“CAS, C’MON! I KNOW YOU HEAR ME! JUST LIKE I’VE HEARD YOU!”

A blast of I’m-not-even-sure stung my leg, me limping to the ground as the redhead smirked and sped up to catch me at my weakest.

“I HEARD YOU WHEN YOU TOLD ME ABOUT NEW YEAR’S, CAS! I KNOW YOU DIDN’T KISS DEAN! I KNOW YOU DIDN’T OPEN SAM’S GIFT ON CHRISTMAS AND I KNOW THAT YOU STOPPED THEM FROM PULLING MY PLUG!”

I got up and kneeled over, panting just as the angel pinned me down and wailed me in the face, blood spurting out my nose at the hit.

“I HEARD YOU CRY, CAS! I WAS HERE! I’M STILL HERE AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO CRY ANYMOE IF YOU JUST LET-“

Another harsh blow to me face.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

The angel above me dug a nail into my chest, where I had been shot.

I screamed in agony as she drilled it into me, reaching inside of the now present wound.

“I told you.” She said lowly in a deep voice, twisting her finger inside of me, making me gasp out for air.

She reached down beside my ear, whispering. “She. Can’t. Hear. You.”

Suddenly, the real world and this one flickered back and forth.

I was overlooking the hospital room one second, seeing the drama unfold as they kept resesitaing me.

Then I was back here, watching an angel stab me with her own hand.

I went back and foth numerous times, like my sou couldn’t decide on where to go, confused on which body it was meant to inhabit.

The entire time, I felt the pain of the bullet all over again, but ten times worse.

Maybe this is what dying actually feels like.

Maybe the first time wasn’t an accurate representation of how this goes.

Or maybe the angel who was currently prolonging my death just to see the life leave my eyes was the cause of this horrific feeling.

Who knows?

All I do know, is that I regret everything now.

I used to think I was okay with how it all ended, how I went out, where I was, all of that shit.

But being in this moment right now, I realize I’m not okay with any of it, not even in the slightest.

I regret allowing myself to get shot so easily.

I regret not telling Castiel how I truly felt when I had the chance.

I regret accepting my presumed fate so quickly.

And most importantly, I regret ever letting myself believe for even a minute that I wasn’t a good person.

Because as I look back on my life, I notice all the great fucking things I’ve done.

I take notice to all the impacts I have made in people’s lives and all the sacrafices I have given for the greater good of humanity as a whole, no matter how unfairly I was ever treated.

I remember all the times I had doubted myself or taken blame for things that weren’t within my control.

I remember all the nights I’d lie awake wondering if I had a purpose.

And lying here now, I know I did.

Because maybe I couldn’t save everyone. Maybe I couldn’t fix the world. But I sure as hell did a lot more than most people, and I’m proud of that.

I’m proud of myself.

And I know my friends are too. I know Sam, Dean and Castiel would agree with me for once. I know Bobby would slap me upside the head for taking so long to come to this ruling about myself. And I know God, wherever he is, never thought any different of me. I don’t need any stupid angel to tell me any of that. So if purgatory is where she wants me to be, let her take me. And let her keep taking me back there each time I claw my way back out, because I’ll be damned if I ever give up on myself.

Not anymore.

Things started to turn white.

Everyone washed away from view until nothing was left but that whiteness.

I felt peaceful.

I felt content.

I felt…A hand?

I opened my eyes, swuinting from the bright light invading my vision.

I blinked a few times to adjust into focus.

The ceiling was white.

The ceiling…was white.

Since when were there ceilings in purgatory?

“Didn’t know purgatory had interior designers. Who the hell redecorated this place?” I muttered under my breath.

I then looked down to discover the hand I had felt was holding mine.

A soft, smaller, feminine hand.

“Y/N?”

I glanced up at the most stunning sight I had ever seen.

Castiel, with freshly tinted cheeks and wet tear stains covering the bags under her crystal eyes, looked at me from beside my hospital bed.

“Cas.”

She leaped onto me, her body devouring mine in a hug full that reeked of need.

I slowly wrapped my frail arms around her as she buried her face into my neck.

I felt her take a strong whiff of my scent and smiled to myself at the cute gesture.

I rubbed circles into her back, thriving in the moment of being back, it honestly kicking in at a very steady rate.

I couldn’t help but to wonder why I was back.

Last I knew, my destiny was sealed by a bitchy redhead.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thankful enough for you.” She whsipered into my skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No need to be sorry. I shouldn’t of been so impulsive like that.”

“No. You saved me.” She pulled back, hands around my neck as she hovered above me. “You’re my hero. Even if you are stupid.”

I let out a raspy laugh, a smile etching across her face at the sound.

And that’s when I understood.

‘You’re my hero.’

That’s why I’m back.

I had finally made up my opinion of myself.

I decided I was a good man and that I was worthy of much more than the ending I was given.

I decided that I was meant to do more in this world.

And because of that, because of me seeing myself for the ‘hero’ I am, God has given me another chance at a better fate.

“Yeah. Yeah I am.” I smiled back, running the back of my hand down her cheek as she leaned into it.

“I was wondering…” She looked down hesitantly, leaning back into her seat.

“Yeah?”

“What were going to tell me? Before you…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

I stared at her in confusion, not connecting the reference.

She just waited for me to answer, knowing I was trying to remember what she meant.

“Oh.” I breathed out, my hand falling from her and onto my lap.

“I was going to say…”

Her face held anticipation and nervousness within it, my teeth knawing on my inner lip.

I was given another chance. I can’t waste it.

“I love you, Cas. And I don’t mean as a friend or a partner or family. I mean I love you. With every part of myself.”

She took in a breath, holding it for a few seconds.

And, man, those seconds felt like hours to me as my anxiety built on her response.

“I love you as well, Y/N. I thought you always knew of this.”

“Wait, what?”

“I was told humans can be oblivious to the natural sentiment that occurs between ones who share a deep attraction both spiritually and sexually due to denial and or simplicity being as…how does Dean say it? ‘Ignorance is bliss’? But I just always assumed you were not one of these humans being as you’re-“

I sat up and moved toward the rambling brunette, pressing my lips against hers lovingly.

She didn’t reciprocate the kiss and I chuckled against her lips, pulling back just a little bit.

“You talk too much. Now follow my lead.” I mumbled, her nodding in return and finally kissing back with so much emotion I thought I was going to go into another coma.

Her devotion felt like warm silk surging through me. It was almost like reading her mind, but with no words. It was wonderful.

We pulled apart and I sat back against my pillow with a dreamy sigh.

“So where’s the boys?”

“Uh-Uh-Uh-“

I laughed at her stuttering, entwining our hands together and squeezing.

“They went to go call Bobby, update him on your stability status. Or what was your stability status.”

“Perfect! When they come in here act like nothing happened. I’m gonna pretend I’m still in a coma and jump scare those sons of bitches.”

“I know I have professed my love to you but that doesn’t mean I want to be involved with your twisted ‘pranks’.”

“Wow, nice to know my girlfriend doesn’t have my back. And after I took a bullet to the chest for your angelic ass.”

I rolled my eyes teasingly, pulling her on top of me and nuzzling my nose against her temple.

“Girlfriend?”

“Do you not want to be?”

“No, I do!”

I leaned back slightly looking up at her with an amused expression at her immediate reply.

“Relax yourself, eager beaver. I know you do.”

I pecked her nose with a light kiss and she snuggled into me.

“Ow, ow, ow. Careful with the bullet wound, there.”

“Well maybe now this will be a warning to not be an idiot.”

My chest vibrated with a rorar of laughter.

“Point taken, snarky. Next time I’ll just let you take the hit. I’d rather see you in this gown, they don’t have any backs you know.”

She picked her head up to glare at me, inches away from my own face.

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible not to looove apparently.” I mocked, booping her nose with my pointer finger.

“For once, you’re not wrong.”

She locked our lips in a kiss, one of her hands combing through my slightly overgrown hair.

As we let the kiss end and she cuddled me, I hummed to her before stopping.

“How long have I been in here?”

“Four months.”

“That’s it?!”

“How long did you think it had been?”

“Like…300 years?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little absurd, Y/N?”

“You know what’s absurd? The fact that I’m going to be spending the next four months up your butt to make up for my absence.”

She lifted herself up, elbows on my shoulders and hands holding her head.

“Up…my butt?”

“It’s an expression, honeybee.”

Her face was unreadable so I continued.

“Unless you don’t want it to be.”

She blushed immensely, flicking my nose.

“Hey! What was that for!?”

“Dean said if you ever got fresh with me to do that.”

“How do you even know what fresh means!?”

“I’ve learned a lot while you were asleep, Y/N. You’d be surprised.”

“Oh yeah? Well about you surprise me some more then, huh? Spill the beans, kiddo.”

“Well, for one, I understand that saying.”

She went on for the next three days updating me on all the winchesters had taught her in the past four months.

She even revealed some information “the pizza man” had taught her.

And you best believe I put that one to the test.

Let’s just say the pizza man is quite the teacher.

#castiel #supernatural #supernatural fandom #genderbend #castiel genderbend #gender bent castiel #female castiel #girl castiel x male reader #castiel x male reader #drama #dramatic #fluff #fluffy #long one shot #one shot #supernatural one shot #castiel one shot #male reader

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bibimbureizu · 6 years

Text

In Lonely Places. 01

ft. Kim Minseok, Park Chanyeol

wcount. ~3000

warnings. Ideological sensitivities, some strong language. Other warnings to come.

comments. Working on the next one. Let me know what you guys think!

wraith

rāTH/

noun

a ghost or ghostlike image of someone, especially one seen shortly before or after their death.

White walls. A window to your left. The light buzz of electricity and the odd undertone of death, despair, anxiety, carried with the heavy scent of Iodoform. There was a light chatter outside your room. A hospital. You couldn’t recall anything. Nothing but your name, your values, and a ghost.

It was the ghost of the man whose face you couldn’t quite put a finger on. He was ethereal. Always there, yet completely out of reach. Who was he? You yearned to know.

“We couldn’t find any medical records. Actually – no records of her existence at all. Not even a birth certificate”

“No wallet? No ID?”

“Nothing. No emergency contact information, no notes – no one in the building knew who she was. We’re at a loss here.”

“Well, it’s a miracle she even survived – and in one piece at that.”

“What do you suppose we do about her? If she wakes up, that is.”

“Not sure, but we’ll come up with something when the time comes. For now, I have to run a few more tests – but the good news is that her heart rate is stable.”

You listened halfheartedly. Eyes closed and trying to imagine the face of that man. He was right there, fresh in your mind and yet his identity was a blur. How did you know him? Did he know you? You felt as though he could have been the love of your life. A parent, or a child. A worst enemy or possibly even the devil himself. Nevertheless, you wanted – needed, even, to know.

“You’re awake.” The words shook you from your thoughts as your eyes opened to the light of the room once again, this time bringing with it a short pang to your cerebrum. You flinched slightly.

“We weren’t expecting your recovery to happen so quickly. I’d like to run a few tests and ask you a few questions if that’s fine with you.” The doctor, a soft looking man. His voice gentle and soothing. You nearly forgot to respond, with a nod of approval. He smiled. He must have worked with children – his presence put you at ease.

“I’ll have to take your vitals first, but in the meantime, we can just talk.” He mentioned as he moved over to the corner of your suite to roll a chair and some machine next to your bed. His clipboard sat in the chair as he prepared the machine for use. You recognized the arm cuff used for taking blood pressure, and the pulse oximeter he would come to clip onto your finger, and the stethoscope dangling from his neck. The typical image of a doctor. Somehow it reminded you of an old, nostalgic cartoon that you couldn’t quite recall.

He did as doctors do – checked your vitals. Put the cold metal of the stethoscope on your upper chest, and back – listening to your heartbeat, or breathing. Whichever didn’t matter to you. Everything felt like a dream. As soon as he’d returned the object to hang around his neck, he cleared his throat and sat down in his chair, placing the clipboard in his lap. You stayed sitting up on the uncomfortable hospital bed, facing away from him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Fine.” You replied shortly, your voice felt rough and groggy as if it had recently been strained. You looked down at the small bandage wrapped around your wrist.

“What’s your name?”

“(y/n).”

“Do you have any family? Or anyone that you’d like to alert about your accident?”

You hesitated, still unable to recall anything. You shook your head.

“Is this by choice?”

You shook your head again.

“How old are you?”

“I don’t know.” There was a pang in your chest.

“Where do you live?”

“I don’t know.”

“What can you remember?”

“Nothing.” Each question hurt more than the last.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

Over the course of the next few days, you underwent many tests, and therapy – those concerning your physical wellbeing, to which Dr. Kim said the results were amazing, and those concerning your psyche. He spoke to you regularly, especially after escorting you to and from the different wards. Though you hadn’t seen him today, only nurses bringing your food and drink.

You found yourself staring out the window for most of the day – wondering what it could have been that you missed. How old were you? How much of your life has been erased? Were you alive in the first place? It was an odd sensation being around people who knew exactly who they were and how their lives had gone, everything they’d done up to this point, but you were incapable of even fathoming it. This was all you knew. And every night, you’d seen that same man, draped in black as he turned to look at you but without a face. Every night, he was alone, and yet you were there – you could see him but he was just out of reach. And every night you tried to call to him and he wouldn’t respond. And you would wake up in the same hospital bed, in the same room with the same buzz of electricity hovering in the air, wondering what in the hell was going on.

“Ms. (y/n),” You turned your head to the familiar voice.

“Dr. Kim,”

“Please, call me Minseok. I have some news for you.” You nodded in response, moving to sit up in your bed. “Well, the hospital has deemed you healthy enough to be discharged, even though you’ve been diagnosed with Retrograde Amnesia. However, if you’ve ever read the tale of Roger Curry, you’d probably agree that damning you to wander the streets or live in a homeless shelter is a bad route to force someone onto.” He sighed, moving to close the door slightly and pull a chair up to your bed. As he sat down, he looked back up at you. You were unsure of what was to come next.

“This is going to sound insensitive of me, but are you positive there isn’t a person you can think of to call?” He asked hesitantly, and to both of your dismay, you hadn’t a reply. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gazed toward the ground for a few quiet moments. You wanted to know what he was thinking and at the same time, you wanted the stress of uncertainty to leave your mind.

He looked back up at you. You couldn’t read his expression.

“I have an extra room in my house.” He spoke finally, leaning back in his chair again and never breaking eye contact with you. “Of course, it’s up to you – I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to stay with me until we can get you on your feet, but my offer still stands.

You had nowhere else to go. A homeless shelter didn’t sound too off-putting however, nothing was exactly as it seemed. But that didn’t exclude Minseok. It was entirely possible that he wasn’t who he seemed to be – however he was just so kind and welcoming. It was hard to believe that he could be anything but an angel.

You nodded in thought, weighing the different possibilities and trying to find a reason – any reason – that the homeless shelter would be a better choice, but there were just too many variables. There more people which meant there was a larger chance for things to go wrong. If it were just you and Minseok, even if he turned out to be some kind of psychopath, you’d stand a better chance and there was also more security in living in a home – consistent water, heating, cooling. You just didn’t want to be a burden on him.

As if he had read your mind, he spoke up again. “Don’t worry about repaying me, either. I don’t mind helping – and you wouldn’t be a burden.” He had surprised you. Minseok must have been perceptive as well. Had he any flaws?

Finally, you decided. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” You said. “Thank you for being so kind to me, Minseok.”

He smiled widely at you, eyes squinting slightly as his cheeks raised them. “Don’t mention it, I like helping others.” He was gorgeous.

You were discharged from the hospital that night, riding in the front seat of Minseok’s car and gazing lazily out the window. Time seemed to slow as the world faded away, and your thoughts guided you away from reality. Mainly anxious questions lingered, though vivid scenes of that man pestered you yet again. How could he be so elusive? You began to question whether he was even real. For being one of the only memories you clung to, it would be very disappointing to find out that he didn’t exist

“(y/n),” Minseok called out to you.

“Hm?” You responded, returning your gaze to the streets outdoors. Skyscrapers draped in a light fog surrounded you, as the rain drizzled and tapped the roof of Minseok’s car. You weren’t particularly interested in conversation at the moment, but he wanted to make something of a conversation.

“I hope you don’t mind if the room is a little bit messy. I have a lot of old stuff stashed away in there. If you’re uncomfortable with the mess, feel free to let me know – I’ll make sure to get it all out for you.“ Slowly the buildings grew more sparse as he continued to drive towards the country.

“Besides that, there’s food in the fridge, and in the pantry – I also have some other stuff in the extra fridge outside in the garage, but it’s mostly frozen meats and Capri Suns” He chuckled as he continued to drive and made one-sided conversation. “Feel free to cook if you’re hungry. I’ll share my food with you too of course, if I make enough for two.” Time went by between you two, he had to have been going relatively fast but it was getting dark quickly. You two must have been outside of – or very close to – city limits, because there were virtually no buildings in sight, only trees.

“You live alone?” You asked, mildly surprised at the comment. You would have guessed that he had a wife, and possibly a child. A girlfriend at least. It was odd to you that he was alone – he seemed well put together.

“Not completely alone – I have my –“ It was then that you looked forward rather than continuing to stare out the side window. The low visibility made you blink your eyes, however, the scene played out in slow motion; Minseok, startled, veers sharply to the left into the opposite lane, and as you glance up, bracing the door and middle console tightly to keep yourself as balanced and upright as possible, there he is. That man. Performing the same movement he’d played over and over and over in your dreams. He made direct eye contact with you. It felt like minutes that the two of you stared at each other, him standing outside of the car with his back to you, looking over his shoulder, and you, clutching whatever you could with the seatbelt locked tightly around your body.

“Shit!” Minseok exclaimed, breaking harshly as his car went over the left lane and into the grass on the other side. Your bodies heaved forward as the car stopped abruptly, nearly crashing straight into the dense woods. What felt like hours of waiting and staring into the dark forest was really only a few minutes but Minseok was incredibly shaken by this. He rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment as he exhaled deeply, before raising his head once more and looking down at his trembling hands. He then glanced at you. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated – incredulous and shaken as well, but more at the fact that he’d almost hit this random man that you’d been seeing so vividly in your dreams every night since waking up. You almost wondered if this was even real. You glanced out of your window again at the road, ready to open your door as you scanned the area for any sight of him again but there was nothing. “I think so.” You managed to utter as you returned your gaze down to your hands, laying in your lap at this point.

“That deer… It came out of nowhere, huh.”

You glanced at him one more time, he had his eyes closed as he laid against the headrest. You felt unnerved by his statement, and it made you question again if you really had been dreaming or not. You counted your fingers – 10, 5 on each hand. You looked at the screen on his dashboard, checking the time and reading every possible thing on there – it was perfectly comprehensible. You pinched the top of your thigh until it felt like it would bleed. There was no way you could have been asleep.

“I’m so sorry about that.” He uttered. “There normally aren’t any deer out here – just raccoons or other small animals. Nothing like that. I’ve never seen a white deer before.”

You could only nod, equally bewildered.

The two of you made it to his home after about 15 more minutes – equating to a 45-minute drive from the hospital. He lived in a very rural area, much colder than the city with trees spreading for miles. He had a neighbor though they were about a 1.5 miles away.

He showed you around the 2 room, 2.5 bath house. It was elegant yet humble, with subtle yet well-structured mixes of rustic and modern touches. It was a two story with both bedrooms and full bathrooms on the upper floor, while the living room, kitchen and half bath were all on the ground floor. Homey, but at the same time being in the middle of nowhere felt uneasy. Who knew what could go on in those dense woods.

He also introduced you to his cat Suri. A lilac point Himalayan. He was cute and friendly enough.

But you were restless that night. Any time you closed your eyes, the events of earlier that night would flash again through your head. That man, the “white deer”, the odd feeling of a lucid dream you couldn’t shake. Sometimes you would just run through the house tour again, as you laid in the bed – remembering Suri as he padded up to you, sniffed your hand when you crouched down to show it to him, and then rubbing his face against it as a welcome. Remembering the scratching post in the corner of the living room, which was the first room you’d see upon entering, with the kitchen right behind it and only separated by a bar. The staircase, immediately to the right of the front door, and the short hallway with a door on each side – one leading to the master bedroom and bathroom, and the other to the guest room. Then one at the end of the hall which was the guest bathroom.

But that couldn’t get him out of your mind. You struggled to remember if you’d seen a deer or not. Maybe you were too startled to see what was really there. You wondered briefly if this could have been some kind of sign. Or an omen. Though, you’d rather just continue to rationalize the event. No, never mind. You were done rationalizing anything. You didn’t want to think anymore.

But your mind and body refused to sleep. Maybe It was because of the strange new place. But everything was strange and new. And nothing ever felt right. You felt lost and wondered if you’d feel this way for the rest of your life. What a depressing thought. To never know or understand why and how you’re alive. You could only imagine this is what most people must feel like though. This was normal. Right?

Of course, not being able to remember anything about yourself, besides a few select things was not normal. But maybe you weren’t the only one feeling lost and alone. Maybe you shouldn’t have felt alone at all. Minseok wanted to help.

But if you were to mysteriously go missing how much would he actually care? Nobody else would even know you were gone.

Apparently, no one did know you were gone. No one knew you existed at all – and yet Minseok was there. Waiting for you. Caring for you.

But it was just his job.

If it was just his job, why is he taking care of you still?

Guilt.

No. Compassion?

Ulterior motives.

Maybe he’s a real angel.

Do angels even exist?

Who is Minseok?

Who are you?

Why are you here? Why do you exist?

What was to come of your life? Why did you exist without an identity?

What was your purpose? Did you have a purpose?

Did anything even matter?

Who is he? Why are you haunted by this person? Was he a person? Maybe he was a demon. Or an angel. But those probably don’t exist. Maybe he was just the last thing you saw before… No. Did you even exist before now? Think of something within your grasp – something comprehensible. You had your name. You had ethics, morals. You had questions. You had a ghost. But why nothing else? What even happened to you? Could Minseok answer these?

What the hell is going on?

21 notes · View notes

webcricket · 7 years

Text

Catch a Falling Star

Characters: CastielXReader

Word Count: 2264 (Part 2)

A/N: Part 2 of a Soulmate AU mini-series. I’m uncertain how many “parts” will make up this mini-series – the original outline is for 5, but my muse has a sordid history of adding more plot twists, turns, and verbs than I initially anticipate and/or know what to do with. Thank you ALL for the overwhelmingly KIND and POSITIVE feedback thus far! I hope/strive not to disappoint. Enjoy the ride. (P.S. Still on vacation mode and taking advantage of a quaint coffee shop with wifi on this rainy afternoon – will respond personally when I have normal internet access.)

Summary: What if angels didn’t end up just anywhere when they are banished by sigils…what if sometimes they end up exactly where they need to be? Turns out you are Castiel’s grounding stone, and it’s more complicated than either of you realizes. Cue the hurt/comfort and mandatory associate angst (be warned, it gets heavy). Angels are a damned stubborn lot, and in this regard Castiel is no different from his kin.

Completed series Masterlist:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/165166387163/catch-a-falling-star-masterlist

Man seemingly drops out of the sky. With an absolute disregard for common sense given your lakeside isolation, you invite the peculiar stranger into your home. You convince him to disrobe and shower. Obviously his common sense could also do with some fine tuning – what sensible person follows a random stranger home and immediately consents to getting naked? Alright, it wasn’t immediate, he put up a gallant protest and you routed his muddied multi-layer modesty at every turn until he acquiesced and passed his trench coat, suit, and shoes through the barely cracked door of the bathroom. Perhaps you’ve underestimated your powers of persuasive speech all these years. Perhaps you should consider a new career revolving around this superpower. Lawyer? Lobbyist? Nah.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

You serve him tea in a proper porcelain cup and saucer because it seems like the civilized thing to do, and also because it gives you something to do and him something to do because right now you’re wordlessly stealing furtive glances of one another and questioning every life choice you’ve ever made that led you to this awkwardly silent fête. He did look awfully good in those borrowed pants. And what was it about those vivid blue eyes of his that fascinated you so? Was it the way they reflected and refracted the star light? One look into them and you were certain you could chart the infinite depths of those luminescent blue cosmos forever and not stumble twice upon the same breathtaking hue. Man proceeds to vanish, stealing your car and taking it on a joy ride into town, ditching it there in such a manner as to ensure you won’t receive a parking ticket. How…polite? Must have been the tea.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

It’s the kind of unbelievable zany tale you share with friends over drinks so they can laugh at your expense and reproach you for being a total nincompoop with zero regard for personal safety – classic fodder for them to dredge up out of the blue at a party years later to embarrass you in front of your date. There it is again, the inescapable blue. Shake it off, move on. He’s long gone. Where were you? Right, being hypothetically painted a fool in front of your date. You laugh. If you’re being completely realistic, it’s to embarrass you in front of their date. “Let me tell you about this time Y/N invited some strange guy…” Not that you’re sharing.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

At this point, despite the clerk at the bus depot informing you a man fitting your exact description purchased a one-way ticket to Lebanon, Kansas this morning, you’ve persuaded yourself the whole experience was the result of a bit of indigestion and an over-active imagination. Kansas! It practically reeked of Oz. Blue gingham dress, blue post office logo, clear blue skies – everywhere your thoughts tread twisted into a titanic blue distraction. Throwing your head back, dallying outside the car door, you lost yourself in the uniform cozy blanket of blue atmosphere stretching overhead. Somewhere someone sat behind a curtain having a grand old belly-jiggling guffaw about your life while you sang your off-tune songs on cue and skipped down a yellow-brick road. Brakes squealed. A horn blared. A delicate ivory patina teacup embossed with a pattern of blue periwinkle shattered upon the floor.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

The sage green curtain hung around the bed meant to instill an ambiance of warmth in the otherwise icy cold hospital room swooshed aside. Castiel’s steely gaze roamed over the myriad of tubes and wires trailing into and out of your stone-still form, frowning regard settling on the white tape crudely clamping your eyelids shut. Like everything else he touched, he defaulted to the presumption this, too, was his fault. As it so happened in this particular set of circumstances, he wasn’t necessarily absolved of all blame.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

The ventilator bellowed another gush of life sustaining oxygen into your lungs. He shouldn’t have fled. The angel was no coward, but when your skin touched his you shocked him, literally and figuratively, to the very core of his existence. He felt the spark in the deepest part of his being, in the pure angelic heart created especially by his father to fiercely love humanity above all else and without limits that set him so starkly apart from his kin, the unique element of his creation that doubt and regret had not yet sullied no matter how unforgivable his past actions or how epically he failed in the skewed summation he maintained regarding himself. Nothing and no one had affected an influence there, until you – and he yearned for more.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

As a steadfast rule, Castiel wanted nothing for himself. Averting the apocalypse, the multiple falls, the grabs for power, the sacrifices, each and every enterprise set in motion in the name of helping others – humanity, his kin, and above all the Winchester brothers who redefined his notion of family. He viewed himself as useful, but ultimately expendable – the tinder wood to ignite larger fires. Auspiciously, someone sympathetic above his pay grade viewed him in a far more indispensable light, resurrecting him from the ashes time and again. Unsurprisingly, when threatened with the prospect of selfish desire kindling in his own heart – a great and terrible unknown burning want of something solely for himself, the need presenting as utterly foreign, abhorrent even, to his abstaining nature – he ran for the hills.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

At the bus station in Cleveland, he disembarked – the action not so much born of a cognizant plan to buy a return ticket to Seneca Lake to see you again, but more out of a precipitous and overwhelming need for breathing space to lessen the tightness seizing his chest. He found the acute need for oxygen bizarre since he didn’t need to breath in the first place – the involuntary rise and fall of his chest thus far a mere remnant of muscle memory tickling at the neurons of his vessel. Entertaining and committing to the act of boarding a bus back to New York seemed to ease the unrelenting vice grip on his ribcage.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

Now that he stood at your bedside and saw the machines keeping you alive, now that he had time to objectively examine and interpret his impressions – now, it all made sense. As an angel, with his abject history of imperfect and pitiable glory, he never ventured to hope in all of his father’s creation there existed a heart cast expressly for him, least of all a human heart. Even amongst humans a match such as this was so exceedingly rare as to be the stuff of legend. He daren’t think the word for fear his suspicions were wrong…or right.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

“Friend or family?”

Castiel angled his neck to acknowledge the young woman in the sterile white coat with a black stethoscope slung around her neck positioned at his elbow. “Neither,” he answered, focus gliding again to your frame. His frown deepened at observing your limp fingers jammed uncomfortably through the side rail of the bed, the result of a nurse’s haste in changing a dressing. He badly wanted to reach out, move them, wake you, apologize. A combination of apprehension and wonder incapacitated him.

“Oh…well, such a shame,” the doctor followed the target of his furrowed brow to your crumpled hand, taking it upon herself to gently reposition it to lay flat, “hit and run in front of the post office this morning. Witnesses said Y/N just stopped in the middle of the street to stare up at something in the sky. Massive head trauma. Terrible tragedy.”

Hissssssssss. Beep!

“Y/N,” your name spilled from his lips as a reverent whisper. It dawned on him he hadn’t learned your name until now. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask you – he knew you by the dazzling glow of your soul in a universe beyond names and that was enough.

“I was hoping you might know the next of kin. We’re having difficulty locating anyone. You’re the first visitor.”

“She has an uncle,” Cas murmured, disbelieving the insinuation you could possibly be alone in the world, “he has a place on the lake.”

“He passed years ago.”

Hissssssssss. Beep!

“Do you mind if I spend a few minutes?” Cas spoke hoarsely, collapsing into the chair beside the bed, knees feeling weak.

“Of course, take all the time you need,” the doctor strode over to the door, pausing to look back pensively. If Castiel had the inclination to read her mind just then, he would have heard her musing as to whether or not he was one of those angel of death characters she’d been hearing about in the news lately. Privately, she thought in your hopeless case it would be a mercy – if no next of kin emerged, it was only a matter of days before they pulled the plug anyway.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

Cas enviously watched the last rays of the setting sun reach through the window to warmly caress your cheek. You might be on life support, but your soul still outshone anything in his recollection including the sun itself.

Other souls in your quandary would have accepted the open summons to escape their physical pain and soar to the blissful embrace of Heaven. You obstinately clung to your shattered body, reliving the night and day on endless loop, floundering in a sea of blue. Your eternal happiness wasn’t in Heaven – he was no longer welcome there.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

Cas meditated on the large calloused fists resting uselessly upon his lap, determining his grace still too drained from the banishment by sigil to fully heal you at present. He reached out, palm hesitantly hovering over your pale hand. The strain of resisting the longing to twine his fingers through yours to comfort you trembled every muscle in his suspended arm. He desperately wanted to lose himself in your electric touch. He flinched, afraid that once he submitted to the desire, he’d never be able to let you go. He blockaded his objecting heart inescapably behind all the reasons why he must not be in your life. He wasn’t safe for you, beholding your languishing body that much was clear. He couldn’t protect you, not from himself. He was a storm from which you would find no shelter. He would destroy you. He resolved to touch your skin only once more when the time came to heal you.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

He stoically waited for his grace to rally, wincing through a thousand plus a thousand whirring actuations of the ventilator accosting his ears, avoiding the anxious stares and well-meaning inquiries of the nurses and doctors on rounds – wasn’t he thirsty? Hungry? Tired? Despite their best efforts, your condition was rapidly worsening. Was he certain he didn’t know a next of kin? Your kidneys were failing, fluid regurgitating into your lungs, he should think about saying goodbye. Would he like to speak to a grief counselor? There is a chapel on the second floor if he is a praying man. A priest offers last rites as the angel numbly waits.

Hissssssssss. Beep!

On the third morning, his silent vigil concluded. He rose purposefully to his feet. Without looking at you – for he’d ceased being able to look at you the night before without weakening his resolve, unable to bear the agony of observing the flickering ebb of your soul as you clawed to hang on against forces grown insistent upon tearing you asunder – he closed his wetly glinting blue eyes and pressed two fingers to your forehead. “I’m sorry Y/N,” the golden glow of his grace flashed bright, bouncing off the glossy white finish of the walls, surging throughout your body, repairing, soothing, rectifying the mortal injury indirectly resulting from his fateful plunge into your peaceful world, “forgive me.” His fingers lingered, heart thrashing wildly against the self-imposed barriers he’d erected, a shaky sigh rattling from his throat, “And please…forget me.”

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep…

The hospital staff tittered amongst themselves, giddy with the miracle of your complete recovery. Congratulatory backslaps and fist bumps resounded here and there in the halls. Miracles have a way of generating a shockwave of infectious hope in their wake.

A lone nursing assistant remembered to ask you in passing during your discharge about the dark-haired man in the tan trench coat who stayed by your side for three days without leaving. Handsome. Hardly said a word. In possession of the saddest blue eyes she ever saw. With a show of such selfless devotion, surely you know him?

No name for this remarkable man stirred in your memory, your tongue poised immobile between your teeth.

“Must have been your guardian angel,” she smiled, ferrying your wheelchair down the hall toward freedom.

“Must have been,” you mimed, chasing a fleeting indigo shadow of memory just out of grasp of your awareness.

Safely home, leaning over the sink, your fingers attached to a favorite ivory colored teacup left to dry in the dish rack. You twirled the cup around and around, mesmerized by the repeating pattern of blue flowers adorning the rim. You thought tonight you would devote a few hours to stargazing – the idea sent a quiver of exhilaration coursing to your limbs.

Castiel failed to eradicate himself from your mind as he intended. After all, how could he erase the cosmic void in your heart which came into existence on the day of your birth – an emptiness prevailing long before you met him, and that he alone was equipped to fill? Even an angel can’t purge something that was never there.

Part 3:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/163231161990/catch-a-falling-star

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #castiel angst #castiel fluff #castiel series #castielxreader #castiel reader insert #spn reader insert #spn series #cas #castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #cas x y/n #castiel imagine #castiel fanfic #cricket writes cas

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thecindykelly · 7 years

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Today at Patsy Terrell’s memorial service, Martha Slater Farrell said words similar to these (below) she posted on Facebook. I want to boost the signal. This is what Martha wrote which warms my broken heart:

Patsy Terrell was one of my best friends. Like many of you, her passing was a shock to my soul. She was so vivid and alive that it’s hard to imagine that spark being snuffed out. But the truth is, the spark has been passed on, like a candle that creates many other flames. She changed lives. She changed my life forever with the laser beam of her questions, the depth of her curiosity, the height of her passions, and her incredible sense of right and wrong.

I have been reflecting the last few days why she was unique, so extraordinary that her death has evoked a statewide ripple of grief. First, she was a happy person. She EXPECTED to be happy. She was taught to be happy. She didn’t understand why other people didn’t expect to be happy. She found joy in the tiniest things. Next, she publicly SHARED that joy over the course of decades, through her writings, her blogs, Facebook, podcasts, speeches, classes, service on various boards, and a huge array of friendships that she tenderly nurtured. I was amazed at how she hung her life out publicly. We talked of it often. (She was amused that I was amazed.) The result of all of this was that people whom she never met felt as if they knew her, and were moved by her.

Patsy didn’t need a lot of sleep, which helped her pack a lot into each day. But it was utterly remarkable HOW MUCH she could pack into a day. And here is the key, I think, to Patsy’s life and impact: SHE LIVED EVERY DAY AS IF IT WOULD BE HER LAST. She didn’t want to miss anything… an experience, a person, a new idea. She was so damn smart. She could talk quantum physics with my PH.D brother and make a young boy feel like he was one of the most important people she had ever met. She lived in the moment, and each one was precious and unique.

Patsy had a very intimate relationship with death. She was born late in her parents’ life, and her siblings were decades older. Death was her constant companion and I don’t believe she expected to get old. She spoke of the thin veil between life and death… how death was “right there” beside us, and how easy it was to slip through.

I love this portrayal of Patsy by Richard Crowson. (And she would have been so honored to be the subject of a Richard Crowson cartoon!) She WAS like an angel in the last few months. I visited her at the Capitol after she had been there about a month; we perched on a bench and she told me of her adventures. I was struck by the glow around her and the look in her eyes. It was truly as if angels were sitting on her shoulders and cheering her on. It had been a running conversation over the years that “I just want to get paid for being Patsy!” She was a very accomplished journalist and PR professional, but she yearned to live an authentic life where she could pursue all her interests and be able to make a living at it. Over the last few years she was actualizing that dream, but never more so than when she ran for office and embraced the role of representing the 102nd District. In the last few months she was the most “Patsy” that I had ever known. She was living the dream, changing lives, and making Kansas a better place.

She is never leaving us. Please know that. She’s just helping, challenging, inspiring, and cheering us on from the other side. Now she’s the angel sitting on OUR shoulder. So be sparkly, my friends. And know that every day we can make a difference.

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secludedmoonnn · 4 years

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This morning has been hard. Not only has Tuna been a giant pain in my ass since about 6am, my back (especially) and my stomach have been in so much pain since about then too. I’m going to probably be using my massager all day. I also had another dream of you. This time, it was vivid. We were in my room, and you were saying your goodbyes to me, but you wouldn’t let me go. You wouldn’t stop kissing me, then Tuna woke me up. And I’m frustrated that she did because I at least still get to enjoy your sweet kisses in my dreams. I miss them incredibly. And with this pain that I am experiencing today, I really wish I could have you here telling me it’s gonna be okay and you’re here for me and have you hold me and comfort me as I try to get through the day with this. But you’re not here, and I can’t have you. I have to do it on my own and it sucks. Today is the first day that my mom is back to work since this happened and I’m sad and alone. I can’t just go upstairs and talk if I want to distract my mind. I have to just deal with it. And it sucks so fucking much. I can’t keep my mind from wandering. I keep thinking about everything that has happened since January and wondered if u felt anything for me at all. If it was all just a lie. If nothing was real. I can’t stop. I want to, but can’t. Did you isolate yourself for more than 2 weeks in your house back in January because you started having these thoughts and feelings?? I’ll never know. Did you just try to fake your feelings when Valentines Day came around and we got that Air BnB? I’ll never know. All that time we spent in my room, all that love and intimacy I felt, did you feel nothing? What was the point?? Cause you know, there’s been a lot of good fucking memories during the past few months, but I can’t help thinking if any of it was good for you. Like when I moved my bed in front of the TV, and when I almost cried at climax. That was such a weird fucking experience for me, but it was because I felt so much all at once that I don’t think my brain knew what to do. It felt so much love and so much pleasure that all it could do was cry. There are so many random little memories that come into my head. Like when we would sit in your car and get stoned and just listen to music. 2 songs stick out to me so much: Can I Call You Tonight and Drugs. During those times, you made me feel so loved and special, and like I fucking meant something. Because it felt like I was going to have this love for the rest of my life, and I yearned for it for so long, that I finally let that wall down because it felt real. Like it was really going to happen. And I was wrong. I was wrong and I’m mad. I’m mad at myself for ever letting that wall down. For not protecting my heart. But I truly felt like for the first time, I had someone that wouldn’t break it. Wouldn’t hurt it. I’m so mad. At so much. I fucking punched my wardrobe from being so upset and frustrated the other day, because I looked at myself in the mirror, and I saw you behind me. Kissing me and hold me and turning me around and dancing with me. I thought of when we play wrestled for over an hour. I want it back. I want I all back. What happened???

The only thing I’m truly mad at in all of this, is that you let me believe everything was fine and wonderful. I didn’t have a fucking clue???? I wish you were just honest with yourself and with your emotions enough that you could have told me. I cherish these memories, but I also question them. A lot. Do you hold on to the same memories as me? Have you just been pretending? And as much as I adore the memories that I have of us, the ones that I have since January, I can’t help but question them. Question if it was fake. The emotions you showed me or the love you gave to me. I wonder if you have just been waiting for the perfect time to tell me but there hasn’t been one. I don’t know. But I can’t stop myself from asking all these questions. I feel like all these memories are just filled with fake love. I wish you told me sooner, because these memories are so dear to me, and I hate myself because I can’t stop these questions. I can’t stop the feeling if it was real. If any of this was real. And I hate it. I HATE IT SO MUCH. I almost wish that I didn’t have any of these memories. Because I wouldn’t be questioning them this intensely. But at the same time, the months that you were here before you left, we’re the best ones. Because we finally got to spend more time together. Some quality fucking time. And I’m so mad because I only had for 2 and a half months and I don’t know if any of it was real. AND IM SO MAD. I don’t want to be alive right now, or I at least wish I was numb instead. All of this, all at once is just too much. I’m screaming and I’m crying right now because I can’t handle it. I can’t handle these emotions. I can’t handle the fact that I don’t know how you’ve been feeling. I can’t handle the thought that all of this was just a lie. I’m so broken. And I’m so scared. I’m so so scared to start this online therapy. I’m scared because I don’t know where to start. I’m scared that I’m gonna have to go through so much on top of all this that I’m already feeling. I’m scared to have to go through all of this alone. Instead of having my partner there for me to help me through those bad days. That’s what partners are supposed to do. Not tell their loved one that they need to do it by themselves. I get that this is something I need to do for me, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want your support. Didn’t need your support. Levi I’m so scared of having to go through life alone. Of not having my person to talk to. Of not having you in my life anymore. You are so special to me. And I adore the shit out of you and I love you so FUCKING much. Just the thought that you might never come back, makes me so nauseated and dizzy. You might not have always said what I wanted to hear, but you were always there when I needed a friend. When I needed a shoulder to cry on. This shit is just too fucking much. I’m taking this one day at a time and today just isn’t a good one. I don’t know how to process this because I don’t know what happened. What happened for you to just fall out of love with me. And I don’t know how to handle or cope with being alone. With being completely by myself. Because everyday I’ve had a distraction and today is the first day I’m truly alone. I don’t know how to handle this. And I want to run to you. Into your arms. I want to cry to you. I just want to feel my feelings with you there.

I’m so frustrated because I’m going through such a rollercoaster of emotions. Yesterday, I felt at peace with our situation. Today, I’m a god damn fucking mess. A mess that can’t even get out of bed to clean up her room and shower. I don’t want to be awake. I just want to sleep until I feel better. I don’t want the ups and the downs. I just want to be okay. I’m mad cause I’ve been lied to for months, and I fucking hate lying. I hate lying so fucking much. And I’ve been lied to, if not since January, then at least since March. Since you left. Because you ran. You didn’t tell me the truth, you thought you could just run away, without any consequences. But the biggest consequence, is the mess you left me in. Having to deal with all this knowledge and all this pain for me got have to deal with alone.

There is still so much in my head that I can’t get out because there’s just so much to process. So much fucking shit to process. I’ve calmed down a bit, thankfully. But I’m still sad. I’m still thinking of you. I’m still wanting to call you. I’m still wishing that you could be beside me and we could just talk this out. But I know that just isn’t how it’s gonna be. No matter how badly I want it to be so. I’m so scared to go through this online therapy alone. I’m so beyond fucking scared. I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared. I haven’t been truly alone in a long fucking time. And I’m scared because I don’t know how to go through this amount of emotions and trauma without self harming. The last time I went through this bad of emotions, I was still self harming. And it’s how I dealt. It wasn’t healthy at fucking all. But it’s how I dealt. I’m not going to hurt myself. Don’t worry. I made a promise in 2012 and I’ve only had one slip up back in 2015. I’ve been clean for 4 1/2 years. And I don’t want to ruin that because I’ve been so proud of myself for that. It has been such an achievement for me. But it’s been really hard to deal with this amount of emotions, especially since every part of my body reminds me of you. The love you gave to me. The gentleness and kindness you showed me. I feel sick when I look at myself. Cause I imagine you kisses. Your hands that used to be there. Holding me and loving me for who I am. I don’t know what to do without you. You’d always say to me: “an independent woman who don’t need no man, but got one”. And I am, or at least I’m trying to be, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want you there with me.

I’m so scared, that by the end of this, the way you view me, will change. You seeing any of these notes, these letters, will change how you see me. I’m scared that you’re just not gonna want me ever again. And I’m scared you’re gonna love somebody else. That the person you finally let in, isn’t gonna be me. That I’ll just become a lost distant memory. And I’ll just be here. I will never find somebody like you. You are so different. So unique. You are one of a kind, and I’m not saying that as a saying. I’m saying that as a true statement. Your soul and heart. EVERYTHING about you is so special. And the love you give, and the way you gave it to me, it’s never going to leave me. The way you made me feel will never leave me. I will always remember how special and delicate you were with me. I want to fight for this and I want to be given a second chance because I feel like we both deserve it. I really hope you keep your end of the promise. I don’t wanna have this hope for nothing. I can’t seem to stop my brain from focusing on the negatives today. I haven’t stopped crying in 2 hours. Every time I think I’m okay, I think of something else and I’m a mess all over again. I think about those 2 anxiety attacks in High River back in January. And how those might have contributed to how you started to feel. With you falling out of love with me. Some days are worse. So much worse. Especially in winter. And you left me alone that one day. You didn’t know how to deal with it. With me. But you didn’t even try either. I wish you at least asked me what you could have done for me. I wished that you stayed by my side as I felt. As I went through those emotions I didn’t want to be feeling. I woke up that day feeling sad. So sad. And I didn’t know how to process it because it was sudden and I didn’t want them. Not while we were with your family, but it happened and I had to deal. But you left me all alone to deal with it by myself. And I’m sorry if I took you away from enjoying time with your mom because I know how excited you were to see her then. It’s not like I fucking asked for this. Like I asked for those anxiety attacks. But you act like I did. Like they were 100% in my control. We both handled that situation poorly. And I don’t think we ever talked about it afterwards. I want to call you SO BAD and ask how you felt during that time and how we both could have handled a situation like that better. I’m frustrated because you hid from me after that. For weeks. Instead of talking it out. I so wish we could have talked it out Levi. I never wanted any of this anxiety. I never asked for these fucking illnesses. I may not have had the best ways of coping, but I managed. You make it seem like I should have it under control. Like I should have had this shit under control. You know, even with the proper coping mechanisms and proper treatment, be it therapy, medication, both, more, less. Bad days are still going to happen. And it seems like every single time, that I had one, which were only a handful, you distanced yourself from me and I had to be all alone. My partner left me all alone to deal with something I never wanted. Something I wish I could throw away. A partner is supposed to be there with you to help ease the pain as we go through those bad days and you just never did. I knew you needed your own space so I never asked to see you more than once a week. Even though I so desperately wanted to see you more often than that. But I pushed my selfish wants back and let you have your space. I just wish that when I really needed you, you were there. Instead of distancing yourself completely from me. I wish we BOTH handled everything differently. I know I need help. I’ve known for a long time, but I have self destructive tendencies, which I know is a problem, but that’s besides the point. But when you care for someone, and you see that. You see them suffering, why didn’t you voice it to me that you didn’t like seeing me like that.? Why didn’t you voice to me that you think that I should get help because I deserve it. I deserve to be happy?

I don’t understand any of my feelings. I don’t understand any of this. This WHOLE FUCKING POST. It’s just rambling. Rambling as I fucking feel. Rambling as everything just comes to mind. I’m mad. I’m sad. And I love and miss you so dearly and so much. I just want to hold you. I wish that none of this happened. Your 26th birthday is coming up and I am so sad because I couldn’t spend it with you last year. And I wasn’t supposed to this year either because of the concert and I felt bad but I thought we had more. But it got cancelled and I was thinking about driving down there to surprise you. Because I wanted to see you on that day. And I won’t be doing that. I can’t even wish you a happy birthday because I don’t know if you’d wanna hear from me. Or if it would be too hard or too much. And I think about how you didn’t get to be here for my birthday last year either. And how I was excited for this year. To spend it with my boy. Especially since last year, I had a really rough day. There’s so much that I was looking forward to. Like spending our summer days outside together. Hanging out with your animals and your mom. THERE WAS JUST SO MUCH. and I feel so unfair. This post is just too much and too long. It’s just my fucking spiderweb mess of emotions. And I need to go shower and eat. And just get out of this bed before I go crazy. I’m sorry if you see any of this. I’m sorry that you had to deal with so much. I’m just sorry. I’m just so so sorry. I love you and I miss you so much. So much that words will never be able to describe. I hope you’re having a better day than I am.

#sad #so fucking sad #angry #hurt #heartbroken #yearning #for you #i miss you #i love you #i’m sorry #i’m so so sorry #i need to get out of my head #my boy #personal #may 19th #2020 #journal

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