#spent time on my interests too and kept myself distracted
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Fall away (p5)
Inumaki Toge x fém!reader
Had I lived a life of weakness, or was I simply realizing just how strong everyone else around me had become? I stood in the middle of the training yard, fending off attacks from Yuta. He had decided to be my sparring partner today.
He had introduced himself to me earlier, almost shaking from his own nervousness. He was Inumaki’s best friend, I knew I would have to talk with him eventually, but today seemed off to me.
I knew that he was on a mission with the others, but I had no idea that when he’d gotten back that he would have a sudden interest in me. Though, I had learned recently from Gojo, that we had similar abilities. While Yuta failed to use a technique like the rest of us did with the exceptions of Maki, he still possessed a cursed spirit within himself known as Rika. Maki had warned me of her, as she had had a flaming jealousy of Maki from their first meeting. The only explanation of this was that Maki was another female that knew Yuta; though the flame in her eyes and the blush creeping onto her cheeks explained something entirely different. I kept that to myself in case Maki ever tormented me about Toge again.
“You’re fast, but your punches are pulled.” Yuta stated confidently with a small chuckle. I grimaced, noticing the gazes of our peers on the sidelines.
“Im not pulling punches, Yuta! You have a katana.” He shrugged, throwing it to me.
“Now you have a katana. Let’s see if we can fight evenly now.” I glared at him, readying myself for the next battle.
I completely willed my cursed energy to my core as Toge had instructed. I felt it flow through my body, pulse in my veins. I figured the only way to wield a weapon with zero cursed energy would be to use my own, I allowed it to flow into the wooden katana all at once, pushing as hard as I could to focus the energy. I saw Yuji give me a thumbs up from the sidelines.
Yuta now had Maki’s staff in his hands. She was standing awkwardly beside Panda with no explanation. I knew she must have given it to him.
He threw the first attack, nearly sweeping my legs out from under me. I had been distracted and he had used this to his advantage. I stood completely, dodging his next move with ease. Our weapons were crossed, and I pushed him further back, causing him to falter and stumble slightly.
“Fast and strong, I see.” I didn’t bother responding, only pushing further into battle.
I swiped at him with the katana. He narrowly blocked before twirling the staff. I blocked with my forearm, allowing the sting to flow through me and create more cursed energy. I focused it all into the katana, swinging at the arm that held the staff. My eyes widened.
The wooden katana had shattered as he easily blocked the blow and knocked me from my feet. He poked my forehead with the staff before offering me a hand that I reluctantly took to stand up once again.
“When focusing cursed energy into a weapon as you have just done, it can be vital to succeed; however, when done too hastily and forcefully, it will cause damage to you rather than your opponent.” He spoke clearly as if he had had experience. I nodded, taking note.
“So, by pushing cursed energy gradually, it will be more effective.” He smiled.
“Correct.”
We had met the others on the sidelines, allowing for criticism on both ends of our fight. Toge took my hand, sizing me up for any injuries that might need tending to. He smiled down at me before tugging his scarf back up to hide his markings once more.
“Salmon.” He stated, congratulating my progress as he always did. It was my turn to smile at him this time.
“I still have much to learn, Toge.” He nodded in agreement.
So much to learn and so little time to do so. Gojo had informed me early this morning after a night of celebration that the group had returned safely that I was to go on my first mission today. I had finally spent the night in my room again, too scared to sleep but too scared to call for Toge. Yuji had checked on me a few times, which I was grateful for, but it didn’t help the sleepless night that I endured. Now I was to go on a mission?
“You will be accompanied by Fushiguro, mostly to spectate you in case the time is of need, but accompanying you nonetheless.” I nodded blankly, his words barely registering.
Now, we were being sent to an abandoned school on the outskirts of Tokyo. I had never even heard the name before, surprisingly. I suppose it had been cursed for some time now.
Ijichi drove us to the spot, lowing the veil and wishing us luck. He didn’t speak much I had come to realize, but a colleague regardless. Besides, that made things easier on me.
“The spirit is possibly a low grade 3, I doubt it will give you any trouble considering your skills, y/l/n”. He had said to me beforehand. Megumi had listened in, taking in the debrief with open ears. He didn’t speak much either.
We slowly walked into the horrifying building. Graffiti covered the gates and the outside walls.
“Kids must hang around this place a lot.” Megumi noted. “Be on the lookout for innocents.” I nodded, keeping my weary eyes as peeled as possible.
Our footsteps echoed in the hallways, they seemed to stretch for miles. I had decided to sweep the second floor myself, keeping Megumi to the first floor. I figured we’d get more done that way.
“If you see anything, don’t immediately attack unless you know for utmost certainty that you can handle it by yourself.” He kept his voice low, but it was still lethal.
“I’ll be ready.” He nodded, continuing down the hallway as I ascended up the rickety stairway.
Every little noise I heard made me jump. Fear brimmed my senses, sending my pulse into fight or flight. A rat scurried across the floor with a squeak, causing me to almost lose balance.
Pull yourself together, y/n. It’s just a mouse.
I heard a growl from somewhere in front of me. It sounded hungry, needy. Almost immediately, I felt the presence of whatever cursed spirit lied beneath the folds of darkness that blanketed the hall. I heard slow footsteps followed by a small chuckle. A cold chill traced my spine.
Disobeying every intelligent cell in my body, I walked further into the darkness. The hum of cursed energy released itself upon me. I focused it, sending it throughout my body. I unsheathed my katana, remembering my training with Yuta yesterday. My muscles still ached even after.
Though I could see nothing, I could feel the direction the spirit was. Its cursed energy seemed to be the strongest inside one of the classrooms. Reluctantly, I opened the door, whirling around for any immediate dangers.
I can see nothing here.
I heard another soft chuckle followed by a bellowing groan. The sound of saliva hitting the floor woke me from my internal slumber. I felt my organs rearranging themselves as my eyes darted to the corner of the room to be met with an ugly, humanoid being like the one that had entered my room all those nights ago. My fear overtook my emotions. My heart plummeted quickly, feeling every muscle in my body tense as the thing lunged for me.
I instantly threw myself into battle, swiping my katana and trying my best to focus my energy at the same time while my fear seemed to control my movements. I couldn’t let my instincts take over, as if something was holding me back.
“Don’t be afraid, little one. I don’t bite.” It cooed before lunging itself at me once more. I swung the katana with force, starting to regain control of my muscles again. I smiled lightly at the beast.
“I don’t know this fear in which you speak of, I’d like to meet them someday.” I said with a chuckle, slicing into the arm of the beast. It screamed loudly, probably alerting any bystanders of its presence.
It slashed its claws angrily, trying its best to regain the upper hand. My smile had grown ferocious, my cursed energy pounding within my veins. I focused it gradually in the katana as Yuta had told me to. I was starting to enjoy this.
My instincts had started to kick in. I dodged every attack with minimal effort. It hissed and screamed and wailed as I continued to wear it down. A slash to the arm, a cut limb, an elbow to the face. My cursed energy poured through my body, hounding the spirit with no trouble at all.
“You don’t know fear, yet you tremble where you stand.” It mocked me. “It’s so strong I can almost taste it.” I smirked, twirling my katana from my back and readying myself once more for an unpredicted lunge. I stared into its black eyes, feeling the void within. I felt the anger, the urge to kill on instinct. It welled within the spirit, overriding every other emotion. Ichiji had awoken it from its slumber with the veil, the only thing it wished to do was reside happily inside the haunting school. I spat at its feet.
“Is that why you’re bleeding and there isn’t even a scratch on me?” I laughed at it, mocking its very existence. “I’ll allow you to go back to sleep if you’d like. Though, this privilege will be much more permanent.” It attempted to attack, but I easily countered. I had started to lose myself in the bloodthirsty rage that was cursed sorcery. I laughed as I cut through its chest, into the place where its heart should have been. I pulled my sword free, watching it fall to the ground with a thump.
It was still alive, but only at my mercy. I heard its jagged cries, I felt every welled emotion releasing itself into my mind relentlessly. I saw my own death once again flashing behind my lids every time I blinked. It’s hot blood dripped from my blade.
“How does it feel to sleep?” I asked it, beckoning it to answer to me. It growled, looking up at me with a malicious grin.
“I’ll never be able to answer you that. I’ll only be reborn once more. This time, I’ll be stronger, and your life will mean nothing-“
I had placed my hand on its head, gripping it hard enough to bruise. It winced, baring its jagged teeth. I laughed again.
I felt the energy within it decreasing as well as its malicious emotions. They seeped into my skin as the beast had started dissipating. I heard rushed footsteps from down the hall.
“Y/n!” Megumi called in terror. His eyes grew large at the sight unfolding before him.
I gripped harder, feeling its life drain into the palm of my hand in the shape of a bronze orb that was colored like the spirits skin. It whirled and buzzed within my grasp. Megumi tried to run to me, but his muscles wouldn’t move.
It felt as though I weren’t myself, as if I was spectating and watching whoever was controlling my body. Without a second thought, I shoved the orb into my mouth, swallowing it whole.
“Y/n?” Megumi had frozen in shock. He had no idea what he had witnessed, and truth be told, neither did I. Before I could answer, I dropped to my knees. I was shaking violently. The aftertaste in my mouth tasted like death itself, the taste alone making me gag and wail. I felt a tear fall from my eye.
“Are you okay?” Megumi asked, rushing towards me. “What the hell did you expect it to taste like!?” I ignored his comment, not able to speak anyway. My cursed energy had felt stronger, lighter. My senses felt almost heightened as I stared up at Megumi, who was also trying to make sense of whatever the hell was happening.
“Did I really swallow that thing?” I asked, finally regaining my ability to move without throwing up. He gasped.
“Did you not intend to?!” He shouted, frustrated. I felt sorry for him.
“Not exactly.” I stated, standing and dusting myself off. Blood that wasn’t my own coated my new uniform.
We walked out together. I noticed Megumi looked roughed up a little, I suppose he had encountered a spirit of his own. Ijichi didn’t say a word as the veil was lifted and we drove back to the school.
Inumaki was pacing his room, not wanting to train with the others today. He had blocked all possibilities of something happening to you out of his mind just to keep himself sane. He hadn’t known you for long, and he didn’t exactly know how he already worried so strongly for you; but he did know you were a lot like Yuta. He knew your past wasn’t the best, he knew some of the things you struggled with, and he also knew that you had just learned many things about your family and your history that probably didn’t sit well with you. Not to mention, you hadn’t stayed with him the night before, and he hadn’t been able to see you before you left.
He heard a knock from the outside of his room, and without thinking he immediately opened the door. Gojo was standing there.
“Fushiguro and Y/l/n have returned, I figured you’d want to know. The others are making their way down as we speak-“ without uttering a word or letting Gojo finish, he pushed past him and started sprinting towards the main entrance. He had to make sure you were okay.
Gojo chuckled, watching the lovestruck boy run after the girl he didn’t even realize he loved.
I stood at the gate, Megumi beside me as Ijichi drove the car around to park. God knows how long it’s really been since we left, and I felt the weight of my lids drooping with every movement. I glanced around at the school that was shaded in orange from the setting sun. Had it been all day? I figured it would’ve taken longer than that.
Without warning, I was tackled in a bone crushing hug. I looked over, surprised to see the platinum blonde boy squeezing me to death. He pulled away quickly, eyes growing wild at the blood staining my uniform. He grabbed my hand and instantly started running back inside. I had no choice but to follow behind him, my entire body aching with each movement. He didn’t slow his pace until we reached what I knew to be rather familiar: the infirmary.
“Tuna, tuna!” He said, his lungs struggling for air. I looked at him, feeling his every crazed emotion. Had he forgotten to put up a mental shield?
Shoko looked me up and down, inspecting my entire body. I felt like I was being judged, I didn’t like this. I flushed.
“I don’t see anything wrong with her, Inumaki. Is everything alright?” He bowed to her slightly in thanks.
“Bonito flakes.” He said simply. I gave Shoko an apologetic smile.
“I’m not really sure, either honestly.” I said, still shaken from the soul I had absorbed. She noticed me stifle a gag at the thought, though she didn’t mention it.
Gojo walked in behind us with Megumi, who seemed to be slightly injured himself.
“You forgot the injured one, Inumaki.” He stated with a small smirk. I rolled my eyes, knowing what he was thinking. He turned his attention to me. “I believe we have some things to discuss?” I nodded, expecting fully for Megumi to mention something about what he had witnessed. He sent me an apologetic look to which I smiled back.
Gojo led me out of the room, leaving Inumaki pacing the hallway as I stood in Gojo’s ‘office’ once more.
“Did you really swallow it?” He asked me, no humor sweeping his tone whatsoever. He was dead serious. I felt the tension in the room rise significantly.
“Yes.” I stated simply. “I’m not even fully aware of why I did something like that. I didn’t feel completely in control. I was sort of living off instincts purely.” He nodded.
“Fushiguro mentioned that, too. Though, you don’t even have a scratch on you, and I’m certain that was at least a semi grade one cursed spirit. You spoke to it?” I shrugged.
“We had a conversation, yes.” He hummed.
“The fact that it not only could understand your Japanese, it could also form sentences that you could understand as well, is utterly terrifying to me.” He stated before continuing. “Though, something else is also concerning me quite a bit.” He started.
I tilted my head slightly, not exactly sure what he was leading into.
“Why did Inumaki tackle you?” His grin grew wider and wider as a blush grew on his cheeks. I scowled, pointing at him.
“Now isn’t the time for that, Gojo!” I yelled, walking for the door. He continued to giggle.
“Keep living in denial, y/l/n!” And I continued out of the room without another word. Toge was waiting outside with a small blush tinting his cheeks. He must have heard Gojo’s teasing.
Despite the excitement of today, I was absolutely exhausted. Toge grabbed my hand, sensing my exhaustion, and led me to my room. I didn’t even bother changing, I just flopped onto the bed while Inumaki sat at my feet. He kept eyeing me, as if still worried something was wrong with me. I sent him a questioning glance, he pulled out his phone and started typing once again.
“Are you feeling okay?” The robotic voice of his phone said. I nodded slowly with a small smile, motioning for him to unzip his collar. He did so hesitantly, giving me a shy smile.
I sat up straight, wrapping my arms around him. He flushed slightly and his muscles tensed before easing into my embrace.
“I’m fine, Toge. I promise. I’m just exhausted. I didn’t really sleep last night.” He coughed lightly before typing again.
“Why didn’t you come get me?” His phone spoke again. I chuckled.
“I didn’t want to be a bother to you anymore than I was.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His touch was gentle, caring.
“Never.” He muttered. His voice never ceased to make my heart melt, no matter how much he spoke.
He kissed me softly before pulling away just as quickly. Neither of us were aware of what we were now, but we both knew we liked this. My face was a mess, I wanted more but I was exhausted.
I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling his heart beat faster. His warmth comforted me, his touch slowed my anxiety.
I fell asleep thinking about Toge once again, erasing the gruesome sight I had been forced to play in only hours before.
Sorry this one’s so short! A lot has been going on recently 🥲
Tag list: @grilledbananas @sillygoose3082
#fall away#jjk inumaki#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk#jjk fanart#jjk spoilers#inumaki toge#inumaki x y/n#inumaki x you#jujutsu kaisen inumaki#inumaki x reader#inumaki smau#inumaki fluff#inumaki fanart
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happy things of the day: the judgies podcast, candy, did a bunch of self care which i only realized afterwards
#been super anxious and sure i gave into it a lot today but i ate food even though it was super hard#i reached out to a friend and it helped#spent time on my interests too and kept myself distracted#happy things
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M. Marner - Depths Of Love
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Mitch Marner x Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
Warning(s): death of a loved one, angst, coping, moving on.
“We grew together, and now are grown. In her eyes, I see my heart. In her breath, I hear my soul. She is my land. She is my skin. My love.”
“All wounds heal. Even these."
“I'll never be healed of Eo. That pain will last forever.”
"Some things do not fade. Some things can never be made right.”
“There’s pain when I hold her, but it comes from the past…. She is something new, something hopeful. Like spring to my deep winter.”
Bonus points if you know the books these quotes are from!
I didn’t know what I wanted to write at first, I just knew I wanted to write for Mitch.
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“Mitch?” Auston stepped up beside his friend, resting a hand on the chilly damp fabric of Mitch’s suit jacket.
“I know.. I know.. I’m gonna get there.”
“There’s no rush, bud. Take your time.”
They stood together for what felt like hours. Mitch held the red rose in his hands, as delicately as he held her hand when she passed. Auston’s hand remained on his back, occasionally rubbing in an effort to console his lost friend. Mitch’s eyes had been red since he woke up that morning. His body had been on autopilot, gathering the belongings and items that had to go home with her family. Putting on a black suit he stuffed in the back of the closet forever ago. A black suit he said he never wanted to wear because it was too mundane. He had cooler things to wear. Now he understood why black fit funerals so well.
“What’s going through your mind?”
Mitch let out a shaky sigh.
“She’s gone. I’m gonna drop this flower and that’s just that.. she’s gone. They’re gonna-“ he choked on a breath of air, tears spilling down his cheeks once again.
“Buddy, you have to drop it eventually.”
“I didn’t want her to go.”
It was untimely. They’d just gotten engaged. They just began a binder full of wedding plans. She just began her journalist career. She had an extensive article on Mitch’s career she wanted to publish.
Then she got sick. Mitch’s world slipped from his fingertips more and more every day. He didn’t know how to grip onto anything when it was all just sand, blowing away. He lost it all so quickly. He felt like his whole world lost its meaning. The sun set, and the moon was dull. The stars in the sky didn’t even entice him. Nothing sounded interesting when she wasn’t there next to him.
Mitch released the flower only as a means to free his hands to grab ahold of Auston. Matthews’ arms enveloped Mitch in a grasp that was desperate and understanding. Auston held onto Mitch while he sobbed, the simple sound of agony causing the others gathered to allow the tears of their own to fall.
Mitch clung to Auston through the transition. Cleaning his house, attending therapy, deciding how to move forward, returning to hockey. He kept in touch with her family for the first week or so, then at some point, they all stopped texting and calling. It took months before Mitch’s life returned to a routine normalcy that was much like the one before her. Zeus slept in the bed again, his late nights were spent watching tv in bed, his dishes were only cleaned when the sink was full.
Sometimes Mitch slipped up to his attic to visit her. The items of hers that he kept. The wedding plans, the ring, the few articles of clothing. Sometimes he’d spend so many hours up there, that he’d fall asleep. Then eventually, he stopped visiting. His life became hectic. Enveloped it hockey. A firm distraction. A good one.
Then we met. Mitch’s smiles reached his eyes again. His giggles sounded genuine. The center of his world shifted again, to hold myself and hockey. He was guarded at first, but I was patient. I met her before I met his family. Mitch told me of her. She seemed wonderful. Like somebody I would have been friends with. Which was why I made a silent promise to myself, that I would not turn him into somebody she would have hated. I made a silent promise to her, that I would protect him. Hold him, and care for him. And that’s what I did.
Some days were better than others. We’d stay in and cook, or go out for dinner and dessert. Sometimes Mitch wanted me to join him for a quick skate. Other days, he wanted to join me in bed while I read. It wasn’t always perfect. Sometimes he’d randomly cry. I learned, sometimes I simply had to stop whatever I was doing to be there for him. If he wanted it. He was good at hiding away when he didn’t want any consolation. Other times, he’d be gone so long that I’d go looking for him, only to find him struggling to breathe in the corner of his room, on the floor with his dog curled up by his feet.
“Mitchy?” I cooed as my feet padded down the hall, stepping into the bedroom I woke up in. He was laid out on his stomach, in bed. His muscles looked tense, easily noticeable due to the lack of a shirt. I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell by his heaving breaths that something wasn’t right. Then I heard his soft cries.
I slowly wandered over to the bed and climbed in next to him, laying on my stomach and tossing an arm over his back to gently rub his skin.
“Deep breaths, sweetie.” I’d press occasional kisses to the side of his arm.
“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken.
“Don’t rush, hun.”
At some point, the tears stopped and the kisses began. Mitch would never forget her. She would never leave his heart, but he let go of the guilt. He told her of me. He told her how much he loved me. He showed her the ring he bought before he ever showed Auston.
“I think she’s really gonna love it.” Mitch smiled down at the ring box in his hands, seated in the grass by her headstone. “She loves square diamonds.“ He shook his head in disbelief. “I really hope she says yes.”
I did. It was a no brainer when he got down on one knee. When he asked me to spend his forever with him, I didn’t have any doubts. I worked far too hard, and loved him too much, to give him up.
There were moments after the engagement where he was tense. Nervous and stressed over recalling the moments when he lost his late fiancé. I had to remind Mitch that the uncertainty couldn’t stop him from living. I couldn’t assure him that he wouldn’t lose me. There would always be that possibility. What I did tell him, was that it was important to live in the moments while they last. To forget about the ‘what ifs.’
Mitch asked if his dog could be the ring bearer. I made him promise that Zeus wouldn’t jump on everybody. We comprised that Auston could walk the dog down the aisle.
“We are gathered here today…”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” He whispered through clenched teeth. Mitch’s smile was contagiously wide. We stood so close that the priest was almost unable to be seen between us.
“I love you,” I spoke in a hushed tone. Mitch’s cheeks flushed.
“Don’t say it yet.” He squeezed my hands.
“Are we done yet?” Our heads snapped in the priest’s direction, our faces flushing.
“Sorry.” Mitch muttered.
The ceremony went by in a twinkle of wonder. Mitch pulled his vows from his pocket in the form of notes on his phone. I had done the same on my own, but my dress didn’t have pockets, so my maid of honor had to hold my phone for me until I was ready for it.
“Okay..” Mitch blew out a tense puff of air. He held his phone up, big blue eyes flickering between myself and his phone.
“Mitchy.” I caught his attention. “There’s no rush. Take your time.” The tension eased from his shoulders, then he nodded.
“Your patience gave me time to grow. I didn’t know what to do with my life for a period of time. I was walking in circles, until you paved a new path, and held my hand every step of the way. I get lost easily. Incredibly easily. And I couldn’t have fallen more in love with you than I did. I know it wasn’t easy.” I wanted to wipe the tears from his cheeks, but for the sake of not distracting him, I kept my hands to myself. “I know I made it hard on you, but I’m so happy you stuck it out. I can’t wait to spend every tomorrow with you.”
Only when he put his phone away, did I reach out to cup his cheeks in my hands. Mitch sniffled quietly. I would have kissed him then and there, if not for tradition.
“Miss?”
“I’m getting there.” I answered the priest with a quiet laugh. I pulled away from Mitch and turned to my bridesmaid to grab my phone. When I looked back at him, I reached for his hand with my free one.
“Mitchell,” the use of his full name made him smile. “You hold my soul. My entire being. You fulfill a part of me that nobody else could. We’ve grown together, and we’ll continue to do so. The timing with which we met each other, was perfect. One second later would have been too late. Please never forget my vow to love you for eternity. Even as the days pass by, and we grow old.”
When we kissed, I could feel the tears on Mitch’s cheeks. The cheering and excitement in the background was just that. Background noise. Our first kiss was as intimate as our first dance. We felt like the only two in the room, sharing moments we never thought we would have the privilege of sharing with anybody.
Mitch spun me around, content smiles on our lips. His hands found my hips when I faced him again.
At some point the song ended, but we never stopped swaying. Mitch’s arms wrapped around my midsection, and his chin came to rest on top of my head. There was the occasional flash from a camera, quiet whispers, but nobody said a word to us for a while. Until I heard Mitch’s mother from behind him.
“Mitchell?”
“I’m not done yet.” He fussed, his grip tightening around my body.
“There’s no rush, baby. I just wanted a photo.” He slowly turned us in her direction. I lifted my head from where it had been resting against his chest.
“Smile for me, sweethearts.” The woman held her phone up. When the flash of her camera lit up the dim room, we both laughed.
“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you guys alone now.” She squeezed her son’s arm before slipping off to find her husband.
Mitch and I slowly looked back at one another.
“I can’t wait to get you home,” he confessed softly as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“No rush, baby.”
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#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#mitch marner#mitch marner x reader#mitch marner imagine#mitch marner blurb#auston matthews
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Midnight Melody Part 2
Please read Part 1. GN!MC x Ominis Gaunt: deep feels and fluff, jealous Ominis, and a first kiss.
In the 2 weeks that MC had spent sneaking out to the common room to sit with Ominis whilst he played piano, they had come to decide that they liked his company very much indeed. How easy it had become to sit on the bench next to him, the touch of thigh now a welcome comfort. How charmed they had become to hold conversation with him, learning that they shared a love for the same books and music. There was a tranquility to be found in his company, and it was becoming a delight to their heart. Missed sleep was no longer an anguish, not when it was for a pleasant reason.
During the day, through lessons and shared school activities, their talk was kept to the minimum, mostly about the work in shared classes. At dinner, MC sat near Ominis, but most of the time was held in conversation with Sebastian. Any chance to talk about a shared passion kept for the later hour in the quiet of the common room. But this was alright, in fact it was more than alright, it made the time more personal, special.
MC was sitting up in bed reading, waiting for the others in their room to drift off to sleep, a book spread on their lap. Eventually the steady sounds of sleep filled the room, and despite themselves, MC felt a little sleepy too. But, the pull of time spent with Ominis won out, and they slipped from the dormitory in slippers and a robe over their pyjamas.
There were no soft melodies coming from the piano this night. Instead, Ominis was seated in a wing back chair by the fire. He lifted his head up as MC approached, his face clearing from his deep thoughts. "You came," he said.
"Of course," MC said. "Did you think that I wouldn't?"
"You told Sebastian that you were tired at dinner, I assumed you would remain in your bed tonight."
"I was too tired for what Sebastian was proposing. I did not feel like a late night adventure tonight," MC said. "This is much more acceptable."
Ominis nodded slowly, his face turned towards the warmth radiating from the fire in the hearth. He seemed distracted, his face serious and missing the spark of dry humour usually present.
"Is everything alright, Ominis? You seem troubled."
Ominis turned his face their way, his eyes moving a little as if seeking them out. "May I ask you a question?"
"Of course, anything," MC replied.
Ominis hesitated, pressing the fingertips of both hands together. He gave a little sigh. "Would it interest you to learn that Sebastian finds you physically appealing?"
MC felt their jaw drop, their mouth forming an 'O' of surprise. They had not been expecting that at all! A fierce blush spread across their cheeks and they were thankful that Ominis could not see it. "He does?" MC's voice came out a little strangled as they tried to digest this information. "I...I had no idea! Did he tell you this?"
Ominis scowled a little, his mouth almost a pout. "It pleases you then, to know this?"
"Well, I suppose anyone would feel flattered to learn such a thing," MC said. "I had not thought Sebastian would feel that way about me though. I wouldn't have thought I was his type."
"Why ever not?"
MC shrugged. "I imagine Sebastian being with someone far more beautiful, more cultured perhaps, rather than myself with my boring, muggle upbringing."
"Do not put yourself down like that," Ominis said. His voice was low but held that commanding tone that always made MC tremble a little. "I have heard idle chit chat amongst our peers, being without my sight I do tend to listen more than most, and it is clear that your physical attributes are definitely appealing to one's eye. My lack of sight leaves me at a considerable disadvantage I fear, for I am unable to form an opinion of my own on the matter. But what I will say, is that physical beauty aside, I find you to be a most pleasant and appealing person to spend time with, and that counts for a lot in my book."
Ominis sat back in his chair, breathing a little faster after his impassioned speech, and his hands gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white. MC swallowed thickly, overcome with many emotions at those words. As they said, it was always nice to hear that one's physical appearance was appealing, but the praise that had tumbled from their new friend's lips had brought a rather pleasing flush of warmth to spread through their body. To know that Ominis prized their company as much as they did was beyond a delight. He was right, that was something to be highly treasured, but still, MC felt the pain of him not knowing what they looked like. It was a disadvantage in some ways because as MC allowed their gaze to travel over him, noting the delicate curve of his mouth, the fine bone structure of his cheeks and hands, they knew it would be a terrible shame to not be able to appreciate such handsome features.
Moved to ease the obvious upset on Ominis' face, MC settled onto their knees before his chair and placed a hesitant hand over his. Ominis tensed immediately at the contact and MC paused. "Forgive me," they murmured. "May I touch you?"
"Why?" He sounded suspicious.
"Its alright," MC soothed. "I did not mean to startle you. I just wish to allow you a chance to see me. It grieves me to learn it upsets you. I do not like the thought of you being upset. Let me try something, please?"
Ominis remained hesitant but he gave a small nod. "Very well."
MC raised up onto their knees and shuffled a little closer before taking up Ominis' hand into their own. MC could feel the tremble of nerves in their hand as they guided his to their face. "You said that you rely on your other senses to aid you when navigating the world," MC said. They placed his hand against their cheek, his fingers cool against their flushed skin. "Please, feel free to use touch to see me, trace the lines of my face so that you may have some idea of what others get to see."
Ominis trained his gaze on their face in that eerie way he had of looking but not seeing. His lips parted in surprise and MC thought that his breathing had notched up a gear. "You would really allow me to do this?" His voice barely above a whisper.
"Please, do," MC said, equally as soft.
Ominis sat forward and brought his other hand up to MC's face. Finger tips swept smoothly over their cheeks, tracing the shape of cheekbone and jaw, drawing upwards to slide across the brow and down the bridge of their nose. His index finger slid down over the tip of their nose and into the dip above their top lip. MC swallowed, a tingly fire seeming to wake and kiss their skin as Ominis traced the curve of their lips. A flush spread across his cheeks as MC's lips flexed under his touch, almost as though to kiss the tips of his fingers.
His touch was gentle and sensitive, not intrusive at all, and yet there was an intimacy to it. MC found that they craved more of it and felt bereft when Ominis finally drew his hands back. "Well? What is your verdict?" MC could hear the husky nature of their own voice and resisted the urge to clear their throat.
"I want to thank you for your trust in allowing me to touch you like that," he said. "And while I am no expert, it is as they say, you are exquisite."
MC drew in a shaky breath, their heart bursting with a joy that they had never known before. Without thinking, they clasped his hands in their own. "Oh Ominis, thank you," they said. Hot tears stung the backs of their eyes. "And please, allow me to return such courtesy by confessing that to me you are, by far, the most attractive person I have had the fortune to spend time with. You bring me so much joy, such pleasure at a time when life has been terribly difficult. Of course, Sebastian has been invaluable with his support, and I am flattered by his praise of me. But it pales next to the honour your own words bestow on me. You have no idea how much I value our time together, and you must forgive this emotional outburst from me. I fear that I have become rather emotional."
"MC," he breathed. His hands held theirs in a firm grip. "I too value our time together. And there is nothing to forgive. You...you move me."
MC did not think that a heart could pound so hard and continue to survive, and yet theirs was doing a fine job of it indeed. "Ominis," they said, moving ever closer towards him. They pulled a hand free and reached up to cup his face. Ominis closed his eyes at the gentle touch. "You have moved me too, so much so that...I...I am rather overcome with a need to kiss you. Would that be acceptable to you?"
A smile graced his lips and he drew MC so close that they were now pressed up against the chair, their face inches from his as he leaned towards them. "More than acceptable," he said. "In fact, I must insist on it."
A first kiss is always one that means so much to one who saves it for someone deserving of it. MC had never dreamed of this moment being as special as it was. This strange, magical world had thrown so many delights in their path, so much to inspire awe and wonder. But it all paled in comparison to the touch of his lips against theirs. The delicate touch, the warmth, the sheer intimacy of lips against lips awoke a hunger inside MC that they had never known existed. Lips that shared thoughts and dreams, lips that could smile and coax laughter were now sharing a unique tenderness and desire that brought tears to MC's eyes.
When finally the kiss ended, MC felt the press of his forehead against theirs, but they kept their eyes closed, savouring the moment. Hands clung on to each other, needing the contact to keep them grounded.
"I feel like I could never stop now that I have started," Ominis whispered. "I cannot tell you how glad I am that you came to Hogwarts."
"Then let us never stop," MC declared. "With you I feel like I will never feel lonely again. My heart is yours should you wish it, and my price is to have your kiss whenever I desire it."
"I do wish it and accept it gladly, and as for my kiss, you may have as many as you need, starting as of now."
As their lips met again, MC felt a tear slide from their eye, their hands moving to hold Ominis as close to their heart as possible. Where he belonged.
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Maybe the "When was I supposed to find out? When it was too late?!" Prompt with Albedo. Like reader says that to him after a misunderstanding with Mona or maybe even Sucrose since the windblume event is going on
Gender neutral reader angst, Sucrose is basically the supportive friend of readers and it's Mona where the misunderstanding comes in.
--
You were hanging out with Sucrose, enjoying lunch together when the topic of Albedo came up.
"I haven't been able to find my boyfriend...Do you know where he is?" You ask, Sucrose letting out a thoughtful noise. "Usually we spend more time with each other, but I've not seen him in the last week..."
"Well, I think he's working on a commission. If you want, I can show you where I last saw him." Sucrose suggests, you nodding. "L-lets finish this first though." She states, looking down at her plate.
--
You hear Albedo talking to Mona, someone you didn't know especially well. You did, however, know that she was a very attractive woman, and the fact Albedo could have been spending time with her gave you a bad feeling. They were talking to each other, clearly sorting out some sort of arrangement, and you were hoping to wait until their conversation was complete to see him again.
But then you heard Mona say something that concerned you.
"It's a date, then." She states, nodding before walking back to her home. You look at Sucrose, hoping for some sort of reassurance that this wasn't actually what it sounds like. Unfortunately, the look you received was one of pity.
Albedo was finishing up his packing, his plans for illustrating Mona's readings in place and ready to be discussed further.
"When was I supposed to find out?" You ask, storming up to Albedo. "When it was too late?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what-"
"You and Mona! Mona said you two had a date, I heard it!" You exclaim, Albedo still processing what exactly this meant for them. He understood that with Mona, she sometimes said a meetup was a date, even if it was purely friendly and nothing romantic ever occurred on these meetups.
"It all makes sense now. I feel so silly, all of this festival, I was trying to distract myself because I knew you kept your work to yourself." You shake your head, clenching your hands. "I should have connected the dots sooner."
"I can explain." Albedo starts, Sucrose not entirely sure which friend she was to support in this case given the lack of context. "Please, take a seat."
"And listen to you elaborate on you realising you could do better than me? No thank you." You huff, walking back to the city gates as Sucrose, looks between you both before sitting with Albedo.
--
"The Great Astrologist, Mona Megistus, requested that I illustrate some of her works." Albedo starts, Sucrose looking at the papers he was pulling out. "We decided on what pieces to do. The 'date' was purely business."
"Oh..." Sucrose lets out, unsure what she should do in this case. "If you don't mind me asking...Why has this taken over a week?"
"It didn't." Albedo simply states. "The week was mainly spent on looking after Klee, and entertaining the guests from Sumeru. You were there yourself, you know I wouldn't dare cheat."
"In hindsight, I should have told them about the week..." Sucrose trails off. "Maybe I should have dragged you along to some of our chats."
"No, that was entirely my fault. I ought to schedule these dates. Admittedly, I have a habit of getting caught up in a research topic that takes my interest." Albedo tuts.
"Do you want me to say anything to them?" Sucrose asks. Albedo shakes his head no, causing her confusion to come back.
"I need to be the one to explain this. If you would be alright with being there as well, I would appreciate that."
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Forever The Name On My Lips
Summary: Reflecting through their once in a lifetime love, Reader finds themselves seeing that old familiar face they never thought they'd see again.
CW: Hopeful ending, sexual innuendo, mentions of prison, guns, spencer getting shot/fear of him dying
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader
Word Count: 5.1K
Author's Note: happy last kiss day friends! it’s a little late but I hope you all like this! please let me know what you think! your comments, reblogs and even "asks" mean everything to me
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Forever The Name On My Lips
The sun dripped into the living room like golden honey. I loved to read beside the big picture window. It was far above the bustling life of the street below and provided fantastic lighting for lazy afternoons spent reading all the books we promised ourselves we would read.
Spencer flipped through the pages of his third, maybe fourth book, as I squandered through the first 100 pages of my first book. Admittedly, he was quite distracting. The sun dashed across his handsome face casting shadows across his nose and lips. His tongue would slip past his lips as he concentrated on the words on the page. Spencer was incredibly distracting and kept me from making headway on my novel.
I rested the book in my lap, reaching to pet Clemmie. She stretched her little body, mostly orange with patches of creamy white, toward my welcoming hand. Scratching under her chin, I smiled to myself, enjoying the absolute tranquility of the afternoon.
“I wish everyday was like this,” I whispered, more to myself than to Spencer, who sat perched in the same position for the last hour. “Just us, Clemmie. Books. Enough iced coffee to sustain an entire small nation,”
Spencer looked up from his book for the first time. He smiled, nodding his head in agreement. I stretched my legs towards him. He massaged my legs, working diligently to get the various knots out. I winced at the satisfying feeling.
“Me too,” Spencer said. He attempted to place his book in his lap to continue reading, but the well-worn paperback kept falling, unable to be propped without hands to support it. “My favorite days are days like today.”
“There’s a new book I want to pick up at Brown’s. It’s an anthology of different authors. It seems interesting. I think you’d like it. It’s a collection of short stories centered around—”
He kissed me, effectively shutting down whatever I was going to tell him about. I loved the way his lips felt against mine. He was so soft. His cardigan was wrapped around my shoulders, something that I would always steal from him. He left here so often I was pretty sure he did it on purpose. I smelt the spicy, warm scent of this body wash that he started to leave in my bathroom. I liked that he left his things, like a cardigan, favorite books and socks, and now body wash. I let the kiss control me as I thought of how this place, my place, was starting to become Spencer’s place too. I think, as Spencer’s lips trailed down my jawline, that I really liked that.
I smiled, covered Spencer’s hand with my own. He continued to rub the kinks from my leg and moved down to my feet.
“Here,” I said, grabbing Spencer’s book. My eyes scanned over the page, double checking that this particular novel wasn’t some Latin tome or near ancient Russian novel, “Romance, eh?” I teased, winking at him, “What are you trying to look for tips, or something?”
Spencer blushed and swatted for the book that I gripped firmly in my hands. I wasn’t going to let him get away with this one, especially when he looked as cute as he did with his cheeks turning red.
“You like them. So I thought I’d try. It’s pretty good so far. But I think I prefer the real thing, if I’m being honest,” he professed, cheeks still a delightful shade of pink.
Smirking, I decided to relent. “You know, I wouldn’t mind checking that real thing you’re talking about,” I offered, hoping that Spencer would get the insinuation. “Because our thing is certainly better than whatever is in this book,”
“Bedroom?”
“Bedroom.”
****
“Tell me what happened,”
It wasn’t a question. Nor was it a statement or a demand. It was something that dwells in between those two things. Spencer laid his head on the cool, freshly washed pillowcase. In the moonlight, I could see the dark purple bags under his eyes. A small bandage was taped above his eyebrow. I didn’t ask about that, but I noticed it. Some things could wait till tomorrow. Other things, like the things that I know will haunt his dreams, those must be dealt with tonight.
“I can’t.” Spencer said. He sounded broken. His voice was caught in his throat so only a scratchy, sad sort of sound slipped out. I hated to see him like this. So distraught, so rundown.
Pulling him close, I tugged the back of his head. I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the way his soft curls felt against my skin. “Yes. Spencer, you can tell me. You’re not going to scare me away, you know that, right?”
Spencer hummed, a nonchalant response that told me more than words ever could. His head was buried in my chest so his voice sounded a million miles away, sort of like his mind must have felt. I scratched his back, running my fingers up and down his cardigan covered torso.
“You’re too good,” Spencer whispered. “I can't hurt you with my job. I can’t. I won’t, Y/N,” Spencer pleaded. He sounded desperate, like the words he uttered wounded him. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around him. I did. But he still felt so far away, even with our heartbeats thumping in sync.
We’re both quiet for a moment. I supposed that even us, two people who never have enough to talk about, can find themselves in a conversation where everything leads to a dead end. I liked to think I understood Spencer well, if I’m being honest I still like to think I do. But there are some things about him, about his job, which is a big piece of him, that I’ll never understand.
“Okay,” I whispered, kissing his shoulder, “You don’t have to tell me what you saw or whatever, but you do have to do something for me. You gotta write it down. Everything you’re thinking. The ugliest, most awful things that I know you’re seeing. Write it down, lock it away with your gun in the safe, burn it for all I care. Let yourself tuck it away. For me. For you. For us, sweetheart,”
Again, he was at a loss for words. Spencer’s eyelashes tickled my cheek, eliciting an ill timed laughter.
“For you,” Spencer muttered. His breath was hot and wet against my skin. His promises echoed around the room. It hung in the air like just waiting to be turned about, examined when we clung together in a sleepless choreography of restless limbs and silent symphony of ranging minds.
“For us,” I corrected, firm in my answer.
It was about us. It had to be, for there to be an us to care about in the first place.
****
It was 1:58 when I got the call.
Looking back, it was naive of me to truly think that this day wouldn’t ever come. I selected a special ringtone for Spencer, this way I’d always know it was him texting or calling if my phone wasn’t in my pocket at the moment. Call it intuition or ESP or whatever, but I remember waking up, startled and terrified, knowing that something was wrong.
I had never heard SSA Hotchner’s voice before. He never liked going out with the team for drinks, but somehow I knew it was him talking to me through Spencer’s cell phone.
“Y/N,” Agent Hotcher’s voice was clipped and business-like, but somewhere I sensed a slight waver.
“Yes? Oh my god, please tell me he’s okay,”
“I can’t make any promises,” he said. His voice was grim. I thought that one day maybe I’ll appreciate the honesty. “Reid has been shot in the neck. He enroute to Walter Reed. You’re his emergency contact,” he explained.
“Yes, yes,” I said. I remember looking for my glasses, but I don’t remember finding them. Agent Hotchner, or Hotch as Spencer affectionately called him, continued to talk to me. Maybe he was telling me that Spencer was going to be fine. Or that Spencer wanted me to know that he loved me. But none of that seemed like the Aaron Hotchner from the stories Spencer told. Yet, I let myself pretend that’s what he was asking.
“I’m on my way. I-I, I can’t lose him. He’s everything to me. I can’t-”
“I’ll send Derek Morgan to get you. You’re in the no shape to drive this late,”
I don’t remember agreeing to Derek coming to pick me up, nor do I remember refusing.
I do remember sitting beside Spencer’s bed. His face looked so pale and clammy in the artificial light. Underneath his nose was an oxygen tube. Blood speckled his cheek. I remember being annoyed that know one cleaned it up for him. But then I remembered that his doctors and nurses had other things, like keeping him alive, to worry about.
I grabbed Spencer’s hand. It was sweaty from the adrenaline that coursed through his body. His hands were so soft, unlike the callouses that collected on my fingertips and palms. Our fingers slotted together perfectly, as if we were made to match.
Sitting there, all I could think about was how lucky I was. Spencer was. We were. And then another thought creeped into my mind just as Spencer finally fell asleep. Suddenly, I saw it all so clearly. A night, not unlike this one, when I’m awoken to the sound of Spencer’s ringtone, but not his sleep-ridden voice at the end. Maybe it’s Agent Hotchner’s or Derek’s or Penelope’s. Maybe it’s the hospital because the entire team is too beside themselves to even call me. I wouldn’t hear anything they said, maybe just bits and pieces. Yet, sitting there staring at the machines he’s hooked up too, I can see it vividly. I can feel the worry drip from my fingertips that tether themselves to Spencer’s hands, I can see the red and white stripes of the flag they’d hand me as they bury the one man I ever thought I could love. I can see so clearly and I know, as I listen to the machines beep, that one day it would end so tragically.
****
It was a selfish choice to make, leaving a man who did nothing but love and honor and cherish me.
I take the bus now. The train reminds me too much of the love that I lost. It’s a little strange, when I think about it. That I left a man that I loved because I was so scared to live in a wolf without, yet here I was. I still loved him, and I suspect I always will. I knew he’d linger like a tattoo kiss and haunt all my what ifs.
The bus is bumpy and filled with agitated passengers eager to get home on a dreary Friday night. The rain poured down and down on the clear windows of the bus. The raindrops fell in bullets, distorting my view of the street. I passed bookstores that Spencer and I frequented, small convenience stores where we’d stop for late night ice cream runs, the empty parking lot where we kissed for the first time in the middle of the weekly farmer’s market.
I can still smell the rain on the pavement. We held our canvas bags of fresh fruits and vegetables as it rained down on us. Spencer even bought a strawberry tart and homemade ice cream from a stand for our dessert. Maybe it was the intimacy of it all, being there with him picking out fruits and vegetables and sampling homemade ice cream. Maybe it just felt right, like it often did with him. Or maybe it was true love. It would have to be true love if I was still thinking about one kiss all those years ago.
I remember tasting the sweetness of the strawberry ice cream he sampled. It was sweet and tart on his lips. And then I remember wanting to taste more. It was like he was so taken by the gesture that he froze. I smiled into the kiss while he melted into it. He dropped the bags of fruits and vegetables to the ground by our feet. I twisted my hands in his hair, uncaring of the passerby that must be annoyed at the public display of affection. His mouth was warm and welcoming as were his hands that roamed the expanse of my back. His lips slotted against mine in a dance too romantic for an overly priced farmer’s market.
I think it was Spencer that parted. Or maybe it was me, I’m not sure. If it was it would make sense, considering how this ended all those years ago. His fingertips dragged my chin up toward the looming, gray sky that was filled with nothing but rainbows and glittering stars in my mind. Spencer kissed me quickly, a sort of bashfulness washing over his face.
“That was…nice,” Spencer surmised. He picked up the forgotten groceries, holding them in one hand now so, I assumed, he could hold mine in the other.
“I think I deserve something a little more generous than just nice, Spencer. You did just feel me up in the middle of a parking lot,”
“I did not feel you up,” Spencer retorted, blushing crimson at my crudeness. He was too cute to not tease. “You kissed me. And then I kissed you. Quite romantically at that. I didn’t feel you up, yet that is,”
I remember stopping, delighted at Spencer’s playful teasing. He smiled at me and I remembered wondering if he saw the cloudy skies and pouring rain as beautiful rainbows and glittery stars too.
“So what you’re saying is if we get this ice cream in the freezer, you’ll feel me up?”
****
I’m not sure if it’s physics or whatever, but if there’s a first kiss then, I suppose, there’s bound to be a last kiss. If the first one was magical and full of rainbows and glittery stars then the last one wasn’t anything like that.
Truth be told, out of the hundreds of kisses shared between us most of them weren’t magical and earth shattering. It’s not to say that they weren’t special, they were. It’s just when I’ve kissed him as much as I did, it becomes second nature. He became part of me, and I part of him.
Maybe that’s why the love affair maimed me so hard and has left me wondering years and years later if it maimed him too.
It was nothing special, our last kiss. It happened so quickly too. Spencer had spent the night, like he did most nights at that point. He was buttering a bagel for me and I snuck up behind him. I remember I wrapped my arms around his torso and breathed him in. He smelt like fresh coffee and sweet pastries. I planted three kisses on his shoulder blades as a thank you for the bagel. And then he kissed me, quickly, chastely. It was the kind of kiss that I liked so much. It was something small because we both knew there would be time later for something a little more special.
I still remember the look on his face on that July ninth. We fought that night again about his job. He went into a hostage situation without a vest on, breaking protocol. I didn't want to lose him, I didn't want this to end. I would never want to live in a Spencer Reid-less world.
I remember I argued with him, we both slung venom laced insults and regrettable snide comments, that we were too ashamed to discuss that morning. I left, deciding to spend the night on Penelope's couch. I learned, painstakingly, that some good things have an expiry date far too soon than you'd want. It turned out, Spencer and mine was too soon than either of us would have truly liked.
Now I sit in that same kitchen, wearing the brown cardigan he always wore to bed. I know a lot of things about myself. I know how I like my coffee, how I like my eggs cooked, and the thread count of my favorite sheets.
But what I don’t know, is how to be something he missed.
His cardigan smelled like his cologne I bought him on a whim. It was spicy and warm, like bergamot and lime. It tickled my nose, making my eyes sting with the tears of nostalgia. I thought about washing it, clearing away the scent of him from haunting my days. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Washing away the smell of Spencer, the last thing I have of his, would be an act of finality. And despite my choices recently, I didn’t think that I could ever do that.
I never thought we’d have a last kiss. I never thought that we’d end like this. It turned out that freedom is nothing but missing Spencer.
If only I had known when he kissed me that morning that it would be the last time. I would have kissed him like I knew it was the last time. I would have pulled him, tugging at the curls at the bottom of his neck, so we were flush against each other in the throws of passion. It would have been, somehow, sweet and sexy, timid and bold, quick and slow. Yet, I’ve made peace with our last kiss being less special.
Because, goddamn it, at least I kissed him.
I sat on the floor with my back pressed up against the refrigerator. Clemmie popped out of the shadows from her hiding spot in the living room. I held my hand out, letting her rub her face against my palm. Her little wet nose felt slimy against my skin, but I liked it. These days, I need a reminder that I can still feel things beside numbness, pain, and heartache. She sniffed the cardigan that I had wrapped around my torso, probably trying to get as much as Spencer’s scent from it as she could.
“I miss him too,” I told her, bringing her to my chest and kissing her head. She meowed, eager to escape my grasp. “Fine. I’ll let you leave me, too,” I said, the bitter resentment palatable in my tone.
Clemmie, now free from my needy arms, played with something under the refrigerator. She hit it with her paws, trying to get it free. I relented, curious to see what she had.
“Oh,” I said, as I turned the picture magnet in my hand. It was Spencer and me. He had his arms wrapped around me tightly. He did it so often, it’s like I can still feel it even now. I was kissing his cheek, the same cheeks that blushed furiously at compliments and kisses.
“I forgot about this,” I said to no one in particular. “We were cute, weren't we. I really thought we were gonna be something. It would have been fun, if he was the one,”
I used to have nightmares of Spencer dying in all these horrible ways. I dreamt about him coming home to me, nothing but an empty shell of the vibrant man I adored. It haunted me, the thought of not hearing his voice, not feeling his body against mine, not smelling his shampoo.
But now, it’s changed. Now I dreamt of Spencer alive and well and whole. I dreamt of those Sundays that felt so real in my dreams because, at one point, they were. In my sleep, I dreamed that he held me close and kissed my face.
Somehow that was worse than him dying. Maybe. I'm not sure. I'm not sure about most things these days.
****
The bus stop was three blocks from my apartment. The walk was short enough to not be annoying, but long enough to be contemplative. But that day I wasn’t looking for contemplatives. All I thought about was how annoyed at myself I was for not bringing an umbrella. The rain fell in heavy, fat droplets that soaked my shirt and pants through. I dashed through the sidewalks, brushing my fellow city dwellers.
“Shit,” I cursed. I stepped in a puddle that was deeper than it looked. My brown loafers and socks were soaked and I felt the unnervingly warm rainwater coat my skin. I hated the feeling of wet clothes sticking to my skin.
I attempted to walk more briskly, avoiding the biggest puddles and making do with the smaller ones. I used to love the rain and the smell of the pavement. But it’s nothing but memories that linger like bad perfume only reserved for someone special.
Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I forced myself to think about tossing a raincoat or a small umbrella in my travel tote.
The rain, despite its former romantic qualities, is something of an annoyance when you’re not getting kissed and swept off your feet.
****
After I found new, dry socks I decided to change up my week a bit. Usually, Wednesdays were leftover days. That meant my dinner would consist of meals left over in the refrigerator from Monday and Tuesday. Something told me that I was craving Tandoori Chicken from the small place around the corner.
I called the order in, getting enough for lunch the next day, and decided to leave a little early to go to the coffee shop next door. I must have thought if I was already treating myself, I might as well splurge for an iced vanilla latte while I waited.
Sitting there, towards the back of the shop, was someone I never thought I’d see again. Which was probably a little naive of me, considering he lived within walking distance as well. In fact, this was our favorite coffee place back when it was a bookstore as well.
I didn’t have enough time to duck out without my coffee before Spencer saw me. And to say saw me would be putting it lightly. I’ve been looked at before, maybe even leered at. But nothing will ever top the way that that man looks at me. There was a certain hunger in his eyes that morphed into a wistful sadness that made me yearn for the old days.
“It’s you,” Spencer’s voice was hollow in the otherwise busy store. Knowing he’ll always get the best of me, I walked toward him without a second thought.
“So how have you been?” I asked, wondering if sitting here with Spencer was a mistake. He seemed hesitant to answer the question and immediately I regretted the question. “You don’t have to answer that. It was stupid of me to ask. Penny told me what happened,”
“I–I’m better,” Spencer said with a smile that looked forced. His hair was longer than I've ever seen before and he wore a suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wear a suit, safe for maybe the time we went to his work’s annual New Year’s Party, but I’m pretty sure that was a tux. Whatever it was, he certainly looked dashing in it. Like he did now. “I’m healing. My therapist says I’m on what she calls a road to recovery. It takes time,”
“That’s good, Spencer. That’s really good,”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “So how about you? Is Clemmie still stealing the sunlight?”
I laughed. The light sound the first noise of pure joy I released in a while. Of course he asked about my cat. My cat who adored him. I’m pretty sure that when we broke up, Clementine was slightly more heartbroken than myself.
I grabbed the chair facing Spencer, wondering if he’ll give me a cue that it’s okay to chat. I wasn’t sure where it would lead, or if I wanted it to lead anywhere. But part of me wanted to see if it would.
“Clemmie is good. She misses you of course…We both do,” I said, deciding that that was an okay thing to admit to Spencer. It was true, I still missed him. But it was a half truth. I missed him and loved him. Still.
Silence fell between us, like it used to. But back then it was filled with sweet kisses and soft touches and long stares. Now it’s stuffed to the brim with awkward glances and unsaid words and silent looks.
“Do you remember that night when I came home all…hurt? It was the time when you told me to write it all down. Because my heart was too good to bear it all, all the time. I still do that, you know?”
To say I was touched would be putting it lightly. Spencer’s eyes shifted from my face to my hands. I allowed my mind to venture about what he could be thinking about. His smile confirmed my suspicions and allowed my dreams to take flight.
“Somewhere along the line, it turned into letters. Most are addressed to you,” Spencer admitted. “I carry them with me. As reminders.”
I nodded. Words never seemed to do Spencer justice. Words could never quite capture exactly how he made me feel, how stunningly handsome and beautiful he was. And it was a sin to try. It must be sacrilegious or something. I guess, looking at Spencer even now, I understood how love could make people crazy.
“I’m glad it helped,” I said, finally deciding to bite the metaphorical bullet and sit with Spencer.
“I really loved you,” Spencer said, addressing the elephant in the room.
“I know–”
“You told me you loved me–”
“I know–”
“Why did you go away? I mean, I know why. God, do I know why, now? I mean…You were it for me. You still are, I’m afraid to admit. We could have worked it out. We could have–” He said. He sounded so unsure.
“It’s okay, Spencer. I don’t regret it. Actually, maybe I do. I’m not. Maybe I regret ending it the way I did. Hurting you. Hurting me. I was just scared. Terrified. Of you leaving me,”
“So you left me. And let me watch your life in pictures,” Spencer said, curt with tension. “You know, I used to watch you sleep. You were always so stunning when you slept,”
“Spence,” I was crying by then. It was his name, the name forever on my lips, that did me in. “I planned on marrying you. I planned on having a cute house filled with books and cats and farmer’s market vegetables and fruits and overpriced homemade ice cream. But what I didn’t plan on was burying you before we got that. I didn’t want to be cheated out on life by you dying on me in some undoubtedly heroic way. It may have been the wrong choice. The selfish choice. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t send you away all the time wondering if you’d live or die,”
The air between us smelt like brown sugar and coffee. The machines hummed in the background and customers clamored away on their laptops, uncaring about our conversation. I stared at my neglected coffee and uneaten pastry. It was a strawberry scone, a liking picked up when Spencer and I were together. There’s so much of me, and of him, that’s indescribable. We’re like a patchwork quilt of two lives. You can see the parts that are clearly me and the parts that are clearly him, but there’s places where it’s impossible to tell. It’s strawberry scones for me and hazelnut coffee for Spencer.
“I would have left for you,” Spencer said. I wondered if he was saying it more to himself or to me. “I would have done anything for you. Anything to be with you, Y/N,”
I hadn’t heard my name from him in years. I sounded raspier, heartier than it ever did. I didn’t want to think about the things that happened to him that caused that sweetness in his voice to dry up.
“I couldn’t be the reason you left the thing that you loved, Spencer. God, you’re brilliant. You’re probably the smartest person alive. Don’t give me that look. I can still compliment you. You could do anything. But you chose to do that? God, I would have been so selfish to try to peel you away from that,”
“You were the thing I loved,” Spencer countered. His hands formed fists that hovered above the small table we shared. His hazelnut coffee wafted in the air. He looked across the room and gulped, “You’re the one I’ve always loved, Y/N,”
My tears were salty and stung. I tried to wipe them away with the napkins that the coffee shop had. But they were already covered in condensation from my vanilla latte, so they practically disintegrated in my hands.
“Here,” Spencer said, handing me his dry napkin. I mumbled a thanks and mopped up my face. “Somehow you’re still the most gorgeous person, even when you’re crying. I don’t know if it’s inappropriate for me to say things like that. But frankly, I don’t give a damn,”
Spencer’s newfound boldness earned a chuckle. He smiled, perhaps appreciating the friendlier response.
“Do you ever think about how different it could have been? You know if you worked in a lab or something curing–”
“Schizophrenia. Or at least treating it. Or maybe cancer if I got bored of that,” Spencer interrupted.
“So you’ve thought about it? You would have been so cute in those goggles.” I offered. I sat back, leaning against the uncomfortable metal chair. Spencer straightened up his seat. “What else did you imagine?”
“A nice house like you pictured. With lots of sunlight for the cats and for us to read on Sundays. Near a farmer’s market. Near JJ and Will.
“–And an extra bedroom for Penelope,”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it for you,” Spencer said. I was sure he was teasing, yet my heart jumped out of my chest into what I wished was his waiting arms.
“What if it is what I want?” I asked, knowing I was putting myself out there only to get stuck in the crossfire.
“Like I said, Y/N. I’d do just about anything for you. With you. In a fucking heartbeat,”
“I never stopped loving you, Spencer,” I said, finally reaching across the table and holding his hand. He squeezed it tight and held it firmly.
Fighting, with true love, is a lot like boxing without gloves. I’d be the first to admit that I don’t know much about sports. And Spencer probably knows less. But what I do know is that it would hurt. I could look back at us, at the way we came together, at the way we feel about and ruminate on all my missteps and mistakes.
Or, I could let it all go. I could let the water that drenched my socks and sweater finally wash away the things I regret, leaving only the little flicker of hope that remains. I can step into the daylight and let it all go. Or at least try.
And it might all be before it in the end.
****
@reidslovely @reidsbookclub @spencerreidat3am @fightingdragonswithreid @hotchandspencearedilfs @sadgirlml @goldentournesol @spencerslibrary @foxy-eva @reidselle @paperbackprettyboy @sleepyspencer @justlivinginadaydream @tragiclilb @reidsmilf @mrs-dr-reid @reidslibrarybook
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid x gender neutral reader
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hira hira hira !!! hello !!! i wanted to greet once again a happy birthday (if it's still september first) and i hope you had fun when you were outside! i hope you spent your day happily and filled with gifts and love by the people who adore you <3
*rubs hands and clears throat* i now shall state my purpose of being back here again. please be warned about my idea, i think it's kind of triggering
i just wanna see a brainrot of mine be known by other people, and by that i mean [name] being pathetically in love with scaramouche that she lets herself be trampled over, be ridiculed, be the second choice, be out casted, be hated, be used as a mere plaything, be willingly manipulated, be the one always taking the blame until they just break down in tears, wondering what they did wrong that scaramouche wouldn't even look their way (inspired by what i feel what the song is about — i know you by faye webster)
yes, hira, i am perfectly fine, no need to worry about me :3 yes, hira, i don't mind with this mail not being posted !!! and yes, hira, i won't mind that you'll delete this if this made you uncomfy !! i hope you have a nice day, and always stay safe and happy !!!! mwa :3
JIJI — lovely, what a warm welcome (i just got home a few mins ago)
honestly, you've come to the right place, i love reading and writing dark content — and it may be hard to believe, but the things you mentioned in your idea? my little 15-17 years old self experienced it, not to mentio- i'll give you a small little rant about my ex in the past, perhaps to give you ideas in the process as well! (and yes, you can absolutely discuss things like this with me, i told you lovely, i'm absolutely open minded with anything and i tend to have a level headed/calm and open response, even with a taboo subject) without further ado
TW: HEAVY TOPICS, LONG READ, HIRAETH'S RELATIONSHIP LORE UNDER CUT
here, my naive 15 year old idled about in life with suicidal and depressed tendencies. dull, overworked and exhausted, in result of having to perform in plenty of stages that involved my skills as a musician. don't get me wrong, performing itself was great, taking the center stage with my other young performers, receiving gifts after — all was good in that aspect. but the negative began to seed, based off my desires to love or be enticed with the ideas of love, being cared for, being cherished. a busy life became dull, and the bullying i received from my classmates, teachers standing by — my world had dulled, causing me to drop out ultimately. i wanted to be cared for, a voice kept repeating inside my head. familial love in my eyes heavily differed to the love i craved subconsciously.
unfortunately for me, i was too observant, too keen, too aware. aware of my negative surroundings, growing negativity, my growing desire for love, but the world had continued to fail me continuously at the time, until i had enough, until i grew exhausted to the point where i wanted to — well, dying isnt really the best word, but i just wanted to live another life, i wanted to rest, i wanted to sleep endlessly.
and then.
three days. three days before i took action to cease my life, a game piqued my interest (knights chronicle) i was honestly in total auto mode, decisions weren't 100%, you could say i was mindlessly making decisions, my subconscious protecting me in its own way by distracting me with this "game" i impulsively downloaded.
skipping, i met him.
my ex. i had a persona on of course, to hide my abyss. i was a flirt, i was confident, i was who i write today on my fictions. this sudden persona? i have analyzed myself back then, and i've come to a conclusion that it was a persona manifested by desperation, absolute desperation to — yup, that's right, my rooted, inner desires, to love.
oh, i endeared ppl in that public chat — but i dont genuinely know what the fuck compelled me to my ex, but it was a force even i was unaware of why i felt a pull towards him, i still cant answer that myself. i flirted nonstop towards him specifically, relentless i was, desperate i was, but then it happened, i jokingly plugged in my instagram handle in chat — but he, he fucking remembered it, MESSAGED me, causing to stir hidden, brewing emotions, unaware that this simple, yet impactful act, would be my demise until feb-march of 2023.
oh it was lovely at first, i fell "in love" immediately. (nnh im cringing) and i let him know it, but it was one sided at first. i was heartstruck, lovestruck — no, lovesick. and this feeling dissipated any intention of suiciding. he was my savior, he was a savior in my eyes. shit, i was hopelessly... hopeless. shunning my family out, everyone, even my friends, fuck, and it was still one sided after a few months of friendship with him.
but since he voiced out ever so clearly, that he wasn't ready yet
my feelings wavered of course, and this carnal desire to be loved was immense, so, naturally, the husk of me sought out other attention, and i met someone online (imvu), he was sweet, a connection established, things were good — or... so i thought as i was blocked the next day. i was so desperate, so fucking naive and desperate that i went through his friends list and messaged a random friend. oh i was hopeless, so damn hopeless. but the guy unblocked me momentarily, i sought out closure, he reassured, and then just when i thought things were good again, he blocked me, once more. and our last messages together were "goodnight" to each other.
but this encounter with him?
i voiced this whole thing to my ex, and
at that day, at the same time, he confessed his feelings.
quite the coincidence, is it not?
so in my desperate state of self, i grew to love him as intensely, more than before. and things were good, at least for a few months.
relationships, of course, we had to show our "comfortable sides" eventually, no? and that we did. we were... different, too different, the opposite, fuck i cannot- i do not know where to begin. views, political views, the world, our interests, all was different, he was more difficult than i thought, more different, opening a world of new negativity within me, but guess what, i was still hopelessly and naively in love.
later.
all would come crashing down, one topic led to another, then another, until it became an argument, and he would later reveal that he merely saw this relationship — as a companionship. a companionship. not even a relationship. oh! oh! he stated that he viewed me as a puppy, a dog, and he was a master, CARING for the dog. a "conpanionship." by the way, in later, much later events, we would have multiple arguments about me expressing about the past, and if i bring this shit up, he would go
"not again, grace. i thought we were already done with the past, the past is done and i've already apologized"
"not again..."
"can you.... not bring the word (companionship) up? it traumatizes me grace..."
something along those lines. anyhow.
oh, ill indulge you, the moment he tried to leave me the first time — i begged, begged endlessly, crying, choking sobs, worrying my family. he stayed... because... i don't know? did he want us to work? did he pity me? did he love me? did he- yeah i dont know and ive long forgotten.
much, much later, we would have the worse arguments ever, until the rainbows, the sunshines and the good times were buried with our impactful arguments. i will admit, if we werent arguing, all was... fine. not dull. fine.
but shit, our arguments, i would be like this;
H: "PLEASE please... please... please don't leave me, dont leave me dont leave me dont leave me... please... i just- i just need reassurance... reassurance, its all i need, please...."
two ways, he complies because i need to fucking guide him since he cant come up or initiate his own, or he fucking goes away and gets burnt out and needs to leave the "argument"
i was BEGGING for the bare minimum. just- just if you've seen nat's recent scaramouche fic, our relationship was like that, but much more heavier, much more... i dont know.
RIGHT. AND WHEN I HAD ENOUGH AND WANTED TO LEAVE, HE WOULD FUCKING FOLD. HE WOULD THREATEN TO KILL HIMSELF. ?????????¿???2?!2?2!?21!1?
we broke up many times, and got back together many times. it was a cycle, a cycle of hell that i endured for 5 years. not to mention, HE was the one who brought up not having feelinge for him anymore, HE was the one who said he will change, he will end this cycle.
(i also could send ss in your asks if you wish, i dont really mind)
"grace, you're a hypocrite for wanting revenge!"
"this is so toxic..." (him referring to my expressing and begging for the bare minimum)
"please dont tell me im doing the bare minimum" - him, again
i believe im being biased, but nothing can quell the hidden hatred and anger i've developed from being with him lmao
oh when i initiated the breakup talk (again) this year, he beat me first to it, to utter the words. and you wanna know what he said blatantly?
"yeah i... im just scared of it coming from you"
BEAT ME TO IT BECAUSE HE FEARS THE REALITY OF ME FINALLY BEING DONE
and yes, i do not deny the hardwork, the good times, but it is all buried underneath the fucking trauma he induced lmao, the shitty arguments, the emotional trauma, he was so emotionally unintelligent.
and guess. fucking. what.
he started to do the shit ive begged for AFTER i was finally done with him, which was just a few months ago of our officially, official breakup. playing valorant after expressing not wanting to play it, calling it a trash game, playing genshin now but before he found it so utterly boring, and SO FUCKING ON.
ahem. this is just 12% of the contents in my relationship previously, im just shortcutting things because this reply is getting longer than i thought...
genuinely sorry for the vent lore 😭 but i hope this experience of mine helps you in your writing and especially dolly 🫶
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sometimes I think I need to pay more attention to what I eat in a day and how that effects ADHD medication and overall mood-emotion-feeling
I haven't eaten at all today which is terrible, I know, but I kept forgetting or telling myself I had to do X, Y, Z first or I had to be up/dressed/teeth brushed first or I would realize I'd waited too long then wanted to have lunch instead of breakfast but then tell myself it would be better to have lunch at X time or after X task.
I know I'm not avoiding eating (although really bad dry mouth symptom from current mystery illness does put me off food) and I know its not because I'm trying to "prove" I don't have to eat/rely on eating (that's a whole other odd past story) but I keep getting stuck in my own bad habit cycle? Like I can't break my own rountine (ex. I have to X before Y) which then has gotten me stuck in this "anti-routine" of waking up before 9-9:30 (this is good, this took me a while) but still end up stuck lying in bed, usually on my phone, till 11-12-or almost 2pm
Sure, time blindness doesn't help, but I know how much Better I feel when I have to be somewhere in the morning and it forces me to be up & dress & (ideally) had breakfast and Outside
More than half the time I usually end up wandering around and have these weird little "oh yeah its kinda nice leaving the house" moments that I ignore/forget later
(And yeah going outside in the city means spending money which I really should not be doing right now but)
And yet here I am still internally and quietly telling myself that if I just had the "Perfect Morning Rountine" (because of course its all-or-nothing thinking) that everything would fall into place and I'll feel better
(Not in the sense it would solve all problems, I'm still anxious about a work meeting and about a uncomfortable possibly ending friendship situation)
But that I will feel more me - more human - like when you finally take a shower that you know you should've taken already and how Clean and Scrubbed you feel after in a very good and minituate rebirth kind of way
But I know logically that it doesn't work that way, not with ADHD and chronic illness and a deficient in self confidence and in accidental social semi-isolation. That my psychiatrist is right when she says that the intial steps are important, like with finally establishing a mostly sucessful wake up time and that maybe I need to find a way to comfortably leave the house that doesn't involve showering so I can fix my hair (wave-curl 2b-2c-3a ish that feels much more unmanageable than it used to be). I used to be comfortable with how I looked, and how I looked when I woke up, but now? I feel ugly. I do. I know I'm exagerating this in my mind and my own perception but yesterday I realized: I hadn't taken a picture of myself in almost a year, I now struggle to put outfits together because I've barely left the house since April so I keep wearing "home clothes", I can see how my eyes are more droopy and sad looking (partially assume its related to consistent lack of enough sleep) and that I hate how I look in photos other people take of me because I no longer know how to smile in pictures without thinking I look sad in every picture.
I know I'm not this person, heck I've managed to do/achieve some pretty cool things and I'm about to start a new path for one of them (its not quite what I was hoping for but it should help me get to where I want to be in a year). I used to be so creative, I used to be more interested in writing and art and just creating. I feel like I've slipped into this near-ghost of myself.
I wish I could say its all social media's fault. That I spent and maybe wasted too many hours on doomscrolling in various apps. But though that is true, I know its not the cause. A distraction, maybe. A draw away from creating rather than consuming, sure. I don't simply "blame myself" (though negative thinking sure tries to) but its not that I'm folding in on myself, but I find myself more often slipping into wanting to exist in couch-tv-vegetable state, wanting to simply zone out to a myriad of media.
Maybe this has all been cumalative burn out? I don't know.
But I'm tired of feeling like this, I say for the thousandth time, I want to start moving forward again. I still don't think this is depression, it feels too other and I don't feel like I'm numb or sinking or any of the ways I hear it described. I think I just feel stuck.
I guess I'll see how tomorrow morning goes.
I'm going to go take a shower.
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A Compendium of Magical Artifacts
Chapter 16: Love’s Obsession
Prompt: Thirst
AO3 Link
[You only have to go another page over before finding another familiar name. Well, sort of familiar. Aphrodite was married to Hephaestus in the myths, right?]
Name: Love’s Obsession, Aphrodite’s Fedora [Theres a small note at the side saying, “some of the newer ghosts have taken to calling it the Hat of Unending Thirst.”]
Description: It is a Fedora style hat. The color is mostly black with a darker grey trim ribbon. The only sign of it being something more is a pink heart pinned to the ribbon on the front left.
Known Abilities: It is a “love” charm that Aphrodite uses for her own entertainment. Rather than the usual type that attracts others to you, it magnifies your own feelings for your crush/lover/spouse a hundred fold. Wearers are lovestruck and unable to focus on anything beyond the object of their affection. When combined with Aphrodite’s ability to compel others into attraction to her, she can, and often does, use it as a way to force others to throw themselves at her for her own ego. The wearer cannot remove the item themselves, so they are stuck making fools of themselves until she finally decides to remove it. It is, supposedly, twice as effective on those who have love based Obsessions to the point of overloading them, but they are also immune to her usual compulsion by the nature of their Obsession.
Location: Aphrodite’s Temple in Olympus
Notes: I became aware of this particular item on my first and only visit to Aphrodite’s territory in Olympus. I have been to Olympus several times, mostly while seeking specific items. Just as in the myths, the ghosts that were once the gods of old tend to be rather temperamental and set in their ways. It is best not to spend too long lingering lest you catch attention you don’t want. Unfortunately, I was rather distracted while making my way to Hephaestus’s temple and flew into Aphrodite’s instead.
Given how different their circles of power and taste are, it was not difficult for me to realize that I had gone into the wrong building. I went up to a woman standing to the side and fretting over some flowers and asked if she knew the way to Hephaestus’s area from there since I had apparently gotten lost at some point. She paused, looking rather annoyed and asked if I knew who she was. I didn’t recognize her, but given the number of ghosts I interact with, I apologized, told her I did not, and asked if we had met somewhere.
She got angrier and said that she was Aphrodite and that I was in her temple. Honestly, she was not nearly as pretty as the myths implied. I don’t know why everyone seems so enraptured by her looks. Or rather, I didn’t until I was informed of her ability to compel attraction in others some hours after the events transpired. I apologized again and informed her that I had only passed through before and therefore hadn’t had a chance to see any images of her around. She seemed to calm down at that and invited me to walk with her through the temple. I was not interested, but seeing as my task was not time sensitive and that continuing to be in her bad graces could be bad for my future health or endeavors, I agreed to join her on her walk.
She spent some time showing me around and pointing out, or rather boasting, about all of the paintings and sculptures of her that were strewn across every inch of free space. Honestly, much of the artwork seemed like it was portraying a completely different, more aesthetically pleasing, person, but I kept those comments to myself. She finally circled over to where she was keeping this particular item. It was amongst several other pieces of clothing so I did not think much of it. She was showing off some of the other pieces as gifts from desperate admirers before pulling the hat out and telling me that it would probably look much nicer on me than it did on her. She requested I try it on and, considering I was trying to get back into her good graces, I agreed.
The effects were immediate. As soon as the hat was placed upon my head, all I could think about was my lovely Maddie and the idiot that had taken her from me. When Aphrodite attempted to pull my attention to her, all I was capable of doing was telling her about how I had been unable to locate either Maddie or Jack so far and asking if she knew where they went. I am… Unsure how long I spent talking, only that it was long enough that, when she ripped the hat from my person, she was rather livid.
I was quickly removed from the temple by her followers and told I was not welcome ever again (not something I am unhappy about, mind) and that I would be attacked if I tried. I, being utterly confused at that point, just continued on my way. I did not actually learn about the nature of the item until I asked one of the Acolytes at Hephaestus’s temple about it. Obviously it doesn’t work correctly on hybrids. As much as I would love to explore why that is, studying the item is not worth having to deal with that harpy again. It will just have to remain a mystery I guess.
[“Didn’t work correctly” huh? The item seemed pretty straight forward to you, but whatever lets the author sleep at night you guess. You add the names to your list of things to look up, though without last names you don’t have much hope. The author calling themself a hybrid explains some of the odd phrasing in some of the earlier entries you’d read through and explains why they would be looking for information on hybrids. You wonder if hybrids are common.]
#Ectoberhaunt22#EH Order#Day 11#Thirst#reader writes a thing#Danny phantom#the slang meaning of thirst lol
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I came to Beyond Evil with biased eyes, and surprisingly, despite how amazing the show was, from the cast/performances, characters, writing, plot/twists, cinematography/visuals and a few of its OST tracks, those biases were still at work, and the show did not manage to engage my tears and/emotions as anticipated. Besides my personal biases at work, I think the intense plot/twists were quite a bit of a distraction in terms of emotional investment (for me). I was on my metaphorical toes in terms of who could be involved, and was hesitant to pick favourites until at least more than halfway through the show. While the first half was fantastic in its twists, I could enjoy the second half more, when it was much clearer what’s up and it was more about the journey towards the ending.
(A rewatch would likely result in more emotional investment in the characters and show, but am mostly interested in my rare pair fanvids from the show at the moment).
I was watching the final leg of “Nobody Knows” while marathoning BE, and while BE is undoubtedly the superior production and show, I find myself “liking” Nobody more than BE at times. (NK is a great show too but from more “objective lenses”, BE is certainly on a “higher level”). Just goes to show that being able to invest in a favourite character(s) made for a very different viewing experience. And I prefer that NK had more slow, quiet character moments which were not upended by another twist, unlike BE. The pacing for the plot twists in both shows were solid but the turns in BE had more urgency, which made for better suspense and thrills, locking in interest for more. As a thriller/mystery, BE truly aced in the writing and direction, but I simply preferred NK for its periodic small, calm moments.
In a way, I would say BE is similar to “Nirvana in Fire” for me. A magnificent story/production/show with memorable characters, performances and writing, but could only at most engage my mind and a minor part of my heart, not consume it.
Perhaps I felt some of the dramatic scenes in BE were made for the shock/twisty factor, so the “melodrama” felt more forced to me. I know these type of scenes and effect work with many people, just unfortunate that I don’t often derive much emotional poignancy from them. Often, they just felt cheesy. This is less a criticism of the choices taken by the show than an indictment of my own preferences. (Or maybe I just have less tears for shows like these nowadays).
Shows like “Signal” and “When the Camellia Blooms” were major tearjerkers (heavy blues for a period too) for me, while “Missing”, “Nobody Knows” and “Beyond Evil” were quite mid. I expect the shows were also written and produced/shot with certain desirable emotional effects in mind, and certain elements resonated more with me than others, through no fault of the writing, characters and/or performances.
Despite my own feelings - or lack thereof - for these particular shows, there are no doubts that all are fantastic productions worthy of the time spent on them. With regards to BE, while I didn’t “feel” the hype, I certainly did get why it received the praises it did. The storyline, performances/characters etc were quite mind-blowing, and the twist and turns kept me glued to the screen even when I found some of the interactions between the characters a tiny tad tedious.
As for the finale, I definitely enjoyed Nobody’s more than BE because NK gave more time for a satisfactory peace at the end for its main protagonist (and side characters). BE did show a satisfactory “epilogue” of sorts too, but I wished it was a bit longer.
Could not deny that “climatic scenes” don’t work their magic all that much on me nowadays either, but that’s really a me problem. After all, even the much touted climax for “The Guest” (a favourite) did not resonate with me as much as the small, mundane character moments did (which I have rewatched numerous times vs the ending). Most significantly, I suppose, is the much more pronounced bias I have with shows nowadays. Men-fest, their pain/conflicts and “bromance” bore me to no end, unfortunately, and I would venture to say that that was likely the biggest problem with NiF and BE for me, in terms of emotional receptivity. Without that few outstanding - and beloved female characters - in both shows, i.e. Consort Jing and Yoo Jae Yi (and the few others), they would not have managed to engage a part of my heart.
Hence the reason for my “preference” for Nobody Knows. Cha Young Jin has all my love and following her journey of justice and “healing” was satisfying. Yoo Jae Yi (and a lesser extent Oh Ji Hwa) captured my attention and emotions in BE, but they are not the main characters, resulting in little emotional engagement. All the characters in both shows were memorable and fascinating, but you simply love who you love.
All said, Nobody Knows and Beyond Evil were both amazing shows deserving of their accolades, and I was very glad to have completed both (in time to welcome 2023).
(Looking forward to a few days of fangirling and simping over Cha Young Jin and Yoo Jae Yi ❤️🔥⭐️)
#beyond evil#KDrama#a fabulous show which just did not manage to engage my emotions as expected#kdrama ramblings#nobody knows drama#sbs nobody knows#KDrama rant#self-indulgent rambling#beyond evil kdrama#fangirl for Cha Young Jin#Yoo Jae Yi is THE favourite#record for self
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25. What do they need and want out of relationships, and how do they go about getting it? || 26. How do they view and feel about relationships, and how might this manifest in how they handle them, if it does? || 38. Is there anything they wish they could change about their worldview or thought processes? What, and why? || 40. What do they wonder about? What sparks their curiosity and imagination, and why? How is this expressed, if it is?
OOC: To get Malika to drop her guard enough to honestly answer these questions there's one big requirement: she has to trust you completely and without question. If you combine that with activities that get her heart racing and adrenaline going or lots and lots of alcohol she'll give up on giving flirtatious non-answers and instead flirt with telling you the truth.
Evander 10000% fits these qualifications. And she's been startlingly honest with him lately in RP. So. We'll let her answer these questions truthfully! It's going to be long. Sorry.
How do you view and handle relationships? What do you need/want out of them? How do you go about getting it?
"Ah... Mmm. I couldn't answer this even if my life was on the line. I don't know." She seems ready to completely dismiss the question, but as she starts to wave it off, perhaps to distract him from asking more questions with a kiss, she changes her mind.
"That's not true. Not entirely. I've spent so long saying that I don't want anything out of relationships. That it'd be better just not to have any. I form false connections with strangers all the time to get what I want from them: Information, items, access to places, whatever. I think... I mean, people are always looking for connections and relationships. And shitheads like me exploit that by conning them. I guess on some level I've just worried that's what relationships are: a long con. Our brains or hearts or whatever ignoring red flags until the truth of how much time we've spent fooling ourselves or compromising who we are for someone else punches us in the face and leaves us feeling stupid and taken advantage of.
It's obviously not a great viewpoint. And... I don't really believe it now. Not entirely anyway. I guess what I want in a relationship is to trust I'm safe in it. I never really felt safe... Until lately." She looks away, embarrassed by this confession. "And obviously adventure! Preferably of the criminal mischief sort. Aaaand to command the attention of dangerously attractive individuals. I think I've got some ideas on how to accomplish that last one if you're interested..."
Is there anything you wish you could change about your worldview or thought process?
"Tch! No. Others should change theirs and see things from my perspective." She rolls her eyes. "I tend to find myself thinking that as soon as something new begins that there is a timer that starts ticking down how much time is left before it ends. Might be nice not to feel the ticking of a clock when I feel happy."
What do you wonder about? What sparks your curiosity/imagination?
"Weeell... I wonder what kind of kisses you prefer." She moves closer to him with intention. "Slow, soft, and sensual?" She demonstrates. "Or perhaps something harder, needier, hungrier?" She demonstrates this too. "Or maybe you're the kind of man who'd prefer to be kept guessing how he'll be kissed nex-- Ah, what? This was a serious question? Uhhhh. Gotta admit: my curiosity and imagination is a little preoccupied right now with graphic thoughts of-- Right. Ok. Ahem."
She takes a drink to sober up and concentrate. It makes sense to her.
"I wonder about what makes people tick, you know? What is the old man selling fabric in my favorite Gridania stall all about? Everyone wants something. And I want to know what those somethings are. On the bright side this means I just fucking love people! Love trying to get into their mindset and imagine their lives. On the, uh, less flattering side it's, you know, useful to know that stuff in case I want to exploit it to get something from them.
Many of my daydreams are about exploiting assholes' desires for status, gil, one of the kind antiques, whatever the fuck and using it against them in humiliating pranks. Other daydreams are about changing the lives of people who feel stuck. If I can make someone feel joy or just feel free by getting someone arrested or throwing gil at them or stealing back a cherished family heirloom or something--- ah well, I don't need to eat for a week after that! My elation will sustain me!
Also wonder about you. You're still a mystery to me. What do you want? And... When I deliver it to you, what kind of a kiss should it come with?"
((Soooooooooo long. I waited like a year to answer this because these questions are so big! Thank you for the Ask and sorry it's been a lifetime to answer!))
#FFXIV#Asks#Answers#Small novels#Prompts#I wrote this on my phone so I'm sure there's a million typos#Consider them fun seasoning!
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Journey down the Yellow Brick Road Part 1
Jan 23
This month I began participating in a 5-week workshop hosted by one of my favorite Bay Area artists, Lindsay Stripling. The workshop is called Yellow Brick Road 2 (YBR2), which is a sequel to the first workshop (YBR1) that I took back in October. Essentially the class is a studio class where Lindsay provides mentorship and a framework for us to not only create a series of paintings but to get a better understanding of what makes us an artist, what makes us unique, what messages we want to convey, and how to bring those to life in a work of art. You can get more info on YBR and the other cool workshops Lindsay offers here.
YBR2: Week 1-2
Unlike YBR1, we kicked off YBR2 with diving into our first paintings pretty quick. To me, this took minimal prep, however I realized that I kinda prepared for this series during YBR1 — I am familiar with my materials, I know what colors make up “my world”, I generally know my artistic voice, I’ve gotten comfortable with diving in and getting paint on paper — so diving into these paintings wasn’t too scary.
For this workshop, I already had a series in mind which centers around community, quality time, and tea. This series was inspired by a piece that I made for the 2021 staff show I participated in while working at Rare Device. The theme for the staff show was “Tiny Moments”, which showcased tiny moments, be they habits, routines, objects of daily use, or unexpected occurrences, during the pandemic that brought us comfort or kept us grounded during a time of big changes. For me, the strawberry teapot I bought during a trip to Placerville, CA served as a very important thing in my life during early 2021 (and even now in 2022).
I wasn’t a tea person until I went to college. Unfortunately my body can only handle 1 cup of coffee, which I always start my days with, so tea became a comforting treat during moments of relaxation or focus. And so, when we walked into the Placerville Hardware Store and stumbled upon the huge display of teapots, I thought to myself my tea game is about to get real. The strawberry teapot immediately caught my eye and instantly brought me joy. It was the best impulsive pandemic purchase I’ve made so far.
Soon after, I developed a daily routine of making myself a cup of tea when winding down my day, during that time in the afternoon where the work day is just about over and the evening is just about to begin. Making tea is such a ritual - you heat up your water, you choose your cup and your tea, then you get your tea set up in your infuser, you let it steep, you pour it into your mug and add sweetener if you like. Finally (at least for me), you post up on your comfy armchair that’s in a perfect little sunny spot in your apartment with your dog and watch the the sun begin to set while people bike or walk on by. The act of making tea became so grounding for me that it became a part of my self-care routine. It calmed my anxiety, helped me slow down, and gave me a moment to spend time by myself without distractions and spend time with my dog. I maintained my sanity during the pandemic because of tea (just like I function day to day because of coffee). That is how the original painting of the strawberry teapot was born.
Since I created the first strawberry teapot painting for the staff show, my mind was buzzing with ideas for a series of teapots. I thought about painting different fruit-shaped teapots. I thought about painting different picnic scenes that included teapots. I thought about painting a series of teacups. And on and on it went. As much as I thought about painting this series and bringing it to life, the less I wanted to actually do it. I wasn’t motivated. Until I started YBR2.
During the first week of YBR2, we spent some time reflecting on previous work and what concepts showed up in our work and how those relate to what we’re currently interested in or excited about painting. While the strawberry teapot brought me joy and helped me appreciate the “small things” or the “small moments” in life, it also represents something to share with others. Although this teapot mainly supported me while I was alone and reminded me of the time I spent with others, it helped me appreciate moments of solitude. I value spending quality time with others and having conversations over food, and that’s something I deeply missed (and still miss) while living in this pandemic. But this time taught me how wonderful moments of solitude can be and how they are just as important as spending time with others. By using watercolor and gouache as texture, I wanted to convey comfort and solitude in this series of paintings.
From there I created a series of thumbnails for my paintings in Procreate, made color mocks, and put pencil to paper to make the underdrawings. To be quite honest, these steps are something that I do not usually incorporate in my practice, but we were encouraged to do them by Lindsay so I thought I’d make an effort and do them. When painting, I usually just go into it without a plan or underdrawing and see where it takes me. I like the freedom of winging things and not having to worry about changing the story as I go. However I was pleasantly surprised how much planning the thumbnails and color mocks helped me with not only getting the paintings started and making significant progress, but also help me feel confident and feel like I know what I’m doing.
But now as I am writing this, I realize I could have included 2 tea cups or mugs or other elements in the paintings that can represent “community” and “connection with others”…guess I’ll save those for my next series (;
Once I drew out and erased the underdrawings, I began to paint.
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I’m not gonna lie, I made great headway with the strawberry and yin yang paintings and was really challenged by the last painting. I think I struggled with getting the third one going and making progress for two reasons:
I had done the other two before as paintings or sketches on Procreate so I already knew what it would look like compared to the third teapot, and
I got a bit sidetracked with answering deeper questions about my art and what kind of artist I want to be (based on some prompts within our worksheets)
This past week we were prompted to think about questions and our artist statement. And although this put me in a bit of a slump, I feel like it came at the perfect time. Some questions that came to mind this week were:
What kind of “things” or “concepts” or “feelings” are these paintings trying to convey? What do I want them to look like? To feel like? What do I value about my art practice? As an artist? Where do I want to go?
I value being honest in my paintings, having freedom of expression and expressing what I mean/feel. I also value sharing art with others. Currently, I think my work conveys these things. But I worry that these values might get lost with my ambitions of becoming an artist who sells their work or may even make art on commission. For now, I really want to make art for art’s sake, for the sake of creating. I feel like I do want to share my art by opening a shop or selling at craft fairs, but I’m worried. Will this feeling get lost with pursuing more? Will my practice become something other than just a practice? While I have some answers drafted, I think I have to sit with the thoughts and feelings I am having a bit more and think about it.
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Reflection:
I’m tired of being surrounded by creatures whose only interest is controlling me with their minds.
Everything I attempt to create is beautiful, and it gets distorted by the creepy vibrational rapist upstairs.
It is disheartening that I could be reaching so many people and yet have no way of defending myself from something so morally disfigured.
If my goal however is truly to spread light (and I don’t know that it is), I do not think it makes sense to ask for help.
I do not even know how.
I ask nonphys for help sometimes, but I can never be sure if it does me any good.
It’s instinctive, so maybe it does matter.
But I can’t tell for certain since I’ve also asked them to remove me from my body and they haven’t come through yet.
They do seem to help me find things when I cry at them, but how can I know whether they’re there?
I want to spend the rest of my time with Seth, but I still have to be on guard since I’m in such close proximity with a rapist.
Which means even being with Seth has to be kept at a certain level of censored.
It’s funny, I wasn’t expecting pure female nudity in Code Geass, but it seems the male character responsible for it was apologizing to me.
I appreciate it.
I was thinking that complimenting Seth could be hurtful to those who are watching, but what if I could convince others that I was merely showing them something they too had the ability to do?
What if others also spent a little time reminding themselves what they appreciate about someone or something important to them now or in their future?
I can’t say for sure whether this is like scripting.
I sort of let those things write themselves.
I tune to a subject and let my imagination fill in the blanks on autopilot.
Being a good fictional author is quite a challenge.
Not only do you have to completely channel an entire story arc, you have to present it artfully and eloquently.
I’m not quite there myself.
All I have access to is Seth, because I’m not brave enough to tune to all the vibes of Elensaire.
As for Seth, I feel less capable when I’m not aware of his presence.
I know he’s always here, but I’m not always able to feel him because I get distracted.
I keep having nightmares yet keep watching moderately scary shows.
Does the nightmare portion ever stop?
Is existence ever blissful or pleasant outside of letting oneself be compelled?
I keep feeling like I know too much to exist here.
I was hoping that job would come through, I really liked the office and was looking forward to more tasks and new friends.
I have to let that go, I guess.
The chances of someone having wanted to see me in person are probably high, and the person I reached out to hasn’t responded.
I’d like to go in there if that’s still an option, but I am not willing to attack people for something like that.
If that sounds like I don’t want it badly enough, so be it.
I am incapable of using violence to get my way.
It does not make my desires less valid or less important just because I have personal values.
Just because I refuse to hurt others when I recognize what I’m doing ahead of time.
My desire to avoid hurting people is at the core of my being. I cannot separate from it, ever.
Even rap and the promise of one day running the world—or at least its money—can no longer pull me out of that mindset.
It’s too bad that I can’t find a supervisor who is interested in a well-behaved subordinate.
I would think someone in power would want to keep someone on their team who willingly follows directions.
But maybe I’ve got it wrong. Maybe they’d prefer someone strong who they can make a show of breaking down.
In that case, I apologize, because I cannot give that to you.
All I can give you is willingness to do what you ask and to let you know ahead of time if I’m likely to miss a deadline.
Transparency.
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So it's been over a month now.
I'm pre-typing this. Going to drop this in your dms. I don't expect a response, and I'll take the hint and leave it at this if you don't respond.
I bet you still use your Tumblr, no idea if you still follow me because my list has been bugged for the better part of a decade. So If you saw some of my posts I'll be rehashing some things.
Long story short, Forced myself to be alone and completely lock away my emotions. I got so tired of it all I completely shut shop. Normally this would be the part where I'd admit how stupid and/or careless that was towards myself, my mental well-being, etc.
Except that it worked out somehow.
I still can't believe it myself, but it was like being compressed down into a new state of matter. Hitting rock bottom and realizing there was nowhere else to push the feelings, no one else to blame or use as a distraction. It made me finally come face to face with my self. My true, inner self and not the facade I've kept up for my entire life. A life of repression, anxiety and unmitigated hatred.
I spent 20 years basically trying to be anybody but myself because a handful of shitty people made me think it was a crime to exist. All of what I had been for the entire time you known me has been that pared down, sink water version. Too afraid of their own shadow judging them to be themselves.
And this isn't some "I totally re-invented myself nothing is wrong anymore lmao" level brainrot
I was still myself before, just incredibly neutered, and I chose to be that way for so much longer than I should have.
I still take responsibility for every way I acted and anything I've done
I'm finally able to say all this without it being run through a morass of epic irony or depression
I got to see myself for the first time, and show love inward so I can begin to regrow what was lost
So the past month has been crazy because of it, not hating every day you wake up sure does make time pass differently, it's felt like forever since we stopped talking, to the point I did a double take when looking at our dms
On a short list of notables, I came out to my coworkers as trans/bigender/genderfluid
Still.... Figuring that one out.
But my boss and trans friend coworker know, I have a support network for the first time.
I already naired all the hair off my arms once, and started displaying more femininity, as much as I can for now.
And I've stopped having my meltdowns and panic attacks.
I'm still as sensitive as ever, that is one of the things definitely still a part of me, it's just not being exacerbated by a roiling sea of vitriol tucked underneath the surface anymore.
So yeah, I'm not out here saying I'm some "completely new person" or something like that, but I am an incredibly different version of the Hunter you knew.
Which brings us to the topic at hand, and why despite all this positive change I haven't been able to bring myself to talk.
I'm scared
I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared.
Yes I felt the need to say it four times.
After learning to distance myself, resulting in finding myself. I realized a few days ago why I couldn't reach out to you like I had planned. At first I tricked myself into thinking I was mad. Made you out to be the problem in my head, because I didn't want to acknowledge I was being a coward. Because it hurts to look at flaws carved that deep right after coming out into the sun for the first time.
There are a lot of things that were said between us, I said some awful garbage. You said some things I want to believe we're in good faith, you trying look out for my best interests.
The fact of the matter is though, I lost it and lashed out because I was too afraid to address my real feelings and tell you how much you were hurting me unintentionally.
Doesn't excuse me trying to hurt you, but I'd I don't explain it this way I'll never be able to finish so just hang in there with me please.
So after all that, and the self discovery I was feeling great, cloud nine sublime.
But I still couldn't get over how we left off. Despite not being able to address it.
Because I learned the reason why socializing was so easy for me before was the fact that my love starved brain was primed to leap into the arms of anyone that would give it validation.
Now though, with the ability to self-actualize, love, and support my own mind... The thought of reaching out petrified me.
I'm finally learned how to not be a walking pipe bomb of human emotions after 25 years, but now the exact opposite was the issue.
I put distance between myself and everyone around me because the thought of putting myself back out into the world, and risking the little seedbed I had started was too much to handle.
So I'm telling you now, I'm scared. I'm afraid to even send this, and despite having my anxiety under control now, I'm still mortified about sending you this. Because I don't want to relapse, I don't want to go back. I'm starting over completely from scratch with my social skills almost, even the ones I can still use all have to acclimate to my new perspective.
The one where a potential friendship isn't all upsides, where I have to think about protecting myself first.
I still consider you the closest a person has ever come to really understanding me, and that means more than I could ever illustrate with words.
I've spent my whole life looking for it, and I don't want it to be a pipe dream.
I want you to be a part of my life as long as possible. I don't know if you could ever feel the same, but I'd spend an eternity with you if we could get us figured out.
That's it. Enjoy the novella. I'm going to go drown myself in chores now to try and feel better.
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January 13th, 2023 was possibly one of the worst days of my life. I had, maybe for the first time ever, a full blown panic attack at work.
A bit of background. I live with my parents, and I’m nearly 30 years old. I have a job that I reasonably like. Short version is that I do engineering work. About a month and a half or so ago a new girl started working at my job. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call her Diane. Over the course of her starting out here I have gotten to know Diane a bit better and better, and I’m fairly certain that I have officially developed some kind of crush on her. We have some similar interests, and I don’t think she hates being around me yet, so good things all around lol.
Friday the 13th. I was having lunch in the lunch room, while Diane, another person, and a different engineer (let’s call him Jack). This other person was talking to Diane about her apartment, and so they and Jack were all talking about apartment stuff. I had nothing to add because I don’t live in an apartment. Eventually, the another person left and it was just Jack and Diane talking about their apartment struggles. To anyone else, this was innocent conversation. To me, it was some bizarro mirror/window. Because what I saw was a guy who is basically me but better in every conceivable manner (also likes relatively similar stuff to Diane, but is smarter, more attractive, living on his own, more physically fit, and on and on). All he would have to do is pursue her and I would be out. I don’t know the sexual orientations of either so it’s just as possible that neither of us have a chance or that I don’t actually have a competitor. This whole conversation lasted no more than like, 2-3 minutes, but it infected my head and wouldn’t leave. My lunch break was over so I had left and they were chatting still, but all of my shortcomings and insecurities were screaming in my head. I couldn’t stop it. I tried playing music through my headset and it wouldn’t stop.
I literally left my desk and walked to a relatively secluded room and hyperventilated. Probably not the best room to do that in with all of the wood and metal shavings from the various drill presses and laser cutters and whatnot lmao, but still. When I got back to my desk, I tried listening to the music again, I tried distracting myself with my phone, I even tried talking to people INCLUDING (separately) Jack and Diane, and none of it helped. Finally, the work day ended and I was able to go home. After having dinner with my parents and putting the dishes away, I went to my room.
I have this song that I listen to when I need to relax, Untitled by The Green Kingdom. I grabbed my gaming headset, and plugged in my new 3.5mm to Lightning converter, and my phone all together. I had gotten that converter because with my old one I was hearing this weird clicking sound in my headset in this configuration. When I went to play my song, I heard the clicking again (implying that it wasn’t that converter), and I completely lost it.
I started basically bawling in my room, saying “I just want to listen to my song” while I tried to find my earbuds. I got them and just started rocking in my chair. I tried holding onto my phone, but the screen kept turning on. I then grabbed my controller, but the plastic felt too hard. I finally grabbed my Metroid plushie, and held it tight. I spent the next like 20 or so minutes just crying, rocking in my chair, holding that plushie, and listening to my song on repeat. I couldn’t stop. I had to try to be quiet because I didn’t want my parents to see me like that. Eventually I got a bit calmer, and put on some tv that I knew I would enjoy. Then I was able to get into the scheduled video gaming that I had for that night, and things were getting a bit better. Despite feeling a bit better, I went to bed that night thinking that that was one of the worst days I have ever had.
Today, Saturday the 14th, I woke up to my alarm (I changed my alarm to wake me up every day so that I could try to maintain a better sleep cycle), and was still feeling bad from the day before. I was taking my morning shower, and the bad thoughts creeped in again. Telling me that I am worthless, telling me that I could never get a girl like Diane, telling me that I would legitimately benefit the world by just discontinuing my existence. But then, I got mad. I got furious. How dare I. “What right do I have to say I don’t deserve to continue living”. I thought about how I am in control. My will is iron. I will not let some chickenshit partition of my subconscious tell me that I am anything less than. I told myself that I will make it right. I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I deserve to live and that I WILL earn the right to be happy.
As of today, I am on mission. I have but one goal; to be the best possible me that I can achieve. Maybe that means I have to bury my old self six feet under, but I will not let these bad thoughts win. My will is iron. This blog will serve as my journal; a diary logging my journey to becoming who I need to be. Maybe it is too late for me to do that, but I have to try. I will survive. I will win.
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December 2016 (2)
If I die... it’s because there was nothing left. Matter-of-factly, I’m sad about a lot of things, but this is no desperate in-the-moment attempt. Sleeping forever has been on my mind consistently for... 7-8 years. Little thoughts throughout the day, every day. And I’ve exhausted every attempt at being happy. Every last one, I promise.
I’m sorry to the friends and family I hurt by this. I can’t be sorry enough. But I can’t live for other people who don’t give me what I need in return. You can’t give me those good morning texts or those comforting words when I’m crying at 4, 5, 6 a.m. You can’t give me the feeling of being loved unconditionally. I wish you could. But every time I try for it, let my guard down, accept the love of someone, it leaves. It’s time to leave that pattern for good.
I had so many words to say and it felt like I was never being listened to. I wanted everyone to love me. But I will never be that girl at summer camp who sings on the top bunk and people fawn over her. I’ll never, ever be anyone people wish to be. No one will keep up with my life in the ways I’ve kept up with theirs. I’m an outsider to everyone -- I’m the weirdo.
And the worst part is that I found a fellow weirdo. Someone who affirmed and validated everything about me in ways no one else in my life could. And he’s gone now. The first and last person in my life I’ll meet who understood me perfectly, in every way. I don’t believe I’ll ever find that kind of bliss again; I truly don’t. I want it too badly to ever find it again.
I’m sick and tired of always being the odd one out. Forgotten about, never loved or cared for in the ways I would like the most. Most of my life, I’ve craved a kind of attention I’ll never get. Ever. Every hope of getting it again is gone. I can’t go on for another six months feeling this lost and directionless. Every day there are a few hours of distraction, but then... more darkness. It’s been the only constant, and it’s all I remember.
I fucking hate everything that’s happened to me. It’s only been loss and embarrassment and shame and secrets and lies and guilt and playing nice because I’m the good girl. It’s not me at all. I want to leave this place, and this is the only way I know how. I’ll never make anything that people will love. I’m not pretty enough to be remembered. A relationship -- that one source of love -- kept me alive, and the only one I ever truly cared about is gone. I’m through. There’s nothing left.
I won’t apologize.
I haven’t wanted to be awake for months now. No day is a good day. Always reminded of what I could have; jealous of you, Z. People will lvoe you. Me, they forget.
I want to set myself on fire. Stop sitting on my hands so I can yank the steering wheel and careen off the road.
...
I’m a pansy. I can’t even go through with this. Can’t even cry. I want to throw up, it hurts so bad that I can’t express it.
I only stuck around this long because I had more to say. I kept throwing out that fishing line, hoping someone would take the bait and love me forever. But nothing doing.
No one ever loved me enough. That went out the window with “you’re an alien.” It died the last time you squinted at my eyebrows. I hid everything from you both because there was nothing left that I could do to repair our relationship.
No one knows or cares about my story. That much is clear. Sure, they feign interest, but it’s not real. There’s a limit. It ends with “hang in there” or “those generic phrases you use to get people to stop talking to you.
This is the closest I’ll come to killing myself. I’m sad because it’s not more extravagant. Of course I’ll survive and keep living one miserable day after the other. A sad life lived for no one but me, and I’m trapped here. Fucking trapped.
Even if I keep on living... 7-8 years of not wanting to be alive doesn’t make the rest of it worth it. That’s too many years spent ugly inside my head. Too much horror to ever be normal again. No one will love me now. It’s too late; the cycle has reached its limit and has tripped into unlovable.
If I act normal -- if I do what I’m supposed to do, what you tell me to do -- then I’m fucking pitiful. If I act out like this, I’m at least owning the misery. But I don’t need to justify myself to you. You don’t know what you do, and it’s killing me. You don’t change but expect me to.
Let me freeze to death out here. I’ll shit and piss myself after death and someone will notice me before I can rot too much. Tell everyone. But even a day after my death, people will stop remembering. I’m not worth anything at all. Nothing. Ugly girl who people forgot is in the room; forgot exists.
Play “Glass Eyes” at my funeral.
...
I’m not getting better. The candle is coming to an end now; I’ve burnt it for too long. There is no bottom. It’s this forever. Nicotine setting in and I can’t write. This is the end. But it isn’t enough.
If I stop doing this, doing the drugs, then I’ve given up. And I can’t do that. Giving up is worse than death. It means I’ll be on my deathbed at 60, 65, 70, 75, 80 and will look back and think nothing was worth it. At all. At least this way I’m feeling.
Stuck. And ugly in every way. Not in a position to ever get love. And I’ll tell people about this and then everything will change, just like in September. But change is all I have.
One fucking cigarette. And no tears still.
Despair isn’t tears.
There we go.
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immortalrequiemprince
ImmortalRequiemPrince
dailysport
Untitled
less-broken-lenses
Every Night I Type Whats On My Mind