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heyheyloki · 3 years

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All Because Of You

Summary: The reader goes to find Castiel before the angels get to him.

Castiel x M!Reader

Castiel being human, losing his grace, was perhaps one of the most interesting yet hardest thing you had faced yet. Forget God. Forget Lucifer. Castiel human topped all of those for a simple reason. Now, it was incredibly hard to keep down your own human feelings that had stirred up for him a long time ago, and plus, yanno, all the Angels and Demons on the hunt for this one Angel who rebelled against Heaven and all that.

It's been a few days since you left the bunker to go look for Castiel. Sure, Dean and Sam weren't happy, but you knew you couldn't wait any longer for them. It's been weeks since Castiel went on the run and sitting around doing nothing but worrying about him was not good for your mind. You needed to see him, protect him, and make sure he was safe and by your side.

It took a three days to get to Detroit, the last place anyone saw Castiel or 'Clarence', as he called himself. You got the led from a group of homeless individuals that talked to Cas before he picked up a ride in on a truck that was heading to Detroit. This was probably the hardest part of the search. Lucky for you, growing up with the Winchester boys helped when it came to this kind of situation. Still, with all your skills, it was Detriot. A large city with many people, but the people may be your advantage.

"Excuse me," you hummed out to a man who was currently making burgers on the side of the road. The only thing that led you talking to him was Castiel's vessals love for red meat. Now that he was human, Jimmy was probably talking to him a lot more now. "Have you seen a dark haired, blue hair man around here? He would have probably acted a bit out of it?"

"Uh," the man thought for a moment. "Nah, sorry, no one really comes to mind."

"It's alright, thank you." You sighed, parting from the man and getting back on the move.

You took the rest of the day nonstop looking for Castiel with no leads whatsoever. Person after person either said they didn't remember someone like that, or saw so many people that day that it was impossible to even try to remember one man. This race against the clock was getting harder and harder, and frankly, it was getting irritating. All you wished for was Castiel to be safe. He could be hungry, or homeless--but safe was all you wanted cause in the end you knew you could fix both of this issues--all of his issues-- if you just found him.

As you were deep within your mind to try and make up a new way to find the fallen angel, the rain that touched your skin shoved you back into reality. Your eyes gazed as the raindrops that wet your skin before looking up at the dark clouds that surrounded you. A deep sigh filled with worry released from your lips before taking a few steps forwards. Perhaps those few steps were all you needed. Well, that and the rain. When you took those steps you heard a noise, one that would capture almost anyone’s attention. You paused, stood still before turning your head down an ally that seemed to be behind a restaurant.

Down the dark and rainy ally was a man who wrapped himself with this black hoodie he wore. His hair was soaked, not to mention his clothes, but that freezing cold look in his eyes broke your heart beyond anything you've felt before. The darkness obscured the man's face until you took a few steps down the ally. At first you were going to offer the man some food and direct him to a nearby shelter, but the minute he quickly shot his head up to see who was approaching him, everything changed. No matter how much time apart you have from him, you can never forget his face but you noticed that the first thing to go about a person was their voice. You thought that was the saddest thing to ever exist but when you heard it call out to you of all people, remembering his voice again was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

"[Name]?" Castiel croaked out.

You didn't speak but instead nodded to confirm it was you, and not a part of his imagination.

With the weather, you didn't waste any time to get both Castiel and you some shelter. A few minutes of pretending to be someone else and using another's money got you a relatively small but sufficient apartment for the time being.

When Castiel entered the apartment was dark given the time of day, but you quickly turned on the lights after you shut and locked the front door.

"Wow, it’s beautiful." Castiel commented as he looked around.

"It's an apartment that cost a 2,000 dollar deposit, it better be beautiful." You replied as you began to lock and shut all the entrances which included the windows as well.

Castiel kept his eyes on you as you did so, but when he noticed you were finished with your task he asked, "How did you find me?"

You turned to him and placed your hands into your pockets. "Oh, yanno, all my hunter skills went into work and here I am."

"Why aren't Sam and Dean with you?" He asked curiously.

You sighed at the question before taking a seat on the sofa that was provided with the apartment. "I didn't want to wait around. They thought it was dangerous, and it probably was but I don't know, I just couldn't stand being in that bunker wondering if you’re alive or dead."

Castiel's head went down for a moment, his own human mind now spinning with thoughts he wondered if he would ever have if he was still an angel.

"I apologize for worrying you." He suddenly said in more quiet tone. "That was never my intention."

"I know." You smiled before patting down the space next to you. "Come sit and lemme see what you got there."

Castiel's head went on a tilt before he remembered the wound he had on his left upper arm he got from fighting one of the many angels that were out on the hunt for him. The former angel complied with the request, mostly because of his trust and fondness of you.

When he sat down, you turned towards him and began to unbutton his white shirt after he took off the soaked hoodie. Castiel watched your attentively as you did so. The way your hands played with his shirt and the focus that was seeped deep into your eyes as you did so. Once his shirt was open, you gazed back up and into his eyes. He watched a faint smile, a comforting one, stretched across your lips before slipping the shirt off his shoulders and exposing his entire upper body.

Your eyes shot to the bloody rage he used around his arm, mostly just to stop the bleeding. Worry of an infection took place in your mind, but luckily that didn't seem to be the case.

"Look at you," you whispered. The words catching Castiel's attention quicker than ever before. "You're lucky this isn't infected."

"I suppose so." He replied under his breath as he continued to watch you, never once looking away.

You hovered your finger over the wound that was slanted across his bicep. The fact that it hadn't healed wedging itself into your mind making you say, "You really are human."

"Yes." Castiel said. "The whole experience has been very tiring."

You laughed at that, the chuckle that came from your chest making the former angel experience something that he hasn't before. Sure, he got chills from the cold or rain, but never from a simple laugh.

Next, you began to examine the wound. Overall, it seemed to be healing fine but you really wanted to clean up the dried blood that pooled around the actual cut. So, you grabbed a cotton pad and dabbed some rubbing alcohol on the surface.

"This may sting a bit," you warned Cas before gently patting it against the wound. You watched his face scrunch up a bit as he got used to the stinging sensation. Though, in the end it seemed like he took the pain rather well.

You smiled as you placed the pad on the table next you, your hands picking up some proper bandages before commenting, "You took that better than Dean. You getting used to being human?"

"Ah, it's all new to me. Hunger. Cold." He explained, his eyes meeting yours as he said, "This feeling of being alone."

You stared at Cas for a moment. Yes, he was still the same, and yet so much about him was different. He was learning how to understand human emotions, and after all this time it just took being human to truly get it. To you, it explained how truly complex human emotions were. Something about this Cas pained you in more than words could explain, and for some reason the desire to comfort him was absolutely overwhelming.

"You aren’t alone anymore." You said. Your mind focusing on one action, and one alone. You knew it would disappear until you acted on it, so, you carefully leaned in and gave the man a gentle kiss upon his cheek. The stubble he grew while away tickling your skin. When you backed up, you gave a kind smile and said, "I won't let you be alone, I promise."

Castiel remained silent, yet his eyes remained connected with yours until something clicked in his mind and they darted right down to your soft, vulnerable lips. He would be lying if he said he never studied them before, but right now the urge he wanted to act on for so long was stronger than ever. When he noticed you doing the same, something snapped. Castiel didn't waste any time to lean in and connect his lips with yours. At first, something told him not to rush or else you'd get scared away. So, he waited for you to make the next move and when he felt your lips sensually move against his, his next move was to do the same. At first, he really had no idea how to go about kissing and all he wanted to do was to impress you in the best way he could. So, he mimicked you, but if you had your eyes open and noticed his furrowed brows, you would instinctively tell he had absolutely no idea what was going on. All he knew was that with you, it felt better than he could have ever imagined.

Exploring your body was perhaps one of the best things he had gotten to experience as a human. Everything was so overwhelming in a way that he never would have dreamed. Though, perhaps the best thing about the entire thing was that it was with you. The way your squirmed underneath him, the sounds you made when he pleasured you, not to mention the way you made him feel was something he wouldn't trade up for the world to the point where he felt almost saddened when his body tired out on you.

Both of you laid on your backs, the sheets covering up to your abdomens, with this dazed looks in your eyes. Still, with that look something in your human mind wanted him to say something. Say anything.

You turned your head to him, his gaze still aimed up. "Well? Say something."

Castiel took in a deep breath, his eyes darting around as you noticed him try to think of something until he said, "There aren't words."

You stared at him before turning on your side, your body still facing him. "So, it was okay?"

This was the time Castiel turned to make eye contact with you. His injured arm raised, the palm of his hand against the back of his head. He stared at you for a moment before saying with a small smile, "Very much so."

You smiled a bit to yourself until you noticed his face go from happy to concerned, which prompted you to get a bit more serious for him. After all, you didn't want to make him feel embarrassed.

"Um.." he mumbled out. His eyes darting down and up again in a nervous fashion as he asked, "What I did, that was, uh.. correct?"

You couldn't help a large smile to snake itself across your lips as you nodded with a soft, "Very much so."

"Good," he said with a look that mirrored yours. And the smile he shined was almost designed to make you even more infatuated with him. And that laugh after--God that laugh--hearing it was everything to you.

You stared at him for a moment before calling his name. His head turning to you as your prompted yourself up and into his chest. He couldn't exactly make eye contact with you, but just having you right next to him, especially in this state, was more than he could ask for.

"Before, my promise? I'd like to add on to it." You suddenly said. The words confusing Castiel greatly, after all, the promise you made to him before was like music to his ears. What more could you say that could make him even more of a fool for a human like you?

"You don't have to." Cas said.

"But I want to." You cut him off and took a deep breath. You turned your head a bit, snuggling into him more and giving him a soft, loving kiss on his chest before saying, "I promise to protect you. To the end of the line because you mean more than family to me."

Castiel didn't waste anytime to take his arm around you, holding you closer if that was even possible. The words you spoke probably meant more to him than anything he's heard in his life. After all, with you, it was like you changed him from the inside out in ways that he never even imagined when he first met you.

"I promise as well, [Name]."

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x male reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural male reader #castiel fluff #castiel fic #spn fanfiction

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pony-boy21 · 3 years

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I have been feeling really detached from myself [not a new experience, just not in denial I guess] and have been feeling inhuman is the easiest way to put it. Here are others people experience that is very relatable (I'll bold the ones that I experience quite frequently)

“It feels like your conscious brain has detached and you aren’t attached to your body. Everything goes dull like a filter has been turned on.” — Kate R.

“Feeling like I’m not me. Like I’m looking at someone else’s body and when looking at my hands I can’t grasp that they are in fact a part of me. I could stare at myself in the mirror all day and not feel like they are my eyes looking back.” — Lydia G.

“You feel out of your body, you just feel numb, you feel like an observer… like you’re just watching a movie or a TV show about your life that you don’t have any control over. You just feel like you’re on autopilot. You look in the mirror and see yourself and you just can’t believe it’s you staring back. Everything just feels blank.” — Tayla R.

“When it starts, I can feel the things that make me human start to slip away. I lose all sense of emotion, my mind goes blank, and I feel as though my body does not exist. I go through tasks and actions like a well-programmed robot, and when I speak, it’s without my own tongue. I sound lifeless. Sometimes I scream and panic in the back of my mind, but my body won’t listen.” — Amity L.

“It feels like you are witnessing your own life behind a glass wall, like nobody sees or hears you, but you can see and hear everything very clearly, even clearer than usual actually. You see your body move and you hear your voice talk but you have zero control over what you’re saying or doing, and then you just keep banging on the glass wall hoping someone would notice you’re not really there inside the body.” — Kira H.

“You feel like your body isn’t your own body, it’s something strange and distant as a vehicle you don’t drive.” — Natasha C.

“I once described it to a friend by painting a picture. Imagine you are swimming, it’s kind of dark. You can feel what you are doing and you feel like you. As you continue, you start to see yourself from the perspective of a passerby. You move your hands but it doesn’t feel like you’re moving them, only watching. You can stare at them all you want but the longer you do it the more foreign they become. You feel trapped in this space, like your outside of your body and can’t get back in.” — Venus M.

“Depersonalization for me feels like I’m just now realizing everything around me is life. It’s like I never noticed before. And then like that, I’m lost and I’m not even sure how I actually feel. I feel as if I’m not even here. I’m a shell amongst shells.” — Chanta R.

“It’s like I’m underwater. I move, but I don’t think I wanted to. My body carries me through it’s normal motions, while I try to figure out how to come back and take control.” — Jana W.

“Depersonalization is like another version of myself takes over and handles what I’m anxious about. I suddenly become a happier person. I laugh and joke and I’m confident. Once I’m back in a secure environment, my real self appears and pieces of what happened during that time is lost. I don’t remember what happened.” — Tamasvi G.

“It’s like no longer being connected to your own body. Your mind is so overwhelmed that it just detaches from reality completely. You question whether or not you’re real. Everything about you is unfamiliar. You look at your hands and wonder whose they are. It’s almost like watching a complete stranger go about their business.” — Vanessa L.

“In all honesty, it’s horrifying. It feels like I’m not in control of my body. I feel like I’m playing out events and there is nothing I can really do about it. There’s a slight feeling of numbness. Feeling fully aware of what’s going on, but I can’t do anything to stop it. It’s almost as though I’m playing out a cutscene and I’m just there for the ride. For me, they’re the worst kind of anxiety attack I can have.” — Toby O.

“Feeling like I’m locked in a glass box but the glass is dirty and fogged up so i can only partially see/understand whats going on. I feel really disconnected from everything outside of the box so much so that i start feeling disconnected from myself too because I’m shut in and things don’t make sense. I feel spacey tired and confused and i wonder if I’m actually real. Its like my brain feels disconnected from my body.” — Sarah C.

“You’re awake, but you’re trapped mostly in your head. You think you’re in reality, but a lot of time goes by, and when you feel that sudden sense of, ‘Omg, look what month we’re in already?’ You realize you haven’t really been aware. It’s a nonstop cycle.” — Cady S.

“For me, it feels as though I’m not really in charge of my movements or thoughts. I’m somewhere not quite beside myself, but not fully me. I start to wonder if what’s happening around me is real.” — Jes V.

“Several times in the last couple of years, I have looked in the mirror and legitimately didn’t know who the girl was looking back at me. I couldn’t feel my body. I felt like I was just a void. Scared the crap out of me when I would ‘snap back’ to reality.” — Jessica H.

“Like in one of these movies, being an alien creature just inhabiting a human body and controlling it. A strong Sensation of strangeness and every move feels over-controlled.” — Stefan K.

“[It’s like] floating in a bubble just above my own head, puppeteering my body, clumsily, on strings. My physical sensations are dulled, except sounds, which are weirdly amplified and out of sync. I can think clearly as the me inside the bubble, but not as the me in the body. The me in the body feels distant, far away, like another person. My voice comes out but is strange and far away sounding. Everything is going too fast and too slow at the same time, people and cars loom up suddenly out of nowhere and things like traffic are unpredictable. My perception is oddly skewed making spatial awareness and proprioception difficult. I feel like I am piloting my body by remote control.” — Katy P.

“It’s like I’m standing just behind and a little to the left of myself. I can see and hear only me at the time. Everything else is black and silent. And if I’m in a rage, I can say and do awful things. When I come back, I remember nothing and don’t feel anything about my actions even when told how horrible I was. It wasn’t me who said/did those things.” — Caralyn R.

“I feel like I’m standing off to the side watching myself. But I feel nothing. Empty. No emotions or feelings, nothing. I’m watching people talk to me but I hear nothing. No sound. Everything is muted.” — Sheree S.

“It’s like being an alien inside your own head, but your body is a machine stuck on autopilot so you’re not controlling much of anything. You see everything, but feel nothing. And when you walk past a mirror, you avoid looking because the person you see in the reflection somehow isn’t you. It’s a hollow unrecognizable shell of a thing you remember, but can’t connect with on any level. It’s isolating too, because even if someone else does notice when you’re going through this, there’s no way in hell they could ever truly understand or relate because they haven’t ever been through this themselves.” — Devin L.

“For me it was like I couldn’t focus on anything, like my whole life was a complete blur, like I needed glasses to make it clear again, as though I was there but I wasn’t. The worst thing was that I couldn’t control it. I would look in the mirror and barely recognize the girl looking back at me. You feel unconnected with reality, you just go on auto pilot. It’s really horrible.” — Kerry F.

“It feels like you’re playing a first-person video game. You can sort of control your actions and choose to interact with objects and people, but it’s not actually you doing or experiencing any of it. You’re just watching what happens from behind a screen, completely disconnected.” — Rowan S.

“It’s like the world around me is made of Lego people and the cars are Hot Wheels. It’s like I’m the child who’s in control of how fast the cars move and how the people and trees and houses are all arranged. It’s scary really. Especially because when I finally realize I’m not the one I’m in control. I feel so confused about what happened and what I felt.” — Emmy P.

#pony-boy21 #mental health awareness #depersonalization

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pi-cat000 · 5 years

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MSA time travel idea (part 32)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25 Lewis POV 3, Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31

Part 33: here

VIVI POV

"Which of you alerted hospital staff to Lance Kingman’s condition?”

The officer steps into the room and Vivi spots a second man behind him. Lewis stands to greet them, and Vivi lets him take the lead. Conversation washes over her, buzzing like an annoying fly in the background. With all the new information being dropped into her lap, she is finding it difficult to think clearly.

‘Just because it’s weird, doesn’t mean we should discount it.’ How many times had she said that? A lot apparently, if Lewis is quoting it. But how does one fit all the weird things together into something coherent?

She loosely remembers Lewis and Arthur talking about an almost violent encounter with some leather-wearing wacko, but that had occurred at least a week before Arthur’s odd behaviour began. If the man was threatening Arthur for whatever reason, surely she would have seen some signs earlier instead of a steamily overnight change.

Why even mention ‘demon possession’ if that were the case. It didn't exactly add to the mysterious stranger's credibility in the 'find Arthur' department.

What did any of this even mean?

Vivi's not on Lewis's level when it came to reading and sympathising with people, but she is good at connecting actions to motivation. Nothing happened in a vacuum, there was always a cause and effect. There had to be some critical fact missing because, while some things fit together, others were completely random. Vivi exhales loudly, shifting her focus back onto Lewis. All she is doing is going over the same data points and hitting the same inconstancies. Futile.

“I’m a friend of his nephew, Arthur Kingsman. We heard Lance was in the hospital and came to offer support. It took us several hours to get here though,” Lewis is speaking, sounding confident and self-assured. He is talking in his ‘I'm dealing with people I don’t want to deal with, but I’m still going to be friendly’ voice. Unlike her and Arthur, Lewis is usually happy to interact with strangers, so she doesn’t hear this voice often.

“…We drove from Oak Ridge.”

Vivi, from her seated position, examines the two policemen more thoroughly. They don’t seem overly worried about her and Lewis, asking questions in a professional, concise manner. She has missed the introductions, so she doesn’t know either of their names.

“That’s pretty far off. Do you live there?”

“No. We were on a road trip. Arthur, he was with us, but he came back a few hours ahead.”

“Hmm. Have you see Arthur since then?”

“No,” A note of exhaustion is now creeping into Lewis’s tone like he has answered this question already.

“And you came straight to the hospital after arriving in Milton.”

“Yes."

There is a nod like the officer has just confirmed something important and Vivi realises that, if Lance had been attacked again -the officers hadn’t exactly confirmed anything yet- then Arthur is looking mighty suspicious. Arthur would never hurt his Uncle. But these guys didn’t know that. Statistically, these sort of things are usually a result of inter-family conflict.

“I met a weird guy in the car park who was looking for Arthur,” She pipes up, going with her ‘I’m just a dumb kid, what do I know’ voice, “Does that help?”

She has no problem throwing the mysterious stranger under the bus. Especially if the running theory, that the man is threatening Arthur, is true.

“We are not discounting anything. Which car park was this Miss Yukino?”

“It’s Vivi.” Lewis must have introduced her already. “It was the car park near the open mall. He had dark hair, a beard, wore a leather vest and had a bunch of bandages over his side like he’d been in a fight.”

The second man writes something down in his phone, frowning. There. Hopefully, that would throw their attention off Arthur and, to a lesser extent, her and Lewis. On top of everything, Vivi doesn’t want Arthur becoming a suspect in an attack on his own Uncle.

“Oh right!” She says brightly, standing, “Here.” She hands over the business card with the number. She has two of them, so it wasn’t like she was going to miss it.

“He gave me this. Maybe it'll help.”

Perplexed, the officer takes the card.

“So is Uncle Lance okay? What exactly happened? The hospital hasn’t told us much.”

“We’re really worried,” Lewis tacks on, from where he’s been watching Vivi’s attempts to subtly throw attention off Arthur.

At this, the second officer, the one who had been quiet up until now, steps forward. When he speaks his voice is warmer, accented in a way she can’t place, and not quite so coolly professional.

“Unfortunately, with the ongoing investigation, the hospital isn’t releasing any information on Lance Kingsman. We’ll look into this strange man …so there’s no need to worry.”

“But…”

“It’s late, and Hospital visiting hours are ending. You said you drove from Oaks Ridge? That’s a long drive, so the two of you should head home and get some rest." Lewis makes to interject, but the officer puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, cutting him off.

"Nothing is going to happen between now and tomorrow. You are better off waiting in a more comfortable environment and coming back. Besides, you’re friend, Arthur, if he hasn’t been through here already, is more likely to turn up somewhere familiar. If you see him at all, tell him to get in contact. He’s not in trouble or anything, but we’d like to ask some questions.”

Vivi crosses her arms and has to clamp her jaw shut to prevent herself from saying something rude. That would just get them into trouble. She lets Lewis handle the rest of the interaction, watching, disgruntled, as Lewis relays their addresses and phone numbers in case they are needed for follow-up questions.

“Tempo? I have a sister up there. A cute town that one,” The second officer comments, apparently surprised.

“It’s cosy…” Lewis shrugs loosely, prompting, “How long has she been in Tempo for?”

Yeah. If by ‘cosy’ Lewis meant suffocating, then sure.

“…Last five years. Here,” A photo is pulled from the man’s wallet. “See. That’s my Niece. Cute an’t’ she”

Lewis nods along, scanning the photo, commenting thoughtfully, “Her name wouldn’t be Sarah Arias? I think I’ve seen them in the diner a few times…It’s a small town.”

“Haha. That wouldn’t happen to be the big purple building? She loves purple, so it’s the only one they go to.”

“Yeah, my parents own it.”

“That place has some crazy spicy food. Hey, Anderson… Maybe you should go there sometime.”

Vivi notes that ‘Anderson,’ has pretty much checked out of the conversation, focused on writing notes.

“Call me Michael by the way. Here, hold on. This is the department number and here is my extension,” He rips out a page, writing as he goes, “I work for Downtown Milton. Ask for me if you have any trouble, or your friend shows up. We’ll get this sorted, no problems. Anderson here is from the big city so he’s dealt with all sorts and cases.”

After more empty reassurances, promising that Lance was ‘probably going to be okay’ and ‘this hospital is one of the best in the state,’ they are escorted by Michael to the hospital’s main door. Most of the people in the foyer are gone, leaving it deserted. Two other officers are standing off to the side, attempting to be discrete. So that excluded sneaking back in and interrogating hospital staff. Not that she thought it would do them much good.

Her and Lewis step back through the hospital’s entrance. Michael disappears, returning to his partner. It is telling when Lewis immediately slumps, sighing loudly.

“Here,” Lewis hands her the number, rubbing his face. She doesn’t know what to do with it, but she slips it into her purse anyway. They share a long tired look. Exhaustion is mirrored across both of their faces. Now what?

She is tired. Lewis is tired. They've been up since six, and it has been nonstop emotional curveballs since. That, coupled with eight hours of continuous driving, is probably contributing to the sudden wave of helpless defeat weighing on her chest. Now there is no obvious goal to work towards, she is at a loss.

The sky is quickly darkening, and it’s a hundred times windier than when she entered the hospital. Vivi’s hair blows about every which way, getting into her eyes and mouth. Lewis doesn't fare much better. Whereas usually, this would be a prime opportunity for some light teasing, right now, defeat is killing any amusement to be had. All she has is questions. No answers. No idea where Arthur is or whether Uncle Lance will be okay. All this effort and nothing to show for it.

"That doesn't look good," Lewis interrupts their moment of silent commiseration, nodding to the clouds which are blocking out the remaining sun, hastening nightfall.

"I dunno...always nice to have some mood lighting," She grouches. Shitty weather to reflect their shitty situation. They trudge back to the truck, huddling together, Vivi using Lewis's lager form as a windbreak.

"I can drop you at your place on the way to mine? If you want. I’ll pick you up in the morning. We can be back at the hospital first thing," Lewis offers, voice almost too quiet to hear over the wind.

"No.” She says it bluntly, too tied to beat around the social bush, “I’m staying with you."

Her and Lewis are sticking together until all this, whatever it was, is over. Despite her mental and physical fatigue, she knows there isn’t going to be a lot of sleeping going on. Not with so much stuff crowding her mind. Better to use that time planning and theorising with Lewis. Maybe, she can also think up some new goal to pursue.

"Okay," Lewis nods, giving the smallest of smiles and Vivi punches him affectionately on the shoulder. He has no right looking that relieved.

The truck is easily spotted in the quickly emptying parking lot. Mystery is still in the cab, paws on the window, attention glued to them as they approach. He doesn't do his usual happy-dog-reunion-routine when Vivi lets him out, instead sniffing at her legs in an almost urgent manner.

"I need to call mama and let her know we're coming home. Would you drive?" Lewis draws her attention away from Mystery. She motions with an ‘up’ gesture and the dog leaps into her arms in a practised action. She runs a hand through his fur in a calming motion.

"Yeah. I'm fine with that. Is there going to be room for me to…”

“You know there’s always space for you at my place,” Lewis anticipates her question, “Besides, it has barely been 24 hours since we left, so the mattress you slept on is probably still set up.”

The mention of time sours both their expressions. Hard to think that all this drama has occurred within 24 hours.

Vivi makes her way around to the driver’s seat, preparing for another bumpy ride as she re-familiarises herself with the truck. Mystery squashes himself between them and spends a long moment staring intently at her profile. It's kind of weird. When Lewis takes out his phone, she is distracted, dividing her attention between eavesdropping on his call and the road. It becomes significantly harder when Lewis transitions to Spanish because her understanding of it is rudimentary at best. Still, she can make a few assumptions based on his tone, like how he answers with an almost fake-sounding happy voice then transitions to somewhat exasperated, meaning he is probably talking to one of his sisters. A shift to a more tired and exhausted sound means he’s talking to his mom.

Vivi is so focused on Lewis that she almost rams straight into a motorbike when it pulls unexpectantly out in front of her.

“Shit,” She swears and swerves to avoid the suicidal idiot. Mystery is knocked over and almost off the seat entirely.

Quickly, Vivi winds down the window, shouting at the disappearing figure, “HEY! WHY DON’T YOU LEAN TO DRIVE!” The motorbike’s engine revs as if in response. Behind her, a car sounds its horn.

“HEY…” Before she can start yelling at the car as well, Lewis’s calmer voice intrudes.

“No. I’m okay. It’s Vivi. She’s road raging.”

She turns to glare, “I am not road raging. That looney cut out right in front of me. He’s lucky he isn’t dead.”

Lewis raises a brow and returns to talking in Spanish. She huffs, letting her irritation simmer down. The motorcycle is gone now, but she glares after it, rewinding the window to keep out the dust and wind.

They arrive at Pepper Paradiso just after sunset to her relief. She is definitely not experienced enough to drive a foreign vehicle at night. Not when the roads around Tempo are poorly lit, and the thick clouds overhead are completely blocking out both the moon and stars, making the night darker than average. Occasionally, Vivi sees a flash of lightning off in the distance.

“I told mama about Arthur being missing and that Lance is in hospital,” Lewis says as they pull in. He is rubbing his face in a tired motion she mirrors a second later.

“Yeah? What did she say.” Lewis’s mom was, in a word, stoic. She is a person Vivi tries very hard to impress even with repeated reassurances that it was unneeded.

“Not much. Only that everything is worse when you’re tired, and there will be food waiting.”

“Oh…” Vivi doesn’t really know what to say. Usually, the thought of a Pepper prepared dinner would be enough to perk her up. She’s not even hungry.

Pepper Paradiso, usually open later, appears to have closed early today. However, the interior lights are still on, spilling through wide glass windows, illuminating the empty parking bays next to the diner in an island of light. With the only other light sources being the distant houses of Tempo and one solitary street lamp several yards down the main road, it is exceptionally welcoming. Vivi exhales long and hard, bringing the truck to a stop.

As she and Lewis clamber out, dragging luggage with them, the apparent lack of wind catches her attention. Unlike Milton, the air here is thick and stagnant. The prelude to a storm. Perfect. On the horizon, lightning flashes. Grumpily, Vivi pulls out her phone. She should really call her dad. He’d want to know she was back in town. What she really wants is to call her mom. But her mom is in Washington for a conference, meaning it was late, so the time difference wouldn’t work out too well. Her gran didn’t have a phone, so that was out.

“Hey, Lew. I’m going to call my dad. I’ll be in in a second.”

Lewis, now carrying both his and Arthur’s bags, nods, reaching out to take her's as well. Through the window, she sees the silhouette of Lewis’s mom moving to greet him. The main sliding doors are locked like they always are after hours, so she is walking around to come out the side ‘employee’ entrance. The entrance which also led back into the main living area.

As her phone rings, she moves out of view and around to the opposite side of the truck, allowing her to stare out into the inky black desert. Far in the distance, a flash of lightning illuminates the empty landscape. This should be private enough.

“Vivi. I thought I told you to call once you stopped. It’s been two days!”

She rolls her eyes, “Nice to hear from you too.”

“I was worried. This is the first time you’ve been away for such a long period. A text message would have sufficed.”

“I message mom. Also, I’m an adult, I can figure this stuff out myself.” Only, she couldn’t. Not really. But, it wasn’t like ‘dealing with a best friend running off for unexplained reasons’ is a typical adult skill. She is getting off track.

“Well, I’m back in Tempo so you can stop panicking.”

“You’re back in…”

“I’m staying at Lewis’s tonight,” She waves away any incoming questions, “I just wanted to ask you something real quick is all.”

A pause.

“So like, I know that you hate my hobby and all, but is there a particular reason behind that. Like, is there anything I should watch out for…maybe a potentially demon-possessed friend.”

There is dead silence on the other end of the line. Mystery shifts from paw to paw near her feet.

“I think I have expressed my views on this already. What are you…”

“Because,” Vivi quickly continues, emphasising the word, before he can start lecturing, “I met this guy today who said he was hunting a demon. I know, sounds crazy. But he seemed to really believe it, and I have this odd feeling...” It had been bugging her. Also, for the first time ever, she wants to hear dad’s no-nonsense, self-assured ‘all that stuff isn’t real’ spiel.

“I just wanted to check that there isn’t anything you’re not telling…”

THUNK.

The area goes dark.

All the lights in the diner cut off at once. Vivi glances about in alarm, squinting as her eyes try and adjust to the sudden darkness. What the heck? She puts a hand out, touching the side of the truck, following it around to face the diner again. In the black, she can make out the building’s outline and not much else.

“Vivi? Are you there? What happened?”

“Ah…a power outage, I think?”

At her feet, Mystery lets out a deep growl, which sounds impossibly loud in the still air. It vibrates, causing her teeth to jitter. The dog steps forward, staring intently towards the corner of the building. For a second the area is illuminated by a flash of lightning, and she sees…she sees Arthur? Darkness returns, falling like a curtain to obscure her view.

“Sorry dad. Gotta go…”

“NO! Vivi, wait!”

She hangs up. Mystery growls again, and she peers into the night. It’s no use. Quickly, she flips through her phone settings for the flashlight, holding it up. The dim light it offers little against the gloom, giving her barely a meter of vision.

She is almost sure she’d seen Arthur.

Part 33: Here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #Lewis pepper #Vivi Yukino #coarse language #Oh look another scene in a car park.#had an a4 page of dotpoints to get through in this part and I did it #Wow 3000+ words it’s been a while since I did something this long #If you see more mistakes than usual that’ll be why #it's climax time!!

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miss-gioconda · 5 years

Text

Some advice I wish I heard when I was struggling with depression

Two days ago I was sorting through my old child diaries and drawings. My family had saved them for me. What can I say... I was not the merriest child in the town. But I did have some dreams. I even left some letters for my future self.

And so I thought: maybe I should give some advice for today-myself too? Some advice I would like to hear the most. And perhaps I should share my experience of living with depression to teach someone to not be like me. The bad example is still valid!

As I have put it one or two times before in my lifetime, I’m going to perform an act of the emotional exhibitionism.

So, here goes the trigger warning for depression.

Recently I have had a conversation on the human experiments and the price of life with my pal, and during our exchanges of view I’ve suddenly realized that I will give up on my life immediately and without thinking twice if that means that somebody better is saved or born. I’m not talented enough, and I’m not smart enough (I feel stupid almost nonstop). And these two characteristics are my ‘strong’ points by the way. Funny.

Speaking about emotional and common sense intelligence, I can not normally talk to people, I can’t support anyone, I can not empathize with anyone. I am not disciplined and purposeful; I can strive for three of four goals at the same time and not reach any at last. And dealing with only one goal is too boring, boring to the extent of tantrums. I can’t stand boredom. It is like a curse.

(Please do not dwell on negative thoughts, — if you can, of course, — for example, when I catch myself on these I try to do even most little things like brewing tea or changings socks or searching memes or anonymously asking anime rp-boys some funny stupidities).

I haven’t left my room for like a month; it’s holidays at my university after all. All I do is sleeping. More and more often I forget about the food, and I’ve noticed that I even don’t care anymore about my physical appearance (I don’t comb my hair, I’m okay with sleeping in not so fresh sheets, and it’s very tiresome to get a shower for example). I severely lost interest for my hobbies.

My family doesn’t notice it, though. I had nocturnal activity periods during my school years, so I suppose they think that I just eat and stuff at night. This is for better that they don’t notice. My grandpa suffers from second stroke and my mother tries to escape from anxiety because she is permanently jobless and my grandma has a progressive cataract.

(Please take care of yourself. Take a shower. Now. With your favourite soap. Dance to your favourite music. Eat some chocolate. And do not make family worried but only if it risks their heath. If not than ask for help and now).

Besides, they are already worried because of my high risk of the retinal detachment.

Doctors say that I will become blind sooner or later. Maybe from five to fifteen years.

So, shortly speaking, my apathy will only make the situation worse.

(Please do take breaks from a computer and a mobile phone and books. Please take more strolls. Buy one random book or action figure and have a cup of coffee).

I can’t even tell my bestie about it because she has such a position that the apathy is just one form of weakness and talking about it is some sort of teenager’s whining. I’m not a teenager anymore. So I don’t have any right to whine; whining people are pitiful. Ha-ha. So I can only shut up.

(Please don’t be sad about not being understood; all people are different, so they don’t have to understand you. No, your best friends do not try to offend you or devaluate you...)

My s/o doesn’t help either. She had known that I had a recurring condition even before I tried to talk about it more... profoundly two or three months ago. But she didn’t get it. She just asked me: ‘You were not like that before. What have changed? Did I do something wrong? Let’s buy coffee and have fun!’

Next time she told me that I just like to suffer, and if I like to suffer more than I like her then I should suffer along. She apologized, of course, some time after. But I don’t trust her now.

(... But please at the same time be careful around people; listen to your heart and if you see that one of your friends can possibly make you even miserable than just say nothing to them; you deserve better).

So to speak, I have had same feelings before, and not even once. Several times during my high school and maybe two during my first year at university. The second-to-last time was the worst: suicidal thoughts were torturing me perpetually, and I saw in every car and in every other building an opportunity to muffle the voices inside my head. I could start crying at lectures in front of everybody. I tried to smoke and smoked frequently, maybe two or three cigarettes a day, — and for a recent nonsmoker it was a nauseating experience. I tried to drink myself to the point that I would not care about the pain so I could at last get The Thing done. I had a part-time job but I hated it, and I was forced to smile to every customer when I felt like shattering inside.

But at least I was showering and eating.

(Please leave a job you hate, and do not drink and smoke if you feel down, it will not help).

At that time I had some seances with a psychological professional. She was too pushy, and after her consultations I felt worse. She was ruining my already nonexistent self-esteem. All I did was randomly picking cards and trying to describe myself in connection with the picture on the card.

Once she told me to write my top-ten best qualities, but well, I couldn’t find any. She tended to speak about her job as a tutor at medical college, and she liked to brag how good and successful she was (is) as a mother.

She was so pushy that I lied and lied. Being useless in front of someone so shiny and proud was awful.

(Please do not lie to your counselor, and if you are uncomfortable with your current one just change them).

At my first seance she said I had a bipolar disorder. At my last she told me that I was healthy. That I had recovered.

I hadn’t, because that evening I found myself googling places to buy best ropes.

(Please do not read suicide forums. There are lots of judgemental people there and you may find yourself crying afterwards).

Now I don’t think about suicide.

It’s because I have realized that even my death would do nothing good for society. I’m useless both in the death and the life, so why should I care? And I will not become better or more useful. I can only whine.

(Please live one more day; it may be better tomorrow or it may not, but if you die now you will not know. And do you really want to leave behind such a beautiful world full of breakthroughs and sexy 2D boys and girls?)

High hopes frighten me. One should spend so many years and so much energy to achieve something (even something small), and when I start to reflect on the amount of work and the emotional dedication to apply to a great goal, I panic. And stop doing a thing.

(Please do make baby steps. Do not think about the big picture. You can even isolate yourself from this toxic internet community to not feel pressure of competition. Don’t compete at all, but just enjoy what you do!)

I have nightmares about going outside. Being outside means communicating with people, and I don’t have enough energy to pretend being happy and productive. I want do nothing; I want stop thinking; I want to lose sense of my identity.

Sometimes I have slight panic attacks, especially when I am at public spaces. Panic attacks start when I see everyone living their full lives — being smart, successful, loved; and then I start to compare myself to them. And then I feel the need to run as far as possible and as fast as possible just to hide inside some kind of dark place. During panic attacks I lose my voice and I had the tremor and I’m so, so, so afraid.

(Please — if you experience same symptoms — check info about panic attacks and how to deal with them. Please do not be embarrassed and ignore people who judge you. If you feel like crying, cry; if you feeling like leaving, leave. Your mental health is more precious).

Just one year ago I still tried to appeal to everyone, to fake my character just for the sake of being loved, but it didn’t work so I gave up. Now I don’t try to communicate. I know nobody would like to deal with such a gloomy person.

I feel guilt for my past and I’m afraid of my future. What can a blind girl do? And even if some miracle occurs, what can a stupid person do? Will I be forced to come back to being a service personnel?

(Please do not be guilty about your past; let it be forgotten; you matter no matter what you have done. You are the human and that’s enough to be appreciated. It is your natural right).

I’m not rich enough to change my speciality at university. And, frankly, my university is not the best place in general (because of corruption & the authority some professors make personal use of & the lack of ways to be creative).

I assume my everything is slowly going to hell.

(Please believe that everything is slowly getting better, and one day you will be happy and satisfied with yourself; you will love yourself. At least you have one person to love you. It’s me. I love you).

I should smile more. Point. Smile. :) You should too.

#personal #advice #positive #depression #depressed #suicide #feelings #expierence #trigger warning #mental health #off topic #blindness #anxiety #gibberish #love #self love #positive mental attitude

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clydeluckylogan · 4 years

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Okay I love TLJ! A lot of my friends hated it but honestly I thought it was fun and inventive! My favourite part has to be the scene in the hut when Kylo/Ben and Rey are having that hand-touching moment. I think it really solidified their connection and showed that these are two very confused individuals trying to figure out their next steps. It just felt so humanizing and connected, really beautiful to me

I think with a lot of people they fully missed the point of The Last Jedi and for some reason don't like that it is an emotional film. One of the reasons I love it so much is because it's an emotional film. It isn't just nonstop action with no substance.

I’m a fan of the hand touch scene as well.

Now I’m not here to have a ship war in my replies or inbox for that matter, but this scene in the grand scheme of things is one of the emotional moments in the film. It's incredibly important.

Like you said they are both two confused individuals who are alike in so many ways on opposite sides of this war that I don't think either one of them ever wanted to have any part in.

They do connect at that moment and it shows one of the important themes of Star Wars, love. (Whether you want to view it as a romantic love or a platonic friendly love I really do not care, but if there starts to be negativity in the replies and my inbox I'll shut it down immediately. This is a safe space for everybody.)

Only love, any sort of love, can defeat hate and evil. Somehow that seems like a very relevant statement for how things are in the world right now.

#anon #anonymous #the last jedi positivity

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televinita · 7 years

Text

Zoo 3.11, “Cradles and Graves”

Maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me

I don't know if I'm more upset that this show had the gall to unironically use (a cover of)“Wonderwall” for dramatic effect, or that after 3 days of my inability to stop watching this episode, it's actually working for me.

I distinctly remember bursting out laughing when the first lyrics hit my ears, and now I'm like, teary eyed and nodding sagely through that whole montage. "Wow. So deep. So profound and meaningful."

------

A list of things I did not care for this week: the IADG bullpen unless Tessa was talking. Now that we've got that out of the way... Some things I like about the first 5 minutes -Imagining the Darkest Timeline version where they are all already dead by the time Clem finds them. -The (unintentional?) hilarity of the fact that Jackson's blood waits for the exactly perfect moment to ooze under the door for maximum dramatic effect -The fact that Mitch is found on the stairs instead of where he was shot, which suggests to me that he got to feel the full horror of seeing both Max and Jamie on the ground before he succumbed to his own wound (which is probably just an irresponsible directing choice because if he had, I'd think he'd be a little more grateful about the whole them-not-being-dead part, but it's fun to think about! Otherwise I just get bogged down again in wondering about the logistics of GSW injuries.) Ctrl + Z I loved it, but my parents and I could not stop laughing during the entire resurrection scene. "So I guess everybody's actively dying and no one can help us, but it's cool. Just gimme some of that tank serum (totally valid medical term) and mix it with water (just your basic home remedy recipe), and then we'll suffocate them back to life and five minutes later their mortal wounds will be fine and we can get on with the real problems." A.K.A. So there's example 57 or so of an entire episode's worth of possible plot being pushed aside because this show refuses to take a breath. We could have wrung so much more emotion out of Clementine, whilst ignoring her own signs of labor, trying to triage her father, grandfather, adoptive mother, surrogate uncle I'm pretending she is already attached to more than I'm sure she is, and other surrogate uncle who is also her best chance of saving her baby, the most important of all, if something goes wrong in delivery. ...and GDI now I gotta go find a special episode of Grey's Anatomy to get my mass tragedy fix. But I'm grateful that even at Zoo speed, they still gave me a little taste (in two flavors!) of people suffering the after-effects of injuries the serum couldn't fully fix. You're Responsible, You're the One to Blame, It's Your Fault :( to everyone being too busy hating her to notice Jamie cradling a clearly injured arm. But I love absolutely every sentence in this 7-way argument, including but not limited to Mitch's strangled "are you full term? how long was I out?!", the group-wide reveal of when exactly Mr. Duncan disappeared, Jackson's deadly-quiet anger, Jamie's valid defense of her actions, Mitch trying to take his daughter and blow this popsicle stand at a doubled-over limp, Clem taking her sweet time mentioning the quarantine, Max and Jamie's "oh" realizations about the plane, and Mitch's fabulously cranky echo and "what now" attitude. Last but far from least, the disgusted "I can't even look at you" was kind of my favorite part? I dig it when one member of an OTP is that intensely furious at the other out of hurt. (see also: Castle at the end of season 4)

A+ Comic Relief Laughing for 1 million years at Clem hopping off the exam table pantsless while all the men in the vicinity double take and look away* (except for Sam, whom Mitch hilariously whacks on the arm for his impudence, in my favorite sight gag since "Special Consultant") *the fact that Abe also does this, while understandably instinctive and appropriately respectful, is also kind of hilarious given where he just was

Oh My Darling(s, Sam &) Clementine (who can't make a good shipmanteau to save their life) I don't have enough interest to do it myself, but it sure sounds like the story of how they met would make a pretty great YA novel plot. Anyone who doesn't actually want to spend the month trying to be a paid author need a NaNoWriMo prompt? Particularly someone who likes world-building, because this show leaves things wide open to fill in the details of U.S. society outside New York and the plane. Speaking of which! Did Clem happen to share with him the part of her backstory about being raised as an orphan basically the same way for the same reason? Because that seems like it would decently bond them. I like this parallel. Also update, I am getting a lot fonder of his face, mostly because he shut up and stayed out of the way except when I needed him to chime in to be sweet and supportive of Clementine (or side with her dad about ranking her over the baby on the priority list). He seems like he's really tried/is trying to be a good partner, and I'm impressed that he holds his ground despite a faceful of largely unwarranted hostility from her. I might actually be okay with him being the head of his family, even though up until now my head has danced with visions of Clem raising her baby under Mitch (and Jamie)'s purview and/or roof, Last Man Standing style. (although I guess there's always Reba-style, where both young parents are under that roof) (I realize I'm making a lot of assumptions about everyone's ability to stay alive and/or live a semi-normal life)

Beta Ship 2.0 / My Wonderwall** There's something immensely funny to me about the juxtaposition of Jackson being in his Brooding Cave Of Isolated Despair while Tessa is in a brightly ilt location, in the middle of the hustle and bustle and basically being like, "Buck up and stop being so melodramatic." (Jackson: The prophecies have spoken. Food turns to dust in my mouth. A great wave shall fall upon us all. // Tessa: is your plane out of groceries again?) But on a serious note, I love so much that he's thisclose to broken until she pulls him out of it that I'm not even gonna whine about him asking Tessa to do the same thing he's punishing Jamie for. Though in his defense, he did say "stop" her and not "kill her,” which is an important distinction for him. **My friend once wrote a Jim/Pam (The Office) parody of Jim/Pam stories using this title, and that is at least 50% of why I can't take this song seriously even though I actually have always loved it.

I Don't Know What To Do My Whole Brain is Celebrating "How do you know the name of Jamie's scorpion?" "Because my son and Jamie have, uh, very lively pillow talk."** !!!!!!!!!! NO BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE.

The fact that Abe pipes up despite a sucking chest wound just so he can help take the mick out of Mitch is glorious. The cranky and ineffectual "shut up" in response is THE BEST. I love that Mitch has just always blatantly refused to publicly acknowledge how he feels about Jamie, despite the fact that everyone and their mother is like, "Oh yeah, I know Mitch. Snarky scientist, walks around with hearts in his eyes to match the one on his sleeve?" (Mitch, in the distance: I do not LOVE her, okay, I just...miss her when she's not around, think about her all the time, and I imagine us one day running towards each other in slow motion and I'm wearing a brown suede vest.) I doubly appreciate this exchange because I was wondering when the hell these people actually sleep and I was getting worried there was no recognizable place in canon that they might have both had a chance to go to bed at the same time. **This writer could not have more clearly been flagging us with a fic prompt. Max Morgan, Love Doctor My very favorite of the small moments in this ep is Max insisting that Mitch let him patch him up. I was all on board for some serious injury, but I loved the subversion of his attention being caught by the scars I thought the show had forgotten about instead. "Oh, Mitch."

That just kills me. I want to unpack their relationship right here so much more, but also, it's 7pm on the night of new Zoo. Suffice to say Mitch isn't the only parent who suffers over the thought of his kid being in pain tonight, and that's beautiful. And gosh do I love him quietly, individually, nudging Mitch and Jamie back towards each other. The promise that Mitch will understand eventually was an immediate balm upon my soul. If Max says a thing about my ship, it must be true! Mitch + Being A Mess of Emotions About His Daughter (if anyone wanted to make a gifset off of this theme I would not be opposed) Words cannot express how thrilled I am that Mitch gives zero bothers about Sam's baby daddy rights and takes up prime positioning to stroke Clementine's hair nonstop throughout the whole labor,* even stealing the requisite final "you can do this" encouragement. He also gets to be the first one to hold the baby and it's amazing.

* and makes some pretty wonderful faces over how hard it is to see her in pain and not be able to do anything about it -- and remind me I've got either some meta or a story scrap about how this is what Audra was on the front lines for all those years he selfishly hid away, telling himself it was for the best P.S. As much as I love that Mitch just falls apart in full Worried Dad mode and can't seem to process a single medical term or physical symptom as it pertains to pregnancy, you know that if Abe weren't a sex doctor and the writers weren't butts, Mitch would absolutely be whipping out the stethoscopes and telling us all about the time he delivered a baby gorilla so this is basically the same thing -- I imagine Clem would take loud offense here -- while roping in Jamie as a delivery nurse to follow his instructions to the letter (because there are some things fathers just should not do no matter how brilliant they are). Things I would like to know Why Mitch -- who apparently had a through and through -- is the only one whose gunshot wound is still bothering him Why Clementine didn't once ask where Jamie was. (at which point I'd really like to see Mitch try and explain that one.)

It is straight up ridiculous to me that 19-year-old girl in labor, surrounded by men, would not want a woman with her, particularly one she loves. This is the most "what...man...[wrote] this" moment I have ever had about TV.

Did I just miss it, or is it kinda weird that Sam doesn't bat an eye upon finding out Charles Duncan is actually a different person and his girlfriend's father?

Leftover Thoughts

This show is so nuts, I am just now realizing I didn't even stop to wonder how the hell Abigail reanimated herself last week before now.

Mitch being a testy bitch @ Abe is a thing that just does not get old. ("You put hybrid goo in my daughter? Was that not worth a little chat?")

Aww @ Mitch's mini pep-talk about being a good parent, followed by the "OK time to go" and the sweet "I'm having this baby?" / "You are having this baby."

I also really enjoy Mitch deciding to be cranky about Sam just because he's there and he can. It's kinda like sniping at Logan, but more fun and with way better reasons. (Which I hope is exactly what Mitch says when Clementine inevitably tells him to knock it off)

"Goodbye frequent flyer miles" lmao

I love that instead of shutting down the beacon by cutting the wire, they multiplied its effect by a thousand and destroyed a city, to which the response is basically, "Whoops."

"You've been good for my son. Take care of him for me." So I LOVE THIS, but also: dammit Max that is not what "die for our ship" means.

But I love the moment where Jamie and Max, individually, hear the baby crying. The joy dawning on their faces is so pure it actually makes it worthwhile that they're not present at the birth itself.

(I know we're especially mad about Jamie. But honestly, if it means All Mitch All The Time, that's an OK trade to me.)

tl;dr if something is not mentioned please assume I loved it

COMING SOON:

(will be links shortly) Mini essays analyzing Jamie V. Jackson, Mitch/Jamie and Max's death.

In conclusion: I spent my entire night writing this, but it was worth it. Future Me is gonna love looking back.

#cbs zoo #episode reactions #zoo 3.11 #2200 words AND THIS ISN'T EVEN ALL OF IT #most of the Mitch and Jamie analysis is yet to come

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thranduilsperkybutt · 7 years

Text

Sorry for Interrupting

Imagine: Imagine catching Stiles cheating on you and instead of yelling, you quietly say, “Sorry for interrupting,” and leave before he can stop you.

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski/Reader; Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate-Hale (because I needed someone for him to cheat on you with)

Warnings: Stiles cheating; Angst, angst, and more angst. Why am I like this?

Word Count: 2,320 words

Author: Meg

Reader Gender: Unspecified (I wrote this as identifying with female pronouns, but there are no actual pronouns for the reader, so it could go either way.)

A/N: An original title, for sure. I wanted to explore this prompt further and since a bunch of people wanted me to, as well, I decided to actually expand the imagine into a oneshot. I don’t know if it’s what you guys wanted but ugH IT HURT ME DESPITE BEING FUN TO WRITE.

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

You wanted to scream at him. Yell at him. Tell him he just lost the best thing that ever happened to him in the midst of a speech like the elaborate ones you’d seen occur in movies after something like this. Anything that would make you feel okay after.

But you just couldn’t. You didn’t have the energy or the presence of mind when walking in on Stiles and her to even so much as process the scene before you. You knew well enough that Malia and Stiles had dated. You’d thought those feelings were over when you ever even came into the picture, but you’d been wrong.

You’d been wrong about a lot of things, apparently.

You honestly hadn’t even fully wrapped your head around it yet as you slowed to a walk in your haste to escape the street Stiles’ house was on. Now, you were walking back to your own home, feeling empty and slightly nauseous as the feelings churned inside you, threatening to erupt. You were dry-eyed for now, still looking as if you’d seen a ghost as you make your way to your home with the scene you’d witnessed only minutes before replaying in your head as if on miserable repeat.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to notice that things between you and Stiles had been… different the last few weeks. You talked, but there were omissions, a strange distance between each interaction that only comes when two people are growing apart. There were times when he was busy with no explanation.

The sad fact was that Stiles and you weren’t the same around each other. At least, not like you were when you’d first gotten together. But you didn’t act like you used to either. The little thoughtful things you would do for each other at first had dissipated with time and the stress the events occurring in Beacon Hills had put on your relationship. You got too comfortable and that, perhaps, was even more dangerous.

You’d wanted to surprise him. Bring him some of his favorite dinner while his father spent his late-night shift at the station, and maybe try to start mending whatever had been broken in your relationship.

But as you opened the door to his room, you saw Stiles with her, and he saw you seeing them together, stammering out some sort of shocked and guilt-ridden sentence that you don’t catch because of the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears. As if in a daze, you begin to turn, mumbling a single, broken-hearted reply quietly before you hurry down the stairs, ignoring the call of your name he sends after you.

“Sorry for interrupting.”

The image of Stiles kissing Malia was burned into your retinas. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to forget it. The more you replayed the moment you’d opened the door to his bedroom, the more horrible you felt. Emotions overcoming you like a storm that you didn’t have the time to analyze right now. You were reacting, plain and simple. Only it wasn’t plain or simple. The flurry of complex emotions couldn’t be narrowed down to something as simple as angry or sad. It was combinations of hurt, betrayal, and a gut-wrenching heartbreak that you hadn’t ever thought yourself capable of feeling before this very moment.

You pause in your steps as the streetlights come on, breathing heavily as you lean against a tree in someone you don’t know’s front yard. It just now dawns on you that you’d left what had been meant to be both Stiles’ and your dinner on his dining room table as your stomach rumbles lightly. Your phone had been vibrating almost nonstop in your back pocket since you’d caught Stiles cheating on you. Cheating. The word almost didn’t adequately describe the action from which had caused you this much pain.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, it lights up your face as you confirm your suspicions. It had been Stiles calling and texting you. You really didn’t feel ready to even so much as look at his messages, let alone speak to him at the moment. What would you say?

“Hi, Stiles, so is Malia still there?”

Yeah, no, that was not going to be productive right now. The mere thought of having to put up the effort to form a coherent sentence about this was something that exhausted you. You felt your throat close a little, making it harder to breathe the more you stared at the announcement on your phone that you had seven missed calls from him. Taking a deep breath, you felt the space behind your nose burn with threatened tears.

Shaking it off as best you could, you retake your march down the street and towards your home. You’re unable to clear your head despite the fresh summer air that surrounded you, making the California night warm and inviting. It was a stark contrast to how you felt inside. Nights like tonight had always been filled with things that you’d wanted to remember. Things like hanging out with Scott and the rest of the pack, or Stiles as you’d originally planned on tonight. Instead, the beautiful night had been spoiled.

Part of you didn’t want to let Stiles have that much power over your own happiness, but you couldn’t help feeling the way you did. The way that he and Malia had made you feel at the end of the other negative emotions, was forgotten. Had you just been a second thought in his mind when he’d kissed her? Had she kissed him first, and he didn’t push her away? How had you not seen it coming?

So many questions filled your mind as you found yourself opening your front door with shaking hands, having found your way home on autopilot for the remaining length of your trek. How were you going to face the two of them? When would you even feel like it? None of these questions were with answers as you shut the door behind you, leaning on it to take another deep breath before you finally let go in the comfort of your empty house. Tears flowing freely down your face as you slid down the door to sit on the flooring just inside your home, unable to force your way any further towards your room before the feelings caught up with you.

For the first time in a while, you cried.

It was the middle of summer, so you wouldn’t really be forced to see Stiles in the same way as if you’d had school the following day. That’s why it had taken you about the length of a business week to even feel okay about the thought of seeing him without that fact being much of an issue. You should have known the rest of your friends would hear about it soon enough, because of course Stiles would tell Scott. Scott had apparently told Liam, because he had sent you a text; the beginning of the sea of questions people had asked you or wanted to ask you. As if you knew the answers.

Are you okay?

Of course you weren’t. That was one answer you had. While the concern behind the text touched you, you really didn’t want to discuss this with Liam. As for Stiles, you hadn’t been taking his calls or replying to his texts, but you’d read them. They consisted mainly of apologies and attempts at explanations all in the midst of begging for you to pick up your phone. On the fourth day of your isolation, Stiles’ texts dwindled throughout the day. The final one was the one that had made you want to talk.

I hope I didn’t mess this up forever.

Honestly, you didn’t know if he had, but you also didn’t know if he hadn’t. You didn’t know if you would ever forgive him for this, but you also didn’t know if you wanted to give up on the relationship you’d had with him. Was there anything there anymore to even give up on? That, you didn’t know either.

It was the fifth day before you texted him back. A single, hesitant sentence at your fingertips that you sent to him with a shaky breath.

Meet me at our place.

Our place consisted of a large rock on the outskirts of town that he had sworn looked like a heart when you’d first found it all those months ago. The two of you had been on Liam duty during a full-moon in the early stages of his being a werewolf and had been out looking for the boy you’d of course lost track of when stumbling across it. It was happenstance, really, but to the two of you at the time it was fate. Stiles had been the one to insist that and, cheesy as it was, you thought it was romantic.

The romance was no longer in the air as you found Stiles already sitting there in the midday, waiting for you when you come upon him now. He was scanning the trees until you emerged from them, his eyes locking onto your own. Those brown eyes you’d fallen in love with over the course of your friendship looked worn now, despite his youth. The past few days had apparently taken a toll on him, maybe just as much as it had on you. Dark circles hung beneath them, making you wonder how much sleep he’d gotten as your heartstrings tugged with worry despite what he’d done.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something as you come to stand in front of him, but you can tell what comes from him isn’t what he’d initially planned to say when he clears his throat, “Wanna’ sit down?”

You could tell he was scared you were going to run off at any moment, which, to be honest, was an accurate assumption considering the way you wished you’d waited just a little longer to have this talk right about now. Deep down, though, you knew that never still wouldn’t be long enough for you to be ready for this. Looking back at him, you catch the regret in his eyes as his brow furrows with worry.

Swallowing dryly, you reply, unable to help the angry bite to your voice, “No.”

“Okay, you’re angry, I deserve that,” Stiles replies quickly, nervousness lacing his voice as he takes a breath, “Did you read my texts? I know they aren’t enough, but I was hoping---”

“I read them.”

“Oh, okay, thank you,” Stiles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips as he thinks of a way to put anything into words, "Nothing can make what you saw--- what I did--- okay, but I hope I can find a way to show you how sorry I am---”

You cut him off again, unable to stop yourself as that burn behind your nose you’d come to be intimately familiar with this past week flared up again, “Do you love her--- Malia?”

Stiles’ response is quiet as he looks guilty at the sound of her name, “I'm not in love with Malia. I love you, (Y/N).”

“Then why did you do this?” you question, steeling yourself with an inhale through your nose as you try to soften your glare at him. “Have you been with her for longer than last night?”

“We--- I had been with her the night before that, but we didn’t do anything, I swear,” Stiles hurries through it, but that doesn’t stop your heart dropping further at his deceit.

“You’d told me you were with Scott that night,” you remember, voice barely above a whisper as you try to not revisit the emotional hurricane that had hit you when you’d initially caught Stiles and Malia together. With another breath, you ask, “You weren’t with her any more than that?”

“No, (Y/N), I promise. It was all a mistake,” Stiles runs a worried hand through his hair as he stands from the rock to move closer to you as he confesses. “Malia and I have history, you know, and maybe there were some feelings still there, but I don’t love her. She just kissed me that night and I kissed her back because I--- I still felt them and things have been different between us. You’ve been distant.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” you ask angrily.

“No, no---!” Stiles’ eyes blow wide as he realizes how you took it, clarifying, “I just think I wasn’t trying anymore. I was pushing you away, maybe, but I don’t want to be practically flatlined like I’ve been being. Having you catch me kissing Malia made me realize that." Stiles reaches out to take your hand and you let him, wanting to hear him out, “Let me try to fix this--- us. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I don’t want you to hate me.”

Stiles is looking at you with hope and deep down, no matter how much he’d hurt you, you knew you couldn’t hate him.

“I don’t hate you, but,” you begin, the words clawing their way up your throat before you can stop the honest hurt from coming from you in a pained whisper, “I don’t know if I love you anymore, either, Stiles.”

His whole face drops as if you’d kicked a puppy, a small sound coming from him in a heartbroken, “Oh.”

“I just,” you realize you’re shaking as you meet his eye once again, noticing that he looked just like he always did before he was about to cry, “I need some time to figure this out.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Stiles’ voice cracks before he clears it, his hand gripping yours a little tighter in his own fear.

“I’m still standing here, aren’t I?” you squeeze his hand back, offering him a small, sad smile as you decide, “I’m still giving you a chance.”

#trigger warning #trigger: adultery #fanfiction #Fanfic by me #stiles stilinski fanfic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf female reader insert #newstuff female reader insert #author meg #teen wolf male reader insert #newstuff male reader insert

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maggamaggamagga · 7 years

Text

livejournal is dead so it’s time to process all those kuh-razy emotions from this kuh-razy fucking span of time in an inevitably lengthy text post!!!

the day of graduation I nearly cried over the program in shame and panic bc it disclosed i would need to complete summer credits before officially graduating, and it also disclosed of the lack of what i’d achieved in scores, academics, etc. and who won what from competitive scholarships. i had nothing, no cum laude, no scholarships mentioned on paper, the grant i won wasn’t mentioned in the program (other grants were) and i panicked momentarily thinking i’d made the whole thing up and others would think i did, too, and hate me. and that just added to the panic bc i assumed that would be what i’m remembered as -- a continued fuck up, someone who never should have been here, mediocre-at-best, “she tried, but isn’t really worth anything but pity,” someone headed nowhere --- someone who didn’t deserve the degree. or a life, for that matter.

i wouldn’t say i’m as suicidal as i was when i was young, where every waking thought had to be dedicated to convincing myself to stay alive, but i skirted along seeing myself at my cruelest to myself this semester. there was a voice that found nonstop excuses to say, “this is why you don’t deserve to live,” “this is why you have to kys,” “this world is better for you not being in it,” “you are the most hated, most pathetic person in this department and you have to die before everyone decides to punish you for daring to be a part of it,” etc. there were times i had an irrational part of me reeling, convinced my art was so bad that people were planning on killing me or hiring hits out on me.

it’s been very hard. what nobody says about abuse recovery is that every ugly word and wound that shaped who you are is going to get a lot louder because you have to rearrange all the coping mechanisms that kept you alive and find out your bedrock is harsh, cruel, and driving bc it knew nothing else.

how do you rewrite the fundamental truth of who you think you are? i’ve spent the past year in therapy working aggressively on how the abuse and abandonment that raised me sculpted the foundation of everything i am.

relapsing is hard. it was almost harder than the abuse itself, in a way, bc there’s a part of you that just wants/needs that time of your life to be over. you have this belief that you grew out of it, or you stopped being terrible enough to deserve it, or you embrace that the world is safer than your younger self knew. none of these things are true. it hurts a lot to realize (especially when repressed memories come back and you have Adult Knowledge and you know how people just gravitate towards victims to revictimize and re-use and re-abuse them again and again because those are the only cycles they know or they’re too predatory to care.)

i was told by a lot of people that i should feel something prideful and amazing because i graduated and all that symbolizes, especially since i missed my high school graduation ceremony and i’m four years late to finishing undergrad, but i just felt shame, panic, and exhaustion. i graduated late, i couldn’t even manage cum laude (and by extension, the fact that i never earned an A in a studio course means there’s Proof Positive I’m a worse artist than everyone), nothing i did was worth recognizing in the program, there was no departmental recognition, i got no scholarships worth recognizing in the program.

i remembered being beaten so hard i couldn’t see or hear for a while and being threatened with a knife and begging for my life based on arbitrary achievement. unpredictable achievements and actions. and it sucked to sit in the hall cycling through those memories and trying to calm down and repair the damaged connection that was stealing away the joy i wish i’d had.

“i’m not going to die for not being the absolute best at everything. that part of my life is over. there’s nobody there anymore who is going to endanger my well-being because i’m not perfect.” -------- but you signed up for a career where you live and die by people noticing your work, and you’re so thoroughly outdone by your classmates, friends, and underclassmen that you’re hosed.

“my career is built on persistence, time, and hard work, not just raw talent. i have a chance as long as i keep working hard and keep being persistent.” -------- but look, you’re old, uncreative, incompetent, and irrelevant. nobody has anything nice to say in crit or social media and you have no following for your work. it’s not worth RT’ing or reblogging or even looking at, while your classmates and peers earn a ton of RTs and follows and nice comments! you shouldnt even be posting on social media, people will be out to get you for being so disgusting publicly.

“i was raised in such a way that i had to much more keenly pay attention to criticism than praise, because doing something wrong was a literal question of life or death, so i literally don’t have the headspace and wiring to value or notice praise or doing well.” --------- that’s a bullshit excuse for you performing so abhorrently below your classmates and you know it. you need to work 10x-100x more than them to reach their level. otherwise you really should just be planning on killing yourself, do you really think you’re worth life otherwise?

it’s endless. i don’t want to confront my brain being like this forever. i’m working on it. i’m very tired. i broke free of a 25 year long abusive situation and started doing the sweat to recover more fully than i ever have but it’s hard to go through all of that recovery when you’re finishing your last year of school and Do Fucking Everything and Set Extremely High Expectations Of Yourself (to offset your inherent terribleness) and it just mashes into a big ball of stress, self-loathing, and no breaks from anything. i was hoping graduation meant i could finally chill a little bit in terms of That Way I Talk To Myself because look! i finally did it!!! but it doesn’t work like that -- the same way nothing i did was good enough to keep me safe and make me worth love to my parents and grandmother, nothing i do is good enough to make That Part Of Me be satisfied and shut the fuck up and give me some peace.

i don’t know how to convince myself i’m enough, i’m worthwhile, i’m okay, there’s nothing wrong with me, and i do enough. if i’m abandoned, that’s not my problem. if i’m not a priority to someone, that’s just how life is sometimes, not any reflection of me being disgusting. if i’m single, it’s because of willful choice and sexuality, not because i’m too disgusting and intolerable to have any smidgen of loveability.

i just want peace. i want this storm to quiet for just a little fucking bit. i want these scars on my psyche and body to be gone already.

#cw: suicide #cw: abuse #cw: ptsd and trauma and all that yada yada #you know the usual spread from me lmao

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miss-noo-na · 7 years

Text

“Friends of Friends” Part 6

Part: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 7

Rating: PG-13

Note: Next part after this will be the last! :)

The following days I was constantly groggy, finding it hard to fall asleep at night and wake up in the morning. Jooheon hadn’t messaged me at all, but I’d gotten a couple calls from Wonho I refused to pick up. I replied to a couple of his texts with short answers, despite him telling me over and over we needed to talk. I told him to focus on his work, instead.

I thought about calling Jooheon a couple times, but I bailed just before pressing send. I was nothing but a burden at this point, and it was best I detached as far as possible, as not to bring any distraction or pain to their already consumed lives.

Was I throwing a pity party for myself? Most definitely, but I didn’t know how else to deal with it, I’d never been in a situation like this before. The only thing I did manage to do was stop checking the websites and social media about it. The damage had been done, so I didn’t care anymore.

I was at home after work one night, already showered and changed into my PJs, sitting in front of the TV mindlessly munching fruit when there was a buzz at my door. I jumped at the sound and looked at the clock, who would be coming over at 9pm?

I walked cautiously to the intercom and hesitated before I hit the button to speak.

“Who is it?” I asked, trying to sound tough in case it was a stalker or an obsessive fan.

“It’s me”

It was Wonho’s voice, and I dropped my hand from the intercom for a moment, pausing. He buzzed again, and I let out an annoyed huff.

“What do you want?”

“Let me up”

I hesitated once more, wondering if this was a good idea. Then I realized this was my best friend, and I couldn’t just shut him out like this. I hit the button to let the downstairs door open and walked back to my couch.

He came through the door a few moments later.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he almost bellowed at me as he took off his jacket and came to sit down. Bitterly, I wanted to laugh, but I resisted.

“You haven’t taken any of my calls, you won’t explain what’s going on, and this isn’t like you”

I sighed and lulled my head toward him. “I didn’t want to drag you into it”

“You’re my best friend; I’m in it as soon as it happens, whether I want to be or not”

I smiled just a little bit, for the first time in what felt like ages.

“You guys have been so busy and have a lot going on, my petty problems are the least of your worries”

“That’s such bullshit” he laughed, shaking his head. “Busy or not, you know I’m always here, especially since this concerns two people I care about”

I paused for a moment, looking him in the eye, trying to build up the courage to explain.

“Whatever you’re not telling me isn’t helping anyway, because Jooheon has been moping around all week.”

It stung me to hear that, I hated the thought of my actions being the cause of his pain. I sat up, reaching over for my laptop and opened it. Wonho watched me.

I pulled up the blog and the pages of our supposed love-affair. I scrolled down and told him to start from the bottom as I handed over the laptop to him.

He sat, staring at the screen intently for a long time, scrolling slowly, going over every painstaking detail. Every now and then, his eyebrows would rise up and he’d shoot me a weird look before going back to the screen. When he was finished, he silently handed the laptop back to me.

“Did Jooheon see these?” He asked, and I nodded.

“How could he fall for something so obviously not true?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t let me explain”

Wonho pushed his hand through his hair and sighed. “He’s being stupid, I’ll talk to him”

“Shoudn’t we just leave it alone?”

He looked at me in surprise, and then cocked his head to one side.

“Are you using this as an excuse to bail out?”

“What? No, of course not”

He made a sound at me, a disapproving, fatherly noise.

“You do that, you know” he started “when things get too serious”

I glared at him, even though I knew he was right. I had been resisting this relationship from the moment it became clear we liked each other, and here I was unwilling to actually fight for it as soon as trouble came up. I was a commitment-phobe, I thought to myself, and the realization washed over me like a cold shower.

He seemed to let me let it sink in, then hit his fist against the table as he stood up. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, then.”

I stood up to see him to the door, and he wrapped me up in a warm hug, holding me there for a moment. I fought the urge to cry.

“No matter what happens, it’ll be okay” he said quietly toward my ear “I love you, and I want you to stop being hard-headed and tell me when something is wrong, got it?”

I nodded, because I didn’t trust myself to speak, in fear that my voice would crack and I’d fall apart. He let me go and left, and despite my anxiety over what was to come, I slept a little better that night.

Wonho’s POV

My best friend was a pain in my ass. She always had been, from the time we were in highschool. Although, that’s kind of one of the reasons I gravitated toward her to begin with. She wasn’t timid, she put me in my place when I needed it, yet she was sensitive and compassionate, sometimes to a fault.

This was one of those times. She’d rant and rave all day about a minor inconvenience, turn up the dramatics and wail to me about it, but when something was seriously wrong, suddenly she was “fine” and “handling it”, and I saw right through her.

I looked across the room to the other source of my suffering as a friend, Jooheon; happy, positive, encouraging Jooheon who suddenly got very quiet and very cold when he was upset. Between both these large personalities suddenly flipping on me, I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, and I had to get to the bottom of it.

I’d learned her side of the story, and honestly found it ridiculous. If they had that much time on their hands and that much access to our old accounts and photos, they’d see we were never anything more than friends and it was obvious. Hell, I even had photos with an ex on one of those old accounts they pulled photos from, much more intimate then anything I’d ever taken with my friends, and they ignored that in favor of cooking up this juicier story of our supposed long-term relationship.

I couldn’t 100% convince them otherwise, people will believe what they want to believe, but I had an idea of how I could dissuade some of the rumors. But first, I needed to talk to Jooheon.

I waited until the practice room was empty and he was going to pack up. I stopped him.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me”

He shot daggers at me, but he let me talk.

“I didn’t know why at first, but I know now, and I just want to tell you that you’re being stupid”

He looked taken aback, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him unless I was completely honest.

“Jooheon, why would you ever think I would do something like that to you?”

I watched him shift in place as his face changed, and he looked down more. He couldn’t veil his hurt with anger anymore.

“I don’t know”

He mumbled and didn’t meet my eyes.

“You would actually believe some online rag rather than just talking to me about it?”

“No, I mean yeah kind of…I just” He stopped and took a deep breath before he continued “I didn’t want to believe it, but I just got caught up in my own head about it. I kept thinking about how long you’d known each other and your history, and how I could never compete with that”

I shook my head “you don’t have to compete with me, I was never a threat to you” I paused before I continued “I mean, if I wanted her like that, I’d already have her” I said, trying to mix some humor into my voice. He caught onto it, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, a look of understanding painted over him, softening his harsh features.

“I am being stupid, aren’t I?” He said then, voice quiet, sinking onto the couch with a downcast expression.

“I’ve never felt like this before. When I thought she was messing around with you I got so angry and so…” Jooheon looked down at his fidgeting hands and I felt myself smile. I wanted to tell him he was probably falling in love, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise for him.

“I get it” I said, sitting down next to him. “Just….talk to me next time. For the love of God, will both of you just talk to me next time?”

He actually let out a little bit of a laugh and nodded. “Deal”

“And talk to each other, too” I said as I stood, giving him a look I knew he’d understand. He nodded again.

I should be getting paid for this much labor.

I awoke to my phone buzzing nonstop with notification alerts. I sat up in bed; eyes barely opened and looked at my phone to see what the hell was going on. They were alerts from Twitter, that I’d been mentioned and replied to a dozen times over.

The source came from Wonho’s personal account, and I opened up to see a photo of us, a recent one, smiling with his arm around me.

“This is my best friend” it said at the top, and there was a link to read a longer post. I tapped it and was met with a wall of text from Wonho posted this morning.

“Rumors are nasty things, especially those concerning your idols personal lives. We’re human and we make mistakes sometimes, and other times we’re the victims of vicious lies that really hurt people. The latter has happened to my friend, who I have been close to since before debut and before I had anything of a public life. She’s been a constant source of comfort to me, and I see her like a (older ;-) ) sister. I’m disappointed in those that would seek to hurt her or me with slander like this. I hope that properly introducing her, you can come to love and accept her like I have.”

I was already crying before I finished reading, and I quickly dabbed the edges of my eyes with my fingertips. I’d been such an emotional wreck lately, but this cry was different than the others, a total purging of all the negativity I’d felt lately.

When I scrolled through the replies, I was met with more to cry about. Fans saying how disappointed and upset they were that someone would hurt a friend of Wonho’s, apologizing on their behalf, telling me I was important, thanking me for being such a good friend, and even a few saying I was pretty. That last part wasn’t important, but it still felt good.

I had a text from Wonho that said he’d been in contact with some people at the company who were able to get the blog posts taken down, lest they wanted legal action taken against them. I felt relief like I never had before; like the heavy weight of stones had been taken off my back and I could breathe again. I texted him back a million thank yous, and that I owed him one, whatever he wanted that to be. He said he’d think of an apt apology soon enough. He mentioned in passing that he’d talked to Jooheon, but didn’t provide much other detail.

Though I thanked my lucky stars for this outcome, the mention of Jooheon made that sickly sadness well up in my chest once more, and I wondered where all of this left us.

It was a Sunday, my day off, and during my mid-morning routine I received a text, and almost jumped out of my skin when I realized it was from Jooheon. I took a couple quick breaths before I opened it.

“Can we meet this afternoon, around one? The coffee shop on 3rd.”

It was a little curt, but it was something, and I quickly told him yes. I had no idea what his intentions were, but the doubtful side of me thought he wanted to tell me we were breaking it off for good. Surely after all of this, he wasn’t meeting to tell me that it was worth all the pain and suffering we’d just been put through.

I felt sick to my stomach all day, unable to even finish breakfast or focus on the news or the crossword puzzle I started to distract my mind. I practiced things I would say, what responses I would have to questions he might ask, I thought about trying to keep a neutral face when we talked in case he broke my heart.

I realized in those few hours how much I’d come to care for him, and this made the meeting all the more daunting.

Finally I got dressed, applied some make-up, and tried to look presentable through my nerves. I got to the coffee shop early and waited inside for awhile, then went outside and stood by the door because at least I could make a quick getaway if things went badly, and then I could be gone before he saw any tears that might leak out. I was aware of how pathetic this all sounded, but could you blame me?

I felt my stomach flip when I saw him walking toward me, and realized this was the first time I’d seen him in months, and it made my throat dry and bile burn up my stomach. I fidgeted the closer he got to me and I stepped forward to greet him, but he didn’t stop to talk to me.

He walked right into me, his arms encircling my sides and pulling me into a hug, and all the air working through my lungs got stuck in my chest.

“I’m sorry” he said, and I exhaled in a hard laugh.

“No you’re not, I’m the one that’s sorry” I said, and I felt him squeeze me against his chest.

“I should have told you as soon as I saw it, and I should’ve told Wonho and I really screwed up because I thou-“

I was rambling before he pulled me back and kissed me, and I went limp in his arms as my eyes drifted closed. The tension in my body completely melted away and all I felt was his warmth and his lips.

I was thankful we were hidden by the shadows of the trees surrounding the coffee shop, because we stood there like that for a long moment once I’d gathered the strength to kiss him back. When he finally pulled back, he cupped the side of my face and stroked my cheek, his forehead pressed to mine.

“I’m sorry “he repeated, firmly, and I could tell he needed me to accept it, so I nodded gently.

We went inside the coffee shop and ordered drinks, and he sat next to me in a back booth. He kept glancing over at me with a small smile, before he dropped his hand onto one of mine in my lap.

“I missed you”

I felt a blush creeping up my neck and I turned my hand over, letting him lace our fingers together.

“I missed you, too”

We were quiet for awhile, sipping our drinks, holding hands under the table. I felt so warm and happy inside I almost didn’t want to say a thing and just bask in it.

“That was a pretty treacherous trial run” I finally spoke, knowing we had to talk about it eventually. He chuckled, and I was so happy to see him smile. I couldn’t help myself and reached up and pressed my thumb into one of his dimples as I held the side of his face. He smiled and laughed even more; his cheeks turning red as he playfully wrestled his face away from me.

Our laughter faded back into silence as my words weighed heavier on our thoughts, and both of us seemed too afraid to speak.

“I don’t think we need a trial anymore” he said, and my heart sank at what it insinuated, but I sat patient and quiet.

“Because,” he started, taking my hand once more and pulling me toward him. “I’d like to be your boyfriend”

I pulled my hand away and smacked him on the chest, which surprised him, but also made him laugh.

“I thought you were going to tell me the opposite”

“What? No, never. This just proved to me more than anything that we can make it work” he said.

“You’re okay with the distance, and me being an emotional idiot?” I asked, and he gave me an amused grin.

“I won’t lie, it’s hard” he said “but when I’m with you, I forget all about the bad stuff”

Honestly, what could be worse than what we’d just been through? At this point, it was completely worth it to try.

“Fine, you’re my boyfriend”

He let out a loud laugh, tossing his head back as he did so. “Just like that, huh?”

I shrugged “Yeah”

He kissed me, somehow always managing to take me off guard, and no matter how many times he did it, my heart still shot into my throat. I was glad we’d sat ourselves in the back away from everyone, because I kissed him back in a way I’d only ever done in private, and now he was the one taken off-guard. He made a sound into my mouth that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but he pulled away before I could fully enjoy it.

“Ah” he said with a shy smile “Don’t excite me, I have to go back to work soon”

I hated hearing that, but of course he couldn’t spend all day with me.

“We have time off coming up soon” he said then, nudging my chin with his hand. “Maybe you can spend the weekend with me”

There was so much wrapped up in that possibility I was almost giddy at the thought, agreeing readily to it. We finished our drinks and he gave me one longer, deeper kiss in the cover of the booth before we walked outside and said a more chaste goodbye there. Leaving him now was harder than when I did it the first time, but it came with a new joy in knowing for sure that he not only wanted me, but had me. Completely

#jooheon scenarios #monsta x scenarios #lee jooheon #jooheon fluff #monsta x #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfiction #fluff #longer scenarios #kpop #fanfiction #scenarios #wonho

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mirrorofficialramblings · 3 years

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Chapter 3

Arc 1 - Auspicious Calamity (part 3)

Word Count: Approx 3,600 words.

PK - Summer, 114, 0000

"Hey! Why are we going back to where I met you?" Slash called, chasing after the trotting she-wolf. Nibbling his tongue he looked up at the familiar scenery. The young trees full of late summer color, greens fading into the warm yellows and reds fall was known for. One day the forest would look beautiful, then bare as the trees slept. He began dragging his paws and his claws ticked and tapped against all of the pebbles they hit.

Willow glanced back and offered a smile, "Your first lesson," she said. Slash returned her a puzzled look and carried on after her, deciding not to think too much of her words. They were going to see the Sin Lion corpse, that's all he got from that. Maybe to study anatomy? To teach him their weak spot? His thoughts were broken by the mumbles of his mentor. "Honestly, I never thought that there'd be such an auspicious calamity." She chuckled coolly and turned to Slash. "Tell me, little one, how much do you already know about Sin Lions?"

"Umm. I know that Sin Lions are made from bad energy, like death and anger and jealousy." He paused and pulled back his lips. Then, words flowed. "Sin Lions are the physical form of all the world's sin. That's why they're named Sin Lions. Because they eat up our sins and use it to hurt us. They're kind of like the living form of the saying 'Your sins will catch up with you'. They're born in areas that suffer a lot of bad energy and are attracted to unhappy people." He spoke lightly, hoping not to disappoint her. Coming to a realization he stopped walking and slouched. "That's why I was attacked. It wasn't like I was mad at my brother, but..."

He heard the loud pattering of Willow's paws as she pranced in a circle. "Correct! Those are the basics, indeed," she chirped. "Wringer! When a Sin Lion dies, where do you think that negative energy goes? If it's enough to form a Sin Lion to begin with, does killing it really solve the problem?"

Slash was taken aback by the question. He stood there in silence trying to process it, then even longer he tried to think of an answer worth the effort. "They ... vanish?" he mumbled, uncertain. The question perplexed him no matter how he thought of it. Does the issue of sins really remain even after the death of the Sin Lion?

Willow shook her head. "As soon as a Sin Lion is born, their energy is too great. The land cannot banish the dark power regardless of its form so it must be stored away somehow. Be it a lion or another thing entirely," she explained. Slash gave a simple 'oh' and he watched as she spun and kept walking. "That's why we're headed back. That'll be your first lesson, always keep it in mind. Once slain, a Sin Lion leaves behind all of the sinful energy it collected through its life in a new harmless form. We need to collect it as soon as possible."

"Wow ... being a Sin Scavenger sounds like a lot of work," Slash said. Willow just grinned and led him back to the battleground, finally.

Upon reaching the now peaceful land, Slash's jaw dropped. The corpse was gone. Nothing left! Neither blood nor skin nor bone. Willow brushed her tail over his muzzle, urging him to close his mouth. Then, the two padded over to the location of the death. The pup kept looking back forth for the body but as expected, didn't see a scrap of the beast anywhere. It was difficult to believe it vanished so abruptly.

Knowing what he would ask, Willow spat out her answer. "They're not real things. Sin Lions will transform into a new smaller form once their core, or their brain as some would say, is broken. They don't even have organs aside from their lungs and brain."

Slash sat down feeling a little less overwhelmed, but a little more confused. He hoped he would get used to this; having information dumped into his little head. He watched as she sniffed the ground for whatever object the Sin Lion dissolved into and perked up as she shot upright.

"Here!" she batted a small black orb over to Slash, who flinched at the motion. His eyes fell to the small gemstone and he examined it closely, even seeing his warped reflection on the dark surface.

Willow plopped down near him and her eyes began to glow black, hiding the silver of her iris behind a faint sheet of darkness. The little gemstone drifted up from the ground and hovered back to Willow. Before he could speak, his silent query was answered. "It's called a 'Stained Pearl'. They're left behind following a Sin Lion's death," she said, using her telekinesis she rotated the small object and nodded in satisfaction. She then brought the stone into the chest pouch of her dark brown vest. The pouch closed with a click of the button.

Slash's eyes dulled as the gem was put away, his intrigue having been sullied by her sudden actions. Willow leaned and stretched her legs out, a giddy expression on her face. She bounced back to life and beamed at her pupil. "Welp, it's time to head home now! It's time for you to say goodbye to these woods. You won't be returning for a while," she said. She began to strut away, her tail swaying back and forth behind her. Slash's emerald eyes followed her briefly before he turned back and up at the trees.

His home was a young forest, every tree planted no more than ten years ago. They were so young and brave, just as he would be. He gave his territory a few last looks, feeling a bit regretful. These woods would become forlorn without him and his brother. At least that's what he liked to think. He flexed his toes and felt the soil sliding between and under his claws. Taking a last breath of this home, he sprang up and made a break for his mentor's side.

It was better not to look back. It'd make him guilty and he didn't want to feel that emotion. It was too heavy like a stone had been tied to his heart, and whoever tied the two together just sneered as the heart tried to stay afloat with this added weight.

Slash peeked at Willow from the corner of his eye and watched her fearless steps and her bold grin. Maybe, just maybe, his life was about to get interesting.

The mentor and the student continued to hike until the soft orange of sunset crept into the sky; the sun drifting off behind them and dragging their shadows. They had been walking nonstop for an hour or two, and he was holding back from complaining about sore paws. He huffed and swallowed his whine and kept trailing the adult's steps. His eyelids fluttered and he began to pass the time by taking in the scenery and tasting the heavy air.

"Almost to the portal," Willow called in a somewhat sing-song voice. She had overtaken her pupil in their hike as she had longer legs and more energy than the small pup.

"Portal?"

"Yes, portal. Our territory is located across the ocean on West and it'd take months to return by foot, so we use portals instead. We have tons of them hidden all over the planet, at least two in every Zone. Makes travel a breeze," she explained. "There aren't many Sin Scavenger packs as ardent as us, so we frequent numerous locations all over." Slash hastily nodded. Yeah, he got that. He thinks.

He sprinted to close the distance and returned to pace by her side. He then froze. Willow knew exactly why and a smirk formed upon her lips.

A loud groan escaped as he saw the rather large hill they had to trudge up. "Awww!" He bucked at the dirt and sent pebbles and dust flying about in a small fit. He ended his tantrum by throwing himself on the ground and covering himself in the newly wrought dirt. With a loud grumble, he flipped onto his stomach and laid there with a rooted clump on his head.

Willow's shit-eating grin didn't fade one bit.

She urged him to his feet and they began their ascent.

Upon aching legs and drooping eyes, Slash climbed the hillside alongside Willow. She comforted him by telling him he'd get used to it but he doubted he even wanted to. His heavy head lifted to take a gander at the lone tree at the summit. An ancient tree with branches stretched out like a hawk's wings. Vines and ivy twisted and hung. Birds of all species perched upon and nestled in the leaves. It seemed dark and looming against the fiery background of the evening sky.

Looking down to try and dominate his clumsiness, Slash continued to walk as Willow led the way up. They climbed to the base of the majestic tree, it being even more gargantuan than Slash originally thought. They approached an opening in the roots and to a ditch dug beneath the tree forming a large burrow. They crept inside.

Entering the burrow of tangled roots, Willow's tail signaled for Slash to stop. He stood a bit away from her and tilted his head. She lowered her head and began chanting an incantation in a language Slash didn't know. Once she fell silent, her eyes lifted and she stepped back, a pink slit forming just a step ahead. Slowly, a vibrant pink cyclone of a portal established itself before the duo. The pup stared in wonder at the swirling mass of light with his mind failing to bring any words to describe it. Without a single word, Willow waved for Slash to follow and leapt into the portal, Slash gasping and launching after her.

Once both were through, the portal dissolved without a trace as if it had never existed.

Two paws, then four. He landed firmly inside the portal and cracked open an eye, peeking inside. Both eyes flew wide as they could, his head whipping around in a sudden motion. His whole body stiffened and his heart pulsed in his chest. A world of chromatic light drowned his eyes pressuring him to squeeze them shut just to avoid overstimulation. His mind became overwhelmed by the abrupt change in scenery, he didn't think that he would be in a gateway, somewhere. Instead, he was expecting to pop out at their destination. The swiftly flowing colors raced past him as he pushed himself forward, following Willow's steps and her voice tentatively.

He knit his brows and grit his teeth, forcing his eyes to stay open despite drowning in a river of radiance. Willow called to him over her shoulder, "We're almost there, just hang on." With that, he strode after her with some more desperation, huddling up to her shoulder so he wouldn't get separated.

"Is ... it possible to get lost in here? Is it a one-way trip or can you end up anywhere?" he asked, anxiety pouring from his trembling voice. Large eyes darted about, searching for any fractures or threats. The whole portal was too messy for him to even begin to comprehend.

"Anywhere. This is an entire dimension of interconnecting pathways, and so long as you've got a vague idea of where you want to go you won't get lost. To make things easier we chant the name of the Zone we want to visit so the path doesn't diverge upon loss of concentration," she said. Willow glanced at the fretful pup and his quivering body and it made her chest curl. "We'll be fine. This place can't hurt us."

Despite her promise, he couldn't shake his apprehension. Trying to calm him, she presented a carefree smile, a tail wag, and lightened her steps. With a prance, she continued before her ears pricked up and her attention was reestablished. Slash watched her two abrupt changes in attitude and followed her line of sight to a floating pink scratch in the portal just ahead of them.

"What's that?" It looked like the entrance to the portal. Oh, well on that thought his question was pretty useless.

"Our destination!" she chirped. She raced forward, the pink tear expanded and formed a cyclone to let her advance. Willow hopped through the exit; Slash came close behind.

When he opened his eyes this time, he was met with a gorgeous meadow, a blue afternoon sky, and a sudden hot spell dancing on his back. The portal snapped shut behind him but he hardly noticed the faded sensation. Slash scrunched his nose up at the brisk change in temperature, unable to adjust to the newfound heat of the meadow. The dirt beneath his paws held no moisture and the grass tangled around his toes offered no escape. Scowling, he stared up at the clear blue sky and gave Willow a questioning look.

To him was a knowing one. "Welcome to West! This is Puella, one of the mountainous regions in the western continent. Don't worry I'll be your guide." Willow once again waved for him to follow her. "Come, we'll talk in a better place. I bet this transition is a bit intense."

The two walked westward to a larger tree with nice shading and sat beneath, Slash welcoming the coolness of the darkened land. He let his body relax as he dropped his weight against the trunk. "Hah ... so why is it still day here?" he asked, voice breathy.

"Because it's West. In Central it's sunset, while in East it's night. The sun sets to the west meaning that it'll be daytime here while it's sunset back where you lived. Though it's well past noon so we'll be approaching sunset pretty soon. Couple hours give or take." Willow was pretty lazy with her answer, going on a bit of a tangent. But it was easy to understand so Slash didn't mind the information. It was less to take in than the stuff about the portal or the Sin Lion. He'd had to learn everything eventually anyway. Better to start early. He gave a hum and closed his eyes trying to rest from his exhausting journey. For a small child, it was arduous to walk for several hours. His paws hurt and his energy was nonexistent.

Willow seemed to pick up on this and offered to let him rest for a short while, giving him little bits of casual information while he regained his strength. "You know this vest of mine? It's fireproof. All Sin Scavengers have a special vest or pack they carry with them to hold Stained Pearls in. You'll get one once you graduate upon your rite of passage. That'll be on your sixth birthday. You're only about three seasons old right now so it's far away so don't worry about it now. Oh, and I have two siblings in the pack. An older sister and an older brother. You'll meet both pretty soon."

"They're important?" he asked lazily.

"Very," she beamed. Glancing back at the sky, she decided he had enough rest and nuzzled him to sit back up. "Something more important now. Be attentive." Slash's mind tensed at the notion and he tugged the corners of his lips, making his mouth a straight line. "This pack is mostly an uncover group, while we can share our name, we silence ourselves before dubious folks. Also, there's a trial you must undergo to become an official Sin Scavenger trainee. You better be ready for it."

This woman sure did talk a lot. "Yes, Willow..."

The two got up and sauntered through the sunny meadow to the forest ahead. Or, jungle, actually. Slash's eyes kept going up and up as they neared the trees. They rose well beyond one hundred feet into the sky, touching the God's Realm with their outstretched branches.

She kept talking as they walked. "See this meadow we're in? These are known as the Meadowlands. Simple name, simple place. The woodland ahead of us is called the Pinwood Garden. It's the protective shield of the Womb."

"The Womb?" Slash echoed. Willow nodded. He'd see.

"The Meadowland is three miles wide from the edge of Pinwood Garden to the edge of the mountain range." She nodded to the mountains in the distance. "Those mountains extend for twenty miles outwards and form a protective ring around the meadow and in extension the Pinwood Garden, which in turn protects the Womb. The Womb itself is pretty hazardous so we're in a pretty safe location I'd say. Intruders and invasions are a dream."

"Or a nightmare if the enemy is that powerful," Slash said. Willow hummed in agreement but she didn't seem convinced that was possible. Apparently, they had numerous countermeasures planned in case someone made it through all of their defenses. At least that's what he'd assume. She was cocky enough that it wasn't hard to guess.

The two walked through the trees into the jungle, a tall canopy casting shadows, barely allowing light to reach the ground below. The soil was moist, and underbrush was thick to a point he could hardly see where he was stepping. Every time he lowered his paw it was swallowed by ferns or something. He honestly didn't know what half these plants were so, for now, they were all ferns.

The dense jungle-like terrain was dark, all light being forbidden by the thick foliage far above. Any sunlight that cascaded down was nothing but a dreamy beam that illuminated clumps of desperate plants thirsty for the sustenance. The trees that extended well into the sky made the pup feel so insignificant, and almost suffocating with their presence alone. Vines hung from the branches and birds of all kinds sang their echoing songs for the animals below.

Hopping up and down were squirrels, monkeys, and more. His face softened at the sight of such a lively world.

From the woods to the portal to the meadow to the jungle, it felt as though Slash had walked through four different worlds all within three hours. He knew he had never left the planet but sweet Mia above sure did it. Willow stopped him from walking forward any longer and sneered. Slash tilted his head and stepped up as she moved out of the way. He'd been too distracted by the trees to notice where they had gone.

He moved to the edge of a sloping cliff, and his soul went ablaze. Face glowing and eyes sparkling. He staggered at the sight of a massive sinkhole penetrating deep into the ground. As far down as he could see there were trees of all kinds circling that steep drop into the earth. Fog filled the steep drop and blocked his view from anything further; the contents, or even how deep it went was a mystery. From the sky, one wouldn't even be able to tell the thing was there.

He had to blink himself out of the momentary trance. Only two words could slip through his wonder. "Holy hell..."

Slash peered down the slope and into the dense trees below, wondering how much it might hurt to fall. Unwilling to slip, he clutched the ground with all his remaining strength. Hearing a strange honk, he lifted his gaze to meet a flock of birds gliding gracefully through the fog below, his tension easing. They resembled swans, they were so white and beautiful. Their calls echoed faintly throughout the impression. Crouching at the edge, he was content just to watch the swans gracing the swirling mist below.

Willow blinked and observed his unveiled smile. "This is the Womb," she said, staring down into the sinkhole. "Within that sinkhole is where the Sapphire pack resides. This place will be your new home."

"This?!" He sprung to his paws and was pitiful at hiding his horror. "We have to go down there?"

Willow merely glanced at him. She then leaped into the sinkhole without any indication of hesitation. Slash stared in horror as the she-wolf disappeared into the fog. He heard her call up to him, but the words didn't ease him one bit. "I expect you at the bottom! Consider this your first trial. If you can't even do that then what's the point of training you? If you can't climb down then you don't even deserve to be a part of this pack."

And with that, there was silence.

His jaw dropped and he went with a thud to the ground. Does this ever end? First, he has to walk two hours to the portal, then half a mile through the Meadowlands, then through Pinwood Garden, and now he has to descend into a sinkhole a mile wide?! She'll kill him from exhaustion long before he even gets a chance to train!

"..."

What was he whining about? She said to consider it a test, a trial. And a trial is a trial. One either passes or fails. How could he ever look Fang in the eye if he couldn't even do this much? He took a deep breath, stood up, and shook all negative thoughts out of his head.

"Okay!"

He pushed on and slipped down the slope into the trees below, and skittered and zigzagged through to the cavity in the center. He wouldn't let himself be useless. He'll prove he's worthy of becoming her student.

~~__________~~

From within the fog, the obscured she-wolf glared with keen eyes at the persistent child. She watched him like a hawk keened its prey. Willow let her teeth show in a toothy sneer and she vanished into a hole. ‘Just so you know, wings are useless here. Your judgment is your best friend. Always keep that in mind, Slash.’

#Mirror: Path of Scars #Slash (Mirror)#Willow (Mirror)#Auspicious Calamity Arc #Chapter 3 #my writing

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ficsforfangirls · 6 years

Text

A Carry On Dictionary: Letter D

Letter A | Letter B | Letter C | Letter D | Letter E

Letter F (Rated: M) | Letter G | Letter H | Letter I | Letter J

Letter K | Letter L | Letter M | Letter N | Letter O

Letter P | Letter Q | Letter R | Letter S | Letter T

Letter U | Letter V | Letter W (Trigger Warnings) | Letter X

Letter Y | Letter Z

AO3 with the whole collection <3

deplorable; {dih-plawr-uh-buh-l}

causing or being a subject for grief or regret; lamentable action

Watching Simon and Baz try to deal with each other in this awkward romantic minefield is hardly what Penny would consider to be fun. For a year Simon has been keeping Baz in this are-we-aren’t-we limbo while Baz has been treading softly the line between caring too much and not enough. Something about them isn’t quite syncing up yet and, honestly, her working theory is that they’ve put too much distance between themselves. Baz is living on campus at the London School of Economics while Simon is working odd jobs doing seasonal working here and there when business requires extra hands.

Simon thought that because Baz had been his roommate at Watford that they’d shared too much time together to really learn how to be a healthy couple living apart. Perhaps that was true at first, but now? Penny is sure that if they don’t get the nudge they need to be reminded that their feelings are larger than their fears.

That’s why Penny upped the ante by hanging mistletoe everywhere. Not just in doorways, not just by windows, but literally every six inches there’s mistletoe hanging from the wall. It’s not in a perfectly straight line, either, so that no matter what, there will be kissing. Penny personally wants to see Simon and Baz kiss each other at least one hundred times before midnight.

Because at midnight Micah is going to propose-ish…

There have been talks for a couple of weeks that at the end of Penny’s break year that she would accept an internship overseas to be closer to Micah. Their long distance relationship has remained strong and loving despite the odds against them, and the thousands of leagues too. Of course, the plan was always that they would reunite either in American or in London. Leaving her family behind would be hard but in the end, it was Micah who would have to give up a job. Penny had nothing to lose. She was a good enough at Watford that she could easily attend anywhere should she wish.

Anyway, Baz arrives at the flat before Simon gets off of work. Being a non-imbecile, he notices the mistletoe straight away. “What’s your game, Bunce?”

“All of the kisses, Basilton. All – of – the – kisses!” Her plan wouldn’t work if she didn’t have a partner in crime. She doesn’t explain everything, such as the proposal (which is really Micah officially inviting her to America by giving her a copy of his house key and a lease agreement which would add her name to the contract). Penny doesn’t even tell him why she wanted to do this. Baz doesn’t ask either.

In fact, he shakes his head, “You’re deplorable, you know. He thinks you’re this pure scholar with no ill intent. But this?” Baz gestures all around the flat to make his point. He laughs and then continues, “This you telling him how to be in a relationship. I don’t exactly want to push him away.”

Penny shrugs, setting her mouth to the side and at an angle. Worry grabs her features and forms them in such a way that it reflects her thoughts. Even if she doesn’t need to actually convey to him what she thinks might be happening, she does. “You guys have this invisible chasm settled between you. I’m not sure that either of you even sees it.”

Baz considers this and waves her off once he’s tossed the concept to the side. Before he leaves to the living room, though, he mutters over his shoulder. “I’d consider myself lucky to get one kiss. Let alone one hundred of them.” The sharpness of his words is indescribable. Penny can’t forcibly fix their relationship any more than she can tell them how to live their lives. With Baz being a vampire and Simon sporting cartoony wings and a tail, there is no ‘normal’ for them. She could never truly understand. Love is something that she does understand, though, and she can see it in their eyes.

“Deplorable?” she whispers, peeking out the door to the street where Simon would soon be dropped off. “I thought I was more desperate, really.” In a huff, she slams the door shut and walks straight to her bedroom where Micah is talking a nap. She curls up next to him and huffs dramatically this time to wake up her boyfriend.

“Hm?” With half closed eyes, Micah listens as she gossips about the boys. Here and there he makes a comment. In the end, she admits that she knows she is pushing too hard. She just wants Simon and Baz to be happy, especially before she leaves. Once she accepts Micah’s offer, she’ll be leaving within the month. She wants to start the New Year by his side in America.

Meanwhile, Baz is sitting on the couch. If Penny is deplorable, then what does that make him? For months he has been stressed about the ‘chasm’ developing between them. Aside from that, he couldn’t remember the last time Simon has kissed him with great passion. He’s lucky to get a peck on the cheek anymore. Surely something has upset him, but was it Baz or someone else? Helping Simon is impossible if he doesn’t ask for it, and especially if he doesn’t let on that there’s even a problem.

There are other words that Baz thinks of that describe the way everything feels in this lull between years. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve but only just a few days ago it was Christmas. The time between holidays is this rift of yearning for something new while clinging to something old. Baz wants to revive his relationship, destitute and hopeless as it feels, but a part of him can’t help wanted to be free of the debacle entirely. If Simon isn’t ready – then why pretend to be a couple?

They’re not even that, really.

Simon interrupts his thoughts with a loud thud. “I’m alright!” he shouts, clearly having slipped and fallen on the ground. Baz rubs his hands over his face, effectively pushing the loose strands of hair out of his eyes and behind his ears. Standing with a great deal of effort, Baz decides that the only way to move forward is with honesty. He meets Simon at the door underneath the first mistletoe.

Arm stretched straight up, he is pointing directly to the leaves and berries. “Kiss me,” he directs. “Kiss me under every mistletoe in this house or leave me.”

“Okay?” Simon hesitates for a moment but then rolls onto his toes and kisses Baz on the lips. It is a lazy exchange. That doesn’t matter, though, because it still is an exchange. “May I ask what brought this on?”

Baz shakes his head. An understanding forms between them. It hurts too much to say. Simon won’t push him anymore than Baz would. This ultimatum he’s presented to Simon, it’s Baz’s way of talking. Never having been the sort to express himself plainly, it has always been an action-based form of communication between them. The only surprise is that Simon accepted it without protest.

So they moved six inches backwards. Their steps aren’t in sync, their movements are uncomfortable at best, and their kiss is reminiscent of teenagers fumbling through an awkward smooch than anything else. Incremental improvements are made as they slink through the hallway into the kitchen where they break apart only long enough for Simon to eat a red velvet donut leftover from breakfast. It is adorned with green frosting and red sprinkles. He washes it down with strawberry milk, which personally makes Baz sick to his stomach.

“Need a break?” he remarks with as little sass as he can possibly manage while Simon stares at him with a distinctly blank expression. For a split second his brown scrunch together and then his features flatten once more. “No, why would you think that?”

“Then where to?”

Simon takes an unexpected step towards him, sliding his hand around his waist and pulling him close. They are pressed against one another when Simon tilts his chin up just enough to signal for Baz to dip down. This kiss in tender in a way the previous ones hadn’t been and the linger flavors in Simon’s mouth is alluring. He not only tastes human but he tastes of decadence.

Moving towards the living room doesn’t take much time, even with the breaks for their kissing, and once they get to the couch, it is Simon who pulls Baz by the belt loop onto his lap. They sit here without kissing, and it looks quite silly since Baz is much larger than Simon, but there he stays with his buttocks planted against Simon’s knees. “Penny’s going to move.”

It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to Baz, and yet it did. Micah had come to Christmas and he wasn’t staying long, but he brought three very large suitcases. It should’ve been obvious. He was going to ask Penny to go back with him. She had nothing going on here. Her income was tutoring money she earned by helping students at Watford. Penny hadn’t even considered getting a more permanent job during the year she’d been out of school, either. This was always the plan.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Baz’s entire body softens against his partner. “Do you know what you’re going to do about the flat?”

Simon decidedly doesn’t reply. Instead, he pushes Baz off and readjusts on the couch so that they can lay there watching television. It was something that Simon absolutely enjoyed and eventually became one of Baz’s favorite pastimes. Lounging around with the best person in the whole world, in his opinion anyway, had a variety of benefits for his mental and emotional health. It took a lot more effort to peel himself away than to sink back against Simon, and that seemed like a pretty great thing to Baz.

Penny and Micah slink out eventually but they don’t say much. The four of them watch a couple of movies that were just added to Netflix and the chill, in the innocent way and old fashioned way, until Micah and Penny decide it’s time for dinner. Simon never decides because he’d eat nonstop all day. Baz would have to compete with the food for access to the redhead’s mouth.

Of course, Baz is in that predicament anyway, so maybe it wouldn’t have been too bad after all.

“I was thinking take-out. Anyone opposed to subs?” Nobody speaks up and so Penny gets the orders from everyone, except Baz, who asks for a bottled water. Since being outed as a vampire, he doesn’t bother faking it for his friends. He’ll drink occasionally but never more than that. With paper in hand, Penny and Micah offer to grab the food and bring it back without even inviting the boys. As far as Baz is concerned, he would rather stay home anyway.

Simon says he wants to go plug his phone in and invites Baz along for the ‘ride.’ As instructed, they kiss every six inches all the way to his door. The pecks that Simon granted to Baz over the last five or six months make the kisses the share now look explicit. Their tongues dance over one another, deeper and harder each step closer they take to his bedroom.

Once inside, there are no mistletoes, but it doesn’t deter the boys. Breaking long enough to close the door and actually plug in Simon’s phone, they are soon full and proper snogging on the bed. Little more can be said about their activity until Baz pulls away and looks in Simon’s eyes. “I want you to know that this wasn’t entirely my idea, and I’m kind of a prick for saying you had to kiss me so many times.”

Simon shrugs, “I figured it must be important to you. Wouldn’t have asked otherwise, right?”

“I didn’t ask,” he laments, guilt apparent in every way on his body. “It wasn’t right for me to demand it.”

Sitting up and curling himself into a bit of a pretzel, silence settles in the space between them. It isn’t an uncomfortable sort of quiet, though, because it is clear that they both need it. The reality of it all comes down to one simple truth: they weren’t lost, just busy. When Simon fills the room with his voice, he chirps his acceptance of the terms in a kind tone; “I don’t have the same sort of urges that you do so I think I forget that you need that affirmation. Sometimes I don’t even realize that I want you that way until you make the first move. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Simon, and you bloody well know it,” Baz barks in prompt reply. It isn’t Simon’s fault that their cravings for physical affection is mismatched. It isn’t Baz’s fault either. Not once did he ever pressure Simon to do something he didn’t want to do, and the fact that he’d presented an ultimatum with the mistletoe made him feel worse than deplorable. “I don’t deserve you and the only person here that should be apologizing is me.”

“Nobody has anything to be sorry about and I think we should pink swear to drop it,” Simon declares with waving arms and a squeaky voice. This was quite enough chatting for the pair of them, honestly. The time had come to move onto whatever topic they could discuss next that wasn’t nearly as heavy and serious. But before they do, Baz makes a proper request.

“Can we seal it with a kiss?”

Growling with a low rumble that sends chills down Baz’s spine, Simon makes a move towards the vampire with his wings spread and his tail wagging back and forth. It is corny in the most attractive way. “It’d be my pleasure.”

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