i don't blame you really

cosmic-files-87  asked:

2/11/15 MSR for the angsty list....I know....I am an ass.... (but really!!!!! Please write that!!!!)

2 - I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.

11 - You can’t keep hurting me and then demand I apologize instead.

15 - You betrayed me.

Author’s Notes: Okay, this one hurts. Like a kick to the groin kind of hurt. I almost feel bad. It is high angst & will probably piss some of you off. If you proceed – you were warned. Post IWTB.

Two Weeks, Too Cold

It’s been two full weeks since she’s seen him.

She can’t remember the last time she went more than a day without hearing his voice – What’s up, Doc? – watching him as he watched her, or felt his broad chest against her back as he spooned her to sleep.

I won’t be coming home, she had said. Don’t do this, he had begged.

Scully keeps telling herself that she made a mistake by letting him kiss her as she stood in their front yard with tears rolling down her face, by entertaining the notion that they could ever hide from the darkness. It was cruel, she thinks, because even then she knew that she wouldn’t be coming back home.

Which isn’t exactly true, because she did come home, briefly, to gather a bag or two of her belongings. Her chest aches at the memory – of the desperate tears and of his voice breaking on each  I’m sorry and please don’t leave me.

That was two weeks ago. Two weeks that have been filled with work, because if she can’t help the man she loves then at least she can help a child breathe. Two weeks filled with too much coffee, because her fingers feel ice cold without his own interlaced with them. Too little sleep, because her skin trembles and aches without his hands there to gentle away the nightmares.

Two weeks, she has decided, is long enough.

I just want to see him, she tells herself as she guides her car onto the long gravel drive that leads to their shared home. The house is modest, but cozy. Most of all, it’s theirs. The few tangible things they’ve shared in the past have been wrenched away from them – but not their home. No blood to scrub out of the carpet, no taped X in the window to summon life-threatening information. It’s just home, and it’s theirs.

She steps out of her car into the crisp air of early morning to pull open the gate, and she smiles to herself. The ritual of it is comforting. Countless mornings and evenings have began and ended with opening this gate, letting herself back into the beautiful, private world she shares with Mulder.

Pulling into her spot in front of the house, she sees a strange car. She frowns curiously. Did he go out and buy a car after I left? She wouldn’t put it past him, except that it would require his actually leaving the house (and nothing short of a psychic priest has convinced him to do so thus far).

On her walk to the front door, her heart begins to hammer against her ribs at the thought of seeing him again.  It’s only been two weeks, she chides herself. Still, she expects that he may be angry. When he’s hurt, he tends to deflect – in his case, that means petulant withdrawal and an abundance of sarcasm.

She draws in a deep breath and unlocks the door. He may still be asleep, she realizes as she steps into quiet darkness. It’s just after five o’clock in the morning. Just because she hasn’t been able to rest doesn’t mean he can’t.

But oh, she’s finally home. She closes her eyes, relishing the smell of Mulder’s aftershave mingled with the scent of the roses he had delivered to her office just a week before those goddamned agents showed up at the hospital. She remembers bringing them home, carefully tucking them into a vase of water. They’re beautiful, she had told him. Not as beautiful as you, he had replied, his hand tucked against the small of her back.

“Who are you?”

Scully starts at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, opening her eyes to see a woman standing at the threshold where kitchen becomes living room.

A woman.

Tall. Brunette. Holding a glass of water. Wearing only a t-shirt and a confused expression.

“This is my house,” Scully says, the words scraping past a throat that has gone as dry as desert sand. “Who are you?”

The woman stares back, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt uncomfortably.

No, not her t-shirt. Mulder’s t-shirt. Scully’s favorite shirt that Mulder owns, because it’s soft and worn and somehow still smells like the cologne he wore the first time she slept in his arms, even after all these years.

I’m going to be sick, this is not happening, oh Mulder what is going on…

The woman finally speaks, clearing her throat. “He – he said he lived alone.”

I’ve wandered into the wrong house, Scully thinks numbly. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

But no. That’s Mulder’s shirt, and that’s the drinking glass my mother gave to me when we moved here. That’s the couch where Mulder and I made love less than a month ago.

“Scully.”

This can’t be the wrong house, because that’s Mulder. He’s standing in front of her, and he’s not wearing my favorite shirt, he’s not wearing a shirt at all, and he looks terrified, and oh God I’m going to be sick…

“Mulder?” Her voice sounds tiny. Her hands are still freezing, but now her palms are sweating as her stomach churns. Please explain this, Mulder, she begs silently. Please please please please.

“Who is she?” When the other woman speaks again, Scully wants to scream at her. She has no right to ask that. Scully is the one who should be demanding an explanation. She’s the one who deserves an answer. Not this stranger, with her morning-after hair and her long smooth legs brushing the hem of Mulder’s shirt.

I’m going to be sick.

“Mulder?” This time, her voice is louder, sharper, less please tell me this isn’t what it looks like and more how fucking could you.

He doesn’t acknowledge the other woman’s inquiry, instead stepping toward Scully with his hand outstretched. “Scully,” he begins, and her name on his lips tells her all she needs to know. She’s heard him speak her names countless times – calling to her for help, playfully teasing her, comforting her in times of distress, moaning in ecstasy as she coaxes him to climax, even shouting in anger during a particularly intense argument.

Never – never – has he said her name with this desperate, helpless tone threaded through it.

The woman has disappeared, and Scully can hear her in the bedroom – our bedroom  – gathering her things, probably eager to get away from this house – our house – and whatever is about to happen between them.

Mulder moves forward, and she sees panic etched into the lines of his face.

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as the full realization of what’s happening settles over her. “No,” she chokes, swallowing against a throatful of stomach acid. “No, no, no.”

“I’m sorry, Scully, please let me explain.”

Her eyes fly open, and she wraps her arms around herself. “Explain?” Her voice catches on a sob. “What is there to explain?” She stares at his face, his beautiful face, and it’s more than she can take, his eyes full of regret. She backs away, grappling for the doorknob.

“Scully, don’t leave. Please.”

Two weeks, Mulder!” Her stomach aches, her head pounds, and I need to get out of here, this is not happening. “I was gone two fucking weeks!”

She is hot and cold at the same time, her clammy palms sliding against the doorknob as her fingers shake uncontrollably. She feels the heat of his body behind her, and oh God, she wants to lean into him, just to warm her hands, but nonononono, she has to leave, she cannot stay another minute in this house.

When he places a hand against her shoulder, her entire body recoils. “Get the hell away from me,” she gasps, her breaths coming in shorter spurts now, her lungs burning.

The doorknob finally relents, and she shoves against the door, stumbling outside where it’s still so cold, it’s not home, and she can’t breathe, and fuck you Mulder how dare you how fucking dare you.

He follows her across the yard. “Scully, please.”

She doesn’t break stride or respond. She’s almost to her car when she feels his hand catch the arm of her coat. She jerks free, but his grasp is lighter than she expected, and the heel of her boot slides against a leftover patch of ice. 

Under any other circumstance, she would have caught herself. The reflexes instilled in her all those years ago in FBI field training never failed her before, but she can’t even catch her breath so how is supposed to support her full weight?

Maybe she doesn’t even want to.

Her knee meets the ground with a sharp crunch, and she hisses in pain.

Immediately, Mulder is at her side. “Oh God,” he says, and reaches for her again. She slaps his hand away, and finally the tears she’s been fighting break through, streaming hot against her chilled face.

“In our bed, Mulder,” she says bitterly, leaning back against the tire of her car. “I was gone two weeks, and you fucked someone in my bed.” She tries to suck in a lungful of air, but is met with resistance when the breath halts on a sob. So this is what suffocation feels like.

“I was drunk,” he whispers miserably.

“When are you not?”

He flinches, but continues. “I don’t know what happened. Scully, I don’t even know her.”

“Where did you meet her, Mulder?” She glares through her tears. “All this time, while I’ve been working, have you just been out meeting women to bring back to our home? Our bed?”

“Of course not,” he breathes, staring at her in horror. “Never. You know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” she whispers brokenly. “I never believed you would do this. Not in a million years, Mulder.”

“Neither did I.“ His voice is pitiful and sincere.

She swallows thickly. “You betrayed me.”

He sinks all the way down beside her. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know, and I’m so sorry.” There is a heavy silence between them for a moment before he adds, “Scully, you left me.”

Scully shifts to face him, and grits her teeth against the pain that the motion sends shooting through her knee. “You’re unbelievable,” she spits venomously. “You screw another woman in my bed, on the sheets you bought for me on my last birthday, and you’re making this my fault?” She fumbles with the top of the tire, trying to pull herself to her feet.

“Scully, stop,” Mulder pleads. “You’re hurt – your leg.”

“You’re damn right I’m hurt,” she snaps. “And it has nothing to do with my leg.”

She gives up on standing for the moment. “You never answered my question,” she tells him, her eyes burning hot into his.

“What question?”

“Where did you meet her? I’ve never known you to socialize, but clearly, there are a few parts of your character I somehow missed in all our years together.”

He stares at his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I went on a walk and ended up at a bar. It’s a couple miles down the road. I had more than I planned, and she – she offered to drive me home.”

Scully folds her arms tightly around her midsection. The tire is wreaking havoc on her back, but she barely notices.

“Classy, Mulder.” She closes her eyes again, but the tears fall anyway.

He sighs. “You left, Scully. You just left, and you wouldn’t return my calls. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.”

Scully tenses as another wave of nausea washes over her. “I left because you wouldn’t leave the house unless it was to spiral back into your fucking paranoid obsessions!” 

She covers her face with both hands. “You can’t keep doing this,” she sobs. “You can’t keep hurting me, and then demand that I apologize instead.”

“When have I done that?” His voice is laced with disbelief. “When have I ever done that, Scully?”

Fuck you Mulder fuck you fuck you fuck you –

“Fuck you,” she cries, gripping the edge of the tire again and heaving herself to her feet. “I don’t need you.” 

She ignores the throbbing in her knee when she puts weight on it. “I don’t need anyone,” she says, her voice breaking. “I think we both know I’ve survived greater losses.” She wrestles with her purse, digging for her keys. “But it’s fine. I don’t need any of you.”

Mulder touches her shoulder, and she shrugs him away again. “Don’t touch me.” She yanks her car door open. “I told you to get away from me.”

“Scully, I’m sorry,” he says weakly. “You may not need me, but I need you. I always have.”

“You didn’t need me last night,” she tosses back viciously as she forces key into ignition. “I can’t take care of you anymore, Mulder. Figure it out.”

He positions his body so that she is blocked from closing the door. “Scully,” he tries again, his voice echoing with despair. “I’m begging you. Please. You came back for a reason. Please don’t leave again.”

Her chin trembles as she answers him in a voice as brittle as dry ice. “I left for a reason, too.”

She grasps the door handle in her hand despite the remaining tremors. “Move.”

He slowly backs away, and at last she sees tears shining in his eyes. It’s too late, it’s too much this time, I can’t.

The sound of her slamming door causes him to jump. The pressure she places on her gas pedal makes her moan with pain as her knee protests the movement.

When she glances in her rearview mirror, she sees a tear-blurred image of her entire world, standing with his arms hanging helplessly at his sides.

He’s still not wearing a shirt, she realizes.

Go back inside, Mulder. It’s too cold out here.

I would know.

END.

Before you ask, yes, there will almost certainly be a follow-up.

thedooms  asked:

Dudes, chill. Besides, I bet Bendy has plenty of dames throwing themselves at a star/superhero like him! Maybe

“…Did I miss somethin’?” -BTDD

Why I Have To Meet Jack

You guys may well think I’m silly for writing this post, but I’m going to anyway. I have thoughts and I need to get them out. I’m a firm believer in writing down your emotions rather than bottling them up. 

Anyway. If you’re tired of my complaining about not meeting Jack, then I won’t blame you for scrolling away from this right away. Feel free, or you can carry on reading. But not only am I saying the obstacles that are in my way, I’m also writing exactly why meeting Jack matters so much to me. I’ve broken it down so hopefully it’s easier for you guys to read.

I know I’ve posted about this a billion times before, but I feel the need to do it again. I kind of stop thinking about it, and then something reminds me again. I see gifs from PAX, I read about people meeting him. I’m happy for everyone who does, but I’m reminded that it hasn’t happened to me and maybe never will. I feel selfish for thinking this, but I can’t help it.

Just wait, it will happen, I hear you say. But that’s easier said than done, for a number of reasons. If it was just as simple as being too young to go on my own or whatever, then yes, it would only be a matter of time. But it’s not.

First of all, I can’t afford to go to conventions (particularly so if they are in another country, and I’m yet to find one in the UK that Jack goes to). I currently don’t earn, and even when I do it won’t be much - musicians often don’t earn much at first, and I’m not making anything from YouTube “yet” (I hope I will but it may never take off for all I know. I can’t rely on it).

Then there’s my current mental state. Going to a convention would be difficult thanks to my wonderful social anxiety. Just the thought of the crowds, the people around me while travelling… And I imagine that travelling, and the convention itself, would take a lot of energy - possibly too much for my depression to handle. Maybe I could push through it to meet Jack, but I don’t know; would it be worth risking putting myself under too much pressure?

And that’s not all. Oh yes, there’s more. Getting to another country is difficult for me for another reason. I can’t do it by myself. Yes, I’m 21 years old and I don’t know how to go through an airport by myself. I feel stupid. Not just because I’ve never learnt how, but also I struggle with things like that. I always have. I’m particularly brilliant at getting lost. My anxiety loves it, not.

And there’s more. Since I’ve started watching Jack, I’ve been at university/college so I haven’t had the time to go away to conventions. Once I leave here in a couple of months time (*panics*), I will be focusing a lot on YouTube, and probably having to find a job (yawn). And until I find one and have money, I can’t go even if I have the time.

This may well sound like I’m making excuses, but honestly… I’m really not. I wouldn’t. This is something I need to do in my lifetime, it’s a dream of mine. Jack is my hero. I have no reason to make any excuses. These are all genuine barriers to one of my life goals. Obstacles that feel insurmountable. And it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart to think that I may never meet the person who began to turn my life around. It breaks my heart to think that I may never get to thank him in person for what he’s done. It breaks my heart to think that I may never be able to hug him. He feels like a long distance friend - or even family, if I can say that. Jack means the world to me. More than he’ll ever know - but if I meet him, I can get closer to expressing it than I can from here.

I have thoughts about what I would do if I did meet Jack. I already know that I will make a folder or something of stuff I’ve made for him (fanart, poems, etc) and I’ll give it to him. And, of course, I’ll give him the biggest hugs he’s ever had. I’ll do my best to let him know what he means to me. I’ll tell him about how he’s inspired me and that my YouTube channel is beginning to grow thanks to him giving me the courage to make more videos. I was anxious to go on camera, but he made me brave, and now I love it immensely and want to do it for as long as possible.

Jack is not just a YouTuber to me. He’s been a counsellor when I’ve needed advice and someone to care. Jack has been a friend when I’ve felt alone, believing in me even when I didn’t anymore. He’s been a beautiful green light in the pitch black void of depression and anxiety, the hope I needed when mine was all gone. 

He’s been like an annoying older brother who makes stupid jokes to make you laugh - which means even more to me as one of my older brothers, who made me laugh a lot, is no longer with us. He’s been someone to watch playing games now that I can’t watch my brother play them anymore.

He’s been a lullaby when I couldn’t sleep, cradling me with kindness and wrapping me up in smiles and laughter. He’s been a soothing voice amongst the painful noise of life. He’s held my hand when I’ve been hurting, wiping away the tears from my eyes. He’s started to heal the cracks in my heart and mind. When I was starting to lose sight of anything good in life, having less and less reasons to smile, he showed me that things weren’t so bad after all. He taught me to genuinely smile again.

And Jack is the reason why I found this wonderful community, and have made amazing friends who have made me feel cared about. You guys have made me feel less lonely despite the isolation of social anxiety and depression. Without Jack, I probably wouldn’t know any of you exist.

Jack is my hero.

I need to meet him some day.

I have to.

  • mom when I go to school and don't tell her I'm sick: wth !!!! you gotta tell me these things I can't read your mind geeze
  • mom when I ask not to go to school and tell her I'm sick: it's your fault lol suck it up just go you always make excuses

I’ve been seeing a lot of hate going around and being directed at the trainees who chose vocals for position evaluation because Park Woodam was unable to partake in vocals. 

Now I understand that it’s utterly unfair for Woodam and we all would have loved to see him shine however its makes no bloody sense to go direct hate at other trainees.

You want to blame someone, go blame mnet for closing the voting polls early and go blame the kfans for sleeping on Woodam. 

Don’t go blaming the other trainees for choosing vocals, when the boys where choosing their songs the only thing going through their minds were which role would suit them or what should they challenge themselves with next. This is a competition so none of those boys would be thinking ahh I shouldn’t pick vocals because there’s other great vocals ranking after me. NO they were only thinking about which role would let them shine and gather more interest towards them. There’s nothing wrong with that as this is a competition, so quit with hating other trainees because your fave didn’t get his desired position. 

This Text post is OOC

((This is going to be addressing the recent thing with Madalena and all that junk. I understand I am a silly character and I will be eliminated. I didn’t do this to win. Actually, I expected to get eliminated the first chance Alex got. I joined the OC to have fun and brighten days and to showcase my funny side, and I see that’s what Alex wanted to do with her OC Madalena, so why did I get dragged into that post? Alex, you said you made Madalena to have fun, that’s why I made Meme, so how come you trashed me for your exact reasoning? I guess what I’m trying to convey here is that I don’t understand why you (Alex) blame Meme when you did the exact thing with your OC. Hate is never okay and trying to push yours onto me wasn’t cool either. I have not once done anything to anyone out of seriousness or ooc that could be taken offensively and if my oc has really been that much of a burden I’m sorry. I just wanted to make some people laugh. Nothing meme said was out of malicious intent and I thought everyone understood she was just a joke. I’m sorry if my fun annoyed you. I have not sent any hate to anyone so I once again don’t understand why I was thrown into this. I thought my oc would be a nice distraction from all the chaos, but I guess I thought wrong. I apologize for this rant, but like you said I am allowed to have emotions and be upset about things.  Me being thrown into something that had nothing to my OC or me as a person just kind of upset me and I wanted to share so this didn’t happen again. 

~Just some thoughts from the creator. Also just a quick note: Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my jokes and played along. I deeply appreciate you and I don’t want it to seem like I got excessive hate because I got a couple comments here and there. The people who were kind to me, thanks geese, you were the best.))

(true to my ocs name I thought it would be appropriate to post a meme at the end of this all.)

  • mom: let me know what stresses you out so I can help you with it. even if I'm contributing to it, just let me know.
  • me: okay, well, sometimes you yell at me and it makes me upset, because you always blame me for it and I'm not allowed to disagree with you or else it's all my fault.
  • mom: wELL EXCUSE ME YOU'RE SO UNGRATEFUL I GUESS I SHOULDN'T SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE EVER AGAIN BECAUSE EVERYTIME I OPEN MY MOUTH I UPSET SOMEONE.
  • me: that's not what I'm saying.
  • mom: YES IT IS.
  • me: .....anyway
8

Goodbye Rickon Stark (interpreted by Art Parkinson)

“Are we going home? I want my horse. And I want applecakes and butter and honey, and Shaggy. Are we going where Shaggydog is?”

Some Serious Thoughts about Qui-Gon Jinn:

executes a perfect saber twirl…

Qui-Gon Spin

cheats at dice…

Qui-Gon Win

trims his beard…

Qui-Gon Chin

smiles…

Qui-Gon Grin

makes a racket…

Qui-Gon Din

acts as surrogate father to all unattended children in the vicinity…

Qui-Gon Kin

flaunts the Jedi Code regarding romantic attachments…

Qui-Gon Sin

has a cocktail…

Qui-Gon Gin

disembodied spirit is trapped in a mystical vessel…

Qui-Gon Djinn

(also featuring Obi-Wan, Tahl, Satine, Anakin, and Padme)

5

HEAVEN (reluctantly) takes the stage!!

[fusion event] [prev.]

8 Things that you won’t really care about me Tag!

Tagged by @mimibtsghost, thank you! <3 

  • Last movie watched : First Monday in May, it’s a documentary. I don’t remember the last “movie, movie” I watched so we’ll say that a documentary counts! 
  • Last song listened to : We don’t talk anymore pt.2 - JK & JM

  • Last Book Read :  Well I guess fanfics doesn’t count…Fallen by Lauren Kate
  • Last thing eaten: Fish & Chips

  • If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be: South Korea..I’m so in love after watching all the K-dramas and obvs because of BTS. I just want to walk around on the streets. 
  • A fictional character you would hang out with for a day : Mikleo from Tales of Zestiria. He just seem so calm and chill to hang with. 

Originally posted by sormlk

  • What fictional world/universe would you want to spend a week in : I don’t really know, as long as I don’t die I’ll be ready to go anywhere

  • Last video game played : Mario Kart 8

Tagged: All my followers, I don’t know anyone else beside @mimibtsghost so yeah…..