it should have been impossible. no one should have been able to dream any of these things, much less all of them. but adam had seen what ronan could do. he’d read the dreamt will and ridden in the dreamt camaro and been terrified by the dreamt night terror.
one of the reasons people with bpd handle people rejecting them/abandoning them so hard is bc we base our identities around these people we get attached to. how THEY feel about us is who we ARE, in our minds. if they love us, we base our identities around that and believe we are loveable. if they leave us or decide they don’t like us anymore, we believe we are unloveable because we have no concrete sense of who we are, apart from how other people feel about us.
Summary: The risk I took was calculated but man, am I
bad at math.
Warnings: angst…like to the max, character death, risking your life, all that fun stuff
Count: 1.3k (this is deadass the shortest thing i’ve ever written and it’s still over 1k lmao why am i like this)
Note: hi hello! guess who’s back and as angsty as ever! this is something that again was floating in my inspo tag and i can’t find the post rn but it is there so when it’s not midnight i’ll go digging through and tag it. ya’ll probably recognize the quote because it’s been through tumblr i don’t even know how many times? but i literally banged this out in like two hours so ??? idk???? anyways, feedback is always welcome (please do i love hearing what all of you have to say) and can i just say thank you so much for all of your lovely responses to Will You Stay? like, they were so beautiful they made my entire life like????? i love all of you so fucking much ???? i can’t even describe it????? anyways enough of my endless question marks, hope you enjoy!!!!
The first time, isn’t the last time.
The first time you risk your life it’s for a puppy. Small,
golden, scrappy little thing. It’s caught in the middle of the road, yelping
every time a car whips by. It’s flat on the ground, trying to make itself small
as possible but at the same time sticking out against the pitch black tar. You sigh
and drop your coffee into the trash before you run out in the middle of traffic
and scoop the dog up before crossing to the other side.
“You’re an idiot,” he grumbles as he stares at the trembling
mass of fur. You pout and say you’re sorry before you offer him the reason you
nearly got flattened by an eighteen wheeler. He pretends to be angry until
about five minutes later when the puppy is licking at his face.
He isn’t angry anymore, especially two weeks later when the
puppy has become a permanent fixture in your home.
The second time, isn’t the last time.
The second time you risk your life is on vacation in the
Bahamas. A little girl gets caught in the rip tide. Her arms flail as she cries
for help but is drowned by the waves. Everyone watches but no one acts. You glance
at the life guards who glance at the waves apprehensively before you roll your
eyes and dive in. It takes you a while but luckily you’re a strong swimmer and
within minutes she’s in your arms and safely on shore.
“You’re crazy,” he mutters as he rubs your back while you
cough up salt water but his eyes shine with an emotion more powerful than you
have ever seen. It only seems to grow when the little girl runs up to you and
hugs you, thanking you for saving her life.
The third time, isn’t the last time.
The third time you risk your life is on a mission in
Johannesburg. HYDRA had hit a biotech company and managed to steal information
to a bomb that could level a small country. They climb into a helicopter and
are about to get away and against Steve’s orders you jump and hang onto the
runner of the helicopter. You hang on for dear life until you touch down. Your arms
ache but you fight until you can’t feel anything anymore. But you have the
It takes them two days to find you. When they do they find
you collapsed in an alleyway, dehydrated and living off of scraps from the
nearby flea market.
“You’re so stupid,” he shakes his head. He’s angry but he
holds your head up as you drink and brushes your hair until you fall asleep on
The fourth time, isn’t the last time.
The fourth time you risk your life is in the middle of a
blizzard. It’s two in the morning and the wind is howling but when your phone
rings you answer within seconds. The line is silent except for the sound of
heavy breathing. He doesn’t say anything but you already know as you tie on
boots and don your heaviest coat.
It takes you an hour to get to him. But you do. You’re
pretty sure your car isn’t even parked properly and you’re not sure if you’re
on the road or on the sidewalk but it doesn’t matter. By the time you get to
him he’s already half way gone. You sit with him until he comes back to you.
You sit with him until his eyes are clear and his breathing is normal. You sit
with him until he’s yours again.
“You’re a moron,” he growls once his eyes look outside at
the storm raging. You wonder if it was worth it but you smile anyway because
you don’t care.
The fifth time, isn’t the last time.
The fifth time you risk your life it’s after two months of
being locked in a basement. You have bruises on top of bruises, you bleed from
different places every day and you can’t remember the last time you’ve had a
proper meal. They pull you out every day and tie you to a chair. They spit in
your face, they hit, they bite, they scratch, they punch, they shock, they twist,
they break. You beg, you scream, you cry. But you don’t give them what they
want. They want him but you can’t give them that. He’s everything to you and
meaningless to them.
One day you’re bleeding so bad everything is tainted red and
you can’t feel part of your face and can’t hear out of one ear. When you feel
hands on you, you immediately start to tense and fight but relax when you hear
“It’s just me, it’s just me идиот,” he soothes you softly as
his metal hand trembles while breaking your bonds. You fall into him and can’t
find it in you to cry or make a sound. And you wonder if maybe this time, maybe
this time it was worth it.
The first time, is your last time.
You risk your life for him
and you don’t even think. You see him
in danger, you see everyone in
danger. But when you see him, when you hear the metal whir breaking through the
clamor around you, you don’t think. You hear nothing else. You look at the five
midnight black barrels of the machine guns facing him, glinting harshly and you
just go. You think you can make it.
If you just take that extra step, lose that extra second, you can make it. You
two can make it out, together.
But you were always bad at math.
For the second you push him down you know you miscalculated.
You don’t hear the shots but you feel them, ripping and tearing through flesh
and bone. You feel the blood seep into the concrete floor. But you don’t hear
the strangled sob from behind you and you don’t hear the hoarse shot. You don’t
hear the bodies drop around you; you don’t hear the knife splitting through Kevlar
Yet you feel his hands on your face, your chest, your
stomach. You feel him fumbling for a solution. He’s whispering fast in Russian,
his skin flushed a shade of pink you’ve never seen before. It’s beautiful,
“You…you, you stupid,
crazy, idiotic, moron,” he
shouts with tears in his eyes. His bottom lip trembles and you reach to soothe
it. Blood smears against the soft bristles that surround his mouth but neither
of you really notice. “How could you do this? How…why, why would you ever you–”
“You’re alive,” your voice is hoarse and choked and filling
with something you’re not sure of. It doesn’t even sound like you but he looks
at you as if you were the only thing he heard. You think he says something else
but the look on his face means he understands exactly what you’re saying.
He’s breathing heavy now. You can feel it in gentle puffs
against your face. He’s shaking his head as he stares at you. He keeps shaking
his head until his hair forms a dark curtain around his shimmering eyes. “No,”
he whispers. “Not without you, not…please–”
You shake your head in response. “You’re alive,” you whisper
as darkness begins to creep into your vision. “You’re alive.”
The weight of what you’re saying seems to settle onto his
skin and into his bones because he’s looking at you with disbelief and wonder and
fear and an ancient sadness that you feel deep in your chest. He presses his
lips to your face and a wetness leaks onto your skin and seems to slide right
off. “Not without you. я люблю тебя. Not without you.”
You clutch his hand and feel the black begin to spot his
face, turning him gray. “You’re alive,” you say finally before your head drops
into his metal palm.
What started off as a joke, soon became a reality with inspiration from decedent flora, stemmed a world known as Arilia. In this world strives three empires: Belori, Ciravus, & Tilaren. Each empire a reference to three powerful sisters that lived some time ago, who are mere legends now…
FRUCITAION is an open original character roleplay group that is inspired by fantasy & fruits. A strange combo but we hope to welcome all sorts of people– so please, come check us out!
anyways, i meant to do this for reaching 1k but then more ppl followed me nd here i am at 1.2k almost half of what it was after my first ff, and it’s almost my nine month anniversary of this blog so i wanted to do this now !! i wanted to say thank you all for following me, and sticking with me even after i decided reader fics werent what i wanted to write anymore and to the people that always support me !!
i lov all of you sosososo much, and im so greatful to everyone!! i never thought id get this far nd it still baffles me what people read my fics and actually like them ?? anyways, i’ll get on with it now. since tumblr sucks, if we are mutuals from a side blog then im srry it doesnt show up :/// also sometimes it doesnt show some mutuals ?? just know i lov u !!! ((nd if any of u wanna talk pls come message me !! chances are if were mutuals i wanna talk 2 u but im too shy :’)))
“They’re reckless, untrustworthy,” Mark tells him with an edge to his voice, like he’s accusing all of humanity of an unforgivable crime. “Humans have no higher purpose but to search aimlessly for one, and in pursuit of that purpose, they create chaos.”
Jack holds up a hand.
“We’re in a fucking dressing room and I’m trying to go shopping,” he says as plainly as possible. “All I want to do is buy jeans, not subscribe to your issue of Misanthropy Weekly. Either tell me what your issue is in plain words or get out.”
Tbh this little scene made me snicker to myself for the better part of the day. This fic is pretty good ahh. The Googleplier/Jacksepticeye thing is pretty interesting, albeit pretty weird, BUT I LIKE WEIRD SO IT WORKS OUT.
I guess im a kinky motherfucker for enjoying it but lmao i dont really care the fic is really good, i like the character dynamics OKAY
i just kinda liked to imagine his eyes lighting up red a little while he was being intense idk.