making this hole thing was a pain

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that’s real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar’s chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
—  Hurt by Nine Inch Nails
SEND ONE IF WE HAVEN'T INTERACTED

Friendly:

“Hi, I’m new here, can you show me around?”
“Uh.. I think I’m lost.”
“Wow, those are some awesome threads!”
“Don’t mind me, I just like making new friends!”
“Oh dear, do you need help?”
“You look like you could use a hand.”
“You look a little lost, can I be of assistance?”

Rude:

“Watch where you’re going.”
“Oops, did I do that?.. Oh well.”
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
“Get lost, would ya?”
“I don’t have time to play tour guide.”
“Thankfully, it’s not my job to help you.”

Dramatic:

“Wait! Stop!”
“Don’t let them find us.”
“I don’t wanna be left alone.”
“Get out of the way!”
“Are you dead?”
“Hurry! Run!”

Flirty:

“Can I skip dinner and go right for dessert?”
“I think I just found the most beautiful girl in Japan.”
“Hey there, Foxy Mama.”
“Huh? Oh yeah, this view is nice.”
“How about we go back to my place? I’ve got board games.”
“All you have to do is say, "yes”.

Romantic:

“Wow, your eyes are the most beautiful, that I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ve been enchanted by your amazing voice.”
“Ah, I’m sorry, I could have sworn you were an angel.”
“Am I dreaming, or do you really exist?”
“I wasn’t aware that Goddesses/Gods existed.”
“No flower or scenery can compare to your beauty.”

Enemy:

“At long last! I’ve finally found you! Now I can kill you!”
“What an ugly mug, it’s a good thing I won’t have to see you for long.”
“How would you like to be full of holes?”
“You know, I think your head looks better detached from your body. ”
“I will make you experience unimaginable pain.”
“Beg all you want, but your fate is going to end the same way.”

Unemotional:

“Love is illogical, it means nothing to me.”
“The more you cry, the more reasons I find to leave your pathetic being.”
“Do not touch me, I don’t require affection from anyone.”
“Why are you hugging me?”
“He’s dead, let’s move on.”
“Why is family so important to you?”.

Third Love Part Two

Originally posted by geezerwench

Originally posted by shamelessturkey

Part One

This is the last part.

Text in bold is flashbacks. Thank you for your patience with this one, I hope you guys enjoy it xxx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He watched the door slam shut behind you and he turned to the wall.
“Fuck!” Jax yelled and clenched his fist.
He pounded it against the wall, over and over.
The white paint slowly turned red as his knuckles bled but he didn’t stop, not yet.
After a few more hits Jax stepped back and ran his hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face with his good hand.
He stretched out his fist but ignored the burning pain in his knuckles and he glared at the bloodied hole in the wall.
He knew he should have ran after you, tried to make you see sense. But he had never seen you so mad before and he knew he deserved it.
Honesty. Respect. That was all you ever asked for.
You didn’t care about the things he did for the club, the club secrets he had to keep from you. You didn’t care that he barely took you on dates. You didn’t care that he had a son to another woman. You didn’t care that he was a criminal, an outlaw. You didn’t care about the late nights or the lonely ones.
You didn’t ask him to stay home with you, didn’t nag him or need to know every detail about his days or things with the club.
All you had ever asked of him was that when it came to your relationship, he was honest with you.
And he hadn’t been.
Jax knew he should have told you Tara was back the day she had turned up at the clubhouse.
But his head had been a mess and he needed time to work out what this all meant.
It was like a ghost had walked back into his life.
He never thought he’d see her again after she left and when she’d walked through those doors he felt like a teenager again, and all those feelings he had once had came flooding back to him.
He should have told you what happened, how he was feeling, but hell he didn’t even know how he felt.
Jax leant against the wall and stared at the shattered glass and splatters of whiskey on the floor.
The kitchen was a mess and it seemed fitting to mess inside his head. He needed to make sense of these feelings, of these thoughts that were taking control.
He needed to leave, needed to get out of this empty house.
He turned and walked out the door, heading for his bike.
A long ride was what he needed to clear his head.
~
Laughter left your lips and you wiped the counter thoroughly.
“I’m serious! He turned up in a denim suit. A juit.” Cassie said.
You laughed again and shook your head.
For a month now you had been working with Cassie at the diner and almost everyday she had a new story to tell you about her disastrous love life and the many bad dates she’d had that left a smile on your face.
The bell above the door chimed and you glanced at the entrance.
Three men entered, all in leather and all ridiculously attractive.
You watched them walk casually into the diner and slide into a booth by the window, near the back.
“Hellooo handsome.” Cassie said beneath her breath and you smiled and winked at her.
“Shotgun.” You said and grabbed a notebook and slid it into your apron pocket.
Before she could argue you stepped out from behind the counter and approached the table.
There was a tall one, wearing a slouched beanie and a full beard. A younger looking guy, with a shaved Mohawk and tribal tattooes on his skull. And a blonde, with long blonde hair and blue eyes.
“Welcome to Daisy’s Diner, what can I get for you this mornin?”
The guys glanced up at your approach and you smiled warmly to each of them.
“Just coffee, thanks.” The one with the beard smiled.
You nodded.
“Anything else? The cherry pies real nice.”
“I bet it is.” The blonde said with a wink and a smirk and you tried to ignore his eyes looking you up and down.
You smirked back and met his eye.
“I’ll grab a slice.” He said.
You scribbled the order in your notebook.
“Won’t be long.” You smiled sweetly, making sure to flutter your eyelashes and headed back to the counter.
You could feel their eyes watching you as you walked and you made sure to sway your hips a little more than normal.
“Thoughts?” Cassie whispered once you were behind the counter.
“The one in the beanie’s married. No rings on the other two though.” You reported.
She nodded and bit her lip.
“I call dibs on the Mohawk.”
You laughed and quickly got the order ready.
A phone rang out and you glanced at the table and saw the blonde answer a call.
You grabbed the pot of coffee and the plate of pie and headed towards the table.
When you were almost there the three men stood and the blonde turned towards you.
“We gotta go, sorry darlin’.”
“Sorry for wasting my pie or for staring at my ass earlier?” You asked.
He raised his eye brows and smirked.
“Oh I ain’t sorry for that darlin.“
You laughed and he flashed you a wink before turning and following the others out of the diner.

~
The sound of birds chirping woke him and he squinted at the bright sun shining down on him.
For a moment he was confused at his surroundings but they slowly familiarised around him.
Jax always ended up here when times were tough, or when he needed to clear his head.
Some people found cemeteries eerie, creepy and uncomfortable. But Jax found them peaceful, and he seeked comfort sitting in front of his fathers grave.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes, wincing at the pain that tore through his fist.
Slowly he stood and stretched his body, already aching from sleeping on the hard ground.
Jax walked slowly to the garden tap that he’d used to wash his face many times before.
After freshening up Jax headed for his bike.
He had left his phone at home last night and so he had no idea what the time was.
As he walked to his bike he contemplated whether or not he should head home.
You would be there and he knew you’d still be mad, and with every right.
He knew he needed to face you, to explain himself.
But he needed to freshen up first.
Jax swung his leg over his bike and brought it to life. He would go to the clubhouse, freshen up in the dorms and head home. Hell he might even buy some flowers on the way.
~
“Same again?”
“Please,” You smiled at the bartender.
He smiled back and turned to get your drinks ready.
Cassie had managed to convince you to come out with her and she had dragged you to one of the local bars.
Sitting next to her, you were like chalk and cheese.
She sat with her perfectly straightened hair, perfectly applied make up, tight red dress and six inch heels.
And then, there was you. Ripped black jeans, combat boots, Guns ‘n’ Roses tshirt and your hair pulled into a rough high ponytail.
The only make up you wore was a perfect flick of black eyeliner on your upper lid.
But somehow the two of you got on like a house on fire, despite the differences in your personalities.
The bartender passed you your drink and you thanked him before taking a sip.
You were putting the glass back on the bar when you felt a presence next to you and you turned towards the newcomer.
“Hey cherry pie.”
You smirked at the blonde biker, instantly recognising him from the other day in the diner.
“Hey stranger.” You purred.
“Hey I’m Cassie.” Your friend interrupted.
He glanced at her and smiled before introducing himself as Jax and introducing his friend, ‘Juice’.
You chatted for a while, well flirted mostly, before Cassie dragged you away to dance.
Almost an hour had passed and you knew they were watching when you heard a new song start.
The music was familiar to you and you laughed and turned towards the bar, where a smirking Jax watched with a playful hint in his eyes.
“She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water such a sweet surprise.”
The song played, Warrants ‘Cherry Pie.’
Jax raised his eyebrow, challenging you.
You don’t know what came over you but you flashed him a wink before stepping on a stool and climbing on top of the closest table.
And from across the bar, Jax watched as you swung your hair and swayed your hips to the music. His eyes were focused on you and with each move you made, the rest of the world fell away.

~
Jax pulled into the lot and parked in his usual spot along the row of bikes.
The garage was still shut and he frowned slightly.
Perhaps it was earlier in the day than he had first thought.
He hopped off his bike and placed his helmet on the handlebars before heading towards the clubhouse entrance.
He had only taken a few steps when the doors flew open and Gemma and Chibs came running out.
“Where have you been?!” Gemma demanded.
Jax ran his hand through his hair as he walked closer.
After the night he’d had, the last thing he needed was a lecture from his mother.
“Look, mom-“
“Dont worry about it, Jackie boy. Theres been an accident.” Chibs interrupted.
Jax froze and glanced between them, his face filling with concern.
“Its (y/n), Jax.”
His heart dropped.
“Is she..?” His words fell off, unable to bring himself to finish the question.
“Shes in intensive care.”
Jax nodded and stepped backwards before he turned and headed for his bike.
Gemma and Chibs called after him but he ignored their voices.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and no matter how hard he tried his legs couldn’t carry him any faster.
His body went into auto-pilot and he yanked on his helmet, the bike roaring to life beneath him while his mind raced.
Gemma and Chibs moved past him in a blur as he pulled the bike out of his spot and sped out of the lot.
He didn’t bother looking for cars, didn’t bother stopping at the red lights.
He didn’t bother with the speed limit as he weaved his bike in between the oncoming cars.
All he knew was that you needed him.
Eventually he stopped in front of the hospital and he stopped his bike and leapt off it, letting his helmet drop to the pavement beside him.
Jax ran up the steps, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.
The woman behind the desk glanced up as he ran through the doors.
“(y/n) (y/l/n), where is she?!”
~
You always hummed when you cooked and this morning was no exception.
Jax leant against the doorway, a smile on his face as he watched you work.
You rummaged in the drawer for a whisk before whipping the batter in the bowl.
“Whats cooking good lookin?”
You turned and saw Jax watching you and laughed lightly.
“Pancakes.” You smiled.
He grinned and walked into the kitchen and took you by the waist.
He laid his chin on your shoulder and watched you whisk the mixture.
“With blueberries?” He asked.
“And bacon.” You answered.
“God I love you.”
You laughed and moved his hands from his waist.
“Sit down, it wont be long.”
He obeyed and took a seat at the table.
He could get used to this, waking up to you cooking in the kitchen, naked beneath his SAMCRO shirt and your hair hanging loosely.
It was a sight he could never get sick of.
You quickly got the breakfast together and plated before carrying it to the table.
Jax let out a whistle as you placed the dish in front of him and you smiled before taking your seat.
You both ate in contempt silence, enjoying each others company.
After eating You cleared the table and Jax had a smoke.
You were washing the dishes when you felt his hands creep around your waist once more and you leant into him.
“Thank you.” He whispered in your ear.
“I might have a shower,” He told you. “Why don’t you join me?”
You chuckled. “Ive already showered.”
Jax raised his eyebrows and dipped his hands into the sink.
He cupped his hands, letting them fill with the soapy water before splashing you with it.
You gasped and squealed.
“Jax!”
He laughed and splashed you again.
Before you knew it, you were both soaked, covered in bubbles and sliding around the kitchen floor.
You splashed him once more and he pulled you into his arms.
“I love you.” He said.
You smiled and looked into those blue eyes.
“I love you too, Jax.”

~
Jax ran down the corridor and pushed through the door the lady had directed him to.
When he entered the room he froze in his steps at the sight of you.
Lying there, in the hospital bed. There was a bandage wrapped around your head, you had a black eye and your lips were swollen, along with multiple grazes along your cheek.
Your arm was in a cast and you lay there so.. peaceful.
Jax stepped closer slowly and his legs carried him to the seat next to your bed.
He sunk into the seat and his eyes brimmed with tears.
You needed him, and he hadn’t been there.
How long had you been like this?
The doctor said you were in a coma, and although you were stable he had said the damage was extensive, and there was a chance you may not pull through.
Jax grabbed your hand gently and squeezed it.
He couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes away from your face.
“Im so sorry, (y/n).” He whispered.
He should have followed you, he should have been there. He should have protected you.
Seeing you lying here like this was killing him and you looked so.. broken.
Tears ran down his cheeks and all he could do was apologise.
A door opened behind him but he didn’t turn.
He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently, praying that you would open your eyes.
But you didnt.
“Jax?”
He turned and when he saw Tara standing at the end of the bed anger rose within him.
Gently, he placed your hand back on the bed and he stood.
“What are you doing here?”
Tara blinked rapidly and reached for his hands but he snatched them away.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She said. “I thought you might need me.”
Jax grimaced.
“What I need, is for my girlfriend to open her eyes.”
“Jax I-“
“Why did you come back, Tara?” He snarled.
“For you, Jax. I came back for you.”
Jax scoffed and shook his head but before he could reply she continued speaking.
“I got my degree, Jax. I have a job,a house. I have everything Ive ever wanted. Everything except you.”
“Its too late Tara. Im with Y/N now. She’s my old lady.”
“I have your crow.” She argued.
Jax clenched his fists and moved closer, hovering over her now.
“Yeah? Well you’re not an old lady. You should have got it removed when you left.”
~
The clubhouse was quiet, and for the number of people inside it was unusual.
The moment Gemma had called you you had dropped everything and headed over.
You had known Jax was getting home from Stockton today, but you weren’t expecting him for another few hours and you weren’t expecting the bad news that came with him. Opie was gone.
Grief hung in the air and the whole atmosphere of the clubhouse had changed.
Your heart was in your throat as you moved, searching desperately around the familiar faces, searching only for one.
“He’s in his dorm, lass.” You heard from behind you.
You turned and saw Chibs, his head hung low and a haunting pain in his eyes.
You reached up and hugged him tightly. You hadn’t seen him since he’d gone inside and you weren’t sure if it was prison or the events that had occurred that made him seem older somehow, haunted. He hugged you back, his arms embracing you and you pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting him go.
Of course, all of them were hurting, but Jax was the only thing on your mind and you desperately needed to find him.
Chibs squeezed your hand and you headed to the dorms.
It was funny, how suddenly a place could feel different after something so tragic.
The hallway felt so.. empty. Eerie, almost. Like it knew something, or someone was missing.
Your feet carried you to Jax’s dorm and you didn’t bother knocking.
He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed and staring at the blank wall in front of him.
He didn’t look up when you entered but you ran to him and sank to your knees beside him before pulling him into you.
He didn’t need you to say anything, just you being there was enough and he began to sob uncontrollably into your chest.
You stroked his hair slowly, letting his tears soak through your shirt.
“He was my best friend.” Jax whispered against you, his voice broken and full of sadness.
“I know baby, I know.”

~
“Jax we can make this work, we can-“
“No!” He yelled.
Taras eyes widened and she stepped back from him.
“How dare you come here.” He snarled. His fists
clenched and he trembled with anger, both with Tara and himself.
He turned away from her and stood at the end of the end of the hospital bed. His hands grasped the bed frame tightly, making his knuckles burn.
Guilt ran through his veins as he looked at your broken body.
After a moment of silence Tara stepped forward and Jax felt her hand lay on his shoulder.
“I’m your first love, Jackson.”
Jax took a deep breath and clenched his jaw before he turned back towards her.
“Your right.”
She smiled with relief.
“You were my first love Tara. But she is my last. You are my past, and she is my future.”
Tara opened her mouth, unable to find the words. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned abruptly and left, letting the door close behind her.
Jax sighed and ran a hand over his face.
God, he felt sick with guilt and he couldn’t help but blame himself for what had happened to you.
He should never have let you leave, he should have chased after you. He should never had made you so mad to begin with.
For a moment he considered following Tara. Not to be with her, he had meant what he said. But seeing you lay in this hospital bed had him thinking if maybe you would be better off without him. You were a good woman, with a kind heart and he knew you deserved a love that Jax wasn’t sure he could give you.
He had no doubt in his mind that he loved you, with all he had left in the ashen remains of his heart. But he had always had doubts that he was good enough for you.
It was because of him that you had ended up in here after all. If it hadn’t been for him you would be fine, walking around and laughing like normal.
Jax walked to the edge of the bed and gently lifted your hand once more.
Your skin was soft and fragile and he sighed as he held it gently in his rough hands.
Maybe it was selfish of him, and maybe you deserved better. But he knew he couldn’t walk away, couldn’t let you go. You meant too much to him.
He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your skin softly.
“Please wake up, (y/n). I need you.”
~
Jax slung his arm over your shoulder and you squeezed his waist.
His lips pressed against your hair as he kissed your head and you smiled up at him once he pulled away.
You had spent all day helping Gemma clean up the clubhouse after another wild party and despite having a godawful hangover it had actually been enjoyable.
Cleaning wasn’t your favourite pastime but you didn’t hate it either, and you liked spending time with Gemma.
She was terrifying, of course, in her usual Gemma Teller way but you both seemed to get along despite the fact you were dating her son.
And she was grateful for your help.
The croweaters had been there too to help but cleaning wasn’t exactly their specialty, especially when they were hung over.
Finally though, the boys had returned from their club business that had kept them away for most of the day and you were happy to see Jax walk back through the doors.
He led you outside for a well deserved break and you perched on the edge of the picnic table while he lit up a ciggarette.
“Thankyou for helping out today babe.” Jax said after blowing out a cloud of smoke.
“Anytime,” You smiled at him. “Although I’m kinda scarred after cleaning Tigs mess.”
Jax chuckled before taking another drag.
A car pulled into the lot and you both looked up.
Wendy got out of the drivers side and waved to you both before getting Abel out of his car seat.
“(Y/n)!” The little blonde yelled as soon as his feet hit the pavement.
Abel ran towards you and you hopped off the table and knelt with your arms open.
He ran into them and you smiled as you squeezed him tight.
You lifted him and held him on your hip and Jax pressed a kiss to his sons forehead.
“Can we play on the swings?” Abel asked eagerly.
“I guess so.” You sighed playfully before tickling him.
He giggled loudly and you smiled at Wendy once more before carrying Abel to the swing set.
“He’s been asking about (y/n) all week.” Wendy said.
Jax nodded, a proud smile on his face as he watched you playing with his son.
“So is she your old lady yet or what?”
He raised his eyebrows, an amused look on his face as he looked at his ex.
“You gonna give me relationship advice darlin?”
Wendy rolled her eyes.
“She’s a good girl, Jax. She’ll make a good old lady, better than I ever was.”
They both watched as you pushed Abel on the swing and his laughter echoed through the lot.
“Look all I’m saying is don’t screw things up with her. She’s good for you. She’s good for him.”

~
Three days had passed without any changes.
The doctors had said your condition seemed to be improving however you were still in a coma and Jax was growing more impatient with every passing day.
He had spent every minute by your bedside, only leaving to freshen up, but never for more than ten minutes.
The room was filled with balloons and the scent of fresh flowers, mainly from Gemma.
The guilt never left him and every minute you spent in this coma Jax seemed to blame himself more.
The nurses had told him to talk to you, that you could hear him.
At first he had been uncomfortable, unsure of what to say to someone who couldn’t answer back.
He’d started with apologies, before telling you about his plans for the club.
He’d just finished telling you a story about how the guys had hid a bunch of dolls in their rooms to stop Tig from snooping when he stopped talking mid sentence.
Your eyes had fluttered, he was sure of it.
“Babe? Come on wake up.”
You stirred, your eyes flickering open for a moment and your fingers twitched slightly.
A wide smiled spread over his face and he squeezed your hand gently.
Ever so slowly, the room began to focus around you.
You squinted your eyes, gradually taking in your surroundings before you focused on Jax, sitting teary eyed by your bed.
“You look like shit.” You told him, your voice slightly raspy.
Jax laughed lightly and a tear rolled down his cheek.
He didn’t doubt your words, he’d barely slept in three days.
“How are you feeling?” Jax asked.
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“Il get a nurse.”
“No, Jax wait. I-”
“I’m so sorry, (y/n).” Jax interrupted. “I should have told you. I don’t wanna lose you, darlin. You mean everything to me and I-”
“It’s okay Jax.” You told him.
He stopped and looked at you, the blues of his eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
His face was filled with guilt and you smiled softly.
“I love you, Jackson. And I trust you. It’s okay.”
Jax stood and hovered over the bed. His fingers reached oh and gently room hold of your chin.
He pressed his lips against yours softly, too scared of hurting you. You kissed him back and you didn’t notice the tear that escaped you and rolled down your cheek.
“Marry me.” Jax whispered as he pulled his lips away.
“What?!”
“Marry me.” He grinned. “I love you, (y/n). Almost losing you made me realise how much I need you. I want to spend my life with you. Marry me.”
You rated at him, your mouth slightly open.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes!”
You both grinned at each other, your eyes damp with tears of joy and this time when he kissed you you swore you could taste the rest of your life on his lips.
Minutes passed and eventually he pulled away and sat back in the chair, his hands holding yours softly.
“Jax?”
“Yes, mrs Teller?”
You grinned. “Is Tig really that scared of dolls?”

The Reality

You awaken in a cold sweat.

You’re confused, anxious, and although you’re not in physical pain you can already feel that something about your body is… out of place.

There are pieces missing and pieces present that are not yours. You start to panic, jump from bed and rush to the light-switch. You throw on the lights and look down; your heart skips a beat. That’s not right. Your chest is wrong - it’s not what it was when you went to sleep. You touch yourself, hands shaking slightly, just to confirm what your eyes are seeing and your fingers feel the difference your eyes can see and an uncomfortable weight drops into the pit of your stomach.

Your hands move downward as you feel the area between your legs. It’s wrong there too… that’s not the part you went to bed with; that’s not the identity you had when you closed your eyes and fell asleep. That’s not who you are, it’s not what you’ve always been. A lump begins to form in your throat as your mind races and your pulse quickens even further, your heart beating inside your chest like a drum that you can’t escape; like the horrible nightmare you’ve awakened to.

No. No, no no no no.

This isn’t real, you tell yourself.

Over and over again in the span of a moment. It’s impossible, what happened. What happened??? How did this happen? You rush to the mirror, near tears from confusion and panic and you see what you already know. It’s you, alright - that’s your face… but at the same time it’s not. The angles are wrong, the features skewed just ever so slightly in such a way that you’re recognizable but only barely; like looking at yourself in the surface of a warped mirror. It’s you, but it’s not… it’s wrong.

You’re in full panic mode now. You rush to the phone and quickly call your mother or your father, perhaps your best friend. You call the one person that knows you best; the person you trust the most in the world… You can tell you’ve awoken them as they answer the phone - you can’t even feel embarrassment or guilt for having called them so early in the morning, you’re in too much of a panic. You begin to speak, trying to explain to them what’s happened but they’re not understanding. They can tell you’re panicked though, so they offer to come over and help you through whatever’s happened.

A shock goes through you as you realize they’ll see you… like this. A million worries, fears and questions shoot through your mind. What will they think? How will they react? Will they treat you differently seeing you like this? … no, you tell yourself. They love you, they care for you - they’ll help you. They’ll help you understand all of this and make sense of what’s happening. You agree and quickly prepare for their arrival.

They arrive and offer a comforting look or embrace. You wait for their surprise or their shock but it doesn’t come. They stare at you expectantly and you usher to your body, your face, your suddenly new identity and they only offer you confusion. You tell them you’re different, you woke up different and they don’t understand how you mean. You look just the same to them. You stare at them in horror and confusion.

How can they say that?

This isn’t you!

You don’t look the same at all, you look different; like yourself but the opposite gender. You’re still you but you’re shaped differently; the same clay but pushed through a different mold at some point in the night. They try to offer more comfort but their confusion and insistence that you look the same as you always have to them only frustrates you and eventually they leave, feeling worried and confused and that only makes you even more confused.

The change doesn’t wear off or go away.

You spend days and weeks waiting to feel like yourself again… but nothing changes.

Every morning you wake up and for a brief moment there’s a small flicker of hope that today it will be different - you’ll be you again and it was all just a bad, crazy dream. Or perhaps for a brief, shining moment you forget who you are or where you are or what’s happened… But it only ever lasts a moment. You wait for the morning when you’ll wake up and suddenly be you again, like before. But that morning never comes. And the longer you wait for it the more anxious you get. The creeping sensation that it’s never coming is slowly sneaking up on you and you’re no longer panicking… you’re sinking. Sinking into something similar to panic but much, much deeper.

A constant state of irritability and discomfort, it’s almost a sense of foreboding in reverse; you’re not afraid something bad is coming, you’re terrified the good you’re waiting for isn’t coming.

You begin to realize that you’re becoming depressed and so you force yourself into a routine of distraction. You over-work yourself, showers and bathroom breaks are quick and oftentimes done blind as you try to keep your eyes closed as much as possible. You’ve moved the mirrors around in the house - they all face the walls now. Except the one in the bathroom, you couldn’t turn that one around so it’s just gone now - the front of the medicine cabinet an empty hole in the wall stacked with shelves of toothpaste, deodorant, and floss.

You focus on the things that make you forget about your body and how wrong it feels, unfortunately that means you end up isolating yourself from the people who now identify you with this new, fake body; who have apparently always identified you this way. Your friends, your family, you keep them all at arms length now because they don’t understand the way the name they call you cuts when it slides past their lips. They can’t see the grimace of pain when they refer to you by the wrong pronoun, it doesn’t make sense to them why that upsets you the way it does so they simply chalk it up to you being oversensitive which only exasperates you.

So you push them away and you isolate yourself and distract yourself with work and anything else that helps you forget but that only lasts so long. Eventually you understand that you’re going to have to do something because living this way isn’t working. No amount of distraction or ignoring it is going to make it better. If you don’t do something soon you’re going to lose yourself to the dark feeling growing inside.

Finally, you work up the nerve to seek out a doctor and explain to them what you’re feeling. The doctor is nice, super compassionate to your situation and makes you feel a bit better. He talks about a solution to your problem and your heart sores. He throws around some words like “transgender” and “dysphoria”. You kind of understand them but not really, he explains them and it makes sense to you and something inside you starts screaming and jumping up and down: “yes! That’s what this is! That’s me, that’s what I’m experiencing!” And most importantly, he says that he can fix this for you! … but there’s a catch.

The fix isn’t perfect.

And it’ll cost more than anything else you’ll probably ever buy in your life. When it’s all said and done the “cure” to this nightmare is going to cost you more than a car, more than a house, probably even more than college. And it’s going to be painful. The procedures are intensive, intrusive and take a long time to recover from and the medicine you’re going to be taking to “fix” what the procedures can’t is administered painfully and is, most likely, a lifetime commitment to maintain what you had already had before all of this without any effort at all.

It’s going to cost you tens of thousands of dollars, a lot of pain and work and the results will probably never be exactly what you had before. It might get close, maybe even better, but there’s no guarantee to that at all and the doctor makes this very, very clear. You think about it for a little while but only as a formality. Living like this the rest of your life is unbearable to you, it’s not an option. You think to yourself frequently these days that anything would be better than this, even death as it is… so you knew the moment he said there was a “cure” or a way to “fix” this that you’d do whatever, pay whatever it cost.

You agree to this treatment and the doctor sets out a five year plan of therapy, hormones, and an array of other things that you’ll need to do to prepare for the first surgery.

Five years is a long time, but it’s all you have.

You’ll take it.

You sign the papers and for the first time in a very long time you feel a small sliver of hope; maybe things won’t always be like this. There may be a light at the end of this tunnel after all, you tell yourself. You leave the doctor’s office and immediately call your friends and family and tell them, you think for sure that they’ll be as excited about this as you are … but they’re not. A couple are supportive but only tentatively so. They’re a little awkward and you can tell they’re still concerned. You hang up with them and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness washes through you. They don’t understand this… they don’t even want to understand this. It honestly feels to you as if they’d really rather you just suffered with it in silence so they didn’t have to deal with it. You feel like a burden and it hurts you in ways you didn’t know you could hurt before.

That pain only intensifies as you begin the process of transitioning over the next several months. Your family makes excuses not to have you over or to visit you - some of your friends won’t even return your calls or answer your texts anymore. People you don’t even know are now suddenly very, very interested in you and your life; some are strangely fascinated with the process of your transition and make you feel incredibly uncomfortable and violated; others are judgmental and cruel, telling you their god hates you for simply existing the way you do or that you’re disgusting and unnatural. This only further fuels your desire for isolation and you retreat from the public eye as much as possible. It’s easier to be alone than to be constantly scrutinized and observed, watched like a criminal or fetishized by people who treat you like a trophy.

You turn to the digital universe, because you can be whoever you want to be there and no one questions you. Eventually you find a website full of people… just like you! They’re bright, and vibrant and confidant and happy. They accept you with open arms and give you so much positive feedback you’re practically sick with it. The overwhelming feeling of relief is so powerful you could almost get high off of it. You throw yourself into this online community headlong and for a while it’s pretty good, it really helps you not feel so alone.

But then… you start to notice that some of the people who are so supportive and who have embraced you with open arms say things sometimes that make you feel weird; uncomfortable. Things that don’t… quite make sense and you ask questions. They insist things like “gender doesn’t exist” “it’s a social construct” “you don’t have to have dysphoria to be transgender” “you’re perfect just the way you are” “you shouldn’t change yourself you should just learn to love yourself more” “transition isn’t necessary” “some trans people love themselves and don’t want to transition”.

You assume that they don’t understand how these kinds of things are wrong and harmful to someone like you; they’re part of the reason you have to wait five years and go through extensive therapy before you can finally get to your first surgery approval and move on with your life. You try to explain this and your friends, the ones who had been so nice before are suddenly very, very mean. In an instant they go from kind and supportive to downright cruel. They say awful things to you, tell you you’re a terrible person and that they hope horrible things happen to you.

You retreat and isolate again. If you’re lucky you find people who understand you and who agree with you… but there’s never any guarantee of that. You stare at the long path of transition ahead of you and you wonder if you’re even going to make it to the starting line…

This is it. This is the reality.

Fear. Discomfort. Paranoia. Anger. Frustration. Exasperation. Isolation. Loneliness. Depression. Self doubt. Confusion. Desperation.

Dysphoria.

These are the things we experience regularly… and it isn’t because cis people exist, and it isn’t (just) because we face oppression. It’s because we are disconnected from our bodies; because we face one of two equally unpleasant avenues: live with the bodies we have that we do not feel at home in or undergo expensive, painful, emotionally draining and sometimes dangerous medical procedures and a near lifelong commitment to bi-weekly injections of hormone correction therapy.

This is the reality.

This is what it means to change who you are outside to match who you know you are inside; who you’ve always known you are inside, even when everyone else insists you’re wrong or crazy.

This is what it means to be like us.

This is what it means to be transgender.

Anyone who tells you differently is lying to you.

Bucky: Tony got stung by a jellyfish. 

Tony: Alright, alright. I got stung. I got stung bad. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t walk. 

Steve: We were two miles from the house. We were scared and alone. We didn’t think we could make it. 

Tony: I was in too much pain. 

Bucky: And I was tired from digging a huge hole! 

Steve: And then Bucky remembered something… 

Bucky: I’d seen this thing on the Discovery Channel. 

Bruce: Wait a minute, I saw that, on the Discovery Channel. About jellyfish, and how if you… Eww! You peed on yourself? 

Natasha, Rhodey: Eww! 

Tony: You can’t say that! You don’t know! I thought I was going to pass out from the pain. Anyway, I tried, but I couldn’t bend that way. So… 

Clint, Bruce, Rhodey: Eww! 

Bucky: Yeah that’s right. I stepped up! He’s my friend and he needed help. And if I have to I’d pee on any one of you. Only, I couldn’t… I got the stage fright. I wanted to help, but there was just too much pressure. So, so I turned to Steve. 

Steve: [moan] Buck kept screaming at me. Do it now, do it, do it, do it, do it now! Sometimes late at night I can still hear the screaming. 

Bucky: That’s cause sometimes I scream it through my wall just to freak you out. 

Rhodey: Maybe there’s someone you can talk to. 

Tony: Yeah like who? There’s no group for people like us. 

▹ pairing: Jeongguk x reader
▹ genre: smut [sub!jeongguk] just filth all around
▹ word count: 4,235
▹ a/n: thank you @bvngtvns​ for helping me think of an actual vague-ish storyline for this collection and for encouraging this smut-fest, and thank you @taequility​ for putting up with my disgusting ass + screaming about sub jjk with me ily

You decide to have a little fun with a remote controlled toy in class and Jeongguk will do anything for his relief.

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anonymous asked:

how would the RFA + V and Saeran go about breaking up with MC? Maybe because they're tired or because the fiery passion that led to their relationship in the first place died down?

I had an urge to write angst and this has been sat in my inbox since November sorrrrrrry so here you go


Yooung

  • He would need to really be at the end of his tether, his attachment issues are pretty dominant in his life
  • It’s also because of this that he would avoid broaching the subject with you
  • Even if he didn’t love you anymore, he would still be so worried about hurting you
  • His best way of avoiding the situation and you is by engulfing himself in LOLOL, or if he’s really desperate, college work
  • You would notice how distant he’s getting, and you would get a potentially familiar sinking feeling
  • You knew
  • There was no way you couldn’t know
  • It would reach the point where you track him down to talk to him, and everything he’s bottled up would just spill out
  • Throughout the whole relationship he was most likely the one to be clingy the majority of the time
  • So for it to be him to call things off, it will hurt in a way you honestly never expected
  • He’ll cry his eyes out as he says it’s over
  • Meetings, gatherings and parties with the RFA will always be awkward for you both, because even months or years after, Yoosung will feel guilty about being the one to give up on things
  • He’ll always go the extra mile to make sure you are ok, and it will always give you false hope that maybe he wants to rikindle things
  • He wants you to be ok, but he doesn’t want you

Zen

  • He probably hasn’t even realised himself he isn’t entirely happy in the relationship anymore
  • Zen was more desperate than Yoosung for a significant other, and it just wouldn’t occur to him that things might not work out with you
  • It would build for a while, little by little,
  • Until finally one day in the midst of a petty argument over nothing, he would suddenly blurt out that he doesn’t want to be with you anymore
  • It catches you both off guard, and even if he doesn’t entirely mean it, he’s stubborn enough to follow through with the decision
  • He won’t cry in your presence, but you can damn well bet he does once he’s alone
  • It’s a complete toss up between who is most upset about the breakup as it came as a surprise for both of you
  • Even though things hadn’t been great between you, neither of you imagine it would get to this place
  • For the first time in months, you both start to appreciate what you had a little more
  • 110% the kind of ex who is always just kind of around
  • It would be a little tense at first, but you would fall into a level of comfort where you can be in each other’s presence without wanting to cry
  • Highly likely that he will eventually cave and beg to have you back

Jaehee

  • She’s been weighing the pros and cons of your relationship for weeks
  • And so far the cons are winning
  • It hurts her, because even though this isn’t her first relationship, it’s definitely the most meaningful one
  • She adores you with every ounce of her being, but this just isn’t working for her anymore
  • Thankfully she is more upfront than everyone else, and she will approach you as soon as she’s sure that it’s what is best
  • It’ll break your heart to lose someone as wonderful as Jaehee, but she’s surprisingly good at making sure you are ok 
  • Usually it would make things a million times worse to have the person who just ripped your heart out comforting you, but there’s something warm and genuine about her that makes it easy for you to accept
  • She’ll check up on you in the weeks after the breakup, and if you aren’t ready to speak to her directly she will check on you via other members
  • Although she will try her best to make sure things are not awkward between you, she will get flustered more often than not when in your presence
  • Eventually things will settle and everything will be less painful, but she’ll probably spend the odd moment here and there wondering if she really did make the right decision 
  • But even with her doubts, she will never act on them, and you’ll be left with a hole in your heart which she once filled

Jumin

  • Jumin acts on impulse
  • If the cat projects he constantly attempts showed anything about him, it’s that he doesn’t always think entirely rationally, occasionally just doing the first seemingly logical thing that comes to his mind
  • Unfortunately for you, that also means ending your relationship
  • You were the first person who actually steal his heart in a positive way, and it honestly cuts him up for things to go this way
  • His idea of the best approach is being honest and to the point, sitting you in his home office
  • He treats it the way he would a meeting discussing the end of a contract
  • His emotionless expression and monotone voice are reminiscent of his previous self, and if the breakup itself didn’t hurt, seeing him revert to his toxic ways did
  • But the breakup does hurt
  • Especially the way he seems to not care
  • You can’t help it, tears start rolling down your face in a desperate bid to escape your eyes, and your breath hitches in your lungs
  • He wants to comfort you, he just doesn’t know how, so he leaves
  • It takes a long time to recover from the breakup, and during that time he respects your need for space
  • Although he doesn’t stop using the messenger, he does choose to opt out of friendly gatherings between RFA members
  • He wants you to be happy
  • He just wants it to be without him

Seven

  • Seven is not good at accessing his feelings
  • And even if he does manage to acknowledge them to himself, he does his damn best to avoid talking about them to other people
  • This includes you
  • His way of ending the relationship is making you do it, that way he isn’t accountable for any hurt you may feel
  • He’ll spend days, weeks, months, anything just trying to piss you off and push you over the edge
  • You constantly feel like your ready to reach your boiling point and leave, but you love him
  • You really love him
  • After weeks of what feels like emotional torture you finally plead with him to just tell you what was going on with him
  • He feels forced into a corner and ends up doing what he didn’t want to do, breaking things off with you
  • It devastates you, a very large part of you thought this was the love of your life, and yet here he is, telling you he doesn’t love you anymore
  • After the breakup, he completely ghosts you
  • You heard that he’s only been speaking to V privately, but you honestly have no idea what’s going on with him
  • It isn’t until at least a year later that he finally turns up to one of the RFA parties
  • He probably thought avoiding you would help you get over the pain
  • But he was wrong
  • Seeing him for the first time since the breakup, the wounds suddenly feel fresh again, and you’re left wondering if you’ll ever escape from this hell you’ve found yourself living in

V

  • He just wouldn’t
  • If V could stay with Rika despite all she did, loving her right until the very end, he would not end things with you
  • BUT
  • In some parallel universe where he isn’t the angelic being that we all know and love as if that exists
  • He would write it in a letter
  • It’s not always easy for him to get out every feeling he has in person, instead finding it better to pen it out on some stationary
  • That is after all why he wrote so many love letters
  • He will stay with you as you read the letter, explaining anything you don’t quite understand as you scan it over and over and over again
  • It feels so bittersweet that the last letter you receive from him wasn’t another expression of his love to add to your overflowing collection, instead a letter ending what you thought would last a lifetime
  • Even now you find it impossible to hate him, he would sit next to you, ready to comfort you at any sign of distress
  • After you go your separate ways it starts to hit you harder and harder
  • He never gave up on Rika despite all the horrible things she did, what was so awful about you that he couldn’t bear it?
  • Your own insecurities make it hard for you to completely ever move on, and even though he tries extremely hard to keep a pleasant atmosphere between you, the scorn of unrequited love plagues the air
  • The other members beg you to let it go, and you may even tell them that you have, but you will always hold on to that little bit of hope that he’ll come back to you
  • But he never does

Saeran

  • The worst of them all, his breakup will be sudden, blunt and extremely painful
  • He’ll get to a point where he knows he doesn’t care about you anymore, but he doesn’t know exactly how to end things
  • So he just kind of stop everything
  • Stops answering your calls, stops answering your messages, stops visiting you
  • He just seems to cut off contact with you in every way
  • It’s almost similar to Yoosung, but he’s not avoiding an inevitable breakup, he just doesn’t think he’s necessary
  • His attitude is ‘if i ignore them for long enough, they’ll get the message’
  • But you don’t
  • You love him with everything you have, and you worry about him like crazy
  • So even when he’s blocking you out, you’ll try to get through to him
  • This results in you turning up at his apartment one night, hammering on his door with a desperate need to just hear his voice
  • He doesn’t let you in, instead standing in the doorway blocking your entry
  • It’s then that he tells you it’s over, your relationship is no more
  • Without even waiting for a response, he shuts the door and goes back to whatever he was doing
  • If there’s one thing he didn’t see the point in, it was wasting time on emotions that didn’t lead anywhere
  • You try everything you possibly can to get him back, even trying to get Seven on side, but nothing works
  • He never really turned up to things regarding the RFA anyway, so he wasn’t missing out and things weren’t awkward in that respect
  • But you just couldn’t shake this feeling of dread every time you opened your eyes, your mind constantly going over everything
  • One night it would be too much, and you ring him begging him for an explanation, but he’s cold and unresponsive, saying only one thing before hanging up
  • He didn’t love you, he never had

Distortion

For @beepbeeplettuceboi :  Do you accept prompts? Do you watch Voltron?? If so, what if Lance finds his family in a Galran prison, but he’s hurt real bad and is thrown in there to die. So he tries to explain what happened and so do they. Then they get rescued. But what if someone doesn’t make it???

Word Count: 1090

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From the Dining Table, Pt. 1 (Ethan)

Summary: Before moving out of the home you once shared with your fame hungry ex-boyfriend, you sit down to write him a letter, explaining to him why you left and where to find you if he ever comes to look for you.

Word Count: 2,352

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This idea hit me in the middle of the night while listening to Harry Styles’ new album, specifically the last song entitled “From the Dining Table.” I highly recommend you listen to the song while reading this imagine for the full effect. I also apologize in advance if I make anyone feel things; writing this had me feeling all the things. I might turn this into a mini-series if it gets enough love, so please enjoy! Requests are open!


“I honestly never thought this day would come, Mom.” You grab the last of the pictures of you and your ex-boyfriend sitting on the dresser and throw them into a cardboard box in the entrance of the bedroom. “I’m moving out of the house I shared with the person I thought I was going to marry, and he doesn’t even know I’m leaving. Do you hear how twisted that sounds?”

Your mom places the rest of your t-shirts into the open suitcase on the floor. “Honey, you can’t predict the future. You didn’t know he was going to turn out to be this way.”

“We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Mom. Nothing about him or the way he was raised would have indicated that this would have happened. He used to just be a goofy kid with a camera… What happened?”

She stands up to zip the suitcase. “I don’t know, but you’ve been turning that over in your head for God knows how long now. Haven’t you tortured yourself enough?”

“Hasn’t he tortured me enough?”

The both of you sigh and your stomach begins to twist. You pick up the cardboard box and a couple of tote bags laying around, following your mom as she drags the suitcase out into the dining room, the wheels echoing through the nearly empty house as they click on the wooden floor.

“Y/N, fame changes people. I just hope for his own good that one day he realizes what he truly lost… Okay, do we have everything?”

You shift from one foot to the other, trying to subdue the pain in your abdomen that’s only growing. “Yeah, I think so. My clothes are all packed, the electricity will be shut off by the city tonight, my pictures are all put away, and we loaded all the furniture into the truck yesterday.”

“All, except the table,” she notes.

“Yeah, that’s not mine. I’m leaving it for…” you trail off as you glance at the surface, remembering the notebook and pens you packed in one of your totes.

“Hey Mom, why don’t you take the rest of this stuff? I’ll be outside in a second, I just have something I want to do, first.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long. I want to ride the daylight out as much as possible. You know I have a hard time driving at night.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Your mom takes the box from you before pushing it and the suitcase out the door. She shuts it behind her while you pull your stationary out from one of the bags, setting it on the table. You take off the cap of your pen, breathing deeply before pressing it to the paper:


 I don’t want to be angry with you anymore, Ethan, but I am. I’m so god damn angry.

I want to live my life and not think about you or hear your laugh everywhere I go. I want to look in the mirror and see my face again instead of yours. I regret cutting all my hair off just so I could look like you. I wish I had the power to delete our song off of my phone. I wish I wasn’t slumped over the dining room table, crying while I was writing this.

You’re so selfish that it makes me sick. The very first night I met you, I didn’t know I’d grow up to consider you my best friend. I never expected to become this attached to you. But, fast forward to the day you left me: when you walked out the door, you took the oxygen from my lungs.

You’re just a set of bones and a beating heart. How did you mess me up so bad?

I was such a fool to think you’d adhere to your resolution to live as normal of a life as possible. You used to know that life has so much more to offer than posting moody pictures on Instagram and hoping it gets over 500,000 likes or ignoring the people who built you up because it makes you feel powerful. What you’ve become absolutely disgusts me, and the worst part of it all is that you don’t even know what the time apart has done to me. I never got to celebrate your birthday with you, something that was a dream of ours to do together. I couldn’t give you Christmas presents this year. I couldn’t sit with you and your family while they grilled hot dogs in your back yard on the Fourth of July. I couldn’t do any of this because you only think of yourself anymore. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten about me.

Right before your departure, you told me you’d come back for me. You said you would text and call whenever you could until we would see each other again in person. I got your first text soon after, and for a while it felt like we were never apart; it felt like the oxygen in my lungs was restored. You’d call me after every show and every promotional event, so excited and in awe that you couldn’t wait to tell me about everything that happened. As time went on though, with the more people you met and the higher you climbed up the ladder, the texts became fewer and farther in between. My phone rang less often until it stopped ringing all together. You didn’t text me anymore. I had to learn about everything you were doing through friends and social media. I can’t count the number of voicemails I left you, afraid that I smothered you and apologizing for being the reason you pushed me away. I know now that it had absolutely nothing to do with me, but I can’t help but hope that one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too. It never happens, though. You never do.

You friends tell me that this is normal, that getting through the separation anxiety is the worst part. But, let me ask you this: Was it normal for me to curl up in the fetal position in the middle of the hallway after you walked out of the door? Was it normal for me not to sleep a wink after you were gone? I would scream into the dark of night, begging for you to come back. I would pray for you, and you know how I feel about religion. Praying was something you did before every meal and every night before bedtime. I would watch you clasp your hands together and close your eyes while your lips gracefully moved to form silent requests of peace, grace, and mercy. Do you remember when you asked me about religion? I pressed my lips into a hard line, squeezing my hands together so tightly that I lost feeling within seconds. I did it though, I got down on my knees by my bedside hoping that you would be able to hear me through whatever kind of higher power you believed in. It turns out I was wrong.

Let me tell you that if God does exist, He’s a vulture. He’s completely unfair. The kind of lives He had in store for both of us was cruel and downright disgusting; He chose me for endless suffering and He chose you to poison the lives of everyone you meet. So much for being a good guy, huh?

The worst part of all of this is the fact that despite my anger and resentment towards your addiction to fame and how you chose it over me, you’ve taught me more than I could have ever imagined. It makes me sad, but one of those lessons is the fact that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t be fixed. This is something that no one ever tells you when you’re young; it never fails to surprise me when I look around and see people close to me breaking one by one. I should probably get it in my head. I saw it happen to you and then I felt it happen to me. I did almost everything to try and heal the resulting pain, including hurting myself in ungodly disturbing ways. I didn’t, however sleep with strangers and then leave them in the cold like the tabloids said you did.

But, see, even if I did such an ugly, terrible thing, those people would never fill this hole. I’m always going to want you. I’m always going to choose you.

I hate myself for that. I hate that I can be so angry and so vicious toward what you’ve become, but at the end of the night I lay in bed knowing I’m always going to be waiting for you. I can lie to myself all I want about it and yet I still find myself walking around every day thinking about how different circumstances would be if you were by my side at any particular moment. I tell myself to avoid everything that reminds me of you; instead I expose myself to those things even more because I don’t know how to live without the hole in my chest anymore. I can easily say I’ve failed at attempting to get over you and I don’t want to make any more attempts. The only way I can carry you with me now is by carrying the pain of you not being with me. The pain has been there for two years, five months, three weeks, and two days. This is the only way I know how to live now.

But, above all else, the one thing I desperately need you to know is that even before my anger, pity, and resentment, if you ever end up calling me again, even if it’s at 4 AM and you’re too sad to say a word, I won’t yell at you about how much of my life you’ve consumed. Rather, I will intently listen to your silence until you’re able to fall asleep again. If you need to cry, I won’t wipe away your tears because we’re only human and sometimes tears are the closest we can get to laughter and that’s okay. If you need to yell so ferociously that your voice gives out and your knees fail you, I’ll be there to hold you up and I’ll yell with you to make you feel less alone. If you get so angry that you punch your hands raw, I will ice your knuckles and gently remind you that wounds do eventually heal, both inside and out, just like the way harsh winters give way to warm springs. I will be your warm spring again, and I will do all of this because I love you unconditionally, even when you spite me and drive me insane. Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead than putting up with everything that comes with you, and I hate the fact that I don’t hate you. I just love you. My love is over, underneath, inside, and in between all the struggles that we have faced.

Now, I’m begging you, Ethan. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ve left California; I can’t live in a place that feels so artificial anymore. I’m going back to the beginning, the place where you and I planted our roots, where we ran around in the sprinklers in the summer and made snow angels in the winter, where we tossed our high school graduation caps in the air and took weekend trips driving into the city. I’m going back to the place where I can find myself again. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ll be waiting for you there.


Wiping the tears from your eyes, you fold the piece of paper down in thirds before placing it in an envelope and sloppily addressing it with an “E”. A horn honks outside, cueing you to grab the last of your bags and place the letter in the middle of the table. As you approach the front door, you turn around to take in the empty house one last time. All of the memories you and Ethan shared together here begin to dance in front of your eyes and you sigh to yourself, grateful that they’re going to stay with you for the rest of your life, but heartbroken you have to leave this behind. Finally, you step out onto the front porch and lock the door behind you.

“Alright, I’m good. I’ve got everything,” you grunt as you climb into the passenger seat of the moving van, tossing the bags behind you.

Your mom reaches over from the driver’s side to place her hand on your cheek. “You are such a brave girl. I am so proud of you for starting to let go.”

You close your eyes and place a hand on her wrist. “Thanks, Mom. Can we please go now, though, before I get too sentimental? I don’t want to cry anymore. My lungs already hurt too much.”

The both of you let go of each other to click your seat belts in place, and as your mom pulls the truck out of the neighborhood and onto the highway, you roll the windows down and turn on the radio. After several minutes of humming along to the music and getting lost in your own thoughts, your mom’s voice startles you.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

You shift in your seat, unsure how to answer. “It’s been over two years, Mom.”

“What if he decides to come back to the house and you’re not there?”

“He has a key. He can get in.”

“But you won’t be there.”

You pause for a moment. “No, I won’t be. But I have a feeling that if he ever comes across what I left for him, he’ll know exactly where to find me.”

“And where’s that?”

You glance out the window, the vast, California landscape speeding by you as you head for the state line. The two of you have a long drive ahead of you back to the East Coast, almost 2,800 miles.

“Home. I told him to come home.”

When someone is heartbroken, one of two things will happen,

Either they’ll recede into themselves, succumbing to bleak isolation.

Or they’ll latch onto anything, they’ll do anything to make the hole in their heart go away. Desperately clinging onto shirts and people they don’t like,

Even if doing so, only makes the pain go away even for a moment

—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write
2

Prompt Credit: x


You’d holed yourself off in the cool darkness of a deserted pantry when it had started. The tile was cool against the flushed skin of your calves and toes. The darkness pressed against your eyes and ears in a comforting manner, making you feel safe. But also, unfortunately, highlighting the very things that had led to you trapping yourself in here in the first place.

Each thud of your heart felt like a dust against your chest. The muscles stretched above your heart to your sternum kept pinching and snarling their pain. You tried to hold your breath, thinking rather irrationally that if you slowed some of the movement the pain might cease. Drinking water hasn’t helped. Neither had lying down. Not really.

And holding your breath?

It only meant that you were no consciously aware that you were breathing. Having to focus on each pull of air into your lungs and mentally cursing that being so conscious of it was rather making the involuntary muscle movements all too voluntary. Each breath just wound your tension more. You couldn’t keep track of the number and what felt like an incredibly fast pulse trying to jump from your neck and chest. You felt like you ought to know though. Your body was screaming with terror, and it felt as if you might overload at any moment.

The floorboards outside the pantry creaked. You told yourself it was just the house settling. The footsteps? You were imagining hallucinatory monsters while in a highly suggestible state.The voices were harder to explain away.

There were only a limited number of people who could be in this house, and you wanted to explain to approximately none of them why you had hidden away in this currently unused storage space. Aside from a few bags of sugar and a container of salt, you were sure the only thing in this place before you shut off the light and closed the door were abandoned cobwebs and dust.

You really, truly hoped no one was so desperate for a cup of sugar they wouldn’t just go to the store on their own.

It wasn’t as if you could very well hide any more than you already were, but you shrank inward the little you could bringing trembling limbs tighter protectively. You pressed your cheek against the chill of the wall and hoped your heartbeat wasn’t as loud to them as it felt to you.

After a few moments, you realized you could discern at least two sets of voices. A Scottish woman’s and a man’s. You didn’t recognize either of them, and didn’t much want to think about what that meant.

“Obviously she’s a tad upset, that’s all. Are you sure you didn’t offend her?”

“Doctor, how would I offend a ship?”

The woman’s voice was further away now, more muffled and indistinct.

“You’d be surprised,” came a mutter far too close for your comfort. Then, worse, came the twist of a doorknob as you pressed yourself against the wall adjacent to the door. Whatever reason these people had for breaking in, you didn’t think they’d be pleased by a witness.

Because you were you, and your luck has always been frankly awful when it matters most, this wasn’t very successful.

“Well hello!” The man exclaimed after he flicked on the light. “This is a surprise!” 

He sounded quite happy, going by the speed of his chatter and the brilliant smile.

 “Have you been in here long? It’s a nice cupboard, bit empty. I’d say you’d do better with some biscuits and a few pillows but - oh! Or is this Sardines? Well, count me in!”

That said, he shut the door firmly once more, his right hand moving to the light switch before pausing with a frown. Sadly, he left the light still on.

You could see him better now though. Tweed jacket, bow tie, and long skinny legs to match. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get a good look at his face or not, but you’d shut your eyes tight against the sudden intrusion of light regardless. His rectangular face was topped with a dark swoop of hair that was clearly as much of a statement as his choice in wardrobe. The chipper attitude kept you balancing the fine line of unease and tentative hope that today wasn’t really going to cause even more problems. He seemed friendly. But the housebreaking implied he may very well just be a friendly psychopath.

The diversion he posed was not enough to break the aching weight that piled on your lungs like sandbags. It didn’t stop the stabbing, dry pain that was still attacking your rib cage. You rubbed at your chest with the heel of a palm as discretely as you could, attempting to deepen each breath by finishing it with your mouth instead of your nose. He wasn’t brandishing a weapon about, so you were tentatively hoping he wasn’t planning on killing you.

You only had to wait an annoyingly painful breath or two before you felt the man’s gaze on you rather than your surroundings.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you aren’t playing Sardines,” the man said companionably. “Did we scare you? No. No that can’t be it, you’d been in here a while before we arrived, hadn’t you?”

You found yourself nodding your agreement, not entirely sure why you were being honest. Except… that voice from earlier. It had called the person this voice belonged to ‘doctor’. Hadn’t it?

“Are you really a doctor?”

The man sat next to you, smiling brightly as if you were best friends.

“Better. I’m the Doctor,” he told you. 

You weren’t sure if he was cocky or charming.“Do you… do you often break into people’s homes? That’s not part of any residency program I know of. Most would say it’s illegal.”

Your words were accusing, but coated over with a mild sort of politeness that formed from a mixture of respect for medical professions and simple awareness that this man could be dangerously insane.

“Oh that, well I’ve never been big on normal anyway,” the man was terribly sunny. “Although, strictly speaking, didn’t exactly plan this.” His face contorted in a grimace. “I was trying to take my friend home for a surprise visit. We seem to have gotten it a bit wrong.”

That explained the clothes, you supposed.

Apparently, you’d said that out loud, because he practically squawked. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Nothing. You assured him. They were perfectly professional. A bit outdated in style, perhaps, but you supposed anyone would get tired wearing scrubs and white coats all the time.

He swirled around to face you, pulling a small cylindrical device that lit up and buzzed as he moved it through the air.

You discarded the obvious question of 'what in the Lord’s name is that’ and instead asked through a tight jaw, “What does that tell you, then?”

The man, the doctor, looked to his whirring device then back to you. He peered at your eyes in concern then slowly reached a hand out towards you. Just as slowly, he took one of your wrists.You stared at his pale fingers, ghostlike against your wrist, and abruptly realized he was taking your pulse.

“What has you so scared?” He breathed.

You tried to give him your best challenging look. What sort of question was that, anyway? Particularly from a housebreaker?

“I’m going to ask you a few questions, but while I do, I want you to take some deep breaths for me, can you do that?”

For some stupid reason or habit, you answered honestly.

“Breathing isn’t my favorite thing just now,” you confided with a bit of a grimace.

He squeezed your wrist lightly and stared into your eyes earnestly.

“Do it anyway. Just trust me. I need you to trust me.”

“Because you’re a doctor and you make people better?”

Why not? You thought. If he was a doctor, maybe he could make the pounding and stabbing and.. all of it just stop. Go back to normal.

“Exactly. Inhale, nice and deep." You obliged. After a few moments, he squeezed your wrist again, "And exhale.”

He did this a few more times before finally asking his questions.

“What’s your name?”

You told him, although your breath got a little stuck on it. He didn’t seem disturbed, and only encouraged you more.

“Y/N, what are five things you can see?”

Unlike the first, this question was odd under the best of circumstances, and you gave him a look that told him so. When you didn’t immediately answer, the doctor asked again after a moment.

“Chalk,” you started, still doubtful, but aware of the dusty stains on your fingers from when you’d been playing with your younger siblings and cousins earlier that day. Before you’d come over here to house sit and feed fish that the owners were convinced could possibly get lonely. “Broken spiderwebs.” You weren’t being paid to clean. No way were you inviting that sort of thing to be taken for granted either. “My jacket in the corner. Your bow tie. And your eyes.” You looked at him thoughtfully. “Are you an ER doctor?”

“It’s still my turn to ask the questions, Y/N.” He smiled again and booped you on the nose. “What about four things you can feel?”

“Mild irritation?” You offered, raising an eyebrow when he shook his head.

“No. Not feel with your emotions. Your physical sense of touch. Four things you can perceive through touch.”

“Your hand on my wrist,” you replied after a moment, rubbing your chest again thoughtfully. “Not as overpoweringly warm as I’d have feared. The floor. A slight air through the house from the vents. My shirt.”

He nodded approvingly.

“Good, good. And I do work a lot with emergency cases, not always in one room though. What are three things you can hear?”

That didn’t explain anything, but you figured it was a yes. It would explain his take charge attitude and the look in his eyes.

“Your voice. Your friend running down the stairs. And the fan in the next room over.”

“Very good. Can you tell me two things that you can smell?”

You frowned, having to work harder on this one.

“Dust, I suppose. The kind of musty smell from disuse, you know? The people who live here don’t use this much.” Who’d have guessed? You felt rather embarrassed for saying something so obvious, but he appeared to find it interesting enough. At least, there wasn’t a glimmer of ‘what an idiot’ visible on his face. “And.. a perfume, maybe? It’s faint on you, but I suppose your friend wears it?”

“Ah, yes. She does that. Rassilon knows why. Last question for now. What’s one thing you can taste?”

At first you’d opened your mouth to say you couldn’t very well taste anything. Your mouth was so dry you barely had spit. Before realizing that actually wasn’t the case at all. And you could taste a slight flavor in the air. 

More than just the acrid taste of leftover fear or salt from your skin.

“Is that… bananas?”

“Always take bananas to a party.” He winked at you and brandished a banana in his free hand. Then he offered it to you and released your wrist, surprising you as you realized you’d been breathing just fine on your own. Were still breathing fine. At some point, the agony had stopped.

“But there’s no party here,” you asked doubtfully, hesitantly accepting the mysterious banana.

He just shrugged.“The human race loves parties. I’m sure we’ll find one soon enough. Want to come along?”

You looked down at your outfit then back to him and tried to open your mouth as he opened the door and called for his friend. Who was apparently named Amy.

“What was all that? What happened to me? How did you stop it?" You shook your head, trying to make sense of it all. "It felt like I was dying. Like… like I was the Energizer Bunny on speed in its death throes.”

The doctor gave you an 'ah’ of comprehension.

“Sometimes your brain will send an adrenaline surge through your body and activate your fight or flight responses. And presto, anxiety attack. All better now though. So, what do you say to that party? You already have a banana, why not go all the way?" 

His friend, who was apparently a woman just as pale but with bright red hair, skipped up to him wearing nothing but striped pyjamas.

“I love parties! But we’ll need a change of clothes, Doctor.”

“Right you are, best get that sorted out. Come on, Y/N!” The man winked at you. “Geronimo!”

Berseria prequel novel summary: chapter 1

This is a summary of the first chapter (out of four) from the prequel novella that came with the Berseria collector’s edition. I’ll also be doing the other three chapters eventually, and they’ll all be on this tag!

This first chapter focused on young Velvet, Celica, and baby Laphicet, and their chance meeting with a malak implied to be Eizen. At the end of the chapter, there’s also a short scene about how Artorius and Shigure first met. This chapter has no spoilers, or at least none that I could tell.

It’s a bit long, so putting it under a cut!

Keep reading

I want to thank my body.
Thank you for not giving up on me.
Thank you for not giving up on me after the handfuls of pills I swallowed last night.
Thank you for not bleeding out when I cut up my legs until you couldn’t tell apart my skin from blood.
Thank you for taking care of me when I didn’t eat for 2 days straight.
Thank you for allowing me to sleep off the stress of life.
Thank you for keeping me up for 34 hours straight, crying on the kitchen floor all night.
Thank you for helping me pick myself up after every mental breakdown.
Thank you for showing me that I can feel pain when I run into things on purpose to get bruises all over my body.
Thank you for making me realize that I’m not completely numb.
Thank you for allowing me to feel.
Thank you for not giving up on me yet.
Across the Stars, Chapter 4

Prologue   Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4    Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8

AN: Trigger Warning! This WILL show a…rather graphic description of Rhys having sex with Amarantha. And though she doesn’t necessarily tie him up or hold a gun to his head, he is having sex essentially against his will, which is rape. So please be advised and stay safe my darling readers <3

On that note, in case anyone was wondering why I’m writing a fanfiction that deals with such dark subject matter…One of the things that plagued me about Rhys after I read ACOMAF was just how abusive his relationship with Amarantha was. And how toxic Feyre’s relationship with Tamlin ended up being (I don’t necessarily think it started out that way). We read these books and we think ‘Well, of course. If I saw that, I’d KNOW I was being abused!’ But that got me thinking…would we? Especially with Tamlin…It’s far more subtle and he certainly isn’t doing it on purpose. He truly does everything out of love. But thinking more and more about it made me feel even more strongly about both of these characters (if that’s even POSSIBLE omg Feysand 5eva) and…well, I really wanted to explore those parts.

That being said. If any of you HAS been abused, and I am portraying it incorrectly or devaluing what you and so many others have gone through…please, please do not hesitate to tell me. You can send an anon with a parenthetical that says ‘Please don’t post!’ and I will not say anything at all. And know that you are all loved <3

In the end, Feyre couldn’t bring herself to tell Tamlin about Rhysand. Not when he’d been in such an unusually good mood when she returned home from the café. She stared at the ceiling of their bedroom, watching the light of the late morning dance through the windows. She stretched, her muscles pleasantly sore from the previous night. A twinge of electricity shot through to her toes as she remembered why her muscles were sore, as she remembered why there were a couple of little bruises on her hips and her stomach, and trailing up her sternum…

She grinned and pushed herself up on her elbows, the thick blankets falling from her shoulders as she did so. Tamlin hated sleeping in, so it wasn’t a surprise to her when she woke up and the bed was empty…but for him to let her sleep in until ten o’clock without waking her up with his lips on her breast and his fingers gently nudging her legs open…

She got up from the bed and picked his oversized thermal shirt up off the floor where she’d thrown it the previous night, pulling it on over her head and savoring the way the forest green cotton felt on her skin, smiling as the hem fell to the tops of her thighs. She hugged herself and crept toward the door, and that’s when she heard voices.

“Your time is almost up, Tamlin,” a voice she recognized almost immediately growled.

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Fic: It could have turned out differently, I suppose (But it didn't)

Written for the @olicityhiatusficathon organized by @thebookjumper prompt “at odds.” (and yes the title to this fic came from Jane Austen)

Okay, this one is a little weird and dark for me. But I followed this plot bunny down it’s rabbit hole. I have no beta and wild and crazy children - so I apologize for any mistakes. 

Read it on Ao3 or below.

It could have turned out differently, I suppose (But it didn’t)

You know that pain and guilt can’t be taken away with a wave of a magic wand. They’re the things we carry with us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don’t want my pain taken away! I need my pain! – James Tiberious Kirk

Felicity looked around the room at her friends, all in the fetal position, crying. The meta human – “The Heartbreaker,” as Cisco dubbed him, stepped over their bodies as he stalked toward Felicity.

“Choices. Human existence is made up of millions of choices. Left or right. What college? Who to date? Fight or flight? And with those choices comes another plague to humankind – regret. Did we make the right choice? What would life be like if we had chosen differently?”

While he gave his villainy monologue (why did villains always do that, she wondered), Felicity surveyed the room for an exit. Or some way she could get ahold of Oliver.

“You humans are always at odds with yourself, and I simply use that to my advantage,” Heartbreaker said as he stopped a few feet from her.

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super-skid-deactivated20170623  asked:

So I know everyone is eggin' for Host angst but what about Doctor angst?!? His powers can be overwhelming from time to time, especially if there is a big tragedy coming up like a big car accident or a building going to catch on fire. So the Doctor will shut himself down and lock himself away all alone just drowning in all the death he can see. And Host tries to help as much as he can because he knows what it's like to know terrible things

He’s learned, over time, how to block out the visions, how to access them if he truly needs them, He supposes that makes him lucky, but there are times when even he, with all his experience, cannot stop them. 

It’s during those times, when the visions are so persistent that completely bypass his mental walls, that Dr. Iplier knows he has to be alone. He doesn’t want to have to see the awful things that have and will plague his friends, doesn’t need their sad eyes burned into his mind. Even locked in his room he can see them, the devastation on Bim’s face when he flusters and accidentally sets fire to one of his plants, the King, lying in bed fever-ridden, his furry subjects unable to comfort him. 

Dr. Iplier feels their grief almost as if it were his own, though thankfully he’s spared from their physical pain. 

And of course the Host helps. His own mental walls make him like a black hole of sorts, an empty space in time that Dr. Iplier can’t see (unless they make skin contact). They sit together, speak, (sometimes about the visions, sometimes about more mundane things) and Dr. Iplier tries to ignore the things he sees leaking through the Host’s mental walls when he lets his guard down. 

Flaw in our code (Jason Todd/Red hood x Reader)

A/N: Once again I’ve proven that Jason is my fave. I know there are a million ways to do Soulmate AU’s and this is what inspiration brought me to. This CAN be read as a sequel to, well, most of my Jason fics but ESPECIALLY this one.

Somehow something always drew you back to him. Just as strongly as something gravitated him to you. Each night he wound up at your door, or you at his. He never seized to get your heart racing again, your blood running a little bit faster. Most fights were because he was too forgetful…. he couldn’t seem to remember that he was still mortal. You had broken up a couple of times over it, but somehow your lives seemed intertwined. Teenage lovers to … whatever it grew into. You knew he was yours to the same extent you were his, but some days that was all you knew. Especially since…

Since the last thing you heard of him was a message on his death. The realisation had been creeping up on you. You weren’t together at that but it tore you up from the inside. Even more because you had gotten into that fight with him the night before. He might have been with you otherwise. He didn’t come for you the very same night to make up… that was the first sign.
You felt such a sense of despair, inexplicably and you knew what that meant. You had looked for him but you couldn’t find him. The second sign.

That was the one that made sure you knew he had died in a lot of pain in hindsight. After finding out through, from all things, a news report. Someone who trivially read what had happened in a solemn voice only to move on the next day. Then, there was darkness, emptiness, a void. Like a dark hole it seemed to suck up all the light in your life indefinitely. You didn’t feel guilty because you feared he died not knowing you loved him, you knew he knew that, but you did feel guilty because the last memory he had of you was fighting. For about a month you had been on auto-pilot. As sobbing mess on the floor, with friends regularly stopping by to remind you the world hadn’t ended. They didn’t realise that to you it had. How do you go on with half your soul missing?

Your answer? By avenging him. 

One suicide mission later you had to be saved and you had hoped it would be him to save you. Of course but it wasn’t. You tried to move on but the world felt grey and white. Your soul numb. Maybe you had influenced this new… version of him. He might be channeling your reaction to his death through whatever connection you shared. Or, maybe he was always going to turn out looking for revenge and you just got a headstart because he was six feet under. One way or another. You understood what drove him now, because you shared the feeling that the Joker had to die for what he did to Jason.

And then tonight happened. He was back. You figured your suspicions would either get proven right or adopting Jason’s impulsive nature would get you taken out. You had sought out the dangerous Red Hood and found him. As soon as you saw him walking around, you had known. You weren’t wrong. And now he was back in your bed. Just like always, holding onto him felt right, just like always, his body fit against your like a glove and your missing piece clicked back into place. Like he had never even been gone.

You felt fingers tracing your back and turned around in the bed, leaning against him, pressing your body against his while he took you in his embrace. He muttered an ‘I love you ‘ against your ear and you reveled in it. You could remember how much you had craved to just hear his voice again. You knew nobody would ever love you like he did. All-consuming but right. You knew he would have your back through anything, protect you even if it cost him his own life and would be there for you through anything… with a sarcastic comment to boot.

He had come back different. No way to deny that. But you knew for a fact that in the end there was no version of him, in any lifetime, in any time, you wouldn’t want, no,  need with you. He was still Jason, but a more dangerous version. He was living the saying ‘what doesn’t kill me better start running’ but this time with an AK-47 in hand. You would oppose it but you knew damn well he needed the rush of the chase after all that happened, of that kind of constantly shifting goal in life. He didn’t even need to tell you. Just like before you understood him without words. Just as long as he would come back to you. And that was your main concern. He had become more wild in every way possible. That meant taking all his usual outlets and pushing them to the limit… including those that took place in bed. By lack of better words; he fucked as if the Lazarus pit treatment could wear off any day.

“ Why aren’t you asleep yet?” You turned around to face him.
“ Cause I’m scared you’ll be gone when I wake up.”
“ Babe, you’re never gonna get rid of me, ever again.”
“ Good.” You kissed him, hard, desperate and he returned the kiss with the same passion and fervor while you ran your hand down his chest again. You wanted to get as close to him as possible, skin on skin, because as long as you were touching him and he was touching you he was alive and with you.

He had gotten… a bit crazy perhaps. But you couldn’t blame him for it. It’s what happens when you go to hell and back. And damnit, when his hands were running over your skin and you felt your body pressed against his you knew for a fact you were a little too willing to go along with whatever he was up to. You’d join him to the ends of hell because you couldn’t save him from it when he was taken. You would be the one to makesure he forgot all about the shit that happened that day and all days before. Just like he made you forget all that happened in yours.

The Outsiders + YA Book quotes
  • Dally: "Becoming fearless isn't the point.That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it." -Veronica Roth,Divergent
  • Soda: "I know that the whole point-the only point-is to find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and never let them go." -Lauren Oliver,Delirium
  • Darry: "That's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt." -John Green,The Fault In Our Stars
  • Johnny: "It's just that...I just think that some things are meant to be broken.Imperfect.Chaotic.It's the universe's way of providing contrast, you know?There has to be a few holes in the road.It's how life is." -Sarah Dessen,The Truth About Forever
  • Ponyboy: "Book's are my friends, my companions.They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life." -Christopher Paolini, Eragon
  • Steve: "If there's one thing I learned, it's this: We all want everything to be okay.We don't even wish so much for fantastic or marvelous or outstanding.We will happily settle for okay,because most of the time,okay is enough." -David Levithan,Every Day
  • Two-Bit: "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." -J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter
  • Sylvia: "Silence is a protective coating over pain." -E.Lockhart,We Were Liars
  • Sandy: "The sky is everywhere.It begins at your feet." -Jandy Nelson,The Sky Is Everywhere
  • Mickey Mouse: "Goodbye, I say, goodbye, as I disappear little by little into the middle of the middle of my own spectacular now." -Tim Tharp,The Spectacular Now
  • Bob: "To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered." -Sarah J. Maas,A Court Of Mist And Fury
  • Cherry: "You could rattle the stars.You could do anything, if only you dared.And deep down, you know it too, and that's what scares you the most." -Sarah J. Maas,Throne of Glass
we might as well be

the wonder woman inspired starco soulmate au no one asked for

ao3 link


Everyone knows that when Star Butterfly falls, she falls hard — and fast. She falls like a shooting star, leaving traces of it in the sky, but very easy to miss. Sometimes it’s obvious, but when she truly falls — when her heart can’t seem to stop falling from the sky — it’s the most silent and quickest thing there’s ever been.

But for Marco Diaz, it’s a whole different story. He falls slowly, like the sun as it falls on the horizon. It’s warm and soft around the edges, but ever present. He falls gently, giving enough time to know what he’s getting into and to accept it, waiting for the stars to appear out before he’s finally in love.

And sometimes, the shooting star burns out before the sun can even be given the chance to fall.

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‘Tombstone’ (1994) Sentence Starter Pack
  • “Never saw a rich man that didn’t wind up with a guilty conscience.”
  • “I already got a guilty conscience, might as well have the money too.”
  • “I’d know that sour face anywhere.”
  • “Isn’t that a daisy?”
  • “Does this mean we’re not friends anymore? You know, ____, if I thought you weren’t my friend, I just don’t think I could bear it.”
  • “You gonna do something or just stand there and bleed?”
  • “Don’t you always say that gambling’s an honest trade?”
  • “Oh, ____, I forgot you were there. You may go now.”
  • “Forgive me if I don’t shake hands.”
  • “What kinda town is this?”
  • “Well, an enchanted moment.”
  • “Prettiest man I ever saw.”
  • “Is your soul for sale, dear?”
  • “I’ll be damned.”
  • “You may indeed, if you get lucky.”
  • “Would you look at all those stars? You look up and think, God made all of that and still remembered to make a little speck like me.”
  • “What about Hell? They got a sign there?”
  • “And what a maiden. Pure as the driven snow, I’m sure.”
  • “Tell me, friend, I’m curious. Do you actually consider yourself a married man, forsaking all others?”
  • “People can change, _____. Sooner or later, you gotta grow up.”
  • “I stand corrected, ____. You’re an oak.”
  • “What do you say, darling? Should I hate him?”
  • “I don’t know, there’s just something about him. Something ‘round the eyes.”
  • “No, I’m sure of it. I hate him.”
  • “We don’t want any trouble in here. Not in any language.”
  • “Apparently ____ is an educated man. Now I really hate him.”
  • “Yeah, I’m an oak, alright.”
  • “Lovely? You could have been killed back there.”
  • “You’d die for fun?”
  • “I’m always happy. Unless I’m bored.”
  • “I want to move and go places and never look back.”
  • “Well then why are you with him?”
  • “Oh, I know, don’t say it. I’m rotten. I try to be good but it’s so boring.”
  • “I don’t have time to be proper. I want to live.”
  • “I’m a woman, I like men. If that means I’m not ladylike then I guess I’m not a lady.”
  • “You’re different, there’s no arguing that. But you’re a lady alright. I’d take my oath on it.”
  • “You die first, you get it? Your friends might get me in a rush but not before I turn your head into a canoe.”
  • “You’re not as stupid as you look, _____.”
  • “You’re so drunk, you can’t hit nothing. In fact, you’re probably seein’ double.”
  • “I have two guns. One for each of ya.”
  • “Nonsense, I’ve not yet begun to defile myself.”
  • “_____ can go all day and night and then some.”
  • “Why _____, whatever do you mean?”
  • “Maybe poker’s just not your game. I know, let’s have a spelling contest!”
  • “Come on, darling, let’s seek our entertainment elsewhere.”
  • “Yes, it’s true, you are a good woman. Then again, you may be the Antichrist.“
  • "You’re a daisy if you do.”
  • “I’m your huckleberry.”
  • “Remember what I said about seeing a light when you’re dying? Ain’t true, I can’t see a damn thing.”
  • “And so she walked out of our lives forever.”
  • “He’s down by the creek, walkin’ on water.”
  • “Make no mistake, it’s not revenge he’s after. It’s a reckoning.“
  • "I forgave you the moment you said it.”
  • “I spent my whole life not knowing what I wanted out of life, just chasing my tail.”
  • “A man like _____, what makes him do the things that he does?”
  • “A man like _____ has a great, empty hole right through the middle of him. He can never kill enough or steal enough or inflict enough pain to ever fill it.”
  • “I can’t beat him, can I?”
  • “What’s it like to wear one of those?”
  • “Well, I didn’t think you had it in ya.”
  • “Why, ______. You look like somebody just walked over your grave.”
  • “We started a game that we never got to finish. Play for blood, remember?”
  • “I was just foolin’ about.”
  • “You’re no daisy, you’re no daisy at all.”
  • “Poor soul, you were just too high-strung.”
  • “I’m afraid the strain was more than he could bear.”
  • “I wasn’t quite as sick as I made out.”
  • “My hypocrisy only goes so far.”
  • “It appears my hypocrisy knows no bounds.”
  • “You’re no hypocrite, ____, you just like to sound like one.”
  • “You’re the most fallible, stubborn, self-deluded, bullheaded man I have ever known in my entire life.”
  • “You’re the only human being in my entire life that gave me hope.”
  • “There’s no normal life. There’s just life, you get on with it.”
  • “Take that beauty and run, don’t look back.”
  • “_____, if you were ever my friend, if you ever had the slightest feeling for me, leave now. Leave, please.”
  • “Thanks for always being there, _____.”
  • “I’ll be damned, this is funny.”
  • “I have nothing left, nothing to give you.”
  • “I have no pride, no dignity.”
  • “I promise, I’ll love you the rest of your life.”
  • “Don’t worry, _____. My family’s rich.”