Im Sensitive - Tumblr Posts
©️neochoke
Might also be a very unpopular thought and vieuw is see sometimes that people didn’t like that John be didn’t help jj or got help but if you think about it if he did get help police and child services would get involved meaning jj would’ve probably taken away and that’s the last thing jj would want bc the poques are his family
I could make a great case about how John B has abandonment issues and subconsciously pushes his friends away bc he’s afraid that even though they show devotion to him they’ll still leave him the way all his family members did but that doesn’t explain why he got so attached to Sarah so quickly and let her in so easily
News Flash: All my moots and faves are my besties. Fight me if you don't like it, but I love all my moots and faves too much to pick and choose.
Also: the power of friendship (and a whole lotta coffee) will aid my victory. Verbal fight only, physical contact makes me cry.
Just saw a post with some L takes on the marriageables, like I completely get it’s just a game but also these were kinda harsh for no reason?? 💀
Just saw a post with some L takes on the marriageables, like I completely get it’s just a game but also these were kinda harsh for no reason?? 💀
I shouldn’t have read this on my period 🥹🥹🥹
Metamorphose | 2k
my masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: You and Simon deal with the pain of losing a baby. ✦ TW and general warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, sensitive content (abortion), depression and eating disorder mentions, it's painful but he comforts you
A/N: Hi everyone! Since I'm working hard on some requests I've received and in the next chapter of Shades of Red, I decided to release this kinda old drabble of mine here. I'm not too satisfied with how it ended up but enoughly to post, so enjoy <3
I'd also like to mention that I have a taglist for my longfic Shades of Red but not one for my general writing and drabbles so I'll make a post for it, but till then, if anyone's interested in being tagged in my general posts and drabbles, please let me know <3
The sky is colored in blue, pink and purple.
Mostly blue.
You stare outside of the window while it changes, a golden yellow sun by the morning that rises; it spent too much time burning bright in the also bright blue sky. You counted the hours till it started descending. Now, the sun was nothing more than a little line by the horizon, and the sky was fading into cold colors, fading into the cold night.
You feel hungry, but it felt wrong to eat knowing you’d be sick of your stomach the second food hits it. You’re not in town anymore, Simon decided it would be better if the two of you took some time out in the country, where it was safe and you’d have time and space to do the things you loved. Running with your dog, swimming in the lake, breathing the fresh air. Truth is, you don’t feel like doing anything. Your legs are too tired, you’re sleepy, you’re tired. You’re very tired.
You heard him on the phone earlier. His voice was hoarse and low, he argued you wouldn’t want to receive visits. You could tell whoever it was - was insisting, pushing him too hard into allowing them to visit you. He blatantly denied, and you could feel his mood changing in a bit of seconds, his patience running low and the moment he turned off and let out a huge snort; and it had been perhaps two hours since that happened.
You let out a tired sigh, your empty sad eyes stare down at a small sign of movement under the window you were staring at. A little cocoon, seeming to be still inhabited, was hanging from a little line in there. You knew it was supposed to keep hanging till the moment that little caterpillar metamorphosed into a butterfly, and broke the shell, flying out freely. But for some reason you can’t understand - as well as many things in nature, this one cocoon is about to fall.
Your shaky hands reach out for it and before it hit the ground, you carefully pull it and it detaches without a second guess. You take a small look around the room and grab a small empty cup where the water you were supposed to have drunk evaporated, and place the small thing inside of it.
“There you go.” You mutter, the first time you hear your own voice in days, maybe weeks.
Some things aren’t supposed to happen. And you’re not supposed to die without being conceived the chance of living, even if only for a day.
You reach for Simon downstairs, minutes later. Looking pale for the lack of food you’ve been putting yourself through, tired for even standing, collateral effects of the strong medication you’re taking for the sake of your life.
“Baby.” You mutter, and he turns instantly from the alluring stare he was giving the fireplace. Your man’s sitting in a cozy armchair, drinking tea - cold at this point - and dissociating just like yourself. You blame yourself for a second: how can you put him through so much? Isn’t he suffering as much as you, why are you isolating him?
“Yes, my love?” He quickly responds, like he craves for hearing more of you. “Another nightmare?” he asks, standing to come closer to you.
You shook your head. “No… I found this.” you show the cup between your hands; Simon doesn’t seem to get it at first glance. “A butterfly. It’ll come out anytime, the cocoon is moving.” you state.
“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow, and sighs a little. “What a cute thing… Should we put it in the garden?” He asks, so much calm in his voice you feel yourself a little lighter.
“I want to see it.” You state. “The butterfly, I don’t know what type it will be, I’m curious.”
Simon looks at you like love would, if love was a person. He’s as tired as you, you can tell. Maybe his legs work a bit more than yours and his hands have the capacity of doing the hard work still, but his mind is as empty as yours.
“Of course.” He nods, and reaches for his own coat, placing it around your shoulders. You feel warm and cozy to the smell of him. “We can watch, come on.” he suggests, and grabs onto your hand.
His squeeze is light and calm, and your body follows him instinctively, not thinking about anything but the comfort you crave right now.
For the past few days, the only thing you could think of was the void in your belly. The void you haven’t felt in months; when you told him you were pregnant, Simon stared at you in complete despair and horror for at least ten excruciating silent minutes. You weren’t used to the idea as well, you’d have to interrupt your current work, you’d have to dedicate yourself to learn the slightest about being a mother.
It is a lie that every woman is born knowing how to hold a baby. When the two of you would visit some of your friends and their children, you’d try to picture yourself as holding your own baby instead of holding theirs. You couldn’t. They’d tell you that oh, god, don’t hold him like this, while laughing. But for you that was a sinful despairing moment.
Simon knew better than you, as a matter of fact. He held babies correctly, unintentionally - but very correctly.
You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel envious of his natural ability or proud of having this man as a daddy to your baby.
You learnt to love the little thing growing in your belly. He did, too. He would often bring gifts to you - keeping track with your cravings, and also buying things for the baby. Baby’s little room would be full soon enough. This little creature who wasn’t even born yet was everywhere around your house. The worries about conciliating Simon’s work with your pregnancy were starting to catch the two of you off guard, and soon as he asked for a license to take care of his pregnant wife, that day. That night. So much pain, so much blood. He wasn’t a small lifeless fetus anymore, it was a whole baby. It was a girl. She had a name.
Some things aren’t supposed to happen.
“Your parents want to visit.” He mutters, the two of you sitting in the swinging chairs by the garden, surrounded by dozens of different kinds of flowers. The weather is fairly cold, but you don’t feel it with his coat around yourself. “Told them you wouldn’t want to.
“I don’t.” You agree. “Tell them I need time.”
“I did.” He fixes the coat you have around yourself, and glares into you as the sky fades into deeper tones of dark blue. “I was a little less polite than that, but I did.”
“If you weren’t, they wouldn’t listen.” You argue, looking at him now, too. Your eyes fall deep into the void of his own.
For the first time in those two painful weeks, you can feel his pain flowing through his damaged soul. Like yours.
“I know. Terribly stubborn blood you have, dear.” he mutters, moving your hair off your face. “Did you manage to eat something today?”
“No. I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice failing for the first time.
“Don’t do this to me.” His voice comes out pained like yours. He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches in sadness when he sees the tears start gleaming through your eyes. “Don’t apologize. Don’t cry…” he asks in an almost begging voice.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, love, this is all my fault, it’s-” you catch your breath in your throat and suddenly, you’re falling apart. Days of nothing, weeks of not feeling anything but pain in your chest, despair, panic, and now you’re falling apart in front of him. Your tears stream down your face like overflowing rivers. “It’s my fault.” You say, grabbing handfuls of your hair and tugging your face on your knees.
Simon feels his own eyes get drenched as he can’t hold his own rivers by seeing you like this. He kneels down to the ground in front of you, pulling your hands from your hair, carefully stopping you from hurting yourself; feels excruciating to him to be able to do nothing.
“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He mutters, and you feel your body moving up. He holds you like you’re lightweight and takes his seat where you were sat at, now, holding you like a baby against his lap. You tuck your face on his chest now, the tears wetting his shirt, your painful voice coming out in low groans of pain, a painful cry of a mother who lost her children. The sad dead eyes of a father who watched this happening and couldn’t do nothing about it. The grief of parents, who didn’t have the chance of raising their children.
“Why? It hurts so much, so much.” You say beneath your cry, your eyes drenched, your face red from all of the crying. His hand is caressing the back of your head as he silently cries.
“I know. I know it hurts.” his voice is almost a blow of the wind, a whisper. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for your, my darling, but it feels bloody excruciating to me, everyday. I miss her all of the time.” He admits, his voice like the one of a kid who just lost its parents. “I miss talking to her, feeling her kick in. I miss her.”
For the past few days, the two of you seemed to be speaking in foreign languages.
Couldn’t understand each other. Couldn’t comprehend. He was in pain, so were you. None of you could see each other, understand each other. The two of you needed space. The fights, the screaming, his complaints about your refusal to get help and your anger for not feeling understood.
Right now, you feel understood.
Who could understand a grieving mother more, than the kid’s grieving father?
You miss moments that didn’t exist. That didn’t even happen.
You shouldn’t have died without even getting the chance of living. Even if for a day.
“I’d give anything to have a day with her. A fucking day, just one.” You mutter in admission, as you hug in his arms and feel his warmth start to make you calmer by the second. Simon closes his eyes in acknowledgement.
“Me too, darling. And I don’t know what can we possibly do so this hurts any less, but I’m pretty sure we can make it easier if we’re together in this.” He affirms, his hand reaching for your face and washing away your tears. You look at his eyes for the very first time in weeks now. “We face it together.”
The sky is painted in dark blue now as night approaches and the cold finally starts rising completely. You feel it hitting your skin, as Simon has you in his arms and you hum a low lullaby to the air. He runs his hand across your belly like he somehow tries to heal you from the void you’ve been feeling.
If she feels empty, then I’ll fill her with my own love.
You close your eyes and even though in this terribly uncomfortable position, you feel warm, and you feel cared. You rest. You fall asleep in a matter of seconds
None of you had awakened in time to see the cocoon hatch and the butterfly fly out. But for the past months, for the past years - when you were facing the task of emptying your baby’s room along with Simon, or when you were working - and even in other times, when you’d catch yourself thinking about her, you’d see a blue butterfly flying around you.
Simon was too skeptical to believe, but even so, he’d always catch every butterfly he’d see, and bring it to you. “Look, who’s coming to visit!”