#pain......

this is literally just my scattered thoughts so not quite going to make sense here i think as i don't quite have like. a solid plot. sort of. idk.

truly truly this was supposed to be like a sweet lamar/derrick fic for @ecco2ecco  

like some random cute thing....derrick is untaping (?) his wrist:

Derrick’s fingers skim over the inside of Lamar’s wrist, rough against skin that’s gone soft and tacky from sweat, and Lamar wonders if Derrick notices how his pulse ticks harder under his thumb. “Other one,” Derrick murmurs, and Lamar lifts his left arm without thinking. The AC hums. A pipe creaks somewhere in the wall. Derrick’s thumb brushes against the tape’s edge again, and Lamar catches himself watching the slope of Derrick’s shoulders, the way the muscles shift under his skin, how his lashes catch the light when he glances up for half a second. The door bursts open. “Yo!” Zay’s voice cuts through the quiet like a fist slamming on glass. He freezes halfway into the room, Isaiah right behind him, the two of them framed in the doorway like a comedy act. “Oh. Uh.” “Oh, nah,” Isaiah says, holding up both hands like he’s backing out of a crime scene. “We’ll come back later. Y’all look busy.” “Get out,” Lamar says, his voice flat, but the sharp exhale through his nose betrays him.

the two zays are soooo annoying.....truly double trouble. 😭😭😭😭.

Anyway. then jan 19th 6:30 pm all hell broke loose. i am a changed Person.... now to be fair it still could be cute idk i just feel like the direction of the fic probably has changed for me??...idk..

the song of choice is orange afternoon by the astronomers. which is funny cause they’re both from florida .... florida’s the orange state right ahaha so funny. 

I'm cursed, but I think it's fine I'm in love with all the lakes that we pass by And time is right by my side It helps with the mistakes that cross my mind When I wake up, I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else

i think maybe originally i was thinking like i would kind of like follow lamar/derrick a bit sort of through the 2024 season. or something. but well. see how the season ended. so that kind of like derailed me here because like i'm in pain. (i'm literally avoiding everything ravens for my sanity. i did not watch his presser or anyone's really i did however make the mistake of skimming through hard knocks. absolutely horrifying stuff. like what if i died.)

my thought process here is like lamar probably feels so guilty. because it’s like. you came here for me. you came here to win. and we couldn’t do it. i couldn’t do it. 

and obviously derrick feels awful too because they lost but he would never actually like blame lamar for this. i mean it's just like. it is what it is. what can you do about it. just have to take the punch in the gut and keep moving. does not want lamar to beat himself up about this meanwhile he is already spiraling. :

“You think I came here expecting a guaranteed win? I came here for you.” “You shouldn’t have.” “Yeah,” Derrick says finally, “I should’ve. And I would again. A hundred times over.”

but then like, going back to our song here: When I wake up, I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else → idk i think this applies to both of them. in the grand scheme of things. everything sucks. but they would not. be anywhere else. this is home. idk.

damn but then i also thought abt mark a lot. like u were baby rookies together. 7 years. pb & j. security blanket. like that's really your guy. but then sunday. cannot even imagine. i did write something of like. them on the plane home. just:

He shifts, leaning back in his seat, and lets his head fall sideways until it’s resting against Mark’s shoulder. The movement is small, almost imperceptible, but he feels Mark freeze for a moment, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to move, if he’s allowed to be touched. “You don’t have to do that,” Mark says, his voice almost a whisper. “I know I fucked it up.” Lamar closes his eyes. Doesn’t answer because there’s nothing to say. Mark doesn’t move. For a moment, Lamar thinks he might, that he’ll pull away and leave Lamar leaning into nothing. But he doesn’t. His head tilts down, resting lightly against Lamar’s. His muscles stay tense, but there’s a shift, a kind of settling, like he’s letting himself lean into it. The hum of the plane fills the silence. Lamar feels the weight of Mark’s shoulder under his cheek, solid and steady, and he doesn’t care if Mark thinks he’s angry. He isn’t. There’s no room for anger when all he feels is this ache, this hollow thing inside him that no amount of words can really fill. Mark exhales, the sound long and slow, and Lamar can feel it ripple through him, a tiny release in the tension that’s been coiled tight since the final whistle. They don’t talk. Mark’s shoulder is warm, and Lamar stays there, eyes half-closed, listening to the steady rhythm of Mark’s breathing.