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rhetoricalrogue · 4 years

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31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 30

Prompt: Night Rating: G Words: 1,804 Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Nicolo Morelli Summary: This is the fic, if it were a show, that would be titled The Boys Talk About Their Feelings. AKA, Unit Delta (D for Demotion!) field missions are boring as hell. Note: The mention of a certain type of shapeshifting animal is a nod to the Wayhaven Writers Group and a certain Saturday book club reading.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Stakeouts were usually the most boring thing Nicky could think of doing. Nothing usually happened on them and he hated staying still in one place. At least this time he was partnered up with his Commanding Agent so the company was good and he didn’t have to sit out in his car freezing his ass off alone.

“You think there’s going to be any movement?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea he had, seeing that he’ll have to go out and find a tree or nearby bush take a piss behind sometime within the next hour or so, but the coffee was hot and he needed something to keep him awake. Napping while doing boring surveillance was a surefire way to make sure that something important did happen that he would unfortunately miss.

“Probably not.” Cam relaxed in the driver’s seat and grabbed a snack sized bag of chips he’d packed. Stakeouts always made him hungry and it was one of the few times that he liked to indulge in junk food and convenience store ready made meals, especially if Nicky was around. It was funny, the man had serious Opinions, capital O and everything, when it came to restaurant food, but the two of them could tear up a 7-11 if left alone without adult supervision, namely Penny and Winona. “Looks like this is another wasted evening.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nicky raised the night vision goggles he had been messing with and pointed towards some people who were walking away from their car. “I think that’s a drug deal.”

Cam, who had no need for night vision goggles, tracked Nicky’s finger and rolled his eyes. “Nick, those are kids. They look like they’re twelve.”

“Then they’re out past curfew. We should sneak up and scare the hell out of them.”

Cam gave him a disbelieving look before opening his chip bag. “I’m not going to scare a few kids just because they’re walking home in the dark.”

“Spoilsport.”

“You want to be the next cryptid creepypasta on Reddit or somewhere, be my guest. This isn’t the sixteen hundreds where you just had to worry about being stabbed if these kids were carrying knives, Nicky. Kids these days are probably carrying mace and knives and I for one do not wish to spend my evening cold and covered in pepper spray.”

Nicky caught Cam mumbling especially when I could be spending my evening someplace better under his breath. “So, scaring a few juveniles is out of the picture and we both know that tonight’s another wild evening of sitting in the car watching these two were...were-” he turned to Cam. “What sort of shapeshifters are they again?”

“Bears. The husband and wife are on thin ice for apparently attacking a home intruder. They shifted into bear form while attacking her because they were afraid for their children sleeping upstairs.”

Nicky ran a hand over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re dealing with the case that some of the agents are dubbing the Goldilocks Affair?”

Cam sighed. “Look, I didn’t name it. I feel bad for them, they were just defending their home.”

“Yeah, but they could have beaned her upside the head with a bat, they didn’t have to practically claw her to death. From what I heard, the Agency had to go in as a group of doctors to memory wipe her and make her believe that she was out jogging in the woods when she slipped and fell down a ravine.”

“How did they make her injuries look like she fell? I saw the file report, there were definitely bite marks involved.”

“You got me, you know how I feel about the Agency when they start doing shady shit like this.”

Cam nodded, grabbing the binoculars on the dash and looking around the area. He paused when he saw the husband stare out the window, his hand at the curtain. “I can’t believe that these people think that we’re here as security, just in case the woman has friends who figure things out and want to retaliate.” He gave a brief wave back when the man waved at them.

Nicky dug in the plastic bag full of food and pulled out a waxed package. Unwrapping it, he took a bite of the handheld fried pie inside, the chocolate filling seeping out from the edges. “I guess it’s better than them being paranoid and knowing that we’re here to look into them to make sure they don’t start making a habit of eating people in the privacy of their own home.” Nicky stretched his long legs in front of him and started tapping a wordless tune on the car’s console as he chewed. “So, you and Penny, huh?”

Cam stiffened. He was wondering how long it would take for Nicky to bring that up. It had been a few days since Cam had told Nicky of his and Penny’s relationship, and he was surprised that it took their friend this long to start to pry again. “Yes, me and Penny. I thought we went over this already.”

Nicky grinned and playfully punched him in the arm. “We went over the fact that you and her were an item, and the fact that you were going to be a prude and not tell me a single sex-related thing, but we never really went over how the two of you went from sighing and mooning over the other when you thought the other wasn’t looking to holding hands and leaving socks on doorknobs.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s not much to explain? I asked her out to dinner and made it clear that I wasn’t asking her out as a friend. She agreed and we spent the evening talking about how much we wanted our relationship to change.”

“That,” Nicky spat, flopping in his seat and leaning his head back dramatically against the headrest, “has got to be the most boring of how I met my girlfriend stories I’ve ever heard. Where is the drama? The emotion? The sizzling lust that finally gets to ignite after years of longing?”

Cam laughed. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“This is the worst. Twenty years, I’ve waited for payoff to all the pining and this is what I get? Disgusting.”

“Well, we can’t all be you, Nicky. When are you going to tell me about you and your surprise wife?” As if by magic, Nicky’s phone lit up with a text notification from Isabela.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured, swiping at his phone and giving the picture on his lock screen a fond smile before opening up their chat. “I told her I’d be working tonight, but she was free to text. Didn’t think that you would want to hear me whisper sweet nothings into my phone or else I would have said that it would have been okay for her to call me.”

“Thanks,” Cam deadpanned, finishing his chips and digging into the bag for the sandwich he’d bought. “But Nicolo, are you actually okay with this? I mean, the woman put a spell on you that won’t let you die, didn’t try to find you and made it impossible for you to find her when she was pregnant with your daughter, and from what you told us, stabbed you to death when you went to meet her.”

Nicky shrugged. “We all have our flaws.”

“Nicky, she killed you. You were dead on her kitchen floor. If that’s not a red flag that this relationship is toxic, I don’t know what is.”

“And I’ve been dead in many other places over the course of my life, that isn’t new.” Nicky had a faint smile on his face as he finished texting. “This, Cameron. This talking with a woman and slowly getting to know her instead of heavily flirting just to get into her bed for a brief fling? This is new.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“I don’t know yet. Part of me doesn’t want to put too much hope in this working out because I don’t want to be disappointed if the other shoe drops, but part of me does want this to work out.” He lifted his phone as it vibrated with her reply. “I’ve gotten to know my daughter, Cam. Having a family wasn’t quite the first thing on my mind back when I was still alive. I thought I had time to play around and be the romantic, but really I was just being a fool. And I’ve continued to be the fool all these years because it was easier to fall back on that aspect of my life instead of growing up.”

Cam shook his head. “Come on, Nicky, I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been a fine asset to this unit and there’s no one else I’d trust to have my back than you.”

“Thanks, you don’t know how much that means to me.” He looked at him. “And you know that I trust you and our team with mine. You’re my brother, Cameron, even if I am older than you by a few centuries.”

“Family is important, and I hope that whatever happens with yours works out for you.” He paused. “But really, what do you think will happen between you and Isabela? Will you ask her to come here? Would you leave the Agency?”

“I don’t know. You know how Facility life is, Cam. She’s a witch who’s had her own space for centuries, she’d hate it here.” Nicky laughed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Then again, could you see me as a civilian? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, especially since I wouldn’t have the same salary to buy all the shiny new gadgets I can get my hands on here, not to mention having disposable income to get bespoke clothing whenever I feel like it.”

“I’ve seen stranger things, though I’ve got to admit, seeing you in a day job? That would be the weirdest sight of all. What would you even do?”

“I could always be a food critic.”

Cam snorted, but hid the sound by opening up a can of soda. “Well, whatever you decide to do, I’m sure that you would be brilliant at it.” He eyed him. “And don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not pushing you out of the unit either. I would love to have you around forever.”

“An eternity watching werebear houses and making sure that little tea shops run by witches were up to code?” Nicky drained his coffee cup and reached into the bag for an energy drink Winona would have had a conniption over if she’d been there to see him drink. . “Count me in.”

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #Unit Charlie #cameron buchanan #nicolo morelli

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

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unexpected presents are best unwrapped.

SUMMARY: Levi is given a present. Things do not go as planned. MC is a Catholic girl raised in rural Spain and based on various female saints (for the sake of MC having a backstory).

I pull my blazer closer to my skin, doing my best to fight off a shiver. Despite the completely stagnant state of the Devildom’s weather -- the air is always on the cusp of an unpleasant, biting frigidity -- I have forgotten, again, to dress appropriately for the lack of warmth. It is at times like this that I long for the mild spring seasons of Spain again. While the Devildom holds its own in its spiraling, indulgent architecture, dark skies, and extravagant views of the city, it is difficult to ward off the yearning when I am reminded of my homeland. I pine for the sight of sunlight, Spanish cathedrals, intricately carved reliefs and paintings -- even the annoying but familiar sight of our neighbor’s farm dogs, forever yapping up a storm at our gates. And the ocean. God, I miss the ocean. As overbearing as my Catholic family is, we would never pass up an opportunity to stuff ourselves into the automobile and journey to the seashore.

It is April, after all. Springtime. If I were in the human world right now, my school adjourned for our seasonal break, I imagine that Mama would have long corralled us into the car to take us to the ocean. The fresh, salty sea breeze would visage, embracing my body with its pleasant aura, and then we would say our evening prayers, no matter the distance that exists between us and a physical church.

We should thank Him for such blessings, she would say, holding her rosary to her breast, for He loves each of his children equally and unconditionally. We must rise above the temptations of demons and devils, for it is our duty to uphold our position as the children of God. It is His will.

What a horrible, fantastic lie that was.

Another wind passes through the streets of the Devildom again, forcing me to withdraw even further into the confines of my RAD uniform. I silently thank Lord Diavolo everyday for thinking to provide me with one upon first arrival. Without the inadvertent disguise that the school uniform provides me, I imagine that one of the lesser demons walking the streets would have long devoured my body and soul. Especially seeing that I possess no physical traits that could make me even pass for a demon. Better yet, the uniform is similar to that of my Catholic school uniform: a dark, knee-length skirt, sensible shoes, and a blazer decorated with golden buttons. And black stockings, for the purposes of both modesty and warmth. It is a near identical version to the one that the Avatar of Greed would be wearing, save for his personal, frivolous touches, and one that I would be able to spot easily in the crowd before me if he were to appear.

That is, if Mammon is still here. For all I know, the loudmouth has already wandered somewhere else in his endless pursuit of money.

A lesser demon gives me an odd look as he passes by, recognizing me as an unsupervised human, and I do my best to look as nonchalant and unbothered as possible. It is expected to be in the vicinity of so many demons, of course, seeing how I am standing in the middle of a shopping district -- but it is not expected to be so unprotected.

Damn it, Mammon, where are you? I think, instinctively scanning the crowd for his tell-tale fair hair and dark skin. My search yields little success. It’s already --

“I told ya that I found it!” erupts a voice behind me, a tone of arrogance apparent in the strange language of the demons. I nearly jump out of my skin. “What’d I tell you about listenin’ to the Great Mammon?”

I whirl around to face the grinning demon. “You -- you could have done that without scaring me,” I protest indignantly, much to his humor. “Just because your brothers do that all the time doesn’t mean you have to do it to me!”

Mammon’s grin only widens, satisfaction evident on his features. “Why not? It’s more fun this way. Just because your human senses are at the bottom of the barrel doesn’t mean that we can’t mess with ya.”

“Well --”

“Come on, let’s go!” Mammon begins to stride in the opposite direction, completely ignoring my words. “I promised Lucifer that I’d have you back before dinner. It’s not that far from here, anyway.”

I sigh, seeing how little of a choice that I have in the matter.

As it turns out, it is very, very far. Or at least that’s how my body feels about the journey. Despite having worked on my family’s farm all my life, it is difficult to keep up with Mammon’s considerably longer strides, and I find my lungs protest at the exertion. A side-effect of living a more idle life in the Devildom, I would expect. Mammon browses the figurines and objects through the window of the hobby shop, his eyes bouncing from item to item.

“I thought you said it wasn’t far,” I say, catching my breath.

“Not for a demon,” he responds nonchalantly. His eyes catch on something on display. “Think he’d like something like that?”

I follow his gaze. His eyes are locked on what appears to be a more plain but stylish-looking wallet, missing the typical brand of the TSL series. Dark and well-made and not at all to Levi’s tastes or use, as it would appear. I frown at the greedy spark in Mammon’s eyes.

"You’re not tricking me into buying a new home for Goldie,” I remark, crossing my arms. “And I’m pretty sure Levi wouldn’t want a brand new wallet for his birthday. Doesn’t he only buy things online?”

“Ya never know,” says Mammon. “If we demons want something, we want something. No ifs, ands, or buts. He could decide to start using a credit card tomorrow, if he wanted to.”

“And he won’t.”

Mammon pouts. “I am his older brother, you know.”

“So his older brother would know to get him something a little better than that,” I say, searching the window of the shop myself for a more suitable present. My heart still hammers in my chest, but I’ve gotten it closer to a more manageable pace. Something catches my eye, and I point at it before I can fully inspect it. “What about that?”

Mammon’s eyes follow my finger. “That?”

It is a perfect replica of the Lord of Shadow. Mint condition, featuring his signature outfit from the very first season of the series, and, most importantly, a special limited edition of the product. A hefty price tag of nine thousand Grimm is attached to the bottom of its display case. Mammon scrunches his face in disapproval as he notices the price tag, wincing at the unexpectedly high price, but I know better than to relent.

“Are you sure he would want that?” he asks, his attention floating back to the more desirable wallet. “I mean, how do you know that he already doesn’t have that?”

“It’s a limited edition,” I point out. “It looks like it just came out.”

“He’s probably collected about a hundred of those things already. If you get the wallet, then --”

“I’m not getting the wallet just so he can give it to you when he doesn’t want it.” I begin to fish in my pocket for my own wallet, my fingers searching for the Grimm hidden within. They close over the foreign currency after a few moments. “And it’s for his birthday, not yours. I’ll get you anything you want when the time comes.”

Mammon brightens at that. A little too much. “Really? Anything?”

I sigh. “Well, not anything, but --”

The sound of the door to the shop opening interrupts me, the bells ringing out from inside of the store. Mammon’s incoming protests immediately die in his throat, surprise written on his features as he suddenly goes quiet. It takes me a moment to glance over in the direction Mammon faces, still preoccupied with the thought of his gift, but Mammon quickly nudges me in the side to grab my attention. I turn.

Levi looks awkwardly at the both of us, a paper bag in his hands. His golden eyes flicker back and forth between Mammon and I. I do my best to guard my intentions.

“What are you two doing here?” Levi asks.

I try to think up a lie on the fly. “I -- well, we--”

Mammon quickly hooks his arm around my shoulder, his body draping over my much smaller form. I startle, but his firm grip on my shoulder prevents me from jumping away. He grins. “This little human and I were just on a date!” he exclaims, nuzzling his face closer to mine. I resist the urge to shove the loudmouth away. “Beel told me about this ice cream place down the street, and I decided to take little St. Maria here out for the afternoon. What are you doing here?”

Levi takes a moment to glance past us, gaze landing on the bookstore next to the novelty shop. There is no ice cream shop around here, of course, but I have no choice but to concede with Mammon’s obvious lie. If Levi were to find out that we were planning on dragging him out of his room for a surprise birthday party, I have no doubts that he would do anything to excuse himself from the occasion. I force what I hope is a convincing smile on my face, hoping that Levi doesn’t see through the ruse.

“I -- I thought you were studying in your room for the rest of the day,” I say, leaning into Mammon’s embrace. “I didn’t see you at RAD this morning.”

“I see,” he says.

Mammon holds me closer to him, his easy grin still plastered on his face. He all but crushes his cheek into my dark curls -- a move that is only the slightest bit awkward -- as he does so, keeping up the pretense. “We should probably get going before it closes down,” he says quickly. “Right, human?”

I nod. “We -- we should.”

“Great! Then we’ll get going.” Mammon quickly turns around, my smaller frame soaring an inch off the ground, and flashes Levi a parting wave. “Be seeing you around, huh?”

Mammon doesn’t wait for Levi to answer, instead dragging us both down the street until he’s sure that we’re no longer in his line of sight. Mammon being the stronger out of both of us -- and, more importantly, a demon -- tucks me under his arm and strides as we escape Levi’s scrutiny. I only catch the barest glimpse of Levi’s features as Mammon all but spirits me away, his expression somehow indiscernible, and we lock eyes for a moment.

An odd pang of guilt strikes me, despite the lack of a reason for it.

* * *

Hours later, after dinner, my thoughts are still preoccupied with the image of Levi’s expression in the street. I absentmindedly lather the shampoo into my dark locks as I stand under the shower, allowing my thoughts to wander. His eyes -- his eyes had darkened almost imperceptibly as Mammon carried me away, his bangs shadowing his visage as he watched. Or had it just been a trick of the light? He hadn’t been smiling, that was for sure, but that wasn’t anything to be worried about. After so many months at RAD, I have never known Levi to be the particularly cheery type. The side of his mouth had twitched as he frowned, his mood somehow lessening even more than usual. Maybe he had seen through the lie? Or perhaps Mammon had annoyed him again somehow, seeing how that seems to be a constant pattern between the two. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that --

No, you do know better, I chide myself, rinsing the rest of the shampoo from my hair. The dark locks begin to revitalize themselves under the water, popping up in loose ringlets. This isn’t the same Levi that tried to attack me back then.

The knob of the shower turns easily, the water stopping a few moments after, and I climb out of the bathtub dripping wet. That state is remedied easily: I towel myself off and plop my curls with hair product Asmodeus had generously lent to me, working the cream into from root to end. Given that I had been essentially kidnapped and spirited away into the Devildom, it would do no good to return to Mama and my family with both a lack of clothes and dry, splitting hair. And so I take my time with the process before dressing for the night.

I pull on a pair of thick wool socks along with a roomy pair of pajamas, each piece borrowed from one of the brothers at the beginning of my stay. An oversized sweatshirt and rolled-up pajama pants. It is cold in the House of Lamentation -- a characteristic likely attributed to the demons’ hardier nature -- and I have little reason to ask Lucifer to adjust the entire temperature of the hall to one human’s preferences. I’ve already checked my room over and over again for a heater or source of heat. Despite all of Lord Diavolo’s preparations beforehand, the topic of making the temperature of the hall or my room more bearable had slipped his mind, subjecting me to hours of shivering during the long nights.

Again, there is that pang of homesickness. According to Asmodeus, the Devildom has no true seasons. Nothing that a human like me would consider seasons, in that case. There’s cold weather, colder weather, and then there is a teeth-chattering frigidity that leaves me shivering and miserable on the best of nights.

Worse, if the Devildom has something even resembling an ocean or seashore, we are nowhere near close to one.

My D.D.D. buzzes, catching my attention. After drying and plopping my curls more in the towel, I pick it up and check the messages.

Got the goods? Mammon asks.

I take a quick glance at the Lord of Shadow figurine on my nightstand, still protected in both its case and plastic bag. Yes.

Betcha that he’s already got that one, Mammon texts me. Should’ve gotten that wallet, if you ask me.

I sigh. You wanna go and check? Your room is right next to his.

Nah, he’d just think that I was in there to steal something, he texts back after a moment. Isn’t he supposed to be at some weird costume thing tonight?

But you would be, I point out.

You say that like it’s a bad thing.

I stare at my phone for a few minutes, deciding if I should respond, then ultimately end up tossing it onto my bed. He is right, as much as it vexes me to admit it. The chances of just giving Levi a duplicate of something he already has -- especially something concerning his favorite Lord of Shadow character -- are too high to be negligible. And it -- it wouldn’t be too weird to waltz into his room to check, would it? No, it probably would be.

Then again, back in the human world, I never thought I would spirited away into the realm of devils and demons. Surely there could be some leeway in the terms of socially acceptable actions.

* * *

The corridor in front of Levi’s room is empty, as expected. The moonlight -- rather, the light from what appears to be something resembling a moon -- shines through great, uncovered windows in the hallway, lighting my path. I tread lightly on sock-laden feet. After another quick check into the hallway and testing the doorknob, I slip into Levi’s room.

I’ve been in his room enough to know to navigate the worst parts of his room -- namely, the giant bathtub and aquarium -- and so I walk straight to where I should be looking: the encased, protected shelf on his wall. Unlike the hall, however, Levi has left his curtains mostly closed. I nearly trip and bump into random bags and other piles of clutter in his room as I make my way towards my destination, narrowly avoiding each obstruction each time.

I scrutinize the case when I reach it, making sure not to touch the surface of the glass. A demon as obsessive as Levi would notice. Unfortunately, with the lack of light in the room, it is incredibly difficult to discern the differences between the figurines, much less recognize which figurine is which. I find myself simply staring at the case for a moment, eyes flitting between each figurine. There are plenty of figurines of the Lord of Shadow, as evidenced by the signature silhouette, and I strain my eyes to search for the particular form of the limited edition figure.

Minutes pass. I feel a slight headache emerging from the eye strain, but my efforts have paid off: to my knowledge, no such figurine exists in his collection. At least, there is no such figurine in his display case. Better yet, it’ll be something to prove the greedy, arrogant loudmouth wrong. I begin to carefully make my way past the piles of clutter again, nudging various objects aside when need be. I bump into the massive bathtub in the center of the room, its form completely obscured by the shadow, and --

And there is a noise in the corridor.

Levi.

I make my way to the door as quickly and quietly as I can, panic beginning to rise. While I could possibly lie my way out of explaining why I was in his room -- I had gone into the wrong room, maybe -- I doubt that it would be enough to convince him. For someone that spends most of their time cooped up their room, he is awfully perceptive. And I am an awfully bad liar.

I quietly slip into the hallway once more, muffling the sound of the closing door as much as I can. The corridor is dark, as it had been when I left it, but I know better than to let my guard down. If Levi were to enter from the door in the front lobby, it would be better to simply make my way down the stairs in the opposite direction. I pad quietly on the thicker parts of the rug on the floor, heading towards the end of the hall. The sound of footsteps begins to near me. I quicken my pace, turning the corner.

I smack into something solid, sending me careening into the floor. Thankfully, I break the fall with my face. My cheekbone smarts as I groan in pain, the throbbing sensation spreading across my visage, and I begin to lift myself up and off the wooden floor. A shadow looms over me for a moment, hindering my vision in the limited light. I turn my face upwards.

“Levi,” I acknowledge.

Levi looks down at me, his features marginally obscured by the headpiece of his cosplay. “Maria.”

We stare at each other, unsure of how to react. He clears his throat after a moment, his initial confusion dissipating somewhat, and offers me a hand. “Um, do you -- you need help getting up,” he says, changing the question into a statement mid-sentence. “You can take my hand -- if you want, that is. Don’t feel --”

I grab his hand and quickly pull myself to my feet, prompting Levi to awkwardly sputter the rest of his sentence. I move a little too quickly, however: the throbbing bruise on my cheek combined with the sudden vertigo is wholly disorienting, and I end up stumbling forward into his chest again. Thankfully, he manages to catch me this time. When I push myself away from him, putting a hand to my face, I notice that an odd flush has spread across his cheeks. Or maybe it is only light from the windows that is casting odd shadows over his visage.

“Sorry about that,” I apologize quickly. “I was on the way back from getting a midnight snack.”

Idiot, I think to myself. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. The kitchen is downstairs by your room.

Levi’s gaze flickers just past me, towards where I know the older of the brothers’ rooms are. I fidget. Then he is taking in my appearance -- wet hair, baggy clothing, and all -- and I find myself withering under his gaze, the discomfort growing to an almost unbearable level. All traces of the dorky, awkward Levi seem to have suddenly dissipated, the air between us suddenly palpable with tension. Tension for reasons that I can’t quite discern. Given the unforeseen shift in the demon’s mood, no matter his usual countenance, I decide that it is better not to ask.

Again, there is that strange expression. His golden eyes seem to flash with an almost imperceptible emotion for a moment, his bangs overshadowing the bridge of his nose.

His gaze meets mine for a moment. The intensity in them is harsh, nearly overwhelming, and I tear my eyes away on instinct. Something is wrong. His presence feels predatory somehow. Carnivorous. As if he were a serpent and I were a mere mouse caught in its jaws. As if I were a rabbit and he were the hunter. As if he were truly and very much a demon and I were a weak, insignificant human, ripe for the taking. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath.

For the first time, I feel fear.

I see Levi reaching for me just out of the corner of my vision, the shadows strange on his form. The air is cold, colder than it's ever been, as if the sheer will of his displeasure has changed the property of the air around it. I almost perceive the shadows forming on the wall behind him. My mind begins to throw flashbacks of the first time I had ever seen his true form: dark, coral-like horns, a serpentine tail, strange marks on what skin I could see. His hand comes within an inch of me, bearing what almost look like claws through the gloves.

I run.

part 2

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me leviathan #obey me fanfic #for the sake of having a main character with a background #main character is a girl raised by a catholic family in rural spain #based on various female saints #bc i felt that was fitting #writing #original character i guess #tw: yandere #yandere

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #289

“life by life / waste to waste / i’m the harbinger, the master of decay”

How often do you watch the news? Never. Would you rather read the news online? Yeah. Speaking of being online, what website do you visit the most? YouTube. Have you ever held a snake? Plenty. Ever caught a turtle? What about a crawfish? Turtles, yes, as a kid. Please do not take animals out of the wild for no good reason, people. I never touched crawfish because they looked scary lmao. Have you ever eaten gumbo? Idk what that is. Or do you not like spicy food? I enjoy spicy food, but not nearly as much as when I was a teen. Back then, I loved the adrenaline rush, now I just wanna enjoy my food like a normal person, lol. Do you own a bottle of hand sanitizer? Do you like how it smells? Does anyone NOT at this time? Or even before, really? But anyway, no, I don't like the smell. Do you own a pool table? What about an air hockey table? Or a foosball table? Okay so one of the coolest things we had when I was younger was this table that had different "tops" to change out to turn it into various games like these. Like, it was all in one. I don't THINK we still have it? Do you live with your parents? Are you cool with that? I live with my mom, and right now, it's the better idea for many reasons. I feel like shit about it, though. I'm nearly 25. Even if I was financially independent though, I would not be able to handle living all alone with my depression and all. When did/when do you want to move out? Hopefully when I have a stable job and long-term relationship. Have you ever been on a cruise? No. Are you better at catching or throwing? Probably throwing. I can't catch for shit. Do you ever play computer games? Just WoW nowadays. Did you used to have a lunchbox? Yeah, I went through a few. How often do you/did you bring your lunch to school? Whenever I didn't like what was on the menu. And mind you, I was and still am very picky. What was/is your favorite school lunch? I think the chicken sandwiches. When was the last time you wore a hat? What kind of hat was it? Oh yikes, who on Earth knows. It has to have been years. Maybe a Carolina Hurricanes one to a hockey game I went to with Dad. I don't really wear hats. Have you ever tried to ghost hunt? If so, did you catch anything? No. Do you prefer gold or silver? What about diamonds or pearls? Earrings or bracelets? Necklace or rings? Or are you not a jewelry person? Gold; diamonds; earrings; rings (I think). I don't care all that much about jewelry, though. Have you ever made jewelry? Not really, just kiddy crafts stuff. Do you have any unique hobbies? Meerkat RP. Have you ever broken a window? If so, what with? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever had surgery? If so, what on? Yeah. I had tubes put in my ears as a kid, and I had a cyst removed from... directly above my ass lmaoooo. Pilonidal cysts are awesome. Do you know any boys named Ashley or Lesley or Lynn? I don't believe so. Do you prefer coffee or hot chocolate? Hot chocolate, for sure. Do you like green tea? Tea is gross. Do you like to play Freecell? What about Hearts? Or Mahjong? I only know Mahjong, and I've never played that. I used to watch Mom play it on the computer as a kid, though. Idr the rules. Does your family own guns? No. Have you ever been given flowers? Were they from a relative or someone special? Both. Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle? No, and I doubt I will. I'm not like... really scared of them, as a matter of fact they seem really fun, they're just too risky for my liking. Have you ever seen a dead body? At an open-casket wake, yes. What does your umbrella look like? It's just an ordinary black one. Is anyone you know pregnant? HOLY FUCK, I think 90% of my Facebook friends are preggo. It seems like EVERYONE is expecting. Ha, one of my closest friends is legit pregnant with triplets after JUST having a son... She's in for a ride. Does your family do reunion gatherings? No, we're too spread out. What would you order to drink if you were in a bar right now? A strawberry sangria sounds pretty great. When was the last time you had a first kiss? I'm guessing you mean like, my first kiss with the last person I was with? A few summers ago when we were out on the porch making s'mores and dancing like some cheesy fucks lmao. How many homes have you ever lived in? If you don't count the apartment I wasn't an official resident of or staying with a friend for a month due to homelessness, we just moved into our fifth. Or sixth. It's too early when I'm taking this for math. Have you ever donated money to charity? Yeah. What’s your favourite type of exercise? Swimming. How many jobs have you had? Three or four... I'm not even sure because they were so incredibly short because fuck me and my anxiety, right? Who do you stalk the most through Facebook? Nobody. Have you ever deleted your Facebook, then brought it back? No. Write the first song that pops into your head: Well, I'm listening to "Freak On a Leash" right now. Has anything interesting come for you in the mail lately, besides bills? Nah. What is your main responsibility each day? Making sure my cat has food, water, and a clean litterbox. Do you feel like you fulfill those responsibilities? Yeah. I've slacked on the box before on bad mental health days where I can barely force myself to do anything, but I'm usually on top of it. Were you in the wrong during your last argument with someone? I don't recall what my last argument was. I think something w/ Mom. What bands did you used to love, that you don’t listen to much anymore? Hm. It's pretty rare I leave behind bands I've LOVED, so. Are you counting down to anything? tomorrow crihmus When was the last time you used spray paint? Oh, I have no idea. Maybe for an art project in HS? What color are the chairs at your kitchen table? Brown. Have you ever or do you plan on donating to any charities? Which ones? I've donated to some you would like pass by in the store if I had some spare coins or dollars on me, and when I cut my hair to as short as it is now, I donated it all to Children With Hair Loss. One of my most cherished memories is getting the certificate that it was used. I'm sure there's more, especially for school, but idr them. I 110% want to donate to charity streams when I have my own income source. Do you believe that life only gets harder or easier? I mean, this depends on your unique life. Do you know the middle name of the last person you kissed? Hm. I don't think Girt has a middle name, and I don't think Tyler ever told me because he was embarrassed by it. I know Sara's. Have you ever had sex with 2 different people in the same week? No. Who is the friendliest person you know? Probably my friend Girt. Last song you listened to? "Milk and Cookies" by Melanie Martinez is on rn. Something that annoys you about summer: Just ONE thing???? Just about everything does. The only thing I enjoy is all the flowers. Well hell, that's even mostly a spring thing. It's mostly just... plain green in the summer. At least here. Too hot for damn flowers to survive. Something that annoys you about winter: The fact that if it snows here, we get barely anything at all. e_e Are the doors of your fridge side by side or on top of one another? Side by side. When was the last time you burned a body part other than your hands/fingers? I actually just burned the roof of my mouth yesterday. If you’ve moved out of the house you were born in, do you know the people who live in that house now? Nope. What’s one food that you eat more than twice a week? Definitely some form of bread. Do you like zombie movies? No opinion, really. What's the grossest/worst thing you’ve ever seen in a public restroom? UGH. This one time I was in the bathroom with Colleen (it's a girl thing lmao) at a gas station, she did what she normally does and checks under the seat, aND IT WAS COVERED IN BLOOD. It was fucking disgusting. What’s the most wasteful thing you regularly do? Ugh... use plastic bags when disposing of Roman's "business" in the litterbox. I feel absolutely awful using one every other day. If I wait any longer than that, Mom gets mad. What’s the most difficult apology you’ve ever had to give? Probably to Jason via that letter. That honestly wasn't that difficult after having fully accepted I fucked up too, though. I don't generally find it hard to apologize when I know I was wrong. Have you ever volunteered in a hospital? If not, would you ever want to? Fuck no. They depress the hell out of me. What was your worst Halloween costume? Idk, I don't remember almost any of mine. When was the first time you can remember feeling mature? When I checked into the doctor by myself. Yes, I know how sad that is at nearly 25. Have you ever had a disappointing Christmas, or any disappointing holiday if you don’t celebrate Christmas? As a kid, there was just one where I was disappointed in what I got. SO fucking ungrateful looking back on that shit. I can't even imagine feeling anything like that now. I cherish Christmas deeply, especially now with nieces and a nephew who experience such joy at Christmastime, and I get to see my dad and his wife and stepson, too. At this age, it truly is about family to me. Do you have any character bandaids in your house right now, or just plain ones? I think we may have some princess ones and some "boy" kind for if the kids are ever over. AKA never because their dad is far more concerned about only including his family in their lives. I don't think Ryder's ever even visited our house, and he's like, four years old. My sister's husband's parents live directly down their road, but still. It hurts Mom and I a lot that we don't seem to matter when it comes to visiting *us*. Have you ever had to give a pet away? Yeah, plenty of times with our old cat nest. What's the junkiest junk food you’ve ever eaten? I dunno, probably something at Disney as a kid. Did you play pretend a lot as a child? Were there any recurring plots or themes? Yeah. I had my "good guys" - a family of alligators, deer (um they were married and had kids don't ask me, man), and some Pokemon figurines - and three big dinos that were the "bad guys." How do you feel about runny egg yolks? Egg yolk is fucking repulsive. The one and only way it's going down my throat is in scrambled eggs. Has a teacher ever tried to teach you something that was undeniably wrong? Not that I remember. If for some reason you had to give up one of your hobbies, which would you choose? I dunno, I have so few already... Maybe World of Warcraft? I almost quit it recently anyway because I was bored and yet it took up so much of my time, but it'd be hard now with a new expansion having just come out with soooo much to do. Man... I dunno. Have you ever hidden a relationship from your family? No. How much do you know about first aid? No more than the average joe, really. Which of your relatives do you know the least about? Sadly, probably my dad's oldest daughter. I know only two things about her with certainty. Have you ever meditated? If so, did it do anything for you? Yes, and all it does is make me fidgety and lets me think too much. When was the last time you got ice cream from a truck? Hm... maybe when I was at a beach when I was on vacation with a friend? I was like, a pre-teen then though, so it's been forever. Do you know any sex workers? If so, how do they feel about their job? Not that I'm aware of. And honestly, I have mixed feelings, but I think I lean more towards it being just fine so long as boundaries are set and there are very clear understandings with each other. And you ABSOLUTELY need to be safe about it. I'd far rather people get off with a consenting individual than in... y'know, other ways. It's not my business, anyway. What’s the biggest art project you’ve ever attempted? How did it go? In high school, I did a huge acrylic painting on burlap of meerkats grooming. I am to this day still so proud of it; I worked so hard on it. I love how the fur came out, especially. I do wish I could do over the background, though. What kind of wild animals do you see most frequently where you live? Excluding the obvious birds, there are tons of squirrels, and you see opossum and racoon roadkill a lot, tragically... Every now and then, you'll see deer in fields in the morning or dusk. Have you ever cooked anything other than s’mores over a fire? Yeah, hot dog.s Are there any items in your house that you use for something other than its intended purpose? I'm positive there's something. Probably everyone has an example. OH! Looking in just my room, Venus' terrarium has saran wrap covering the top to help keep humidity in. What do you hope the afterlife is like? Really, I go back and forth between hoping it's like... this state of nirvana and where you reunite with loved ones and experience infinite peace if deserved, or just the entire lack of existence anymore. I wonder sometimes if I'd want to be sentient forever. But, with me believing in a spirit realm, I don't think the latter is the case. What’s the worst behavior you’ve ever seen from a child? I think I once saw a kid smack their parent's arm or something? I don't really know. Have you ever planned an act of revenge? "No, but i daydream about it." <<<< Ha, yeah, I have. Do you and your parents share any of the same hobbies? Yeah. Mom surprised me when she told me she likes writing (even though I never see her do it), and Dad likes video games. Do you have any physical photo albums? Yes. Would you feel comfortable working at a sex shop? NOPE. Who was the worst friend you ever had? It's funny, Colleen did incredible things for me, but she also fits this description, too... Have you ever campaigned for a political candidate, or otherwise played an active role in an election? I mean, I voted, does that count? What’s the coolest hand-me-down you’ve ever gotten? What about the best one you’ve ever given? I have no idea. Do your parents and grandparents get along with each other? Dad got along perfectly fine with his parents, but my mom and her mother had a rocky history. Grammy treated her awfully sometimes. They'd been fine for many, many years, but Mom could never forget some things and always felt like she wasn't "good enough" in her eyes. I'm pretty sure Mom got along just fine with her dad. Do you have any framed photos of your pet(s)? Yes. Do you share photos of your pet(s) on social media? Um, duh. In 3 words, describe the last male you talked to. Who WAS the last guy I talked to... Do you own any of your favorite films on DVD? Which one(s)? No. Have you watched anything on Netflix lately? No. The last thing I did on Netflix was watch the first episode of The Witcher, and even though I liked it, I didn't continue. I just... don't enjoy watching TV, especially if it really requires you to pay attention. Have you ever heard someone snoring and thought it sounded cute? Besides animals, no. Are you particular about what you eat? In what way(s)? Yeah, I'm VERY picky, especially with textures. Is anyone close to you particular about what they eat? In what way(s)? Yes, my niece. She's autistic and has the symptom of being incredibly picky with things like textures, too. She is the one child I have ever known that doesn't really like eating. Is there someone in your life who can always make you smile? Always, no. Have you worn lipstick at any time recently? What color? No. I last wore black forever ago just to take pictures. Do you like wearing eyeshadow to match the color of your clothes? No; in the very rare instance I put on makeup, the eyeshadow is always black. What song reminds you of your childhood? Jesse McCartney songs, for sure. And Backstreet Boys. What’s your least favorite month? Maybe August. I'm sick and beyond tired of summer by that point. Nothing exciting going on. What do you do when you’re bored in class and not paying attention to the teacher? When I was in school, I honestly always paid attention because I wanted to pass. Have you ever baked a pie? No. Last person you shared food with? Mom. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Definitely not. Were you smiling in the last picture taken of you? I don't think so, if that witchy photoshoot was the last time I had a pic taken of me. Do you answer the phones at your job? I did at two old jobs. Were you a hyper or mellow kid? I was kinda hyper. What are you drinking? Would you believe me if I answered "water"????? Did you get any compliments today? No. What last made you laugh? I think a moment in a WoW stream I was watching last night. Which of your friends is the easiest to talk to? Sara. What was your best summer ever? /shrug Do you have a favourite sibling? No. What color is the blanket/quilt on your bed? Navy and black. Favorite milkshake flavour? Just chocolate. Sometimes I'm in the mood for vanilla, though. Best year of your life? 2017. It's funny how that year started with a suicide attempt but wound up being the best year of my life. NEVER hestitate to reach out for help when you need it. How loud do you like your music in the car? Too loud lmao. Prefer to write or read? Write. Favourite apps? Pokemon GO, haha. What is a fruit you refuse to eat? Absolutely refuse? Maybe like, cantaloupe. Would you rather gain weight or lose weight? It'd to fuckin fantastic if I could lose 100 pounds. :^) I gained like thirty since moving... Would you rather gain height or lose height? Gain a tiny bit, I guess? But I'm fine with where I'm at. Are both your eyes the same color? Yes. Do you like glittery things? Yes, but not touching them and getting glitter everywhere. Ever watched a play in the theatre? Yes, at Disney World and also for school field trips. How many followers do you have on instagram? A depressing amount for someone desperately trying to be a photographer lmaooo. I mean I don't post on it a lot, so that doesn't help, but yeah. My secondary photography account (for roadkill/vulture culture stuff) has more than my main one. How about twitter? Don't use it. How much would I have to pay you to get you to do karaoke? I don't know, I'd be terrified of embarrassing myself. Last time you went ice skating? Never. Painting or drawing? Drawing, by far. Art or science? Now that's tough, but art. Dancing or singing? Dancing. History or geography? Geography is interesting. Favourite season? Autumn. Do you watch Supernatural? I did up to the end of Season 6. I loved it, I just was losing interest in TV, and also Jason and I broke up (we always watched it together) so I didn't want to watch something triggering memories. If you could change your eye color would you? Yes, to either a pure sapphire blue or emerald green. Are both your ears pierced? Yes. Are you lying down? Yes. Is there a tv in your room? No. Do you celebrate Thanksgiving? Yeah. Do you like fortune cookies? Yeah, they're oddly tasty. Do you have anxiety? You fuckin bet I do. Favorite clothing shop? RebelsMarket. How do you feel about peeing in a cup at the hospital? Is it embarrassing? No? It's too normal to be embarrassing. I mean I wrap toilet paper around it so you don't actually see, y'know, but I'm not embarrassed carrying that. Do you prefer fruit or vegetables? Fruit, by a long shot. What do you hate being called? "Bee." An old best friend who did nothing but lie about her entire life called me that. What color is the last car you were in? White. Ever studied abroad? No. Ever pulled out a tooth? Yeah, when I was a kid. Three celebrity crushes? Mark Fischbach, Link Neal, Hannah Hart. Ever been married? No. Are you proud of yourself? In most ways, no. Do you like grapes? Yep. How often do you cook for your family? Never. Is anyone in your family a lawyer? My cousin is, actually. Is anyone in your family an architect? Don't think so. Own any crystals? No. Favourite thing to write with? (pen, pencil, highlighter) Pencil. Top 5 favourite alcoholic drinks? I don't know, I haven't tried enough that I actually enjoy. Would you date someone bald? Yeah. Would you date someone who doesn’t want kids? I don't want kids either, so that's the only kind of person I'd date. That's something you can't really disagree on if you plan on lasting. Do you like candles? Sure. Favorite memory with a sibling? I dunno, probably something from when we were little kids playing together.

#survey #surveys #quiz #questions #lyrics: ''master of decay'' by 3teeth

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secretgamergirl · 4 years

Text

Abuse I’ve just had to sit with forever

Right now I can’t look anywhere without seeing people speaking up about abusive monsters in various positions of power and it’s really triggering a lot of PTSD for me about all the times I’ve been in positions like that where nobody has ever listened or tried to help so... I’m just going to rattle off all the ones that come to my head, anonymously, and I don’t know, if anyone who knows me wants to ask me about any of these and/or try to really do something to help, maybe come talk to me about it through whatever private channel we talk in sometimes.

Family stuff. There’s a lot, and there’s no real way to talk about any of it anonymously because I mean being members of my family it’s already narrowed down way too much.

Someone once put me in the temporary care of a woman who savagely beat me because her own children were making too much noise when they should have been asleep. Bad enough that when I went back to school I was almost ripped out of my home by child protective services on the assumption that’s where it happened. Oh and she also force-fed me rotten food with maggots in it. I ended up pretty sick as a result, lost a whole lot of weight, and ended up with a serious eating disorder that’s plagued me since. I did eventually get out of there but I don’t know that I’ve ever really conveyed the full extend of it.

One of that woman’s children had some sort of torture kink, very nearly killed me, did put me in the hospital from injuries, and might have raped me. Hard to say because I was like... 7? Hard to translate those memories now that I have the context and vocabulary. I tried to explain that to anyone who’d listen at the time but, again, I didn’t have the vocabulary and I don’t think it came across that like... ropes and tools were involved, not just fists. Never got into that with therapists, because the first one I had really loved playing gatekeeper with trans stuff and liked the “maybe you just think you’re a girl because of abuse as a child” line of thinking too much already. I think I heard he eventually landed in prison though, so that’s something?

The first job I ever had. Games website. I was too young to be working but nobody ever thought to ask about it, and my family needed the extra income to avoid homelessness besides. The owner of the site... was really into open sexual roleplay in workplace text chats. I was so young and weirdly sheltered that I didn’t even process that that was even a thing, and 90% of it went straight over my head, plus I was in a weird state at the time with the whole trans thing where oh yeah, if anyone’s doing any roleplaying stuff on the internet, I’ll be in the character of me-but-a-girl but everything is pretend here right? So... there was a whole lot of mounting and thrusting being described and it took a few years to sink in that that was not in fact about him pretending to be a knight with me as a horse or something. And there was also a lot of... failing to pay me for years of backbreaking work, outright stealing from me, and I mean, I was up until like 4 AM every night working while still in high school. So, yeah. that was a lot. Never told anybody about any of this. So far as I know he still runs the site and nobody’s ever confronted him about anything.

Used to try to play various RPGs with some people in this extra niche-y game space. Sort of the first place I was ever read as a woman without offering anyone “corrections.” And... there was just this one guy who whenever he was GMing had some weird creative excuse for my character (usually the only woman in the party) to... be raped and/or impregnated just all of the sudden and totally out of left field. Which everyone was OK with somehow. And when he wasn’t GMing he was all over my character of course. Never really spoke up to anyone. I just left one day.

Ended up... in the inner circle of someone very famous. Mostly famous for being a victim of abuse. Which is why I ignored... every single red flag there is that someone is an abusive person and taking advantage of everyone around them. They controlled every aspect of my life for years. Had me do a whole lot of work for them, place myself in real physical and psychological danger, regularly. Directly asked me to severe ties with most people in my life. Install kill-switch sortware on my laptop for their piece of mind that none of our conversations would ever be seen by anyone, while also making me talk only in privately managed chat services where they logged everything and my screen wiped at regular intervals, and insisting I use an untraceable alias in it. All of this I was constantly assured was for my own safety as much as theirs, somehow, and that I was their most valued friend who they would keep safe, start paying a huge salary to soon, as well as help secure me a safe place to live and get properly started on medical transition stuff that I was unable to do in the increasingly unsafe place I was living at the time. I could keep going with this, but again, I don’t want anyone playing guessing games. Eventually, as serial abusers do, this person got sick of me, cast me out, and said presumably unspeakable things about me to everyone in that social circle, because everyone quite promptly cut all ties to me without a word. I once mentioned some small fraction of this publicly in defense of... multiple people attempting suicide as a result of this person’s abuse, and it was made very, very clear to me that this is not someone I will ever be able to safely speak about in public.

Another person who is very famous, with ties to abuse prevention stuff, added me to a blacklist to kill my career prospects and then kinda put a hit out on me on a neo-nazi website, but I’ve written about that incident. Nothing happened as a result of speaking out aside from the violence I was already being subjected to ramping up and more people cutting ties with me. Oh and those who didn’t are still quite friendly with her.

Several women with ties to... dangerous people randomly got it into their heads several years ago that I posed some sort of threat to someone I am told they “feel very protective towards” and... unleashed a hell on me unlike anything I have ever seen. I have spent the past 6 years now dealing with death threats from far right terrorist organizations who in some cases have very sizeable body counts, and those groups don’t scare me anywhere near as much as these people. Anyone else I have seen them paint a target on completely withdrew from the internet their careers and any sort of public life to try and stay off their radar. I have had multiple people privately confide in me that they had been threatened never to speak to me again before proceeding to make good on that. I have individually thrown myself at the mercy of every single one of them, explained that I have absolutely no ill will towards any of them, and had never even heard of this person they’re “protecting” before they started coming after me. Nothing has worked. They’ve never stopped. I’m legitimately afraid someone connected to them is going to murder me some day, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve confided in all of maybe 3 people about this. One might be dead, one is a total hermit, the third briefly tried supporting me, received threats, and promptly retracted everything, replacing it with a fire and brimstone speech about how I am an evil monster who tricked them. I have regular nightmares about this, and collapse into a shivering heap just seeing any of their names mentioned.

I... spent a good deal of time in social contact with a person I have been told I need to be friends with to advance in a career I would like to pursue. While doing so, he sabotaged a project that was fairly important to me, and I saw some him mistreat someone else in ways I find quite disturbing, but that’s her story to tell and not mine. I don’t feel comfortable around him, and have no real choice but to give up on those dreams. Haven’t really discussed this anywhere. The sort of work I can get would definitely vanish completely if I did.

The sort of work I can get also involves working for a variety of companies with people very high up the ranks who have seriously harmed a number of people I consider to be very good friends, in ways that in some cases include sexual abuse, and I... really would prefer not to ever work for anyone employing such people now that I am aware of this.

Yet another famous person, but one who I feel perfectly comfortable naming, Graham Linehan, used to follow me on social media with a level of enthusiasm that could arguably be better referred to as stalking. Then later he joined some extremist anti-trans hate group and rose to the top pretty quickly. And some years after that, it finally sank in that worshiping a trans woman while also leading a group of people bent on killing us all, so he has been very loudly and very publicly rambling about his hatred for me specifically. I don’t really have to speak up about this one because he’s doing plenty of that on his end, but I do have to note that while this famous person terrorizing me hasn’t really earned me any sort of public defense or sympathy, it has encouraged a whole lot of people to invent an alternate timeline of events where I am directly responsible for him being a bigot, leading to me getting dangerous threats from both horrible bigots and people who claim to hate horrible bigots but have suspiciously poor aim.

Hey speaking of celebrities, one of the stars of Firefly used to regularly send me photos of violently distended testicles. One of the stars of Star Trek once posted something encouraging millions of social media followers to attack me and left it up for a weekend. One of the producers of World of WarCraft once threatened to sue me for libel and went on a big PR tour about it, speaking on podcasts and such, and so many fascists pretending to be journalists have dumped so much crap on me...

And not to long ago in something of a wacky mixup, someone ELSE rather famous, who does diversity consulting no less, confused me for someone else and cut loose with a horrific bit of hate and gossip and throwing me under the bus, and misgendering me, saying random harassers baselessly calling me a pedophile were probably onto something. Privately told a handful of people about that, because I thought she was a friend and that was so heartbreaking, but anyone I told is just pretending not to have seen it.

Someone was once offering me help because I was in a dangerous situation, financially. I explained that things had been extra hard since coming out as trans. Suddenly he goes from helpful and concerned to just... violent. Screaming a me, openly trying to chase me out of the space we were both in. I reported this to the proper people. They tried talking, he left. The whole community mourned the loss and wondered who could have driven him off. Still doesn’t feel like a safe place for me.

I don’t really know why I’m bothering with all of this. Nobody is actually going to help. I’d say nobody is actually going to read this, but I’m sure plenty of people who hate me will to see if I’m talking about them and use it as justification to make things worse. Plus some people I’m not talking about I’m sure. I get plenty of that all the time.

Nothing ever helps and you can’t ever win. If you try to keep the abusers appeased by not outing them, the abuse never stops. If you try to speak up, their fans and friends treat it like declarations of war and pile on. If you just try to be there for other people when they’re being abused, you get singled out as a “troublemaker” and added to hit lists and black lists and... nothing works.

I don’t want a lot out of life. I want to know I have enough food, and have a place to live where I’m not at risk of dying from either temperature extreme, a bathroom, enough room for my book shelves, a bed, a couch, a dinner table, and a yoga mat. Maybe a space where my cats can run around a little enclosed semi-outdoor area for the fresh air and sun. I want to be able to deal with my medical problems. I want to see and talk to friends sometimes. If I’m really greedy, I’d like to have all that for a particular friend too who I’m constantly worrying about dying of poverty. And I’d like to be able to work on games. Maybe play them sometimes. Maybe watch things.

And that’s the really messed up part. Because abusive people and people supporting the structures of abuse always say they just want to focus on getting work done, or having fun, and it’s a lie. What’s most important for them is perpetuating abuse. They could just stop, or get rid of the people doing it, and the rest of us could live our lives and everything would be fine. But no instead we have to drop everything and make sure no woman anywhere feels safe enough to even breath.

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haila-wetyios · 5 years

Note

“⏳” “⏳”

For a story of the past told by my character

INCOMING LONG POST BECAUSE INSPIRATION AND SHADOWBRINGERS ARC START:

(Edit: Frand, I am so sorry for this plot dump… I’ve had it planned for weeks and it never came out fully until I sat down just now to finally type it. #2 is even more huge than I expected…)

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this… Just another day at the usual trade, but I was careless, desperate to get away from that which I feared the most in this place. But it all went wrong… He was not meant to see me like this, I was not supposed to fail so miserably at my job. Did I mess up because I was not alone? That is perhaps the only answer I have. That was the reason why I saw his crying face as I tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. I could still save him, pull him away from the danger that I was about to fall onto. And I did not fail at it. It was the day I fell, that I lost both him and my son…. It was the day that I died.

Nothing prepares you for the pain that comes, the feeling of all my limbs breaking, of having trouble breathing, of my skull hurting as all hells as I drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. It was then that I felt it, the reason my aetherometers had registered so many irregularities right within my grasp… Should I have reached out for it the way I did? I believe it was worth it. But it is also what broke me. The very thing that finished tearing my body apart. It hardened my hands like crystal, part of my skin, it brought the same feeling I did during my worst times in sickness. The stones forming in my lungs from the corruption happening inside my body. It was beyond recovery as everything shifted around me. Voices of the past, of my failures and successes, my greatest joys and griefs. They all rang around me as I arrived at his doorstep.

I saw a familiar face, one between muddled memories, threatening to be wiped from what was left of me. “Only a new vessel can save you…” he had told me after seeing the state I was into. Only a new one… One prepared as an apology from his acts, from dragging me into a fight that was not meant for me to go through. It was how he gave me life once more, one with a cursed longevity that I once hated. Years accumulating one after another upon stranding me in this Star, so many suns, moons going by knowing that my child grew up without his mother, that my husband presumed me gone. Oh how I hope he never blamed himself for it. For me going away. I had no choice but to settle here, to help those in need, to use my knowledge to adjust calculations running over and over to call the true hero to us.

Did you know Rohmio, my dear child? That I will soon have seen seventy cycles of endless light, that I will soon turn one hundred years old. That tonight was the first dark sky that I’d seen after all this time in the Crystanium.“

“At first he was just a faint voice, a cry that caught my attention for the first time upon realizing that I could hear at last. That both the senses of the one that had given herself up for me had finally become one. And what a treat and a blade to the heart it was to feel someone’s hand, when food started to taste like a mix of flavors from someone preparing a hearty meal rather than just sand going down my throat. Then, when sound graced my presence, I heard the cry of a boy, just a daily mishap as he let tears down over a scraped knee. I had learned my way through the city with a blindfold and a cane quite well by then, and thus I tried to cheer the young one, to humor him while the physicians searched for a bandage for him.

Then one day, the smell of flowers reached my nose, for the first time in what felt like ages, I could tell the difference between being in the Hortorium and being near the closest dumpster. But what surprised me the most, was the one bringing such a small detail that meant the world to me. It was the same boy I’d helped, now older, judging from the tone of his voice, he must have been about to start his teenage years. It brought a smile to my face, one that he joked about. He became my first friend in this Star, or at least, the first one I allowed to be closer to me. For what felt like an eternity, he visited me, we would talk about fairy tales, the ups and abouts of daily life, and my struggle to recover my sight, the last sense that I was missing. Perhaps it was then that I had decided to finally step up and join the engineers working at the tower. All it took was a couple more years for me to develop a tool to help with such. And of course, my partner in crime was the very person to offer to help in the long winded sessions of recovery until I could remove my blindfold.

It had been twenty years by then, that I was stranded without senses, to finally see for myself this eternal light that everyone spoke off. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment and nervousness, or was it truly that as I spoke to my friend? So long had it been since I’d known him, from a boy to a man judging from the tone of his voice, yet to me it was still as sweet as ever. And then I felt it, a gentle press against my lips as he removed the cloth around my eyes. Everything was a muddled mess at first as I opened them, the light finally manifesting after cycles of darkness, it took several moments until I saw the face before me. And it broke my heart into millions of pieces.

My first love, the man I’d watched grow into someone I was proud of. The one that I’d seen burn down before my very eyes, the reason my hands had scars that I could feel no more. My friend… You were the spitting image of Ruah’a. And I could not bear to see what was before me. Not only had you kept your secret from me, about the sickness that had stricken you one day without my knowing. That your face would someday harden into white, and that your aether would be nothing but corrupted light. But what destroyed my heart the most, was the ring you held in your hand, the one that you’d placed on my palm, telling me to keep it regardless of my decision. If only you knew of my past…. If only you were aware that my eldest son could be no older than you judging by the years. Yet here I was, crying just like a young girl over her first heartbreak. You deserved to know the truth, and that I gave to you.

Seeing your reactions go from shock, to understanding, to merely holding my hands as I continued to let out everything I’d held back. How I’d mourned for my husband and child, that would more than likely not even remember me by now. You took all of it, and let me be free from it’s weight. Your reassurance of everything, how I deserved to be greedy, to look even if just for a little for my own happiness rather than other’s, it is what kept me together in my biggest moment of grief. It is what gave me courage in my worst times. And though a ceremony did not happen, I made sure to do anything in my power to slow your ailment as much as possible. And then, ten years later, a miracle happened, I gave birth twice.

I made every single passing of the seasons count, your time was not the same as mine, and we were both extremely aware of it. I admired you for the strength you had, having chosen me despite knowing of that, though that was also a cruel truth placed upon the vessel that took my soul in. I constructed trinkets to manage aether better than the ones I once wore. I raised two beautiful children without trouble. I was scared at the lack of difficulty I had in leaving my name behind, in becoming the Vii everyone thought I was. And then, when the time came, we all headed to the Inn at Journey’s End, to see our last remaining moments together as a family in peace. I take pride in knowing that we raised our children well. That both can hold their own in a way I wished I could have seen my dear Rohmio grow into. I consider myself lucky for having found you a second time in my life. A second chance. For being able to say goodbyes properly, not out of the expected doom. But out of the gift of nature, a passing of old age. I will forge forward, and pray that there is yet hope. That I may find those that I lost in the Source so long ago. That I may honor the life you gave me. That I can still return home just like I left it all those years ago…”

#halcyonic-aether #haila wetyios #5.0 spoilers #well Haila's story spoilers really

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the-end-of-art · 5 years

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Anything we talk about - even hell - points back to the possibility of love

Interview // The Only History I Can Claim: A Conversation with E.J. Koh by Jake Uitti | Contributing Writer

Seattle poet E. J. Koh writes with both a delicate and brutal hand. Whether staring into the eyes of a loved one or a murderer, her work is unblinking. Her poems mine dichotomies in homes and languages, shedding light on her own difficult childhood, during which she was separated from her parents for nine years. Koh, who didn’t speak until almost five years old, now wins awards for her poetry and adoration for her translations. A Korean-American, Koh grew up with immigrant parents and when she talks about her history, she does so with a voice saturated in reflection and interpretations. We wanted to catch up with the author to talk about her recent collection, A Lesser Love (Pleiades Press, 2017), to see what she’s working on now and to glean a few insights into her illustrious creative process.

When did you discover your ability to notice well?

I think the honest answer is that I did when other people noticed that I was noticing. I was very young, and it wasn’t praised. Not, “Oh my, what a keen eye.” It was along the lines of, “That’s really weird, that’s very strange.” I think noticing was discouraged. It was more, “Why can’t you be normal, why are you so distracted?”

I didn’t speak until I was much older than other children. I was almost five when I started talking. My parents were concerned and worried about it. It was strange to them that I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t articulate, and I couldn’t focus on things. Today, there are support groups and systems if your child is having trouble. But when you’re my parents, you’re low-income and your kid is not doing something when you’ve sacrificed so much, it can be terrifying. There’s no way to know what to do and you experience grief about it.

So, I had a mix of it early on. Adults around me saw it as harmful, as a bad thing. And that’s how I came to realize it. But it wasn’t until adulthood that I thought, “Wow, this doesn’t have to be something that’s distraught or a pain point.” I didn’t value noticing. It’s not necessarily unique to notice, I think a lot of people do that. What is unique is realizing that it’s of value.

Did you find an explanation for why you didn’t speak as a young child?

I’m trying to write about it now. It’s hard to describe. But one thing I’m sure of is that I have memories from before I was able to speak. Recently, I’ve had a chance to talk with my parents, to seriously recall on my muteness. In early childhood development, if you can’t speak at around three, it’s a warning. A child psychologist told me it’s quite alarming.

But what I recall is being at home and my parents speaking Korean. They were upset that they couldn’t speak to me. My grandmother was speaking Japanese and she was raising me because my parents were working. But outside, everyone’s speaking English. Then, I lived in an area where Spanish was prevalent. There was Spanish, English, Japanese and Korean and none of the words pointed to the same object, despite everyone’s ease about it. Every signifier was different. This tension and anxiety for words—I recall that anxiety for words.

My mother is not a native speaker, so I would go to school and bring cards home of words and my mother would try to tell me it’s “Ehpl” when the word is “Apple.” She would cry so hard. The inconsistencies, the high-risk of what was around me impacted what I could understand, how I was willing to partake in the exchange of language, communication, and expression.

Throughout many of the poems in A Lesser Love, you weave in ideas and references to death, many of which seem rather gruesome. In your day-to-day, how often do you think about death?

That’s a theme that I’m wrestling with. Death was not estranged from my everyday life. It was a constant, a part of Korean culture. It’s in everyday conversation, this concept of dying, it’s in many Korean metaphors. It might be in the way you describe how good a thing is. Similar to English, like, “To die for.” In Korean, there are metaphors and similes, ways to describe that are palpable this way—death is in the language, it’s part of the psyche. It’s not something that terrifies as much as reminds us of the value of the present.

But yes, parts of me were scared. I also grew up in a Catholic household. That part of death—the torture, the suffering, the blood and gruesomeness, the nakedness—that did terrify me quite a bit. And when I went to school, during my teenage years, they put up these gruesome images and we learned about the heaviness of death. To me, there was also lightness to it left unexplained.

You display such a capacity for sadness in the book, especially in the middle “War” section. And often it’s sadness born from what people in power do to those not. Was it hard to mine this dynamic?

Imperialism, colonialism, militarism. The “War” section was difficult. There were poems that I wasn’t sure of including. I’m thinking of those poems and I’m thinking of “South Korean Ferry Accident.” These poems of great tragedies. It’s always on my mind, how to write about an event that a people experienced without fetishization, without assignment, without turning that event and catastrophe into something more or less than what it is, but I am trying to go there and approach as humanly close as possible without bringing harm.

But I think that harmlessness is in tension with what David Eng says, “The mother has history but no memory and the daughter has no history but has memory.” I think that’s true in that me being here—I feel a disconnect from history. What is my history? I depend on my mother’s memory, because my mother has history: she was born and raised in Korea. And for me, I have to make an effort to go backward and follow the traces of her history because that’s my history. Her history is the only history I can claim. And that’s really interesting, perturbing.

That’s why I repeatedly go back to comfort women, Korean women, Korean women feminism. I go back to “Han,” which, loosely translates as ineffable sadness. And that sadness is epigenetic, it’s intergenerational, it’s passed down. There is a part of their trauma in my body. So, I feel responsible for it, an urge to go back into it, and always find my way, move towards release.

In poems like “Antti Revonsuo” and “South Korean Ferry Accident,” you reference the idea of “Americans.” How has the meaning of that word impacted you over time?

In “South Korean Ferry Accident,” the line is, Americans would have jumped. It means anyone living in the States would have jumped. And I think that echoes a freedom that exists here that still is not accessible in the minds of children abroad. I think what was powerful was that I didn’t say that, that came from my mother’s mouth. If I had said that, it would have been different. It would have been more flippant, much more precarious and not something I would be able to write gracefully. It means more that my mother said, “Americans would have jumped.” In a time when she experiences a tragedy in her country, I think that’s powerful.

In “Antti Revonsuo,” the “Americans dreaming” line—I read these things in a book about dream meanings and what’s interesting are the national boundaries in dream meanings. Even with dreaming, which is universal, is also national. Nationality is human-made. It’s a pronouncement made by a people. To say that an American would dream about waking up nude and that means something different to how a Korean would dream about it. Or, if you’re Chinese and you dream another way—there’s a cultural and national intersection.

There’s a line in the poem “Inferno,” where you say, “If we can prove hell, we can want heaven.” It points to an idea regarding our capacity for hard-earned ignorance. What about this idea interests you?

That poem I wrote when I was doing a lot of research into Dante. And there was a moment when something clicked. We’re sitting there and striving and arguing for something horrific and maybe something that’s wrong and painful, to learn that the source of that action or that argument is the desire for love—the desire for compassion or peace—that really changed the argument for me. Because then we’re not talking about what we’re talking about. And I think that, in a way, points to the title of the whole collection, A Lesser Love. There were forms of love that I received that others might not call love. Growing up, I spent a long time alone and now in my adult life I’ve managed to be among a lot of wonderful people that I admire who agree that any parent would not have allowed that to happen. Any actual parent would not leave their child behind in another country for a long period of time. But to me that was, there was love there. However, a lesser a form of love. However, diminished it may have been to others.

What I needed to do was understand even lesser forms of love as still love. It really is up to me to see that. To accept that and accept it as love. And I think I had to do that over and over again. That was my lesson with this book. And even with that poem, we all want the same thing and no matter what harm or what we’re doing right now. I was learning what it means to look beyond. How do you love people that other people don’t want you to love? How do you do these things and when do I say, “Who cares?” Anything we talk about—even hell—points back to the possibility of love. That’s what unites us, what binds us together.

After you write a draft, how do you edit it before you know it’s done?

Before this book, I would write a poem and I would rewrite it again and again. 10-15-30 times. I would just rewrite it until I thought every single word or line was something you couldn’t argue with. I wanted to arm my poems. I wanted to give them the opportunity to defend themselves. I was militaristic in how I went about writing and editing my poems. They were in a way an ensemble that I mobilized and put out in the world to fend for themselves. I think we do that a lot when we raise children, and there are other similar analogies.

But much of the later poems in that book function differently. ¾ of the way through, I just stopped doing that. As the book goes on, I was learning in real time. I’m making these things and I’m learning the lessons with the poems as I go along with them. As you go into the latter portion, the poems get messier and take more risks and become more vulnerable and some are overly sentimental. I changed. I decided I didn’t want to mobilize. Especially after the “War” section. I saw the pain in being armed, in defensiveness. These things are never productive. They should take risks, they should be completely vulnerable and open. And if they go out that way, that’s okay. And I have to practice trust. Someone will take this poem and they’ll figure it out.

Some of these poems I wrote in one draft. “Clearance” in one sitting. “Beyonce” I wrote in one sitting. “The Wind,” too. Some of these poems I wrote so quickly. “Alki Town of Dreams,” that was one poem I wrote before I even moved here. I was in such a dark place and I wanted to write what I envisioned what my future might be like. A future that I wanted. The way I write now is similar to the latter half of the book. I allow the words to lay, I let them be alone.

What are you working on now and HOW are you working on it?

I’m working on an experimental memoir that includes translations of my mother’s letters that she wrote to me during the time we lived apart. You see a sort of mothering across long distances. It’s called “How to Age with Grace.” It’s based on one of my mother’s letters she wrote to me about a book she read with the same title. She says in the letter she wants me to teach her how to do this. At the time, I’m 15 and she’s writing me from South Korea. She’s in a place where she needs my help. There’s space in the Korean-American experience for satellite families. The adoption narratives and parachute kids and satellite families are consequences of our world economy and what happens with capitalism and how those things change the dynamic of the immigrant narrative structure, especially in families. I’m learning as I go, really.

In all of my Poetry Northwest interviews, I ask the author for a writing tip or trick. Do you have one you can share?

One that was important for me to realize was that on the actual page, during the writing of poems or stories, I’m careful not to categorize. To say, “This is my immigrant family” or “This is strictly a Korean thing.” Because I think the dangers of that is you introduce a box, a border, a dark line around your experience and it can create division where you want to create universality. It comes down to leaving room, having space for others’ stories. How much space am I leaving around my work for others? As a translator, that’s something I’m wary of—whether something is culturally specific, or something is universal. So even if we talk about genres and subjects, on the page, the best thing to do is just describe and show the scene and to leave it up to the language and not call it one thing or another. That’s something I didn’t know for a long time.

Aside from being a poet, you work as a translator. Besides the literal turning a word from one language to another, what goes through your mind as you translate?

When I translate Korean poetry into English, or my mother’s letters from Korean to English, I want to keep the Korean intact. So that when you read the English, it doesn’t feel like you’re reading English necessarily. There’s a fine balance and every translator makes their own choices about this. I can still make it accessible, readable, but the astute reader should be able to hear Korean. To notice, that’s an interesting way to say something, that’s an interesting tone or color of the word, that repetition, rhythm, or percussive, primal element. I’m thinking of the words just as you’d think about music. Even sentence structures, long waves of crescendos, decrescendos. You’re reading it in English, but I want you to hear Korean behind it. I want to maintain that, I want to protect that. For me, it’s to honor both languages. That’s how I respect both of them. I never want to neglect one language or keep it hunched behind the other. Both need to be on the page and I need to be the person that gives them room, gives them space to be there together.

(https://www.poetrynw.org/interview-the-only-history-i-can-claim-a-conversation-with-e-j-koh/)

#ej koh #jake uitti #poem #poet #poetry #interview #korean #korean american #asian american

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drywatermelon · 5 years

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I paced in the kitchen of our apartment. Alex and I had bought it a year ago - after having our eyes on it for a good three months - when my store started gaining popularity and we could finally afford it. My feet beat a steady, nervous pattern into the floor. For a couple weeks, Alex had been leaving home later and coming back earlier. I didn't think too much of it - it did give me more time to spend with my boyfriend of three years now - but I nevertheless made a mental note to ask him about it if it came up. It never did, and I wasn't worried...until his best friend, Zack, told me he quit boxing. We didn't necessarily need the income from his boxing since my store was doing so well now that I didn't need to be there every second of every day anymore, but boxing was his passion. Of course I was aware of all the dangers that came with boxing, but he was good at it and it made him happy meaning that I was happy for him. So one can imagine how destroying it was to hear Zack say that Alex had mentioned something about quitting because of me.

Hearing the front door being unlocked, my footsteps stopped cold and I gently padded into the living room were I saw Alex taking off his shoes and coat. He looked up and saw me. "Hey, baby! How was your day? How's the store doing?" He asked in his usual cheerful mood. It befuddled me a little how he was still happy after quitting the one thing that made him so. Alex walked over to me, probably aiming to envelop me in a hug and kiss me, as was our routine. I held up my hand and stopped him in his tracks. His eyes, the same beautiful amber ones that made my knees weak back in college where we first laid eyes on one another, immediately flooded with worry. "Caleb, baby, what's wrong?" The way he looked at and talked to me reminded me why I fell in love and am still so much in love with him. I bit back tears at the realization that maybe he didn't feel the same about me.

"You quit boxing," It was a statement, but he answered anyway.

"Yes." He blew a breath out of his nose and ran a hand through his dark auburn hair, knowing full well that I wasn't one for beating around the bush. His gaze lowered from mine. "Yes I did."

"Because of me?" My voice was softer now since I was afraid it would break if I talked any louder. He nodded and I felt the lump in my stomach grow heavier. "Why?" I managed to whisper shakily. "Do you...Do you not…" I gulped - getting this out would hurt, but I knew it would kill me if I didn't. "Do you not love me anymore?" I finally asked tears pooling in my eyes.

"Of course I love you, Caleb!" Alex took a step forward, but I took one back, maintaining the distance between us. I watched as hurt dance on his face and looked to the side when it became too much.

"Then why did you quit?" My voice turned cold. I couldn't give into the sadness right now or I would be like that for days.

"Because I was weak." His answer made me guffaw.

"Weak?!" My voice became a little louder as I opted for anger instead of sadness. I snapped my head back toward him and met his eyes. "Weak my ass! You train everyday! You're built like a brick wall, so don't go telling me you're weak, Alex!"

"I'm only weak because of you!" He yelled and I vaguely registered that I had been yelling too.

"So you're finally admitting that I'm a bad thing in your life!? That I've been eating away your happiness so much that you quit the only thing you love!?" Tears had started to leak out of my eyes, but I didn't pay them any mind.

"No! Goddammit, Caleb! You're the best thing that ever happened to me! I love you more than life itself!" He was leaking tears too.

"Then how did I make you weak?!" I was determined to get him to say that he hated me and that I should just leave because his life would be better without me. I knew it would probably destroy me, but it would make him happier and that's all that really mattered to me anymore: him living out a happy life even if it was with some other man and not me.

"You made me weak because you gave me something to lose!" That shut me up in a stunned silence. He calmed his voice but it still held the same tone as if he was screaming. "When I started boxing in high school, I was still in a foster home with fifteen other kids. I was mad at my parents for leaving me, I was mad that my grades were slipping, I was mad at the world, I was mad at myself. I was just a lonely teenager who needed something to fill the void in his heart and have something that kept his mind off suicide. So I took up boxing." His tone and eyes softened even more as he gazed at me. "I got into it and it helped me a lot. It was sort of therapeutic. I had a lot of pent up anger and now I had a healthy way of releasing it. I won most every fight because I fought ruthlessly, without a care for my own well-being. My whole life turned around, I was happier and my grades were looking much better. Even though I had a sure future in boxing, my coach insisted that I go to college. I didn't want to at first, but I'm so glad I did. Because I met you.

"I looked forward to every second I got to spend with you. I would steal glances at you across the lecture hall, I would try to get the teacher to partner us up. Hell, I even followed you to your dorm once, spent 15 minutes making up my mind to knock on the door and talk to you, then heard you going to open the door and sprinted out of there as fast as my legs would carry me." I smiled slightly at that and so did Alex.

"When I saw you with that Kyle guy… well, it sent me over the moon that you were into guys, but it almost destroyed me that you belonged to someone else. I took it out in boxing like I usually did with my emotions. I longed so bad for you that I beat a guy half to death - I broke three of his ribs, gave him two black eyes, made sure he couldn't have children and gave him a small concussion at best. Five people had to pull me off the poor guy before I killed him." I widen my eyes at the new information, but he continued, "Then, I saw you with puffy red eyes in one of our classes. Without thinking, I let my first words to you slip out of my mouth and asked what was wrong. You, in turn, responded with your first words to me, -"

"'Fuck off,'" I filled in for him, sucking on my lips to keep any laughter from escaping. He smiled a little wider.

"Yes, but my persistent ass had to keep prodding and I finally got it out of you that you had broken up with Kyle. I felt like I should have been happy, but seeing you so distraught made me wanna meet Kyle in a dark alley, teach him a lesson and make him get back together with you to make you happy. We started hanging out more and I finally grew the balls to ask you out. When you said 'yes,' I was about ready to explode and melt at the same time. And don't even get me started on our first kiss - to say that my world was turned upside down and ravaged by a cosmic storm would've been a massive understatement. You had me wrapped around your finger and you didn't even know it. After about a year of us dating, we said our first 'I love you's and that was about the happiest I had been in my life up to that point. I managed to get you a ticket to one of my matches. I fought the match as usual, with reckless abandon and without a second thought about my own life, smiling like the idiot I was - and still am - while I took multiple pinches from the guy. When they called a pause, I snuck a look at you to find you looking at me worriedly and biting your lips and I remembered what you said when we first confessed our love, -"

"'I don't know how I did it before, but now that I've met you, I couldn't live in a world you aren't part of.'" I, again, filled in my line. He nodded somberly.

"I realized then that if I were to get killed, it would destroy you. I couldn't do that to you. That match was the first fight I'd lost in five years. Five years, Caleb. And you were my undoing. Before you, I was the most dangerous thing in a fight: a man with nothing left to live for. But then you came into my life and suddenly filled the void in my heart better than boxing had ever done. You became my passion, my bringer of happiness,...my love. I started losing more and more matches, but it didn't matter because I had you. So yes, I became weak because of you. You made me weak because you gave me something to lose, something to live for, something to care about…. You came into my life and gave me someone to love." We stared at each other, teary-eyed.

"Oh, Alex…" I whispered, exasperated with myself at being so stupid and not trusting him like I should have. I threw myself around him in a hug. He was stunned for all of three seconds, then he released a relieved breath and squeezed me to the point it hurt a little, but I couldn't care less. It was him hugging me, he was here and he loved me and he was mine and he loved me and he didn't want to leave me and he loved me. He loved me, he loved me, he loved me - and I loved him, with all my being, I loved him so much it would tear me apart at times, but he was always here to fix me up because we loved each other. We stood there for a little while, slowly and slightly swaying, both silently shedding tears of happiness because we couldn't believe we could've almost lost each other. I couldn't speak for him, but from his little speech I was assured he felt the same - a life without the other could not honestly be called a life. I gently pulled as far away as he would let me, which was only far enough for me to get a good look at his face, but I didn't mind in the least. I cupped his face, looking deep into his amber eyes, and caressing his cheeks with my thumbs. "Don't ever scare me like that again, babe." We rested our foreheads together, both smiling. I pressed my lips to his in a soft and tender kiss. Alex's arms tightened around me.

"I love you, Caleb." He mumbled against my lips.

I smiled wider and gave him another quick kiss. "And I love you, Alex…so so much…"

#gay #gay cute #my writing #writing #i love him #love #i love you #boxing #entrepreneur

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josephhealan-blog · 5 years

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Hello, my name is Joseph and I’m a rideshare driver

Like a scared, timid visitor to their first 12 step meeting, I stand here before you reader and declare in front of my higher power and the rest of you my inclusion in the growing population of drivers in the ride share era. I’m not embarrassed by my participation in this new modern phenomenon but you’ll see later in this initial post why I have framed it this way.

I don’t distinguish which company I drive for to protect them from any story I might share that could compromise their reputation. I have personally found them all to be mostly reputable and sometimes a challenge to work with. My journey is what it is and depends very little on which of the firms I am currently working for. I plan on encouraging questions but that’s one I will not answer.

Driving strangers, except for the time I picked up a former boss of mine, around my favorite city has been an amazing experience. If there is a color, gender, profession, age or any other type of human on the planet I’ve had at least one of them in my car. For 47 years I have lived in Atlanta or her suburbs and every shift I drive down a street I’ve never seen before and explore a neighborhood I’d never heard of.

What’s the blog for? Why the introduction that intones embarrassment or shame with this noble profession? I’ll get to that at the end of this inaugural post and I hope to take a deep dive into that very issue over time as well as share some of the odd ball characters and adventures I’ve been on with my riders. I’ve even had nights where I damn near feel like a superhero and plenty of rides I’d consider as some of my proudest performances as a human being.

As of the date of this post I have given 2,623 rides. There’s no count of actual butts in seats but that’s at least 3,000 men, women, children and a few dogs. We are required to carry service animals but a few good old fashioned pets have been along as well. To some that sounds like a lot but to veterans and the earliest drivers that started as soon as Uber came on the scene it’s a drop in the bucket. There are drivers out there now with over 30,000 rides and counting. I share my number not as a brag but as a reference point that I’ll update with future posts. I’ve learned a lot from those veterans at the airport lot, gas stations and the streets of Atlanta. We are everywhere. Pay attention if you never have the next time you stop for gas or visit a busy shopping center at the stickers in the front and back windows of cars.

Why the shame? The shame comes from many places. From society and otherwise wonderful people and from terrible human beings I’ve had the displeasure of driving in my car. I am a mid 40’s white male with a conservative haircut and I look like a typical dad or boss that would be cast on a tv sitcom. In a crowd of rideshare drivers I stand out a bit. I get second looks from riders in West End Atlanta that are not expecting me to show up and I get this question several times a shift, “what do you do for your real job?”. Real job. Driving strangers to new locations in one of our countries worst cities for traffic full of aggressive drivers is a job and one that requires focus, attention and customer service all while making sure you and your companions don’t die. I myself have been a victim of being embarrassed about my side gig, removing my window stickers while visiting someone or going on a job interview. I do not do that anymore.

My “real job” is in Finance and Accounting. I’ve been doing it for over 25 years and I’ll be doing it again as soon as I start a new contract assignment in a few weeks. I’m good at what I do and proud of my career and I’ve had the chance to work for and alongside many amazing people. But compared to my side gig, my “real job” is a piece of cake. Indoors all day, bathroom right there on demand, usually a fridge with food and coffee service. While I am on contract I sometimes drive 2 to 4 nights per week to help pay down bills and between assignments I drive long shifts up to 6 days per week. I can’t sit around at home and drive my wife crazy and I need the extra income to bridge assignments.

One night not long ago I picked up a young woman south of Atlanta in the wee hours of the morning and took her downtown to one of our large hotels. Conversation is not a given, I have a plan for a rider/driver etiquette post in the future, but this young lady was delightful and I appreciated her energy at the beginning of her day to help me get through the end of my day. As we pulled up I inquired about her job there in genuine curiosity, and based on her uniform with the hotel’s logo, I assumed it was a safe question. She very apologetically and quietly told me she was currently working in housekeeping but hoping for a better position soon. Not wanting to let the moment pass but not wanting to slow down her walk into work I said to her, “please don’t ever apologize to me or anyone else about having a hard job. You are up before dawn while others sleep and not only do you have a job with a great well known brand in the hotel industry, you also have ambition and a plan to expand and grow your career.” She smiled very gently, touched my shoulder and said “thanks man”. I’ll probably never see her again but I hope she’s doing well. I took my own advice and stopped apologizing for my job too.

Georgia State University is my alma mater and when school is in full swing the current students along with the other students in Atlanta area schools are heavy rideshare users. Students, from Clark, Spellman, Morehouse, State, Tech, Emory, Gwinnett and even as far north as Kennesaw have been some of my most interesting riders and have renewed my faith in the next generation with their amazing plans for their futures and the unbelievable things they are working on. I believe I’ve probably had a future scientist that will work for NASA and a doctor that will save a child’s life and a teacher that will pass that energy on to another generation of riders, but they’ll probably be in an auto piloted helicopter that will force me to find a new gig.

But not all students have been my favorite. At least one of them is one of my least favorite humans and I hope she will mature and have some life experience that will smooth out some of her sharper edges. It was an after work shift while I was on assignment so I was dressed like an accountant. I picked up two female GSU students for a fairly long ride from their dorm to a restaurant outside of the perimeter, 285 for any non-Atlantans that may one day stumble across this story. They weren’t particularly talkative at first but we started talking about their classes and their dinner plans. As they mentioned their career ambitions after school I shared that I had once in a previous millennia graduated from their school. One of the riders made one more unremarkable comment to close the loop on our polite small talk.

Her friend, however, was apparently unimpressed with me and said in a tone that might have been intended as a whisper but rang through the car like a church bell on a clear afternoon, “went to state and can’t even get a real job”. Her friend audibly gasped at the rudeness that had just been forced on hers and my ears and she reached up and touched my arm beside the seat. Her touch lasted a little too long but did very little to tone down the anger and disgust I was feeling. I had just left my six figure job to drive her to dinner and her absolute dismissal of my side gig of choice was so ignorant and short sighted that it shocked me. I hope she never knows some of the challenges and hurdles that my own choices and the random life changing tornadoes that happen no matter how well you plan that have landed me in a place where one job doesn’t quite make the ends meet. And even in great times I have found myself driving a few times a week to buy something special or extra or just to feel useful while my wife was busy and there weren’t any kids at home. My personal reasons for driving are of absolutely no consequence in relation to her comment and I gave the one and only rating of 1 star to a rider I’ve ever given that day. It means nothing to her and won’t keep her from getting rides in the future but it will keep her out of my car.

As a contract worker I am regularly interviewing for assignments and I am keenly aware of my online reputation. I toyed around with making this blog anonymous for the same reason that rude student was dissatisfied with my career path. But I decided to use my real name for two reasons. For one, if I come to your office for an interview I’ll be rocking my window stickers and I’ll probably be giving rides 5 minutes after I leave. And second, if you share the opinion of that rude student I don’t want to work with you. And I don’t have to. The good people of Atlanta that need a ride will carry me, just as I carry them, until I land a new gig and scale back my shifts.

Enough heavy stuff for now. With so many rides done I have funny stories, scary stories, gross stories and a few that might even be a little R rated. If anyone except my poor wife actually reads this blog, I hope you take away something positive and find it entertaining. If not then thank you tumblr for providing me a space to offload a lot of mental baggage in a way I might share with others one day.

Adios for now. See you in my rearview!

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jeremystrele · 3 years

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Stylist Shonel Bryant On Battling Breast Cancer, Supporting Your Girls, And Silver Linings

Family

by Sally Tabart

Luke and Shonel at home in Yandoit, Victoria. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Shonel’s impeccable styling skills really shine in her home! Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Shonel with her gorgeous kids Smith (7) and Vogue (6). Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Luke and Smith hanging out. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

A quiet corner of Shonel’s beautiful home. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Shonel with Vogue! Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Luke and Vogue with the family dog. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Luke, Smith, Vogue and Shonel. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Shonel’s talent as a stylist is evidenced in her home! Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Luke with the kids. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

A nice moment between Vogue and Shonel. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Bunk bed kids! Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Vogue feeding the chickens. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Shonel and Vogue checking on the chicks. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

The family live in beautiful natural surrounds. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Vogue Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

Shonel Bryant’s successful events styling business, Nomad Styling, came to a grinding halt in 2019 when she was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer. Her kids Smith (7) and Vogue (6) were just six and four years old at the time, and while her gut was telling her to shelter them from it entirely, the family used it as an opportunity to be honest about their feelings, and they pulled through it together. But just over six months after finishing her treatment and getting the all clear, the cancer returned. It was – to put it lightly – the worst.

But despite the many challenges to her mental and physical health, Shonel has fought hard to find her silver lining. She’s done it through carving out her own community through her popular platform Support Your Girls – a place where she and other people experiencing cancer have been able to find others that just get it, especially when they struggle to feel understood in their day-today lives. She also self-produced (along with Robot Army Productions) an incredible nine-part docu-series, Life On Standby, where she recorded some of the most intimate parts of her journey in the hopes that others would feel seen and heard. She is determined to be the success story she couldn’t find when she was looking for it.

Connection and understanding is so important to Shonel. Here, she tells us how she found it.

I read on your website that you lost your mother to stomach cancer. I am so sorry. You mention that that experience changed your life in the best possible way – what do you mean by that?

Losing my mother to stomach cancer was one of the hardest things I’ve gone through and continue to experience. I allowed myself to work through the stages of grief and came out the other side of it with an altered perspective on life, a beautiful one. My mum was a natural teacher, it has felt as though she’s continued teaching me through the afterlife. That truly feels like a gift.

While I still experience grief today, though in a different way, I am forever grateful for the lessons her death has taught me. It really confirmed something that mum used to often say to me: ‘Out of everything bad comes something good’. She really has taught me to find the silver lining. But I’ve taught myself that I need to slow down and feel it all before it begins to fully surface.

What year were you diagnosed with Triple Negative Breast Cancer? And where are you at now in your journey?

I was diagnosed in October 2019. I was 36 and my children were six and four at the time. I had six months of neoadjuvant chemotherapy, which was a challenging time as asking for help is not a natural strength of mine. After great results, I was able to just have a lumpectomy rather than a mastectomy. After radiation on the site I was ‘in the clear’. While that time wasn’t as smooth sailing as I expected emotionally, I was happy and began attempting to get on with my new life.

It was a mere seven months after my treatment ended that I had a routine mammogram/ultrasound where they found I was one of 2% of people where the cancer had spread into a lymph node that was in a very unexpected place. The cancer was back! Due to COVID, we hadn’t even been able to go away and celebrate being ‘cancer free’ yet.

The aggressive nature of this rare type of cancer means that if it comes back, it happens fast and grows very rapidly. Since then, I have had another surgery, more radiation and am now on chemotherapy tablets for six months. I have another four months to go.

How did you tell your kids, and how did they respond?

Despite instinctively wanting to shelter them from it entirely, one thing I was very clear on (while so much of my reality at the time was a blur) was that I did NOT want to instil fear in the children. Cancer to them was merely a word that had no emotional weight. We were quite direct with the kids but focused on the facts.

There were some really fabulous books that helped them visually understand. I also took lots of video footage and photos so I could show them the machines and the hospitals as well. We ensured they knew they could ask us if there was anything more they wanted to know, and we kept that door open while updating them with progress along the way.

We exposed them to our emotions and struggles at times where we could have hidden them. Instead, we used these as opportunities to open up a dialogue around the importance of feeling our emotions and that it’s okay to feel scared or sad.

There were times I cried and they comforted me; they literally took me into their arms like I was the child and told me to ‘Feel it all’ (as I do with them). Even recalling that gets me emotional; these are moments that stick with you for life.

And what about Luke? How did he process it?

I think Luke and I have different views on this. To me, whilst I knew he wasn’t in denial I believe Luke was quite distant with how he processed it. Rather than speaking to me about it, he dealt with it on his own and carried the weight of it himself. This was extremely challenging for me and made me feel isolated. I know this was not his intention at all, however it was my experience and reality at the time.

It’s been one of the most challenging parts of this for me personally, the toll this has taken on our relationship. While these photos may depict us in a happy way, the reality is we have a lot of struggles on the daily we are actively working on. Luke and I have been together for 16 years, this experience has really highlighted our relationship dynamics, which have been completely flipped since my diagnosis. We still very much have happy moments, but cancer has made life more serious temporarily.

Can you tell me a little about Support Your Girls? Why does it exist, and what do you hope to communicate?

I had a successful event styling business called Nomad Styling and was set up to continue doing international weddings in 2019 and then I was diagnosed and shut it down immediately to focus on my healing. In turn, I had no income. While loved ones rallied and raised funds for us, we needed something else so I could just focus on my healing.

I started selling slogan T-shirts that say ‘Support your girls’, meaning your breasts and women. Each T- shirt comes with a ‘self check’ card, informing the recipient how to perform a self check and encouraging them to create a habit of checking on the first of every month.

50% of the proceeds go towards setting up a youth education program that will be rolling out into schools over the years to come on the importance of self checks and knowing their risk factors.

It has become a platform, a community where I share my experience as I navigate the many challenges that people going through cancer can – and will likely – face. It started out as me sharing to help others, and has turned into an incredible community that truly holds me when I am down. I feel so engaged and connected to my followers and am incredibly grateful for their loyalty and support.

I have so many further ideas in the works on how to reach people in more engaging ways, that I really look forward to achieving in the future.

What advice or guidance would you give someone who is going through something similar to what you have been through?

As with most traumas or challenging experiences, often it’s difficult to process and grieve at the same time as it’s too fresh or urgent. Our nervous system tells us it’s not safe to go there, first we have to survive, then we get to step back and comprehend the situation.

Allow all of the emotions to flow through you as they surface. If you get in the way of them and try to numb or suppress them it will only hinder your experience. It may feel better short term, but it will catch up with you.

Allowing that energy to flow in and out of you, the good, the bad and the horrific. It’s extremely uncomfortable yet necessary and helps you process what the hell is happening to you so you can move forward.

What brings you joy, and what are you hopeful for?

It’s truly the small moments on the daily that I now fully drop into and truly feel grateful for. It amplifies the impact they have on my body and it feels incredible. Pure joy to me are things like: the kids jumping into bed in the mornings, the sunshine on my face flickering through the trees, feeling the cool breeze on my skin, deep conversations with loved ones, my feet in the sand at the beach, going to therapy and witnessing my growth. Ah… even thinking about these things brings me joy. There are so many more I could list.

I am so hopeful for clear scans in the future, I have a routine full body PET scan next month and I am both excited and deeply fearful at the same time. The fear can be crippling, but there comes a point where all you can do is surrender.

A candid moment with the family. Photo – Bri Hammond for The Design Files.

FAMILY FAVOURITES

Family activity or outing?

We love going to local markets and exploring all of the small local townships with the kids. Having lived in Geelong most of our lives and relocating just before I was diagnosed, we enjoy learning about the local regions to us. It’s all new and exciting.

Cafe or restaurant?

Pancho café in Daylesford. Alma restaurant in Geelong.

Ideal ‘me time’ activity?

Going to a gallery and being inspired, reading books in the sunshine, chatting to my psychologist and debriefing with a beautiful friend over a delicious meal. What a blissful day.

Sunday ritual?

Making home-made pasta together with the kids, we do it every Sunday where we can. I cherish this time so much and hope that these memories stick with them and they want to bring their own children home and do this together as the years roll by. (Should they wish to have children, of course.)

Weekend getaway?

Going anywhere in our restored vintage caravan creating new memories together is one of our favourite things to do. We need to prioritise it more.

You can find some amazing resources, journal entries, videos and products over at the Support Your Girls website. Follow along with Shonel on Instagram here.

Explore Shonel’s 9-part docu-series, Life on Standby, here.

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admirable-mairon · 6 years

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Personal stuff incoming

Ok this is gonna be a long-ass post because I just... I just need to write this down somewhere before I fucking break.

If you read through it I’ll be surprised, and I’ll be grateful, but also feel the need to apologize for burdening you with my shit when I normally just want to bring the lot of you joy. Nothing makes me happier than helping and making others happy, and this post will not do that. There will be no solution at the end, but it will be a long tale of why I am what I am and why I don’t ever understand how people can love their parents.

tw for mental and verbal abuse as well as self-hatred and mental illness under the cut. I love you.

Ok so where the fuck do I even start?

Well.

I hate my parents. I loathe them and the world would be better if I never had to see them again. I mean that sincerely. But they would always have the upper hand. To the general public - to their friends and our relatives me hating them will only be a display of me being a spoiled and ungrateful brat at the tender age of 23.

I don’t remember when my parents changed, or rather when things started to go downhill. Just like most people who live in abusive relationships don’t realize how abusive it was until they got away. But I think it was around 2002. I was 8 and my beloved aunt, father’s little sister, passed away. I loved my aunt like an older sister, and it was naturally a harsh blow.

Even back then I was a very rowdy child. I would be loud and nobody really knew how to deal with me and the grief of such a young child. I became violent, I lost friends (as I should have. One shouldn’t stay with someone who beats them) and around that time I also learned that my tears meant nothing to my parents.

For further context we have ALWAYS had a good economy. I’ve never had to worry about having a roof over my head or food in my belly. We have had enough money to afford TVs and computers, and vacations and gaming consoles. To my knowledge my father currently has 2 or 3 PS4′s in their house, they own a pool, one sports car and my mother enjoys the luxury of champagne quite often. We have ALWAYS had a good materialistic life. Always. And I would give away any of all those things to anyone as long as it meant that I would not have to feel dread when meeting ‘my parents’. If it meant that I had a grownup - a parent - that cared and supported me. I would have given those things away to ANYONE just to have a mother and father that are capable of showing love.

We fought quite often I think. I sincerely don’t remember, it’s all a blur. But I do remember that I once bought a lot of candy and lied about it to them. There were a lot of tiny little lies, tiny things, that all gathered up to big messes. I didn’t want to tell them, so somewhere around 10 years of age I started to hurt myself. Not with blades - nothing that left marks - but I remember forcing myself to hold my little hand under a stream of ice cold water before swiftly forcing it into steaming hot water. All of this because I deserved to be punished. I was a bad child and I had lied. And as long as I hurt myself - no one else would have to.

Every time these little lies were brought to light we fought for hours. I would be crying, I would be BEGGING them to let me leave - to just go to my room. They never did. My tears never meant anything. I was hugged out of obligation because my mother felt that it would be appropriate. Speaking of my mother she ALSO often cried after some time, and I was blamed for it. Me - a child - my tears meant nothing. But I made my mother cry. And so I was always the bad one.

My father and I are equally verbally violent, because unfortunately I’m his daughter in most ways. When it comes to looks and temper. My brother - My darling baby brother and only family - is more like mother in that he prefers to be quiet. The two of them always got stuck in the middle when father and I fought, and still does.

My father may give us plenty of things - money and ‘security’ - but he’s an abusive asshole that will turn anything you say against you. I have - in fact - based many of Mairon’s manipulating tactics on my father’s behaviour.

We have never been allowed to say no. Ever. We have never been allowed to feel anything but joy around them. Every dinner I’ve had with these people have resulted in casual insults to my brother and I. We’re lazy, too fat, too spoiled, never grateful, we never help, we never do what we’re told, things that make us happy are just ALWAYS pieces of shit and they never want to hear about them.

I have always been a burden. Always. They say they love me, but when I try to share my interests with them - when I try to tell them about things that make me happy - they always shoot them down. Such things are worthless. Oh you like that? Well that’s shit. This thing made you happy? If only you liked this instead.

I have always been a straight A student, but that was never enough. I never ran away from home. I never smoked. I didn’t drink alcohol until I was of legal age.

But I am a burden still. My tears mean NOTHING to my parents! Nothing! And they never have!

It’s hard to narrow it down on how it was for most of my upbringing because I am dissociating so hard that I look at those memories with the eyes of someone who hasn’t lived them. I know it was me. I have the objective memories. But it wasn’t me.

So let’s speed forward to 2014. The worst year of my fucking life. My grandmother was dying in cancer, work was stressful, I had no friends nearby, and my ex-fiance raped me several times over that year. Mother and father were confused by their own grief over grandmother and never ever stopped to consider how it was affecting me and my brother. We were blamed for literally everything that went on at home. We were blamed for the sorrow. If only our rooms were clean father would want to be home. If only we did more chores without being asked to do so everything would be okay! I distinctly remember one instance where we HAD made a mistake, which blew up out of proportions. Father and I were at eachother’s throats - verbal and violent as always - but my brother, my beloved darling brother, stood his ground. He put his hand on my shoulder and calmed me down, and tried to plead with our parents. We didn’t know how to fix what we had fucked up, we were sorry, and all we wanted to know was how to fix it to soothe them. I was crying, mother was crying, and father wasn’t getting to my brother the same way he got to me. Because my brother is a naturally calm man who has the immense strength to let mother and father’s taunts just roll off him. He has become numb to them.

And when father realized that he was losing his ground to his own son, he switched tactics. He knew what my brother loved - he knows of our interests. He has to know of them to be able to shit on them after all. And he threatened to remove it from him. One of the few things that made my brother smile. I won’t go into details about what it was exactly, but it was something that he looked forward to every single year - where he met all of his friends. And now father decided to pick on that because it was the only thing that would bring my brother to his knees. And it did.

My brother broke and cried then, more animated and angry and scared than I’ve ever seen him. And Father threw that back in his face as well. That he was being unreasonable and overly sensetive. When faced with my brother’s tears I will go all in to protect and defend him, and I did. Swallowing my tears to keep him steady.

I hate father for that. I hate father for many things, but the things he’s done to my brother are so vile and disgusting that I just-

I can’t.

I was scared to come back to them after my year in Japan. I cried in my ex-partners arms in sheer terror when I had to go back ‘home’, because I didn’t know if I would survive. And I very nearly didn’t. I felt so bad there, I was so scared daily, that almost every night I considered to go down into the kitchen and take a knife and just end it right then and there. The thing that stopped me was not wanting my brother to have to see that. So I managed to move out. I moved in with my best friend instead, but my brother still lived with them. He was numb to them at that point though so his life wasn’t as threatened as mine was. But it was still a hostage situation.

I moved to another city. Things were looking up....

And then we were informed that one of our cats was dying in cancer.

And my brother broke.

I have never ever seen him that shattered before. He was in shock for so many days, and I remember sleeping in the same room as him that night - the last night before I was about to move to the other side of the country. I heard him crying - weeping all alone in his bed, so I curled up around him and petted his head as he sobbed and keened as though he wasn’t twice my size. As though we were still children and he just wanted his older sister there with him.

“I can’t....! I don’t know what to do...! I’m going to lose both of you...!”

He will NEVER lose me. But he would lose Baloo, his best friend in the whole world, and NONE of our parents know him well enough to know how to comfort him. I had to be his mother - his parent - and his pillar, even as I myself was shattering. I would never shame him for needing me. Never. But I DO despise my parents for not knowing how to help their son. I despise them for being unable to hug him - for being unable to understand him - and for being unable to be loving in his time of need.

Even on the days around Baloo’s death - days that I still... I can’t...... They didn’t know what to do. I had to be the whole pillar and support structure of a family. Or rather - my family and two people I’m obliged to have a relationship with. I had no chance to grieve, I had no chance in the world to feel ANY grief over a cat that I loved like he was my child.

And that leads us to the issue that I’m currently sitting with.

New Zealand.

The day after Baloo’s death - After I’d barely managed to keep my brother alive and eating and sleeping - mother and father told us that they had booked a trip to New Zealand with us. And I just... I just froze up.

It has been my DREAM to go to New Zealand, and now I would get to do so.... But at the cost of going there with my parents. Parents that I hate and have almost killed me and my brother many times over. I lived far away, I had worked on putting myself first, and now that they ASKED if we wanted to go..... I said No.

Remember how I previously said that we’ve never been allowed to say no?

That still applies.

Thankfully my brother was down in his room for the fight, but what followed can’t even be described as a ‘fight’, because that implies that I was given a chance to fight back. No - what happened can only be described as 3 hours of verbal abuse. It would have hurt less if my father had actually HIT me, and in some ways I wish that he had. Because then people would take the damage seriously.

Three hours of being told that I was to blame for all the problems we’ve had since 2010, that being with my rapist made me ‘white-trash’, that I was ungrateful, that I was selfish and childish for not wanting to at least TRY to get along with my father, even if it meant that we have to write a list of things we aren’t allowed to talk about. I stood in front of them crying, on the bring of an anxiety attack, literally clawing at my own arms and begging them to let me go away. Never. I had to listen. I had to make sure that I knew how much of a disgusting burden I am, while my head kept screaming at me that I would be better off dead. This family doesn’t work, ALL because of me! Think about your brother! (Oh but I do. Like no one else) ‘This might be our last family vacation together. We don’t know which of us will die in a fatal illness next. Maybe we already have it’

What do you say to that? What can you say when all your energy - when your will to live and fight has been sucked out of you? When your FATHER throws that into your face?

I agreed. Even though I know it will be two weeks of misery and not looking longingly at things that could potentially kill me. Even though I will have to send them 10′000SEK (~1200$) because ‘They want me to feel the weight of it too’.

That is why I’m going to New Zealand next week, and I am utterly and intensely terrified.

The journey that I have dreamed of for years, only for it to turn into a horror tale. It’s as if my rapist would come with me, but worse. At least he only abused me for a couple of years.

And yet my mother STILL has the fucking nerve to pretend that we’re a fucking FAMILY!?

Now - now that I’m 23 she’s finally acting somewhat like that mother I always wanted and needed. The one that assures me that I’m loved and tells me to eat, as opposed to shaming me for doing so. She keeps wanting to hold my hand, despite how I’m a grown woman, and it feels like an assault. It makes me uncomfortable and I want to run, but still she does it.

This trip cost my brother his job and they will blame HIM for it without a doubt.

Things ARE looking up. After this I will never have to speak to them again. Ever. My brother has moved out, so have I, we are not depending on them for money - we don’t need them. They have never been here when we need them - not without hurting us through their ‘hugs’ and ‘gifts’. Why should we let them rule us now?

I hate them and I am scared. There are so many things they have done that I could bring up but I’ve talked for so long already and it would take me HOURS even if I do it verbally and faster than I can write.

THIS is why bad parents are such a fucking sore spot for me. Biological family doesn’t HAVE to be family.

You don’t just GET the respect of being a fucking parent or part of a family because you happen to be related - You have to deserve that respect like everybody fucking else!

I can be thankful for the things they’ve given me. Materialistic as well as advice when I’ve asked them. Because I HAVE asked them. I don’t owe them SHIT for feeding me and ‘taking care of me as a child’ because fucking NEWSFLASH - I didn’t ask the two of them to fuck. I didn’t ask to be born, and WHOOP ARE YOU SERIOUS!? CHILDREN NEED FOOD? THAT’S WEIRD! YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL’

But I hate them for never being parents when we needed them. I hate them for the self-loathing they’ve planted in me and my brother. I hate them for hurting us. I hate them for making it all seem perfect because they have GIVEN us things! I hate them for making me dread going to NEW ZEALAND! I HATE them for making me unable to see why anyone would ever want to spend time with their ‘family’ because I HAVE none! And I especially hate them for refusing to listen and pretend that things are alright because they are scared of losing us.

Well.

They deserve to lose us.

They don’t deserve us.

And yet..... the thought of them dying... or being old and alone terrifies me.....

Despite how scared I am of them. Despite how they terrify me. Despite the many times I have been blamed for mother’s tears while my own have been ignored. Despite the many times I’ve just wanted parents..... Despite the many times I’ve just wanted to be loved.

Despite how they have made me think that I do not deserve to be loved.

#tw: suicide mention #tw: mental illness #tw: verbal abuse #tw: parental abuse #tw: self hate #tw: long post

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i-dont-dj-sammy-g · 7 years

Text

Plee

Hey.

You there.

Whoever is left.

I don’t know who you are, but hello, and thanks for stopping.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to accomplish with this post other than to just put it out in the air, somewhere, that I am NOT okay. These last four years of my life have been far worse than I could have ever hoped for myself. I feel like I’m drowning and whenever I try to swim to the surface for a breath of air, the ocean just gets that much deeper. Sure, life’s had its ups, but the majority of it has been downs. I am not happy. I never realized that I was ever in this position until about a week ago when I got more drunk than I ever have been before in my life. I could not move. Everything was spinning at the speed of a top and I could. not. stop. crying. I called everyone in my family, and cried and told them how scared I was and how much I miss them (since they all live far away.) I don’t know what I’m so afraid of. Maybe being alone. Maybe death. Maybe life. Honestly, I think I’m afraid of it all. This post is going to be long and riddled with rambling that won’t make any sense. I’m sorry, and if you stay through it all, thank you for your time. I wish I could give something back to you.

I don’t know where to start with this. Maybe I’ll start where all of this began...ha ha Sam, way to go.

My parents were never happy. I never realized it until it was over and the mushroom cloud of the divorce was already halfway round the world, but they weren’t. Mom, she works. She works all the time and I feel bad because I haven’t seen it really pay off for her. She sits in front of her computer from 5am to about 6pm typing medical notes. She’s been doing this for just about as long as I remember, and this has taken up a large part of my life. I remember waking up in the morning to her typing and coming home from school to her typing. I’m not sure if she actually likes the job, or if she’s been hiding from something...distracting herself.

Dad has been retired a couple of times and had to come out of retirement once to try to keep the family afloat. It was never something I saw but we were struggling. He specializes in landscaping and amateur astrophotography, though amateur may be an understatement. I don’t honestly remember much of him working because it was never anything at home and he would never bring it home with him. Other than the poison ivy. Mom didn’t like that.

I’m going to spare a lot of personal and family details that nobody but us need to know, but the years went on, we moved from Kansas to Massachusetts and I could see them growing apart. It was obvious. They would fight more, Dad would sleep on the couch more often than not because of his “restless leg syndrome,” and the spark was gone. Dad spent all his time up in his office while we would be downstairs watching our favorite TV shows, me and my mom. *I want to add a little side note here that I am not angry with any member of my family. I am happy that they are all doing seemingly well for themselves now, but more on that later* It was in the air that they weren’t together anymore.

Fast forward about 3 years. All of a sudden mom wants to go to our cabin up in New Hampshire a lot more. She needs time to herself. One day my dad brings my sister and I up to his office and gives us each a hug and says,

“That’s it. The marriage is over. Your mother is having an affair.”

My favorite author, Chuck Palahniuk once wrote in Fight Club, “We have just lost all cabin pressure,” and I have never related to a set of text more in my life. Right around the same time, and a week before my birthday, my girlfriend of 7 moths decided another guy was more suitable. Whatever, I was learning life lessons a lot this year it seemed.

Now, to be fair, to this day I don’t actually know what my mother was doing and it’s not really any of anyone else’s business. Both of them were unhappy and it needed to end for both of them so that they could be where they are now. My mom is happily living in New Hampshire at the same cabin, and my Dad is putting around the country with his lady. Good for them, right?

Backing up a little bit, before my dad met his new lady, we lived in several different places. We lived in a quiet little town that held the high school that I graduated from, then we moved back to the town we lived in when we moved from Kansas all those years ago. We went on like that for about three more years, trying to repair ourselves as a group after the divorce, my father, sister and I. We didn’t abandon my mother but there was a lot of confusion at that time and my sister and I didn’t know what to think and my mom was too far away to form our own ideas based on her story. So we were quiet for a little bit. I finished high school and was in a relationship for the majority of these three years. I was trying my best to be happy and I didn’t realize that I was cramming all of these emotions down and away until now. And then my dad met Her. Thats when it REALLY started going downhill for me, and it hasn’t gone far back up since.

My dad was 50 years old when I was born. He didn’t want to have children but then woke up one day and decided he wanted his family name to go on. I was 17, I think, when he met Her. I’m 21 now. If he was 50 when I was born, I’ll let you do the math. He realized he may not have too much time left and decided that he wanted to start living for himself. He moved to Florida with Her, and my sister moved in with a friend. I went back to our broken family home, which was on the market at the time. I’m not mad at him. I’m happy that he’s able to finally start living his life the way he’s wanted too.

I worked. I worked a lot while living in this house at a race track about 10 minutes up the road. I loved this race track as if I owned it, like it was mine. It was a newly built facility and I became a part of the crew at the end of its first year of operation. It was bittersweet work because while watching amazing pieces of machinery race around 2.3 miles of some of the best racing surfaces you can find in New England, I was stuck out in the sun and the heat. This is where my anxiety really started to get ahold of me. I stayed at this track for 2 years.

If you’ve never been through an anxiety attack, you’re more lucky than you may know. I thought my heart was stopping. I remember being hunched over in my chair on my corner of the race track telling my GM on the radio that I needed to get down and that I was having a serious problem. I felt like my heart was stopping, dear reader. I was hunched over in that fucking green folding chair with no feeling in my hands staring at a rock on the ground waiting for my life to end.

A small part of me was okay with it and I’m just now admitting it. That racing season ended and I haven’t been back very often since. This was 2016. Hold on tight, we’re moving a little quickly now.

After the racing season ended I ran out of an income and I couldn’t qualify for unemployment based on how much I had made from the track. I couldn’t afford to heat the house I was in for the winter because it was too big, and again, I didn’t have any income. Nobody was hiring. At this point I was still with the girl I had been with since the beginning of the divorce. I had a lot of feelings for this girl and she was kind enough to let me kind of go back and forth between her parents for a while but ultimately decided that she needed to do things for herself. That’s fine. Good for her. Noticing a pattern? This was December of 2016.

Well, now I’ve got nowhere to live. Look what you did for yourself, Sam, save your money you stupid fuck.

Lucky for me I’ve got some DAMN GOOD FRIENDS. Honestly, I don’t know what I did to deserve my inner circle in my life. My friend, Bej, we’ll call him for fun, and his amazing mother decided they could put me up for as long as I needed. I was infinitely grateful obviously but felt terrible deep down in my gut. I know that I have these friends but I felt like I had nothing. My family was all over the place when I thought for my whole life leading up to this point that I would always have the support group of my family right there behind me. They were there, but so, so fucking far away. I was newly out of a relationship and felt like everything was going against me.

I stayed with Bej and his mother for 3 months until I was able to find work at a new chain restaurant that was opening not far away. The second that I heard this place was opening I was the first to apply, the first to be interviewed, and the first to be hired to this new store. I was finally doing something for myself and felt amazing about it. I willingly drove an hour every day to go to the proper training for the new store and worked as hard as I could as often as I could. I actually ended up landing Bej and another friend their first jobs here and we’re all still with the company as of Sept, 2017. I was still lonely, though.

Remember the race track that I worked at? I went back for a regional event for a club I was a member of. It was a two day event. The first day wasn’t very eventful, cars raced, cars spun, people won awards. It was normal. We went down for lunch at noon.

There she was.

She was literally a fucking angel.

She was wearing a white BMW sweatshirt, white pants, and white Rosches. Literally an angel, guys.

I didn’t think I had a chance, honestly, so I didn’t fucking bother.

I tried to forget about her during the day. I got lost in the smell of race fuel and the loud engines until the end of the day. That’s when the Flag Chief told me who I’d be stationed with the next day.

Guess.

Okay, Sam, you don’t have a chance buddy but you’ve got nothing to lose.

“Hi, I hope you like sarcastic assholes!” -Nailed it.

We hit it off. I have said it before and I will say it many more times. I have NEVER. NEVER had any sort of connection like I do with this girl. It went well enough that I asked her out for ice cream after the event, and even though it was far too cold for it, I had to ask. I could not pass this opportunity up. She said yes, and we went, and even though it wasn’t exactly a date because of some other friends that were there from the track, it went amazing. I knew that day that good things were going to come of it. You’re probably sitting there thinking things are turning around, huh? Ha, me too.

I don’t know how to really explain the next whole bit without giving out too much personal information that I’m not at liberty to give, so I’m just going to try to wrap this up.

Legally, we can’t be together. Nothing to do with age or anything, we’re both the same age, but things are going on in her life that are keeping us apart. In addition, she has attempted school before but got caught up in social/love lives and school fell through because of it. She and I don’t want that to happen again. We’re taking a break. It’s a bit more of a break than I thought but I will do everything I can to be here on the far end of it. I don’t know how long this break will be and the lack of communication scares me. I fell HARD for this girl, reader. And as far as I know she fell hard for me. Why does this look so easy for her?

Basically, this has just been a sob post about how much of a mess I think my life is but its all really starting to weigh on me and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m getting to the point where I don’t really want to be here anymore. I left out a lot about how the multiple jobs I have/am trying to keep up, aren’t working due to abusive bosses because I suck at writing and this whole post is a shitshow anyways. I don’t know. I should shut up. Sorry for the anticlimactic ending. I’ve been at this for several hours and took a long break to work in the middle. I just wanted to let something out somewhere.

Thanks for reading. I hope you’re well, whoever and wherever you are. Better than I feel, at least.

#personal #storytime #mylife

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traceyaudette · 7 years

Text

Friends Are Friends Forever

Requested by Anon: One with Jax where you are best friends and he has had these feelings for you since you were kids he wants more but you don't but you are willing to agree to do friends with benefits. you both agree once feelings are caught you both leave. it goes on for a year till he catches feelings for you. you don't and it scares you off. she stops contacting him and he runs into her at a bar, they both sit and talk only for her to still not a relationship with him and they both continue to be fwb. (fwb) but she ends up pregnant and ends up living with him and they co parent but no relationship even after the baby?

Jax’s arms snaked around my waist, pulling me down on his lap. His mouth gently sucking on my earlobe, I shivered and leaned into his embrace, letting out a little moan.

“Come on (Y/N/N), when are you going to let me love you?”

I pulled away, looking into his eyes. “Come on Jax, we've been through this at least a hundred times.” I jumped off his lap and walked across the room.

I heard him get up and follow me, his body close to mine. “I love you (Y/N) Delaney!”

I whirled around to face him. “I love you too Jax, you’re my best friend….but I can't give you anymore then that. I’m sorry.…”

“Why? So I'm only good enough for a screw buddy?” I could see the hurt and anger in his eyes.

I touched his arm. “No, you're so much more than that. One of us risk getting hurt, if we allow more than friendship love….I enjoy the relationship we have now. It’s safe and secure….”

His hands framed my face. “So all I get is friends with benefits?”

I nodded my head. “The minute it becomes more, either one of us can bolt. No hard feelings...”

He looked at me closely. “If it's that or nothing, I choose friends with benefits.” He picked me up, carrying me to my bedroom.

XXX

It had been a year since Jax and I started our little arrangement. I was happy with it, he seemed to be as well.

I came home from work one night to find him waiting for me. He had the backyard lit up with candles, and he had cooked.

Warning bells went off in my head, that I should turn around and run, but like a fool I continued on. He smiled at me, pulling me into his arms, kissing me hungrily. He pulled me to the table, sitting me down, so we could eat.

Still those bells going off in my head, but I ignored them. I was caught up in the moment, letting an unfamiliar feeling come over me. His blue eyes were shining as they looked at me. He grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

“I love you (Y/N) Delaney. We've been doing this whole friends with benefits thing for a year. I want more with you. Please tell me you changed your mind.”

I pulled my hand from his, shaking my head. I could feel the tears getting ready to fall. “I can't….I’m not...I can't….” I gathered my thoughts looking at him. “I’m not capable or worthy of love.”

I ran from the backyard, through the house, to my car, leaving him standing there shocked and hurt. He had caught feelings for me, I know I had hurt him by leaving. Better now then later when he realized I was broken.

XXX

In the last year Jax had tried to forget (Y/N), but anytime he tried to sleep with another woman; all he could see was her face. He finally gave up trying, and refocused on finding her. He had searched everywhere and come up empty handed.

Jax pulled into the parking lot of Stockton prison, for his weekly visit with Otto. Every week he’d ask and get the same thing. All Otto would tell him was that she was safe, and didn’t want to be found. He was going to sit down with Otto and beg for information.

He watched as he entered the room. “Jax, I can't tell you anything. She’s safe, just move on brother.”

“Please, I'm in love with her, I told her and she ran. She thinks she's not capable or worthy of loving someone.”

Jax watched Otto tear up. “Even after all this time, that bastard still his claws in my baby girl!”

“She never told me.” Jax wanted to find this guy and beat him senseless.

“He told her she wasn't capable of love, and no man would ever love her. It was better not to have feelings, because you just got hurt.”

“What happened?”

“He left her for another women…” Otto looked at Jax. “You love my little girl?”

“I have since we were kids...the last year it's only grown deeper. I want it all with her, if she'll just take a chance. “

Otto smiled. “She's here in Stockton. After you leave here, go for a drink at The Office. It's a bar she goes to after work.”

Jax got up, leaving Otto sitting. He turned around to look at the man. “Thanks Otto.”

“Take care of my little girl.” Jax nodded at him before leaving.

“I swear, I’ll protect her with my life!” He quickly left ready to go find (Y/N).

XXX

I was standing at the bar, with my coworkers after work. Tasha elbowed me in the side. “Don't look now, but blue eyed blonde babe...INCOMING!”

Before I could react my coworkers took off leaving me alone standing at the bar. I looked up to see Jax walking towards me.

I knew he saw me, I couldn't leave without it being obvious. He smiled at me. “(Y/N).” He said my name so softly, I barely heard him.

“Jax…” He pulled me into his arms holding me close and kissing me.

“I've been worried about you...I’ve missed you so much…”

“I know...me too. I'm sorry I left the way I did…” His hands caressed my face, his forehead pressed against mine.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” I took him to my apartment. Where we talked about our past, and we ended up in bed together.

He asked if we could go back to what we had before, I told him I didn't know. I thought too many feelings had gotten in the way.

He promised me that he would keep it just friends this time. He finally wore me down and I agreed.

XXX

I sat in Jax’s dorm room, waiting for him to get back from whatever club business he was doing.

The door swung open, Jax had Ima wrapped around him. I know I had no right to be upset, but it stung a little.

“I'm sorry….I should have called.” I heard Ima laugh.

“Yeah, you should have. He's busy with me.” I ran from the room, brushing past them both. Ignoring Jax calling my name, I made it to my car before he caught up with me.

“(Y/N)...hey wait!” His arms enclosed around my waist pulling me against his chest. “I'm sorry……”

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for Jax. I mean...we’re friends that….” His hands frame my face.

“I want to be with you, over anyone else….”

“I have to tell you something….it may change everything. If it does I understand, I mean we didn’t talk about this ever…..”

I watched his body stiffen. “Have you met someone?”

“I’m pregnant….I understand if you want out. I’ve already decided that I’m keeping the baby, and you don’t have to have any responsibilities. No one has to know that you're the father…”

“A baby? Really?” He smiled at me, pulling me into his arms. “I want this with you….”

I smiled at him, feeling relief. “You aren’t mad?”

“I’m happy, but we have a lot to talk about.”

XXX

For my safety and the baby’s we decided it was best for Jax and I to live together. Our relationship stayed the same, much to his disappointment. And everyone else's.

Gemma, and my dad pushed Jax and I to marry, but I stood firm in my resolve, that being close friends was the best.

I know in Jax’s heart, that’s what he really wanted, was to get married but I knew in the long run it was for the best. I did love him in my own way. I didn’t want to be with anyone else, but I was worried I couldn’t love him the way he deserved.

My pregnancy went perfect, Jax was there for everything. He went to every appointment possible, if he couldn’t go than Gemma went. He spoiled me by going after every craving I had no matter the time of day.

When I had mood swings, he took thim in stride, always telling me I was beautiful. Then one morning at three am Delaney Luann Teller came into the world, healthy. She had no signs of the family flaw.

Jax was over the moon about having a daughter, he was totally in love with her. I never knew I could love someone so much, until the doctor laid her on my stomach.

Jax and I lived together co-parenting Delaney, when she was two, our son Otto Thomas was born, just as healthy as his big sister. We spent the rest of our lives together raising our children, while we never got married, and I never took his crow, we loved each other.

We were faithful to each other to our last days.

THE END

@realpowertwix @anarchyrenegade @lolsthecat@soafanficluvr1@fortheloveofthesoa @khyharah @redwoodog@chaosmieu@thegoodthebadandtheempty @jade770 @supernaturalanarchy @lolsthecat @soafanficluvr1@fortheloveofthesoa@khyharah @redwoodog @chaosmieu @thegoodthebadandtheempty@jade770 @realpowertwix @supernaturalanarchy @mrsirishboru @lolsthecat @soafanficluvr1@fortheloveofthesoa@khyharah@samcrolivesforever @redwoodog @ineedthesons @jade770@realpowertwix @supernaturalanarchy @mac5323SOA@hauntedduckdefendor @cherieann2001@mwesterfeld1985@clairese1980 @small-townwaywarddaughter @winchester-negan-one-shots @mrsirishboru @undeadprincess2005 @come-join-themurder@ouijaboardmystery @chaosmieu @girl-with-no-faith-in-medicine @ineedthesons @id-rather-be-high-and-fucked@charmingsrisingson @readerinsertimagines @sweetchaosturtle @im-gay-for-chibbs-juiceyandtiggy @jasonmccannsgirl8699 @homicidalteenagedream mcrmarvelloki

#samperv #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #Jax Teller #soa imagine #soa #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy

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takokola · 7 years

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Plot: Canyon Conquest - Part 6 (FINAL)

((On that one faithful day, the Great Zapfish went missing for a week. And Callie was nowhere to be found in Inkopolis. Will the entire city’s power run out? Or will they find a solution to bring it back? The answers will surprise you.))

((WARNING: This story contains spoilers to Splatoon 2. For those who haven’t owned the game or completed story mode, please keep scrolling ahead. Thank you and enjoy.))

Eimie belongs to marchant-girls

Agent 7 (mentioned) belongs to agent-7-at-your-service

Lee (mentioned) belongs to inklingleesquidly

The fight continues in the middle of the concert against DJ Octavio featuring Callie. And of course, the DJ is doing all the dubstomping while the brainwashed pop star is still singing. He launches out ink bombs, takoyaki bombs, and even his own two golden fists to stop the two heroes but ends up getting pounded by his own robotic fists..

After what feels like an eternity of knocking back one golden fist after another, they were on the brink of winning. “Geez… Nobody said, this was going to be easy.. There’s no way to reason with Callie..” She was getting a bit exhausted from avoiding incoming projectiles.

“All of our spawn points are shut down, the moment we got started. We need to get this done, quickly. Or else, the power will soon go out…” Mantis thought back to his brother, Gale. He couldn’t let him down, while he’s recovering in the hospital.

Callie was displeased by their actions as she stamped her foot to get Octavio’s attention. “C'mon, DJ!! Step up your game!! They’re ruining our concert!” There was anger behind her hypnoshades as she glares at the two agents.

“You got it! I won’t be bested by a group of slimy little hipsters, twice!! I’ve been waitin’ for the right moment to bust outta this snow globe while Cuttlefish is away.. I’m going to take back, what’s rightfully mine after 2 years!” Octavio doubled up his assault by hovering into the air. His two golden fists began spinning and spewing out a huge amount of his ink. He throws in both punches, trying to crush the two agents.

Phantom and Mantis managed to dodge from the gold fists, once more until they were cut-off by a barrage of Suction Bombs. They weren’t getting away that easily. The bombs detonated in front of them, causing the two to lose their Hero Hoodies. “A-Ack..!!” Phantom winced, falling back onto the pavement. She was caught off-guard by the surprise attack from above. She laid there, struggling in Octavio’s ink and she’s vulnerable at this state. Mantis was struggling to stand up as his Hero Hoodie was damaged for the time being.

“Oh no, this is bad..!” Marie was watching them from the spawn point, giving them some instructions. As soon as the two Inklings were on the edge of getting splatted, she must take matters into her own hands and try to focus on Callie. “Hang in there, you two..!! I’m on my way..!!” She has no choice, but to call in Sheldon to help her out

Octavio looms over them with a sinister look on his face. “Gyahahahaha!! I meant to miss, in order to catch ya’ll by surprise! Hate to cut this short, but dubstomping you two into oblivion will be icing on the cake!”

Struggle as she might, Phantom could barely move away from the gigantic machine. She looks up at Callie and began to plead her to snap out of her trance. “C-Callie..!! This isn’t like you..! Please, don’t do this..!! You belong in Inkopolis… not in Octo Canyon..!! He’s manipulating you like my brother..!!”

“Foolish girl… It’s too late to stop to me.. I like it here, already… You’re just obstacles in my way, keeping me from fulfilling my destiny..” She gave her a thumbs down, before glancing over to Octavio. “Crush em….” She ordered the Octobot King.

Suddenly, Marie was standing still on a flying truck, driven by Sheldon. She changed into her usual Squid Sisters outfit, before she hopped on the truck. It’s a surprise that one of the Splatfest trucks. “Keep it steady, will ya..?” Marie said, maintaining her balance. She can’t allow her allies to never see the light of day. She’s sure of it.

Mantis held onto Phantom, before the DJ launches one more attack. He was indeed scared but thanks to Phantom, he made it all the way to the end. “P-Phantom… I know, we just met and everything but… If we don’t make it alive, I wanted to have the courage to say that I li-” Mantis was cut-off by a sudden hug from Agent Phantom.

“I know.. I like you, too… I’m sorry for giving you crap from the beginning.. I was a real jerk to you..” Phantom started to shed a few tears, still holding onto him. She was never afraid of anything, but this is her first fear of losing a new friend. They both closed their eyes for the last time, before the inevitable.

Before Octavio could finish the job, he heard Marie’s voice and it’s getting closer. Callie heard it as well, but she can’t see her cousin. Wherever she is, the sound of hovering is getting louder and louder.

“Don’t worry, Callie… I’m here.. And I can’t let those agents get splatted, too..!! I have one shot to knock off those ridiculous shades..” Marie takes aim at Callie’s shades while she’s standing still on the truck from afar. She sheds a tear, before pulling the trigger without warning. Marie’s special Low-Tide ink travels across the air at blinding speed, directly on Callie’s shades. The impact knocked back Callie and her shades with a sounding shriek. Her shades were missing on her cousin’s face and Marie was glad to see her eyes after so long. “It worked..!! My Low-Tide ink finally worked..!” She was relieved to save Callie.

Octavio noticed that her shades were missing and he freaked out. “No!!! The hypnoshades!!!” He cried, canceling his attack. Now that Callie is stunned, his plan will be ruined.

“Uuuooogh….” Callie groaned from the headache, she’s having. The Low-Tide ink is taking effect like Fynn did, back in Musselforge Fitness. She couldn’t remember where she is or how did she get here.

“H-Huh..?” Phantom opens her eyes to see Callie who is still stunned. This was the perfect chance to grab her Hero Splatling and recover in her own ink. “Callie’s not looking too good.. Is that the same ink that saved Fynn…?” She asked, getting up on her feet. She pulls out a Curling Bomb and tossed it, backwards. She descended into the ink, restoring her Hero Hoodie within seconds.

“Maybe.. We still have a chance to fight back…!” Mantis can rest for now as he restored his Hero Hoodie. He grabbed his Hero Duelies and stepped away from the DJ.

“Don’t give up, agents! While Callie is stunned, fight back to stop Octavio at all costs! I’ve got some singing to do!” Marie lowered her Hero Charger and started to sing her own single, Tide Goes Out. Sheldon steered the truck away from the action. There’s no point in interfering anymore.

“She’s right.. Let’s wrap this mission up, once and for all!” Phantom got into position as she revs up her six barrels of destructive power. Their mission is coming to an end, real soon.

DJ Octavio was furious about not only Callie, but Marie and the two agents. He has no choice, but to double the efforts in stopping them. “You will ALL pay for this..!! Time to turn up the heat, pronto!” The DJ released more ink bombs onto the battlefield, seeing if he can fool them again. One things for sure, that’s not the case. He is preparing to launch both golden fists.

Phantom and Mantis can’t be tricked, a second time. They separate each other, avoiding the explosion. Once they dodged, they were greeted by two large fist. The agents looked at each other and nodded as they fired at the two golden fists. They knocked them back and hit the ship with Octavio and Callie. The impact caused Octavio to fall out of his booth and landed near their feet. They didn’t waste any time to shoot him and knock him back to his seat in return.

“Gwaaargh!!” Octavio crashed into his ship from getting pelted by a barrage of ink. His head was spinning for a short moment until he shook of the dizziness. He glared at the two Inkling with rage in his eyes. “You two are as annoying as the last agent who defeated me!” Octavio couldn’t bare the thought of seeing Agent 3. It makes him sick to his stomach. He still wasn’t going to give up that easily.

The battle rages on for at least, a minute or two. In the background, Marie continues to sing her single, while Callie was singing hers. She is still in a daze until the corruption wears off. Agent Phantom took turns by taking care of the takoyaki bombs, while Mantis is covering her by fending off a golden fist or two. While they were in the middle of fighting, the music was turned off.

“Uggh… My head is spinning… Callie’s senses are coming back to her. It appears that Marie’s Low-Tide ink was a success. ”…Where am I? …What am I wearing?“ Callie was confused at first, until she realizes what was going on.

“It’s done..! Now, time to bring her back..!” Marie pulls out a boom box in her hand. With a press of a button, the music starts to play. “Callie, please remember..! This is the first song, we performed before we became idols..! That sweet melody…” Marie held it up in the air in front of her.

“The one.. and only…” Callie’s memory came rushing back to her as her eyes lit up. This is the same song that they performed at the Youth Singing Contest, back when they were children. “I… I-I remember, now!! Marie!!” Callie cried as she took the leap of faith over to the truck, where Marie is standing on. She was so happy, she hugged her cousin tight. “M-Marie.. I’m so sorry…!!” And then, she was crying over Marie’s shoulder during her embrace. She was happy, scared, and confused at the same time.

“It’s okay, Callie.. You’re safe now.. You had me worried…” Marie sobbed, happy to see Callie again after a whole week of her disappearance. She lets go of her embrace and she held her hands. “I’ll explain, later. Right now, my new agents are going to take care of Octavio for what he did to you.. Let’s do our part and restore the Great Zapfish, just like old times..”

Callie nodded, enthusiastically. She’s back to her bubbly personality as she stood straight with her cousin. “Whoever these new agents are, I’m counting on them! Let’s rock this town, Marie!!” The Squid Sister began singing Calamari Inkantation in order to shut off Octavio’s funky fresh beats.

“It looks like the Squid Sisters are back..!!” Phantom was happy to see them, reunited after so long. It’s just like old times. Suddenly, a Sheldon drone flew over her and dropped in a briefcase by her feet. Inside it, was the newly developed Rainmaker. “No way.. I get to use this…?!” Phantom has never used the Rainmaker, before in her life. She usually supports her former team to make a path.

“Yes, but there’s only one Rainmaker to use. One of them has to finish the job. I’m sorry.” The Rainmaker is fairly different than the old model. It shoots out a powerful orb of ink, instead of firing an ink tornado. Sheldon gave them a thumbs up in the driver’s seat as a sign of good luck. Even though the mission is coming to an end, he still has some research to do on his new hero-type weapons.

“Only one…? That means, I’m leaving Mantis, behind..” She looks over to Mantis with a worried look on her face. They cleared all kettles, together. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mantis, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me, kay? I’ll just hang here, until you take care of Octavio. We’ve got this far and we’re going to finish this, once and for all.” He gave her a reassuring smile, boosting her confidence. Mantis isn’t fond of using the Rainmaker, anyway.

After a lot of thinking to do, Phantom smiles and nods. Everyone is depending on her to beat the DJ and restore Inkopolis’s power supply. Too bad she’s going to keep this agent shtick, a huge secret from her parents but Fynn. The launch pad appeared in the middle of arena for Phantom to get on. “Thanks.. Thanks for everything..” She grins, happily before walking towards the launch pad and super jumped from here. She landed, safely on one of the two ink grind rails for the grand finale.

Octavio caught up to Phantom in the air in time to flatten her. He would soon head bang to the song from the Squid Sisters. Maybe, he’s a closet fan that Phantom doesn’t know about. Nonetheless, he threw the first punch.

Agent Phantom carefully aimed at the golden fist. She charged up her shot until she releases a huge blob of ink. She was caught by surprise of how the Rainmaker fires. She watched Octavio’s golden fist get knocked back and landed a critical hit on his own ship. “Awesome..” She stared at her own weapon in amazement. Sometimes, she has to expect the unexpected.

Octavio was knocked through a loop for a short period of time until recovered. “You’re a persistent little scamp, I’ll give ya that..! But this is FAR from over! This time, Inkopolis will fall by my hands!!” The second punch is indestructible than the first. He releases the drilling punch at Phantom. There’s no way to knock it back. All she could do is dodge.

“That’s easier said than done, old man..” Phantom jumps up in time, before the drilling punch could get to her. She landed on her feet and maintained her balance on the rail. This could continue for a few seconds.

Meanwhile, Tundra and Fynn arrived into the arena in time see what’s going on. The pink Inkling squints his eyes to see the fight from afar. “I can’t see, clearly from here.. I don’t know where my glasses went..?” Unlike all Inklings and Octolings, Fynn could barely see from a 100 yard radius. That’s why he uses either his contact lenses or prescription glasses to help him.

“I can’t get closer, but I’ll tell you what’s going on.. It appears that your sister is on the rails, carrying some kind of weapon… Don’t know what kind of weapon it is… I know that she’s getting the upper hand.” Tundra steadied her ship, steering clear from the Squid Sister’s performance. All they could do is watch from the sidelines. The battle continues on as Agent Phantom went toe-to-toe with Tundra’s ex-boss. On Tundra’s point of view, it felt like an hour long.

Octavio has had enough of her tendency to use him like a boxing punching bag. With all of his desperation, he launches both drilling fists at Phantom. “I’ll shatter you into pieces!!!” He said, as his fists charged at Phantom at top speed.

“Uh oh..!!” Phantom reacted in a surprising way, but it didn’t faze her. Not even a flinch. Phantom shifted from one rail to another and landed on her feet, maintaining her balance again. She’d noticed the next punch that Octavio just threw. She charges up her Rainmaker and delivers a final blow, knocking the fist back to Octavio once more.

“Cuuuurrseeeeeesss!!” Octavio shouts as his entire ship blew a fuse and he was falling down to the ground. As the entire ship crashed, Octavio was struggling to get out. He’s going to be defeated, twice by a new recruit.

Phantom notices the third grind rail being activated and she hops over to the left. She descends to meet Octavio for the last time. She could hear cheering from the Squid Sisters, Mantis, and even Tundra and Fynn. Earlier, she didn’t wish to be here in the first place. But now, she fought all the way to get here with Mantis. She leapt off the rail and was falling down on Octavio and his damaged ship. She managed to slam dunk onto the fallen DJ’s face by planting the Rainmaker as a victory.

“…This can’t be happenin’. I was supposed to win… It ain’t fair, yo..” As Octavio admits defeat, the ship is breaking apart. It suffered a heavy amount of damage and it’ll soon burst into one massive ink pile.

Phantom quickly got out as fast as she could before the inevitable happens. She ran up to Mantis in the nick of time to see the explosion. The entire ship gets bigger, and bigger, and bigger. Until the ship exploded in green ink with Octavio in it. “Get down…!!” Phantom pulled Mantis down as they ducked for cover.

Fynn watched the explosion from afar with Tundra. This scenario seemed familiar to him. He remembered watching the whole fight on national television, 2 years ago. He cheered Agent 3 on as the ship blew up into a huge pile of orange ink. History repeated itself as Fynn pumps his fist into the air and shouted: “Alright!!! Way to go, Phantom!!” His vigorous shouting startled both the Squid Sisters and Tundra. It appears that their mission is finally over.

The entire arena went quiet as Octavio was unconscious and falling down to the ground. There was no way he could survive that fall. Before he meets his doom, a large tail grabbed him in time and set him down, safely. The savior is a giant, electrical catfish that appeared in front of their eyes.

“Is… Is it over…?” The two agents stared at the Great Zapfish in awe. It wasn’t long until Sheldon lands the truck to meet the heroes with an unconscious DJ. They both turned to face the Squid Sisters, grinning like fools.

“Agent Phantom. Agent Mantis. I couldn’t thank you enough for not only you saved all the Zapfish and the Great Zapfish, but saved my dear cousin..” Marie smiles, happily. She was indeed crying from pure joy after the mission has ended.

“You two were super awesome!! I can’t believe, you risked your lives to save me! I am forever grateful!” The peppy pink idol gives them, a big huge. After their agents-to-idol bonding, Callie noticed the aircraft from above. It descended down and landed near everyone. Callie wasn’t going to be kidnapped, twice. So, she was getting on the defensive to get even. She may not have her Roller with her, but she can open up a can of whoop-bass.

The hatch opens up and Fynn climbed out of the saucer to see his sister, Mantis, and Callie. “Are you guys, alright..? I saw the whole thing with Tundra..” He was clearly talking to Callie, Phantom, and Mantis except Marie. Which she’s not in danger. He walks past Marie to meet Callie after so long.

“F-Fynn?! You’re here, too?! It’s been so long! The agents who saved are fine! So, how ya been?” It’s been months since she last saw Fynn. Of course, a friend of Lee’s is a friend of hers. She greets him with a big squid hug.

“My mind’s a bit fuzzy, but I’m fine.. I was wondering if you’re ok after breaking the trance.. I too, was brainwashed..” The arena went quiet as Callie wasn’t smiling.

“You too, huh..? To be honest, I was terrified.. I didn’t know, what to do or say anything about this… I was suppose to go with Marie in our hometown, but…” She lowers her head in sadness, not looking into Fynn’s eyes. “I can’t remember a thing, after that..”

Fynn felt the same way, when he was freed from corruption. After all the Zapfish he stole and one bruised up Inkling, he’s afraid if someone finds out that he’s the culprit behind it all. His reputation will be over, quickly. “Guess, we’re both afraid of something.. Now, that nightmare will be put to rest for a long time..” He looks over to see an unconscious DJ on the ground. He looks back at Marie and agents with a resting expression on his face. “Let’s take this outside, shall we..? I’m getting tired after a whole week.. Me and Tundra are going to carry Tavi into the saucer. We don’t know, what to do with him yet.” Fynn carefully pokes the large Octarian with his Herobrush. It wouldn’t be wise to tamper with a passed-out body.

“I guess, our work is finished. I really needed a vacation after this..” Marie agrees with Fynn for once. She took Callie’s hand and escorts her back to the truck. As for Phantom and Mantis, they hitched a ride with Fynn, Tundra, and Octavio. The DJ himself is really, a heavy sleeper.

20 minutes later…

They all arrived back to Tentakeel Outpost after short flight to the surface. The Great Zapfish has finally returned to his post and all the Zapfish went back to their homes. The lights in Inkopolis have been restored, once again. The rest will soon hear the good news from Off the Hook, first thing in the morning.

“There… I put Octavio in a snow globe to keep him contained.. Captain Cuttlefish hasn’t returned home with Agent 3, yet.. If he does, he’s going to have a stern talk with Octavio. I’m not leaving, until he comes back.. Callie will be staying with me for the time being until she goes back to work..” Marie rested on the bench, wiping the sweat off of her forehead.

“Now that we’re heroes, it would be best to keep this a secret.. I just want to return to being just Dawn..” Dawn was out of her hero gear and free to stretch. Her parka jacket is still worn out after several months. She will buy some new gear after the whole power supply is solved.

“Understandable.. I’m so happy that I collected enough data on all the Octarian vehicles and weaponry. But still, that was intense for me.” Mantis will never forget this new experience as an agent. He might use his improved skills to join Gale’s team as a 4th member.

Tundra looks over to see the DJ and back to Fynn. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess… I have a feeling that I’ll be in serious trouble.. Agent 7 suggested me to go down there to save you..” She has a bad feeling that Tundra still has head on the bounty.

Fynn shook his head in response. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know, you’re a Mimic Octoling because Unit 64 already told me.. It’s still an honor to be training with you.” Fynn gives her, a hug to cheer her up.

Tundra smiled a bit and returned the hug from her pupil. “That’s good.. You’re still on a long break from training, by the way. Also, I allowed Eris and Alex to stay in the dojo to clean up the place. It was a mess, when I got back.” As long as Eris deletes Tundra’s criminal record for good.

Dawn’s eyes were getting heavy as she yawned, but covered her mouth. She was spent after collecting all the Zapfish for 5 hours. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she realizes something important. “I have to get back to the apartment..! I’ve forgot that I was supposed to return home after I was done turfing. What time is it, anyway?” If Mom finds out about Dawn being an agent, she would be mad at her for going to Octo Canyon.

Sage checks the time on his phone. “It’s 8:15 pm.. Wow.. we’ve been out in the canyon for so long, we lost track of time. I should get back home, as well.. I’d hate to receive another lecture from my mom about staying out this late.”

“How about, I both take you home.. If Mom asks about where we’ve been, tell her you’ve been battling a lot until we pass out.” Fynn would get the feeling that his mom isn’t going to fall for that lie. Fynn turns back to look at the three ladies. “Hate to cut this reunion short, but I taking them home.. They’ve been through a lot like I have..”

Callie happily waves at Fynn, Dawn, and Sage. It’s good to be back after a week. “Take care, Fynn! We should hang out sometime, if I’m not busy with work! Oh! And make sure to tell Lee that I’ve returned. The cutie’s been feeling down, lately!"

Fynn doesn't go back on his word. He gives her an "OK" gesture. He hasn't heard from Inkopolis's wonder squid in a long time. He'll make sure to visit the Squidly residence, once he lays low for a while.

("Why does no one wants to hang out with me..?”) Marie was feeling, a bit left out. Maybe, she’ll invite Agent 7 over for some tea. “Once again, thank you for all your help. Staaaay Fresh.” Marie gives them, a smile before heading back inside to sleep. Callie went inside with her to relax. As for Tundra, she waves at the three before she returns back to her dojo. But first, she’s going back to Cephalon HQ to pick up Eris and Alexandra.

30 minutes later, Fynn knows the direction to Dawn and Sage’s new apartment. During his walk, he admired the new part of Inkopolis. Now that Inkopolis Plaza is less populated, he’ll be battling here. Once the whole mysterious figure footage dies down. Fortunately, no one cared that he used to roam through the night and steal all the Zapfish. They arrived at their after a lot of thinking. Fynn took the elevator to the 3rd floor. where Dawn and Sage lives as neighbors. As soon as Fynn was about to visit Dawn's doorstep, he noticed someone coming out of the apartment room. A flowing purple tentacle appeared in front of him, causing him to stare in shock.

"F-Fynn..?! Dawn..?!" Fynn's girlfriend, Eimie stood in front of his as she brought a hand to her mouth. "I-Is that really you..?" She was worried that Fynn will get corrupted, again after their encounter at their own apartment. Her boyfriend's eyes were no longer crimson and he wasn't wearing his Octoling Armor. Eimie placed a hand on Fynn's cheek, making sure if he's back to normal.

"Babe.. It's me.. I'm the squid, you've fallen in love with for 2 years.." Fynn held her close in his arms. He caresses her by stroking her back. "What are you doing here, if you don't mind?" He asked.

"Mrs. Sparks invited me over for some advice about parenting and stuff.. She asked me to pick Dawn up from the Square, but.. I don't have to go out, anymore." Eimie looks over Fynn's shoulder to see Sage. "And who's that, eh?" She asked.

"I'm Sage Evergreene. I'm Dawn's next-door neighbor and a new friend." He looks at Dawn and smiles and then, back to her. "We met in a Turf match. Not only she's a tough cookie, but she's cool to hang around. I was planning on taking her home, we ran into Fynn." Sage made a promise to never bring up their mission in Octo Canyon. Not anyone, including Gale.

"Ah, that's cool! I'll be sure to tell Cheryl, all about you! Thanks for taking her home!" Eimie and Sage, both shook hands before he was about to go back in his apartment.

Without warning, Dawn ran up to Sage and pulls him in for a hug from behind. She whispered: "I'll see you, tomorrow.. oKay..?" And lets him go from a 3 second hug.

"O-Okay! See you then!" Sage smiles with a shade of seafoam green on his cheeks. He waves, goodbye at the three before heading back inside. They've both gotten off on the wrong foot, but they've bonded until they've completed their mission.

Once Fynn and Dawn stepped inside, they were greeted with a deep hug by their mother. She was so happy to see her son after so long. "F-Fynn, my boy... Don't you ever have us, worried ever again..!! I received a call from Angie and the others.. They've been on a search party for weeks and there was no response..!! Where on earth have you been..?!" Cheryl continues to cry on his shoulder while Dawn and Eimie comforts her.

"It's a lot harder to explain, but... I've been away for a long time, thinking about my life choices.. I realized that my main purpose is to redeem myself from my past.. I'm sorry for worrying you, Mom..." Which is quitting his job as a dishwasher and focusing on making his own photography business. He embraced his mother for a long time until Cheryl decides to get to her room with her husband. As for Dawn, she was too tired to chill with the couple. And so, Dawn went to her room and rested on the soft bed. That leaves Fynn and Eimie by themselves to chat.

They took their conversation on the rooftop the apartment. They could see the beauitul city lights and one happy Great Zapfish from here. Fynn leans over the guard rail to get a better view. Now with his prescription glasses on. "Sure is one hell of a sight, ain't it?" He said, taking it all in. The full moon shines upon the two lovers, making it even more beautiful.

Eimie inches in closer to Fynn and snuggled up with her. "Mmmhm.. It's perfect.." Eimie rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. "Fynny.. I'm glad this nightmare is over..."

"Yeah.." He stood ther with his girlfriend by the rail for a few minutes to enjoy the view of the city. And then, something was on Fynn's mind. Despite a bit of fuzziness in his head, he remembered when Eimie mentions about starting a family. "Hey, um... Eimie. Can I ask you something?"

Eimie turns to Fynn, getting her attention. Whatever Fynn is asking, she's willing to listen. "Hm? What is it, babe?"

"When you said, you wanted to started a family.. While I was walking home with Dawn and Sage, I've been thinking about our future. I wouldn't mind having a loving wife and kids to raise.. I was wondering if you're serious as I am." Fynn is still 20 years old and hasn't learned anything about parenting, yet. And his mom just brought her over to know about being a parents.

"Fynny.. I'm super serious.. We've been dating for two years and I wanted to spend the rest of my days with you.. There's no denying it.. It's okay, we don't have to do it now. We still have a life, ahead of us." Eimie responds with a smooch on his lips.

Fynn closed his eyes and returned the kiss. They broke the kiss and he was so happy to hear. "I wanted to spend the rest of my days with you. So, yeah.. Let's wait for at least 5 years until we're ready to start a family.." With that said, Fynn and Eimie cuddled each for 5 more minutes until they decided to spend the night at Dawn's apartment.

Speaking of Dawn, she was laying in her bed the whole time. She was heavily exhausted from the mission. Dawn doesn't consider herself a hero, but she improved her battling skills to go into Turf Wars again.

Her eyes were getting heavy as she was about to drift off into a deep slumber. "Tomorrow's gonna be a fresh start...." With that said, the hero fell asleep. She earned it after becoming the saving Inkopolis from a severe blackout. With her neighbor and new friend by her side.

THE END

#agent phantom #agent mantis #plot: canyon conquest #that's a wrap!!#thanks for reading

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forceyourway · 7 years

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Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge

Day Four: “What element of the mother archetype might I benefit from taking into consideration?”

(Using Loki’s tarot deck, “The Raven’s Prophecy Tarot”)

Four of Wands - Rest. Being around my mother is exhausting, because she’s such an incredibly selfish and antagonistic person that you’re pretty much always forced to either defend yourself, or the poor soul she’s unloading on. I wish our relationship didn’t suck. Family’s important to me, so I’m always kind of reaching for whatever I can get. Usually, it goes poorly. I’ve only just started to tentatively poke a this, after a few years of just staying away from her. Thinking about whether or not engaging with her is worth it, whether it does more good for me than harm, even if she seems to have grown a heart lately. She still has a bad case of “empathy, what empathy,” but now she’s hanging around church people and going to church all the time, so some of their positive traits are rubbing off on her. She hates kids, but apparently she and her husband go play with low-income children with the church people every Wednesday, in spite of that. She seems to be swearing less, which makes her come off a bit less volatile? I dunno, the last few times I saw her, she didn’t insult me once (though she still has pretty much every -ist going for her, don’t get me wrong). It’s real weird. I’m kind of expecting it to wear off.

Mother - Needs, Trust, Love

Consider your mother (or other persons who served as a mother figure). What is your relationship with her like– what was it like growing up? Take note of any striking memories. How do you see her? In what ways do those qualities reflect in your life? Do you experience any resistance to your mother? Think about the things you don’t like about her, then ask yourself how you might demonstrate those qualities yourself. Consider the things you do like about her and what lengths you might go to to cultivate those qualities in yourself.

My relationship with my mother is, and was, strained. I have no good memories of/with her. When I was young, I used to pretend she wasn’t my real mom; I wrote a sort of mental Cinderella story for myself where she was the wicked stepmother.

I already mentioned that she wanted me to be someone else, by trying to dress me up as she liked, and by comparing me with other children in a mocking way. She was quite irresponsible, carelessly spending money that was mostly my father’s. If she was between jobs, it was entirely my father’s; that was a major point of tension between them. She liked to go out to eat and buy new things, and we ate a lot of steak.

She was frequently late when picking me up from school, sometimes 15 minutes late, or so late that I just walked home. This was always without apology. One day, I had a job interview, but for some reason, she needed to use my car. I told her about the job interview well ahead of time, but she still rolled in late. I was late for the interview, and needless to say, my interviewer was not pleased with that. I think she pretty much decided she wasn’t going to hire me, and only did the interview as a formality. Again, there was no apology - or any sort of acknowledgment - for this.

She used God as her trump card, despite not going to church the vast majority of the year. I think that telling me that I was going to burn in hell was her way of reassuring herself that she did nothing wrong. I had a lot of nightmares about that as a child, and they became recurring dreams that followed me even into adulthood.

In high school, her relationship with my dad deteriorated to the point that they were both locked in a never-ending screaming match. All day, every day, and increasingly vicious. Eventually, she just became this sobbing mess. I can picture her sitting alone at the dining table crying. She started slacking on cooking, too, which only pissed him off more.

I remember her kicking me in the ribs/stomach area once. I was on the floor in my bedroom, not sure why, and I suppose I did something to displease her. So she kicked at me, but very lightly, and clumsily, and immediately fled. There were a few other incidents like this, where she took a shot at me, but they were always equally clumsy, and she always fled. She knew that she was doing something wrong, then. I think she left so fast that she wouldn’t have to see my reaction, so she’d have the “positive” of hurting me without having to acknowledge that she did. She kicked the cat a few times like this, too, just cause. Not like he was doing anything.

I remember that when my sister was in middle school, she tried cutting herself (on the arms), and my mother was screaming at her about how she did it the wrong way, and basically she can’t even kill herself right. I was so pissed that I flew up the stairs and kicked the wall across from them. I made a hole where my heel hit. My mom then pretended that my dad made that hole, as evidence of his terribleness, and would keep referring to it as such. I corrected her every time.

After high school, I went to college in Canada to study Early Childhood Education. My then-boyfriend was from there. Originally, my plan was to go home and work for the Summer, then fly back before classes started; at the time, I didn’t have a work visa, so I couldn’t just work there. I think I lasted about two weeks with my dad before I ended up hospitalized for suicidal ideation. I was complaining to my then-boyfriend, and mentioned something or other about how I’d be better dead, something like that, and he called 911 on me. From Canada. I wasn’t hurting myself or anything, he just got scared. I was there for about a week before they released me. My mother’s reaction to this, I think she was texting me and I was home alone, and I didn’t respond fast enough?? so she drove over (obviously I was dead, or something), and started screaming at me about how she was going to have me committed again. She ended up backing me into a corner in my room, screaming at me, and I got around her and made to just straight up drive away. She got pissed that I was trying to leave, and was like, “No, I’M leaving!” and stormed off. I ended up driving straight to PA to hang out with my extended family for some time after this. Afterward, she threatened to call 911 on me many a time, pretty much any time I did anything that she didn’t like.

Negative Qualities

Superficial - Is very concerned with appearances, and having stuff. Literally any time I am around her, god forbid I have acne or some other visible flaw. She’ll start talking about it really loudly, and pretty much as soon as she sees me, god, don’t you ever wash your face?! She’ll do this to other people, too. It’s even worse if I’m out with her in public, where she’ll start loudly sportscasting whatever thing about me she didn’t like at the moment. Once I wore a pair of pajama pants to CVS. This was back when pajama pants were like fashionable all the time. No one knew they were pajama pants, but she made sure to change that. I think she does this to boost her own self-esteem and keep everyone judging us so they don’t judge her. And it paints a convenient picture of her as the poor, concerned parent who is just wants what’s best for their child, or something. & Me - I’m very much an aesthetic person; I like things to be beautiful. I get irritated when stuff doesn’t look how I want it to, and keep trying to express myself by surrounding myself with things. I see everyone else’s homes and rooms and all that, and they’re beautiful and reflect those who live there. Mine aren’t, so I feel inadequate, but I’m broke and don’t have much space of my own, so there’s pretty much nothing I can do about it. And I think everyone has more stuff than me (they do, but that’s not the point). I’m not real big on retail therapy, but if I’m really, really down, my instant pick-me-up always involves buying something; ice cream, or a new game, or something. I’m very, very particular about what I wear, too.

Self-centered - The world revolves around her. She relates to people in a “what can they do for me” sense, and assumes everyone is working against her. She has like no empathy whatsoever, unless she is feeling sorry for herself. Then the tears come. When I was a child, she would often assume my sister and I were verbally assaulting her when, in fact, we were not. “Hi, Mom” sounds like “Die, Mom” to her, and then comes the tears and self-pitying. She had a thing where every time I was on the phone, she’d start screaming at me about something. “Why didn’t you put your laundry in the dryer” or some kind of random bullshit. Anything she could think of. And when I started yelling back at her about how I was on the phone and she knew it, she’d go off about how badly I treat people, and that poor, poor person on the phone. & Me - I’m used to everyone being out to get me, so I’m quick to assume everyone’s out to get me. And usually, they are, but striking first just to strike first expedites conflict.

Dishonest and Immature - Literally makes up her own stories to fill in the blanks of things, and then immediately convinces herself they’re true. And then does that sportscasting thing mentioned above with them. & Me - A poor memory and passion about why a terrible thing is terrible makes resisting the temptation to embellish a thing. It’s really the memory that does this, but I feel like that’s a convenient excuse. “Well, I have memory issues, so-” yeah but just say you don’t remember. This ties in with “I don’t have a great outlet to vent my emotions so I’ll jump at the opportunity to talk shit about someone I don’t like.” Also, I tend to deflect and avoid direct confrontation in general, as a way to protect myself. I’m not real great at expressing annoyance/anger in the moment without, like, pouting.

Irresponsible and Entitled - When her accounting position required her to take online courses in pursuit of a degree, she kept asking me and my sister to do her homework for her, and threw a fit when we refused. I remember one weekend, we went to a lake, I think? and when we came back, she was whining about having to do homework, and, god, what’s wrong with these people? Don’t they have lives? & Me - I’m sure I have at some point blamed outside factors for a thing that was, in fact, my fault, but I’m really on top of this. I’m too self-aware to say I failed a test because the professor is a jerk when I didn’t study, y’know?

Positive Qualities

Cooking - She’s not so bad a cook. I like her food, generally, and she does try to make different things. Maybe there’s some hope for me after all. :’D

Fun-loving - When she took my sister and I to live in PA, we did a lot of fun things. We were going out all the time to play mini-golf, or go ice skating, or something. She seemed to think we’d get bored otherwise. Interestingly, I have no memories of her actually being there for any of this. I mean, she must have, but the total lack of memories I have from it is pretty telling. Actually engaging with us was not a concern of hers.

...and that’s all I’ve got.

#Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge #Tarot #Divination #Divination Challenges #@unwrappingthedivine #Suicide #Child Abuse #Animal Abuse #Animal Cruelty #Physical Abuse #Mental Abuse #Emotional Abuse #Christianity #Spiritual Abuse #Hospitalization #Self-harm

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