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artyrogue · 3 years

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Blind Date Gaming: The Addams Family

You all know PRANG, my Pseudorandom Number Generation matchmaker? Well, it recently gave me this weird questionnaire to try and set up a date more suited for my odd personality. I happily filled it out, hoping for a real connection to be made with my next game date. We fed it through the sketchy scantron machine attachment that somehow got grafted to PRANG's chassis and, after an ear-splitting buzzing that may have made me slightly deaf, the results were printed out. They dictated that I needed a real family game. I guess that triggered something special in PRANG, as it quickly flipped around and grabbed what I can assume totally wasn't the first title in its game list with the word 'Family' in it: The Addams Family!

Man, computers are too complicated for simpletons like me. Well, let's get datin' and see if this is a match! I started the game as what I can only imagine is a chubby, tiny clone of Gomez Addams. I mean, why else would all of the house decor be the size of 2.5 Gomezes? (Is that a unit of measurement? Well it is now)

He's small, but can jump like 3 Gomezes in the air! He's like the Jack Russel's of 90's characters

So you run around your house looking for sub-areas, throwing daggers that go about 2 Gomezes in front of you before disappearing. Enemies lurk at every step, and boy are they horrifying! Mostly in how crappily they are programmed and placed. Bats flap to your level and never deviate, pretty much ensuring you get hit. Ghosts constantly spawn and may be right on staircase tops, meaning you get hit as soon as a map loads. You can jump on some enemies to stun them but like you have no indicator what can and can't be given the ol' hop-treatment.

I'm not sure if this guy wants a hug or is holding a really heavy invisible box

None of this would be an issue if you didn't have limited ammo. From the get-go, your knives are all you have. In a boss fight and run out? Well, go commit suicide, because you can't do anything. Fun! The bosses are alright, though. Most are too easy, but they are definitely interesting. Like in one case, there's this bear that cannot attack you if you jump behind it. In another, the Grim Reaper's best weapon is spitballs? I feel like there's some lost lore here in the Addam's Family universe that needs fanfic-ing.

Still waiting for this model to be offered at Build-a-Bear Workshop

When you beat a boss, you rescue a family member and get a cool new item. Usually, they're weapons of some sort, but some instead help you to traverse the world. While this could have been a nice progression system, there's really only one place where this is required, and instead progress is tied to how many family members you have rescued. Only THEN do random doors in your own house become accessible. I think Gomez needs to install those doors with open-able locks that constantly prevent my toddler from dying alone from starvation in most rooms of my house because she doesn't know how to unlock locks she's already locked us out of.

Your gratitude is well-received, Lurch my man. But can we talk about what the heck some frozen water is going to do besides get my pockets wet in like 5 minutes?

There are also small potion powerup things that transform you into typical movie monsters, but none are really super-interesting. Regardless, I get through a bunch of ho-hum platforming levels, collect my fam, electrocute my brother some more (as is tradition), and make it to the final level! This level is akin to the final level in Super Mario Land 2 in that it is long, filled with neat traps, and pretty rough. I do like the decor, though, what with buzzsaws, unmarked falling spike chandelier things, and amazingly large guillotines.

I may be an Addams myself because these little death traps actually made me smile a bit. Very cute, level designers! I like your chops!

So after I boogie down his gauntlet of Super Meat Boy paraphernalia, I at last make it to the final boss's room. And he's...some...guy? This is probably a dude from the movie, but I haven't seen it in years, so I have no clue. But like legit all he does is stand, jump, and throw knives. Well, two can play that game! No really, I mean like, that's literally all I do, too. En guarde!

Oh hey, Troy McClure is in this game, too!

So we have the lamest version of the Dark Link fight from Zelda 2 ever and I end up on top. I save my wife from what appears to be some killer soup stock? Sorry honey, I won't get to experience your umami tonight, we gotta bury this businessman's corpse and stop Lurch from overheating the fridge's icemaker. Oh, but where are my manners, caramia? Let's catch that ending sequence first! What should we do with the rest of the Addams Family now that we have secured their freedom?

I like that, of all action verbs at their disposal, they chose 'throttle'.

Brilliant. Well, that was a quick jaunt. Not great, but also not horrible? I probably wouldn't try to date it again, but that's more because I feel I've experienced all it had to offer. Gomez should either find some super mushroom or hire a better home decorator who isn't a giant? But knowing the Addams Family, they probably know literal giants. Whatever, he probably need a stool to reach his toilet, but that is all his choice. As for you, your choice is whether or not to take this Sprite of Passage. (I'd say do it! You earned it!)

I feel like the manager made the enemy designer give him 2 pitchforks because he wanted the boss to at least appear SOMEwhat spoopy, but didn't have the heart to tell the designer to start over

BONUS: I feel like sharing this music track from the game because I think it's absolutely baller: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlTNNOeX-E0&list=PL5YdbMaKCdoiF4XkX-ac-4M9QU1UPjlmq&index=5

Also, because I am amazed that it exists, someone's piano cover of it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5XODMmPGh4

#blinddategaming #gameboy #addamsfamily

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ppaltagon · 5 years

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September - Yanan (pt. 3)

Part 3 out of 3; ~ 4.6k words

[Part 1]; [Part 2]

The days after spontaneously moving in with Yanan went by surprisingly fast, despite me burying myself in my studies. I was determined not to fail this class again – not because of my parents or because I was hoping they would take me in again, but because I didn’t want to look like a failure in front of Yanan. Though he assured me he didn’t see me as one, no matter what, I felt better about myself when I was studying instead of lazing around in my free time. He even offered to help me with it, though he had said previously that he was bad at business maths, but somehow he was able to explain to me the bits that I did not understand by myself. As for my living situation my grandma had contacted me a few days after getting kicked out. She had sounded super worried on the phone, more than I had ever experienced her worry before, and she had offered to take me in, because she couldn’t just let her granddaughter sleep on the streets. I hadn’t dared telling her that I was actually living with a young man, or she would have gotten a heart attack – and above all, a completely wrong idea. I remembered the story of when my mother suddenly didn’t come home anymore in her early twenties because she had moved in with her boyfriend at that time, who had turned out to be emotionally very unhealthy for her. She had never explicitly told me about that last part, but from the many stories I had heard about him from mostly my grandparents, it wasn’t hard to put the puzzle pieces together.

Understandably, my grandmother was traumatized after that, so I had spared her the unnecessary details that would’ve only lead her to believe the same was happening to me. I remembered her words after the phone call and arriving back from school that day, Yanan was waiting for me with a gentle smile on his face and two cups of coffee in hand. As I took the soothingly warm cup from him, I spent a while peering up at his beautiful face, probably a little longer than I should have as he cocked his head and raised his eyebrows as if asking me what I was staring at him for. I shook my head.

“Let’s go,” I said and started walking into the direction of his flat, with him following a few steps behind. I knew that he wouldn’t treat me badly, no matter what. I trusted him.

We took a little detour to go shopping for some groceries. I wanted to make proper dinner tonight, as a thank you for letting me stay with him. As we were walking home from shopping, bags in hand, I noticed he started humming a familiar melody, and it didn’t take me long to recognize the song. It was the same song we had already talked about briefly when dancing together and I decided to sing along a little. “...fighting against all odds, I know we’ll be alright this time…” Upon hearing my voice, Yanan looked over to smile at me, then started singing the lyrics as well. We walked like this the rest of the way, quietly singing together, and I couldn’t keep the broad smile from appearing on my face when I felt a sense of unity because of it.

Arriving home, after we put the food where it belonged in his kitchen, I cleared my throat to tell him that I had an announcement to make.

“Um… I talked to my grandmother today,” I started explaining and found a hint of an emotion in his expression that I could not interpret. “She said she would take me in. So I thought living with her might be smarter than continuing to freeload here…” I saw his face drop, but when answering he made sure to keep his voice stable.

“That means… you’re leaving…?” he quietly asked. I could swear he was disappointed, even though he did his best to hide that. I glanced over at the bundle flowers on the table, one or two of them starting to wilt slowly, and bit my lip.

“It’s better if I live with family,” I reasoned. Silence followed. Then he took one step towards me, then another one, until he stood right in front of me. Slowly, his big hands wrapped around mine and brought them up between us, his soft fingertips sending warmth and an almost electric feeling through my skin. Not daring to look me in the face he took a deep breath and called out my name.

“Stay with me for a while longer,” he asked and added after a short pause, “Please.” I watched as the features on his face changed slightly. Barely noticeable they went through all kinds of complicated emotions one by one, but I saw all of them, until his eyes finally met mine and for a moment those warm brown pupils loaded with all the emotions his face wouldn’t let show properly wiped all my thoughts clean and for a while I thought I could feel what he was feeling. And it almost ripped out my heart, clenching it and wringing it out, trying to drain it of all good emotions so that only pain was left. I didn’t quite understand that the thought of me moving back out brought him so much agony, but I understood that it did, and tears of sympathy started welling up in my eyes. I got a little closer and carefully wrapped my arms around his tall body, embracing him while leaning my head into his chest so I could feel his heart slowly beating against my ear. He too put his arms around me, holding me while leaning down so he could bury his face in my hair.

“Then I’ll stay… maybe it’s better if I avoid running into my mother for a while longer anyway,” I mumbled and felt him softly nod. My curiosity as to why he didn’t want me to go so badly grew, but I figured it would be better not to ask. So I made dinner as planned and managed to put a huge smile on his face with it, which made me feel relieved in return, and while he did the dishes as he insisted, I buried myself in studying once again. It didn’t take long until he sat down next to me on the ground, helping me solve the more difficult problems and praising me when I was able to get the answer right by myself.

“You’re really getting better and better!” he exclaimed, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Keep it up, you’re doing well like this!”

“You think I can ace the class next semester?” I laughed, thinking that would never happen anyway. However, he took a hold of my shoulders and answered in a completely serious tone.

“Yes. I think you can if you keep working hard like this.”

The following week I had my day off on Tuesday as usual and sat down to begin studying right after breakfast, but just as I was about to open my textbook, Yanan put his big hand down on it to prevent me from doing so. A questioning expression in my eyes, I looked up at him.

“You’ve been studying so hard non-stop. How about we use today to take a little break?” he offered.

“Like what?” I asked him, curious as to what he had planned.

“Well, we could go into town, do some window shopping if you like, get us some sweets,…”

“So like… a date?” I asked and noticed his cheeks lighting up immediately.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, turning away shyly. “If you want to call it that then it’s a date.” I chuckled and jumped up to take his hand.

“If you want to go on a date with me, then just ask!” I laughed at him, but added on a more serious note and in a way he couldn’t have possibly made out the words exactly, “I couldn’t say no to your handsome face.” As I went on to change into more suitable clothes in the bathroom, he remained standing there as if he was in shock, then silently muttering,

“Only my face…?”

As planned, we took the fastest way into the shopping district of my hometown and we went down the same street where my mother bought the dress for his aunt’s party for me. I sighed at the thought of my home and my family, and realized that after all, I missed them a little. Walking closely next to Yanan, the backs of our hands were bound to touch every now and then, until somehow we ended up holding hands and I couldn’t hold back a smile while passing by the big shopping windows and the colorfully flashing and blinking signs overhead.

“Found anything you want?” he asked me after a while.

“No, I’m just looking. I can’t afford anything here,” I chuckled back.

“I’ll buy you something,” he offered and I looked at him in disbelief.

“You can’t…!” I protested. He was already doing so much for me, I couldn’t let him buy presents for me as well.

“My relatives are rich, remember? And sometimes they spare me some of their… leftovers.”

“You saying it like that doesn’t make it sound shady at all, you know…” I remarked, causing him to laugh a little.

“Maybe it is shady. Who knows?” I raised my eyebrows at the answer, but he immediately denied it himself. “It isn’t, don’t worry. Me and my cousins just get a lot of financial support from them.”

“…then why does your cousin’s flat look so plain?” I wondered out loud. “If he has the money, shouldn’t he at least decorate his home accordingly?” Yanan let out a sigh.

“I’m not sure. I suppose he just doesn’t like all that colorful stuff around him all the time. His parents’ house is filled with decorations. Maybe he got tired of them. But that aside, my offer still stands. Let me buy you something.”

“Then…” I looked around carefully and found a street vendor selling candied fruit and pointed at his stand. “I want strawberries!”

“Huh?” Slightly confused, Yanan followed where my hand pointed, then let out a sound as he understood what I meant. “That’s not a lot though…” he commented.

“I don’t need much,” I stated. “But what I do need is my regular dose of sugar!” I laughed and we walked over there. Yanan bought two servings of the candied strawberries, all lined up on a stick and the smooth surface reflecting the sunlight coming from above. We decided to sit down on a bench nearby and after enjoying my first strawberry, I stared off into the distance for a while, getting ready to talk.

“Say, Yanan…” I started and had his attention immediately. “What do you do if there’s something you’re just not good at… or that just doesn’t work out for you, and you keep failing at it? Like, what would you do if you were in a situation like I am with that maths class?”

“Hmmm,” his voice resounded next to me while he was visibly thinking about how to answer, obviously aiming to pick the right words carefully. “I guess I just try over and over again, until it works out someday. I can’t keep failing forever.”

“You keep trying? Even if it takes years?” I asked, amazed by his answer.

“Even if it takes years,” he said, his facial expression determined.

“That’s a lot of dedication,” I remarked and took the next strawberry into my mouth. “Isn’t that draining?”

“It is,” he admitted. “Of course it can be draining.”

“Then why hang on? It has to be enough at some point…” But he shook his head, maybe with a little too much force.

“No. Not with everything. There are certain things I would never… I could never give up,” he stated, looking at something far off in the street, but I couldn’t make out what it was that he was staring at.

“Wow… what is that thing you would never give up, even if it takes years to achieve it? Is it okay if I ask you that?”

“It’s…” Yanan slowly let his eyes sink to the ground. “Nothing.” I couldn’t bring myself to believe that. But I hesitated to pose any further questions. He must’ve had a reason why he didn’t want to speak about it.

We both finished our snacks and I held out my hand for him to give me his wooden stick the strawberries had been carefully lined up on, so I could go and throw them away. Just when I was standing right in front of him and he passed it to me, I caught a glimpse of his tongue licking the remaining sweetness off his lips. Unconsciously mimicking his movement, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would taste like to kiss him with the flavor of the sugar and the strawberries still lingering. He slightly raised his eyebrows as he must’ve caught on to what I was thinking and he leaned back a little, holding out his hand to gesture I should come closer. Blushing and my heart rate speeding up, I leaned down to him and closed my eyes, waiting for him to make our lips meet. I heard him let out a soft laugh right in front of my face and a kissing sound, followed by the feeling of his fingers across my lips. I opened my eyes in disappointment and looked at him angrily.

“That’s not what I was hoping for…” I uttered, trying to hide my disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Let me do it properly,” he gave me a mischievous smile, but I wasn’t having any of that. Just when I was about to shake my head and straighten up, I felt his hand behind my neck. He pulled me closer so my lips landed on his, and as soon as I sensed the softness of the kiss combined with the sweet taste of the treat we just had, all my anger washed away immediately. When he released me, I remembered he was toying with me just a few seconds ago, so I awkwardly walked over to the nearby trash bin, not sure if I should still be angry or just let it slide. He too got up and approached me from behind.

“Let me carry your bag as an apology,” he said, but I refused.

“Leave it, it’s not heavy anyway. Also, I don’t want to seem like the evil girlfriend that makes her boyfriend do everything for her like a slave,” I answered and turned to look at his bright face.

“Oh, so we’re a couple now?” he asked, and upon realizing we hadn’t officially talked about our relationship status yet, I blushed madly.

“W-well…!” I stumbled over my words. “O-only my boyfriend is allowed to kiss me like that, y-you know-“ Before I could do anything else, he shut me up by leaning in and placing another lingering kiss on my lips.

“Like this?” he asked, whispering while the distance between our faces was still small enough that I could feel his breath on my skin while he spoke. As soon as he had taken a step back and I had time to breathe properly, I yelled at him.

“Since when are you so overconfident?!” He only answered with a sweet smile, looking to the side in his usual shy manner, confusing me even more. While reaching for my hand and intertwining our fingers, I could hear him mumble into a different direction,

“It’s all because of you.”

We got back from our little date in the afternoon after having lunch outside, which I couldn’t keep him from paying for me. I immediately went back to studying, and even though he tried to convince me to take it easy for the rest of the day as well, he understood that I would feel guilty if I didn’t at least revise the stuff I learned the day before. He sat down with me to see if I needed help with anything and come evening, we prepared dinner together and let the day come to an end naturally, both going to sleep in our separate spaces, feeling content with the successful day.

That night I woke up from one of my usual nightmares. I opened my eyes, the petrifying fear slowly letting go of me as I scanned the apartment shrouded in the dim light of the moon and stars entering through the thin curtains. When my pulse was back to a rather normal pace, I tried falling back asleep with the sheets pulled over my head, but somehow the unsettling feelings which the nightmare brought with it came back every time I closed my eyes and had nothing but darkness in my vision. Sighing, I eventually gave up and got my tired body out of bed, walking over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. But even then I couldn’t quite calm down, and on the way back to the couch, my eyes landed on the door to Yanan’s room. With silent steps I tiptoed over there and put my hand on the handle, before carefully opening it, trying to make as little sound as possible. His room as well was partly veiled in the moonlight and I could make out his figure lying on his side in the bed, peacefully sleeping. As I set one foot in front of the other, I noticed a book and loose sheets of paper lying next to him on the bed. Huh? Was he reading something? Getting a little closer, I recognized the cover, and letting my eyes scan the notes on the sheets and the highlighted parts, the realization hit me. I took all of it into my hands and recalled doing the first few calculations with him just a few hours ago, leading me to believe that the rest of the notes would be what I would study later on today. I looked up at him and his slightly messy hair and my chest filled up with warmth and thankfulness. He’s studying all that so he could help me with it… I carefully placed the study materials onto the floor next to the bed and crawled in, resting my body right next to his and placing one hand on his upper arm, that slid to his chest when he suddenly rolled over and opened his eyes a little. He gave me a confused look before he understood what was going on.

“I-is it okay if I stay here…?” I whispered. A sleepy smile curled up the corners of his mouth and he nodded barely noticeable. The next second, he put his arm around me and pulled me closer, so I was lying half on top of him. I lifted my head to look at his face and let him brush his fingers through my hair. The feeling in my chest from earlier appeared again, and this time it spread all throughout my body, and I smiled to myself when I finally realized what that really was. I brought my lips up to his and placed a gentle kiss on them, and again we locked eyes when we parted.

“I love you.”

His eyes grew wide upon hearing me say those words and I repeated them.

“I really love you.” With one hand behind my neck, he led me into another kiss, slightly tracing his thumb over my cheek while moving his lips against mine and our mouths opened slightly to deepen the kiss further.

For a while that felt like an eternity, but still far too short, just like back then in the pouring rain, I felt him close to me, closer than I ever thought I would. His gentle touches gave me nothing but reassurance, his soft lips exploring my body never failed to send shivers down my spine. With every little movement of his he poured in so much care, and I felt overwhelmed with love, that I did not want to let go of him ever again. And after that night shared in the dim moonlight, weakened by the swaying curtains, I wouldn’t see him the way I saw him before ever again. We both knew we’d cross a border we couldn’t just return from, and neither of us thought twice about the kiss that carried us somewhere different, and the connection that would bind our hearts together unlike anything else. And when I woke up in the morning, lying in his arms skin on skin, I knew I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The days living with Yanan passed by faster than ever. Sometimes I felt like they were flying away too fast, as if there was something we could lose, something that was waiting for us at the end. What end? As October progressed, the days got colder and the coffee he always bought for me while he was waiting for me to return from college was more appreciated than ever. I wanted to repay him somehow, but he just brushed it off, telling me in sincerity that he was content just having me with him. In the meanwhile, my grandparents tried convincing me to come back once more, but I wasn’t even thinking about returning to them. For now I was happy living together with Yanan and sharing my days with someone who I felt cared about me more than anyone in my life ever had. We started sleeping in the same bed regularly, and ever since then my nightmares had gotten fewer. And even if I woke up from one, having him right there next to me filled me with a feeling of safety and washed all other negative emotions away.

There was only one thing I noticed. I was probably interpreting too much since I was used to worrying more than I should. But still it made me think. As it got colder he would hug me more often, holding me longer than he had, and for some reason it had a hint of a sad feeling to it. When I asked him about it he insisted it was nothing, but still that lingering unsettlement didn’t go away, no matter how much I tried to make it disappear with reason. Until I came back from college late in the evening on the last of October. As per usual, he picked me up at the station, patiently waiting for me in the cold night. We held hands and walked home in silence, and from the way the air around him felt strange that day I vowed myself I would ask what was up with him these last days as soon as we got home. However, after we both took off our shoes and had put aside our coats, I looked at him standing there in the dark living room and a bad premonition came with the way he looked at me from a distance that felt bigger than it was.

“Don’t you wanna turn on the lights?” I asked, but he cut me off.

“Y/N, come here for a moment,” he said while doing a hand movement to underline his words. Surprised, I left the light off and approached him with unsure steps. He cupped my face with his big hands, movements careful as ever.

“I just…” he started a sentence and his voice broke off. He took a deep breath to collect himself while I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Yanan, what’s wrong with-“

“Shhh.” He put his index finger in front of my lips. “It’s okay.” He looked at me fondly while his voice carried a deep sadness, but in his brown eyes looking directly into mine I found nothing but warmth and love. “Remember what I told you back when we first got to know each other?”

“What do you mean?” I whispered back.

“I said I was from both the past and the future.”

“What about it? Wasn’t that just a story you came up with?” The confusion started tying knots in my brain and thinking about it became painful. He shot me an apologetic smile but didn’t further answer my question.

“I just want you to know that I am thankful I got to know you,” he said.

“Stop it, Yanan! This feels like you’re breaking up with me!” I shouted, and he took a strong hold of my shoulders.

“That’s not what this is. It really isn’t, please believe me,” he explained as if pleading that I would understand. Then he added more silently, “I would never want to leave you.”

“Then what is it…?” I dared to ask, preparing myself for all kinds of wild reasons, but getting none of them in return.

“It’s the same thing that always happens on this day when the clock hits midnight…” he said, giving the one hanging in the kitchen a look. I knew it wasn’t long until then, but I didn’t want to know how long exactly. “I’m so sorry I’m doing this to you over and over again…” he then muttered.

“What do you mean by ‘this’? Please tell me! What is going on?” I begged him, taking a hold of his shirt and clutching the fabric in my hands.

“I can’t explain it well either, but… let’s just say I need to move on.”

“Move on? From what…?” Was this about… the dimension thing he mentioned when we first sat down and talked? Was that all… real? He shushed me again while slightly shaking his head. His hands wandered to behind my back and I let him pull me close. I felt like crying but the confusion wouldn’t let any tears come out. Instead I felt his hand starting to slowly pet my head, and focusing on just his touch as I closed my eyes, I calmed down a little. Holding each other tightly, some time passed until he whispered right next to my ear with a clear voice and unmistakable words.

“Please… continue to do well, as you’ve been doing up until now. I know you have the strength within you. And thank you. Thank you for lighting up my life. When I first came to this town I really didn’t like it. I felt like a stranger among all those people I’ve never seen before. But then there was you. You made my days a little brighter. You brought me joy and a reason to look forward to the next morning. So thank you. Thank you for letting me love you.”

Having said those words he could never say enough, he couldn’t hold back the tears that had welled up in his eyes any longer. As if she wanted to comfort him, she wrapped her arms around him more tightly. Even just that little gesture of kindness made his heart overflow with warmth. As he was embracing her tiny body and a bitter but thankful smile formed on his lips, his eyelids fell shut and the clock hit midnight.

It was the 30th of September. He set foot into the cursed town in the early morning hours and made his way to the station where he would get a bite to eat and then wait to bump into her by the staircase to platform B, just as he had done so many times before in the past, and would continue to do for who knows how long in the future. But for now, he still had some time, so with his take-out coffee in hand, he leaned against the brick wall of the station building and sighed, unbuttoning his long brown coat with his free hand. It was unusually warm that day.

~Admin Salty

#universe net #pentagon #ptg #yanan #pentagon yanan #oneshot #fluff #angst #pentagon oneshot #pentagon fic #pentagon fanfic #pentagon scenarios #pentagon drabbles #pentagon imagines #pentagon angst #pentagon fluff

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hellospunkiebrewster · 6 years

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Unconditional - Part X of Duty

Author’s note: Well this is it, the last bit of this story. Thank you so much for sharing it with me and encouraging me through it all. I hope you love it, I was certainly an emotional disaster as I wrote, proofread, and edited the whole thing and it’s been something I knew was coming for a while. I can’t wait to keep my creative juices flowing with another idea, a few juicy prompts you all provided me, and of course Portraits of In-Between. If you’re new or missed something along the way, you can catch up here:

Part I: Déjà Vu - Part II: Hopelessly Cold - Part III: Bitterness - Part IV: Rage - Part V: Promises - Part VI: Oath - Part VII: Dysphoria - Part VIII: Toska - Part IX: Credence

Summary: Twenty years later, before the first event of her first social season, Ellie is surprised by a letter as she relives the events after her father died.

Word count: 2255

Tags: @queencatherynerhys, @theroyalweisme, @pbchoicesobsessed, @mfackenthal, @crayziimaginations, @boneandfur, @madaraism, @lizeboredom, @gardeningourmet, @hopefulmoonobject

Twenty years later.

A beautiful woman sits at her vanity near a palace window, her hair cascades down her shoulders and back, shining and dark. She turns her face to the mirror for but a moment and catches her grey-green eyes in the reflection. Just as quick, she looks at a picture on a side table briefly taking in a portrait of a family she barely remembered existed. Her father, from what she had been told, was a man to be inspired by, gentle and strong, profound and kind. It was a tall order to live up to. She turns an envelope over in her hands; it had been found here tucked among her things when she arrived to get ready for the night’s festivities. Only her name marks the creamy smooth surface, a name only her family and closest of friends call her:

Ellie.

The envelope is old for certain, it’s slightly yellowed at the corners. Her name is written in handwriting she does not recognize. The letters are formal and beautiful, as if done by a professional calligrapher. She knows who the sender is though. She flips the envelope over and pulls at the wax seal, navy blue embossed with a lion’s head. The old wax makes a snapping noise as it separates from the heavy paper of the envelope. Her hands are shaking lightly as she takes a deep breath and slips the paper slowly from the papery sheath. It’s every bit as thick and heavy, but filled with her father’s words.

My dearest, sweet Eleanor,

Tonight I find myself enthralled, unable to move from the side of your bassinet. It is deep into the night and your mother sleeps beside you; I am instead compelled to write to you. You’re much too small to understand the feeling behind what I wish to say but I hope these words find you one day just as you’re about to embark on a wonderful new adventure in your life.

My daughter, Ellie, you are my heart and my breath. The very things that keep me moving forward towards a stronger, more peaceful world. I wish to be a force of change in our still traditional and sometimes harsh country, to lay the foundation for you to bring Cordonia into the future. Our duty as monarchs is not ever easy nor painless, but it is a lovely thing to feel so connected and married to such a beautiful people and place as this country.

Ellie runs her fingertips over the words, feeling the tiny indentations in the page. She glances over at the family portrait once again, looking this time deep into her father’s eyes. She could almost see him in their room, watching her and her mother sleep, the silence blanketing them punctuated by the scratch of his pen.

She didn’t remember much of her own of her father, just tiny wisps of moments here and there from her early childhood. She recalls his handsome face as they hid under blankets in the living room and the feel of his arms around her after she’d scraped her knees tripping in the gravel of the hedge maze. She’s tried before to remember for herself just the type of man he was, but he always escaped and eluded her. Instead, here he was in this letter all these years later, before her first social season. Before she must select a man who she will marry, for the sake of the very same country he so loved. That she loved. She fiddles with the corner of the letter, bending it back and forth with her thumb.

Everyday, your smile is the most profound thing I’ve ever seen. It simultaneously fills me with this unconditional love and tears me apart. I hope I’ve been enough for you, I’m new to this whole father thing and I find myself wondering if I deserve those innocent smiles. My greatest regret in life would be to fail you.

Ellie feels the love behind every word, every letter, every stroke of his pen. Her vision blurs and she can’t read any more. She takes a deep breath and busies herself in her jewelry drawer, selecting a single strand of pearls to wear tonight. It isn’t anything fancy or regal, but she remembers the shine in her mother’s eyes when she gave it to her. The largest pearl had been a gift, a promise, from him, at a time when they thought they might never be together.

On this momentous day, I have little to offer in terms of advice but to follow your heart. Many will encourage you to find the most advantageous union, that love comes after, but in my experience love can overcome all obstacles placed on it. There is no ocean too vast or mountain too high to keep you from the one you love. For me, that love is and always will be your mother. It was never easy for us at first, but that hardly mattered to us, what mattered was each other.

She has kept me from losing myself to the rigors of my duty. She brings me back from the darkest places of hopelessness. The crown is not an easy thing to bear and a politically fueled marriage will bring you treaties but it may not bring you complete and true happiness. There is nothing in this world I wish more for you than that.

Ellie heard her parents’ love story on more than one occasion and knew about how they had been kept apart but managed to find each other again. They loved each other fiercely and her mother still did, even though her father was taken from them entirely too early. She had never truly moved on. She had suitors, for sure, a young Queen mother was a prize for single noblemen. The thought of the possibility of a child in line for the throne was a lamb lost in a wolves’ den to them, tantalizing and juicy. But her mother rebuffed all propositions. She had instead found something more unique and at times quite difficult and complicated with their mutual friend, Drake Walker.

Ellie mulls her own relationship with her Uncle Drake over. She has fantastic memories of her childhood with him: fishing trips, camping, movie nights, and skipping out on courtly events. She remembers how he looks at her mother, like she is the only person who possibly matters on the entire planet, like his love for her transcends everything she had ever gone through, including a marriage to his best friend. Drake often spoke about her father as if they were brothers, even if the blood relation was not there. There was a deep history that he would never share with her, one her father never could.

There really wasn’t a word for what her mother and Drake had. They loved each other and needed each other deeply, but it wasn’t always necessarily romantic. It was as if they clung to each other because they had experienced the greatest loss of their lives and they were the only ones remaining on earth. The companionship, the need to feel another’s arms around you, the press of someone’s lips, the feeling of bare skin against your own drew them together. They were soulmates in a way, with a deep mutual understanding and respect between them. Ellie knew it never was the same as the immense passionate love her mother and father shared.

Drake was happy so long as her mother was safe and happy, even if it was in the arms of his best friend. It was gut-wrenchingly tragic and so breathtakingly beautiful. It was something more than friends but less than lovers, an odd limbo. They had both been so broken, they weren’t sure they were capable of anything more.

There had eventually been pressure for a marriage between the two from friends and family, but it was a step neither of them were ever prepared to take. Instead, they found comfort in every conversation, every touch, every moment they spent together. Drake wasn’t made for courtly life. He’d tried for her mother on a few occasions, to disastrous results. She needed his support though, to keep her from being swallowed whole by her duty as Queen mother. It could’ve destroyed her, but he brought her back to herself, much like she brought her father back to himself.

Bear in mind, however, dearest Ellie, that no one person will ever be truly worthy of you in my eyes. You outshine the sun and the stars and I know one day you’re going to amaze and excite us all, exceeding everything we’d ever hoped and dreamed for you. Please, enjoy your time during this social season, but with the knowledge that the flashiest or richest suitor might not be the one who will be able to withstand the demands duty places on a relationship. Strength of character is far more important and can’t be taught.

Unequivocally and unconditionally yours,

Liam

Ellie thought she would manage to keep herself together through the letter after the close call earlier, but seeing her father’s name at the bottom of the page broke her down in the most visceral way. She spent so many nights of her life dreaming to have just one conversation with him and here he was, right on this page, imparting his wisdom. Her one wish as she grew up was to know him and instead all she had was stories and tiny ghosts of memories. Seeing his words, in his hand, on this page, is suddenly too much. She didn’t know how she could ever live up to his expectations, to his beautiful words. Her father was truly a man of great integrity, passion, and honor.

Her eyes well up to their capacity and tears drop to the letter. She quickly dabs them away before they’re able to harm her father’s words, his testament to her, when she was barely a few months old.

She carefully folds the old paper, and slides it back into its home, the perfectly yellowed envelope. In the silence, she slips it into her vanity drawer, among other heirlooms her mother and grandmother have given her. She closes her eyes and conjures her father’s smile before her as she internally wishes to find a love as fervent as her mother’s and his.

Ellie rises from her seat by the vanity and wanders to her closet where the gown for tonight’s masquerade ball hangs. She finds herself questioning whether her father would’ve approved of the slightly revealing, plunging neckline. Probably not. She wishes he were here to tell her he didn’t. On a shelf next to it sits a golden lion mask.

Her hands slide over the fabric of the golden gown and the delicate embroidery over the bodice, when a small knock sounds at her door.

“Come in.”

Her mother is still every bit as beautiful as she is in the family portrait by the window, only perhaps a bit more wiser than she was when it was taken. Instead of an air of naïveté and raw determination, she exudes confidence and poise.

“How are you feeling Ellie? I know how I was feeling before this event and I didn’t even have the weight of a country on my shoulders.”

“Surprisingly, calm.”

Her mother smiles and a tiny chuckle escapes her. “You’re every bit his daughter. I have no idea how he remained so calm in the face of so much, time and time again.”

“Well, he gave me some advice.”

“You two always did have a perfect understanding of each other.” Riley crosses the room to her daughter, placing a hand on her shoulder. Tears shine in both of their eyes. Riley wishes she could read what he said to her, but knows those words are for her alone.

“Would you like some help getting ready? We don’t have much time before the receiving line.”

Ellie nods and her mother reaches for the gown, unfastening the closure at the back. Ellie slips into it, pulling it over her shoulders and lifting her hair so her mother can fasten it. They both pause, looking at her reflection in the full length mirror. They speak at the same time.

“How can I even live up to his memory?”

“Your father would be so proud.”

Ellie smiles weakly. “I just want to do him right, to honor him with my actions.”

“Trust me, you already are. Your father loved you so much, you were his everything. Just being you is enough.”

Ellie finishes getting dressed by putting on the necklace and slipping into her shoes before grabbing her mask from the shelf. As her mother and her leave the royal suite, they’re greeted by Drake making his way towards them. He’s dressed in formalwear, a concession he’d made long ago to her mother.

“I just had the pleasure of meeting a couple of these suitors.” He spits the last word out, sarcasm dripping from it. “Who exactly selected these clowns?”

“Careful Drake,” her mother warns him, a smile playing about her lips, “I’m sure people were saying similar things about me at some points of the social season.” She leans into him and presses a soft kiss to his lips, quick but sweet.

Ellie and her mother take their places at the foot of the palace stairs. The large front doors swing open and Ellie can see the suitors lined up with their sponsors just outside. A royal herald begins to announce names she’s vaguely heard before, but she’s not entirely paying attention. Her mind is instead with her father’s words, tucked away in her vanity drawer.

#playchoices #play choices #the royal romance #trr #choices fanfiction #trr fanfic #drake walker #king liam #eleanor charlotte #duty #i'm sorry #literally crying as i post this

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parabellum-rpg-archive · 5 years

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Congratulations, Hannah! You’ve been accepted to play Piper Moreau. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin note: Hannah...are you sure...that you’re name isn’t actually Piper Moreau??? You get her in and out and I absolutely am in AWE at how well you were able to understand her character/understand her weird/fucked up justifications. I cannot WAIT to see you portray her!! - Admin J

CHARACTER DESIRED Piper Moreau

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS

I usually like to go on and on in these sections, but I have to be brief since I have officially 31 minutes (yikes!!!) to get this whole thing submitted.

At first, I was very torn between Piper and Penelope. I love playing bad bitches, and they both are, but they are both very different, which is something I get to a bit in my para sample. Penny is all ice, and Piper is all fire. I always play ice queens, though, so I wanted to venture a bit outside my comfort zone. What drew me to Piper were her deep-seeded problems. As soon as I read her bio, I could see the daddy issues, the identity crisis, the jealousy, the “I break everyone’s heart to forget my own is so broken it can never be repaired.” She is complex and complicated, and I L O V E characters like that.

I really love her relationship with Penny and I’m excited to (hopefully) explore her relationship with the whole Sinclair family. For her, the legacy is just something else for Penny to hold over her head, something else Piper wanted that Penny got. I think Piper feels like that is the story of her life, and she cannot move on because she is fixated on Penelope’s life. I think deep down (like, deep, deeeep down) she does want to be happy. But as long as she stays here, watching and obsessing over every move Penny makes, she can never be happy.

I also really like the dynamic with Jackson. (He has a ring for her and she doesn’t care lmao omg also kill me.) In some way (some sick way), I think she really wanted to recreate what Penny has with Morgan. The only way Piper can “defeat” her sister is by one-upping her. Unfortunately, a life with Jack was never going to yield that result. And she never really let her guard down for him, never let him penetrate her heart (is that even humanly possible? Does she even have a heart? Lol maybe not). I actually think Piper got some pleasure out of breaking his heart, mostly just because she could. She has only been second fiddle to Penny, so for someone to love her that desperately, it gives her some semblance of power, and she is literally desperate for that because she feels so entirely powerless. It’s why she “thrives” on the drama of the Jack situation, she likes to keep stringing him along just to keep breaking his heart because it gives her some kind of control. This little brat baby is sick in the head (and the heart) okay. Sorry Jack.

Finally, she reallyyyyy struggles to make friends. She is a very unpleasant person. She can pretend to be whatever she needs to be, but deep down, she does not have anyone she considers herself close to. Maybe eventually (please God) someone can break through her defenses, but she’s been building them up since childhood (if Penny was your sister and cut you down at every opportunity, you probably would too amirite). She keeps herself surrounded by people a lot, but nobody ever penetrates her.

WRITING SAMPLE

Any other woman would have looked unkempt. A mess of tangled red curls lay haphazardly on bare porcelain shoulders. Her eyeliner was too dark, smudged underneath and her lipstick was a dark crimson. But this was a look was one Piper had spent years perfecting, and it was what she built her reputation on. They called her a femme fatale – or, at least, that was her preferred public nickname. The tabloids, of course, called her any number of things on any given day: sometimes tragic trainwreck, other times social pariah, but most often they made some reference to her maneating ways. It was no secret that Piper’s favorite meal was the heart of a man, served up just how she liked her revenge – cold.

It was only 8 o’clock, but Piper was already nursing her seventh martini. Or was it eight? Truthfully, she had lost count. She may have been slumped against the bar, but the way that black dress clung to her curves hardly came off as desperate. (Or, at least, that’s what she told herself.) It was not uncommon to find her here, though tonight was a bit earlier than usual; she usually graced this bar with her presence on weekends, when the ultra-rich playboys came out to play, but it was only Thursday. Tonight, it seemed the crowd only drew obnoxious college kids trying to look sophisticated and sad housewives with their husbands’ credit cards. If anyone asked, she would have blamed it on the hellish week she’d has. After photo sessions in Milan, Paris, and Athens all within four days, any girl could use a night of drinking. But the truth? The truth was her sister had been in her penthouse the moment she walked in (of course the bitch had a key) and has unceremoniously announced the engagement of her daughter to some other mob royalty. Penny was chipper, but distant, and much like their mother, was clearly impatiently expecting some kind of specific response from her baby sister. Apparently, Piper hadn’t made enough effort in hiding her look of disgust at the news (not that she had tried particularly hard). Penelope flinched, but quickly recovered; God forbid the frigid bitch ever show any real emotion. The only one she was ever loose with was her rage, but Piper could match her fury…and then some. It was the only trait the two shared. Her sister’s eyes narrowed, and Piper braced herself for the hell to come.

Though they shared a kinship of rage, the two women expressed it differently. Piper was all fire: red hot, short tempered, and quick to curse anyone to hell the moment they lit her fuse. Penelope, though, was all ice: she was calculated, devious, and never showed her hand. The elder Moreau had always told her sister she was all bark and no bite, whereas Penelope may bite her tongue, but she ruined lives. It was one more thing on the very long list of reasons Piper resented her sister; the woman always delivered on her threats.

“Not even the illusion of excitement or happiness for your niece?” Her tone was flat, but Piper knew the worst was yet to come. No one knew how to dig the knife in quite like Penny. “I am disappointed, but I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s hard to be happy for someone when they have the one thing you’ve always wanted. And will never have.”

The words fell so effortlessly, and yet the pain scorched her insides like nothing she had ever experienced. Piper’s muscles tightened and her jaw clenched. There was nothing that ached like the pain of being unloved – and worse, living with that reality while forced to watch your sister, of all fucking people, get it from everyone. But the cherry on top of it all was the fact that Penelope never missed an opportunity to rub it in. Salt in the wound.

“Isn’t Paisley a bit young to be tying the knot? Don’t tell me. He knocked her up.” She was scrambling, frantically looking for any weapon in her arsenal to wound Penny, to keep herself from showing how deep her sister’s words truly stung. It did nothing, of course – Penny never dropped the cold smirk.

“Young love. Seems nothing can stop it. Not that I’d expect you would know anything about that.” Another jab. God, Piper could use a fucking drink. “We are having an engagement party this weekend. I spoke to your assistant and she said you had nothing booked. We expect to see you there.” She was grabbing her purse now, not seeming to notice how Piper’s face paled. She was sure she’d be emptying the contents of her stomach as soon as the bitch walked out the door. Penny was just about to open the door when she paused, briefly turning to face her sister again. “And Jack will be there. Don’t cause a scene. I know you thrive on the drama of it all, but this will be a dignified affair.” Penelope gave her a once over, scrunching her face. “You should buy a new dress for the occasion. More sophisticated, less…street corner. God knows you can afford it.” That final snippy comment was the only one that gave Piper any pleasure from their entire exchange. Despite the fact that Penny had more money than God, it still got under her skin that Piper was the one with the entirety of their family’s fortune. Penelope may have gotten all their love and attention as a child, but Piper was the one who ended up with the fruits of their labor.

“I’ll do my best. I’m sure my stylist can find something you’d approve of – I’ll just tell her frigid bitch is the look I’m going for.” Piper should have known better, but she never could help herself. Aimlessly looking to say something, anything, that could get under her sister’s skin. Instead, she was only met with that smirk turning into a smile.

Her hand was on the doorknob now, and Piper could almost taste the fresh air that would certainly fill the room once Penelope left. But Penny would be damned if she would let her little sister get the last word in. “You truly are pathetic, you know that? So desperate to have what I have, you practically glow with envy when I walk into the room. I always thought it was pitiful, how you seduced my husband’s brother as though you could reach any kind of semblance of what I have. You can’t. You never will. You are weak, and the only thing authentic about you is your identity crisis. You are desperate to be me, and that is why you hate me. But I want you to know this,” she paused, and Piper was sure she hadn’t taken a proper breath since the first word fell from Penny’s lips. “I go to sleep every single night on silk bedsheets next to a man who loves me more than sharks love blood, and I don’t even think of you.” The last part was almost spat, and Piper felt as though she was bleeding out – a fatal wound.

And that was how she ended up here. Once she gathered herself – a few hits of coke had helped – she made her way here. Her driver had been directed to “the closest damn bar open the latest.” A cocktail of alcohol and drugs were now coursing through her system, and she could only hope that it was enough to help her forget; help her forget that everything her sister said as she walked out the door was absolutely right.

Finally, a group of businessmen had entered the bar, apparently on a high after a good day in the market. She wouldn’t admit it – not to anyone, and least of all herself – but she was desperate to feel loved, and she needed a man’s hands on her, reminding her how beautiful and perfect she was. She needed anything to wipe her sister’s words from playing over and over again in her head.

It only took a few seductive looks, a finger swirling the rim of her drink, and her tongue tracing the bottom of her lip for one of the younger men in the group to notice her and approach.

The man had dark hair and the hint of a five o’clock shadow. He had money, or at least, made a serious effort to appear as though he did. She barely even noticed what he said as he sat down, but she didn’t have time for foreplay.

With one hand she grabbed his lapel, and with the other she grabbed his thigh, enough to make his breathing hitch. On his left hand, she briefly noticed a tan where a ring should be, but Piper didn’t give a single fuck about his status.

“What do you say we get out of here? Now.” She smiled with her teeth, satisfied that though all else may fail in her life, her siren call was not one of them. Another one bites the dust.

#accepted

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beyondthetemples-ooc · 7 years

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....Gods... I forgot how intense that book is.

(tl;dr Bruiser, by Neal Shusterman, is one of my favorite books in existence, for many of the same reasons that Raven is my favorite character, and it’s an incredible rarity, and a treasure, and all too emotionally real.)

(( also, NTS: I really, REALLY need to write Neal a letter about this book, and how important and powerful it really is.))

Last week, I’d ran out of new books to read-- books that weren’t related to linguistics anyways, which I don’t currently have the emotional or physical capacity to focus on, so the Finnish and Italian grammar would have to wait.

So sometime last week I decided: I couldn’t spend money on new books, and I didn’t feel like reading comic books. But on breaks, at bus stops, and when bored of socializing: I need something to read...

...so I decided, re-reading. I’d re-read a favorite. And Bruiser was my best option.

I’ve always loved it-- to be honest, I loved it simply for the fact that it’s about an empathic healer. An EMPATH character! In a NOVEL! How often does that happen?! Nearly NEVER!

And put to Neal Shusterman’s questions about morality, emotions, humanity, and a storyline that digs its hooks in your heart and just refuses to let you go... It’s beautiful.

It’s not often a book can nearly bring me to tears. It’s not often I feel too deeply for the characters to stop caring the moment it’s closed. Very few authors are capable of putting me in touch with my own emotions to the point where my mind spins and those long-closed-off depths, re-open for me.

And it is a very, VERY rare scenario that, upon a RE-read, my fingertips tingle and that static builds in me to the point where, when a cat clambered up to my side to be pet, I shocked her with static. Repeatedly.

( ^ That’s not unusual when emotions happen, by the way. Belle seemed very determined to press against me and make me pet her until I lifted from that deep, dark fog of sympathetic, empathetic pain and plotpoints and personal rapport... but her poor ears, nose, and tail were zapped a few times in the process.)

...It’s emotion that’s WORTH exploring though, I think.

Especially since... You know how, every time you revisit something you’ve experienced before, you notice more, and more, and more of it? For books this is very true. And I think this is only my third, or fourth time re-reading it; at least in its entirety, I honestly forgot how many times I’d read it when i had it from the library, I’m pretty sure I reread it sections at a time... so I’m sure there are sequences I’ve read ten, twenty times by now.

(I’ve long lost the paper I wrote on to record the page numbers and passages that meant the most to me... and maybe by now, it has even CHANGED.)

See, the thing about this book is that, for me: it’s PERSONAL. It’s RELATABLE. There are so many things-- so many finely-tuned, situationally-specific, unique and individual THINGS that made this book so well worth reading over, and over, and OVER again. Messages that needed to be spoken into my life. People I needed to consider. Concepts I needed to wonder about.

And all of its woven with such beautiful intricacy and layered HUMANITY, that I just...

....I appreciate this book so much, because everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING in it, is important to me.

~ I had a feeling from the very beginning of the book that he was an empath. ~ And a healer? A healer! ~ LOOK, AN EMPATH WHOSE “ABILITIES” AREN’T CONFUSED FOR TELEPATHY! OR PORTRAYED AS BEING CONVENIENT. ~ the intricacy of both the injured and the healers’ mindsets being involved in his healing capacity??? ~ seriously the way he writes Brewster’s empathy is scarily similar to mine. ~ the whole Familial Divorce thing. ~ Emotional escapism. ~ having to turn off his own ability to Feel and Care to SURVIVE with it. ~ “What would they do if they found out” ~ “i HAVE to keep my distance from them” ~ “it’s not just physical. it’s EMOTIONAL TOO” ~ That isn’t fair to him. ~ It isn’t fair to make him deal with all our problems FOR us. ~ So what if he seems to like it and is determined to save us from it? ~ We have to own and handle our own problems, too!

Just...

.......i have a weakness. (...many. But...) Compassionate to a fault. Humans, animals... sometimes plants. I’ll take what I can; endure their pains for them; heal them because I can, and on some level I NEED to, not because I want to. And I do want to, too, but, I can’t always; my own stability is at stake, and I just.... have so many limits.

I’ve genuinely begun wondering if the reason my health has failed so badly in the past couple years is because I’ve been living with people with very severe physical ailments, or emotional mental illnesses, and my existence is nothing but a sponge absorbing these things. The doctors couldn’t find what was wrong. $2500 and an emergency hospital visit later, and they claimed that nothing was wrong. I don’t think what’s wrong is able to be measured by instruments.

But I digress.

Still, I bear their scars. Physical. Psychological. The draining; the physical overwhelming... not as badly as it used to be, when the crowded high school halls surrounded me with 8,000 people, a hundred too close to me, eight thousand too many in range.

I fell terribly ill from that, too. Multiple times.

This time around? Reading the book, I mean? There were two things that really, really STRUCK me, as important and layered conflicts, and details...

~ The whole situation with the abuse. It felt too real to me the first time, reading it. Because sans the physical violence, the uncle’s abuse exactly, perfectly, eerily echoed my stepmother’s abuse to me all my life. Guilting. Venting. Yelling at me until she felt better. Even to the point where, like Brew, I had to stop caring about her to save myself. But the HUGE internal conflict, where, once they’re done abusing you: They love you, and you love them. And you don’t know why. But you do. And they say they’re sorry; they love you; they want what’s best for you, to protect you, and you have to listen to them, because they’re keeping you safe.

~ The whole, “We have to OWN our own pains!” I appreciated that; I always have, from the very first read. But this time, what struck me... They realized this, on their own. They CHOSE to take back their pains... FOR him.

And I thought about my family. The people I live with.

Would they do that?

Could they EVER?

And I was brought to tears, realizing... I don’t think anyone in my life even understands how much I bear for them, how hard I have to block myself to keep from passing out just to keep form blacking out when I stand the moment my body’s health falters. Recovery is hell.

If I went comatose, because I had chosen to save someone’s life...

....I couldn’t say with certainty that anyone would really, truly, ever be able to take that stand, and DECIDE they they wanted all of their hurts back.

...for context? My family has issues with such simple accommodations as “don’t talk about v*mit around me”. The claim, “I would do anything for you” - but when I tell someone “It hurts me when you say I have no common sense, because of course I don’t; my sense isn’t common, and I can’t help that I think differently”... they tell me I must learn how, and imply that if I can’t, I’m an idiot.

...like I said... Abusive. Most well-intentioned.. but abusive nonetheless.

...anyways...

......This book is heavy. It’s so, so heavy... But, tonight, I just keep tHINKING. It wasn’t until I’d endured 13 years of being hurt (and being told it was all my fault), and read certain posts that induced doubt, and then lived with my mother, how much I realized: I was living in an extremely volatile situation of emotional abuse and constant stress.

(...it’s a long and complicated story, but I’m back to living with them now.)

I knew I was being abused, and yet... I healed when I could, what I could. I soak in exhaustion and frustration and depression and anxiety every day.

I’m just... wondering, now...

...How am I supposed to keep myself HEALTHY, living this way?

...I do think it’s safest for me, to live alone. Most peaceful... (I need peace in my life, so desperately. I’m “not wired” for conflict. Another thing I share with Brewster...)

........it’sj ust...

...i don’t know, I’m far too tired and physically exhausted to put words to these darker thoughts just now.

But tl;dr, this book is really, really important. And I truly, deeply, sincerely respect Neal Shusterman for going to the depths he reaches regarding empathy, abuse, healing, and love.

It’s scarily real.

But there’s something so extremely and deeply HEALING about reading a situation too scarily close to your own... and finding truth and new thoughts and revelation in it.

Something healing.........

#new followers: this is one of those posts where it gets kinda Weird around here.#you have been warned.#rhs personal posts #posts for the mystic corner #digital mirrorbooking #bruiser #neal shusterman

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