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cosmic-coyote7 · 3 years

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• My first posted jatp fic!! The idea came to me because I thought opening s2 with a flashback from one of the boys' pov would be interesting, so I picked Alex! This is his pov during the emotional third act in episode 9.

I hope y'all enjoy. ♡ •

~☆~♤~☆~♤~

This Family is Back

Not having control over your own body while being thrust before a crowd was the most terrifying experience Alex had ever endured. That was saying something because he vaguely remembered dying, but at least that had been quick.

This extended music number was agony. Even though the crowd before them was happily watching, dancing along, and enjoying the nightlife of the Hollywood Ghost Club, he was feeling quite the opposite.

His hands were moving and controlling his drum sticks as he struck the drums and tapped the symbols, but it was not because he wanted to. He was planted to his stool, unable to do more than watch in horror as the band around him danced and played their instruments with smiles glued to their glossed lips.

What was worse was seeing the faces of his bandmates.

Reggie looked terrified as his body jerkily danced across the stage, his fingers moving automatically on his bass guitar, but he was nothing more than a puppet on strings. He had zero control of his own body.

Luke was clearly fighting the hold of the puppeteer. His feet dragged even as his hands shredded cords on his electric guitar. His face was the picture of furious with his turned down brows and slightly bared teeth. He was fighting hard to break free, but was unable to.

They were all strong spirits in their own way, but the one who commanded them was stronger.

Alex strained against the invisible bonds that kept him planted behind the drum set and playing so mechanically, but it was hopeless. Caleb had his hooks dug into them, and the jolts had weakened them to the point they couldn't fight back.

Reggie had frustrated tears in his eyes as he too struggled to throw off Caleb's spell, while Luke looked ready to punch the magician square in the face.

Alex felt like that if he wasn't a ghost, he would be sweating from the effort of trying to regain control.

When the song ended, the playing stopped but they were all trapped on stage. The crowd applauded, blissfully unaware of the torment the band was enduring for the sake of entertaining them and keeping Caleb wealthy. The whole situation was enough to send Alex's brain into a panicked spiral.

Reggie had stopped playing and was looking around at his two friends, his legs locked in place but his arms trembling. Luke was in a similar state, but while Reggie still looked shocked and scared, Luke just looked angry.

Their second chance at performing at the Orpheum and their path to potentially crossing over had been blocked by a conniving and wealthy ghost. The man in question stood front and center stage as he bowed and took in the storm of applause for him and his new band.

People were cheering their names, including some lifers they had all spoken to the first night at the Hollywood Ghost Club. They waved cheerfully at them as they clapped.

Applause shouldn't feel this terrifying.

Alex's eyes swept the crowd, searching for not a lifer but a ghost who he wanted to make sure was okay. Willie had sacrificed so much just to get Julie and the Phantoms on stage at the Orpheum, and now he was nowhere to be seen.

Had Caleb done something to him? Maybe the evil magician had discovered that Willie had gone behind his back and was now punishing him. Caleb was the type to throw pain at others if he didn't get his way.

More panic made Alex tremble. He and his friends were in the grip of a crazy performer, and a guy he had started to harbor feelings for was missing.

It seemed so hopeless.

Then, just as a new song was starting up, Alex felt a weird tugging sensation in his chest, like an invisible hand were pulling on his shirt. His skin warmed, and he felt as if a crack had formed in the controlling spell.

"They were my friends... my band... my family."

The words were true. Alex knew that. Even if he had difficulty figuring out whose voice it was at first, the words themselves made sense to him.

They drew him in, stronger than Caleb's hold and like a light at the end of this tunnel of torment.

Alex held onto those words because he now knew who had uttered them.

Julie. Julie was talking about him, Luke, and Reggie. They were more than dead bandmates to her. They were her family.

Alex gripped onto that thought like a lifeline. The warmth from her words made it easier to push back against Caleb's hold. The more he thought about Julie, the easier it was for him to force himself to stop playing.

He thought of their rehearsals; of goofing around with Julie and the other two when they took breaks; of writing songs together and figuring out what melodies worked; and of just being around their lead singer. She was like sunshine: radiating her warmth and brightness wherever she went. She was brave, smart, compassionate, and she loved them. She loved them like family.

No sooner had Alex let this thought take a hold of him did he hear Julie's voice again, this time singing. She was belting out lyrics for a song they had all written together.

Whatever happens

Even if I'm the last standing

Ima stand tall

Whatever happens

Even when everything's down

Ima stand tall

Alex followed her voice in his head and focused on poofing. He needed to get to Julie. That's all he could focus on was finding her. They had a show to do - the most important show of their lives.

Ima stand tall!

Suddenly, Alex was rushing away from Caleb, the controlled band, and the cheering audience was replaced by a smaller one.

He could move his hands freely again! He began banging on his drums and smiling brightly as he caught sight of Julie. Her eyes were bright with tears as she smiled at him, just a few feet away at her keyboard.

Alex beamed at her, no longer feeling the strangling hold that Caleb had on him. He was free!

The icy bonds melted away as he played alongside Julie who was singing more confidently now.

Then Reggie appeared, playing his bass with more fluid and natural movements as he grinned at a very relieved Julie. They had made it!

Well, most of them...

Luke was struggling. He was striking out and was using all of his energy to stay here with them and leave that trap of a ghost club behind.

He flickered in and out like a bad signal, his angry expression replaced by true panic. Alex couldn't do more than watch and hope against hope that Luke pulled through.

All the while, Julie sang, coaxing Luke to her and the rest of the band with her powerful voice. And it was if she herself gave him strength because just a moment later, Luke appeared fully and began to sing along with Julie, his toothy grin in place.

Julie hurried over to him, a look of intense relief on her face as they played together once again.

As they performed, Alex could no longer feel the effects of Caleb's jolts. He felt stronger and now had control over his own movements.

Reggie jumped around with his usual energy, while Luke only had eyes for Julie as they sang a song they all wrote together as a band.

Everything was just as it always was until Reggie and Julie strutted down the stage side by side. Reggie smiled at the crowd with his characteristic energy and dorkiness while Julie's voice intermingled with Luke's in the vocals.

Then Julie leaned back with her mic, and Reggie did the same with his guitar. Instead of Julie leaning through Reggie and showing they were masquerading as holograms, Julie's shoulders appeared to touch Reggie's.

Alex stared at this, but they pulled away before he could be sure he saw what he thought he did. Maybe he was a little delirious from the jolts.

Then Luke stepped back from his mic, and it was time for Alex's solo. He had been a little nervous about doing a solo again - not having done once since "Now or Never" back in 1995, but he knew he could do it. His bandmates, his family, were here backing him up and giving him all the support he could handle. Their presence gave him the courage to belt out his solo:

Whatever happens

Even if I'm the last standing

Ima stand tall

He grinned as Luke and Julie looked back at him with bright smiles, all traces of their exhaustion and tears gone.

Reggie took up his solo, then Alex joined him, and they jumped into the chorus along with Julie and Luke.

They were all using different instruments and moving in their own ways, but performing the song made them feel like a single entity moving in tandem.

Then the song was ending, and all four of them were walking to the end of the stage to take their bows.

Alex gripped Luke's hand, a feeling of relief flooding through him mixed with sadness. Yes, they had fulfilled their dream of performing at the Orpheum, but this meant they would cross over and leave Julie behind.

She would go far, Alex knew that. Her star shone too brightly for her not to. He and the other boys didn't know what their next step in their journey would be, but if they left Julie with a new sense of courage and reassurance in her abilities, then it was all worth coming back for.

Alex swallowed and braced himself. Any moment now, he, Luke and Reggie would poof away and crossover. Where they would end up, he didn't know. He hoped somewhere happy and together. They'd been through too much now to be separated.

Their instruments had stopped, so they poofed out, ready to embrace the feeling of maybe floating up into the air and finally crossing over to a peaceful plane where they could play music together. Being with his best friends and enjoying their time together sounded like paradise. He couldn't wait to watch TV with Reggie; write more songs with Luke; jam out for other spirits if they met more like them…

But his dream was shattered as he felt another jolt tear through his chest.

Alex cried out and collapsed onto a cold hard surface that ended up being the alley behind the Orpheum where they had taken their last walk 25 years ago.

Luke grunted as he landed beside him. A second later, he gasped when Reggie appeared and cracked heads with him.

That had to hurt.

"What the-!" Luke sat up slowly and looked around, panting and shaking. "Why are we here!?"

"Why didn't we cross over?" Reggie asked weakly as he sat up, too, and rubbed his chest where the jolts were zapping them. The drained look to their skin had returned, making them all look like they had the flu.

"I don't know," Alex answered, fighting to get to his feet. "Shouldn't we have after playing the Orpheum?"

"Unless that wasn't it," Luke growled bitterly. His voice was hoarse like he was struggling not to break down. Alex didn't blame him. He himself was only ever really calm when others around him panicked.

"Then what were we supposed to do!?" Reggie demanded, his voice cracking. "After all that we went through and worked to get here-"

Another jolt went through them, effectively cutting off Reggie's sentence.

Alex gripped his stomach and panted. "We guessed wrong."

"Can we not stay here?" Luke said as he helped Reggie stand. They leaned on one another for support as if they wouldn't be able to stay upright without the other. "I don't wanna zap out in this cold alley."

"I wanna go back to Julie's," Reggie said before Alex could come up with a different idea. "I'd feel better if the garage was the last place I was in…"

Alex frowned. "Julie might go there when she gets home."

"Nah. She looked pretty drained. She'll go right to bed," Luke said confidently.

He didn't think so, but Alex didn't have the energy to argue the point. He was so exhausted and ready to go to sleep.

Reggie nodded and held out his hand to Alex. He took it, and they poofed together to the Molinas' garage.

It was pitch black, but the boys didn't get a chance to flick on a light because another jolt sent them all to their knees then flat on their backs.

"That was the worst one yet," Reggie panted from somewhere to Alex's left.

Luke groaned and shifted closer. Alex felt his shoulder brush his head, and he knew he was looking for physical contact. "We had a good run, didn't we, boys?"

Leave it to Luke to be so optimistic. Reggie normally was more on that wavelength, but pain was making him less enthusiastic.

"Yeah…" Reggie murmured. "We rocked the socks off the Orpheum."

"You could've worded that differently, but yeah… we brought the house down. I hope that performance helps Julie's career." Alex sighed and rested his head against something he thought was Reggie's leg.

Luke sighed then swallowed audibly. "She's gonna be a legend in a way we never got to be… I'm so proud of her."

"Me, too," Alex murmured at about the time Reggie said the same thing.

Another jolt made Alex arch his back and yelp. Reggie was right. The jolts were getting more painful.

There was a moment of silence as the three of them struggled to catch their breath (metaphorically speaking).

Then Reggie whispered, "I'm gonna miss them… Julie, Flynn, Carlos, and Ray… I know most of them never saw us, but…" His breathing got heavier like he was choking back tears. "They're family, too."

"Yeah, they are, Reg." Luke sounded close to crying, too, but Alex saw in a small patch of moonlight Luke reached out to put his hand over Reggie's wrist and grip it. "I'll miss them, too."

Alex scooted over just enough to touch the other two on the hand as well. Their grip on each other was weak, but it was more assuring to touch like this. He didn't feel so alone.

"D-Do you think once we disappear, Julie will forget us?" Reggie choked.

Where in the world did he get an idea like that? Alex wanted to snap both from the ridiculous thought and from just being in pain, but he forced a calmer tone when he murmured, "Of course not. Julie loves us. We're her family. She said so herself."

"I thought I heard her," Luke said, sounding pleased. "At the Ghost Club on stage. I heard her calling us her family. It's what gave me the strength to fight off Caleb."

Reggie coughed then blurted, "I heard her, too! I thought I was losing my mind." He shivered. "I think her voice saved us from playing at that club for all eternity."

Alex couldn't believe it. Their bond with Julie went deeper than he could've imagined. All three of them had heard her and found the strength to break free and appear at her side. Where they belonged until now.

"Super Julie," Luke murmured randomly. He chuckled weakly, and this was enough to get the other two snickering a little.

Until another jolt promptly shut them up.

"I wish we could've told her goodbye," Luke said once he could talk again.

"Same," Reggie agreed. "But… at least she can think we've crossed over and not worry."

"Yeah, about that," Alex said as he turned his head. He saw lights move over the garage windows like search beams. "They're home now. If she comes in here, keep your mouths shut."

Luke held onto their hands as yet another jolt shot through them. "I don't want her to see us like this."

They fell silent as they faintly heard Julie and her family singing "Stand Tall" as they made their way up to the house. For a moment, Alex was convinced they would pass by the garage and go inside. They could just vanish and not have to worry about hurting Julie further.

But then he heard footsteps approaching, and he knew he could put money on who it was.

Luke swore softly and twitched behind him.

"Be quiet!" Alex warned quietly as they heard the lock click and the doors pull open.

Alex could just make out Julie walking into the garage. Her small form was framed by the moonlight coming in through the windows, making her look a little otherworldly.

He felt Luke tense under his fingers, able to determine it was him because of his bulkier rings.

Alex shut his eyes and hoped she wouldn't turn on the lights. Julie would be so heartbroken and traumatized if she had to watch them expire like this on her garage floor.

Then she spoke, and he felt the chill inside of him warm the smallest amount.

"I know I already said this but, uh… thank you, guys."

He fought the tears threatening his eyes. Julie had brought them back to life as much as they had for her. They had helped each other grow, get over fears, grieve their loses, and chased after their dreams. Even though three-fourths of their band was not alive, they had made it work. They were a family…

Then Reggie opened his big mouth.

"You're welcome," he blurted in that tactful and thought-out way of his.

Alex sighed loudly in exasperation as Luke hissed, "Dude!"

Julie moved back and flicked the lights on.

The boys grimaced from the light, but the burn in their eyes was nothing compared to the jolts they had been experiencing all day.

"What are you guys doing here? I thought-"

The boys gasped as a shock wave scorched their chests.

Reggie started to cough, and Luke's chest heaved as if he had just run dozens of miles. Alex felt light-headed and sick. If he had had a stomach, he would be puking all over the place.

Julie was voicing her belief that they had crossed over, and Alex replied with what he had suspected when they poofed into the alley first.

"I guess playing the Orpheum wasn't our unfinished business," he said as he struggled to sit upright.

This was all a mess, and now Julie knew they weren't safe and crossed over like they had all hoped would happen once they took their final bows. Alex had wanted to save her the pain of seeing them die a second time, but now here she was with tears sparkling in her eyes and looking on the verge of breaking down.

"Point: Caleb," Reggie said bitterly. The magician had warned them that playing at the venue they just missed out on when they were alive wouldn't necessarily be their unfinished business.

None of them wanted to believe them because a) they were desperate and b) they hadn't been able to come up with any other options.

Luke sat up, and Alex saw clearly that his eyes were red from crying. "We wanted you to think we crossed over, so we pretended to," he said in a thick voice with his focus on Julie. And again, save her from having to see them like this: weak and on the verge of disappearing for good.

"We just… we had nowhere else to go," Luke added, shaking his head slightly.

This is our home, too.

The words weren't said, but Alex saw it in everyone else's expressions. If they were going to go down, they wanted it to be somewhere they felt safe. He was annoyed Reggie had given them away, but having their lives end here in the place where they made music together was a comforting thought as opposed to going out in that dank alley… or really anywhere else.

When Reggie said something about believing Julie wouldn't come down here and go straight up to her room, Alex sighed again with his irritation flaring.

"Well, I knew she would come out here but nobody ever listen to me-"

Their chests sparked bright blue as the third jolt in less than five minutes hit them.

Soft groans escaped them as they struggled to stay on their feet.

"You have to save yourselves right now!" Julie said through her tears. She began begging them to leave and join Caleb so that they didn't have to just be erased from existence, but Reggie shook his head.

"We aren't going back there," he choked.

Being Caleb's puppet for all eternity sounded like hell on earth.

"No music is worth making, Julie, if we aren't making it with you." Luke's voice shook with suppressed sobs.

Alex's heart ached more than those jolts could ever hurt because they were all in pain and scared. Julie didn't want them to go anymore than they wanted to leave, especially not like this.

Julie stood on her toes and threw her arms around Luke. Alex froze because now he was sure that Julie had touched Reggie on stage when they were out on the platform. Still… there was something very sweet about their embrace.

"I love you guys," Julie whispered.

Then Luke started to glow. It was if Julie's touch had lit up a beacon inside of him. As they watched, the pale tinge to Luke's skin vanished, and his swollen eyes softened as he smiled down at Julie.

They murmured to each other, and for a moment, Alex felt like he and Reggie had turned into third wheels.

Then Luke turned to them, holding Julie's hands, and said, "I feel stronger."

Julie called Alex and Reggie over, and the pair of them stumbled over to Julie's side. They walked into a group hug, Julie's arm around his waist and Luke's just about hers.

As they touched, Alex felt as if he had taken a sip of hot tea that trickled through his body and warmed his insides. The chills and aches from the jolts draining his energy vanished, and he felt even stronger than he had before.

They slowly pulled back from the hug but kept their arms around one another.

"I don't feel as weak anymore," Reggie murmured as a few tears trailed down his flushed cheeks.

Alex agreed fervently before his anxiety kicked in and he added, "Not that I was ever weak."

Then the purple stamps that Caleb had given them just days ago appeared on their skin before peeling off like an old sticker and vanishing into thin air.

Alex felt a sigh of relief escape him as if his chest as if a heavy weight had been lifted from it.

"I think the band's back," Luke said with a shaky grin.

Alex asked if they could try hugging again, and the others chuckled before moving in for another group embrace.

There was a warmth coming off of Julie that they were all taking in and finding strength from. She was their light in life, the spark that had brought them back to do what they loved most in life (and now in death) - play music.

Laughing, they jumped in a circle as Julie cried happily, "We played the Orpheum!"

As they all leaned into each other, exchanging smiles and basking in the fact all four of them could touch now, Alex agreed with Luke's words: the band was back.

Their little family was back.

#jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #alex pov #jatp found family #stand tall

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writingfromthemoon · 3 years

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Not Heliophilia.

TW: Implied depression, vague panic attack, anxiety

Storms were unrelenting, painful, tiring. His body, mind, and soul were drenched in an endless rain and constant claps of thunder caused migraines. He could never sleep through the storms; the electricity in the air pricked his skin.

The sun was always far too bright. He didn’t want it; it hurt his eyes, it burned his skin-- the warmth was never worth the pain he’d have to endure just to receive it. The very thing that gave the world life was something he loved in theory, so why is it that he could not love it in practice?

The storm was getting bad again -- not that it ever fully dissipated anyway -- and he was returning home drenched once again. The thunder pounded in his head, lightning strikes causing him to wince from the pain and dig his fingers against his skull in an attempt to lessen the blow. The work was piling up again -- his boss made him work overtime just like every other day and demanded he do his share of work as well. The stacks of papers were like skyscrapers and words blended together until they were unrecognizable. His back hurt from his crummy chair and keyboards were nowhere near as ergonomic as the company had thought they were. Stuck in his little box, he spent the day as well as hours into the night working away as the storm only grew closer and closer -- the box growing smaller and smaller. The mixture of the two were suffocating.

He hated it -- the storm, the work, the rain, the words-- he hated it all and nothing in the world around him felt as though it could save him from drowning. He couldn’t focus on where he was going, simply walking on auto-pilot until he made it to his destination, and focused all his energy on holding his head. He wanted the clouds to go away, to clear up, to feel saved.

Maybe he should go visit the sun? It was an instant clear all, but so very temporary and not worth the pain it caused. Then again, a visit to the sun would mean bothering his friends once again with his problems, and he wouldn’t want for them to grow tired of the rain as well. Maybe he should invest in a raincoat to shoulder the downpour.

The sun -- his friends -- far too bright for him. His eyes could never adjust, and he’d never be able to protect himself from the way it burned his skin. The warmth was only helpful for a moment before it became like flames of fire. The sense of clarity was inviting, he would admit as such, but it was never worth the price. The mundane paperwork he filed every day would never bring enough wealth to buy him an umbrella, let alone sunglasses or a bottle of sunscreen. Their cheer was simply too much; their personalities so vibrant and smiles to match. Was it a short-coming of his, doomed from birth? Was it simply a curse? A curse to live his life underneath a typhoon that followed him around? The stress started to cause his shoulders to hunch and his feet to drag.

Thoughts became too much; the rumble of thunder against the walls of his head. Self-degrading thoughts came from every corner of his mind; he’ll never be good enough, he’ll be stuck at this meaningless job for the rest of his life, constantly walked on like a doormat. Maybe his friends never really cared about him, or maybe they’ll grow tired of his depression and run to hide from the storm? He was worthless, wasn’t he? He couldn’t even hide underneath a street awning to save himself, why would his friends -- the sun-- bother staying too? He was going crazy, insane, unhinged -- there was no difference between voices and thunder claps within his head anymore. He felt like he was drowning, his throat started to close and he found it hard to breathe. Where was the sun? He needed the sun to get rid of some of this water. He frantically reached for the handle in front of him, throwing open the door to find his savior.

Just beyond a layer of clouds, there was a spot of light in the dark. Blindly, he swam towards it, attempting to outrun the rising waters and bracing himself against the heavy winds; the rain pelted him and knew there would be bruises left in their wake. There was no possible way he could hold on any longer, knowing there was no way out; his breath caught in his throat and his chest heaved before he noticed the wind carried his name beyond the rain.

The moon, yes! The moon! It shined so brightly against the dark sky most days, and illuminated the thick clouds from behind. The rays of the moon never burned him, only giving a soft glow to remind him he wasn’t alone-- that he was worth loving. If something so beautiful could love him, where was the need for the sun? The moon had control of the waves that surrounded him, slowly parting them so that he may catch his breath and stop flailing aimlessly. The moon’s whispers were powerful enough to stop the wind -- it took time for it to die down and remove the sounds from his ears, moving to caress his head and work on removing the thunder within. The tender tone greatly outweighed the rumble of thunder, and demanded the lightning strikes to halt, his mind easing itself into a calm state. As the wind brushed his hair out of his face, he could feel his head laying on the Earth now, the rays from the moon peeking through the clouds as they started to wave them away. He managed a sigh.

Her fingers ran through his hair once again as she softly cooed, reassuring him that she was right there. His head must have landed on her lap after he came into their shared home. The way her voice carried was merciful, taking pity and caution to the headache he now endured. Her smile was a crescent, an invitation for him to take his time as they’d go through the phases together. Her touch was far from the heavy beating of the rain or the burning the flames of the sun brought along; her entire presence was welcome, calm -- ethereal even -- as every part of her being was so divine he almost felt himself a dirty sinner just laying eyes upon her. As one who could part the everlasting storm in his mind, she took his breath away in the most positive capacity.

“Hey,” the moon sent him a gentle breeze, “you alright?”

His silence was a grab-bag of emotions. Would he take the moon's grace and respond in kind, free from the storm? Or would he lash out from the unbearable pain he had endured now that he's gotten a moment's rest and regret each drop of poison that rolled off his tongue? She knew neither responses were his fault, but to him it felt as though the storm was created solely to bring torment to his life in the form of harming others. His silence felt like it lasted for hours before he mustered another shaky sigh and mumbled against her skin.

"Today was hard." An understatement. "I just need to rest."

"Rest, yes," She could see straight through his lies. He knew better than to try and hold secrets away from the moon; she's heard all lies throughout the darkness. "But tell me what happened. Tell me why you feel this way."

"It's dumb--"

"It's not dumb if it bothers you."

"It's the same as it always is--"

"It still bothers you, so it's important. Tell me about it. Let me help you."

"But it's--"

"Please." The corners of her lips tugged to a larger smile, as gentle as petals from flowers. "Let me listen to you."

She had to have been a saint. Who knew angels could part storms or disguise themselves as the moon. Who knew that the moon would have a lap like a pillow or hands like the breeze. Who knew that he'd be so lucky to gain such graces or even have a chance with someone like her. He's just glad she had met him with an umbrella in hand.

There were no other sounds in that room aside from his desperate and muffled ramblings against her skin and the gentle hums of affirmation she gave in response. For just this moment, the sky above him was dark, but in the sense that the night will take care of him. No clouds, no thunder; no thoughts screaming at him or insecurities blaring their horns. His head no longer hurt so long as her fingers were woven in his hair. He could finally breathe now that the last drop of water had dried up with the last of his words.

"So you had a panic attack on the way home, then?" Her voice reflected her small frown. “That’s why you were having troubles breathing when you came in.”

He gave a meek nod of his head, his eyelids feeling like lead and his body following suit now that he had spoken his mind. His words had started to slur -- he wasn’t even sure they made sense anymore -- but she still validated him with her quiet hums and loving words. Slowly, the silence in his head brought along a serene wave of emotions, his body now aching from releasing the tension that had buried itself so deep within him. He asked her to sing to him, gentle, and allow him to stay with his head perched on her lap.

It was hard to keep his eyes open, but it wasn’t because of the light of the moon. The moon -- his moon -- was a gift from above that he never expected to experience in his life. She was so beautiful; with his eyes, he traced the delicate curves of her features, recollecting each detail as though they were brand new to him. Physical beauty was nothing compared to the way she was patient, caring, loving, despite the ugly monster that causes the storms of depression within him. Even on the hardest of days, he knew the moon would always smile down on him at the end of it, reminding him that he was loved and that he was much more than his illness. No matter how many times he had come home in a frenzy, woken her up in the middle of the night with his stressed out breakdowns, or ruined a night for them because of his anxiety of being enough for her -- she had loved him through it all.

He took solace in knowing that no matter what the storm may bring, she would love him regardless. He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep with the moon shining down on him, wrapping him in the most comfortable wave of love. He could hardly hear the storm brewing in the distance. His last thought wondered if there was a word for loving the moon.

#four speaks to the moon ☆#four writes a story ☾#long post #yeah this may be based on a character and an oc of mine very vaguely what about it #this piece made my teacher recently tell me that i tell readers how to feel instead of leaving it open for them to interpret #but its like. thats. thats the point of this story.#theres no need to interpret.............with this story.#idk. i didnt like her opinion on this one #cause i like this piece. ill leave it vague when its meant to be vague LSKDJFH #original writing

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

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We’re a chain that will never break; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Hate to have kept you all waiting for the next part but I wanted to make sure it was to the full FLUFF max after what I made you guys go through with the previous chapter. So I hope this chapter makes up for all the heartbreak I have caused in the previous one, I tried to fill it with as mich fluff and cuteness as I could, and I hope the ending is to ya’ll liking cause I felt like I didn’t end it very good with this chapter.

Anyways I’ve also included some gifs that I know you all will like and I would greatly appreciate it if you all would listen to the song I have linked to you in this chapter to help put you readers in the actual chapter, I promise it’ll be worth while and secretly it’s something that I could imagine our Disco Deacy dancing to with either his wife or to embarrass his kids lol. Okay enough chatting, hope you all enjoy this chapter lovies :)

Taglist *open*

@onebigfangirlworld

@mr-badguymercury

@phantom-fangirl-stuff

@labessieisallama

@starswin

@naturalswifty89

@dj-lowkey

@5sos-wdw

@alexfayer

@isabella-bby

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The next morning I woke up to feel someone softly tucking some strands of my hair behind my ear. When I opened up my wet, teary eyes instead of Brian sitting beside me, there stood Deacy.

“She lives.” He teased with a slight grin spreading across his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Really hungry.” I bluntly stated. It finally began to hit me just how hungry I was due to my stomach growling and knowing at me. Deacy chuckled and said.

“Well lucky for you I’ve made some breakfast for you downstairs.”

“Are Brian and Roger still here?”

“No they stepped out for a bit.”

“Oh.” I said as I looked down. I could feel Deacy’s eyes on me as I refused to look him in the eye.

“It’s not at all what you’re thinking if that’s why you’re so worried. In fact I was the one who told them to take a breather after what happened yesterday. Plus it’s been awhile since you and I had a little one on one time together. Roger’s always stealing you away from me.” That statement got a smile out of me and said.

“Yeah he does get a little obsessive.”

“A little, please instead of calling him your second father, we should just call him the ‘smother’.”

“Can’t argue with that.” I chuckled out. Deacy wrapped his arm around my neck and brought me close to him and said as he playfully gave me a noogie.

“But now I’ve got you all to myself for a while.” I let out a squeak and shoved him away playfully and that’s when I finally took notice of my hands bandaged up.

I began to get worried that I might’ve severely damaged them from all the glass punching I did yesterday, and that they were all scarred up and that if Jack ever saw then he’d never want to put the official wedding ring on my finger with hands like these.

“They’re not that severe (y/n). The doctor only had to pull out four pieces out of your hand. We were given some ointment to put on your hands and within a week or two they’ll be good as new. You’re lucky you know how to throw a good punch, if you hadn’t then this could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that Deacy. I was just—”

“I know love, I know.” He said softly as he leaned his head against mine. His arm now wrapped around my shoulder while his other hand came up and stroked down my head. I felt him kiss my temple and he continued, “But we can wallow about this later, right now the most important thing is to get some food in that belly of yours.” He emphasized his last point by playfully poking me in the stomach making me curl up and giggle. “Come on kid, let’s get you downstairs.”

He untucked me out from the blankets and helped me out of bed and escorted me down the stairs with his arm wrapped around my shoulders. We walked into the kitchen and he pulled out a chair for me to sit in and I gladly sat in it while Deacy went over to the kitchen and picked up a tray and brought it over to me.

On the tray were some pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and of course Deacy’s favorite cheese on toast and a tall glass of orange juice. I thanked him for the breakfast and began eating the eggs first.

Bit by bit my breakfast began to diminish, but it wasn’t until I held onto a piece of the toast as I was eating the last couple of bites of my pancakes when Deacy cheekily leaned over and took a bite of the toast.

“Oi!” He grinned at me his shoulder shaking as he tried to hold in his laughter. “Great now it’s got your germs all over it!” I whined out and he said.

“Should’ve immediately ate it then and not held onto it for so long.” He said after swallowing the piece of toast.

“How Veronica puts up with you I’ll never know.”

“Don’t you bring my wife into this conversation. She loves me, I even wrote the song to prove it.” He praised. I shook my head and handed him the toast and he gladly took it and finished it off.

That crazy Deacy and his cheese on toast I swear.

I went and grabbed another piece of toast and as I bite into it Deacy suddenly spoke up.

“Brian told us why you were screaming yesterday.” I stopped midway from my chewing and sighed heavily through my nose. I finished chewing before swallowing and took the last sip of my OJ and leaned against my chair.

“So you and Rog know about the dream I had?” I could see Deacy nodding softly from my peripheral vision. “You know I actually had another one. But the second one was way worse than the first one. It started off like any other work day, just us at the studio making music. At first everything was going well and then you guys turned on me telling me that I had no taste in music, that I was worthless when it came to making music, telling me that Queen would be better off without me. I didn’t even wake up from it so I had to keep hearing you guys say it over and over again until my dream just vanished by morning.”

“Oh (y/n),”

“I don’t get why my brain is tormenting me like this? I mean I know in my heart that you, Rog and Bri would not do what Freddie did, but in my mind, with what I had to endure for the remaining years of my childhood into teenage years……God I just—”

“It’s not something one can get over so easily (y/n). We cannot imagine the verbal abuse you had to go through with Joanna and Graham. We’re not expecting you to just let it go just like that. And Freddie he—he was a bastard for saying those things, and it’s forcing you to relive that pain once more.” Deacy cupped my chin and turned my head around to face him, “It doesn’t matter how many times or how long it takes. We’re gonna make sure that you are as happy as any future bride should be, and the only stressing out you should be doing is figuring out what wedding dress you’re gonna pick out.” I smiled at him and said as I hugged him.

“Aww Deacy, I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m always here for my little sister.” I felt him kiss the side of my head as he held onto me for a bit longer. He then separated from me and stood up and held out both of his hands to me. I looked at him confused and asked him.

“What?”

“Just take them love,” I placed my bandaged hands into his and he delicately gripped them as he helped me stand up and took me out of my kitchen and into my living room. I took notice that some of the furniture had been pushed aside, all except for my record player that stood on a drawer right by the window.

“Deacy what is all this?”

“The one sure fire way to get that true (y/n) smile back on your face.” He said as he knelt down by my record collection and picked up a random record and placed it into the player. He flipped the switch before taking the needle and placing it down on the record.

Play video

And with the volume turned up almost to it’s loudest setting, Kenny Loggins’ song “Footloose” began playing. He swerved around grinning at me as his head bobbed up and down to the beat as his Disco moves began to take over. I tried to fight back the smile and he grinned as he pointed at me.

“Ahh I see it! You can’t hide it now sweetheart, I see that smile.”

“Dick move Deacy. You know I can never stay depressed with this song.”

“I know, that’s why I picked it. Now come on poppet, let me see those moves I taught you.” He said as did the ‘come hither’ motion with his index finger. A smile just spread across my face as I walked towards him and he took my hands and began to playfully move them like the motors of a train trying to get me to dance.

I just let out a series of giggles but just like the first time I ever heard this song, I just let the music control me as my body became possessed by the music and I freely danced.

Dancing like crazy people and bursting out the lyrics, Deacy and I spent the whole song dancing. Doing some of his little dance moves he does on stage or mixing up some dance moves I made for the song like the foot twist. That’s when you only move left to right by first moving your heels then the soles as you just scoot across the rug.

There was also spins, turns, playful dips, bunny hops, twists, anything that Deacy loved to do or that I loved to do when it came to dancing as we both just let the music take over us. When the song came to an end, Deacy held my right hand in his left as I was striking a poise before being spun into his arms and when the music stopped I ended up with an arm wrapped around his neck as we ended in a slight dip. After all that, Deacy and I just couldn’t stop laughing.

“Well Jack’s definitely got himself a good dance partner.”

“Guess I had a good teacher.” I said as he lifted me back up.

“Now what do you say? You up for round 2?” he asked me.

“What have you got in mind, Disco Deacy?”

“Now why must you insist on calling me that?” he said as he went back over to my record collection.

“Everyone calls you that, it fits you because of your dance moves that you do at your shows. Everyone also loves your moves, so don’t you dare try to get people to stop calling you that.” I said as I walked up to him and knelt down beside him and playfully nudged his shoulder.

The rest of the morning with Deacy was spent by dancing to “Disco” music, dancing with each other, singing to the songs very loudly and off key.

At around 20 till noon, Deacy and I were having a cup of tea when he said as he took something out of his pocket.

“Ohh I almost forgot,” I took the piece of paper from him and I unfolded it and it read as followed.

My lovely angel,

Today is all about you. The boys and I agreed that after yesterday’s events you deserved to see that we are your family. And we always will be. Deacy should’ve already taken care of the morning shift and now comes my turn (about bloody time).

Meet me at Hyde park at 12:30 on the dot. Dress casually, no need to get dolled up. I’ll see you then.

Your papa lion,

Roger Taylor

I quickly looked at the clock and back at the note and I said.

“Damn it Deacy why wasn’t I given this earlier?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.” He shrugged. If this is what it’s like to truly have an older brother then I truly feel your pain if your brothers act like this to you.

Racing back up to my room, I changed out of my old clothes and got on some fresh ones. I cleaned myself up, did my hygiene stuff and raced down the stairs. Deacy stood at the bottom of the stairs and I said to him.

“Hopefully I can still get there in time.”

“Even if you don’t it’ll maybe teach Roger a lesson in the future about being late.” Deacy sassed out. I scoffed at him and shoved his arm making him chuckle.

“Thanks again for this morning Deacy, I really appreciate it.”

“Like I said, I’d do anything for my sister.” He said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder bringing me close to him in a one armed hug and I felt him kiss the top of my head. “Okay I won’t keep you longer, go and meet up with Rog and have a good time, but be safe.”

“Don’t worry I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.” I said as he released me. I began walking towards the door but I stopped and said as I turned back around towards Deacy. “Last hug.” I embraced him and I felt his chest softly rumble as he chuckled. He wrapped both his arms around me leaning his head against mine. I separated from him and said, “Love you Deaks.”

“Love you too poppet.” He cupped my cheek and kissed my forehead and I walked towards the front door. “And don’t worry I’ll move the furniture back.”

“You better.” I teased as I opened the door and waved bye to him and he waved back and soon I was out the door and on my bike. I turned it on and revved it up and soon took off riding for Hyde Park.

I managed to get to Hyde Park just before the meetup time. I parked my bike and put my helmet away into the compartment seat and walked into the park entrance. As I walked along I soon saw Roger sitting down on a bench with his black shades over his eyes. He looked down at his wristwatch probably wondering where I was.

Feeling a bit playful, I walked around towards the back of the bench where he was sitting at. I tried to surpass my giggles as I silently stalked up towards him and stood there for a moment or two and just before I could scare him I heard him say.

“Don’t even think about it!” I groaned out and said.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I know everything when it comes to my number 1 girl. I knew you’d try to do something like this given the chance.” He said as he turned towards me. He lowered his shades and said, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you young lady?”

“Well sorry Deacy didn’t give me the note till almost noon.” I said.

“Typical Deacy, of course he’d want to keep you longer than what was agreed.”

“Well I deserve to spend some quality time with my brother figure, besides he said the same thing about you.” Roger smirked playfully at me as he now stood up and came around me and wrapped an arm around me.

“Alright kiddo I’ve got lunch reservations for us in about 20 minutes, what say we both head on that way and then spend the rest of the afternoon getting lost in the mall. Maybe even pick up a yacht as a wedding present.”

“Where in the hell would we put a yacht?” I asked.

“Just by the decks, I know Jack would appreciate it.”

“I doubt that very much. He’s more of an ATV guy than anything.” We both soon walked through the park that would take us through a short cut to the restaurant that Roger said he had a table reservation for us. All the while the two of us were just talking about anything and everything.

Once we came to the restaurant I noticed that it was one of my favorite seafood places. We walked up to the restaurant and we were escorted to our table booth in the corner. I ordered up my usual homemade fried shrimp with a side of chips while Roger ordered up the “King crab special”.

“So have you and Jack picked out the groomsmen and bridesmaids yet?”

“Well don’t tell Deacy but Jack was sorta hoping he could be the best man.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” I popped the ‘p’. “As for my bridesmaids however I’m not having such luck. I mean I’ve asked Gen and Dani who are Jack’s cousins wives and they’ve agreed but I still don’t have enough to do the walk, I was maybe hoping that your wives could be a part of it.”

“I’ll run it by Dominique, I know she’d love to be in the wedding.”

“Thanks Rog, but I’ll tell her myself. I was planning on getting together with the wives of Queen either way to help me pick out a dress while I’m still here in London.” Pretty soon our food arrived and boy Roger definitely had his work cut out for him.

His crab was truly worthy of being called king. It practically fit the entire plate length and width wise, there was also his side order of grilled shrimp and chips.

“Geez Rog you really have your work cut out for you there.”

“What you doubt I can eat all this?” he mocked.

“I mean don’t you old people have to pace yourselves?” I teased. He then dipped his finger into some marinara sauce and bopped my nose playfully making me squeal out and stare at him in shock.

“You’re lucky we’ve got witnesses, otherwise you’d get your usual punishment.” Thank god we were indeed. I didn’t feel like being tickled to oblivion till I either passed out or surrendered. “And now you understand why I keep you away from Deacy. He turns you into a savage mini-him.”

“How do you know I haven’t always been like that?” I teased as I took a bite of one of my shrimp. He shook his head chuckling softly and we proceeded to eat our lunch.

All throughout lunch there were jokes, playful banters and even a small mini drum war that I first started by taking his crab mallets and just did a random beat on the table. Roger observed me before taking them right out of my hands and I cried out playfully.

“Oi!”

“Alright step aside kid and let a real drummer show you how it’s done.” He mocked then he began to perform his drum solo for “Keep yourself alive”. I bopped my head along to the beats before taking my spoon and fork and holding them upside down and I began to drum along with Roger copying his movements, soon making the drum solo into a drum duet.

But when Roger tapped onto the back of his crab, bits of crab juice squirted out making me shriek and laugh as I wiped away two juice drops away from my face while Roger just laughed.

After lunch, Roger paid for our lunch and the two of us left the restaurant arms wrapped around each other and we walked back through the park. Along the way though we came to a quiet little playground. There weren’t really any kids around so I asked Roger if we could just sit on the swings for a bit. He agreed and the two of us went over to it and sat down side by side on the swing set just slowly rocking back and forth or swaying side to side.

“So even though our afternoon’s barely begun, how are you doing so far?”

“I’m doing good. My belly’s full, I’m with my favorite Queen member, and quietly sitting in the park on a swing set feeling like a child again. Swings were always my favorite thing to do in a park playground. My dad always used to push me on the swings trying to make me go higher and higher and then I’d jump right off to see how far I would go. Scared my mum to death but it made my dad proud.”

“I can see you doing that.” He said. The two of us laughed softly and then I looked down at my feet which were gently kicking the mulch covering the playground.

“Deacy told me that Brian told you guys about the nightmare I had last night.” I suddenly said out loud. I heard him sigh and he said.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you—”

“No, I’ve already gotten my comfort from Brian and Deacy about it, and I need to hear it from you. Because—I thought from all that Freddie said the other day and hearing him say it again in my dreams was bad enough, but…..what truly hurt me was what nightmare you said.” I looked up at him sadly and he looked down at me and asked.

“What did the bastard version of me say to you?”

“You said…..that you never understood why you’d call me your daughter. That you’ve never been proud of me, and neither was my real dad. I felt—so betrayed and hurt at hearing you say those things I just…..” I sighed deeply and looked down at my lap.

“(Y/n), please look at me,” I turned back towards Roger. His blue eyes piercing my soul as he spoke, “I won’t repeat what Deacy or Brian had said to you, because I know you’ve probably heard it one to many times already so you don’t need to hear it a third time. But the day I ever say that I’m not proud of you or that I regret seeing you as my daughter, is the day that I am shot dead where I stand. I made a promise to your father’s grave that I would be the father you needed, and when I make a promise like that, it’s never broken. I may come across as a bastard at times but never to you. Because no matter what you are always gonna be my number one, and I would never turn or be against you.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” I choked out. He smiled softly down at me and that’s when I felt his fingers graze mine and I soon felt his pinkie wrap around mine as a promise to the very end.

Our hands soon faced each other’s until we gently gripped each other’s palms and I looked up at Roger and softly smiled and he smiled back.

“I’m sorry you had to see me…..”

“Let’s not worry about that now—”

“No Roger I have to say it. I may not have been awake to see you guys but I know it couldn’t have been easy for you to see me like that. Thinking that I was—dead or whatever. I shouldn’t have done that to you, it was selfish of me.”

“You were betrayed love. And angry, heartbroken, anyone would’ve punched out their posters like that or windows or even walls hell I know I’ve done that before. You deserved to release your betrayal in any way possible. But….I will admit I was petrified to see all that blood on the glass. I was so scared that I—that I had found to you too late.”

“But you didn’t. You, Brian and Deacy came back for me, and are willing to make up the day for me when you don’t even need to. Thank you Rog.” He smiled and said as he gently swung our entwined arms.

“Anything for my best girl.” He raised our hands up and placed a kiss at the back of my hand. We stayed there for a about a couple more minutes until Roger stood up and went behind me and began to gently push my swing, just like my dad used to do for me back when I was a little girl.

After spending some time in the park, just as Roger promised we were now going through the mall just going from store to store and Roger spoiled me with new clothes and accessories and new instruments for my upcoming concerts.

The afternoon passed and now Roger and I were currently in Trafalgar Square, we had grabbed a cup of coffee from a nearby coffee shop and was now just sitting by a curb drinking and chatting away about anything and everything to clear our minds. Just a few feet behind us, a guitar street performer was randomly singing covers of popular songs on his guitar hoping that people would leave him some cash to get by in the day, and if they wanted to, people came up and asked for requests and he would play them. Roger turned his attention to the guitar player and he said.

“You know, we haven’t picked our song yet.”

“What?”

“For the father-daughter dance at your wedding. It’s only the most important dance besides the bride and groom’s.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. And we need to pick one before the big day. Tell you what,” he fully turned to face me setting his coffee down before gesturing toward the guitar player, “Whatever he plays next. Whatever he plays, that’s our song for your big day.”

“Rog you do realize this could go really, really wrong you know?” We turned around and soon a group of girls all dressed up in semi-fancy clothes all gathered around the man giggling and chatting with him. Roger stood up and held out his hands.

“C’mon love, come on.” He then leaned forward and took my hands in his and helped me stand up onto the sidewalk and I said as we got into dancing position one.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this!”

“Shh wait, wait.” Already with his right holding my left while his left hand rested on my waist. We heard the guitar strum and soon the song turned out to be the tune for “Happy Birthday.” The girls and the man then began singing as Roger led me into a dance. “What?! No!”

“This is our song.”

“Oh god this is awful!”

“So on the day of your wedding, our father-daughter song will be Happy birthday my little lion cub.” Roger said as he twirled me around wrapping his arms around me from behind swaying us back and forth before turning me back around and allowing my arms to wrap around his neck.

“You’re such a geek dad.” I giggled. Suddenly I realized what it was that I had said. Roger separated from me and just looked down at me.

There’s a huge difference from telling someone that you see them as something else and actually calling them that. Even though for years he’s treated me like a daughter and I’ve seen him as my new father-figure, never have I once called him dad because I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“I—I’m sorry Rog I-I-I-I-I didn’t mean to I mean I….it just slipped and I….” he cupped my cheek before embracing me tightly. It wasn’t a constricting hug, but more like a protective yet comforting hug, like the ones he’s always given me for years.

“Is it horrible for me to say that I’ve only been dreaming for you to finally call me that?”

“Really?” I asked. He separated from me and said as he cupped my cheek once more.

“Yes. I didn’t tell anyone this detail, but the day after your 21st birthday after I had visited your father’s grave. I asked for a sign that I would have his approval for being the father-figure you needed in your life. I had no intention of replacing him in your eyes and I felt I needed to ask before I went any further with how I’ve seen you since the beginning. But that night at my house, a picture got knocked over and at first I thought someone had broken in and wanted to do harm, so I went over to where I had all my pictures and went to pick up the picture that fell, and it was the one of us at Hyde Park, your first big concert before your first world tour. The one I had Brian take of us, and I knew deep down that that was my sign from your dad. I know it could’ve been a coincidence or an accident but I believe the former to be true, that it was your dad answering me and wanting me to be the father you needed for all the rest of the years to come.”

I looked at him in shock as tears were forming in my eyes. I smiled up at him and embraced him back as I felt his arms wrap around me. I felt him kiss the side of my head as he held onto me closer.

“So does that mean I need to call you dad from now on?”

“Only when you want to, I won’t force you to say it all the time. But I will gladly enforce it when it’s just us two.” We both looked at each other smiling softly and he softly kissed my nose before pressing his forehead against mine as we swayed to an acoustic version of “My Girl” by the Temptations.

It was now almost sunset when Roger brought me back to the park and the two of us spent the rest of the afternoon walking through it. Going deeper and deeper into it until we reached the open acre area of the park.

“Unfortunately my dear this is where we part ways and I must give you a way to one last member who has something he knows will help put the events of yesterday far behind you. Just keep walking down this path and you’ll soon come across a fork, take the left path and you’ll meet up with him. I’ll take all this stuff back to your house.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure love, go on best not keep him waiting. He’s been completely bored out of his mind all day and was rather pissed that he had to get stuck with the night shift.”

“Well best head that way then, thanks again…..dad.” I said with a smile.

“Anytime, my best girl.” He brought me close to him and kissed my forehead before walking away and headed out of the park.

I then began walking down the path and soon enough I reached the fork that led either left or right. I took a deep breath and muttered to myself.

“Follow the yellow brick road Dorothy.” I then went to the left fork and walked on that would soon lead me to the area where Brian used to take me all the time back when I was stressed, and the same spot I once took Jack last year at around the time of the Summer fair.

I arrived at the rolling hills and when I went down one I began to hear the strums of an acoustic guitar and I saw just ahead of me the light of a lamp or something. I walked up another hill and there sitting along a blanket was Brian. He turned towards me and said.

“Ahh Ms. (l/n), good to see you’ve arrived on time. Guess I won’t need to deduct points for your tardiness.” I smiled softly knowing his game.

“Been a long time since we’ve met like this Dr. May, what shall we be learning today?” I asked as I walked up toward him and sat down beside him.

“It’s not what I will be teaching you, it’s what you will be reviewing for me.” He said as he set his guitar to the side and patted a spot on the blanket for me to sit down.

I walked towards him and sat down beside him. Since it was starting to get a bit cold on this spring night, Brian picked up his coat and placed it over my shoulders. His body heat that was still trapped inside the coat warmed me up and his excess cologne soothed my senses making me more relaxed.

As the sky grew darker, Brian turned off the lantern and lay down on his back and said.

“Now then Ms. (l/n), remind me of the process that helps powers the stars.” I racked my brain trying to remember all the lessons he had given me and the science classes from when I was in secondary school as well as University.

“Is it…..nuclear fission?”

“Close, it’s nuclear fusion.” Brian said.

“Gah! I’ve always gotten those two mixed up.” I groaned out.

“Alright well tell me this; The final stage for the most massive stars is either a massive explosion known as a supernova or gravitational collapse into a….”

“Black hole!” I exclaimed.

“You are correct.”

“Yes.” I muttered successfully.

“Now tell me this, what is the name of the invisible, radio wave-emitting object at the center of our galaxy that astronomers suspect is a supermassive black hole?”

“Ahh oh don’t tell me! I know it I know it I know it!” I began racking my brain again trying to remember what it was exactly. “Oh god it has something to do with a letter in the name!”

“You give up?” Brian teased.

“Give me a second uhh…..Augh okay I give up, what is it?”

“The answer is Sagittarius A.”

“Damnit I knew I was on the right track!”

“Seems you’ve been lacking in your studies Ms. (l/n).” he said as he sat up and sat shoulder to shoulder with me. I lowered my head softly laughing and I said.

“I’m sorry, some things have been coming up that took me away from my studying.”

“And what pray tell could be more important than your studies?” he said with that well-known head tilt of his and raised brows of his. I looked up at him my innocent doe eyes and shrugged my shoulders at him. He smirked at me before suddenly pulling me close to him and tickled around my waist making me shriek and squirm. He softly chuckled as he stopped and I was now leaning against his chest.

“I’ve missed nights like this with you Bri.”

“Me too darling.” He said as he stroked a strand of hair away from my face and behind my ear. “You always were my best student.”

“Bri I was your only student.” I chuckled out. He smiled down at me and kissed my forehead.

“So did the guys and I succeed on making this day any better for you?” I looked up to him and said.

“You boys always know what to do in order to make me feel better. I got to dance like I fool with Deacy, got to spend the afternoon with Roger and do some shopping both for myself and for the wedding, and now I’m star gazing with my favorite professor. I can’t thank you boys enough for what you all did to try and do for me after what happened yesterday.”

“Well we couldn’t very well leave our Rock Angel depressed just months before her big day. So we hoped we’d at least give her a make-up day to feel better and to let her know that we still love her. Just because one Queen member goes back on what he once claimed, doesn’t mean that it’s the same for the rest of us.”

“And I know that now after today. Thanks Brian.”

“Anytime love,” he wrapped his arms around me bringing me closer to him. His head resting on top of mine as his right hand gently stroked up and down my upper bicep. I placed my hands on top of his wrist and snuggled further into him, if that was even possible to do. “Oh I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

He released me from his embrace and handed me what appeared to be a wrapped up present. It was a rectangular shaped box, I took it in my hands but before I opened it, Brian stopped me by saying, “Before you open it though, do you remember where the constellation Leo is located?”

“Remind me again.” I asked as I set the present down in my lap. Brian took my right hand and guided it as he stated softly.

“Eastward lying right between my sign of Cancer the crab and west of Virgo the Maiden.” It was then he stopped and gently extended my index finger out and said, “Do you see him?”

“Yeah I can see him now.”

“Good. Now,” he then slowly guided my hand to about 45 degrees away from the head of Leo as he continued, “At about 45 degrees Northeast of the head of Leo, I want you to now open up your present.” I took back the present and began opening it and inside it was a manila folder. I looked to Brian in confusion and I said to him.

“What is this Bri?”

“Just open it up love, it’ll be clearer once you see it.” I unfolded the silver tabs and opened the folder up and reached in it. Soon I had pulled out a photograph of a bushel of stars. Already I saw the head of Leo and on that picture one of the stars was circled. I saw Brian’s index finger point to the circled star as he explained, “That star right there was best known as Star #02118D243. But now, it shall be forever known as ‘The Rock Angel’.”

I looked up at him in shock.

He turned toward me and said.

“I was planning on this being a wedding present, but I figured now was a better time to give it to you.” He gently tucked away some hair behind my ear once more and I said.

“Oh my god Bri I—I don’t even know what to say…..”

“There’s nothing you need to say. Just know that like the star that’s named after you, never stop shining bright. And the reason why I chose your star to be by Leo and not by your own zodiac is because of Roger,” he fully turned toward me placing his hands on my shoulders giving them a gentle yet firm squeeze as he stared into my eyes, “For a while I thought him calling you his lion cub was just some sort of little codename you both have for each other because of the bond you two share, but now I can see why he truly calls you that,” he cupped the right side of my face and continued as he brushed his fingers across my temple before placing it over my heart, “You have the heart of an angel. A well-known warrior of heaven. And the soul of a lioness”.

His hand went back to my shoulder and he said as he very slightly shook my shoulders as he leaned his head toward mine.

“The hardships you’ve faced have only made you that much stronger. And Fred…..he’s just another one we know you’ll overcome, our brave lioness Queen.”

His hand cupped my face as I could feel his thumb stroke my cheekbone gingerly, wiping away the tears that were probably running down my face. I silently looked down at the picture of my star and it was almost like it was telling me to listen to Brian.

I inhaled deeply before exhaling and I turned back towards Brian and said.

“Never did I think that my idol would use the same words that I have been told for the second half of my life. And I feared that you guys would do the same to me, I feared that I would spend the rest of my life with people faking around me. But like you said when each star dies, another is born in its place. And I’m done being letting people get me down. I’ve done what they once said I couldn’t do. I got the courage to get up on stage instead of turning away, I managed to get me a number 1 hit single before I reached my 20’s. And now I’ve managed to find someone to spend the rest of my life with. It’s time I finally let go of the past, learn from the hurt, and get back up on my feet and tread on.”

“That’s my clever girl.” Brian said with a proud smile. He cupped my face once more and kissed the tip of my nose and brought me close to him as the two of us stared up at the stars, especially the direction towards my star.

As the night dragged on I felt myself getting sleepy. So Brian packed up all the stuff back into the bag and put it over his shoulder and escorted me back to his car parked nearby the park’s side entrance into the acre field of the park. He set the stuff in the trunk and allowed me to sleep in the backseat.

I laid across it and got myself as comfortable as I could in the backseat of his car. The soft purring of the engine sent me into a lulled sense of peace as I felt my eyes drop like they were lead and I began to fall asleep.

Next thing I wake up back in my house in the bedroom with not only Brian but Deacy and Roger surrounding my bed.

“Go back to sleep love, okay?” Deacy said as he stroked away my hair and tucked it behind my ear. I nodded tiredly and soon I fell back asleep feeling three kisses along my temple, cheek and nose respectively.

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frizz22 · 5 years

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Prompt Response:

@ella-love95 Ask: I was wondering could you write a fanfiction where Zelda and Blackwood breaks up because she’s gotten annoyed with him? But because Blackwood is petty he wants to get back at Zelda by dating Hilda, ultimately hurting her little sister and Zelda finds out and she gets revenge on Blackwood? Thank you!!! :)

Oh, so different from my normal requests. I love pretty much all prompts, but this one was especially fun to write. Hope you enjoy :) read on a03

Assumptions I made when writing this: 1. Zelda and Blackwood kept their fling a complete secret, which is why Hilda didn’t think much of dating him. 2. Hilda’s not excommunicated, because Blackwood wouldn’t date her if she was 3. Blackwood is just a petty, annoying asshat, not the crazy bad guy, otherwise Zelda wouldn’t have let him near Hilda to begin with

He was throwing another one of his temper tantrums. Zelda wasn’t even sure what it was about this time—not Sabrina, for once, thank Satan or she’d actually have to listen to him whine and not just hum in the right places as she painted her nails.

It had been fun, in the beginning. The sex was phenomenal and Faustus’ proximity to the Dark Lord and the chance to gain more power made it all the better. But he was grating on her last nerve. How had she never realized what a petty, annoying little man he was?

Lust. If she was being honest; it had clouded her judgement about him for some time. Faustus was certainly physically appealing, and he was powerful; which she wasn’t ashamed to admit was an aphrodisiac for her.

But lust only lasted so long… and hers had disappeared right around the time Constance died and Faustus started to open his mouth to talk more than he opened her legs.

Is this what Constance had to endure? This endless, inane chatter?

Nothing was worth this. Not even more power within the church. It was an unholy miracle her ears weren’t bleeding yet.

A pointed cough caught her attention and Zelda glanced up at Faustus who was now looking at her pointedly. Apparently, she’d gotten lost in her thoughts and forgotten to hum in the right place.

“Well?” Faustus crossed his arms and waited, brow raised.

Zelda gave her nails a once over before muttering a spell to instantly dry them. “We’re through,” she announced, standing and smoothing out her dress.

He looked at her, baffled. “What? Zelda, what are you talking about? I asked—”

“I don’t particularly care what you asked, Faustus. This, whatever we are,” she gestured between the two of them. “It’s done. No more late-night visits, no more quickies before black mass, and no more listening to you blather on about Satan knows what. It was fun, until it wasn’t.” Zelda smiled thinly at him and breezed out of his office, leaving him to gape after her.

As she left, a genuine smile spread across her face. She deserved some fun, for putting up with Faustus for so long. Perhaps she’d pull out her little black book and ring someone up… or someones, it’d been ages since her last threesome.

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

A week passed and she’d heard nothing form Faustus. Not that she wanted to, it’d just been a surprise, she’d been sure he’d try to exact some sort of petty revenge. But nothing. So, Zelda put the matter out of mind entirely. Until Hilda came home several days later, flushed.

Curious, Zelda lowered her newspaper. “What happened to you?”

Hilda twisted her hands excitedly, “you’ll never guess who just asked me out!” She beamed, and before Zelda could comment, she blurt out, “Faustus Blackwood.” She must have looked shocked, because Hilda rushed to continue. “I know, right? He’s rather handsome, and so serious. And the high priest! I never would’ve thought, me of everyone in the coven…” her sister trailed off, biting her lip a little uncertainly now that she was thinking the situation over.

Schooling her face, Zelda smiled. “Nonsense, you’re the one who could have anyone in the coven, Hilda. You just never think to ask.”

Fidgeting a little, Hilda thanked her and hurried off to get ready for her date.

Zelda shrugged, her sister was certainly old enough to pick who she dated. And if she could tolerate Zelda’s temper, maybe she could tolerate Faustus’… well, Faustus’ everything. It wouldn’t hurt to have that kind of connection with the high priest, even if the connection wasn’t her own. Yes, Hilda might be better suited to Faustus than Zelda ever had been.

Only, only hours later Hilda came bursting back into the house and before Zelda could react, she was up the stairs. Frowning, Zelda quickly traced her sister’s steps and found her already changed into her pajamas and jerkily pulling her robe on over top.

“Hilda?” She started softly, reaching to touch her sister’s shoulder. “What happened?”

Shaking her head, Hilda didn’t turn around immediately. “No—, nothing,” she managed, a forced and wobbling smile on her lips when she did turn, trying to hide how much the night had hurt her. But Hilda had always worn her emotions on her sleeve, and Zelda knew every stitch by heart.

Flames ignited inside Zelda, “tell me.” She demanded, her hard tone belied by how she gently guided Hilda to sit on the edge of her bed and the cup of tea that appeared on the bedside table.

“Nothing really, just, he just made a few,” she swallowed and ducked her head. “A few harsh comments,” Hilda wiped her cheeks. “I’m being too sensitive, it’s—”

Zelda framed Hilda’s face and brushed away more tears. “Tell me, sister.” And it sounded more like a request this time and Hilda nodded, fresh tears welling up, but she at least raised her eyes to meet Zelda’s.

Sniffing, Hilda shrugged a little. “I don’t even know how to explain, Zelds. He as me out, he seemed excited. And the evening was going well enough, but as we were eating,” she wiped away some more tears. “Every other sentence out of his mouth… he made me feel like a consolation prize. That I should be grateful he’d stooped to my level.” More tears slipped down Hilda’s face and Zelda stepped closer and wrapped her little sister in a tight embrace; stroking her hair and murmuring soothing comments until the crying subsided.

Gently, she coaxed Hilda to drink the tea and then tucked her into bed—reminiscent of when Hilda was sick as a child and Zelda took care of her. “I’ll take care of everything, Hildie.” She promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of her sister’s head.

Smiling tiredly, Hilda drifted off to sleep. But the fire still raged inside Zelda, and only one thing could quench this particular inferno.

She changed back into her dress and shoes from earlier in the day before teleporting to Blackwood Manor; knowing the snake would be there. Zelda had known Faustus was petty, but she’d never imagined he’d go so low as to lead Hilda on, raise her hopes and then dash them, claiming she was the unworthy one.

No, Zelda would make him pay. She didn’t bother to knock, merely waved a hand and the front door crashed open. It wasn’t subtle by any means, but subtly was Hilda’s game and while it certainly had a time and place, it wasn’t here or now.

Storming into the house, Zelda found him in the parlor. Faustus had the gall to be sitting in front of the fire, nursing a scotch and waiting on her.

“Zelda,” he greeted smugly, not catching her expression in the dim light. “Did someone realize they misse—”

He gagged, the glass falling from his hand and rolling across the ground. Zelda’s hand was raised in the air, half clenched as though his throat were really in her palm. A slight twitch of the fingers on her other hand bound him to the chair, tightly.

Only then did she fully emerge from the dark entryway, knives in her smile and fire in her stomach.

Faustus’ eyes widened, terrified. He’d heard stories, certainly, of the Zelda Spellman from long ago. The one who turned her own harrowing around and tormented her harrowers. He’d likely thought that version of her tamed, a wild part of her lost as the centuries passed.

How could he have known, though, that she hadn’t tamed her inner demon at all, only kept it on a tighter leash; loosing it only when truly provoked. Little provoked her to that point nowadays; well, Sabrina was a unique case. But her niece would never meet this side of her, Zelda had vowed that when they took the girl in.

Though difficult to provoke, nothing unleashed her inner demon faster than someone going after her family. “I suppose you know why I’m here,” she purred, closing in on him with measured steps.

A choked noise escaped his throat and Zelda realized she still had an ironclad grip on his neck. Releasing him, Zelda came to a stop in front of him and cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

“Hilda,” he managed to croak.

Zelda smiled maliciously, “very good, Faustus, a gold pentagram for you. Well, maybe a red one.” She amended, and with several deft movements she’d ripped his shirt open, pulled out her knife and carved a small pentagram into his chest.

Faustus yelped in pain and tried to scuttle away from her.

“Ah ah,” she caught the back of the chair and held it firmly. “We could have had an amicable parting, your excellency,” she intoned his title sarcastically. “You could have even come after me in some way and I’d only have considered it fair. But what did you do instead?”

Silence greeted her question, Faustus just eyed her with contempt, a sneer on his lips.

She nicked him a little with her knife, making him hiss. “I expect answers, Faustus.”

“I went after your sister,” he spat, struggling against the spell she’d used to bind him.

“Correct again, your excellency, have another pentagram.” She sliced into his skin once more, this one slightly bigger than the last, and paused to admire her handiwork, eyes tracing the blood as it trailed down his torso. “I hope you understand what I’m doing and why I’m doing it,” she stepped away from him a bit and gave him an assessing look. “You see, when Hilda told me about her date, I didn’t give it much thought. I assumed you still had a hard-on for powerful Spellmans. You were such an attentive mentor to Edward. And then such a comfort to me, a poor witch running a house for wayward witches.”

At his stunned expression, Zelda scoffed. “You thought you were in control that night?” She looked at him pityingly, “Faustus, I orchestrated the entire thing; as if I’d be on my knees for you unless I knew I’d get exactly what I wanted.” She laughed and closed the distance between them again. “And Hilda, sweet Hilda, you likely thought you never stood a chance of her saying yes, why else wait so long to approach her? I was foolish though. I actually thought you might be a good fit, her temperament much more likely to put up with yours than mine—she’s the youngest, comes with the territory.” Her smile turned into a snarl, “then you decided to hurt her.”

“It was just words—” he started but couldn’t finish.

A spell flew from her lips and shot from her hand and he screamed; the sound was delicious and satisfying. She lifted the spell and Faustus’ breaths came in ragged bursts. “So were those, and they still hurt, didn’t they?”

Chest heaving, Faustus tried to glare at her, but she could see fear in his eyes. “What the Heaven kind of spell was that?”

“Spell for a thousand burning pokers, efficient and painful. And it should help you learn this lesson.” She murmured, etching another pentagram into his chest, three total, one for each Spellman sibling. The third was the largest, the deepest; for Hilda, for the pain he’d inflicted.

Standing, Zelda took a step back and muttered a healing spell, well, a partial healing spell. It sealed the wounds, but left the pain, left the scars. She didn’t want to let Faustus heal himself later and erase the evidence.

Faustus winced, giving her a slightly pleading look. “I understand. I’ll stay away—”

“From my entire family, I know.” Zelda interrupted in a bored tone, wiping the blade of her knife off on his pants. “We will only see you at black mass or at the academy. No more surprise visits to the house, no more targeting Sabrina in class. No more. My family, my sister is off limits. You violate this deal and,” she hit him with the hot poker spell once more, holding it longer than before. “The church just might need to find itself a new high priest.” She lifted a brow and the spell, “understand?”

He growled but acquiesced.

“Good boy,” she intoned mockingly, turning to leave.

Then he called after her. “Aren’t you going to release me?” He demanded, straining against the spell strapping him to the chair.

Squinting her eyes, Zelda shook her head. “The spell wears off in a few hours. Think of this as an opportunity to reflect on your actions and that everything has a price.” She smirked and was gone with a whispered spell.

She appeared back in her bedroom and quietly changed, trying not to disturb her sister’s sleep. Though she was unsuccessful.

“Zelda?” Hilda asked throatily, still half asleep. She hummed and slid onto the bed next to her sister, cradling her close. “Thank you,” Hilda murmured. Zelda kissed Hilda’s head and rubbed a comforting hand along her back.

“You deserve the world, Hilda. Don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise.” She whispered vehemently, giving Hilda one more tight squeeze before going to climb into her own bed, planning.

While no one could know she had this soft, comforting side to her, Zelda had a reputation to uphold, one thing she’d make sure everyone knew from now on, was that no one messed with her family.

#caos #chilling adventures of sabrina #zelda spellman #hilda spellman #faustus blackwood #sabrina spellman #zelda x faustus #kind of #writing prompt #fanfic #netflix #some violence #submission

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saintbalor-blog · 7 years

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" MY SISTER'S GOT A DATE WITH A PSYCHOPATH ! "

REQUEST: The losers club is getting harrassed by the bowers gang and Eddies older sister (the reader) comes to the rescue but has a little problem with Patrick in which hes all like "I'll only stop if you go on a date with me." P.S you're such a blessing keep doing you boo!

The echoes of the obnoxious last school bell bounced off the walls of the emptied out hallways as the last few students made their way out of the hellhole. Y/F/N Kaspbrak was among one of the minimal faces that were the last to leave, having been too engrossed in a conversation with her best friend about some gross boy before they had realized the time.

Giving her reflection one last judgment in the dirty restroom mirror, Y/N brushed out a few loose strands of hair with her fingers for a final touch before following her friend out the heavy metal door. Adjusting her heavy bag on one shoulder, Y/N's nose crinkled in disgust at her friend vividly repeating what the boy had said to her earlier in class.

The duo had only been out the front entrance for less than three minutes before Y/N had took notice of the spectacle happening across the road, narrowing her Y/E/C eyes to get a better look at the faces. It was easy to see Bowers and his gang, it was seeing who they were tormenting that was the difficult part.

Her gaze falling on the familiar fanny pack laying on the dirty ground beside the group of bullies was enough evidence of who they had chosen as their victims for the day. Being the first time she's had to first-hand witness the gang targeting her brother, her heart pained at the idea of what they could possibly be doing to her poor sibling.

"What the fuck?" Y/N burst out, frustrated at the fact that whoever actually passed by the teens hadn't even bothered to stop and aid her brother and his friends; it was just unbelievable.

Slipping her backpack off of her shoulder, a soft thud sounding once the heavy bag made contact with the sidewalk, Y/N began heading over with a glint of purpose in her eyes. Her small hands were balled into fists and filled with rage while her feet were fast to begin leading her over to protect her brother from the bullies' deadly hands.

Familiar fingers curling around her upper arm and pulling her back from the street were enough to bring her back to the ground, taking her away from all the rage-filled thoughts she was having against Henry and his crew. Looking back at the culprit, glaring eyes met worried ones as her friend tried to talk her out of what she thought was a suicide mission.

"Y/N/N, come on. Stay out of it." Y/N's friend desperately tried to reason, looking over Y/N's shoulder where Patrick Hockstetter was roughly grabbing Eddie Kaspbrack by the collar and tossing him to the ground; surely hard enough to leave a trail of bruises along his back to mark his work. "You know what those assholes are capable of, you're just gonna get yourself on their radars like your brother."

"Who gives a shit?" Y/N shrugged her friend's helping hand off of her, vigorously shaking her head at her crazy request to leave the situation alone before beginning to march across the street again. "That's my brother, Y/F/N."

When she made it to them, it was Patrick Hockstetter who was holding her brother down on the floor with the heel of his black boot firmly pressing against her brother's stomach. Belch and Victor worked on restraining Bill and Richie to stop them from interfering with their fun while Henry stood alongside Patrick, yelling vicious phrases and words that only seemed to motivate Patrick's harassment more.

The need to protect him stemmed from her mother, though, it wasn't as overboard as their mother's. Seeing Eddie squirm to escape from under Patrick's dirty boot was the final straw for Y/N.

"Get off of him, you asshole." Her high adrenaline triumphed over her reasoning as she gave Patrick a hard shove at his side, strong enough to get him off of her brother but not enough to completely drop him on the floor as he deserved.

The group of boys were shocked at the sudden interference, not expecting anyone to actually interrupt and especially not expecting to see Eddie's sister of all people to be the one to push Patrick. It took the gang a moment to register what happened with Patrick being the first to recover and Henry the second.

"Woah, woah, woah." Patrick held his hands up in mock defense as Henry rushed over to put Eddie in a compromising hold, adding on more pain than Patrick had. "No need to make a scene here, princess. We were just playing. Weren't we, little shits?"

Patrick continuously inched closer to her with a Cheshire smile etched on his lips, his lanky figure towering over her in an aid to remind her who was in control of the situation.

"Y-Y-Yeah." Bill stuttered out from under Belch's hold, afraid for Eddie's sister considering how close she was to the devil of the group. "We're fine." He attempted to sound more cool and collected even though he knew Y/N wasn't one to back down from a fight; it was worth a shot.

"Bullshit, Y/N/N. They were about to beat your brother's ass!" Richie boldly interjected, greatly contrasting Bill's meek attempt to lie and earning a hard shove of his own.

"Y/N/N?" Patrick questioned the nickname Eddie and the losers had given her, quirking an eyebrow at her and exchanging a bitter laugh with Henry. "You're on a nickname basis with this little worm but won't even make the time to introduce yourself to me? Oh, that just won't fly."

He shook his head at her in faux disappointment with a tsk from his lips. In a manner that screamed anything but nice, Patrick placed a heavy hand on the side of her jaw, the metal from his rings feeling cold against her skin. Forcing her gaze up at him, making himself her only focus, Y/N had no option but to look straight into the eyes that were basically dipped in an ocean of evil.

"Why would I? I know who you are and what kind of shitty people you and you friends are." Y/N spitefully spat, her body shaking in fear under his touch diminishing the tough exterior she was trying to project for him.

'Do it for Eddie' seemed to be the only thought that kept her going, stopping her from just running back home and leaving her brother with the wolves. She would endure it, she decided, if it meant keeping him and his friends safe.

"Because I need to know the name I'll be moaning later tonight." Patrick's suggestive comment earned him a ring of whistles from his friends and gagging noises from the Losers club, not wanting to think of their best friend's sister in that manner.

"Gross, it's like a bad porno." Richie complained, his humor still keeping up with him despite the various painful scratches and bruises the decorated his face.

"Shut up, Richie!" Eddie shot at Richie, wishing he could take out his anger on Patrick instead but he wasn't dumb enough to risk putting a target on his back again; not after he wasn't even done recovering from the recent beating.

"Leave me alone." Y/N snapped, ignoring her brother and his friends. Acting on impulse, her hand went for Patrick's hand when she felt him about to move it again, only to have her wrist caught by his free hand.

"I don't think you get who has the upper hand here." Patrick warned her, tightening his hold on her and pulling her closer to him, much to Eddie's distaste. "Look, Y/N/N, let's make a deal. You care about your brother and his little faggot friends, right?"

"Obviously or I wouldn't be standing here." "I'll leave your brother and his loser friends alone if, and only if, you go on a date with me."

Her eyes widened at his offer. It would seem harmless enough if the words were spoken through someone else but this was Patrick Hockstetter. The Patrick Hockstetter was asking, no, threatening her to go on a date in exchange to spare her brother's safety. It was practically selling your soul to the Devil for a favor.

But, she loved her brother and she cared for his safety, how could she decline anything that would ensure his protection? Eddie knew that too, he knew she had a weak spot for him but he still hadn't fully anticipated her final response. "When and where?"

#patrick hockstetter one shot #patrick hockstetter imagine

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coldphoenix · 7 years

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Frit Request - Imperfect Moment

Author’s Note:- So I got a request about 2 weeks ago for Frit saying ‘I love you’… well, here it is XD Sorry it took so long, I’ve been crazy busy lately! I hope it was worth the wait. Also I don’t know if it’s as romantic or cute as you expected, but I tried to stick as close as I could to how I’m writing their personalities, and this seemed to work… but I’ll probably do follow-ups further down the line :) I hope this is okay for now! As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated ^_^ Thank you!

xxxxx

He wanted to wait for the perfect moment… but the perfect moment came and went, much more often than fairy tales would have one believe. More often than not after their lovemaking, Hit wanted to tell Frost he loved him. He wanted to tell him before, when the fire between them was just beginning to spark. He wanted to tell him during, when their bodies were entwined and Hit had to hold his breath to stop himself screaming it on every heated pant. He wanted to tell him when they lay together afterwards, Hit holding Frost in his arms. He wanted to tell him when he awoke beside him in the morning, and Frost’s picturesque face was the first thing he saw. He wanted to tell him when they were dining together, alone and intimately, with nothing to accompany them except their thoughts, expressed through comfortable conversation and flowing wine. He wanted to tell him… every second of every day. His tongue was in a constant state of being bitten, as Hit battled desperately to keep the words securely trapped within his heart. He couldn’t tell Frost when lovemaking was involved; that was cliché, and all too easy to not believe once the moment was over. He didn’t want to tell him over dinner; supposing his feelings were not mutual? It would create an awkwardness between them that they would have to endure until dinner was over, and Hit couldn’t think of a worse situation. He’d thought about catching Frost off-guard, and just blurting it out casually and quickly, but that was hardly romantic… nor would Frost like it. It seemed so effortless, so thoughtless… and as adorable as he was, Frost was materialistic and he liked things done a certain way. If Hit was going to tell him, Frost would surely want Hit to build it up a little, and make a thing of it… but then again, what if Frost didn’t feel the same? If Hit built it up it would be humiliating, for both of them. Hit wasn’t good at this… He knew how he felt, he knew what he wanted to say… but he was afraid. What if Frost didn’t feel the same? They hadn’t been dating that long… perhaps it was still too soon.

It would be so much easier if Hit hadn’t fallen for Frost at first sight. If he had just felt nothing, and developed feelings over time – like a normal person – he could just tell Frost when such feelings developed, because by then it may be safe to assume that Frost loved him too. It hadn’t gone that way, though… Hit had fallen for Frost as soon as he’d laid his eyes upon him, and so he’d had to wait until an ‘appropriate’ amount of time had passed before he could tell him – he didn’t want to scare Frost away by coming on too strong, nor did he want to tell him before Frost had time to feel the same. What was an appropriate amount of time, though…? And would it apply to Frost? Could Frost even love him at all? Yes, they were intimate, and they got along well… but that didn’t mean love. Especially where Frost was concerned, Hit had come to learn that sex certainly did not mean love. As it turned out, Frost had a few more exes than Hit had imagined… and he hadn’t loved a single one of them. They had been mere playthings, to look pretty and entertain him when he felt the need. Was that all Hit was? Just another plaything? One who could provide Frost with food and shelter and the lifestyle he desired? Would Hit ever be anything more…? And if not, did it really matter when he told him? Did he really need to tell him at all? Yes… he did. Keeping it a secret was killing Hit, and he was finding it harder to stay silent with every perfect moment that passed. So… now he was in a constant state of wonder. When? How? Should he wait longer, or should he have told him already? Would it make Frost afraid? Or angry, or uncomfortable? Or would Frost confess to having feelings of his own…? Hit could hope for certain things, but it would not make them a certainty. By no means. That was the worst part. Hit could control almost every aspect of his life – and other people’s. This, though… love. That was something not even the Gods could control. So… Hit was left wondering… “Do you love me?”

Hit’s heart stopped. Those words were not his. That dreaded word, that had been plaguing him for so long, was not uttered by him. This moment wasn’t perfect, far from it… but this was the moment he would confess his feelings to Frost. He had to. He had been asked, and he couldn’t lie. He stared across the dinner table at Frost, only to be greeted by the icejin’s red eyes staring back. “Do you?” Frost asked again. “Don’t lie.” “… Why are you asking?” Hit questioned. He felt hot all of a sudden… this was much harder than he’d planned. It was far less romantic. They were having dinner, in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the universe… it appeared to be a romantic setting, but it wasn’t. Romance didn’t feel this awkward. “This is the third time you’ve brought me to this restaurant this month.” Frost answered. “Money doesn’t matter.” Hit shrugged. “I have plenty of it. You know that.” “Yes.” Frost nodded. “But you don’t even like this restaurant. I do.” He narrowed his eyes at Hit, seeming suspicious of the assassin’s behaviour. “Actually, we only ever go where I want to go.” “Are you complaining?” Hit replied. “No.” Frost smirked. “But… it’s not usual, is it? You wouldn’t let anybody else pick the place all the time.” “I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” Hit spoke quietly, aware that he was in a public, nice place. He wasn’t about to start talking loudly about their relationship… “I’ve had mistresses before.” Frost said, his smirk widening slightly. “I never let them get their way as much as you let me get mine.” “I’m… obviously more accommodating than you.” Hit said. He lowered his eyes, realising he’d been defeated. It was pointless… He couldn’t lie to Frost, and Frost had figured it out. The only way to convince him that he wasn’t loved was to tell him that he wasn’t, and Hit was not prepared to do that. So… he had been defeated. By a being much weaker than himself. How embarrassing. “… Because I love you.”

Hit raised his eyes once more to meet Frost’s, and he waited for the icejin’s response. His body started to tense right away; he felt hot and stiff, his heartbeat gradually increasing… what was taking Frost so long? If he wasn’t prepared for that answer then why had he asked the question? It was – foolish, if nothing else! Still though, Frost kept Hit waiting, in agony for a good few seconds – seconds that felt much longer to Hit… and then he cleared his throat, and he replied. “Okay.” Frost uttered. “… Why?” “What?” Hit choked, his eyes widening slightly. What sort of a question was that? Surely he wasn’t asking…? “Why do you love me?” Oh… he was. The tightness in Hit’s shoulders grew. How was he supposed to answer that…? “I… I just do.” Hit mumbled sheepishly. “You’re… exquisite.” “Exquisite?” Frost sniggered a little. “You make me sound like art.” “You are art.” Hit replied. “You’re a beautiful piece of art, Frost…” He looked at him, and his cheek’s darkened… but bravely, Hit never broke Frost’s stare. “I’ve always thought that… since the day we met.” “Eh!” Frost blinked, almost yelping his response. He seemed stunned. Of course he was… “You’ve loved me for that long?” He tried not to raise his voice, although he was shocked and probably wanted to scream. He was trying to keep his composure in this high-classed place… He was remarkable. “Yes.” Hit answered guiltily, his eyes growing dull. He was certain it would be over soon. This moment, and this relationship along with it. There was no doubt that Frost was frightened now – creeped out, and unnerved… because Hit was a maniac that fell deeply in love at first sight, and that wasn’t normal. Frost deserved someone who was normal.

He sat in silence, and waited. He wouldn’t be the first to leave. He was certain Frost would walk out, but at least then he could say that it had been Frost that had walked out. Hit had not left the one he loved. He would never do that. He couldn’t… “That’s weird.” Frost’s voice confirmed Hit’s greatest fears. Frost didn’t like it. It was scaring him. “Why would you do that?” “I couldn’t help it.” Hit frowned. “Look – what do you want to do about it?” “Well, nothing right now.” Frost huffed. “I’m not done with my dinner.” “I mean after that.” Hit practically growled. Frost knew what he meant! Why was he acting so calm? Was he trying to torment Hit? Was this amusing to him? It was sick, and cruel… Hit knew Frost had that side to him, and he had never been naïve enough to believe that he could never see it, but still… this wasn’t fun. For the first time, being in Frost’s company wasn’t fun. In fact… it was rather painful. “Oh…” Frost grunted, and calmly sipped his wine, as if nothing had happened. As if Hit hadn’t just been put out of his misery, only to be thrown face-first into another. What was he doing…? “We could… go home and…” He lowered his voice and looked around, aware of his surroundings. “… Do it?” “I mean after that.” Hit almost wept. Frost wanted to ‘do it’? He wanted to make love to Hit before he left? No… That was cruel. It was too cruel. Hit wasn’t sure he would be physically able to perform. He didn’t want his last memory of Frost’s body to be… that. “We can sleep… and tomorrow,” Frost shrugged. “You can pick the restaurant, if you want.” He took another sip of his wine, and giggled slightly. “Don’t make a habit of it, though.”

Hit paused for a moment, frowning slightly. He was confused. It didn’t sound like… No, but surely… Frost said it was weird. He thought it was weird! So he wasn’t… Was he really… okay with it? “You don’t want to leave?” Hit asked. “No.” Frost looked at him, and for a brief moment he seemed concerned. “Do you… want me to?” “No!” Hit gasped. “No, I – I just - - you said it was weird.” “It is weird.” Frost frowned. “But most aliens I meet are weird. I still… date them.”

Hit watched as Frost continued eating, determined to finish his dinner before he left. He wasn’t looking at Hit; he wasn’t making eye contact. In fact, he looked slightly shy… There was a small blush on his face, one that was almost invisible to the naked eye. He was slightly tense… he was concentrating too much on his food. If Hit didn’t know better, he’d say the confident, bossy little thing he loved was nervous. … For what reason would that be? “Do you love me?” Hit asked, almost as boldly as Frost. Now he was the nervous one. As nervous as Frost looked, Hit was a million times worse as he once again waited for a response. Frost paused, as if he were thinking… then he looked at Hit. “I’m… not sure.” He mumbled. “I like you. So… I think so.” His cheeks started to darken, and he quickly looked away, shy about his emotions. Whatever they were. “It wasn’t love at first sight, though. That’s insane.”

Hit chuckled, charmed as ever be Frost. Charmed by his insult, charmed by his… confession. The confession… Hit’s heart stopped as it struck him, and then that same heart started to flutter. Wildly. Uncontrollably. Frost… loved him. He loved him! Or – he liked him, at least. Frost liked him! And he was okay with Hit loving him! He was okay with Hit loving him from the start – this was the best result Hit could have possibly hoped for! Yes… Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes! “I love you.” Hit breathed. It felt so good to say that out loud… the amount of times he’d spoken it in his head – the amount of times just today he’d forced himself not to utter those words. It felt incredible to finally let them out. “Frost. I love you.” “I know…” Frost mumbled, his head lowering slightly and his cheeks darkening even more, this time in embarrassment. “Stop.” “I love you.” Hit said it again, unable to stop himself. It was as if a door had been opened, and all those unspoken words were finally flooding out. He had to say it. He had to say it a million times a day! “Frost –” “If you say it again I will leave.” Frost hissed. “Stop!”

That was enough to silence Hit. He watched as Frost finished his meal; he couldn’t eat his own, he’d lost his appetite. All he could think about was Frost. The only thing he wanted to place against his lips were Frost’s. Why was he taking so long…? “Done?” Hit spoke impatiently, when Frost finally set his cutlery down. “Do you want a dessert?” Frost offered with a wicked smirk, and the sole intention of winding Hit up. “No.” Hit answered bluntly. “Neither do you. We have plenty at home.” He dove his hand into his wallet and pulled out a generous amount of large bills, more than enough to pay for the food and a tip. He placed it on the table, and looked at Frost. “Let’s go. I want to say it again.” “Fine.” Frost almost giggled.

He rose from his seat, and went to take the assassin’s arm as he stood. Hit allowed him to, but he also greeted Frost with a kiss. He pressed his lips against him for a long moment, seeming to forget that they were in a public place. It was nice at first, but Frost started to feel self-conscious… no doubt everybody was staring… “Hit.” He uttered quietly, pulling his darkened face away. “I love you.” Hit blurted out again. Kami, he was like a broken record! “I know.” Frost growled. “Shut up!” He took hold of Hit’s hand and started to drag him out of the restaurant, ignoring the people staring and trying not to give in to the smile that was attempting to make its home upon his face.

#frit #frost #hit #myfics #dbs #dragonball z #request

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bahannah01writes · 7 years

Text

Bring Me a Dream (Pt. 1)

You find yourself back into the world of Dreamers with a determined heart and a curious mind, along with questions you hope won't go unanswered. Once again, Mark will be elated to have you back- but he can tell you're hiding something. Mark may not have any inkling as to what you're really hiding, but he's as stubborn as his dog is golden to do his best and find out. Though, like anything in this world, there is always more to a story than what it seems. And above all, there is only one question far more important than any... What flavor slushee will you drink first?

Sequel to SDMD is finally here, loves! And goodness hopefully you all love it just as much! (Also, so happy my wifi is working, for the last hour it’s been glitching ;^; so now I can finally post it! :D )

Next!

Read the first part of this series here!

Tages: @kourt-kay @twizzlersnizzler @bananakid42 if you want to be tagged, please message me :)

Enjoy!

~~~

The night is dark, stars reach higher than any soul could on Earth. The moon hangs above and watches over all of its sleepy creatures below it. Serene silence envelops the world and the house is no exception. The sweet laughter that filled it during the day disappeared into soft snoring and hardly audible fans; they kept the house cool from the hot Californian sun in the morning and afternoon. The sun seemed so energetic, always ready to brighten the day- both metaphorically and literally. But now, now it is the moon's turn and he decides to keep the lights low with only the stars, that freckle the sky so perfectly, aiding him. Other than that, the darkness blankets the sky accompanied by a cloud or two that'd dim the lights even further.

And even so, Mark’s curtains currently block out the sight to make his room even darker. His golden dog lays at his feet as he sleeps; breathing steady and light as the night pulls him further into the realm of dreaming. It is a little bit past midnight, he had spent his time editing videos until deciding it was enough and he would finish the rest tomorrow. Nonetheless, he had to keep in mind that the very next morning he would have to exercise early- Mark was determined to stick to his routine and would always make sure he had a decent night of sleep so the morning wouldn’t be so bad. In this moment, he’s doing just that- getting a good night sleep.

Albeit, it wouldn’t last long.

A few hours later, Mark could hear the wind howling and banging outside his house. A groan escapes his lungs as he sits up in bed, his tired eyes looking around his room. He sees that Chica must have left at some point during the night, he figures that she merely wanted water or something of the sort. Nothing big.

Is it raining too? What the Hell? The forecast said nothing about rain, Mark would remember if they said anything about it, he would have to adjust his jogging route otherwise. Now that he thinks about it, he couldn’t even remember anything about high winds either. Odd. Then, he hears what sounds like a few knocks on the walls around his room. Including one on the wall along the side of his house, where no one- unless of course they really wanted to and brought a ladder- would be able to knock on. This overwhelming sense of dread overcame him, a sinking feeling in the pit of stomach set in- it’s growing heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Mark isn’t exactly sure what is going on, nor does he understand why he feels so afraid; which possibly only adds onto his fear. The knocking seems to grow louder, harsher even, around him and not only could he feel how hard his heart is beating, but he can hear it too.

God, it is so loud! He is tempted to just get up and go splash some water in his face or do something, anything to get rid of this feeling. This sinking feeling that nothing good is about to happen- no, the feeling that only pain and torment were in store. He doesn’t like it one bit, yet, he can’t bring his legs to move from his bed. Mark knows it sounds crazy but he feels as though if he were to step on the floor, it would somehow bring him pain. He isn’t sure how; he just knows it will.

His senses are getting overwhelmed; eyes darting from one part of the room to the next repeatedly- he can’t shake this odd sense of being watched. Mark feels eyes on him as he lies helplessly in his bed- too scared to move a muscle. He’s paralyzed. The only sense spared is scent and taste, and he isn’t all that interested in seeing how they may be involved. He tries to shut his eyes, hoping that if he pretends this isn’t happening, it will all disappear. That everything he is feeling, everything he is experiencing, everything that is going on around him, it will all somehow go away and leave him to fall asleep in peace. That this personal Hell can end and let him rest once more.

Only when he opens his eyes, he realizes that nothing has changed.

That simply adds onto the overbearing sense of despair and fright in his heart and mind.

His chest rises and falls with each breath; one after the another, they gradually become faster. His panicked eyes still searching the room as paranoia fills his brain; there’s someone here. There has to be! Why else would he feel like he’s being watched?

The storm continues to pour outside as Mark’s eyes finally spot something, someone, in the darkness. Everything that once filled his senses and clouded his mind disappeared- all of his focus is now with the figure on the left side of his room. Their eyes meet and the stare lingers if only for a few seconds before the figure vanishes into the unknown and Mark suddenly gains a stinging pain over every inch of his body. It feels like a wave, beginning at his feet and rising up to his head to fill his whole body with this unimaginable sensation, one that no one should ever have to endure. Like the lightening bolts that rage on outside, the pain burns and stings, never faltering- if anything, it gets worse and worse with each passing second. It’s horrendous.

He screams as his body contorts in all sorts of ways to try and cope with the terrible sensation. Curling into himself and then spreading out, spasms of the muscles in reaction to whatever it is that he is feeling. Mark’s heart feels like it could jump out of his chest at any moment, his bones act as though they desperately try to escape his body, all while his throat grows dry and sore from yelling. Eyes shut tightly as his head throws itself into the pillow- back arched- pained groans escape his lungs due to the torturous feelings engulfing his whole being. In one last fight against the sensation, he makes a quick move.

He lurches forward in his bed, sweaty and out of breath. He woke up. Mark’s brown hues wide with panic and confusion, they search the room around him and find no evidence of the figure’s existence. The pain’s disappearance is similar, not a trace nor a last twinge of it in his body, he feels fine. Tired, but fine. Instead, Mark notices a sleeping Chica at the foot of his bed- undisturbed and relaxed as ever. Brows knit together as a hand runs through the messy black strands, was that another nightmare? While the YouTuber is familiar with the haunted dreams, he hasn’t had one of that sort in, well, he actually can’t remember having a nightmare like that. Maybe in his childhood? He’s not sure. Either way, it was so vivid, he feels like it was all real. But that couldn’t be, could it? No, it was just a really weird, lucid, and fucked up nightmare. That’s all.

Giving the golden dog a quick pet, Mark gets out of bed and goes to his bathroom counter. The bright lights sting his eyes so he blinks a few times to help adjust to them, he takes in his reflection and chuckles. Yeah, he looks like a mess. A crooked smirk crosses his expression as he turns the water on- making sure the dial is on cold- he cups his hands below the faucet and once satisfied with the amount, proceeds to splash the cool water over his face to help bring him back into reality. Mark does this one more time- just to make sure it’s really working after all. Why splash water on your face if it doesn’t wake you up, right? If it didn’t work, then it was just a waste of time and now you're not only tired, but cold too. So, it’s always better to be thorough with these things.

Nonetheless, it does work and Mark, out of pure curiosity, looks over his hands in case the pain he experienced in the dream possibly had a real life source. He doesn’t see anything, even after stretching his fingers and what not, there is simply not an answer for it- or at least in real life there isn’t. In one’s dreaming world, who knows how many answers there are.

He shrugs and tries to rub the remaining sleep out of his eyes as he turns off the lights and heads back to his bed. Sadly, he finds that he’s too awake by now to try and fall back asleep. He looks over to his clock and reads the red numbers: 4:12am. Damn, he really is up early. Groaning, Mark’s eyes shift to the window.

The sky is still painted a dark blue with the little white and yellow stars, the pale full moon shines brightly. Mark really does love space; being reminded of how beautiful it all is, it sends a soft smile to his lips despite everything else. Even if the random rain continues to come down, it’s a far lighter storm than depicted in his dream and he has an odd but hopeful feeling that soon there will be clearing skies as the sun rise. Albeit, it may take another hour or two- yet, it’s all worth it, isn’t it? To see the beauty of the Earth unravel, as night turns to day, the dim sky changing into a splendid display of oranges, pinks, and blues? The clouds reflecting and reveling in the color change as well, he finds it refreshing. With each new day, a new sun rise and a new sun set, shaking away the existence of yesterday as the Earth rotates in this ginormous universe of ours. It reminds him that there really isn’t any point in focusing on the past or the negatives, rather, living for now and for the happiness one deserves. The idea of looking up instead of down has helped in more than one situation; the latest still fresh in heart and mind.

Mark hears an adorable little snore behind him, he laughs lightly and turns around to offer Chica an early morning belly rub. She happily welcomes it and even rolls over further, he couldn’t help the laughs escaping him by that point. She’s too cute!

His eyes go back and forth between the bed and the door, again- trying to decide if he should at least try to go back to sleep or accept the situation and just make some breakfast already. The rain outside tempts him to do the first, even if it may take a while.

Although, a bang reaches his ears and he looks out towards the window. Was that thunder? Mark doesn’t think so and is only assured of that when the noise echoes out in his house again. His eyes narrow and with a peculiar feeling of paranoia sneaking into his mind; he looks for a quick thing to defend himself with, he settles for a heavy book that was on his nightstand. Mark’s long legs carry him, albeit cautiously, out of his room and down the stairs into the hallway. The floorboards creak ever so slightly beneath him and fuel his paranoia. Logically, yes, he knows it’s probably nothing and it may simply be his mind playing tricks with him in the night. But right now, the lack of sleep has made him a bit more susceptible to his cruel imagination. Mark waits for a moment, the silence making it easy to listen for another bang. And sooner than expected, another one came. Though this time, he realizes it to be a knock, which adds to his confusion.

Who’s at his house at 4am in the morning?

With furrowed brows, Mark makes his way over to the front door. He debates with himself on whether or not he should really answer it or leave it alone. For all he knows, it could be a murderer just waiting for some dummy stupid enough to open their door to a stranger at 4am. The thought hits him once he’s about a foot away from the door, his lips purse and he begins to ponder the outcomes. It took him a moment to decide and during that moment he heard two more knocks, his decision is to simply open the door a crack to see exactly who it is that’s out there. However, it then dawns on him that he does in fact have a peephole and that this situation is, quite frankly, the exact reason why peepholes are made.

The darkness still surrounds the person outside, and as if will help, he squints in an attempt to make out their features better. From what he can tell, he thinks that they’re a girl. They’re about to raise their hand to knock on the door once more, even just by watching their actions, he can tell they’re hesitant. That’s good news, he thinks, most spontaneous murderers aren’t hesitant right? Mark chews on his bottom lip, his gaze leaves them and goes to the book in his hand, with a heavy sigh he decides to open the door.

His free hand grabs the door knob and twist it slowly, he opens the door a few inches. It’s just enough to peek his head out, offer a smile, and try to get a good look at whoever is standing, soaked, on his front porch. “Can I help you, miss?” Mark also really hopes that his assumptions in the person being of the female gender is true, he doesn’t want to seem like an ass this early in the day already.

Although, when he hears their response, the raven haired sweetheart finds himself frozen.

“Mark?”

~~~

And boom! First chapter out of the way! If you have the time, please write some lovely feedback about what you guys think about it so far! Hopefully it wasn't too bad of a beginning lol but there is definitely more to come, with plenty of secrets and lore to unravel, so stick with me kid if you wanna see (or rather read) more! :D

#bring me a dream #sequel of sdmd #SDMD sequel #BMD?#BMAD?#nah BMD definitely #please enjoy!#goodness I hope you enjoyed!#markiplier x reader #mark fischbach x reader #markiplier fanfiction #bahannah01

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chronicallygothic · 7 years

Text

PTSD

I didn’t write the following article but I thought it really hit home and needed to be shared. Not all of it is relevant to my story but it comes very close. The abuse happened to me 13 years ago and I only just told my mom a few months ago (even though my “boyfriend” was living with me at my mother’s house.)

I’ve had to cut ties with several friendships over the gaslighting issue. I don’t even like saying his name. Not his nickname that he used when we dated or his real name. I’m frequently on high alert but my fight or flight response is finally starting to calm down after a decade of therapy and helpful partners.

Seeing him around makes me instantly sick. The fact that people don’t know what I went through makes me sick but the thought that they might not believe me “cuz he’s a good guy” is unbearable.

He told me how to dress, who to hang out with, who not to hang out with. I was only 14.

Many times while he was driving us one place or another I would fantasize about yanking the steering wheel into oncoming traffic and hoping that neither of us survived.

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For many years I was in an extremely destructive relationship with someone who has NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) and during that time I was regularly subjected to a variety of emotional, mental and physical abuse.

Every day I walked on eggshells, living in fear of saying or doing something that might trigger an aggressive response.

Many people might wonder why I, or anyone else, would remain in this kind of environment, but by the time I fully recognized that I was in extreme danger, I was already badly emotionally and mentally weakened and debilitated.

I was living in terror waiting to be attacked at any moment and yet I did not feel as though I had the strength or courage to remove myself from it.

Abuse doesn’t always happen overtly and it isn’t always easy to recognize. Often it is a covert, insidious, invisible drip that slowly poisons the victim’s mind so they don’t trust their own judgment, is unable to make life-changing decisions and feels as though they don't have the coping skills necessary to get help or leave.

It took me a long time, and everything I had, to pull myself from the bottom of the deep dark hell I existed in and to get myself to a place of safety.

By the time I walked away, I thought that the nightmare was over. But in so many other ways, it had only just began.

The terrors of the taunts, torture and torment that had become my normality didn’t subside. They remained alive and relived themselves in the form of intrusive, regular flashbacks.

Many months after I had left the relationship I discovered that I was suffering from C-PTSD, (Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.)Â C-PTSDÂ is a result of persistent psychological trauma in an environment where the victim believes they are powerless and that there is no escape.

C-PTSD is slightly different than PTSD, which is brought on from experiencing one solitary, traumatic incident, or it can develop due to an accumulation of incidents. Although both C-PTSD and PTSD both developed from my experiences, I identify more with C-PTSD, as it was the effects of the prolonged exposure to repetitive and chronic trauma that I felt I couldn’t escape from that affected me the most.

For many months after leaving the relationship I struggled to sleep at night, and when I did I often woke trembling after experiencing terrifying reoccurring dreams. On many occasions when I did eventually sleep I would sleep solid for at least 24 hours, in such deep slumber that I would struggle to wake from it and when I did I would feel fatigued, spaced out and as though I was numbly sleep-walking through the day.

I was easily startled and panicked at the slightest sudden movement or loud noise.

I was ultra-sensitive, on edge and highly alert most of the time, which I believe was my mind’s way of forming some sort of self-protection to keep me aware so that I avoided similar potentially dangerous situations.

At the mention of certain words, names or places I felt nauseous and dizzy and would become extremely distressed. A painful tight knot developed in my stomach every time something occurred to remind me of the trauma.

I still have difficulty remembering large phases of my life, and for a long time I struggled to stay focused, and my concentration abilities were very poor.

I would get upset easily, especially if I was in a tense environment. I had constant anxiety and was regularly in fight-or-flight mode.

I didn’t eat properly. I had no motivation and suicidal thoughts regularly flooded my mind.

I had lost my spark.

One aspect of the aftermath of the relationship that affected me most was the daily gaslighting that I endured. This left me finding it difficult to believe anything people would tell me, and I analyzed, questioned and dissected everything.

Forming new relationships, whether friendships, or romantic, was almost impossible as I struggled to trust people’s intentions and felt scared of possible underlying, hidden motives and agendas for their words or actions.

I dissociated from most of what I had been through and pretended, even to myself, that the abuse wasn’t as serious as it was. Partly because I felt ashamed that I had not left sooner and also because I wanted to defend and protect the person I was involved with, as I still cared for him. Therefore, I rarely mentioned the relationship to anyone and froze and shut down through stress (sometimes resulting in a meltdown) if anyone tried to talk to me about i It got to the stage where I withdrew completely as leaving the house became overwhelming and a major ordeal because I wouldn’t/couldn’t open up and connect and I felt terrified of everything and everyone.

One thing that became apparent and harrowing was that although I had gained enough strength to walk away and I felt empowered by the decision knowing that it was the right choice for my emotional, mental and physical health, I was suppressing all my emotions and feelings and I was far from okay on the inside.

There were many rollercoaster emotions trapped inside me and trying to ignore and contain them was doing more harm than good. In many ways the ending of the relationship had signaled closure to one phase of my life and had opened up a new chapter that was going to take a little time to get used to.

It appeared that while I was in the relationship I had become so used to enduring a wide variety of narcissistic behaviors that they had almost become normal and acceptable. Stepping away from all that I had known felt like I had walked from one planet and onto another and I hadn’t got a clue how to navigate it on my own or how to relate to anyone on it.

I soon realized that unless I started to focus on healing myself, I would remain a victim of my previous circumstances as the build up of emotional injuries, wounds and scars needed urgent attention. Otherwise, they would seep out and silently destroy sections of my life without me being aware that the past was still controlling me.

It was up to me to rebuild my strength and confidence, otherwise I would end up alienating myself and causing further damage.

I had a lot of inner healing work and restructuring to do and trying to convince myself that just because I had left the relationship everything would be okay, was not going to be enough.

The first and most significant step I took was admitting and fully accepting that the carnage I had experienced was real and had a huge impact on my emotional and mental wellbeing.

I had been surviving by a fragile thread in a domestic war zone and for far too long I had been intimidated, manipulated, lied to and threatened, amongst many other toxic and dysfunctional behaviors. The whole relationship had been an illusion and resulted in me having serious trust issues as well as losing the will to live. I not only struggled to trust other people, but I also realized I had no faith at all in my own intuition, perception or judgment.

Finally, I gave myself permission to take as long as I needed to heal, even if it meant I would spend the rest of my life slowly putting the pieces of my life back together. I came to terms with the fact that there is no timescale to healing and there was no hurry.

I allowed myself to grieve the relationship and the loss of the person I had separated from. This was extremely difficult to do as I had so many mixed emotions due to the scale of the abuse. For a long time I denied my grief, as it was complex to come to terms with how I could miss someone who had been responsible for vicious behavior towards me.

One of the hardest parts to dealing with this grief was feeling as though I could not talk openly to anyone, as I believed no one would understand how I could remain in such an abusive relationship and still miss many aspects of that person and the life I had with them.

The reason getting over this type of relationship can be so difficult is that many narcissists display both Jeckyll and Hyde type characteristics, one minute appearing extremely loving and affectionate and the next crippling, cruel and cunning.

It is not easy to explain that I deeply loved and badly missed one side of the person I was involved with, and disliked, feared and never wanted to hear his name mentioned at the same time. Even thinking about this can make one feel a little crazy as it does not feel natural to love and hate the same person.

One essential step toward healing from narcissistic abuse, I believe, is finding someone to really confide in and who doesn’t judge or question anything that is said. Being free to talk openly and comfortably without having to over explain is vital to start putting the accumulation of experiences into some sort of context. If there isn’t a friend on hand, it is worth taking time to seek out a good counselor with an understanding of C-PTSD deriving from abusive relationships.

The most important thing that helped me to heal was focusing more on healing and rebuilding myself. Although I took time out to research and gain knowledge and understanding of the type of abuse I had been subjected to, I spent far more of my time indulging myself in whatever felt good for my soul.

Slowly and surely I rebuilt myself, formed new friendships, learned to trust people and forgave all of the past. There are still days that it haunts me, but there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel and although it can be difficult to believe that when you start walking through it, as soon as you take the first steps of acceptance the path ahead begins to become clear.

Healing comes by taking one small step at a time, with gentle, loving care and without hurry.

Article by Alex Myles

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2016/10/living-with-c-ptsd-following-an-abusive-relationship/

#abusive relationship #ptsd #cptsd #gaslighting #statutory rape #spoonie #spoonie warrior

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ninetyfivepercentdantomasik · 7 years

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Great Characters: Kuwabara, Kurama, Hiei, Sakyo, Juri, and Koto (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Already did a long one with Toguro, and it really felt like I was saying a lot.... but not enough.... and also too much. Going to try keeping these a lot shorter and hit the highlights.

Sorry to keep harping on this series, but it’s really one worth checking out. It’s a great beginner anime for people new to the medium, working from simple ideas for the most part, but the quality of direction, characters, and voice acting (Japanese and English Dub) puts it in the top echelon of anime. Few manga series have benefitted so well from an anime adaptation. Singling out a few characters of note, we have our main cast; street brawler Kuwabara, demons Kurama and Hiei, as well as supporting villain Sakyo, and referees Juri and Koto.

Kazuma Kuwabara, the great doofus. A great take on perhaps the most common anime character type of all; the rival. By most accounts, Kuwabara shouldn’t have reappeared after the pilot of Yu Yu Hakusho. No matter how you look at him, he has the design of a bit-part character; hair a 4-year-old could draw, basic eyes without color or detail, generic school uniform, with no other distinguishing traits besides a hilariously raspy voice in the English dub and a tendency for fighting people over anything. Look in any anime and you’ll find characters who have a lot more put into them and play a much smaller part in the active story. Which is what makes his mainstay so interesting. For such a flat character to stay relevant so long is a testament to Kuwabara’s entertainment value. In terms of power and skill, the closest Kuwabara ever came to Yusuke’s level was in the first chapter when Yusuke beat up him and his crew for stress relief. In terms of intelligence and moral complexity, he is brainless nit who hits things. How does he survive to the final round of the Dark Tournament and even steal a win from the Elder Toguro? Through tenacity, determination, blind luck, and a terrible ability to get up when he should stay down. His greatest moments come not from a special skill or plot twist, but from his own stubborn, often clueless, personality. Nothing says that better than his victory over Risho. Barely conscious after the mauling he took in the previous round, Kuwabara represents his team to prevent a forfeit. He has no chance and takes a pounding, only to interrupt his opponent’s final move when he sees a girl he’s crushing on. So stupid is his hopeless infatuation, he immediately knocks Risho clear out of the arena and proceeds to flex for her. The contrast between his achievements and his capabilities provides endless enjoyment. The guy is winning a game he doesn’t know how to play.

Kurama and Hiei are possibly two of the most imitated character types in anime or manga; the handsome tactician and the brooding rogue. They are not the first of either type, but they are two of the most memorable and most replicated. Appearing out of nowhere, spying from high perches, dressed in simple but striking outfits of color, always keeping their own agenda close to the chest; they give us two unique versions of a favorite type; the outsider. With Kurama we have a warm and wise personality well beyond his years, contrasted by a seemingly endless supply of deadly techniques utilizing the simplest of objects. In his case, flowers and plants, which can allow for even the tiniest of moves to carry lethal force. Hiei fills the stoic antihero type, sharing a lot in common with Dragonball Z’s Vegeta in terms of character and design, if not temperament. Hiei is almost always around, although he rarely makes his presence known until a battle. Hiei is focused solely on himself, preferring to keep to himself instead of getting friendly with others. Selfish, yes, but also dependable. With two characters so cool on a team primarily made up of knuckleheads, creative measures are taken to keep battles interesting. In his fights, Kurama always remains the calm one, the thoughtful one, but also the vulnerable one. The mercy that separates him from other demons almost always plays against him, forcing him to endure attacks that should otherwise be of no threat to him and winning by the skin of his teeth. Hiei, on the other hand, is a firm believer in violence and bloodshed, with a taste for overkill. His weakness is his refusal to back down when he is outmatched, causing him to draw on more power than he can properly control and suffer the often debilitating side effects. It’s a remarkable display of management that allows two such engaging characters to appear so much without ever taking the spotlight away from the main story.

Switching to the other side, Sakyo is a fresh and alarming take on a villain of ultimate evil. Despite his calm and casual demeanor, complete with the mildly amused expression he always wears, the only words that can properly do him justice are “batsh*t insane”. Sakyo’s mind is a boundless hellscape of chaos and carnage that defies comprehension. From an early age he was attracted to blood and guts, carving his way through animals before moving up to humans, until he found even that couldn’t sate his appetite. His sole passion in life became gambling, which he developed an extraordinary skill for. When pushed to the limit, he staked his life; and only the similarly depraved minds of the Black Book Club would call him on it. Yet even amongst this group of the most powerful and ambitious men in the world, none of them can hold a candle to Sakyo. What it really comes down to is scale; Sakyo cares little for money or power, seeing both as only a means to an end. What Sakyo desires is chaos. What we have here is a villain who never makes a small move. He doesn’t taunt, he doesn’t torment, he doesn’t mock, he doesn’t threaten, he doesn’t laugh maniacally, he doesn’t play dirty, he doesn’t lie, and he doesn’t cheat. He wants to use the $45,000,000,000,000,000 ($45 quadrillion) earned as the owner of Team Toguro to manufacture “a great big hole” between the Human and Demon Planes. One large enough to allow A-Class demons that can outclass Toguro to enter our world, and S-Class demons that can outclass those demons as well. Such a portal would upset all of existence, and that is what makes it interesting for Sakyo. The calm on his face when directing obliteration is unbelievably unnerving; even the bloodthirsty demon audience of the Dark Tournament think he’s crazy. Yet for the sheer unbridled lunacy inside Sakyo’s head, there is also a code of honor and most surprising of all, even hints of humanity. Created solely for the anime, his relationship with Kuwabara’s equally reserved sister Shizuru keeps us asking questions. He saves her, personally looks out for the loved ones of Team Urameshi, kills the scheming backers of the tournament, pushes for fair play in every matchup, skips the VIP box for audience level seats, and displays a lot of very confusing behavior for one so rotten. Then in the final round he stakes his life on Toguro’s win, rigs the stadium with a 200ft perimeter that prevents escape, and calmly sets the whole arena to explode when Toguro is defeated. Somehow all of these conflicting elements still feel true to the character, creating a fascinating enigma of a man.

Last but not least, these two characters may be the secret weapon that made Yu Yu Hakusho’s Dark Tournament arc one of the best in anime. Our lovely referees, Yuri and Koto! Yes, I’m serious. By utilizing likable characters as enforcers for the rules of the matches, we, the fans and readers, are much more likely to go along with necessary plot devices. Partly because these characters have their own hilariously entertaining personalities, combining cheerleader-like pep with ravenous demon bloodlust.

“Gimme an I!”

“I!”

“No, gimme an EYE! Because it looks like that last attack blew a hole in our fighter’s head!”

These vixens display as much enthusiasm for fair play as they do for slaughter, which, when it comes down to it, is exactly what we want from the fights, too. Official rulings that say “yes, this can go on”, and that permit fights to reach crazy levels of intensity without anyone butting in on them. Out-of-bounds announcements that force the combatants back into position for constant head-to-head fighting. And of course, nothing sells “ultimate attack” like seeing one of the refs duck & cover. It seems like such a little thing, but it truly makes a big difference.

#great characters #yu yu hakusho #kuwabara #sakyo #hiei #kurama #yuri #koto

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kksullivan124 · 7 years

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"Life Isn't Fair"

I've been told by so many people that life is never easy. Life isn't fair. And both of those are right. Life isn't fair, and that's what makes it so hard. It's what makes it suck so much sometimes. Nothing worthwhile is ever truly easy. Life is definitely worthwhile, but you know those times when you're playing a video game, and you keep dying at that one spot and it feels hopeless to keep trying? That's life sometimes. That's life for me right now. You know, you've got a save point like two minutes before you get to that spot, and every time you get back you think this is the time you're going to make it, and then BAM nope. You died again. Same spot, almost exact same way. That's me every time I have a panic attack. I think I'm going to be okay. I think I'm going to be fine and that this time I'm going to beat it, I'll be able to fight it off before it happens. But nope. I crumble under the weight of my thoughts. I let them paralyze me and cripple me completely until I'm gripping my head as my thoughts rip apart any happiness that I've found. The thoughts that tell me I'm worthless and that there's no way on earth anyone would ever want to be around me. It's these thoughts that bring up the question of whether or not any of this is worth it. Is tomorrow worth seeing? That's a good question. In my darkness moments when my mind is wreaking havoc on my mental state, wreaking havoc on what I know to be true and telling me lies that begin to sound logical, my answer becomes a no. I don't want to see tomorrow in these moments because tomorrow brings more of this pain. This indescribable pain that no one truly understands. This pain that causes people to look upon me in fear of what I'll do to myself and horror because they know they can't help me. I've seen the looks on people's faces when they see me have a panic attack. When I'm at my lowest. And those expressions are those of a helpless person. They feel helpless because they want to help, they want to get rid of my pain, but they know they can't. It's frustrating for all of us. Because my mind continues to torment me as I continue to try to fight it, only to know that I'm going to lose in the end. The panic attack is coming and nothing I do now will stop it. The feeling of dread that sits in my throat as I feel the tears welling up and knowing there's no longer anything I can do to stop it. My mind has seen the opening and it's taking full advantage of the opportunity to replay every tiny mistake, every flaw. It takes this time to remind me of how crazy I've acted, how annoying I must be, how there's no way any of my friends will want to stick around once they find out just how crazy and messed up I am. People keep asking why I'm not getting better. It's a frustrating question. Because I don't know myself. I'm doing what I've been told, I'm staying with the plan. But it's a plan that takes time. It isn't an overnight fix, it's me having to completely retrain my mind. I'm having to teach my mind to not tell me that the world hates me just because a friend doesn't text back, just because someone can't hang out with me. And it's hard because it's what it's always told me when something like that happens. "Just alright? Why are you only alright?" Well I don't know, why don't you crawl into my brain and reprogram it for me? It isn't as easy as it seems. When your mind is your biggest enemy, you can't escape it. There is no off switch for your thoughts and teaching your brain not to think certain thoughts is one of the most difficult things to do. I've reached a point in my life where I'm just in a rut. I don't know why I'm doing what I'm doing. I enjoy my classes and I enjoy certain aspects of life, but I'm not happy. I dread my panic attacks. I know I can't avoid them forever, and when they happen I end up in the aftermath that feels like I've fought an internal war, and in a way I have. I lie in my bed with puffy eyes from the tears and a massive headache from the mental strain as I contemplate whether or not I really want to see tomorrow if it brings more of what I just experienced. Tomorrow holds a terrifying unknown. Will I have another panic attack? Will I be able to get out of bed? Will I be able to get my work done? Or will I just end up lying in bed with no motivation or will to move? I have no desire to harm myself in these times, which is honestly surprising. I know now that harming myself does nothing. It doesn't help me. It doesn't reprogram my brain, in fact, it would only make my situation worse. I want to be happy. That's what I want. I want to wake up without wondering why I have to keep living. Without wanting to just roll over and sleep forever because life is scary and hard and I don't want another panic attack today. Some days aren't so bad. Some days I can get through without having those constant fears hiding in the back of my mind. But most days I'm constantly bracing myself, waiting and hoping and praying that I can make it through the day. And when I feel an attack coming, I pray that I can make it home before it really hits. Today was a bad day. It felt good at some points, but I could feel my mind festering, waiting. It was waiting for an opening and I was foolish enough to give it one. I shake from the inside, it's a tell. It feels like I'm shaking, my hands are unsure and my handwriting looks like that of a two-year-old. But physically? I seem fine. My body doesn't shake, my hands are as still as can be. But internally my entire body trembles under the wait of the looming panic attack. I try to ignore it. I hope that maybe if I ignore it, it will go away and I'll survive another day without a panic attack. Alone in my car, I screamed. I screamed that I wanted to be happy. I screamed that I wanted to be different. I screamed and asked why I'm like this? Why do I have to suffer through this? Why me? Why do I have to wake up every morning and wish that my thoughts didn't immediately bombard me with questions of whether or not my friends are really my friends? Why? Why? Why? Why can't I be happy? It's a question I've found myself asking almost more often than whether or not tomorrow is worth seeing. I just want to know why. It's a question that comes when I'm clutching my head, a silent scream escaping me as I finally give up on fighting the tears that cause my throat to close up and my breathing to become shallow. The question that I ask in despair, wishing that I was different. The question that has no answer, and that's what makes it ten times harder to endure the panic that cripples me and makes me wish I had never been born. It hurts. It's worse than physical pain, because at least physical pain can be helped, and a cause can almost always be found. But this pain? This pain is the silent killer. The pain that slowly creeps up and goes unnoticed or ignored until it's too late to stop it. By the time I finally acknowledge the panic attack looming, it's too late. I denied the signs today, I ignored them and assumed that I would be fine. Until I sat down and suddenly, in a room full of people who care about me, I felt more alone than I've ever felt in an empty room. I felt like the world was closing in around me and suddenly it became hard to breathe as my heart began to race. I felt like I was suffocating. I hate letting others know. I hate feeling like I'm seeking attention. I hate feeling like a burden. But I also hate the looks I get when some people find out what's wrong. In all appearances, I have a wonderful life. I have great grades, I've got recommendations for graduate school, I've got an amazing family, I have some of the best friends anyone could ask for. I have a great life. But depression doesn't care. Depression doesn't give a crap whether you seem like you should have it, because it's just there. The problem I've run into recently, is of course I know I have to see tomorrow. Killing myself is not an option. It's off the table. In fact, it isn't even in the same room as the table. It's gone. But the problem is that even though I know this. I know I can't and won't do it. I'm desperately looking for an out, a solution to this problem. I just want to go to sleep forever. I want this pain to end and I want to be able to have a normal day without the fear and anxiety and absolute dread I feel. I know that life isn't easy. And I know the road I'm going down is going to be a lot harder than I originally thought. They say the easiest, quickest way to a destination is a straight line. Well the road I'm on has detours galore. Not only does it have detours, but there are twists and turns and backtracks and bumps and holes and ditches and every obstacle you could possibly think of. Today was not a good day. And tomorrow might not be either. And honestly, I don't have any idea how long it will take before life gets better for me. But I do know that I have to keep going, if not for myself than for my family. But honestly? I have to keep going for myself. I have to learn to be happy with myself, and though it won't be easy, I know it will be worth it in the long run. Again, life sucks. It's hard and it never quite works out the way we want to. But it does get better. I know that some day, when I'm happy and enjoying life, I'll look back and be so glad that I found the courage and strength to say "Yes, It's Worth It."

#alone #it's going to be okay #keep going #depression #anxiety #yes it's worth it

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marveliye-blog · 7 years

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Three Dollars, Six Dimes {Part 3}

[Sasha]

I stood right outside of the school doors, waiting patiently for my friends and brother to meet me so that we could walk to our neighborhood that was roughly five blocks away. I looked to the left, and there was that pretty boy, Leon. I rolled my eyes and hoped, no prayed to God, that he would be gone by the time Marrisa got here. She would just have to talk to him, and she would probably invite him to walk with us but wasn’t down for it. I hated Leon! I know hate is harsh, but he is the main reason that people torment me to this very day. In middle school I was invisible, a nobody really and I was all right with it, but a few months before my mom died he seemed to notice that I was alive and picked on me like crazy. Over the years his torment may have lessened but his boys give me absolute hell and my dumb friend has the nerve to have a crush on him. I glared at him as he talked to a variety of different people, laughing and smiling.

“I’m here, darling.” Zo sings as she approaches me with her wild, blown-out afro blows in the wind. “Whatcha looking at?” she turns her head in the direction of my gaze. “Oh, gorgeous isn’t he?” she sighs.

“Who Leon?” I whisper, so his flunkies don’t hear me.

“Don’t front like he ain’t a cutie.” she chuckles and hits my arm.

“Zo your with DeMarco and you know Marrisa ‘loves’ him.” I roll my eyes at her love that was just teenage hormones in my opinion.

“Who said anything about wanting Leon? I am an admirer of men, Sash.” Zola places her long fingers over her heart and smiles warmly, the way she does when she talks about boys. “He just happens to be one that is worth admiring. Plus, he’s not my type.” She shrugs before taking a seat on the large concrete banister next to us.

“I though every man was your type?” I smirk as I sit next to her.

“That was so freshman year me. I was just sexed crazed. Now I have a type. I like dark, sexy guys, you know, the Morris Chestnut type. I’ll take my DeMarco any day.” She looks up towards the bright yellow afternoon sun as if she is fantasizing about DeMarco. I admired Zola’s bold confidence at only sixteen and looked to her as more of a big sister than my own. Zola was tall, skinny but shapely with cool dark brown skin. In middle school boys always tried to rag on her due to her height, stature, skin tone, and wild, tightly coiled hair but she never let them bother her. She rocked everything about her with a fierce confidence which caused guys to lust after her and girls want to be her. Though a complete theater geek, the most popular girls in our school wished they could have just a speck of her self-assurance.

As I ponder on teenage insecurities and faux confidence, I’m pulled back into reality by Leon Bradfort’s booming laugh. “Leon is not all that cute and he’s an asshole.” I express to Zo. People like Zo wore high self-esteem well and humbly, then there were the Leons of the world. His arrogant confidence needed to be knocked down a few notches.

“I can see asshole, most dudes here are.” She nudges me. “But take them reading glasses off and look at the boy. If I were into caramel, I would want a lick.” she laughs at her own crude humor while I scoff at it.

“We have different taste, ok?” I end the conversation with somewhat of lie. When I did find myself attracted to someone, which was rare, I looked more to qualities over looks but Leon was pretty cute and had the potential to be a handsome man if puberty continued to treat him right.

I remember when I first realized that he was no longer an awkward, goofy looking middle schooler but the cute ‘it’ boy. It was at the beginning of the school year, we’d all made it through freshman year and were huddled by the bulletin boards to find out where our homerooms were. I was standing in the back because crowds simply weren’t my thing. I guess Leon was late getting in and I noticed him floating at the back doors. His skin was tan from summer vacation, he’d shot up over the last two months, his build was no longer lanky instead a bit muscular, his sandy brown hair was in a large wild afro, and his almond-shaped, hazel eyes seemed brighter than ever. Some other girls saw him and swooned, and I almost joined in—almost—until I came to my senses. I’ve hated myself for that moment ever since.

“I guess you’re right.” Zo says flatly and quickly loses interest in our conversation when her phone dings which probably signifies a DeMarco text. When it came to boys and sex that was Marrisa and Zo’s department. I was the inexperienced one in the group, and it made me uncomfortable to talk too much about it.

To my dismay, I noticed Marrisa walking towards the door and Leon was still in plain sight. Luckily, she saw us first and started in our direction until…

“Marri!” Leon called and began to meet her half way. I let out a loud, heavy sigh so that they would hurry up. He gave me an ugly look but otherwise ignored me.

“What’s up Lele?” Marrisa said all cutesy as she played with her ponytail that was a mess from track and field practice. She smiles widely and blushes at him, but he’s so dumb that he probably thinks the redness in her cheeks is from the unusually warm autumn sun.

“Tia has to work overtime at the hospital and can’t braid my hair tonight. Do you think you can do it, I’ll pay?” He asked her with the most miserable expression possible. Marrisa pulls her long curly hair from being confined as she talks to him and applies a fresh coat of blush pink lip gloss to her heart shaped lips. Though her crush on him appeared out of thin air, I had to admit they’d make an attractive pair and when she did have a boyfriend, she was always a pretty awesome girlfriend.

“Now you know that I will do it for free.” Nope, I take that back. She was one of those stupid girls that loses herself in a guy. I take my glasses off and pinched the bridge of my nose. How stupid could my friend be? She needed extra money but because she was all goo-goo for a guy she forgets all of it.

“Um, excuse me,” I step in. “Don’t you have to help your mom pay for your formal dress?”

“Chill out ma,” Leon interjects. “I always pay her, aight?”

“First off, I’m no one’s ‘ma’. My name is Sasha and I’d prefer you use it. Secondly, I don’t really know you so I am looking out for my friend who frankly, I think is way too sweet for her own good.”

“It is Sasha, isn’t it?” he says sarcastically while tapping his fingers on his bare chin. “I almost forgot…only donkey and ass was coming to mind.”

“Okay, time out.” Zo steps in. Marrisa mumbles something smart in Spanish and Leon laughs. I couldn’t stand when she got around him and started full blown conversations that we couldn’t understand. “Didn’t we all get enough of this in homeroom? Can’t we all just get along?” I back down and sit back on the concrete. My brother calls me, so I actively try to ignore them.

“Just keep your mean ass friend away from me and we’ll be cool.” Leon roars towards me, and I put a finger in my free ear. They work out the negotiation that she will do his hair tonight and that Justin will give us all a ride to Marrisa’s. Rashad burst through the doors, excited to be free from algebra and sits next to me as my friends continue to lollygag.

“What’s going on?” Rashad watches Zola’s ass jiggle as she play-fights with DeMarco.

“Stop it.” I fuss and push my fourteen-year-old brother. “That’s our sister.”

“That’s your sister.” He looks on despite my sermon. “I only have to two big-headed sisters that like to boss me around. Zo and Marri have potential future ex-baby mama written all over them.” He laughs as he bites his fingernails.

“Ew, why are boys so nasty? Is that all you think about even with girls you’ve known your whole life?”

“Yup.” He says delightedly and grins at me. In my eyes, he was still my little baby brother and now he was thinking about sex. My heart couldn’t take it but as long as he didn’t turn out like the rest of these misogynistic little bastards at this school, then our family will have done a good job.

“We’re supposed to get a ride over to Marrisa’s house with Justin and Leon but I want to walk.” His eyes light up as soon as I say it but I push to walk anyway. “Let’s walk.” I rephrase.

“Yo, no way.” He smiles widely. “You know I’m trying out to be on the varsity team next year and word is after Jay Washington graduates this year Bradfort is supposed to be up for captain. I need to get in good now.” He pushed my knee.

“You have to be good to get on the team.” I tease. He pouts, I pout right back at him. His face reminds me of all the best parts of Mama and Daddy. Mama’s high cheeks and cocoa brown skin and Daddy’s strong jaw and defined nose. I thought that he was the perfect blend of the both of him while Regina favored Ma and I favored Dad. My affection for him allows him to win. I suck it up and decide to endure the car ride.

#marveliye #marveliyeshorts #short story #fiction #fiction writing #black writers #african american literature #african american fiction #black fiction book #black art #black characters #books #lit #creative #creative writing #creative work

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strag-rp-sin · 5 years

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21. Sensory Deprivation

The first sense Nocturne lost was his sight. A large blindfold was pulled over his eyes and then tied into place, the knot snug between his head and the pillow. The gag came next - it was shaped like a dildo and so long that it filled his mouth completely when it was pushed inside. The tip pressed at the back of his throat and almost made him gag. He was going to be forced to swallow around it the whole time.

“Are you ok?”

Nocturne nodded in response.

“And you remember what to do if you want out?”

Another nod.

“Good. Then do it for me.”

Aurelio watched as Nocturne moved his hand the way he’d showed him from where it was cuffed up against the headboard. Only then did he slip the headphones over his head.

All at once, Nocturne’s world went dead. He couldn’t hear or see anything no matter how hard he tried. He’d known, of course, that this was the purpose of what Aurelio was doing to him but the pitch black silence he’d been left in was more than he’d ever expected. He thought he’d be able to peek, that the noises would merely be muffled, that he’d know exactly where the tall blonde was... But when the bed sheets beside him shifted and he felt the weight of Aurelio’s body leave, a sudden fear of the unknown hit him.

The taller Sesharrimian paced around him, watching as he squirmed and writhed without even a touch. Only when he started to still did he trail his fingertips along his side, down past his hips and onto his inner thigh. The reaction was more than he could’ve hoped for. Muffled squeals came from past Nocturne’s gag as he jolted, half from surprise and half from the heightened sensitivity that wracked through his every nerve. Aurelio’s smile only grew. Playing with him now would be even more fun than it usually would.

Every time, Nocturne had no clue what was coming. Was Aurelio even still in the room? Did he have something in his hands? Where was he going to touch him? Was he going to touch him at all? What if he left and didn’t come back? What if it wasn’t Aurelio’s fingers he was feeling on him at all? His brain was working at a million miles a minute, tormenting him with questions and what ifs that only amplified every time he felt a light touch to his body. Aurelio loved to torture him like this. He just knew that every time he thrashed and whimpered, the man standing over him would be grinning and laughing. It brought a flush to his cheeks. Nothing could be more embarrassing than admitting to the self-righteous sociopath that he yearned for his cruel treatment, but around Aurelio he didn’t need to. His face told him all he needed to know.

The Laertes’ long slender fingers gently pushed up between his legs and brushed against his hole. That touch alone made him scream. Aurelio didn’t stop, circling it over and over, watching him squirm and fight against even the lightest of sensations. When he actually started to press inside him, he thought Nocturne might desperately tap out. Instead his desperation came in the form of a needy moan, tearing through his entire body as his thighs shook and his ass clenched. Further and further in he went, just one finger sliding slowly inside, until he could finally give his prostate the tiniest of strokes. Of all the things he’d expected to bring Nocturne to the edge, that wasn’t it. He tore his hand away as quickly as he could, denying him his unexpected orgasm. Nocturne was far too sensitive to be played with like this... Aurelio would have to try something else; something he usually didn’t do unless one of his subs had been on denial for a very long time and he wished to keep them that way, excruciatingly desperate and still unable to cum. To think that a whole month’s worth of careful edging could be emulated with a gag and a pair of headphones. It was more than Aurelio could ever have hoped for.

After reaching his first fateful edge, Nocturne didn’t feel anything for a while. He was left to pant and whimper, feeling his frantic pleasure ebb away, his hole and cock throbbing as they yearned to be touched once more. When they finally were, he began to wish that he’d never yearned for it at all. It wasn’t Aurelio’s finger this time that tickled at the underside of his dripping cock. It was a feather - that much was clear. Only the briefest and lightest of stimulation were granted to him and yet, somehow, that was almost enough. Whenever Aurelio used it on him for too long, he felt another edge starting to approach, his needy cries being rewarded by the removal of the feather entirely. He had no idea how long Aurelio had been torturing him this way and he had no idea how long it would continue. All he could do was lie there and take it, enduring every flick of the soft plume in the full knowledge that he’d never be allowed to tip over from it.

Drool was seeping from the corners of Nocturne’s gag and tears from the bottom of his blindfold. And yet, even as another pained sob tried to pass his lips, he never asked to be let out. It made Aurelio’s eyes glitter with glee. He’d never wanted to fuck him so desperately. How many times, he wondered, would Nocturne cum if he took him right now? And how crazy would it make him, the sadistic thoughts in his mind asked instead, if he didn’t let him cum at all? It was that cruel streak he always embraced that sent him searching for the cock ring, eager to clamp it onto his little torture victim and see just exactly what would happen. Nocturne would perhaps come to regret allowing Aurelio to have his way with him. But Aurelio suspected that the opposite was true - that Nocturne would, inevitably, beg to be treated this way again.

#ma kinktober #auturne #aurelio

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destinywasson · 6 years

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Infertility

This was forwarded to me by a very special friend. Please read it. 💛💛💛💛

Dear Infertility Sister:

I’m writing because I know that you’re hurting. I know it’s not easy being you. I know you feel wounded and alone.

I know that it doesn’t make sense that you are being excluded from experiencing what your own mother, sisters, aunts, cousins, and friends have all been able to do without any trouble.

I know that you feel immeasurable desperation to have control and a say in when to have a baby. You wonder why everyone else gets to plan and choose and you don’t.

I know you feel powerless at the hands of your body. I know you hate your body because it has betrayed and rejected you and made you its victim. When you were a little girl, your body deceived you into believing that one day you’d get to have a baby. Sometimes you remember when you played with your friends and put a ball under your shirt and pretended to be pregnant. You remember how much you loved your baby dolls and how you believed that one day the scenario would be real.

I know that you feel stupid when you recall the times you had pregnancy scares and all the years you used contraceptives. You now realize it was all in vain because your body isn’t able to do what it was created to do.

I know that you feel defeated and resentful for doing everything you were supposed to do to prepare your body for pregnancy. You ate right. You stopped drinking. You bought pre-natal vitamins. And I know that you still take prenatal vitamins, you still avoid alcohol and all the other pregnancy no-no’s …just in case maybe this month you really are pregnant.

I know that you’ve kept track religiously of your periods for what seems like an eternity and that you have tried every imaginable trick and tip you’ve heard about or read about in an attempt to conceive your miracle.

I know you are sick and tired of seeing doctors and being physically and emotionally vulnerable with each insemination or in-vitro you do. You’re exhausted of being poked and prodded; of having ultrasounds, blood tests, procedures, and surgeries. You’ve endured enough humiliation to last a lifetime, opening your legs for strangers month after month, each time praying that this will be the last time.

I know that you hate yourself for gaining 10lbs due to fertility treatments and had to buy bigger clothes but not for the reason you wish it were.

I know how nervous you were the first time you had to give yourself an injection and how you made your partner do it for you because your hand was shaking so badly.

I know you don’t sleep for two weeks after you ovulate, wondering if this is the month that the stick will have two lines.

I know that you obsess over your cycle and every symptom you feel or think you feel that could indicate that you are in fact pregnant this month. You push on your breasts hoping they are tender and sore more than usual during this time of the month. Each time you go to the bathroom, you check the tissue to see if there is any sign of your period…even if it’s in the middle of the night, you turn on the light. And if you see pink or red, you say some strong prayers that it’s only implantation spotting and not really your period.

I know that you feel like throwing those injections, vaginal suppositories, and pills out the window after every failed cycle or that you sob when the doctor calls to tell you that the test was negative.

I know that each month when you get your period you privately fall apart and cry out in anger, frustration, and sorrow because with each failed cycle, you have a little funeral in your head for a baby that wasn’t. You cry and grieve for the loss of your dream.

I know that you don’t know how much longer you can put yourself and your partner through this torture. You question if the strain on your marriage, on your savings, and on your sanity is all worth it.

I know you feel like you’re going crazy because infertility has taken over your life and has become a full-time job; a round-the-clock obsession; the only topic you think about and talk about.

I know you wonder if you are a terrible person for not being happy for your friend when she tells you that she’s expecting. I know that you feel jealous and sad that she gets to have what you want so desperately. I know that when you hang up the phone with her, you cry. I know that you feel guilty for avoiding her now that she’s pregnant but it’s the only way that you can cope with your misery.

I know that you feel like screaming when you get yet another invitation to a baby shower and you contemplate if you are emotionally strong enough to attend. I know how much courage it takes to RSVP. I know that most of the time you don’t go to baby showers, but that if you decide to go, how draining it is to endure three hours of fake-smiling pretending to be happy when you’re not. I know how painful it is to make it through the party listening to everyone talk non-stop about pregnancy and babies. And how much it hurts when someone you’ve never met asks if you have children.

I know that buying a baby gift seems like an impossible task. I know that walking into Babies R Us is out of the question because you don’t think you can handle it without breaking down in tears in the store. I know that sometimes you’ve given your friends money and asked them to buy the gift for you.

I know that seeing co-workers go on maternity leave is like a knife in your heart. You wonder if your turn will ever come. You started trying to conceive long before any of them and here you are, still trying. They all got pregnant within a few months of trying, had a full-term pregnancy, went on leave, came back, and you’re still there, feeling left behind, still waiting for your dream, still feeling incomplete.

I know that you cringe at the sight of the maternity department and wonder if you’ll ever get to wear the clothes so many women complain about. I know that maybe you even have a pair of maternity pants at home and that occasionally you try them on and imagine what it will be like to someday have a belly big enough to fill them out.

I know that sometimes you have thrown away birth announcements unopened. And in a moment of rage you’ve torn them up into a million pieces.

I know that when you stand in line at the grocery store, you avert your eyes away from the baby sitting in the shopping cart in front of you because it’s too painful to see his smiling face. And once in a while, when you’re feeling strong enough, you steal glances, imagining what your baby might look like someday.

I know that it hurts when you walk past the baby section in stores because it is a reminder of what you want and can’t have. I know you daydream of one day shopping for diapers, strollers, and baby clothes.

I know that when you see a pregnant woman you feel envy and a deep sense of injustice. You wonder why she has the right to be pregnant and you don’t. You wonder if she struggled with infertility too or is it just you who is going through this torment.

I know how difficult it is to walk past the room in your house that should have been a nursery by now. I know that some days you walk in there and look around, wondering if you’ll ever see a baby sleeping in a crib. And sometimes you just have to close the door of that empty room because it represents the emptiness you feel inside.

I know that you wait until the last minute to plan vacations or parties because your life is on an indefinite hold. How can you plan a trip six months from now when you might be pregnant by then? Your live your life in a perpetual state of uncertainty.

I know how hard it is when you run into old acquaintances and they ask if you ever plan on having a baby because you’ve been married for so long and you’re not getting any younger and your clock is ticking.

I know you avoided going to your high school reunion because you couldn’t bear the thought of hearing old friends sharing stories of their children or having to explain why you don’t have any of your own.

I know that the holidays are difficult and depressing because they are not what you envisioned for yourself this year. You wonder when your turn will come to celebrate your baby’s first Christmas. When will you get to shop for gifts for your little bundle? When will you get to send out holiday photo cards featuring your pride and joy? And I know that you disappear from the room at the holiday party when you see the moms coordinating a group photo of the kids.

I know that you detest Mother’s Day with a passion because you yearn to celebrate what is supposed to be the highlight of your life.

I know that you change the channel when you see commercials featuring babies, pregnancy tests, and ovulation kits. It makes you feel cynical seeing the giddy faces of the women in the commercials because that is not your reality. Everywhere you look, you see happy mothers with their sweet, warm, precious babies. You are surrounded with reminders – when you drive past a playground, when you see a mother on a walk with a stroller, when you attend a child’s birthday party, when you see ultrasound photos on friends’ refrigerators or on co-workers’ desks. No matter what, you can’t escape this hell on earth you’re living.

I know that you have a secret shopping bag in your closet with gender neutral items like pacifiers, rattles, and onesies in hopes that maybe the Law of Attraction is real and it works. And maybe you’ve already bought a card to give to your spouse telling him he’s going to be a father.

I know you daydream about telling your spouse that you’re pregnant and you imagine how you will announce it to your family and friends. I know you actually already have it all planned out.

I know that you wonder how your partner can choose to remain with you if you are unable to produce a child. You wonder if maybe he will leave eventually. You feel like a disappointment. You feel like a liar for promising him a family someday. You feel the need to apologize to him month after month, year after year. You feel the need to thank him for sticking it out and not running away.

I know that when you got the dog you didn’t think you’d ever have or wouldn’t have for a long time, it was because you needed someone to nurture, mother, and love. Maybe you cried the first time you cuddled with her because the happiness you felt was so bittersweet. She isn’t the baby you wanted but she is someone that needs you and loves you unconditionally just like you know your baby would. She is someone you can take care of and brag about and share stories about. She gives you a reason to get up in the morning and she always licks your tears away.

I know that you feel tremendous sorrow when you see children being mistreated or you hear news stories of babies found in dumpsters. You think to yourself…if only those mothers knew what a precious gift they have been given. You get angry with God. Why did He bless those women with motherhood and not you?

I know that it upsets you to hear your friends laugh and make jokes at how fertile they are and that they got pregnant even while being on the pill or on their first try. I know you can’t stand to hear women say they got pregnant by accident or when they call their child an “oops baby”.

I know that it angers you to hear women complain about their pregnancy or babies. How dare they not appreciate what you wish so badly you could have?

I know you feel uncomfortable and awkward when you’re among women and the conversation turns to pregnancy and babies. You feel like an outsider; like you don’t fit in; like you aren’t part of a club you so desperately want to be a part of.

I know that you feel like punching people in the face when they make stupid, ignorant comments in an attempt to make you feel better about your childlessness.

I know that your friends think they’re easing your distress when they say “Well, at least you’re having fun trying” but they have no idea that sex is no longer passionate or playful, but rather an obligation and a job. Your friends don’t know that your sex life is no longer spontaneous. Sex is always scheduled and only for the purpose of reproducing. They don’t know that you lie in bed for 30 minutes afterward with your hips propped up on a pillow, with tears streaming down your face, while you pray to God, Jesus, and all the angels and saints to please make your dreams come true this time around.

I know you resent your friends and family for their obliviousness to your suffering and that they think that if you “just adopt” or “just don’t think about it” it will all be better. If only it were that simple; if only they knew the depth of your wounds.

I know that you feel despair as you wonder if maybe you are meant to have a child-free life.

I know that you are afraid that it’s never going to happen. You are terrified of living the rest of your life feeling unfulfilled, unloved, bitter, and inadequate.

I know that you wonder if you will ever be able to walk away; to let go; to make peace. You question how you will know when it’s time to stop trying; you ask yourself if giving up means you failed; you question if you are indeed a failure.

I know that you feel like you’ve been robbed of your innocence because you can never look at a pregnant woman or baby the same way.

I know that your infertility and your desire to get pregnant, to have a baby, and to be a mother have become your life’s mission. I know that you wake up every morning and fall asleep every night thinking about pregnancy.

I know that sometimes you wonder if the only pregnancy you’ll ever experience is the one you have in your dreams while you sleep.

I know that you wonder if your turn will ever come; will your dream ever come true; will this chapter of your life ever end; will you ever feel the joy of pregnancy and motherhood; will you ever hear the word “mommy”; will the pain ever go away.

I know that you ache to have morning sickness; to feel a kick; to have a baby shower; to go through labor and delivery; to hold your baby; to see his face; to feel like God didn’t forget about you.

I know that you feel that this is all some sick, cruel joke and you wonder if you are being punished for something; you wonder why this is happening; why is this the life you’ve been given; what did you do to deserve this kind of pain and suffering; why are you not able to experience what you feel is your divine right as a woman; why don’t you get to have what every other woman seems to take for granted; why don’t you get to be like everyone else; why have you been deprived of this joy and wonder of life.

I know that you live in a lonely world feeling like the only woman in your circle of friends or in your family to be burdened with this tragedy.

I know that you feel broken and less-than. I know that you feel shame. I know that you wonder if maybe you aren’t worthy of being a mother. I know that infertility has dimmed your light.

I know you wonder if the storm you’ve lived in for so long will ever pass; will the sun ever shine again; will you ever see a rainbow.

I know how you feel because I was once you.

I wish there were magic words I could say to make the hurt stop. I wish there were some deep words of wisdom I could give you that would have it all make sense.

All I can tell you is this:

You are not broken. You are not less-than. You are worthy of love. You are whole. Forgive yourself because you’ve done nothing wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are deserving of acceptance and belonging. Be kind to yourself and love yourself. Know that you are enough. You matter greatly. You are loved. You are not alone.

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anxiouspanda124 · 7 years

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"Life Isn't Fair" ~ Written March 21, 2017

I've been told by so many people that life is never easy.

Life isn't fair.

And both of those are right. Life isn't fair, and that's what makes it so hard. It's what makes it suck so much sometimes.

Nothing worthwhile is ever truly easy.

Life is definitely worthwhile, but you know those times when you're playing a video game, and you keep dying at that one spot and it feels hopeless to keep trying?

That's life sometimes.

That's life for me right now.

You know, you've got a save point like two minutes before you get to that spot, and every time you get back you think this is the time you're going to make it, and then BAM nope. You died again. Same spot, almost exact same way.

That's me every time I have a panic attack.

I think I'm going to be okay.

I think I'm going to be fine and that this time I'm going to beat it, I'll be able to fight it off before it happens.

But nope.

I crumble under the weight of my thoughts. I let them paralyze me and cripple me completely until I'm gripping my head as my thoughts rip apart any happiness that I've found.

The thoughts that tell me I'm worthless and that there's no way on earth anyone would ever want to be around me.

It's these thoughts that bring up the question of whether or not any of this is worth it.

Is tomorrow worth seeing?

That's a good question.

In my darkest moments when my mind is wreaking havoc on my mental state, wreaking havoc on what I know to be true and telling me lies that begin to sound logical, my answer becomes a no.

I don't want to see tomorrow in these moments because tomorrow brings more of this pain.

This indescribable pain that no one truly understands.

This pain that causes people to look upon me in fear of what I'll do to myself and horror because they know they can't help me.

I've seen the looks on people's faces when they see me have a panic attack.

When I'm at my lowest.

And those expressions are those of a helpless person.

They feel helpless because they want to help, they want to get rid of my pain, but they know they can't.

It's frustrating for all of us.

Because my mind continues to torment me as I continue to try to fight it, only to know that I'm going to lose in the end. The panic attack is coming and nothing I do now will stop it.

The feeling of dread that sits in my throat as I feel the tears welling up and knowing there's no longer anything I can do to stop it.

My mind has seen the opening and it's taking full advantage of the opportunity to replay every tiny mistake, every flaw. It takes this time to remind me of how crazy I've acted, how annoying I must be, how there's no way any of my friends will want to stick around once they find out just how crazy and messed up I am.

People keep asking why I'm not getting better.

It's a frustrating question.

Because I don't know myself. I'm doing what I've been told, I'm staying with the plan. But it's a plan that takes time. It isn't an overnight fix, it's me having to completely retrain my mind.

I'm having to teach my mind to not tell me that the world hates me just because a friend doesn't text back, just because someone can't hang out with me.

And it's hard because it's what it's always told me when something like that happens.

"Just alright? Why are you only alright?"

Well I don't know, why don't you crawl into my brain and reprogram it for me?

It isn't as easy as it seems.

When your mind is your biggest enemy, you can't escape it.

There is no off switch for your thoughts and teaching your brain not to think certain thoughts is one of the most difficult things to do.

I've reached a point in my life where I'm just in a rut.

I don't know why I'm doing what I'm doing.

I enjoy my classes and I enjoy certain aspects of life, but I'm not happy.

I dread my panic attacks.

I know I can't avoid them forever, and when they happen I end up in the aftermath that feels like I've fought an internal war, and in a way I have.

I lie in my bed with puffy eyes from the tears and a massive headache from the mental strain as I contemplate whether or not I really want to see tomorrow if it brings more of what I just experienced.

Tomorrow holds a terrifying unknown.

Will I have another panic attack?

Will I be able to get out of bed?

Will I be able to get my work done?

Or will I just end up lying in bed with no motivation or will to move?

I have no desire to harm myself in these times, which is honestly surprising.

I know now that harming myself does nothing. It doesn't help me. It doesn't reprogram my brain, in fact, it would only make my situation worse.

I want to be happy.

That's what I want.

I want to wake up without wondering why I have to keep living. Without wanting to just roll over and sleep forever because life is scary and hard and I don't want another panic attack today.

Some days aren't so bad.

Some days I can get through without having those constant fears hiding in the back of my mind.

But most days I'm constantly bracing myself, waiting and hoping and praying that I can make it through the day.

And when I feel an attack coming, I pray that I can make it home before it really hits.

Today was a bad day.

It felt good at some points, but I could feel my mind festering, waiting.

It was waiting for an opening and I was foolish enough to give it one.

I shake from the inside, it's a tell.

It feels like I'm shaking, my hands are unsure and my handwriting looks like that of a two-year-old.

But physically? I seem fine. My body doesn't shake, my hands are as still as can be.

But internally my entire body trembles under the weight of the looming panic attack.

I try to ignore it.

I hope that maybe if I ignore it, it will go away and I'll survive another day without a panic attack.

Alone in my car, I screamed. I screamed that I wanted to be happy. I screamed that I wanted to be different. I screamed and asked why I'm like this? Why do I have to suffer through this? Why me? Why do I have to wake up every morning and wish that my thoughts didn't immediately bombard me with questions of whether or not my friends are really my friends? Why? Why? Why?

Why can't I be happy?

It's a question I've found myself asking almost more often than whether or not tomorrow is worth seeing.

I just want to know why.

It's a question that comes when I'm clutching my head, a silent scream escaping me as I finally give up on fighting the tears that cause my throat to close up and my breathing to become shallow.

The question that I ask in despair, wishing that I was different.

The question that has no real answer, and that's what makes it ten times harder to endure the panic that cripples me and makes me wish I had never been born.

It hurts.

It's worse than physical pain, because at least physical pain can be helped, and a cause can almost always be found.

But this pain?

This pain is the silent killer.

The pain that slowly creeps up and goes unnoticed or ignored until it's too late to stop it.

By the time I finally acknowledge the panic attack looming, it's too late.

I denied the signs today, I ignored them and assumed that I would be fine.

Until I sat down and suddenly, in a room full of people who care about me, I felt more alone than I've ever felt in an empty room.

I felt like the world was closing in around me and suddenly it became hard to breathe as my heart began to race.

I felt like I was suffocating.

I hate letting others know.

I hate feeling like I'm seeking attention.

I hate feeling like a burden.

And I hate how broken it makes me feel.

But I also hate the looks I get when some people find out what's wrong.

In all appearances, I have a wonderful life.

I have great grades, I've got recommendations for graduate school, I've got an amazing family, I have some of the best friends anyone could ask for.

I have a great life.

But depression doesn't care.

Depression doesn't give a crap whether you seem like you should have it, because it's just there.

The problem I've run into recently, is of course I know I have to see tomorrow.

Killing myself is not an option.

It's off the table.

In fact, it isn't even in the same room as the table. It's gone.

But the problem is that even though I know this. Even though I know I can't and won't do it.

I'm desperately looking for an out, a solution to this problem.

I just want to go to sleep forever.

I want this pain to end and I want to be able to have a normal day without the fear and anxiety and absolute dread I feel.

I know that life isn't easy.

And I know the road I'm going down is going to be a lot harder than I originally thought.

They say the easiest, quickest way to a destination is a straight line.

Well the road I'm on has detours galore.

Not only does it have detours, but there are twists and turns and backtracks and bumps and holes and ditches and every obstacle you could possibly think of.

Today was not a good day.

And tomorrow might not be either.

And honestly, I don't have any idea how long it will take before life gets better for me.

But I do know that I have to keep going, if not for myself than for my family.

But honestly? I have to keep going for myself.

I have to learn to be happy with myself, and though it won't be easy, I know it will be worth it in the long run.

Again, life sucks. It's hard and it never quite works out the way we want to.

But it does get better.

I know that someday, when I'm happy and enjoying life, I'll look back and be so glad that I found the courage and strength to say "Yes, It's Worth It."

#depression #anxiety #panic attacks #keep going #it'll be okay #life sucks #life isn't fair #you've got this

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