#〚 ❝ and what a whirlwind she is too ❞┊self para. 〛 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fmdxsuji · 2 years

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word count: 782 words (excluding lyrics) notes: creative claims (full lyrics) verification self-para for some nights!

suji has some odd pride in being able to sleep well at night.

in this industry, it’s almost a blessing. that’s why when she finds herself up at around 3 in the morning, she can’t help but let out a frustrated sigh. she should have been asleep a long time ago, but there’s something about the night that’s keeping her up. and so she does what she always does when she finds herself in such a situation: she turns on the lights, draws back the curtains to a window and takes out her notebook.

sometimes, she likes to turn on a movie at low volume and let it fade in the background like white noise. today, however, the breezy night seems to play that role instead. the weather’s slowly been turning colder and colder, and she likes it. it’s a reminder about the season that’s to come along with her birthday which also means that a whole year has passed by.

what has she accomplished this past year? maybe not as much as her previous years, but she likes to think it was pretty stable, both personally and for her career. after the whirlwind that was last year, she’s rather glad that this one went by without much noise.

there’s a howling at her window, and she can see it rattle a bit because of the stronger winds. she hasn’t been up this late in quite a while that she didn’t realize how quickly the weather has changed. inevitable when she spends most of her days indoors with schedules and all. nowadays, she’s been living in both her home studio and gold star to prepare for her new album.

clicking on her pen, she starts scribbling down the first things that come into her mind because might as well make use of this time if she isn’t going to use it to sleep.

night. cold. alone.

she’s not some kind of genius, but she’s had a few songs that came to her like magic, lyrics written in a span of a few minutes. oddly enough, tonight feels like it’ll be one of those nights.

there’s something about the night that makes her feel a sense of longing. not exactly for a specific someone or something, but the feeling lingers. it’s a great time to reflect and think back on past memories. what comes to her mind is her own self about a year ago.

where was she standing in life then? was there a big different to how she carried herself? what were her emotions like?

the answers to that could be found in her diary, and so she whipped that out. looking back at what she’s written, she couldn’t help but chuckle. suji of last year was quite miserable, huh? she tries not to think of the specific someone, but he lingers in the back of her mind. she’s over him, she really is, but the emotions she felt back then were so raw. so real.

she swears this song won’t be about him but rather herself.

i was slowly through this time because i don’t want to rush small and tiny things make me briefly laugh

that’s what her life was like back then. she tried to push herself out of that feeling of entrapment and distract herself with the little things in life. however, that’s always easier said than done. her mind was filled with him and all the what if’s. yes, that led to a lot of great songs being written, but she had completely ignored what it did to her emotionally. she was all over the place and trying her best to stay calm.

only the happy memories that i permit to take out i put them in my pocket but don’t use them all

happy? was that the right word to use? the suji now is happy with how everything turned out but back then? she was miserable. she spent way too many nights thinking about him and wondering where everything went wrong. nights that, now that she looks back at it, were wasted.

some nights she should have spent thinking about herself.

on a night that wouldn’t be strange if someone were to cry i think about you like how my tears can’t be seen when it rains

oddly enough, she never shed a tear about him. was that her being cold? strict on herself? she was not much of an emotional person to begin with which is why it’s amusing that she spent so long lingering after him. the whole thought makes her scoff, and she can slowly feel a yawn beginning to escape her lips.

looking at the clock, it now reads 4am, and she’s been up for another hour.

when she looks back at the lyrics tomorrow morning—a couple hours from now—she’s unsure if she’ll be 100% satisfied, but the rawness that comes from writing lyrics at this time can’t be replaced. she closes both her diary and her notebook before tugging herself back to sleep.

some nights, she should just spend reflecting on herself like she did tonight.

#famedverification #( ♡ * // self para. )

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bencvolences · 6 years

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consequences - self para

WHEN: december 9, 17:32 WHERE: dark arts classroom WHO: sally-anne perks, amycus carrow, @aureliians, @wcyne-hcpkins

She knew this day would come eventually.

How Sally-Anne managed to go unnoticed in every Dark Arts class until now, she wasn’t sure, but somehow she’d always avoided being called upon to practice the dreaded Cruciatus Curse. Ever since the incident with the Slytherin fourth years and their wands, however, she’d been waiting with bated breath each time Amycus scanned the room, knowing that eventually he’d fulfill his and his sister’s promise that they’d come for her.

Perhaps he was just waiting for his opportunity.

Today, she knew what was going to happen a split second before it did. Amycus’ beady eyes narrowed as they met her own, his twisted smile growing the moment he sensed her fear and immediate panic. He was standing at the front of the class, along with some doomed sixth-year who’d mouthed off in Muggle Studies and was now waiting helplessly for whichever equally doomed student would be picked on to enact part of his punishment. Sally-Anne could feel her heart throbbing madly against her chest. You can’t do it. You can’t.

“Perks, let’s see you give it a try today,” the inevitable words rang through the room, and heads turned to where she sat. She didn’t have a choice. Sally-Anne rose from her chair, moving past Stephen and Wayne with a petrified expression. The Carrows had promised they would “keep an eye on her,” essentially meaning she was now a target to them --- but as she looked into Amycus’ gaze, there was the look of some other motivation in it. No, something else was going on here; he clearly suspected that Sally-Anne was involved in the DA, but what if he’d found proof? What did he know that made him grin so wickedly at her?

"Don’t be shy, now. You know the incantation.” It didn’t seem possible, but Amycus’ smile grew even wider as Sally-Anne took her place in front of the sixth-year boy, various options running through her head. She could refuse to do it --- and be sure to suffer the consequences. It would be painful, there was no question of that, but Sally-Anne couldn’t fathom the alternative. To do that to another person, someone who definitely didn’t deserve it... no. She wouldn’t.

She turned in a flash of determination and defiance to face Amycus, her face falling when she saw that his grin remained as wide as ever.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” he warned in what sounded like a mocking, infantilizing tone. “Did I mention I had the pleasure of running into your friend, Miss Turpin, yesterday? Yes, her parents brought her to an audience with the Dark Lord himself, and she --- unwittingly --- revealed a great deal when she was trying to be all noble. Stupid girl. It’s no wonder she’s got her ideas all twisted up, running around with the blood traitor’s daughter.”

Sally-Anne’s stomach dropped to the floor. The idea that the Carrows were now aware of her relationship with Lisa wasn’t what struck her hardest; it was the fact that Lisa was now dragged into their world. She’d been faced with him, with You-Know-Who, probably hurt and tortured and Merlin knows what else in her parents’ effort to get her back on their side. In the days since Lisa disappeared, Sally-Anne had been trying to gather whatever information she could, to find out of she was okay, and now she had her answer. Lisa wasn’t okay. She was a prisoner.

What would happen to Lisa if she refused to practice the curse now? If Sally-Anne was being punished for her girlfriend’s behavior, surely it would work the other way around as well. Sally-Anne was at the mercy of the Carrows, but they were nothing compared to all the Death Eaters in contact with the Turpins and You-Know-Who himself. No, now was the time to keep her head down --- at least, until Lisa was safely returned to the castle.

A lump rose in her throat as she turned back to face the sixth year, sitting tied to his chair on the small podium. She couldn’t look at his face, or surely she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered so only the sixth year could hear her, before closing her eyes and raising her wand. Her hand shook. Her voice did, too.

“C --- Crucio.”

Sally-Anne braced herself for the screams, but they didn’t come. The room remained silent, and as she cautiously opened her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Of course she couldn’t do it --- what was it that Amycus was always rambling about when it came to Unforgivable Curses? You had to mean them.

Just when she thought maybe she’d escaped this one, Amycus’ hand spun her around to face him.

“Idiot girl,” he practically spat in her face, wicked grin returning. “Stupid, weak, innocent little Sally-Anne Perks. Think you can just play the naïve, wide-eyed schoolgirl and get away with whatever you want, don’t you? That might’ve worked when you spread your legs for Lisa Turpin, but it won’t work here. And don’t think your mother’s name will protect you either; no, we all see you for what you are: just a reckless little sexual deviant who likes to bat her eyelashes at good purebloods and make them abandon everything decent. Worthless, dirty mudblood spawn.”

It all happened at once. Sally-Anne was still processing Amycus’ taunts when his lips moved once again and suddenly she was seeing red; searing pain racking through her whole body and making her knees crumple underneath her. She couldn’t even tell if she’s screaming or not, the room evaporated around her and all she knew was that she’d been thrown into white-hot flames, engulfing every inch of her and making it impossible to breathe.

Surprisingly, it only lasted for a few moments. Sally-Anne remained sprawled on the floor, her breath rushing back to her and the room slowly coming back into focus. There were yells and scuffling noises around her, but she couldn’t process what had happened until she gradually managed to get her bearings and return to a standing position.

Amycus was seething in anger, clutching the side of his face as though he’d just been punched --- and a couple feet away from him, Stephen and Wayne had both collapsed, stunned. It didn’t take long for Sally-Anne to put together what must have happened.

“Loyal friends you’ve got, Perks,” Amycus growled, turning back to her. His wand was still raised; for a moment, she thought he was about to crucio her again, and she braced herself for the burning pain once again. He seemed to contemplate it --- but then, instead of muttering the incantation, he brought his wand downward in a swift, swiping motion.

At first it seemed as though nothing had happened. Then, at the same moment that a student in the front row gasped in horror, Sally-Anne felt it. A deep gash had opened in her cheek, long and vertical from the bottom of her eye to about an inch above her jaw. She cried out in pain and tried to stop the blood with her hand, only causing it to run down her forearm as the wound stung terribly.

She looked at Amycus. Surely, he wouldn’t let her scurry off to Madam Pomfrey quite yet --- no, sitting through the rest of the lesson as she bled was clearly part of her punishment.

“Take a seat, girl. Hopefully that scar will remind you to stay in line from now on.”

#torture tw #violence tw #blood tw #homophobia tw #anyway this is bad and dramatic pls don't read it #idk what im doing #〚 self para; 006. 〛#〚 ❝ and what a whirlwind she is too ❞┊self para. 〛

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lonclyhcartsclub · 3 years

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A World Alone // Self Para

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death, parental death, lost consciousness, mentions of a coma, injury, violence, fighting, hospitals, alcohol, smoking, knife mention

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄: Josephine Perez. 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: The Woods, near the Equinox Fair. 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: Alexander Soliel, AJ Prasad, Emery Woods, Devon Hale, Savana Bisanti, Reuben Garcia, Milo Pierce, Garrick Wan, Clara Blanchard, Nur Kutlar.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: As her world fades to black, magician Josephine Perez looks back on her life and the people within it as her life flashes before her eyes.

Did AJ or Josie see the Strigoi coming? Of course they didn’t. Both of them had been so caught up in the fact that their magical capabilities were no longer existent that they hadn’t heard the feet in the distance.

That was, until they were descended upon and Josie did what she would have always done, completely on instinct.

She gave AJ a swift push, and told him to run.

While she was able to fight her way out using the small amount of magic she could muster — it had become clear from the look on her face that there was little hope in her eyes. Josephine Perez had been gravely injured and was dying where she stood.

Of course, the other had leapt into action with the intention to save his friend — carrying the both of them to a nearby shelter, where the next battle began to keep her eyes open.

Jo couldn’t really tell what AJ had said, but it had looked like some kind of apology. Like he was sorry she got hurt even though she had made the conscious decision to push him out of the way.

The woman just smiled, holding a piece of her cardigan to one of her many bleeding wounds. Her own bravery had saved them both, after all.

“I’m not” we’re the last two words the magician said before she closed her eyes.

———

Josephine had not known what a world alone looked like before. Not like this one. Sure, As her eyes closed for what she thought would be the very last time, what she saw was a hell of a lot different than what she saw in her nightmares. It was way worse, simply nothing but a black expanse and the sounds of her labored breathing ringing in her ears. She didn’t know a heart as big as hers could sound this loud, practically echoing across wherever the hell this was.

Then came their faces, flashing from one crevice of her mind to another like scenes from a movie. The last time she’d practically gaze on any of them had been intended to be a break from what was happening. It was supposed to be one of the best days of their lives, yet now, the bleakness had swallowed it whole. The magician didn’t even know if she’d live to see the aftermath, but part of her was at peace with that. She had always told herself if I die, if something happens to me, I will have given Evan everything I have. Every single ounce of love I could offer. The little boy would have a whole family of people who think the world of him, cheering him on. Even though she knew she wasn’t conscious, the very thought of that brought a smile to her face. Even at the end of her story, he was still her everything. He would always stay that way.

He had Emery, Devon and AJ, to help him navigate the magical world and become the best damn magician the world would ever come to know. Savana would be his biggest fan; there was no one who could be anyone’s personal cheerleading squad like she could. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten about Alex and Milo. No harm would possibly come to that little boy. Not when they were around.

Milo. Oh my god, Milo. Even in near death, the name made her heart lurch. How was it only now that she could finally admit to herself what she might possibly never get to say to his face? Her own self-consciousness might have just stopped her from what could have been the craziest adventure of her life. Of course she loved him. How could she not? Out of everyone in the world, he gave her all of himself without even giving a second thought. Ward or not.

She could see him now, soaring through the air like a bat out of hell and setting the world ablaze. I never wanted to hurt you. She wished she could have said, blue pendent in hand. I could never, because holy fuck, the feelings for you are something I’ve been so scared of for so long and I don’t know why. You are everything I’ve ever needed and I wish I could have told you. She had told Emery once: “Go get him and never let him go,” but now he’d never know. Even from death, she would will him all of the most beautiful things in life, and hope that he could have the life she couldn’t give him. He had probably dashed through every inch of the fairground, looking for her. Maybe he still was -- seeking the concept of time seemed to be for naught here. All she knew was she wanted to run to him. She wanted to run to him, wrap her arms around him and never let him go.

As the world caved in, she could have been in the one place that felt like home to her.

Maybe that was something Milo and Savana could finally agree on, setting the world on fire. Savana Bisanti was a whirlwind, a beautiful one at that. She would keep her son strong and remind him just how beautiful he was, without fail. She had always done the same for Jo, after all. The Moroi had brought out a side of her that she had thought to be long dead and made her feel free and young again. Thank you, Savana. Thank you for making me feel alive. She couldn’t help but even think of Reuben, as random as that sounded. Josie had never been given any reason to hate the man. In fact, all their interactions had been seemingly cordial. None the less, he was her protector now. For the love of god, man, if you break her heart I will make your life a living hell. Give her diamonds, give her every ounce of love you have in your heart. She deserves it. After everything and what I’m about to put her through.

God, Sav. I’m so sorry.

Emery Woods. He would have to sit on the stoop alone now, cigarette in hand, watching the world go on without her in it. I’m so sorry I broke our promise. There’s a long way from now until eighty. Someone else would always have to be right, for it could no longer could be her. The woman could feel herself coming undone at the thought. Life without Emery in it for her didn’t exist. At least he had Alex. For the love of god, she thought, tears streaming down her cheeks -- in this world alone, just drive to Vegas already. Pour a beer for me and know that I will be watching, loving you endlessly.

Alexander Soliel had been one of the first people who didn’t make her feel judged. He made her laugh like no one else and when someone hurt her, he was always the first to go to bat for her. A brother, if you will. The closest thing to one that she would ever have and ever get. She could hear Evan’s voice in her dancing across the space like a broken record and as she wanted to call out for him, she was reminded that Alex would be able to go to him. He would know how hard she had fought just to stay alive. It wasn’t anything she could have helped, anything she could have stopped. Tell him all the things we did.. when he’s old enough. He’d give Evan a picture of his mom to hang onto as he grew.

The thought of Garrick holding Devon as she cried shattered her very conscious like glass. Her person. Growing up she had only known the fakes and the phonies and nothing had felt real, but simply a simulation. Then the blonde had come into her life, with her bright blue eyes and hypnotizing smile that just drew you in as if you were coming home. My best friend. In a way, she was beating herself up. How could you leave Devon like this, without saying goodbye. You’ll never get to return that I love you that you had shrugged off. Josie wanted to scream for five more minutes, just five more minutes on solid ground for the chance to help her understand that she had to do this. You will always be my person, Devon Hale. No matter how far away I am from you. No matter if I get out of this pit or not.

This world, alone.

AJ Prasad. The very person she had done it for. Dampened powers aside, the pair had fought and run like hell. He had been the last person she saw before she had entered this place and now, he was her final hope. His very life was in her hands.

Of course, she didn’t know what was happening overhead, but she hoped he was running. Run, AJ. As fast as your legs can carry you. Live a long, happy life with Cydele. Love with every single breath you take. Fight for her, just as I fought for you. Get the hell out of this town with her, before it’s too late.

She had give him a second chance. If she had tried anything else, they would have gotten to him.

Ever the protector, until the very end. In a way, she was proud that she had stayed true to that side of herself. The people she was leaving behind would understand. If she could stop the death of someone she cared about by leaving this world, she would do it. Not that she didn’t think her life didn’t matter, but her friends had so much goodness to offer the world.

There was nothing in this world she wouldn’t do to say one more I love you to every single one of those faces.

“Professor Perez? Professor Perez!”

The voice ripped through the silent blackness like a knife, but it was a sweet one. Clara Blanchard. She was calling out to her and the last thing Jo needed to pull herself out. To wake up.

Opening her eyes was like coming up from underneath the ocean to the surface again. As the air filled her lungs, she could hear the muttering voices of a group of healers around her and the quiet sobs of relief coming from one. Clara. The familiar face of Professor Kutlar was the first one she saw. The look on her face was one of relief, considering the extent of her injuries. It was very likely that Jo could have died, but she hadn’t. She was there and she was staring at the other woman like she was the most beautiful being in the world.

“…Where’s my son?” Were the first words Josie was able to muster, still weak. “Where is he?”

Clara made her way back over, taking Josie’s hand. “He’s outside, and Professor Pierce is too. He’s been waiting here ever since.” She murmured, stroking the hair in Josie’s eyes away from her face as a sign of comfort. “You’ve been out a couple of days… I know there’s going to be a lot of people who are very happy to see you.”

See her. Josephine Perez was alive. The woman had endured one of the closest brushes with death even possible, and she had made it out.

#// i deadass bawled my eyes out writing this guys like i dont think you understand #death tw #blood tw #violence tw #parental death tw #lost consciousness tw #injury tw #alcohol tw #hospital tw #coma tw #SELF PARA.#SELF PARA: JOSIE.#SPEAKING: JOSIE.#JOSIE.

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reinathane · 3 years

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SELF PARA / BEGINNING TO END LOCATION: Rhea’s home in Olympus / Reina’s home in Las Vegas TRIGGERS: Domestic violence mention, it’s also so long and for what i’m so sorry

SEPTEMBER 1997, THE BEGINNING.

“Reina, you’ve got about five fucking seconds to get your shit and get down here or I’m leaving without you.”

Fucking Christ.

Reina knows this is insane. No one has to tell her she’s making a rash decision, or that she might be in over her head with this. It’s when she gets yelled at from the bottom of the stairs by her soon-to-be fiance that things are put well into perspective for her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the question continues to nag at her. Why would you leave the only place you know as home with someone you’ve only known for a few weeks?

She’s almost eighteen years old with nowhere else to go, that’s why.

She very much wouldn’t be welcome back at the foster home she’d snuck out of a few months prior, pulling cash from the wallet of her last foster mother, slipping quietly out the front door while the man of the house slept loudly on the beat up recliner in a whiskey induced coma. They owed it to her anyway, it’s not like they spent any of their government funding on the kids they took in — it all went to booze and cigarettes, which Reina obviously ended up repeatedly stealing as well. Besides, she hasn’t been a ward of the state since she turned seventeen, and it had always been the plan to hightail it out of there the second she graduated high school.

It was lucky she met Jason when she did, considering she was running out of friends that’d let her stay with them until their parents started asking questions. It’s easier in the summer when there’s no school nights or homework holding them back, but as her friends got ready to head off to college and start a new chapter of their lives that Reina couldn’t even dream of experiencing, she realized she’d need to adapt and figure something else out. All it took was one night out at a bar with her friends and their fake IDs

Reina didn’t know the man but she knew of him, Hell everyone in town had to know of the Thane family. She babysat for some kids whose dad was in the MC so she’d picked up on some things here and she knew he had money, status, and everything she’s always wanted. It made the man an easy target and by the end of the night Reina somehow managed to get Jason Thane eating out of the palm of her hand.

From then on it’d been a whirlwind of going out to dinner, taking rides on his motorcycle, fucking in his childhood bedroom at his parent’s house — a bedroom she’d decided she was moving into just a week after they met considering she’d been practically homeless. Jason’s an asshole but they’ve been inseparable ever since that night at the bar, and when he started talking about how he’s running part of the club going in Vegas and he’d be going back up there in a few weeks to really get it all started, it’s been a no brainer — Reina had every intention of going to Vegas with him.

But now she wonders if this might all be a mistake.

It’d be so easy to get out of there and run, to sneak over to his brother’s room and climb down the trellis on the side of the house. To catch a bus to New Orleans and figure her shit out from there. All she has to her name is a bag with barely anything in it and the clothes on her back, though, and the thought of going to New Orleans without a plan is much more terrifying than going to Las Vegas with one.

“I swear to fucking God, Reina—”

Her boyfriend’s booming voice is enough to get her moving, down the stairs and out the front door with a smile on her face like she hadn’t just been contemplating skipping out the window and running the opposite direction. In her almost eighteen years of life this is the most terrifying choice Reina’s ever had to make, but it’s one she can’t really imagine an alternative to, so she just hopes it’s the right one as she hops on Jason’s bike and they start the journey up North.

—

MARCH 2020, THE ENDING.

There’s been more fighting than usual. Doors slamming, plates shattering, bodies slamming into the wall. He doesn’t want to leave, Jason keeps saying. Why would we leave a place that we’ve got completely under our thumb?

Because your mother is sick, she always answers. The first few times it’d been relatively calm, but they’ve long since given up the pretense of being able to have a civil conversation. It’s sick, too, because there’s a part of Reina that understands why he’d never want to go. They practically control Las Vegas, the MC is both feared and loved and with Jason at the forefront of it, the two of them are as well. It’s a kingdom and who in God’s name would ever abandon such absolute power?

Reina never thought she would. She thrives in this environment, in chaos created for the sole purpose of keeping them rolling in piles of money. The way people look at the two of them around here makes her feel like a fucking God, and the complex it’s given her reflects that completely. Who would leave this? The question nags at her every time she argues for it, sometimes it’s Jason’s voice and sometimes it’s the devil on her shoulder but the sentiment is always in the back of her mind.

Then her conscience shows up, that pesky little thing that rarely ever comes out to play in Reina’s case. To be completely honest, she was never entirely sure she had one until a few months ago when they’d first gotten the call. The guilt of not being around for Rhea as she’s slowly deteriorating is greater than anything Reina’s ever felt before. Maybe she does have a moral compass, and it’s pointing directly towards heading back to Louisiana to be with the rest of their family while this bullshit happens to them. If there’s one woman in the world that can break down all of Reina’s walls and have her completely at her mercy, it’s Rhea Thane.

But Reina’s almost done trying. She’s tired of the back and forth, and quite frankly she doesn’t know if what she’s fighting for is even worth it. Does she really care that much about leaving her house and her lifestyle — about leaving Caine, her only solace in this Hell she’s somehow made a home — enough to get bruises for it? Olympus is a shithole, a tiny little town filled with nothing of interest to her anyway aside from her family, and it’s far from the first place she’d ever choose to live. At this point, Reina might just be ready to throw in the towel and let her guilt consume her instead.

But somehow it’s like Jason knows she’s about to give in. After a long stretch of blissful silence that evening, he finally comes upstairs to bed from a phone call Reina had assumed was just about club business he may or may not fill her in on afterwards. But as soon as she sees his face, she knows that isn’t what this is about.

“I talked to Ma.”

He looks exhausted. Reina has no sympathy.

“She was fine and then she just switched up and thought I was Dad. I don’t even sound like him.” His father, who’s been dead for six years — with a gravelly smoker’s voice and violence just in his tone. Reina can see the resemblance. Slowly, Jason drags a hand over his face, as if he’s contemplating his next words but Reina already knows what he’s going to say — she could tell from the moment he entered the room. “We gotta go down there.” And just like that, it’s settled. After weeks of trying on Reina’s part, he finally makes one fucking phone call to his mother and suddenly Jason is the patron saint of the Thane family, at her beck and call as soon as he needs her. Maybe they have more in common than she thinks after all.

There’s no use in an I told you so, though. No amount of gloating on Reina’s part will ever make him think he’s been wrong this whole time, so she just lets out a sigh. “Good.” That’s all that’s said before they settle in for bed, the next few days after being dedicated to what Reina’s been pushing for all this time — they’re going home.

#i finally fuckin finished this so here #enjoy ig #lomk:task1

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ofjcnnys · 3 years

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self para: jenny got some sleep again so here’s a dream ✨ when: night 8, couple of hours between midnight and sunrise of day 9 where: camp, by the fire tw: mental illness as always besties, nightmares, suicide implication, death, violence, also its like stupid fucking long dont read it please xx

When Jenny had been little, they’d been a big dreamer. Like any overly active child they’d dreaded bed time but most mornings they woke wishing they could have spent just a little bit longer in their fantasy land. Deep sea diving or space exploration. Something grand, and sensational. At that age they felt they knew they would do something that would fill them with wonder each day, something worthy of dreams. If only they could have known the fucking whirlwind that was coming for them to tear them apart.

As they got older, dreams got scarier. And thus, their sleep got worse. Their father blamed the nightmares on scary movies and spooky stories. And he was probably right, but it didn’t help to combine those things with Jenny’s untethered subconscious. A good dream was rare. Most of the time they’d wake in a flurry, sitting up straight and gasping for air. Looking around and clutching at bed sheets to assure themselves they weren’t still in the dream. What helped was not sleeping. Barely ever entering a deep state of sleep. Blasting your senses with some Spotify playlist (and the obnoxiously loud Grammarly ads) so if you did, you felt as though you had some control of it.

In reality, that made it worse for Jenny. A bad dream was occasional back home. Maybe they forgot to put headphones in, maybe they were just so exhausted their body couldn’t help it, maybe something shitty had happened that day. On the island? They’d barely slept and still they’d only had one dream that wasn’t haunting. That first time they’d slept. Day four. Their body and mind had seemed to decide at the same time they needed a break. A nice dream, of their family back home. Since then they hadn’t been so lucky.

Even when knocked out for a few minutes, they were ganged up on by their subconscious. Waking each time with a sharp inhale of a breath and clutching the sand beneath them. Taking a few moments to calm the pounding of their heart and remember where they were, the fucked situation they were in. Night eight was the worst dream so far, coincidentally also the longest they’d slept since the great knock out of day 4. Shout out to the party favours.

It had started fine. In the New York Aquarium, or their dream state version of it at least. They were running after someone, her laughter and blonde hair unmistakeable but Jenny had felt something off about her from the moment the dream started. “ Hurry up, Jen, ” she called, slipping past other figures to make it to wherever they were going. Jenny, ever Mia’s obedient servant even when they felt something was wrong pushed themselves to catch up. But they couldn’t. She didn’t even look like she was trying and soon enough Jenny was pushing themselves to the limit. “ Wait! ” They pleaded, trying to weaving through the crowd but bumping into people. She laughed again. Jenny quickly realised they were trapped. Eyes finally leaving the back of Mia’s head to look around them. People, all around them. Too close to them. They looked back up, trying to find Mia. She wasn’t running anymore, but the people around them prevented them from getting to her.

They could feel their heart pounding in their chest as they looked at her. Lungs squeezing tight as it suddenly felt harder and harder to breathe. And still the people around them feeling like they were getting closer and closer. They couldn’t look away though. She had turned back to Jenny. Her hair hanging in front of her face while the rest of her body looked limp standing up. They didn’t look down to her feet. They knew what would be waiting for them if they did.

Their attention was suddenly pulled from Mia to the people around them. A hand wrapped around their arm and tugged. When they looked to the figure, though its face was blurred, or not there at all, they knew who it was. And looking at the rest of the people crowding them only confirmed it. The girls from the island. Over and over again. Faceless clones managing to stare at them. And then it was more that one grabbing them. “ Mia! ” They screamed, looking back to their best friend. She was still there. They tried to get to her, pushing past the girls felt like they were fighting against a violent sea. Every move to get to where they wanted to be pushed back against them. “ Mia! ” They screamed again, desperation and fear quickly taking over their voice. “ Look at me! Mia! Mia, please! ”

She did look up and Jenny wished she hadn’t. Her face was blue. That ungodly colour of death. The one that stupid funeral director couldn’t cover up when they were trying to make that person in the casket look like Mia. They’d done a shit job but this was Mia, and she was blue too.

A hand grabbed their shoulder and pulled them back, hard. Harder than the rest. So hard they fell backwards. Only as they fell into the people behind them they weren’t trampled on the floor of the New York Aquarium. They were standing upright, on a street, rain pelting down on them, some guy yelling in their face. They couldn’t make out what he was saying, only that he was mad. Mad at them. They knew the street, they knew even before they looked to the side and saw Mia’s mother in their living room window, watching the commotion with a phone pressed to her ear.

The hand tugged on their shoulder again. It didn’t feel as rough this time. Only trying to stop whatever they were doing. They looked, and it was their cousin. Cassia. Trying to pull them away, the phone in her hand calling their brother. Leo. That was the right call.

As spit hit their cheek they were forced to look back to the man in front of them. They couldn’t remember this. Why were they here? Their fists were clenched, and they were angry. Still, his words were muffled but they were angry too. This whole scene felt muffled, and suffocating. They tried to rip their shoulder out of Cassia’s grip. They had to get out of this. Whatever it was, they had to get out. When they couldn’t get out of her grip, they figured she’d just have to come with them. That was her fault, attaching to them. They screamed, trying to reach for the man yelling at them. They didn’t even know what they said, or if they said anything at all.

Then, like out of thin air. Leo was between them and the man. He pushed them back. Suddenly they could see Mia’s father on the other side, pulling the man away, trying to calm him down. His words were muffled too. Most of them. “ She’s not well. ”

“ Fuck you! ”

Suddenly they remembered why they were there. Their anger reigniting as they fought against the hands of both their brother and cousin now holding them back. “ Where’s you fucking daughter, Dave? ” They screamed. Tears were filling their eyes as they tried to scratch at the hands holding them back. “ The fuck did you do to her? ” Suddenly it wasn’t muffled, they could hear the rain, they could hear Leo and Cassia trying to calm them down, and they could hear this random dude and Dave calling them crazy. Who the fuck even was this dude?

Then her voice. Mia’s. Of course. It was clear as anything. It drowned out the rest. Anger fleeting their body to make room for despair. “ Jenny, ” the voice said. They looked around desperately for it. “ Jenny, ” it said again, more forceful. They looked ahead. No longer was it their older brother in front of them. Leo, tall and strong and sweet. Who cared for the family to a fault, who cared for Jenny specifically to a fault. Always keeping them out of trouble. It was Mia. Glowing. Like she always was. But this was especially familiar. They couldn’t place it for a moment but then it hit them. They way she had done her make up, the way her sleeve was hanging off her shoulder, the way her hair was sort of messy. They knew which Mia they were looking at and they knew what she was was about to say and they didn’t want to hear it. They didn’t want to hear those words again. “ You can’t. I don’t– ”

Jenny thought they were going to scream in her face, like they had wanted to before. You stupid bitch, you stupid fucking cow. What did you do, why did you leave me. Don’t you love me. You always said you loved me. But then they woke up. Instead of a scream they gasped for air. The cool, salty island air burning their throat. They nearly choked on it, sitting up as they stifled a cough into the elbow of their hoodie before they laid back down again. A dream. A shitty, shitty dream. They stared at the stars, the fire, the girls around them. Listening to the ocean crash against the shore, the crackling of embers, and the light breathing of the group. How odd it was to be relieved to be here, where they were, instead of in that dream.

#why did i write this u may ask #and the answer is bitch i do not know #( self para. )

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parkmin--seo · 3 years

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self para between minnie & her umma ( tw: suicide attempt, depression )

when: after the secret reveals where: minnie’s room

If everyone hadn’t already figured it out with what had happened at prom the previous year, it had to be obvious now that not talking was Minnie’s preferred way of dealing. However, her umma, unsurprisingly enough, was not giving her the option to just ignore what had happened. After hours spent conversing with other families and plastering smiles onto their faces, they’d finally found their way back to Minnie’s room and the smiles had faded as quickly as they’d formed. Minnie could barely bring herself to look her mother in the eyes as she moved to sit on her bed. There was a whirlwind of emotions rushing through her as she sat there, ranging from guilt to an overwhelming amount of irritation at how quickly something personal could become not personal, thanks to yet another group set out to destroy the lives of the Luxor students.

What was even more annoying than this, however, was that it could be argued they were only helping her. Her secret had nothing to do with anything bad that she had done to anyone else, nor had her last one. She was always hiding something about how not fine she was, because she didn’t know how to navigate her life when people didn’t think that she was okay. But how did she tell that to her umma? How could she look her mother in her eyes and tell her that the reason she’d lied, yet again, had been because she was too afraid to feel? How did she explain that feeling only made her wish to curl into herself, to hide, to go to sleep and never wake up? She didn’t think she could tell her mother how difficult it was to pull herself out of bed in the morning, how the thought of taking a shower and putting clothes on and facing the world made her feel more exhausted than the acts themselves. If she put any of that into words, she knew it was a ticket back to the hospital, back to the place where doctors would watch over her and force her to talk and write down how she was feeling every second of every minute of every day. And she couldn’t do that again. She wasn’t going to go through that again.

Ha-yoon remained quiet as they entered Minseo’s room, her gaze tired and sad as she allowed it to rest on her daughter. Her daughter, who she loved more than anyone in this entire world. Her daughter, who she had almost lost forever once and she could not handle the thought of ever going through something that horrifying again. And apparently this was not the only thing Minseo had been hiding from her. She wished that her daughter had opened up to her about what had been going on at Luxor, told her about these people that were hurting her and her classmates. Of course, she understand why she had not, because there was no question that Ha-yoon would have pulled her out of the school the second she had learned the truth. And that seemed to be Minseo’s worst nightmare, the thought of returning to Seattle, and the worst part was that Ha-yoon could not blame her. She understood, that it was too difficult, because it was painful for her, too. “My sweet Minseo,” she started quietly in Korean, her voice filled with regret and sadness. “I wish that you felt that you could talk to me... or to anyone. And I know that is not fair, especially not coming from me because it only makes me sound like a hypocrite, but... You are my daughter and I love you and all I want, more than anything in this world, is your peace of mind. And I hope you know, from the bottom of my heart, that I am not angry with you. I could never be angry with you for hurting. Your heart has always been so big and you carry an enormous amount of love in it and put the people you love first, just like your appa, but Minnie Mouse... It is okay to put yourself first. I promise that it doesn’t make you a bad person to think of your own health before that of the ones you love.”

Somehow, though she was aware it had not been her umma’s intention to make her feel such a way, being compared to her appa only caused her to feel worse. She was aware that her umma was only attempting to help and she had never doubted for a single second how much her mother loved her, but hearing those words now only made her hurt. Minnie wasn’t ready to talk, nor did she believe that she could ever reach a place where she truly felt comfortable doing so. “Umma, I know this is a lot to ask, especially because I have given you absolutely no reason to believe me when I say that I’m fine, but... I’m not ready to talk. And maybe that isn’t what you want to hear or what you think I should be saying because there’s a part of me that is aware I need to, but I just... If I talk, then it’s real.” She paused, in an attempt to lessen the amount of emotion that she was feeling, because she didn’t think she could finish talking if she didn’t channel that numbness she had been desperately clinging to for well over a month now. “And I can’t... I can’t deal with it being real. I created this fantasy in my head, where what happened to appa was just an awful nightmare and I perfected the art of smiling through it-- through the pain and the anger and this overwhelming guilt I have carried with me since I attempted...” She let the sentence trail off, because she knew that she could not say the word aloud without causing her voice to crack. “Anyway, I faked a smile so well that I eventually reached this point where even I believed my own lie.

“And when that lie was taken from me, at prom last year, I... I desperately tried to cling to that girl I’d been for so long because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. I don’t know how not to pretend that I’m strong, because I don’t like seeing the people in my life who care about me worry that I’m not okay. Because I will be okay, umma. I just... I need time. Not therapy, but time...” There was a lot wrong with that statement, starting with the part about her not needing therapy because she was aware that she did, but she didn’t think that she could talk to her therapist anymore than she could talk to her friends or her own mother.

“Minseo, it does not matter how I feel or what I want... what matters is that you are healthy and happy. Truly happy. And I know how strong you are, how strong you are capable of being. Needing someone to talk to, leaning on the people that you love... that does not make you incapable of being strong. It makes you stronger. It took me longer than it should have for me to realize that for myself and I only hope that you will reach that conclusion far sooner than I ever did.” The very last thing that Ha-yoon wanted was to push her daughter more than she perhaps already was, but she didn’t know how to bury the concern that she felt, nor did she want to. Even if pushing only made Minseo want to push back, at least she could say that she had tried and she would not quit trying, not until the day that her daughter was even close to okay again.

Minnie exhaled a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her gaze almost pleading as she allowed it to meet her umma’s again. “Umma... Please. I don’t want to do this now. I can’t do this now and maybe I don’t have the right to ask this, but I’m asking you to not make me talk. And please don’t call my therapist... not yet. I’m just... I need time. I’m sorry, umma. I’m sorry that I keep letting you down.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you have never let me down. And I am always proud of you... And I can’t promise that I won’t try to bring this up again, but if you don’t wish to talk right now, then we can just sit here and not talk... for as long as you want.”

What Minnie wanted was for her mom to let it go, but she was aware that she wouldn’t, so rather than saying anything or try to continue to fight on her on it, she merely pulled her close and allowed herself the comfort that she’d been denying that she needed for longer than she could admit to even herself.

#( self-para. )#( ft. ha-yoon. )#tw: depression #tw: suicide #tw: suicide mention #// posting this a century later #it's so sloppy but i just wanted to get it out of my drafts adfl #tw: therapy

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mavmax · 3 years

Text

Zero O’Clock || Self-Para

When: Tuesday, March 30th - Wednesday, March 31st

Where: Maverick’s Apartment; Pico District

Major Warnings: Anxiety Attack, Mental Illness TW, Suicidal Ideation (HUUUGEEE TW)

Featuring: Lexa Maxwell

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind, between killing it with March Madness and school, it seemed like all was right in the world, until nightfall. Exhaustion, was most often times his excuse to avoid everyone, but he kept feeling this overwhelming sadness. Will mom get better? Will he continue hiding behind and pretending that everything’s okay for the sake of “public image”. How long will he continue to push everyone away until he was completely alone? These were the thoughts that haunted him. That kept him restless and feeling sick. He needed to pretend everything was okay on the court, and for the most part, he was able to play off his frustration and sadness as if it were nothing, but even then…it was taking a toll.

Maybe everyone was better off without him.

That, was the darkest his mind had ever gotten and it freaked him out. It freaked him out so much that he could feel the familiar knot forming at the back of his throat and his hands began to shake. All he could do was start crying. He hated the fact that he sunk so low, he hated he felt trapped in himself. He kept telling himself through his tears that it could be worse. How could it be worse if he just kept screaming in his head? If he felt like his world was coming down around him? He didn’t understand it all.

He had three options at that point. He could either just do the damn thing and call it a day, who’d miss him anyways, right? Or…he could call the one person that knows the feeling all too well, or he could just go to bed and do it all again. However, he knew doing it all again would just get exhausting, tiring to the point where option one would just seem to be the only option. He sat in silence, his sobs subsiding, the numbness was settling in. He paid attention to the clock.

11:59pm.

He didn’t know why the time on the clock was so crucial all of a sudden, but he just stared blankly at it as the tears continued to roll down his face. He was exhausted, burnt out, tired. He hadn’t even followed Soo’s advice about talking to his family about how he was feeling. He hadn’t talked to his friends. He just threw himself into school and basketball and smiled it all away and now here he was contemplating whether he wanted to live to see another day or call it.

12:00am.

He took a shallow breath. Grabbed his phone and went to the bathroom. He closed the door. His sobs caused him to stammer out his words as he asked Lexa to come over with the words. “I don’t feel well.”

12:15am.

Lexa arrived half asleep to her brother’s apartment. She had the spare key and memorized the security code to enter and walked inside. It was quiet, but there wasn’t necessarily a chilling presence, but she was worried sick.

She continued to wander in and opened the door to his room. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Maverick sat on his bed, in tears, trying his best to put on a brave face for his big sister.

“Bunny,” She sighed, setting her stuff down and hugged him tightly.

“I can’t do it anymore, Lex,” He sobbed out. “I can’t. It hurts too much. I can’t be strong.”

All she could do was hold Maverick as tight as she could. Keep him from falling apart.

“You don’t always have to be strong, Maverick,” She whispered. She carefully pulled away, wiping his tears and squished his face like she used to when they were younger to cheer him up.

“It’s okay not to always be strong, or brave, but bottling all of that inside…believe me when I tell you, it’ll only do more harm than good, okay?” She explained.

“I know,” He croaked out.

“You’re going to get through this. I’m here, Izzy’s here. Your friends, they adore you. I mean, I hear Brandon screaming his wild cheers about your thunder thighs all the time,” She chuckled lightly. For once, this got Maverick to quirk up a small smile.

“I’m gonna stay the night, keep an eye out for you. I’ll hide anything that’ll cause you any risk and in the meantime, I’ll make you tea, you can tell me what’s on your mind and between you, me, and Izzy, the three of us will come up with a plan to keep each other safe, and sane, okay?” Lexa pointed out.

Mav could only nod. Lexa, as the eldest and having experienced her own attempt, knew what to do, but most importantly, she was always the protector. His and Izzy’s protector.

“Thank you, Lex,” He sighed. “Can you not…”

“You know I wouldn’t tell anyone. When you’re ready, you can tell your friends, but it’s never my place to tell. Rest assured,” She smiled.

“I feel like shit for feeling that way but…I just feel like, no one really sees me, or cares, you know?” Mav sighed.

“I get it. I felt the same way. You feel like everyone sees this misconception that they’ve painted of you, right?”

“Yeah. Like that. I mean like, I know you and Izzy think I’m irresponsible and a nuisance—“

“And I also see the same kind, and caring kid with the biggest smile. You bought a whole fucking complex in Pico and kept the rent low and offered to do maintenance to save the building. You’re clever, witty, you love to make people laugh and feel comfortable, like they belong. Mav, just because you’re a pain in the ass doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I know, you’ve been through heartbreaks and heartaches and you choose to bury that down. Now it’s all coming up. You just…have to let it flow.”

“I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.”

“No one ever does. It takes experience do to so.”

“Fucking sucks.”

“I know. But, it doesn’t mean I care about you any less. You’re still a chaotic menace to society, but you’re my brother above all else,” Lexa smiled and pulled Mav into a big hug. Mav hugged Lexa tightly and sighed. Feeling like a weight had lifted.

“Hey Lex?” He asked while still hugging her.

“Yeah?”

“I think I might need someone to talk to,” He admitted.

“And that’s okay. You need help finding one?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We’ll do that too, as soon as you’re ready.”

“After March Madness?”

“We’ll do that, sure. In the meantime,” Lexa pulled away. “Talk to your friends. Call Blaine, smash some shit. Hang out and flirt with Soo. Have a self care sleepover with Minjoon and Brandon. Fix your laptop with Jian again, but talk to them. Don’t isolate yourself, okay?”

“I promise,” He said.

“Good. Now,” She ruffled his hair. “Let me go clean. Follow me to the kitchen and we’ll have tea and you can go to bed. Big game tomorrow!”

#sp #mental illness tw #anxiety attack tw #suicidal ideation tw

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theohollis · 3 years

Text

self para ✘ falling again

trigger warnings to be aware of before reading on: mentions of death, cancer/illness, anxiety, prostitution

the deferral form had been sitting open on theo’s laptop for days. he’d started filling it out on the off chance that he’d decide to stay in lake wisteria until the new year. he thought that a break from the city was what he needed -- time with his friends and family, miles and cj, was more important than fast-tracking his master’s degree. the form had once been a beacon of hope, in a way. but now, it felt like a confirmation of everything theo didn’t want to face.

after delilah and brandon broke the news to him and miles about their mother’s cancer, theo had fallen into a whirlwind, but memories of the few hours afterwards were blurry. he remembers rushing out of the room, out of the house to the front yard, where the tears had finally made their descent down his cheeks.

why why why why why.

the next thing he knew he was in his car, driving, heading away from the town that held so much good, yet so many devastating memories for the young man. he was only twenty two and had already experienced so much loss and pain, been broken down by the world over and over again. and here he was, faced with the fact that he could possibly lose the woman who he called mom for the past fifteen years. he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take before he was too broken beyond repair.

at some point, he pulled off to the side of the road ( most likely about ten miles outside of town ). his tears were blurring his vision, making it too difficult to see the road in front of him. balled fists pounded against the steering wheel and sobs racked theo’s shoulders for hours, it felt like. he was so sad, so frustrated, with everything the universe kept throwing at him. he had been so young when he lost his mother, at an age when the trauma of losing the only family you had ever known was internalized because even the child psychologists believed it hadn’t affected his young brain at the time. but the trauma came later.

it came when he found himself crying over a pathetic family tree in the sixth grade, where all he could include was himself, sofia, miles, brandon, and delilah. he was encouraged to include the rest of the hollis family, but it didn’t feel right. they weren’t his family.

it came when theo watched ezra cope with the death of his own mother, realizing that there were so many stages of grief that he had never gone through himself. when he’d sneak into ezra’s room in the middle of the night just to hold him and tell him it was okay, he’d let his own grief-filled tears stain pillowcases -- not only for ezra’s mother, but for his own.

it came when he’d woken up next to a prominent editor with only blurry memories to piece together what had happened. the first thought that came to mind was his mother. what would she think of him, waking up next to someone who’d so clearly taken advantage of him and would continue to do so for years?

it came during his first therapy session in new york, when he was asked about his family health history -- unknown. he couldn’t tell his therapist whether or not his mother had battled depression or if his father was medicated for anxiety because he just didn’t know. he would never know the answer to those questions.

and it was coming now, the underlying trauma rooted in the premature death of his mother shaking him to his core as he tried to grapple with the fact that delilah had been diagnosed with breast cancer. it was almost two hours of an uninterrupted anxiety attack before theo was able to pull himself together and drive home.

unbeknownst to him at the time, he would spend the next few days hidden away in his room, unable to fully bring himself to the level of functioning that he’d managed to adhere to since coming back home. his phone would lay abandoned on his night stand, with the occasional buzz of the group chat. he’d respond every now and then, ensuring no one had any reason to worry -- even send out individual texts to cj and august, explaining away his absence in the past few days. emails about his potential book contract would pile up in his inbox, wondering where the first few poem drafts were and why he hadn’t submitted them by the deadline the day before. the pages full of potential poems he could send to his editor lay abandoned on his desk next to his laptop, where the deferral form glared at him in bright led light. calls from new york would go unanswered, voicemails filling his phone, each one angrier than the last, wondering why he wasn’t responding and threatening to pull the plug on his career that was so deeply rooted in circumstances theo could hardly think about.

in the first few days of his reclusiveness, delilah tried to talk to theo, about her diagnosis, about how it didn’t mean the worst for her, about the options she had to beat it. but theo would just lay in bed, his back to her, not responding. to acknowledge the fact that delilah was sick was to acknowledge that he could lose her. and he couldn’t lose another mom, the emotional toll would be too much.

every so often there would be a knock on theo’s door and he knew right away that it was miles. each knock would be followed up with a text from his brother, never anything that would be classified as substantial to anyone outside of the two boys, but it meant a lot to theo. it was his older brother letting him know that he was there for him, the simple texts and mugs of tea left outside his door. every time he was reminded of the fact that he wasn’t going through any of this alone, that his feelings probably weren’t unique to just him. delilah was miles’s mom too, even more so than she was theo’s. and if things were this bad for him, he could only imagine what miles was going through. it seemed like neither of them could escape the weight of the world around them, no matter how hard they tried to shove it off.

the fighting in the group chat had been the last straw for theo. he couldn’t bear to watch all of his friends, people he loved, constantly bicker all the time because of stupid shit when there were more important things going on. so he’d left the group chat, the one he created with the hopes of creating a feeling of nostalgia for his friends -- though it only seemed to bring negative feelings for everyone, including himself.

that night, theo sat down at his laptop and finished filling out the deferral form. with one click of the touch pad, the email was sent and he just had to wait for approval before he would text one of his friends in the city that he would need them to water his plants for a few more months.

on the line that asked for the reason for the deferral request, theo wrote simply: wanting to spend more time with the people he loved.

#*✧·˚. – stood on the cliffside screaming. ( para )#death tw #cancer tw #illness tw #anxiety tw #prostitution tw #sad tw #i am so sorry for sad boi hours in the middle of the day

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claudiafern96-archive · 4 years

Text

A New Leaf ll Self-Para

Mentions: @allisterjacksonn @ellicfm @jace-matthews @themarissaharrison @nicolaeisms @monroephile @wesley-bow @beatrizgrey

Where: her apartment

When: July 9, 2020

Description: Claudia debates leaving NYC

Trigger Warnings: self hate, substance use mentions, suicide mentions/ideology

Claudia sat in her bedroom. Alone. She’d been alone a lot lately. She had friends. She know she did. For some reason, she was finding herself less and less social lately. Very unlike Claudia. Ask any of her friends or any of her co-workers at Blue. She was always so bubbly, full of life. But that life was slowly eating away at her; little by little telling her to just crawl in a hole and die. She didn’t want to do that; she wanted to live. But why was that so hard right now? Maybe it was time to leave Kingsboro. Get out and start fresh again. That was what she did. When things got hard in Miami, she left. Maybe it was about time to leave New York as well. There were so many reasons why she felt like she needed to leave.

First there was Jace Matthews. That fucking coward. She hated that she had wasted so many months on him loving him so damn hard. No matter how hard she tried to blame him for the way things ended with them, she couldn’t because - fuck - she knew she had really messed that one up. That’s how everything ended. She would get too drunk or too high and end up doing something stupid. She was too high for that entire relationship to see how much Jace loved her and how much he was trying to help her. He was a good guy no matter how hard she tried to turn him into the villain of their story. She knew everyone could see through that. One would think that she would get her shit together after that one ended. That she would learn that she could expect someone to fall in love with her if didn’t love her self first.

Then, Marissa Harrison. She cared so much about the other woman. She loved her, opened up to her, shared with her things that most people didn’t know about her. When they had met, Claudia was at one of the lowest points in her life. She had nearly died before Marissa came into her life and she made those last few months in the psych ward bearable. They would talk for hours, laugh, cry, open up to each other like they hadn’t been able to before. Marissa was her rock to lean on when all went to shit. Now, she hadn’t spoken to her since she had found out that her and Nicola were together in Chicago. At the time, she felt like that was the ultimate stab in the back. But really, what had she done wrong? Marissa loved with all her heart, and she chose to love Nic. She didn’t know. Even if she did, Claudia was just a sugar baby to Nic; someone to keep her company. Marissa was beautiful, rich, and had goals an aspirations. She was everything Claudia wanted to be and had everything she wanted. No matter how hard she tried to be mad at her, she just couldn’t.

And of course, there was Nicola Sloane. The brave, the beautiful, the fearless Nic. The woman really loved the blonde. She did. She came into Claudia’s life like a fucking whirlwind; completely sweeping her off of her feet like no one had before. Damn her. How dare she cook for her, show her love like no had before, take care of her, and save her damn life and just break things off like that? What started off as a sugar baby/sugar momma relationship, turned into so much more than she could ever imagine. She never once excepted to grow feelings for the older like she did. She was someone that Claudia didn’t have in her life; someone who would do anything for her. Like the mother and father she had lost when she was a teenager. Was Claudia in love with Nic or the idea of Nic? The idea of coming home to someone who made you want for nothing everyday, of someone who would defend you and help you when you needed her the most. Was she in love with Nic or that lifestyle? She was so confused. No matter how hard she tried to forget about her, hate her...she couldn’t because Nic was one of the best women she had ever met in her life. And god, she loved her.

She wanted to so badly forget about these people; to make all of the pain go away. Leaving New York seemed like the best way to do that.

But then there were all the people she needed to stay for:

Her best friend, Monroe Oliveira, the one who stayed close with her even after she moved to North Kingsboro. The one who stuck by her side through thick and thin. The one whom she’d steal with, and fuck with men with. Her birthday twin. The happy newly wed. She was so happy for her. She needed to stay in the city for her. She’d be lost without her.

Ellie fucking Robertson and her lumberjack, Allister Jackson - the short badass whom she could tell anything to. They one who always had something to say, who would always back you the fuck up when you needed her to. She always came swinging. Tiny but mighty. Claudia could remember that one time in college when she had taken her lesbian virginity. Weird that they were best friends now. And of course, Al, the only one who kept her sane at work. The quiet man with a hard shell on the outside, but was all mushy inside. The endless jokes and games they’d play just to keep each other going during long shirts. They were both the first ones at her bedside when she overdosed in June. God, she was so thankful for them. She couldn’t leave them. Not now. She needed to help them with...well, that’s not Claudia’s story to tell.

Last but certainly not least, THE Wesley Bowery. God, that man would do anything for her. She had never met someone so kind, so thoughtful, so willing to help her with whatever she needed. His cute smile just lit up the room when he entered one. The way he just made you feel so good about yourself, even on your worst days. From the first day that they met, Claudia knew that they would be friends for life. He would be so devastated if she left New York. For that reason alone she knew she couldn’t leave.

Claudia looked over at her night stand; where she kept her coke stash. She rummaged through all of the drawers, finding little bags of coke half empty just sitting and waiting to be gummed or snorted or however she was decided to use the drug that day. She collected all of the bags in her hand and went to the bathroom, being careful not to wake Bea, her kind and hilarious roommate, and she crept through the hallways of their tiny, messy apartment. She opened the toilet seat and quickly emptied out the contents of each bag, flushing them collectively down the toilet when she was done. Enough of this bullshit. She was turning over a new leaf. And she was determined to make it stick this time.

#self para #a new leaf #I did not edit this at all before posting sooooo #tw: substance use #tw: self hate #tw: suicidal ideology #I said I was gonna do this like a month ago so here I.T is

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sweettemptaticn · 4 years

Text

time | self-para

“you’re not going to tell aiden a fucking thing, do you understand me?”

her small hand holds the handle of the whisk tight, stirring round the contents of the bowl. flour, egg, cream, sugar. she watches, eyes caught in the bubbles of the mixture, stirring. stir for thirty seconds or until blended smooth. there couldn’t be any air bubbles. she could’ve used the hand held blender, but she prefers to do things by hand when it comes to her baking. there’s more love going into the batter, into the cupcakes she pours or the cakes she decorates. into the cherry turnovers she’d made just the day before. it’s therapeutic, watching the whisk spin through the batter, mixing the ingredients. therapeutic to watch bits become a whole piece. nothing could remain broken forever.

tw: abuse mention

right?

“nobody needs you, baby. i’m the only one who’s ever going to love you, don’t you get that?” she’s caught against between the wall and his taller frame, heavy hands pinning her shoulders. “you can pretend all you want, but we both know the truth, don’t we?” was he right? he couldn’t be right. this isn’t want her life was supposed to be. caught between shadows and dreams, within a realm of seedy willfulness she can’t shake. did she believe him? a year and a half with whispered words, a devil in her ear, and it’s hard to believe otherwise. he is the only one who’s ever going to love her because who loves a broken thing? nobody. ryleigh nods, cringing away from the stale beer on his breath. he grins, toothy and devious, one large hand drifting down her body. silver rings snagging on the fabric of her dress. “now, if you’re done being a brat for the day, why don’t you make yourself useful?”

a drop of water falls. a whirlwind of emotion tilts her sideways as she realizes her face is wet with tears. tears she hadn’t realized were falling until she sees them drip into her mix, ruining the batch. a sharp sob tears itself from her throat. cake batter splats against the wall, the sink, the floor when she flings the bowl in anger toward the metal basin in the middle of the counter. a bubbling rage unrestrained, her arm swipes across the counter, scattering the many ingredients. bag of flour to the floor, vegetable oil toppled over (cap still on), measuring spoons clatter against the opposite wall. she sniffles, the mess she’d made looming over her head, weighing on her shoulders. god, aiden is going to kill her. harder sobs tear from her chest, a weight so pressing she can’t breathe past it. solid at her back, she slides down until she’s on the kitchen floor, sprawled among the mess, knees drawn up to her chest. he’s not here. won’t be back for another day. if that. she has time to clean it up. she has time.

she has no time. she uses the bottom of an empty beer bottle to crush the pills she’d scored off of one of her co-workers. a little something put into his dinner to make him sleep. her bags are stowed away in mrs. holloway’s apartment on the first floor. ‘i’ll keep them for you sweetheart. you’re doing the right thing.’ those kind blue eyes held no judgement as she took the bags from her, promising to keep them safe until she could come grab them. preparing dinner is easy that night. slipping the drug into his food is even easier, and there’s a sense of calm she feels. this is going to be her way out. her ticket out of hell. he comes home, drunk already. barely asks her how her day was before he’s slinking down into a chair at the table. he smells of oil and sweat, so pungent she has to fight wrinkling her nose when he demands the kiss she’s supposed to give him. every little thing sets him off, though, because all of her hard work is flung across the kitchen floor. food splattered along the walls, caught within the cracked wallpaper not changed since the seventies. she yells at him. she should’ve never yelled at him. she wakes up, alone, in a hospital bed three days later with a pain so intense in her lower back tears fill her eyes. a nurse has to explain what happened to her. she has no time.

sniffling, cheeks tear stained and flushed red, she rests her chin on her knees, surveying the damage. is this really what her life has turned into? baking for herself at midnight? is this really the kind of person she wants to be? god, she just wants to be normal. he’s going to kick her out. he’s going to be done with her. she’s only lived here for two fucking weeks and he’s not going to want anything to do with her if he comes home to this. does she care? she cares so much it physically hurts to breathe, but what’s the point? maybe her demons were right. maybe she never should’ve left. wouldn’t survive on her own. you can. you’re a fighter. you’re stronger than this.

“you’re better off without me, leigh. you always have been. that’s just the way it works.”

she’d never been better off without her and for laney to think, for even a moment, leaving had done her any good, makes laney a coward. she stayed, even when it hurt too much to watch how tired aiden was becoming, having to be a father and a brother all in one. she stayed when jamie told her to go. she stayed, while their mother preferred to bury herself in a bottle and live her own life, because what good was a life if you couldn’t live it? kids be damned. she stayed, even when she wanted to leave because from the moment laney left, all she’d done is hurt. hurt when saying no had only caused her more pain. hurt when she couldn’t make friends because she was the weird girl who liked to bring everyone cookies. they took her cookies, but not her friendship, except isaiah, but graduation came and went and he left, too. hurt when new york called to her and she and jamie grew apart. hurt when boy after boy told her she was good enough, told her she was worth something, only to take what they wanted and knock her down in the process. because she was only good for one thing. she learned being the sweet girl was better than the pretty girl. nobody expected her to be good at anything if she was the sweet girl, but she still fell into the same patterns. the same hurt. she still---

no, she never believed she was better off without laney, but did laney care? no. laney takes care of laney, now.

she couldn’t tell aiden the truth about laney, but she didn’t want aiden to hate her for keeping yet another secret. she has too many from him. there’s too much hurt. she can’t breathe. she gasps. she needs to get out. out.

she is so fucking tired. so tired of pretending. was it really easier? no. safer? yes. could she really keep her secret forever? god, she hopes so, because if aiden ever found out, if cory, or anyone, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. the pity.

stumbling to her feet, hand finds her purse and her keys, the no name phone, and she rushes out of the apartment, leaving a mess behind. she’ll clean it up later. she’ll-- she barely remembers to lock the door behind her. she doesn’t know where she’s going, but ryleigh needs out before she loses her fucking mind and-- she’s a mess by the time she reaches street level. everyone in dayton is, though, so she doubts she’ll stand out. let someone think she’s on a three day bender or whatever they want, but she rushes down the street, hair a mess, remnants of baking on her clothes and skin, face flushed. one destination in mind. she just has to make it there.

#( self-para. )

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chinawof · 4 years

Text

Everything Felt Right | Self Para

@hemsworthitmate

They had spent the morning just hanging around in each other’s company. China loved the fact they could just do that so easily; spent some time laughing and joking amongst themselves, shared time on the balcony just talking and enjoying each other’s space. It felt right. The only thing that was missing was poor Delta, who China remembered every so often and still felt terrible that the poor pup was stuck in the shelter.

Liam must have known it was on her mind, because they headed down to the shelter again in the early afternoon to at least visit Delta and see how she was doing. China didn’t expect them to be able to take her home today; she’d looked it up and read that the process could take days, weeks even, so she was completely stunned when the volunteer at the desk smiled at them and said everything was finalised and Delta could be theirs today.

They co-signed the papers, because she was both of theirs, filled out what information they needed to on the forms whilst the volunteer was in the back getting Delta ready to go home with them.

A short moment later, the shy pup left the back room with a tattered cloth toy in her mouth, on a short leash, looking bashful and worried. China’s heart ached, because, from what they knew, she’d been brought home several times, only to be taken back to the shelter time and time again after she made a mess somewhere unwanted, chewed on their wires, or a family decided she was just too much to handle.

“There you are.” China grinned as she looked at the black pup, a sparkle instantly in her eyes. She knelt down to Delta and held her hand out, not wanting to startle her or make her jump with sudden movements or actions, worried maybe Delta didn’t remember them from yesterday when they had visited her.

Her fears were quelled quickly by the small, wet nudging of a nose into her hand, and then the running of Delta’s head against her palm before the pup’s tail wagged and she gave an excited bark, dropping her tattered toy to the ground. “I guess you remembered us, huh?” Chi asked to the pup who was almost instantly into her hold, slobbering her with wet kisses. Bringing a laugh from China’s lips.

She stood a moment later, Delta in her arms, to take in the grin on Liam’s face and the sparkle in his sapphire eyes. It was the second time that day everything had felt right, she noted. China scooped up the tattered toy, an old baby blanket square with a teddy half attached that must have been donated to the rescue centre at one point.

“Is this?” She asked the volunteer who immediately waved her question off.

“She’s become very attached to it while being here. I thought she would like to take it home, have something familiar for a little while.”

China gave a small nod as she felt the dog snuggle in closer to her. She walked to the desk and settled the toy down to let her hand freely run over Delta’s fur tenderly and softly.

China let the dog stay nestled and calm in her arms as Liam filled the forms in with the last signatures, before they were all set and headed back to the house that was more balcony than house.

Delta stayed close to her as they did so, and China didn’t mind at all. Soon enough the pup was free to explore the house, though Delta didn’t seem keen on doing so. Timidly staying near China or Liam at all times.

So, her afternoon became one filled with exploring and playing with the small pup. Guiding her around different rooms and spaces, letting her get familiar to the new toys they had gotten her, and even running the spacious garden so Delta had had a good bit of exercise to go along with it all.

By the time she was getting tired of running around, it was early evening and the sun was on it’s way toward setting, so she let herself and Delta come back in and made her excuses to Liam to get a shower after all that running around.

She took her time, mostly because after the running the feel of the warm water beating down on her achy muscles was more than welcome. Chi let herself relax more because she knew Liam had Delta covered; she’d heard him shout for the pup when she had started the shower up, so she let herself bask in soft flowery smells and humming gentle songs for a while before resounding that she had probably taken a little too long enjoying both so she wrapped herself in her towel and left the shower.

Despite the fact it had been two months of them dating now and her practically living with him - according to Sisi and Lauryn - and that they’d even had sex (something she had to remind herself of) China still couldn’t bring herself to get changed in front of him. Instead, her clothes were ready and waiting in the bathroom for her. Chi dried quickly, and got dressed for bed, figuring they wouldn’t be heading anywhere now they had Delta to look after. Then she followed her nighttime routine before she opened the door and left the bathroom.

China set her worn clothes in a wash basket, before she wandered the house to make a warm drink. She found it a little odd that Delta hadn’t come to her when she had left the bathroom, but figured she still had a lot more to learn about the pup so she shrugged it off. As she boiled the kettle, China called out softly, “Delta~” in a sing-song voice.

A moment later she heard the tell tale jingle of the dogs tag and collar colliding, before the black pup rushed toward her, tail still wagging excitedly. “Such a good girl.” She ruffed up her fur gently when her hand knocked against the collar and she noticed that something was dulling the cold metal of the dog tag she had been expecting to feel.

China knelt down. “What’s this, huh?” She asked, one hand scratching behind Delta’s ear, whilst her other moved the collar to see the folded piece of paper. It didn’t look like the pup had caught it around herself whilst outside playing. In fact... it looked almost intentional.

She figured it was definitely intentional when she realised it had been threaded through the key ring of the collar, “What in the-” Chi huffed a little as she blew some hair out of her face. She was just thankful Delta was being patient and hadn’t tried to run off.

Eventually she freed it and unfolded the creased up paper, then read over the words, ‘There’s only one thing I’d change about you and that’s your last name.’ China couldn’t help but laugh gently as she read the words so clearly in Liam’s writing. Honestly, she didn’t realise the intent behind it, or read too much into it. He’d been using bad pick up lines on her all day, and she figured, maybe, he’d decided to get a little more creative with it.

China rolled her eyes as she stood, almost cockily walking through the house and up the stairs. She noticed the doors open to the balcony, and walked outside with a confused face, “Liam, what did you...” She huffed out softly, but her eyes couldn’t find Liam.

Instead her gaze fell to the table where he’d carefully placed out Laffy Taffy. China was about to roll her eyes again, until it registered in her brain that they definitely spelt out two words... ‘Marry Me.’

Suddenly, her heart was fluttering. As she stepped further onto the balcony into the fading sunlight, she noticed him, her mouth open about ready to say something, but he cut her short, and started being his sappy self again.

“For the last few weeks, I’ve had this feeling, a good feeling, great even... That I knew I wanted to keep for the rest of my life, China. That feeling was happiness. You bring me happiness. So,” When he went down on one knee, the reality of it all sank in.

Her heart was hammering now, her stomach filled with butterflies. China’s eyes teared up, and for the first time in months they were the good kind of tears, the kind she thought she had lost forever back in July... he’d found them and he brought them back for her. Her hands went toward her face, still holding the now unfolded piece of paper, to maybe cover up some of her surprised, teary expression.

It felt like a dream, in all honesty. Perfect in every way she’d ever imagined. She wondered if she had just fabricated the whole thing, but after a blink in which her tears fell, then were wiped away quickly, she saw him still there, on his knee, an engagement ring presented to her.

“With permission from your father, would you continue bringing that happiness into my life, and be my wife?”

He’d asked her dad? And suddenly, she wanted to melt all over again, because he was so perfect and considerate, and everything felt just like it had a few weeks ago in Australia. The two of them just dancing around, laughing, being happy and truly themselves...

“I couldn’t imagine anything better.” She answered, voice soft and a little croaked, muffled a little by her hands over her mouth. China nodded, letting her hands fall to her sides, “Yes.”

She got caught up in a whirlwind of his sapphire eyes in the sunset, and the soft way he put the ring on her finger before closing the space between them, locking their lips in a passionate and delicate kiss that said everything she ever needed to know. It was meant to be, everything felt right for the third time that day.

#hemsworthitmate #(share my everything | mcclaimed.)#(their royal duchesses dora and delta.)#(duchess delta.)#(self para.)#(everything felt right: self para.)#(McH: Wyoming 2019.)

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bencvolences · 6 years

Text

then there were two - self para

WHEN: december 25, 7:09am. WHERE: finn perks’ flat, london. WHO: sally-anne perks, finn perks. mentions of anne malfoy & jonathan perks, @susanbonvs, @lisaturpins.

Christmas morning. Sally-Anne had always been an early riser, but Christmas was historically a day when she awoke even earlier than usual. In past years, there was a certain chilled excitement in the air, and a feeling as though everything in the world was temporarily settled. It gave Sally-Anne a sense of peace.

This year, it was different. It could’ve been due to the absence of her parents for the first Christmas in Sally-Anne’s life, or perhaps it was the knowledge that the world was not settled, that a war still raged on and everyone she loved was still in danger. Most likely, it was both. But Sally-Anne still rose from bed at her customary early time, and made her way into her brother’s tiny kitchen. She was surprised, initially, to see Finn already bustling about and fixing breakfast in there --- but then again, she would’ve been silly to expect anything less. She and Finn were quite dissimilar in a lot of ways, but a proclivity toward early morning activity had been shared between the two of them since childhood.

“‘Morning, Sal. Merry Christmas,” Finn greeted her over the sound of sausages sizzling in their pan.

“’Morning. You slept well?”

“Well enough, yeah. You?”

“Alright, I guess.”

Finn looked up at her from his place by the stovetop, staring at her face wordlessly with the expression of a person contemplating something.

“What?” Sally-Anne raised an eyebrow. Finn was now grinning.

“I’ve got something for you.” He turned off the stovetop and disappeared into his bedroom, emerging after a moment and carrying something metallic-looking. Sally-Anne recognized it almost immediately.

“Dad’s watch?” She questioned, confused. “He didn’t take it with him? Why do you have it?”

“I went back to the house a couple months ago and saw that he left it on the counter. First I thought it was for me, but now --- I think he’d want you to keep it. I had the band adjusted, so it should fit...”

Sally-Anne was speechless as Finn approached and gently slid the watch onto her outstretched wrist, clicking it into place. The silver body was chipped and dented in certain spots, a natural result of their dad’s clumsiness and active lifestyle, but Sally-Anne could not think of a more perfect Christmas gift. As she stared at the watch’s face, she remembered sitting on her Dad’s lap as a little girl and watching the minute hand as it traveled over the various stars and crescent moons. Her eyes welled with nostalgic tears and she threw herself into Finn’s arms gratefully.

“Thank you,” she said quietly against his shoulder. Then, after a moment --- “Tell me we’ll see them again.”

Finn seemed to sigh as the two of them pulled apart. His eyes were somber, but they were not wet like hers.

“You know I can’t do that, Sal,” he replied, always the honest one to a fault. Finn leaned forward and planted a comforting kiss on her forehead, before turning back toward the kitchen to continue tending to breakfast.

“Finn, wait,” Sally-Anne stopped him, making a spur-of-the-moment decision. “While we’re alone ---” she shot a quick glance back toward the hallway, through which Susan and Laura still appeared to be fast asleep --- “there’s something I need to tell you.” There was a moment’s pause while Finn looked at her expectantly, and Sally-Anne tried to gather the strength to say the words she’d decided she wanted her brother to hear.

“I’m gay,” she finally breathed out, relieved to have said it aloud. Her brain urged her to continue, to explain about her realizations over the past couple months and about Lisa, Merlin, she wanted to tell him everything about Lisa and how in love she was --- but she was distracted when Finn’s expression split into a grin and he began to clearly chuckle under his breath.

“What’s so funny?” Finn was laughing outright now, something about Sally-Anne’s coming out clearly amusing him beyond belief.

“What’s funny is, Dad and I each owe Mum a galleon.” He paused, then when Sally-Anne still looked confused: “She called it, when you were ten or eleven or so. Told Dad you were definitely a lesbian, then when Dad asked how she knew she just shrugged and said she could tell. Then Dad told me, to ask if I saw it too. I didn’t, so we each bet Mum a galleon she was wrong. Should’ve known better than to think that woman could ever be wrong about anything.”

Sally-Anne simply stared in shock, unable to believe that her family members had been keeping a wager over her sexual orientation all these years, not to mention the fact that Finn appeared to be so nonchalant about what she’d just told him. When she didn’t say anything, Finn shook his head, still grinning.

“You know I love you, right? We all do. I’m really proud of you for --- living your truth, I guess, whatever you want to call it. Mum and Dad would be proud, too.” He looked awkward, for a minute; expressions of emotion did not come as naturally to Finn as they did to Sally-Anne. “So, is there a girl in the picture?”

"Yeah, there is,” she replied, a smile spreading across her face as her cheeks flushed. And the two of them sat down on Finn’s cramped couch in his cramped apartment and she began to gush about Lisa, and for one moment, just a moment --- everything was settled.

#anyway i'm crying bye #this got rly long but it's mostly bc of dialogue so pls bear with it #〚 ❝ and what a whirlwind she is too ❞┊self para. 〛

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diveronarpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, MANDY! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL. Admin Rosey: How long have we been clamoring for our beloved Goneril? Far too long, I think. But the wait was worth it because Mandy, you delivered us to her with a little bloodied bow on top. You gave us a taste of Goneril, and here we are, begging for more. The plots you laid out for her future captured her well, and the para sample you provided gave an insight to the narration of her thought and I absolutely adored it. But, what really sold it to me, was the very end of the application: “... I don’t think Grace has ever stopped long enough to get bored. Maybe that’s for the best though; I’m not sure the world could withstand a bored Grace Daly.” And honestly, I’m not sure I can withstand the Grace Daly you will be bringing to our stage either. But I can’t wait to try! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Mandy

Age | 18

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | For the next 3 weeks or so, I can probably post about 3-4 times a week. After that I start university, so maybe 1-2 posts per week?

Timezone | BST

How did you find the rp? | I came across it a while ago (9/10 months?) so I can’t remember exactly how, but I figure I must’ve been looking for mob-related roleplays on tumblr.

Current/Past RP Accounts | This is actually my first-time roleplaying on tumblr so I don’t have any past accounts to show. I have been roleplaying for around ¾ years though, just on different forums. I can provide some samples of my writing if you want to make sure I’d fit in here.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Goneril aka Grace Daly! And I like her current faceclaim (Úrsula Corberó).

What drew you to this character? | What initially attracted me to Grace Daly was, in fact, another character; Calina Sokolova. Whilst writing out my application for Cleopatra herself, I noticed that I had a lot to say about wanting to explore her relationship with a character so primal and brutal as Grace Daly. And the more I wrote, the more I felt I understood Grace. At the same time, my infatuation for Calina’s character diminished, and I think that was because I realised that I didn’t actually understand her all that much. Then I read the application of the last successful writer for Calina, and I know that people can have different interpretations which are equally good, but it just made me realise that I had only scratched her surface with my own. I couldn’t do a character like Calina justice; at least, not yet. Not that I consider Grace to be any easier a character to write, or inferior in terms of depth, not at all; I just understand her much better. Turns out, Calina simply wasn’t my mystery to unravel, and so here it is, my application for Grace “Goneril” Daly.

What I love most about Grace Daly is that she remains true to her nature. The violence, the brutality, the chaos—it is her and she owns it. She does not run away, or attempt to hide her darkness, she doesn’t entertain any notions of herself as a ‘good guy’, nor does she fear or try to fight the darkness within her. Right and wrong are seen as abstract concepts, and even when she knows things are ‘wrong’, it makes no difference because she does not care. She would much rather be remembered as ‘great’ than ‘good’, anyway. What Olivander said about Voldemort comes to mind; “After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.” Terrible but great, could there be a better analogy for Grace Daly? The rest of the world might see her as rotten, having lost her humanity, but one couldn’t be more primal or truer to their human nature than her. She takes what she wants, when she wants it, no matter the cost. She is a queen waiting to rule, a tragedy waiting to happen, a whirlwind to be respected, but most importantly, feared. She will carve herself a throne, whether that be from gold or your bones.

Despite being known as Goneril, she could actually be likened to Regan, in my opinion. It might seem like the sisters are an interchangeable evil duo in King Lear, but I actually think Regan is the more brutal of the two. After all, it is her who gouges out Gloucester’s eyes and thrusts him out to “smell his way to Dover”. Goneril is driven by ambition too, but I don’t see that love of violence in her characterisation. Catherine spills blood apathetically, whereas Grace thirsts for it, much like the Regan of King Lear.

Pride and the grandiose sense of self-worth, rather psychopathic traits, are also rather important cornerstones of her character. Because she has never been humiliated, never needed to ask for help, never been denied, she has this kind of smugness about her, an air of superiority. She wants to be remembered as such, a glorious vision of power, ambition, bloodlust and savagery—a legacy if there ever was one. Grace has always wanted more – more things, more money, more power, more blood – but perhaps what she craves most is recognition. Not the cheap recognition her parents gave her for simply being their daughter, no, she wants to be known as something great, something invincible, supreme, garnering as much recognition from the beggars and vagabonds lining the streets of Verona as the kings and queens in their palaces. She wants to be feared and worshipped like a God.

Along with the need to be known and remembered, comes the fear of being forgotten. People might sing Catherine praises for her angelic-ness, but they will not remember her name when she has passed like so many saints before her. At least, that’s what Grace thinks. The oldest Daly girl has long forgotten to fear death, but to become a ghost of bygone times like so many others have done in the past and most continue to do? That is literally a fate worse than death. She craves to be different, and to be revered for that difference. Death or glory—these are her options.

Whilst her impulsiveness might be seen as a weakness or a flaw, I think it makes her even more dangerous, because you can’t ever really know what she’ll do. She’s so unpredictable—one can never know whether they’ll get the cold, calculating Grace, or the wild, reckless Grace, who’s far more likely to give into her base instincts, until it’s too late. It’s unnerving how quickly she will switch between the two, but perhaps what is most alarming is when she is both at the same time. You ask how one can be cold and reckless, calculating and wild, at once? Oh, you should watch our raven-haired angel of death in action. She will beat you within an inch of your life and enjoy every second, but an inch she will leave, an inch to tell the world of your most foolish mistake: attempting to withstand the supernova that is Grace Daly.

I’ve never written such a raw, unremorseful character. In fact, I’ve never even come across such a female character in any sort of literature, let alone roleplaying. When other characters will tip-toe on the borders of insanity, Grace will crash in there with a battering ram without flinching. That is why it would be a delight and an honour to write Verona’s resident bloodthirsty empress, not that the world ever remembers one who wasn’t.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

1. Maybe some sort of face-off between the sisters? I don’t mean the three of them get into a ring and fight to the death, I just want a reunion of some sort, I suppose. I don’t imagine it will be at a café over brunch to discuss their childhoods, but perhaps they all need to meet up to discuss some mob business? In my mind, Grace joined the Montagues to give people a reason to remember her, not out of loyalty to anyone in the Montagues. So, if she sees an opportunity to rise the ranks, and she thinks that can be achieved by ‘offing’ one of their own captains to free up a space, I think she would definitely go to her sisters. They are Capulets, after all, and I doubt they would pass the opportunity to get rid of a high-ranking Montague. Regina, if not Catherine, anyway. At the same time, Grace doesn’t really consider her sisters to be her equals, so she might not care to do something mutually beneficial to all of them. Instead, I think she’s more likely to deceive both parties, because she’s arrogant and thinks her sisters are too naïve to understand her true intentions. Maybe that goes badly for Grace, because they really aren’t as clueless as she treats them? I don’t know, it obviously doesn’t have to pan out this way exactly, but I would really like to see the three of them having some sort of heated altercation, or just circumstance which invariably forces them to spend time together.

2. Calina vs Grace? Okay, so I know a lot of my plotting for Grace involves ‘facing off’ against other characters, but what can I say, Grace is a fighting sorta gal. In Calina’s bio, it says that “So long as [Grace’s] teeth are bared in another direction, she won’t have to make her shut her mouth,” aka Calina is happy to let sleeping demons lie, but what if they stopped lying? For whatever reason, they step in each other’s path and BAM! Chaos! Pandemonium!

As for how it happens, I was thinking something like this: Calina’s alias is Cleopatra, right, and, historically, Cleopatra was the first pharaoh to get the support of both the Greek and Egyptian subjects she ruled. In this case, the Greeks and the Egyptians are of course, the Capulets and the Montagues, respectively. Perhaps, at some later date, they are attempting to broker peace between the two mobs, and Calina, being Cleopatra, is at the forefront of this? Peace and harmony don’t work for Grace, of course, and so she tries to throw a wrench or two into their plans. Or maybe even a grenade.

3. I’d really like to explore some fiendish kind of plot that she and Ivan have. They are both quite chaotic and brutal characters, but I’d say Ivan does it for the love of chaos, whereas chaos is a side-benefit for Grace. Her true love is power; unlimited, absolute, power. So, say she hatches a plan to move up in the ranks, and figures that she might need some help from the Capulets for that. The help would be unintentional or accidental if her sisters were involved (see Plot 1), but I think she would be fairly upfront about it if she went to Ivan. Though Capulet by name, I’d say that he is first and foremost an anarchist, and Grace knows this. So, if she wants to stir the pot a bit, and wants to have some fun in the meantime, why ever not get in touch with the platonic Clyde to her platonic Bonnie? He’s never said no to a bit of mayhem. It could also be that they both plan on betraying each other, y’know, for a little more drama? Grace knows that his love of ruin and destruction is a little too dangerous to have around if her plans for dominion are ever to come to fruition, and Ivan knows that he cannot tear the world apart if there are people who wish to maintain the social order, so that one can actually hold dominion. In the end, no matter how similar their methods might be, their endgame couldn’t be more different.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes, but I would really like a fitting death for her; ‘’all or nothing”, essentially. Either she goes out in a blaze of glory, doing what she loves, or it somehow becomes that she loses everything, and is at the lowest of lows, and is then killed. I’d rather she didn’t die in some random mugging sort of thing, y’know? Also, pleeease, nothing like how Goneril and Regan go out in King Lear—sure poison can be involved, just not the whole other “jealous, superficial, evil sisters kill themselves over some man/throw themselves at his feet” trope. Grace thirsts for blood and power, not men.

IN DEPTH

I would genuinely do both, but I really want to send this in time for Sunday acceptances and I don’t have very long left. So, in-character para sample it is!!

***

Naivete? No, that couldn’t possibly be it. They had survived too long, accomplished too much, to be naïve. No, what truly plagued her family, whether that was their parents, or her sisters, it was blindness—or lack of vision, to be more precise. They had grown too accustomed to their life, too comfortable in the plush armchairs in front of their warm hearth, to envy the jewel-encrusted palaces that their kings and queens resided in. They were happy to settle for something mildly better than mediocrity, content to be second best, good but not that good. The Daly’s were well-off, there was no two ways about that, but they were hardly mice next to the mammoth that were the Capulets.

It was disgraceful to her. Shameless, even. How dare they be so complacent?

The babe turned girl turned woman, who had always wanted more and more and more, could not fathom the meaning of leading such an unremarkable existence. What could possibly be the meaning of life if you didn’t keep fighting for more, until there was no one left to fight, until you were the most powerful person in the room?

Throughout history and mythology, there were always trinities. Hydra, the three-headed serpent, Cerberus, the three-headed hound, and she had held out hope that herself, Regina, and Catherine, would themselves be a trinity to behold one day. Her mother and father had resigned themselves to ‘the simple life’, but children did not have to repeat their parents’ mistakes. They could be better, the Daly girls.

And yet, it wasn’t to be. Regina had come as uninspiring as they did, and Catherine, well, all saintly Catherine wanted to do was be nice. For a time, she tried convincing them, inspiring them as the eldest, but even back then Grace had had little patience for lost causes. And lost causes they were, the whole lot of them.

If she was to be anything more, it would be alone. Her family would not, could not, help her, and that meant looking for another family. Perhaps one with a little more backbone.

Extras:

I’d say that the Grace I’ve envisioned is quite similar to Villanelle from Killing Eve. However, whilst Villanelle kills because she is bored, I don’t think Grace has ever stopped long enough to get bored. Maybe that’s for the best though; I’m not sure the world could withstand a bored Grace Daly.

#accepted #accepted: goneril

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bclthczcros · 5 years

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self-para 001; replaceable

the first night afterwards, balthazar didn’t really sleep. the big guns hadn’t done as much as he’d hoped, and john wick just made him want to punch somebody, so he had to pull out the big big guns, the movie he wouldn’t dare watch with someone else in the room; spielberg & kubrick’s a.i.: artificial intelligence. he’d discovered it when he was about ten, and it took him until he was fifteen to be able to watch the whole movie through in one sitting. the story of a defective little robot boy who just wants his mom to love him, only to find out that he is just one model of many, not at all unique and completely replaceable and undeserving of love in the first place? it hit a little too close to home. watching it was, easily, his most masochistic habit. so, he watched it in bed, late at night, with his laptop lying on his chest up to his chin, and he sobbed himself silly. of course, as an added bonus, every time he shut his eyes, he saw the scene, so he couldn’t fall asleep.

he was exhausted all through classes the next day, and his boss ordered him to leave work when he was found leaning against the wall, barely upright or conscious. he tumbled into bed when he got home, and promptly had the nightmare (him, age six, in l.a.x., screaming and crying and trying to get away and watching his mom walk away), and rolled over and screamed into his pillow. ripley was at the foot of his bed, and she padded up to his head, curling up next to him. he took a deep breath and petted her head; ripley only came onto his bed when she thought he needed protecting.

when he finally looked up, he saw honey’s shirt again, hanging so innocuously over the back of his desk chair. he stared at his ceiling for a moment, ripley nudging his head with hers, and he decided, fuck it, whatever. he was already a masochist, anyways.

the shirt still smelled a little like him, and zar held it close to his chest, bunched up under his neck, like a child’s comfort blanket. like that, with ripley next to him, he fell into a kinder slumber.

when he next opened his eyes, it was dark out, and it took a few moments to pinpoint what, exactly, had woken him. sitting on the bed next to his pillow, his phone was going off, and he drearily rolled over, snapping awake as soon as he saw honey’s contact information. about two weeks ago, balthazar had taken to jokingly calling him honey bear, and he hated it so much that he’d made that honey’s contact name, along with a picture of a stuffed winnie the pooh he’d found at the mall. he’d had originally sent it to honey with the caption “is this your brother?”; he hadn’t liked that much, either.

now, he just stared at it, feeling his heart breaking all over again, and unable to find it in himself to press “decline”. he just shoved it back under his pillow, and let it go to the machine. he felt ripley shift from where she lay in her sleep, obviously awoken by his ringtone, as well; she’d moved back to the foot of zar’s bed, and when he glanced over, he saw her head and ears sticking up in the darkness.

now too anxious to go back to sleep, he heard his phone vibrate once, and then once again, and his heart dropped as he grabbed at it to check the screen; yep, honey had left a voicemail. balthazar only had to debate with himself for a few seconds, before giving in. the tik-tik-tik of him opening his voicemail box caused ripley’s ears to perk up, and he tucked his phone between his ear and the pillow as he listened, honey's shirt still tucked into the crook of his neck.

at the first words, hey baby, zar smiled despite himself. he missed the sound of his voice.

and then, at every word that came after, that smile slowly fell from his face, and when the message cut off, he frowned, and stared at his screen in disbelief. did... did he...

he felt his jaw go tight, his teeth clench. that- that motherfucker had just called him to brag about, what, his exploits? the hot girl and guy at the bar he’d hit on? the noises that guy could make- he rolled over, palms to his temples, as he realized honey was calling to remind zar that he was replaceable.

balthazar threw his phone across the room, barely hearing it thump hollowly against the wall over the blood rushing in his ears. fuck him, fuck him, fuck him fuck him fuck him fuCK HIM FUCK HIM FUCK-

he sat up, cradling his face in his hands, quickly forgetting everything a lifetime full of therapists had taught him; he was never very good at any of that shit anyways. he knew honey didn’t care about him, he knew that, but to fucking- to call him and tell him, specifically, over fucking voicemail, just how disposable he was, that was something zar never would have thought him capable of, even at his worst. then again, perhaps balthazar had been seeing him with rose-colored glasses all this time. thalia was right; he was a dick.

soon enough, he had to stand, had to pace, had to do something with that energy or he’d just- he’d crack. he didn’t notice ripley watching him, alert and stern, or that she jumped off the bed when he thought, fuck it, fine. he’s going out? then i will, too.

he ripped open his closet, going right for where he knew it was hanging; an old chicago humane society bag, filled with everything he’d need. he turned around, to grab an old hoodie of his from the dresser, only to find ripley standing directly behind him.

“down,” he ordered, but she didn’t move, kept staring at him in the dark. and then, like a teenager to his parent, insisted, “i’m going whether you want me to or not.” as if she understood, ripley let out a low growl; she almost certainly knew what he was planning, and she didn’t like it.

balthazar knew from experience that ripley wouldn’t hurt him, though, so he took a deep breath, and sat on his bed, grabbing a hoodie and his sneakers from the floor and putting them on, hands trembling from attempting to go slowly, go calmly. and then, because ripley still looked mad at him, he took her face in both hands and kissed her on the top of the head. “i’ll be fine,” he promised, though he really had no right to. she just needed to see that he was at least somewhat composed, even though his mind was still a whirlwind of replaceable replaceable replaceable.

as slowly and quietly as possible, balthazar opened his window and popped the screen out. he slipped out into the crisp september air, and, giving ripley one last wave goodbye, he shut it behind him. he took another deep breath and checked that he had everything in his bag, before indulging his fury and chucking it at the ground with a grunt.

he dropped himself down moments later, the impact stunning and satisfying as it jolted up his legs. he picked his bag up and slung it over his shoulder, replaceable replaceable replaceable, before he pulled his hood over his head and disappeared, on foot, into the night.

#self para; zar #companion piece to honey's so read that first

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relatablyreid · 5 years

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Breaking Boundaries - LA & SR

Even if this suggestion had sat on his mind for the past month that he’d known his collegue Spencer, didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. To ask out Spencer, even within the building would be weird because on public work grounds he’s looking for love or even a one night exclusive with his work partner. If he asks for his number, he’ll be asked why. Asking Garcia to quite literally confidentially slip it to him isn’t as sly as he desires because then on a need to know basis, he’ll have to explain himself to her. No one around would he be able to ask for advice on the pressing matter because everyone in the Behavioral Analysis Unit would pry, and that’s not only because of their internal curiosity but more so because that’s their job and how they make money. It also wouldn’t be something to let slid under the door when the newbie is asking for information on a long timer of the unit, suspiciously so. Today’s self set mission was to figure out the simplest and easiest way to ask his current work partner, and friend to go out with him to a little restaurant near his own home. Why? Probably because the only thing he ever really smiled at was making others smile, but Spencer’s was one he longed to see again and more often. So as he sat in his box within the bullpen, he scribbled ideas on his yellow standard notepad and hoped no one was looking over his shoulder. It didn’t seem like they would though, deep in argument over some of Cher’s best music. One voice he hadn’t heard speak up too much was his daydream partner Spencer, and he didn’t know where to assume he’d been. Possibly filling out his paperwork, then, considering socially popular music and media didn’t interest him too much. He knew so much about Spencer, and he just wished he could share it to him or tell someone. He had to go somewhere. All this nervous energy, all these bad memories behind his anticipation was killing him. It seemed like it was creating real pressure up in his forehead and-

“Luke? Are you alright?” Spencer asked, and he had been concerningly looking down at his face. It seemed as though if the nature was meant to be mocking to Luke, as if he was rising from the floor in the playground. There he was again, on the the concrete as his nose bled as rapidly as it was onto the cold under his rear end. People were staring, it wasn’t just Spencer. He was being pointed at, and laughed at. Faintly the taunting was audible to him, the random and sporadic way the others were throwing around the words ‘loser’ and ‘faggot’ at him. It was bleeding right into the scene, all around Spencer. Frozen in the scene, Luke stared at Spencer and practically gawked.

“Something’s wrong with him.” Spencer said softly, and he turned his head and looked around. “JJ! Something’s wrong with Luke!” Spencer shouted, and he kept an eye on the man in the chair. This accidentally brought attention to Luke from Prentiss and Rossi. There was now an unintentionally formed crowd around him.

To Luke, it looked so bizarre. His collegues and other students from his classes yelling cuss words at him and rude slang for what they presumed he would fit in regards to common social grouping and clique terms. On the random punch thrown to his face in his flashback, he snaps out of it all.

“I’m not a faggot, I’m not, I-I, just leave me alone please, I’m not a fag, I..” Luke blinked a bit then furiously rubbed at his eyes and then cupped his ears a moment to stop the repeating and echoing of his childhood trauma on the park grounds. “I’m not, I’ll be back, I’m just..” Luke failed to fix what possible mess he’d just made now. “Sorry.” Standing promptly, he made his way to the bahroom. He had a lot to explain and nowhere near any reasonable explanations. The only one he knew was a logical and acceptable explanation or excuse to use to defend his very recent actions would be to tell the truth. Yet, this wasn’t exactly something he’d felt the most comfortable with sharing to all of his collegues. It wasn’t something he’d like to have to say in front of Spencer, that’s for sure. Embarrass himself right in front of his first true love interest, and then probably never fully have a real conversation the same way again afterwards. He made his slow feet take steps towards the main sink in the bathroom, and he turned the cool water on. If he’s being completely honest, this began about two nights ago when in the comfort and as presumed safety of his home, he had fallen asleep on the couch watching some sort of animal planet video and he had woken up shaking and crying over his nightmare. Not necessarily how he’d planned for his evening to go, but certainly and depressingly how it’d ended. He hadn’t even been able to process the possibility of attempting to go back to sleep after that dream. As neatly as possible, he splashed at his face with water right over the sink. Then reached for the towels to dry his dampened face. He needed to talk to someone, he wanted to talk to someone about this. He stared down at his now half dry hands and he sighed. The trip back to the bullpen would be weird, because of what he damn near practically yelled to the whole room.

“Prentiss? How much spanish would you say you know?” Was the first thing he was able to ask once he stepped back into the room beside her and the group. The goal was to get himself in the room alone with Prentiss, in order to confide in her and then make his way back to his desk to sit alone. He intended upon just focusing on her until he got to talk to her, and relax.

“Suficiente para hablar. Que esta mal. ¿Mi oficina o fuera?” Prentiss replied, and Luke raised a brow.* Reminded him to never take the abilities of his little behavioral analysis family for granted.

“Sí, señora, ¿podemos ir a la oficina? Fuera de los libros. Por favor.” Luke requested, and he cleared his throat a bit.* She lead the way right into her room as the other agents glanced around beyond unknowledgable to what sort of route the conversation had taken. All that way easy to read was the yes, and office. On easy assumptions and putting two and two together, you could tell why they’d walked away.

Once he stepped inside the office and heard the door finalize the choice, he exhaled. Now he had to speak his peace, prove his sanity and hope Prentiss didn’t kick him off the team or have him turn his badge and gun in to take a trip of his own to the psychiatric ward down the block.

“Speak fast, they think you’ve really lost it, Luke.” Prentiss suggested, and she sat down at her desk. “Contrary to that popularly believed assumption, I don’t think so though. Speak fast if you’re guilty.”

“I had a flashback.” Luke was fragmenting to prevent throwing himself back into a whirlwind of traumatic memories and terror. It separated who he was talking to now from something that happened in the past. It helped him lay things out in reality as they were and are, not as one lump together.

“Flashback about what? Was it from your time in the Army?” Prentiss asked, making sure she thoroughly got the truth. He wasn’t one to lie and that she knew, but she didn’t know why her teammate had yelled an offensive slang word for homosexual at the top of his lungs in the middle of the professional workspace also known as the bullpen. She doubted that any of that had been for fun.

“When I was a kid. Not from the army.” Luke cleared his throat again, and he kept his eyes from nearing Emily’s desk or belongings. He didn’t want to have to face her after that, afraid that she was feeling embarrassed or ashamed.

“What happened in the flashback?” Emily had to pry a bit more to get the lid of this coffin open.

“Haz las preguntas más sí y no, por favor.“ Luke urged of her, hoping she would apply it so that he could have an easier time answering. “Hasta que me sienta cómodo. Por favor.”*

“Of course. Did you get yelled at in the flashback?” Emily had been narrowing it now, on request of Luke. She just wanted him to feel comfortable for now so she could piece together what just really happened.

“Yes, a lot.” Luke mumbled, realizing how shameful he ought to be for sharing this story with his boss and teammate. Someone he’d have to see on the daily for quite a long time after this.

“By who? Was it by your parents?” Emily thought for a moment that it could have been his parents due to how little he’d ever spoken about them.

“No, by all my classmates.” Luke began to anxiously bounce his left foot on the toes. It didn’t make his shoes obnoxiously squeak when he did so.

“How many kids, Luke?” Emily wanted to understand if it was the crowding of them all that scared him.

“Twenty two.” His eyes glanced around the room a bit scaling upwards in sense of direction. Vertical and right to left, but also from the floor to the ceiling and passing back and forth between Emily a few times. She didn’t look mad. In fact, she looked so gentle that it was incredibly hard to believe.

“What were they yelling?” Maybe they were the ones calling him a faggot. For kids to yell such obscenities to another child made a lot more sense.

“F-Faggot. I held hands with Ethan when I wanted to go to get lunch.” Luke confessed, and he bit his bottom lip briefly and let it slide through his teeth to be free again.

“Now you don’t have to answer, but has this happened again recently in a different yet still root wise similar form?” Emily had to be careful not to break the gained comfortability that Luke built up for the conversation.

“I want to ask someone on a date. My head doesn’t allow me to try, because it’s not right. I’ve been taught that it’s not. I’m not allowed to like him the way I do.” Luke chopped the sentences so he didn’t cry that time around. It was hard to keep a neutral to calmer facial expression when talking about something like that.

“You can love whoever you want, nobody set any rules against it. No one here in the BAU will judge you, Luke.” Emily tried to help out Luke, assure him in ways that a mother would. “Is there more to the flashback?”

“Yes. It’s stupid, though.” Luke’s eyes flashed up at Emily’s to see if she was still calm or reassuring. He didn’t want to upset her, because then he knew that he would be panicking.

“Nothing you say is stupid, Luke. If you didn’t share your feelings or opinions as they come most of the time, then we wouldn’t have saved as many people as we have.” Emily tried to praise him, hoping to coax the rest of the situation out of him but also make sure he knew he was heard and often times a valid component to the conversation.

“I got punched. Went home, my mother didn’t like it either, said I may have deserved it after all.” Luke had admitted to the most heartbreaking part of his story, and he teared up a bit. “I deserved it. It’s not right for me to like boys.” He repeated, as if he was reminding himself now.

“Luke, I hope you know that it’s really common nowadays for people to like the same sex or the same and the opposite. I also want you to know how legally and truthfully non-judgemental the bureau is. If anyone and I mean anyone in our unit decided to treat you different for whatever reason it may be, I’d certainly take care of it. It’s not a sin, or a crime, Luke. You know this. Love is love, and it’s not under your choice or mine. You love whoever it is you do, and that’s perfectly fine by me and the rest of the team. I shouldn’t be saying this regardless of it being off the books or not, but I like girls and I like guys. It’s like how the body is full of water, it-it’s just a part of me. Doesn’t make me bad, or a sinner.” Emily spoke from her heart, truly understanding and just trying to console the man beside her. No one really deserved to feel guilty for the one they decide to love, or date, whatever it may be. Girl, guy or anything in between, it wasn’t her place to judge. As long as the relationship was healthy, she couldn’t care less as to who Luke would prefer dating.

“Thank you, thank you really, Emily.” Luke swallowed his saliva and he cleared his throat a bit. “Thank you. I’m going to go back to my desk. I’m sure you can say something, not too uh, revealing.” Luke nodded a bit, standing and making his way to the door.

“Should I say it was a prompted panic attack, or prompted anxiety attack?” Emily asked before Luke had opened the door. “Puedo mentir, confia en mi Cualquier cosa por su seguridad y confianza.”* In hopes to keep him assured that this was off the books, not for anyone beside the two of them to know.

“Uhm, whichever will bring the least amount of questions. Graciás, señora.” Luke gives a small wave and a small smile to the woman before he makes his way to his desk. He did feel better, surprisingly so. He’d never really spoken about deep rooted traumatic events like that before, not with anyone.

Sitting down at his desk, he flips through and tries to file out his paperwork so that towards the end of his day, he’ll have twenty minutes of free time to use to his advantage. He planned on using that time to just ask the question. If not now, then truly never. No shame was supposed to be behind it, he had to remind himself. No shame behind who he loved, and no shame behind who’s hand he wanted to hold.

After finishing up his last folder, he closed it slowly and he let out a long sigh. Reassuring himself would take a quarter of the time he had out of the twenty minutes, but it’d make this a lot smoother.

Successfully, he makes his way over to Spencer’s corner and he knocks on the framing of it to the right side of the squared off office.

“Hey, Luke. How are you feeling? Emily told me it was a small anxiety attack, but I mean, it looked much like that of a different sort of panic attack. It looked like you were seeing a flashback, and you looked quite upset so I’m assuming it’s safely none of my business but I figured I’d check on you around now anyways.” Spencer had rambled slightly so, not having anyone to talk to for the past thirty minutes.

“I’m alright Spence. I’ll be okay. I got a real serious question for you, okay?” Luke set himself up perfectly now. All he had to do was spit it out.

“Anything. Anything at all, I’ll hope I know the answer to it and try to help you if I can.” Spencer turned to face Luke, except he didn’t have the strength to look him in the eyes directly or consistently.

“Do.. you want to go on a date with me? I was thinking that I could possibly make you some sort of food, I’m not too awful with a skillet and some veggies and noodles. If you don’t like pad thai, then I could always take you to a restaurant in town somewhere. Anywhere you like, really.” Luke finally found the courage and pushed the words out, and topped it with a smile. He had tried his best to look like he wasn’t sort of stressed for an answer.

“Pad thai is alright, I like it with the sweeter soy marinade rather than a soy sauce. I’ll pick some up on my way over there. If you send me your address now, I can rush home and get on something nicer to wear and then pick up a marinade, and be there for eight.” Spencer hadn’t said no. He didn’t disagree, or yell, or hurt him. In fact, he didn’t seem opposed to the idea in even the slightest aspect of things.

“You mean yes? As in yes, you’ll go on a date with me?” Luke asked, and he looked at Spencer in awe. Both of their faces coated in a bright red color, the excitement and realization of what was happening had filled their cheeks nicely with blush.

From her office, Emily had carefully peered through the slit of the blinds to spectate her collegues, brimming eyes over Spencer and Luke. Smiling, she realized who exactly Luke had mentioned when he spoke about liking someone and wanting to ask them out for a date. It was Spencer. Someone reasonable to be anxious towards asking out, in Emily’s personal opinion.

“Yes, Luke Alvez. I’d be pleased to go on a date with you.” Spencer smiled, and he looked up at Luke and into his eyes for a moment. The way his eyes expressed how joyful he was had filled Spencer’s heart, and he smiled a bit brighter just realizing how happy he’d made Luke. He decided to even add to the enjoyment. “Do you want to walk out, together?” He asked, a bit anxious because he was generally scared but newer to the romantic scene than he’d realized.

“Oh, sure, that’ll be cool, that, yeah! Alright!” Much like a school boy would, Luke stammered about as he basked in his excitement and overhwelming positive shock. He went to his desk and grabbed his bag, placing his pens in there and he flipped the overhang cover back where it did it’s job. He closed his drawers all the same, and moved his chair in once he was done. Then ripped out the yellow notebook page he’d used to write about how was going to ask Spencer out. It was all his braindumping, all his sorting out.

Little did he know, he wouldn’t have needed it anyways. Spencer planned on saying yes no matter how the event was presented to him.

Beside Spencer now and leading towards the exit, after holding open the front doors, he’d offered his hand to Spencer. “I’ll save you the fare and drop you home.”

Spencer smiled at the gentle offer, and he took Luke’s hand and nodded. “Two fifty isn’t much, but it is two fifty saved for this evening.” He was very happy to feel Luke’s thumb rubbing small circles into the back of Spencer’s hand. It put stars around his head and had him mentally drooling over how sweet and kind Luke was. It was exactly as he’d expect for Luke. It was perfect for the moment, and it was going to be even nicer to seem him relaxed and in a better mood for tonight. Luke probably didn’t know it, but Spencer adored his smile just as spassionately.

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* Emily says; Sufficiently enough to talk. Not too bad. My office or outside?

* Luke says; Yes ma’am, can we go to your office? Off the books, please.

* Luke requests; Ask me questions that are yes and no, please. It will help me feel comfortable. Please.

* Emily assures; I can lie, trust me. Anything for your safety and trust.

#luke alvez #spencer reid #ralvez #this one i wrote to show a more anxious side to luke #and a less anxious side to spencer #something more open to new ideas

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