#It's hard to listen to my parents when their only answer to everything is “pray about it” as if I havent been doing so for years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelfacedelrey · 9 days

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Unloved ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: luke confesses some his stuggles to you, then you confess some of yours to him.

words: 1.7 k

!! MAJOR ed tw !!

a/n: this is just me venting about my ed lol. this is my first fic so please be nice <3

There was something off about Luke. You could tell the moment you saw him. Even though you’ve only been dating for 4 months now, you know when something is wrong. During the party that the Dionysus kids insisted they threw (for pretty much no reason), he wasn’t his usual smiley and outgoing self. He seemed reserved and quiet. You were outside the dining pavilion talking to some other kids from camp. In the glow of the torches, everyone was laughing and having a good time except for him. You weren't either, but you tried to look like you were. Your arm was wrapped around his as you leaned against him and listened to the conversation, though you couldn’t focus on what they were saying. You kept glancing up at Luke every minute or so to see if he looked any happier (he never did).

After the conversation fades out, you pull him away to a quiet area and whisper to him, “Luke, are you okay… you seem… off.”

He sighs and looks away for a second before answering, “Let’s talk by the lake.”

Anxiety grows in your stomach. What could this mean? You just nod as he grabs your hand and takes you to the lake. The water is pitch black in the night and there is a chill in the summer air. He lets go of your hand and looks down to see your face.

“I’m sorry… there’s just a lot going on right now,” His hand scratches the back of neck as he says this.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Luke. I’m listening,” you say, as you look him in the eyes and gently grab his hand. “I know it must be hard since Percy and Annabeth went on that quest, I know she was like a little sister to you.”

Nervously, he clears his throat. “Yeah, but, um, it’s not just that…”

“Oh…what is it?”

He sighs and lowers his head, “Look, just promise me that you won’t view me any differently after I tell you this.”

“No, no,” you say hastily, while shaking your head. “There’s nothing you could ever say to me that will make me view you differently, Luke. I’ll love you no matter what, I promise.”

Luke looks you in the eyes again. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” a reassuring smile grows on your face.

He can’t help but smile with you. He’ll remember that. “Look, it’s just about my dad… Do you ever feel… betrayed by our godly parents?”

Taken aback by the question, you stop to think before answering. “Betrayed how?”

“Like, they just ignore us, like we’re nothing to them. Like we’re not even their children.”

“I-I guess so. I mean I feel like that sometimes.”

“That shouldn’t be how it is, though,” He sighs and keeps talking. “I don’t think Hermes even knows most of his kids. Most of my half siblings have barely met him, if at all. It’s just so… infuriating. He goes around, siring kids, and then sits up in Olympus and just leaves them. I’ve spent my entire fucking life wondering where my father is. Waiting for him to maybe one day come and talk to me or just acknowledge my existence. But, no. I’ve only met him once, because he can’t be bothered to get to know his own fucking kid!”

For a moment, he runs his hand through his curls and exhales before he continues. “And what I’m about to say might sound… bad…but seeing Percy get claimed just like that after finding out he’s a half blood for, like, what a week? It just intensified everything I felt before… Like some kid just shows up and now he’s loved by everyone and claimed by his father. And yet, I fight everyday and what do I get? Nothing! I’m the best sword fighter in camp, I pray, I give offerings, I’ve done everything right. But it’s still not enough for him… I’m just so fucking tired of these Gods just doing whatever they want and not caring who they hurt…”

After saying all that he turns back to look at you. You're standing there in stunned silence, unsure of what to say.

“Luke, I… I’m so sorry,” you walk over and give him a hug. He hugs you back and rests his chin on your head. A few silent moments pass as you stay like that. The sound of campers excitedly chatting and partying could be heard distantly behind them.

“Do you see me differently now?” He asks, quietly.

You pull away, but keep your hands on his arms, gripping him gently. “No, Luke, I really don’t. I told you nothing you say will ever make me view you differently.”

“I know it’s just that… most people would think that I’m… weak for feeling this…”

“Weak?” You look shocked. “How could anyone ever think you’re weak? You’re one of the strongest people I know!” You kiss him softly on the cheek and smile reassuringly causing a slight blush to appear on his cheeks.

“I understand what you’re saying, trust me. I, of all people, understand what it’s like to do your best to get your parent’s love and praise… and yet, it’s never enough,” You say, trying to give him a sympathetic look.

“You understand?” Luke asks, his face softening a bit.

“I understand all too well…” You say with a humorless laugh. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, but…”

“But?”

“Well, y’know with Aphrodite being the goddess of beauty and all…there’s, um, a lot of pressure for us to look a certain way…”

Sighing slightly, Luke brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Is this about… dieting?” He says it carefully, unsure of how to word it correctly.

“Yeah,” you look away, ashamed to be telling someone this. “I’ve been counting calories since I learned to count. I obsess over every little thing I consume. I eat as little as I can, yet it always feels like too much. I go on runs or swims everyday… and it’s still never enough. I’m never thin enough… I love my mom, but… I can’t help, but feel like she made me start doing this.”

Now it’s Luke’s turn to stand there in stunned silence. “I had no idea… that you’re going through all this. I-I’m sorry, I should’ve noticed.” He thinks back to everyday in the dining pavilion when he’d look over to you at the Aphrodite table and see you playing with your food instead of eating. Or all the times when you’d say you weren’t hungry and would change the subject to anything besides food. Or all the daily runs he’d see you go on. Or, most concerning of all, the quick weight loss. How all your clothes that used to fit, now hang over your body like a shower curtain. Your once cherub-like face became pale and almost gaunt with dark circles under your eyes and a tired expression always. How has no one noticed? How has he never noticed?

You just shake your head and give him a gentle smile. “Luke, it’s okay. I tried my hardest to keep it hidden. Also, my mental state isn’t your responsibility…”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” grabbing your hands gently, he looks at you with a sympathetic expression. “It’s my job to care for you, especially when you’re… sick. Does anyone else know?”

“No,” you shake your head once more. “You’re the first person I told… It’s not a big deal, I’m not even that sick.”

“What?” He says, his eyebrows furrowing together as a shocked expression etches onto his face. “Not that sick? Y/N, you’re starving yourself! That sounds pretty sick to me.”

You just shrug in response.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since like,10 or 11. I told you, I’ve been counting calories since I learned to count.”

He stands there quietly for a bit, as his heart sinks. “That young?”

“Yeah,” you respond.

“If you don’t mind me asking… How many calories do you eat in a day?”

“I-I don’t know,” you lie, you know exactly how many calories you consume, down to the stick of gum you’d chew for a snack. “Like about 400-800…” You try (and fail) to fight back a smile that grows on your face. Despite how unhealthy it is, you can’t help, but feel proud of it.

Luke, on the other hand, just feels shocked and concerned. “That-that’s nothing… and for so long. Y/N, you need help. You’re killing yourself.”

“I know, believe me, I know… But I can’t stop.”

He reaches up and cups your face, rubbing circles with his thumbs before kissing your forehead. “I wish you could realize you’re perfect the way you are. I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else does,” he says it softly. “I’d love you, no matter how you look.”

“Really?” You ask, while a blush appears on your cheeks.

“Really,” He says, tenderly grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. You rest your head against his chest and once again, you stay like that for a while.

Slowly, you pull away and smile softly at him. “I’m getting tired, can you stay with me tonight?... Not to do anything, but just like to… be with me…” You hastily added the last part, but hesitated. Most guys don’t react kindly to you saying you don’t want to do anything.

“Of course,” Luke responds. “But can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you try to… eat better tomorrow? Please, just try…”

You hesitate before answering, “I will. I’ll try.”

He smiles brightly, “That’s my girl.” He gently grabs your hand and walks you to Cabin 10.

You spend the rest of the night together in your bed. However, Luke doesn’t get much sleep.

He holds you close to his chest as you sleep and thinks about everything you had told him. He hates himself for not noticing sooner. But a very small part of him feels relieved. If your mom caused you this much pain, then maybe convincing you to join him in taking down the Gods wouldn’t be as hard as he thought…

He hates himself even more for thinking that.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x aphrodite!reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #luke castellan #fanfic #hurt/comfort #angst #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #coquette #coquette aesthetic #tw 3d vent

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dojunie · 2 years

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MISDIAL; LJN [CH1 TEASER] RING, RING, RING

[★]; YOU'VE ALL HEARD THIS STORY BEFORE. The brothers best friend, the little sister, the googly, starry-eyed crush for the one guy she can never have. In the movies, her years of emotional turmoil are always rewarded with the romance to end all romances— spur of the moment declarations of love, whirlwind 'i've loved you all along's... but for you, your crush on Lee Jeno more or less fizzled out like the aftershocks of a seltzer in milk. When you don't talk to someone for a few years that's bound to happen, you guess; it only makes sense that those feelings dissipated into nothing but an embarrassing memory the moment you grew up a little. But old habits apparently die pretty damn hard. And as you're about to learn, one accidental misdial is going to remind you just how long a first love can last.

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au (somewhat? not a lot of learning is going on lol)

slight slow burn

aiming for lengthy one-shot, but it's already at 11k so... possibly 1-3 parts

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, eventual smut, yn is a menace to society

warnings for this trailer; uncomfy incident with a creepy guy at a bar, talk of injury/reader punches somebody

teaser wc; 3k / est fic wc; 20k-ish / comment on this post for taglist!

[a/n: jeno luvrs, this is for u <;3]

CALLING YONGBOK THE LAST OPTION YOU HAVE BEFORE YOU HAVE TO BRING OUT THE BIG GUNS. In any younger sister’s arsenal, tattling to ‘big bro’ is truly only a choice to be made in dire straits— when you’re past bargaining, past praying, past any hope to come out of a situation with your dignity intact. It’s the true, red button, no-going-back, final card in the deck of tricks.

(Well... at least to you it is. But maybe you shouldn’t assume the less than stellar relationship you have with your older brother is universal; because maybe other siblings actually aren’t like you and Mark. Maybe other older brothers aren’t over-protective, soul sucking, total wet-blankets about everything that’s actually fun, like going to parties and experiencing life and staying out later than 11PM. Maybe other younger sisters can actually talk to their older brothers about their problems without the disappointment hammer being dropped on their heads. But you and Mark aren’t other siblings.)

Even in the humid brick of August, the mere thought of calling him right now is enough to bring goosebumps to your skin.

But. But! However. There’s no need to get all doomsday just yet. Because like you said, you've got one last chance. Your saving grace. The magnum opus of ass savings, if he’s not already dead to the rest of the world and his ‘Pika Pika’ ringtone at this hour: Lee Yongbok. (The type of kid your parents definitely wish they had.)

You pull your phone out and find the contacts through dry, bleary eyes, and scroll down to the L's.

It rings once.

Twice.

Please.

Three times.

Please pick up. Outer Gods, or singular God, whatever, please let this slide once. Just this once. And if you’re taking requests, make him answer the phone while you’re at it. I swear I’ll listen to my friends from now on. Or, the more sensible ones, rather, and I’ll… I’ll shred the fake ID, too. Is that what you want? Come on, Come on, Come on—

"H'lo?"

Your eyes fly open. "Lix? God, Yong, I think I fucked up. You’re not busy, are you?"

The relief you feel is nearly palpable. There's shuffling on the line, staticky and loud, an exhale, and then—

“Not quite, Rockstar."

Huh? Rock…what? You scowl at the nickname, but more so in confusion. Yongbok knew better than to call you that stupid name if he didn’t want to get ribbed— and is his voice usually so rough?

“And for someone who just woke me up at…” the voice continues, an almost comically long yawn interrupting their sentence, “One in the morning, you think a greeting would be commonplace.”

You whip the phone back in front of your face. The screen is as bright as the morning sun in the dim streetlight behind the bar, and someone who is definitely not Lee Yongbok is staring back at you through the pixels. The CallerID picture is more than a little blurry, grainy with age, but the history behind the image is not important— What's important is that the contact on the screen is not Lee Yongbok.

That is Lee Jeno.

Dread becomes a physical weight in your chest as you stop breathing, frozen in disbelief as you realize what exactly your slippery fucking fingers have just done.

Lee… Jeno.

One of your brother’s best friends, Lee Jeno.

"Oh, shit."

"Oh shit indeed," he rumbles, quiet from how far you’re holding the phone from your face, and when you gingerly slide the receiver back up towards your ear all you hear is shuffling. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

"I’m guessing you meant to call someone else?"

“Yeah!” you bark. Then you realize how desperately it spills out, and quickly correct your tone. Acting suspicious won't get him off the phone any faster. “Yeah I, uh. Yep. I did, I was… I need— Listen, I’m sorry I woke you up, but I really wasn’t trying to—”

Someone inside the bar screams. You whirl around to face the backdoor you’d squeezed through to get to the smoking deck, sure that someone is about to come barreling out to make your already shitty night just that much worse, but it thankfully stays shut. The muffled sound still echoes around the alley though, a high pitched caw melting into the night, and you freeze when you realize the shuffling on Jeno’s end has stopped.

Okay. Theres… there’s a chance he didn’t hear that, right? He’s not saying anything, so maybe—

"What was that?"

Fuck!

“Nothing! Haha, I’m so sorry I woke you up, goodnight—”

“Hold on. Are you okay?”

Silently, you stomp your foot out of frustration, leering up and down the alley like you’re expecting him to pop out from behind a trash can or something and scold you for your bad decisions. Damn your tipsy, heavy fingers; Of everyone on earth, it had to be him you misdialed?

“Y/N?”

“I’m fine!” you warble, “I just… It’s... not—”

"You don’t seem fine," he observes slowly, and you almost go to commend him for his brilliant skills in deduction before you remember that you’re not actually irritated with him. You’re just... irritated. Whatever. Either way, he is the last person you need knowing about your whereabouts if you’re trying to keep your brother out of this.

You swipe at your hair, suddenly bothered by the prospect of a single thing touching your forehead in this heat, and begin to pace the deck. “I’m just waiting for my friends outside of this… place, downtown. It got super hot, so I’m taking a breather outside. I was trying to call a friend to tell him something super, incredibly important, before I accidentally called you instead so… if you don’t… mind…”

“Anybody ever told you that you ramble when you’re upset?”

You stop walking. “What?”

“You do. You ramble and you speak too fast and you pace back and forth like one of those little wound up robot toys. You’re stressed about something. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Throughout the years, even with the few full conversations you've had with the guy, you’ve come to know that Jeno’s tone is often indistinguishable. He sounds bored when he’s having fun. He talks slowly when he’s excited, and his face stays pleasant even when he’s not in the best mood. In highschool you once saw a girl confess to him in front of what must have been half the student population— and all he’d done was blink at her, take the envelope, and continue on his way to class. If being hard to read was a competitive sport, Lee Jeno would be the reigning champ.

Which is why you’re really not expecting to hear the worry in his voice. It’s slight, probably closer to suspicion than anything, but it still instantly makes you feel bad for getting annoyed at him. If one of your best friend’s little sisters was being super vague and cagey, you’d probably ask a few questions too. Ugh.

“Jeno, I’m fine. Seriously. I’m not in danger or anything, I’m just…. I’m just having trouble finding my friends, is all.”

“Your friends?”

“Try not to sound so surprised.”

His eye roll is almost audible, the long sigh very much so. “You know that’s not what I meant. What do you mean you can’t find your friends?”

“I mean I can’t find them? I told you it was packed in there, they left to get something to drink and then just… disappeared.”

“Have you tried calling them?”

“Oh, no, I thought coming out here to scream into the alley would help me find them faster. Yes, I called them, probably about a hundred times each. Nothing. I think it has something to do with the signal, or—”

“How would it be the signal if you’re calling me?”

You hesitate in your tirade.

...Huh. That’s a good point. One you hadn’t thought of, during the general hail of stress you’d been under since you’d lost them ten… probably closer to twenty minutes ago now. (Twenty minutes is practically a year in a bar when you’re alone and an entire lifetime when you’re being chatted up by a guy with no sense of self-awareness; the reason you were itching to find them and get the hell out of here in the first place.)

The signal thing does bring up the only two realistic options, though. One, that both their phones have miraculously died in the span of time it took them to get to the bar. Or two— that they’re dodging your calls. One of them is much more realistic than the other, knowing them, but you don’t want to think about that right now.

“I don't know then.”

“Well, how did you get to wherever you are?”

“We… Soyeon drove.”

“Jeon Soyeon?”

“Uh, yeah. You know her?”

“Not really. Do you remember where she parked?”

No. You do not. A last minute text from one of Yuqi’s friends promising a good time and free drinks was the catalyst for your twist-and-turn-y trek through the side streets of Gangnam. Soyeon’s car's location was absolutely unbeknownst to you. A physical tiredness settles on your shoulders at the realization of this, at the idea of being essentially stranded if you don’t find them soon, and you almost go to start pacing again— until you remember what Jeno said.

You pace when you’re stressed.

“No,” you mumble quickly, very much ready to end this… whatever it is. “I don’t know where her car is. And listen, I appreciate the help, and I’m sorry I woke you up, but I really should get going.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Probably look for my friends again.” You shoot another glance back inside the bar, whether hopeful to catch a glimpse of said ‘friends’ or just give your eyes something else to look at besides the black asphalt of the back alley, you’re not sure. “Or something.”

“...Alright. If—”

Someone calls your name, loudly, and Jeno must hear it through the receiver because he stops talking. Yoojin (or Yeojin, or something, he’d half slurred his name when he introduced himself and you hadn’t been interested enough to ask for clarification) is who greets you when you turn. Your frown stiffens the moment you see him.

He wanders out onto the deck, a funny little smile on his lips and positively pink in the face, trapezing down the bar steps until he's parked right next to you on the deck. Great.

“What are you doing out here?" he murmurs. "I was lookin' for you for like... ten minutes."

What? There’s no way it’s been ten minutes. You only just managed to get away from him in there and that was after he went to get more drinks. He must be sloshed to the point of time travel. "I, uh. I was calling my friend. You're wasted, huh?"

"And you're not,” Yoo/Yeojin whines, “What's the point of getting all cute for the bar if you're not gonna have fuuun, hotstuff?"

"I did have fun," you tell him politely, lowering the phone to your chest so as to not speak right into Jeno’s ear, "But it's getting late. I gotta be home soon."

"Awwww, what? Your parents don't know you're here or something?" And he laughs like it's a joke, but when he sees the look on your face he seems to realize that he’s at least a little bit right. His smile widens.

"What is it then, a boyfriend? You don't wanna have a little more fun, babe? We were really hitting it off."

Um. Alright. You're not sure what part of turning down drinks and ditching him on the dancefloor screams 'really hitting it off', but this dude is obviously gone. He's probably just having a hard time taking no for an answer, so there’s no need to bust out the big guns of... well. You're not quite sure. Telling him to fuck off, maybe. But you're sure it won't get that far.

"Sorry. I think it's time to call it a night."

The guy's face falls a little, and you think he's finally gotten the hint so you put your phone back up to your ear— but a hand latching onto your other wrist startles you into dropping it. You can only watch your phone skitter on the pavement, stunned, before you turn back to stare at Yoo/Yeojin. "What are you doing?"

"At least let me take you home or something, so I can repay your friendliness. Where're you headed?"

Your stomach rolls a little. "I... Someone's coming to get me, so there's no need for that. Can you let me go?"

It's only now that you realize just how desolate the backstreet of the bar is. The only people you can see are stumbling up the street nearly a block away, and you look back to your phone. You can’t tell if the call is still on because the screen is face down, and you panic a little at the thought.

All that clattering probably didn’t sound great... Will Jeno think you just got murdered? What if he thinks you just got murdered?

And then an even worse intrusion. Maybe even worse than being murdered.

What if he calls Mark?

With a frantic tug, you attempt to pull your arm from his grip but he doesn't let up. Instead, Yoo/Yeojin just coos at you. "So nice. Why are you being so nice then, if there's 'no need'? Come on, I can show you just how fast I can get you home. Where do you live, cutie?"

Too nice? What the fuck? Your stomach is no longer just rolling but now doing full somersaults, and his hold on your arm is only tightening. Whatever drinks you'd had earlier melt out of your system like runoff and you're acutely aware of your heartbeat pounding in your ears, right behind the distant traffic and muffled music coming from inside the bar— but it feels like all you can comprehend is this creep's hand on your skin.

"Seriously,” you start, and you try to shout, but your voice isn't quite cooperating with the anxiety thumping in your lungs. It comes out more like a squawk along with your next words. “Can you let me go?"

Yoo/Yeojin just laughs again. Still smiling, he pulls something out of his pocket.

You just watch in disbelief as he fiddles with it, rotating the object once, twice, before he presses something on it and you hear a honk. His head turns to the sound.

Car keys. He’s just pulled out car keys.

Oh fuck.

You're freezing up. It's like every PSA, every warning from Mark and your parents, every story you've ever heard about things like this is scattering out of your brain like a line of spooked birds and you don't know what to do. What do you do?

"Hard to get doesn't work on me—"

You're not sure what happens. All you know is that you blink and all your muscles tense up, there’s this horrible crunching sound, and then Yoo/Yeojin is flat on his ass on the pavement and holding his face with both hands. It’s so quick that you don’t know what to do once he’s not on you anymore, and you’re just staring— watching stupidly how his eyes peel open, teary and furious— until those eyes train on you.

“What the fuck!” he screams.

That’s your cue. You bolt.

You don't care if you look crazy, and you completely forget about your friends who are probably still in the bar. You scramble to snatch up your phone, and you run.

You can’t hear anything but your own heartbeat over the sound of your feet hitting the ground. Is that normal? What’s normal after punching a guy and running away? Oh god, you just punched a guy. Is that illegal? What if he’s coming after you? People’s eyes trail you as you pass, but you don’t dare turn around after that last thought— too busy with flying across streets, crossing corners until everything looks different and your lungs begin to seize in protest.

It’s not until you’re about three blocks up and one block over, hidden and crouching behind the dumpster of a 7-11 with an aching hand and two missing shoes do you realize your face is wet and your phone is ringing.

“Hell— Hello?”

“Where are you?”

Jeno? You look down at the LCD again, and yeah. That’s him. And, damn it, your screen is totally fucked too. You can barely even see his face through the shattered glass, stupid and smiley and bright and—

“I don’t know. I— I ran, I don’t—”

“Landmarks. Street names, storefronts, anything. Give me anything.”

He sounds wide awake now. A modicum of reality drips into your adrenaline fueled world. Give him anything? Why would he need to know where you are? It wasn’t like he was going to…

“Are you going to tell Mark?” you blurt.

An incredibly heavy beat of silence, before Jeno is muttering through the speaker, voice uncharacteristically stern, “Is that really what you’re worried about right now?”

Yes. Yes it is. And for good reason; that’s not a no. You’re right. He’s totally going to tell your brother.

You swallow hard. “You have to promise not to tell him Jeno, I’m serious. You can’t. He already thinks… you can’t—”

“Where are you, Y/N?”

The edge in his voice is so unfamiliar that your defense crumbles pretty much instantly. So Mark’s going to find out anyway. Great. You’re sure that’s in some best friend code somewhere, ‘thou should always snitch on thine buddies siblings, when thine siblings are being dumb as fuck’, but your stomach sinks anyway.

God.

Peeking around the dumpster you search for a sign, any sign, and catch a glimpse of a green placard tilting on top of a post across the street.

“Some place called Yeoksam road. I’m… I’m hiding behind a 7/11.”

“Okay,” Jeno says finally, exhaling, and there’s a few more shuffles before you hear the sound of an engine starting, and you freeze. “Stay there, and don’t hang up.”

“Wait— you’re coming?”

“What else would I do? Call you an uber?”

“No,” you blurt, “I didn’t— I thought you were going to make Mark do it.”

“...You told me not to. Would you rather I call him and—”

“No!”

“Then stop asking questions. I’m ten minutes away.”

♥︎ [thats all for now, folks! please leave a like if you enjoyed, it'll definitely give me the motivation to work on this faster! thank you for reading <;3]

597 notes · View notes

lyrakanefanatic · 4 months

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☕️

max and xander

no pressure!

It’d only been 2 weeks since I had been disowned by my parents, but I missed them. Badly. When I left, they told me not to bother calling, that they were done with me. And I couldn’t tell Avery this, because with everything going on, I mean the inheritance and the pressure, I didn’t want to put too much on her plate. But I felt completely alone. Tears were starting to fill my eyes, but I blinked them away before any could fall. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly unlocked it, scrolling through my contacts list and hitting my mom’s number. I hold the phone to my ear and pray she answers. Please, mom. I think, fighting back the urge to cry. Please answer. The ringing stops and I think that she picked up the phone, when suddenly the line goes dead. What? I try again, but it doesn’t let me. It says she blocked my number. If it had been hard to hold back the tears then, it was impossible now. I just stared at my phone as tears started streaming down my face, and for once, I let them. It was well past midnight, and I was just in the kitchen in Hawthorne House, so it wasn’t like anyone could hear me. I balled up my fists and pressed them to my eyes, leaning against the counter as sobs racked my chest, when I suddenly heard a noise beside me.

“Max?” A familiar voice whispers. I whip my head around to see Xander Hawthorne standing in his pjs. His eyes widened when he saw the tears staining my cheeks, and for some reason I wanted to tell him everything, but I didn’t. “Are you okay?” I quickly wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand, before sniffing.

“I’m fine. What are you doing up?” I ask, smiling to try and lighten the mood. He smiles back, but I’m 99% sure it’s because he knows I’m trying to change the subject. “Just getting a midnight snack. My robot prototype just isn’t working, so I’ve been staying up to try and fix it. But what happened? Why are you crying?” He takes a step closer to me, and for some reason butterflies swarmed my chest.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought of something sad.” I say, vaguely. He raises his only eyebrow at me and smiles. “Like?” He presses. Something unravels in me, a need to tell him everything, and I do. I explain how my parents won’t let me talk to them or my brother, how I flew here last minute and was so scared and unsure what to do, and how I didn’t want to bother anybody with all this, especially not Avery, who was already under enough stress. Another sob comes out of me and I press a hand to my mouth, trying to hide it. Xander didn’t have to know about this, and I squeezed my eyes shut hard. When I opened them, the tears were gone and I saw Xander looking at me with kindness in his eyes.

“Max, I’m sorry about everything.” He says, and then I realize how awkward I must have made this. And how close we were standing. “Don’t worry about it-“ But before I can finish my sentence, he’s pulled me into a hug. It was loose, as I’m sure he probably didn’t want to make me uncomfortable, but I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back. I buried my face in his chest and for some reason, although it was past midnight, he smelled good. Like fresh laundry. It gave me something to focus on instead of my parents, and I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing in and out and listening to his heart beat. My own heart was currently beating as if it were on 17 rollercoasters on top of another rollercoaster at how close Xander was to me, but I just focused on the steady drum of his. Eventually, my breathing slowed and my nose started to clear up, but I still didn’t let go. And neither did he. Now I could hear his heart beating fast, but I didn’t want to say anything or let go of him. I held onto him and allowed myself a moment of safety and peace as I breathed in, and out.

“Thank you.” I whispered into his shirt. He pats my back gently and the touch makes my heart accelerate, which makes me feel stupid since he basically just tapped it. “My pleasure.” He mutters back. But he still doesn’t let go of me. And I don’t let go of him. We stay like that for a bit longer, and although I was sure the hug would have to eventually end, I held onto him for as long as I could.

OKAY SORRY IF ITS TOO LONG BUT HERE U GO 😭💗

#I MADE IT KINDA SAD BC I WAS LOOKING THRU THL AND REALISED HOW MUCH MAX WENT THROUGH 😭#she’s so under appreciated bruh #maxine liu #xander hawthorne #the inheritance games #thanks for the ask!

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acozysoulwrites · 2 years

Text

Be quiet and drive (far away) ~ B.H

Description: Billy is angry after an argument with his father, so when he shows up at your house with nothing but his keys clutched tightly in his hand, you follow without a question. [Fluff/angst]

Warnings: mentions of abuse, a little blood

There's a fist hole in his bedroom wall and glass shattered onto his floor. He can't remember the last time he'd run away from a fight. This was different though, this wasn't a fight, not a fair one anyway. He'd forever be a slave to his father, it's in his blood. Today, however, today he just ran, he snagged his car keys from the table next to his bed, unable to wrap his head around how he'd dodged his father's blow, and he ran.

The rev of his engine tells me everything I need to know. I grab a few things; my bag, the little bit of cash I've got saved from working at scoops ahoy, and my cigarettes. I know that I won't be back home tonight.

"I'll be home later!" I tell my parents on my way out, it's an obvious lie, and I doubt they believe it.

Making my way down the stairs, I open the faded blue door and sit down. It smells strongly of cigarettes and blood.

"Billy, what happened?" I ask, eyeing him carefully. I can spot at least three fresh bruises, a couple even overlapping the ones from a few weeks ago.

He's quiet, I lean back, giving him room to place his arm on the back of my seat to back up. Gravel flies underneath the tires and in seconds, we're on the road.

"Billy?"

He still doesn't answer. The silent treatment used to irritate me, and with anyone else, I'd be demanding them to talk to me, but I'm different with him, I gotta be.

The hum of the engine must annoy him because finally, he speaks.

"You want the radio on?" He asks, eyes stuck to the road ahead of him.

His knuckles are white from gripping the wheel so tightly and I can tell he's fighting his own head right now. Probably wants to floor the gas pedal and it makes me honestly glad that he came to get me before driving out of Hawkins. He seems to drive a bit safer when I'm in the car.

"No, that's okay" I mumble, hands working together nervously.

He reaches up and flicks it on anyway. I saw that one coming. I shoot him a glare, and it's only now that I see a nasty gash on his cheekbone. Blood slides down slowly, following the path of the dried blood underneath it and I feel my hands begin to shake. FUCK Neil for this. FUCK him.

"Pull over, let me clean you up," I say, "I'm not asking either".

He eyes me for a moment, his expression turning unreadable. I swallow hard, I hate making him angry, and I hate telling him what to do, he gets enough of that at home.

"Please" I add after a moment of silence. "I brought my mini first aid kit, just in case".

His shoulders drop and the speedometer falls a few notches. There is a gravel clearing to the right and I find myself praying that he's going to pull over. The turn signal blinks and I let out a shaky breath.

The engine clicks as it cools. "Okay, just, let me take care of it," I say softly, eyeing him for an indication that it's okay to begin.

His eyes are sad and empty as they meet mine. "Get on with it then" He groans.

I wet the cloth with some cleaning solution and reach up slowly.

"C-Can you just..."

He lets out a loud sigh and repositions himself so I can reach him better. It's oddly cute when he listens to my suggestions and I can tell he wants to, even if he doesn't admit it.

"Thank you, this is going to burn okay?"

"Mhm"

"Just for a second" I reassure him.

His eyes focus on something off in the distance as I dab the cloth over the cut gently and I can't tell if he hates me for making him do this, or if he's about to cry.

"Almost" I whisper, studying my hand so I don't press too hard.

I try so hard to be gentle with him, I think it's important, I want him to know he's safe with someone, that he doesn't have to constantly fight and argue.

"I'm just gonna put this on it now okay?" I hold up some ointment and a bandaid.

He nods, his head tilted back. "Get it over with then".

"Okay," I say, opening up the bandaid I apply a little medicine onto the padded area and press it onto his skin carefully.

"Done"

Billy twists around so that he's facing forward again and my heart sinks when he reaches to turn the key. I'll never ask, but sometimes I wish he'd at least act a little thankful so I didn't feel like we were so one-sided.

I'm about to turn to the window when he speaks up.

"Thanks"

It isn't much, but for Billy? Getting a 'thanks' is a huge step.

I smile a little, "You're welcome".

"We aren't going back tonight," He says, turning the car back on. "You bring some clothes?"

I nod, "Yeah, and there are some in the back seat from last time too," I say.

He nods, "Good, leave the ones you brought here for next time"

"Soon there won't be a 'next time'" I say, looking at him.

He chews his bottom lip, "Maybe" He nods, and for the first time tonight, I can sense the tiniest bit of hope in his voice.

"There won't" I promise.

#billy hargrove #x reader #comfort #billy hargrove needs a hug #angst #fluff #hurt comfort

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professorrw · 2 years

Note

GN! Y/n who speaks russian, randomly talking to Nat or Bucky in Russian while glaring at someone else. "Why are we speaking Russian?" "Need to make it look like I'm crap-talking Steve." Also, may I be 👽 anon, if you do anons?

so so sorry it's taken so long to answer this!! I'm still trying to catch up with my requests 😭 and yes, you can be alien anon!

marvel masterlist

Title: Father Figure

Pairing: gender neutral reader x platonic Steve Rogers

Warnings: parent/child type of relationship, spoilers for Avengers Endgame, mentions of death

A/N: Requests open, check my request rules and who I write for that’s linked on my navigation! My taglist is open and I would love it if you would like, comment, and reblog!

You strolled over to Bucky and Natasha, glaring at Steve through the corner of your eye.

“What’s that look for?” Natasha asked.

“Not now,” you said in Russian. “Just talk to me.”

“In Russian?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes.”

“And why are we speaking Russian?” Nat asked.

“I need to make it seem like I’m trash talking Steve.” You continued to glare at the Captain, who was stealing glances at you while he talked to Banner.

“Not this again,” Bucky sighed. He was of course going to be on Steve’s side about everything. “You can’t just ignore him every single time he scolds you.”

“I- ugh. I know,” you said, switching back to English.

“Y/n he just wants you to succeed. He took you in as his student and wants to teach you.” Natasha was right. Steve was just trying to help you. You were one of the youngest super soldiers that had been created and you were lucky to be rescued by the Avengers.

“Listen kid, don’t be so hard on him. He’s doing his best.” Bucky patted you on the shoulder and gave you an expectant look. You groaned but turned to go talk to Steve.

As soon as you had turned in his direction his eyes were on you. Bruce followed his line of sight and also saw you coming over, told Steve a quick goodbye and let you two be.

“Y/l/n,” the Captain said. He crossed his arms and waited for you to say something.

“Look I’m- I’m sorry I keep causing trouble.”

He sighed, “It’s alright. I’m sorry I was so harsh on you. But you know I wish you focused more and weren’t always trying to goof off when we’re training. You have so much potential y/n, and I want to see it go to good use.”

“I know, I know. I’ll try harder,” you conceded.

And that you did. Years later you would be grateful for how much hope Steve had in you, and his unrelenting will to make you the best you could be, not only combat-wise, but better as a person too. He was your role model, and after years of being under his wing, you started to think of him as a father figure. You never planned on telling him that, too embarrassed to admit it.

The world had other plans though. The final battle with Thanos ended with multiple casualties, leaving the Avengers, and the rest of the world grieving. You were never much of a religious person but you prayed to God before that fight that Steve would make it out.

You stood beside Bucky, watching as Steve stepped onto the machine that would take him through time to return the Infinity Stones.

“Ready to go,” Steve said.

“Alright.” Banner pressed some buttons and after a countdown, Steve disappeared. You waited for a few seconds, looking at Bucky and Sam.

“Where is he?” Bucky asked.

“I- I don’t-“ then you saw someone. You walked a few yards over to a bench where there was a man sitting. “Steve…?”

“Hello y/n,” he said. It was indeed Steve, just much older. His large muscles were gone, his skin hung and creased, and his hair was grey. He patted the spot next to him on the bench.

“What happened?” you asked, worried that the machine had malfunctioned. If it did, he didn’t seem too mad about it. In fact, he seemed happy.

“You see, I owed someone a dance,” he said, smiling fondly as he looked at nothing in particular.

“Peggy?” you asked. You had heard of her; Steve’s lost love from years ago.

He nodded. A few seconds later he reached down to a brown circular bag. “I have something for you.”

“Steve…” you said, trailing off when you realized what it was. It was his shield in pristine condition.

“I want you to have this. I think you’re ready.” He looked at you, old grey eyes crinkling at the corners and a wide smile on his face.

“I- I couldn’t possibly-“ you stuttered. Steve was asking you to become the next Captain America. You had been training beneath him for years and doing missions with the Avengers but you couldn’t take his place.

“Y/n yes you can. I want you to. You are ready. There will be people that oppose this but I’ll help you for as long as I can before I’m gone.”

Your nose burned and your eyes watered. When he’s gone, you thought. Your bottom lip quivered a little bit. The only father figure that you ever really had, and he was talking about dying. He was old now. He went back and lived the life he always wanted. You couldn’t fault him for that. He of all people deserved it.

His eyes were shiny as he opened his arms, welcoming you. “C'mon kid.”

You hugged him, breathing in the familiar scent of Captain America. He rubbed your back, “You got this.”

A few months went by and you kept constant contact with Steve, spending as much time with him as possible. A few days before he died you were sitting in his home eating lunch.

“I told Peggy about you,” he said.

“Really?”

“Mhm. We never had kids of our own so I told her about you. I know you aren’t biologically my kid but-“

You cut him off, “Steve I always thought of you as a father figure to me. I never had one growing up and then you found me and mentored me for eight years of my life. You’re always there for me… scolding me.”

”Hey now, sometimes you need it,” he chuckled.

“I know, I know.”

“You’ve grown up to be a great person y/n. I know you’ll do terrific things for the world.”

“I promise I will.”

That was the last meaningful conversation you had with Steve. Steve had left an impression on you that would last a lifetime. He had left an impression on the entire world.

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post-lds · 2 years

Text

Intro

(Read before you say anything stupid in asks especially)

I am entering my late 20s. i grew up mormon in utah. my parents were raised mormon by parents raised mormon, and most of my “heritage” goes back further than that, steeped in mormonism. i am the third child of ten, my mother also had nine siblings, and my dad has 5. I threw myself into the so-called “religion”, dedicated so much time and energy to my callings in the “church”, and spent hours on hours praying and reading mormon “scripture”. It has now been years since i attended any lds ceremony or ritual in good faith, but it sticks with you.

Do NOT come in here and tell me my faith was insufficient. do NOT come here and tell me i didn’t try hard enough. do NOT tell me i listened too readily to the whisperings of the devil, that i was persuaded too easily to the whims and temptations of the world. do NOT tell me i must have just wanted to sin

I will say you will never know how many nights i cried myself to sleep in prayer. you will never know how many talks and testimonies i bore with every shred of truth i could wholeheartedly swear. you will never know how many times i scoured the scriptures for answers to my questions, how studiously i took notes in class, sacrament, seminary, general conference, the lessons i strove to inscribe on my soul from testimonies and FHE, from girls’ camp and youth conference and fire sides and every other spiritual interaction i ever had. the guilt ate away at me for not feeling as guilty as i should, for even thinking that i could like girls, for doubting, for not “having enough faith”, for tainting my family’s immortal salvation, for decimating my own chance at the celestial kingdom. i wrote “worlds beyond number” on my arm for weeks in the hopes that the reminder would strengthen my resolve in my faith, but instead left me devastated that i would end up in the telestial kingdom if i was lucky, but more likely outer darkness for my deep seeded sinful ways. the root of my depression in high school was my faith crisis, and although yes i was unmedicated, i wasn’t in therapy, or otherwise addressing my mental health, the part that kept my depression going strong was the fear that i was doing everything All Wrong, because I didn't etch the gospel into every aspect of my life, every moment of every day. And that must have been why I felt so hopeless. Perpetual despair.

I began to truly Doubt™ right about a decade ago now, back when i moved from a charter school to a public school my sophomore year of highschool. i was introduced to a whole world of people who weren’t largely mormon, and many of them were intrinsically good without the “gospel” in their lives. i made more and more friends who weren’t mormon and they made me feel more welcomed than the ppl in my stake that went to the same school. I realized that mormon didn’t equivalate good, that the most entitled, self righteous, holier than thou pricks in school were mormon (rectangles and squares here). the things that were supposed to drench me in guilt - swearing, mentioning sex, exploring sexuality/gender, reading less-that-wholesome books, trying caffeine - they never scarred me the way i was always told they would. i tried every trick in the book and them some to see what argument reason would remind me of the One And Only Whole And Complete Truth. nothing took. the guilt and insecurities dragged me deeper into my pathetic self-loathing pity party. if i wasn’t happy, i must be sinning. right? so what was i doing so wrong that didn’t bring instant waves of guilt and shame that was keeping me so unhappy? why were my prayers and scripture huntings answered with silence? was i that unholy? that unworthy? so despised by capital g God Himself that i was unworthy of even a hint for why i was this way? there was no quiet comfort, no gentle reassurance, no uplifting encouragement that i just had to Move Along. i have never felt so violently lonely and alone as i did then. it left me vehemently aimless, directionless, void of any modicum of hope, it left me wide open for my abuser to swoop in and give me Purpose, building off the basis that the ends would always justify the means. also an exmo, he turned my need for approval into a tool of his own making, used my desperation to be loved against me, manipulated my idea of working hard for the benefit for my family in his favor. mormonism left me naïve and vulnerable and in need of direction, and he gave that to me, and i fell for it because i didn’t know better.

i was told from the earliest ages of life that my divine calling was to be a Mother Of Zion (there is so much wrong with that phrasing, and so many more racist and appropriative ideals that mormons have coopted as their own over the years, but that’s a different post). when i read Pictures Of Hollis Woods in middle school, i realized that adoption wasn’t just an option in general, it could be an option for me, a first option, too. yet i still struggle to shake the idea that my body isn’t a temple for me, it is a public temple for lease, a resource to share, that childbearing is less a privilege, but more a duty that is intrinsically tied to the fate of my immortal soul. i personally do not need to bear a biological child to raise. it is not a personal requirement for a fulfilling life. but it always sits in the back of my mind, that i should be so grateful for the Blessing of a likely very fertile uterus, that i should make use of it and Share My Bounty with both my spouse (who should be a cis man and rm) and the world. i know logically that it’s because that’s the most surefire way to introduce new tithe paying members into the world, but i still, still, STILL have this burning anxiety that it is Greedy of me to deprive a soul the use of my womb.

do not tell me i did not struggle

read A Marvelous Work And A Wonder, read The Miracle Of Forgiveness, read the CES Letter, read works by ex members, and if your faith is truly that strong, if the doctrine of the church is truly whole and pure, if the prophets and other priesthood leaders are truly so divinely inspired by God and the Holy Ghost, such criticisms won’t shake your belief. if god is the same yesterday, today, and forever, why do church leaders need so many revisionary revelations? if j smith was given the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, why are you not following his edicts today? if they aren’t so virtuous as to be relevant and applicable to today’s life, then your god is fallible, yes? if you can read those works (to start) and then honestly look me in the face, look anyone in the face and say with full confidence, hand to god, that you believe and support everything the lds faith stands for, then we can have an honest conversation. but at the very least, learn to analyze what you know to reiterate these "facts" in your own words, rather than regurgitate the same phrases parroted by thousands of members, as if quantity will give these ideas credence.

#long post #post lds #lds #exmo #exmormon

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gumballavocadoharry · 2 years

Text

*warning! Mentions of drug use and overdose*

Even with my dark side?:

It was a hard day for you today. Some days were good and some days were bad and unfortunately today was one of those days. Everything seemed to be coming at you all at once, your parents never seemed to understand anything which is why you eventually stopped talking to them, your friend moved away after she got married, and to make matters worse your job laid you off because of budget cuts.

The only thing you did right you felt like was having Harry in your life as your boyfriend. He was a rock for you at some of the hardest moments of your life. His compassion and love for you never faltered even when he was having a bad day himself. Of course you would in return make him his favorite meals, listen to him talk about his day and exercise with him. You loved Harry....you loved Harry more than life itself. You lived for him because he made you his everything.

But today you were at an extremely low point. You were very sensitive and vulnerable and everyone you talked with only tried to gaslight you and your pain. Some were just downright patronizing. That pushed you over the edge. Your parents wanted you to fit a image of their diamond. You didn't feel loved by that at all. They're personal preference of who you should be and what THEY'RE ready for turned you away from the. "Why waste my words?" You reasoned. They were fine when you were a teenager but as you grew father away from them as an adult, they needed to hang on some more even though their time was up.

So you left. Then your best friend who you loved dearly got married to the man of her dreams. You were happy for her no doubt and was the bridesmaid at the wedding. But she's in a different state with her new husband living it up. And then the job you loved and studied hard for.....laid you and others off because they couldn't afford to pay their workers. So now you're jobless. "So much for that." You stated often. You were down on your luck no doubt about it. But this time was different. Harry was at his place working on music you assumed and you were at your place sitting on the couch thinking silently about your next move.

Tears welled up in your eyes as life was being awful mean to you. The pressures were to much to bear and you couldn't take it. You sunk down lower and lower into your thoughts of melancholy and dread until you found yourself at the top of the stairs heading towards the bathroom floor. You shuffled through your medicine cabinet where you found some anti depressants. You took the whole bottle hoping to numb the pain and relax you, but there was the risk of it permanently silencing you as well. You texted him:

Goodbye baby. See you on the other side tonight

Your phone rang, it was Harry. He called 6 times but when you didn't answer, Harry speed over to your apartment as fast as he could. "Oh no please! What if- What if she's-What if I'm too late? How could she? Oh god please don't let her...." He banged on your door before he eventually let himself in. "YN!" He yelled. He searched every room until he came across the bathroom. You were foaming at the mouth having a seizure. It didn't take him long to realized you overdosed. Through tears he called 911 and prayed that it wouldn't be too late.

The paramedics came and speed you to the hospital with Harry following close behind. The doctors pumped your stomach, but you were unconscious so you were out for a while. Harry sat in the waiting room crying and wishing this was all just a bad dream. He locked up your apartment before they took you. "Are you related to Yn Ln?" The doctor asked. Harry shook his head. "I'm her boyfriend, but I found her in the bathroom please let me see her." he begged

"Sorry only family related to the patient can see her at this time. Does she have any relatives?" "Uh her parents but she's not on speaking terms with them as of now. I would have to ask her but form what she tells me, they're the LAST things she needs right now. Oh please let me see her!"

"I wish I could Mr...uh" "Styles. Harry styles."

"Mr styles. But i'm afraid it's policy." When can I see her?" The doctor looked at Harry sympathetically. "How about when she wakes up?" He smiled. Harry nodded and smiled. "Perfect. Thank you." The doctor nodded. "A nurse will escort you to her when she wakes up."

"Is she unconscious from the anesthesia or from the overdose?" "The overdose unfortunately. But she's stable right now and she has a good chance. We think she'll make it." "Oh thank god." The doctor excused himself and Harry sat down thinking about what could've cause such an impulsive action from you. Later when they allowed Harry back, he sat next to you and you couldn't bare to look at him. The realization of what you did burned harder than Harry's eyes staring at you waiting for a response. You chocked out "are they coming?" In reference to your parents.

Harry shook his head. "No. They're not." You sighed in relief. "Yn?" You slowly turned to Harry but didn't look at him. "Look at me baby." You slowly looked up to Harry fearing his disappointment but instead was filled with sympathy. "Why baby why?" He asked softly. He knew you had fell on some hard time but he couldn't make himself understand just why you would do something like that. He thought you were okay.

You looked down feeling the tears well up. "I-I just couldn't take it anymore haz. The pressure, the pain, the never ending bad days were too much. I couldn't sleep or eat and I couldn't even think. I just cried and hoped that this was all a bad dream, but it wasn't. So when you left my apartment yesterday....I started spiraling into a panic attack and an anxiety attack all at once. So I found myself in the bathroom, on the bathroom floor I should say choking and gasping on my own saliva and foam. Then I woke up here in this room."

You looked over to see Harry's eyes. Tears dripped from his face. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly. "Yn....please tell me whenever you feel this way. I don't have to tell you that what you did was.....well....dumb. But you can overcome this."

"No I can't." Your cried. "You must think I'm a mental patient or something like that. Like I'm crazy or a nut. You don't know how hard it is to not be able to reach for something you really want. Those inspirational quotes don't help, neither does the hope and see approach. And maybe I don't deserve it....I tried to kill myself because I wasn't happy. Lord knows I'm a wreak." You sobbed. Harry cupped his hands to your face.

"Yn don't ever say that. You are not crazy or a wreak. You like everyone else in this world hit a low point. All you need is some support.....and maybe...therapy? But I'm gonna always be there for you no matter what. Your parents, your friend, your job.....those are only part of your life.....but one thing is for sure, you can't have a life without you. I love you yn and if we have to spend every minute together and go to therapy together and stay her together...well then so be it. But I love you too much to leave you, I do understand and if i don't, then we'll talk about it until we do. But WE are not giving up. Do you understand?"

You nodded not breaking eye contact for one minute. "I've sunk as low as I could go." "And we'll pull through together okay?"

"Everyone's got what you could say a 'dark side' to them." "But can you love mine?" You asked. Harry looked you deep into your eyes. "Yes yn. I love you and that's what I want. You."

Harry made sure you knew he was on YOUR side in this fight for life. After you were released, You decided to go to therapy and Harry accompanied you. Even though your sessions were private, Harry still was helping you get through your therapy. Harry would give you money every month until you got a new job, one that fitted what you had studied for. "You both celebrated over a fancy dinner that you treated Harry to as a thank you for all he did.

Later you slowly got used to your best friend not being there but that didn't mean you forgot about her. In fact you and Harry decided to make a surprise visit to see her and her husband for the first time. The last thing was your parents. You were at a grocery store when you saw them shopping as well.

Compared to how you looked before to now, your confidence illuminated you. "Yn?" you turned to see your father standing there trying to get your mother's attention. You didn't care about whether or not they understood, it wasn't like you needed them anyway. At least their support that is. You were already to defend yourself from them and give them the cold shoulder, but unexpectedly they pulled you in for a family hug right there in the middle of the store.

"It's been so long and we were worried we'd never see you again! I thought we lost you." Your mother cried. "Oh yn we love you so much and we're sorry. Please come back to us." Your father said. You had to admit you were blushing from the attention of the other shoppers but you accepted they're apology. It was a genuine one so you could live with that after all.

You went home to your apartment and called Harry telling him what happened. "That's great honey! Oh I have a surprise for you tonight. Come to the hotel and meet me on the terrace there okay?" You agreed. Later that night as promised you met Harry there who was waiting there in a leisure suit and a red rose. "You look so beautiful." He said eyeing your silky lavender dress. "Thank you! You look very handsome yourself."

Harry ushered you to him. "Yn I am beyond proud of you! You have accomplished so much within this past year and your inner strengths have been a stepping stone for not only you, but for me and our relationship. Remember when we were in the hospital and you asked me if I could love your bad days along with your good ones? And I said yes." Harry stated. You were curious as to what he was leading up to.

"Well yn..." He dropped to one knee. "It wasn't so much as loving your dark side, but ours. Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?" Harry pulled out a shiny diamond ring. Tears fell from your eyes. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" you cheered. Harry slipped the ring on and you both sealed your love with a kiss. The sunset peeked, illuminating it's haze onto you both. Love was your true rescue.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles and yn #overdose #drugs #harry styles fanfiction #harry loves yn #harry ❤️yn #❤️#spotify #dark side #Spotify

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c0rpseductor · 2 years

Text

like sorry to have a. i don’t know. would it be dramatic to call this religious trauma? Well anyway sorry for the moment but like

anybody who knows me for shit knows i had a cartoonishly awful childhood. this is like, me 101. i started to self-harm as a very little kid bc i thought god hated me, so part of my issue is like, i was already mentally ill right out of the gate.

i would learn one thing in church and then come home and be told all the stuff really virulent cruel evangelicals believe, essentially. like at Sunday school i’d hear “be nice to everybody” and then come home and my mom would be like “oh Lestat. you poor fucking rube. God is vindictive and spiteful and punishes anyone he dislikes. Christians think anybody who’s suffering deserves it because God chose it for them. Christianity is evil and full of hypocrisy.” and, I mean, i understand why she had a lot of anger toward it and why she felt like there are no adequate answers for the problem of evil and ESPECIALLY why she thinks vocal christians suck. we live in America, no shit! I’ve seen TV pastors! but you don’t unload that on a kid, and especially not a kid who is also being hurt so acutely that his takeaway is “my parents do bad things to me because god wants me to suffer.” so i grew up, uh, normal

and it frustrates me as an adult because i know what the takeaway is “supposed” to be, or at least what less insanely aggressive christians tell me it is. i get that i got essentially the exact opposite message i was supposed to receive. but not only do i struggle to believe it, but the kind of things my mom used to complain about are the same things i see people unironically lob at other people. like on the adult survivors of csa group ive seen people say “during your childhood, if you felt abandoned, it’s because you weren’t listening hard enough for god. because god was there and your feelings are wrong.” like, it’s their fault? someone has a crisis of faith for one of the most understandable possible reasons and you think they just aren’t trying hard enough? and people will say with a straight face like, act like lgbt people are these subhuman aberrations and god hates them and spit on them because their idea is like, anyone who’s big and strong is who god loves and anyone who’s being hurt and tortured deserves it because god decided that’s how it would go.

it frustrates me so much that my dad like, abused me emotionally and mentally and physically and sexually and drove my mother and i out of our home and treated his whole family like obstacles in the way of his desires and then had the fucking gall to be a born-again Christian about it. it fucks with my head SO bad that nothing bad ever happens to him and he’s so easily able to go to church and uncritically swallow everything he’s told. it just feels like this confirmation that everything is arbitrary and anyone who’s been “picked” by god can do whatever evil things they want but anyone who’s hated can never, ever atone enough for the cardinal offense of having been born, no matter how much they pray or suffer.

and like, idk if i can ever get out of that hole, but it still makes me so fucking sick when people who act like they’re perfect Christians spit on people because they think they have the right to decide who is and isn’t human. because i know that’s the opposite of what they’re supposed to be getting out of it and because it’s disgusting, cruel, arrogant behavior.

#uh ask to tag?#csa ment

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destinygoldenstar · 2 months

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I’m Taking A Break

So… title says all.

I’m not quitting Tumblr, I’m just taking a break.

Any post you see from me the rest of this month is queued. And I have a friend that’s gonna help me reblog about Palestine so I can still keep word going. That’s important and it would be immoral to abandon that.

Why am I taking a break?

The answer is simple, really. I’m having an anxiety episode. And it’s just gonna get worse if I don’t get help for myself.

Some of my followers know I have anxiety. I got diagnosed a long time ago at this point. While I have moved to a better place that’s helped me since then, it still comes up from time to time. And let me tell you, it’s a detriment to a person. There’s no clear cure to feeling sick to your stomach and being unable to sleep due to nightmares and finding it hard to speak, feeling like you’re gonna throw up at any given moment even though that never happens…

The last time I took a break was the last time I had an episode like this. Three years ago. That was by Dhar Mann’s influence.

Here, some of my friends have figured, including myself, the genocide of Palestine.

I have been reblogging posts to help aid. I have donated to URWNA. I have signed my name to help demand ceasefire. I even registered to vote so I could vote against the ones encouraging said genocide.

Now, I am not Palestine. I have no Palestine relatives as far as I know. Me and my family have the unfortunate privilege of being pasty white peoples in America. That, and my bosses tell me I have a bright future ahead of me.

But my privilege and lack of stakes in the matter should be no excuse for not trying to help those suffering. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that I have a good life and everyone else seems to not.

That sounds like something petty to think, but it is something that’s tearing me up.

That sounds really selfish to talk about at a time like this as though I’m more important than them, but it is how I feel and I can’t ignore my own mental health.

I am the only one in my family that was trying to help. I wanted to change that, so I reached out to them asking if they’d help.

And that caused a dent in my relationship with my grandmother. Who is Catholic.

She was so ignorant to what’s happening that she denied everything I was telling her. Someone who usually falls for scams in a heartbeat questions sites I show her, that I reviewed to be valid. Then she goes on to pray for my well being while also asking I stop what I’m doing and be careful. As it’s not my place in a ‘both sides’ issue.

I felt sick to my stomach the moment she DM’d me this. And I knew I had to keep my distance from her and not look her in the eye.

I’m not a good persuader. But I know she won’t listen. She’s heavily devoted to her religion.

She can do that. That’s not my problem. My problem is that she’s not even trying to understand the issue, or me.

I really hope this isn’t the case for some people, but for me it is. My family and my co-workers watch the Super Bowl. I didn’t. I don’t even care what happened there.

I’m alone in my care on this one.

I would talk to my parents, and a therapist, and I probably will after I post this, but I feel as though they’re gonna say “You’re not Palestine, right? Then you shouldn’t worry about people you don’t even know. Especially if it’s hurting you in the process.”

I care quite a bit about how people view me. Again, Catholic grandparent, even if I am not technically in that religion anymore. The one time I didn’t was when it was clear to me that they’d bully me no matter what. A part of why I moved.

If someone calls me a bad person, I feel that. It doesn’t just fly over my head.

Sure constructive criticism is justified, and I’m not saying people shouldn’t give it to me. But at a time like this it gets so easy to just assume people like me are selfish and evil for not caring and not helping enough.

I don’t need to be a perfect Angel, that’s impossible, but I do want to at least come across as a solid human being.

I work at a local Publix in my area. That’s a community that strives in training their workers to put others first and help people. And that’s a great moral. And I’m grateful to at least help people in a small community, kind of like an average Joe.

Cause I’m not a superhero. I’m not some famous person of power and influence. If I could use that power to save Palestine, I would.

But I don’t.

And I know that this is selfish. I’m not pretending it’s not selfish. Here I am making this all about me.

But anxiety episodes are dents on my well being. And if I can’t help myself, I can’t help anyone.

So for the sake of that, I have to cut myself off from social media. At least for a little while. So I can recover and help again.

I’m not committing to any Pro-Israel product while I’m gone. And I’m not forgetting the war is still happening. Alone or not, stake or not, it’s my responsibility to not ignore it.

So… give me about a month. We’ll see how I feel. Then I’ll probably come back.

Thank you for understanding.

#let’s talk #anxeity #anxiety disorder #anxiety tw #mental health #thank you for reading

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angl6rizaldo0 · 4 months

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THE UNFORGIVING LOVE BY ANGEL MAE RIZALDO

In a world full of love, there were two friends who had known each other for a long time; they had been friends since they were children. Their names are Amity Harrison and Nathaniel Thompson. They came from a rich family; their family is famous for selling luxury items in the Philippines. They can buy everything they want without worrying about the bills they will pay. Amity is a brat; she spends millions every day; she doesn’t care about her parents; she goes to expensive bars and buys things that she doesn’t really need; all she does is spend money every day. While Nathaniel is a very kind man, a very jolly person, and a soft-hearted man. He helps his parents manage their businesses. Every month, he always donates money and supplies to orphanages. He believes that when you give to others, you are able to receive more than you already have. That’s why he always goes to church to pray because he believes that angels are true and that they are the reason why they are rich. So as he gives back, he helps people too. Their personalities are very different, but they are matched together as friends.

One day Amity call Nathaniel on a phone and Nathaniel answered (on call) “ Hey Nathan lets hangout take a brake first, your papers won’t let you happy, you will just get stress there” Nathaniel answered while his other hand is holding a papers “ Come on Amity, I’m busy here stop disturbing me” Amity feel sad because she feels disrespected on not saying yes to her, she hate the word “no” the only word she like is “yes” “Come on Nathan its just for fun” Nathaniel said “No” while shaking his head even Amity can’t see him, Amity let out heavy sighed and Nathaniel heard it.

“Oka-“when Amity is about to speak out Nathaniel already said “ Okay, I’m going with you, where are you?” Amity smile widely that reached her eyes “I’m here at my parents house, can you fetch me here?” and Nathaniel can’t do anything because he already agreed to her and he don’t want to disappoint or to disrespect her. “Yeah, sure wait me there”and the call ended. Sometimes he said no to her but every time that she invites Nathaniel and said no to her she is she who will go him. So Nathaniel is the one whose always adjust to her because he know that he is more matured to her. So Nathaniel drives to Amity’s parents house and it’s very big mansion, he didn’t have a hard time entering their villa because the guards at Amity’s villa already knew him. When we arrived at their house all the guards and butlers are all over the mansion. When Nathaniel enter their house the maids welcomed him with drink, he accepted the drink and sat on the sofa, he ask the maid “ Where is Amity?” the maid look at him “ Ma’am Amity is still taking a bath, she said to me that when you go here wait for her because she will take long time to prefer for the party“ Nathaniel nodded “okay, thank you” He saw a book in the bookcase, he get one and read it so that he won’t get tired easily. While he was reading he heard some footsteps and he saw Amity’s Father Mr. Rafael Harrison, he stand up and offered his hands to him and Mr. Harrison accepted it. “Good evening Mr. Harrison”Mr. Harrison smiled “ Good evening Nathaniel, what are you doing here? Are you going out with Amity” Nathaniel smiled “Amity invites me to hangout with here” Mr. Harrison laughed “Amity is really spoiled, I said to her that she is not allowed to go out today because of the trouble that she is involved yesterday but I can’t do anything that her life and she don’t listen to me anyway” Nathaniel look down “She always like that” they both laughed. While they are talking he heard footsteps again and he saw an angelic face of Amity that opposite of her attitude. She run and hug him “I miss you Nathan i haven’t seen you for a while, you always busy with your papers, reading, signing, meeting, are you not getting tired of that?” Nathaniel let go their hands “No, I’m not getting tired of it because i love what i’m going and as business man its normal for us to do them all, right Mr. Harrison” Nathaniel look at Mr. Harrison “ Yeah, its normal for us” they both look at Amity and Amity just rolled her eyes “ Business is not for me” Mr. Harrison and Nathaniel just look at each other and shook their heads.

They say goodbye to Amity’s Father and go to Nathaniel’s car, Amity don’t bring a car because she is to lazy to drive and she know that when Nathaniel drive she is safe. When they arrived at the bar, Amity gets one margarita and Nathaniel gets a whisky sour they can smell cigarettes and alcohol around the bar. They kept drinking and now Amity is kind a tipsy and she is now in the dance floor dancing with boys. Nathaniel take Amity away from the dance floor “what-“ drag her out from the bar. Amity is so loud she is complaining about Nathaniel “ Why did you drag me down from the bar, don’t you know that I’m still dancing?!” Nathaniel didn’t talk and focus on the road while shaking his head. She kept on talking and talking until she get tired of it. They arrived at their house and Amity is now sleeping now on her room. “Nathaniel” He about to go down when he heard his name he look back and he saw nothing so he walk again “Nathaniel” he look back again and still no one is still there so he just kept on walking even he heard that someone is calling his name.

On the next day its Sunday and its time to go to church again and pray. He offered hundred thousand pesos to the church and pray for the Angel that always guide him and he also pray for Amity’s health. After that he goes to his favorite realistic Angel statue, this Angel is his favorite because she look like her. He always talk to the Angel about his feelings about Amity. He admire Amity for a long time until now, he don’t see her as his best-friend but she is a special friend that he love. “ You know I’m with her yesterday, we hangout and I saw her dancing with other boys, i get hurt so i drag her out from the bar” “is it right to drag her out from the bar?” He asked the Angel statue “Or do I have a right to do that?” He stared at the Angel for a minute and said “ Your are so angelic” then he leaves. His father ordered him to go to Amity’s father because they have to sign the contract of shares of their company. Nathaniel goes to Mr. Harrison company and he didn’t aspect to see Amity there “Amity, what are you doing here?”

While smiling “I just talk to dad, you what are you doing here?” Their eye contact is not breaking “Me and Mr. Harrison have to sign this for our new contract, wait are you going home?” she answered “No, I will eat lunch” Nathaniel asked her “Alone?” She nodded “Lets eat together, wait for me this is just fast we will juat sign this and its done” Amity wait for Nathaniel and after 30 minutes their done. They eat in a fantasy restaurant, while they are eating Amity asked him “Did you know that are company have a big problem now?” He shook his head “We have a big debt to last company that we are shared to, that’s why i’m there cause dad told me that in the morning” she said in a calm voice “ So hows your dad, you, your family? Whats their reaction?” He saw how sad she is right now “My dad is stress right now, thank you that you shared with our company, it’s a big help” Nathaniel smile “Yeah, sure what our friendship for, right” they both smiled and continued to eat. Nathaniel takes Amity home. On the other day Amity is now on her room resting because later she will go to mall to shop. While Nathaniel is in Church talking to Angel statue about Amity’s problem. Amity is walking in the mall, buying things that she will just stock in her room. She bump into a kid, she gets angry and push the kid harshly. She look at the kid that laying on the floor “ Why are you standing on my way? Look, I have scratched ” She kicked the kid before she leaves.

She go to Nathaniel company to annoy him and tell him what she interact earlier “Hi Nathaniel” Nathaniel look shock because he didn't know that she was going here “Ow, Hi, What are you doing here?” Amity sat down to the chair in front of Nathaniel “Nothing, I just want to be with you right now” Nathaniel secretly smiled “How are you and your parent’s company?” he look to Amity “I’m not fine and our company is getting worse, I don't know what to do to Nathaniel” She look so stress “Maybe this is your karma because you always spend millions everyday, maybe Angel’s give a punishment” Amity look at Nathaniel with dirty look “Ew, you believed on Angel’s?” He nodded “People who believe in angels are only children because that's what their parents say to them and that's what they hear, its only decoration for churches, are you a child?” He shook his head “Don’t believe them people just make that up to say they are true and to be praised” Nathaniel just look at her like he is like an Angel that fall into this cruel world “ You know for me I believe in Angel’s because they are the one that gives me everything, they are may savour special that one Angel statue in the church of San Miguel Church” She just nodded “Whatever you say” and rolled her eyes “ You know, you should believed them, they can help you and your family” she shock her head and lifted her right hand to sign that he need to stop. They kept on talking until its evening. She is now at their house after Nathaniel take him home. She still don’t believe to Angel’s even Nathaniel is convincing her to talk to Angel.

After one month her dad told her that their company is about to bankrupt if they don’t pay their dept and they are selling some illegal items. Nathaniel do everything just to help her but he can’t because they selling illegal item. So she immediately find her way, she call her all friend but they say that they can’t help her but someone call her and said that he is her friend that in high school . So she meet her friend in restaurant and they talk about the things that can help their company when the meeting is done they say goodbye to each other. She is walking to congested and dark roads Manila then someone call her name with baritone voice “ Amity” she get scared but continue walking “Amity”he heard it as if it was close to him, so she walk fast and the voice kept on following him and get near and near to her. Someone grab her arm and encircled his arm to her neck and the other hand is covering her mouth. She can’t see him because his face is covered with black clout. He took her into a hidden place where people can’t see them then he tie her arm, and take advantage of her while she kept on shouting and crying but no one can hear her. He leave her like he is a dog that after eating he just leave his food nothing.

Nathaniel is in her office and some one knocked “Nathaniel did you heard about the news?!” He said it like he is about to run out of breath. Nathaniel just look at him lethargic, he is his friend Michele “ Hey, did you heard me? I kept on speaking here but you are just staring outside i thought you are listening” he look again to Michele “ What are you saying again?” Michele just sigh “ I said Amity is in the hospital right now because someone rape her while she is walking in a road” Nathaniel just nodded “ What?! That’s just your reaction your best friend got rape, I thought you love her” Michele look at Nathaniel with disbelief “ Michele, I’m busy you already told me what you want, you can leave now” Michele can’t believed to Nathaniel because every time Amity got into a trouble he is always go to her and rest back her but now he didn’t even look shocked or worried about Amity. Nathaniel is punching hard the punching bag he is thinking if he will go to Amity because he feel guilty of what he did but at the end he didn’t go to Amity instead he go to the Angel Statue to ask for a question and guidance. He is now looking of a beautiful Angel statue “ Hi, its been a long time that we didn’t see each other, how are you?” He make a silence “Angel I make a wrong decision, i made the most important person of my life cry in front of me but I didn’t listen to her and continue what I’m doing” one tear falls into his eyes “ I just want to love her and protect her from other people that trying to hurt her to the point that I’m already the one that hurting her. I just do that because I love her so much and I don’t want other man to love her” the tears kept on falling from his eyes it’s like a river that loud and the water is just flowing.

Amity laying in a bed with nasal cannula and dextrose, her body full is of bruises. She is still not walking up its been 3weeks since that incident happened and Amity’s family still don’t now who did that to their daughter. Mrs. Harrison can’t stop crying “Amity wake up mom is here, I’m here daughter mom is waiting for you, I will make sure that person will be in jailed for doing this to you, that person is like a demon” she said it angrily. They still waiting Amity to wake up Nathaniel never visit to Amity, he let him busy in the company and walking to a Angel statue. He always cry to the Angel, saying sorry and asking what do to even he know what do to. Months had past he still the same not visiting Amity, keeping him busy to work.

All people are wearing white and black. There is a large photo with the big name of Amity Harrison. She died because his body could not handle the bruises, wounds and her weak heart. All people are crying and Nathaniel already know the news and still he didn’t go to her funeral until her last stage. He was there since they are a child, he is very protective to her, he always respect her, he never let other people hurt her no one can touch her, he always give flower to her every special day, he never tell her about his feelings about her. For him Amity is an Angel like the statue in San Miguel. He love her very much to the point that he became obsesses to her, he always follower her where every she goes, he put cameras in every corner of her room, he also hired some people to follow her and report it to him, he know everything about her.

When he found out that Amity was buried already he went to the Angel statue, when he go their the Angel statue is now gone all he see is an old church “ Angel! Angel! Angel!, where are you?!” he shout so loud “ah!” he knelled “Angel, I need you now!” the tears start to fall on her eyes “Where are you?” water dripped on him until it become a rain. He was there crying like the rain. He didn’t feel the raindrops because someone is holding a umbrella while looking confused to him “Iho, anong ginagawa mo rito?” The old man asked “I’m waiting the Angel statue here” man look shock “Toto wala naman naka-tayong Anghel d’yan, simbahan lang ang naka-tayo d’yan at matagal na ito wala nang nag-mimisa rito, saka wag kang maniwala sa mga angel hindi sila totoo gawa-gawa lang sila upang dekorasyon sa simbahan” Nathaniel look so confused “ what? They are not true?” The old man nodded then he leaves.

He thought that he is just hallucinating that there is an Angel Statue there and he became obsess with Angel that he make own story of him and her but the thing there is the Angel that he always to to is Amity Harrison his guardian Angel. When Amity died the Angel statue also disappeared and Angel statue is only visible to his eyes.

He was about to stand up when he feel the cold thing on his neck, he hell down and the last he saw is the old man holding a knife.

“Berto Berto, gumising ka na nga jan, anong oras na naka-higa ka pa rin, ano ka anak mayaman”

Berto wake up because he heard his mom's voice, what is that strange dream? “Ito na po babangon na” He stand up and leave the room. While they are eating Berto ramdomly asked his mother “Nay, naniniwala po ba kayo sa mga Anghel?” his mother answered “Nako, tigilan mo ako sa mga tanong mo na iyan, kumain ka na lang jan at may pasok ka pa” he just continue eating with the question on his mind. Are they really real?

Character: Amity Harrison, Nathaniel Thompson, Mr.& Mrs. Harrison, Michele, kid, Friend, old man, Berto, Mom of Roberto and dad of Nathaniel

Setting: Philippines, San Miguel, mall, church, orphanage, cpmpany, villa, house, Manila, Restaurant and hospital

Point of View:Third person

Literary Devices: Simile, symbolism, personification, and irony

Plot: The boy is obsess with a girl who doesn’t know that the boy has feelings for her, and because of his love for the girl, he does bad things to her. As revenge for the boy, the girl kills him in another body.

Themes: Tragedy

Moral message: The moral message of the story is don’t do things that you will regret someday. Think carefully before you do it, and even when you are a religious person, when the evil tells you the things that you want to do, you will do them because you are more willing to do bad.

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gaysindistress · 7 months

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Don’t mind my ramblings 😂

I have to go to the town I grew up in with my dad this weekend and I’m dreading it because I haven’t been back in like 5-6 years. That and it’ll be a 2 hr drive on super winding roads.

Anyways….I’m feeling ✨angsty✨ so if y’all want some insight into where my self proclaimed angst writing powers came from, read ahead.

Or don’t, I might delete this later. I haven’t decided if this feels like oversharing or not.

Warnings: mentions of racism, religion, and country music

I usually don’t listen to country because it’s awful most of the time and it reminds me too much of home. But when I do, that shit s l a p s and Im not talking Zach Bryan or any of that mainstream shit. ZB is great but I’m talking Colter Wall, The Death South, Uncle Lucius, the Devil makes three, and even late Johnny Cash.

I grew up in a tiny ass town (the population is literally under 200) and the only thing for miles are ranches and hundreds of acres of open land. We didn’t have wifi or cell service until 2018 and i learned to drive on a forgotten forest service road in an old manual farm truck that didn’t have seatbelts. It barely had seats to be completely honest. We would walk to the church on the hill every Sunday wearing our Sunday best where the preacher would be drenched in sweat as he spoke about the Bible and told us that the End Times were coming. We needed to ask for forgiveness, pray any chance we got, and turn off the radio. The songs that out society loved were the Devil’s music and gospel was the only thing acceptable. I couldn’t say the Lord’s name in vain or my great grandma would whack the tops of my hands and make me help her clean. God was something to be afraid of but to be loved reverently as he was out Father.

Afterwards, my great grandma and grandma would make supper for all of us. The staples of homemade jams and bread were always there but the meat and veggies would change depending on what we had available.

We did laundry in a ringer washer and dried the clothes on a line in the front yard. I learned how to sew and mend anything you could think of before I turned 10. My dad and uncles made sure I was the best shot in the family. My mom taught me how to befriend a horse so that you became one when riding. She’d say that there was nothing more dangerous than a rider and a horse who weren’t in sync. It was a running joke that I was Annie Oakley and my grandpa tried for years to get me to do rodeos but my parents wouldn’t let me. Granted I didn’t want to either, the people could be vicious and as I got older, the racism grew worse. My dad was whiter than my grandpa so few people said anything to him but if I was with my grandpa, people would say some of the foulest things you could think of. When I was probably 8, I remember asking him why that group of men yelled at us to “go back to the Rez” and to hide the alcohol. He didn’t answer me and dropped me off with my great grandma. When he came back maybe 30 minutes later, his knuckles were bloody and he tried to wipe them off before he sat down next to us but I still saw them. I knew better than to ask him about it because the look he gave me when he noticed me staring at his hand was one full of hatred, anger, and a deep pain that could never be erased and it told me everything.

My mom wasn’t safe from it either and in their ignorance, people would say whatever they thought might be the most hurtful. Her mom used a mix of Arabic and English when she spoke to my brother, cousins and me but that stopped when all the news would talk about was the war in Iraq and terrorist groups infiltrating America. My mom was terrified that someone would accuse us of being connected to these groups even though her family was from a different country entirely. So my Sitto stopped speaking Arabic and no matter how hard I try to learn it again, nothing sounds as beautiful as hers.

For the most part, I blended in but if anyone looked at me long enough, they’d see what I’d learn to hide. I bleached my dark brown hair and straightened every curl until it no longer held its shape. I covered my face in makeup so that it looked pointed and no longer held the soft flat planes it used to. I used accents of gold and similar colors to lighten my nearly black eyes. Before only the sun could bring out the yellow flecks but I refused to go out for long in order to keep my skin a lighter shade. During the summers when I spent all of my time outside and away from others, my skin would brown until it looked like the dirt and clay beneath my feet. I did all that I could to make myself blend in better and when I failed, my work ethic of sun up to sun down and my ability to keep my mouth shut made it so I was forgettable. No one bothers the average in a town like the one I used to call home.

We’d spend every weekend in late summer and early fall cutting wood for the elders in town. My dad knew everyone’s addresses by heart and didn’t need navigation when he dropped off the wood. After those long days, my great grandma would lay out old quilts she’d made over the years on the lawn so all of us could sleep under the stars. We’d laugh and giggle as we pointed out the constellations and told each other stories. It was then that I learned how our grandparents painted the multicolored hills that surrounded us. Sometimes when we all began to fall asleep, we’d hear the coyotes and once I swear I heard a wolf howl even though my dad said they hadn’t been around in decades. Rarely did I see the big black bear that liked my great grandparents’ Apple trees. I would see the aftermath of his feast though as the raccoons took their share. Sometimes the turkeys would scare them off but that was only seasonally.

I can’t relate to most country music because that’s not the world I grew up in. We didn’t have bonfires on Friday nights after the football games or go mudding when it rained. We didn’t hunt or fish for fun because it was a necessity as the nearest store was an hour away. My childhood in those rural ranch lands was beautiful but harsh and makes any spaghetti western that featured Clint Eastwood or John Wayne look like child’s play. People try to liken to it Yellowstone but i always say it was closer to the prequel 1883.

Country music has always been deeply intertwined with religion but I can’t relate to the way that Tyler Childers and Zach Bryan sing about their god even though I should. I didn’t pray to the God they sing about because the one I grew up with was something from the Great Awakening. The God I grew up with was an old one that demanded sacrifices in the form of our days spent in service to Him and forgoing what modern society offered us because it was deeply sinful. I feared the Devil would one day walk amongst us because that’s what our preacher told us would happen if we listened to the radio or watched any new movies. I imagined when he did claw his way to earth from the depths of Hell, he would wear a suit and tie with a great grin full of teeth sharp enough to snap my bones in one bite.

The “country” I grew up in is nothing like what people imagine when they listen to its music media. It’s not like Yellowstone, any of those homestead shows, or whatever else is labeled as western. The “country” I grew up in, the one that feels most like home albeit a distant one, was more like the one that Colter Wall, Delta Rae, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, The Death South, Uncle Lucius, the Devil makes three, and of course Johnny Cash all sang about.

#rose rambles #Spotify

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kemetic-dreams · 11 months

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Christianity Hurts Kids

When Jesus said “suffer the children,” I’m not sure that’s what he meant

K. M. Lang

I was sitting outside my junior high school, squeezed against the building out of the rain, watching the road and listening as if my life depended on it.

I’d remained after school for a free clarinet lesson. It was a bold move on my part, and spoke to my desire to learn the instrument. Staying after school was torment to me, and I usually did everything in my small power to avoid it — to prevent any situation where my mother would have to pick me up.

My mother was always late — sometimes hours late — and as a result I had developed a fear of abandonment. I was struggling with it now.

I fixed my eyes on the road, straining for the first possible sight of our Volvo. The car had a bit of a muffler problem, so I listened, as well, for its distinctive grumble.

And I prayed. I prayed hard.

Ours was a Christian family. We went to church several times a week — non-denominational that year, Methodist the year before — and I’d given my heart to Jesus.

I knew that allowing myself to fear was sinful. I knew that I should be trusting God, if not my mother. I knew that God answered prayer, and that if I prayed for the fear to go away, I’d find peace.

Crouched next to my school, I whispered to myself. “Perfect love casts out fear, perfect love casts out fear.”*

Yet the anxiety electrified my veins, twisted my stomach, sent tears to my eyes.

I was a sinner. I’d failed at faith.

Along with the fear, I felt shame.

Christianity fails children

Anyone paying attention knows that Christianity has — and continues to be — a safe haven for pedophiles. Whether it’s Catholics or Baptists, or my own incestuous tent-preacher great-grandfather — when a man is next to God in power, it’s fairly impossible to escape his unwanted advances.

But sacrificing children to the sexual appetites of adults is not the only way Christianity harms its young. You don’t have to rape kids to steal their hope. In many churches and homes, the damage is done quietly, subtly, and with the near-total approbation of church bodies and society. The religion, viewed for millennia as above reproach, lends itself easily to the destruction of budding self-esteem and lifelong potential.

That’s how it was for me.

Christianity forces children to deny their own reason — or risk Hell.

When, at the age of 12, I was waiting for my mother outside that school, I was internalizing messages I’d heard again and again, sitting beside my parents in a pew. None of our religious leaders had ever thought to make a distinction between the struggles of a child and the struggles of an adult. No one gave children a pass for their newness, their vulnerability.

Children’s souls needed saving as much as adult souls did, and the harshness of the salvation message — believe or perish — was meant for them, too. As was everything else in the Bible.

I wasn’t yet in school when I was told that God was Jesus’ father, that Mary was his mother, that Joseph was Mary’s husband. For a while, I assumed that Joseph was God. And why not? In the world I lived in — the world whose rules I was just learning — fathers of humans were also human.

Later I realized my mistake. How could I have been so silly? And I forced my growing, developing brain to accept a supernatural explanation: Jesus was fathered miraculously and sexlessly by an unseen deity.

The Garden of Eden, Noah and the ark, Jesus’ miracles and resurrection, a talking snake, the parting of the Red Sea — in homes such as mine, belief was mandatory.

Can you imagine a child realizing that Santa Claus is not real — reasoning out that a single man could not possibly deliver toys to all the children in the world in one night, even if there were flying reindeers — and telling that child that they were wrong? That their rational conclusion was incorrect?

Now imagine telling them that they’ll be sent to Hell if they stop believing.

Demons and End Times

And it isn’t just miracles and myths that Christian children are force-fed on Sunday mornings. There are darker parts of the religion, as well. I wasn’t allowed to watch PG-rated movies until adulthood, yet no one in the half-dozen churches I attended ever thought to shield me from discussions of Satan, Hell, and the End Times.

While the adults around me were in raptures at the thought of the Rapture, I was trying to wrap my young mind around the terrifying knowledge that I wouldn’t live long enough to grow up — that the joys and accomplishments of adulthood would never be mine.

Not only that, but we children, still dependent on the grownups in our lives, knew that when Jesus did return, many would be left behind. We lived in the fear that our family would be separated, that we’d find ourselves on the Tribulation side of the equation, or that we’d be wandering the golden streets of Heaven alone.

And then there was that Christian antagonist, Satan — an evil entity so powerful that he gave even God a run for his money. When we weren’t worrying about the Day of Judgment, we were scrambling to avoid Satan’s minions, who seemed to be able to enter a person pretty much at will. The wrong book, song, movie, activity or attitude could land us with a literal demon.

To this day I have anxiety on tap. I don’t like horror movies. I don’t enjoy rollercoasters. I just don’t need the adrenaline, thank you. And from what I’ve heard from other ex-Christians, I’m not alone. A childhood spent with demons in the closet and a countdown clock on the bedside table has left many of us with emotional scars.

And God help those whose parents detected at demon in them.

Christianity opens the door to violence against kids.

When I was 13, my family adopted a child from an Asian country. The transition didn’t go well. The child — suddenly thrown into a new family with a new culture, a new language — had every reason to exhibit behavior issues. My mother, though, being steeped in conservative Christianity, saw him as evil, demon-possessed — perhaps even the Antichrist. He was, after all, “from the East.”

The ensuing abuse of that child is still difficult for me to process, and I won’t horrify you with the details. I will say that, had he not been taken from our home, there is every possibility he would’ve died. For Jesus.

In our society it’s not unheard of for parents to kill their children, citing demon possession — an element of their Christian beliefs — as the motivating factor. I’ve seen firsthand how this could happen. I was spared, at the age of 14, from becoming an accomplice to murder. But I wasn’t spared the guilt of involvement, the trauma of watching a 4-year-old being subjected to torture.

God dropped the ball

I’m not sharing this in order to attack Christianity. I’m saying it because it’s not said enough. Children are suffering. And the messages that they and their parents receive from the pulpit — that’s where the seeds of pain are planted.

Perhaps you’ll tell me that my family was worse than most, that my experiences are unusual.

Does that matter? The dysfunction in our home was magnified, the danger to us exacerbated by what we heard in church.

Without Christianity, my mother would still have been late. I would have been afraid, but I would not have been ashamed of my lack of faith. If not for Christianity, my adopted brother would still have struggled to adjust, but my mother would’ve had no reason to perceive a demon in him, let alone the Antichrist.

There are Ten Commandments in the Bible, and not one of them specifically protects the most vulnerable among us. Did the Christian God, who calls us all his children, not think about the actual children, and the possible — probable — effects of the messages in that “inerrant” book of his?

Christianity too often gets a pass for teachings that in any other situation would be called out as abusive, manipulative and cruel. If God refuses to speak up for children, we need to do it ourselves.

* 1 John 4:18

#kemetic dreams #christianty #jesus #yeshuwa #brainwashing #child abuse #christians #children #children books #hell #punishment

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alsjeblieft-zeg · 1 year

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166 of 2023

More secrets from others...[True or False]

Created by joybucket

These are all random people's secrets that I found posted on the Internet. Put an X by the secrets which you share with these random people. Have fun! :)

I value my alone time a lot. I love planning my future/ dream life out on Pinterest boards. I wish I were prettier. I want more friends tbh. I've tried to hold in my cough so people wouldn't think I had COVID. My biggest fear is getting older. My playlists is so good, but I'm embarrassed by it. I feel like I have been living my whole life inside of my imagination. 💭 Every day is the same. I'm bored. 😑 We've been trying so hard for a baby. I like being alone, but I don't like feeling lonely. I'm insane. I judge people by their music taste. I just want to be done with school. I'm so glad I never cried over a boy. I want to learn to play guitar. 🎸 I need to start listening to my own advice. I wish people's looks were based on how they are as a person. I wish I didn't have to look at myself from a certain angle to feel pretty. I wish I had talent. I love being me. I feel like I'm the only girl who hasn't mastered the hot messy bun look. Waking up to snow is like waking up to a new world. ❄️ I am probably the kindest hateful person you'll ever meet. I honestly don't know how I'm still alive. My room is my safe place. My parents don't know I'm gay. If they found out I'd end up homeless. I learned more about how to be a good person from the Harry Potter books than I ever did from a religious text. I want to be a mommy, but the idea of carrying a child scares me to no end. There is so much that could go wrong. 🤰 I truly hate myself. I had an abortion. It's hard to believe God is in control when bad things keep happening. I want to go back to believing in everything and knowing nothing at all. Sometimes I think my fiancé isn't "the one." We are all a part of something bigger, and we are all in it together. People think I've stopped lying....but I've just gotten better at it. I am not a religious person, but I envy people that are. I can't bear to tell my family I relapsed, so instead I quietly suffer alone. Most days, from the moment I wake up to when I go to sleep at night...I am unhappy. I hate my parents for raising me in a religion that taught me to hate myself. I'm a pastor, but sometimes the people I lead believe in God more than I do. I've always felt like I'm the ugly duckling in my friend group. When I tell my parents, "I love you," it feels like a lie. I sometimes resent my friends for being prettier than me. Infertility is making me lose my faith. I'm jealous of religious people, because I wish I could believe like them. I make everyone believe that I like to be different, but really I just don't know how to fit in. I am not a Christian anymore. I believe that without my unanswered prayers, I would never have found the love of my life. I wish people would spend as much time on their marriages as they spend on their wedding. 💒 I am rarely alone, yet I am so very lonely. I wish someone would just ask the question. My answer would be, "Yes, I am gay. Thanks for asking." My therapist committed suicide. I've attempted suicide more times than I can count. I have no one. I need someone. Sometimes I wish I believed in God. Then I could pray for another chance. I'm scared this life is all we get. It makes me angry that she got pregnant by accident, and I can't do it on purpose. I miscarried at her unplanned baby shower. I'm in love with a child I haven't yet met... I smile all the time so nobody knows how lonely and sad I really am. My biggest fear is that if I have a daughter, she will inherit my eating disorder. The fact that I haven't fallen in love yet bothers me more than the fact that I'm a virgin. I'm a Christian who is falling in love with someone who doesn't believe in God. I started believing in God again... I wish I could have realized how beautiful I really used to be. I'm a therapist, and some of my favorite people are my clients. As a bisexual, it is hard for me to accept that some people are COMPLETELY gay and some people are COMPLETELY straight. The reason I don't go to church is because I'm too scared. My church is the only thing keeping me from taking my life. I can't afford the help I need. I'd rather get skin cancer than be pale. I hate my college, but I'm too scared to admit it. 📚 I hate college, but I feel obligated to make this seem like "the best years of my life." My chronic illness has taught me patience. I don't care about recycling, but I pretend to. ♻️ I have a severe donut addiction. 🍩 I wonder if I'm anyone's crush. I've never had a celebrity crush. (well, just one) I had an abortion, because I knew my church family would disown me if they found out I got pregnant outside of marriage. The abortion made me realize that I want to have a kid. I didn't want to be a mother until after I had an abortion. I wish my friends and family understood the pain inside me. I'm trying to figure out exactly what it was that made me lose my voice. Just because I'm skinny doesn't mean I'm happy with my body. I fear that the person who writes my obituary will have nothing to say. I don't believe in God, but I am scared to come out as an atheist. I am proud to say I am well on my way to becoming the adult I prayed for as a kid. I don't know if I want to fix this life, or start a whole new one by myself. I'm a nonbeliever, and I only go to church because of someone I love. Ironically, I feel as if art school has stifled my creativity. I would become a Buddhist if my family wouldn't hate me for it... I'm an atheist, but sometimes it's nice to pray. 🙏 I fear I will spend my life waiting for a love story that doesn't exist. I only put money in the collection basket at church when I want something from God. I leave Bible study early so I don't miss my favorite TV show. I'm afraid my life won't be as exciting as I want it to be. I'm not religious, but I'm afraid of going to hell. I felt more beautiful when I was pregnant than I ever have in my life!

#survey #bolding survey #themed survey

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walks · 2 years

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writing really helps you get all the feelings out

.. no family could be this bad.. they supported my older sister with her studies even going abroad for it twice, she gets to graduate with honors, dad wants her marriage to be massive with more than a thousand people invite,

but my dad is unpredictable and never kept his promises, just bc someone called him out by saying “its okay to spend millions on the wedding but not to fund his other daughter’s studies” he decide not to fund my sister’s wedding either, hence now mom has to work very hard for her wedding. even tho my older sister could pay it herself bc she has savings and the degree landed her really high paying job but she quits because apparently she doesn’t get along with her coworker and she doesn’t even use her degree anymore and sell clothes online instead, that really pisses me off because you have all of this from our parents and you’re not even going to use it????

you never even give mom a cent, back when you got that scholarship i was praying for you everyday that your future will be successful even tho you never once liked me. and the irony is that they feel bad for you and never for me, mom said to me “you are horrible for not helping to model for your sister’s clothing” “your sister is trying very hard and her clothing line isn’t doing so good but you wouldn’t help her” “it’s not even a big deal, you just pose for her and it would help her”and i was so confused… why am i so horrible now?

mom doesn’t understand, when my older sister worked in a french embassy years ago, and dad sent me a $25 allowance money SHE TOOK HALF OF IT saying its hers??? bitch i just graduated high school, whenever dad send us money he told us to split them but dude its fucking $25 what could you possibly need it for? i told her “but dad said you already got a job?” and she gets SO ANGRY shoved the money to me and cusses me?? for $25????? and let me tell u, i didn’t get to go to uni, theres no student loan in indonesia, i graduated high school couldn’t get any job, mom and dad gave up on me ever since elementary school.

they support you and give you everything you wanted, why are you mad over some money. you can move out and live a good life but you choose to stay home and mom still has to work to pay for your food?

i asked mom if she ever help her financially and she said not a dime?? i want to throw fist and wish her the worst because god what the actual fuck?

when i model i didn’t even earn as much as her i lost 5kg from being 40kg bc i would rather help mom pay her bills than spend money on food.

some days i still wished if they could support me just a little.. dont even have to put me through uni, just a little support, i would go so much further in life. i dont even need much, but they never do

i once asked my dad to borrow one of his cars because i have exam, he firmly said no. i asked to borrow because he casually lend his car to his friends. but not to his daughter (also i’m not being snob 😭 theres barely any bus around let alone train) you literally cant get anywhere unless you got a motorcycle or a car. i was asking him because this was after we live in a car for months (i told him about our situation and he doesn’t want to answer his phone or reply to my text) so we use the car money for apartment.

i asked my parents if i could also study overseas (because theres only 1 university in Indonesia that has a decent art study but it’s got horrible reputation) i told them i’m trying to earn a scholarship so i just need them to fund my food and cost of living for a bit, but i didn’t even get to try they were so nonchalant and didn’t even try to listen to my reasons, they were quiet and my sister had to cut me off saying in front of everyone that “it won’t work” “it doesn’t work” “you can’t go overseas no one is paying you for that” and no one said anything, just her words stopped me from studying and my parents agreed before i even said anything they wouldn’t support me. thats why i couldn’t paint anymore, painting just hurts too much.

OH on top of all of this when i started modeling i was bashed so hard for it because what i do go against everything they believed in, my dad especially.. said really horrible things, to his own daughter (:

and when i did my lingerie shoot i was incredibly proud of myself i feel the most confident. my sister went to my room and said “are you not embarrassed?” “you aren’t thinking of mom” “you’re selfish and you’re making problems for mom” “she will be very sad seeing you like this” and tears came out of that crocodile’s eyes lol. (if i tell you how many times my older sister just being her own prick self i would ran out of numbers)

i never understood this, i’m trying to make money for myself and to survive alone. because i did try to ask all of you many times for help. no one did, and now i’m the bad person

#journal. ✍🏻

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