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#This news has been shockingly triggering for me
fanficimagery · 1 year
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Girl in the Painting
After taking a closer look at Xavier's paintings, Wednesday realizes he wasn't having dreams of her at all. But she does know the girl in the paintings and she's decided that this one good deed shouldn't kill her.
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Words: 6.6K Author's Note: Wednesday AU. I'm well aware Xavier never had dreams of Wednesday; he just painted her because he'd seen her and "instantly fell in love". For this, however, I'm saying he's dreamt of her, possibly even before she showed up to Nevermore, and she realizes later on she was never actually the center of his dreams. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of past attempted sexual assault. It's brief.
As the students of Nevermore are packing up and readying themselves for their trips home, a group of girls are sitting around the charred fountain in the courtyard.
"So what are your plans for summer?" Bianca asks, fingers skimming the water. The dark skinned siren smiles when Enid blushes prettily, her gaze immediately darting to the ever stoic Wednesday. She's been wondering, as of late, if Enid's feelings towards Wednesday were leaning towards romantic rather than platonic.
"Going to Wednesday's home," Enid finally says. "Gonna spend a couple of weeks with the Addams' family."
"Yeah? I didn't think our resident living dead girl was into slumber parties."
"It's going to be a blast," Wednesday deadpans. Yoko chuckles, sipping on whatever concoction she's mixed up that satiates her bloodlust. "You two are more than welcome. Apparently the more, the merrier."
"Sorry," Yoko muses, "but the coven's gonna travel all summer. I'm quite looking forward to it."
"Mmm. And as much as I'm loving the new attitude, I got some things to take care of before we come back to Nevermore," Bianca says, her silver eyes glowing just the faintest. She really couldn't wait until she finished this favor for her mother and her new creep of a husband. "Besides, I can't be seen painting the nails of the girl responsible for my break-up with Xavier so soon. I at least gotta make it seem like I've made you sweat."
Wednesday just blinks at Bianca's reasoning, but Enid frowns. "Wait, what? I thought you broke up because Xavier was being his emo artistic self?"
Yoko grins around the straw of her drink. "She wishes."
"I actually found a sketch of Wednesday in his journal before I even knew who Wednesday was," Bianca confesses. "Here. Look." She takes her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her pictures. "I snapped a pic to see what I could find out online, but shockingly nothing was solved until Wednesday showed up here."
"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation."
"Yep. Sounds like you," Bianca says. "Look. See? He drew this before you even stepped foot behind Nevermore's gates."
Wednesday takes the phone and Enid leans closer to take a look. Both girls scrutinize the sketch, both equally baffled to see who everyone has assumed was Wednesday herself smiling. But just as Wednesday is about to hand the phone back, something catches her eye and she brings the phone closer to her face to scrutinize it.
"I can see why you thought this was me," Wednesday says, "but I assure you, it is not me who's apparently caught Xavier's fancy."
"No?" Bianca huffs. "Sure as hell looks like you."
Yoko nods. "Could have fooled me."
"I thought it was me as well, but this sketch proves me wrong. Look here." Wednesday zooms in on the picture, focusing on the right eyebrow. "You see that scar? I don't have it."
Bianca stares before rolling her eyes and reclaiming her phone. "So Xavier gives you a flaw and you immediately don't think it's you?"
"It is not a flaw. It's a sign of strength." Bianca, and the ever-smiling Enid and Yoko frown at the tone Wednesday has now taken on and the steely glint in her eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"A couple of years ago, me and my siblings decided to walk into town after a tiring day at school. A group of older teenage boys cornered us down an alley, and they held me and Pugsley back while making us watch as they tore at the clothes on my sister's back. They mocked her tears and promised that whatever they did to her, no one would believe her since even our sheriff hated outcasts like us. They wanted to break her because we were different. But in a bout of bravery that I will forever be proud of her for, she took the small blade our uncle Fester gifted her and stabbed one of her attackers. In return, they hit her in the face with half a brick and fled with their friend."
"Shit." Bianca blinks in surprise. "Is your sister okay?"
"She's fine. They only left her with a scar and a fear of normies. She used to have the social personality that Enid possesses, but now she haunts the halls of our home rather than leaving it. I tried to get her to attend Nevermore, but even I failed in doing so. Xavier's sketch though, it shows her smiling. That tells me she will be okay."
"So… Xavier only thinks he's infatuated with you?" Yoko wonders.
"It appears so. But if I can manage to get him to my home, maybe he'll see for himself it wasn't me he was having dreams of."
Bianca huffs a laugh. "Sounds fun. Now I'm really glad I can't make it to your slumber party. The breakup is still too fresh to see him fawning over someone else. Maybe the time away will do me some good."
"This sounds like my kind of drama." Yoko sighs wistfully. "Too bad I'll have to miss it."
"Yes, well, Xavier did gift me this phone." Wednesday pulls out a sleek iPhone. "Perhaps if I had your number, I could text you updates. Or death threats."
"Done and done. Gimme." Yoko happily takes Wednesday's phone, typing her information into it. Then taking a selfie, she hands the phone to Bianca who does the same, but makes sure Wednesday understands that she doesn't want any updates.
"We're going to have so much fun!" Enid happily bounces in place, accepting Wednesday's phone to type in her own information. "I can't wait to meet your family."
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At 001 Cemetery Lane, a gothic looking manor stands tall and proud behind a sentient gate.
With your fingers running through the dust along the wall, you quietly walk down the hallway as your sister's friend can be heard babbling on and on. Enid Sinclair had shown up only a couple of days ago, her bubbly personality breathing life into your usually dark home. You'd have kept your distance had you not learned she was from Nevermore, but upon learning she was a werewolf, you found yourself leaving your room while there was a guest in your home.
Halfway down the staircase, the doorbell ominously tolls and Lurch appears from the next room over to answer it. You freeze, wondering who would dare walk up to your house.
Lurch opens the door and your breathing ceases for a moment at the sight of a teenage boy standing there. He's around six feet tall, give or take a couple of inches, and he sheepishly runs a hand through his chin length hair.
"Hey, uh, is Wednesday home?" He's staring up at Lurch who's towering over him, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his coat which seem to be torn on one arm. Lurch turns and looks up at you, and you startle when the boy's gaze lands on you. His brow furrows before he smiles. "Hi. I, uh, I think your gate tried to eat me."
Your lips faintly twitch and your heart rate starts to slow. If he knows Wednesday and isn't freaking out too much about Gate, there's a good chance he's from Nevermore as well. "He's temperamental. You need to be quick to avoid his swing." Then without waiting for a response, you turn around and call out, "Wednesday! There's a boy at the door for you."
A small weight lands on your shoulder and you grin at the sight of Thing. He trembles excitedly, tapping and pointing and making gestures as you giggle at his enthusiasm.
"Oh, hey Thing! Long time no see." When you glance back at the door, the boy is now inside your home with the door shut behind him and Lurch nowhere to be found. Thing scrambles off your shoulder and rushes towards the boy, and it's not until the boy squats down to fist bump Thing that you catch yourself admiring how cute the boy is. Immediately you shut that thought down and wipe any form of amusement from your expression. Then when the boy glances back at you, he stands tall and smiles yet again. "I'm Xavier Thorpe," he then introduces himself.
"YN," you deadpan. You hear Wednesday's nearly silent footfalls behind you and nod at him before you take a step back up the staircase. "Enjoy your stay here. Don't touch Mother's plants. They bite."
As you turn around, you're unsurprised to find Wednesday looking right at you. Her eyebrow twitches, your eyes narrow, and you clasp your hands behind your back before marching back up the stairs.
At the top of the staircase, Enid is practically beaming at you. "He's cute. Right?"
"Ask my sister. He's her guest."
"What? They're not-"
But you pay her no mind and trace your steps back to your room.
At the bottom of the staircase, Xavier watches as Wednesday's sister disappears. "How long have you known?" He asks.
"That it was my sister you've been having dreams of and not me?" He gives her a deadpan stare and Wednesday nearly smiles. "Only since our last day at Nevermore. Bianca showed me the first picture you ever drew and the scar in her eyebrow tipped me off. You're welcome."
Enid skips down the stairs, sighing as she approaches her friends. "Well you're going to have your work cut out for you, Xavier. She thinks you're here for Wednesday."
"Technically, I am." He shrugs.
"And now you're here for her," Wednesday says. "Protect her heart. You so much as bruise it and I'll dissect yours."
Xavier blinks in shock and Enid giggles, skipping to his side and hooking her arm with his. "Let the wooing begin."
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Over the past couple of days, you keep your distance from Wednesday's friends. You've heard them around the house, sure, but only managed to really be in the same room as them when you all had dinner as a family. You always sat between Wednesday and Pugsley, across from Enid and Xavier, but your eyes never strayed too far from your plate.
One morning, you have the urge to visit what used to be your favorite part of the manor.
The sunroom towards the back of the manor used to be your space- filled with vibrant flowers, plants, and vines and even a small fountain in the corner. But ever since the incident, you've tried to find solace in the one place you loved, only to have everything you touch wilt right before your very eyes. And now- now the sunroom is filled with black and gray and brown plants.
Finding what used to be a rose, your mother's favorite flower, you pick it up and gently cradle it in the palms of your hands. One of its petals crumbles beneath the pad of your thumb and it takes everything in you to not cry.
"I was wondering where you've been sneaking off to." The voice startles you and you turn to see Xavier standing under the archway of the entrance. His hair is pulled back into a small knot at the back of his head, a few strands left loose, and you quickly squash down the thought that he looks really cute like this. "Sorry," he then apologizes. "I thought you would have heard my footsteps."
"...no worries."
You turn back around, gently laying the dead flower back down. Exhaling softly, you then move towards the door leading outside, unsurprised when you hear footsteps following you. "So this place is… awesome."
You huff a laugh, stopping just inside the door and only peering outside towards the family cemetery. "Believe it or not, it wasn't always like this. I used to be able to breathe life into this room."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm. Now everything I touch seems to die."
"Oh I wouldn't say that."
"Really? Take a look around, Mr. Thorpe. I did this." Xavier takes a look around, frowning and trying to understand you. Exhaling softly again, you paste on a friendly grin and turn to face him. "If you're looking for my sister, she and Enid have Uncle Fester in the electric chair up in the attic."
He barks out a surprised laugh. "What?"
"He loves it." You shrug. Then as you're walking away, you say, "Fair warning; if Uncle Fester tells you to pull his finger, don't."
"Why? Because his farts are killer?"
"No. Because he'll electrocute you."
You leave Xavier chuckling in your wake, finding it a little easier to be in your sister's friends presence.
Then two days later, it's your turn to find Xavier in the sunroom. His hair is back in the little knot that you couldn't stop staring at, dressed in paint splattered clothes as he stands in front of an easel.
When he catches sight of you, he offers you a smile before he focuses on his canvas once more. You continue walking closer and when he doesn't say anything, you walk around to see what he was inspired to paint. Surprisingly, it's a black and white portrait of your sister sitting behind her cello mid-stroke.
"Oh wow," you breathe in awe. "Xavier, this is amazing."
"You think so?"
When you chance a glance at him and notice the faint pink surrounding his cheek bones, you smile genuinely at him. "Of course. You're really talented."
"Glad you think so." Xavier steps back, looking at his work as he stands side by side with you. "Wednesday, uh, she played the cello one night and it was amazing. No one thought her capable of it."
"Why? Because she's death incarnate?"
Xavier chuckles, bashfully averting his gaze. "Something like that." Then looking at the painting once more, he says, "Your mother saw one of my pieces at Nevermore and asked if I could recreate it so she could hang it here."
You nod in understanding, unable to tear your eyes away from the way Xavier has captured your sister. Then right before your eyes, the painting slowly comes to life- Wednesday's bangs blowing in the wind, one hand pushing and drawing the bow across the cello strings as the other holds down certain strings in a muted song.
You quietly gasp, eyes widening in surprise. You watch in awe before turning towards your companion, only to find him holding his hand out towards the painting with his eyes closed. "Oh." You utter in realization. "You're gifted and then you're literally gifted."
Xavier's eyes open and he nods, eyes sparkling. "I have the gift of animation."
"Marvelous."
You continue staring at the painting, finding the foundation of your walls quaking and feeling a bit more comfortable in the presence of the boy who has decided to share his power with you.
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You're so used to sitting between your siblings at dinner that you're thrown for a loop when you find Enid in your usual place. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, but Enid and Pugsley merely smile while Wednesday arches an eyebrow at you.
Xavier fidgets nervously in his chair, smiling sheepishly at you. "Come on. I don't bite," he muses as he gestures to the empty seat.
Against your will, you blush.
"Pity," Wednesday drawls. "I think my sister would have quite liked that."
"Wednesday!" Your mortification makes Enid giggle. You nervously take your seat before your father takes your mother's hand, pressing kisses to the back of her hand and all the way up her arm where he then proceeds to mockingly bite her. "Oh my god. You're all so embarrassing."
"They're cute." Enid beams at your parents' affectionate behavior.
"Someone drown me," you mumble.
"Only after dinner," your mother says.
Xavier snorts and you briefly flash him a grin before fiddling with your utensils.
Lurch brings the food out, everyone having a pasta dish with the exception of Enid who'd been brought out a medium-rare steak. You quietly dig in, gaze darting from person to person as the conversation flows around you.
Eventually, when the dessert is brought out, Enid addresses the younger crowd.
"So the cinema is playing a werewolf movie and I really want to go see it and make fun of it. Is anyone else interested in going?"
"Sure." Xavier shrugs. "Sounds fun."
Wednesday sighs. "If I must."
"I have plans with Thing," Pugsley says, smiling apologetically at Enid.
All eyes turn towards you and you fight the urge to shrink in your seat. You gulp, but before you can come up with an excuse to not have to leave your house, your mother is urging you to go. "It sounds like fun, sweetheart. Surely you'd love to go with your sister and friends."
"I-"
It's been years, darling," your father says. "I think it's time to get back out there. You're not that naive little girl anymore, mija."
You let your mouth close, everyone ignoring Xavier's, "Am I missing something?"
Wednesday's giving you her usual deadpan stare whereas Enid is smiling and nodding, encouraging you to go. Both your parents are smiling, anticipating your answer, but what makes you cave is the fact that a part of you actually wants to go. You want to be somewhat of a normal teenager, being out and about with your sister, Enid, and a cute boy.
Reluctantly, your shoulders sag and you give a nod. "Fine. I'll make an attempt."
"I'll take it!" Enid blurts.
Wednesday looks pleased with your answer and you finish the rest of dinner without uttering another word.
Then the next evening, you're being picky about what outfit you should wear. You'd taken to wearing different shades of black and gray, but tonight you want to look good. All your dresses and skirts are out of the question, and eventually you settle on a pair of burgundy plaid leggings and a black sweater crop top. You fix your hair to your liking and then slip your feet into a pair of black combat boots before lacing them up tightly. Then deeming yourself ready, you shove your phone, cash, and ID into a miniature backpack that is adorned with skulls and crossbones.
Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you finally make your way downstairs.
Wednesday, Enid, and Xavier are waiting for you, and when Wednesday sees you… a smile slowly blossoms as she takes you in.
"What are you-" Enid turns around and her jaw drops. Then she beams and practically hops in place in her excitement. "You're wearing something other than black!"
Xavier turns, his gulp very obvious. "Wow." You think he must've wanted to keep that to himself because he blushes and nervously runs a hand through his loose hair. "You, uh, you look nice."
You arch an eyebrow at him, grinning. "Thanks."
Walking past them, you walk outside to where Lurch is waiting by the car to drive you into town. He hums when he sees you and you wrinkle your nose at him as he opens the back door for you. You climb in to sit on the bench seat directly behind the driver's seat, holding in your surprise when Wednesday and Enid shove Xavier in right behind you. He practically falls into his seat, righting himself as smoothly as he can, and Wednesday and Enid take their seats across from you.
Enid and Xavier keep the conversation flowing with you and Wednesday occasionally humming in response.
After several long minutes of driving, Wednesday is instructing Lurch where to drop you all off. It's a couple blocks away from the cinema, but your sister apparently wants to go for a brief walk. Though the second your feet are on the pavement and Lurch drives away, you freeze.
"Hey. You okay?" Xavier asks.
Your hands are gripping the straps to your backpack and you gulp, subconsciously stepping closer to him when he gently touches your elbow. "Y-Yeah."
"Come on. Wednesday will leave us behind if we linger."
"Mhm."
Gently pulling on your arm, you stiffly follow Xavier. Your eyes are peeled for anyone staring, hands tightening on the straps of your bag. The only time you feel yourself exhaling with relief is when Xavier puts himself between you and the street, letting you take the part of the sidewalk that's closest to the buildings.
Enid and Wednesday are walking in front of you, elbows linked, and occasionally Enid giggles over her shoulder when she glances back at you. But you're too paranoid to pay her any mind and try to focus on the silent strength that Xavier is unknowingly offering up.
At the cinema, Enid asks for four tickets to the latest werewolf thriller, and she happily claps when Xavier pays for everyone. At the snack counter it takes everything in you to not bolt or hide out in the bathroom, but you shakily manage to retrieve your own cash to pay for some nachos and a drink.
So far no one's stared or shouted and you find yourself relaxing, especially when you take a seat in the movie room and everyone is paying attention to their people that they showed up with.
Sitting between Xavier and Wednesday, you find yourself breathing a little easier.
Enid has several hot dogs balancing on her lap, Wednesday is chewing on black licorice, and you and Xavier had the same idea to get nachos. He, however, also nabbed several boxes of candy and a bucket of popcorn.
"I hope you choke on a kernel," Wednesday says as she watches him stuff handful after handful of popcorn into his mouth.
You giggle, licking the cheesy goodness from your fingertips and sipping on your drink.
And halfway through the movie, you hear Xavier actually choke. A laugh slips out of your sister before her lips are pressed closed once more, and you offer Xavier your drink. Sharing a straw doesn't bother you, so you nod in reassurance as he stares at it.
For the rest of the movie, you and Xavier share your drink. And when you run out, he quickly leaves the darkness of the room to get you a refill.
After the movie, you're standing outside in front of the cinema as Enid talks about the horrible cosmetics they used to portray a werewolf. Wednesday is tapping away on her phone before she puts it away, cutting Enid off mid rant and giving her a nod. She squeals and happily claps her hand, and you stare at them in confusion.
"There's a fair going on," Wednesday says. "Enid wants to go."
You slowly tense up. "Oh."
The bubbly werewolf's smile falls. "But if that's too much for you, we don't-"
"No. It's fine," you assure her. Your hands are back to gripping the straps of your backpack. "We can- we can go."
Enid is back to happily clapping, but Wednesday curiously studies your demeanor. And when she sees you're not about to have a meltdown, she turns and follows after her friend.
"We can always hang out front of the fair if you really don't want to go in," Xavier says. You startle, somehow having forgotten he was there. "I don't mind waiting with you."
"It's okay. Really." Your smile is shaky as you look up at him. "Just, uh, maybe don't leave me alone in there?"
"Stick by your side. Got it." Xavier grins as he offers you his elbow and you're quick to latch on. "I'll even win you the ugliest prize we can find if you're up for it."
You chuckle and let him lead the way, occasionally glancing up at him. "Christ, I forget how tall you are sometimes."
"I'm not tall, you're just really small."
"Ha. Ha."
When you eventually make it to the fair, Xavier hesitates with you as you warily glance around. Then taking a deep breath, you press on and practically make yourself flush against his side. You walk around for a bit, smiling when you see Wednesday and Enid pass you by, Enid already holding tightly to a stuffed unicorn.
As you're walking around, your eyes are drawn back to a green and black dragon that's about half your size. Xavier must notice because he decides to try his hand at basketball in order to win the prize and it takes him four tries to win it.
You don't know what it is about Xavier that makes your guard start to drop, but you find yourself smiling and laughing a bit more easier. He tries winning a panda next, but in between his dart throwing, he notices as you keep your back to the game and are staring from side to side.
You're too distracted to notice he's watching you, your arms wrapped around your dragon as you nervously chew on the bottom corner of your lip. He sighs a little dejectedly, turning around so he can see where you're staring off to. "So who's the lucky guy… or girl?"
"Excuse me?" You look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion.
"You keep glancing around." He faintly grins. "Are you waiting for someone?"
You study his features, eyes subtly widening when you notice something. Was that- was that jealousy clouding his expression? "Wednesday didn't tell you," you then mumble in awe. You for sure thought he knew why you never left your home. After all, Enid did.
"Tell me what?"
You gulp, glancing at the carnie listening in to your conversation. "Let's go for a walk. I'll fill you in." Shakily exhaling, you gesture for Xavier to follow. Side by side, he walks with you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat. "A few years ago, Wednesday, Pugsley, and I were attacked by a group of normies. It… wasn't a pleasant experience for me and it's actually how I got this," you say while gesturing to the scar on your eyebrow. "They were ripping- uh, they were ripping off my clothes, so I stabbed one of them." Your breath hitches and when you chance a glance up at Xavier, you find that his jaw is clenched. "I stopped them from doing that to me, but they managed to hit me with a brick before they ran away."
You make it a few more steps before you're being tugged to a stop and then Xavier is walking to stand in front of you. Gently cupping one side of your face, you manage to hold back a flinch when his thumb brushes over your scar. "You're safe with me. You know that right?"
"I'm starting to realize that."
"That was a shit thing those normies did and I'll be damned if they do anything on my watch." When you meet his gaze, he offers you a small smile. "Now let's go win Wednesday the brightest stuffed animal we can find and make her take a picture with it."
Slowly smiling, you chuckle. "Okay."
And by the end of the night, you and Xavier have won the most terribly bright and fluffy stuffed animals, shoved them near Wednesday's face, and had Enid hurriedly snap a picture of your glaring sister.
You're smiling and skipping alongside Enid towards a waiting Lurch, laughing with all the stuffed animals crammed between your arms and bodies before crawling into the idling car.
For once, in a very long time, you've had fun and didn't worry about any normies looking in your direction.
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Xavier's just got off the phone with his father when a familiar song being played on the cello draws him towards Wednesday's room. The door is open, the room is empty, but there's another door that leads out to a balcony.
Following the music, he's not surprised to find Wednesday playing Paint It Black while Thing turns the sheet music for her. Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and Enid are also on the balcony, staring at something down below.
"What's going on?" He asks, stepping closer to the railing.
Enid glances at him, beaming. "Take a look for yourself."
Xavier glances down, gaze falling to the gazebo that's been strung up with white fairy lights. But what draws his attention is the twirling figure inside the gazebo, adorned in a black leotard and a multicolored tutu. His jaw subtly drops. "She dances?"
"She dances." He looks over at Morticia Addams, tears glistening in her eyes. "It's been years since she's put on her slippers though."
"This week and a half with you and Enid have brought our daughter back," Gomez says. "Thank you."
Paint It Black fades into Nothing Else Matters and a majority of the white lights darken into purple. Xavier is entranced by the way you twirl on the tips of your toes, the stretch of your neck whenever your head is thrown back, and the long stretch of your leg when you twirl on the tips of your toes only on one foot.
As the music fades out, Enid breaks out into applause.
Your head snaps up at the sound of clapping, chest heaving, and your face burns when you see everyone watching you. Your little brother whistles as he claps too, but it's your parents' beaming and tearful expressions that keeps you from fleeing. Well them and Xavier who looks more than a little awed.
So before you do take your leave, you give them a little bow and then rush back inside the house.
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Sitting on the floor in the middle of the sunroom, you're staring at the lockscreen on your phone. You never saw when the picture was taken, but apparently Enid had been keeping tabs on you and Xavier when you were at the fair, and now it was one of your favorite pictures.
In the picture, you and Xavier are walking side by side, one of your arms wrapped around your stuffed dragon with the other arm looped through his. You're looking up at him and he down at you, both of you smiling. But what made you grin at the picture the most was the height difference between you and Xavier. Enid was spot on when she described you two as tall and smol.
Hearing approaching footsteps, you block out your screen and climb to your feet… and speak of the devil.
Xavier walks in, smiling. "Knew I'd find you here."
"Did you now?" Walking over to a bench seat, you gesture to the space beside you. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were up to going into town. The cinema is showing this new cheesy horror flick and I thought you might be interested in going before my time here is up."
"Oh. Uh, yeah." Your heart starts to hammer in your rib cage. Could this be a- "Just us or are Enid and Wednesday waiting for us out front?"
"Just us?" His answer is more of a question, his cheeks tinting pink the longer you stare.
Eventually you grace him with a bashful smile. "Sure. I'd like that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You laugh. "Are- are we leaving now?"
"Yeah. We can, uh, window shop and all that fun stuff before the movie."
Warmth surges through you, at the thought that Xavier wants to spend time with just you. You're not sure if this is actually a date, but you're looking forward to one on one time without a family member lurking around the corner. "Alright. Let me just go get a bag." As you stand up to leave the room, a vine falls over the entrance. But not just any vine- a vibrant green vine that hadn't been there moments before.
"Huh." Xavier huffs. "That's the first colorful plant life I've seen in this room."
Your eyes widen and you glance all around the room, taking notice how the dead plant life isn't looking quite so dull anymore. "No way," you breathe in awe. Turning towards where the fountain sits, you rush over and pick up one of the dead water lilies. Cradling it in the palms of your hand, you notice a couple of changes in the once dead flower. Feeling Xavier walk up beside you, you ask, "Remember how I said I used to be able to breathe life into this place?"
"Yeah."
"Watch." Bringing the water lily closer to your face, you let your eyes fall shut as you inhale deeply. Then slightly pursing your lips, you blow out slowly and you can feel the water lily coming back to life right there in the palm of your hands.
"Wow." Your eyes open upon Xavier's exclamation. "And here I was thinking you had a green thumb or something. Not that you actually breathe life into them."
Huffing a laugh, you blink your tears away and gently lay the water lily back in the fountain. "I haven't been able to do this for years. I guess I had a mental block and then you- you and Enid show up and I feel more at peace than I have in a while." You step up on the side of the fountain then, turning towards Xavier as you smile. "Thank you." Then leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek.
He suddenly turns bashful, angling his face downward so his hair shields his blushing cheeks. "I never realized how small you were."
"Shut up. You're just freakishly tall."
As Xavier glances at you through his curtain of hair, you wrinkle your nose at him and then hop off the fountain siding less you do something to ruin the moment.
Like kiss him on the lips rather than the cheek.
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Spending the day with Xavier alone goes so much better than you had expected, so much so that you find yourself incredibly sad the day he is set to leave. It was clear to your entire family that something had shifted between the two of you when you'd come back home, hand in hand with a never-ending blush staining both your cheeks.
Enid was more than ecstatic and Wednesday took to sharpening her short swords whenever possible.
You're in the sunroom, clipping roses with your mother when Xavier walks in. In hand, he has a covered canvas.
"I have something for you," he tells you. "But I'm sure your mom is going to take ownership of it after she sees what it is."
You smirk at him, setting down your clippers and walking over to him. Your mother isn't far behind. "Did you paint me something?"
"I did." His hands dig into his pockets after his hands are free when you take the gift from him. You stare at the covered canvas, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. "You inspired me the other night and I just had to capture the moment."
You glance up at him, eyes narrowing though you continue to smile, and pull the cover off your painting. Your mother's delighted gasp is what makes you glance down and you're struck speechless.
The painting… is of you.
Specifically you dancing in the gazebo with the only color in the painting being that of your tutu.
"Xavier, this is…" You trail off, staring in awe. A moment passes and he brings the painting to life. Your mother starts to clap, even more delighted now as the miniature version of you dances away. "This is amazing. Thank you."
"I must show your father. This is just splendid." Your mother takes the painting, but not before gently grazing her nails along Xavier's jaw and smiling at him. "Thank you, young Mr. Thorpe."
"Y-You're welcome, Mrs. Addams."
Your mother sighs wistfully before glancing at the painting and then leaves the two of you alone. As soon as she's out of your sight, your hands are reaching for the lapels of Xavier's coat, his hands are clinging to your waist, and he's leaning down to meet you in a kiss.
You giggle when his hair falls forward to tickle your face and it makes Xavier smile.
"We really should have started this sooner," he says as he hesitantly straightens himself out. "I'm gonna miss you while I'm at Nevermore."
"What if… what if you didn't have to miss me?" You ask, your hands smoothing down the wrinkles you'd made on his coat.
"What?"
"What if I came to Nevermore?" He's quiet a little too long for your liking and you start to feel like maybe you read too much into whatever you two were. "Or not. I just thought-"
"Are you kidding me?" You barely manage to hold back a wince and Xavier's sudden laugh has you wanting to crawl into a hole. But when you chance a glance up at him, his expression is not what you were expecting. He's actually excited! "You're going to Nevermore?!"
You shrug, grinning sheepishly. "Mom's been talking to Principal Weems. I have a meeting with her in a couple of days to see whether or not I'll be a good fit."
"Hell yes." His smile is boyish and you can't help but giggle. "You'll make it in. I know it."
"I hope so. I love my parents, but they're not the greatest of teachers."
"You're gonna love it. I can introduce you to my friends and show you all the cool hang out spots. We can-"
"Xavier. Xavier!" You laugh, trying to talk over his excitement. "We don't even know if I'll get in."
"I'm telling you, you will. And if Principal Weems denies you, I'm pretty sure Wednesday will bug her until she grants you a place at the school."
"Oh. I forgot what going to school with a sibling was like." This time, you do wince. "People are going to dread another Addams roaming the halls, aren't they?"
"Some will." He grins. "But once they get to know you, they'll grow to like you."
You sigh but end up shaking your head in amusement. "If I do get in, how shocked do you think everyone will be if Wednesday's sister shows up dressed like Enid?"
"You'll confuse the hell out of everyone. Do it."
"I will. Now come on. We got away with one kiss. I have a feeling if another happens, a dagger will whiz by out of thin air."
"Xavier." The boy in question flinches as your sister pops up out of nowhere. "Your ride's here. Stop sucking my sister's face and go home. You'll see her soon enough."
He rolls his eyes, even as you laugh in the face of your sister's glare. "Always a pleasant encounter, Wednesday."
"Not really."
He huffs and glances back down at you, his gaze falling to your lips. But before he can get carried away, Wednesday's grunting and dragging him away. "Okay. Okay!" He laughs.
"You're gross. I never should have introduced you two."
You follow after them, trailing behind until you're standing under the archway of your front door. Wednesday pushes him down the steps and he walks to the car that Lurch is putting his suitcases in. He offers you one last look, one last smile, and one last wave before climbing into the vehicle his father had sent for him.
Once the car drives out of the gate, Wednesday turns towards you. "Are you happy?"
"Uh, yes?"
She quietly groans. "And here I was preparing Enid to hide a body in the family cemetery. She'll be let down that all that studying was for naught."
You bark out a laugh. "Stop corrupting Enid, Wednesday."
"Never." Her lips twitch in amusement. "Now come on. Let's go visit Principal Weems."
"But my interview is still a couple days away."
"So? She needs to be kept on her toes. She'll have to grow used to having two Addams' in her school."
"If you say so."
"I do."
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moose-muffin · 2 months
Note
im new here (hiya from the hazbin tag lol) but if you do character + character requests than please PLEASE gimmie a lee!vox with ler!alastor 🙏🙏🙏hear me out... the two are fighting and al (sHocKINglY) wins out, and vox expects to like.. be beaten into the ground as a result, but nope!! he gets tickled!!! to tears!!!! smthn smthn he wasnt smilin and, yk, youre never fully dressed w/o a smile!!!
/nf to do tho ty for reading!!! <3<3
OMG OMG HELLO WELCOME I HOPE YOURE DOING GOOD YIPPEE
SO FUN FACT I WAS VERY LIKE NEUTRAL TO RADIOSTATIC BUT TONIGHT HAS BEEN (HAHAH GET IT) AN ADVENTURE AND THIS ROAD HAS BEEN SUCH A BLAST <3 THOSE TWO FUCKERS ARE SO INSTIGATIVE ITS CRAZY.
I KNOWWWW THIS AS A FIC WOULD GO C R A Z Y!!!!! IDK IF ANYONE HERE WRITE FOR VOX AND ALASTOR AND PERHAPS DOES COMMISSIONS BUT I WILL PAY!!!! PLEASE HIT ME UP OR ILL PROBABLY GO TAKE A PEAK FOR MYSELF TMR <3 AS LONG AS THATS OK ANON. (I WILL ABSOLUTELY LET IT BE POSTED AS LONG AS THE AUTHOR IS OK WITH IT WHICH USUALLY THEY ARE!!!!) IM GONNA TAKE SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES AS I TYPICALLY DO HEADCANONS!
IM NOT USUALLY A CHARACTER + CHARACTER GIRLY SO BEAR WITH ME BUT I WILL DO MY VERY BEST!!!! HOPEFULLY I CAN DO THIS JUSTICE! IT WILL BE RANDOM HCS THAT ARE UNRELATED TOO. MY BRAIN IS A MESSY PLACE HWBSHWDBD
OK SO LIKE I KINDA MENTIONED, THEY BOTH LOOOOVE TO JUST GET UNDER PEOPLES SKIN. LOVE IT!!! ESPECIALLY ALASTOR. HES SUCH AN ASS (affectionate)
I’D EVEN SAY HE’S KIND OF AN INSTIGATIVE LER???? BRO IS DOING EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO GET TO TICKLE VOX LIKEEE IDK IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE BUT I KNOW ITS TRUE. HE WILL CASUALLY WIGGLE HIS FINGERS IN CONVERSATION, TWEAK HIS RIBS FROM BEHIND, LITTLE THINGS LIKE THAT. WELL THEYRE NOT LITTLE. ESPECIALLY NOT TO VOX WHO IS SO FLUSTERED BY IT… ITS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING
BUT! VOX HAS STARTED TO FIGURE IT OUT. AS HE IS ALSO ONE WHO LOVEEES TO GET UNDER SKIN, HE DECIDES HE’LL DO EVERYTHING TO TRIGGER A LER MOOD IN ALASTOR. IF HE CAN TELL HE ALREADY HAS ONE, HE FINDS WAYS TO SUBTLY (WE ALL KNOW HE ISNT SUBTLE THOUGH) LEAVE A SPOT UNPROTECTED. BUT ALASTOR DOESNT WANT TO GIVE HIM THE SATISFACTION!!! HE TRIES SO HARD TO NOT GIVE IN TO VOX BC HE “WANTED TO BE THE ONE IN CONTROL” AND NOW HE ISNT AND HES #PISSED
ALSO VOX ABSOLUTELY IS HORRIFIED OF VULNERABILITY. YET HE IS ABLE TO MOVE PAST IT WITH ALASTOR HERE. SOMEHOW HE ISNT AS WORRIED ANYMORE. MAYBE HE KNOWS ALASTOR WILL REACT. HE LOVES THAT SO VERY MUCH.
AS FOR THE SPECIFIC PROMPT, OH THAT IS SO REAL!!!! ABSOLUTELY YES!!!
I DONT WRITE GOOD ROMANCE BUT LIKE UGH IMAGINE IT NOW. Alastor definitely just got himself to the V’s tower and was planning on fucking with Vox only to see he had already been kinda pissed off. Alastor wouldn’t be as satisfied if he knew he didn’t cause the frustration. He realized he could just stir the pot again. Problem solved, and what better way to solve it than using his weakness against him.. being tickled.
I’m being a little silly but genuinely Vox is so ticklish. Like most ticklish person in hell would go to him if it were an official title. That’s what I’m thinking. That being said, Alastor also knows how quickly he could get him to crumble… but wouldn’t it be more fun to take it slow.
Vox notices his presence almost immediately. He tried to ignore it as he feels his face get warm. He can’t fuck this up. He takes a deep breath and turns around. “Why hello, Alastor! What brings you to our building this evening?” He said in a semi newcaster voice. He wasn’t ready to drop the act
“Well Vox, I came here for a reason of my own but then I walked by your office and you looked so sad!” He began to walk closer to Vox. “You know, t they say you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”
Vox let out a laugh that was quite clearly untruthful. “Yes Alastor I am aware! I was alone in here and so I figured I’d just save up some energy. I’m sure you understand.”
“Quite frankly I don’t,” Alastor paused, “I think maybe I could help you get that smile back.”
Vox didn’t even have to think. He knew Alastor meant he was going to tickle him. You could ask Velvette. She’s seen those two in tickle fights that lasted for DAYS. she knows what they’re capable of, or more so what Alastor is capable of.
Vox puts up a fight for maybe a couple seconds but he just loves tickles more than he can play pretend that he doesn’t <3
It works out well for them both, Alastor gets to fuck around with Vox and well, Vox gets his shit rocked!!! And he loves that more than a lot of things.
OK IM GONNA CUT IT OFF HERE BUT PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COME BACK!!!! IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HEAR WHAT PEOPLE ARE THINKING!! MAYBE ID DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN OR LIKE ADD ONTO THIS!!! BUT I AM JUST ALL OVER THE PLACE CURRENTLY HEHE. I HOPE THESE ARE ENJOYABLE!!! (LOWKEY I WANNA ADD MORE TO THISSSS MAYBE TMR MAYBE TMR WE’LL SEE)
apologies if anything is ooc, i just do this for funsies <3
THANK YOU FOR THIS ASKK
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idyllic-affections · 1 year
Text
invisible disability? it's rather visible to me.
summary. baizhu knows the struggle of maintaining a job while being chronically ill; as such, he is willing to offer an accommodating work environment for others who struggle like he does.
trigger & content warnings. angst (at first... it gets better i swear /lh), ableism, etc.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. baizhu & chronically ill!teen!reader, qiqi & reader. 1.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader.
author's thoughts. he's out of nonplayable prison ygs!!!!! can't wait to see his character stories for..... personal reasons..... anyways i want to specify that i am chronically ill. i am constantly fighting with my genetics to be healthy, its ridiculous LMAO
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imagine baizhu employing a chronically ill, visionless teenager.
baizhu can easily say he's known their family for a long time, so he of course knows that they have trouble keeping a job. they often mention little things like that about their life during their visits with him. never once has he found anything wrong with them; they're always in virtually perfect health.
that doesn't change the fact that they're very clearly struggling. he's observed just how much they overexert themselves in a desperate attempt to actually keep a stable job, simply to help support their family, but all the exertion only seems to make their invisible issues worse.
also... they've been in his care for heat stroke more than once in liyue's warmer seasons. the heat is just far too much for their body to handle if they aren't careful.
"What the hell is wrong with me?"
Their voice was so quiet and whispery that if Baizhu hadn't been attuned closely to them at that moment, he might have missed it. They half wished that he would have. Based on the brief glance he spared in their direction, they knew he was listening. Oh well.
"I mean... really. This is ridiculous," they murmured, knees drawn up against their chest. "Everyone thinks I'm just dramatic. I'm not. I do fine for the most part, but then it just... gets bad for no reason at all... how am I in perfect health?"
By that point in their rant, his undivided attention was on them. Though his gaze was thoughtful, musing, they interpreted it differently and winced slightly.
"...Sorry. I really shouldn't be complaining like this in front of someone who's chronically ill."
"No, it's quite alright. You shouldn't minimize your pain. Your struggles are as valid as mine. I find your trust, your ability to confide in me, quite endearing, even," he reassured, unbothered, to which their shoulders seemed to lose some of the tension they harbored. "In fact... I've been thinking about this for quite some time now. Chronic illness may show itself in a variety of forms. Sometimes it may show itself in the form of your symptoms. Would you like to learn how to manage your energy better?"
the liyuean doctor basically hired them right then and there, but they don't really realize that for the first few weeks.
in the beginning, they're just... spending time at bubu pharmacy, learning how baizhu manages his own limited energy and applying those techniques to their own life (it works shockingly well). that's all!
it slowly turns into them helping out where they can—packaging herbs, learning what exactly each one of them does, delivering prescriptions to those who cannot physically get the medicines themselves... even when people start to question if they've found a new job, they remain oblivious.
it's one day while helping mince herbs that they realize they're basically a junior herbalist.
A soft hiss left their lips when the knife nicked the pad of their finger. They were quick to put pressure on the little cut, pulling their hand away from the countertop to prevent any blood from dripping onto it.
"It's best to get rid of those herbs," Baizhu reminded, stepping away from his own work to gently bandage their wound.
A small pout graced their lips. "I didn't get any blood on them, though..."
Amusement and the vaguest hint of fondness twinkled in his gaze. "We don't know that for certain, do we, now?"
"...Wait a minute." Their eyes narrowed suspicously at him, drawing their freshly-dressed hand back once he was done. "This isn't about energy management anymore, is it? Have I been... I've been working here this entire time. These tasks are very employee-like."
"Come, now. Don't look at me like that. You were looking for a stable job, and I am more than willing to accomodate your needs."
"You could've at least said something to me. I've been doing free labor all this time, and as a child, no less! Hmm... now, I do believe that is illegal in this part of Teyvat~ It'd be shame to get Ms. Yanfei involved~"
in the spirit teaching them to manage their energy, he often takes them on house calls with him, starting off to just homes in liyue harbor and later to homes all the way in qingce village. it's a good way for them to gain stamina and get a better understanding of their job.
baizhu has a tendency to smile through his own pain for the sake of his patients.
this habit slipped by unchecked until [name] came around.
whenever they feel like he isn't doing very well, they'll take over for him regardless of what he has to say about it.
herbalist gui is very thankful for them—baizhu hardly ever listened to him, but he does take better care of himself for [name]'s sake.
(he swears that baizhu is oddly parental when it comes to them, but he wouldn't dare mention the doctor's blatant affections to his face.)
"welcome to bubu pharmacy," they'd greet with a kind smile after unceremoniously shoving baizhu towards the back of the pharmacy where he could rest undisturbed, "unfortunately, dr. baizhu is currently out of commission, but herbalist gui and i would be glad to take care of anything you may need."
sometimes changsheng can be seen wrapped around their arm! usually it's their dominant arm, which is terribly inconveniencing. still, it would be an honor to be Chosen™ by their loved one's pet... if only she wasn't so mean to them.
"Hmph. You're terrible at cutting herbs. It pains me just to watch."
"Okay? Go back to Dr. Baizhu then? I'm not holding you hostage, Changsheng. You came to me," they huffed. "Also... maybe I'd be able to cut better if you weren't strangling my dominant arm. Just saying."
It's a few moments later that they're sulking, murmuring curses as Baizhu disinfected their fresh snake bite. Changsheng completely neglected to apologize until Baizhu had prompted her to.
(They would complain that he found that incident a little too funny if anyone were to ask them. It really hurt, you know!)
changsheng bullies them lovingly <3 she bites them affectionately <33
(not that she'd ever say that, though. baizhu knows. he just chooses to let her believe he doesn't know.)
qiqi becomes very attached to them very quickly, i think. she'd like having a nice older sibling around and would address them as such without even thinking about it. "jiějiě," "gēgē"... she can't really tell what gender they identify closer with and doesn't remember to ask, so she tends to bounce between the two terms of address.
she has an entire page in her journal dedicated to little things about [name] that she deems to be important. she notes down things they seem to like, things they seem to dislike, their birthday, other important dates, defining features...
she also keeps important warning signs related to health episodes of their's jotted down, like how when [name] stands still a little too long, qiqi should urge them to sit for a moment because they're probably either dizzy or having vision issues, or how when their hands begin to tremble, qiqi should share a sunsettia with them.
she does miss these signs sometimes... she does her best, though! qiqi only wants to help the sweet junior herbalist that braids her hair and accompanies her on her herb-picking trips and hugs her and says "i love you, please stop this task, you might get hurt" with so much genuine affection that it often overwhelms her :(
it's rare, but sometimes, there will be a customer or patient that has little tolerance for their disability-induced weakness or slowness.
because their illness(es) is(/are) invisible, very few people take their struggles seriously.
some people take this as an excuse to verbally and even physically abuse them.
baizhu does not take kindly to people abusing his employees, especially not his chronically ill teenage employee. especially not them.
"Is there an issue I can help with?"
They didn't mind being the only one at reception during the days Herbalist Gui was out, Qiqi was herb-picking, and Baizhu was otherwise occupied. It wasn't a big deal, really.
At least... not until someone particularly impatient decided to make their job difficult.
Baizhu never took kindly to such incidents; this one was no different. Based on his tone of voice alone, it wasn't hard to guess that he was livid, golden irises alight with rage. Even Changsheng had hissed in their defense at the sight in front of her eyes.
He'd come back just in time to see them flinch away from the raised hand of some foreign adventurer.
"This one—"
"And who said I was asking you?" he scoffed, sliding behind the counter and checking them for wounds. They were shaking, he noted, gingerly supporting a fraction of their weight in case they were to collapse. "I was asking my herbalist, [Name]."
Baizhu was a man of patience and, really...
He wasn't all that confrontational. Despite that, any semblance of the supposed cowardice he harbored was gone in an instant.
His scarred fingers drew soothing shapes on their upper arm as he led them into the back of the clinic, guiding them to sit on one of the beds before their legs could give out.
"Are you alright?"
baizhu takes very good care of them after stressful encounters because he knows very well that such high-stress emotional experiences will take a toll on their body.
whenever a wealthier patient comes in, they've learned to overcharge them on purpose even if it's for the most ridiculous of ailments; oh? you say you have been sneezing quite a lot and are having a hard time breathing? no, no, it's not springtime allergies, who told you that? it's quite dire, in fact, and the treatment price will be awfully expensive... oh? you'll pay it? wonderful!
^ herbalist gui says that baizhu is a terrible influence on them sometimes.
in their defense, they get hefty bonuses every time wealthy people pay ridiculous prices for typically rather inexpensive herbs (like a certain ginger harbinger did one time! they still giggle at the memory of him paying so much for so little). the more wealthy people pay, the bigger their bonuses (fatui harbingers are very wealthy...).
simply put, they make more mora than the majority of their family put together because of this morally dubious behavior.
baizhu, gui, qiqi, and [name] are a chaotic found family but yk what? they all make it work <3
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!
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valewright67 · 11 months
Text
HELLO, ITS BEEN A LONG ACCIDENTAL HIATUS, BUT I RETURN TO YOU WITH A NEW MELIZABETH HEADCANON
I have just realized that my boyfriend can tell apart the Itty bitty differences between my blinks, and what they means.
"I'm processing, give me a second."
"What the fuck are you on about?"
"Keep talking, I'm listening."
"The fuck are they on about?"
"Woah, no shit?"
"Fuck, that's awful."
"I'm losing my patience, stfu."
He can TELL now. And it is honestly probably the most romantic thing I find about him right now, that he pays enough attention to know them all.
Now with that stated, I'd like to give a headcanon.
When Meliodas first joins STIGMA, he's not exactly expressive or conversational beyond the bare minimum to convey information.
But Elizabeth can read him like a book. Which means that she'll translate for him in conversations, glancing at him, and then conveying his opinion
"He thinks that's fucking adorable"
"He knows what you're feeling, and he's sorry."
"Meliodas believes that's a terrible strategy."
He learns to be more expressive as time goes on, but sometimes when he's upset or stressed, he still goes blank to the average eye.
Her ability to read him carries on into her reincarnations. Meliodas is caught off guard by this at first, and takes very careful measures to conceal his inner thoughts, sometimes suppressing them altogether, so she doesn't catch that little twitch of his brows and figure out some little thing she's done caused him grief. (Usually, a little habit of hers that carries over as well, like that tendency to nibble her lip when she's thinking that goes back to the very first.)
It triggered her memories once. Never again.
But the sins are having a conversation, and Princess Elizabeth glances out of the corner of her eye at Meliodas, and frowns. Trying to be as polite as possible, she requests that King "please stop using your daggers as darts so close to the taverns main door, as it's making Sir Meliodas a bit anxious." And he stills, giving her a startled look, then glancing at his captain who - shockingly - gains a slight flush of pink to the tops of his cheeks. He clears his throat. "I'm just concerned someone might walk in at the wrong time is all. Wouldn't want you scaring away my customers!" He brushes off with a joke.
It becomes a habit, Elizabeth glancing at their Captain and - completely unaware of the fact she's telling the sins his carefully concealed thoughts - makes his opinions knowledge to the team.
They eventually get over their startled reactions, brushing it off as human royalty being trained to read their court and nobles or... something, and just start to look to her to translate him when he's being stubbornly silent. The only one who can read him half as well when he's like that is Merlin, who they all know has a lengthy past with him, though not what that past is.
The one time she'd been asked if she knew how Elizabeth could do that - maybe she had a dormant empathy or telepathy magic? - she just got this secret little smile, put a finger against her lips, and teleportated away.
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thehighladywrites · 3 months
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your response to that anon was shockingly harsh when they said it was triggering for them. They’re incorrect but the way you respond…. Idk I’ve seen blogs like yours and it seems all you care about is gaining followers/notes. Feel like you sent the messages yourself for attention idk
I understand it might seem harsh, i sympathize and apologize that the person went through something horrible but i also want to highlight that this is the internet where people can block, scroll, remove and restrict, i’m not responsible for knowing everyones triggers. And i’m certainly not here to coddle anyone. It’s a personal responsibility to go to a blog, where I have a whole post about the things I write and who I write for. There are so many different ways to avoid things that are triggering, and i’m not blaming the person for feeling triggered. I’m saying don’t read it at all if you know it’s a triggering post. If they already know I write for Eris, why not block me the first time? Why come back and scroll through my page again?
Here’s a tip: you can go into your settings, click on restricted and then type in anything eris related, then you never have to worry about seeing anything eris related again
Do you know how far you have to scroll down my page to reach Eris x reader fics? And this is my blog I can write whatever I want, it’s really not that deep. Also what the fuck??? I’m writing because I love to write not because i wanna gain followers or notes. I’ve been writing and making little drabbles even before i had a blog so let’s not assume things. And do you you know you much of a loser you gotta be in order to make a whole new account, search yourself up and send hate? You might be projecting anon bc it has never crossed my mind 🤷🏽‍♀️
My inbox is literally full now and it really pisses me off just block me instead of wasting time and sending in an ask.
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poguesarerogues · 2 years
Text
When his girlfriend asks them to impregnate them
Rafe (Description)
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Pairing: Rafe Cameron X female reader
Word Count: 675
🔞Warnings: (nsfw) mentions of Smut🔞Please don’t read if you are a minor
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Rafe definitely has a breeding kink if nothing else. He loves having skin on skin action, he knows his way around your body, he knows what triggers you and how to push you past your limit. HE KNOWS. Not that it’s needed, but the consent from his girlfriend will ensure that they both spend hours in the bedroom, maybe even elsewhere. Rafe has got a high drive and goes hard. He makes sure that you know just how much he can fill you up and dirty the sheets. Not only does he like being inside you but seeing the results drives him to want to do it more- harder, faster, longer with each round. He’ll growl in your ears because he knows how much it turns you on. Not only does Rafe have a breeding kink but he’ll enjoy degrading you as well. Degrading you for being so slutty but following that with praise for coming to him will be a definite experience that his girlfriend will face.
Rafe is a man who likes to try new things, so he’ll make sure to try different positions, some new, other’s being the one’s that he knows drives you crazy. Even more than usual, he wants to hear you moaning and screaming but, shockingly, he’ll make the screams come more from pleasure than pain. Rafe may be so pleased with his girlfriends’ approach that he’ll offer to let them choose what position they end up in most and what pace they be going at, even going so far as to ask them what you usually hate when getting it on and going out of his way to ensure that you don’t deal with that this time. Don’t expect that often though because Rafe is definitely a dominate person, even in the bedroom… giving his girlfriend some leeway in making decisions about what is said or done will only be reserved for times when he is feeling particularly charitable or when his girlfriend has done something that shocks or pleases him enough to let his desire for control to lessen just a slight little bit. Rafe is a man of rewards when you have been particularly good and going to him and begging to be impregnated is definitely a good way to earn one.
When he begins fucking you, Rafe will still be a bit rough, that’s just in his nature, but he’ll give you those special gentle touches that leave your nerves twinging in pleasure and get your blood flowing quickly. If you ask nicely, he’ll consider eating you out, he’ll let you know just how much he enjoys making you come with only his tongue. Once he’s through with that, he’ll leave hickeys on your neck before leading his tongue down your body, teasing you with the possibility of eating you out again as he gets lower, but the only way he’ll do it again is if you squirm enough to force him to pin you to the bed with his hands on your hips, digging in to leave marks on your skin.
Rather than having you pinned under him the entire time, Rafe will give you a chance to ride him this time, seeing if you’ve gained enough courage to not only ask him to impregnate you but to do some of the work required for it yourself. The more his girlfriend pleases him by following his orders and the harder you work to keep him turned on the more of a chance he’ll give you to earn dessert after the ordeal is done. What dessert, you may ask? Well, that all depends on what his girlfriend considers dessert to be.
“Come here slut. You want me to stuff you and fill you with my seed? No need to try backing out of it now if you were joking because it won’t work. Hearing you scream my name tonight is going to be such a pleasure. Trust me, there won’t be a snowballs’ chance in hell that you’re not pregnant by the time we’re through.”
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another-clive-blog · 4 months
Note
au where clive runs for prime minister just to try one-upping b*ll h*wks
Anon, I want you to know this may be my favorite ask so far. The AU itself is amazing, but the censoring Bill Hawks' name ? Priceless. I feel like Socrates himself has come to enlighten me with incomparable wiseness-
Alright so sketches and writing under the cut ! =) No trigger warnings for this one. I had fun, I'd love to do more about this AU whenever I get the time !!
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When you didn't think things through 😔 Which leads us to the fanfic-
"Professor, look !!"
Hershel Layton put down his cup of tea, anticipating the moment his apprentice would shove his newspaper in his face. With a patient smile, he took the paper in his hands and let Luke point out what piece of news had caused such excitement.
"'Clive Dove as the new prime minister' ?" Layton read out loud.
The article was front page and there was more about it in the following pages : it only made sense, with the agitation this news had caused. Bill Hawks had been prime minister before, and was the favorite candidate for this next mandate : him losing was quite surprising- quite surprising indeed.
"He doesn't look too happy," Luke said, tiptoeing to see over the professor's arm.
Layton looked at the picture in the middle of the page. On it, a shockingly young man was visibly upset, turned away from the journalists : he seemed to be yelling at someone on the side, cut off from the photo. "That is one way to put it." Layton hummed, his eyes staring at the young man a moment longer, before going to read the actual article.
"I'd be happy, I think, if I had just won the elections," Luke mused out loud. He couldn't even imagine it happening, actually : running for Prime Minister was so much work on its own !! Always giving speeches, moving around, discussing boring things- oh, and it must cost so much money too !! It must be so difficult just being a candidate.
Yeah, he'd probably be happy if he won after all that. This Dove guy was just weird.
"Say, Professor, don't you think he looks like me ? Maybe this is a sign I'll be Prime Minister some day !"
The professor didn't answer, focused solely on the paper in his hands.
-_-_-_-
"I am not doing it," Clive Dove said firmly. "I am not running this country. I quit."
John, his new personal assistant, a guy here just to listen to his every word and give him the attention Bill Hawks was desperate to get, protested loudly. "No offence Sir, but you have been prime minister for 47 minutes. The people want you as head of the country and you therefore deserve this post, especially after all the hard work and money you invested to get it."
"I don't care about the money or the people," Clive snapped. "I don't actually want this stupid job."
John was quiet for a moment, and Clive hated how unsurprised he looked. He didn't even seem disappointed or concerned, simply... irritated. It made sense for a government official : they only ever cared about things going smoothly, not making any disruptions, following the protocol.
Too bad, because Clive only cared about making their lives as difficult as they had made his.
"Well," John finally sighed, "you can always resign if you really wish to."
"Great." The faster he got out of this agonizing office, the better it would be. Clive took his coat in one hand, pushing the chair back with the other. He had no time to waste, because he was supposed to give his first speech as the new Prime Minister in about fifteen minutes.
He therefore only had fifteen minutes to leave this pathetic building and get as far away from this despicable life as possible.
Clive had his hand on the door handle when John spoke up again. "If you go through with your resignation, you'll need to sign the official declaration first."
Clive let out an exasperated sigh. Why were there declarations for everything ? Would he need a declaration to slam the door on his way out ?! "I'm leaving, what more is there to say ?!"
John was still facing the office, rearranging the files Clive had left behind : he seemed oddly calm for someone who'd have to announce both the nomination and resignation of the new prime minister. "Plenty, actually. But the more important part, the one we should focus on, is naming your successor."
Clive scoffed. "Why do I have a say in this ?"
"You don't," John simply answered. "But you'll have to confirm your official resignation, therefore leaving this post to the next best candidate. I believe Bill Hawks was the people's second choice."
Clive froze. That scum would actually get the job ? After everything he had done to keep him from it ?
Clive didn't want to rule the country- he had only run for the job to keep Bill Hawks from getting it. And he had succeeded ! But quitting now would give Hawks both the job and the pride to come out on top.
He couldn't do that. He didn't want to run the country, wasn't fit for it. He had no idea how to do it and he didn't want to learn. He hated this government, never cared about its people.
John was still rearranging the papers on the office, a peaceful smile on his face. He knew he had won, because winning was all that these miserable people cared about.
Well, Clive wouldn't let any of them win- not as long as he was head of this country. "Come on," he said, putting his coat on. "I have a speech to give."
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chosetherose · 4 months
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FULL ARTICLE:
WHEN TRAVIS KELCE was a young man, his college football coach pulled him aside one day and told him the secret of life: Everybody you meet in this world is either a fountain or a drain.
“I need fountains,” the coach growled at Kelce. “I don’t need f—ing drains. Travis, you’re f—ing draaaining me!”
The advice left a deep impression. (“Changed his life,” says one of Kelce’s closest friends.) Yes, Kelce thought—you’re either a giver of the basic wellsprings of life or a thirsty taker. He vowed to be the former. In a world of gutters, be a geyser. 
You think about that story as Kelce drives you around his beloved Kansas City, home of his world-champion Chiefs, for whom he’s the star tight end and arguably the second-most popular player, after his best friend, quarterback Patrick Mahomes. You think about that story on a gorgeous autumn afternoon as Kelce gives you a personal tour of his decadelong history in this city, his singular journey from clueless rook to legend. (“I used to take this scenic route [to the stadium]—there’s just something about seeing the city you’re about to go represent….”)
You can’t help thinking about that fountain story, not only because Kelce’s custom-made Rolls-Royce looks like a font of glowing light, not only because its silver goddess hood ornament is a burbling spigot of mercury. You think about that story because, as Kelce stops at a red light, as shirtless guys begin shambling toward the Rolls, apparently intent on opening the doors, getting an autograph, maybe even catching a ride, Kelce doesn’t seem the least bit alarmed. He’s smiling, waving, honking, even chuckling at a fan who leaps off the curb and “hits the stanky leg,” a dance Kelce has been known to bust out after a touchdown. At one point Kelce rolls down the window and exchanges hellos with some guy heedlessly reversing his rig into oncoming traffic, just so he can pull alongside Kelce and give a thumbs-up.
A different sort of celebrity might be more guarded, might even chirp those big Rolls tires and speed away before someone throws their body across the luminous silver bonnet, but Kelce’s default emotion is this—exuberant extroversion. He likes people. Loves people. Never mind deciding not to be a drain. If people gush at him, he can’t help it, he gushes back. 
Noting all this, you think how fame itself might be a kind of fountain. Some people moan about getting wet, others frolic like kids around a hydrant. You even wonder if this fountain-drain paradigm might be the skeleton key to Kelce, the Rosetta Stone for which half of America seems to be hunting right now. 
Kelce was famous for several years, thanks to his Hall of Fame résumé, his symbiotic relationship with Mahomes, but that was just football famous. This year, after winning the Super Bowl, after hosting Saturday Night Live, after starring in all the commercials, Kelce became inescapable. And that was before—you know. 
People have begun to ask in all earnestness why they can’t turn on their TV anymore without seeing Kelce’s sculpted mug. They wonder, not with snark, but in all sincerity: Who the frick is this guy? And where did he come from? 
You have a TV. You wonder too. So you decide to join the search for answers. One weekend, in the thick of football season, you get on a plane to Kansas City.
BUT FIRST. Back up. Like that knucklehead who threw it into reverse, go back. Before you can take the Travis Michael Kelce Guided Tour, you need to watch him cry. 
Kelce is a hard man to tackle, but he’s shockingly easy to trigger. You just have to mention his best friends, the tight-knit crew who hang at his house and tag along on his golf outings, who manage his money and curate his diet and fill his private suite at Arrowhead Stadium. Suddenly, his cornflower-blue eyes, which normally twinkle, start to glisten. Now come the tears. Big sloppy ones. Talk about your fountains. 
Kelce tries to play it off. He launches a sentence, stops. He launches another, again aborts. He paws his eyes with his giant hands and looks to be on the verge of losing it, because if Kelce loves people, what he really loves is his people. 
This whole display takes place on a Monday afternoon at a Kansas City steakhouse, where you and Kelce are having an early dinner. Like, retirement-community early. He’s in recovery mode, healing from dozens of violent collisions sustained during the previous day’s win over division rival Los Angeles, and food is medicine. He can intuit when he’s hit the caloric sweet spot necessary to mend or maintain his 6-foot-5, 260-pound frame (roughly 4,000), and he’s not there yet. So he orders the dry-aged filet rubbed with coffee, Caesar salad (hold the anchovies), a side of “triple-cooked” fries and a glass of water. 
After a long pause, and several Lamaze breaths, Kelce collects himself, apologizes. Can’t help it, he says; those folks who always have his back, who call him by the ancient secret nicknames (Big Yeti, El Travedor, Killatrav, Michael, etc.)—they’re everything. He doesn’t think of them as his entourage; he thinks of them as family, an extension of “Mama Kelce” and “Poppa Kelce” and older brother Jason, the starting center for the Philadelphia Eagles. 
Patrick Bacon, a friend since first grade, says Kelce’s go-to method of winding down after a hard game or long day is to sit with this “core group” around his kitchen island and chop it up. Talk, that’s what nourishes Kelce, not videogames, not bottle service at some club. 
“He loves to talk about the old days,” Bacon says. But it has to be with people from the old days. People who know that Kelce will sometimes dismiss a bad or subpar thing as “buns.” People who know that one of Kelce’s favorite desserts is French toast dripping with whipped cream and syrup. People who know that, growing up, he played every sport in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and also know the difference between Cleveland Heights and Cleveland proper. You want to break into the Kelce core group? You better have a phone number that starts with 216. 
And yet, you wonder how well his friends really know him, how well he lets anyone know him, because to a person they all say Trav lives in the moment, Trav never thinks about tomorrow, Trav never worries about retirement, despite recently turning 34, making him a Gollum in the NFL, whereas Kelce confesses that he thinks about it nonstop, “more than anyone could ever imagine.” In the same spirit, perhaps, he keeps his own counsel about his round-the-clock physical anguish. “That’s the only thing I’ve never really been open about,” he says, “the discomfort. The pain. The lingering injuries—the 10 surgeries I’ve had that I still feel every single surgery to this day.” 
Kansas City’s longtime tight ends coach, Tom Melvin, says Kelce undersells the pain because the alternative is not playing, and the man will not miss games. “He has phenomenal pain tolerance. He’s played through things that other athletes I’ve coached through the years have not been able to push through. Mentally tough—way off the charts.” 
Kelce’s trainer and physical therapist, Alex Skacel, says there’s not a single day, in season, when Kelce stretches out on the training table and doesn’t have some gruesome bruise. What few realize, however, is the insane number of scratches. Guys claw each other out there, Skacel says; it can leave Kelce’s epidermis striated with crimson. To bounce back after such abuse requires more than basic therapy. Kelce and Skacel use a battery of esoteric treatments, from cupping to dry needling to occlusion therapy: essentially tying off a limb with a tourniquet while Kelce works out. Kelce also adheres to a pregame regimen of anti-inflammatories, which he doesn’t like to discuss because they “have a history of affecting people’s insides.” 
Despite it all, Kelce sounds like a man who’s never loved football more. Skacel recalls being with Kelce in Paris for Fashion Week. Around midnight, after 12 hours of bouncing from one designer show to another, Kelce was feeling guilty that he hadn’t done enough that day for his body. He suggested a run. Soon, a quick jog along the Seine turned into a mini-marathon, then wind sprints across empty bridges. While Paris slept, Kelce and Skacel grinded. It was cinematic, both men say, a double pump of adrenaline, like something out of Rocky. More, it was a reaffirmation of what matters most. 
IF KELCE BROODS on life without football, one reason is that he had an excruciating sneak preview. A redshirt sophomore at Cincinnati, he got booted off the team for smoking pot. In a blink, he lost everything—his purpose, his meaning. “It was like my life was over.” 
He also lost his scholarship. He had to get a job. The best one he could find was at a telemarketing firm, doing healthcare surveys. “Eye-opening,” he says, bowing his head.
Cold-calling people in southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, eastern Indiana, asking what they thought of Obamacare, taught him a lot. (“Uh, sir, I ran out of the comment box, I can’t write anymore, we gotta kind of keep this moving.”) Above all it taught him that he didn’t want to ever do that again. 
He probably won’t have to. He’s got options. Sometimes he sees himself in a broadcasting booth. Sometimes his manager talks about action flicks. (Maybe a Marvel movie? Kelce’s already built like Wolverine.) You also get the sense that Kelce toys with notions of doing some form of comedy. He haunts clubs, lives for open-mic nights, and he’s gotten to be friendly with several rising stand-ups.
At the moment, of course, the only thing millions of people want to know about Kelce’s future is whether or not it will include Taylor Swift. And the second thing they’re dying to know is how he and she got together in the first place. 
More study has been dedicated to the opening salvos of their relationship than to the first seconds of the Big Bang, and thus far both origins remain a mystery. People have even speculated that Kelce somehow spoke his desire into the universe and just—manifested Swift? 
Did he sit in a dark room and say Jumanji three times? He laughs. “I don’t know if I want to get into all of it,” he says, and then he gets into it, because fountain. 
It all started when he tried to meet Swift at her Arrowhead concert in July and got blocked, presumably by security. He then recounted the experience in a charming way on the podcast he does with Jason. Soon after, he says, he received an unbidden assist from inside Team Swift. 
“There were definitely people she knew that knew who I was, in her corner [who said]: Yo! Did you know he was coming? I had somebody playing Cupid.” He wasn’t aware at the time, however; the revelation only came later, after he looked down at his phone and got the shock of a lifetime. “She told me exactly what was going on and how I got lucky enough to get her to reach out.”
He lets slip that some of his early helpers were part of the Swift family tree. “She’ll probably hate me for saying this, but…when she came to Arrowhead, they gave her the big locker room as a dressing room, and her little cousins were taking pictures…in front of my locker.” 
Understandably, he’s not handing out details about the first date, though he will say that he managed to not be nervous. “When I met her in New York, we had already kind of been talking, so I knew we could have a nice dinner and, like, a conversation, and what goes from there will go from there.” 
If anyone was nervous, he adds, it was his core group. “Everybody around me telling me: Don’t f— this up! And me sitting here saying: Yeah—got it.”
As those first heady days unfolded, as news bulletins and cutaways showed Swift cheering Kelce on from his suite, Kelce was uncharacteristically guarded with the media. “That was the biggest thing to me: make sure I don’t say anything that would push Taylor away.” 
Likewise, his mother. Donna Kelce still berates herself for how she handled a question about Taylor on the Today show. Trying not to sound too enthusiastic, she came off underwhelmed. Kelce, not wanting his mom to feel bad, immediately phoned her and assured her that she did a super job—adding that her green eyeglasses looked great.
These days, however, with the relationship progressing, Donna feels more at liberty. “I can tell you this,” she says, beaming. “He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time…. God bless him, he shot for the stars!”
Kelce seems freer, too. He doesn’t need to be asked about Taylor; he mentions her unreservedly, lavishes praise on her, calls her “hilarious,” “a genius,” notes that they share compatible worldviews, especially when it comes to family and work. “Everybody knows I’m a family guy,” he says. “Her team is her family. Her family does a lot of stuff in terms of the tour, the marketing, being around, so I think she has a lot of those values as well, which is right up my alley.”
One of Kelce’s friends describes a sweet, magical moment, a late-night gathering around Kelce’s firepit. Kelce and Swift looked like two “peas in a pod,” the friend says, and at one point they even burst into a memorable duet of—“Teenage Dirtbag”?
This must be fake 
My lips start to shake 
How does she know who I am?
LONG BEFORE MEETING SWIFT, Kelce was just another Swiftie. In some ways he still is. He explains the concept of her concert—“She does it in eras”—as if you live in a yurt in Outer Mongolia. Then he eagerly informs you that the night he attended, he was counting the minutes until she got to 1989. (Both he and Swift were born in 1989.) “ ‘Blank Space’ was one I wanted to hear live for sure. I could make a bad guy good for the weekend. That’s a helluva line!”
More often than not, he says, it was a Swiftian beat, a melody that captivated him. (“She writes catchy jingles.”) But lately he’s all about those lyrics; he’s scrutinized the breakup stuff. What a miracle, he says, the way Swift can turn life into poetry. “I’ve never been a man of words. Being around her, seeing how smart Taylor is, has been f—ing mind-blowing. I’m learning every day.”
Something he might need to learn from Swift: how to handle the attention. Kelce lives in a quiet neighborhood north of downtown—leafy trees, trim lawns, no gates. There’s now a clutch of desperate-looking dudes with cameras stationed on his sidewalk 24/7. He’s followed everywhere, drones buzzing overhead—it’s stressful, more than he lets on, according to one confidante.
“Obviously I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of aura about them…. I’ve never dealt with it,” Kelce says. “But at the same time, I’m not running away from any of it…. The scrutiny she gets, how much she has a magnifying glass on her, every single day, paparazzi outside her house, outside every restaurant she goes to, after every flight she gets off, and she’s just living, enjoying life. When she acts like that I better not be the one acting all strange.”
Asked if he has anything to teach Swift, he looks shy. He can’t think of anything offhand. 
Football? 
Sure, he says, sounding unsure. 
Of course, the thing she probably wants to learn about most is him. While talking to Kelce you realize all at once that the most avid participant in the national scavenger hunt for clues about his character is likely Swift herself. To that end, Donna says that anyone wishing to understand her younger son would do well to start with her older. Travis “could never quite catch up” to Jason, she says. “He was always just second, just searching to be the best, and never quite getting there.” (The only way in which the two brothers were full equals was appetite. As boys, Donna says, “they would sit down and eat whole chickens.”) 
Others say the key to Travis is simpler than that. He’s basically still the kid who filled his Dad’s shampoo bottle with hand cream. “He just lives his life with so much joy,” Jason says. “He’s always kind of surrounding himself with people who are funny, who have a zest for life; it’s one of the things that defines him.”
Jason recalls many nights in the Kelce family room, the two brothers and mom eating in front of some comedy. “We had one of those coffee tables that the top would lift up and meet you at your face if you were eating,” he says, guffawing.
Maybe that’s why Kelce still watches and rewatches those same movies and shows? All his sacred entities got fused into one dollop of sensory memory—food, family, laughter.
Indeed, Kelce has warned Swift that she’s going to have to reckon with this part of his personality. Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Will Ferrell—they will all be a part of the relationship. “I told Taylor that I have that world, I’ve got to introduce it to her. I let her know: This is my jam right here.” (Kelce does an uncanny imitation of Farley’s dorky baritone, and the ringtone on his phone is Farley primal screaming: For the love of GOD!) 
If the past is any prelude, this will register like an 8.0 earthquake among Swifties. Their queen—screening Tommy Boy? Every new factoid, every new piece of the puzzle, gets eagerly cataloged, investigated, celebrated, especially on “SwiftTok,” a fervent virtual community, according to Brian Donovan, a professor at the University of Kansas who teaches a seminar called The Sociology of Taylor Swift. 
Donovan says several of his class discussions this semester have been given over to No. 87. Swifties make no apology for delving into her relationships, just as Shakespeare scholars like to contemplate the subject of the sonnets. But the deep “vetting” of Kelce, Donovan adds, goes well beyond fans. “I think there’s a public fascination, because it seems like a pure unalloyed moment of joy in the wider context of global wars, deepening political polarization, dysfunction in Congress, an ongoing health crisis. There’s a lot of bad news out there, and this is a common story that everybody knows about and can talk about. I don’t think we’ve had that in American culture for a long time.”
NOW GET IN THE CAR. Now you’re ready for the Rolls. Or are you? Gawking at the ceiling, you ask, Are those stars? 
Yes, Kelce says. 
You stare in disbelief. Embedded in a leather firmament are scores, no, hundreds—many hundreds—of twinkling lights, a fiber-optic galaxy meant to resemble the larger galaxy in which we’re all floating. For the sake of verisimilitude, the Rolls even produces a shooting star now and then. There was one, just a second ago, Kelce says. “Make a wish. Dreams come true.” 
He guns the engine and steers toward downtown. The Rolls doesn’t drive so much as waft you around Kansas City. The ride is so cush, it almost makes sense, for a moment or two, that the car is worth more than many of the buildings you pass. (A Rolls Ghost, before customizing, goes for nearly half a million dollars.) All of which makes it that much more startling, as you come to the heart of downtown, when Kelce points out his first-ever apartment and shows you the alley door where he’d sneak in and out when he was late on the rent. 
What? 
It was his rookie season, he says, and the paychecks rolled in every week. But he didn’t understand that paychecks stop when the season does. So he didn’t budget. “I don’t want to say I was broke….” But he was. “There might have been one or two days I avoided the landlord.”
He’s not ducking landlords these days. Still, he’s grossly underpaid. His $14 million salary, though near the top among tight ends, is half what the league’s star receivers make, and Kelce often functions as a receiver. 
Nothing to be done, he says flatly. The Chiefs know, he says, that he would play for free. They know he loves his city, his quarterback. “Unfortunately, in this business, things gotta get ugly, they gotta get unpleasant [if you want more money], and I’m a pleasant son of a buck.”
Thank goodness for endorsements. At this point, says his co-manager Aaron Eanes, “the NFL is just his side hustle.” 
Eanes and his brother, Andre, handle much of Kelce’s business life, from investments to marketing, and it was they who widened his investment portfolio, putting him into a tequila company, an energy drink and a chain of car washes. They also steered him into lucrative endorsements, like Bud Light and the Covid vaccine, for which he caught much grief from Aaron Rodgers. The Jets quarterback, out since game one of the season with a torn Achilles, belittled Kelce as a Pfizer shill during one of his Tuesday appearances on The Pat McAfee Show. 
Kelce took the high road then. He’s staying on it now. “Aaron’s always been cool to me,” he says. “I knew he was trying to have some fun. He’s in a situation where Tuesdays are his game days…. So I get it, man, I’ve been injured too…. Who knows what the guy is going through?”
Kelce double-parks the Rolls outside a building that’s brightly lit, unusual in this neighborhood. That’s Operation Breakthrough, he says, voice swelling with emotion. Founded in 1971, the charitable organization provides safe spaces and cutting-edge educational resources for the city’s poorest children. Kelce enjoys coming here to visit, and sometimes invites the children to his suite on Sundays. And three years ago, when Operation Breakthrough wanted to expand, he bought them the muffler shop next door. 
Mary Esselman, Operation Breakthrough’s CEO, says that whenever Kelce visits, he doesn’t bring media and he doesn’t leave until the last kid has felt seen and appreciated. Not long ago, she adds, Kelce sponsored a football camp. Afterward, Esselman asked the children to name the highlight of the experience. 
One told her: “He remembered my name.” 
Kelce drives you past a jazz club he likes, a coffee place he used to frequent. Just recently, he concedes, he could go to a Starbucks in Manhattan without anyone looking twice. Those days seem over. Minutes later, he’s steering past a small airport, where Swift’s plane is often prominently parked these days.
Is it there now, gleaming in the moonlight? The Kelce eras tour is coming to a close. Left unsaid, but palpable: She’s at the house, waiting. 
The Rolls pulls off the highway, up the hill to your hotel. You thank him for taking so much time, for answering all your questions. As you step out of the Rolls, you turn, ask him one more. 
You ask him if you’re going crazy, or did he really say that thing when you first got in the car? Did he really point to a shooting star in the ceiling of his Rolls-Royce and say, “Make a wish. Dreams come true”? 
He cracks up. 
He did. He said it. 
He’s not running from it. 
What’s more, it might just be true. 
“How do you think I manifest it all?”
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inbabylontheywept · 8 months
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The Mormon Heretic Casts a Curse
So, this is a sequel piece to The Mormon Heretic and the Leviathan. @apolloendymion requested that I write some more of the stories, and this is another one. I'm going to put a trigger warning here that the story does involve partner abuse. Not from the heretic, but just... as a detail. Also, I guess, some medical stuff that involves death. It's Old Testament shit. Take it as you will.
Mormon seminary has four separate courses about the four separate parts of their canon. It’s on a constant rotation, and my particular ordering was Old Testament, then New Testament, then Book of Mormon, then Doctrine and Covenants. 
I got the Mormon Heretic for my OT year, which is 100% the best year I could have possibly got him for. And, also, absolutely the worst, because at that time I was a very orthodox Mormon, and this guy couldn’t have fucked with my brain worse if JFK’s dad gave him an icepick and a waiver. 
At that time I had an abysmal understanding of the OT, and to call my experience with it jarring would be an understatement. I learned that Elohim is a plural word. I learned that OT God itself doesn’t deny the existence of other Gods, and in fact relished challenging them to contests. The whole experience was so insane to me that I stayed after class one day to ask the teacher how he managed to bridge the divide between the OT and the NT. They're insanely different theologies, and he really refused to mince words about it.
He listened to my concerns, and I cried a little because I was fourteen and beginning to realize that there was something fundamentally wrong with the religion I was born into, and when it was all said and done he said that tomorrow he would teach the story of how he squared away the differences between OT God and NT God. 
And he did. 
I can remember having a sense that something was strange when we arrived at the building. There was a crosswalk where the exiting teenagers would pass the entering teenagers, and normally people would discuss the lesson as they passed. The group we passed just looked shell shocked. 
I sat down. The class arrived. Heretic stood up, and went to the front of the class, and he began his tale: 
He had a little sister that got married at nineteen. She then started making visits to the hospital. 
He, like his family, assumed that she was just clumsy. He was clumsy. He’d had multiple surgeries on his shoulders and his elbows and his knees because he kept doing dumb things to himself.
She was not clumsy. Her husband was beating her. 
She got a divorce. Heretic was old when the story was being told - I think in his early sixties? - and the divorce went shockingly well for the time. Sister was not blamed, husband was ostracized from both families, and life found a way to continue in its slow way. 
Heretic was, at that point, a new teacher in the Church Education System (CES). He was trying to be a spiritual guy, and teach spiritual lessons, but he just wasn’t doing a very good job because he was really, really, murderously angry with the guy that had hurt his sister. 
Sister had moved on. Or, he thought she had, he was hardly telepathic, but he felt like she’d let go and started her life anew, and her parents had supported her, and even her in laws had supported her, and things should have been easy to let go of, but they weren’t. And every day that he tried to let go, he got more and more angry, and every day he tried to pretend he was fine he ripped the wound wider, and one day he taught a spectacularly bad lesson and came home and wanted nothing more than to kill the man that had beat his sister. He instead said a prayer. I cannot quote it verbatim, but this is very, very close to what was said. “God, I know that I must forgive to be forgiven, but I want nothing more than to see that animal choke to death on his own shit.”(I know for a fact that the choke on shit part was in it. It is not a common thing to hear a seminary teacher say “shit” in the middle of class. It is also integral to the rest of the story) If this was a book, there would’ve been an immediate result, but instead Heretic felt a strange peace, grabbed ahold of it like a lifeline, and resolved to go to therapy. Which is how he got into Jungian analysis. Finding therapy in the deep South in 1980 was pretty wild. Jump cut forward to the early 2000s. Heretic has moved on. Sister is remarried. He is at peace with the world, but he gets a call from his sisters old in-laws. 
And the in-laws say that yes, they have ostracized the abuser for the last twenty years, but they got a call from him a few hours ago to please, meet him at the hospital, because he was sick. 
And the abuser was, in fact, very sick. He’d been vomiting for days. The doctors couldn’t figure out why, but they knew that at the present rate, they were running out of time. He was going to have some kind of exploratory surgery as a hail Mary, and the guy wanted a blessing first. 
And so the family had gone to Heretic, to ask him if he would be willing to bless the man that had beat his sister. It is one thing, to feel like you have forgiven someone enough to move on, and another to wish good things upon them. But Heretic had spent years and years in therapy, and he developed on an incredibly spiritual path, and he said that yes, he would bless the man before the surgery. 
And he did. 
The surgery found that the man had a benign mass in his colon. It wasn’t spreading, but it had grown large enough to prevent food from going around it. Without an exit, things had built up back to the entrance. The man was throwing up because there was nowhere else for the shit to go. Worse, during the surgery he thrown up and some of the mix had managed to drain back into the man’s lungs. He survived the knife, but the combination of fecal matter and acid inside his lungs had created an infection that he failed to survive. He drowned in his own fluids. 
He drowned in his own shit. 
Now, at that point, the class had no idea where this was going. We were a bunch of children, hearing a story about this insane divine retribution, but the Heretic continued. 
And with tears in his eyes, he told us that God had answered his original prayer only after he had fully and truly forgiven that man. That if he’d wished death on another human being in anger, in rage, and then received it, it would have damned his soul, but that as soon as he was at peace, as soon as he could wish life and love upon the man that had wronged his kin, justice could be brought down. And be believed it, with his entire heart. He spoke about how God wants to give us what we want, but that he loves us so much that we will not give it to us until we have reached the point where it is not poison to us. We will have our revenge, but only when it is meaningless to us. When the only lesson that could be grabbed from it is that God heard us the first time, and held back out of love. Then, we will see those who had wronged us choke on their shit.  
The bell rang after that, and we left the class in a daze. When we went across the crosswalk, no one spoke a word to the students crossing the opposite way. We were all too busy thinking. 
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hypnofur1 · 1 year
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Hallmark Holiday Hypno
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By Hypnofur
PAUL
This all happened because my wife likes the cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies. I’ve always teased her about it. She is the most sophisticated woman I know. Always at the height of fashion and class. She has an ivy league education, yet she watches this low budget, sappy silliness. It was a harmless guilty pleasure, but one I liked to tease her about.
This year, I decided to take her away to one of those overly Christmasy towns they have in the movies she loves. I figured it would be nice little get away from the stress of the holiday planning. We had the means, but shockingly, we also had a free spot in our busy calender. The location I found was in upstate New York. It was even called Holiday Hollow. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been called Crapsburg or something before all these movies became a thing. Either way, it was smart as hell for them to take advantage of this Hallmark Movie craze.
The trip was all set up, and it was going to be perfect. However, much to my dismay, a last minute work problem required my attention in Manhattan for a few hours each day during our get away. Danielle understood of course. She is a professional as well, so she understands how these things go.
We drove up in the evening. A light snow was falling, and it looked absolutely magical amongst the thousands, actually likely millions, of sparkling white lights that were on every part of the town. There were Christmas trees everywhere, but lights also adorned every light post, railing, awning… it felt as if just about every surface in the town had been touched by the warm electric glow of the holiday. It was really a breath taking entrance, even I had to admit that.
Unfortunately, I had to drive out of the town early the next morning, to take care of business in Manhattan. When I got back to Holiday Hollow a little after 3:00, I found Danielle sitting in the conversation with a group of other people. As I got closer I noticed a salt and pepper haired guy about my age was talking to her. It almost looked like he was trying to whisper into her ear. That triggered a surge of jealousy and alarm. Danielle is a very beautiful woman, and I am always concerned about the attention she gets. I’m about ten years older than her, so I’ll admit, there are likely some insecurities there.
My wife jumped up when she saw me. "Hello Darling," she said, her French accent a bit thicker, as it often was around new people..
"How are you?." Turning to the group she said "This is my husband, Paul." She kissed me on the cheek as I got in and they all said hello. She introduced me to the two couples in the group. Then she turned to the guy who had been chatting her up and said "Niles, this is my husband. Paul, this is Niles."
"Nice to meet you," he said. "I've enjoyed talking to your wife. She's very charming."
"Yes, I know. And beautiful!" I added as I firmly shook his hand. I instantly didn’t like him.
"Yes, gorgeous," he said. "You're a lucky man."
One of the women in the group asked me about what was leading me back to the city during a vacation. We conversed for a bit until the conversation died off. I was then able to steal Danielle back.
I didn’t waste time in expressing my concern over the Niles guy.
“Please, it’s nothing” she said with an eye roll.
"Uh huh. But when I came out here the two of you seemed totally involved with each other, and kind of separate from the rest of the group. He was leaning down to talk to you, almost like he was whispering something to you.
"Come on now! Don’t be ridiculous. He works here. He is a performer." She told me.
"Really, what kind of performer?" I asked.
"Well, he is a hypnotist. That’s what he does for work. He is doing a show here at the resort."
I thought all the breath had been sucked out of my body at once.
DANIELLE
About three years ago, I found my husband’s pornograpy collection. It is every wife’s dream and nightmare. He apparently had a secret kink for hypnotism and mind control. Hypnotist, vampires, evil mind controlling comic book villains. Really silly stuff if I am being honest. I knew from some stories he had, and some chat room logs that I saw that he even fantasized about me being hypnotized.
I find that crazy, because I am pretty sure he would freak out if something like that actually happened. He is such a control freak, and a naturally jealous guy.
Since that day that I found a way into his computer, I have continued to use that snooping ability unbeknownst to him. I watch not only what he does with hypno porn, but also every other thing he looks at. I am much more savvy with computers than he, though his male ego would never let him admit that.
He knew that I loved the Hallmark Holiday movies. You can’t blame me, I am French, we also love Jerry Lewis. There is just something so magical and pure about those movies… so American. (Yes, I know they are largely Canadian). Anyway, I saw him trying to look up towns that resembled those towns to take me for a get away. Despite his flaws, he is truly very sweet and loving.
Using my secret “in” to his computer, I put some suggestions for places at the top of his search. And yes, I found one that had a hypnotist performing. It was Christmas time, and all good boys deserve a gift, do they not?
So, I had this all planned out. No, I wasn’t going to go on stage and be hypnotized for real. First of all, that is rubbish. Second of all, I am well known in New York, and I can’t have that footage popping up on Social Media. But, I figured, just being around it all would make for a romantic holiday for my hypno fetishist husband.
That evening, we were sitting in the picturesque town square looking at the beautiful, albeit over the top Christmas decorations. We had just finished dinner, and were enjoying some hot cocoa in the warm twinkle of the lights on the porch of the restaurant. The comfy love seat we were in had fur blankets so couples could sit and enjoy the Holiday view. I knew romance would be ahead of us as I caressed my husband’s upper thigh beneath the warm fur blanket with my left hand. Suddenly, Niles walked up to us and said hello.
"Hey, I don't want to interrupt anything," he said. "But are you working in the city again tomorrow, Paul?"
"Afraid so," my husband said. "Fortune 500 Board of Directors rarely get the rest the need." He added, making sure Niles knew he was important.
"That's kind of what I thought, so I was wondering if you would mind if I asked Danielle for her help tomorrow with some charity work the hotel is doing. She mentioned earlier that she spends most of her time on philanthropic efforts. .It’s an area I’m not as familiar with. Most of my hypnotism gigs are paid engagements, strict contracts, riders, etc."
As Niles explained all this, I could feel my husband's dick swelling next to my hand on his upper thigh. The thought of me with a hypnotist was certainly affecting him.
Paul kind of stuttered, "Well, um... ha, I don't know That's really up to Danielle. She can decide what she wants to do. It's not really up to me. But if that's what she wants, it's fine ... I guess it's okay with me."
"Oh, I don't know," I said. "I really have planned on doing a lot of reading. I'm just not sure if I should...."
Niles cut me off. "Danielle, we are trying to organize an event where we will raise money for the Holiday Hollow Senior Center. We are having trouble getting off the ground. I’ve offered to perform a hypno show and give the proceeds to them, but that is really all we have so far."
"Maybe, but...."
"Honey, you should go," my husband cut in. "It sounds like fun, and they could really use your expertise"
By now I could feel my husband's dick was almost erect, straining beneath his pants. He was clearly aroused by even the nearness of hypnosis. Thank goodness for the blanket covering him!
"No, I don't think so," I said. "I would have to think about it. Maybe I can get back to you."
"All right, at least that's not a No," Niles said. "Give me your cell number and I will call your phone so you have my number."
I gave him my number and promised I would get back to him.
"Okay you guys, have a good night, I can't wait for your answer," he said as he turned and walked away.
"Oh my God!" my husband said. "Talk about bold! Audacious! That guy has a lot of balls, with me here to ask you for a date! He clearly wants more than help with a charity. He wants to fuck you!"
"First, I am actually very skilled in terms of putting on fund raisers!" I said, reminding him not to downplay my value.  "And let's talk about you getting an erection every time hypnosis is mentioned. This turns you on, doesn't it?” I said. I knew I needed to let the cat out of the bag a little bit.
He was shocked when I said this. He stared at me for a moment, likely racking his brain to see if he could find a way out of this admission. Finally, I could see in his eyes that he decided to come clean.
"I know it's crazy, embarrassing! Fuck, it's humiliating! But something about it, and arouses me. It has since high school.” He admitted, maybe for the first time ever out loud.
I could see the shame and vulnerability in his eyes as he told me. I smiled warmly and gave him a loving, gentle kiss on the lips. “Shhhh. It’s ok. Nothing to be ashamed of” I reassured with a whisper in his ear.
Then, I moved to change the subject a bit. “By the way, it is as if we are truly in a Hallmark movie now. I mean, can you help with the Holiday Hollow Senior Center fund raiser, can it get any more Hallmark than that?” I said with a laugh as we got up to make our way back to the inn where we were staying.
Paul laughed too. “No, I guess not”
We approached the theater where Niles was performing. The marquee read read Holiday Hollow Hypno Show, to support the Holiday Hollow Senior center. Starring Master Niles. It was all so hokey. I saw Paul looking at the sign. He was such a.. how do you say… ‘sucker for this stuff’? It was crazy, but cute. I decided to play with it a bit more.
“Actually, can you take a picture of me in front of this? We will look at this and laugh some day” I suggested as I stood in front of this wood circle type sign with a hypno spiral on it. I could see from Paul’s pants that he liked taking the picture though. I didn’t do a sexy pose or anything. That just isn’t me. I just stood there and smiled pleasantly. That seemed to be enough to turn him on like crazy though. It was almost like a secret boudoir shot, that only he saw the eroticism in. Every wife should be so lucky as to take sexy pictures for their husband without a sexy pose or sexy clothes!
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We got back to the room, and I freshened up. When I came out (this time legitimately in my sexy clothes - my green satin teddy), he was clearly looking at the pictures of me in front of the spiral sign thing.
Seeing my opportunity, I really capitalized on this. “So, what is it that you like about hypnosis? The idea of a pretty young thing completely under the control of the hypnotist? Is that what you thought about? Have you ever thought of me being hypnotized?” I asked. As all of this talk was happening, we were kissing. He passionately kissed and licked and nibbled his way down my body. Then spreading me open, he ate my pussy like a man possessed. I was moaning and pulling at the sheets, pulling his face into my sex, then exploding in a violent orgasm. Suddenly, he was inside me, hammering me with his hard dick. God I love his dick! And soon he erupted, flooding me with his love juice.
We talked. We rested, had more sex and then fell asleep. In the middle of the night we were at it again. We discussed whether I should go on this charity planning session, or as Paul says, "date", with Niles.
Finally, around 7 am, I reluctantly sent Niles a text saying I would be willing to help him get the fund raiser together.
He immediately shot back with a text about how happy he was, and where to meet him that morning. As Paul left for the city, I could see he was having very mixed feelings about this. Time constraints ushered him out the door, though I wondered how he would possibly be able to concentrate on whatever meeting was calling away his attention.
When I got to the Senior Center, which was sort of the headquarters for the fundraiser, there were about five other people around. I’ll admit, I was glad to see that. Despite the fact that I had downplayed it with Paul, I could tell this guy Niles had a crush on me. It happens a lot. At the risk of being conceited, I am very attractive. Also, my accent drives American men crazy. I have had no lack of suitors, let’s leave it at that. But, I love my husband, and would never stray.
Niles was the perfect gentleman that morning though. He showed me where they were with plans. We talked strategy and ideas. The whole team was blown away with what I considered to be fairly rudimentary party planning fund raising concepts. The NYC philanthropy scene is the major leagues, so to speak. It was easy to knock their socks off in Holiday Hollow.
About three hours later, we were having a coffee break. There were now only two other people outside of Niles and I, and they were off in a different part of the space. Niles and I were having a pleasant, platonic conversation. He said he was surprised my husband didn't object to me coming along with him. I mentioned (not in full detail of course), that Paul had always been a fan of hypnosis.
Niles raised an eyebrow, and then started asking me questions about that. From his line of questioning, I could tell that he was figuring out that Paul was a hypno fetishist. I was trying to change the subject, when he just straight came out and asked me.
"Argh. This is so embarrassing!” I said with my face in my hands. That was basically an admission. “I don’t get it, but he gets really turned on talking about it."
"Well, he is not alone many, many men are really into it. It is a whole thing. Trust me. But why do you say you don’t get it?” Niles asked.
I felt a little trapped. How could I get out of this without embarrassing him. I certainly couldn’t tell him that it was all rubbish, which it is. He could see I was stumbling a little bit.
“You don’t believe in hypnosis” he said with a warm smile.
“It’s not that I just –“ I fumbled.
“Don’t worry” he interrupted graciously. “I hear that all the time. I never blame a sceptic! I know it all seems weird. See, the thing that people don’t understand is hypnosis is driven by imagination, creativity. You can likely understand that, you just gave us a master class in philanthropic creativity.” He said. I smiled at his compliment.
He continued, “Yeah, it speaks to the power of imagination, the power of that creativity. The mind’s ability to create its own reality, to relive a vivid memory, to visualize the immediate future, and to create beautiful things from nothing.  Imagination is one of the most powerful tools that we have at our disposal, and it's thanks to it that we can create and experience new things.     
Hypnosis uses that imagination, that power, to accomplish things that our regular consciousness can't.  In the same way that an engrossing story in book, film, or television can completely capture you, move you to laughter and tears over the fate of a fictional cast, hypnosis can use your imagination to do amazing things.      
When most people think of their imagination though, they focus first on the visual sense.  A picture inside your head.  Next comes sound.  A song that gets stuck in your head.  A familiar voice.  Next is smell and taste together: powerful, vivid senses that can can instantly invoke long forgotten memories or gnaw at you with cravings for a favorite meal.” He told me. He was so smooth, he had clearly explained this before, I could tell he knew this speech like the back of his hand. He must have read it off the internet or something,but the way he was expressing it, it was as if it were his own thesis.     
“Last of all is your sense of touch.  That's because, most of the time, your mind doesn't really focus on this sense.  It's always there, in the background.  You can become aware of it, immediately identify the feel and texture of everything in contact with your skin, but most people don't give it much thought or imagination at all.      
That makes it fertile ground for us.  Because, you see, the sense of touch is the sense of your body, the way it feels.  When you are excited you feel it in your chest, in your heartbeat and the butterflies of your stomach and the sweat of your hands.  When you are drowsy, you can feel it in the weight of your eyes, the swaying of your head, and the heaviness of your whole body.  There isn't a sense that could be better suited for hypnosis.  All we need now is your imagination.      
So, let's put that imagination to use. We will use symbols.  Symbols are like shortcuts for the mind.  You get a distinct mental image with plenty of associations and memories when you see a logo, a flag, or religious icon, even if the symbol itself is as simple as a few lines.  The images come to you whether you focus on the symbol or not, taking a shortcut through your mind to make you remember and visualize.  That is the beginning of their power.      
You’ve seen my sign, and I know your husband took a beautiful picture of you in front of it” Niles said. I was so caught up in listening to him, that it caught me off guard. I went to say something, but he kept speaking. “So, you know that I am partial to the spiral.  A single black graphic on a white background, curving in towards itself in a lazy circle, spinning, always moving towards the center.  When you think of the spiral, images spring forth without any conscious thought to retrieving them.  You think of how the spiral spins, even if it is laying still like in my sign.  You think of staring into one yourself, remembering those times you might have done so.      
You think of the way the spiral appears in the media, instantly drawing whoever looks at it into a deep trance. It were images like this that no doubt captivated Paul when he was young. He must have liked the fantasies and stories where a simple spiral was enough to erode the character's will. You think of the spiral as you go into a deep, heavy trance.      
The image of the spiral is powerful, universal, which is why I used it in my promotional pieces.  But it is an image.  A picture in your mind.  Let's make it into something else.      
I want you to try something for me, Danielle.  I want you to let me take your left index finger, then slowly trace an invisible spiral on your forehead.” He said to me as he gently took my left hand. His hands were warm. I knew it was unusual that he was touching my hand, but he was just so smooth, it was like he was in a rhythm. It was hard to stop that rhythm.
“Just let me use your finger to trace the spiral on your forehead and then focus on that spot, on the feel of your skin. Even after you finish and remove your finger, your skin is sensitive enough that you can still feel where your fingers touched, where the spiral was drawn.  And in your mind, you can picture a spiral there, on your forehead.  In your imagination, you can see that invisible but dark black spiral spin, and you can imagine it going to work, slowly draining your will.      
Focus on that image, that feeling.  Let the spiral sharpen, come into focus.  Moving, so that one ring becomes two, two becomes three, and so on, as the spiral goes deeper and deeper, never stopping. Just looking at it is enough to hold you still, but this spiral is a part of you, in direct contact with you, and you can feel its power over you.      
It relaxes you.  Makes your body start to feel heavy.  With every breath, you can feel the spiral's power sinking deep inside of you, spreading to your limbs.  Slightly numbing you, and making you feel good, better with every breath.      
And your eyes.  The more power the spiral has, the more you listen to my words.  Not just hearing them, but feeling them, each phrase and word, and every time the influence of my words grows stronger and stronger.  You can feel my words sinking into your mind in the same way that the spiral is sinking into your body.      
Your mind is growing relaxed, unfocused on everything except my words.  Letting my words draw you down, deeper and deeper, towards a trance.  A trance where your whole body will be completely relaxed.  Where you will have a feeling of lazy anticipation, eagerly soaking up words and then effortlessly obeying.      
And when you obey Danielle, it will feel so very good.  Like sunlight on your skin.      
Think about that now.  Soaking in the sunlight.  Letting it sink into your skin on a perfect day.  It feels so good, you don't want to move.  You can't resist staying in the light just a little longer.  And the longer you stay, the better it feels, the less you think of even stopping.      
And everything else just fades away.  In the same way that the sun makes the light of the moon and stars fade from the sky, my words make your resistance, any distractions, slowly sink into the background, washed out and powerless.      
That's right, sinking down deeper now.  Your body has begun feeling so pleasantly warm.  My words so enthralling.  Just a little further now.  Let the spiral take you a little further.  Let the warm light take you a little deeper.      
And on the count of ten, you will be ready.  Ready to listen.  Ready to obey Danielle.        
One      
Two      
You know that you're ready.  Eager to obey.      
Three      
Four      
Sinking deeper and deeper, my words always make you sink deeper.   Five      
Six      
And it feels so good, being so deep for me.      
Seven      
Eight      
Just letting yourself relax with another deep breath      
Nine      
And ten.      
Good Danielle, I now want your conscious mind to turn off…”
PAUL
When I got back from Manhattan, Danielle was not yet back in the room. That surprised me a bit, especially as the meeting had taken longer than I envisioned. Was she still with Niles? I started to get nervous, and jealous.
I called her cell, nothing. I decided to walk down to the Senior Center, where she had said she was going. Inside, I could see it was just her and Niles. Both were going over some papers or something. Nothing looked amiss, which was good. They greeted me warmly. Danielle asked how the meetings went, etc. She was acting normal. I relaxed a bit.
“How did things go here?” I asked. “Is the Senior Center going to be saved?” I asked. To be honest, I couldn’t remember if the fund raiser was to save it or just help it. Not that I even cared too much.
“It will, thanks to Danielle. She is amazing!” Niles beamed. Yup. There we go. This dude was totally into her. I didn��t like this.
“Master Niles is the amazing one!” she quickly retorted with a million watt smile. Wait, Master Niles?
“Well, we make a great team. I think the Holiday Hollow Senior Center will have the best Christmas ever!” he said, as if directly out of those cheesy movies. I was stuck on the Master Niles part though. I could tell that he could see that. He had a shit eating grin on his face.
“Alright Darling, you must be famished”, Danielle said as she went to grab her coat. Ok, looks like we were leaving, a good thing no doubt. She put her fur coat on and flipped her long blonde hair over it.
I glanced at Niles, he still had a smug look on his face as he went to the Christmas tree next to him and grabbed a candy cane off the branch. I could tell something was up as he unwrapped the plastic coating. He looked at me, but spoke to my wife as he sat down on the chair next to him and rested the candy cane on his upper thigh. “Danielle, come lick this candy cane. You will love it. Don’t stop until I tell you to.” He said calmly and firmly.
Much to my shock, my wife, my sophisticated, ivy league educated, executive wife instantly replied with “Yes Master Niles” as she knelt down next to this stranger and started going to town on the candy cane which was down by this guys crotch. I was absolutely stunned.       
“Danielle, what the fuck?” I exclaimed. She paused momentarily, but didn’t stop. I couldn’t believe it.
“Good Danielle. This pleases me. Now, Paul, as you may have guessed, I did indeed hypnotize Danielle today. Incredibly deeply as a matter of fact.” The asshole told me, as my wife went to town on the candy cane protruding from his lap. “I know all about your hypnosis fetish, and don’t worry – I’ve hooked you up. Now I am going to ask you to transfer $100,000 to my account. When you have done that, I can bring your life somewhat back to normal… at least depending on which suggestions you want me to keep in place.” He said calmly.
“Bull fucking shit!” I told him. No way I was about to be blackmailed, or exploited, or whatever the fuck this was.
“Danielle, kiss me” he said. My wife, my loving wife, my faithful partner, slowly stroked her hands up his chest and mounted him in the chair as she slowly and passionately started making out with him. Her hands went up to the back of his head and played with his hair. It was incredibly sensual. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. I grabbed her and pulled her off of him.
She didn’t struggle, but as soon as I let go a little bit, she started going back to him. What the fuck? He saw this and laughed. Now enraged, I grabbed a lamp off the table. I was going to beat him to death with it. He saw this too.
“Ok, ok. Danielle, go with Paul. Tell him what happened. I will be in contact with you later. Paul, I’m confident I’ll be hearing from you soon.” he laughed.
I could tell this wasn’t going to be easy. I really had no idea what I was going to do. I guess I was glad that Danielle wasn’t actively fighting me on the way out. I don’t know how I would have handled that. Instead, I was able to get her to the car. I raced back to the hotel, and brought her upstairs to our room. My mind raced, I had to think protection. I had to keep him away from her. Clearly, I needed to leave Holiday Hollow.
Danielle was just sitting on the edge of the bed. Completely content, just staring out the window. It was so fucking weird, she wasn’t looking at her phone or anything. I started packing up our things. I heard the ding her phone makes when she get a text. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket, and looked at. She immediately rose from the bed, not saying a word to me or acknowledging me. She grabbed her satin green teddy from the suitcase and went into the bathroom.
Shit! He’s controlling her from her phone! As she was slipping n the teddy, I went to her coat where she had put her phone back in her pocket. I looked at her text. It was from Master Niles (at least that is how he was now listed in her phone), it read. “Put on something sexy and come to me. I’m at the hotel across from the theater.”
I texted back, not with a plan, but out of pure fear/frustration. “Fuck you asshole.” Shit. I should have thought that through more. What if he comes here? I needed some help, just enough to let me figure out how to get out of here with her. I looked in the bathroom, Danielle was applying her make up. She came out and grabbed her fur coat and put it on. She was putting her boots on, she was really going to leave!
Her phone was still in my hand. I had an idea, I bolted out of the room and slammed the door. The inn was old, and had a noisy old ice machine that was right outside our room. I had been bitching about it the whole time, because it made ice in noisy batches throughout the night. Pulling the plug from the wall, and using all my might, I moved the ice machine in front of our room door. There is no way Danielle would be able to move that.
I knew I had a few minutes, but I also looked like a psycho. If any of the inn guests saw that I was keeping my wife locked in my room with an ice machine they’d call the cops. I had to hurry. I went down stairs to the front desk and starting handing out $100 bills. My natural tendency was to use money to help my out of jams, and this was no different. I told the bell hop, the front desk kid, and a maintenance guy that they had to keep Niles away from here at all costs until my wife and I were gone. If they could do that, I’d hook them up with more cash.
They all agreed, but the front desk kid looked nervous. I asked him what was up, he said that Niles just called our room, and he put him through to my wife. He said he was sorry and he didn’t know, blah blah blah.
I raced back up to the room. The door to our room was open, she must have tried to get out. I could now hear noises coming from the room. Still grateful there didn’t seem to be any other guests around, I slowly made my way to the ice machine barricade, not knowing what was happening. As I got closer, I could hear soft moans coming from our room. My heart rate increased along with the bulge in my pants at just the sound of her moans. I hated myself for that, but I’m a guy, and we react to female sexual noises. The door was only slightly open. Peering around the ice machine, and through the gap in the door I could see that my wife was laying on the bed still in her satin teddy and sable fur coat. She was massaging her breast with one hand as the other was down between her legs. Her fingers were slowly rubbing the her mound. She was clearly lost in some sort of hypnotic command to masturbate. Her legs began to open wider as her moans became louder. The hand between her legs was moving the length of her slit. I could see her wetness on her fingers and the look of bliss on her face as she continued rubbing herself. 
I knew I should just throw her over my shoulder and into the car. But I wanted to watch just for another minute. I moved the ice machine from the door way and quietly went inside, closing the door behind me. This was so unlike Danielle. She was sophisticated, conservative. She had never masturbated while I watched. I couldn't help myself. I unzipped my fly and pulled out my cock. I slowly stroked its length as I watched my deeply hypnotized wife.  As her one hand would squeeze her perfect breasts the other was making circular motions on her labia. Faster movements and louder moans came from her as she worked herself toward orgasm. Both hands were now feverishly working her as she spread the lips open and teased the opening of her vagina. Fingers working in unison rubbing her opening and her button as her eyes were closed in the pleasure of the moment. I got closer to her, dropping my pants as I went. At no time did she slow her assault on her pussy. Her wetness increased more and more as her fingers continued their work. I reached and touched her soft, smooth leg making her gasp while I kept stroking my cock. Reaching for her, I slowly dragged my fingers up her inner thigh lightly touching the skin stopping short of the area her fingers were still feverishly working. I could sense she was close to her orgasm. Her breathing increased and her moaning became louder. The sight of her was incredible, and knowing that it was hypnosis that brought her here was more than I could handle. I could take no more. I reached for her and squeezed her breasts pinching her nipples causing another gasp to escape her mouth. Lowering my mouth I began kissing her neck moving to her face kissing and licking as I went. I placed my mouth over hers and our tongues met. She reached for my hardness and used the soft fur of her sable coat to massage my cock. She had done that before (when I have bought her furs) and it is otherworldly levels of pleasure. Her other hand never slowed its movement on her pussy, taking her to the point of no return. Moments passed and our breathing became heavy and the sounds of love louder. I continued rubbing her breasts while she rubbed her vagina at a feverish pace with one hand and fur stroked my cock with the other. Finally we reached our limits. I let out a loud moan as I began to cum like never before spurting time and time again. I sensed her time was near. I opened my eyes to watch her body tremble as she screamed when her orgasm over took her. As she climaxed she yelled out something about being Master Niles’ hypnotized slave, and that he owned her. I’ll spare the details from there. Let’s just say I was soon transferring $100k. Within a month, I started wishing that Hallmark made Valentine’s Day movies…I craved another adventure like we had in Holiday Hollow.
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New therapist appt was the other day and I've been chewing on it ever since.
There's something about the way therapists interact with my existing/suspected diagnoses that always feels really telling and like.
I could just read the "I think you self-sabotage all your relationships" pouring off this woman the entire hour.
I....don't.
I mean. A lot of people do, it's a really normal aspect of like. 60% of mental health issues.
But that's really never been my problem. My problem is that the relationships I have are extremely limited. I could count a lifetime's worth of emotionally intimate relationships on my fingers. I also have a lot of people in my life that I know and interact with positively and care about without being at all close to! But everyone else I basically never even got around to learning their names. My relationships are actually.....shockingly stable? Most of the people I'm close to I met before leaving my undergrad program (high school/college) and there's been very little change to my social circle since then.
So like. While I get the importance of helping with this when it happens (everyone deserves a stable support system!) it is genuinely pretty unhelpful to me specifically to be treated as if that is my primary symptom needing attention. Especially on the basis of an initial session where I'm basically just rattling off my on-paper history with some more detail than the intake forms had.
I actually know how to have healthy and positive relationships and the relationships that I have in my life at this time are ones that have BEEN that consistently for me for a decade or more. What I *do* need ongoing support for is the obsessions/compulsions I've been avoiding working on for the last 10 yrs because out of everything they were the least likely to end up killing me. I need someone to assess for the possibility of ADHD. I need someone who can help me retether when my grounding/embodiment gets loose. And yeah. CBT/DBT has been helpful for that. But largely because it allows me to cope with extreme amounts of psychological stress/distress when my survival systems collapse. Not because I'm at risk of blowing up my relationships during a trigger episode. What's most helpful to me is having someone who can keep up with my own systems analysis well enough to be a genuinely useful sounding board. CBT/DBT can be a really effective vessel for that, but I've also had therapists whose primary modality was just being an anthropologist at me in a clinical setting and she was the best therapist I've ever had.
I dunno. It's just frustrating when mental health care professionals are so.....functionally off track? Like if you are focusing, as a provider, on symptoms I don't present with, while dismissing symptoms I *do* it makes me feel super not-confident in your ability to provide me adequate care. And it's like my own practice as a provider makes it that much less tolerable when my own providers are being obtuse about shit. I do actually know what I need and what my care should look like. I've been doing this longer than you, unless you're already more than 20 yrs deep into your career, so maybe take a beat to assume competence before trying to diagnose me with something no provider from my past has EVER thought I fit while suggesting my existing diagnoses, that took time and work and thought to settle on, should be overturned. The most insulting part is her KNOWING we have the same job and educational background when she made these assertions. So like. It's not even like she has an excuse for talking down to me the way she did.
"Has anyone ever talked to you about the neurological impact of early childhood trauma?"
Well maam, if the therapist who diagnosed me and took me through EIGHT GODDAMN YEARS of therapy didn't manage to cover enough of that ground, I *did* also spend 3 yrs working in the child welfare system and then took courses towards a trauma specialty certification during my masters so YEAH. SOMEONE TOLD ME.
"Sometimes we see lots of unrelated diagnoses when really it's all trauma"
Yeah, and sometimes children are born with neurological/mental health needs that predate any opportunjty for trauma and even make them more vulnerable TO that trauma when it arrives. So like maybe consider that it doesn't have to be one or the other. Maybe the other diagnoses are unrelated because they're fucking unrelated.
I wish I could say I feel satisfied with the way I advocated for myself in that session but I don't, as evidenced by the fact that I'm still rehashing the conversation 72 hours later.
I just. I don't know how I went in saying I have an existing PTSD and recent OCD diagnosis but I want to assess for the possibility of ADHD because of conversations with my wife (ADHD) and my most recent therapist (qualified LICSW) and somehow leave being told she wants to change my diagnosis to borderline on the basis of a single conversation and an introductory psych history.
It also feels super irresponsible to me given the social stigma and diagnostic stigma around BPD. Like. I have diagnosed BPD before, and you know what path I pretty much always follow? Adjustment D/o for the first 6 months of care during which we do comprehensive assessment work and some long term stabilization. Once that's in place I reassess for BPD based on symptoms I have directly observed or had reported to me. I have never suggested BPD to someone on a first appt because personality disorders are notoriously fiddly to diagnose and it would be irresponsible to try to do so without either the presence of acute and explicit symptoms or long term treatment relationships. If you're going to give a client a diagnosis that is so stigmatized within our field you better be damn sure before you ever include it on their chart. Otherwise you are setting them up for serious maltreatment within the system. And if one of your early conversations isn't then about how your client can and should advocate for themselves within the system under their new diagnosis (and the ways you plan to support them in that) you can go fuck yourself.
So yeah. I'm feeling.....anxious. about my new therapist to say the least. I'm going to keep seeing her for now. The practice itself comes highly recommended and has all the psych services I need rolled into one practice so it would be exceedingly frustrating to have to leave and I don't want to get a bad reputation by therapist hopping within the practice either. So I need to stick it out a while and see if I can make this workable. At least until end of Feb. If I get there and it still isn't working out I can let her know I'd like to go back on the waitlist for another provider. But man. It fucking sucks that she already seems to have decided on a narrative before even talking symptom occurrence patterns with me.
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Days Off
"...but all I ever took away from therapy was a somewhat clearer understanding of how messed up I was." - John Moe, The Hilarious World of Depression
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I had expectations for my days off. The work week didn't end badly, even though a co worker of mine left a nasty taste in my mouth after speaking poorly about my work ethic to another co worker. The work load was easy and I was able to get a lot of reading done.
The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls has me triggered and infuriated. I won't spoil books here but when I say the parents have me feeling some type of way...smh. Its been a great read though and I can safely say my oldest is also my literary twin.
I haven't mentioned her yet but I made a new friend here in Nantucket, she works with me currently and has been such a godsend for me. I'm not even sure she realizes how vital her taking me under her wing has been. For my first day off I woke up early with an optimistic attitude and ready to get things done. The front desk was finally having someone come fix the heater after days of freezing at night - while he was fixing I planned to go to the store to grab laundry necessities and food for the upcoming week. I would return and go to the gym, update my blog and get some studying done.
Ten AM came and went with no maintenance man in sight so I called the front desk and asked them if I needed to be here while he fixed it, they said no. I was only slightly annoyed that I was beginning my day later than I had planned but, shxt happens and I still had the whole day ahead of me so no big deal - nothing is fucked.
The prices out here are crazy and every grab off the shelves made me sick thinking about the total cost going up. Shockingly, the laundry items were cheaper than I expected and I was grateful for it. Typically, I don't purchase items like that at grocery stores, as the cost is much higher.
When I returned, the heater was fixed and I filled up my mini fridge. Things were moving swimmingly until I realized I did not have a working battery for one of my devices. I managed to find a store with a cheap one thankfully - but there those dollar signs were again. I do want to clarify that I am not in a pinching pennies situation, however, as a government employee, the shutdown would effect my paycheck and to make sure all will continue being taken care of, I've been extra cautious about spending.
Unfortunately, all of this pushed into what would have been my gym time and I moved onto the next items on the list that I needed to take care of. I cracked open a black berry cider, made some turkey sliders and popped open my work laptop to finish enrolling myself and my kiddos onto my insurance.
There it was, an email stating I owe a very unexpected amount to the travel card issued by work. I gathered all of the statement/payment records and the notebook where I keep track of all my purchases and payments.
**Side note - there's a store in Boston called Muji and it was like stationary heaven to me. Other writers get it. Pens, planners, and these notebooks that hit like butter to my brain and I just cannot get enough. I have about a dozen of their notebooks, I would have more but I gifted my children and a couple friends with one their own. Giving the gift of a space for their thoughts <3 Just to reiterate, Muji, in Boston, chefs kiss.
**continuing..
I realized that when I made the discovery of these notebooks, I transferred over my bills/finances from old spiral notebook of lesser quality. Best decision ever, or so I thought. Normally I make sure to copy all the past entries so that I have no need to refer back to the old books but for whatever reason I did not do that this time. I was shxt out of luck and I was not going to be able to cross check my records with theirs. Its fine, I assured myself, just another change in plans today, I am going to audit the bit myself from day one, starting from May 24th. The new notebook begins in August so I figured, easy peezy. All is well, nothing is fxcked and I'll figure it out.
I finished out May and June expenses and prepared myself to compare mine to theirs - except, when I went to do so, I see that the earliest payment was in early July and I paid a couple hundred short of the actual amount I should have paid. There it was, the beginning of my spiral.
What did I do? How did I miss that many expenses when I reviewed them in June? How could I be that stupid? This is basic fxcking math - you fuxcking idiot. There you going being the cause of your bullshxt again. What were you thinking?! I can only imagine what the rest of the months look like. You probably owe the whole amount and more you fxcking idiot. How do you expect to make the next move for the kids if you can't even get your fxcking math right?! Math they could do. You call yourself a mother. You're just one fxck up after the other. It sickening the way they deserve better and they ended up with you.
Writing this out is troublesome because I sound really mean to myself. Sounds like a lot but in that moment, the glimmer of light I had began the day with was gone and I was once again the worthless waste of space again that can't do anything right.
I made a payment towards the card, closed my laptop, shut the lights off and turned on a random movie on Netflix. I sank into my bed telling myself it was okay and I'd be able to figure this out, Afterall, I've been through much worse than this, right? The gentle voice that I'd been working on was backed into a corner, the winds from the spiral holding her down. Numbers and images of the kids swirling around, slapping her around and making sure she stayed down, quiet. No, you don't get to talk yourself up for this one, stupid. So fxcking undeserving. You have one job and you're failing.
The movie came and went, unamused, I clicked play for the next distraction to begin. Didn't make it to the gym, didn't read, didn't blog... more than half my day gone, wasted. It brought me even lower. A few silent tears made their way to my pillow case, in those moments I focused even harder on the movies. This shapeless, colorless, invisible feeling was pulling me down deeper and deeper.
A knock at the door came, it was my new friend. She said she wanted to check on me before going to her room. I hadn't mentioned to her how I was feeling but in that moment, it didn't matter how she knew, I was being pulled back up for air and I wasn't going to fight it. I explained a little bit about the email and my discovery. She said, "you hungry?" I said yes and she gave me 30 minutes to get ready.
Dinner was nice, we spoke about football and the food in front of us. We remained present in that moment and that allowed my gentler self to get up and say it once more, it's going to be okay.
Depression doesn't work that way though, does it? As the book calls us "saddies", y'all get it, the saddies get it.
I played trivia with my babies until I couldn't see my phone screen straight anymore and then I fell asleep, hard. I'm not sure what startled me up this morning but I knew it was going to be a day of convincing myself to get out of bed. Don't worry, I made it out - lucky for me, feeling my body fat rolling around in bed is enough to disgust myself and I got up to prep for the gym. But first, my coffee.
While sipping on my coffee and scrolling through the social scene, I ran into memory lane. A video of my oldest saying good bye to her little brother, it was the first day of kinder. From behind the camera, I ask her if she's going to miss her brother - its quick and easy to miss, but I spotted it just then. A breath in, glossy eyed and a clenched jaw you can barely see because her cheeks are so round, a breath out, she nods and says "yeah". Her little brother looks to her with puckered fish lips for a kiss and they say good bye. The video ends there but the memory continues to play out...hand in hand, we begin walking towards her classroom. I ask her if she's ready, her expression scrunches into her serious face and her hand goes a little tighter. "Yes." she says it with conviction. I ask her if she's nervous, the scrunch gets tighter, so does her little hand. "No." I said okay, and gave promises of a fun day. I knew she was nervous, I could see the battle being fought in her eyes. She fought hard to keep that courage on her face and I wasn't going to let her know that I knew it was all a facade. I would never let her know that she didn't really succeed in hiding her fears, she needed to know she won that battle so that she would feel ready to take on what was up ahead. I held my own tears back that day because I needed her to know that I knew she had everything she needed to win that day. My tears would singlehandedly ensure that we would both lose the inner battles.
There was no gym today. I gave myself some grace and rested from the battle I have been fighting for so long. The wars that go for years hit different you know? My babies are strong for me, and I have to be too, for them. So this entry is serving as evidence I did SOMETHING today, even if it was more for healing purposes than productivity.
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malenkaya-glosoli · 2 years
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Sad new detail I just learned about Junko Furuta (R.I.P.)
MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING: Abuse, torture, r*** and murder.
I'm not even going to bother explaining all that happened right now, but if you have heard of Junko Furuta, you'll know the story all too well. In short, she was a Japanese high school girl who was kidnapped in late November 1988 at age seventeen by four teenage boys, only one of whom was not a minor at the time, and they kept her in the house of one of them for 40 days where they and many of their friends tortured and r***d her every day until Junko and her body became too broken and weak to go on functioning and died on January 4, 1989. I will not list the injuries, illnesses, infections, attacks, humiliations and deteriorations the boys inflicted on Junko in those 40 days, but — no exaggeration here — they are some of the most horrifying, extreme and painful injuries any individual human being has sustained as a result of deliberate acts; and it has been estimated that, shockingly, about 100 people were made or invited to participate in it all.
Details in English-language accounts were muddled for years until a few years ago when more accurate and detailed information started to emerge from Japanese sources, clearing up many mix-ups along the way. One detail I have learned that's new to me and particularly heartbreaking is the following: a few nights after Junko was abducted, her captors invited some friends to the house to see her and a***e her. They probably thought it would be "funny" to do something to scare her, because they all drank cough medicine and pretended to be high off of it. It worked because Junko started screaming when she saw their behaviour, but as soon as she screamed, they freaked out, pinned her down, and one of them held a pillow over her face because the parents of one of the boys were in the house and they didn't want them to get suspicious. In the end, that was just the beginning of the torture for Junko, and the boy's parents did nothing because they knew that their son and pretty much all his friends were gang members who had connections, if not low-ranking memberships, with the Yakuza, which is pretty much the Japanese equivalent of the Mafia and they're very powerful and very feared. All four of the main boys are now free men in their 40s and 50s, and all but one of them have re-offended since release.
If you choose to look up Junko's story, do so at your own discretion. It gets worse with every piece of new information that comes out, and that is not an exaggeration. The judge who sentenced the boys said that Junko's soul must be "wandering in torment" because of the horrendous nature of her death. It may sound tasteless to some, but in Japan it is traditionally believed that if someone, especially a woman, dies in a tragic, violent or otherwise unnatural way, all the negative emotions she felt will stay behind and take on a life of its own. Such ghosts are known as yurei and the resulting curse as onnen (literally meaning "grudge"). But hopefully Junko has been spared such an afterlife and, in the words of her friend's eulogy, may she "please rest in peace".
EDIT: Junko repeatedly told her captors that she regretted not having been able to watch the series finale of "Tonbo", her favourite TV show. After she died from every injury and infection they ever gave her, one of the boys put a videotape of the episode into the bag with her body. But he only did it because he didn't want her to come back as a ghost and haunt him. It's like he seriously thought giving the videotape to her in death was an "apology" for what he did to her. SMH!!!
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jellorat · 1 year
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Nightmares
I have PTSD from being a homeless teen in the 80s and having a horrific and violent upbringing. I used to have shockingly horrifying dreams, and I find writing them out helps.
I had a few things going on today. I had therapy, got a Covid booster yesterday, and I have a small fever today, and for reasons I can't explain, we watched this youtube video:
youtube
This is a good historian review of mostly historically accurate battle scenes. My wife does a youtube channel going over battles of the American Civil War and WWI, and I like history.
However, all these factors together did not do well for me. After I watched this, I went to bed because I was feverish and woke up with the following dream.
Trigger Warning: Death and war.
I woke up from a very very clear dream. It wasn't so much a war dream, but the aftermath. I was the vicar somewhere in Scotland or Ireland, or somewhere over there. It was an amalgamation of the first and second world wars.
I was in the churchyard digging graves. There was so many dead, and my wife had died in the bombing. I had laid out my wife next to four young soldiers. The soldiers were in their teens. They looked so young. 16-18 in age. I had them arrayed out around my wife because I hoped my wife would take care of them in the afterlife.
I was older than I am now. Today I am 51 in real life, but I think I was more in my mid to late 60s in the dream.
It was an overcast day, and I could not be sure if it was cloudy or if it was battlefield smoke. The fighting had raged on, leaving us all in its wake.
The little stone church had taken damage in the shelling, and my wife hadn't lived through it.
It was so damn detailed. I remember the smell of the wet turned-up earth and the smooth feel of the shovel's handle. I was so tired from digging. I wasn't the only one digging graves, and some of the men kept offering to do it for me, but I couldn't let them.
In WWI the "dog tags" were not metal like our modern ones, and I had four of them. I was worried about making sure these children's families knew they had died in the battle. I worried about what I was going to do without my wife. The only thing I didn't worry about was that my wife would absolutely take care of these boys in the afterlife because that is the kind of woman she is.
The most horrifying part was how clearly I envisioned their uniforms and my wife's dress. I just couldn't bring myself to put earth on them. It would be real when I did, and I just stood there looking at them in their graves, unable to do what I knew needed doing.
I woke up feverish and crying. I have not had a PTSD dream in years. Usually, I am down to non-specific night terrors these days.
My cat went and got my wife. Like, swear to god, the cat went and nipped at her heels until she followed the cat in and saw I was awake. I told my wife about my dream. Decades ago we'd do this when I had PTSD dreams.
My wife made a joke about her estrogen because she cried in sympathy, and that has changed since years ago.
I have never been in the army. I have never gone to war. I am thinking new house rule. No watching emotionally unsettling things when feverish. The problem with PTSD, for me, is that dreams don't always have anything to do with what I was traumatized by, but they carry a theme of horror.
This is an entirely new topic of PTSD dreams. Usually, I have dreams about being a horrible contagious monster that can give horrific diseases to my loved ones or sexual assault dreams. Okay, the latter is a bit related to my trauma. I haven't had any of those for close to a decade.
So I am going to sit here and eat leftover pizza while I wait for the Tylenol to take my fever down and then go back to bed. I think with the cat and my real-life wife, it will go much better this time.
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valewright67 · 11 months
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HELLO, ITS BEEN A LONG ACCIDENTAL HIATUS, BUT I RETURN TO YOU WITH A NEW MELIZABETH HEADCANON
I have just realized that my boyfriend can tell apart the Itty bitty differences between my blinks, and what they means.
"I'm processing, give me a second."
"What the fuck are you on about?"
"Keep talking, I'm listening."
"The fuck are they on about?"
"Woah, no shit?"
"Fuck, that's awful."
"I'm losing my patience, stfu."
He can TELL now. And it is honestly probably the most romantic thing I find about him right now, that he pays enough attention to know them all.
Now with that stated, I'd like to give a headcanon.
When Meliodas first joins STIGMA, he's not exactly expressive or conversational beyond the bare minimum to convey information.
But Elizabeth can read him like a book. Which means that she'll translate for him in conversations, glancing at him, and then conveying his opinion
"He thinks that's fucking adorable"
"He knows what you're feeling, and he's sorry."
"Meliodas believes that's a terrible strategy."
He learns to be more expressive as time goes on, but sometimes when he's upset or stressed, he still goes blank to the average eye.
Her ability to read him carries on into her reincarnations. Meliodas is caught off guard by this at first, and takes very careful measures to conceal his inner thoughts, sometimes suppressing them altogether, so she doesn't catch that little twitch of his brows and figure out some little thing she's done caused him grief. (Usually, a little habit of hers that carries over as well, like that tendency to nibble her lip when she's thinking that goes back to the very first.)
It triggered her memories once. Never again.
But the sins are having a conversation, and Princess Elizabeth glances out of the corner of her eye at Meliodas, and frowns. Trying to be as polite as possible, she requests that King "please stop using your daggers as darts so close to the taverns main door, as it's making Sir Meliodas a bit anxious." And he stills, giving her a startled look, then glancing at his captain who - shockingly - gains a slight flush of pink to the tops of his cheeks. He clears his throat. "I'm just concerned someone might walk in at the wrong time is all. Wouldn't want you scaring away my customers!" He brushes off with a joke.
It becomes a habit, Elizabeth glancing at their Captain and - completely unaware of the fact she's telling the sins his carefully concealed thoughts - makes his opinions knowledge to the team.
They eventually get over their startled reactions, brushing it off as human royalty being trained to read their court and nobles or... something, and just start to look to her to translate him when he's being stubbornly silent. The only one who can read him half as well when he's like that is Merlin, who they all know has a lengthy past with him, though not what that past is.
The one time she'd been asked if she knew how Elizabeth could do that - maybe she had a dormant empathy or telepathy magic? - she just got this secret little smile, put a finger against her lips, and teleportated away.
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echotrinityme · 2 years
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Choose Me, Henry Chapter 3 Dave Is A Good Friend
A/N: There will be an endgame ship and alternative endings.  I'm not telling you what those are cause that would spoil the fun.
Dave was carrying two cups of coffee as he was trying to find Henry. Dave Panpa was Henry's only friend in the Government since he joined, Dave used to be a police officer like Rupert but was fired cause of certain "things". He took a job as a security guard and he was doing a good job until he was captured by The Toppat Clan. He was saved by Rupert and the Government, he lost his legs, and Dr. V gave him new set of legs.
He made friends with the other soldiers like Charles Calvin, Victoria Grit, June July, the Bukowski twins, etc. However, he's been spending time with Henry cause Henry needs his help. Dave was humming merrily while still holding the coffees, he walked past Charles and Rupert whom were talking when they saw him walk past them. They watched him as he went over to Henry who was waiting for him, Dave handed Henry's coffee to him as they lean against a rock. Henry thanked him as he took a sip, Dave smiled at him.
Charles and Rupert stared at them while they were chatting. Charles shook his head as he crossed his arms, Rupert was glaring at them. "I don't know why Dave keeps talking to him, Rupert." Charles said.
"I don't know either, Charlie." Rupert replied as he also crossed his arms, "I don't want him talking to Henry."
"Have you tried telling him to not talk to him?"
"No. Dave is his own person, I can't tell him not to talk to Henry."
Charles nodded in agreement as Rupert continued, "Besides Dave's my friend. I have to support him, if he wants to talk to Henry, he can talk to Henry.
Charles nodded again as they both kept staring at Dave and Henry.
Meanwhile with Dave and Henry, they kept talking about random stuff.
"So, Henry." Dave said as smiled at him. "While you were leader of the Toppat clan, did you have any friends or any significant other?"
Dave was the only one in the Government who can ask these questions without getting triggered.
Henry's face fell when Dave asked that question, he quietly clench his cup as he sighed heavily, he then closed his eyes. He exhale a sharp breath as he open his eyes, he glanced at Dave whom was waiting for an answer. "I only had like two friends and for significant other...he was a good lover." he replied sadly.
"Oh?" Dave said as he tilted his head in confusion. "Who? What happened to him?"
Henry chuckled as he scoffed, "I think you know him by Burt Curtis." he said bitterly.
Dave blinked at Henry's tone, "What's wrong?" he asked gently.
"It's been a while since I come here and none of my "friends" or Burt has come to find me." Henry replied sadly as his voice wavered. "They should have come for me by now..."
Henry turn away from Dave so he wouldn't see him crying, he dropped his cup on the ground, spilling coffee onto the dirt. He covered his face with his hands, Dave immediately put his cup down and hugged him. Charles's and Rupert's eyes widen in shock and surprise at Dave's actions. Henry never let anyone touch him even when to help him, he always will lashes out or snap at them. Heck, Dr. V can't go near him unless she tells him. So seeing Dave hugging him without getting push back or scolded by him is just a shockingly weird sight to witness.
"Hey, shhh. Calm down, Henry." Dave said softly and gently. "It's okay, I'm here. If your friends and Burt hasn't come for you, they're not worth it...believe me, I know."  
Henry cease his crying as he lean into Dave's embrace, "B-But I-I love Burt... He was actually the first relationship I ever had." he mumbled sadly.
"Like I said before, Henry. If he hasn't come for you yet, he's not worth it."
"I guess you're right."
Dave kept hugging him until Henry gently let go of him, he shudder for a mintue as he took deep breaths, then he finally calm down. "You feeling better?" Dave asked.
Henry nodded as he looked at the ground, "Yeah... Listen I'm gonna head off to my tent, I'm tired. It was nice talking to you." he replied.
"Okay, bye Henry." Dave said. "Get some rest."
Henry nodded as he went back to his tent, he waved goodbye to Dave, Dave waved back. Charles and Rupert stared at Henry leaving Dave alone, they were still wondering what happened. "I wonder what's that about?" Charles said with a hint of concern in his voice.
"I'm...not sure, I'm gonna have to ask Dave later." Rupert replied.
Charles and Rupert resume their conversation but the scene where Henry's breakdown still lingers in their minds.
Later that night, Rupert and Dave were getting ready for bed. Rupert saw Dave was laying on his bed and he took a deep breath. Okay, he's going to ask Dave his questions about Henry. "Oi, Dave... What were yer and Henry were talking about earlier?" he asked nonchalantly.  
Dave looked at Rupert and shrugged, "Just normal stuff." Dave replied.
Rupert blinked for a moment, "Alright but what's with Henry's breakdown earlier?"
Dave sat up to look at Rupert, he sighed as he lay back down. "It's just something personal, he's fine now." he replied as he thought about Henry's breakdown.
Rupert stared at Dave, "What kind of personal stuff?" he asked as he mentally slapped himself. He knew he shouldn't be asking but he's actually curious about Henry's breakdown.
"It's none of your business, Rupert." Dave said firmly. "You know this."
"Oi, I just wanna know." Rupert defended as he put his hands up.
"Look, I know you hate him and you only see him as a criminal." Dave snapped suddenly as he got up in front of Rupert's face, making him jump a little from his tone. "And I'm not gonna invade Henry's privacy so you can us it to bully him, I know you and Charles bully him."
Rupert wanted to say something but Dave interrupted him, "Don't try to deny it. I have seen and heard what you guys have done to Henry. Just because he used to be a former criminal doesn't mean he does not have feelings." Dave continued. "He's already feeling bad, he doesn't need you or Charles to make it worse."
Dave went back to his bed and got under the covers, he looked over at Rupert with an angry expression on his face. "I'm going to bed, I want you to think about your actions towards others especially Henry. Now good night."
Dave shut the lights without hearing Rupert's reply, Rupert stood there in the dark looking dumbfounded, "Oi...what just happened?" he thought as he quietly slip into bed.
He didn't get any sleep cause he thought of what Dave had say to him about Henry.  
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