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toournextadventure · 1 year

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Could I request a story thats Wednesday with a reader who drinks a lot of coffee and barely ever sleeps, and so she tries to convince them to sleep but they dont so reader ends up fainting in front of her and enid and Wednesday is really worried and at the end reader finally sleeps and theres fluff

Hell yeah, bestie, I feel this on a spiritual level. Coffee is the devil's drink, yet I indulge shamelessly ✌🏻😙

too much coffee

Midterms were going to kill you. There was no possible way you were going to survive. You had done the one thing you had sworn you wouldn’t do (pretend you didn’t need to study) and Wednesday had offered to help (you said no) and now you were on day three of no sleep. Times were tough enough, but Wednesday couldn’t introduce her parents to her highschool failure girlfriend! The Addams family was beyond accepting, but this? It would be unacceptable.

On the other side of the library, Wednesday watched you sit back down with another cup of coffee. It had to have been your fifth one of the night, if her counting was correct. Which it was. If you had just accepted her rare offer of help, you wouldn’t be stuck with more coffee than your body could handle.

She watched you as you finished your cup. Watched the way your hands were unusually shaky, causing your handwriting to come out looking worse than Pugsly’s. The way you should shake your head after staring at a page for too long; were you trying to clear the haze of caffeine from your mind?

She waited until you had emptied your cup before walking over to you.

“You need sleep,” Wednesday said. You jumped; it was a good thing your mug was empty.

“Jesus christ, Wednesday,” you huffed. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Go home,” she said, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Please.”

You looked up at her with furrowed brows, and Wednesday had to bite her tongue to stop herself from taking it back. She knew how you worked; you were a snarky asshole until she asked nicely. If she took it back now, you would go back to being snarky. It was humiliating to have to resort to such niceties, but when you looked like you were on death’s doorstep, she would swallow her pride.

“I’ll sleep after my exam tomorrow morning,” you said with a soft smile. “I promise.”

“Not a moment later.” Wednesday didn’t tell you goodbye as she left the library. She didn’t want you to know that she was concerned for you.

Now she just needed to make sure Enid wasn’t losing her mind about her own midterms.

—---

The exam had been a cakewalk. Not only had you known nearly all of the answers, but you knew the bonus questions too. You were so going to ace it. Okay, maybe you would get a B, but it was still passing! There was a new swagger in your step as you walked out of class and started heading to the cafeteria.

You were going to treat yourself to a nice hot cup of coffee.

“Your dorm is in the other direction.”

Aw man.

You turned around slowly, praying to whatever gods existed that you were just hearing things. But then you saw Wednesday standing behind you, arms crossed over her chest and a look that you had definitely seen far too many times.

“Hello, dearest,” you said with a small smile.

She did not smile back, even though her face was a little twisty. Was she moving around?

“Go get some sleep,” Wednesday demanded. How can someone so short be so bossy?

“I’m just getting myself a little treat,” you said as you gestured your thumb behind you. At least you thought you did. Were things spinning?

“Hey guys!” Enid called, running up to where you were both standing. “How did your exam go?”

“Don’t encourage her.” Wednesday turned her body to face Enid.

They started talking, saying things that you really couldn’t understand. Surely they were still speaking English, right? That was your common language, was it not? So why did they sound so funny? And why was everything spinning? And why was everything going dark? And why-

-you were out cold before you hit the ground.

—---

Whatever you were laying on was extremely comfortable. It was soft and fluffy and warm. Was it heaven? Were you in heaven? Oh god, your mother was right, too much coffee would kill you. You had wasted your last few days on earth studying for a stupid exam that didn’t even matter!

“Don’t even think of moving.”

Oh no. No, you weren’t in heaven, you were in hell and Wednesday Addams was your grim reaper.

The struggle to open your eyes was more intense than Prometheus stealing the fire from Zeus. It was like your eyes were sealed shut and would rather kill you than open. But when they opened and the migraine hit you like a ton of bricks, you understood; they weren’t trying to fight you, they were trying to protect you.

“What happened?” You asked; god, you sounded like you smoked two packs of cigarettes a day.

“You fainted,” Wednesday said. Everything was hazy, but her voice came from your right. “Enid helped me carry you to your room.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look you could finally see on Wednesday’s face was enough to shut you up. In the privacy of your room, with no one to see, she looked concerned. It was in the furrow of her brows, the tightly pressed lips, the slightest twitch of her fingers.

Wednesday Addams was concerned.

Without hesitation, you moved over on the bed to make room. She stared at you for a moment until you patted the now-empty spot. There was a hesitancy in her movements, but she finally came and laid down beside you. Her back was to you, but that was okay; you pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Please sleep,” Wednesday said softly. She would only ever talk this softly to you when she wasn’t looking at your face.

“Only if you sleep with me,” you answered even though you could already feel yourself falling back asleep. “My roommate won’t be back for a few more hours.”

“If she sees us, I’ll kill her,” Wednesday threatened even as she backed up closer to you.

“I would expect nothing less,” you said. You leaned forward and left a small kiss on the back of her neck, and you felt her interlock your fingers before you both fell asleep. You should faint more often if it meant Wednesday would cuddle and sleep with you.

#requests #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader

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youngbloodbuzz · 1 year

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bestie what did you think of ✨the record✨

i had to listen to it a few more times to answer this cause I like. i did not know where to start.

as a whole it's like the perfect length at 40 minutes and so easy to listen to their harmonies are incredible and I love the way they all shared lead vocals on various songs.

so many tracks were instant obsessed i need to listen to them on repeat favourites like true blue, not strong enough, satanist, and anti-curse, and overall I Love the album it's a strong outing but I will admit there's like two tracks that will take a while to grow on me

the self titled EP was always gonna be super hard to live up to cause it was just so unexpectedly perfect and i'd say like 90% of the album lives up to the hype/expectations

some moments i Love from the album in order of songs

a gorgeous acapella opening track that brings ketchum, id full circle imo. the lofi elements and harmonies are beautiful

the build up in $20 and phoebe bringing back the screaming in the harmonized outro. the one song I knew would catch my bff's attention as a boygenius intro song cause they love punk rock. i LOVE the layering of vocals in the outro

"I'm 27 and I don't know who I am" oh worm??? the harmonies on that line too CHEF kiss. emily girl whoever you are I hope your socials are all on private for the foreseeable future lmao

"You say you're a winter bitch, but summer's in your blood/You can't help but become the sun" hello??? oh my god. the outro in this song too is just...oh my god it makes me feel some kinda way, I've keeled over in awe and disbelief like every time. "it feels good to be known so well" jesus christ

cool about it will take some time to grow on me I think but god those lyrics are so brutal

the guitar work is so fuckin good the music video is SO good I feel like going on a road trip with the windows down with this blasting, but then you listen to the lyrics and it's so brutal like who HASN'T felt strong enough. "always an angel, never a god" just fuck me up

a gorgeous outro. i think this one will take a few more listens to grow on me too but that outro "I used to think/If I just closed my eye/I'd disappear" ahaha ow

this is such a funny and cute story song about being so invested in a song while driving that lucy missed a turn and julien and pheobe were like yea that fucked but you should probably turn the car around dskghasdf. "And I am not an old man having an existential crisis/At a Buddhist monastery writing horny poetry/But I agree" unnecessarily SO funny omg

another perfect punk rock song, the guitar riff in the chorus, the screaming vocals in the background that reminds me of aphex twin's come to daddy, the false ending, the change of tempo from fast in your face pace to a dreamy atmospheric landscape chef kiss

this is such a beautiful and bittersweet song to write about your friends, it's so painfully honest and hopeful. "You could absolutely break my heart/That's how I know that we're in love" how could they do this to me. that bit about the hummingbirds too what a beautiful sentiment

this song is SO julien behaviour. it's both so scary and so powerful and honest just like everything else julien writes about her mental health experiences and the production is so good. "I'm swimmin' back" being belted so powerfully and feeling like a direct callback "I wanted to stay" from claws in your back struck me so hard. "See, you don't havе to make it bad/Just 'cause you know how" lol ow

the only song on the album to make me fucking Cry and it's because of the last verse being a direct mirror to the last verse in me & my dog. with me & my dog still feeling like the mourning of a relationship and acknowledging how unhealthy it was, this one finally feels like anger and acceptance and finally recognizing that happiness and relief will eventually come to you and oh my god laying over the sound of the crowds cheers from their performance of me & my dog at the brooklyn steel concert was incredible and perfect

so overall, a fantastic album with only a small handful of songs that will eventually grow on me, I can't fucking wait to see them in june I cannot believe I got tickets to see them what a dream come true

#asks #anonymous #boygenius #the record

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childofchrist1983 · 11 months

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Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness: thou hast enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me, and hear my prayer. O ye sons of men, how long will ye turn my glory into shame? how long will ye love vanity, and seek after leasing? Selah. But know that the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for himself: the Lord will hear when I call unto him. Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. Selah. - Psalm 4:1-4 KJV

Will God will find me godly, and answer my prayers? This is the prayer of King David who finds himself surrounded by those who mock him. It's probably been the prayer of many of us who try and follow Jesus Christ.

It seems that people love those who champion a cause as long as they don't interfere with their ability to do what they want. In the past few years in the United States, we have seen an increase in gun violence and much of it has been directed at young people. Now the young are banding together to urge those eligible to vote to register in the hopes that they will be able to make a change in the government that they feel has not done enough to limit the availability to those weapons that have caused the most damage. Those who in previous years had hoped that young people would get more involved are now concerned that their rights might be at stake. I'm sure that some of the good that David would do as king probably had many afraid that their corrupt ways and lack of fidelity to God would be affected.

We can turn to the Holy Bible and prayer and ask God to protect us. We can turn to Him for everything we need. We can turn to the Holy Bible and prayer when we feel far from God and need forgiveness. In times of sorrow, the psalms give us hope. This psalm expresses David's trust that God will bless him and is a warning to those who sin. This is our prayer as well. The closing verse seems to say that when we search our hearts at night we can sleep peacefully when we remember God's goodness to us. God gives us what we need; He protects us from all harm. Let us always place our trust in Him and His Holy Word and its Gospel Truth.

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful Lord, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

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thatgirllindsey · 26 days

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I am going to start writing about my transformation. So much of this blog has been repetition, sadness, and mental slavery. Today, I am set free.

I could not be more EXCITED, happy, peaceful, calm, content, and glad than I am now. It is because although I have had a lot of bad news in my life, today I am receiving good news. That is the gospel of JESUS CHRIST. I can tell you it did not happen overnight. No, I can tell you I was frustrated, felt ignored, sick, overcome by defeat, misguided, and still controlled and misled astray by Satan and his army. Let me tell you, he can be defeated and HE WILL accept his defeat. He knows he is running out of time, and he is down to his last and final tricks. I can tell you the good news is the gospel of Jesus Christ. The bad news is we have to deal with Satan..but don't get discouraged. This is the journey of every Christian. Remember, faith can help you overcome EVERY SINGLE obstacle in your life.

Let me give you some examples.

Divorce, sexual assault, trauma, death, cancer, homelessness, unemployment, and practically any misfortune I can think of.

The most traumatic life experiences ( I could be wrong) from my experience of trauma are 1. Divorce, 2. Not having parents ( in correlation with homelessness, adoption, think of orphaned children, etc.), 3. Sexual assault (Rape, sexual harassment). 4. Cancer. 5. Life-threatening accident.

I put divorce as number one because although I have never been married (as part of my script for MK trauma-related programming, my parents had a bitter divorce when I was 5 years old and could be in the same room together) I believe it is THE most traumatic experience a human can go through. I believe that men/women who are divorced (long-term and short-term) need intensive therapy and empathy, and they should be guided by a law enforcement officer in court and at home as well as monitored for depression. The entire process is a nightmare and leaves a scar that is a lot harder to heal than others. In the bible, marriage is supposed to be sacred. It is a deep soulmate/love connection to your partner. I mean, it is just the person you spend the rest of your life with, share your finances with, have kids with, and sleep next to. It is also a sin to lust for/seduce another person, commit adultery, and not value your marriage. Why are you trying to seduce other men when you are married or see that they are in a commitment? Sex offenders always are hungry to molest, and want more than they can have.

A lot of times, all of these are related somehow. For example, it could be having a long marriage to an abusive spouse that you divorced and have been sexually/physically abused by. It could also be a severe illness causing loss of job, homelessness, and more depression. It is a negative cycle that is VERY hard to break and be positive.

Those are my top 5. I do not think there is anything on this earth more traumatic than these life occurrences. All of these life experiences caused PTSD> a severe and life-threatening condition that is hard to cope with and manage. A lot of times, Satan and his minions can be behind these traumatic, awful, painful experiences. This is the bad news you have in your life. Every single bad thing that has ever happened, divorce, you lost your house, you lost your job, you got diagnosed with cancer, etc. Now let's talk about the good news......

We talked about trauma, depression, sadness, PTSD, and despair. Now let's talk about the good news.

The good news is you don't have to be sad anymore. You don't have to be depressed and feel like a loser. You're NOT a loser. God gives second chances, even third if you're heart is in the right place and you receive the message. Life is hard, and satan controls everything in this world and puts obstacles in our path. Rather, ask for help.

He is there to help you. What a relief. I know I need a lot of help. He is almighty, understanding, caring, and full of knowledge and wisdom.

And the good news is.....

He sent his son JESUS CHRIST to atone for your sins and help you overcome satan.

Just think about the pain and suffering Jesus endured... I know as an MK slave who has experienced complete disassociation, suicide triggers, and unbearable pain I can relate to Jesus. One day, we will live in his paradise where there IS NO suffering or pain. And we got there through JESUS CHRIST. That is the greatest news you ever heard? I know it is. It puts a smile on my face and heals the pain in my heart. Also, Jesus is there to help. These times are the hardest you will ever experience. These trials are incredibly HARD. Remember, you are not alone. Jesus is here to save us from this awful world we live in. From hearing about rape, suicide, murder, and death.

He is the GOOD NEWS. ANYTIME you want to resist a suicide trigger, overcome the pain of disassociation, KNOW WHO YOU ARE ( Satan steals identity), THINK OF JESUS. THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE, FRIENDS. AND YOUR RESOURCES ARE THE BIBLE OR THE BOOK OF MORMON. KNOW YOUR ENEMY, DEVELOP YOUR STRATEGY OF DEFENSE THROUGH THE SCRIPTURE. IT IS YOUR RESOURCE DIRECTLY FROM GOD, THE CREATOR. IT HAS ALL YOUR ANSWERS.

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jdgo51 · 2 months

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FEBRUARY 16, 2024

Welcomed Back Eui-mo Yang (Seoul, South Korea)

The father said, “This son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” So they began to celebrate. - Luke 15:24 (NIV)

"Graduating from university, studying abroad, earning a PhD, striving to be a good Christian — everything was going smoothly. However, at times I had experienced ups and downs. I worked days and nights without a break, repeatedly meeting with failures, and I became depressed. Eventually I moved to a small town where I began to work for a kimchi manufacturing company. I felt like I was starting from nothing. Because I am clumsy and was inexperienced in manual labor, I often received criticism from my co-workers. All I could do was pray. I was weary from my repeated failures. But the Lord welcomed me with open arms even though I had lived like the prodigal son for decades. (See Lk. 15:11-32.)

From that time, my life was changed. My thinking became peaceful and positive, I praised more and felt more gratitude, and when faced with a false accusation I was able to smile and carry on. These changes resulted from the love and acceptance of the Lord.

No matter what we do, the Lord embraces us. Jesus came to save sinners, and he looks for every lost sheep until he finds it. Those who wander away from the Lord can always come back. The Lord welcomes everyone with open arms." We all have sins and bad things that we have been involved in, but God receives us anyway. His whole purpose was the rescue of sinners. So know that He has you, no matter what has happened.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Heavenly Father, thank you for waiting for us and forgiving our sins. May all people recognize your love and turn to you." Amen.

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

"'16 So then, from this point on we won’t recognize people by human standards. Even though we used to know Christ by human standards, that isn’t how we know him now. 17 So then, if anyone is in Christ, that person is part of the new creation. The old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived! 18 All of these new things are from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and who gave us the ministry of reconciliation. 19 In other words, God was reconciling the world to himself through Christ, by not counting people’s sins against them. He has trusted us with this message of reconciliation. 20 So we are ambassadors who represent Christ. God is negotiating with you through us. We beg you as Christ’s representatives, “Be reconciled to God!” 21 God caused the one who didn’t know sin to be sin for our sake so that through him we could become the righteousness of God."' Be ready to reconcile with God in all things. Nothing is too awful for Him to step in and eliminate. Be sure that He is moving you along on the journey. Reconcile and strive to sin no more. Bless you everyone! Joe

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theprayerfulword · 5 months

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November 28

Philippians 2:14-15 Do everything without complaining or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe.

John 15:5 Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in Me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.”

Psalm 9:1 I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.

1 Corinthians 1:18 For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

1 Chronicles 16:34 O give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good; for His mercy endureth for ever.

2 Corinthians 5:20 Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were entreating through us…

May you honor God, Who holds in His hand your life and all your ways, never mistaking the creation for the Creator, but always giving Him the glory and the praise which is due Him. Daniel 5

May you ever be able to reject man's gifts and allow material rewards to go to someone else, that your mind would not be turned aside from God and your judgment and decisions would remain pure and uncorrupted, aligned with the precepts of the Lord. Daniel 5

May you humble yourself before the Lord, honoring Him Who holds in His hand your life and all your ways, even as you have learned of Him and have been taught by others, seeing His hand in their lives, lest the Lord do so, and more, to you. Daniel 5

May you openly acknowledge the Sovereign Lord Who bought you, as you follow the truth you have learned from the first, that He may bless you richly, as you bring honor and praise to His Name and Word, giving freely even as you have received, according to the eternal and faithful promises of God. 2 Peter 2

May you realize and understand that God knows how to rescue the godly from trials and to hold the unrighteous for the day of judgment, while continuing their punishment, especially for those who follow the corrupt desire of the sinful nature and despise authority. 2 Peter 2

May you remain humble and modest, cautious in your speech, alert to the Spirit of the Lord, and wise in the holy fear and respectful awe of the Lord, restraining yourself from matters you do not understand, that you may walk in the ways of the Lord, wherein is found life eternal. 2 Peter 2

May you remain on the straight and narrow way of the Lord, rejecting the wages of wickedness, but doing good and showing mercy, strengthening the weak and building up the faith of those who are double-minded, grounding them firmly in the teaching of the truth of God's word, demonstrating the servanthood of Christ's leadership, and the freedom contained therein. 2 Peter 2

Do not be impatient, My child, but wait upon Me by serving your brethren. I have appointed the times for My promises to be fulfilled, and I will not forget, nor will I miss the mark. I will sustain you with the strength and endurance you need as you seek Me; though the wait causes you distress, this is how you can release your childish demands and immature expectations to Me and receive My grace of patience and mature acceptance. My love for you never wavers, My precious one, for I hold you in My heart, and have planned out blessings in abundance for you along the way. Follow Me in obedience, stilling your heart in trust, thanking Me in faith, for the eye of man has not seen nor the ear of man heard the half of what I have prepared for you. Those who walk in My Spirit will glimpse the glory and taste the joy of fellowship as they serve others in My name.

May you love the law of God, but hate the thoughts of the double-minded people who are undecided in their religion. Psalm 119

May you put your hope in God's word, making Him your refuge and shield as you hide yourself in Him. Psalm 119

May you keep hearing, receiving, loving and obeying the commands of God, that evil-doers will be driven away, departing from you. Psalm 119

May you hope in God's promise to sustain your life and not let you be a shame or a disappointment. Psalm 119

May you always have regard for God's statutes which continually uphold you and deliver you to safety. Psalm 119

May you truly love the testimonies and statutes of the Lord, for He rejects and spurns all who stray from His decrees in vain deceitfulness, putting away all the wicked of the earth like dross, which are discarded for there is no true metal in them. Psalm 119

May your body tremble in reverential fear and worshipful awe of the Lord, as you contemplate the dreadful and fearful judgments of the Lord which are destined for the wicked, unless they repent. Psalm 119

May you do what is righteous & just, so that the Lord will not leave you to those who would oppress you, for with the Lord as surety for your well-being, how can the insolent and arrogant even hope to do violence to you? Psalm 119

May your eyes long for the salvation of God and for the fulfillment of His righteous promise as He deals with you according to His mercy and loving-kindness, teaching you His statutes and decrees. Psalm 119

May you submit to the Lord as His servant, that by His discernment and comprehension, you may understand and be familiar with the character of His testimonies. Psalm 119

May you love the commandments of the Lord more than resplendent gold, yes, more than perfectly refined gold, and may you consider all the precepts of God to be right, therefore, because you hate every false way which breaks His laws, you realize that it is time for Him to act. Psalm 119

#blessings #daily #prayers #scripture

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citybythebayvisions · 6 months

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Sunday April 26th, 2015

So seventeen wasn’t my best year...

Nowadays I know that it was far from my worst. The running around I did at fifteen and eighteen wore on me rougher, but as much as I hate to ‘cause they sting something brutal, at least I can think about those years. They were so consequential to my life that I’ve been forced to reflect and analyze them enough and I’ve found that, for all of the faults in my teenage chase for purpose, I at least had the energy to keep driving even when the road I put myself on was dangerously steep and rocky. With and without the substance, I was so fucking alive! I wanted to be, so much so that I was capable of saving myself by pulling off those sharp U-Turns from the edge on a dime and channeling my energy in much better and healthier ways. That’s why sixteen and nineteen were my best years during my teens: I worked as hard as I possibly could in every area of my life to cleanse myself of all that chaos I’d stirred and, while the cleanse might not have lasted forever like I wholeheartedly believed it would every time, at least it lasted long enough to bless me with the greatest gift of all when I made it to twenty.

Who, by the way, still isn’t home yet.

But he’s not and...I guess the only reason I have for why he should be is that I’m home before he is. He gets off at nine and has to take the train because I don’t get off until after eleven sometimes and now it’s after midnight…

And yeah, I know I know; Bayview might as well be the boonies, but I would’ve heard from him if it was a three-hour delay.

Nah, I’ve got him figured out. He’s out with his friends again, and I really hope he gets back before this Adderall fully wears off because y’know, I’d like to see my son for more than fifteen minutes before the crash hits — Jesus Christ, it’s already started. I’ve gone from trying to do something totally different to going back in time to when Jason was born, but only because I hate thinking about when I was seventeen and I wish the jingle of his keys would rattle me out of it — but I don’t.

So we’re back to the year of Sabotage...

Man, that really song put it all into perspective for me and it’s probably since I played it to death more than MTV did ‘cause shit... ‘94 blasted it’s way in with the same sheer force as that guitar riff and it left me on my knees begging and screaming to God, Jesus, and whoever else could hear me up there in the big blue sky above with the same guttural “Why?” Why did that vile piece of shit have to violate her? Why did he do it again? Why did I have to keep getting beat to a fucking pulp? Why did my dad have to do that to me? Why did my own fucking father want to hurt me so badly that I had to have surgery and recover in a hospital for an entire week? Why did I have to be muzzled like a dog for eight weeks? Why couldn’t the painkillers numb all of my pain? Why did I have to be so terrified all of the time? Why did I want to be alive? Why was everything and everyone I loved on the verge of being destroyed? Why did everything feel so chaotic and depressing for the entire world to suffer too? Why did every day feel like the worst was yet to come? Why did the year have to be so fucking violent? Why?

There were answers to these questions, but I didn’t receive them immediately. It took years, decades even, to get the pieces together or begin to accept the few of them that were lost forever, but that initial aftershock only made me ruminate in my teenage existentialism further. I drove myself so insane that by the time my birthday came around, I was so drained that I didn’t want to do a damn thing to celebrate. I remember it was a Saturday and I didn’t have to, so this was the one year where dozing off while watching something as shitty as my free rental of Coneheads—fuck I think I’m the only one who watched that awful movie—was as crazy as I wanted to get. What the hell else was there to look forward to? My jaw was wired shut! I couldn’t open my mouth any more than a centimeter or two, so cake was out of the question and I was sick of my vanilla pudding and applesauce diet...

So thank God for birthday cake shakes.

Right around the time I’d drank my birthday dinner of chicken broth that I was also tired of and decided to call it a day, there was this loud, excited, knock on the back door. I didn’t wanna move, but I had to get up to answer my friends, who rallied me out of my self sabotaging defiance to go and get myself one. They literally threatened that they wouldn't leave the back porch if I didn’t do it, ‘cause they were that determined to not let my bullshit deter me from feeling a little better like only the best of friends do just ‘cause they love you and want to bring some light into your shittiest days. It’s the one memory that makes thinking back on the day tolerable, really. At least I’m able to recognize myself there, laughing through the painkillers in a Denny’s booth with my girl tucked underneath my arm and my best friend right across from me. The Pavement tickets he got me were the ultimate mood booster too. The first time I saw them, when crooked rain was all that seemed to fall.

See, that’s the thing; through it all, at least my friends were along for the ride with me. We tried to have fun— looking back, there’s some good times that I can’t believe happened in the midst—but we all had things we wanted that were just out of reach that kept us from enjoying anything as wholly as we were used to. All I knew is that I wanted real freedom, some agency I could use, and I couldn’t have it for another year— more like two since that’s when she could have hers and I was starting to wonder long term about us and where we might be. I was thinking long term about everything and so was Eric, who was in his own crisis since he was about to enter senior year and had to start applying to other colleges. UCLA didn’t work out because of how badly we screwed up our grades in sophomore year and he was knocked out of sorts for the entire summer about being back at square one. It sucked for him since that was his dream school, and I thought it was pretty unfair, but I was happy he was at least on the board somewhere with a plan. College not being my thing was the only answer I had; I was totally aimless and no amount of joints we smoked or mushrooms we did that summer gave me the otherworldly answers I wanted to break through it — though they sure helped me feel better about it. It all worked out, of course, but we were too blurred by our own transitions that we couldn’t see it yet.

My point is that I get it, Jason. I get why you’re still gone. Seventeen was the first year I never wanted to be home either. My friends were my family and I needed them ‘cause they got me in a way that my parents couldn’t.

The way I can’t reach him now.

Look, Jason and I are some real studies in contrast, but I’ve always appreciated and admired how different he is from me. Being the quiet kid who stays in and keeps to himself like he is would’ve saved me from so much trouble when I was younger and he spares me a lot of worry that I know that I gave my mom. He can’t exactly steal my car keys when he doesn’t even care to learn how to drive, much less come stumbling in high and shitfaced when he shuts himself in his room and rarely leaves. I’ve never worried about him ditching school either — shit, he does so well that when he goes somewhere for lunch, it’s called open campus privileges and not skipping lunch period like it was for us back in the day. They’d let him walk out the door and blow him a kiss goodbye before ever screaming down my phone about truancy. I wouldn’t blame them. He’s such a good kid. A miracle of one, I swear. I know more about what he doesn’t do than what he does, but if he’s not doing anything reckless it shouldn’t concern me, right?

Well...it didn’t until it did. I’m happy he keeps himself safe, but all the isolation he subjected himself to back home wasn’t great for him either. I don’t think I saw him leave the apartment more than a few times the entirety of the last few summers outside of going and getting cigarettes—fuck, I wish he’d quit that habit now. There’s worse things he could’ve picked up at fifteen, but geez...he smokes worse than a chimney.

Where was I?

Oh right, Jason being elusive about his friends. So when he moved here and started going out on weekend nights, I was ecstatic! It relieved me, because I really wasn’t sure how well he was going to handle this move. He’d lived in the same place for years — the closest thing to a childhood home he'd ever had — and never ever moved out of Oakland before. Outside of my extended stay at Corcoran's best crossbar motel, I’d never done it either— that’s so fucking wild to think about. To know that before February, the closest I ever came to getting him out of that city was the Emeryville border and that was when he was a newborn. The moment I moved out of my parents house when I was only a few months older than him now, eighteen and even more aimless, leaving the city for good is one of the only things I wanted to do. There were so many places between here and Texas that I drove by and could’ve started instead. It took me two days to get there that summer. I was always daydreaming on that route and found myself paying more attention to the houses than the road sometimes. Not like anybody was out there to notice, or nag and shoot my possibilities down. Far removed from the route, I still wonder about it, if range life would’ve made it all turn out different. I betcha it would.

But she was coming back to California at the end of that summer and I couldn’t leave her, then I had a dealer and decent supply, then not too much later I had a probation officer who wouldn’t let me leave the state, then I was broke, then we had a kid and we had jobs and then Jason was already enrolled in school and then...well...I checked in. When I checked out, I was at the mercy of the first apartment with two bedrooms that would accept a felon and rescue us from that cramped studio she’d resorted to on Telegraph Avenue after we lost our place by the lake. 41st Street stuck and when I checked out again, I was so happy to be free that I didn’t want to go anywhere if I didn’t have to. Then I had to...

Different neighborhoods can feel a lot like different cities; the border was a lot different than the ‘burbs I grew up in and downtown Oakland was another fucking world in comparison, so San Francisco is a different universe entirely. Always was a totally different attitude here and that’s grown even more drastic than I remember. I never spent too much time over here — not from a lack of wanting to or anything, there wasn’t much of a need. When we were kids we’d hop the train or get a ride if there was something we really wanted to see, then when we were adults our trips unfortunately became less about stores and sneaking into concerts at the Civic Center and more about which clubs and bars to sell in and getting quick rock hookups while we were at it so we wouldn’t have to wait for our Oakland guys to cross to light up. Everything’s always been so much more expensive over here that, in all my moving plans, I never thought it’s where we’d wind up. Prior to this, I only knew of Bayview ‘cause of Candlestick. It’s getting torn down now because Levi’s got completed in Santa Clara and last year’s World Series champions moved to a new park years ago. I didn’t really think much about it while scrolling through Apartments.com, I just cared about the cheapest listings that could get us in the quickest, but anytime I pass by the rubble, the sense of nostalgia made me feel something for a place that I haven’t in a long time — belonging.

I think Jason felt it too. Within less than two weeks of starting his new school, he put all my worries about adjusting at ease — even if it meant him suddenly staying out downtown ‘til two in the morning. After everything he’s been through, I’m not about to get on him for missing curfew or whatever. He’s never had one and wouldn’t take it seriously if I suddenly decided to start one now anyway. And I don’t really want to. If he finally found some people worth spending so much time with and he’s happy, I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.

Thing is, my parents at least saw my friends…and at least heard me mention them by name in my rambles, which Jason hasn’t. All I know is that he’s out with them a lot lately, and I seriously might start thinking they’re imaginary if he doesn’t get the slightest bit more specific—

There’s the sound I want to hear.

Keys are jingling in the door and I get up off the couch to—oh shit, I lost? That’s what I was doing! Playing pool on my phone…’til I dozed off and the screen went black and lit up when I moved. Damn...

Whatever, I’ll pick up from it later. Kiddo’s finally home.

“Jason! Hey…”

“Hey…” He closes the door with his back, ‘cause there’s a paper bag that he’s holding in his arms.

“Oh, you went to the store! What’d you get?”

“It’s orange juice. We werr...out, so I bought some…” He replies, out of breath and sounding as exhausted as he looks. He must’ve walked a mile with this thing lugging him down. I don’t know why! I know he needs it to take with his vitamins, but Christ...an entire carton?

“Geez, Jason. You didn’t have to do that! I could’ve gotten it in the morning…”

“Yeah, well lit was on the...on the way, so...I got it. A lil’silly to worry about it now... don’t you think?”

“I guess. Just want you to keep it in mind for next time, that’s all.”

For that anyway. All I can focus on is that he’s still standing there holding the brown bag and...why? I’m not in his way or anything. Go put it in the fridge already, Jason! The faster you put it in the fridge, the faster you can crash!

And then it dawns on me that I’m equally as stuck standing here looking at him and what the fuck am I doing that for? He just walked a mile and his arm has to be sore and numb from carrying a cold bag for so long. You know how it is coming in that exhausted. Help him!

“C’mon, let me help you with that. Here,” I go over to him, arms out so he’ll hand me the bag and go lay down like I know he’s dying to.

But the paper crumples. He clutches tighter on the silly thing while shaking his head and I sigh at myself in frustration. Shit, I could’ve approached him a little quieter; he’s so tired that his eyes are beyond bloodshot and….glassy, like he’s been…

Wait a sec...he hasn’t been drinking, has he?

No! What am I thinking? He hates booze! He always complains about the smell making him sick! Why would he even think to try it?

But why else does he look like that? Or be slurring?

And refuse to give me the bag?

“Are you... okay?” I ask slowly. My hand’s frozen in the air, waiting for him to thaw.

“I’m fine...” He tells me, but his entire face has gotten a lot more red and blotchy in a matter of seconds, “M’just hot...thatsall. Don’t…don’t you think it’s hot in here? I’m sweltering.”

He tugs on the collar of his windbreaker but he doesn’t hand me the bag or set the damn thing down to actually take it off and that really quirks my brow.

“...No?”

He lets out a huff and yeah...gum only works for a little bit, kiddo. It’s there. The smell of liquor is still there.

Christ.

He keeps chewing on it though. Hell, he’s chomping on it even faster. “What…are you waiting up for?…Are y o u alright?”

“I’m sober.”

A bitter smile twists on me when I tell him that. It’s what he really wanted to know, but it’s clearly the answer we both don’t need to hear tonight. It’s burning his stare; he wanted me to be higher than a kite so I’d forget this sight and never say anything of it to him again — God, how I wish he were right. I wish that I would’ve never known about whatever happened here until he was sober and be so deafened by the ring in my ears that I couldn’t hear his fuming breathing.

But I can’t ignore it.

“And I was waiting because I wanted to make sure you made it back—”

“You can’t be serious.”

I sigh and put my hand on his shoulder to show him I am, “Not that I thought that you wouldn’t, I just...wanted to see you. Make sure you’re not just a blur…”

He opens his lids after a moment, looking less pissed. He still won’t talk.

So I switch gears, “Where were you after work, Jason?”

“The store.”

“Before that.”

“Nowhere.”

“Yeah, now we are, but the booze on your breath came from somewhere!” My hand flies off of his shoulder and sticks up in the air. His eyes look all big again, and that makes me more exasperated. What is he so shocked for? Did he really think I wouldn’t notice?!

No… no he didn’t. I never did and I should be lucky that he’s not laughing in my face like the cocky little shit I used to be. He’s somewhat sober enough to be serious, a little shameful, even. His eyes are droopy…

“You can’t pull a fast one on me. I caught you too red eyed. You’re drunk.”

—“Tipsy.”

“Tipsy…there we go! See Jason, that’s all I want. That’s all I’ve been wanting. You don’t have to lie to me! You know you don’t need to…”

His eyes screw shut again, and I keep going because I need him to hear me, hear that I’m not mad, he’s not in trouble, that I don’t care that he went out—or that I do but I’m not going to call up his buddies’ parents and rat on them or something silly like that. I don’t know their numbers! All I want to know is where he wasn’t.

But my own words start sounding more garbled and distant to me when I hear him start swallowing down hard. At first I guess he’s getting rid of the gum but he gulps again and again harder, each accompanied by a faint whine in his throat.

Oh shit…there he goes.

Hand flying up to his mouth, he shoves the bag into my chest, leaving me to clutch onto it while he stumbles towards the sink. It’s heavy and bulky and kinda cold and…yep, definitely a Minute Maid carton.

“I didn’t think you were lying about the bag!” I exclaim as I set the juice down on the table, because I didn’t…entirely. I don’t know why I said that to him though, it won’t make him feel better. Nothing I say will. His head is down in the sink, drowning me out by the tinny echoes of his heaving and puking. At least he must’ve had some meat for dinner, because I wince as I see red chunks cover the steel sink basin and I feel bad. He can’t help it.

It just never gets easier watching him.

I never had the chance to get used to it, really. You can’t nurse your kid back to health from 200 miles away. I can’t tell you how awful it was to hear his strained voice struggling through bronchitis to talk to me over the phone, or to hear the report over the line about how rough a night he had every winter when he caught a stomach bug from school and stuck in a cell instead of being there to help him.

His shoulders sink while he grips the edge of the metal, my own hand curling tighter into my arm. Reaching out will startle more than soothe him, he’ll just swat me away.

Watching is all there’s left to do.

Jason’s had it really rough lately. He started worrying me when we were trying to move with how winded he’d get trying to lift things into the U-Haul. We were trying to move this dresser that didn’t have drawers and was light enough for the both of us to pick up, and he kept needing to stop after every few feet because he needed to catch his breath. And I know he wasn’t trying to break his way out of it, pure agony screwed up his face every time. He told me he was dizzy, that he’s been really dizzy, and I believed him — he could barely stand up straight!

I called it a night so he could lay down on the couch and while he tried to sleep I got him an appointment. He was out of school for the move anyway, so they let him come in first thing in the morning. I really wanted to go in with him and find out, maybe get his doctor to persuade him that smoking can’t be helping matters, but I didn’t. He didn’t ask me not to go, and he didn’t need to. I always wanted to go in by myself. He’s almost an adult now, he can handle it — even if I couldn’t. The wait nearly killed me.

Eventually Jason walked out and slumped over the counter digging in the jar for Dum Dums while his doctor told me that he was probably moderately anemic. Probably as in, she’d already sent up orders for blood tests for us to get done to confirm it. The next place I took him was the lab and she was right! Iron and vitamin deficiency anemia. She said it was from not eating as much of the right things; add more meat and over the counter supplements into his diet and he should be feeling better within a few weeks…

The dizziness did. He quit complaining about it, or maybe it took a backseat to the pills making him nauseous all the time. He really is my son, ‘cause he threw them in the trash just how I threw out Ritalin at the first sign of a side effect after I first took it. He did it right in front of me too, pretty much saying exactly what thirteen year old me told my mom: “I don’t need these, I’m fine without them!”

I wish!

And I’m glad she fished them out of the can and made sure they were back in my hand time and time again because I needed something. Ritalin wasn’t perfect, but the right dose came as close it was gonna get before Adderall was around. It just took a lot of persistence by my mom and I to get it. Didn’t help that it kept changing as I got older. Two five milligram pills a day that was too much when I was thirteen turned into an okay twenty milligrams a day when I was fifteen and it was all night and day when I switched from twenty five milligrams of Ritalin to the same amount of Adderall. Now that was perfect. I could concentrate without turning into a total zombie, had energy to keep up with a toddler, and still slept well. No doctor will write that script for me now. Too risky! The hurdles I’ve been jumping through to get tens are ridiculous.

Anyway, Jason wasn’t used to taking pills. Isn’t. He didn’t know how you have to work and experiment with them…even if they are supplements, so I showed him. I got on the phone and got the dose fixed twice…not like that’s much help to him now.

So I’m left to wonder…why would you even risk it? You’re already sick!

Well...I don’t know...why did I? I stood and watched my dad’s battle with it for years to know what happens when you drink too much, and then I forgot all about it whenever I got ahold of the sweet taste of rum. When you’re a kid, you think you and your stomach are invincible until you’re proven wrong one too many times and learn to take it easy.

At least Jason’s gotten his first one out of the way.

He’s stopped vomiting now and catches his breath for a second. His eyes open to see what landed in the sink…not a good idea, but he’s so familiar with it that he hardly blinks. He just frowns, slowly grabbing the sprayer and trying to wash it out of the sink.

“Don’t worry about that.” I twist the faucet knob back. He pretty much got it all anyway.

Dropping the sprayer back in the basin, Jason looks over, lost on what to do with his face. It’s a lot, far more than he can wipe away with his hand…

“I’ll get the towels.”

I rush behind him to pluck the roll off of the table, tucking it under my arm as I walk back. Frown deepening, his head tilts when I rip a couple of sheets off.

“I can get it.”

I shake my head.

“Don’t be silly, you’re a mess! Let me.”

This is my mess too.

Breaking into a shaky sigh, he nods and sticks his chin out for me, like it’s still only strawberry jam stuck there to scrub off. The same sweet little smile twitches from the towel brushing against his cheek too, ‘cause he’s always been ticklish. This was damn near impossible when he was little, I’d usually wind up getting all of it on my shirt from him burying his head there to fight it ‘cause he was laughing so hard and couldn’t sit still. I realize I don't even need to hold onto him now, but he's letting me, he’s really letting me…

“Good.” I whisper after I swipe the last little bits off of his lip, spreading into a wide smile as I cup my palm over his clammy but clean face.

‘Cause he is.

None of this changes a thing. It isn’t good; I don’t want him sneaking behind my back to get drunk and I really don’t want him feeling like he has to lie about it, but he isn’t this doomed delinquent…

— “You’ll never see me like this again.”

His voice is hoarse and hushed, yet this is the clearest he’s sounded all night.

It’s his apology.

“Jason…come on. You can’t help being sick.”

“I can help this.”

I think my eyebrows would fall off my face if they could go any higher. He’s serious as he can be too, God bless him, and I don’t mean to drag this on, he’s just miserable and is bargaining whatever he can to get it all to end, but…

“You can help being seventeen? Damn, what’s your secret?” I break into a chuckle, hand dropping to pat the satin of his jacket, “That’s what we all said! Your regret is just another rite of teenage passage, kiddo. It sucks, believe me, but… you can’t change it. Standing here feeling guilty’s not gonna make you feel better...”

Especially with how bad he’s started reeling. He blinks hard for a long time, trying to get it back, but it doesn’t do it. His shoulder’s slouched, arm dangling heavier than his breathing, and I have to hold him firmer ‘cause he’s starting to sway.

“I’m…I wanna sit down.”

“That would help.”

I lax my grip when he tries to fumble with it, freeing him to stumble over to his kitchen chair, croaking for the juice once he gets there.

“One mimosa coming right up.” I smile, but he’s not amused. I guess laughter isn’t the best medicine.

Trazodone is.

It would get him out of his head and force him to sleep, but you can’t take it after drinking — well you can, I have, but you really shouldn’t. He doesn’t have enough of a tolerance of either to try, so Tylenol PM it is.

I take two out of the bottle and deliver them to him with his glass of lukewarm juice. He doesn’t care, he sips it anyway. Slowly, but that’s okay. He needs to take his time.

I want to sit across from him, all of my pacing around is probably distracting, but I can’t bring myself to. Not until this is settled, ‘cause if I don’t set the record straight about it now, it’ll keep playing this broken song.

“You know, Jason, sometimes the only way you’ll get to know your limits is by testing them. It’s not always ideal but you live and you learn. Now you know how much your stomach can take and you know to stay away from—”

“Vodka.” He mutters while bringing up his glass. “Half a bottle.”

Half a bottle?!

Takes a hard blink and a grip on the back of the chair to keep me from turning to the sink myself.

“Jesus…well now you know. And next time you even see vodka, you’re only gonna think about how it had your head in a sink. I know I probably sound lame but I’m serious, it’s a real reflex.”

Just don’t ignore it.

And I know. If he were sober, there’d be this little curl on his lip, and I’d hear him call me on my shit and question why the same doesn’t apply to me without him even having to save the words.

Instead he whispers, “I hope.”

Sure, it’s a rough night and he’s prone to being a little dramatic during his first time in the trenches but shit, he sounds scared.

Scared that he’ll be sick like me.

The mere idea of using used to nauseate me so bad when I was good and clean. I’ve been on my hands and knees throwing up just over the thought—the fact— that I’d put that damn dirty pipe in my mouth. It’d be years and I’d start salivating all of a sudden and that was all I could do to purge it.

But now…

It doesn’t matter. Can’t go through all that when you have it there to pick up, when it’s the only thing you have to hold close. 23 years is long enough to acquire the taste. When I light up, I don’t think about it anymore. Nothing to think about. Nothing to worry about ruining when I’ve already ruined it all.

I want to grab him, hold on and tell him he shouldn’t be scared. He’s better. He’s so much better. He’ll learn from this, I genuinely believe he will…but mom thought the same about me. I thought the same about me.

I hope so too.

I’d tell him, but I want him to have the last word. It means more. He has to hope, he has to listen to that fearful voice in his head and let him guide him from this shit, he has to not let this fucking burden be his…

Jason’s eyes are heavier than this tension. He needs to go to bed.

He pushes himself off the table, this time a little less wobbly when he stands. He might make it there if he goes slow but I don’t know…

“You want some help?”

“No thank you… I got it.” He says with his palm on the wall, using it as a guide while taking a couple slow steps through the living room. I have to at least let him try, so I pick up his glass, dumping the rest of the juice in the sink.

About halfway through, he stops in his tracks.

“Oh, I almost forgot…” He turns, slouching his back on the wall while he digs around in his pocket for…a skinny white envelope.

Must’ve went to the bank.

See, this is why Jason is different. There’s no fucking way I would’ve remembered to do that before going out. Stopping to get gas in my car to even go out was hard enough, much less withdrawing my own money to help my parents with rent.

“Thank you,” I say, sighing to myself as he drops it on the side table. I hate to ask this from him. It’s not right at all, this should be going towards his first car or his first girlfriend or even just some little thing he wants. I need to provide for him, but the move was sudden and this area has gotten so ludicrously expensive that it’s impossible to do it on my own, no matter which way I try.

But he smiles a little, “You’re welcome. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

I wait, washing the glass until he’s made it to his door and disappears into his room. I’d need a hit to open it with him here.

Need one anyway.

But this money is for fucking rent. I’m not spending my son’s hard earned cash on crack. This is for the roof over his precious sleeping head, not my pathetic addiction. It’s beyond generous ‘cause there’s no fucking way I would’ve given my money up at seventeen, my dad wouldn’t have accepted my help even if I was the only person left on this planet.

I shouldn’t even open it now, I should wait ‘til Monday when the rental office is open when I can deliver them the check and get it over with. But I should at least count it. It feels kinda thick for what’s usually six one hundred dollar bills…

Because there’s more.

#*lance kelley #*jason kelley #*eric myers #*deirdre kelley #*writing #we wingin this man i have been wingin this entire thing so it feels fitting #first thing since 9/21 ii lets fucking GOOOOOOO

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freddiekluger · 3 years

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please drop the essay length analysis Judas and Jesus (extra gay Swedish edition), O great and knowledgeable monarch of our times

alright, you ask i deliver! please excuse any typos, my eyes aren't exactly working rn

welcome to my probably super subjective but correct analysis, aka

Judas Was Right and Jesus Was A Victim (At Least, In Swedish)

Before we get started, a couple points: i’ll try to avoid comparisons to other specific productions, i’ve only seen the other recorded 2012 british version which i didn’t like for reasons including but not limited to the amount of white people with dreadlocks. Also, my understanding of swedish is limited to a couple words and phrases, so most of the lyrics i reference will be english subtitles from Ola Salo’s swedish translation and therefore might not be the most accurate !

There’s so much i could cover in this, but for now i’m going to focus on how jesus and judas are portrayed in the 2014 swedish arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar (JCS) starring Ola Salo as Jesus and Peter Johansson as Judas, along with how this production more implicitly views god.

From the opening number, translated into swedish as En Dimmig Himmelsdröm (A Foggy Heaven’s Dream), Peter Johansson’s acting and semantic differences in the lyrics present us with a deeply sympathetic portrayal of Judas. Looking purely at language, the english equivalent Heaven On Their Minds instantly paints Judas as much more of a faithless doubter- lyrics exclusive to the english version like “all your followers have gone blind / too much heaven on their minds” and “they think you’re the new messiah / and they’ll hurt you when they find they’re wrong” strongly enforce Judas’ main motivation for his actions being that he has less belief in Jesus and God’s plan than any of the other disciples with strong statements judging the other disciples for following him and claiming that Jesus ISN’T the messiah. The swedish translation doesn’t paint exactly the same picture- the focus of Judas’ number becomes his fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, not because he isn’t the messiah (the production remains fairly ambiguous on this point), but because Jesus can’t cope. The root of Judas’ concern comes from fear for Jesus’ wellbeing, and the disciples are referenced as regularly misunderstanding and wilfully twisting Jesus’ words. The swedish equivalent lyrics for the above examples are “they say, “jesus is god’s son” / but you know how people can change” (judas isn’t concerned with truth, just the danger that jesus will be in if the tide turns), and “the kingdom of heaven is within us, that’s what you said / bu they sew it, stitch by stich into some kind of foggy heaven’s dream”. Judas is showing that he HAS been listening and cares for Jesus’ teachings, but ‘they’ [his disciples] are turning them into something else entirely, and Judas’ worries that the support of the masses is fragile at best- the lines “and everything you say gets twisted by your lackeys / it will be anything but what you’ve said” and “you are being used by people who want you in their battle” reinforces this again. When combined with Peter Johansson’s tough but tender performance, in which he dances between disdain for Jesus, the institution, and affection for Jesus, the man (an important distinction), Judas is the harsh realist doing his best to look out for the man he loves. The way he takes Jesus hands and looks at him with love and urgency straight away establishes that his motivations are pure- Judas is doing what he thinks is best, even though it feels like no one will listen to him.

That was long, but En Dimmig Himmelsdröm is the perfect character introduction for Judas. He’s not totally unrecognisable, still delivering digs about ‘Jesus, the little carpenter’s son’, his manner is still rough and at this point we’re not sure whether or not the claims he makes about the disciples have any truth to them, BUT we can also see how much Jesus means to him, an important point that give context to the intensity of their future arguments and really makes the whole story much more heartbreaking.

This brings me to Ola Salo’s Jesus. Delightfully camp and queercoded, Judas describes him as being caught up in his own magic and mystery and buckling under the pressure, and he’s not entirely wrong. Throughout the first act, Jesus basks in the luxuries that being messiah can give him (the oils Mary paid for using disciple funds that were supposed to go towards helping the poor, him absolutely thriving in the shopping cart in What’s the Buzz?), and is shown actively avoiding any reminders of the seriousness of his position. He’s sick of the disciples asking him for a plan, he chooses the comforting Mary, who’s theme consists of telling Jesus everything is okay and he doesn’t need to think about anything, over Judas, who is less perhaps ‘cosy’ but is actively trying to warn and protect Jesus from an awful fate. During The Temple, he starts to crack as he’s overcome by the followers begging him to make him well, fear in his eyes as he raises his arms while frozen on the spot trying to avoid being devoured by the frenzy in desperate need of a messiah. Judas’ point about Jesus buckling under the pressure is starting to look more and more reasonable, and the dashes of showbiz campness add to the sense that much of Jesus is a persona constructed for the masses to give himself enough distance to prevent him from being crushed by the weight of God entirely. Jesus, the institution, prances around, lays his hands on his followers, and projects an air of easygoing calm. Jesus, the man, is scared and alone, and Jesus, the man, really comes out in Last Supper, but before we get there, I want to circle back to the Jesus/Mary/Judas thing.

Jesus, Mary, and Judas are presented as a love triangle: so much so, that Judas seeing Mary sing of her love for Jesus (I Don’t Know How To Love Him) is actually played as the inciting incident that sends him to the pharisees. Judas, the picture of the jealous lover, storms onto the scene, breaking them up and attempting to kiss Jesus, who instead shoves him to the ground in disdain. Judas, who is perhaps a little controlling, realises that any influence he had over Jesus has gone, and it’s likely a combination of jealousy and the knowledge that Jesus won’t stop that prompts him to head to the pharisees. In his meeting with the pharisees (known in english as Damned For All Time, although that phrase doesn’t appear once in the swedish), Judas’ expresses outright that “I’m the one who sees / Jesus, he can’t handle it anymore” “the truth is that this hysteria is making him lose control”, once he can get past explaining how much this plan of action feels like a last resort. He never even verbally or physically accept the pharisees’ offer of money, he denies it twice before it is eventually thrown over him after he reluctantly gives them the date and time to find Jesus- we never even see him pick it up, unlike other productions which show Judas grabbing for the cash and place a higher emphasis on Judas making sure he ‘won’t be damned for all time’, painting Judas as far more self serving. When it comes to Jesus, Judas is active- he’s running around trying to help, caressing him, embracing him, grabbing his hand, kissing him. They share countless moment of intimacy, especially at the start, establishing the fondness between them instead of instantly jumping to their conflict. When it comes to Mary (and admittedly, this is partially because she’s a secondary character- don’t get me wrong I still love her and Gunilla Backman does a brilliant job), she’s much more passive. Other than the much more gentle kisses in I Don’t Know How To Love Him and her penchant for dabbing Jesus’ forehead, she’s mostly just ‘there’. She cares for Jesus after the fact, and even when performing acts of intimacy like the oil and the kiss, she maintains a lot of physical distance- her songs touch on this as, much like Jesus (admittedly for different reasons), she actively distances herself from feelings to protect herself, so naturally she literally places distance between herself and the object of her love.

This brings me back to Last Supper, Gethsemane ( I Only Want to Say), and the kiss of death that broke all of our hearts. Throughout this segment, this is when Jesus, the man, really comes through, and it’s devastating. In Last Supper, he properly expresses the sheer amount of loneliness he feels, reiterating how he feels everyone will forget about him once he’s gone, and doesn’t really care about him as a man (”for you, my blood is not worth more than wine / for you, my body is not worth more than bread” “you will have forgotten me as soon as i give up my life”). This devolves into the disciples fighting each other and, you guessed it, ignoring him. For the first time, Jesus meaningfully lets out his anger, and as it turns to Judas, Judas does the same. Because of the set up of their complicated romantic relationship and the stakes involved, the amount of personal attacks and anger that comes out of Jesus and Judas’ repeated fights (which get physical) make complete sense- Jesus’ frustrations come from the fact that his entire fate has been predetermined and to him, Judas is just another instrument in the ways he’s been controlled (both with Judas being his betrayer, but also the way that Judas’ constant advice and interference with Jesus’ life (most obviously, the mary thing) are acted by Ola Salo as becoming increasingly frustrating to Jesus)- these frustrations are directed at their real cause, God, in Gethsemane. Judas’ frustrations come from the fact that no matter how hard he tries to help Jesus and keep him safe, Jesus keeps rejecting his efforts resulting in “all that we’ve built up [being] destroyed”- Judas’ heart hasn’t just been broken by Jesus rejecting him romantically, but on every level. Here, he’s actually shown to be the disciple most passionate about helping people practically and long term, being the only one concerned about Mary taking money which was supposed to help people, manipulated by the pharisees with the promise of doing good for the masses, and criticising Jesus for how they could be doing so much for people, ending his part of Last Supper with “every time i look at you i ask myself why you let all your things go so wrong? / all i ever wanted was to help you”.

This is also the point where Judas’ claims about the disciples are essentially confirmed, and this productions intent to portray Judas as more of a tragic hero become absolutely clear. In the english version, the disciples chorus remains virtually the same each time it appears, generally being far too calm considering their leader is about to die, revealing their aspirations to be apostles, and their intent to write the gospels to be remembered. the swedish translation still achieve this, but with variations from chorus to chorus it becomes much more poignant. i’m just going to stick to ttwo, which are choruses 1 and 3. In chorus 1, lines roughly translate to “i’ve always wanted to be an apostle / life is so nice when you’re saved/ then when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / then everything will be the way we want”- the apostles declaring that life is so good when you’re saved supports Judas’ opening statement that they care more about some idea of heaven than anything else, not to mention ignoring the absolute horrors that Jesus will have to go through to be saved, while the final line about the gospels introduces their intent to change whichever details they need to make ‘everything the way we want’: once again, exactly what Judas warned us of in En Dimmig Himmelsdröm. In chorus 3, taking place after Judas storms out for the last time, these lines change to “never really liked that judas / never saw what jesus saw in him / then, when we’ve got time we’ll write the gospels / and we’ll angle it so he gets all the blame”. Judas as a sympathetic character is confirmed here, as the disciples straight up admit how they don’t like Judas anyways and intend to write him as a villain (also inadvertently admitting that, since they have to write the gospels to make it look like only Judas’ fault, Judas isn’t really the sole one responsible for everything that is to come). It’s deeply unsettling, and for me was the point where I really began to question how good any of these disciples were, and by extension, how good is this production’s God if his truly sanctified followers are acting like this?

Jesus vents out all of his anger and desperation in Gethsemane. He acknowledges his own powerlessness and begs him to change the plan, but with the dark stage and no response (along with Ola Salo’s spectacular acting) it becomes clear that if anyone is there, they’re certainly not listening (”you, who have all the power / can you please change the plan / for i can already feel the pain burning in me”). It’s worth mentioning that a lot of the imagery in this swedish version is much more intense than the english, both in this song and the production as a whole. Jesus plainly calls god “thoughtless”, begging to understand, and it’s that this point we realise that he agrees with much more of what Judas has been saying than he’s been letting on- Jesus’ faith appears to be the only thing keeping him from listening to Judas and running away. Judas’ messages about people misunderstanding Jesus’ words also come out (”you care that everyone sees / but not that anyone understands”), and his eventual agreeing to die is played less as an inspiring act of faith, and more an act of desperation as he realises, he realise has no other choice. In this song, we see just how much of Judas Jesus has valued and taken on board, and that his air of carefree aloofness which frustrated Judas was, as we’ve already touched on, a complete act. The line “might as well finish what i’ve... what YOU’VE started” is absolutely miserable, reinforcing one of the major themes of this production: the idea that Jesus and Judas were both just ordinary men tormented by futures defined by forces out of their control. Just as Jesus has absorbed Judas’ logic, as an audience so we have, and it’s difficult to view the rest of the play’s events as anything other than an immense and unnecessary act of cruelty.

we’re almost done i promise!

Even knowing what Judas has/will do, Jesus still greets him with love. Judas, still under the impression that Jesus will be okay and that he’s doing what’s best, approaches him with the utmost tenderness, and the kiss is a beautiful signifier of two things. For Jesus, the return of his love for Judas shows his realisation in Gethsemane that Judas isn’t the one who’s sealed his fate and has only being trying to help, it’s god himself who has decided Jesus’ future. For Judas, the kiss shows that despite all of the anger and frustration that has been pouring out of him, he truly does love Jesus, and the way he cradles the scared and alone Jesus to his chest afterwards shows just how much he wishes he could be the one to help him and keep him close. Even with all their arguments and dysfunction, here Jesus and Judas find comfort in each other, and it almost seems like everything will end up alright. It’s in this moment that Judas and Jesus are most identifiable not as enemies, or as villain and hero, but as archetypal lovers from a Shakespearean tragedy. Neither of them set out to hurt each other, but through miscommunications, their own flaws, and external forces (both natural and supernatural), their love is simply never to be. Furthermore, in the following torture and spectacle, everything that Judas predicted for Jesus is about to come true. Another detail I find interesting is the way that Jesus and Judas both sport black nail polish, leather pants, and similar length hair: along with just looking cool as hell, the similarities really reinforce how close they are and how much they influence each other- it feels like a contemporary version of carrying a cameo or a lock of your lover's hair with you, a way for 'star crossed lovers' to keep a piece of their beloved no matter what.

The disaffected persona of Jesus, the institution, comes back as he’s taken by the authorities and subsequently insulted, degraded, and whipped. Also the swedish version of The Arrest, when the chorus starts singing questions, contains this dick joke and I think we all deserve it: “why were you dating a whore? / talk about a huge magic wand!”

Skipping forward to Judas’ Death, this is where both his character and the production’s conception of god beautifully (and miserably) align. When Judas runs to the pharisees, minor semantic changes (along with the genuine concern and great acting from Peter Johansson) reinforce that this Judas genuinely didn’t know that Jesus would be beaten and sentenced to death the way he has been, and Judas’ concern regarding how things look is played less as ‘oh no people will hate ME!’, but how having sentenced the man you love to death is one nightmarish thing, but for everyone to think you did it knowingly and willingly and then congratulate you for it is unthinkable. Where the english shows Judas’ attempting to evade responsibility for Jesus death, the swedish is more focused on Judas’ guilt, horror, and regret. The english “I’d save him all the suffering if I could / don’t believe our good / save him if I could” is swapped in swedish for “If anyone should die here I should / don’t say I’m good / better if I died”. While the english statements are somewhat empty (sure, Judas says he’d save Jesus’ suffering if he could, but he can’t so we’ll never truly know) and are still focused on Judas’ attempt to construct himself as a good guy, the swedish translation has Judas admit his guilt (even if it’s not really his fault), and make the promise of “better if i died” which, given the name of this sequence, he later delivers on. When english Judas sings “Christ, I’d sell out the nation / For I have been saddled with the murder of you”, swedish Judas sings “Jesus, I’ve been deceived / because of my act your blood’s now being spilt”, and instead of ending this first section with “I should be dragged through the slime and the mud”, swedish jesus returns to the theme of character assasination with “i will be cursed as the one behind your murder”.

The swedish translation of the next rework of I Don’t Know How to Love Him also places much more emphasis on Judas’ genuine romantic love for Jesus- we’d be here for hours if i listed everything but here are a few key contrasts. The english has Judas sing “I don’t know how to love him / I don’t know why he moves me”, whereas the swedish has Judas crying while singing “how do I show my love / all I want is to be close to you”. Along with acknowledging Judas already loves Jesus, the entirety of this segment is shifted from Judas singing about Jesus in the third person ‘he’, to a direct address. Judas isn’t performing his sadness, or venting his emotions, he’s emitting one last desperate cry to the man he loves as he sobs on a stage completely shrouded in darkness, and it’s devastating. Peter Johansson lets his voice run raw as he’s belting, and interrupts lines with sobs, and this Judas answers the question of “do you love me too? do you care for me?” with a quiet “no”- Judas is about to go to his death convinced Jesus must hate him, just as Jesus will face his knowing his love inadvertently put him there.

We finally reach Judas’ actual death, and the production’s far more ambiguous (if not negatively geared) depiction of god comes to a head. Judas’ screaming at god the moment he realises that his god essentially forced Judas to be the one to kill Jesus (an act of ultimate cruelty given their love) comes across as horrifying in it’s validity, unlike in other english language productions where it follows the more common characterisation of Judas being an unbeliever who can’t take responsibility for his own actions. When he spits on the ground, screaming “you have murdered me!”, we can’t help but agree- Judas was trying everything he could to stop Jesus from dying, and yet here he is. Most notably, Judas doesn’t set up his own suicide- a noose literally descends from the heavens, already tied, and Judas is literally trapped between the edge of the stage, and the symbol of death behind him. Much like he didn’t choose to kill Jesus, Judas has no choice in his own suicide- it’s suggested to merely be another part of the plan god has for him, and Judas raising his arms to form a crucifixion pose before he finally turns and jumps, disappearing into the depths of the theatre as the rope trails down (somewhat evocative of a leap to hell), highlight the sick joke. Much like Jesus begging in Gethsemane, a plea with god that in anyway implies fault or cruelty is met with silence followed by a death sentence.

When Judas reappears to the broken and bloodied Jesus in Superstar, he appears as more of a twisted hallucination than the literal spirit of Judas. He’s the opposite of everything he was in life, draped in colour, surrounded by red lighting instead of the signature blue, his hair quite literally let down, joking and dancing. Despite singing about him, Judas virtually ignores Jesus for the whole song except when he’s taunting him, snatching his hand away after a broken and desperate Jesus reaches out for the image of his beloved (refuting Judas’ belief that Jesus would die hating him), along with the swedish additions of Judas repeatedly addressing him as “little Jesus”. Where the living Judas was serious, sometimes harsh but always well intention, often paying more attention to Jesus than he received, this Judas is the opposite: light hearted but cruel, not caring about Jesus one bit. It’s somewhat an inversion of the beginning of JCS, where the tormented Judas was constantly reaching out to Jesus, and often met with scorn and insult (see: most of their arguments, this line from Everything’s Alright: “the thought is beautiful but quite unrealistic / yes, even quite stupid”). As the song goes on, and even as Jesus is crucified, the victorious scoring of the Superstar theme ends up reinforcing the cruelty and questioning of god distinctive of this production: Ola Salo’s Jesus is one of the bloodiest Jesus’s (Jesii?) I’ve been able to find, with blood covering his torso, his arms, and all over his face, not in passive dribbles, but violent ‘swooshes’ spreading out from his eyes, emphasising the fear and pain contained within them. As the music suggests how great and wonderful Jesus’ death is, the images straight out of a horror movie before us don’t seem to match up: as both Judas and Jesus question, if no one is understanding what Jesus is saying, why kill him? instead of making a point, you’re ensuring that the falsehoods continue to circulate, unless spreading the true message isn’t really the intent at all. or, simply that Jesus was wrong: his interpretation and teachings of god were far too kind and practical, and the true god really is the one that he briefly saw in the garden of Gethsemane, and that Judas saw before his death- a cruel and vindictive god using them for his own sick purposes. If you're a strong Christian, I'm sure you could watch this production and still believe that God was right (although I think Jesus and Judas being in love counts as blasphemy), but I think in doing so you'd lose part of what makes this production so hard hitting and, as i keep saying, devastating.

that’s pretty much it for this one! i feel like jesus and judas as a queer couple is less significant to this production than the fact that it’s specifically jesus and judas that are in love - they don’t face explicit homophobia as such, although i do think the paratextual and historical associations of queerness (both with them each looking visibly queer, and them as a couple) adds a beautiful dimension by subverting the standard christian teaching of Jesus’ sacrifice as “a love that changed the world” and making the love that truly could have been transformative (and was, to a degree) the love between Jesus and another man, not to mention the way in which queerness is often viewed as radical perfectly upholding the ‘radical’ views of god and the story of Jesus shown in the production. Why wouldn’t the love between two men be the love which has us questioning god, faith, and that which many of us have been taught since birth? Ola Salo has talked about how he’s able to be positive and negative towards christianity, along with how he wanted Jesus and Judas to really represent two sides of the same coin (’faith and intelligence’), and being bisexual along with having alluded to being raised christian (not to mention Breaking Up With God, a song by his band The Ark), it’s not surprising he’s managed to present such a nuanced and layered interpretation of Jesus Christ Superstar that even me, a trans exvangelical, can fall in love with.

UPDATE: @bands-and-hobbits has just let me know that Ola's dad was a priest! Apparently he's said that he liked the organs and the music, but that was all when it comes to christianity, which (when combined with Ola stating in interviews that the JCS soundtrack has been one of his favourite albums since he was 14) makes a lot of sense about the level of familiarity he had with the text giving him confidence to go in and make changes to really capitalised off of some of the themes that are hinted at in the english version- you have enough information to understand how everything works together, but aren't so dedicated to preserving belief that you feel you can't improve/change things (and my god are we glad he did)

#thank you if you made it this far!#also the inherent rhythm in swedish as a language just makes all of the songs sound better i'm gonna say it #english is really hit and miss when it comes to music and can get especially clunky with musicals requiring exposition #also sorry there's so much i've left out !#anyways enjoy #jesus christ superstar #jesus christ superstar swedish arena tour 2014 #jcs #peter johansson #ola salo #also i have barely edited this so i hope it's coherent

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samsm2mstories · 3 years

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Body Swapping with Romeo Beckham (A dream I had) PART 2

As we were talking, I couldn't help but to check my mobile out and see everything on my phone, my contact list was crazy! I now have an older brother and a younger brother plus a sister. Looking through my contacts I see familiar names like HRVY, Blake Gray and other famous names and influencers. My photo collection is a ton of selfies and places that I have been too and suddenly I went into my social media pages. FUCK I'm totally famous as there is so many followers on all my new pages.

Romeo who was me was laughing away as he knew I was checking him out and told me it's not all fun and games, I now have an appearance to keep up and I better get used to the press being on my back alot. He got up and told me to be back here in two days time, he was rubbing my former bulge during these talks. We agreed on a time and he said his goodbyes and told me to take it easy. I got up myself as I slide my phone into my green short pockets. I felt uneasy standing up as I was much lighter and taller, I shook Sam's hand and went my way.

Walking back I was checking my new outfit which suited this new body of mine, tattoo's over my twinkish tanned leg, high socks and a pair of AF1s on my feet. A plain black tee and this totally awesome snapback which was holding my beautiful longer hair back. I felt so energetic feeling this new body and seeing how it naturally walks. I knew from walking back I had to explore this body more but something caught my eye. I have noticed in my new gained memories that Romeo was planning for longer swaps if I was his break. My new bulge grew instantly at the thought of that as I must be careful not to cause an embarrassing scene, luckily nobody was about so I took a quick peek at what I got in my shorts.

FUCK ROMEO I'M HUNG AS FUCK!

I chuckled as I well impressed having this new package of mine and it suddenly hit me that I'm hungry, having all these memories helped as I went to my car which was a beauty! I'm driving a 45k Jeep now!

JESUS CHRIST I'M SURE RICH NOW BABY!

I got in checking everything out, new touchscreens, so many more buttons, getting familiar with everything as I recently just passed my test and this was my first vehicle. I was loving this life but I decided to head to the nearest shops but I must first check out how busy it is as I don't want all the extra attention being a popular person in a pack store. First shop I normally enjoy was too packed which was a joke as I really wanted to eat from there so be it. I took the risk and pull on a hoodie.

It's a good thing I got some spare clothes with me, this must be such a pain having to deal with the attention if not being careful, already I feeling the pressures of this new life. Hoodie, mask and a snapback so I walked into the busy posh store. I was checking out all these new interesting foods that was on other, the prices were extortionate but who cares? It's like loose change to me!! I found some stuff this body likes and I paid for it at the till and saw this handsome guy there. He was a complete stud, luckily he didn't notice who I was and I memorised his name and decided to slip him my number.

Did I actually do that? This new found confidence of Romeo's mixed with my alpha personality was something unquestionable. I do have a current GF but she is away for a few weeks and so is the real Romeo. This is my body now for two days.

This sushi tastes AMAZING as I'm getting used to my new tastes now, I couldn't help eating it as I was walking since I was hungry. It seems this body enjoys food but rarely put on any weight. Luckily enough I hardly got any plans for today but I got to hit my home gym or do football practice in my back garden to keep myself active. Time to head back home.

It felt incredible exploring my new life as I'm having to learn everything from my newly gained memories. You know I could get used to this pressure with ease, maybe that Romeo wanted. Someone like me being him on his breaks from life. I actually would accept that someone is controlling parts of my life while I control part of his. This feels so natural as we both got the same excitement. I couldn't help but checking my new boyish face in the mirrors taking in every facial expression I can do.

All of this was secretly turning this body horny as I recall how I enjoyed my own stories. Now here I am living it as a reality. I'm the sexy Romeo enjoying life to the max. I arrived at a huge gated entrance as the cameras and sensors reckonised my car and face. It opened up to a large drive way to this enormous mansion!!! I was in awe as this is my new home!

I pulled next to an Bentley that must of been my father car. It seems fairly quiet as my parents are in LA with my younger siblings. My older brother has his own place so that means I got this whole place to myself apart from the staff that keep this place in shape.

I got out and walked into this grand place, There was 10 bedrooms with their own bathrooms, two large kitchens, 4 reception rooms and so much more. I knew all of this naturally as I lived here. I went towards my bedroom and WOW IT WAS HUGEE!

I couldn't resist it any longer as I took my clothes off and admired my sexy body in the mirror. I was surely very toned and fit. Muscles all over, I was loving my smooth sexy mini six pack knowing I've worked hard daily to gain this strength. I couldn't help but admired this body all over and then I had to deal with my bulge. I jumped onto my new huge bed and moved my hand down my abs towards my new cock. I closed my eyes and pumped my cock slowly feeling up the new skin and veins over it. It felt like my first time all over again as I pumped it more which I moaned softly getting used to this new bigger cock of mine. Everytime my hand went down, I moaned louder as it was sending me crazy. I went faster and faster as I was enjoying this until I let go and shot my loads into an empty cup. I was breathing loudly seeing thick loads shooting away until I depleted my tanks. I couldn't believe how thick these loads are. My very own body now is relieved as I looked at the cup and craved it. I had to do it so I drank my loads and it tasted delicious! I knew considering how flexible I am that I could potentially suck myself but that can wait.

I went into my walk in wardrobe and saw my mass collection of clothes. It was a dream come true! All these huge names were mine for pickings. I enjoyed wearing my outfit today but I'm keeping to that for now on. Hoodies, snapbacks and af1s or Jordans. I want to show off my sexy legs as they were perfected like everything else is. I feel Romeo would want me to be him more often. I suddenly remembered that I got a flight to LA in a days time.

He has set me up! I'm actually got to be him for months as he set the deal up differently to what we said. Not that I'm worried but fuck this is me now. This is all mine and my mobile started ringing.

It was that guy at the shop.

Part 3 coming soon

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goineedsleep · 3 years

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this is just as bad, if not worse, than my previous idea

-olberic is a soldier of... what do i call it... goshdang it i'm just calling it atlasrule, and he does it really well

-erhardt and he are excellent at it, but they prefer sticking to one area: olberics hometown of... i'm calling it hornburgia(that's an awful name, i know)

-they're called to the capital for a meeting, and they aren't very happy about it but they accept anyways

-olberic just wants to pet his cat, goddamnit

-and they go there to complete mayhem

-nobles are out on the streets, screeching about how their rivals are dirty liars! That they never betrayed the capital, and that everyone who claims so is a "dirty fool who hasn't seen money once before in their lives"!

-olberic and erhardt: -_-

-they head towards the meeting location and are yelled at by those people. it's one hell of a saturday

-they ask the guard captain what in the name of jesus christ is going on -he heard that a group of nobles conspired against prince cyrus after he came out of the closet, and they didn't manage to take him out. -olberic and erhardt, bisexual disaster besties they are, are like "...well they had it comin" and move on to what they're needed for

-they need to be the bodyguards for prince cyrus because he's being attacked

-erhardt declines because he wants to protect hornburgia. olberic accepts because he can

-and so he meets the prince of atlasrule. and happens to get along with him very well

-they accidentally match clothes one day and the king just stared at them like

-and over the course of a month they start crushin HARD

-it's a problem for no one but the kings advisor, werner

-he's constantly reminding the prince that he needs to focus on his studies, no matter what emotions he may face

-olberic literally has to carry cyrus out bridal style from the library a few times a week, which allows the maids of the house to flip the hell out every time he has to ensure cyrus doesn't sleep on a desk

-the things he does for his crush, am i right?

-then olberic finds out that the attack on cyrus for coming out of the closet was orchestrated by a person still in the castles service, and rightfully freaks the fork out

-he alerts cyrus, and tells him to keep it a secret. they need to know who it is before exacting their revenge on this perpetrator

-cyrus lets werner know about this mysterious perpetrator, having trusted him for years

-cyrus is kidnapped the following week

-olberic starts investigating like. all the time -even on weekends

-boi is stressed as hell, and is out of a job

-he follows the advice of cyrus to go ahead and look for the master sword

-he goes to the water kingdom for their key to the sword first -alfyn, an amateur doctor, shows olberic where to find the key: inside the stomach of their queen, who has been incredibly unwell for the past few months -he's analyzed the causes again and again, and can find only one cure: an herb only found in Bolderfall, where the Gorons live -olberic agrees to go there- there's another key to the sword in the region anyways

-they get to Bolderfall, and things are in a royal mess -the people there are sick too, but from a completely different ailment -alfyn's able to treat it, and he goes around helping people all day -he's incredibly tired, and olberic pays for his inn stay for once

-the next day, they wake up to alfyns bag being stolen -olberic and alfyn track down the thief, who is attempting to treat some of their accomplices -alfyn properly takes care of these individuals, and questions the thief as to why he stole the bag -thief was trying to take care of these people, since no one's even bothering with their own family and there's no apothecary that'd dare take care of the low income portions of the city -alfyn insists otherwise and makes conversation with the guy while olberic gets his first key

-the next day, they head back to clearzoras domain, with the thief named therion in tow -he's tagging along because he wants to, he claims. they don't want to push their luck, so they aren't prying -they save the queen in the brink of time, so she regurgitates the key and olberic's off to find the last one -alfyn and therion accompany him- alfyn to travel the world and help more people out, therion for undisclosed reasons -on their way to the forest, they encounter primrose -she travels with the rest of the group because she is heading that way anyways

-the third area is not in trouble until primrose stabs someone and werner chooses violence at the same time -one of his underlings, a naive fool called darius, lead the charge of an assault on the entirety of atlasrule -werner's attempting to take over the kingdom after imprisoning both the king and his son -they're to be killed once werners conquest is done and over with -therion interrupts darius's monologue with a very violent kick to the nuts -and then therion wins in combat against a darius on a horse -olberic grabs the third key with the assistance of a huntress known as h'aanit in the middle of the commotion

-therion explains that darius was an old friend, and he heard from rumors that he can not only kick him in the nuts, but also destroy everything he's ever worked for. after what he's done to therion, it's only fair at this point -alfyn and co. learn about therions trauma and alfyn becomes a lot more protective over therion -it makes olberic chuckle a little bit- reminds him of his own crush on cyrus

-primrose describes her own dilemma with avenging her father, and is now accompanied by haanit wherever she goes -she doesn't mind it, either

-olberic unlocks the master sword, and now the group can challenge werner and tressa, the spirit of the sword, is constantly talking to olberic in his head -he wants this to be over ASAP- he is terrified for cyrus's life -he and the rest of the group storm through the castle, fight redeye, cassandra(is that tressa ch4 boss or is my brain f-cking with me), simeon, lucia... all those fellas, and then they fudge werner up -it all goes off without a hitch- cyrus is freed from his prison cell and fights with the rest of them as well -fudging werner up is a successful mission

-following the events of this, olberic and cyrus get together -they get married in the far, far future, but they do start dating after werners insurrection -they get the countries shit back together, and say gay and trans rights -a few months after the insurrection alfion occurs

and yeah this is something i wrote impulsively

i couldn't even be funny with erhardt going to femboy hooters. this is truly humorless

i am going to bed now tho, so enjoy it i guess

#octopath traveler #cyrus albright #olberic eisenberg #olberus #alfyn greengrass #therion #alfion #primrose azelhart #h'aanit #tressa colzione #legend of zelda au

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itsyourchoicedevotionals · 2 years

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More Powerful Than An Atomic Bomb

“Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him.” Romans 5:9KJV

Christianity at its core is a bloody religion. Why? “In fact, the law requires that nearly everything be cleansed with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” Hebrews 9:22NIV “Then Zipporah took a sharp stone and cut off the foreskin of her son and cast it at Moses’ feet, and said, “Surely you are a husband of blood to me” Exodus 4:25NKJV “For the life of the flesh is in the blood,…” Leviticus 17:11ESV.

In Genesis 3:21 Yahweh killed the first animal to cloth Adam and Eve. Genesis 4:4 Abel made the first sacrifice to the Lord of an animal. From Genesis 4 on, there were sacrifices of animals involving blood. Laws were given throughout Leviticus for the exact use of the blood in sacrifices for the forgiveness of sins, before Christ’s arrival. Hebrews tell how Jesus took His own blood into heaven to purify every bit of the temple, the atonement continually wiping away sins.

Oswald Chambers wrote about the blood, pre-1917 — “The holiness movements of today have none of the rugged reality of the New Testament about them. There is nothing about them that needs the death of Jesus Christ. All that is required is a pious atmosphere, prayer, and devotion. This type of experience is not supernatural nor miraculous. It did not cost the sufferings of God, nor is it stained with “the blood of the Lamb” (Revelation 12:11). It is not marked or sealed by the Holy Spirit as being genuine, and it has no visual sign that causes people to exclaim with awe and wonder, “That is the work of God Almighty!” Yet the New Testament is about the work of God and nothing else. The New Testament example of the Christian experience is that of a personal, passionate devotion to the Person of Jesus Christ. Every other kind of so-called Christian experience is detached from the Person of Jesus.”

One drop of the blood of Jesus Christ is more powerful than an atomic bomb, more powerful than any evil satan can accomplish in our world.

What else in history has the power to forgive and redeem every sinner from hell, from the beginning of time until the end of time simultaneously? Only the blood of Jesus has such power. A bomb can only destroy something. The blood of Jesus rebuilds, renews, restores, revitalizes, reclaims. Nothing can stop the blood. Nothing can defeat the blood. Nothing can outlast the blood— NOTHING!

Power of His blood doesn’t bring only forgiveness for sin, it changes people’s DNA. Because the blood of Jesus carries within itself the life of Jesus, it also carries His DNA. We get washed in the blood to destroy what sin has done to separate us from Jesus. Then His blood flows through us to kill off the sin DNA.”But to all who believed Him and accepted Him, He gave the right to become children of God” John 1:12NLT.

His blood has the power to help us live victoriously in this sinful, evil world. What else can do that? This blood JUSTIFIED everyone of us forever. Nothing and no one else has such power. Will we use the blood with its power to demonstrate our glorious Jesus to others. It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Lord God we have a covenant with You through the blood of Jesus. I access that blood by Your will right now to protect and preserve our families in this evil time. Hide us in Psalm 91, please. Empower us by the blood to stand strong in the face of persecution, i pray all this, in the name of Jesus Christ.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #more powerful #atomic bomb #blood of Jesus #emplower #DNA #love #hope #faith

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natamoko · 4 years

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UNEARTHED by @nakamoto

for @11thsense (3.7K)

(There is a reason why Aidonsvalley stands alone, makes its own decisions, attracts and denies, takes and leaves. There is a reason why it has a heart of its own.)

On the door of the Church of St. Agnes, a page was stamped: “1 PETER 2:4-6 — As you come to him, the living Stone - rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him - you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For in Scripture it says: See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.”

A crimson thumbprint was displayed alongside the words, and Raheem didn’t know whether to take it as some extremely obvious omen or something that should be ignored. He shrugged and went on his way. He had things to do. Nothing necessary, of course.

Aidonsvalley attracted a healthy amount of tourists due to its strange nature. The sun appeared at dawn and left at dusk just like it did everywhere else in the world. Everything worked as it should, but evidently something was amiss. The land chose what it acquired and what it discarded. It chose what it claimed and what it dismissed. And if you did everything right, (and you had to—those who didn’t could never die, those who didn’t would wander and lead a life of toil forever) then the land embraced you warmly enough and you would never get to leave. Raheem had been claimed not too long ago. Partially because of his transformation when he was fifteen, partially for a reason he had not yet understood. That knowledge was long overdue.

Aidonsvalley loved the supernatural, he knew that much.

Despite the wonders it did for the town’s tourism, he couldn’t help but mess with the newcomers everytime they arrived. They marvelled at the aging billboards (“Look, honey, this is the ‘56 ad! From the D’Arcy era; you know I love my beverage trivia—”) and the churches at every corner, more churches than convenience stores. They usually arrived in the evening times when it was cooler, because that was when the neon electronic advertisements would light up. No one ever donated their used dreams, but they sure loved staring at it.

Raheem, from a folding chair situated near a rhododendron bush, noted that these particular tourists looked alike, but not so much that you could mistake them for siblings. They were both wiry and tall, limp blonde hair; one was pulled back in almost identical ponytails, while the other was closely and badly shaven. Diligently poring over the maps in their hands.

The couple peered at the statue before them—Edmund Aidon, the founder of the town. His image was said to be greatly exaggerated, as his biceps were larger than what seemed humanly possible, and his canines were unusually blunt. Still, he looked important, so tourists adored him.

The woman, the one with a fascination for old Coca Cola television advertisements, tapped lightly against Aidon’s thigh. Her partner asked, “Isn’t it magnificent?”

“I’m not too sure,” she said, giving it another light knock before straightening and snapping a photo. “Smile, Edmund Aidon. 1834 to 1911. Timor dei in terra. I think that’s his own personal motto, or maybe something for the town. You studied Latin in school, Geoff, what does that say?”

“All I got was ‘terra’,” he said with a shrug, “Land. And are you okay? Why are you obsessed with that thing?”

Raheem had never offered the statue anything other than a sidewards glance. The tourists in the area generally camped near the lake, hoping to catch sight of the legendary local siren (or something close to that—there wasn’t a word to accurately describe her). Or sometimes they lingered near one of the many churches, over-analysing the scripts hung to the doorposts or trying to catch a word or two from one of the sermons. A rumour had started spreading amongst the tourists a while ago of demons being summoned in church, the house of God being used as a cover. As a demon himself, Raheem knew that was untrue. But its unlikeliness didn’t stop the persistent, eager tourists.

If they were going to remain here, poking at the statue and conversing, they should spend some money on him and make themselves useful. Raheem continued listening to their conversation, considering whether he should use his influence. But unfortunately, he wasn’t really in the mood to make them both walk off the pier, hand in hand, and become April’s supper, or cause them to develop a sudden intense fascination with his father’s restaurant.

The woman turned to her partner. Raheem could see her face from here, all sunburned skin and worry in her eyes. She scratched at her crooked nose and gave the statue one last tap. “I don’t know. It feels hollow, almost. Forgive me for this, but slightly corrugated, even.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” ‘Geoff’ said, not even bothering to check for himself. Idiot. “The guide says it’s made of marble. Marble doesn’t echo.”

“This does.” She sighed and stood up. “Whatever. We should head to the hotel now. I’m starving.”

• • •

It started with Alex losing sleep. Then his jaw would begin to grind against itself while he was both sleeping and awake. His eyes would redden and become sore, the skin on the tips of his fingers would begin ache before breaking and bleed in preparation of what would happen next.

It did not matter whether he was indoors or out, visible to the moon or hidden, awake or asleep. It was an inevitable part of his life. There would be a chanting in his head (run run run), the urge to find someone and pull them apart. Then there would be prey underneath his fingernails and between his teeth, blood would taste more like fear than copper, and the ground would move beneath his feet so quickly it would hear but beneath him. When the sun would rise he would become still and straighten and look eastwards, then shortly find himself waking on the forest floor. That was routine.

This moon was particularly awful. Coffee severely worsened things, made the readjusting of bones so much more painful, and he had been drinking it no less than ten hours ago in order to stay awake and supervise his younger sister’s recent dressmaking project. His parents were not pleased with him being left in charge, especially since the moon was so close, but there had been no one else.

Alex picked a piece of bone from between his teeth, imagining it came from his father’s femur or his mother’s skull. They were the more harmless Aidonsvalley folk—or, at least, the sort that believed themselves to be harmless when they were just weak—and he despised them for it. They were related to him but were not his family.

He suddenly felt around for his glasses’ case. He was not especially helpless without them, but they were the key to looking relatively normal. Only a select few people knew who he was. His moon-addled mind had concluded that his glasses were the key to stopping the residents of Aidonsvalley from looking too closely at him and figuring out exactly what was wrong.

Alex gave up and struggled to his feet, holding a tree for support. Within the forest stood an oak, with the beginnings of a treehouse balanced atop it.

He grinned. It’ll never be finished. Aidonsvalley chose what to keep and what to throw away, and buildings would never be included in the former. The most recent home that hadn’t been destroyed by the town had been built in the mid-twentieth century. It was just another strange part of the town that Alex was simply not particularly interested in solving. However he did like to reminisce about Anita Darlington’s attempt to build a windmill when Alex was younger. She was his aging neighbour, and spent an entire season constructing her windmill, which stood next to her vegetable garden.

It was struck by lightning less than an hour after it’s completion. Alex had been riding his bicycle next to her house when the incident occurred. He still remembered the flash in the sky moving downwards, his hammering heart, the smell of burning wood. He remembered the fright in his chest and Umi’s terrified face. He remembered how pleasant of a day it had been beforehand: warm, but not overbearingly so. Not a single rain-cloud had been sighted.

•••

“I’m telling you,” Raheem insisted, his hand holding onto Umi’s upper arm. “I’ve never seen someone stare at it for so long. You have a good eye—”

“So do you,” said Umi. He gave the statue a gentle knock and frowned. “It feels cheap. Too light. It’s almost like sandpaper. I’ve felt something like this before.”

A week had passed since the incident with the tourists, and Raheem had spent it scamming them by selling useless trinkets and completely fake stories about the origin of the town’s strangeness. He usually undertook little projects throughout the year, but it was summer and he deserved somewhat of a break. The ancient Coca Cola bottle he found buried in his garden and had subsequently sold to the blonde, observant woman would support his expensive lifestyle for at least a week at most.

If Raheem scraped the top layer of the soil in his garden, he could find enough things to set up his own museum. It was not a phenomena exclusive to him, and additionally, no one knew where all those things came from originally. Once, when uprooting weeds, one of the townsfolk, Amara, had discovered that her front garden was soaked in blood, not water. That explained why she couldn’t grow anything more demanding than cress.

Kel took Umi’s hand. He had sort of forced himself into this boring excuse of an adventure, but Raheem didn’t mind because he didn’t mind Kel. He was quite fond of anyone who sought out an entertaining experience.

“Never knew a tourist would work you up this much,” said Kel cheerfully, before pointing to a mark behind Edmund Aidon’s knee. “Hey, what’s this?”

“Looks like a square,” said Umi, leaning forward to see it clearer. “How did you spot this anyway?”

“Not sure,” answered Kel, despite obviously knowing that the mark had shifted itself, working up towards their line of sight so it could be seen. Those sort of things were ignored here. Everything had a life, and its own motives and ambitions. “In my opinion, it looks like a jackhammer, a bit. If you turn your head and squint.”

“No it does not,” said Raheem, annoyed. “It’s a cradle.”

Yes, it did appear to be a cradle the longer he looked at it. The thin bars grew clearer. Somehow he could tell it was wooden. But something about it all wasn’t right—it didn’t look like something carved into the statue. Rather, something that had been a part of it ever since it was constructed. Aidonsvalley didn’t have a symbol, official or unofficial. Something strange was certainly going on. Raheem wasn’t sure if he wanted to dig deeper.

“This is odd,” remarked Umi. “This is the only thing that survives Aidon—no other records as far as I know, and there’s something carved here. Should we look into it?”

“Maybe,” said Kel. “This isn’t very strange for this town, but it’ll be fun to investigate. But where? The library won’t be much help. They don’t keep records there.”

The only library in Aidonsvalley was this stuffy building from the early twentieth century that held absolutely nothing of value. Investigative material couldn’t be brought in for some reason or the other. It was all rejected in some form. The town archives had to be kept elsewhere because of it. As a demonstration of this fact, once, the mayor's niece Stephanie Murray attempted to trace the nearby lake’s history. Her paper had promptly burst into flames, and she decided to complete her project in a café maybe an hour or two away from the town. Really, the only thing the library had going for it was its complete Toni Morrison collection.

“They keep the town’s archive in the church on main street,” said Umi. “You know the one: St. Agnes. Apparently there’s a cellar underneath the altar, but I can’t be too sure.” He turned to Raheem, expressionless. Unsure. “Look, if you can find a way to get in, I’ll help you out. You know I’m not too certain.”

“I know,” replied Raheem brightly. “Doubting Thomas. Do you even think there’s something strange afoot?”

“Well there’s always something going on here,” said Umi, affronted. “If we get caught, it’s your fault. I’ll get Alex in on this as well, it’ll make things easier, I think.” Pause. “Do you want to get ice-cream with us?”

He waved a dismissive hand and turned back to Aidon. “Sure. Go ahead, I just need to check something.”

The two waved—Umi visibly confused but still sure in his own decision, Kel apprehensive and glancing around—and made their way to the nearby parlour.

Raheem placed his hand flat against the statue. Something shifted beneath his touch, he heard a faint noise like a beating drum, and he frowned.

Half an hour later on the other side of town, Alex stood at the lakeside. The lake beside Aidonsvalley (still technically within the town but somewhat shoved to the side) was the subject of many rumours. The tourists all cleared out before the sun had fully set, interested in what apparently went down beside the lake, but still in possession of some sense of self-preservation. Unfortunately, Alex did not have the aforementioned sense of self-preservation.

The only harm that could possibly befall him was if he lost his balance and fell down into the lake. There were pointed rocks below, carefully sharpened at dawn and at dusk, and if he pierced any part of his body, he most certainly would not survive that experience.

There was someone standing on the jetty above the lake. Alex recognised him as one of the Fallow brothers, three siblings from a family of mechanics. They handled the people who “washed up at the town’s shores,” fixed their cars, cleared their memories and sent them away. He was a high school student. Perfectly average. Nearly unnoticed. Graduating this fall.

And April was also below him, treading the water. Her hair floated on the surface. Alex averted his gaze, half out of respect and half to avoid her hypnotic technique. But he still saw her from the corner of his eyes, saw the way she unhinged her jaw and said the Fallow boy’s name: Matthew, in a voice she didn’t possess.

The boy moved closer to the ledge. He crouched and peered through the water. April’s power was clouding the air, turning it green. Matthew moved slowly, as if he were running through a lime cloud as if in a trance. Or a dream. Then he called for his mother and April responded in kind. He, foolishly, reached for the water, looking at her face and seeing his late mother instead of what she truly was. April grabbed his wrist and pulled.

He toppled over easily, and didn’t struggle until April sank her teeth into his neck. He flailed desperately and cried out from under the water. His movements slowed with every second until he finally fell still.

April emerged from the lake a moment later, her upper half collapsing on the ledge. She looked up at Alex and grinned. “It’s rude to watch a siren eat, you know.”

“Really?”

“No,” she said, “But it is an indicator that you’re the main entrée.” Her smile widened. “Kidding, I love you.”

Alex continued to watch the water. “He wasn’t claimed, you know. He can’t die until he gets things right. I’d expect to find him in the sewers. Or in the church.”

“Why’d you think I chose him?” April questioned.

They stared at each other for a moment before Alex reminded her of the time he saved her from these ‘low-quality’ whalers, as he dubbed it. She owed him, she even said that earlier. Then he told her that he needed her help breaking into her uncle’s church. Her hand shot out so fast, tightening around his earlobe, that he shouted and wobbled perilously on the edge.

“Idiot,” she chastised, “Why’d you wanna do that?”

April had this unfortunate habit of being constantly hesitant. It was not a con, for sure, but it certainly hindered any interesting activities Alex thought up. This was the wrong time to be careful, he reckoned, because if there was a mystery surrounding Aidonsvalley, then it was bound to be serious. She should know this.

“Something weird is happening,” said Alex, separating her fingers from around his ear and trying to keep his tone light. If he appeared to be desperate, she might decline just to fuck with him. “Raheem told me.”

“Raheem is a compulsive liar.”

“Not to me.”

He belatedly realised that it was the wrong thing to say.

“No,” April answered with a grin. “Not to you.”

Sensing a serious change of subject, Alex quickly arranged himself to a sitting position further up on the ledge. He balanced his chin against his palm and gave her a long look. She raised her brows in turn.

“Do you not have the stomach for this, April?”

“Of course I have the stomach for this,” she snapped. “I’m just careful, unlike you lot.” She paused. “I’ll help you plan your little heist, but don’t tell me what it’s for.” Despite herself, April grinned at him. “If that happens, I’ll get really interested. Things will all go down from there.”

•••

Raheem sat on the stone steps of St. Agnes, a book in hand. It was in French, a language he didn’t recall ever learning, but he could understand it perfectly. Strange. Even stranger was the fact that he could not walk past the altar for some reason, so Alex and Umi were the ones who had to retrieve the appropriate town records. Raheem was not pleased. He started this adventure, but had been forced to play whistleblower instead.

“How annoying,” he said as his phone began to ring.

“Found something about the town’s origins,” said Umi, breathing hard. From a distance, Raheem heard Alex laugh. “None about Edmund Aidon himself, though. I’m beginning to doubt his existence.”

“Tell me more. Is it interesting?”

A sharp inhale. “Oh, very.”

And it went like this:

The Preston’s were a family known for their hatred for supernatural creatures and how they exercised the aforementioned hatred. Once they were a few generations into the family practice of murder, several other families joined together with them to help achieve their shared goals. They called themselves The Cradle. Soon enough a town was founded for the five thousand or so members, and its name was unpronounceable.

About a century after the town’s creation, someone received word of a counterattack. In just a matter of days, vampires, werewolves and other supernaturals would band together and burn the town to the ground. Fearing something a little worse than death, the townsfolk hypocritically sought out a method to save them. They selected a random person in the town and made them live forever. The exact method, Umi stated, was not stated. Then the other townsfolk transformed themselves into the town—they knocked down the church and all the homes and created new walls out of their own flesh. The altar was made of bone. They drained the lake and replaced it with their own blood. The grass and the trees were fertilised with people, and the person they left behind was meant to bring them back once the danger had been averted, but they didn’t.

With a chill creeping down his spine, Raheem noted that the person might still be in Aidonsvalley. He glanced around in worry for a moment, as if the person might just be standing at his shoulder. Thankfully no such thing existed, but something else attracted his attention.

A porcelain statue near the church’s pillar, of a mother holding its child. It could be mistaken for Mary and the baby Jesus, but its features were hauntingly realistic and unlike the usual paintings of the Madonna and child. Beneath the porcelain was flesh, presumably. Raheem stared at the child holding his mother’s finger, sat in her lap, and felt a feeling both strong and indescribable.

“So presumably Aidon came across an already furnished yet empty town, then re-established it,” said Raheem, “But if that’s the case, wouldn’t there be anything about him? It’s like he just sprouted here.”

Things in this town tended to do that, he reminded himself. He was used to everything here. The tourist had described the statue in a strange manner. Slightly corrugated. That could mean skin, but it was hollow—

“There’s a chance that he was the person left behind,” said Umi slowly, “and no one ever thought to write it down since he’s a constant. You wouldn’t take note of the colour of the sky everyday? It’s either blue, red and sometimes black. We know that.”

They both hung up after Umi agreed to finish up shortly. Kel joined Raheem on the steps, very carefully not meeting his eyes. Perhaps the blue colour was too bright for this time at night, Raheem told himself.

The more Kel touched a stone step with his fingertips, the more it wore away until it revealed a portion of a face. Grey-skinned, open-mouthed, expression trapped somewhere between terror and exhilaration. The person’s eyes, fixed skywards, slowly lolled down to look directly at Kel. If its mouth was visible, Raheem would have received confirmation that it was smiling.

That was two incidents now, he stated privately as his heart jumped. The first was the cradle appearing just as Kel drew near, the second was the face.

When Umi and Alex returned and led the other two away, the stone replaced itself and the face was safely hidden away. As the four followed the path they had followed for well over a decade, Raheem distinctively felt like he was being watched. Perhaps it had always been this way, but now that he knew that Aidonsvalley was a real, living, breathing town, he felt it strongly.

There was one thing he knew for sure, though. When he would eventually sit in his living room, surrounded by relatives that were not family, and press his head against the wall, he would hear breathing. A deep inhale and exhale. It makes the whole world shake, but he’s the only one who feels it. He’s one of the only people that knows this town is made of living stone.

#im taking exams at the moment so if this feels rushed that's why #but anyway i just wanted to write an explanation on why aidonsvalley is Like This to some extent #inspiration came from that one time i heard something breathing in my living room wall while i was praying with my family #my writing

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smloshie · 4 years

Text

“Again and Again”

A Shayne Topp x Reader imagine

Word count: 3357

A/N: yo what’s up, another poorly written Shayne one shot.

So I know most of this stuff is inaccurate to the actual events that took place/sleeping arrangements/etc., but that’s the wonder of fan fiction! I can do whatever the fuck I want! In this one, Shayne goes on a quest to become a living Ken doll and cuts his dick off.

I’m kidding, that’s terrible. Sorry, I’m not funny.

Synopsis: During Smosh Winter Games, your boyfriend of 2 years breaks up with you over text. Shayne tries to assure you that everything will turn out okay. Angst and slight fluff.

TW: cursing, Wes

>>>>><<<<<

When you were asked to be part of the crew for the Smosh Winter Games, you ecstatically accepted. What could be better than going to stay at a huge-ass log cabin with a ton of your closest friends?

The morning that you were meant to leave, you woke up without a single hesitation. You swiftly got dressed into one of your favorite shirts, a flannel, and jeans. You didn’t really have any other options as most of your clothes were packed into your suitcase, which was waiting by the door for you. You grabbed a granola bar from your pantry and ate it for a quick breakfast while pulling out your phone to call your boyfriend, Ethan. After 3 rings, he picked up.

“Hello?” His groggy voice came through your phone’s speaker.

“Hey! I’m leaving my place now so,” you grabbed your water bottle to fill it up, balancing your phone in between your shoulder and ear, “I just wanted to call you to let you know that I love you and I’ll see you when I get back!”

“Okay.” He sounded kinda off to you. He was either tired or irritated, but you were in too good of a mood to let his ‘I’m not going to tell you what’s wrong, but I want you to ask and make sure I’m okay’ attitude get to you.

“Uh, alright then! I’ll... see you in a few days!

Everyone was asked to be at the office relatively early, since it was a pretty long drive ahead of you. You and your luggage were escorted to a van. You ended up riding in what became, “Awesome Car One” and rode with Wes, Sohinki, Lasercorn, and Shayne. Before you knew it, you were off on the road trip to Big Bear Lake. After about 30 minutes of driving, a vlog camera was passed around and shoved into your face.

“(Y/N)! What are you most excited for?” Lasercorn asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Sledding, a hundred percent! I used to do it as a kid but since it doesn’t snow in California, I haven’t done it since I moved out here.” You explained

“Okay, I didn’t need your entire damn life story.” He replied bringing the camera back to face him.

“Don’t be so mean, she was just reminiscing!” Wes came to your defense.

“Thank you, Wes!” You smiled at him. You felt your phone vibrate and looked down to see a text from Sarah.

Olivia just got car sink and threw up on the side of the road

*sick

You laughed and remembered part of the conversation you all had earlier.

“Hey, you guys remember how we were talking about Olivia not surviving in the cold?” You asked. They all murmured ‘yes's and ‘yeah’s.

“Well apparently she just threw up on the side of the road because of motion sickness,” you laughed.

“Oh shit, is she okay?” Shayne laughed slightly.

“Probably!” You shrugged your shoulders.

After hours of driving, you and everyone else finally arrived at the log cabin (or mansion.) You hopped out of the car and started to stretch. Being in a cramped car for a few hours straight was pretty rough on the joints.

You headed behind the van to help unload your group’s luggage. Shayne pulled your suitcase out for you and handed it to you.

“Thank you, kind valet!” You took the case from him and smiled.

“Valet? I thought I’d at least be butler status by now…” he said, looking disappointed as he grabbed his own bag from the back.

“Maybe some other day. Just not today,” you laughed. The two of you began to walk towards the front door of the cabin. Sarah walked up next to you guys.

“Hey guys! (Y/N), we’re staying downstairs,” She said. She wasn’t carrying anything, so you assumed she had already settled in.

“Okay, awesome- oh, wait! How’s Olivia doing?” You asked.

“Oh right, did she throw up anymore?” Shayne tagged on to your question.

“Yea, yea. She’s fine! Actually, she literally started complaining about being hungry immediately after she threw up so…” Sarah responded. You giggled at her seemingly quick recovery.

Once you stepped into the place, you looked around for the staircase that would lead downstairs.

“It’s this way,” you heard a voice say behind you. You turned and saw Shayne smiling at you, standing in front of the staircase. You smiled back and followed him down the stairs.

“Jesus Christ, the size of this place is kinda terrifying…” You nervously laughed and looked around at all the log and stone decorations. You were pretty sure you even saw fake bear skins hanging from some ceiling beams.

“Yea, but it’s kinda really awe-“

“Y’know this huge-ass mansion is basically built on stilts, so it could all come down at any second!” Lasercorn came in, interrupting Shayne. He looked at him, disapprovingly.

“Shut up, we’ll be fine.” Shayne placed his hand on the wooden wall and leaned back casually. The floorboards above you guys creaked, causing Shayne’s eyes to widen and Lasercorn’s smile to grow.

“Yea, I’m sure we’ll be fine…” he laughed and walked away, leaving just you two in the room.

“I don’t know who else is staying in this room, but I’m for sure calling the top bunk.” You said, chucking your suitcase to the top of a bunk bed with the might of Zeus.

Shayne laughed, “I guess I’ll go bottom bunk then.” He placed his bag on the bed underneath yours.

“Shayne Topp is now… Shayne Bottom…” you whispered to yourself. Shayne heard you.

“That joke sucked.”

After everyone settled into their rooms, beds, and spaces, a few of you decided to go to the living room and hang out with each other. Pizza was ordered, drinks were had, people were testing out the hot tub, and the whole night was just like a big family reunion. It was rare that you all were in the same place at the same time, so you just kind of looked around the room and took it all in. Your thoughts were soon interrupted by Shayne's presence. He hopped up and sat on the back of the couch, behind you. You looked up at him and smiled.

“Hey,” you said, casually.

“I wanna play ping pong but I need another player; you down?” He asked you, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed, “Sure, but I’m kind of a natural Forrest Gump at ping pong.”

He called your bluff, “Yea, okay. Sure.” The two of you giggled as you headed to the game room.

After 4 matches, the two of you were tied up.

“Loser has to put his dick in a mound of snow.” You said, playfully.

“Wh- hey! Are you assuming that you’re going to win?” He defensively raised his hands.

“Is it really an assumption if it’s so obviously going to happen?” You quipped back.

“I- what?” He shook his head, “whatever, I’m into snow anyway. She’s my babe.”

You giggled as you bounced the ping pong ball and hit it gently towards him. He hit it back. You hit it at him, he hit it back. This went on for a while, (y‘know, like a game of ping pong?) Eventually you did whatever the ping pong-equivalent of spiking was. It bounced so hard on his side of the table that it ended up flying over his head. Your mouth formed an O and your arms shot up as he failed to hit the ball back.

“OOHHH SHIT! Have fun catching hypothermia, frosty dick!” You teased.

“You were serious? I thought you were kidding…” Shayne whined.

“Okay so maybe don’t pull down your pants and do it, but you gotta put snow down the front of your pants.” You reasoned. Shayne groaned.

“Fine, I’ll be right back.” He stepped out of the room to run and get a handful of snow from outside. While he was gone, you decided to check your phone. You saw that you had a text from Ethan so you unlocked your phone to read it.

Honestly, you were expecting a ‘good night’ text, as it was pretty late. Instead, your eyes focused on the words ‘I’m sorry’ in a sea of other words and phrases. Phrases like ‘it’s just getting too hard’ and ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ and ‘I hope we can still be cool after this.’ Your stomach dropped.

Was this really happening?

Shayne burst into the room, interrupting whatever thoughts were racing through your mind.

“Okay, I’m back! I had to run past everyone before the snow melted, so that’s going to be fun to explain later.” He was almost out of breath, “you ready?”

Like a switch was flipped, your face lit up as you turned to face him.

“I think the real question is, are you ready?” You laughed, trying to wash what just happened out of your brain

You woke up the next morning on the top bunk. Normally, your first instinct would be to check your phone, but last night’s events suddenly came flooding back. You decided to hold off on checking the phone for now. Instead you just laid on your back, staring at the ceiling. You went on like that for a while before realizing that the room you were in was eerily quiet. However, you could hear voices coming from upstairs. Everyone must have been awake already. Though you were dreading it, you leaned over to check the time on your phone. 11:34 A.M. You were all going to go sledding at 12, but in all honesty, you didn’t think you could. You really wanted to get your mind off of Ethan, but you also wanted to stay isolated so that you could have time to process your feelings. Almost on cue, as always, Shayne entered the room.

“Are you still sleeping?” He asked. He stepped onto the second leg of the ladder leading to your bunk, and peered over the edge to look at you.

“No I’m awake, just… hanging out.” You responded, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Oh, okay. Well get ready! We’re finally going sledding!” He excitedly shook your blanket and jumped down from the ladder.

“Uh- actually, Shayne?” You called out. He turned to you.

“Yea?”

“Just, um… I don’t know if I’m really- y’know I’m just really not… I’m not really feeling sledding right now.” You managed to say. He looked confused.

“Really? But you were so excited! Are you sure?” He had a right to be confused. He knew you wouldn’t skip out on what you had been looking forward to most. At least, not for no reason. But not only did he know when something was wrong, he also knew your limits and when you really didn’t want to talk about something.

“Yea, maybe later today.” You pulled your blankets up over your shoulders.

“Okay then… is there something bothering you that I should know about? Anything at all?”

You sniffled silently. You prayed he didn’t hear that, “No, no… I’m totally fine! Just y’know sometimes people just don’t feel like doing stuff.” You tried to justify yourself in the most vague but reasonable way possible. Shayne finally decided to let it go.

“Okay,” he began to walk towards the door but hung back in the doorway, “See you later then?”

You were near tears, so you didn’t want to verbally answer. So instead you nodded, but remembered he probably couldn’t see you. You shot a thumbs up into the air for him to see. He hummed in acknowledgement before closing the door and heading back upstairs.

This shit really hurt. Not only did you just get broke up with by someone that you were planning a future with, but you had to keep it hidden from everybody. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin everyone’s time and make their fun getaway into some comfort-fest, where you were the guest of honor.

Tears streamed down the sides of your face. You rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but you just couldn’t. Instead you put in your earbuds and listened to some music, while staring at the ceiling. You stayed like this for a few minutes.

A few minutes turned into a few hours.

A few hours turned into the whole day.

Shayne came in after sledding to bring you some food, but you dismissed him. You told him you weren’t hungry. He didn’t believe you, but he could tell that you still weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you yet. He wanted to give you time.

Everyone eventually filed into their rooms and bunks to get ready for bed and go to sleep. The lights went out and people started falling asleep. You couldn’t sleep, so you quietly got out of bed and walked up the creaking wooden stairs and into the kitchen.

It was sweet of Shayne to bring you food earlier, and you regretted turning it down. As you opened the fridge, your stomach growled. It was pretty loud, considering the house was quiet. Every once and a while you’d hear giggles, snores, coughs, and other various noises.

You grabbed the milk jug out of the fridge and gently placed it on the counter behind you before tip-toeing to the cabinet and opening it carefully. You made yourself a bowl of cereal. You sat down at one of the kitchen island’s stools and began eating, though something felt off. You felt a presence in the room. You slowly turned your head and looked into the pitch-black doorway that led to the living room. You saw a shadowy figure staring back at you.

“Hey Shayne.” You directed your attention back to your bowl. He approached you with a smile.

“Did I scare you?” He asked, casually assuming the position of leaning against the kitchen island, across from you.

“Not really, I knew it was you.” You shrugged with a silent laugh.

“What? How?”

“The outline of you is… distinguishable? I think that’s the right word. I dunno, muscular.” You paused. Was that weird to point out? I mean, everyone made jokes about his… buffness. Why were you thinking so much about this?

“Oh, why thank you!” His smiled grew and he looked down at his feet.

“Though, I will admit; I hardly recognized you without your beanie.” He looked back up at you and made a face.

“Well yea, it's… nighttime. I don’t sleep in it.” He laughed, “so are you going to tell me what’s up?” His smile quickly switched to a more caring demeanor. You couldn’t stop looking at his kind eyes and sweet smile. He really wanted you to be okay.

“Ethan… broke up with me.” You looked down. Saying it out loud was weird. The words fell out of your mouth and seemed to float in the air and hang in front of your face. The realization hit once more, and so did the crying. You blinked back tears, but each time you moved your eyelashes, more and more fell. You brought your hand up to your eyes and wiped your face. He wasn’t saying anything, so you looked up at him. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched. You waited in silence for a while. He finally spoke.

“I always fucking hated that guy.” You didn’t know how to react to that. You couldn’t exactly be offended, but it was definitely a crude reaction. “Sorry, sorry. I just meant that- well… I just always got that weird feeling that he was going to hurt you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You wiped more tears away with your hand.

“Well… I always wanted to. I would overhear you talking about manipulative things he would do, but then the next day you were fine. And while I didn’t like seeing you hurt, I knew that it wasn’t exactly my place to talk.”

“That’s… bullshit.” You said. He seemed taken aback, “Sorry. I just- I get it. But I really wish you had said something. It would’ve been so much easier for me to end things from a friend telling me what they saw, instead of him ending things for seemingly no reason. I guess I’m just sick of losing people that mean a lot to me. I’m sick of forming relationships with people that leave me.”

He looked so sad to hear you say those words. You should’ve stopped there, but the floodgates were open. You began rambling like a frantic mess.

“How is someone as fucked up as me supposed to ever share myself with someone again? H-How do I know I can trust someone before I give a part of me away to them? How will I know they w-won’t leave me like everyone el-“

He cuts you off by grabbing your body and wrapping his arms around you. You hadn’t realized that during that time, he had circled the island and appeared by your side.

“Hearing you think like that is so… upsetting. I know I can’t say or do much to prevent you from thinking that way, but please- please just know that you still have your entire life to find the perfect person who will make you feel like you’re worth every second.” He seemed to plead with you. He was begging you to see yourself how he saw you.

In that moment, in that position… you realized you liked having his arms around you. The feeling it gave you was sheer perfection compared to how your ex made you feel. With your ear on him, you could hear his heartbeat and it was beating fast. You managed to stutter out a few words with your face pressed into his body.

“Thank you.” You removed your head from his chest, and looked up at him. You were met with his bright blue eyes. While you couldn’t hear his heartbeat anymore, yours became increasingly more noticeable to you. Your tears stopped falling, and time seemed to slow. His face inched closer to yours, and you tilted your chin up. You didn’t know what was happening, but it felt like a magnet was pulling you towards each other. Eventually, after what seemed like way too long for your liking, your lips connected.

You liked Shayne.

The two of you kept kissing, neither of you really wanted to stop. It grew increasingly more intense. This was something that Shayne had been waiting for. Not just for the kiss, but for you. His hands were placed firmly on your back, and slowly began to adjust to your body. Your hands ran through his hair, silent sighs escaping your mouth. What you were doing felt so good, but you knew it had to end. You pulled away slowly, and gently opened your eyes, where you were once again met with his.

“Sorry, that was way too soon. I shouldn’t have done that.” He began nervously running his hand through his hair. He looked kinda really hot like that...

“No it’s okay! That was good. I’m… good. I liked it.” You tried to keep him from overthinking it. He looked up at you with hope in his eyes.

“Really?”

“Yea really. I agree that the timing was kinda… poor. But it was a good thing that I would like to happen again.”

“Again?”

“Yea… again. As in, I would like to kiss you Shayne. Again… and again...” You smiled and looked down at your feet. He bit his lip to prevent an excited giggle from escaping. He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his cool.

“Do you… want a hot drink?” He asked. You nodded.

The two of you spent the rest of the night, sitting on the couch and talking. About Ethan, about each other, about… everything. You held the warm mug of hot cocoa in your hands. You couldn’t drink it, your stomach wouldn’t allow you; there were way too many butterflies doing acrobatics in there. Eventually, the two of you decided to turn in for the night.

The next day came, and you went sledding.

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captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years

Text

Here’s a sickfic I might finish but I should probably just post here now in case I never do

Uhhhhhh cw nausea and vomiting mention

I’m gonna @celosiaa because you are the only reason I am posting this at all. And maybe you can nudge me to finish this at some point.

Jon isn’t sure where he thought he’d wake up. Possibly at his desk? Or in his bed? (Unlikely). Does he even still have a bed? The institute floor if he was unlucky? The break room couch or the cot if he was considerably more lucky. The point is, he feels like shit and he didn’t remember going to sleep. Which probably wasn’t a good sign. He lets himself drift for a while longer.

Jon wakes in fits and starts.

One moment he’s mostly aware the next he’s snapping back awake thus leading him to the conclusion that he wasn’t before. A cycle that he is stuck in for several minutes. He is not aware enough to properly examine where he might actually be.

He’s too dizzy to think and his eyes feel gummy and puffy, and everything hurts.

Sick? Is he sick? Not statement sick, but properly sick?

Yes that tracks. Sore throat. Queasy. Headache.

Ugh.

He lays there for a while longer. And promptly drops back off.

~~~~~~~

Jon stirs in Tim’s lap. Be blinks a few times and groans. Jon has been all but passed out in Tim’s lap for hours.

He isn’t even sure why he bothered.

Tim sighs. He knows Jon is awake now, and he very much needs Jon to have some liquids. And some fever reducers. “Jon?” He asks softly. He doesn’t want to frighten Jon.

Jon’s shaky breathing catches in what Tim very much fears is a sob. What the hell is he supposed to say to a crying Jon? “Tim?” Jon’s response is quavering and damp. He still hasn’t really moved. Tim is more than a little worried that Jon doesn’t seem to have the energy to even shift position.

“Back with me?” Christ, Tim hopes Jon is.

Jon spent most of the car ride to Tim’s flat crying, apologizing, gibbering about god knows what, and looking more than a little like he was going to be very ill (something Tim would have worried about if he wasn’t reasonably sure Jon had already expelled everything in him before Tim managed to half carry him out of the Archives). (He debated A&E, but ultimately decided Jon might accidentally compel the staff and cause a lot of problems. But if Tim couldn’t get his fever down, or get him to keep down liquids, then he’d take him in.) Tim tried to find it irritating, but honestly it had just made his heart hurt.

Jon just whimpers.

Tim gently cards his fingers through Jon’s hair. Jon shivers a little. This flu has been going around the Archives but even though Jon has been the last to catch it, he seems to have it the worst. Tim doesn’t think he was ever this far gone. (Martin would probably be the one here if he wasn’t still sleeping off the last of his fight with this.)

Jon blinks a few more times, swallows drily, and asks, “Tim….? Wha’ you doing? Thought you were out today?”

“First day back. Found you passed out in the loo.” Tim hasn’t decided if he wants to be nice. (A bit late to not be, considering he drove Jon to his (Tim’s) flat and is letting Jon cuddle him even though Jon is kind of disgusting at this point and is going to share the leftovers of the soup and medicine and lucozade he stocked up on the moment he knew he was coming down with something.)

Jon squirms a bit so he’s looking up at Tim. His face going from confusion, to embarrassment, to dawning realization when he (presumably) he notices he’s partially in Tim’s lap. “You hate me.” It’s a question, but not a question of if Tim hates him.

Jon’s slurring. Which can’t possibly be good. Tim takes in his puzzled look and takes that to mean ‘Hey Tim, I’m too much of an arsehole to thank you for letting me use you as a well toned body pillow let’s jump right into the boo hoo I’m a victim of the universe and I’ll take everyone down with me and I know this so why could someone I’ve so terribly wronged be being nice to me.’ No. That’s not right. And that’s not fair. Tim does want to blame Jon for everything. But that would make him a hypocrite. Sure Tim didn’t stalk his coworkers after the Prentiss thing, but where Jon got paranoid, he got angry. They both pushed each other away. Not to mention…. he did accuse Jon of murder…. which is what he was angry at Jon for accusing him of…. It is Jon’s fault that he is stuck in the archives, but Jon’s just as stuck as he is. And it’s not Jon’s fault that Sasha... He’s not a heartless dick, he couldn’t just leave Jon to possibly drown himself in the toilet.

“Debatable.” Tim can’t really explain it any better than that for now. He blames Jon, yeah. Sure. Easy. Of course he blames Jon. …But he knows it isn’t Jon’s fault, and as much as he wants to forget that. He can’t. And he can’t forget the years of friendship before all this. Maybe they weren’t as close as he presumes he and Sasha were… but they were close.

Jon looks even more confused. And then he looks rather nauseous. He closes his eyes again.

“I need you to drink something before you pass out again.” He should probably try to be nicer, because Jon flinches at his tone, and tries to make himself even smaller.

This isn’t news. Jon has flinched because of Tim a lot. He knows he shouldn’t be proud of this, but he is.

“And don’t puke on my couch.”

Jon just whines.

Tim gets impatient and mostly carefully leavers Jon up enough that he can press a Lucozade into his hands.

Jon’s eyes flick open slowly. He blinks a few times as he tries to comprehend what he’s holding.

“You’re supposed to drink that,” Tim says helpfully.

“Thought you wanted me not to puke.”

Tim is reasonable sure that was supposed to be a joke, but Jon’s eyes squeeze tight against dizziness, so Tim nudges the bin he preset nearer.

“Drink the goddamn thing or I’ll have to take you to A&E and I’ll really be fucking pissed.” There isn’t any real heat to Tim’s words. But that doesn’t stop Jon for fumbling with the lid.

Christ he looks so pathetic. His hands are shaking almost too badly to get it to his mouth and he would not be vertical if Tim let go. And sad. Was he just stuck with those damn puppy dog eyes?

But could Tim really blame him? Enough people have kicked the shit out of Jon that he really can’t blame Jon for looking like a kicked puppy.

Jon drinks cautiously. He looks mildly surprised when nothing bad happens.

Tim props him up against the back of the couch so he can pass Jon some more fever reducers. Jon carefully takes those as well. He shakily closes the still half full sports drink and closes his eyes again. He’s listing sideways.

It’s dark out when Jon wakes up again. He can’t quite recall what time of day it was when he was last conscious. He thinks he might be slightly more aware. Possibly.

He’s still shivering and he still feels like death. Grand.

Something shifts under him and he starts.

Oh. Right. Tim.

“Jon, you awake?”

Since when does Tim talk to him like a person? Like he hadn’t fucked up that badly.

“Jon?”

Right. Yes. He’s supposed to answer. He swallows. His throat feels like sandpaper. “Ngk.” Well. Not quite a word, but close enough, right? It is enough to start him coughing in any case.

“Jesus Christ, Jon!”

Jon is hoisted into a sitting position fast enough to make his head swim. He closes his eyes tightly to try to stop the room from spinning, but he’s still coughing and now he’s queasy again.

By the time he catches his breath, tears are streaming down his face and he can feel someone (Tim) rubbing his back. It feels…. Jon isn’t sure how it feels, but a lot and it makes his skin prickle not unpleasantly.

“Jesus Fuck Jon.”

Jon doesn’t have the air to answer. He feels himself sway. He is lowered back down and a straw pushed into his mouth. He cracks one eye open and sees a very blurry Tim (shit where have his glasses gone?) holding the same sports drink, this time with an addition of a .... is that a margarita straw? The Eye helpfully informs him that it is. Jon takes some careful sips until his throat feels a little less awful.

He can see Tim’s mouth moving. He hears his voice but he’s a little too far gone to make out words.

Tim has been keeping up what he hopes is comforting, soothing one sided conversation. He hopes. He hopes it might help Jon, but Jon seems pretty far from aware right right now.

“You’d probably rather have water or tea right now but I’m not Martin, and well... I think you need the salt and sugar...”

Jon only manages a few sips before the straw drops from his mouth.

“Come on, Jon. There’s no way you aren’t dehydrated. I don’t want to take you to A&E. You don’t want to go to A&E. You really don’t want me to take you to A&E.”

“Sorry...”. Christ his voice is weak.

“Stop apologizing. You have done that to death today. Maybe try again when you’re conscious. Maybe I’ll even accept it.”

“Sorry.”

Tim sighs. Obviously that’s not going to get through to Jon right now. “Come on. You’ve got to drink more. You lost a fuck ton of liquids. I know you did. You haven’t even begun to make up for that.”

Jon whines. Tim checks once again that there’s a bin within easy reach. He still presses the straw to Jon’s mouth.

Jon drinks.

It takes a painfully long time, but he keeps it down. Tim waits a wile to make sure that continues to be the case before he nudges Jon. “You up for some soup?”

Jon considers for a very long moment. He’s having trouble concentrating on the question and honestly he’s hoping Tim will come up with an answer for him.

“Jon?”

“Maybe?” It’s hardly a whisper.

“Let’s try sitting you up first, okay?”

#the magnus archives #tma #fever #cw nausea #jonathan sims #tim stoker #sickfic #fic #hurt/ comfort #capt writes #I guess? I meant to finish this ages ago but here we are

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staruplatinum · 4 years

Text

Stay With Me

I co-wrote this with @risottostitties a while back, and I just got around to posting it now. She’s a god at writing Abbacchio btw, and this was written for my oc/Leone but I edited it so everyone can enjoy 🎉

summary: reader comforting drunk Abbacchio after he confesses his past.

It’s angsty but has a cute ending. (abbacchio says I love you for the first time!) enjoy!

3.2K words

Abbacchio was on the floor, surrounded by bottles of alcohol. Was he crying? “Jesus Christ.” You panicked, dropping your things on the floor and rushing to his side. What the hell happened? He must have been doing this for a while now because you could see how bloodshot his eyes were, even though they were only opened a little bit.

“Fuck! Leone ! What -“ you were so confused, and scared. You worried he might have gotten alcohol poisoning, but that was just your “worry-wart” mind and you knew you were just overreacting. You took deep breaths and calmed yourself down, taking a deep breath before laying down on the floor across from Abbacchio.

You understood it now, he obviously had some sort of unresolved trauma. If there was one thing you knew about trauma survivors.. it was to never touch them in a state like this because they may not want it. You had to respect that since you didn’t know what you were dealing with here. It broke your heart to see him cry, but he needed someone right now and you needed to approach this cautiously.

“I don’t know what happened, but when you want to talk, I’ll be right here. “ You said, smiling softly at him. You needed him to know that you were serious about.. helping him through whatever this was. You wanted to be there for him, to be the girlfriend he needed.

“I’ll lay here all night, if I have to.” Frankly, while this was something you didn’t expect, you were just happy to see him alive. You were so worried that he might have been dead. Your mind started going to the more logical side of things. He needed food and water or else he’d be puking soon if he hadn’t already. That, and he’d have an awful headache in the morning. You weren’t going to leave his side though. Instead, you reached your hand out across the cold floor, hoping he’d hold yours and ground himself, in a sense. You didn’t think he was sober enough for that, though.

It took Abbacchio a second to even register the fact that someone had come into his apartment. When did you get here? He must have made you worried... he could add that to the ever growing list of why Leone Abbacchio was a disgusting waste of oxygen.

"You shouldn't stay. I'm a filthy ex cop and a pathetic excuse of a man. I'll only drag you down and make you hate me if you stay. You deserve someone better, not someone who got a good man killed because he took a fucking bribe and ruined his life." Abbacchio choked out, the alcohol causing some slurring of his words and also removing his filter.

It took a minute before he realized exactly what he said to you. Fuck, he told you about it. He told you about his partner and now you were going to fucking hate him. Would it have been better to keep lying? Probably. He could have at least prolonged your relationship, instead of sabotaging it less than a month in. He really was a pathetic piece of work, wasn't he?

"You deserve better, you deserve so much better. Fuck I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you, I don't deserve to be here while a good fucking man is dead. He had a wife and a kid! Fuck, its my fault that kid is growing up without his dad. I should have been the one shot, not him. Fuck!"

Abbacchio was starting to talk in circles, tears leaking from his eyes as he sobbed and curled in on himself. He didn't deserve your kindness. He didn't deserve you right now, laying on the floor with him and being so heart breakingly kind.

"I'm going to fail you too in the end. You'll get hurt if you stay, I know you will. I fuck up every good thing that's ever happened to me and I know that you'll hate me eventually. So just... please, don't let me do that to you. You deserve so much better-" Abbacchio's words were cut off by a heaving sob.

He wanted to beg you to stay though, beg you not to leave him and not to hate him but he couldn't do that. He didn't deserve to be happy and he knew that, and he didn't want to guilt you into staying with him by being an emotional pussy. You deserved better than someone who needed alcohol to work through anything like this. You deserved a good man who could give you a house and children like you wanted.

Anything Abbacchio gave you would be tainted by him. A house, a marriage, children, he'd somehow find a way to ruin all of that. Someone as kind and beautiful as you didn't deserve that. All he ever wanted to do was help people. Even joining the mafia he wanted to help people. But he managed to fuck everything up no matter what he did. He was a loser who couldn't even keep his one dream in life after he achieved it and you didn't deserve that.

"Fuck, I-... Fuck!" Abbacchio didn't know what else to say, having already made a fool of himself. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I fucking... dragged you into this. You shouldn't be here right now you should be having fun. Not fucking... laying on the floor with some alcoholic loser..."

Ah. So that’s what it was. You listened to him, and sat up, pulling his head into your lap as he cried.

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay. I have you.” You said, trying to help him control his sobs. You knew it was falling on deaf ears though, as he continued to go on about everything. You remained silent though, letting him vent it out. “Leone.” you said, your tone more serious than any other time you had spoken to him. “Leone listen to me. You aren’t a bad person and you aren’t a corrupt cop. What you did was not something that every other police man didn’t do in the past.” You began to say. While you didn’t know the context of what the bribe was for, you could tell that deep down Leone was reluctant about it. “Your friend getting shot was not your mistake. If he chose to take a bullet for you, then that’s on him. When you are in that line of work you should expect death at every corner - the same as you do now with being in the mafia.”

It honestly wasn’t your place to say any of this but the more he went on about it the more you realized that he didn’t need to feel as guilty. He wasn’t blowing it out of proportion and losing someone was never easy, but you didn’t want him to have to cry like this constantly when his partner chose to save him.

“I don’t know what exactly happened that day, and I’ll never know exactly how you feel either. I have my own traumas to deal with. But what I do know is that your friend wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this. He saved you for a reason. If that reason is for you to join the mafia and protect Bruno? Then so be it. But you have a purpose here, Leone. As much as you don’t think you deserve anything ‘good’ in your life - you do.”

You ran your fingers through his hair as you heard his sobs start to die down a little. That was a good sign, at least. It was quite honestly making you tear up a little, seeing him cry like this. You had loved him for a while now and you wanted to be... so much more doting. But what could you do? They had only dated a month, at that.

“And you can try your hardest but I promise you I am one stubborn girl. You make me happy, even at your worst so it’s gonna be hard to scare me off or make me leave.” It was true. You could be stubborn at the best of times. Maybe a lesser woman would have ran away after seeing Abbacchio like this. But not you. This only proved your love for him.

Frankly, if anyone left him in this state then they’d be the lowest scum of the earth. He needed someone right now, and you wanted to be here.

“I want to help you, Leone. I want to be your girlfriend. I don’t care what the future holds for us I just want us both to be happy. I’m not going to let anything get in the way of that. You deserve happiness. You aren’t dragging me down in the slightest ”

There was more you wanted to say, but what? What could you say? You loved him, - that she knew -but he probably didn’t want to hear that right now - and that was fair. You knew your words were coming out choppy anyways, but now that he was somewhat calm, your concerns were on something else.

Leaning down, you placed a kiss on the top of his head before brushing the hair out of his face. His sobs died down completely, only various sniffles echoing in the room.

Abbacchio reacted to you putting his head on your lap by turning over and immediately trying to hide his face by pressing it into your stomach as he clung to you. He didn't want you to see how pathetic he looked as he shook and sobbed. Your words were too kind, he knew he didn't deserve them. Couldn't you see how much of a fuck up he was? Or maybe you did, but then why were you being so heartbreakingly kind? You couldn't seriously be accepting of all this, could you? The thought made him choke out another sob, clinging tighter.

Did he want you to hate him? To leave him? Or to stay? He didn't know any more, but for right now all he wanted was just to be here with you. He felt your hands start to card tenderly through his hair and despite himself the tension began to fade from his body. Your soothing voice and gentle affection starting to coax the sadness from him, causing his sobbing to eventually wane into the occasional hiccup and sniffle. His tears dried too, but he knew his face would be red and puffy and ugly to look at so he still tried to hide as best he could. " 'M sorry..." He mumbled again, half muffled by your clothes. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to go anywhere. This felt too nice, too safe, to even consider getting up.

“I’m going to get up and get you some water, yeah? I don’t want you having an awful hangover tomorrow.” You said, gently moving his head up and standing from the floor. You tried your very hardest to lift him up. He was sluggish from all the booze he drank but he could still move around. That was a good sign, at least.

He could feel you carefully freeing yourself from his grip and standing up. "Wait! Where..?" Were you really going to get up and leave him like this? He still had no idea what he wanted but if you left he'd definitely break again. His breathing started to pick up again until you explained that you were just taking him to their room. Their room. He liked the sound of that. Their room, their apartment, it was all really nice. He allowed himself to be helped up, leaning on you heavily as you guided him to their room. It was difficult to walk right now, swimming in alcohol as he was, but he tried not to let himself become too much of a burden on you like this. You were so small compared to him.

“Come on, baby.” He was heavy, but you let him rest his weight on your shoulders as you heaved him over to the bedroom. Once he was on the bed, you laid him back, taking his pants off. You knew he didn’t really sleep in Pyjamas because he got hot easily. Hell - sometimes he didn’t even wear a shirt. It was little things like this that you remembered, and you wanted to make him as comfortable as possible. You covered him in the duvet, before heading to the kitchen for some water. You knew he should probably eat something too.. but what? You knew Abbacchio would crash soon, so you opted to make him something light and easy on the stomach - some toast. That was easy enough anyways.

He knew he should be the one helping and protecting YOU, not the other way around. But he didn't complain as you helped him out of his clothes and helped him get comfortable in the bed. It was cold without you there, but it was comfortable. He supposed he could handle this for a bit. He watched you get up again, opening his mouth to protest when you explained again that you were just getting him some water and something to eat. Right water. He hadn't had anything to drink except alcohol all day, and barely ate anything too. He needed to have something otherwise he'd be sick tomorrow. He knew this, and so did you. So he waited.

When the toast was ready you put some butter on it and tossed the knife in the sink, you’d clean it up afterwards. Walking to the bedroom you placed the toast on the nightstand, helping him sit up.

Abbacchio tried his very hardest not to sleep until you came back so he could make sure you stayed, and when you returned with toast and a glass of water he sat up. Abbacchio felt his head spinning at the sudden movement, but he tried his best not to get sick, leaning heavily on you for support while he nibbled on the toast and sipped at the water. He didn't have an appetite at all but he knew he needed to try and finish this otherwise you would be disappointed.

“You have to drink this okay?” you said. You felt a bit better when he drank some of the water. Good. “I un- I Made you toast. I don’t know what you like to eat on it but I just put some butter. You need something in your system or you’ll be puking everywhere - which I don’t mind, I’ll clean it all for you. I just.. want to make this easier on you, if I can.” you hummed, placing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You looked at him as you sat on the edge of the bed. Your heart hurt, genuinely. You loved this man and it bothered you that he was so hurt by this. You just wished there was more you could do.

"-re too good for me." He slurred, resting his head on your shoulder for a minute while he took a break from trying to eat.

"I love you so much. You're so... perfect. You're too nice. You deserve the world and I... I want to give it to you. I'm trying. I promise I'm trying I really-" Abbacchio felt himself choking up again as he took a drink from the water, coughing slightly before righting himself. He was trying. It might not look like it now but he really was trying. He'd been trying for a long time and he needed you to know that.

"I promise I'm... trying. To be better. So please don't leave." He repeated, vision growing hazy as he looked down at the half eaten toast. He felt... so tired after everything. Exhausted really. He just wanted to lay down and sleep it all off.

You tried to be as calm as you could, helping abbacchio drink the water and eat. He didn’t have to eat the whole thing, considering his stomach probably would hurt or it could cause him to puke, but you were still happy with what he ate. You almost dropped the plate when you heard Abbacchio utter the words I love you.

Fuck. You didn’t know what to think. Your heart was telling you to drop everything and kiss him passionately!! Tell him how you’ve loved him since you first laid eyes on him and how you want to marry him! But you stopped yourself.

Instead, you smiled and rubbed his arm gently before standing up.

“You’re drunk baby.” you said softly, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. You tried not to “believe” what he said anyways. People say a lot of things when they’re drunk. Doesn’t mean they’re always true. Still, you wanted to believe.

“Hey hey.. it’s okay it’s okay. I know you’re trying Leone - that’s what matters.” you said, hugging him gently. “I’m not going to leave you, ever. Alright? I promise.” your hand brushed some stray hairs out of his face, and you smiled at him. He looked.. so sad.

It hurt you , to see him like this.

“I’m just going to put this dish away and turn the lights off, then I’ll come to bed. Okay?”

You needed to make sure that he understood you weren’t leaving ; but you couldn’t just drop here

When he nodded, You quickly disposed of the remaining toast and put the dish in the sink. There was a small pile up of dishes, and while that was a pet peeve of yours- you’d do it tomorrow. Right now abbacchio needed you. The dishes could wait.

You returned to the bed, quickly slipping on a t-shirt and taking your pants off before cuddling Abbacchio. You were the big spoon this time and that was fine, you really didn’t mind at all. As tired as he was, he still seemed somewhat agitated. Which was fair considering everything he went through. You paused for a moment - unsure of what else you could do, but then you had an idea. Leaning up on your elbow, you used your hand to gently caress his head while humming a soft lullaby to him.

When you were sure he was “almost” out, you pulled away and kissed his head once more.

“I love you too, Leone...” you whispered.

#cw: alcohol #Leone Abbacchio #Abbacchio x Reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #cowritten

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