#but they were old and couldn’t physically keep handling with blue’s breakdowns

[syndianites]

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter Three

First Chapter --> Last Chapter --> Current --> Next Chapter Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Getting akumatized was a special sort of uncomfortable. But it was exhilarating in all the same ways. Everything that one felt became louder, bigger, something beyond what it used to be. It grew into power. The power to act and take what was yours.

For Chloe, it just made her more upset. The anger had almost fizzled out, but the akuma brought it back with a vengeance. But unlike the last time she had been akumatized, her sorrow manifested much stronger than her rage.

Her skin darkened to a deep blue, almost purple, like the edge of the night sky after the sun had set. Where her hair had been in a high ponytail, it was undone and draped down and around her face. It looked stuck together and damp as though she had just been rained on. Chloe’s makeup looked washed out and runny both from her own tears and the transformation.

Most notably, her clothes became a simple long t-shirt and sweatpants that looked worn down and overused. The pants were a bright, light blue, while the shirt was a dark, deep crimson. To top it off, her sunglasses molded into a hat not unlike what her mother wore, but with goggles inlaid into them.

Without a word, Chloe put her hands before her and a large pair of scissors, easily the size of her chest, formed in her hand. Transformation complete, she turned on a dime and walked out the locker room.

A moment of silence followed before Pollen poked her head out the locker she had hidden away in. “Well, this isn’t good.”

//////

Marinette had never been so uncomfortable in her life. That included that time when she was seven and her twice removed cousins from her dad’s side came over and asked her why she didn’t wear dresses if she liked making them so much. And that one time she stepped foot first into a mud puddle, lost her shoe, and had to walk home with a sock soaked in mud.

It was bad.

Audrey, once Chloe had stormed out, continued on her tirade. “Ugh, how dramatic. Little Charlie needs to learn her place. She simply can’t compare to talent like yours, dear.”

Starting at being addressed, Marinette gave her a pinched smile.

“Now,” Audrey continued. “You simply must come to New York with me. The opportunities are endless, and skill such as yours would flourish under my attention!”

Her heart skipped a beat. New York was a big deal for fashion. Next to Paris, it was the place to be, and opening up her contacts to overseas big names would be a huge step for her career.

But could she work with someone this awful?

Sure, Marinette didn’t like Chloe, but even she thought that how her own mother treated her was cruel. It made her feel bad for the girl. It explained a lot about her, and for a moment Marinette considered being nicer to Chloe.

Not that that would make Chloe suddenly decide to be a good person. It would take the inevitable explosion of the sun for that to happen.

“I-i, um, I need to think about it, Mrs. Bourgeois.” Marinette glanced over at her parents. “I have a lot to consider about leaving or staying, and my parents still need my help at the bakery.”

Her parents, and oh how she loved them, spoke up immediately, “Oh, we can manage the bakery dear! Don’t worry about little old us, what’s important is your future.”

Please, take the hint guys.

Before Marinette can struggle to find more excuses to deny her request, Adrien pipes up, “Mrs. Bourgeois,” he flashes her an award winning smile, “Don’t you think that the way Chloe was handled was a bit… out of hand?” Gabriel laid a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, squeezing it gently before sharing a look with Natalie and wandering off.

Audrey rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Oh, darling, for such a sweet thing you can be so daft. Girls like that need a quick strike down before they let their misguidedness get to their head.”

Adrien, for his part, kept smiling. For those who knew him well enough, they could see the twitch in his eye as he struggled not to snap at the woman. “Ah, my apologies. In my experience, the best growth comes from a guiding hand that focuses on building a person up rather than tearing them down. But I suppose, for a critic, that is not the case at all. Though, the modelling experience is often different from the experience of those who make judgement calls on others’ hard work.”

Bringing a hand to her chest, Audrey sniffs derisively. “Sure, dear. Of course, most models are meant to make anything they wear look pretty, so it can be hard to see where their accessories are lacking when all they see is themselves.”

Marinette wanted to desperately be anywhere but where she was standing. She almost wished that someone had bust in with the Bee miraculous and caused a scene just so she could excuse herself.

She’d rather deal with her own mistakes a million fold over than this.

Mayor Andre, for his part, smiled a shaky press smile as he tried to talk his wife down. 

Adrien, fed up with Audrey, grabbed Marinette ’s hand and pulled her away quickly. Natalie spared him a glance before going to converse with his bodyguard.

“Can you believe her!” Adrien simmered. “How cruel can you be to your own child!”

Marinette laughed awkwardly. “I mean, at least we know where Chloe gets it from?”

Adrien rounded on her. “Chloe is not as bad as her!”

Taking a step back, she watched Adrien wide-eyed. He sighed, taking a breath to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. That display was just awful.”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up carefully styled locks.

Hesitating, Marinette asked, “Is she… always like that?”

Adrien gave a tense nod. “Since we were young. Chloe always wanted her mother’s support, but well,” he waved his hand back in her direction, “You try reasoning with that.”

Before either could pick the conversation back up the front doors to the building burst open. Carrying comically large scissors and dressed as what could only be called a fashion disaster was an akuma that looked one bad day away from a mental breakdown.

Or, well, in the middle of a breakdown.

“Audrey Bourgeois! You claim to recognize talent when you see it, but failed to see how your own daughter can be exceptional. Well, I am the Queen Killer and if I cannot be exceptional then no one can! I’ll cut your reign to shreds.” The akuma accented her speech with a threatening snip of her scissors before launching forward at the Style Queen.

Before anyone could react, Queen Killer had Audrey between her blades and closed. A thing, white line appeared where the blades connected and, as Queen drew her weapon away, there was a horrifying moment where Marinette was sure Audrey was split into two pieces.

Instead, a dark shadow started spilling out of Audrey, enveloping her body as she screamed. When the shadow dissipates, a twisted, snarling version of Audrey that looked like she was fused together with five other versions of herself appeared. It lashed out at those around her, screeching and clawing at them.

Queen Killer laughed. “Now everyone will see how hideous and cruel you are!”

Marinette jolted out her shock as Adrien roughly pulled her away. This, unfortunately, brought Queen’s attention to them as the rest of the room also began to run. 

“Dupain-Cheng!” If she had any doubt that that was Chloe, she had none now. ”You stole my mother’s love from me!”

As Queen launched forward with her scissors open, Marinette screamed, “That was not my intention! I didn’t know she would ask me to go to New York with her all over a hat!”

Alas, her pleas were not enough. Stuck in her civilian form, Marinette could not outrun the enraged Queen. Twin blades circled around her waist and cut, forcing Marinette to stumble and fall.

Adrien, worried for his friend, stopped and tried to go back for her. But, between a snarling Queen and Marinette urging him to keep running as a dark shadow overtook her, he kept running. The best thing for Marinette would be Chat Noir and Ladybug. He would have time to check on her later.

Marinette , meanwhile, felt the shadows come off her and… she looked the same. For a moment, she was confused. What was the akuma’s power supposed to be?

But then it bubbled up. Nothing physical. No, that would be too easy. As she looked up towards Queen and thought ‘I need to transform into Ladybug’ a wave of crushing doubt and insecurity gripped her throat.

She would just mess up again. Like she had when she started out, when she lost the Bee miraculous, and every time she let someone get harmed by an akuma. There was no way she could do this. Chat Noir would be better off without her.

As the building cleared and Queen ran out to terrorize the fleeing patrons, Marinette stayed on the ground, shaking. What could she do? Make things worse? Disappoint all of Paris? Put Fu and Chat Noir in danger?

Distantly, she heard someone talking to her, urging her to get up and move. The voice disappeared as he heard footsteps and she was lifted into someone’s arms. A hop, skip, and a jump later had her safely placed down on a chair in a private room, looking into the eyes of Chat Noir. His eyebrows were brought together in concern.

“Stay here, okay? I promise Ladybug and I will fix things for you.” He offered a reassuring smile before dashing out of the room.

When she couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, Tikki flew out of her pocket. “ Marinette !” The little ladybug placed her paws on her face, getting her to look at Tikki. “Are you okay? What happened after she cut you?”

Shaking her head, Marinette focused on her breathing. ‘C’mon Mari,’ she thought to herself, ‘You can’t let Chat do this alone.’

“I, uh,” she looked back at Tikki, “It’s so bad Tikki. I’m going to mess up and make things worse. Like yesterday with the Bee miraculous! I lost it! Instead of getting help, I lost a potential ally and a powerful magical artifact. If I can’t even keep track of things placed under my care, how can I protect Paris?”

Tikki was at a loss for words. This reminded her so much of the Marinette she first met- unconfident, afraid, and so uncertain in her actions. It was like the cut brought out all the most hurtful parts of herself…

“ Marinette ,” Tikki began, “We all make mistakes. What’s important is working to fix them. Sure, if you do nothing you can’t mess up or disappoint people, but you also can’t grow and succeed. Paris needs its Ladybug, regardless of what the people think of you. I know you can do this. Chat will be there to help you too, I’m sure of it.”

Doubt in her eyes, Marinette nodded. While her doubts and insecurity swirled in her mind, the urge to help others reigned supreme. She had to at least stop the akuma and set things back to normal.

“Alright Tikki,” Marinette swallowed thickly. “Spots On!”

///////////

Chat was not having a good time.

His first thought upon finding Queen snipping people in half with her scissors was that he could easily beat her in combat. What could she do with a pair of large scissors when he had a versatile staff?

A lot, apparently.

As he dodged backwards from another attempt to cut him in half from Queen, he tossed a jab her way. “So is clashing colors the new look, or did I miss the memo?”

Queen huffed at him, “Says the boy in full leather! I would know a fashion disaster when I see one!”

She ran at him again, holding the scissors completely open so she could swipe at him with a blade. Chat blocked it with his staff, before pushing her away as she tried to close the blades on him.

“Excuse you, Queenie!” He retorted. “I’ll have you know that my outfit is purr-fect.”

Clearly, she disagreed, if the groan and slash at him was anything to go by.

What a party pooper.

But what was worse was that he couldn’t get close enough to her to properly disarm her. Nor could he figure out where the akuma was while trying his best to not get cut in half. Chat needed to regroup with Ladybug, but she was nowhere in sight.

Biting his lip, Chat jumped back and up onto a rooftop. Giving Queen Killer a salute, he started away from her.

“Get back here you mangy cat!” Queen simmered on the ground below where he ran off. “You better bring back Ladybug so I can take you both off your high horse!”

///////////

Pollen was not the best at sneaking around. Not for lack of trying, of course, but people were ingrained to see a blur of yellow and the sound of buzzing and think ‘Bee!’ It didn’t help that she was larger than the average bee.

What did help, however, was people being too busy staring at an akuma running full tilt down the street to pay attention to the yellow being that was trying to stay unnoticed behind them. So Pollen got a front row seat to Queen’s akuma speech and display of her powers. When Chat Noir showed up she waited for her chance to talk to him or Ladybug whenever she came around.

And, well, there went Chat running for his life.

Pollen sighed. At least flying along rooftops was less obvious than following an akuma.

After shooting past building after building, she manages to get closer to the black blur that was Chat Noir. He was vaulting along, keeping an eye out as he worked on not plummeting to the ground. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, Pollen nearly sped past him.

As Chat retracts his staff and starts to dial Ladybug, Pollen drops down in front of him. “Oh!” He stumbles back, “Hello? Who are you?”

Pollen smooths out her fluff and offers a paw. “I am Pollen, Kwami and Order and Subjugation, and the one who dwells inside the Bee Miraculous. You must be Chat Noir. A pleasure.”

Chat, mystified, offers a finger. “Nice to meet you. I thought you would be with Master Fu and your miraculous?”

“Ah, well,” Pollen tilted her head. “Did Ladybug not tell you?”

He pinched his lips. “No?”

“Ladybug lost my miraculous in the fight with Style Queen. You weren’t there, though, were you?” Pollen considered him for a moment. “I don’t blame you for that, nor do I blame Ladybug for losing my miraculous. But that isn’t important right now.”

Accepting the hand Chat placed out for her, she settles into his palm. “I need to talk to you and Ladybug, but the akuma is our first priority. What do you know about them?”

“Well,” Chat began, “I believe it is Chloe Bourgeois. But as for the akuma,” He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, “I’m not too sure. My current two guesses are her scissors or her hat, since she normally doesn’t have either on her.”

Pollen nodded thoughtfully, despite having seen the akuma land in Chloe’s sunglasses. There was no way she could tell Chat Noir without him having at least some suspicions as to who she was with at the moment. At the very least, he could narrow it down to who had been around Chloe when she transformed.

Chat pushed on. “Even if we managed to subdue Queen Killer and get the akuma out, we wouldn’t be able to do anything until Ladybug gets here to purify it. The best we can do is wait and try to stop as much damage as possible.”

“Actually,” Pollen butt in, with a slow smile spreading across her face, “I may have a solution to that.” Chat tipped his head to the side. “I can immobilize people with my power. As long as I can hold onto the power they will remain frozen, or until I touch them to let them free.”

He perked up, stars in his eyes. “Like how Plagg can use Cataclysm when he’s himself! That’s perfect, Pollen.”

She nodded eagerly, before stopping. “Wait, did you not know kwamis can use their own power?”

Chat looked confused, but nodded slowly. “I didnt figure that out until he used it to free from an akuma a while ago.”

Pollen buzzed, frustrated, before saying, “The Guardian should have told you that! It’s important for a holder to know about their miraculous and kwami, especially a trouble maker like Plagg.”

“Well,” Chat scuffed his foot on the roof, “I don’t speak to the Guardian that much. Last time we talked was when he came to my house and talked about the Miracle Box and such.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Pollen moved out of Chat’s hand and floated in an irritated circle. “You should be just as informed as Ladybug. It’s not fair to you or her to pile information on one of you and expect the other to just go along with it!”

Chat shrugged. “That’s how it’s been for most of it. Besides, I trust Ladybug with my life.”

“But, when keeping so many secrets, can she trust hers with you?” Pollen replied with a meaningful look in her eyes.

She received no response. Instead of dwelling on the matter, she urged Chat to get back to Queen Killer. They still had a job to do, after all.

/////////

Ladybug arrived on the scene to find Chat nowhere in site and Queen Killer happily snipping at random citizens. Great. Before she can engage with the akuma, she hesitates. Could she really do this without Chat? What if she lost her miraculous because she let her civilian self get hit with the akuma’s power?

Shaking her head, she prepared to head in when a flash of black caught her eye. The familiar form of Chat pole vaulting across the rooftops to her left filled her with a sense of relief. She really, seriously needed to keep it together.

Taking a second, she throws her yo-yo to wrap around a chimney in Chat’s path. Her heart races as she tests the line and jumps. Shit, shit, shit, she’s gonna hit the wall, then Queen will notice her, then-

She made it on the roof with two scraped knees. Not flawless, but still unseen. Chat landed beside her, more than happy to see his Lady. A frown creased his brow as he took in her demeanor.

“Are you alright?” He checks her over for wounds, but comes back with nothing beyond a few scratches. “Did something happen?”

Ladybug goes to dismiss the idea before Tikki’s words ring in her head again ‘Chat will be there to help you too.’ Shaking her head, she gave Chat a grimace. “Queen managed to cut me while I was in my civilian form. Even after I transformed the effects are bothering me. It’s… brought back a lot of my insecurity and confidence issues. But we can do this, I know we can.”

Chat nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. And some back up.”

“Backup?”

A yellow figure lands on Chat’s shoulder. “Hello, Ladybug. It’s nice to see you again.”

Blinking in shock, Ladybug exclaims, “You’re the kwami from the Bee miraculous! Oh god, another thing I messed up, I’m so, so sorry.”

Pollen holds up a paw, stopping her. “It’s not your fault. You were in a tight situation and did the best you could. Besides, I’m with someone who may be a good ally in the future. They just need time.”

Chat and Pollen brought Ladybug up to speed on their ideas, to which she poked and prodded at. They exchanged glances before nodding and Chat and Pollen split. Still standing on the roof, Ladybug calls her Lucky Charm. It dropped from the sky as a red and black spotted crowbar.

Keeping the crowbar in hand, Ladybug drew Queen’s attention with a hit to her scissors. “Hey!” Ladybug called out, “Don’t you know scissors are dangerous?”

Queen Killer growled back, “Of course you would start preaching at me, little miss perfect. I bet everyone in the whole city loves you. Well I’m here to cut your heroic tales short!” She launched forward, bouncing off a car and digging her scissors into the side of the building to propel her up to the rooftop to get on Ladybug’s level.

Ladybug, in a quick move, flipped over her and flung her yo-yo around the scissors to send Queen flying back to the ground. Before she could hit a lamppost, Queen dug the blades into the street to slow herself down, only to run back to Ladybug.

‘Good,’ Ladybug thought to herself, ‘Keep coming.’

In the moments before Queen got back in range, Ladybug took a moment to eye the area around her for clues on how to use the Lucky Charm. Nothing stood out, so she sprung from the rooftop to land before Queen and send her yo-yo swinging at her feet.

Queen, quick to the punch, lowered her scissors to cut the yo-yo string. Ah, what a lovely and easy mistake to make when fighting a person who used scissors with a string based weapon. Panicking, Ladybug brought up the crowbar to stop the scissors from striking her.

Pulling back, Queen raced in again with the blades open, looking to trap Ladybug the same way she had Chat in their fight before. Ladybug readied her crowbar, bringing it up to block again. Queen smirked, shutting the blades in a smooth motion. By luck or skill, Ladybug managed to sidestep the action, getting the crowbar’s hook caught in between the blades. Seeing her chance, Ladybug used the hook to pull the scissors from Queen’s hands.

Spitting a curse, Queen abandoned her scissors to tackle Ladybug.

Chat, meanwhile, called forth his Cataclysm and rushed the scissors, destroying them with a touch. When no akuma appeared, he looked back confused. Queen kept fighting Ladybug, managing to get the upper hand as Ladybug hesitated in kicking her off. As Queen pinned Ladybug’s hand with one of her own and reached for her miraculous Chat sprung towards her.

He wouldn’t make it in time.

But Queen stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide beneath the wide-brimmed hat. Pollen popped up from behind her, giving Ladybug a little giggle. “Sorry, I meant to do that a little earlier.”

This time with no reservations, Ladybug pushed Queen off of her. Chat bounded over to her to help her up, to which she shook her head and pointed at Queen. “Find the akuma.”

Receiving a nod, she picked herself up to retrieve the cut off part of her yo-yo. Chat, in this time, took Queen’s hat and ripped it. For good measure, he broke the goggles on them as well. Lo and behold, the akuma haphazardly fluttered out. Before it could escape, Ladybug snapped it up in her yo-yo.

“Bye, bye little butterfly,” Ladybug murmured, letting it fly off into the sky. With a nod to her partner, she threw her crowbar into the air and let forth the rush of ladybugs to fix the damage done.

Pollen, seeing Chloe safely de-akumatized, gave Chat a little nod before rushing off. He made a move to go after her when a bawl reached his ears. Chloe, freshly purified, was trying her best to keep it together. But as Chat knelt to help her to her feet, she jumped him for a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry that I was too pathetic to not get akumatized again. My mother was right about me, I’m so, so sorry.”

Chat rubbed her back slowly. “What your mother said was cruel and unfounded. You’re not pathetic at all, Chloe.”

“And it’s definitely not your fault. Even the strongest, most exceptional people can get akumatized,” Ladybug added, “Besides, even heroes have bad days.” Not that she considered Chloe even close to a hero.

Andre chose this moment to come bustling through the doors of the building behind them. “Princess, my darling!”

Seeing that she was in good hands, Chat and Ladybug pound their fists together and part ways.

Ladybug, however, is stopped by Pollen two blocks over. “There you are! Thank goodness. Can you show me where your miraculous is so I can return it to Master Fu?”

“No,” Pollen told her quietly, “But I want to ask you to trust me. I’ve found someone who needs my help. Maybe one day she could be a great hero, maybe not. But this person has gone through a lot of heartbreak and I don’t want to be another person that leaves her behind. I want you to tell Fu that I have decided to stay with them.”

“Wait, but what about secrecy? How will we know they won't spread the word about the miraculous or accidentally lead Hawkmoth to you?” Ladybug fretted, cupping her hands for Pollen to land in.

“I haven’t told her the transformation words, yet.” Pollen stroked her hand reassuringly. “That way if things go south I can still manage to keep my power from being abused. Please, Ladybug, trust me.”

Biting her lip, Ladybug hesitantly nodded. “Please stay safe, Pollen. If you ever need my help don’t hesitate to ask.”

Giving her a bright smile, Pollen floated up to nuzzle Ladybug’s forehead. After giving parting words, they went off in different directions.

Hopefully, Pollen hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption #ladybug #marianette dupaign-cheng #chat noir #adrien agreste #pollen #pollen (ladybug) #pollen the kwami #bee kwami #tikki #plagg #marinette dupain cheng

[clonewarslover55]

Memories AU  Verda Tal Rose in Triple Zero

Part one(1) out of five(5)

Part two  Part three  Part four  Part five

Summary: Random drabbles based off of parts in the Republic Commando book Triple Zero where Etain interacted with Walon Vau! @just-some-girl-92 wanted to know how Etain would react to Rose, so here’s a new series lol 

Notes: If you have no idea who Rose is check out Memories here! And her many many character notes on my masterlist!! Please do, I’m really proud of Rose and Memories!!

 This is the part where Etain meets Walon, adding Rose of course! 

The formatting, plot, dialogue, etc! Are not mine!!! This is all from Republic Commando: Triple Zero, chapter nine. Written by Karen Traviss. So none of this is mine but the Rose parts! 

If you haven’t read Triple Zero or Memories then I suggest you don’t read this until you do!! 

Warnings: Canon violence, Rose is a bitch ngl, Walon Vau is polite, Rose is not, 

+Safe house, Brewery zone, Coruscant Quadrant J-47, 1000 hours, 371 days after Geonosis+

Vau, sitting at the table, looked tired. He still seemed like a professor who wasn’t very happy with his class, but the physical effort showed in deeper lines from nose to mouth and the way he was drumming his fingers on the table in front of him. It was his trick for staying awake. 

A woman sat beside him. She was leaning back in her chair, an ankle propped on her knee. Her dark auburn red hair, which was greying, was in a messy braid, her emerald green eyes half lidded. She blinked slowly and glanced at Etain, a bemused expression on her beautiful face. The woman was around Walon’s age it seemed, her freckles and frown lines prominent. 

The man who had his head resting on the same table in front of him didn’t look awake at all. Vau leaned forward and lifted the man’s head by his hair, peered into his face, and set him down carefully again. The woman sighed, Vau glancing at her. Both were clearly exhausted and irritated. 

“You’re the relief watch, then, Jedi?” Vau got up and stretched extravagantly, joints clicking, and indicated the empty chair. “All yours.” The woman sat there a little longer, looking Etain up and down. She clearly did not like Jedi it seemed.  When she stood Etain noticed she was tall, a few inches taller than Skirata but still shorter than Vau.

Etain looked surprised. Skirata had expected her to register horror at the blood spatter on the otherwise pristine cream walls, but she just looked at Vau like she was expecting to see someone else. 

She looked back at the fellow redhead. “I thought I was only meeting-” The woman cut her off, she was very rude. “I’m Verda Tal Rose, which means Warrior Blood Rose. You may call me Rose, I’m Walon’s wife. I help him with these kinds of jobs.” Kal sighed, “She wasn’t supposed to be here.” The woman, Rose, rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your fucking permission Skirata. You know I can keep my mouth shut.” She spat the words, Kal glaring back at her. 

Etain was even more shocked. How Skirata described Vau he didn’t seem like the man to take a wife. Let alone one who was incredibly rude. Kal quickly cut the tension by directing his attention to Walon.

“Where are the other two?” Skirata asked.

“Nikto number one is M’truli, and he’s secured in the small bedroom.” Vau was perfectly polite: this was just business after all, and even Skirata felt too centered on the task at hand to resume their feud where it had left off. His wife on the other hand, was not. Rose despised Kal more than her husband did, but not because of the feud between the two men. “Nikto number two is Gysk, and he’s in the study.” Rose spoke this time, irritation in her voice. 

“Your tunics could use a wash.” 

“It’s the little horns. You can’t punch a Nikto. Had to use something else.” Rose nodded in agreement with her husband, a little smirk coming across her face. Etain looked at her and swallowed thickly. Rose seemed quite unhinged, and she had just met her. 

Etain sat down in Vau’s seat and placed her hands flat on the table, still looking puzzled. Skirata leaned against the wall. Vau wandered into the ‘fresher: water tinkled into the basin. Rose stood near the table, watching Etain with an eyebrow raised. 

“You want to tell me what you know,” Etain said soothingly. “You want to give me the names of the people you operate with.” 

Orjul twitched. He raised his head from the table with some difficulty and stared into her face for a second. 

Then he spat in it. Rose pulled a dagger from her boot and snarled. Kal grabbed her shoulder and held her back, “She can handle this Verda.” He whispered,  Rose only sneered and yanked from his touch. She was wound up, Orjul must have spat on her a few times already as well. Rose was easy to piss off though….So Kal was scared to guess what he had said so far.

Etain jerked back, visibly shocked, and wiped the pink-stained spittle with one hand. Then she composed herself again. 

“Keep your stinking mind tricks to yourself, Jedi,” Orjul hissed. Rose glared at him, the man not looking at her out of fear. Rose dropped the blade back into her boot, crossing her arms. 

Skirata didn’t expect her to break at that point. And she didn’t: she simply sat there, although he knew it wasn’t blank inactivity. She had been trained from childhood just like the clone army, except the first weapon she seized would be her control of the Force and her ability to read it like clamoring comlink signals. 

Darman had told him. “She could tell us apart right away by how we felt and thought, Sarge. Wouldn’t that be a handy trick to have?” 

“Can I see the Nikto?” She asked suddenly. Etain looked at Rose who just gave a half shrug letting Etain know she wasn’t in charge. 

Vau came out of the ‘fresher, wiping his face with a fluffy white towel. “Help yourself.” He gave Skirata a “you-know-best” look and unlocked the doors for her.  “They’re securly trussed. You know we keep them from talking to each other, don’t you?” Rose spoke, walking to her husband. 

“I worked that out,” Etain said.  

Rose gave her a tired smile, it was the smile of someone who had been up for hours. It nearly looked like a mothers smile, and for some reason it made Etain’s heart ache. There was just something in Rose’s smile and force signature. Odd. 

She looked back at her husband, “You missed a spot.” She mumbled, taking the towel from him to wipe some blood from his neck. Walon glared at her like an embarrassed child. Rose only pecked his cheek, a loving smile on her face. Vau sighed, looking like he hated the attention. Only a blind man would miss the love and admiration in his golden eyes though. 

Etain laughed to herself at their antics, she couldn’t wait to have that with Darman. The small cute moments in the future. She shook the thought away and disappeared into one room for a minute and then came out and went into the other. When she emerged again, she walked up to the three Mandalorians and lowered her head. 

“I’m pretty sure those Nikto have no information, and know they don’t have it,” she said quietly. 

“People have useful information all the time and don’t know it,” Skirata said. “We piece together apparently useless stuff together and come up with connections.” Verda Tal Rose snorted loudly, “We??” Vau elbowed her, he was too tired to listen to her and Kal argue. Rose glared at her husband, Walon looking at Etain to avoid his wife’s murderous gaze. 

They had clearly been married for quite a while. 

“What I mean is that they have this distinct sense that they’re just afraid of dying.” 

Vau shrugged. “So much for Nikto grit, eh?”

“Every creature avoids death. The difference is that Orjul is afraid of breaking. It feels different to me. It’s not animal dread. It’s not as deep in the Force.” Etain had her fingers meshed in that Jedi way that made her look as if she were wringing her hands. “I might as well concentrate on him. He has information he’s afraid to reveal.” 

They watched her walk the few meters back to the main room and settle down at the table opposite Orjul again and stare at him. 

Vau shrugged and put an arm around Rose’s waist. “Oh well. At least we can have a nap while she’s minding the shop. Then I can get back to work with more tangible methods.” Rose smirked at him and chuckled. She pulled away, nodding at Skirata before walking into the bedroom, leaving the two men alone. 

There was a sharp gasp from Orjul and Vau looked around. Whatever Etain was doing, she wasn’t even touching him. Just staring.

“Kal, those people scare me more than Orjul does,” Vau said. “Even more than your wife?” Walon snorted in that royal way of his, “I have yet to find something scarier than my Blood Rose.” Kal could agree with that. 

“I’m just going to get my head down for a couple of hours. Wake me if she gets anywhere….Or kills him, of course.” Kal nodded and waved his old friend off. Vau’s golden eyes stayed locked with his blue ones for a moment before he left the room. 

~Some Jedi interrogation and Orjul having a mental breakdown later!!~

Skirata grabbed Vau’s shoulder and shook him awake. “Get in there. She’s broken him down enough for you to finish the job.” Rose sat up and rubbed her eyes, unbraiding her chaotic hair. Vau stayed down for a moment, he was clearly exhausted. 

Verda suddenly grabbed Kal’s hand that was still on her husband's shoulder, yanking it towards her so she could see his chrono. “Not bad.” She spoke, her voice still groggy. Walon looked at Kal once Rose dropped his arm. 

“What’s up? Don’t want to let her face the real consequences?” Vau spoke. 

“Just do it, will you?” 

Vau swung his legs off the bed and stalked into the main room to usher Etain from the chair and steer her and Skirata towards the doors. “Go and have some fizzade, Jedi.” He turned to Orjul, who was staring after Etain with wide-set eyes. “She’s just stepping out for some refreshment. She’ll be back later.” 

Walon spoke like a teacher, his accented voice helping him sound even more regal and in control. Rose walked out of the bedroom, twirling a dagger between her fingers with skill. Etain blinked, Rose’s hair was now in a perfect braid instead of a messy one. She’d have to ask her secrets for controlling crazy red hair later. 

Skirata led Etain out by her elbow. He sat her down on a little bench at the back of the landing platform and took out his comlink to call for transport. 

“No, I'm going back in,” said Etain. 

“Only if Vau calls us back.”

“Kal….”

“Only if he really needs you. Okay?”

They were still waiting for Ordo to collect them when Etain flinched and then looked back at the lobby doors. 

They opened and Vau wandered out, rubbing his eyes. There was a distinctive tang of ozone clinging to him, like a discharged blaster. 

“Retail zone, Quadrant B-Eighty-five,” said Vau simply. He held out his datapad with the coordinates. “But he hasn’t given me a date, if he knows one. He was supposed to drop the explosives off in the warehouse, and someone would be along to collect it. He never knew who. 

Skirata sniffed the ozonic scent again and switched to Mando’a, although he was sure Etain had flinched because she had sensed what had happened. Rose walked out just as the men began to argue, quick to distract Etain. 

“Gar ru kyramu kaysh, di’kut: tion’meh kaysh ru jehaati?” 

Translation: “You killed him, you moron: what if he was lying?”

Vau made an irritated pfft sound “Ni ru kyarmu Niktose. Meh Orjul jehaati, kaysh kar’tayli me’ni ven kyramu kaysh.” 

Translation: “I killed the Nikto. If Orjul’s lying, he knows I'll kill him. Orjul would be dead sooner or later anyway.” 

No prisoners: not on this run. It was amazing how many people overlooked the inevitable while hoping for a way out. 

Kal knew Etain couldn’t speak fluent Mando’a, but he was still happy Rose was there to distract Etain from picking up any of the words in the conversation that she might know. “Seriously it works wonders Etain.” Rose spoke, smiling a little at Etain. She’d definitely listen to her hair advice. 

“Darling.” Walon spoke, motioning to the doors. Rose winked at Etain and walked to her husband, walking back inside with him. 

Etain looked at Kal, “She’s a rude one…..but I think she likes me?” Kal chuckled, “Yeah, which means you’re lucky.” Etain frowned at that, “They’re an odd pair, but they somehow work. Just wait until you see them in action….or arguing.” Etain wasn’t sure if she wanted to see any of that. 

Etain almost bolted to the speeder when Ordo settled it on the platform. 

~Back inside~

Walon hugged Rose from behind, both procrastinating moving the corpse. “That girl is smart but naive. She’s too reliant on Skirata, which is never good.” Rose suddenly spoke. Vau sighed, he agreed with her.

Tags: @the-arctic-violet @crimson-dxwn @cherry-cokes-world @thealluringsink @seafoamandlilliesinthesea @leias-left-hair-bun @catsnkooks @royalhandmaidens @simping-for-fives @valkyrieofthehighfae @mxndalorians @colorfulloverbatturkey @peacefulwizardfox @ahsokatano-thetogruta @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @fyrepen33 @ct7567329 @mistflyer1102

#walon vau #walon vau x original characters #verda tal rose #walon vau x verda tal rose #delta squad #walon vau’s boys #kal skirata #omega squad #The Null's #Null Arcs #Republic Commando #republic commando novels #republic commando: Triple Zero #republic commandos #republic commando game #repcomm novels #repcomm game #repcom #repcomm

[scribbling-stiks]

Retrievers - XLVI - Terror

America pulls away from Finland, and the blue glow dissipates. Russia smiles tightly. His lower legs tingle with pins and needles. Horror fills his mind. His grey fur raises anger and fear. Russia tries his best to keep his emotions off his face.

He knows if he looks panicked, the kids will follow suit, and he knows that he can't handle another one of them getting upset right now.

Russia snarls a little and kicks. His shoes push against the tops of his feet. His pants squeeze his legs and bend uncomfortably around his knees. He grabs at his hair and pulls on it. His lower legs start to shorten.

Soon, his heels begin to shove against the rubber of his boots.

'This just keeps getting worse.'

"Thank you," Finland says, rubbing the nub and moving to sit toward the middle of the group.

'At least she's okay.'

Russia pulls at his sleeves, but they don't fit quite right. They didn't before, but now with the fur, he can only cover less than half of his forearms. He stares at the ground and tries to pull at the sleeves to reach his wrists. His tail, arms, and now parts of his legs puff up with his irritation, which does nothing to help.

His eyes burn with frustration. He yanks on the sleeves.

They don't budge.

Anger accompanies his suffocating shame and fear. His fingers tense and his claws extend. He pulls his hands away from his jacket to keep from ripping the fabric any more than it already had been.

He digs his claws into the ground and scowls, trying to keep his rising terror from showing on his face. He kicks off his shoes, and is horrified to find his feet changing too. His feet themselves lengthen and everything visible under his pants is grey. His mind swirls with panic.

'No no nonononononono.'

'Will I ever look normal again? It never went this far before.'

A hand finds it's way into his hair, and Russia absentmindedly leans into it, wanting any distraction from the horror that his own body supplies him. America starts massaging his ears, and Russia leans over as far as he can. The burning behind his eyes fades a little, but he knows if he focuses on it, he may just start crying. Fear causes him to shiver. His heart pounds in his chest, and the fur on his legs and arms puffs up further.

It fills uncomfortably into his clothes.

'I don't know what's happening. I can't even fix it. And it keeps getting so much worse.'

He swallows back the panic and leans into America's hands.

'Warm.'

Russia tries to tuck his face into America's chest but loses his balance. He falls over into America's lap. He is surrounded by America's scent.

'It smells stronger than usual. But it smells nice. It's okay,' Russia tries to convince himself.

America scratches the top of his head and pets back his ears. Russia's body is filled with the buzz of warm comfort that almost drowns out the sheer terror on the edge of his mind. He starts purring to try and calm himself down. He manages to calm his breathing a little and opens his eyes.

He meets North Dakota's gaze, and she offers a bright, but mischievous smile. Then, she pulls out a digital camera and snaps a picture. Russia's face grows hot. He offers his best imitation of a playful scowl, shoving his other emotions down. She just grins back.

"You calming down now, Ruby?"

Russia doesn't respond. He knows if he opens his mouth, he risks bawling.

'I can't risk that. Especially not in front of a bunch of teens looking to me to be strong.'

"Awww," Ukraine coos mockingly, "Ruuuuuuuuby."

"Shut up," Russia hisses, glaring harshly.

Ukraine smirks. Even still, Russia sees the stress behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath and readies himself for more teasing. The terror at his transformations swirls in his chest. He swallows it back and shifts his attention to how warm America's lap is.

He smells the air. It smells like America, pine needles, and a rusty metallic scent. Russia figures it's probably old blood. He decides not to think about it too much, even though the smell keeps trying to grasp his attention. It's almost intoxicating. He tries his best to shake it off.

"Hey, do you want to hear a story about Russia?" Ukraine offers.

"Sure!" America chirps.

'He seems happy to have a distraction.'

The others perk up at the offer, and Florida claps. They all look very nervous, but eager. Texas looks skittishly around at their surroundings, and Ohio sits next to him, scowling at the shadows.

'It'll be for the best if we distract them a little. We can't afford another breakdown. Not now. Not here,' Russia thinks, looking to the kids.

Russia curls up a little. He looks around into the treetops, searching for movement. The ambient noise of the surroundings is just loud enough to occasionally peak above the ringing. Otherwise, it feels quiet, but not to the point to warrant concern.

'This is going to be embarrassing.'

"So, Russia here has always been a cat boy," Ukraine starts.

The states burst into giggles, and Ukraine sits back with a smirk. Finland laughs. America perks up. Russia curls away trying to hide his face.

'Now more than ever.'

"You mean he's always had magic?"

"Yeah, I guess so. We didn't know what it was called. When we were kids, Papa took us to a....uh... priest! A priest. And the priest said that it's probably something to do with the personification status. So we just figured Russia was just super weird."

Russia grumbles. America threads fingers through his hair. America's giggling shakes Russia a little, and Russia smiles despite his annoyance.

"We used to say he came from the witch. Papa would always tell us not to, but we did."

Russia pouts.

"But it was always pink flashes and then things would just happen. We couldn't figure out why. And sometimes when we would go out to certain places, Russia would come home with ears. And sometimes a tail too."

"That's because Russ has a certain kind of magic," New Mexico explains.

"What do you mean?"

"So," Kansas says, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, "magic can come in two forms. One of them is what Dad has. Dad can hold magic, and he has access to it anywhere. Russia has something different. He can't hold onto it, but he can use it. So if he goes somewhere with magic, he can use it."

"Huh. That... actually explains a lot."

Ukraine shakes his head and his smirk returns.

"Anyway, he got away with a lot of shit. He would constantly knock things over, climb on shelves, everything! He would even pounce on Papa when he was working. He was the only one who could get away with it."

Ukraine's face twists into a grimace before it transforms into an evil smirk.

"He used to play the girl parts when we used to do ballet and gymnastics together. He did the flier parts mostly."

"Shut up!" Russia growls.

America giggles.

"No! And you can't make me. And he used to wear the get-up too!"

"That would explain the backflips," Alberta comments.

"He also sent Papa into frantic searches more times than I can count. He would just disappear and then we would find him on the roof about to jump off into a meter of snow with only boots on."

"You weren't even alive when that happened!" Russia snaps.

"It still happened!" Ukraine exclaims, throwing his hands into the air.

"That sounds like Alaska," America ponders.

"So he's where she gets that from?" Texas asks, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"Probably," South Dakota says with a laugh.

"Probably?" Mexico asks.

"Our heritage can be weird. We figure Alaska is probably Russia's kid if we have to attribute anyone other than the Natives," South Dakota says simply.

"That makes sense."

Ukraine continues to tell tales that make Russia's face go dark red. The only reason he doesn't jump up to physically shut Ukraine's mouth is America's hand in his hair.

He catches sight of his legs again, and his heart lodges into his throat. He wheezes and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He glances up to see America giving him a worried look. Russia buries his head into America's stomach, whimpering. His ears are flat against his head. He kicks but finds that it feels strange. The contact makes the balls of his feet tingle.

Ukraine continues talking, and some of the states laugh at the stories. Brazil continues to stoke the flames higher. America pulls Russia up into his lap and Russia tucks his face into America's shoulder. America turns and hums into Russia's ear. Russia shivers a little.

'Never thought I would hear that again.'

"Ruby, are you okay?" America asks, petting Russia's head, "I'll admit, the ears were cute when it first happened, but now I'm worried."

"No. I'm not okay," Russia admits, tears blurring his vision, "I'm not okay."

"Your arms and legs changed too," America comments, "did that ever happen before."

"No."

"Oh... oh no."

America cradles the back of Russia's head with one hand and holds him up with the other arm. Russia closes his eyes tightly. He tries to bite his tongue to keep from crying out, only to yelp. Blood fills his mouth.

"Owwww."

"Are you okay?!"

"No. My teeth are sharp now too."

Russia's words trail off into weeping.

'Why can't this just go back like it always did?'

'Am I going to lose my voice? Am I going to lose my hands? Or what's left of them? What else am I going to lose?'

'I don't want to be a cat...'

America holds him tightly. Russia rubs his head back and forth against America's chest. He finds that it feels comforting. He closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheeks into the fabric of America's shirt. He smells and finds that America's scent brings a little calm.

He seeks any comfort that he can find to cling to. The overwhelming panic threatens to pull him into a spiral he can't afford to get lost in.

'I just want to go home. I just want things to go back to normal. Please.'

He's not sure who he's begging to, but he figures it couldn't hurt. His nose tingles, and his tongue starts to feel rough on the top of his mouth. He whines.

America hums softly and pets his back.

~

Next

Previous

Table of Contents

[whitecatindisguise]

The Sundrop Alchemist (15)

Okay, a fair warning before this one. Prepare tissues for the first part. The boys are broken and the beginning is really o u c h.

Summary: Varian is on the verge of complete breakdown, and so is Hugo. But maybe things will get better? Maybe they still have a chance to escape?

TW: dark thoughts

AO3 link is here

------

Chapter 15: In The Dead Of The Night

Varian didn’t know how long he was kept in that dark cell. Day after day he was dragged back to that room, tortured and pushed to his limits. The same question asked over and over again, still remaining without an answer. 

How many times already he wished he knew the answer? How many times he wished he didn’t have this power in the first place? How many times he wished he didn’t wake up? 

Footsteps sounded from the staircase, getting closer to his cell. Varian stared with numb expression at the bulky mercenary standing in front of the bars. Guess it was time again…

~~~~~~

Hugo stood with his hand raised in fist, staring at the wooden door. What was he even doing here? It’s not like he could talk Donella out of it. What did he hope to accomplish by talking to her? She isn’t going to back down. She never does. 

His hand fell back to his side and he looked down. This was useless. He was useless. He got them into this mess. And he couldn’t even find a way to fix it! 

His mind reeled at the memory of Varian’s broken frame last time he saw the boy. It was after one of the sessions. Hugo is sure the blue-eyed alchemist didn’t even notice passing him on the corridor, being too out of it. The teen’s stomach churned as he remembered those eyes shining with excitement, sparkling with joy, the toothy smile which made Hugo feel the need to protect it at all cost. 

Where was this joy, this excitement now? The spark was long gone and Hugo… 

Hugo has failed. 

He turned on his heel, going back the way he came from. He didn’t deserve to save Varian. He didn’t deserve to help him, when he was the sole reason the boy was hurt in the first place. 

He pushed the door to his room open and quickly closed them behind him, leaning over them. His knees buckled and he slid down to the floor, feeling the wave of tears coming. He heard nervous chittering and looked to the side, taking notice of a concerned-looking raccoon. 

“Oh, Ruddiger! What have I done?” He wailed, bringing his knees closer to his chest. The animal approached cautiously and gently pawed the teen’s side. This only served as a catalyst, breaking the dam entirely. “It’s all my fault! If only I didn’t take up the job! If only I wasn’t so good at making him trust me! If only-!”

Ruddiger was getting more and more concerned. He scurried up Hugo’s frame and settled on his knees, pawing at his cheek gently, trying to comfort the teen. Hugo reacted instantly, bringing his arms around the animal and hugging him closer, tears damping the grey fur. But Ruddiger didn’t mind. 

He didn’t understand most of the situation, but he knew Hugo didn’t mean for Varian to be taken away. The raccoon missed his boy but he trusted the teen to get them all out, safe and sound. He couldn’t do much at this moment, understanding that uncovering his presence would only complicate things, for both Varian and this other teen. But, he could comfort Hugo, as he did countless times with his boy. 

So he did. 

~~~~~~

Varian hugged his knees closer to his chest as he tried desperately to get some sleep. But whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Donella’s face scrunched in the malicious grin, imagining another torture for him. 

He didn’t know why she was doing it anymore. At first she seemed to push him to tell her how to extract Sundrop from his body, the question he didn’t know the answer for. But now, she didn’t ask anymore. It seemed the woman was just taking pleasure in torturing him, figuring out the healing powers worked on everyone except himself. 

Everyday he was shoved back to his cell with another set of injuries, were they physical or, even worse, mental. She was breaking him, enjoying seeing the long-haired boy crumble to pieces by her hand. 

How much longer could he endure this torture? How much longer until he would be broken beyond repair? Hugo said he would help him escape, but it’s been days and he didn’t see the bespectacled blonde since their last talk. Was it all just another one of Donella’s tricks? To give him a hope, only to crush it into pieces? To make him believe there was a way to escape this prison? 

Varian chuckled brokenly under his breath. He was never meant to be free, was he? He spent the first fourteen years of his life stuck in a tower with his supposed mother. (He still remembered his findings back in the Old Corona Bookstore, how all the information about the lost son matched his description. It was one of the things that still kept him sane, made him focus on something else than the place he was now. And the more he thought about it, the more he believed he really was the lost son.) Those two days spent with Hugo, travelling to Old Corona, attending the festivities, exploring the village… they were the only time he truly felt free. And now… he was trapped again. The tower exchanged for the cold cell, living at the mercy of the mad woman after the powers he didn’t even have the choice in accepting in the first place. 

His ears picked out a sound on the staircase. At first he didn’t pay much attention to it, deciding it was probably the mercenary again. But soon he noticed it didn’t sound like footsteps. Instead, there was a thump in regular intervals, as if someone was dragging something heavy down the stairs. He also heard something similar to the clinking of the glass. 

Curious, he moved from his spot in the corner and crawled closer to the bars, straining his eyes in the darkness. There was one more thump and then the sound changed into shuffling, as if the thing was now dragged on the floor. He noticed a shape moving and squinted his eyes to see what it is. His breath stopped for a moment when he finally recognised it.

“Ruddiger!” He cried in both shock and joy. 

The raccoon stopped his movement at the sound of Varian’s voice and turned its head towards him. He chittered happily and sped up, only now the boy noticing what was the sound. Ruddiger was dragging his satchel, the handle of the frying pan sticking out and clearly visible now. The animal managed to bring the bag closer and released its grip on the strap, running up to the bars, pushing against them. 

Varian laughed happily at the sight of his friend, reaching his hands to brush through his fur. 

“Oh, Ruddiger! I missed you!” He cried, feeling the tears falling from his eyes. “But how did you-?”

Ruddiger chittered again and turned back to the satchel, digging through it before coming back up, something small and metallic in his mouth. Varian gasped as he recognised it as the key. He grabbed it with shaking hands and didn’t waste time in pushing it into the lock and opening the door. 

He was immediately thrown into the ground as the ball of grey fur barrelled into him, both falling to the stone floor. Varian laughed in joy, hugging Ruddiger close, the raccoon similarly, if not more excited to be finally reunited with his boy. The blue-eyed alchemist let his face bury into the fur, crying and laughing. He was here, Ruddiger was here. 

It took several minutes, but finally Ruddiger snuggled away and ran up to the satchel, looking expectantly at Varian. The boy nodded in determination and understandment. They weren’t in the clear just yet. They still needed to get out. 

Varian hung the satchel on his shoulder and grabbed the frying pan. Ruddiger scurried up his frame and settled in his usual spot on the boy’s shoulders. Varian smiled softly at that, missing the familiar weight of the raccoon throughout his imprisonment. He took a deep breath and slowly ascended the stairs. 

He stood quietly behind the door, listening to any sounds from the outside. When he didn’t hear anything, he slowly pushed the door open and tiptoed out. The corridor was empty and the whole building was silent. A glance through the window told Varian it was the middle of the night, which probably meant most, if not all inhabitants were asleep. All the better to escape now, he decided and looked around, wondering which way to go now. 

Ruddiger jumped down from his shoulders and ran up in one of the directions, stopping few steps away and turning expectantly to the boy.

“Guess you’re leading, huh buddy?” Varian decided and quickly but quietly followed after the raccoon. 

The corridors were eerily quiet, something that put Varian on the edge. He bumped into several guards but always managed to hide before they spotted him. It was good, it was quiet though. It only made for the boy easier to hear the guards approaching, as they didn’t really keep quiet. He suddenly heard another set of footsteps, this one sounding more like someone was sneaking, just like he was. 

His breath stopped for a moment. Did someone find out about his escape? Were they trying to catch him? He leaned closer towards the wall, stealing glances towards the corner from behind which the steps were heard. His grip on the frying pan hardened. If the situation calls for it, he would just have to knock the guard down, but he really wished they would pass by. 

The steps were getting closer now and Varian could feel his heart quickening its beat. Just few more steps, only one more now…

The moment the person passed by his hideout, Varian pulled his hand back and smacked them in the head with all his might. They let out a pained cry and wobbled, hand reaching for the head. 

“What in the Seven Kingdoms, Blondie?” They groaned and only now Varian noticed blonde hair, green clothes and glasses. 

“Ohmygosh! Hugo!” Varian gasped and lowered his frying pan. “I’m so sorry! I thought it was a guard and-mmph!” 

Hugo quickly covered the boy’s mouth with his hand, cutting him out.

“Quiet! Unless you want to wake up the whole base!” He growled through the teeth, keeping his voice down. Varian nodded and Hugo released his hold on the other’s mouth. “Now, come on. We don’t have much time.”

They creeped through the silent hallways, Hugo making sure they were in the clear, pushing Varian back several times to hide from the guards. 

“The door is just behind the corner, Goggles.” Hugo whispered as they walked. “We’re almost there.” 

Varian nodded and inwardly let out a sigh of relief. They were almost there. Only few more steps…

A sudden grip on his left wrist made him let out a startled yelp. 

“And where do you think you’re going, darling?” A chilling female voice sounded from behind and Varian was met with Donella’s angered face.

------

Hugo Smack Count: 8 (sorry buddy, this one was an accident)

#varian #hugo #ruddiger #the sundrop alchemist #I did it #I broke the bois #they are in a dark DARK place #but there is a light in the tunnel #hopefully they will be okay #tw: dark thoughts #hugo smack count #alchemy brothers #kitty mom writes

[elichorph]

ok hi i’m back with a second character ...

the member of the yale's elite, they're twenty three and a grad student majoring in film & media studies. they are as amicable as they are histrionic.

stats:

full name: gordon minjun teller nicknames: goose. gordon is for business only age: twenty three  birthday: june 13, 1997 chart: gemini sun / cancer moon / leo rising gender: cis male pronouns: he / him sexuality: bisexual & biromantic height: 6′1 hair color: blue (now blonde) tattoos: none piercings: nose stud (right side), earlobes (always have silver hoops in them)

PINTEREST BOARD 

blackmail:

while the public believes that goose’s family retired and moved to another country, this was actually released as a coverup because they went missing. goose withheld information from the court about their last whereabouts which could have prevented it from becoming a cold case.

he was expelled from high school after vandalizing a statue on campus and his uncle paid the school to go back on their decision.

he lost a third of his inheritance money to a cult he briefly followed in his sophomore year of college while looking for guidance.

backstory:

tw: implied death

right at birth, goose was adopted into the teller family who were pretty well known. his father was a young ceo of an oil company in texas. goose’s family eventually became public figures and tabloid favorites after a long riveting love story between his father and mother, who belonged to opposing business families. it really was a quick rise and fall to fame, starting when it was revealed goose’s adoptive mom, grace, couldn’t have kids, he was in her arms not even a month after and right out of them thirteen years later when she disappeared and the family really was never to be heard of again. 

but as the only adopted child into a family who had to keep their public image up, goose’s dreams of being a fun loving kid were crushed. really, it was strictly gordon - gordon on the tabloids, you’d see his baby face like aw thank god grace got to have a kid of her own <3 he was posted up at galas, listening to his dad speak about oil and shit every weekend and going back to his small private school every monday and it was just the same routine conditioning to keep the image of the teller family spotless and to hopefully get gOrDoN to become the next ceo.

that all kind of went to shit though when goose turned 14. his parents miraculously went missing (don’t ask me what happened i don’t even know) one night when he was tucked into bed. seriously, he woke up one morning and they were gone and suddenly there were police storming the house and he was being questioned and things weren’t routine or safe anymore. in order to still save face for the family though, news was quickly put out that the family went on a private vacation while the investigation went on privately. it was taken to court, people signed nda’s, and all little goose knew was that he his parents were going to a party that night and hadn’t told anybody else and he was too scared to tell anyone. at one point goose became the main suspect and he had to put his freshman year of high school on pause, but he was dismissed months after even though he hadn’t shared the detail that they went to a party. if he had shared it, they literally would’ve been found. eventually, there were no new leads, the case was declared cold, and an official statement was put out that the teller parents “retired” and “moved” to a different country that wouldn’t be disclosed and gOrDoN would be under the care of his uncle.

gordon was like mad though haha. even though he’d gotten his family’s entire inheritance as a fifteen year old and should’ve been happy that he was basically a millionaire, he wasn’t used to things not being in the same routine and actually having to make decisions for himself. newsflash, but goose can’t handle emotions really well and he got angry and well i don’t know if you’ve seen donnie darko where donnie literally put an axe through the statue’s head and spray painted “they made me do it” below the statue? but yeah, that. goose wasn’t slick though, got caught by security, and his uncle paid the school to let it slide and then sent goose to a boarding school in maruland.

he spent the last couple years of high school trying to figure out who he actually was outside of the tabloids and the teller name and image, and eventually got the hang of it by the time he enrolled at yale. he started going by goose instead of gordon, went into film instead of business like his family wanted him to and slowly started to blossom into the weirdo he is today <3 his dad was in the elites so he was able to secure a legacy spot and reluctantly said yes to joining. he was kinda quiet the first year, but now he’s all gungho to do charity events and make people happy and shit like that. 

his sophomore year though he kinda doubted the path he was on and his naive ass got roped up into a cult. anyways, he ended up trusting them a lot and donated 1/3 of his family’s inheritance to the cult and kinda blew it. goose was acting hella weird around this time though, i imagine people around him could kinda sense he wasn’t like alright for a few months. anyways someone ended up giving him an intervention about acting kinda whack and he realized and thankfully was able to leave the cult pretty unscathed. but he is deeply, deeply ashamed about his time in the cult though.

personality:

he is one gigantic deranged baby. like he is baby, but he’s also kind of crazy. if goose feels any normal emotion, it instantly bass boosts and he feels it in full. goose genuinely is so sensitive, he’ll physically flinch if you say something merely mean to him because he was used to growing up so perfect that he really can’t take criticism. however, he’ll do his best to patch things up by saying some incomprehensible joke right there and then. the only exception to this is the tabloids. goose has become so immune to them that he will straight up troll them back on twitter because he just doesn’t give two shits.

he’s incredibly kind. so so so kind (not really gentle though). the type to remember your favorite candy bar and hand one to you on a random tuesday. he’ll remember your name even if you’ve only met once and even if you didn’t give him your name, he’ll look it up somehow just so he knows next time. he loves to make jokes all the time. none of them ever make sense, but they’re funny to him and he won’t apologize for it. and he’s LOUD. you probably can hear his cackles and snorts and dramatic screams even when you’re on the other side of campus. he’s just a kid in a candy store excited to finally enjoy life, especially now that things have seemed to settle down. even though he’ll probably have a whole breakdown and a half the first time the blackmailer mentions his name.

yes, he actually believes he’s being haunted by jfk. goose had a string of dreams about him and witnessed some doors opening and closing on their own around the same time, and he quickly jumped to the conclusion and never thought twice about it. another strange belief that goose has? that he’s friends with a ton of a-listers. even though it’s mainly jessica alba, he won’t hesitate to tweet at extremely famous actors and thank them for getting lunch with him even if they’ve never spoke. multiple management companies have his twitter handle blacklisted. while he currently has blue hair, it’s always quick to change. for how much he dyes it, it’s surprising that it doesn’t feel like hay.  if goose feels a mental breakdown coming or simply is bored or needs attention, his hair color will do a straight 180. he hasn’t had a natural hair color since he enrolled at yale.

things that are very goose: beat up yellow high top converse, getting to know every person in existence, having memes plastered over his wall to make him smile after a long day, wearing fancy cologne to the grocery store because one cashier said he smelled good and he thinks it makes them happy to wear that, throwing a shoe across a crowd at a party, going to sulk in the bathroom or leave the party early when a song plays that brings up bad memories, keeping every movie stub, restaurant punch card, and lost button in a little scrapbook just because he wants to remember the good things in life, thinking the karate kid is the best movie to ever exist despite being five years into a film major.

wanted connections

since he doesn’t have any pre-established connections, here are some ones that could kinda be fun

someone who protects his naive ass <3

an ex or old one sided crush who hurt him so bad lmao. they really wouldn’t have to a lot to do that, but it would be juicy if they did

roommate? maybe? he lived in a really shitty apartment his first few years, maybe they convinced him to move out or moved in

or neighbors? like he will knock on their door 3 times a week with half burnt brownies to offer or because he doesn’t know where his tv remote is and needs help

someone who gave him the intervention about like “you’re acting weird are you okay” that indirectly got him to leave the cult and he feels like he’s forever indebted to them

someone who just despises goose and he doesn’t understand why and tries to make things better even though it just makes things worse

family friends? maybe? when he was in ct and his uncle didn’t let him come home with him during the holidays he would go to their house or something like that

gentle romance <3 maybe. Please

he’s their secret admirer and sends them gifts and flowers and writes them bad poems and recommends them shitty romance films

someone who takes advantage of how naive he is

anything <3 come 2 me or i will dm you or venmo you and force u to plot with me

#intro

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

well now I have to write this so everybody can thank @ruvyru for the angst and @whitmerule really tried to stop this but HAH YOU CANNOT CONTROL MY ANGST MONSTER

SO ENJOY

“I’m going to try for a new life.” Skimbleshanks blurted out one evening, completely out of the blue.

Munkustrap stared at his mate with wide eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Skimbleshanks sighed, not wanting to repeat himself. “I’m going to try for a new life at the Ball this year.”

“Can I ask why?” Munkustrap questioned, his voice controlled. “Why would you want a new life?”

“A new adventure.” Skimbleshanks said quietly.

Munkustrap took a breath, holding back his emotions. “Because you don’t have enough of an adventure here?”

Skimbleshanks reached out towards the grey tom. “Munk...” The grey tom snatched his paw away, standing and pacing. “Munkustrap, don’t walk away from me! Can we please talk about this like adults?”

Munkustrap whirled around to face him. “Adults? Adults talk about these things, Skimbleshanks! Especially if they’re damned MATES!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me!” Skimbleshanks exclaimed, jumping to his feet. 

“How long have you wanted to try for a new life?” Munkustrap asked. “Because I think this is probably something we should have talked about together before you suddenly make a decision on something that affects all the cats who care about you.”

“Ultimately it’s my decision, Munkustrap.” Skimbleshanks said firmly. 

Munkustrap was tense, holding back tears. “I love you, Skimble! More than anything! Can you tell me why you want to leave me behind?”

“If you love me as much as you say, you would understand why I need to do this!” Skimbleshanks shouted angrily, and Munkustrap stepped back, his eyes wide. 

“Then I guess I don’t love you enough.” he whispered brokenly. 

Skimbleshanks was chosen that year. Mistoffelees and Victoria had to physically hold Munkustrap back as he tried to stop the ginger tom from stepping onto the chandelier. Victoria ducked beneath the arm she was holding and hugged Munkustrap, holding him tightly as he cried for Skimbleshanks. Mistoffelees joined Victoria in hugging the grey tom, trying to calm him and keep him from climbing into the chandelier. 

Munkustrap was never the same after Skimbleshanks left. 

Every year after Skimbleshanks was chosen, Munkustrap tried for a new life. And every year, Old Deuteronomy chose another cat and would sit down with Munkustrap. 

“You cannot keep doing this, Munkustrap.” the old queen said. “You will only cause yourself more pain, and you are causing the cats you love pain.” Munkustrap refused to meet Old Deuteronomy’s eyes, looking off into the distance blankly. “I know you want him back, Munkustrap, but it is not your time.”

Munkustrap was so wrapped up in his own pain and hurt that he never truly noticed the pain he was causing Mistoffelees and Victoria. The two cats were there for Munkustrap when he would break down in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, and they sat with him when he’d simply stare off blankly, tap shoes held tightly in his paws. Mistoffelees and Victoria never said anything, of course, because they cared about Munkustrap and knew that he just needed cats to care for him. But they did find it difficult occasionally, as Munkustrap never told them explicitly how he felt about Skimbleshanks getting chosen, so they never truly knew how to handle Munkustrap’s breakdowns and “lost in thought” moments.

Unknown to Munkustrap, there were two other cats affected strongly by his drastic change in attitude and his lack of emotions. The Rum Tum Tugger and Cassandra watched from a distance as their protector retreated in on himself and shut everyone and everything out. Tugger put a smile on his face, keeping up the spirits of the other Jellicles, watching painfully from afar as Mistoffelees and Victoria lost themselves in taking care of Munkustrap. Contrary to popular belief, Tugger still loved Mistoffelees. They hadn’t parted on the best terms, but Tugger had never stopped loving his magical cat. Victoria had a fire and gentleness to her that just drew any struggling cat to her like a moth to a flame, and Tugger had surprised himself by how much he saw her as a sister and friend. 

And Munkustrap. 

The cat he had been raised with.

Tugger hated seeing how much his friend had changed. He was broken, a hollow shell of the cat Tugger loved to annoy and tease. 

But he couldn’t do anything to help the three, so he helped the tribe. He matured and grew stronger, taking over most of the responsibilities Munkustrap once had, checking in on each of the Jellicles who loved with humans, guiding new Jellicles to safety, and, at the request of Old Deuteronomy, beginning to train to become the next Jellicle Leader, as Cassandra trained to be the new main Protector of the tribe, as she had taken over organizing hunts and patrols around the city. 

The two cats did their best, but the happiness and love that had once filled the tribe had vanished with Skimbleshanks. When he had been chosen, Skimbleshanks had taken the most important part of the tribe with him. He had taken the heart of the tribe. Sure, there was laughter and joking, but it wasn’t the same. The laughter died out quicker, the jokes were few and far between.

Munkustrap wasn’t the same after Skimbleshanks was chosen. 

He never realized it, but the tribe was never the same either. 

When Munkustrap’s heart broke, so did the tribe’s. 

And they never recovered.

#cats the musical #cats 2019 #cats the movie #munkustrap #skimbleshanks #mr mistoffelees #victoria #rum tum tugger #old deuteronomy #cassandra #angst #liv's writing corner

[hazzabeeforlou]

Digging Deeper

Thanks @alienfuckeronmain for the tag, this I’ve loved reading everyone’s, and I tag @taintedlav @rahashirley @raisemybody @twopoppies @cuethetommo @metal-eye and @seasurfacefullofclouds1 if anyone wants to play!! 

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? ink color matters less than ball-point-ness... 

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? I want a witch’s cottage with a giant messy garden on the edge of the moors and a forest a million miles away from everyone. So country. 

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? I’ve actually stretched myself this summer! Am learning French and guitar, and idk if it counts but learning my new job which I NEVER thought I could handle lol since I’ve never worked retail 

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Honey ;)

5. What was your favourite book as a child? Well I have to say Narnia and Redwall, but when I was very tiny I loved this book about a girls who could whistle and speak to animals (named Mable) and the Velveteen Rabbit, and a book called “The Lost Princess” which is fucking amazing, by the precursor to CS Lewis, George MacDonald

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? I usually take showers because baths take too much time. Also baths are romantic and that makes me sad, and also I have to look at my body which, ug, not prepared to do that all the time rip

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? Mer. Fucking. Maid. Though I’ve always wanted to fly too, I used to spend HOURS in the water just underwater swimming with my legs stuck together just pretending to be on ocean adventures

8. Paper or electronic books? I usually much prefer paper, but since I got these blue light blocking glasses I am finding i’m fine either way physically. Soul-wise though, yeah, paper

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? Probably my mango colored crop hoodie that I once smashed melting frozen blueberries on and then spent hours and days getting the stains out...

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? My real name is super boring and typical, though I do like it. I enjoy my tumblr name a lot, Toni, and it feels more genderless and constrictive than my actual name lol

11. Who is a mentor to you? I’ve had so many great teachers, but the biggest lesson I’ve learned in life is that so many you admire can be deeply flawed. I have lots of trust issues. I only take advice from a select few people, and they don’t include anyone ‘old and wise’ lol 

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? Oh for sure, I used to want to be an actress or a rock star or whatever. Famous author. I would fucking LOVE to have a platform and help people and cheer people up and see people grocery shopping and have instant friends. I know that sounds terribly naive but I’ve said before I share a lot of Harry’s personality, and I just love flirting with people and smiling with them and giving hugs. Now, I would want to be famous as TONI me and not real me, because then I could never be myself because my fam would find out rip

13. Are you a restless sleeper? Depends on my mattress. Currently, yes, ugg. I wake up in an omega nesting scene from a fic every morning

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? Unfortunately yes. 

15. Which element best represents you? idk I usually say fire but I’m feeling more water lately 

16. Who do you want to be closer to? I’m working on getting to know my amazing sister better, and that’s been lovely.  

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? All my friends have been long distance for actual years, so i don’t miss anymore more than normal. I am missing just... the POTENTIAL for someone. This indefinite distancing is wearing on me. 

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I was like two or three, and we were out on a full moon walk and I was in my stroller in the red sheepskin bundled up, and I remember coming up our sidewalk and looking at the world and moon and thinking, “remember this moment, or you’re going to grow up and forget how wonderful it was.” Also when I was five I had a breakdown on my mom’s lap because “I’m going to grow up and be too big to be sung lullabies to!” and I didn’t want anything to change EVER  

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I used to make a concoction of rye crackers, mustard, and pickles. Don’t ask

20. What are you most thankful for? all the opportunities I’ve had in life. I’m so massively privileged 

21. Do you like spicy food? depends on how hot

22. Have you ever met someone famous? I saw a few celebs in NYC, Shosh from Girls, the guy from Monk, Tim Gun, John Oliver (and his golden retriever) and I passed a drunk as a skin Alec Baldwin outside Lincoln Center one day. Probably other people I didn’t recognize. Oh and S**** M***** rented my instrument right before covid hit here, and drunk him (or high him) couldn’t believe he had a h*** to play around on, and then I saw him staring at mountains being the most stereotypical rich white boy ever, also he did not send out gay vibes but don’t let that stop your Shiall, please don’t let it  

23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? I almost always start with the new year and do like. A day. And then forget. 

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? PEN

25. What is your star sign? Aries sun, Aquarius moon, Pisces rising

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Depends on the cereal, those golden grams were BEST thoroughly soaked in milk fight me 

27. What would you want your legacy to be? make the world a little better 

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? Yes but you know, i’m the worst at making time for it. Still getting through that Brief Interviews with Hideous Men or whatever it is

29. How do you show someone you love them? Just thinking of them and doing little things to surprise them, I think

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Yep the smaller and more crush friendly the better 

31. What are you afraid of? I really do not. like. limb loss. no horror movies for me EVER

32. What is your favourite scent? wet Labrador because it means there’s a WET LABRADOR

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? surname always unless I’ve always known them by firsts. Religion, man

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I have this dream of buying up all the land shitty developers snatch up in this country and ceding it back to its rightful owners. I’ve legit cried over little forests turned into parking lots, thanks Joni Mitchell 

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? pools are so clean and have no sharks or jellyfish. that said, they also have no waves... 

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? turn it into the store it was closest to. I’m the lawful good box and yes I hate it

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? YES in Breckenridge one year I saw a fucking meteor shower! I’ve wished on some, they’ve never come true I don’t think. 

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? I’m too scared to have children even if I could (I can’t) because of the pressure of what would fuck them up and what wouldn’t 

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I love my baby tat @alienfuckeronmain gave me, idk if I’d want another one someday, maybe a sister tat with my sis

40. What can you hear now? The fan, my typing, my parents watching old TV shows

41. Where do you feel the safest? With a pet outside in nature somewhere

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? putting limits on things /myself/people

43. Of you could travel back to any era, what would it be? You know I used to really DREAM about this shit, but since I realized I would have genetically DIED in any other era, and that my dreaming was a literal result of white privilege since it would fucking SUCK to be anyone else (I mean even now it’s awful wtf) I just. Stick with the present. 

44. What is your most used emoji? the laughing face. oops. 

45. Describe yourself using one word. Supercalifragelisticexpialidocious

46. What do you regret the most? I have so many. social. anxiety. nightmares from my 28 years of life that haunt me

47. Last movie you saw? l think it was the Downton Abbey movie? 

48. Last tv show you watched? Monk 

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. Surplumn. a really divinely wonderful thing, like ‘oh her lips are surplumn’ like a juicy chocolate mousse and perky breasts idk 

#tag games #this was fun but did take forever lol #about me

[yesloverboy]

Never Let You Go (mgk! Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: Anon

“I have 2 requests but they are completely up to your interpretation anyways, so for one like tommy taking care of his drunk girlfriend or friend or whatever you want and then another request would be tommy (lol love my tommy) where like the reader and tommy are friends and they’re at a bar and readers ex is there and shit goes down. Hopefully those make sense, do what you want!”

Note: Listen, I know it’s been a hot minute but my love for Tommy and Crüe will never die so thanks for being patient! Love y’all bunches and I will be posting about my updated writing schedule shortly. 

word count: 2,712

[Warnings: blood, violence, cheating, toxic relationships, swearing, and alcohol mention.]

permanent tags: @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3

mötley tags: @lauravic 

tommy tags: @chlobo6

 After your breakup, you were almost certain that not even all the alcohol in the world could drown your problems. Heartache left an unfillable void in your chest that wanted to suck every last bit of your happiness deep down inside, never to be seen again. Luckily, your best friend, Tommy, was determined to spend the entire weekend proving you wrong. According to Tommy, alcohol can drown any problem if you’re with the right people– and he just so happens to be your favorite person in the entire world.

 If someone were to ask you weeks– maybe even days –ago, you would’ve claimed that your boyfriend Kyle, of three and a half years, held the position of favorite in your heart. That is, until you found him grunting and thrusting into a woman that most definitely wasn’t you. Hell, she wasn’t even a woman you knew. As it turned out, your beloved boyfriend had been fucking other women on and off since they day you’d met.

 Teary-eyed and utterly brokenhearted, you went to the only person you knew who could hold you together at a time like this– Tommy. In his usual fashion, Tommy had greeted your desperate raps on his door with a goofy grin and open arms. However, once his blue eyes met your red-rimmed ones, his chipper mood quickly dissolved into concern.

 “Hey button, what’s the matter?” Tommy asked, using his long arms to envelop you in a tight bear hug. Button had been his nickname for you ever since grade school. Tommy had always been bad with names, and the rainbow buttons of your first-day-of-school overalls sealed your place in Tommy’s memory from that day forward.

 You had prepared what you were going to tell Tommy on the cab ride over but, the moment he uttered your nickname, everything fell to pieces. Big, fat tears welled up in your eyes, dripping onto Tommy’s shirt like heavy rain. To your relief, he didn’t press any more questions your way. Instead, he shushed you softly and tucked you through the doorway with a protective arm.

 It wasn’t long before Tommy had you curled on the couch, wrapped tightly in a quilted blanket with your head resting comfortably in his lap. He gave you time to cry out the rest of your frustration as he ran his long fingers through the snags in your hair. Tommy didn’t say much, even if seeing you in crisis mode devastated him to the core. You were always the strong one of the two of you, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to keep it together while you crumbled at his feet.

 After a while, your sobs eventually devolved into pitiful sniffles, allowing you to catch your breath enough to finally speak. When you finally mustered up the courage to tell Tommy what your boyfriend– well, ex-boyfriend – had done to you, his blood began to boil incessantly beneath his skin. Tommy wanted Kyle dead. Hell, deader than dead. If you hadn’t just been sobbing in his arms for the past hour, he’d already be on the phone with Nikki to plot your ex’s demise.

 Tommy physically couldn’t comprehend how a slimeball like Kyle could possibly have it in him to cheat on a girl like you for so long. You were patient, kind, and positively beautiful in Tommy’s eyes. For most people, a guy like Tommy is a lot to handle, but you never asked him to shrink himself in the presence of other people. You loved Tommy’s ‘too-much-ness’, as you affectionately called it, and wanted nothing more than to bottle it up and save some for the rainy days. Unfortunately, this day had been the rainiest of them all.

 Although he would never admit it, you were Tommy’s dream girl, and he would do whatever it took to make you feel like your old self again. Even if it were only for a few, fleeting moments in between bloodshot eyes and broken cries.

...

 It’s that same desire to make you happy that has Tommy dragging you to some sleazy new wave club halfway across town. You and Tommy are renowned metalheads in the L.A. music scene, but you can’t deny the way that the heavy synth and pounding bass lifts your spirits from the inside. As much as you despise its trendy nature, the appeal of cheap pop music isn’t entirely lost on you, and going to the last place anyone would expect to see you is exactly what you need right now.

 The club is packed full of patrons, each demonstrating new and interesting ways to incorporate nylon and neoprene into their glowing ensembles. You and Tommy undoubtedly stick out like sore thumbs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as he takes your hands and swings you across the dancefloor. You Spin Me Round blares through the sound system, causing the light-up floor to vibrate obnoxiously beneath your feet.

 Tommy picks you up and begins spinning you around in his arms at a dizzying pace, causing you to erupt into a fit of cringes and laughter. The two of you haven’t even made it to the bar yet and you’re already giggling and shoving each other like a pair of carefree idiots. Tommy’s childlike sense of fun and comforting grasp bandaids the gaping hole in your chest for a moment, but the fear of your all-encompassing sadness leaking out again makes you shiver beneath the strobing lights.

 As if he can read your mind, Tommy’s roughhousing ceases so he can stop and look at you. His dark blue eyes scan yours for any sign of an imminent breakdown on the horizon, but you quickly plaster on a brave face. You have no reason to hide the wave of sadness passing through you, but figure there’s no time like the present to practice looking fine in front of those you love.

 Before Tommy can ask if you’re okay, you bounce on your tiptoes and grasp at his shoulder for leverage. “I’m going to get us some drinks, okay?” you project your weak voice into Tommy’s ear, practically yelling over the pulsating music.

 Tommy seems to get the idea and offers you a weak smile as you turn towards the bar. Stay here, you mouth and Tommy shoots a reassuring thumbs up in your direction. With a shaky breath, you maneuver your way through the energetic crowd, doing your best to scout out the farthest available bartender. Initially, the crowd and the noise did a great job of clouding your memory, but now you needed a little extra help from some good, old fashioned hard liquor.

 You belly up to the bar, relieved that the music is just quiet enough in this corner of the club that you don’t have to strain your voice as much. Giving the bartender your best fake smile, you order yourself a double vodka soda and a Jack and Coke for Tommy. It feels like it’s going to be a long night, and you could use all the help you can get to even dream of keeping up with Tommy’s excessive drinking.

 Just as you’re about to grab the glasses and search for your lanky companion, you sense an all too familiar presence at your side.

“Y/N? Baby, is that you?”

 You suck in a breath, the sickly sweet tone of Kyle’s voice driving an icy stake into your palpitating heart. No, no, no, no, you flounder, this can’t be happening. You turn around, mouth running dry as soon as your eyes meet the confident gaze of your ex-lover. It was a look you had seen a hundred times before, and yet the familiarity of it all is exactly what’s bringing you to your knees.

 Kyle takes a step forward and you immediately find yourself taking an instinctive step back, the base of your spin quickly bumping harshly into the bar’s edge. Kyle rests a casual hand on the bar next to your hip, not exactly pinning you to the spot, but making it more than apparent that he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

 “Thought that was you, sweetheart, I’d recognize that tight ass anywhere,” Kyle purs, looking down on you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, “Miss me yet?”

 The ice in yours and Tommy’s drinks rattles in its glasses, giving away the tremor in your nervous hands. You want to yell, scream, cry– anything, but you find yourself frozen to the spot. The memory of Kyle on top of that mystery woman in your shared bed replays in your head like a threat, reminding you that he never really loved you at all. Feeling small and pathetic in front of the man that abused your trust for so long, you silently pray that the floor might swallow you up.

 You grit your teeth as hot tears blur your vision, but do not speak. A sob starts to build in your throat and, before you’re able to release it, a flash of movement catches your eye. Looking past Kyle, you’re relieved to find Tommy storming over to the scene with bared teeth and clenched fists.

 “Hey asshole!” Tommy growls, jerking Kyle’s shoulder back in an effort to yank him away from your trembling form. The look of overwhelming fear and anxiety in your eyes fans the fire in Tommy’s chest, and it takes all of his strength not to drag your ex to the floor right then and there. In all your years of knowing Tommy, you never imagined he could ever look this furious and you find yourself getting scared.

 You aren’t scared of Tommy, no, you could never be– you were scared for Kyle.  

 Kyle just laughs and brushes at his lapels for show, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Easy there, man. I was just about to ask my girl if she wanted a ride home, is all. Isn’t that right, hon?”

 The cockiness in Kyle’s voice turns your stomach as he looks back at you expectantly, silently willing you to comply. Your eyes dart between him and Tommy, and you can already picture how the next couple of minutes are going to unfold.

 Tommy steps directly into your ex’s personal space, the visible height difference making Kyle shift his jaw nervously. To anyone passing by, Kyle probably appeared to be in total control, but you knew him well enough to recognize the look on his face. He’s in deep shit, and he knows it.

 “Funny you call her that, Kyle,” Tommy spits, his voice dripping with venom as he presses an accusatory finger into Kyle’s chest. “Make no mistake, I heard you had a girl– actually, a long list of girls. But Y/N? Yeah, she ain’t one of them. Never was.”

 Kyle laughs nervously, puffing out his chest in a weak attempt to seem taller. “Is that right? Then what is she, then? Your girl?”

 “And what if she is? What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

 Tommy’s face is only a few inches away from Kyle’s, the tension in the air so palpable that even the bartender across the way seems to be frozen it. The bass from the dancefloor thumps ominously in the distance, its hollow thud matching the heaviness of your heartbeat.

 To your surprise, Kyle is the first to relent. Casting you a bitter glance, he shoves Tommy’s chest away from his and begins backing slowing out of the room. His eyes never leave Tommy’s, watching him with the same caution as a zookeeper getting ready to feed a hungry lion. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it comes far too soon.

 “Fine, have her,” Kyle hisses, “she’s a lousy lay, anyways.”

 The moment the insult left your ex’s lips, his fate was sealed. Tommy’s restraint melts away as he lunges forward, his fist swiftly connecting against Kyle’s nose with a sickening crack. Blood spurts out from Kyle’s face and onto the glowing floor like a broken spigot, instantly causing your stomach to flip queasily. Even in the low lighting you can see splotches of ruby red seeping into the fabric of his stark white shirt.  

 Kyle stumbles backward, falling disoriented to the floor. He cries out in agony but Tommy continues to stalk forward, relentlessly hunting him into a corner like some kind of feral animal. You know it can only get uglier from here and, as much as you’ve enjoyed seeing Kyle eat his words, you really don’t want to add bailing Tommy out of jail to your to-do list.

 Before Tommy can cock back his fist for another hit, you catch his arm. The glasses you were previously grasping in your hands clatter noisily to the floor, the watered down alcohol and soda pooling lazily at your feet.

 “Tommy, that’s enough,” you warn, but the words are cushioned by tenderness you feel for him. All ever Tommy wanted to do was shelter you from all the bad things in the world, and you’d be lying if you couldn’t admit that he did it well.

 With an angry sigh, Tommy begrudgingly allows you to pull him to your side. Snaking his arm protectively around your shoulders, he frowns slightly as you shiver beneath his touch. It pains him to see you this way, shaking with anxiousness in the presence of a man you used to give all your love to– a love that he didn’t even deserve. Without thinking Tommy presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the touch so faint you almost miss it.

 “I’ve got you, button,” Tommy whispers, his voice barely audible over the music. Your heart somersaults in your chest as you gaze up at Tommy, your watery eyes connecting with his soft blues. Even panting and red-faced from his encounter with your ex, he still has the same happy face that drew you to him all those years ago.

 Without a second thought, you lace your fingers with Tommy’s, holding his arm in place as it rests on your frame. “Let’s go home,” you sniffle, nuzzling his bruised knuckles with the side of your tear-stained cheek.

 You lead Tommy out of the club, leaving Kyle moaning pathetically in a pool of his own blood. Not even a bartender or a bouncer cared to bat an eye at his pitiful display, and you can’t help but wonder if he would look the same after suffering a broken nose. Kyle may have left a permanent stain on your heart, but Tommy made sure he wouldn’t be able to so much as look in the mirror without remembering what he had done to you.

 The summer air is balmy outside the club as you and Tommy await the next available cab. You stand in comfortable silence, your form still pressed firmly against his side as he puffs on a cigarette absentmindedly. Tommy’s free hand curls around the ends of your hair, the small, intimate gesture causing you to blush.

 “So,” you say finally, breaking the silence, “your girl, huh?”

 Tommy’s eyes widen, his blue irises swimming in orbs of white. “Oh, uh, that? That was nothing– just, uh, don’t worry about it–” he stammers, his face flushing pink with embarrassment.

 With a grin, you rise to your tiptoes and place a gentle kiss on Tommy’s cheek, stunning him into silence. “Someday,” you whisper, “Maybe not today, but someday soon.”

 Your words tumble through the night air like a promise, intertwining with Tommy’s ever visible heartstrings and grasping tightly. Tommy always fell for girls hard and fast, but with you it was different. His love for you only grew with each passing moment, embedding itself in every look and every action until it all culminated into a single punch. You were what he had always been looking for, and he was exactly what you had been missing all along.

 Tommy holds you tight for the rest of the evening, playing with your fingers on the cab ride home to eventually tangling his legs with yours as the two of you collapse in a heap on his couch. No matter what happens, no matter how long it takes– Tommy would be yours forever, and forever isn’t nearly long enough.

Masterlist

#i personally love this #but tell me what you think anyways #mgk!tommy lee #mgk!tommy lee x reader #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #nikki sixx #mick mars #vince neil #motley crue oneshot #motley crue imagine #motley crue #the dirt #the dirt movie #the dirt netflix #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee oneshot #writing #the dirt requests

[headoverjojo]

Can I ask for BucciG with a S/o that has an unearthly patience but when they finally snap, well... You'd better run because Ghiaccio, Fugo and Josuke just got fused together?

Hello there! Ooooh, snap babe coming!

Bruno’s gang with a s/o who has an unearthly patience but when they snap they’re terrifying

(Under the cut for length!)

Bruno Bucciarati

One of the reason Bruno fell so hard for his s/o was their incredible patience. They were always so calm, even the most troublesome thing didn’t seem to touch them. They accepted it with a smile and immediately worked in order to solve it. Their patience seems unlimited: they don’t complain when Bruno comes home late, due to work, when the boys are louder than usual, when, during a meeting some Caporegime is rude towards them -Bruno’s assistant- and Bruno himself. Bruno, not to cause more chaos, usually bite his tongue, if it’s nothing offensive. He -and the Don- don’t need more troubles than usual.

He chose his s/o to accompany him to every meeting right due to their apparently unlimited patience: Narancia was too loud, Fugo was already present at every meeting as Consigliere and strategist -but no one dares to fight with him-, Mista was with Giorno as his right arm, Abbacchio couldn’t bear even the slightest insult to Bruno… his s/o, instead, was placid and patient at his side, biting their tongue as much as him when someone said something inappropriate.

Still, during one meeting, everyone assisted to a very rare event: Bruno’s s/o snapped. And they snapped really bad. As one of the other Capiregime said something bad about the “rockie one”, they snapped so bad that Bruno had to catch them before they flew to the Caporegime to beat them in a pulp. Still, the murderous aurea they’re emanating is enough to keep them all in line for that and future meetings. And, from that experience, Bruno learned about a new side of his s/o: never make them angry! Even if he’s a little happy, since they unleashed their wrath for him. Now he knows how it feels!

Leone Abbacchio

His s/o’s patience was what, in the end, lead them to be a couple. Abbacchio was so unsure, so scared to hurt them and lose them not to realise that he was losing precious time right now. Someone else would have given up and let him go, but not his s/o. His s/o waited for him, with sweetness and kindness, without forcing him. And this lead Abbacchio, in the end, to finally admit that yes, he was in love, and yes, being with them was worth every risk. Their patience never leaves them even when Abbacchio is on one of his moody periods -even if he tries as much as he can not to weight on his s/o-, when he’s silent and closed in his world… they always wait for him. And Abbacchio knows it.

Abbacchio tends to retire in his shell especially in certain periods of the year. His birthday -for a long period he wished not to have been born, so his birthday was painful-, his ex partner’s birthday and the day he died. He’s grateful, even if he doesn’t say it aloud, that his s/o is understanding and leaves him the time he needs, every time. When he has grieved alone, he always comes back to them, hugging them and relishing in their warm presence, happy, deep in his heart, to see they’re still here.

This doesn’t mean that their patience is unlimited. They’re human, after all! And, the first time it happened, it wasn’t against Leone, as one could expect, but against other Passione’s members. They had to assist Abbacchio in a reconnaissance mission, to cover his back while Moody Blues was replaying. It was one of the “bad periods” and his s/o was more protective than usual. This was what lead them to knock down a fellow Passione soldato when they criticized Abbacchio for “being so gloomy and with a stick up in his ass”. Abbacchio too was baffled by their reaction and had to physically restrain them from beating the other too. He scolds them, but, also, he’s grateful… it’s nice to be defended, sometimes.

Guido Mista

He’s so in love with his s/o that sometimes he feels overwhelmed. They’re so kind, so fierce and intelligent… and also so patient. Their apparently infinite patience was what hit him more than anything else: when they had to wait for a target to appear, they never complained about it -while Narancia would have already started to whine and complain, making him lose his focus-, they just stayed near him, ready as him to shoot. It was on these moments of wait that they bonded, finding out they shared a lot of common points of view on life and world. He’s not a man who usually makes people nervous, but he knows that his phobia can be a bit unnerving, so he’s grateful for his s/o’s patience.

His lifestyle is not luxurious or over the line: even if now he’s the Don’s right hand, he still enjoys the small joys of life, nothing more and nothing less. The sun in the morning, his s/o’s hand in his, their kisses… it’s more than enough to make him happy. Still, a lot of people judges him bad for this: he could have everything, seen his position, and he’s content with just some crumble? Stupid. Mista know what people say, but he doesn’t care: this doesn’t stop him from doing his work as he should, so it’s fine.

Still, his s/o knows that, even if Mista doesn’t get angry or doesn’t show it, he’s a bit affected by those words. He’s not going to change his lifestyle because of it, but… it hurts, after a while. And his s/o suffers seeing Mista like this. Still, they tried to restrain and restrain until, at the umpteenth bad comment, they violently snapped even charging with their stand. Mista was totally caught unprepared: he never saw his s/o reacting so badly!! He tears them away from the poor soul, holding them in his arms to prevent them to beat the other up again. He confronts them, baffled and surprised, even more when they see that, after all the punches, kicks, screams and insults, they’re back to their sweet and patient self. What happened?? Did he just dreamed everything??

Narancia Ghirga

Let’s be honest, to keep up with Narancia one must be really energetic and, most of all, patient. Other than loving physical contact and cuddles. Luckily, his s/o is all of this: they’re energetic, always ready to follow him in every mission or prank he’s planning to do, often being his voice of reason, they adore cuddles and are not shy about holding his hand in public or smooching his cheeks and lips and, most of all, they’re patient. They have the patience of a saint. They’re not bothered by Narancia’s problems with math, they’re not annoyed by his loud and brash personality… they love him as he is. And Narancia is immensely grate for this.

Now that Fugo can’t be anymore his tutor, it’s his s/o the one who does it. With a way calmer and more positive approach, Narancia managed to do many progresses, even in math, to his s/o’s joy and pride. Still, many people look down at him, still considering him the weak link in the group. They see him as a kid, so the easier to defeat, just to face Aerosmith’s bullets. It’s easier when they’re enemies, but when those words come from other Passione’s members… he can’t even react. He just boils and keeps his anger inside.

Everyone thought that Narancia would have finally exploded, one day. But, surprise, it wasn’t him but his s/o the one who had a rage outburst worth of Fugo on his worst moments. They didn’t even call out their stand: they just beated them with bare hands, screaming how much they were done with all this crap, that they have to leave Narancia alone and stop with all this shit. Narancia is so shocked he can’t even move a muscles; when they’re finally finished and back to Narancia, he’s almost scared that they could unleash their rage on him, but almost immediately he notices that they’re back to their usual self. He doesn’t talk about this episode anymore, just hoping not to ever be their victim when their patience ends!

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo absolutely needs a person who’s patient and can stand up on him when he’s being stubborn. Gentle but firm, kind but strong, this is the person who could steal Fugo’s heart. And his s/o is so. They’re strong and determined like a real warrior but compassionate and kind like an angel. Plus, they’re the patience itself and he’s still amazed when they say they’re not annoyed by his anger bursts -more worried that he could hurt himself- or perfectionism tendencies. He knows he can be, sometimes, such a neurotic mess, but seeing that they’re still here and love him anyway helps him really a lot.

Even if now he’s one of the most respected people in Passione, as Consigliere and strategist, someone still talks badly about him, saying that he’s in his position just ‘cause he’s a Don’s friend, that he’s a violent, an uncontrollable angry man, that soon or later it will end badly for him… even if he tries not to listen to these words, mostly not to have a rage burst or breakdown in front of his s/o, it affects him so, so much, mining his already low self esteem.

But it’s when someone whispers about his tragic past, about the thing with his old professor that his s/o, to everyone’s dismay, snaps. They are even more violent than Fugo, a force that cannot be stopped, as they scream to shut their trap up and not to dare to speak about things they don’t know. Just when the other has passed out they stop, going back to Fugo, who was too shocked to stop them, and tell him it’s all fine, now. Fugo is seriously worried that they can have anger issues as him, but when they say they just snapped, after bottling up for so much time, he begs them to vent, when they need, in order to prevent such outbursts. He doesn’t want them to get hurt!

Giorno Giovanna

Being a Don isn’t easy. He knew it and his s/o knows too, but Giorno still feared that it could have been too much for them to handle. He’s always travelling from city to city to check how Passione’s various settlements are doing, he has meetings, when something serious happens he has to go personally, he has to always be ready for every kind of emergency… it’s not easy for them. It’s hard to have a free day just for them two. But his s/o is doted of an unearthly patience. When Giorno has to go, they just kiss him and tell him to be careful, if they can’t go with him. Giorno is so grateful to have them in his life, a safe harbor to always come back to.

Still, seeing his young age, some members are reluctant to follow him or to respect him -even if, after one look to GER, they understand how this young man won against the apparently invincible ex Don- but still, words go around. Someone doesn’t think Giorno is suited for the role, someone else that with him on charge Passione will fall down, someone else that the “brat” is too young to be a Don… Giorno knows his abilities and power, but he’s still human. These words affect him, even if he maintains a stoic face.

Until the day when, during a meeting, after the umpteenth veiled nonsense criticism from a Caporegime -and Giorno just clenched his jaw while coldly said he would have thought about that- they snapped. Badly. Since it was a Caporegime they couldn’t beat them up as they wanted to, but still their words are sharp and hit as fists. After that, no one dared to move against their Don, always eyeing the menacing presence near him. Giorno had problems to keep up the stoic façade and, the instant the meeting was ended, he asked for explanations. Not that he was disappointed! It had been amazing. Just… why? And this already happened without him to know it? He knows that bottling up feelings is unhealthy and he wants his s/o to feel comfortable to vent, not to always be the patient and kind one, if they need to.

#jjba #vento aureo #bruno's gang #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #neutral s/o #patient s/o who snaps bad #headcanons #sfw #anon ask

[themisterdarcy]

dear darcy,

what’s up? it’s currently thursday, april 30, 2020. we are in the middle of the covid-19 pandemic, and north carolina is on lockdown. well, technically. we are actually the worst state in the entire country in pandemic support. there are 1.06 million confirmed cases in the entire country, with 9,948 in north carolina, and 1,567 in mecklenburg county alone. the stay-at-home order is still supposed to be lifted on may 8th, though. that’s next friday. i don’t know how on earth anybody thinks that is a good idea, but the governor has the power in this situation.

school is canceled for the rest of the year, meaning that i have to finish my junior year online. i’m disappointed that i have to miss prom and seeing my friends (especially kai), but i think it’s for the best. nobody expected covid-19 to be this big of a deal, or for the quarantine to last this long. the day before schools closed, my apush teacher, mr. church, told us that he thought the situation was “blown out of proportion” and i quote: “there’s no way that school is going to be canceled.” even when schools closed, we were originally supposed to be back in school by march 30! here we are, a month later, and there’s no end in sight for this crisis.

trump is being absolutely useless, and even detrimental to the effort to contain the virus. he his early information about the virus, and didn’t bother to take precautions, leaving the country unprepared. by the time of the first case, it was hopeless. this week (or last week... time is all running together right now), he actually suggested in a press conference that a way to prevent/cure coronavirus would be to inject bleach/disinfectant into the body, or to illuminate the body from the inside with a uv light to kill the virus. both of these options as said by trump (uv light actually does have some merit to it, but it is in an entirely different context than trump suggested, and still in developmental phases) would be fatal, and aren’t even a solution to the main issue at hand: containing and controlling the spread of the virus.

in my opinion, new zealand has it down. i only know about it because amanda palmer is quarantined there, but they’re getting close to the end of 5 weeks of near complete lockdown. people are not allowed to leave their houses or visit non-immediate family members at all, and parks and public spaces are closed. while it does seem a little like an overextension of governmental power, it’s working. new zealand only has 1,476 total cases. thanks to prime minister jacinda ardern, the entire country has fewer cases than mecklenburg county. yes, new zealand only has a population of about 5 million, while mecklenburg county has 1.1 million, it’s still impressive that a population five times the size has 100 fewer cases. i honestly wouldn’t mind temporarily giving up some of my civil liberties and democratic principles if it meant that covid-19 was knocked out and controlled.

the people who are protesting the lockdowns are quite frankly narcissistic idiots who cannot see past their own ego. yes, staying at home is difficult and boring, but it’s the only way that life has any sort of chance of returning to a form of normalcy. i don’t think things will be exactly the same, nor do i think they should, but i do want to be able to hang out with friends again. i do want to go to school and have my senior year. i do want to be able to move out and go to college when the time comes. the more people disregard reality and ignore social distancing, the longer life will be like this. the protesters are only making things worse for themselves, and the saddest part is that i don’t think they realize this.

i’m writing these letters to future me (that’s you, darcy!) so that i can have a document of my life from the pandemic. also, i want to be able to remember what being 17 was like when i’m older. i do keep a journal, but that’s more for songs, poetry, and breakdowns. screaming into the void of the internet just feels more Official to me. also, i can’t lose a blog. that’s the thing about the internet: it’s forever, for better or for worse.

i think that i will open each letter with a discussion of any updates about the pandemic, focusing mainly on concrete facts and statistics. these are important to document, and i wish i had been recording this from the beginning. maybe i will go back and create a timeline, but i’m not sure yet. that might just be a task for another sleepless night. after the corona rundown, though, i’ll go into my own experiences and thoughts about the events of my life. these will probably be in bullet-point form, since my mind has the tendency to jump around as if topics were trampolines. i don’t know how often i’ll write, but i will try to everyday. every letter won’t be as long as this one, that’s for sure, but i do tend to ramble on. i hope you’re not overwhelmed, darcy.

taking a much needed break from 2020, how’s your life at the moment? i don’t know how old you are, but i’m assuming that you’re in college at the very least. are you and kai still together? i hope so. i really do love them. have you come out to the family yet? have you changed your name legally yet? i need to do that before my college graduation, because i want my degrees to be in My Name. the thing is, i’ll need to come out to change my name, and that is an issue i don’t really care to think about at the moment. how did that go? was it as bad as i expect it will be? have you started t? besides transitioning, how is your academic and career life? i hope to go to the university of texas at austin and double major in physics and music theory and composition. did that happen? if it didn’t, where did you go to school, and did you stick with the course of study i mentioned? i can’t really imagine studying anything else, to be honest. physics and music theory are two of the most intimidating and difficult subjects there are, and they also happen to be my favorite subjects. i love being challenged mentally, and i also like being seen as intimidating. imagine: a punk, non-binary, queer physicist who also writes and performs music. is there anything more intimidating than that? i aspire to be the “scary kid in your physics class.” i want to be an exception.

i’ve written so much already, but i do have quite a bit to get off my chest. yesterday was a weird day, and i couldn’t sleep at all last night, so here we are. this is what being 17 is like:

it is 6:15 am, and i have stayed up all night.

i was planning on getting a lot of work done, but instead i wasted time listening to amanda palmer and browsing the internet.

my dad thinks i took my sleeping pill, so i need to stay quiet in my room until at least 10:00 tomorrow morning so he doesn’t get suspicious.

kai called me today, but only for 15 minutes. they are a month behind in school, and will only get their phone back once they are caught up. i don’t know when that will be, but i am preparing for the worst.

i identify as androgyne, meaning in between man and woman. recently, i stopped feeling like i was faking, though. instead of worrying that i was making it all up in my head, i’ve become confident that i am Androgyne. it makes sense. it always has made sense. when i was little, i asked my father if it was possible to be “half-girl, half-boy,” and i would tell people that about myself. just because i like glitter and riot grrrl doesn’t make me a girl. i am an enby.

this is the song of the night:

i realized today that i have not left the house (excepting switching between mother’s/father’s) in an entire month. at the beginning of this lockdown, i was struggling, but i feel like i’ve adjusted more or less. this feels normal, now. i don’t feel like i’m missing something from my daily life.

10 days clean :)

my sleep schedule is fucked up. dr. kissam has put me on a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, and a sleep medicine as well as my anxiety meds because she’s concerned by my bipolar tendencies. my manic phases have gotten more intense and happen more often now, and my down phases have gotten worse than they have in a long time. i started hurting again, but i’m trying to stop. i think i have a handle on it now. i did give myself two stick and pokes on monday night, though... does that count? i don’t think so.

i have the deathly hallows on my ankle, and the androgyne symbol on my left middle finger. it looks more like an anchor or a dandelion though. :/ i like them anyways, because they are Mine. My body. My decisions. I Am My Own Person.

during the call today, i felt like kai was distancing themself from me. i don’t know if i’m overthinking a 15 minute chat, but they didn’t seem like their usual clingy, lovey self. i’m worried that they’re going to decide they don’t want to be with me anymore during this time that they are off their phone, but i know that it’s just anxiety. overthinking is my enemy. kai loves me. i love them. we are in a healthy, stable relationship (for the first time in my life!!). they aren’t going to decide to leave me out of the blue.

the song for the kai situation:

sometimes i wonder what life would be like if i could just focus on school like a normal person. i have good grades, but i am a Very Chaotic student. if i could just sit down and complete assignments at a normal pace and with consistent motivation, what would i be able to achieve? would i be in a bunch of service organizations? would i be on student council? who knows?! i am darcy, and i am tied for valedictorian while never doing my homework. i don’t know how i do it either.

i’ve decided that i don’t like my confirmation name (octavian) as my middle name. i want to take my dad’s middle name, lamont. darcy lamont wheeler. it’s a super cool name, and it has Significance. our family is directly descended from the lamont clan in scotland. it’s also my grandmother’s maiden name, which i feel like makes sense because my dead middle name was her middle name. poetic justice. symmetry. i have come full circle.

hi! my name is darcy lamont wheeler.

darcy means “dark one.” i really, really like that. i like thinking that i am connected to the somewhat dark and eccentric. like the dresden dolls, or disturbing short stories. darkness adds complexity. nuance. background.

my favorite short story is “i have no mouth & i must scream” by harlan ellison. it is so completely terrifying, so beautifully disgusting, so brilliantly bizarre, so disturbingly ominous, and i have never read anything else that has come close to comparing. i love science fiction, especially dystopian ideas about technology advancing past the point of no return. it’s crazy to me that what could be considered mankind’s greatest achievement is so close to being our downfall.

everybody is awake now, and i hear them in the kitchen. i wonder when i stopped wanting to be awake. matthew and brianna seem to wake up as early as they can and fight bedtime until the absolute limit, as if they want to maximize the hours that they have each day. each morning is a new chance for fun. they don’t seem to resent life yet. i would rather be asleep instead of conscious most of the time. days are uniformly boring and miserable, with the rare diversion. why would i want them to be longer than they have to be? is this depression or is this just growing up? i can’t even tell anymore.

i missed amanda palmer’s birthday livestream yesterday, so i’m going to watch it today. two hours of her and her quarantine buddies sounds like heaven. this woman’s music quite honestly saved my life, and she is the epitome of badass!! i love amanda palmer. i wish i could write songs like she can.

on the topic of the dresden dolls, i asked brian viglione, the drummer, to “prom” as a pretense to ask him about his experiences as a musician, and for advice about how to develop my music. against all the odds, he accepted, so now, on may 9th at 8:00 pm, i am going to facetime with Brian Viglione, drummer for the dresden dolls and the violent femmes, among many others. life? made. i still can barely believe that this is actually happening!!

i came out to my english class, including ms. blaylock on tuesday. everybody reacted really well, and in that class at least, i get to go by my name and use my pronouns. i honestly couldn’t believe that i had the balls to tell anybody besides kai’s family, but i did, and it actually went well! the fact that there are people calling me darcy makes me so happy that i can’t even put it into words. it’s validating. i am darcy. not just when i’m by myself, but in real life. i am darcy.

is it weird that i’m not crippled by kai’s absence? i used to be an unproductive tangle of anxiety whenever mary was out of touch, even for a few hours. i was constantly worried that she was going to hurt herself, or that she was going to leave me. the thing is, even though i am in love with kai and i only thought that i loved mary because she was the first girl i was with, i don’t miss them to the point that i can’t function. i don’t think about them 24/7. i do miss them at times, and i cannot wait until we can talk again, but it’s not an all-consuming thing. i can go through my entire day without talking to them, no problem. night time is a little harder, but that’s because night is always when i go down spirals and rabbitholes. maybe this means that our relationship is healthy? co-dependency is a bad thing, i know, but i don’t know what a healthy relationship feels like since the only other experiences i’ve had (jack, mary, saanchi, rachel) have all been toxic in their own way.

one thing i have learned with kai is the importance of boundaries in a relationship. just because i love everything about them doesn’t mean that it’s healthy for us to share everything. there was a time where we were both in dark places and hurting, and when they shared what they did, it would set me off. the same went for them, i was using them as a journal too often, and the emotional burden had started to affect them. we had a conversation about this though, and established clear lines that we will not cross. it felt good to figure that out. i felt mature, looking out for my own needs and respecting kai’s. isn’t that how a relationship should work?

i love kai.

i’ve written a SHIT-TON. i think this is enough for now, but i might write another letter today. this was cathartic, and i feel like i’ve processed some shit as well as made a record for the future. i hope you weren’t bored or overwhelmed by my novel, darcy. i’m just writing what i feel is important, and i hope it’s still important to you.

signing off,

darcy lamont wheeler

#Spotify

[chiauve]

Aquarius - 5

“Oh wow, you can see the water from here!”

“Yeah, a little bit. But the leaves are growing so the trees’ll block it out soon.”

Claire leaned on the rail of the little porch sticking out the back of Chris’ house, admiring the view. There was a yard surrounded by trees and through those the sunlight sparkled on the bay down the hill. It was a short walk to the shore and just as short drive to the public launch where Chris was going out on his boat more and more. The house itself wasn’t much, a small manufactured building dropped on the lot that had a tendency to leak, but the location was fantastic and Chris considered himself lucky to have nabbed it for the price he did.

“Still, it’s real nice, Chris. I only get a view of the highway from my dorm.”

He leaned on the rail beside her and gave her a brief hug with an arm around her shoulders. It was too good to see her. Claire called Chris once a week and he was more than confident she could take care of herself but seeing her and physically knowing she was okay was a necessity he needed now and again; a remnant from when they lost their parents and a teenaged Chris found himself the provider and parent to his baby sister. The military was a continuation of that: decent pay, education, and an assurance of Claire being provided for monetarily should something happen to him.

But it wasn’t one way and he knew she worried about him. He’d had a breakdown or two during those tumultuous first years they were on their own and it snapped Claire out of her sorrow with the realization that her brother couldn’t, shouldn’t handle things alone. For his part Chris never meant for her to have to help him with that burden but in the end it had made them both stronger. To this day even as he needed to see her to be sure she was alright she would also insist on visits to make sure he wasn’t sending away all his money to her and living in his car.

She’d been so pissed when she found out about that.

Now he was in STARS and his paycheck was good enough to cover both their needs until Claire finished school. She kept insisting she’d pay him back someday but he’d have none of it.

“The bay is gorgeous,” she breathed, “it’s so blue.”

“Yeah, the city has some programs set up to keep it clean and maintain the ecosystem and all that. Takes a bit extra for taxes but obviously it’s paying off.”

“Can we go out on your boat?”

Chris grinned, “I was hoping you’d ask!”

Claire grabbed a few drinks and snacks for the cooler while Chris hitched the trailer bearing the boat to his truck. They weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the sunny day and had to wait to back the boat into the water, but soon he was unhitching it and Claire pulled it farther down the dock while he went to park. By the time he got back she was giving him a funny look.

“What?”

“’Wet Willy’, really?”

He winced at the reminder of the tacky lettering on the side of the boat. “I didn’t name it, stop giving me that look.”

“Nobody’s making you keep it, Chris.”

“Oh no, you don’t change a boat’s name, it’s bad luck!”

She rolled her eyes and helped him push off. Any attempt to impress her failed as the motor refused to start. Grumbling, Chris crawled over the aft seating and started futzing with it.

“Problem?”

“It’s kinda old. Started giving me trouble a bit ago but...there we go! Okay, give it a crank.”

They slid away from the shore and other boats a bit before Chris opened her up and they flew across the water. Claire slid into the bow cockpit, the wind whipping through her auburn hair and smiled wide. The water was smooth and Chris steered them through the wake of several larger boats, the craft slamming through the waves and making Claire laugh as she bounced off the seat.

           Raccoon Bay was longer than it was wide and reached inland at an angle from the ocean. It protected the bay from the rough sea waves but its mouth was large enough to easily slip right out into open ocean. There was a steep dropoff where the bay and ocean met and the water changed from a bright blue to deep navy, chopped with frothing white in the surf.

           Chris skimmed the mouth of the bay, letting Claire look out over the ocean, before turning back into the protected, calm waters. His boat wasn’t large enough that he trusted it on open ocean if he could avoid it. He then cut the engine and let the little ‘Wet Willy’ drift while they opened the cooler for lunch.

#resident evil #chris redfield #claire redfield #aquarius #fanfic

[kamiyu910]

Sometimes it’s pretty obvious when I’m depressed. I keep dreaming about the people and animals I’ve lost, been getting super emotional and crying a lot, have no energy, and it sucks.

And what sucks more is that I talked to someone the other night who shares the same obsession as me, and I find myself wanting a friend for once, but I fear they’re going to be like everyone else. My anxiety over it is strange. I don’t normally worry about what other people think of me anymore because of everything that I’ve already been through, and now I wonder if this person is going to end up the same as all the others... this is going to get long...

Are they going to suddenly stop talking to me too? Are they going to ridicule me, bully me, insult me, just because of how I see the world? Are they going to throw baseless accusations my way too? I just don’t want to try anymore. I’m so tired of being judged and hated just for existing. 

All through my life. I don’t think I can take any more, not right now. I refuse to hate, it all just makes me depressed. All these people, so full of anger and hatred, justifying it, and I can’t. Why would I want to do to others what has been done to me through my entire life? Why would I want to become like them? 

So many comments online, people sympathizing with parents who murdered their autistic children in cold blood, parents subjecting their children to horrendous tortures in the hope that it will give them their “perfect” child that they imagined... kids who sound like me, who are as functioning as me, and these parents call them stolen children, some claiming they would have been better off dying in infancy from cancer, many claiming autistic people are a drain on society, that it’s better if we’re locked up or killed, and the major autism based organization seeks eugenics to wipe out autism altogether instead of actually helping autistic people and their families. 

I’ve experienced a lot of discrimination for all sorts of different things, but I think the worst has been for being autistic. Fellow adults my age, sometimes far older, sometimes younger, belittle me as if I know nothing because of how my brain works. They treat me like I’m a child, or an idiot, and if I don’t back down, if I hold my ground, they resort to calling me all sorts of names. Racial slurs, claiming I’m racist, or sexist, or whatever they can think of even if there’s no basis for it... as if they can’t handle that I won’t just believe them at their word. 

I can’t connect to people like “normal” people can. It’s especially obvious in person. I’ve studied facial expressions from things like criminal psychology videos and others that show specific muscle twitches for determining typical emotional responses or lies or thoughts, mainly because I was hoping it would help me figure out how to control my own expressions, but it’s allowed me to learn more about understand how other people feel, and I can usually tell when something is wrong. Body language can tell a lot, and I disturb people. They don’t know what to do with me.

Maybe I should just stop trying. I’ve spent 32 years living like this and a good portion of that was spent trying to fit in, and it’s never worked. I have never been able to, and I can tell the people who claimed to be my friends were disappointed in me, that I wouldn’t be a play thing to them, that I wouldn’t let them walk all over me, that I have a will of my own. As soon as I stick up for myself, I lose friends. As soon as I defend my honor from a baseless accusation, people leave. They almost always leave. People I thought would never turn on me have ditched me. I can’t trust. 

I feel ruined. I want to be wrong about this new person... I love talking to people, no matter their beliefs. I love trying to understand how people think and why they believe what they do... and I want so much for people to understand how I think. I’ve tried so many times to explain it, but it’s like a language barrier, and it never seems to really work... I feel so alone and lost, like I don’t belong here. I’m tired of crying, I’m tired of the insults, I’m tired of actually wanting friends but being too paranoid to even think about pursuing it. I don’t really want to be a hermit, but look at me, I am one practically. Society hates me except for a sideshow freak. 

I’m tired of the pain... I just want to go to sleep for a very long time... I want the sweet embrace of the darkness that I tasted all those years ago when I almost died. I want that peace, I want it to surround me and let me think of nothing else, to never worry again. Such bliss, taunting me, just out of reach. When they brought me back, it hurt. It hurt so much to be ripped from that blessed darkness, that peace... Living is pain. Constant pain. I’m living artificially, I shouldn’t be alive anyway. I’m a disaster, physically and mentally, what good am I really? Am I really doing good? It’s hard to tell when the things I do are mostly anonymous or behind the scenes... 

I know people would miss me if I left. I can’t leave my family. I’m the only one who can do most of this stuff, even if I’m struggling with it. I’m tired of not having enough money for bills... I’ve got a hospital bill and an ambulance bill sitting here waiting for me to pay them still, and I’m not sure I can. I have to figure out how to make sure we don’t go red this month... 

I hate that I keep dreaming about people and pets that have died. The other night I dreamt about my grandma who passed 6 years ago. I dreamt that I missed the family reunion, and that she had just died. I was in her house, alone, and I found the last bag of biscuits she’d ever made, and I tried to eat one but I started sobbing too hard. I miss her so much. I owe her so much. She was the most amazing woman I’ve ever known and if I could even just be half the woman she was, I’ll have had a good life. 

I did not take her death very well. I had just gotten a new puppy, Tank, and I was 6-7 months pregnant with my first child (which was not going well) and we’d finally gotten a house instead of a dinky apartment and it had so many problems that needed to be fixed... losing grandma almost killed me and I had a breakdown and was forced off work for weeks because I couldn’t function. That puppy helped me through so much of that, he was the best dog ever...

He died last year and it was so hard to say goodbye. A month or two after losing him, we ended up at a pet store during adoption day and my then 3 yr old, my 4 yr old, and I ended up sitting in an aisle sobbing because we miss that damn dog. It’s so hard to hear a 3 yr old start sobbing about missing his dog. It’s not exactly easier now that he’s 5 either. That dog helped me through so much pain, so much death... the death of multiple family members, multiple friends dying, the two births of my children, losing an entire support group because I didn’t understand how they could support hate... 

I dreamt about Tank last night. I saw him, just a glimpse of him through a window... I went into the place and I looked for him, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. I miss him so much. I miss my dog, I miss my family, I miss my friends, I’m so tired of all this pain that just keep building up. I put on a happy face for everyone, I try to pretend I’m holding it together, but I’m screaming inside, desperate for someone to... I dunno. I honestly don’t know anymore. I no longer trust people’s pity or compliments... I’ve been taught through life experience that most of that is a bunch of utter bullshit and that those people don’t actually give a fuck. How can I tell if someone is genuine?

It’s been a year since I lost a person I thought was a very good friend. She just stopped talking to me, refused to give me a reason, and that hurts still too. I thought, of all the people, she wouldn’t abandon me too, but she did. How can I ever trust again? How can I stop feeling so alone when it feels like if I try again, I’ll only get burned again? They always leave... there are only three people who haven’t, and they’re mutts too, outcasts of society who have also been shit on their whole lives, who also have very few friends, who also have serious health issues (physically and mentally). I treasure their friendships, even though two of them live so far away I may never see them in person... 

I don’t want to lose them too, but the chances are high, considering the health issues. There’s a chance they could lose me to my health issues. We have to take each day as it comes. Depression and anxiety make that so hard... how can we live if we just want to lay down and not move? I know it could be worse, it could always be worse... but it hurts. So much...

Grandma’s coffin was sky blue. She loved blue so much. I wore a light blue dress to her funeral just for her.

I miss that big ass mutt... 

#depression #rant #cry for help #I'm not ok #i'm not okay #anxiety #friendship #trust issues #lack of trust #lonely #loneliness #autism #actually autistic #loss #grief and loss #grief #pain #emotionally drained #emotional pain #death #loss of a loved one #loss of a pet #dreams #dog #pupper #mutt

[looselucy]

Lavender

39 There was a warmth in my stomach as soon as I woke. My body was still pressed against his, my leg still over his hip, his hands still held on my back so I couldn’t distance from him even if I’d wanted to, which of course I didn’t. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept like that with someone, in fact, I was almost sure I’d never slept like that with anyone. None of my ex boyfriends had ever held me that way before, no one had ever pulled me that close and kept me there, like they needed that contact, like they needed me. It was nice, really. It was nice to feel that close with someone.

I found my little finger lacing through his curls as sleep began to distance from me, playing with his soft hair and gazing over the features of his face, his little freckles and blemishes. He truly was phenomenal to look at, unlike anyone I’d seen before. I liked just being able to take the time and just admire him as he slept, trying to ignore the events of the evening previous and how awful his dream had been. Eventually, I untangled myself from him, proud of my work once I was completely out of bed and he was still slumbering away none the wiser. I tiptoed out of his room, happy that after one day with his family I was no longer nervous. I wasn’t hiding or cringing, I just walked out of there, not worrying about being on my own around his mum or dad. I could hear that someone was in the kitchen as I slowly made my way downstairs, still a little dozy and in desperate need of a coffee, but I knew I’d have to survive off tea. I was hoping to drag Harry to a café somewhere at some point during the day just so I could get my fill. I wandered into the kitchen, happy to see Harry’s mother there. I really liked his dad too, but he wasn’t quite as chatty as Janine was. We were probably never going to run out of things to say. She was sat on the kitchen counter as the kettle boiled, her little legs dangling over the edge as she smiled to me. “Morning.” I greeted. “Good morning.” She returned. “How did you sleep?” “Yeah, great, thank you.” She gave me a knowing look as she dropped to her feet, one that simply said, I know you didn’t have an easy sleep. You don’t need to lie to me. She grabbed two cups from the cupboard as my throat got tighter, watching her every move, waiting for her to say something. It was different at my parents house. It was so big, I knew the likeliness of them hearing Harry was extremely thin. They also weren’t expecting to hear screams, they weren’t waiting for his noises, they weren’t going to stir easily. Harry’s parents room was right next to his. They must have heard everything, they must have been waiting to hear him, just listening out for noises, sleeping uneasily the entire time. The thought made me feel sick. “Is he okay?” She asked, not looking at me. “Um… He’s… He’s struggling.” I swallowed. “But… he’s strong, isn’t he? He copes with it all really well.” She nodded, but she seemed unconvinced. But, maybe that was down to the fact that I sounded entirely unconvincing. Harry did handle everything incredibly well, I knew if I went through what he did that I would just completely fall apart. But seeing him in that state, especially the night before, made it hard for me to stand there and tell her that her son was perfectly fine. He wasn’t. He wasn’t fine at all. “They started when he was at uni.” She told me. “By the time he came back to visit, they were in full force. He told us about them, straight away, but he made us promise we wouldn’t try to help. He made us promise we wouldn’t try to wake him up.” “Why would he do that?” I thought I could feel my heart ache. “Because the boy is fundamentally good.” She seemed a little relieved when the kettle clicked. “He couldn’t stand the thought of us being a part of it. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like that, Florence. You must be special.” In that moment, I kind of hated that I was lying to her. I wasn’t special to Harry, I was only there to help them see he wasn’t lonely, that he was happy and they didn’t need to worry about him. I hated that she genuinely thought I was special to him. All she wanted was for him to be happy, really happy, and I was realising that I was part of a lie that was trying to convince her that he was. He wasn’t. Not entirely anyway. He wasn’t okay, and I wasn’t special to him. “So, you’ve never… seen… I mean… You never tried to wake him?” “He made us promise.” She sighed. “I don’t want to break his trust. So… we never did. We always just… endured it. I can’t explain what that’s like… being able to hear my child screaming and knowing there’s absolutely nothing I can do to help him.” I felt like crying. I felt like having one of my breakdowns. I couldn’t even imagine the feeling, the countless times where they must have lay awake just having to suffer his cries, just having to deal with it. They didn’t want to go against his wishes, so they just tolerated it. It must have been truly awful. On my first night with him, I felt an overwhelming need to wake him and comfort him. That was me, a girl who barely knew him, a girl there pretending to be his girlfriend and pretending to have all these swelling feelings, and I felt a pulling need to take care of him. I couldn’t even begin to know the feeling his mother and father had hearing their son screaming. It hurt me, I couldn’t imagine how much it hurt them. “I want to be there to help him all the time.” I sighed, and I meant it. “I want to be there until they stop. I know he’ll find the reason behind them, and I want to be there to help him all the way through. He’ll get there soon, I know it, I can feel it. I just… I want to help in any way I can.” She still hadn’t picked up the kettle. I could see her hands shaking, I could see that she was trying to hold back tears. I didn’t know how to comfort her, I didn’t know what to say, because it wasn’t just down to the fact she couldn’t comfort him when she heard him screaming in the night, she knew there was something deeply wrong with her son, something completely out of their control. “He must be so tired.” She gripped at the counter. “I just don’t know how we can help him. He’s my baby and…” She lost herself, a tear slipping from her eye and landing on the granite. Without even thinking what I was doing I’d thrown my arms around her, holding the woman into my body as she sobbed over my shoulder. The lack of answers, the uncertainty, was starting to eat away at all of us, the fact we couldn’t even see a solution to Harry’s problem. There were a few things we could point the finger at, maybe his dads cancer, his uncle who I’d heard very little about and already despised, maybe the fact his mum and dad bothered him over his companions, maybe his old blue room. There were a few things that you could easily point towards, but anything obvious would have already been discussed with his therapist, and they hadn’t reached any kind of conclusion. The dreams were something that Harry didn’t know about. They were there because something had happened, either in real life or deep within the coves of his mind, that he couldn’t recall, or figure out. Harry had no leads, no starting point. It was lovely that Harry had such a wonderful life, but fuck, it would have been helpful if there was something that could guide us. “He’s really strong.” I hushed, comforting her. “He’s doing so well, I promise you. We’ll find a way to stop them. We will. I’ll help him find a way.” I think she needed that comfort, because she probably didn’t get it from anywhere else. She couldn’t go to Harry, and Adam was going through the exact same thing she was. I was probably the first person to console her in that way. Thankfully, by the time we heard Harry’s footsteps pattering down the stairs, she had calmed slightly. She pulled away from me, finally turning back to the kettle as he entered the kitchen, wiping over his tired eyes with the back of his hand. I grabbed another mug from the cupboard. “Good morning.” His voice was rough. “You making brews?” “I will.” Janine tried to hide the quake in her voice. “I forgot I just… I need to make a call. I’ll do it in five.” “I’ll sort them, don’t worry.” I smiled. Acting as nonchalant as she physically could, she scurried round the corner towards the living room, needing another few minutes before she could face him. Harry remained completely unaware, approaching me with his tight jeans on, and his torso bare. “You sure you can make a good cup of tea?” He smirked as he neared me. “Probably not,” I huffed. “But I’ll bloody try.” He appeared behind me, and before I could even pick the kettle up, he grabbed at my waist, spinning me round quickly, keeping me backed up against the counter as he pressed the front of his body to mine. “Harry!” I gasped. He leaned his lips towards my ear, his fingers digging into my skin, pushing me so there was literally no way I could escape his grasp. I lay my hands against his butterfly, closing my eyes and breathing in his tight vicinity. “Last night.” He began, his voice low and whispered. “Harry-” “You were incredible.” He told me. “Last night was… one of the worst I’ve ever had, and you were so… amazing. I can’t even explain.” He closed his eyes, leaving me a little breathless as he tried to control his emotions, still keeping me as close as possible. He moved to press his forehead against mine as my glistening eyes traced over his face, watching him intently. “I probably crossed a line last night.” I whispered. “I’m sorry.” “What for?” “I just wanted to keep you still, and then when I kissed you I just-” “Ren, you were perfect.” He stopped my gabbing. “Everything you did was perfect. Please don’t apologise. You were… You are amazing, Ren. I know things got intense last night and I’m sorry, but you need to be aware of how perfect you are. How perfectly you deal with everything. I… I couldn’t ask for anything more, from anyone.” “Harry-” “I’ll never be able to explain how much it helps. Thank you, Florence Daisy Valentine.” “Don’t full name me!” I giggled, hitting his stomach. “You truly are in your own league of human being.” He chuckled. “I’m glad I’m doing this with you.” It was physically hurting to restrain my smile, shaking my head as I struggled to accept his words, my eyes fluttering shut as he moved a hand to my hair, twisting a few strands around his finger. When I finally found the stamina to look back upwards, I spotted his mother over his shoulder, approaching us. “Kiss me.” I whispered. So he did. He thrust his lips to mine, closing the gap which was already much smaller than it needed to be, and kissed me sweetly, his mother tutting as she reached us, and clicked the kettle on again since I’d never gotten round to making brews. “Behave.” She instructed. “Sorry.” Harry grinned, licking his lips once he’d pulled away. “I struggle with restraint around this one.” “Harry!” I gasped, pushing him away from me. “Don’t talk like that around your mother.” “You should listen to your girlfriend, Harry.” His mother raised her brows. “You’re not the only one around here who has sex.” “Don’t you dare!” He pointed at her, moving to sit on top of the dining table. “I’m just saying. Me and your dad-” “ALRIGHT! That’s enough. That is enough.” I laughed as I moved towards the fridge to get the milk out, happy that my emotion filled morning was finally passing, because my emotions had been running high since I met Harry Styles. But I wasn’t sure it was a bad thing. 40 “Are you taking me to your underage drinking spot?” I wiggled my brows. “I’m not, actually.” He chuckled, a few steps ahead. “I will though.” “Good! I took you to mine! You owe me.” “I promise I’ll take you!” He looked back to me. “You’re so needy!” “I am not!” The evening before I had convinced myself that I was imagining snow falling from the sky, but it really was there. It wasn’t a thick layer, but it was a layer of snow nonetheless, and that somehow made me feel all warm inside. I also felt warm inside thanks to the coffee I was finally consuming, sipping it for the cardboard cup as we wandered through the countryside, towards wherever the hell Harry had decided to take me. Wearing his mother’s wellies, which were definitely at least a size too small for me, I trudged behind him, wondering why there was such a spring in his steps. As far as I could see there was absolutely nothing to get excited for. There was grass, more grass, some snow, the occasional stone wall, and that was about it. He was lucky I trusted him, I wouldn’t just wander into some field in the middle of nowhere with bloody anyone. Harry excitedly jumped over one of the stone walls, landing with a soft thud on the other side, and then popping his head up so he was visible again, a dopey grin on his face. “You do not want me to jump over that wall?” I huffed, stopping ahead of it. “It goes up to my bloody shoulders.” “Yeah but you can wedge your foot in the gaps.” He shrugged. “Do you know me at all, Curls?” I groaned. “I will fall flat on my face.” “You will not!” He cried. “I’ve literally been doing this since I was a toddler. C’mon!” “I’m going to fall!” “Well I’ll catch you!” Harry looked adorable, his long curls poking out from under his beanie, a giant fluffy coat on and his teeth still on show as he smiled to me. I scowled at him as I hesitantly moved towards the wall, and I think that only made his smile grow. It was always nice to see Harry happy. In the middle of the nights, witnessing his distress, it often became easy to forget how blissfully happy he was during the day. The seed of his pain would plant in my mind, but he would never let it grow. He would always be there to stint its development, with his giant smile and his infectious glee, reminding everyone that no matter how awful his night terrors were, they would never eclipse the true beauty of him, and it was phenomenal to see. After a big exhale, I finally dug my foot between the stone, placing my coffee down and my hands on the top and elevating myself upwards, fearing the worst. “Now what?” I quizzed. “Swing your leg over.” “You just jumped!” “Alright, you can try jumping if you want.” He shrugged. “See how that works out for you.” “I’m gunna swing my leg over.” I said, like it was my idea. “Yeah, I thought you might.” He chuckled. With a little squeal, I lifted my leg and threw it to the other side of the wall, straddling the stone before crying out. “FUCK IT’S COLD ON MY ARSE!” Harry was laughing like a fool as I rushed through the second part of the obstacle, but even though he was howling like an idiot, by the time I threw myself into his arms he still caught me with no issue, his arms wrapping around my waist and holding my body to his to keep me upright, and as my head landed against his chest I could literally feel his happiness against my skin, feel the joy shaking and pulsing through his chest. Feeling that made me want to stay pressed against him forever, and without meaning to, I remained held to his structure, beaming with my cheek nestled against his chest, my hands under his coat and on his waist. I closed my eyes as we enjoyed the moment together, Harry’s chuckles calming eventually. I don’t know why we stayed that way, or why neither of us questioned or poked fun at our silence, the fact we were just holding one another like that. We just enjoyed it whilst it lasted. “Ren?” He called for my attention. “Mm?” “You make me really fucking happy, you know that?” “I do?” I questioned, holding even tighter. “You do.” “You actually make me miserable, I’m just a really good actress.” I sniggered. “Fuck you!” He pulled away, shaking his head. “I try to be nice and you’re just always bloody sarcastic.” “It’s an illness.” I giggled. He winked at me before he set of walking again, my cheeks rosy thanks to the cold as I quickly picked up my coffee again, and then followed. I was reminded of the first time I had seen the illusive magnetism that Harry possessed. After the group therapy session, when he had been assigned as our leader without ever meaning to be, we’d followed him into the night with excitement and our trust. I was starting to realise that I would follow Harry into any darkness, because that’s just something he could do to people. His aura felt like something you could dive into and swim in, and even drowning in it felt like heaven. He only took a few more steps before he stopped himself, staring down the side of the wall we had just clambered over. I glanced up to him, trying to note the look on his face. He seemed almost reflective, somewhere between happy and sad. I breathlessly stood waiting for him to explain himself, gazing up to the boy, seeing his throat bob. “This is where I used to come and pick flowers with my dad.” He breathed eventually. “In the summer, they line all down this wall. I mean… I know it doesn’t look like much now but… I just wanted to show you.” All I was looking at was a row of aligned rocks, and the light cover of snow that shielded everything around it, and yet somehow it still felt like an honour. Somewhere that held such a sacred place among his many memories was a place he wanted to show me, somewhere he wanted to welcome me. The place was almost alight with his memoirs, I could see the green in my mind, picture him plucking at the flowers that winter had destroyed. I could envision it perfectly, and it really did feel like a privilege to be there with him, especially since he hadn’t been there for so long. “I wish I could see it in the summer.” I whispered. “You will.” He spoke with confidence. “We’ll come back.” “Okay. Good.” “C’mon, let me show you something.” Once more, I found Harry slotting his fingers between mine before he pulled me further down the wall, his large hand drowning mine as he impatiently pulled me towards our destination. My stomach was in knots for something, and I was blaming it on the connotation of the place. Even with the snow, even when it had been so many years since Harry had been and picked flowers with this father, there was a palpable splendour sitting amongst the grass, gracing those fields. In my mind and in my heart the sun was shining, the flowers in bloom, and Harry was nothing but happy. He came to an abrupt standstill, unlinking from me to crouch down ahead of the wall. He brushed away some of the snow, and soon a lilac colour was revealed underneath. I fell to my knees next to him, absolutely fascinated. “What is it?” I gasped my question. “Lavender.” He replied, the plants popping upwards slightly once he’d taken the weight off them. “They’re perennial.” “They’re what?” “They last all year, endure any weather.” “That’s amazing!” I ogled. “I had no idea.” Once enough were revealed to us, he reached down to their roots, grabbing as many as his fist could allow and pulling them from their place. He shook off some of the snowflakes, and I watched the whole thing with a twinkle in my eye. Harry had told me he liked flowers, but even with him having that little bit knowledge about lavender proved to me that his love for flowers ran quite deep. He had knowledge of flowers, he even knew the exact spot they were growing. Not only that, but I could see the look of admiration in his eyes as he stared up the stems. He turned, and held the flowers out towards me. “For you.” I gently took them from his hands, lifting them to my nose for a moment and inhaling their scent, my lips cracking into a smile that was teeming with delight. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so happy. “You’re making me feel all special.” I whispered. “Good.” He sighed. “That’s my intention.” 41 Harry’s best friend was beautiful. I mean, I wasn’t sure I was that hard to please really. Usually any boy with half a personality and all his organs still intact was enough for me, I wasn’t fussy, but he truly was exceptionally good looking. “Liam, this is Ren.” Harry introduced us. “The girlfriend you were so cryptic about.” He offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You too.” Once my skin met his I was pretty sure my entire body turned red. I was surprised and also impressed that I didn’t just burst into a fit of giggles. He was adorable but it also looked like he could fucking ruin you if he wanted to, and that was a good look. “I’m glad you came round!” Harry chirped. “We’re just about to do games night, you wanna stay?” “Are we drinking?” Liam asked. “MUM ARE WE DRINKING?” “YES!” The woman cried from upstairs. “Yes we’re drinking.” “Then of course I’ll stay. Don’t I fuck up the team numbers?” “We’ll figure it out.” Harry brushed off. “OOOH, boys versus girls!” I grinned. Harry turned to me with an amused, sceptical look scrunching his features, and I think that dubious look just fuelled me even more. “You’ll be outnumbered.” “Maybe by bodies, but by brains… well… you’re lacking on that front.” “She’s funny” Liam chuckled, pointing at me. “Keep hold of her.” He moved out of the kitchen towards the living room where our games night would take place, and I just stood giggling to myself and hiding my mouth behind my hand. It only lasted a few seconds before Harry elbowed me. “Ouch!” I cried. “What was that for?” “Do you mind?” He wailed, relatively quiet. “What have I done?” “Blushing over my best mate like a damn fool!” He scalded. “You’re my girlfriend!” “He’s really cute.” I teased. “Yes, Florence Daisy Valentines, he’s a bloody dreamboat, but have you forgotten, again, that you’re here to be my girlfriend?” “I may have let it slip my mind.” I exhaled. “He’s got those lil chubby cheeks and-” “You’re a bad girlfriend.” He tut. “Why don’t you break up with me then?” I stirred. “Because I don’t bloody want to!” I giggled again as I pinched at his waist, finally walking out of the kitchen and into the living room to join Liam and Adam who sat waiting whilst Harry prepared the drinks, and Janine remained upstairs searching through what games they had available. I was glad that no matter what we ended up playing, we were going to find some way to turn it into a drinking game. It felt like we were due a night of peaceful sleep. I had a lot of respect for Harry and the fact he didn’t let his drinking habit become completely out of hand. He worked with alcohol, and it had a very obvious soothing effect on him. He could have so easily developed a need for the liquor he consumed. Every time he drank enough, it saved him from an evening of horror, it protected him from a night of pain and screaming and torture. He had a strength that I couldn’t fathom, because I knew if I went through what he did, and knew there was a way I could escape it, I would use that escape no matter what the risks were. Harry really was unbelievably resilient. I had found myself in awe of his power. “WHAT DOES EVERYONE WANT TO DRINK?” Harry shouted from the kitchen. “I’LL HAVE A BEER!” Liam yelled. “MAKE THAT TWO!” Adam joined. “WHATEVER YOU’RE HAVING!” I whelped. The snow was coming down a little thicker and faster that night. It was crashing against the window violently, but as it hit the pane it was completely silent, unable to disturb us. I felt so good. My happiness was this hurried energy that I could physically feel thrashing through my veins. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back to the city, back to work and back to my reality. Reality meant therapy. Reality meant miserable midweek nights. Reality meant sleeping alone. Reality meant having my ‘breakup’ with Harry, and my parents questioning how the hell I’d let a boy like him slip through my fingers. Reality meant admitting that in the long run, maybe this fake relationship wasn’t the best thing to do in an attempt to make my parents happy, because the bite of our breakup was going to be harsh. I thought I would be able to turn it around, to tell my parents we had parted ways for entirely sensible reasons, something that would make me look good in the long run, but Harry had been so damn perfect I wasn’t sure I’d be able to think of something that would suffice. “OKAY OKAY!” Janine appeared with a mountain of boxes piled in her arms. “So we have Monopoly-” “I plan on leaving at some point in the next twenty-four hours,” Liam groaned. “So I’m going to have to say no to Monopoly.” “Oh, okay that’s fair.” She placed them all down on the low table in the centre of the room. “Scrabble?” “YES, SCRABBLE!” Harry appeared, juggling four cans of beer. “No! Not Scrabble!” Liam argued. “It’s boring.” Harry didn’t say anything, but I could tell from the scowl on his face that he had taken that as a personal offence. I’m surprised he didn’t throw the beer in his face to be honest. “Buckaroo?” She suggested next. “YES!” Liam was happy with that one. “We have to!” “Why does Liam get to decide?” “Because he’s the guest!” She retorted. “Ren’s a guest too!” “Ren is your girlfriend, Harry, which basically makes her family, not a guest.” “Also,” I raised my hand. “I would pick Buckaroo over Scrabble.” I could literally see how offended Harry was by everything he’d heard in the past minute, his brows were screwed in the centre and his lips pouted, shaking his head at the lot of us. Even Harry’s grumpy face was absolutely adorable. He moved to pass me the beer, but of course he had to press the freezing cold thing against my face like a fool rather than just giving it to me like a normal person. “You bastard!” I huffed, grabbing it from his hand. He leaned down and kissed me briefly, his attempts weakened by his enormous grin before he darted back into the kitchen. “Mum, what do you want to drink?” “Whatever, I don’t give a shit.” She wheezed. “Trivial Pursuit?” “IS THAT TWISTER?” Liam leaned forward in his chair. “Huh?” “Tell me now, Janine, is that Twister?” “It is.” She smiled. “WE HAVE A WINNER!” Harry appeared a few moments later with what appeared to be whiskey on the rocks for his mother as Liam leaped towards the Twister box and began unpacking. As soon as Harry’s hands were free he advanced towards me once more, grabbing at my waist and pulling me close. He cupped my jaw and moved his lips to my temple as I gripped at his patterned shirt, closing my eyes and letting my lips play the signs of my contentment. “I can’t wait to see you attempt to do this.” He sniggered to my skin. “When I fall, I’m taking you down with me.” He continued to his rhythm of kisses against my skin until his lips had coiled round to my own, his hands moving to the back of my neck as he pulled my head closer to his and his plump lips engaged mine, leaving me flustered and bashful. The happiness I was experiencing, the sheer, unconcealed elation, was something I wanted to feel for the rest of my life. 42 The alcohol I’d consumed was helping to shield the cold air somewhat as I stood in the back garden with Liam, who was sucking on his cigarette. The Styles family had all gotten a little emotional over their love for one another and were sharing a group hug in the kitchen, and even though earlier on in the evening they’d said I was part of the family, I was still very aware that I didn’t have a place in the embrace, so we had left them to it. “You were extremely bad at Twister.” Liam noted. “I was, wasn’t I?” I groaned. “It’s the whole game, man. Having to be coordinated and… the whole not falling over thing… It’s not for me.” “How did you manage to break two glasses though?” “Well they were on the table and then I slipped and… Basically, I shouldn’t be trusted around anything that can break, because I will break it.” “Best be careful with my best mates heart then.” He raised his eyebrows. I smiled down to the floor, knowing that Liam had nothing to worry about, since Harry’s heart wasn’t something I actually possessed. But it was good to know we were doing a good job of convincing people we really were together. “Trust me, he’ll be fine.” I smirked. “It’s weird.” Liam spoke between inhales. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” “Never?” “Never.” He confirmed. “Even down to the way he looks at you, Ren. It’s mad. There must be something about ya.” “I don’t think so.” “Well I know. I’ve known him for years and I know what he’s like. Just… be gentle with him, alright? Past those biceps he’s a delicate soul.” “I know.” I heaved a sigh. “It’s one of my favourite things about him.” My drunken mind quickly ran over the fact that I had lots of favourite things about Harry. His curls, his aura, his fancy shirts, his golden heart, his flat and his cat and the fact that he was wonderful down to his core. After being in his company nonstop I really had thought that I’d stumble across something that wasn’t good, something that wasn’t completely engrossing. Harry had stumbled across many of my shortcomings during our time together, but it seemed as though he was faultless. It was hard to start my favourite things about Harry list, because I wasn’t sure it would ever end. “It’s nice to see him so happy.” Liam sighed. “He deserves it.” “He does.” I nodded. Harry did deserve someone who made him happy, truly happy, like in the way Liam thought I was making him. Harry deserved to fall in love and be with someone who could give him everything he warranted, someone who could help him and make him smile, someone who was just as perfect as he was. “I’m gunna come visit him for a night out at some point in the New Year.” Liam added. “Will you be around?” “Um… I… Yeah? I think so. I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” “No… Yeah… I’ll be there.” He gave me an extremely puzzled look, and I couldn’t blame him. Myself and Harry knew we were going to remain friends, even past our arrangement, but Liam was expecting to see us together again as a couple, which wasn’t something he was going to get. I couldn’t guarantee that I would be there when Liam went to visit his best friend, because even though we wanted to remain in one another’s lives, it wouldn’t be how Liam expected it to be. The situation had always been complicated, and ridiculous, but it was only just dawning on me that the aftermath of our faux affair would be just as complicated as the actual affair itself. “Well then I’ll see you in the new year.” He concluded, with questions still curtailing his eyes. “You will, promise.” I said firmly. “I’m gunna have to go home.” He threw his cigarette on the floor. “I’m not sure I can hack another drink.” “I need to sleep.” I yawned at the thought. Liam had been just about to step back indoors until I said that, and it stopped him. He looked to me, seemingly grave over his next words. “How’s he sleeping?” I swallowed my sadness, trying once again to remain strong even though his dreams weakened me quite apparently, because I was the only person other than Harry who had seen the dreams, and people were intrigued and concerned over the wellbeing of their loved one. “Still bad.” I mulled. “I… I do the best I can though.” “And I love you for it, Ren. I’ve never seen them but… I’ve heard them. It can’t be easy.” I shrugged, trying to abolish the solemn look on my face, because I was extremely aware that how the dreams affected me was the least of everyone’s worries, including my own. “As long as I’m there for him, I don’t really care.” He smiled, nodding his head to the floor and seemingly happy with my response. He moved and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before he let himself back inside, out of the cold. I followed swiftly behind, glad to be walking into happy faces. “I’m going home!” Liam bid. “Thank you so, so much for having me, and feeding me all your beer.” “Get home safe!” Adam demanded aggressively. “I LOVE YOU ALL!” He yelled as he ran to the front door. “BYE LIAM!” Harry waved. It wasn’t long after Liam had left that we all retreated to our rooms. It must have been the early hours of the morning, but I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d checked the hour. I was so wrapped up in our games night, in all the wonderful people who surrounded me, it kind of felt like I hadn’t wanted it to end. When I wandered into Harry’s room finally, I noticed that he’d found a vase, and placed the lavender atop the cabinet on my side of the bed. Butterflies propelled around my stomach. Once he’d closed his bedroom door, we began undressing in silence. I nearly tripped over myself as I bent down to retrieve his Joy Division t-shirt once again, but I managed to stay on my feet as Harry clambered back under his purple sheets in just his boxers, tucking himself in and completely snug by the time I joined him under the covers. I’d barely been in for a second before his hands were on my waist, and he was dragging me so the front of my body was surged with his. “Hey!” I giggled, pretending to fight his affections. He didn’t even say anything, he didn’t need to, because he knew my resistance was completely fabricated. All he did was grin, his eyes closed as our legs tangled, and the tip of my nose met his. We were quiet for a long time. I concentrated on his breathing, on the fact that even though he was totally relaxed and still, there was still a smile splaying his tender lips, totally subconscious and natural. I placed my cold hands on his jaw, and continued to stare, refusing to welcome sleep. After a while, he shot one eye open, scoping over my features. “Ren, go to sleep.” He instructed. “I am!” “You’re trying to make sure I’m okay, aren’t you?” “No.” “Liar.” “I just-” “Ren, don’t worry, I’ve been drinking, it’s fine.” He closed his eyes once more. “Besides, I know you’re here. I’ve got you.” “My eyes are here.” I hushed. That was the first time I’d brought up the whole eye thing without it being amidst his waking after a dream, and mentioning it then, I thought we’d joke about it, I thought we would poke fun and laugh over it. But we didn’t. “Exactly.” He whispered. “They’re all I need. You’re all I need.” Although I knew he’d been drinking, and I knew he’d be okay for the evening, I still watched him intently until I was sure he was fast asleep, that same smile still embracing his fat lips. His lips, that for some reason, I decided to kiss before I drifted into my slumber.

#Harry Styles #1dff #TFA15 #probably do the next on Sunday #eeeeeeeeeeep #me #mine

[talialevine]

You Know Not To Disobey

In the beginning of her novel, Women Who Run With The Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes, “Wildlife and the Wild Woman are both endangered species. Over time, we have seen the feminine instinctive nature looted, driven back, and overbuilt. For long periods it has been mismanaged like the wildlife and the wildlands… throughout history, it has been plundered or burnt… natural cycles forced into unnatural rhythms to please others.” I include this quote because I believe that any woman, when looking at how the concept of womanhood has defined and shaped her life, would feel as though a greater force has always been working against her. For this is how I have felt my entire life. Womanhood has mostly been defined for me in my twenty-four years of life on this Earth, yet I have never wavered in my exploration to discover others who share my own definition. In this way I have looked at the concept of womanhood differently as I embark on different periods in my life. This short memoir is dedicated to sharing my vulnerabilities as I have experienced them as a young girl, and as a woman, and the ways in which those vulnerabilities have defined and shaped the way I look at womanhood.

When I was ten years old I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. While my father played an absent role, my mom was hyper-controlling. She would check my testing kit every week, eventually causing me to fake my numbers with control solution in order to please her. Both my parents tried to limit my activities in fear of my Type 1 getting out of control. This taught me that in turn, my life was limited and I would never be able to do the things “normal children” could.

I was taught how a woman is “supposed to be” from a young age. Being a daughter of two post-World War II generation parents I grew up in a household of my parent’s making. As Dr. Estes writes, the “post-World War II generation grew up in a time when women were infantilized and treated as property… parents who abused their children were simply called ‘strict,’ when the spiritual lacerations of profoundly exploited women were referred to as ‘nervous breakdowns,’ when females who managed to slip the collar for a moment or two of life were branded ‘bad.’” Although the world began to progress, parents growing up in this era had clear morals and values instilled into their way of life, and this significantly affected the ways in which I was raised, and how my shortcomings were handled by my parents. When I disobeyed, my father took an authoritarian approach. Although my father never hit me, he had a particular style of punishment that was terrifying to my sensitive young self. He liked to back me into a corner, so I would have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I recall once running from him and barricading myself in my bathroom (no doors had locks on them in my home growing up) with furniture to try to keep him out. When he finally got to me he would point his finger in my face and grit his teeth. My father taught me that obedience was key, and lack of, was the ultimate betrayal. Throughout this, my mother was silent. She too, was taught that disobedience of her husband was unacceptable. So she would put her head down and say nothing.

A Film on Family Life in the 1950′s

When I was fourteen years of age, my family travelled to Akumal, Mexico, as we did every holiday season since I was little. We went with some dear family friends, whose children were the same age as my brother and I. When we rented a golf cart to drive around the village, my father warned me not to drive as you had to be sixteen to get behind the wheel. However, one day as my father and I, along with Mary and Rick (her father) drove home in the golf cart, Mary asked if we could drive back into town without our fathers to check out a store. Rick said that was fine, and my father did not protest, in fact, he said nothing. We dropped them off at the condominium complex and drove back to the store. Mary didn’t find what she was looking for and so we got back into the golf cart and started to drive back towards the condo, however we stopped suddenly when we saw a blue van speeding towards us, the same style that my father had rented. As the van parked, my father stormed out. He ran towards me. His face was red, his eyes were crazy, and he grabbed me violently by the arm. Mary, Rick, and I all protested at once.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” he said.

“Mick, please, it was my fault!” Rick pleaded. My father forcefully dragged me into the car, as I was not going willingly.

“You are never to disobey me, you knew what I said,” my father stammered through gritted teeth.

“Dad, Rick said I could go, you didn’t hear -” I tried, but my father told me to shut up, and I did as I was told. We drove back to the condo in silence, as I tried to hold in my sobbing. He parked and opened my door, grabbing me once more by my wrist.

“Dad, stop, you’re hurting me!” I cried. He started walking faster, so I could barely keep up with him, and every few steps I would slip and fall. He didn’t stop, he continued to drag me all the way through the outdoor lobby, and all the way up three long flights of stairs to our condo. When we got through the door he physically threw me into my room.

“You are never to disobey me again, you hear?” He asked.

“Fuck you,” I said through sobs. His eyes flickered, like I had set something off in his body, something violent and uncontrollable.

“You will stay in here until you apologize,” he said and locked the door from the outside so I couldn’t escape. About five minutes later I could hear Mary and Rick arguing with my father. He told them to leave. I still had my cell phone so I called my mother, hysterical. Her response?

“Well you knew better than to disobey him.” She hung up.

Years later my therapist and I went over this story with my father, hoping to receive some means of reconciliation. He told me, “Sometimes you have to forgive yourself, and I have forgiven myself.” This incident along with years of borderline physical and mental abuse, caused me to view my womanhood as something that made me less than. It showed me that I was not important, my suffering did not matter, and my only job in this world was to obey the men who sought to control me.

After my grades were unsatisfactory for my father’s liking in my junior year of highschool, a similar event unfolded. This time, his words affected my future. He told me I would not get into college, “hell with these grades you wouldn’t even get into CU,” he said. He told me if I didn’t get my act together I could end up in the street, as I certainly would not be welcome in his household. My mother watched me cry, and she watched as my father told me crying was weak, so stop it. I stopped crying, went into my room and swallowed every pill I could find. I passed out, pissed my pants, and by the time my mother came into the room to check on me my blood sugars were lingering dangerously low. I spent two days in the hospital. The doctors wanted to admit me to the psychiatric clinic and put me on suicide watch, but my father protested. He told them he was a doctor and he was taking his daughter home. I was released “Against Medical Advice”.

When I woke up in my bed the following morning, I was covered in sticky patches. I had a large bandage where medical staff had tried to place the IV while I was unconscious. There were two plastic medical wristbands on each of my wrists, stating my name and what I was admitted for; attempted suicide. My father was the first to notice I was awake. He told me breakfast was served and to please meet him in the greenhouse, where our dining room table was. Groggy and confused, I walked into the greenhouse. My father, mother, and brother had already started eating. Bagels, lox, cream cheese, tomatoes, egg-whites, onions, and orange juice were all laid out beautifully on the table. I sat down and my father started speaking.

“We know you didn’t really want to kill yourself,” my father said, pausing to swallow some OJ, “and we know you did it to get back at us.” I didn’t say a word. Neither did my brother or my mother.

“So,” my father continued, “we want you to set up a plan to move on and let us know how you plan on getting back on track in school.” He continued eating his bagel. When I didn’t respond, he said, “Understood?” I nodded and left the table. It was never brought up again. Not once. To this day we do not talk about it or acknowledge it ever happened. Which is fitting, given how the next seven years of my life have played out.

This early exposure to rules regarding how women are supposed to act dictated how I viewed myself in the world. I did not feel I was allowed to speak up when wrongdoing was inflicted. I felt that my sexualization in the eyes of men and women was to be taken as a compliment. I was promiscuous through college, craving attention from others in order to prove my self worth. Freshman year, when I met a group of girls who accepted me, I felt like I had finally found my place in the world. These girls had a group of guy friends, a year older but five times as rowdy. They hosted wild parties on the hill and I was grateful to be liked by them. As Sophomore year rolled around, the girls and I moved into a house together. We frequently partied with the group of boys, and eventually each and every one of my roommates had slept with one or more of them, everyone except me. I began to receive unwanted attention from the boys, as I assumed they were aware that I was the only girl in the house that had not been “conquered” by the boys. One boy in particular, Nick, who had an ongoing relationship with Maddie, one of my roommates, began to show a particular interest in me. He would corner me at parties and ask for “just one kiss”. Each time someone else intervened, reading the uncomfortable situation. The first few times I laughed girlishly and tried to play the situation off casually, however, soon I developed a concrete disliking for Nick, one I was extremely verbal about both to Nick and Maddie.

One night all the girls in the house decided to go out, but I had a test the next day and decided to stay in. A few hours later I heard footsteps and loud noises upstairs. At first I assumed the girls had come home early but I soon identified the source of the voices; Nick and Lucas, another boy from the house. They started banging on Mikela’s door, shouting for her. We had been chewed out the day before for throwing a party at our house that disturbed our neighbors, so I immediately ran upstairs to calm them down. They were huge coke-heads, and they were fucked up.

“Talia!” Nick cooed.

“Please be quiet, Mikela and Maddie aren’t here,” I said.

“So you’re here alone?” Nick asked.

“Yes,” I said annoyed, not realizing my mistake. Nick smiled.

“Well,” he said taking off his shirt and walking downstairs, “Let’s have some fun!”

He crashed down the stairs and I followed, hoping to get him to leave. Lucas stayed upstairs. I told Nick to leave. He did not. He did the same song and dance I was getting so used to. Again, I refused his advances. But this time, there was no one to intervene, and he got mad. He slammed my body into the kitchen cupboards. He told me to obey him, words I was accustomed to adhering to. He went into my room. I only wanted him to leave. I told him this. I said I wouldn’t tell anyone, just please leave. He smiled, and I knew what was going to happen next. He knew what was going to happen next. And I let it happen.

I didn’t tell anyone for weeks. My roommates only knew Nick had been violent because of the damage they inflicted to the house. I slowly stopped going to my classes. Planned out how I was going to end it all. I would walk up towards Chautauqua and drown in the lake. Finally I told my best friend, Emily. Then I told my mom. She sent a cheesecake from New York and a package from Europe, and arranged for me to see a therapist. She did not want me to prosecute. My father and I have never spoken about the incident. When I finally told my other roommates, it was only because they were planning on going out with Nick that evening. At first they were sympathetic, then we never talked about it again. They continued to hang out with Nick (you can’t make this up).

Why Society Defends Rape

 I eventually dropped out of school. I went to a recovery center for five days in Arizona, but they drugged me heavily and most of the meetings were for drug addicts and alcoholics. I moved back in with my parents in their home in Arizona. They let me stay there for about five months before they let me know they were disappointed with my progress and I would need to go back to school and move out, which I did. I went back to school for one year. Then I dropped out again. After months of suicidal thoughts, I decided to leave Colorado, and Boulder in particular, for good. I moved to Arizona and got a job working at a clothing boutique. About a year later I decided to re-enroll in online courses.

I am now finishing my degree and am set to graduate from CU Boulder in August of this year. I have not overcome my past. I have a lot more work to do in order to become a stronger woman. I do not feel strong, but I am alive. Perhaps that is the secret of life; to endure.

My story is not over. The concept of womanhood that has defined my youth, will not define my life. As Dr. Estes writes, the Wild Woman is an endangered species, but I am a Wild Woman, and I will not be tamed.

[redlemonz]

Day #17

Couldn't sleep much last night. I kept waking up during various, random bursts throughout the night, simply missing her. It's starting to hit me again.. I'm slowly experiencing that same pain in this endless loop of reality. Which means it's going to keep happening on a daily basis anyway. What's worse is that I know it's gonna be a long day at work, as I have much to do, but will probably be yawning throughout the day. My mind is already steaming at this point, and I think the only way to relieve it from a little pressure is through the releasing of some tears in the shower. Fun fact upon writing that: I couldn't even last until reaching the shower as they slowly streamed down my face. What a great big mess, grasping onto the temples of his head with his fingers and attempting to hide himself from this harsh and unfair fate. My breathing slows, and with each breath it feels as though I'm inhaling much less air than usual. I can hear the sound of my heart beating and racing along faster than usual. Hello, old friend. I haven't missed you, but glad you could stop by to fuck up my morning. Ah well, it's bound to keep happening right? The strangest part is having to get use to the feeling - just accepting it and letting it wash over you, until it naturally flows away. Which it never completely does. There's been moments where I've even questioned on a logical basis, whether to go back into my past and consume my old antidepressants, out of near desperation at times. There's nothing wrong with reaching out for that sort of help, right? I mean I don't do drugs and I'm not currently consuming alcohol, so I'm somewhat doing a good job in taking care of myself, so that should technically warrant this option viable? Wrong. Because it would be exactly what I just stated - taking a step backwards, into the wrong direction. I haven't come this far, and battled myself for so damn long, just to surrender at this moment, and tag in a reinforcement for another while. This is solely my war to fight, and it's time that I actually took the responsibility upon myself to soldier on as the lone wolf I am, without reliance upon anyone or anything else, in order to fix myself. And even if I ultimately can't, I'll still die trying. Day 17 - true love truly hurts Even at work, I'm supposedly unable to hide this aspect of sleep deprivation on a physical basis. Not that I'm trying to withhold yawning or anything, because it's not that. The other two of the three asked me out of the blue whether I was really tired, although I had my upbeat, cheerful mask of a personality on - which is where my confusion lied. However, It wasn't the first time in the last 12 hours I'd been asked this either, as my bald, semi-professional indoor team mate had also questioned why my eyes were so red. Seems as though this pigmentation couldn't be resolved with my lack of sleep - how surprising. In fact, I'm being asked by the other two if I'm high instead so it must be bad. Yup - checked in the bathroom, and literally looking like I'm slightly possessed. Don't even care enough to try wash it away - may as well embrace how I feel, and it portrays my evil persona pretty well too. Have I mentioned I'm a bad person yet? Because I am. I have to say though - quite proud and happy with the fact that my efforts do seem to be recognised in my work now.. especially considering it's been a hell of a time for a lot of people in my current sort of role that seem to be getting a demotion of sorts in terms of the work they do. I can count my lucky stars there certainly, because I'm not sure how I'd feel or be able to contain the mess I am if I were in that position, as it'd just be another avenue for my mental breakdown. Because it helps that I have to force myself into enough sanity for the greater good, and to serve justice (as my alarm clock would indicate). I realise that I make my job right now feel super important and everything, and I'm probably even easily replaceable, but it's only because I really need this belief in order to gain some much needed points in self worth and self respect, considering I'm lacking much of either. It really does give a big blow to your confidence (and not in a good way) when you put so much effort in, and it can go either unrecognised, or be insufficient, or often enough - both. That's why I tend to be such a pessimistic and secure person, who remains within his confines and tries not to give a damn, though my sensitivity to others is one of my greatest flaws (and apparently my humility is not far behind). Because at the end of the day, raising your expectations through optimism can be dangerous - and even potentially fatal when that very optimism hits extremes, to the point where you now can't distinguish fantasy and reality from one another properly. I know it's all about balancing the two, but my sincere vulnerability has left me scarred enough through my experiences to even attempt crossing along that bridge. If anything, I see it as a good and sensible quality, as it avoids (or rather reduces) the likely disappointment and pain that await on the other side. It's primarily the reason why I didn't want to commit to anything more meaningful with other girls for years, even when a variety of opportunistic chances arose with ease (I'm an insecure and arrogant prick, yes, but I'm also rather charming). Also I just never really liked anyone enough. Until her. She broke that space time continuum when she walked back into my life, and without a second thought, I leaped across that bridge. Usually, when you think as though something's way too good to be true, it probably is. Not her. She was that speck of truth that places the doubt in sayings like that. She brought out the light in my life (figuratively and literally) and made me realise that it's okay, and even more so, pretty damn good, to step outside my usual comfort zone. There's just something about her that makes you want to do crazy things so hastily and spontaneously, and makes your heart race in a melodically beautiful manner (in a non-threatening way for once), even if you're accustomed to being one of the most organised and intellectual people you know. That all goes out the window when you meet the girl of your dreams. Let's not forget that I was constantly rejected on countless occasions when pursuing her from my friend zone, and even when we finally did get together, which left me suffering through a lot of pain and insecurity in the process. But the fact of the matter at hand is that I always had the knowledge of the monument sized risk I was taking each time that I took a chance on her. I knew that we were nearly polar opposites (but you know what Science says!) in almost every regard, and that a spectacle like her would never see a guy like me in that way. Hell, even she knew it, and wasn't afraid to essentially spell it out for me vocally on plenty of occasions. But her actions often dictated otherwise. And so, with that being enough motivation - I persevered through it all, until the day her heart had graced me with a special, vacant spot. I didn't need to go to Disneyland to have my Disneyland moment, when I was with her. I loved life (which I think, is the first time I've ever used those words in the same sentence together - feels a bit weird now) with her, as she truly made me the happiest and luckiest man alive. Though I was still in touch with reality, don't worry - she controlled my new found optimism from reaching that extreme level of fantasy, and balanced me out well - like the mediator she is. So obviously, it hasn't always been a honeymoon, and isn't always just and easy - which is why we are where we are right now. Because I took her for granted, couldn't control my insecurities, failed to listen, and the list of excuses go on - but you get it by now, that I fucked it all up. There's been a lot of pain we've both experienced as a result. I often don't know how to handle it, and my suffering can even be rather unbearable to the point where I sometimes wish I didn't awaken from my slumber, as I'm sure is easily established by now too. So, the real questions here are - was taking that leap even worth it in the end, after everything I've experienced, and after everything that's happened? You bet it was. Absolutely, and without a doubt. If I had the chance to go through it all again, I would - in a heartbeat. I'd just make sure to do things right, and be better, this time around. Why? Because she's worth it. She's always been worth it, and she'll always continue to be worth it. And how do I know this? Because even though I've come to know the harsh reality that I'm not worth it, I love her with all my heart.