#but with how full of vitality and dependable he was. and how happy and stupid my upbringing made me. i took him for granted. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alltheotherfairies · 2 years

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bylergiftexchange2022 - plain text version

Hiiii @hiddenbarinapocketdimension sorry this is a day late, my dinky little chromebook's motherboard literally broke in the middle of making it + I could only get to the library and use the computers there today but, hey, at least the date's pretty perfect, happy vol. 2 release day! I slightly altered the 'Mike and Will rebuild Castle Byers together' prompt, adding some of my own headcanons. I hope you enjoy! (also, I listened to the glee soundtrack while writing some parts of it, so that's officially my excuse if it's bad lmao)

This has been super fun & a great challenge, and I'm really glad I chose to participate in this exchange. Thanks @robins-schmuck for being such a great coordinator, please let me know if you ever do another one!

tw/ very long, crying, loneliness, childhood, laboratory mentions, gore, organs, panic & panic attacks, blood, brief mentions of crime scenes, a heart stopping (no one dies, it's just a very elaborate metaphor), death mentions, shame, swearing, f slur, the word stupid, poison mentions (again, metaphorical), bullet/gun mentions (metaphorical), lying mentions, mentions of ugliness, mentions of killers/murder (metaphorical, I'm beginning to think I have too many metaphors), destruction (I mean, it's heavily centric around the "It's not my fault you don't like girls!"/Castle Byers destruction scenes, so if you couldn't handle those, for which I do not blame you, you might want to sit this one out), rain, baseball bats, not being able to breathe (see: panic attacks), homophobia, internalized homophobia

Will Byers constantly feels alone. Will has days where he feels as if he's lost his entire childhood. Like it just passed him by. He realizes this isn't true, at least not entirely—three years isn't a full childhood, and yet. He, forever weeping in a monstrous place, be it an alternate dimension, blindingly white laboratory, or even what he had previously considered to be the ultimate safe space crafted by his and his brother’s shaking hands; had no adventures, no privilege of seeing it all from afar, no new friends or bonding experiences, no typical conversations at family dinners, no shot at normalcy, no dependability, no shoulders, within the monstrosities, to weep on besides his own.

He knows his childhood was not absorbed by his anguish, but, if that were to be the case, he would have no explanation for why he would cry sometimes. How he would try, in vain, to cling to old hobbies, old habits, old feelings, try to cling to, go back to, his childhood. How he would, as if gasping for air after having one’s head pressed below the sea, come to the realization that he could not go back, that it was gone. How he would cry then, violently, whimpers soon turning into wails. He had no answer. It was easier to blame it on all that had happened, rather than looking inward. Sometimes scents will take him back to his youth. There will be certain friends he cannot bring himself to talk to anymore, for so long that phone calls will have to become reunions. His mom's runny mashed potatoes, the nostalgia of them, will retroactively become the best food he's ever tasted. How he would cry then, violently, whimpers soon turning into wails. He had no answer. It was easier to blame it on all that had happened, rather than looking inward.

Will's heart nearly bursts out of his body in panic, blood spraying all over the walls like a crime scene, the vital organ sputtering to pulsating nothingness on his bedroom floor, when Jonathan, his brother and the single person he trusts more than anyone in the universe not to hurt him, emerges behind him to mess up his hair or give him a reassuring pat him on the shoulder, comforting actions that result in burst and bloody chests. He wants to turn back the clock, he wants to go down to Mike's (sort of musty, he wasn’t going to lie) basement and spend fourteen straight hours playing D&D. He wishes to revert to his childhood self. To be safe. Or, at the very least, to not be aware of possible unsafety. Now, he interacts with the world not as himself, but as an echo of who he once was, what he could be before he learned what it was like to die.

The minutes rolled away. The days had been so much interchangeable, he stopped noticing the months pass. And, all throughout that time, he has remained largely alone. He feels socially unacceptable among even his friends, among especially his friends. He does not tell them this. He always has felt shameful while being seen in the gesture of wanting anything and everything he could not have.

And, he realizes, maybe he was wrong. He can go back to the past, can go whenever he wants. But there is no one there anymore.

He longs for his friends.

Most significantly, he longs for, misses the days when Mike wasn’t being such a complete douche.

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Will feels as if he's been hit over the head. It easily could have been something Troy said to Will when they were kids, when he taunted him about his faggotry. Said faggotry was a truth he had confided in Jonathan, one that only alone knew. Sure, others had suspicions, but Jonathan was the only one who knew for sure.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk, okay?” Mike, for what it's worth, appears to be genuinely apologetic. “But we’re not kids anymore.”

And Will wishes he could tell him that he would like to be. How he never got to have truly been. That he lost it all and he needs to go back, and oh god, please, let him go back.

“I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?”

Will has so many things to say. After all that had gone wrong, he figured Mike would understand why he couldn't bear solitude. That he trusted his friends to be around for him. That D&D, that Mike, is really the only way he is going to get out of the foolish inferno he's landed himself in. But his eye sockets are starting to boil up with blood-hot tears, but if there's anything Mike no longer gets to have, it's to indulge his savior complex, to see him cry.

“Yeah,” he spits out, intended venom only coming out as whimpers. He got his wish after all, at least vocally - he sounds like a helpless, heartbroken, little kid. “I guess I did. I really did.”

Will seems unconcerned that the storm is brewing more intensely than before. He runs to his bicycle, between the raindrops - he can be insensible, too - and races out of the driveway, barely being able to see the luxury car on the path in front of him. It makes no difference. All he needs to do now is go home. Distance from his shitty friends. Distance from fucking Mike, stupid Mike, who is trying to speak from behind him.

“Will. Will! Will, come on!”

Fuck you. He thinks, the very thought dripping with poison, and he is revolted by it, terrified of himself for thinking it. So he thinks it again. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck Mike. Fuck you, Mike Wheeler.

He thought it would help. That he would feel better.

It does not help.

He does not feel better.

“Et tu, Brute?” He remembered that one from history class, set in golden amber to remain in his memory courtesy of the paper Mike had written on the tale. "There would have to be trust before there could be treachery."

And now the person that he would always take a literal bullet for was the one behind the metaphorical gun.

Mike's heart was beating with the feeling that he’d done something completely and utterly wrong. It felt like when he got in trouble with his parents for lying to them or breaking one of his mom's good dishes, and he wished that he could take it back so he wouldn't have to feel bad about it anymore (and so he wouldn't be grounded). But the feeling of wrongdoing he had now was a thousand times worse, because the most important friendship of his life was at stake. If only he hadn't opened his stupid mouth, and said all those stupid things.

Stupid. So stupid.

What possessed him to say such a thing? Will had never consulted him that he liked... well, not girls, but he had started to notice things that made him wonder over the years. The Karate Kid, which he'd recently become preoccupied with, immediately comes to mind. When the party was trying to decide on a movie to watch, Max would always offer it, and Will would always agree, claiming that it was just a really good movie, despite the fact that it didn't fit the party's favored genre. Mike realized it wasn't proof in and of itself, but he'd also never had a girlfriend or displayed any interest in women. And the truth of the matter that Will had reacted to the statement with silence pretty much fortified any speculations in Mike's head.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Will's journey home is ugly. His tires' tread is wearing thin, and every so often he gets into a swerve that almost takes him down. He's drenched to the bone, his hair is adhered to his cheeks, and everything in his rucksack has been most likely decimated. He avoids his house in favor of Castle Byers because his blood flows sour around Mirkwood, as it usually does.

Will parks his bike in front of the house, turns on the lamp, and comes crashing down on the mattress. It's frigid and leaking, and his heart is still burdened with deceit and anguish. He looks at the myriad comic books in the space that is getting smaller as he grows. He analyzes the sketches on the wall, which show Will the Wise and all of their campaign's characters. He even has photographs of them all together, from trick-or-treating and years beforehand and just then Will feels fucking stupid. He couldn't hold back the tears he'd been holding back at Mike's house. He understands that they won't be children forever. But he had hoped, if only for a day, that they could play along. They might just act as though everything were the same as they were before. He could pretend to be happy and fearless, to be loved and to matter in the same way that he used to.

Things have changed since then, and there's no going back. It’s time to grow up.

Mike is right.

They’re not kids anymore.

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Will makes a concerted effort to concentrate on the pages of the comic book, but Mike's voice continues repeating the same lines in his head. He turns the page, but the story still doesn't pique his interest, so he hurls it onto the ground of Castle Byers, annoyed.

“Stupid….stupid…” muttering to himself, Will shreds the picture in his hands, the one he hadn't even realized he picked up, before moving to everything on the walls, ripping drawings and photographs down with fervor. As he rips off the other pictures and drawings stapled to the wobbly walls, he repeats it again and again, crying. “So stupid. Stupid.”

He gets to his knees and crawls out of the fort, seizing the bat hanging against one of the walls. He pauses for a while, taking in the sight of the spot in which he's felt most secure for so long. He swings.

And Castle Byers collapses piece by piece, exactly as it was constructed. He never knew his killer would come from within.

Although the stronghold isn't completely waterproof, the majority of the items inside have remained unscathed throughout time. Will, on the other hand, feels suffocated when he considers all of the memories. He picks up a photo of the group from Halloween last year, and seeing the happiness and innocence, the pure youthful joy, causes him to crumble. He wants to be himself again. He wants to be ten. He does not want to know all that he knows now.

As he pounds the bat time after time, his head hurts from how hard he's crying, his shouts drowned out by the rain. He doesn't allow himself to feel bad about it, but the ache of realizing that things are now irreversibly messed up weighs heavily on his shoulders. As he smashes the bat to the earth, snagging the planks that form the entryway and ripping it completely off the structure, it feeds his rage. He feels a sickly delight in causing himself so much decay.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

This was something he needed to fix. He needed to make sure Will was alright because the guilty ache in his heart would never want to go away if he didn't. Mike dashed back inside to collect Lucas, and the pair of them leapt on their bikes, unconcerned about the downpour as they rode towards the Byers' house.

As he pedaled away, Mike thought to himself, "Please let him be okay."

When they finally got to Will’s, it was pouring more than ever before, rain saturating their coats and weighing them down like they had lead in their pockets. They beat their fists upon the front door and called out to him with desperation, but there was no answer.

Over the sound of rain pounding the metal roof like gunfire, Lucas yelled, “He's not here!”

Mike's first reaction was that he hadn't made it, that Will had been injured in some kind of bizarre accident. The prospect of life without his best friend made his stomach plummet. But then it occurred to him that he knew exactly where he was.

“I'm going to go look for him! Stay here in case he comes back!” Mike yelled over to Lucas, already taking off.

“Okay!” And that was the end of it. He should have realized this was where the will was from the start. He would have six months ago. He was still a good friend at the time. He wished he had never allowed himself to drift so far away from him, from what they used to be. But it was so simple to spend all of his time with El, and it was so intoxicating to feel like a regular teenager again, rather than the dorky frogface child who was constantly pushed around. Whatever it was, he just prayed it wasn't too late to make things right with Will, because if it wasn't, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

When Mike arrived at Castle Byers, he was jolted out of his reverie. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Mike recognized how severely he had screwed up when he saw Will with a bat in his shaky hands demolishing his safe haven. The weight in his chest grew heavier than he had anticipated.

"Will, please stop!" He screamed, his face flushed with the sound of thin tree branches cracking. Will didn't recognize his presence at all. "Please, Will!" Stop! You have no idea what you're doing!"

“Will! Will, what are you doing?"

Before he can identify Mike's words, arms squeeze him from behind and drag him away from the fractured shards of his boyhood.

"Leave me alone!" Will screams, attempting to break free from the grip around him but failing; the arms around his chest keep him immobile.

"What's the matter, Will?" Mike's voice, which is practically next to his ear, asks. Will acknowledges absently that he seems afraid.

"Mike, get out of here!" Will cried weakly in between sobs, his gaze remaining fixed on the other boy. It sounded like something someone said when they couldn't think of anything else to say. Mike's eyes welled up with tears as he realized how much his friend was suffering.

"Let me go!" Will screamed as he struggled to free himself from Mike's grip, dropping his bat in the attempt.

Mike apologized, "I'm sorry." "Is this some kind of episode?"

“No! Please, just let me go!" Will grunts as he finally breaks free from their grip and staggers away.

"Let go," Will pleaded softly this time as he sank to his knees, all his remaining fight draining from him. Mike clung to him as he fell to the ground, never letting go. Will continued to cry in his arms, and he felt his friend's agony as if it were his own, as if Will's happiness and well-being were somehow inextricably related to his own. That was how it had always been, and it still was, even though they'd just drifted away. Mike couldn't fathom a time when it wouldn't be the case. Mike put his head on Will's shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, attempting to reassure him that he wasn't alone. That he was and would always be here.

Mike murmured, trying to justify, "I didn't mean what I said." He quickly identified this was the wrong course of action because it infuriated Will all the more.

“Like hell you didn’t! We both know you meant every damn word, Mike, so don't try to pretend you didn't," Will cried as he twisted away from the larger boy. "You can't go back!"

Mike couldn't react since he didn't know how. Will spoke again before he could think of anything to add.

When Mike looks down and sees Will's hands trembling, he is instantly reminded of another time when they were sitting side by side, Mike trying to do precisely what he was trying to do now, what he had always tried to do: comfort his closest, best friend. He suddenly reached across and clasped his hand over Will's.

“Will?” Mike inquires, his voice practically drowned out by the rain. "How did this happen?"

“What does it look like?” Will spits, allowing his rage to conceal the sadness and pain that he wants to express.

"It looks like you were attacked and this place was messed up!" Mike adds, "I can't believe it," as he points to the rubbish heap that's all that's left of Castle Byers. "Are you okay, Will?" His eyes are big and anxious as he asks. Another wave of rage washes over Will.

"I'm fine. I just didn't need it anymore. Will says, childishly kicking a log and grunting as agony runs up his leg.

“What?” Mike asks, shakily and perplexed, "You did this?" Will ignores his troubled expression.

“Yeah. "I mean, it was about time," Will adds, trying as hard as he can to persuade himself as much as Mike. "I did it when I was a scared little kid. But we’re not kids anymore, huh?”

As he delivers that final part, he doesn't notice Mike's flinch. Mike extends his hand out in front of him.

"Will, I didn't mean that."

“Uh yeah, it was! You can't go back now! It's fine, I know what you meant. I think I deserved a wake-up call," Will says, stepping over a log and moving further away from his friend.

"Will, no, I said something stupid. We're just fourteen, and you're totally right about us spending too much time with our girlfriends. And we shouldn't quit doing something just because we're doing something else now. Like, we have the entire summer to do whatever we want."

Will stands there watching Mike waffle, seeming annoyed as if he's having trouble getting his point over.

"You don't have to say all this to make me feel better," Will grumbles, glancing down at the shambles around his feet. He's working hard to avoid losing it in front of Mike once more.

Mike knew they still had a lot to speak about, but he also understood that holding hands on the muddy ground in the rain wasn't the place to do it.

“Will? Let me get you home, okay?" Mike pleaded as the other boy looked across at him. Will returned his gaze to Castle Byers and then nodded slowly, taking a deep breath.

Mike placed a cautious arm across Will's shoulders as they went back slowly, unsure how receptive he was of the contact at this time. Will, on the other hand, didn't push him away; instead, he let out a trembling breath. Mike remembered all the times he'd done the same thing. The casual touches and talks where one of them, typically Mike, would ramble on and on about some new thread for about as long as the other one would give them their whole attention used to be so much simpler. But that was no longer the case. Every encounter they had these days was difficult, and Mike understood it was his fault.

He had to do something about it.

Lucas was full of questions as soon as the two boys came onto the Byers' porch.

"Are you alright? Where were you?" he asked, referring to Will, though Mike answered for him before he could respond.

"I think you should go home. I've got him." he asserted.

"But shouldn't we talk about—" Lucas began, but Mike interrupted him.

“I said I got him. Look, it's all right. We'll talk again tomorrow." Lucas appeared unsure of himself and glanced at Will for confirmation.

"I'm fine," Will assured him, "but it's late, so you both should go home. It's been a long day."

Mike didn't think of leaving even for a second. Will should not have to be alone in this situation. After all, he still needed to make amends with them. He didn't feel like he could do anything else till he knew he felt better.

Mike and Will sat side by side on the couch fifteen minutes later, finally in dry clothes for what seemed like the first time in hours, even though it hadn't been that long since Will stormed out of the Wheeler household, and even less time when Mike discovered him trashing Castle Byers.

The lamplights appear to be overly dim. Except for Will's living room area television, which goes on and off, everything is quiet. Lucas snores as he flops onto his back on the couch. Mike sits down next to Will on the floor and takes a long look at him. Will was given a heavier, fleece blanket by him earlier, and it now drapes over his naked, pale shoulders. Will's top, as well as his coral-colored cargo shorts, were saturated.

He pulls the blanket up over Will's shoulders and adjusts it. Will's lack of acknowledgement seems disturbing. He should glare. Flinch. Scream at him for being such a jackass.

"Are you all right?" Mike says, his fingers cupped over Will's brow and his sweat-damp bangs pushed up. He half-expects Will to yank his arm away, but he could have caught a cold in the downpour. "You're still a little warm..."

Will hums, his hazel-green eyes narrowing, "Mm." A deep, pleasant tone.

Mike's cheeks are red and swollen. "Please accept my apology, Will.”

He mumbles, reflexively pulling away from Mike's contact, "Forget it."

"What were you thinking when you wrecked it?" He inquired, despite the fact that he was very certain he already knew. Will was the one he wanted to hear it from.

"You were right." After a brief pause, Will stated, "We're not kids. I don't need a stupid castle.”

“It’s really not stupid.”

"I'm stupid, then," Will murmured, as if he actually meant it, and Mike's chest ached all over again. He was desperate for the other boy to realize it wasn't true.

"Will, please stop. You're not stupid." Mike continued, "I'm stupid," because he was. He'd made such a mistake by allowing his best friend to drift so far away.

"Okay, we were both stupid," Will remarked, the side of his lips twisting up into what Mike thought was his first smile in a long time.

"Stupid together," Mike said after a brief pause, recalling a previous encounter. Will sighed, and he knew he was thinking about the same thing.

"Y’know, you were right, too. I am wrecking the party," Mike remarked. Will merely stared up at him, saying nothing. Mike could see he'd had enough of comforting him that the truth wasn't what it seemed, because nothing seemed to be okay.

"I know you're upset," Will replied, looking down but afterwards offering a sorrowful grin to his friend, "but it's not entirely your fault. When it's me who's so... different, I can't really blame you for all of it."

"Will, it's not your fault; it was me who-"

"No, Mike, don't you get it?" Mike had tears welling up in the creases of his eyes. "If I were like you, if I could have a girlfriend, or even wanted one," he waved between them, "this wouldn't be so hard," he said.

"But I'm not there yet. To date... somebody or to quit D&D, since playing games all day in your basement is a lot easier than facing, well, all of it. I don't want to worry about all that comes with just being me."

Mike saw immediately that Will was terrified. Except there were no creatures, spies, gateways, or darkness hiding in the recesses of his imagination this time. This was a tragically true situation. Mike couldn't blame him for wanting to stay as far away from it as possible. You can't just shout at something like that to go away when you're confronted with it. It's a part of who you are, and while it's not always a bad thing, you still have to deal with it. The gears in Mike's head started whirling as he thought about it more. He remembered Dungeons and Dragons, and how he didn't mind playing it out again and over again. He imagined how he would play it a million times simply to see Will's face light up. He, on the other hand, pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. He wasn't ready to talk about any of that just now. This wasn't about him right now.

Mike wrapped his arms across Will's waist and put his chin on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure what to say. We both know I'm horrible with words at this point," Will sighed, but Mike remained solemn as he continued, "but I swear everything will be fine."

"You can't make that promise."

"Of course I can, because I'll make sure it is. I'm sorry if I've been a dick recently, but I'm going to try harder to... not be. I can't live without you," Mike says, moving his head to look Will in the eyes, his arms tightening as he said the last sentence.

Mike smiled back at Will, and Will smiled back. At that time, it felt like they could finally, at last get back to business as usual. As he sat there hugging a happy Will Byers for maybe the first time in years, Mike realized what he said was true.

They'd make certain it was. Both of them, together. How it should be.

Mike is all alone. And he despises being by himself. Nobody can fill the abyss that exists next to him. Nobody nearby to enjoy his lame remarks. There was nobody to stop the vacancy in his heart. Being alone has that effect on people. at least in Mike's case. His innards appear to have constricted and become as compact as reasonably practicable, making his body appear to have shriveled in size. He feels like he's smothering, like if his windpipe is stuffed with feathers and he can't swallow it regardless of how hard he keeps trying. It appears as though the world is about to become inundated by a dam breaking beneath his eyes. It hurts tremendously.

He has always experienced these feelings at various points in his life. But he could always count on that special someone to step in and lend a hand. Could aid in filling the crater in his heart and patching the dams' concrete walls. Will. Will was always there.

Will, with his delicate gestures and comments. Will with his soft, reassuring touches. Will's capacity to see Mike. To look at him in such a condition and not feel pity for him. To see him and understand how to help. Will was now, however, miles and miles away. And although Mike could call him, he won't. Mike last spoke with Will at the end of August. December has come. Will's favorite season of the year is here, but Mike won't call. Because he is aware that if he does, all of his emotions would surface and he won't be able to control them.

El, for one, has been receiving letters from him. It's a way to communicate with her without needing to make a phone call. Without her asserting "I love you," and him saying "goodbye!" instead. Without her enquiring as to whether he would like to speak with Will or informing him that "Will wants to say hello," This makes the letters simpler. He discusses his family and his school. In regards to how much he misses her and how eagerly he awaits their upcoming spring break reunion. But the truth is that he's terrified of it. He feels his stomach lurch and his heart race at the notion of seeing Will. That, he believes, is unfair to El. That he misses Will more than she realizes, but won't tell her.

Or perhaps it's even worse for Will. It's unjust since all he needs to do is hold Will and try to convince him how much he loves him. to be with him throughout the whole of spring break. Perhaps the most unjust thing is that he has so many undelivered letters addressed to Will stashed under his mattress. These letters have more depth. Much more emotionally charged and informative. Those are authentic and accurate communications. Without addressing it, they openly confess millions of things. And Mike genuinely wants to send these to Will, and yet no matter how much he tries, something, everything, always gets in the way.

Mike takes out his notebook and pen.

Dear Will,

I miss you. It's true, even if I've said it in each and every one of these letters. It hurts that I miss you so much. You have no concept how painful it is to be apart from you. I am aware that neither you nor your mother are to blame, yet it still enrages me. Why can't we be happy after everything we've been through and accomplished? Bullshit, that's what it is. We should be happy. We deserve an award. All of it is so unfair.

I even go to your house more often than not. despite the fact that it is empty. I enter your bedroom and sit quietly, attempting to picture you still there. You're drawing at your desk, every time. You simply appear. It smells like you even though no one has been in there for months. But it's fading. I also occasionally visit Castle Byers. I restored this torn picture that I found for you. That was the least I could do, I reasoned. I'm hoping to see you again soon. You'll have something to look forward to since I have a surprise for you. If you want to return.

I've recently been going through your artwork. I'm not sure if you were aware of this, but I still have a collection of your work. They date back a while, but they're still incredible. In any case, better than I ever could manage. Your talent has always been there. I seriously wish I had a few of your new stuff. I'm sure you've improved throughout our absence.

I miss you. I miss your smiles, laughter, and sometimes even those corny jokes you would make. Hope you still think about me.

I'm sorry for what I said that day.

Love, M.

The taped-up photo of Mike grinning foolishly at Will is tucked in with the folded-up piece of paper as Mike places it in an envelope. He even goes so far as to write Will's contact details on it. He buries it beneath his mattress. He’s still alone.

After Will moves, Mike constantly returns to the now broken Castle Byers, as to indulge his intense feelings of guilt. It’s new for him, this guilt. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch, he knows, who can't admit when he's sorry. He thought he couldn’t live with himself if he managed to hurt Will. But if there’s anything these last few years have taught him, it’s that he would always manage to be surprised by what he could live with.

He comes up with grand plans to rebuild it, but, when he attempts to put said plans into fruition, eventually has to ask for Lucas' help - Mike can't build for shit, he's too weak to pick up the literal and metaphorical broken walls. It's fun, and they laugh sometimes, but mostly they are silent, consumed by their remorse and shared atrocity. Mike likes Lucas, but can't help but think it would be different if he knew. Perhaps his shirt wouldn't be off. Perhaps he would hide himself from Mike's sick, uncontrollable attraction that he presumes must apply to him but never discuss it. He would take off his bandana. They would never watch Karate Kid again.

They manage to finish it in the end.

But it’s not enough to cure his ache. Not with some of Will's best work, of which he was proud of enough to display in the finest gallery he knew, disintegrated into a runny mess of notebook paper clumps, the red and blue ink of the lines rudely interfering with the inks Will chose himself, for embellishment.

Amongst the heaps of barely-paper that only twisted the knife of his guilt, he saw a flag with colorful stripes across it, all the colors of the rainbow.

Mike being Mike, he has no fucking idea what it means (it’s hardly like his parents are willing to replace their beloved American flag in lieu of a pride flag rippling in the wind in their front yard), so he’s just completely oblivious. He’s used to being this way, even if he doesn’t know it. Sometimes, when he was with Will, he could not see himself, only the brunette in front of him.

Oblivion almost serves as a soothing drug, to be honest, at least in this case. Instead of going into a panic, thinking ‘Maybe I have a chance…’ and berating himself for it for god knows how long, all that is on his mind is ‘Oh shit, I need to replace this!!!’.

The second he returns to his house that feels less like a home than the Byers’ empty one, he mercilessly steals Holly’s obscene amount of markers and books it down to the basement before she and her fingernails of knives get their revenge. Putting a poster board that was supposed to be for a school project he found he had no motivation for to use - he figures a normal piece of paper would work, but, instead, he decides to make it as obnoxiously big as he possibly can, because this is Will he's making it for, so, naturally, it's has to be good enough for the Louvre - and starts making a new one in his basement.

The new flag takes its place right in the center wall of Castle Byers, and he honestly cannot remember being this proud of himself for making anything before. To make up for the lost masterpieces, he tapes up some of Will’s drawings from his collection on the walls there too, along with some doodles and chicken scratch of his own that couldn’t hold a candle to their comparatives, but he knew Will would appreciate them all the same.

But he’s not yet done, because phase two of the plan is to apologize. He’s never been good at humility, and yet he knows there’s no way around it: he was an asshole and this might be the only espace for constantly feeling like shit for treating Will like shit and he can’t think of anything that would be more awkward than if Will came to visit and he hasn’t apologized yet.

It's more difficult than he would like to admit. He and Will are opposite ends of a spectrum, in that way. Will’s life is made up of ‘I’m sorry’, whereas his is made up of excuses. Will feels like he has to apologize to people, to things, to life itself, whereas Mike wants to burn all of those things down in his warpath. He spends no less than two hours - it’s undoubtedly more, but his weariness grew as he kept checking the clock, so he eventually gave up on that and chucked it out his window, knowing full well there would be hell to pay for that later - writing up his script for what he'll say, because his nervous heart is eating up his body and he wants it to be nothing short of perfect.

It takes a full week to gather up the courage to dial the Byers' new phone number. After five rings, just as he’s about to bail, none other than William Byers picks up the phone and Mike’s nerves shrivel up, and his brain feels like it’s consumed by nerves, so he just hangs up.

And every time he tries to call, which is many, many, times, he keeps on chickening out, his veins keep filling with poison.

It takes forty-five tries and enough of a phone bill that Mike was grounded for three weeks before he ultimately speaks, and Will, who, by the fifteenth call, finally grew suspicious as to why the fuck were random people just called and hung up, dons a shaky, slow, smile that builds as the surprise sinks in and asks if he's the one doing the aforementioned calling and hanging up.

“Yeah.” He choked out, cringing as his voice cracked, a cold wave of dread washing over him. The embarrassment was something he could feel in his flesh, like a handful of sun-warmed mud clapping on his head, because oh shit, he didn't realize just how weird, just how creepy that is.

In a final act of desperation, he sucks it up and professes his apologeticness to Will, but, even speaking to the person who could calm him with a simple phrase, he was never, never, clam, never for an instant, panicking and rambling so much that ninety percent of what he's saying is just 'um' and 'uh'. Will eventually cuts him off, laughter bordering on giggles, telling him that it's fine, that he forgives him, but if he keeps on going on and on like this, he's going to hang up on him. The feelings they feel upon this confession of understanding, of pardoning, are as if intertwined. And perhaps they were. The feeling of being forgiven by a loved one and forgiving a loved one oneself are perhaps so much alike there's no reason to try to keep them as separate entities.

And as Mike smiles the quintessential Mike Wheeler Smile, predominantly reserved for Will:

complete with a brightened face, as if glowing, eyes lit up, sparkling and twinkling, and cheeks dimpled, Will swears he could hear it over the landline.

Months pass. The Byers’ return to Hawkins briefly to ensure Will’s fifteenth birthday was not one tainted by loneliness. Mike and Will walk together, languidly, through the garden’s overgrown offerings, with lazy Sunday pacing. The towering March dahlias were caught off guard as they shrugged and exposed their crimson skins towards the spring breeze. Stumbling through the springtime forest their bare feet warmed to the bone, shorts torn by thorns and snagged to rags. Mike was planning to show him the remodeled Castle Byers as his gift to him, but, as usual, he got in the way of his own goals, so excited he just accidentally blurted it out while they were flipping through the illustrated Batman saga, and Will insisted he see it right that instant.

And see it he did. In fact, seeing it was all he seemed able to do. Sitting before a fortress plastered in rainbows, lingering hues of the faintest gray periods of the past. His heart tired, busy worrying that this was a taunt, busy worring how Mike found out that he was gay. Eyes glued. His mother always said not to stare.

And then all he can say, not ‘I love you’, not ‘wow’, not ‘thank you’, is “How did you know?”

Mike's never been so utterly confused. But he doesn’t want to make a wrong choice again, he knows that he really needs Will in his life. The stakes are so high, he doesn’t think he can handle replying at all. “Know what?”

Will looks at him quizzically, wondering if he was really about to make him say it out loud. “...Know that I’m gay?”

To Will’s bemusement and abject horror, Mike's just standing there with the world’s stupidest look on his face. The silence seems to last too long, but Will wishes it lasted longer when Mike blurts out “You’re what?!” Will can’t really blame him, it’s an incredibly well-known fact that Mike never thinks before he talks. But that doesn’t ease the fact that Will feels like his mind is a bee hive that has broken open, and the entire hive of raging bees are swarming and buzzing around his head. Because it turns out that Mike didn't know? He really was a rollercoaster, that Wheeler.

They gape at each other in complete, stifling, quiet, for infinity. It’s the kind of quiet that doesn’t have a face. When, at last, Will can’t stand it anymore, he throws up his hands. “Then why the fuck did you put up a pride flag? It’s a gay symbol."

Mike's face was carefully blank as the realization about how fucking dumb he is washes over him. He felt his neck hairs stand on end. His mind flashed back to all the previous times he had questioned things about both himself and Will, how each time he never listened to himself. He had always denied it...until now. And now he had to come to terms with how badly he had misunderstood the Cool Rainbow Poster. “Oh! That’s cool! I, uh, I like…I like rainbows, too.”

Will gave him a generous smile, one of exasperation, affection, and quite a healthy heaping of amusement. "Mike…"

"On the swings, you were by yourself. The day we met," he goes on to tell him, hoping he’s not setting his newfound asshole-ness in stone in doing so. "I remember you obviously looking at everybody else having fun, but you wouldn’t leave the swings. You didn't go play flag football." Mike can still hear the reverberation of Will's swing's steel rings humming between his molars. "That's because Andy Jones started calling you a queer and the other guys started laughing."

Will smiles with sentimentality tattooed all over his features. "But you didn't," he breathes, his gaze fixed on Mike.

"What?" Mike remarks with a gruff chuckle and gleaming brown irises. "Did you really think you would be the only one at school?" Will's shock serves as confirmation to him. Mike cries out in a trembling, enraged manner while throwing his fingers over his lips. "I like guys, too... how fucked up is that?"

Will firmly asserts, his brows furrowing, "It's just not, is the thing. You don't have anything wrong with you, Mike."

Mike hangs his head and rubs his nose. "I avoided you all summer..."

Will nudges him with his hand, and their fingers entwine. He murmurs drowsily, resting his head on Mike's scalp as they move, Mike's second arm wrapping around Will's neck. It was the kind of intimacy that Mike always thought would leave him in a state of decay - he did not particularly like to touch or be touched, but it was a sort of paradoxical dislike. He abhorred physical touch because he simply craved it too much - like Will in the summer of ‘85. He wanted to be held very tight, and this would prove to be his glue, holding him together so he would not shatter to pieces. It was none of those things. It was comforting. Right. "When this is over... we could go to the playground... like it was before," Will adds.

It will be just like before. Before the horrors and the Upside Down.

#bylergiftexchange2022 #my writing #byler #byeler #will byers #mike wheeler #el hopper #angst #fluff #they're gay :|#long post #plain text

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boringpapercutter · 2 years

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I made the wrong choice.

Yup. I made a wrong choice in life YET AGAIN. Why am I always have to deal with these kinds of things in my life? I mean sobrang evident yun from my toxic relationship with my home church and with how I turned out in FEBIAS. Why am I always in this kind of situation wherein lagi nalang akong nasa maling part ng mga bagay-bagay?

One thing I really learned from my horrible experience with these people is that money, friendship, and vanity cannot make you a better person. IT WILL NEVER TURN INTO A GOOD PERSON.

I know yang realization na yan is like so basic and should have been learned noon pa pero I do believe na hindi yun madaling ma-recognize until nararanasan mo na yun in real life.

I was so naive and desperate. I should’ve known from the beginning that working in this foundation will get me nowhere; that things would get worse. I never listened to the obvious red flags.

I was so desperate in finding a job back in 2020 so I didn’t think things through about sa papasukan kong kompanya. Nung interview palang I should’ve known. I was interviewed in a van at the back of a condominium. Obvious na may mali dun kaso I still went through it thinking na sa wakas may tumanggap sakin. I was so happy because may progress na at last yung decision ko to pursue being a graphic artist. I was blinded by the thought of making money. And the fact that we were told that we should be grateful bc may tumanggap samin is such an obvious red flag. My ever entitled boss told us na wala na kaming makukuhang trabaho like he’s offering and we listened to him. I listened to his opportunistic shit bc I looked up to him; a “millionaire bachelor” na pinoy at maraming kompanyang hinahawakan. I was so enticed by his wealth that I decided to move forward with his offer.

The thing is first day ko palang e I should’ve known na mali na ang mag-stay bc the shitty boss was shouting terrible things to his employee over the phone. He was abusing people verbally just bc of certain issues na pure speculations lang nya. Dapat hindi na ako tumuloy dun palang.

Now I realized I can get a job just as easy. Iba lang talaga yung situation noon dahil kasagsagan ng pandemic non. After he mesmerized us with his wealth and shit we felt dependent to him. I idolized him and treated him like a mentor who could get me to success. Oh, boy was I wrong. He’s just full of crap. Isa lang syang alila sa mga banyaga like a typical Filipino. Binaba ko yung sarili ko thinking na wala pa akong maipagmamalaki. But I was already competent and experienced even before pa ako ma-employ as their multimedia artist. I was already at my peak skill-wise and I still chose to believe I’m no one. Nag-pauto ako. I was so stupid.

Friendship is such a horrible thing with the wrong people. I was happy na may mga tropa ako na nakakakulitan ko; mga tao wherein I can be myself ng walang limit. I was happy. But then after ng mga pagbaback-stab nila sakin, pagiging silent when I needed them the most. Yung kung sino pa yung inaasahan mong tutulong sa iyo, sila pa yung wala ginawa when you are being accused of something without proper evidence. These people never stood up for me. Instead, they hid their tails in front of their boss, takot na mawalan sila ng trabaho and get some lashing. In the end we were controlled by the fear of being jobless na hahamakin na namin ang lahat para lang masustain yung mga trabaho nila. Di ko sila masisi. Sadyang evil lang talaga yung boss namin. They helped me sa ibang stuff pero sa mga vital stuff? Wala.

I stayed sa foundation bc I thought being with friends would get me through the day. I was terribly wrong. They’re nothing but a good time only. Walang ambag sa ikabubuti ng mental health ko, walang ambag sa buhay ko. Puro panandaliang saya lang. Di ko ikakaila na I had fun working in the foundation. We had so much fun together. We had a fun relationship with each other. We were personal with each other. Super personal na di namin narealize na mali sa isang corporation ang bringing personal matters at work. We knew yung mga baho ng isa’t-isa. They knew who I am and they used it to their advantage. To make false accusations of me. They even decided on my sexuality by themselves. They loved me sabi nila. I was a fool to believe them. Na-attach ako sa egotistical, social climber, entitled, playing safe, and balimbing. Sa kanila ba ang sisi? No. Wala na akong pakeelam sa pagkatao nila. Ganun sila e so bakit ko ibabaling yung misery ko sa kanila? Ang sisi ay sakin because nagpa-uto ako. Naging sobrang attached ako sa kanila. Naging too friendly ako; masyado kong pinakita yung sarili ko sa kanila. Now they’re nowhere to be found. Di narin sila nakikipag-usap sa isa’t-isa. Yung isa sinaktan na’t lahat bumalik parin sa foundation. Yung isa kibit-balikat lang. Yung isa tuod parin. Alam mong driven lang din talaga sila ng pera. I want to be different sa kanila. Tbh they’re all shitty. I kinda regret being friends with them. Don’t care if they didn’t think of me as a friend. They were a friend to me. I was so naive.

And I just wanna talk shit about my egotistic, narcissistic, know-it-all, manipulative, and crazy boss. His way of life is so deceptive. Muka lang good and for the better pero for his good lang pala. He’s full of lies even sa mga aso nya. Even dun nagsisinungaling sya para lang ma-flex nya yung “yaman” nya. I can’t talk about him for so long bc I’m still traumatized by his abuse towards me, his employees, and his family. He is full of pride lang na yung yaman ng ibang tao kunyari sa kanya. I’m a fool for believing in him and looking up to him. True, I learned new stuff from him pero to what extent? Tbh he acted like a god, giving promises, sharing his affection, being generous. I was happy that he was like that sa amin. Pero yun nga. He was like that because he thinks he owns us and deserves to be awed and praised. He was playing god. As a religious guy, I thought this guy is godly. God, was I wrong. He’s just full of shit.

But from all of those terrible things I am now stronger and better. Ngayon di na ako papayag na minamaliit lang yung trabaho as if anyone can do it. Now mas kaya ko na to stand-up for myself but never showing what I truly am. FEBIAS taught me to not give a shit about what people say about me pero this god-forsaken foundation taught me that this world doesn’t deserve my truthfulness. That sounds egotistical pero I have to convince myself that I am enough bc if not then di ako makaka-move on from the trauma i experienced from them.

I am enough and I can strive for success with the help of the right people. I am no longer enticed with wealth and influential people. Instead I am now more observant and conscious with my actions and limitations. I can say I was a better person because of these people.

But to think na other people can learn about these things without having to go through horrific situation seems a little unfair to me. The question still remains. Why am I always affiliated with terrible people? How can I remove myself from experiencing these things again? How can I move on from this life of being with evil people?

One thing I do know is everyone is evil. Even I am evil. Now i do know that my God can only give me the right influence and experience. Not religion, not friends, not my own realizations but God. He the only way, the truth, and the life.

Now I just need to completely remove these people out of my life and start anew with a whole new perspective to things. I must know my limits. I must have the courage to stand up for myself. I have to take care of my real friends. I have to give more importance to self-appreciation.

I am enough and God is in-control.

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honeycomb-cinammonroll · 3 years

Text

INSIDE THE BROOM CLOSET - J.P

SUMMARY: (Y/N) and James Potter are running away from Filch and end up locked in the broom closet.

PAIRING: James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader.

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

WARNINGS: none? steamy making out?

✧✧✧

“This is all your fault.”

“Shut up and keep running, Potter.” It all started because of James Potter and his stupid ideas, he hadn’t stop talking about a prank he had been planning for weeks, and you being a Hufflepuff were vital for it to work.

The plan consisted on him sneaking up in the kitchens and changing all the sugar to salt, as well as the honey for booger flavored slime while you kept your eyes on the door. You found it gross, but being James’ long time friend made it impossible to tell him no. So, it was simple, James would change the ingredients, Peter and Sirius would distract the house Elves, Remus would be in charge of keeping an eye on the hall while you guarded the door and then, you would sneak them into your common room.

It was all going well, the elves were distracted with a rat and a dog running around the kitchen while they caused a mess, there were utensils flying everywhere but it seemed like the elves only cared for the animals destroying their kitchen. James was on the other side of the place and you couldn't help but glance his way.

There was flour in his hair, but the playful smirk didn't leave his face for a second. His glasses were almost falling off, the sleeves of his long shirt were rolled up, and his hands were at full display. Maybe if you hadn't been distracted by how strong and handsome he seemed, you would’ve heard Remus’ signal.

That's how you found yourself running away from Filch and his creepy cat, James held your hand tightly and you tried your hardest to ignore the rapid beat of your heart. Left, right, right, left… At some point you had lost the other three boys but in this kind of situation, it was every man for themselves.

“Come on, (Y/N) We'll lose him here.” You turned once more and faced a simple looking wooden door, without hesitating, the both of you hurried inside, but quickly realized your mistake once the door closed behind James. It was locked, Oh Helga.

“Please tell me you have your wand,” You whispered yell, hoping Filch couldn't find you but at the same time praying someone else opened the door from the outside. “I left it in the common room, Do you have yours?”

“I think I dropped it.” Now both of you were in full panic mode, there were a few brooms and cleaning products in the place that reduced your space, and truth be told you were never a fan of enclosed spaces. James noticed this the second he locked eyes with you and your frightened state so he stepped away, hoping to give you enough room.

At least the light is on. As if someone had heard you, both you and James could clearly listen to Filch talking to McGonagall, James carefully turned the light off, and as if on instinct, you snuggled closer to him, once again, almost hearing your heart beating faster than ever.

“Professor, they went that way.” You could see the shadow of their feet from the other side of the door, your thoughts were racing inside your hair, but then again you've always overthink everything. However, your mind became blank once you felt a pair of strong arms grabbing your waist tightly, your eyes looked down only to find James’ hands on your lower abdomen, he was drawing soothing circles on top of your school blouse.

“Is this alright?” He asked, whispering in your ear. That simple action sent shivers down your spine and you nodded eagerly, making James smile on the back of your neck. After what felt like forever, the shadows disappeared, however, James didn't turn the lights back on, instead he got as close to you as possible.

“You're so tense, Love.” The combination of his warmth along with the nickname made you turn your head back, you could feel his breath hitting the side of your neck, and for a second you wondered if it was all truly happening, but felt so real once he started leaving kisses along the brick of your jaw.

You just knew you were a goner. Once you couldn't control yourself any longer, you turned around, facing him. James’ facial features were like those of a greek god, a sharp jaw, a strong chin, and those eyes that always seemed filled with happiness now looked like hunger.

You had alway wondered how James Potter tasted, the answer was mint tea, and you loved it. James kissed you like his life depended on it, so rough yet gentle at the same time and it made you feel dizzy because How was he so fucking good at everything? You were so concentrated on his lips you barely had time to register how he had you pinned against the wall.

His hands held you from the waist. “Jump.” James said, and you didn't hesitate, his hand travelled to the brick of your back, while the other kept you both firmly in place, and suddenly, you didn't want to leave that dirty closet anymore.

As you both took a breath, he placed his forehead on yours, enjoying the closeness, his lips were swollen and his hair was a mess, you couldn't be better yourself, however you wouldn't have it any other way. He smiled sweetly at you, James was about to speak when you both heard an audible click.

Peter was standing at the entrance, you wand on his right hand. He had a goofy smirk plastered on his face. “You owe me two galleons, Padfoot!” He yelled, and you could clearly hear Sirius’ groans and complaints, however, the only thing on your mind was the minutes spent inside that broom closet and the blush that creeped on your cheeks and neck.

The boys were teasing James for his crooked tie and wrinkled shirt, He laughed at the comments, and interlocked his fingers with yours before turning on his heels and guiding you both through the halls of the castle.

“Where are we going?”

“On a proper date, and then we'll definitely do more of that, just maybe on a bed this time, Love.”

#james fleamont potter #james potter #james potter x y/n #the marauders #james potter x reader #sirius black #peter pettigrew #remus lupin #harry potter #hogwarts #wizarding world

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that-blue-vault-dweller · 3 years

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We've had so much happy sappy things lately. How about some angst? Companions react to sole getting super pissed at them and just leaving forever?

Oh, no..... I knew this was going to come soon enough... All good things must come to an end, after all 😔💙💛

All jokes aside, this literally broke my heart to write, but I very much enjoyed your suggestion for the new perspective it gave and the opportunity to write some good, old-fashioned angst 🥰 I didn't provide an explanation for what they said or what they did to make F!Sole mad, which I hope is okay! (I couldn't picture my F!Sole leaving any of them for any reason but I'm sure everyone's Sole varies in that respect)

Warnings: Light mentions of suicide, heavy mentions of drug and alcohol use.

Cait - Falls back into chems and will likely drug and drink herself to the grave. She can't believe that she went and screwed everything up again. She let down and upset the one person she vowed to never do that to, and now she's alone. Again. She's managed to run off the one person in her whole lifetime that actually cared about her and all she knows is that life is not even really worth living sober if she has to endure pain like this.

Piper - Cries herself to sleep for many nights after and sometimes finds herself crying during the day while she's typing an article or doing small mundane things, her guilt and sadness consuming her. (If F!Sole let her interview her back when she first came to Diamond City) Piper keeps a copy of the View from the Vault articles beside her bed and numbly reads them sometimes before going to sleep just to remind her of the only best friend she had ever had in her life. The only person that had stuck by her and tried to look out for her since her dad. Eventually she stops crying, but it takes a long time for her to rebound and her smile to come back. It never is as bright as it used to be when F!Sole was there, though.

Curie - Breaks her heart and completely destroys her. She cries for days, weeks, forever. All she knows is that there is a huge hole in her heart and she thinks of F!Sole every day. Her humanity is a constant reminder of the great person that she had lost and she will forever blame and kick herself for being so horrible that F!Sole would leave her. Curie will always care about F!Sole even if F!Sole doesn't care about her and Curie will forever miss her.

MacCready - Ends up heading back to go be with Duncan permanently. F!Sole was the only thing keeping him in the Commonwealth but now that he screwed that up, there is no reason left to stay. He was originally going to have his son brought to him as soon as possible, but he decides that they're better off away from where all of the sad memories are lingering. When he returns to his son, he is very happy, but he soon falls into a basic routine, trying to get through his grief of losing a true friend because of his own stupidity. He will eventually come out of the depression, but he will always carry the intense guilt of driving her away for good.

Deacon - Despite the fact that he just continues on with that constant mask of looking like he's just as calm and happy as anyone else, he is hurting deeply on the inside. It is easy to tell because of how he seems even more distant than usual and he very rarely ever comes back to the Railroad HQ. Guilt turns him into someone even more detached than he used to be before she left. However, he sometimes goes undercover just to watch her at a safe enough distance to keep her from recognizing him. After all, he has not changed his face since she left, preferring to keep some souvenir from his time with her. Unfortunately, his face is all he has left of those days.

Codsworth - Is broken-hearted and is at the epitome of guilt because he cannot believe he has made her so mad that she will have nothing more to do with him. He has absolutely no one left to serve and there is no one left who cares about him at all. He ends up falling into a state of denial, somehow glitching and convincing himself that she, sir, and young Shaun are simply away and will come back eventually. He sadly remains in this deluded state for the remainder of his days.

Hancock - Somehow does even more chems than before, knowing it cannot kill him but needing the rush to distract him from the complete and utter pain after sending away one of the few people that actually stood by him through thick and thin. He goes back to being the full-time mayor of Goodneighbor, but when he falls so deeply into the chems, the citizens begin thinking that it would be best to overthrow him. When he figures this out, he knows he has to stop doing the chems quite so much. He cuts back just enough to be coherent and make speeches to inspire people, but anyone can see that he is by no means doing as well as he used to before F!Sole left. At some point he is completely numb and he takes the chems to just feel something besides this deadness inside.

Danse - Is devastated. She is all he had left after being kicked out of the Brotherhood. He can't believe that he drove away the person that convinced him to see his own worth despite his true identity. He finds himself in deep, inescapable depression, and he eventually loses sight of why he should even keep going on at all. After all, he is just an instrument of evil that breaks friendship, families, and all good things. Why would the world need something like that?

Preston - Despite the fact that he does not believe he can do it, he forces himself to take up the mantel of General. He tries to lead and maintain a brave face even though he feels like he is falling apart. He knows the Minutemen are depending on him, and he feels so helpless. Eventually, he hands leadership over to Ronnie Shaw, returning to a second-in-command position as he throws himself into duties and work to try not to think about the loss of one of the few people that actually saw his vision and tried to help him achieve his dream. However, he can't quite forget the fact that it's all his fault that it ended up like this.

Valentine - Honestly cannot believe it and is in pure shock and devastation for several days before the grief and depression finally sets in. He throws himself into his work and becomes even more self-endangering, caring very little about himself and what happens to him. He knows he still has Ellie and the agency, but it just kind of seems to fade in importance as he thinks of F!Sole and how he drove her away. If he doesn't manage to get himself killed during this period, Ellie has a stern talk with him, and he actually does start being a little more careful. Not quite the level of careful he was when he had both F!Sole and Ellie on his back about it, but he tries for Ellie's sake if not his own.

X6-88 - Is quite angry at himself for angering and isolating such a vital and valuable asset of the Institute, but there is something else inside of him that pricks and pokes at his mind and gut. It is something he cannot identify and something he has never experienced before. It frequently brings her face to the forefront of his mind, homing in on just how angry that she looked and how she looked like she would rather be looking upon a pile of Brahmin dung than to be staring into his face. It bothers him for some reason, and when he returns to the Institute and expresses his thoughts, it is the last thing on his mind before they wipe his memory of her and reset him entirely.

Dogmeat - Tries to follow her even though she does not want him to. When she screams and throws things at him, he lowers his ears and tucks his tail, confused at what in the world he did wrong. He just wants her to love him again like she used to. He could be a better boy. He could stop pooping in Cait's shoes and stop chewing holes in things. Eventually, after weeks of following her and being rejected, he finally leaves her alone, heading back to Red Rocket Truck Stop where he decides to wait for her in hopes she will one day come back and give him all the pets or at least one pet. He ends up living his days waiting for her and pacing the place, waking up every morning with hopes that the sunrise will bring her back to him until he doesn't see the sunrise again.

Strong - Stays mad at her forever. However, he sometimes does wish that he had tiny human to help him with some things like fighting or cooking, but he quickly remembers that he's mad at her and tells himself that super mutants don't need puny humans. But there is something strange in his stomach when he thinks of her, but he usually smashes something to try to make himself feel better. The feeling never goes away quickly, though.

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quasieli · 3 years

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12, 15, 23, 26, 30 for saube; 8, 10, 16, 24 for sparks !!

Saube

12. how loudly do they cry?

Depends on why they’re crying. If it’s a “I’m so frustrated” cry, they’ll be fairly quiet. If it’s a “oh g-d, this horrible horrible thing just happened”, she might be more vocal, but it depends of what the aforementioned horrible thing is. G-d, I just started thinking about that time SICL was in that haunted forest and the spirits made Saube believe she was fighting her own sister; full, blubbery waterworks there.

15. have you ever said something as your character that stuck with you for a while after? what was it?

“We were just fucking outside!” afkajkldjskjzk I will never live that down.

23. what's the pettiest thing your character's ever done?

This was almost my answer for the last question but Saube telling Ingot’s dad “This is a kindness” in Infernal as she ripped out the arrow that Ingot had shot into his mother’s foot. She’s not one for snide or petty gestures, but this just felt too good to pass up. They didn’t want him to understand what they were saying, they kinda wanted to make him a little afraid.

26. does your know the names of their constellations? how did they learn them?

She’d be interested to learn, but she does not currently know. She’s pretty good at using the stars as a means of figuring out direction, but that she learned by walking around a lot at night and looking up at the sky as she did so. Saube has a much better internal compass than I do lol.

30. how has your character's first impressions of their party members changed since they met them? have they stayed the same?

Ingot - At first, she didn’t really understand Ingot. For the one thing, she was pretty shocked to be seeing another tiefling in Sweetvale, and then to see how different they were to the tieflings she knew (which, at the time, was only her dad and sister). She’s very happy that she’s gotten to know Ingot more, because now she can appreciate the differences between then, but then still share moments like going to Tiefling Town together <3

Whitlock - Whitlock is a little different cause Saube kinda knew him before the party formed, in that Whitlock lived in Saube’s hometown. She didn’t know him super well, but generally thought he was a nice guy. Now I think about Saube’s zebrith and Whitlock saying he wished he had gotten to know Saube a bit more in their time in Sweetvale together and I cry. I love that sweet sweet boy and so does Saube.

Aal - Aal.... confused Saube lol, but Saube is also now very grateful for them. Coming from the perspective of living in a very areligious home for 20+ years to then meeting a literal angel? It was a lot for them to digest and at first, they were kinda hesitant to approach matters of religion with them. Aal never pushed, but when Saube finally felt comfortable in beginning her journey, Aal was there to help her.

Rae - Saube definitely has more complex understanding of Rae now than her initial thoughts. Even though there’s only ~4 year difference between them, Saube felt like the two of them were from entirely different worlds. She’s reticent to admit it, but Saube can be fairly judgy about things like presumed maturity levels but she realizes now she completely misunderstood Rae. Rae has passion and cares deeply for people, but just has a unique way of showing it. Saube appreciates her boldness and is also very happy that Rae makes her little sister happy lol

Eun Ha - Saube wasn’t quite sure what to make of Eun Ha when they first met. They had just gone through a whole traumatic thing involving believing loved ones were hurt/dead for days and then having to fight insane creatures to defend her hometown. She wasn’t much for socializing at the time lol. She still doesn’t know Eun Ha super personally well, but she does trust her and believe she is a vital part of SICL. She definitely would not pass up the opportunity to get to know her better (Eun Ha taking Saube to the quarry to throw rocks one shot when lol)

Sparks

8. how did your character feel when they left home for the first time?

If you’re in my Frostmaiden party and you’re seeing this, no you’re not <3 lol. I’m gonna be a little vague about this one cause of some Spoilers. Leaving home was very strange for him, because, even though he had been planning to leave home for quite some time, things still didn’t feel quite so right. Things were tense with his family when he left, as he had grown more and more frustrated with the fact that he was being treated like a child. It felt good to finally leave when he did, but he can sometimes still hear his dad’s voice asking him not to leave, even all this time later. He had to do what was best for himself, and this was it.

10. does your character have tattoos? were they alone the first time they got one?

Once again, gotta be a little bit vague for this one. Yes, Sparks has a glittering gold tattoo of a geometric pattern on her right wrist. It is an arcane tattoo, so the process of getting it wasn’t at all traditional. The person who gave her the tattoo is someone she knows and they helped make the experience a little less scary. She’s had it for a few months now and sometimes she’ll just find herself getting lost in the pattern and tracing it absentmindedly with her finger.

16. what does getting flustered look like for your character?

She will not stop talking. If a moment or a person trips her up, she is going to try so hard to bullshit her way out of the situation. She hates being caught off guard, and will try to “take control” of the moment, but may get kinda upset if she can’t. She’s young, she’s still learning how to control her emotions lol

24. what made your character the angriest they've ever been?

Probably the stuff mentioned in the first question. He has always presumed himself capable of doing things that others thought he couldn’t, and nothing would make him happier than to prove them wrong. Usually it was just some kid egging him on to get him to do some stupid stunt, but when it came to his parents talking like this, it was too much. They wanted good things for him, but the things that Sparks thought was good for him, they didn’t agree with. Eventually, it just got to be too much and he just, left. (Did a good job a being vague here /s lmao)

#asks #ask games #lichfucker #Saube #Sparks #thanks <3 <3

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Things to Hold On To

Summary: A series of four missing moments from Forged Through Fire from other points of view to the main four. They didn’t really fit in the main fic, but I feel they add colour and depth to the minor characters and I wanted to write them anyway.

Part four: Fuery reflects on the relationship between him and Breda as they keep a lonely vigil with the radio. Set between Chapters Eight and Nine.

Rated: T

Things to Hold On To

“You know that you’re not going to be of any use to anyone if you miss something vital because you’ve keeled over asleep, you know.”

Fuery looked over to Breda, standing in the doorway of Madam Christmas’s office with his arms folded and that patented ‘don’t be stupid’ look on his face. Breda seemed to wear that look a lot; especially when Hughes and Mustang were dreaming up one of their many schemes. Fuery hadn’t had it directed at him very often, though.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s nearly four in the morning. You’ve been awake almost twenty-four hours straight. Take a nap. I can handle it for a while.”

Truth be told, Fuery was beginning to feel the tiredness creeping up on him. Considering all he had been doing was sitting at a desk, he’d been using his full concentration for most of the time that he’d been listening in to the Central Command radio chatter, and he was having trouble keeping that full concentration now.

Breda came away from the door and pulled up the second chair from where he’d been working through the secret police code whenever one of their messages came in.

“Take a nap,” he repeated, but this time his voice was soft and the expression was one of caring concern rather than ‘I’m surrounded by stubborn idiots’. “I know how much we all want to find him, but we need you fresh to be able to do this.”

Fuery sighed. “I can’t stop now. Mustang and Armstrong are still out at Central Command doing whatever it is that they’re doing. I feel bad having a break when they aren’t.”

“Yes, well, if Mustang and Armstrong were here I’d be telling them to take a nap too. And who knows? Maybe they’ve fallen asleep under a desk somewhere. Running on empty isn’t going to help anyone. Especially not Hohenheim and especially not you.”

Fuery felt Breda’s arm come around his shoulders, and he gave into the temptation to lean into him, closing his eyes. Just for a moment. Breda was warm and solid and made a very comfortable pillow. Of course, he would have been even more comfortable if Fuery wasn’t still wearing headphones, but that was a minor inconvenience.

He felt the rumble of Breda’s laughter rather than hearing it.

“What am I going to do with you?”

The headphones were pulled off, and Fuery found himself being levered upright out of his chair and propelled across the room into the bar area itself. Mustang was back, pouring himself a whisky, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

“I’m fine, honestly, I just need a minute.”

“Fuery, I didn’t realise before but you cram an awful lot of stubbornness into such a small frame. Don’t make me sit on you.”

Fuery decided he was past the point of protesting now and lay down in one of the booths, shoving his glasses in his pocket and letting Breda pull a blanket over him. Now that he’d stopped concentrating, sleep was rapidly taking over.

“Just an hour,” he mumbled. “Wake me up in an hour.”

“I will.”

He had just enough time to feel Breda pat his cheek before he was dead to the world.

“Hey. Time to wake up.”

The voice was soft, and the hand shaking his shoulder was gentle, but Fuery was convinced it was only five minutes after he’d fallen asleep and he couldn’t open his eyes.

“Time to wake up, Kain. I need your help.”

The hand on his shoulder moved, and a finger began to tickle his nose instead. Fuery scrunched his face up and opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a fuzzy-looking Breda.

“I’m awake. What time is it?”

“Half six. Madam just came down.”

“What?” Fuery sat bolt upright, attempting to throw the blanket off and put his glasses on at the same time and ending up completely tangled up. “I told you an hour!”

“I know, but God knows you needed it.” Breda helped untangle him. “You looked so cute and comfortable I didn’t have the heart to disturb you.”

They made their way back into the office, Fuery still grumbling, but it was very hard to be annoyed at Breda with his dependable common sense and no-nonsense attitude at the best of times, and even more so when he was so concerned for Fuery’s welfare.

It made Fuery wonder what the relationship between them was, and how it had come to be. That there was mutual attraction there seemed to be a given, although neither of them had ever really voiced it in as many words. It was in the gestures, mostly. Breda was not an inherently tactile person, but he was happy to put an arm around him and let him lean in, even in circumstances that weren’t just the two of them frantically manning a radio; even when they were just sitting around enjoying a drink with the others.

“Anyway, I caught something a few minutes ago but I need to concentrate on decoding it. There’s nothing doing on the channel at the moment.”

Fuery nodded his understanding and put the headphones back on, retuning the channel. It was just standard patrol chatter, nothing out of the ordinary, and he leaned back, watching Breda work through the notes he’d made until something caught his ears that made him grab pen and paper of his own and start transcribing, passing off the pages to Breda as soon as he was done with them. It was only a short burst of activity, but the urgency and difference in tone was enough to set him on edge. Breda kept working furiously; he was halfway through the notes when he began to swear under his breath, and once he’d finished decoding he threw the pen down and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Fuery looked across at the translation. It was mostly directional car movements but there were some clear words in there.

Fifth lab deliver direct to Dr X keep sedated at all times unarrayed alchemist extremely dangerous.

Fuery didn’t know what it was that made him reach across and take Breda’s hand, but he was grateful for the squeeze that his own received in return. For a long time they just sat there like that, until Breda finally broke the silence.

“Well, this sucks.”

He sounded so angry and so helpless, just as Fuery felt.

Fuery decided to take a chance and slipped an arm around his shoulders, feeling Breda lean in almost by instinct.

The radio chatter continued in Fuery’s ears until the drone of the activity in the bar began to increase behind them, but neither of them moved, both content to stay in the little bubble of comfort that they could provide to one another.

#FMA Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Kain Fuery #Heymans Breda #Fuery/Breda #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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princelestatdelioncourt · 3 years

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Character Name

The Innamorati (Lovers Class)

(The characters of Isabella, Lelio, Flavio and Vittoria are all part of the Innamorati. However since there are so many more Commedia dell'arte characters that are part of this same class that are not fully developed by Commedia dell'Carte, we gave them their own "catch all" page to include research on this vital class of commedia characters that may not be specific to the four characters listed above. If you are seeking general information on the Innamorati, but sure to consult the web pages of the afore mentioned characters as well.)

In Italian, the Lovers (of whom four-two would-be pairs - are usually needed for a full scenario) are called innamorati. The males have names such as Silvio, Fabrizio, Aurelio, Orazio, Ottavio, Ortensio, Lelio, Leandro, Cinzio, Florindo, Lindoro, etc.; the females: Isabella, Angelica, Eularia, Flaminia, Vittoria, Silvia, Lavinia, Ortensia, Aurelia, etc. - Rudlin

Whether their names are Flavio, Ottavio, Orazio, Silvio, Leandro or Cinthio del Sole; Federigo, Lelio, Mario, or Fulvio - all reveal a fatal trace of fatuity. - Duchartre

Status

High, but brought low by the hopelessness of their infatuation. -Rudlin

Costume

The latest fashion. Males sometimes dressed as young soldiers or cadets. Wigs. Actresses would show off their wardrobe in the better companies by changing costume several times during the course of the action. -Rudlin

They had no particular costume, but dressed in the latest fashion of the period to which they belonged. - Duchartre

Wore stunning silk dresses, often in antique Renaissance style with necklaces of gold and pearls. - Gordon

Gentry-class dress, nice looking, modest, cute. Usually with a heart motif -Little

Origin (History)

The aristocracy of the Italian Renaissance courts amused themselves with a form they called commedia erudita based on the plays of Terence and Plautus, for example Calandria by Cardinal Bibbiena which, like Shakespeare's later Comedy of Errors, is based on Plautus' Menaechmi. As the professional improvised comedy looked to extend its range it seemed to have borrowed the Lovers from the amateur form. - Rudlin

The most prominent Isabella, Isabella Andreini, belonged to the troupe of Gelosi. - Laver

Physical Appearance

Had to be young, well set up, courteous, gallant even to the point of affectation - in short, a blade and a dandy. - Duchartre

Young and attractive – Rudlin

The lovers and wooers of the Commedia dell'arte were always dapper and engaging and just a trifle ridiculous. - Duchartre

Mask

No actual mask, but heavy make-up. Mascara and beauty spots for both sexes. The make-up in fact becomes a mask enabling performers to play the role well into middle age, or even beyond - Giovan Battista Andreini, son of Francesco, played Lelio until he was 73. Vizard or loup could be worn for disguise, usually made of black velvet. This was a normal accoutrement for society ladies when walking to a rendezvous and could be half- or full-face. But since it has not expression it does not count as a mask in the Commedia sense, although it does provide plenty of plot potential, enabling, for example, Columbina to attend rendezvous in her mistress's place. - Rudlin

Occasionally wore a mask that just covered eyes or a loop mask. - Laver

Signature Props

Handkerchief. Posy. Fan for women. -Rudlin

Stance

They lack firm contact with the earth. Feet invariably in ballet positions, creating an inverted cone. Chest and heart heavy. They are full of breath, but then take little pants on top. Sometimes when situations become too much for them, they deflate totally. – Rudlin

Always very proud.

Walk

They do not walk as much as tweeter, due to the instability of their base. First the head leans the other way to the body sway. Then the arms have to be used, one above the other, as a counterweight. -Rudlin

Poses

Various depending on individual character.

Movements

Actors would use the same dancing masters as the well-to-do whom they were parodying in order to point up the ridiculousness of exaggerated deportment. Movement comes at the point of overbalance leading to a sideways rush towards a new focus, with the arms left trailing behind. Stop at the new point (usually the beloved or some token thereof) before (almost) touching it. The Lovers have little or no physical contact. When there is any, the minimum has maximum effect. - Rudlin

Exaggerated movements of the hands, like feathers flapping in the wind. -Fletcher

Gestures

Often while holding a handkerchief or flower, etc. in the leading hand. The arms never make identical shapes. Because of their vanity, they frequently look in a hand mirror, only to become upset by any minor imperfection which is discovered. Even in extremis they are always looking to see if a ribbon or a sequin is out of place. A button found on the floor or a blemish in the coiffure equals disaster. - Rudlin

Speech Language

Tuscan, making great display of courtly words and baroque metaphors. Well read, knowing large extracts of poems by heart (especially Petrarch). They speak softly in musical sentences - in contrast with the zanni. Their sentences are often flamboyant, hyperbolical, full of amorous rhetoric. By the end of the 17th Century in Paris, the Lovers spoke French. - Rudlin

Animal

Various depending on individual character.

Relationships

They relate exclusively to themselves - they are in love with themselves being in love. The last person they actually relate to in the course of the action is often the beloved. When they do meet they have great difficulty in communicating with each other (usually because of the nerves). And they relate to their servants only in terms of pleading for help. The Lovers love each other, yet are more preoccupied with being seen as lovers, undergoing all the hardships of being in such a plight, than with actual fulfilment. Consequently they frequently scorn each other and feign mild hatred; they rebut, despair, reconcile, but eventually end up marrying in the way of true love when the game is up and they know they cannot play any more. After a quarrel the male may try a serenade to win back favour. This will be (dis)organized by Zanni: he employs musicians who are drunk or spends the money on something else and has tu use tramps off the street. The result is total chaos, but in the end the serenade is beautifully played and sung because everyone miraculously turns out to be good at their job after all. - Rudlin

Relationship to Audience

Extremely aware of being watched. Play with the audience for sympathy in their plight. Occasionally flirts with spectators. -Rudlin

Frequent Plot Function

Indispensable. Without them and their inability to resolve their own problems, there would be no function for the zanni, no struggle between the ineffectuality of youth and the implacability of age. The lovers are never alone on stage - they always have someone with them or spying on them. - Ruldin

Their function was to depict a state of mind rather than to paint a personality. - Duchartre

Characteristics

Thought their protestations would melt a heart of stone, there always seems to be a comic side to everything they say. One wonders if the explanation does not lie in the fact that love often robs the lover of all sense of his or her own absurdity, even though he or she may be the most rational of living men or women under ordinary circumstances.

Whatever the names of the lovers in the commedia dell'arte, they had no other trait as 'characters' than that of being in love. - Duchartre

Three, like primary colors: fidelity, jealously and fickleness. They are vain, petuluant, spoilt, full of doubt and have very little patience. They have a masochistic enjoyment of enforced seperation because it enables them to dramatize their situation, lament, moan, send messages, etc. When the Lovers do meet they are almost always tongue-tied and need interpreters (i.e. a zanni and/or a servetta) who proceed to misinterpret their statements, either through stupidity (Zanni), malicious desire for revenge (Brighella) or calculated self-interest (Columbina). Their attention span is short like young children’s. The fear that they might be nobodies keeps them hyper-animated. Their element is water: they are very wet creatures indeed. The females are more passion-wrought and energetic than their male counterparts.

The lovers exist very much in their own world- and in their own world within that world. Self-obsessed and very selfish, they are more interested in what they are saying themselves and how it sounds than in what the beloved is saying. They are primarily in love with themselves, secondarily in love with love, and only consequentially in love with the beloved. What they learn, if anything, from the tribulations of the scenario is the need to reverse these priorities.

They do, however, come off better than most other Commedia characters: there is no viciousness in them, and less to be reproached for – except vanity and vapidness, which, given their parents, they can hardly be blamed for. They represent the human portential for happiness. – Rudlin

The lover had to play with dash and be able to simulate the most exaggerated passion. - Duchartre

“If then true lovers have ever been crossed It stands as an edict in destiny. Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears – poor fancy’s followers.”

Shakespeare

#commedia dell'arte #the innamorati #lelio #Isabella #flaminia #lestat de lioncourt

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chaoswillfallrpg · 4 years

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SIRIUS BLACK is TWENTY-THREE YEARS OLD and a JUNIOR INVESTIGATOR in THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX at THE ORDER HEADQUARTERS. He looks remarkably like JAMES LASTOVIC and considers himself aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. He is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

Fearless and wild with a taste for danger, Sirius Black was always destined to become his family’s greatest achievement or their greatest disappointment. A rebellious young boy, Sirius questioned the world around him from the moment he had a grasp on it. Growing up on a Muggle street in central London, Sirius grew up curious about those who moved beyond his window that his mother encouraged him to stay away from. During his younger years Sirius simply wondered why both he and his brother REGULUS were forbidden from playing with the children in their street, though as he got older his questions became more in depth. Something didn’t quite sit right with Sirius, the little glimpses he had of the Muggle world seemed exciting. The music they listened to, the technology they used and the fashion captured his imagination far more than anything his family had ever presented to him. Sirius would sit in the window seat in his bedroom and watch the world go by from 12 Grimmauld Place, wondering what it would be like to be part of that world rather than the stuffy one he was confined to by his parents. ORION and WALBURGA BLACK were traditionalists, who had most likely kept their home in London to spite Muggles rather than want to integrate into society alongside them.

Sirius’ upbringing was filled with dinner parties and family events attended by his aunt and uncle CYGNUS and DRUELLA BLACK who held similar beliefs and enjoyed drinking heavily and making snide comments about people they believed were inferior to them. With his aunt and uncle also came the joy of spending time with his cousins, BELLATRIX, ANDROMEDA and NARCISSA who he found just as complicated to be around as his own household for different reasons. Bellatrix was a copy of his uncle, ignorant, spiteful and self entitled. Time spent with her seemed to pass slowly to Sirius as she lectured her younger cousins and sisters on their stringent family beliefs, Sirius had already decided he felt unconvinced by his family beliefs long before he had received his letter to study at Hogwarts. Narcissa was more tolerable but equally as annoying. Turning her nose up at Sirius and wrinkling it when he spoke as if he were a wet dog she’d rather have been put back outside where it belonged. Andromeda had always been his favourite. Unlike Bellatrix and Narcissa she was kind and was often the only member of his family he could exchange a knowing glance with, without feeling the fear of rejection he often felt with his brother. Sirius had always wanted to have even that small sense of closeness he had with Andromeda with his younger brother.

To Sirius Regulus always seemed torn on how to feel about his older brother, always keeping him at arm's length. He couldn’t tell if it was because he knew that Regulus knew that Sirius would leave one day and never return or if it was because he didn’t want to be on the bad side of their mother who had already marked him as the black sheep of the family by the time he was ten. Walburga had tried her best to control Sirius when she noticed him veering onto a path she didn’t agree with, from the first time he picked up a Muggle vinyl on an outing into London to his questions on their close social circle which only included Pure-Bloods. Walburga tried to integrate Sirius into wizarding high society, encouraging a closeness with his cousins and a prospective match with Burke's only daughter LYRA BURKE. The Burke family were certainly lower in the pecking order than the Black family, but as Sirius had a fondness for sharing his opinions with his mother’s friends KRATISTA BURKE was the only prospective member of The Sacred Twenty-Eight that was happy to form a match between the pair, even though she had asked if Regulus were available before his mother had firmly told her he was not. Sirius had liked Lyra well enough, but could never allow himself to fully become close with her, knowing fine well no matter her disposition she represented everything his mother wanted for him and that Sirius despised.

Hogwarts had signalled a new start for Sirius. Although he would be joining his cousins at school, Sirius was determined to separate himself from them and create his own experience which was not limited by his family name. This objective was aided largely by the first friend he met at school. JAMES POTTER strolled onto the train, dug his hand into his pocket and bought the contents of the refreshment trolley right under JASPER AVERY and LARKIN MULCIBER’s nose and shared it with Sirius. Smirking at one another, Sirius shook James’ hand, tucked into a licorice wand and vowed that if being friends at Hogwarts would be of showing up people like Mulciber and Avery he was in for the long haul. Leaving the train their attention was grabbed by another pupil. PETER PETTIGREW was a raven haired boy in hand-me-down robes, which hadn’t gone lost on Mulciber who sneered insults at Peter before sniggering with his friends. To Sirius astonishment he watched as Peter spun on his heel and issued an expert right hook to him resulting in a telling off from PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL and a prompt fixing charm on Mulciber’s nose. Sirius knew they needed to befriend Peter there and then and was overjoyed when all three boys were sorted in Gryffindor, with Bellatrix and Narcissa watching angrily from the Slytherin table. Sirius' school years were a whirlwind of excitement, a mixture of being the coolest person in the room and the most disliked depending on who was asked.

A star Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, they barely lost a match and the parties afterwards were enough to make Sirius Black go down as a legendary name in Hogwarts history. His time at school was amazing, a stark contrast to the life he led back at home during the summer holidays. His final years at home, Sirius plastered his room with posters of Muggle women in bikinis, pictures of motorcycles and him getting drunk on the school field dancing with MARLENE MCKINNON and MARY MACDONALD as they laughed into the night. By his sixth year his mother had reached her limit, blasting Sirius off the family tree in their home and leaving Sirius to move in with James and his family. Although being disowned affected him more than Sirius would ever let on he tried to move past it, avoiding the gaze of his brother and cousins, attempting to pretend the only people who existed in his world were those who truly mattered to him. Whilst other students buckled down in their final years of study, Sirius saw it as an excuse to party- bunking off classes to smoke cigarettes on the Quidditch pitch with Marlene and taking his Muggle-Born girlfriend at the time MAREN LINWOOD on dates to Hogsmede and showing her off at parties. Sirius had always been wild to his friends, but some of his more reckless antics gave them cause for concern. A particular incident involving one of Sirius best friends REMUS LUPIN was the final straw for the Marauders before they staged an intervention.

Now all Animagi which they had trained in to accompany Remus during transformations, Sirius invited James’ long-term enemy SEVERUS SNAPE to the Shrieking Shack on a full moon as a stupid prank to scare their friend, leaving James to jump in and save him and Remus close to tears when he later found out. Presumably acting out due to his family situation and his recent break-up, the group rallied round Sirius and ensured he left Hogwarts with enough qualifications to get a job, though he wouldn’t have enough to train to be an Auror. Graduating with his friends, Sirius took his inheritance and moved into a small flat in Farringdon with James, Peter and Remus. Trying to find something useful to do with his time he got a part-time job fixing motorcycles at a Muggle mechanic shop until PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE came knocking with a more important job offer. With more people disappearing each day in London, Dumbledore had put together a group of people to track dark witches and wizards he suspected were planning a war. Training under ALASTOR MOODY, Sirius has been sharpening his duelling, tracking and disguising abilities in order to become a vital weapon for The Order. One of the more skilled from his class, due all of his one on one time with Alastor Moody, Sirius currently has the important task of marking and tracking some of the suspect younger members of THE DARK LORD’S army, starting with his own brother. Regulus.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality → Up to Roleplayer

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Gryffindor)

Societies → N/A

Family → Orion Black (estranged father), Walburga Black (estranged mother), Regulus Black (estranged brother/adversary), Cygnus Black (estranged uncle), Druella Black (estranged aunt), Bellatrix Black (estranged cousin/adversary), Andromeda Black (cousin), Narcissa Black (estranged cousin)

Connections → James Potter (best friend/housemate), Peter Pettigrew (best friend/housemate), Remus Lupin (best friend/housemate), Marlene McKinnon (close friend/potential love interest), Mary MacDonald (close friend), Lily Evans (close friend), Dorcas Meadoews (close friend), Alastor Moody (mentor), Maren Linwood (ex-girlfriend/friend/object of flirtation), Emilia Grey (friend), Cassiopeia Kim (friend), Cressida Abercrombie (friend), Gilfred Abbott (friend), Caradoc Dearborn (friend), Poppy Hookum (friend), Aurora Sinistra (friend), Gwenog Jones (friend), Adaira Linwood (object of flirtation), Laurel Linwood (object of flirtation) Severus Snape (adversary), Jasper Avery (adversary), Larkin Mulciber (adversary), Lyra Burke (former betrothed)

Future Information → N/A

SIRIUS BLACK IS A LEVEL 7 WIZARD.

#sirius black #james lastovic #insatiable #marauders #sirius black rp #house of black #order member #the order #magic #black #taken #taken order member #taken wizard

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basicsofislam · 3 years

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ISLAM 101: Muslim Culture and Character: Embracing The World:

EDUCATION FROM CRADLE TO GRAVE

Introduction

The main duty and purpose of human life is to seek understanding. The effort of doing so, known as education, is a perfecting process though which we earn, in the spiritual, intellectual, and physical dimensions of their beings, the rank appointed for us as the perfect pattern of creation. At birth, the outset of the earthly phase of our journey from the world of spirits to eternity, we are wholly impotent and needy. By contrast, most animals come into the world as if matured or perfected beforehand. Within a few hours or days or months, they learn everything necessary for their survival, as well as how to relate to their environment and with other creatures. For example, sparrows or bees acquire maturity and all the physical and social skills they need within about twenty days; we need twenty years or more to acquire a comparable level of maturity.

We are born helpless as well as ignorant of the laws of life and must cry out to get the help we need. After a year or so, we can stand on our feet and walk a little. When we are about fifteen, we are expected to have understood the difference between good and evil, the beneficial and the harmful. However, it will take us our whole lives to acquire intellectual and spiritual perfection. Our principal duty in life is to acquire perfection and purity in our thinking, conceptions, and belief. By fulfilling our duty of servanthood to the Creator, Nourisher, and Protector, and by penetrating the mystery of creation through our potentials and faculties, we seek to attain to the rank of true humanity and become worthy of a blissful, eternal life in another, exalted world.

Our humanity is directly proportional to our emotions’ purity. Although those who are full of bad feelings and whose souls are influenced by egoism look like human beings, whether they really are human is doubtful. Almost everyone can train their bodies, but few can educate their minds and feelings. The former training produces strong bodies, while the latter produces spiritual people.

Our Innate Faculties and Education

Since the time of Ibn Miskawayh, human faculties or “drives” have been dealt with in three categories: reason, anger, and lust. Reason encompasses all of our powers of conception, imagination, calculation, memory, learning, and so on. Anger covers our power of self-defense, which Islamic jurisprudence defines as that needed to defend our faith and religion, sanity, possessions, life and family, and other sacred values. Lust is the name for the driving force of our animal appetites:Decked out for humanity is the passionate love of desires for the opposite sex and offspring; for hoarded treasures of gold and silver; for branded horses, cattle, and plantations; and for all kinds of worldly things (3:14).

These drives are found in other creatures. However, whether in their desires, intelligence, or determination to defend life and territory, these drives are limited in all creatures but humanity. Each of us is uniquely endowed with free will and the consequent obligation to discipline our powers. This struggle for discipline determines our humanity. In combination with each other and with circumstances, our faculties often are expressed through jealousy, hatred, enmity, hypocrisy, and show. They also need to be disciplined.

We are not only composed of body and mind. Each of us has a spirit that needs satisfaction. Without this, we cannot find true happiness and perfection. Spiritual satisfaction is possible only through knowledge of God and belief in Him. Confined within the physical world, our own particular carnal self, time, and place can be experienced as a dungeon. We can escape it through belief and regular worship, and by refraining from extremes while using our faculties or powers. We must not seek to annul our drives, but to use our free will to contain and purify them, to channel and direct them toward virtue. For example, we are not expected to eliminate lust, but to satisfy it lawfully through reproduction. Happiness lies in confining our lust to the lawful bounds of decency and chastity, not in engaging in debauchery and dissipation.

Similarly, jealousy can be channeled into emulation free of rancor, which inspires us to emulate those who excel in goodness and good deeds. Applying the proper discipline to our reason results in the acquisition of knowledge, and ultimately of understanding or wisdom. Purifying and training anger leads to courage and forbearance. Disciplining our passion and desire develops our chastity.

If every virtue is thought of as the center of a circle, and any movement away from the center as a vice, the vice becomes greater as we move further away from the center. Every virtue therefore has innumerable vices, since there is only one center in a circle but an infinite number of points around it. It is irrelevant in which direction the deviation occurs, for deviation from the center, in whatever direction, is a vice.

There are two extremes related to each moral virtue: deficiency or excess. The two extremes connected with wisdom are stupidity and cunning. For courage they are cowardice and rashness, and for chastity they are lethargy and uncontrolled lust. So a person’s perfection, the ultimate purpose of our existence, lies in maintaining a condition of balance and moderation between the two extremes relating to every virtue. ‘Ali ibn Abi Talib is reported to have said:

“God has characterized angels by intellect without sexual desire, passion, and anger, and animals with anger and desire without intellect. He exalted humanity by bestowing upon them all of these qualities. Accordingly, if a person’s intellect dominates his or her desire and ferocity, he or she rises to a station above that of angels, because this station is attained by a human being in spite of the existence of obstacles that do not vex angels.

“Improving a community is possible only by elevating the young generations to the rank of humanity, not by obliterating the bad ones. Unless a seed composed of religion, tradition, and historical consciousness is germinated throughout the country, new evil elements will appear and grow in the place of each eradicated bad one.”

The Real Meaning and Value of Education

Education through learning and a commendable way of life is a sublime duty that manifests the Divine Name Rabb (Upbringer and Sustainer). By fulfilling it, we attain the rank of true humanity and become a beneficial element of society.

Education is vital for both societies and individuals. First, our humanity is directly proportional to our emotions’ purity. Although those who are full of bad feelings and whose souls are influenced by egoism look like human beings, whether they really are so is questionable. Almost anyone can be successful in physical training, but few can educate their minds and feelings. Second, improving a community is possible by elevating the coming generations to the rank of humanity, not by obliterating the bad ones. Unless the seeds of religion, traditional values, and historical consciousness germinate throughout the country, new bad elements will inevitably grow up in the place of every bad element that has been eradicated.

A nation’s future depends on its youth. Any people who want to secure their future should apply as much energy to raising their children as they devote to other issues. A nation that fails its youth, that abandons them to foreign cultural influences, jeopardizes their identity and is subject to cultural and political weakness.

The reasons for the vices observed in today’s generation, as well as the incompetence of some administrators and other nation-wide troubles, lie in the prevailing conditions and ruling elite of 25 years ago. Likewise, those who are charged with educating today’s young people will be responsible for the vices and virtues that will appear in another 25 years. Those who wish to predict a nation’s future can do so correctly by taking a full account of the education and upbringing given to its young people. “Real” life is possible only through knowledge. Thus, those who neglect learning and teaching should be counted as “dead” even though they are living, for we were created to learn and communicate to others what we have learned.

Right decisions depend on having a sound mind and being capable of sound thought. Science and knowledge illuminate and develop the mind. For this reason, a mind deprived of science and knowledge cannot reach right decisions, is always exposed to deception, and is subject to being misled.

We are only truly human if we learn, teach, and inspire others. It is difficult to regard those who are ignorant and without desire to learn as truly human. It is also questionable whether learned people who do not renew and reform themselves in order to set an example for others are truly human. Status and merit acquired through knowledge and science are higher and more lasting than those obtained through other means.

Given the great importance of learning and teaching, we must determine what is to be learned and taught, and when and how to do so. Although knowledge is a value in itself, the purpose of learning is to make knowledge a guide in life and illuminate the road to human betterment. Thus, any knowledge not appropriated for the self is a burden to the learner, and a science that does not direct one toward sublime goals is a deception.

But knowledge acquired for a right purpose is an inexhaustible source of blessings for the learner. Those who possess such a source are always sought by people, like a source of fresh water, and lead people to the good. Knowledge limited to empty theories and unabsorbed pieces of learning, which arouses suspicions in minds and darkens hearts, is a “heap of garbage” around which desperate and confused souls flounder. Therefore, science and knowledge should seek to uncover humanity’s nature and creation’s mysteries. Any knowledge, even “scientific,” is true only if it sheds light on the mysteries of human nature and the dark areas of existence.

Family, School, and Environment

People who want to guarantee their future cannot be indifferent how their children are being educated. The family, school, environment, and mass media should cooperate to ensure the desired result. Opposing tendencies among these vital institutions will subject young people to contradictory influences that will distract them and dissipate their energy. In particular, the mass media should contribute to young people’s education by following the education policy approved by the community. The school must be as perfect as possible with respect to curriculum, its teachers’ scientific and moral standards of teachers, and its physical conditions. A family must provide the necessary warmth and quality of atmosphere in which the children are raised.

In the early centuries of Islam, minds, hearts, and souls strove to understand that which the Lord of the heavens and the Earth approves. Each conversation, discussion, correspondence, and event was directed to that end. As a result, whoever could do so imbibed the right values and spirit from the surrounding environment. It was as if everything was a teacher to prepare the individual’s mind and soul and develop his or her capacity to attain a high level in Islamic sciences. The first school in which we receive the necessary education to be perfected is the home.

The home is vital to raising of a healthy generation and ensuring a healthy social system or structure. This responsibility continues throughout life. The impressions we receive from our family cannot be deleted later in life. Furthermore, the family’s control over the child at home, with respect to other siblings and toys, continues at school, with respect to the child’s friends, books, and places visited. Parents must feed their children’s minds with knowledge and science before their minds become engaged in useless things, for souls without truth and knowledge are fields in which evil thoughts are cultivated and grown.

Children can receive a good education at home only if there is a healthy family life. Thus marriage should be undertaken to form a healthy family life and so contribute to the permanence of one’s nation in particular, and of the human population in general. Peace, happiness, and security at home is the mutual accord between the spouses in thought, morals, and belief. Couples who decide to marry should know each other very well and consider purity of feelings, chastity, morality, and virtue rather than wealth and physical charm. Children’s mischief and impudence reflect the atmosphere in which they are being raised. A dysfunctional family life increasingly reflects upon the child’s spirit, and therefore upon society.

In the family, elders should treat those younger than them with compassion, and the young should show respect for their elders. Parents should love and respect each other, and treat their children with compassion and due consideration of their feelings. They must treat each child justly and not discriminate among them. If parents encourage their children to develop their abilities and be useful to themselves and the community, they have given the nation a strong new pillar. If they do not cultivate the proper feelings in their children, they release scorpions into the community.

The School and the Teacher

A school may be considered a laboratory that offers an elixir that can prevent or heal the ills of life. Those who have the knowledge and wisdom to prepare and administer it are the teachers.

A school is a place of learning about everything related to this life and the next. It can shed light on vital ideas and events, and enable its students to understand their natural and human environment. It also can quickly open the way to unveiling the meaning of things and events, thereby leading a student to wholeness of thought and contemplation. In essence, a school is a kind of place of worship whose “holy people” are teachers.

Real teachers sow the pure seed and preserve it. They occupy themselves with what is good and wholesome, and lead and guide the children in life and whatever events they encounter. For a school to be a true institution of education, students first should be equipped with an ideal, a love of their language and how to use it most effectively, good morals, and perennial human values. Their social identity must be built on these foundations.

Education is different from teaching. Most people can teach, but only a very few can educate. Communities composed of individuals devoid of a sublime ideal, good manners, and human values are like rude individuals who have no loyalty in friendship or consistency in enmity. Those who trust such people are always disappointed, and those who depend upon them are sooner or later left without support. The best way of equipping one with such values is a sound religious education.

A community’s survival depends on idealism and good morals, as well as on reaching the necessary level in scientific and technological progress. For this reason, trades and crafts should be taught beginning at least in the elementary level. A good school is not a building where only theoretical information is given, but an institution or a laboratory where students are prepared for life.

Patience is of great importance in education. Educating people is the most sacred, but also the most difficult, task in life. In addition to setting a good personal example, teachers should be patient enough to obtain the desired result. They should know their students very well, and address their intellects and their hearts, spirits, and feelings. The best way to educate people is to show a special concern for every individual, not forgetting that each individual is a different “world.”

School provides its pupils with the possibilities of continuous reading, and speaks even when it is silent. Because of this, although it seems to occupy only one phase of life, school actually dominates all times and events. For the rest of their lives, pupils re-enact what they learned at school and derive continuous influence therefrom. Teachers should know how to find a way to the student’s heart and leave indelible imprints upon his or her mind. They should test the information to be passed on to students by refining their own minds and the prisms of their hearts. A good lesson is one that does more than provide pupils with useful information or skills; it should elevate them into the presence of the unknown. This enables the students to acquire a penetrating vision into the reality of things, and to see each event as a sign of the unseen world.

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Pandemonium XI

Words; 3.4k

“I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.”

The tension in the room always seemed to follow Namjoon.

It was as if he carried the marvelous ability to take the thin air around him and bend it into a daunting aura. The very presence of him screamed alarm to others, an alpha just begging you to fuck with him. One found it a bit of a task to just meet his eye line.

You must admit, his little dialogue of his prediction of your ‘submissive’ side left a somewhat startled and taken aback feeling for you to process.

Surprisingly, he did make a point of you aggressive persona being a lot to upkeep. You weren’t sure if it was a defense mechanism or your personality, but you did feel a bit tired at times from having to keep a constant level of defiance. Perhaps you did have a problem showing vulnerability, and that’s why you act so bold; especially in the face of men.

You found yourself in a position you rarely were ever in; flabbergasted and strangled by silence as your mind struggled to keep up with what was just said.

Namjoon looked pleased, aristocratic features twisting up in a witty smile as if your confusion aided his pleasure. His dimples made an appearance and you felt your own face scrunch up into a scoff. How befitting was it for such an adorable feature to be plopped beside the very same lips that uttered such taboo topics at the dinner table?

His smile sparked some annoyance within you due to it revealing the satisfaction that his plan was working.

He wanted you to be freaking out right now.

He wanted you to feel exposed.

He wanted to plant a seed in your head.

You wouldn’t let him.

You leaned back in your seat and grabbed your glass to take a sip of whatever expensive wine he found necessary to splurge on. ‘Rich people’, you thought while barely suppressing an eye roll.

“You know Mr. Kim, I think that perhaps your little male ego just needs to feel vital. That’s why you enjoy the concept of being a girl’s ‘daddy’.”

A snark from his baritone voice. His olive tone hand reached out to mirror your actions by grasping his own glass of wine. “Charming analysis, really. Yet this doesn’t stem from a need to be in control and feel important. Like I stated before nymphet, it works both ways. You’d be just as vital to me as I am to you.”

“Be that as it may, don’t you think that forcing a submissive role onto someone is just manipulative?” You retorted.

“Not at all. Tell me babe, exactly when did I force any type of role onto you? In fact, I quite like you just as you are. I would be very bored if you were a utter doormat.”

You snorted at this. “And what exactly was that whole ted talk about your psychological analysis concerning my inner submissive side?”

“My meer suspicions. But let me ask you some questions.” A pause as if to wait for your objection. You stayed quiet. “Do you find it a negative that your partner would want to take care of your every need?”

You shook your head.

“Is it bad to depend on your partner?”

Another shake of the head.

“And will you admit that in relationships, one usually falls into a more assertive role while the other falls into a submissive role?”

A prolonged response, but you settled for a shrug.

“And you have a softer side, it’s just hidden under a facade of aggression.”

You placed your drink down quickly, and stuttered; “W-well, I wouldn’t say-” “No, no. That wasn’t a question.” His dark eyes glimmered with a knowing benevolence.

You face warmed on its’ own accord.

Logic was also something that was not wasted on this man by any means. It was like you were debating against a world class lawyer. You felt small and somewhat stupid, trapped by the brilliant diction to escape those plush lips of his. Of course, your immediate reaction was to yell and spark up another fight. He had tricked you.

Yet, you couldn’t. You would be proving him right.

Perhaps you were too stubborn. Maybe you were demonizing the idea of a dom/sub relationship. As you searched your mind for one valid reason to take a strong stance against it, you couldn’t.

“Are you two ready to order?” This broke your trance, causing you to look up and see the anxious waiter, pen and paper in hand.

You huffed and looked at Namjoon. “Order for me.”

Namjoon smirked, “No allergies to speak off?”

“Nope.”

Namjoon turned his attention to the waiter and informed him of the food that he would be expecting. Meanwhile, you attempted to drown yourself in that alcoholic grape juice that suddenly became all too interesting. Not noticing the very proud smirk Namjoon held.

“Any recent literature to capture my nymphet’s mind?”

You shoved another fork full into your mouth, not knowing whether or not to be happy that Namjoon did indeed order something you found very delicious. Not that you would ever tell him that, though.

“I finished Fitzgerald’s ‘This Side Of Paradise.’” You bluntly responded.

“And your thoughts?” Namjoon prodded.

“Amory Blaine was a player who got mad when he got played.”

Namjoon laughed, “Really now? I thought he was ahead of his time. When he met a woman who was finally of his wit and standard, she rejected him because she was too clever. Hell, Amory Blaine wouldn’t have married himself!”

“Sure, she was smart for dodging him and marrying someone rich. Yet, he didn’t have the right to bitch about it.”

“He got his heart broken.” Namjoon argued.

“He got his ego broken.” You disagreed, remembering the protagonists’ self-entitled rants of despair.

“We should have our own book club.” Namjoon suggested, seeming to enjoy the contrast of beliefs concerning classic novels.

“No thanks, I would rip your head off if I constantly had to hear your propaganda.” Chewing harshly on purpose, you glared straight ahead at him.

He smiled, amused by your lack of manners. “You’re a messy eater.”

You chewed louder, mouth open to get the sound effect as well.

“You know, you’re only proving me right by acting like a childish brat.” He smirked before passing you over a napkin. “If it were up to me, you would have gotten something from the kid’s menu and be eating out of kiddie plates and sippy cups.”

“I think you would find perfect companionship at a daycare if that’s what you would want to see someone eat out of.” You swallowed loudly, taking in sick satisfaction from Namjoons’ eyebrow twitch,

“Someone needs to teach you manners.” He stated.

“You’re right. Maybe Mr. Kim or Yoongi would be up for the job.” Using his brothers against him was cruel, but you couldn’t deny the opportunity to get under his skin.

He halted his movement to slice through his steak and looked up to bore his orbs into yours, “Don’t you dare mention those buffoons when you’re with me.”

“Why? Does it grind your gears to know that one of your brothers could be a more capable ‘daddy’ than you?” you couldn’t help but tease, feeling a level of power at finding a weak point at a seemingly powerful man.

A silence passed and his head bowed to cut through his steak, more precisely and harshly than he was mincing it before. You paused your consuming, partly startled at his sudden seriousness and lack of banter.

“Tell me something dear, were you spanked as a child?”

You choked, “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

He popped a dice of meat into his mouth to devour, “......because you’re about to be.”

Besides the obvious undertones of power-play, the dinner was perfectly adequate.

Namjoon held qualities that you would’ve liked in a partner; intelligent, gentlemanly, well-read, respectful and clever enough to uphold a repartee with you. He was one of the few people who you felt stimulated with by debating openly, one of the few people you respected as an equal footing with you. He challenged you. Some men you considered below you, knowing that their intentions were ill moraled and brains not nearly filled enough. Other men you considered to be of a different world, too out of touch to ever be a match to you. Similar to how you felt when your relationship first bloomed with Jimin, a man who should’ve never collided worlds with you.

But Namjoon was someone you felt rather comfortable with. After getting past the desperate swaying of dom/sub dynamics, you found yourself enjoying the company of the previously intimidating man. He entertained your thoughts on culture, music and even absurd analysis on how Oscar wilde was the ‘first gay king’ as you lovingly put it.

The meal was finished and he refused to beg for more of your time (something Jungkook or Jimin would’ve pulled.) He paid the bill with the help of a shiny black card, laid a crisp twenty dollar bill on the table and led you out of the restaurant whilst guiding you via an arm around your waist.

The car ride home was rather silent, the enchanting notes of Chopin played through the radio and draped an air of sophistication into the atmosphere. Neither of you spoke, yet it was far from awkward. It was more like a mutual agreement to appreciate a stillness after such engaging conversation.

He pulled into your dorm parking lot. Like an old fashioned bachelor, he exited his side to open the door for you and walk you to your door (or more like the dorm entrance).

“Was I satisfactory?” His deep voice rumbled, tone sounding more intimate as you were directly next to him...practically feeling the vibrations from his chest as he said his words.

You two continued your walk, however you were setting the pace. It was a slow walk, you had to admit, but you wanted to prolong the time and see how Namjoon would wrap the evening up. So it was your little secret that you took your time with calculated strides.

“Compared to what I thought was going to happen….yeah, I’m pleased.”

“And just what was your prediction?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know. Maybe you pulling a Cosby and taking me to a playroom or something.” You laughed.

“Your humor is too satirical love, people overhearing might not get the joke.” Namjoon pulled your form closer to him as a chilly wind passed through unexpectedly. You breathed deep and briefly wondered if it would be weird to ask just exactly how much this fucker drops on cologne alone.

‘He did tip a waiter like 20 dollars though….maybe I don’t wanna know.’

Sadly, you had approached the door and were forced to face him with goodbyes.

“Well...I’m glad you got to spend a night with a man instead of wasting it on a little boy.”

You rolled your eyes, and debated with whether or not you should say what has been bothering you on the drive over.

“A-are you going to teach me how a man kisses?” This indeed was the reason you had agreed to the date in the first place; Namjoon claiming to blow Jungkook’s boyish technique out of the water with a much more experienced mouth. It was something that was bubbling under the surface for you, making you prone to bursting if it wasn’t addressed.

Namjoon quirked his brow and rubbed the back of his neck, “I suppose, if that’s what the lady wants.”

You waited, holding your breath subconsciously.

He smirked and stepped closer to you, invading any realm of personal space. God, he was tall. You felt vulnerable but surprisingly….you didn’t feel any disgust towards this new feeling. It felt almost intimate to be so close to such a bigger frame than yours...

“Close your eyes.” He purred. You obeyed, you didn’t know why you did it without question...but you obeyed.

You waited for the feeling of his lips to touch yours.

Would his kisses be rough and alpha-like, like the domineering persona seen before?

Or would it be careful and elaborate, similar to his manners and mindset?

You felt his hand take yours.

You pursed your lips, not wanting to waste any time and cover the distance quickly.

You felt something warm and soft pucker against the back of your hand.

What?

You opened your eyes to witness something you weren’t expecting; Namjoon’s broad and receding back as he retreated towards the parking lot.

Rage spurred within you.

The fucker really just kissed your hand before trying to leave while you had your eyes closed and lips out like a fucking idiot?!

“What the fuck Namjoon?!” You called out, not caring how shrill and insane your own voice sounded as it echoed through the parking lot.

He raised one long arm to wave back, still not turning around to face you. “A real gentleman doesn’t kiss on the first date babygirl.”

You breathed in.

Your breathed out.

“YOU MANIAC! YOU CAN TALK ABOUT BDSM OVER DINNER BUT CAN’T EVEN PECK ME?! ‘DADDY’ MY ASS! YOUR BROTHERS WOULDN’T TREAT ME LIKE THIS!” You hollered as Namjoon got into his car, not once acknowledging your temper tantrum and starting up the vehicle to drive away.

You heard a window open as a college student poked their head out to see what was going on. “What the fuck are you yelling for? People are trying to sleep!”

You looked up and flipped the anonymous peer off while taking out your keys to enter the dorm.

The Kim brothers were an interesting breed, you decided.

You laid in bed, scrolling through your phone as you awaited sleep to come.

When you had got home, Kat was nowhere to be seen and you were left with the dorm to yourself. She did mention a study dat before so you weren’t too concerned.

You decided to wash up and turn in, knowing how early your first class was tomorrow.

A notification popped up on the top of your screen, halting your browsing.

It was a text from Namjoon.

‘I fell in love with her courage,

Her sincerity and her flaming self respect.

And it’s these things I’d believe in,

Even if the world indulged in wild suspicions

That she wasn’t all that she should be.

I love her and that is the beginning of everything.’ ~F. Scott Fitzgerald’

Did he really sent you a poem?

You spent about ten minutes reading the words over and over again, letting it warm your heart as you pictured Namjoon’s long fingers typing it down and thinking of you. It was easy for you to connect the dots given one of the his favorite topics was your submission to him. However, this poem hinted that he was not at all turned off by your aggression and bratiness. Even if the world didn’t think think you were proper, your flaming self respect earned Namjoon’s fondness of you. And like the last line said….

This was only the beginning.

You fell asleep with a smile upon your face.

Perhaps if you had looked up the horoscope for your astrological sign, it would’ve warned you of just exactly how cursed this day was about to be. Maybe even told you to stay your ass home.

Sadly, you had to discover this bad fortune the hard way by treading out into the very world itself.

First, you woke up late and thus had very little time to get pretty. Not only did you burst into your first class about 15 minutes late, but you also looked like a hot mess.

Then, you realized that you forgot to charge your laptop last night. Meaning, all notes were now going to have to painstakingly be taken by hand. This would have been longer and more carpal-tunnel themed but god decided to strike upon you even harder by making that pen explode on you, ink now staining your shirt.

And the final nail in the coffin was in your early afternoon class. Your professor was handing back grades on the most recent paper to be turned in, one that you have worked very hard on and missed sleep over.

And what did you get?

A big, bright, red ‘F’.

Red was a hideous color, you concluded. Maybe that’s why teachers used it? To make the letter grade look angry and disappointed. It worked like a charm given the more you stared at it, the more heavy the guilt and inner-turmoil felt on your chest.

You had enough of this day.

You looked like shit.

Felt like shit.

And apparently your quality as a student was utter shit.

There was a silver lining, and in a facade optimism you tried to focus on it and nothing else.

You only had one more class to suffer through today, after that you were perfectly free to wallow the rest of the 24 hours in bed with whatever items to satisfy a pity party.

But while walking on campus to your next class, you had caught sight of something.

A group of guys were lurking by the entrance to your next class.

The closer you approached, the more clearer their faces became.

It was a fuck boy pack, about five in total. They were excitedly talking with one another, some even rough housing with those enlarged limbs of theirs. You rolled your eyes and continued your stride, not wanting to pause and give them any more inspection. All you had to do was pass them and get into the classroom.

A boisterous roar that made you jump, the sound coming from the group itself (which now appeared to be like a group of wild hyenas).

You turned to see what the fuck can be such cause for such foolish hollering.

Only to see one of the guys pointing right at you while the others turned to face the direction.

And what face was among them?

Jungkook.

The scene was reminiscent of ‘Mean Girls’.

When Lindsey Lohan ate her lunch in the bathroom because she had no one to sit with.

You were just like her.

Instead, you weren’t eating lunch so much as you were bawling your eyes out.

A girl could only take so much, you know?

After you saw Jungkook among them, you snapped right back around to head to a bathroom. Not wanting him to bear witness to your now red face and watery eyes.

You promised yourself that you were just heading to the restroom for a second to process what just happened. Not to mention you also wanted to avoid them. However the more you tried to process it from within the claustrophobic stall of yours, the more unbearable the situation became.

Paranoia clawed at you and it quickly became apparent that either way, it wasn’t looking good for you.

What the fuck did Jungkook tell them about you?

Did he also tell them about your night together?

Did he tell them that you were a poor commoner willing to set aside self-respect for the wealth of sugar daddies?

Just how much did he expose of your intimate side to his bros for the sake of a laugh?

Although Jungkook was the proud owner of doe eyes, iron man socks and IU posters….he still hung out with jocks and wore too much axe spray to be allowed. Foolish it was to place any trust on a man like that. If he wanted to let the whole school know of your dirty little secret, he would have all the proof and popularity on his side.

You sniffled.

You knew that today in general just wasn’t a good day for you. Over-sensitivity was a given. But did being aware of your wounded heart make the pain go away any less? No. Of course not.

You just felt so...small. Hopeless. Meek. Like prey to anyone and anything that wanted to hurt you today.

And you craved protection of any sort.

Your eyes released more tears and another sob broke through your seemingly paper-thin chest. Just when exactly did you work yourself into a incomprehensive hysteria? You didn’t know.

Working on auto-pilot, you felt your own hand reach for your phone and swiftly click a contact name, tears dropping onto the screen before you put it to your ear.

A ring as you called the person.

He picked up on the second one.

“Hello?” his deep voice greeted.

“Daddy! Please get me….I-I’m scared.” you pleaded, not understanding the words that left your mouth until it was much too late.

Namjoon was taken aback on the other line.

Maybe the submissive side wasn’t so hidden afterall.

(Sorry I haven’t touched this fic in a long time....Im trash. tbh I hit a writers block and found nam kinda intimidating to write for. Is it obvious I haven’t written this story in a long time lmao? I have an outline though for the next few chapters so we should get back on track. Im very proud of the other stories I put out tho so if you haven’t yet, please check those out. Ask my character is available, tell me your thoughts on this chapter and I’ll catch you guys on the flippity flop.)

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frederickwiddowson · 4 years

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Exodus 23:20-33 comments: a comparison between ancient Hebrews and modern Christians

Exodus 23:20 ¶ Behold, I send an Angel before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared. 21 Beware of him, and obey his voice, provoke him not; for he will not pardon your transgressions: for my name is in him. 22 But if thou shalt indeed obey his voice, and do all that I speak; then I will be an enemy unto thine enemies, and an adversary unto thine adversaries. 23 For mine Angel shall go before thee, and bring thee in unto the Amorites, and the Hittites, and the Perizzites, and the Canaanites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites: and I will cut them off. 24 Thou shalt not bow down to their gods, nor serve them, nor do after their works: but thou shalt utterly overthrow them, and quite break down their images. 25 And ye shall serve the LORD your God, and he shall bless thy bread, and thy water; and I will take sickness away from the midst of thee. 26 There shall nothing cast their young, nor be barren, in thy land: the number of thy days I will fulfil. 27 I will send my fear before thee, and will destroy all the people to whom thou shalt come, and I will make all thine enemies turn their backs unto thee. 28 And I will send hornets before thee, which shall drive out the Hivite, the Canaanite, and the Hittite, from before thee. 29 I will not drive them out from before thee in one year; lest the land become desolate, and the beast of the field multiply against thee. 30 By little and little I will drive them out from before thee, until thou be increased, and inherit the land. 31 And I will set thy bounds from the Red sea even unto the sea of the Philistines, and from the desert unto the river: for I will deliver the inhabitants of the land into your hand; and thou shalt drive them out before thee. 32 Thou shalt make no covenant with them, nor with their gods. 33 They shall not dwell in thy land, lest they make thee sin against me: for if thou serve their gods, it will surely be a snare unto thee.

Here is an important doctrine regarding what an angel is, a spiritual representative, the presence of someone, in this case God. God’s name is in the angel.

Isaiah 63:9 In all their affliction he was afflicted, and the angel of his presence saved them: in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; and he bare them, and carried them all the days of old.

Judges 2:1 And an angel of the LORD came up from Gilgal to Bochim, and said, I made you to go up out of Egypt, and have brought you unto the land which I sware unto your fathers; and I said, I will never break my covenant with you.

Verse 24 reinforces God’s disgust with worshipping gods, little g, and idols. They are either figments of man’s imagination or devils.

Deuteronomy 32:17 They sacrificed unto devils, not to God; to gods whom they knew not, to new gods that came newly up, whom your fathers feared not.

Do not think that because you don’t worship Thor or Kali that you are not worshipping a false god. Any time you think, “an education will make me successful,” or, “having that man or woman will make me happy,” or, just constantly wanting something other than what you have you are creating idols, not much differently than ancient people. You are one step away from giving your dependence on education, sex, or material possessions a name, an identity to worship. Anything we place as more important than obedience to God and faithfulness to Him is an idol. We are to do right, to do our best, and to trust God only for our success and happiness. Education is a good thing, intimacy between a husband and wife is an honorable thing, and we need food and shelter but we must not depend on them rather than God.

For instance, in regard to wealth, Paul warns Christians;

1Timothy 6:6 ¶ But godliness with contentment is great gain. 7 For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. 8 And having food and raiment let us be therewith content. 9 But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. 10 For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

And Jesus admonished His disciples using the Syriac word for the personification of money.

Luke 16:13 No servant can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.

With regard to sex as an idol the ancients had goddesses like Ishtar, the goddess of immigrants and prostitutes, a version of which we have in the harbor of New York City also called the goddess Liberty, popular among the Enlightenment thinkers like James Madison, the so-called Father of the Constitution, along with Providence, a reference to a vague universal power but certainly not the God of the Bible. The Greeks and Romans of Paul’s time had Venus and Aphrodite, goddesses of sex, who were worshipped in temples like those of Acrocorinth in Greece with short-haired priestesses, the reason why the Corinthian Christians demanded that their women have long hair which Paul approved while stating that it was not an issue in other churches. See 1Corinthians 11.

Idolatry is and has been one of the prime sins of man against God throughout history. This has been the cause of the perverted, sexualized religion of the ancient world and the decadence of mankind. Idolatry results in sexual perversion and it is the byproduct and result of idolatry.

Romans 1:19 ¶ Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them. 20 For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse: 21 Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. 22 Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, 23 And changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things. 24 Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonour their own bodies between themselves: 25 Who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen. 26 For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: 27 And likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet. 28 And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient; 29 Being filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity; whisperers, 30 Backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, 31 Without understanding, covenantbreakers, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful: 32 Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them.

In that passage we can see why society decays and who is responsible for its decay. God gives delusions and permits our more decadent natures to take preeminence.

Whether our idol is the flag or Constitution, which Mormon Joseph Smith convinced patriots was divinely inspired by God, or whether it is money, sex, or education idolatry is one of the prime reasons that American Christianity is so powerless to impact a dying world in any way other than providing humanistic drivel to control a congregation under the guise of fundamentalist, right-wing or liberal, left-wing preaching.

Thou shalt not bow down to their gods, nor serve them, nor do after their works: but thou shalt utterly overthrow them, and quite break down their images.

God is promising these physical, literal Hebrews coming into a physical, literal land blessings and prosperity and protection and the written words of God are a vital part of those blessings. By the way, don’t let some wicked preacher tell you that if you attend church whenever the doors are open you won’t ever get sick or have trouble in your life. We cannot apply literal, physical promises to the Jews before Christ to the Christian as they are not promises made to us under this dispensation. For all of your slavish devotion to a fundamentalist preacher’s will and whims you will have trouble in your life and you will get sick at some point and you will probably have a child that goes astray, etc. etc.

Joshua 1:8 This book of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth; but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, that thou mayest observe to do according to all that is written therein: for then thou shalt make thy way prosperous, and then thou shalt have good success.

While Christians were not promised an earthly country we would do well in life to honor these admonitions and warnings that God has given. Idolatry will destroy your walk with God and make you a caricature of a person of faith to the unsaved, a cartoon, a joke. You cannot uplift an idol in one hand and God in the other without looking stupid, a hypocrite, or just plain evil.

Even though Christians do not have a country on this earth the historical principle laid down in Romans, chapter one, applies to nations as we know them. Let me give you a brief religious history of America to show you how idolatry can be poison. America’s self-worship as idolatry has its roots in the country’s earliest times. The good thing, which was the belief and faith that this new land was to be a nation set apart by God for a divine purpose was a common thread preached throughout. However, a specific millennial belief, that Christ would set up a kingdom on earth without being present Himself to last for literally a thousand years or with the millennium as just representing a long time was the standard, evangelical Christian view until the 20th century. This is called Postmillennialism, with Christ returning at the end of the thousand years. With a few exceptions it was believed that Christ would rule through His church. But there was no doubt that America would be the location where this period would begin. Men like John Cotton, Ephraim Huit, Increase Mather, John Davenport, John Eliot, Samuel Sewall, Cotton Mather, and Joseph Morgan preached an imminent millennium and Eliot, combining the fervor of what was called Fifth Kingdom Monarchyism prevalent in England, was especially hopeful that the New Jerusalem of the Book of Revelation would descend upon America itself.[1] Sermons were preached before Congress that said that America was the Promised Land and that the events of Revelation would take place here before we converted the world and established Christ’s kingdom for Him.[2]

An actual, historical Kingdom of God was expected, with the millennium, a thousand years of Christ’s reign through His church, coming soon.[3] Jonathan Edwards, the Congregationalist preacher so important to the series of revivals in 1700s America called The First Great Awakening, viewed the millennium not as Christ physically returning to save a ruined world, but a gradual process where righteousness and the control of Godly men became prevalent as Christ ruled through His church.[4]

Millennial ideals were also preached during the time of and after the American Revolution pointing more and more to America’s God-chosen role in the bringing in of Christ’s Kingdom, linked to evolutionary progress. President of Yale College Ezra Stiles said;

It may have been of the Lord that Christianity is to be found in such greater purity in this church exiled into the wilderness of America, and that its purest body should be evidently advancing forward, by an augmented natural increase and spiritual edification, into a singular superiority, with the ultimate subserviency to the glory of God to converting the world.[5]

The nineteenth century was an era in secular and religious thought of a progress that was inevitable.[6] In Protestant evangelical faith, Postmillennialism, that mankind would create a millennial kingdom without Christ’s physical presence, was, “the commonly received doctrine,” of the century.[7] The documents, the speeches, the sermons are available for you to read, mostly free. Don’t take my word for it. During this period this doctrine was the intellectual compromise between the devastation of God’s judgment on the world portrayed in the book of Revelation in the Bible and the evolutionary theory of constant movement upward to better and better times, and a utopia.[8] Liberal religious thought in collusion with the growing atheism of science brought about a weakening of the hopeful, religious viewpoint of a coming golden age created by Christians dependent upon their own righteousness but it was the nightmare of the Civil War and the calamity of World War One that drove the nail into the coffin and, “it became a relic of a lost world.”[9]

But, at the time of the Civil War’s commencement most evangelical Christians in America believed that the United States was God’s Promised Land and white, Anglo-Saxon Americans His chosen people, destined to bring in a ‘golden age’ of peace, prosperity, and righteousness as Christ ruled the earth for either a literal thousand years or for just a long period of time, represented by the word millennium, through His church. Lincoln himself referred to America, not Christ, as the last best hope of earth.[10]

It was not unusual for nations with a state church to view themselves as God’s chosen people. England, Russia, and Germany were notorious for this view. German sermons during World War One even likened the German Army to the Holy Spirit moving in the world and ‘God With Us’ in German was on the belt buckles of soldiers. Glorification and even deification of the state was one prime motivator in the half-century of war.

President Woodrow Wilson’s mentor at Johns Hopkins University, Richard Ely, put the thought of the elite and great planners whose government was God’s agent on earth or His replacement even like this;

Now, it may rationally be maintained that, if there is anything divine on earth, it is the State, the product of the same God-given instincts which led to the establishment of the Church and of the Family. It was once held that kings ruled by right divine, and in any widely accepted belief, though it be afterwards discredited, there is generally found a kernel of truth. In this case it was the divine right of the state.[11]

But worshipping the state as a “Christnation,” as the Redeemer Nation of the world, was America’s undoing. With the leadership making government God’s agent on earth rather than God’s people and with the common Christian expecting that we could create a perfect world without Christ physically present we had this great religious expectation that was blatantly false.

That’s why today so many think that they are electing a pastor or a messiah when they vote for a president and then try to Christianize their candidate if elected to make him look like something he is not. It all boils down to state-worship.

World War One, the Jazz Age, the automobile, the sexual revolt of the 1920s, the triumph of evolution in science, the growing importance of the Entertainment industry all figured in to God’s judgment on the nation for its idolatry. As an example, where women who wore makeup were derided as ‘painted city women’ before the war, with strong suggestions of immorality, the demands by boys returning home that their women look like French girls has resulted in the fact that Christian women wouldn’t dare leave home without makeup on today. In addition, the lax morals produced by boys and girls being able to go off alone in a car and listening to Ragtime and Jazz watching Hollywood movies glorifying decadence was a chilling reminder that something was very wrong in America. We had the Great Depression, remember? Then, another devastating war and a so-called Cold War for 50 years pounded away at our families and our institutions. Look at today. Do you not doubt we are under God’s judgment? Look at Israel in Kings and Chronicles. Don’t you see America in every page? Ancient Israelites, like Americans, believed that they were special and by virtue of their exceptional place in God’s ordained world they deserved peace and prosperity, both of which were taken away over time for their idolatry.

Fundamentalism came about in the early 1900s because America, under God’s judgment, appeared to be descending into chaos and darkness. The King James-only movement came about in 1964 because fundamentalism had gone crazy with regard to its denial of the Bible we had in front of us. The problem, fundamentalists wrongly assumed, was non-Christians polluting God’s country. The actual problem was Christian idolatry and not venerating God’s word above our ambitions. This is how idolatry, in this case, worship of one’s country as a god on earth, can do horrible damage.

We are held to the same standard as everyone else and we have been found wanting. I refer you to the passage I quoted earlier from Romans, chapter one, again to find out why things are the way they are.

But, it must be said, unlike the Hebrews assuming control over an area of land the promise to Christians is an eternal inheritance. We don’t get a utopia here, a millennium without Christ’s physical presence, but we can get an awful mess.

It is interesting in Verse 28 how God promises to use creatures to drive out the inhabitants of the land He has promised to the Hebrews slowly. God has used many naturally occurring events as weapons. Remember the plagues of Egypt?

Compare what ancient Israel was to be with what America was to be to see a difference dispensationally. Israel was not to permit idolatry in its borders and was to drive out the idol-worshippers lest they pollute the Hebrew religion, which their existence did, as we can see by reading the Bible. America is a pluralistic nation with many different religious traditions or no religion at all. We cannot remove everyone from the land who does not believe exactly what we believe or how we believe, no matter how much you would like to do that. The Hebrews didn’t do that either, but it was their apostasy that garnered them God’s wrath.

I think it is important to realize that every Christian now is a type of the nation of Israel then, as the children of Israel then were a type of every Christian today. Our land is a spiritual land and our Canaanites are our sins. God promises us that He will drive out our sins if we obey Him as He promised the Hebrews He would drive out the wicked, child-sacrificing, bestiality practicing, temple-prostitute patronizing Canaanites if the Hebrews obeyed.

But, having said all that, I would go on to say that if Christians themselves would repent and turn from their sins and obey God in the best way they know how, believing His word, they would not be deceived by lying, gutless, and corrupt politicians and their land would not be given over to the perversion, violence, and decay that is so prevalent. God honors obedience, not obedience as defined by some fundamentalist whack-job preacher or evangelist who just wants to control them but obedience and righteousness as defined by the Bible. The problem with America is not homosexuals, left-wing demagogues, drug-dealers, or liberal judges. The problem with America is the faithlessness of Christians who regard the Bible as a type of Emily Post’s book on etiquette to be observed if convenient and who regard God as more of a concept or idea than a real, living entity who controls every aspect of reality from their living room to the edges of the universe.

[1] David E. Smith, “Millenarian Scholarship in America,” American Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3 (Autumn, 1965), 539. http://www.jstor.org/stable/2710907. (accessed 10.28.2015), 539.

[2] Fountain E. Pitts, A Defence of Armageddon or Our Great Country Foretold in the Holy Scriptures In two discourses, Delivered in the Capitol of the United States, at the request of several members of Congress, on the anniversary of Washington's birthday, 1857, (Baltimore: J.W. Bull Publishers, 1859), 90.

[3] Ernest Lee Tuveson, Redeemer Nation: The Idea of America’s Millennial Role (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1968), 29.

[4] Ibid., 30.

[5] Ezra Stiles, “The United States Elevated to Glory and Honor,” in The Pulpit of the American Revolution, or, The Political Sermons of the Period of 1776, John Wingate Thornton, ed., (Boston: D. Lothrop & Publishers, 1876), 405, 472.

[6] Tuveson, Redeemer Nation, 52.

[7] Henry Boynton Smith,”History of Opinions Respecting the Millennium,” The American Theological Review (Boston: Charles Scribner & Son, 1859), 642. https://books.google.com/books?id=hWrUAAAAMAAJ&vq=millennium&pg=PA642#v=snippet&q=millennium&f=false (accessed 11.14.2015).

[8] James H. Moorhead, “The Erosion of Postmillennialism in American Religious Thought, 1865-1925,” Church History Vol. 53, No. 1 (Mar. 1984), 61. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3165956 (accessed 11.14.2015).

[9] Ibid., 77.

[10] Jean H. Baker, “Lincoln’s Narrative of American Exceptionalism,” in We Cannot Escape History: Lincoln and the Last Best Hope of Earth, James McPherson, ed., (Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1995), 42.

[11] Gary M. Pequet and Clifford M. Thies, “The Shaping of a Future President’s Economic Thought: Richard T. Ely and Woodrow Wilson at “The Hopkins,” The Independent Review: A Journal of Political Economy 15, no. 2 (Fall 2010): 262, 266.

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bakudekuficlibrary · 5 years

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BakuDeku: Protective Katsuki Part I

Click here for Part II & Part III!

1 Series. 64 Works.

Before Midnight by DriftingGlass ( E | 211,528 | 28/28 )

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery.

"Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?"

And before Izuku can find his footing, his life becomes a full-blown collision course thanks to walking cannonball Katsuki Bakugou.

(And along the way he may have found the missing fuel to his fire).

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Underage | Abuse]

Cinnamon Bun Bun by DarkMachi ( E | 108,071+ | 45/? )

In a world with humanoid creatures called "pets", Katsuki Bakugou finds himself suddenly the owner of a timid curly haired rabbit. How the fuck did that happen? Will the reluctant new owner and abandoned pet be the best thing for each other or will it end in disaster? Only the tags will ever know.

Warm and fuzzy fluff pet AU with hints of angst and humor!

*This story is mostly about fluff. Warning and "past" tags for a backstory chapter(s) almost exclusively. Will warn at the beginning of ANY chapter with ANY sensitive issues.*

[Rape/Non-con | Past Abuse | Panic Attacks]

Lost Omega by GreyDayMoon ( E | 45,574 | 15/15 )

Izuku was just trying to take care of himself and his mother but a single slip up sends him into unfamiliar territory where he encounters an aggressive alpha who drags him into tribe life.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Underage | Dubcon]

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie ( T | 51,597 | 20/20 )

Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Series Part 1 of Dark Side of Space

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Past Abuse | Stalking | Self Harm | Panic Attacks]

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) by vannral ( E | 15,951 | 5/5 )

In complete honesty, no one who knows the Class 3-A should be surprised anymore. Izuku is asleep.

In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

In A Sky Of A Million Stars (Who Cares If One More Light Goes Out?) by Stringlish ( M | 49,956+ | 15/? )

He could never forgive himself.

It was his fault.

He’d planted the idea like a seed he’d never known would grow.

(Or: What if Izuku jumped?) (OR: The one where Izuku jumps and lives and Katsuki visits him every day and Class 1-A not-so-secretly finds it adorable that their designated angry pomeranian brings flowers to his comatose childhood friend.)

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | PTSD | Suicide Attempt]

Hear Me by my_name_is_Levi ( G | 22,419 | 5/5 )

It wasn’t as if nightmares were uncommon for the freshman class of Yuuei. They’d seen plenty of things, heard and felt and witnessed enough travesty in their lives to last them a lifetime. But Midoriya Izuku was screaming, and no one, not even Bakugo Katsuki could ignore it.

On The Run by Justaperson1718 ( E | 159,534+ | 29/30 )

(Based in an AU where All Might loses to All For One)

Follow Izuku and Katsuki as they fight together for their very survival and mature through their experiences with each other, on the run together from the League of Villains with no one to depend on but each other. The two will have to work out their differences if they want to continue to live and escape the villains.

Izuku will have to become stronger to finish what All Might started, meanwhile Katsuki will figure out his feelings for his new companion while slowly overcoming some of his bad habits.

[Major Character Death | Underage]

{Note about completion status: The fic is essentially complete, as the author has stated the main story is complete and the epilogue is up. The final chapter that is yet to be posted will show a side-character’s side of the story.}

New To Both Of Us by GrumpyTanner, underoriginal ( E | 37,774+ | 16/? )

Bakugou hadn't expected this when he got his first (and only!) Pet on a whim. He hadn't expected the nibbling, the teasing, the fear...

And he definitely hadn't expected to find the love of his life. But here he is, with a rabbit and a hard-on. What's a hero to do?

[Past Abuse]

Quirks of the Soul by Rxel ( M | 52,047+ | 38/? )

Something in Izuku's mind snaps when Kacchan flings the words "Make a leap of faith from the roof and believe with all your might that you will have a ‘Quirk’ in the next life" at him after he exploded his Hero notebook.

It was the last push he needed to tip over the edge.

Quirk!Izuku

Series Part 1 of Katsuki and Izuku

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Suicide Attmpt | Self Harm]

[On Hiatus] Forget Me Not by datboii ( M | 52,542+ | 17/? )

Izuku was hit by a memory regression quirk. Katsuki was having none of that shit.

[On hiatus]

Hummingbird Heartbeat by Tokiji ( M | 76,731+ | 16/? )

“The knife went through his fucking chest, Kirishima.” Katsuki spat his name into his face, mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, teeth and all. “You know that's where his heart is, right? And his fucking lungs? All the vital shit?”

Kirishima blanched. “I-I know, I just meant—”

“What, you mean to tell me that your stupid fuckin’ ass is so ignorant to forget that he lost a shit ton of blood, hah?! Yeah, it was a flippin’ knife wound, oh hoo-ray, but look at the nerd now! He’s fucking dying because of it!”

The World Is Silent (we are loud) by RedHeadsRock1010 ( T | 62,233+ | 14/? )

There is only one Angel and one Demon at a time – born each generation after the previous one dies and destined to keep the balance of the world in a vicious battle of good verses evil until the end of existence.

The current Demon stared at the Angel humming and weaving pink flowers into his own bright green curls next to him. A crown of red roses already sat on the Demon's head.

Yeah, fuck that bullshit.

surveying, reconciliation (and other forms of not-matchmaking) by vannral ( E | 17,449 | 6/6 )

In all honesty, Izuku thinks he really shouldn’t be having this crisis.

In which Mina has fun trying to play matchmaker, Izuku has Realizations™ about his feelings for Katsuki, and the class 1-A will witness many weird things.

Second Chance by Saysi ( M | 84,140 | 42/42 )

"If you are still breathing, you have a second chance" - Oprah Winfrey

Izuku Midoriya's life has been plagued with mistakes. People have been hurt, friends have been lost, accidents have happened. When the country is nearing imminent destruction, he remembers every bad move, every wrong word, and wonders if he could have changed things.

Then time stops.

Izuku Midoriya grew up thinking he was Quirkless - turns out he just needed to face death to activate it.

PSA: People, please, do your homework before reading. The fic will still be here when you get back, I promise.

[Suicide Attempt]

Scream Like A Banshee, Make You Jump Out Of Your Skin. by LahraTeigh ( T | 2,235 | 2/2 )

Midoriya presents as an Omega in the middle of class, and unfortunately for everyone they witness the moment Bakugou finds out who his soulmate is.

It's Okay, Quirkless by VMarus ( M | 34,187+ | 15/? )

Izuku just wants to make his mother proud and to be happy with himself.

AU. Quirkless Vigilante Izuku!

Series Part 1 of Quirkless, Not Helpless.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Major Character Death

[Series] This is why I don't have kids by Saysi ( T | 15,132+ | 2 Works | WIP )

When Midoriya Izuku gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, the last thing anyone expected to find out is that Toddler-Izuku is a little shit. Except for one Bakugou Katsuki, who has seen this phase one too many times already. And apparently his "Kacchan" is the only one who can deal with Izuku's screaming fits.

When Bakugou Katsuki gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, no one is surprised to found out he's still an asshole. Unfortunately one Midoriya Izuku is stuck taking care of him to repay the favour. It's a good thing his "Deku" makes a good wife.

Remember Me by Blue_Writer ( M | 61,066+ | 23/? )

It had been years since Bakugou was exiled from his home and became the savage dragon king, but one good thing finally came to his life when he met Izuku again. The only issue, is that he doesn't remember him.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Racism]

Oubaitori by DriftingGlass ( M | 32,666+ | 4/16 )

From the moment he was born, Izuku understood that he was different. He was a rarity, an omega; not necessarily seen as useful or even desirable. It didn't take long, however, for his entire future to be placed in the hands of an alpha, one by the name of Katsuki Bakugo.

Through many pitfalls, confusion, and pains of growing up in a city where both are outcasts of their own kind, it takes more than just the threads of instinct and arranged contracts to bring two hearts together.

Love isn't fate. It's pure luck.

[Underage]

[On Hiatus] Lex Talionis by DriftingGlass ( M | 40,232+ | 6/35 )

“Are you sure you’re willing to do this?”

Aizawa barely recognized his own voice, ashen in the grasp of a stormy summer night.

Under the glare of his living room lights, Toshinori’s leathery face held a smile. A ghost from times long gone.

He stirred a cube of sugar into his coffee, fingers bony and shaking around his mug.

“If there is one good thing I can do for this child, as dangerous as he is… then it will be this.”

Aizawa knew, once the words fell from his comrade’s mouth—a more solid declaration than the deaths he’d witnessed—that there would be no changing his mind.

[ In which Toshinori Yagi, a shadow of his former self, raises an orphaned Izuku as his disciple... with a little bit of a twist. ]

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Abuse]

Law-Abiding Citizen by s_trychnine ( T | 2,131 | 1/1 )

Bakugou Katsuki has very little chill, this is a known fact. He does however, do his best not to get into legal trouble. Bakugou Katsuki couldn't get along with Midoriya Izuku if you put a gun to his head, this is an even more well known fact. Apparently someone decided to chew up those facts and spit them back out because that was definitely not the case in this very moment and christ almighty someone's going to have to pinch the entirety of Class 1-A, because this had to be a fever dream.

Or alternatively: Deku's dad is back in town and nobody is happy about, especially not Bakugou.

[Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (Past Abuse)]

2,645 Miles by mynameis152 ( E | 124,500+ | 36/? )

Izuku wants so badly to get to the other side of the country without his parents realizing he's missing. He just wants to find out who he is.

Katsuki is desperate to make it to Los Angeles without being caught by the police, desperate to fix his mistakes.

Neither know what to expect, but on a roadtrip across the U.S. involving four fugitives, two oblivious runaways, a high risk crime ring, and a police taskforce, the two will discover that there's more in store for them than what they originally thought.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Attempted Sexual Assault | Panic Attacks]

Marshmallow by choimarie ( Not Rated | 3,359 | 1/1 )

day 3: tears

“Yo! Look at what we have here!” A voice said loudly and Izuku's heart stopped.

He turned around, his eyes widening.

A group of six alphas was walking his way towards him.

Series Part 3 of Bakudeku week 2k18

Hero & Zero by GreyDayMoon ( Not Rated | 10,751+ | 5/? )

Bakugou was the number one hero, surrounded by fans, and loaded with fame and fortune. So why would he care if a boy from his childhood still watched him from the edge of crowds? He wouldn't give a shit about Deku who would? Who would even be looking for that stupid messy green hair?

Except maybe he would.

Instincts by HG_Wells ( E | 4,184 | 2/2 )

Izuku presents as a very special and VERY rare type of Omega and enters the worst heat imaginable, he needs to find an equally as rare Alpha to help him with this problem. Not so thankfully, he knows only one person that is able to help him with this situation. His very own personal bully.

Bakugou Katsuki.

[Underage]

Wild Child by SaltyTofu ( E | 10,309+ | 5/? )

Imagine Tarzan, but KatsuDeku,

with wolves instead of gorillas,

and with a lot more smut.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Don't Look by GrimReader ( M | 56,089+ | 12/? )

No one spots the cracks. No one notices how carefully pieced together he is. Under his bright smile and determined gaze no one sees, no one hears, NO ONE feels how broken he is.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Izuku is not human. He is a fraud. Not deserving of any love. Nothing but a vile monster.

At least, that’s what he believed.

He’s made of scales not glass. He’s always in control. He is invincible.

That is, until he became Midoriya Izuku.

[Former title: H(iS)tory]

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Major Character Death | Self Harm | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con]

Yūrei no Eiyū by FandomManiac22 ( T | 11,769+ | 5/? )

"If you wanna be a hero that badly, there’s a quick way to do it. Believe that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof!”

When Katsuki’s comment comes at just the wrong time, Izuku takes his advice. But it is not the end.

Alternatively: In another world where Izuku is attacked by the sludge villain on the way to school instead of after it, his dreams get crushed too soon. With nothing to save him and Katsuki’s words ringing in his ears, Izuku decides to end it all by jumping off his school’s roof. As his body cracks on the ground, Izuku does not pass on to the next world. Instead, he is left as a ghost among many others. When the slime villain escapes from jail and attacks the person Izuku can’t help but care for, he learns that there may be more to his afterlife than he thought.

And maybe he can be a hero after all.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Major Character Death | Suicide]

The Offering by Bakuholic ( T | 7,032+ | 4/? )

Every year, an offering is given to the dragon race as a trade off for the dragons' protection. This year, Izuku Midoriya is the human offering.

He trembles at the very thought of his death being by the claws of a dragon. However, his expectations of his future seem to turn when an ash blonde alpha dragon begins to grow fond of him and adds him to his hoard of treasure.

(I"m not good at summaries it seems)

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes by vulcanhighblood ( T | 11,002 | 3/3 )

When Kacchan offered to scare off pushy groupies and nosy reporters for Izuku, he hadn't realized that Kacchan was planning to lie about the two of them being in a relationship in order to do so.

Petals In Your Hair by Yuechum ( T | 16,121+ | 15/26 )

Katsuki sees him with sunlight in his hair, the lines of his face softer and more gentle in these brief moments. He looks breathtaking like this he'll think, watching all the while, wondering just when Izuku became someone to long for so deeply.

The slightest hint of a smile lingers on Izuku's face when he notices, and the urge to touch grows, grows, grows.

katsuki bakugou is incapable of love. or so they thought. by alpwaca ( T | 6,276 | 1/1 )

in which their class tries to figure out if Bakugou and Midoriya are dating.

Lights. Camera. Hero! by brichibi ( E | 23,248+ | 6/? )

If there’s one thing Izuku Midoriya’s good at, it’s dreaming big, and dreaming hard. That’s why he’s in Hollywood, of all places, his hometown an entire ocean away along with his graduating high school class and single mother. But he’s gonna be an actor, an international sensation, a superstar like no other.

He just.

Has to convince the rest of the world.

Which is, admittedly, a difficult task.

[AU where "My Hero Academia" is an upcoming television series, everyone's an actor/actress, and romance happens behind the scenes]

Day and Night by Soundsoftherain ( Not Rated | 18,527+ | 4/? )

Midoriya Izuku was born quirkless in a society where your quirk equates to your worth. What did this mean then, for the child whose smile was made of sunshine? The boy who had selfless dreams bursting from the seams?

His father knew, that’s why he’d left. And his mother?

Well…That’s where the story begins.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Abuse]

Lovebites by mynameis152 ( M | 58,375+ | 18/? )

Katsuki Bakugou was going to hate this summer.

He thought he'd hate it because he was being forced to leave home and work for his mother's friend in a small, seaside town. He thought he'd hate it cause he was being punished for burning his room to a crisp. He thought he'd hate it because he hated change.

But it turns out, he hated the Supernatural Turfwar between four species that shouldn't exist but do a whole lot more....

The one where Katsuki is forced to move in with Inko for the summer and finds himself falling for a particular bloodsucker....

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Abuse]

[On Hiatus] The Duo by furipuri ( M | 21,385+ | 8/? )

As children, Katsuki and Izuku make the promise to become a duo hero team. Things don't go quite as planned.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Attempted Rape/Non-Con]

I'll Be Your Hero by bakudeku ( T | 2,536+ | 4/? )

Katsuki wants to protect Izuku. He wants to make sure Izuku never has to cry again. Maybe this was his chance to fix everything, to make sure he didn't make the same mistakes as before. If this really isnt a dream, if Katsuki really is in the past, then he'd do anything his little body could to keep Izuku safe.

This time, he'll stay by Izuku's side.

[On Hiatus] synthesis by DriftingGlass ( M | 31,325+ | 6/? )

They didn’t know how it happened, or when a concept so fickle and ridiculous blossomed in the garden of doubts, anger, and pain in which they so frequently visited.

Between scarred hands and bloodied knuckles, unspoken thoughts stirred like petals in springtime rain.

Bakugo was not prepared for the undeniable change spurring between them.

Unfortunately, neither was Midoriya.

[Underage]

Baby Boom by Minglisabeth ( T | 20,546 | 10/10 )

Bakugou and Midoriya accidentally have a baby.

NOT MPREG, Baby comes from quirk shenanigans.

Series Part 1 of MHA Adventures in Parenthood

Back to Reality by menengaur ( M | 46,975+ | 10/? )

Katsuki's childhood friend disappeared when they were both seven. While everyone else gave hope, Katsuki made a promise to become the No.1 hero. If he couldn't find Izuku, then he would at least destroy those who took him.

How will he react when Izuku returns with powers beyond what should be possible.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Room 207 by bakudeku ( Not Rated | 8,796+ | 4/? )

No one, not even Bakugou Katsuki, could deny that Izuku was adorable as fuck.

ᶜᵃⁿ ᶦ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘʰʰʰʰʰʰ

ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᵏᵃᶜᶜʰᵃⁿ

[Suicide Attempt]

Late Bloomer by HG_Wells ( E | 4,752 | 1/1 )

It's the beginning of their last year of Junior High, Izuku Midoriya is a normal Beta. He isn't anything special, at least he doesn't think so. His first heat comes at school and in the end, he ends up at Bakugou Katsuki's house.

Alone with him.

What's the worst that could happen?

(It's better than it sounds I promise)

Bakudeku Week 2018

[Underage | Bullying | Attempted Rape/Non-Con]

[On Hiatus] The Mummy by Spectra ( E | 98,732+ | 17/? )

[TEMPORARY HIATUS]

Midoriya Izuku's adopted brother, Kirishima, brings him a strange puzzle box that contains the whereabouts to the famed Hamunaptra, otherwise known as the City of the Dead. The city, lost somehwere within the depths of Egypt, is said to have held great power during the golden All Might Era. It is also rumored to be the final resting place of the king's all powerful books; The Book of Life, and the Book of the Dead. Izuku doesn't believe in magic, he believes in history, and that's exactly what he expects to find in these books.

To actually get there, Izuku has no choice but to accept the help of the infuriating, and ridiculously short fused soldier, Bakugou, who claims to have been there before. The ensuing ride tests both Izuku's and Bakugou's patience, and the two form the most unlikely of alliances.

Little do they know, the power that they are messing with should have remained undisturbed, and there is something more lurking with the tombs of Hamunaptra than treasure...

All the Cracks They Left Behind by linkami1379 ( M | 11,175 | 1/1 )

Katsuki and Izuku become soul bound to each other when Katsuki is captured by the League of Villains.The shift in perception rocks them both to their cores and they seek to fill in the cracks life has carved into each other's hearts.

Series Part 1 of My One and Only

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Underage]

A Place Called Home ( E | 3,812 | 5/? )

"It's okay now, we're your new family. We won't ever hurt you."

[Past Rape/Non-Con | Past Abuse | Homophobia | Addiction]

and the rest is rust and stardust by youreanovelidea ( G | 8,587 | 1/1 )

Kirishima likes to think that he knows his classmates pretty well. But sometimes, he looks at Bakugou and Midoriya and wonders if he even knows them at all. He wonders if anyone does.

(or, Kirishima notices the moments hidden between childhood friends, offers encouraging words, and maybe kisses Kaminari in the process)

A Little Issue by arealhoe ( G | 6,985+ | 3/? )

Everyone awoke to an ear piercing screech.

“MAMA? WHERE ARE YOU? W-WHERE AM I?”

A child? What’s a kid doing in the dorms…? Aizawa thought, as he lugged his tired body through the hall, trying to find the source of the screams. One by one, students started bursting out of their rooms, “What’s that screaming? “Did a kid get in here?” everyone was panicking at the sudden chaos. “Calm down, everyone. Jirou, use your quirk to find where that shrieking is coming from, everyone else, quiet down!” Kyoka plugged her earphone into the wall, closing her eyes. “It’s coming from… Midoriya’s room?” Aizawa threw open Izuku’s room door, only to find a small Izuku, huddled in the corner, crying his heart out. Jesus fucking Christ… Aizawa whispered under his breath, walking towards the child. “W-who are you? W-where’s my mom? Did she send me away?” Little Izuku could barely get the words before everyone saw him, and the chaos started all over again.

Tinted Windows by sula (black_oak) ( E | 18,250+ | 8/? )

Bakugou and Deku have been rivals since the third grade. Now seniors in high school, Katsuki looks forward to destroying the nerd once and for all. But, on the first day of school, Deku arrives a mere shell of the boy he used to be…

Nothing will ever be the same.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Underage | Self Harm | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con]

[On Hiatus] Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away by estupidaval ( T | 5,994+ | 4/? )

“Oh- oh my god.” He whimpered.

“What?!”

“I,” Izuku swallowed. “I think they heard the phone ring.”

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

20% by MayTentacleBeWithYee, MissEmotionallyMasochistic ( Not Rated | 1,386+ | 1/? )

Izuku should have been paying attention.

The man behind him looks hungry.

[Rape/Non-Con | PTSD]

and the screams all sound the same by youreanovelidea ( Not Rated | 1,265 | 1/1 )

"Quiet, Deku," a low voice says quietly. "I've got you." And an arm slips around his waist and there are fingers carding through his hair, gentle and soft, and he can feel the screams that he had shoved into his stomach threatening to escape.

(or, Izuku's nightmares are cold and Katsuki's hands are warm)

Reignite by MorningMoon ( G | 1,400 | 1/1 )

Their classmates knew there was something going on with Izuku and Katsuki, but they didn't know how much they had been missing out. Also, Kacchan saves the day and proves that he has redeemed himself.

[Panic Attacks]

Yell It From The Top Of Your Lungs by estupidaval ( T | 2,897 | 1/1 )

Being seen as weak by many is frustrating. Even so when it's almost everyone who looks at you.

At this, Izuku sheepishly lowered his gaze, and said “Strong people cry…”

At this, Aizawa smiled again, “And what are you doing right now, Izuku?”

“Crying,” He replied as he picked at his finger nails.

Aizawa decided to keep pushing, as Izuku knew what he was implying, but wouldn't budge.

He raised an eyebrow and spoke up once more, “So, you are…”

And ‘Ah, there it is.’ Aizawa thought to himself as a smile crept it's way onto the boy’s mouth. Izuku lifted his gaze once more and looked back into Aizawa's eyes,

“Strong.”

Entanglement by srysmnwrites ( T | 14,847+ | 7/? )

Izuku thought that returning home would be good for him.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Returned Favor by CrystalDragonette ( Not Rated | 1,332 | 2/2 )

Set when Bakugou was taken by the League of Villains, he finds out that Dabi has less than innocent intentions towards Deku.

Series Part 1 of Dekubowl

[On Hiatus] Daemon Sense by LostBear ( G | 14,266+ | 8/? )

Midoriya Izuku has the quirk daemon sense, to be able to see manifested souls in the form of animals. She is determined to be a hero, with her daemon Naoko by her side. Her best friend Kacchan is taken along -willingly- for the ride.

Watch Izuku nose her way into other -familiar- peoples lives without thinking of the consequences...

It All Started With Beer & Pizza by x_tincan_x ( E | 29,237+ | 11/? )

Half an hour after Kirishima had left, there was a knock on the door. Katsuki had a beer in his hand and walked over to the door. Mumbling under his breath, “fucking shitty hair forgot his fucking keys again..” to himself.

Katsuki opened the door, he looked from the dripping wet Kirishima to the equally soaked male he had gone to pick up. When he saw the familiar tangle of green hair and freckles, he choked on his drink. “The fuck…?” he half whispered.

~~~~

Or, the one where Izuku has a past that he finds hard to talk about. Can he build himself back up with the help of his new friends, and re-kindle a relationship with his childhood friend?

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | PSTD | Panic Attacks | Past Abuse | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con]

A Reaper's Assistant by TatoBugTheDestroyer ( T | 23,121 | 14/14 )

What kind of fucktard is in charge here? What dumbass thought it was a good idea to pair Katsuki with an angel! Of all creatures to help him play the role of a reaper, they chose an angel! He didn’t even need any help, dammit! So, yeah, he missed a few deadlines, accidentally delivered a few people to the wrong place, so fucking what! He damn sure didn’t need help!

-Or- Reaper Katsuki fucks up and as a result, is paired up with Izuku, a High Councilman angel of Heaven to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Void of Pain by Running_wild829 ( T | 19,308+ 12/? )

Kidnapped by his own villainous father at the young age of six, raised by villains since then and sent on countless missions filled with murder, Midoriya Izuku is anything but normal. He may be fifteen years old, and have a quirk, but that doesn't make him normal. He's been careful on all his jobs, except this one. When Shigaraki turns him loose to kill the infamous Hero Killer Stain, he gets sloppy and goes down at the hands of a couple of Yuuei kids. Dragged into the police station and waking up to a detective giving him a second chance was the last thing he thought would ever happen in his fucked-up life...

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | PSTD]

[On Hiatus] Two Sides of the Same Coin by LocalTrashBin ( T | 82,009+ | 10/? )

Dangerous missions across the continent are one thing but dangerous missions across the continent with zero experience, a cursed bracelet and accompanied only by a difficult, hot-headed protector is a whole other story.

He's a Little Spoiled by DeathByShyKid ( T | 3,477 | 1/1 )

His class may have babied him while he was still recovering from an accidental femur break but one weekend with them out of the dorms and Katsuki is already there with open arms as well as some non-negotiable terms. Katsuki makes Izuku cuddle with him since he refuses to succumb to his pain medication. (bad summary)

Heroes in Underland by BebbekKuning, HG_Wells ( Not Rated | 45,950+ | 19/? )

Years suffering from wars, Monsters and Humans wars led to the point where the third side of the wars step in. The side of supposed to be neutral. The side that wants peace for both; Monsters and Humans sides, the ones who bear with half-blood. But it’s still not working.

That was until the fourth side of the wars waltzes their way in, they didn’t call themselves humans, nor Monsters or the half-blood. But they called themselves the Artificial. They not made by gods, so the gods can’t bound them to their rules or their dice of fate.

This makes the Artificial do what the three sides can't do; Bring peace.

They stay nameless, and still nameless. Their existence always vague in every history books, and always will be. But their tales always stay at every storybook for the young ones.

Now though, when Monsters, Half-blood, and Human reunited, thanks to Quirks existence, new differences poke their ugly heads yet again; Heroes, Vigilante, and Villain.

With that, the Gods roll their dices and play with their children, again.

That was before the forth side trashed the Gods playground, again.

416 notes · View notes

jtemtsocialmediadude · 5 years

Text

101 Things I strive to live by in EMS Profession, None of us are perfect we all make mistakes...wanted to share this with y'all... keep it classy 😉

1) You aren’t required to know everything. 2) You are required to know the foundational knowledge and skills of your job. No excuses. 3) Always be nice. It’s a force multiplier. 4) There is no greater act of trust than being handed a sick child. 5) Earn that trust. 6) Don’t ever lie to your patient. If something is awkward to say, learn to say it without lying. 7) Read Thom Dick’s, People Care. Then read it again. 8) You can fake competence with the public, but not with your coworkers. 9) Own your mistakes. We all make them, but only the best of us own them. 10) Only when you’ve learned to own your mistakes will you be able to learn from them. 11) Experience is relative. 12) Proper use of a BVM is hard and takes practice. 13) OPAs and NPAs make using a BVM less hard. 14) Master the physical assessment. Nobody in the field of medicine should be able to hold a candlestick to your physical assessment skills. 15) Keep your head about you. If you fail at that, you’ll likely fail at everything else. 16) There is a huge difference between not knowing and not caring. Care about the things you don’t yet know. 17) Train like someone’s life depends on it. 18) Drive like nobody’s life depends on it. 19) Pet the dog. (Even when you’re wearing gloves.) 20) Have someone to talk to when the world crashes down. 21) Let human tragedy enhance your appreciation for all that you have. 22) Check the oil. 23) Protect your back. It will quite possibly be the sole determining factor in the length of your career. 24) Say please and thank you even when it’s a matter of life or death. 25) Wipe your feet at the door. 26) When you see someone who is really good at a particular skill say, “Teach me how you do that.” 27) Nobody can give you your happiness or job satisfaction. It is yours and yours alone. And you have to choose it. 28) We can’t be prepared for everything. 29) We can be prepared for almost everything. 30) Check out your rig. It’s more meaningful that just confirming that everything is still there. 31) Tell your patients that it was a pleasure to meet them and an honor to be of service. 32) Mean it. 33) Keep a journal. 34) Make it HIPAA compliant. 35) Thank the police officer that hangs out on your scene for no good reason. 36) Recognize that he or she probably wasn’t hanging out for no good reason. 37) Interview for a job at least once every year, even if you don’t want the job. 38) Iron your uniform. 39) Maintain the illusion of control. Nobody needs to know that you weren’t prepared for what just happened. 40) Apologize when you make a mistake. Do it immediately. 41) Your patient is not named honey, babe, sweetie, darling, bud, pal, man or hey. Use your patient’s name when speaking to them. Sir and Ma’am are acceptable alternatives. 42) Forgive yourself for your mistakes. 43) Forgive your coworkers for their quirks. 44) Exercise. Even when it isn’t convenient. 45) Sometimes it’s OK to eat the junk at the WaWa. 46) It’s not OK to always eat the junk at the WaWa. 47) Don’t take anything that a patient says in anger personally. 48) Don’t take anything that a patient says when they are drunk personally. 49) Don’t ever convince yourself that you can always tell the difference between a fake seizure and a real seizure. 50) Think about what you would do if this was your last shift working in EMS. Do that stuff. 51) Carry your weight. 52) Carry your patient. 53) If firefighters ever do #51 or # 52 for you, say thank you. (And mean it.) 54) Being punched, kicked, choked or spit on while on duty is no different than being punched, kicked, choked or spit on while you’re sitting in church or in a restaurant. Insist that law enforcement and your employer follow up with appropriate action. 55) Wave at little kids. Treat them like gold. They will remember you for a long time. 56) Hold the radio mike away from your mouth. 57) There is never any reason to yell on the radio….ever. 58) When a patient says, “I feel like I’m going to die.” believe them. 59) Very sick people rarely care which hospital you’re driving toward. 60) Very sick people rarely pack a bag before you arrive. 61) Sometimes, very sick people pack a bag and demand a specific hospital. Don’t be caught off guard. 62) Bring yourself to work. There is something that you were meant to contribute to this profession. You’ll never be able to do that if you behave like a cog. 63) Clean the pram. 64) Clean your stethoscope. 65) Your patient’s are going to lie to you. Assume they are telling you the truth until you have strong evidence of the contrary. 66) Disregard #65 if it has anything to do with your personal safety. Trust nobody in this regard. 67) If it feels like a stupid thing to do, it probably is. 68) You are always on camera. 69) If you need save-the-baby type “hero moments” to sustain you emotionally as a caregiver you will likely become frustrated and eventually leave. 70) Emergency services was never about you. 71) The sooner you figure out #69 and #70, the sooner the rest of us can get on with our jobs. 72) People always remember how you made them feel. 73) People rarely sue individuals who made them feel safe, well cared for and respected. 74) You represent our profession and the internet has a long, long memory. 75) Don’t worry too much about whether or not people respect you. 76) Worry about being really good at what you do. 77) When you first meet a patient, come to their level, look them in the eyes and smile. Make it your habit. 78) Never lie about the vital signs. If the patients’ vital signs change dramatically from the back of the rig to the E.R. bed, you want everyone to believe you. 79) Calm down. It’s not your emergency. 80) Stand still. There is an enormous difference between dramatic but senseless action and correct action. Stop, think and then move with a purpose. 81) Knowing when to leave a scene is a vital skill that you must constantly hone. 82) The fastest way to leave a scene should always be in your field of awareness. 83) Scene safety is not a five second consideration as you enter the scene. It takes constant vigilance. 84) Punitive medicine is never acceptable. Choose the right needle size based on the patients’ clinical needs. 85) Know what’s happening in your partner’s life. Ask them about it after you return from your days off. 86) If your partner has a wife and kids, know their names. 87) No matter how hard you think you worked for them, your knowledge and skills are not yours. They were gifted to you. The best way to say thank you is to give them away. 88) Learn from the bad calls. Then let them go. 89) When you’re lifting a patient and they try to reach out and grab something, say, “We’ve got you.” 90) Request the right of way. 91) Let your days off be your days off. Fight for balance. 92) Have a hobby that has nothing to do with emergency services. 93) Have a mentor who knows nothing about emergency services. 94) Wait until the call is over. Once the patient is safe at the hospital and you’re back on the road, there will be plenty of time to laugh until you can’t breathe. 95) Tell the good stories. 96) You never know when you might be running your last call. Cherish the small things. 97) You can never truly know the full extent of your influence. 98) If you’re going to tell your friends and acquaintances what you do for a living, you’ll need to embrace the idea that you’re always on duty. 99) Be willing to bend the rules to take good care of people. Don’t be afraid to defend the decisions you make on the patients’ behalf. 100) Service is at the heart of everything we do. The farther away from that concept you drift, the more you are likely to become lost. 101) There is no shame in wanting to make the world a better place.

#EMTs #myemsday #emstoday #paramedics #EMS #firefighters #101 #rules #emslife

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years

Photo

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Amy!

You have been accepted for the role of LILY EVANS! I really enjoyed reading your application for Lily! I think you did a wonderful job at showing both her beautiful strengths and her deep weaknesses. I felt that you totally understood her sense of despair in this world right now! I am so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Amy

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE: aest

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I would say fairly active! I am a student and I do have a casual part-time job, but I almost always have my phone on hand and I’m pretty good about separating studying + fun, so time management shouldn’t be an issue. Of course I’m not going to be on 24/7, but hopefully this rp won’t require a crazy fast dash!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Lily Jane Evans

AGE: 21

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cisfemale, she/her, bisexual

BLOOD STATUS: muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Lily is charming. She is vivacious, valiant, she loves until her last breath and she has, notably, a very nice smile. I could write you a book on Lily Evans’ positive attributes, and you might leave falling half in love with her.

But if you turned the page, you’d see a side much more interesting, and much more complex. Lily Evans is not a perfect person, and at heart, like any other, she is deeply flawed. She’s dramatic, over-pragmatic, unreasonable when she’s upset and uncontrollable when she’s angry. Sometimes she overthinks things to the point where she ends up overcomplicating it. She believes in second and third chances, and often she is irrational when considering something that she cares intensely about. The Dissendium Task Force is so vital to her because it gives her purpose, it sets her path in life, and sometimes (often) her vision narrows down to a pinpoint and everything else fades away; James, her family, the Order. Lily struggles a lot with keeping her lives separate. She spends a lot of time compartmentalising: these are the things I can talk about with Mary, I can share this part of my life with Mum, here are the things I have to keep from James. As a result, it makes Lily seem more secretive than she really is - because she splits herself so many ways.

But Lily is very humane. It’s perhaps her most redeemable quality. At the end of the day, she cares about the welfare of others, and she has an extremely fixed idea of what is right and wrong. She struggles to let her attachments with others go; it’s why she still wonders over Sev after all this time. Always. It’s an important word in relation to Lily. She will always be temperamental, she will always be emotional, she will always pick a fight over what she believes in. But she will always care, and she will always pick herself back up and find something or someone to believe in, and at the end of the day, that’s all Lily really is. A believer.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Contrary to belief, Lily and Petunia weren’t always at odds. In fact, sometimes, if you caught them at just the right time, they could get along quite well. After all, in the end, they were still sisters. Growing up, they still had to share a room, and Christmases, and family portraits. The thing was, they were just too different - or at least, that was how Lily liked to think of it. Petunia would always like to gossip, she would always like to keep her half of the room obsessively tidy, she would always like to keep house and marry an abhorrent, but rich, man (oh, how Lily begged her not to marry him), but most of all (and this was the point that Lily hated herself for making most), Petunia would always, unquestionably, be extremely Muggle. They could never live on the same plane, Petunia and her. On occasion, sometimes, they found a wormhole that allowed them to get along. But most of the time, they existed on different planets - Petunia resided with the Muggles, and Lily ran about on a planet of freaks. Lily had attended Petunia’s wedding. But she was not a bridesmaid, and she didn’t get to sit at the bride and grooms table during the reception. Lily was old enough now, and tired enough of having the same recycled argument, that she knew not to fight it anymore. Lily and Petunia were sisters, not friends. And she would be loathe to forget it.

But aside from Petunia, home was good. Home was a haven. Lily fought long and hard at Hogwarts year round, and sometimes the promise of returning home for the summer was the only thing that stopped her from giving up. Edith and Henry Evans were thoroughly middle to lower class kind of Muggles, and though their home was small, Lily never wanted for anything - not affection, or clothes, or acceptance. Her parents, bewildered by magic as they were, carried on as the British were wont to do: quite normally. Petunia went off to private school, Lily left for Hogwarts, and they told all their neighbours it was because Lily had received a scholarship - something that made Petunia’s face look very sour, indeed.

The Evans’ were as normal as any other family in Cokeworth (exempting only the Snapes), and they were private. When Lily was home, she was a Muggle. She didn’t much talk about the Wizarding World, and they never really asked. Lily liked to keep her worlds separated. It was easier that way.

Henry died in Lily’s third year. Lung cancer was the culprit. She left during the middle of the year and did not come back until the next, when Petunia and her were positive that Mum would be alright without them. Now, Lily still tries to stop in for a visit, but they are few and far between. Mum is getting frail, and it is getting harder and harder to hide the war from her - and she doesn’t visit as much as she should. Lily thinks Petunia might resent her for it.

OCCUPATION:

N/A - Lily focuses full-time on the Order and the DTF, and she is lucky enough to be covered by James’ fortune. However, because of the way she was raised, she often feels antsy about not working, and on occasion will write cheery pieces for any Muggle papers that will take her, submitted under a pseudonym. It provides her an escape from the bleakness of her own world.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

At first, the Order was everything. The boys never understood the graveness of it all, Lily thought. They thought it was a game; they never realised that the war they found so exciting was the reality for Lily, for other Muggleborns. The Order was good. It was dangerous, but it was good. It was doing something. But it wasn’t enough. Lily found her real calling with the Dissendium Task Force, and it was so easy to get lost in it, to spend late nights scouring over new information, neglecting her other duties, her other obligations. The Order was slipping from her fingers, she could feel it. But the problem with the Order was that it was destructive. They didn’t feel like heroes, or policemen, or enforcers of justice. They felt like an army. Lily had never, would never, care for that.

But the Order was the only option, and she did care for it, however much it appeared she didn’t. However much she doubted it. She had sacrificed for it, and no doubt would continue to do so - she’d stayed away from her mother and sister in order to protect them. Lily’d heard that her sister was pregnant, but she hadn’t seen her. A few weeks back, Lily’d had a pregnancy scare of her own, and she’d spent countless nights sick to her stomach over it. Who could bring a child into this? Who could bring a baby into this? She’d snuck out to the pharmacy and taken a test, the Muggle way, and she’d cried when it came up negative. She hadn’t told James, hadn’t told anyone. After all… who could bring a child into this? War was about saving lives, not creating them. And there would be time… there would be time for happiness later. After.

SURVIVAL:

As much as she hates it, Lily gets a lot of her protection from James. She champions the idea that she “doesn’t need protection, James,” but she lives in his home, she uses his money. Perhaps that makes her more of a target to some, but she has always been charming, and selective about her friends. It is the people around Lily that ultimately protect her: James’ blood status, Slughorn’s admiration of her potions ability - it could even be argued that Lily’s relationship with Sev is what has prevented her from meeting an unkind fate. But reliance on the people around you can only last so long, and ultimately, it is only a matter of time… The truth is, they’re losing this war, and Lily’s very survival depends on the fate of the outcome. She walks a razor-thin edge, indeed…

RELATIONSHIPS:

Lily was charming in school. She was the sort of girl who was nice to everyone, she couldn’t help it. There was a part of her who still clung to that now; she liked to play the role of mediator. But for the most part, her connections with others were slipping from her grasp, she was sinking into depths where no one could dare to follow. Her work was her life now, and it showed in the roots of her relationships - one would only have to glance at her relationship with Marlene to determine that. They had been friends, once upon a time, hadn’t they? It was getting so hard to remember anything before the war now…

And the boys: Lily loved her boys. In school she’d always found them annoying, save for Remus, but they’d snuck up on her in their own ways: Remus’ easy company, Sirius’ camaraderie, Peter’s dependency, and James, of course, had always been the biggest handful. It wasn’t the romantic affair Jane Austen-type affair she’d always dreamed about, and they say war changes relationships. But Lily did not ever imagine that she’d look at James and not be able to discern what he was thinking, to see a stranger in him, even as they shared the same bed. She missed him - but it felt stupid to say it, and she had bigger things to worry about. And Sev, oh, Sev. Not a day goes by she doesn’t think of him. Somewhere out there he’s fighting, and she’s worrying about him, always, consistently, in the back of her mind.

Lily liked Alice and Frank well enough, but the real controversies laid in the younger crew. Lily could feel the tension in the room every time she spoke to Mary. She thought she’d understand, thought she, of all people, would feel some semblance of sympathy. And Dorcas’s little gang… they were reckless, and they seemed so young, though they were barely years apart… but at least they had each other. Lily was always, consistently surrounded by people… yet she had never quite felt so alone.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

Lily/Chemistry, Lily/James. Lily has an all encompassing kind of love, so theoretically, anything is possible! I do have a soft spot for angst, I will admit, but it’s important to note that I value platonic relationships just as much as romantic ones, if not more!

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

She was a muggleborn. Lily saw it as a privilege: she got to have a foot planted in each world, she got the best of what each side had to give. But she also got the worst of each world, too. That was a little harder to put a positive spin on. She was also a woman - it was the 80s, now, and Lily thought things might be getting brighter (in the Muggle world, at least) but old-fashionedness and propriety still ran this world⁠—Petunia Evans was living proof of that⁠—and it was not always sunshine and daisies. Hogwarts was not the safe haven that Dumbledore might have you believe, and Lily learned quite quickly to pick her battles. Sometimes she had to let a derisive comment slide. Sometimes she had to be the bigger person. But most of the time, especially when others (muggleborns) were concerned, she never could quite let it go, no matter how many talking tos from her idol (McGonagall), and she never could resist self-righteousness. The day she l3ft Hogwarts was the day she realised that from then on, she wouldn’t be just choosing her battles - everyday would be a fight. Still, comparably, she was lucky, incredibly so. There were those out there far more disadvantaged than her, and if she were to die in the midst of this war, than at least she would die for something she believed in. Not everybody had that privilege.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

This roleplay gives me really great vibes! A lot of groups die out really quickly these days but I have the strong sense that this is one that could actually go on for a long, long while. Also, some of your game mechanics are super, super cool - I love the idea of characters continuing interactions or being kidnapped for hiatuses etc. It just makes this world seem so much more real and exciting.

ANYTHING ELSE? Pinterest board here!

#homenumaccepted #lily evans rp #marauders era roleplay #harry potter roleplay #hp rpg

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mirarelle · 5 years

Text

Two years ago today was the start of the longest two weeks of my life, yet also the start of the shortest two years.

To think that it’s been that long, feels impossible; because almost every waking moment since, I haven’t been able to get it to leave my mind. It plays on repeat in my head, and I haven’t found a way yet to move on.

My mother’s death took something from me. My peace of mind, or maybe it took all the strength I truly had left, because asking anyone who knew me then who’s still with me now, knows I am not the same. During that time, I barely knew what to do with myself, and time barely moved, like it was a drawn out torture designed just for me, as selfish as that sounds.

The only way I knew how to cope with any of it, and measure the passage of time, was to write it all down. Not every day had a lot, but it’s what I could get myself to put down in words in a time when I could barely form any.

Some may say it’s attention seeking, some may think it’s a dig at some people mentioned. But for me it’s to help show the feelings that have been sitting bottled up for far too long.

~*~20th 8am

It’s all so surreal. Like none of this is really happening. I see her there, but she’s not my mom. There are similarities; the same slender nose, her teeth are a familiar snaggle, the same blonde hair. But the pallor of her skin, the gaunt deathly pale of it, it’s aged her. She looks too close to death to be the lively woman I knew.

The doctors keep speaking in ‘ifs’ and ‘whens’, not really saying anything that holds ground, because they can’t say for certain that anything good or bad will happen. They don’t want to make promises they can’t keep. Little do they know that what they are saying, therefore, can’t ease me.

I need a definitive answer, I need something to hold on to. All I can do is pace, because I don’t know what will happen, and unlike some, I cannot hold onto the power of prayer to get me by. I’m depending on these doctors with no answers to make my mother well, not ‘God’. No, I can’t justify prayer when I feel like that being is not the cause or the relief of the pain and suffering my little bubble of the world is dealing with. Doctors however, they are solid, tangible, and doing everything they can to help my mother through this.

It’s strange to me that in this time, even though I’m here supporting her, that even now my mind keeps wandering to the negatives. Like it’s searching for a reason to not care that she’s like this, when judging by the tears and the fear I am feeling, I undeniably do. But I keep reminding myself of the last incident I had in a hospital involving my mother. I was pregnant with Alice, induced and ready to burst, but being told that I would need a C section. At the news and while I was being prepped to go in, my mother who had been there most of the day, left. She “didn’t want to see her daughter cut up like that”, so she just left me. I, on the verge of going into a frightening operation I really didn’t want to get but had no choice in the matter; who wanted and needed the support, lay abandoned.

I’d completely forgotten the event over time, but for some reason as I sat with her the first time yesterday, it came to me. I didn’t understand it. I don’t understand it. Right alongside the fear that while I’m sitting there it will turn into the first major scene that I wrote with Madison. Begging nurses and doctors to do something, to save her mom, like it’s a cruel joke to actually go through the emotions I faked so well. Like this is my fault for killing off the mother of a character I claimed to have modeled after myself. A woman who was a seamstress, not so unlike my own mother. A woman the daughter admired beyond all others.

In my awkward sense of guilt, I feel like this is my fault even when I know it’s not. I didn’t put a tumor in my mother’s lungs. But how similar the two scenes are playing out, I can’t help it.

~*~ 20th 12:40pm

The Doctor came to talk to me around noon. He says to expect the worst, as if I hadn’t already mulled it over a million times with every other possible outcome. He called me pragmatic, the way I was able to keep a calm mind and sensible standpoint on the whole thing, meanwhile I’m internally berating myself for sounding like a cold, heartless bitch.

And I finally found out why every nurse and doctor was skirting my question of how long she’d gone without a pulse. I’d asked more than once, but they could never give me a number.

20. 20 minutes. It’s practically a death sentence. The brain is far away, and a loss of blood, and a weaker than required heartbeat... that is a recipe for brain damage.

I hate thinking it. I hate knowing it. I hate ever having heard the numbers or the knowledge so I could remain blissfully hopeful and be more like everyone else.

~*~ 20th, 3pm

I'm starting to understand zombie movies better with all of this. Why it's so hard to shoot a loved one who's turned. It's easy to yell at the screen that the character is being stupid, but that's because we don't put ourselves in their shoes. Because you still see them, even if they aren't the same anymore, there is always the hope that they will be them again, what if they could get better? What if there’s a change and I'm pulling the trigger too soon? What if I'm forced to make that decision with my mom?... Could I pull the trigger?

Because as I sit here staring at this woman, realizing she might not be the same woman I knew last week, possibly barely human at all; I see my mother, and think she might just wake up and just start carrying on a conversation with me out of the blue like nothing ever happened. What I wouldn’t give for that to be possible… because I don't think I have the strength to do what would be necessary...

~*~20th 10pm

Since the incident, they had kept my mother on ice, letting her body heal while keeping her preserved I guess. But today they had been letting her warm up to see how her organs could handle it, if they could function properly at a regular temperature, to discover that she had a fever and immediately started to cool her again. They keep throwing numbers out there for a length of time, but the reality is that they don't know anymore than we do.

As I was coming to see her a final time before exhaustion could claim me, the phone happened to ring at the nurse's station. My Aunt Dawn whom I've never even really met spoke to me. I don't know the full details of the feud, but she was beside herself with grief I didn't expect from a woman who has never been in my mother's life for the entirety of my being. I didn’t know what to say to her except to explain.

The more the doctors come to me with the decisions and information, the more I can feel the stiffness in my family. Like I chose for this to happen or something. I’m not any more pleased I’m going through this experience than they are, but I’m doing it to the best of my ability. Taking it as it hits me, even if each impact feels like it’s chipping away at me, and their backhanded comments only make it worse.

Maybe if we find a will, it has someone else mentioned as power of attorney, maybe then they’ll be happy.

~*~21st 11am

They said that things are looking good, vitals are up. They won’t be taking her out of sedation until sometime between tonight and tomorrow, so I’m going to go home and take a much needed rest. I feel hollow. This whole experience is draining in a way I never thought I could have felt before.

~*~21st 4pm

This is so stupid. I’m waiting, pacing again, for John to come and get me because low and behold, they changed their damn minds and started bringing her out of sedation while I was at home sleeping. Why can’t they keep their fucking stories straight? Seriously. I feel like I’m going to miss her because they’re going to make a judgement call at 5 and I don’t know if John can make it here and back on time. I feel so helpless and trapped at their mercy. I knew I should have stayed.

~*~21st 5:30pm

We made it to her, but she wasn’t really all there. Her eyes kept rolling back into her head and she was sucking on her tube. Seeing her like this scares me, even knowing this isn’t her fully out of sedation, but seeing her weak and frail and dependent on others is a strange and very wrong sensation. My mother is strong and as independent as they come… Seeing her so small and helpless… It puts an ache in me that I can’t even describe.

~*~21st 10:30pm

We just missed her, apparently coherent, answering questions with nods, squeezing fingers and wiggling toes on cue. But Joey deserved something on his birthday, and they say they are trying again in the morning anyways. I get to go home again and spend some time with Josh. I feel like I haven’t seen him or Alice in weeks, yet it’s only been a few short days of this life of practically living at the hospital. I can’t tell Alice what’s happening, and I know if I even start to try to tell her I’ll lose myself. I don’t want her to worry about me, and I don’t need to bog her down if this all ends better than my mind keeps trying to tell me it will.

~*~22nd 8:30 am

My mom saw me. The feeling of that is amazing, yet at the same time I feel like she didn't know who I was. Maybe I was just something for her to focus on. We noticed we were riling her up and decided it was best we let her be, the nurses saying they were going to try taking the breathing tube out soon anyways, then let the doctor do his rounds. It usually ends at 11:30ish anyways, so we’ll come back later.

~*~22nd 12pm

They’ve sedated her again. Reason? Because despite all the positive signs we thought we saw earlier, they were misconstrued. Yes, she has basic motor functions, but where they are looking for rational comprehension, the nurses were met with agitation and animalistic rage, that of someone whose brain has degenerated… Possibly beyond repair. They say they want to give her time to heal, but the reality might just be that that thrashing, wild, unresponsive being might be all we have left of her. And I don’t think I can handle that.

~*~23rd 1pm

The worst news yet came today. Apparently my mother is suffering more than we knew. We learned that she has pneumonia in both of her lungs, her iv got infected and she now has sepsis, and the cherry on top: the tumour is a result of stage 3 lung cancer. All of that, and we still don't know what the limit of her brain function is yet. And treating the cancer? Near impossible. Due to location. Inoperable. Due to sepsis. No chemo. And radiation is merely a bandaid. And if she can't even breathe on her own, there's no point in trying…

Everything feels like it’s crashing down around me. With every new discovery I become more buried, and it’s suffocating me. I keep holing it up in myself other than to write it here, but I don’t know how to show it. I feel like I have to keep going, keep pushing it down because I’m the one that the decisions fall to. I have to show to everyone that I can handle this, but I really don’t know how much longer I can.

~*~24th 2am

Everyone keeps calling me strong, but I don't feel strong, I feel like a hack. I put on this mask of cold indifference but inside I'm a scared little girl who's afraid to lose her mother.

~*~24th 12pm

My family ganged up on me. They surrounded me like a pack of starving wolves would to vulnerable prey.

Pat has been my strength in all of this, my backbone, helping me get through things that nobody else wanted to step up and do. Things like making sure my mom’s bills got paid, and finding out about her disability checks. Things nobody wanted to accept needed to happen. Everyone thought my mom was going to walk out of the hospital the moment she showed signs of waking, not accepting the bigger picture.

Even if my mom had woken up, and started breathing on her own after three days, she still would have remained hospitalized. She has cancer. A full blown lung tumour. Let alone the part where her heart gave out. They would keep her around for observation while they looked into everything. But she wouldn’t be able to handle the stress of her finances, it would lean on someone else anyways.

But facts are, she’s not awake and her benefits run out next Monday. These are things that need to be taken care of now.

But no, they attack me, say I’m not focusing enough on my mom. But this is me focusing on my mom. This is me finding an outlet for the grief. Instead of standing around doing nothing, waiting for answers, I am finding goals that help her in whatever state she is or will be when this is all over.

And on top of that, they want to sever me from my support. They don’t want the one person giving a shit about me and understanding me in this to be around anymore. They think they know what’s best for me, but they don’t even know me.

I was so distraught by what they were doing that when I even started to give in just to make the pain of it stop, and my Aunt came at me for a hug, I squealed in anguish and crumpled in on myself yelling at her not to touch me. I was racked with fear and trembled anxiously for 5-10 minutes on the floor, hiding behind my chair.

I hate what this stress is doing to my sanity. I don’t feel real anymore. I don’t feel like a human roaming these halls. It’s becoming a blur of nothing and hopelessness with every unanswered question. Even when I sleep, I feel nothing, and like it’s made no difference when I wake.

~*~25th 1pm

They started bringing her off sedation again, and now it’s just a waiting game. I’m going to stay through the night so if she wakes, she won’t be alone.

Carolann and Auntie Darla came in today and my cousin and I finally started on my mother’s nails. It’s nice to see them clean and blood free for the first time since this began. We tried to get some colour on there, but it didn’t dry fast enough and got ruined by nurses moving her around. Maybe I’ll try again later. It feels wrong that they aren’t work ready and vibrant how she always kept them.

~*~26th 12:30am

I went for a walk around the hospital to ease my troubled mind, that and they were changing her bedding for her so we were kicked out.

I found a meditation circle around the side of the building with a small stone in the center. It had the word hope painted on it in yellow over a half sun.

I sat there for over an hour listening to music fighting back tears just trying to wrap my head around it all. It was peaceful where my mind wasn't. If all the noise in my head could have filled the silent night, it would have been deafening.

~*~26th 3:30am

I just switched out with John. I can’t keep my eyes open much longer. I hope I don’t miss her.

~*~27th 11am

Every day there is a small bazaar that pops up at the hospital, different knick knacks and jewelry. As if buying these random things will help us feel better somehow. I bought a ring, thinking of mom. I feel bad that I've bought this ring as a token to remember her by. To remind myself of this moment, of this suffering, so I can look at it and be forever reminded of what's taking place right now. But I feel like I need it, and I hate that that's where my mind is going when she's right upstairs. But truth be told, I know. I know that this only ends one way: badly.

~*~28th 8:45am

She's gone.

I don't feel human. I feel empty. Hollow. Listless. And yet I'm a ball of unrelenting energy unable to stop moving, fidgeting, calling, texting, needing that thing to keep me from thinking, from staying in the moment and being washed away by the tears that would surely drown me.

I felt like before, I was racing time, but now I feel like I'm swimming against the tide trying to sweep me away from her, but the water is too strong, and I can’t fight it anymore.

~*~28th 3pm - Facebook Post

For those who knew, my mother has been battling an unknown illness for a few months now. A week ago she entered St. Catherine's General for a routine test, and today, she is gone.

I don't even know where to begin in describing how I feel, how much I feel the loss. Only that I feel stripped of a major part of myself. Despite everything we put each other through, she was my mother. She was a main influence in everything I do and everything I am, and I will miss her every day.

~*~ Oct 3rd, 2017 - 2pm - My Eulogy

Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love that you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go. - Jamie Anderson

Over the past two weeks, that quote couldn’t have rung truer in me. Sitting next to my mom feeling everything welling in me, and nowhere for it to go. Where everyone else’s feelings poured from them, special times to reminisce, memories once thought forgotten, even just a daily report to give to keep from silence, I could never find the words. And now that I finally have them, they sit heavy with regret in my chest.

For every whispered ‘goodbye’, was a masked ‘don’t leave me’, for every ‘I love you’, ‘I need you’, and for every moment of stunned silence were a thousand things I wish I’d said in its place.

To say she will be missed would be a lie. Because, the depth of which she touched people’s lives goes so much deeper. She will be mourned, and at times ached for with so much severity we can no longer draw in a breath to fill the void that she has left in us.

Over time, the pain may lessen, breathing come easier, and with each other we can fill the void again. Tell her stories, remember her jokes, and share the times that made her who she was to us.

So I will not miss her, but will look for her, and search her out in all of you, piece by piece.

~*~

This was more than difficult to post. Two years of indecision. Two years of pain I kept to myself until it nearly drove me mad. Everything written was as it happened and as I felt it, and kept locked in a google document I never thought I would let see the light of day.

#grief #loss #death #sad

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