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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years

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Lovedust Pt.5 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N invites Josh over to work on a project while Peter goes back to his Spiderman duties which sends Y/N into a spiral.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: WOWIE I really stayed up all night to finish this ha. Anyway! This gives more backstory about Y/N and what happened with her biological parents and ughhhh things are moving yall! Also leave comments if it’s good and if it’s bad also leave comments 🥰

Warnings: Mention of blood, death, panic attack, ANGST

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six ||

part seven || part eight || epilogue

Even though the Avengers Complex was your home, it was much more than a place where you crashed after school. You had to keep in mind that to any normal person, the idea of seeing alien technology in use or friends from galaxies away wasn’t an average Thursday.

You never thought any of this was particularly strange until now as you got the text from Josh that he was parked in the back lot of the building like you had told him to.

Since you and Josh were partners for anatomy, you thought it would be obvious that you would be staying at his house to work on your project but your dad had other ideas.

The sheer thought of you going to a boy’s house to “study” was absurd, especially since Josh’s parents were always out of town for business. You never thought your dad would ever let any of your friends into the complex, especially a boy but in the name of science, it wasn’t too hard to convince him.

You quietly opened the side door as Josh slid in behind you and let out a low whistle.

“ Not too shabby Stark, although I gotta say, the lawn is looking a bit wild,” Josh smiled as he readjusted his backpack straps,” if you need me to come over to cut it, I charge $9.00 an hour.”

“ In that case, your first shift starts next week,” You teased as you led him to the main set of elevators in the building.

You couldn’t help but feel on edge as Josh followed close behind you. You had never brought anyone over and you were scared that bringing Josh would make things turn into a big deal. You knew how protective some of the other Avengers were of you and you just prayed silently that you wouldn’t run into any of them, especially Peter.

You weren’t sure how Peter would take it if he found out you and Josh were getting closer.

Peter was in a fragile state and who knew what little thing could set him off. You were even more worried that Peter would find out about the party tomorrow night because it wasn’t like you could invite him along.

The idea of mixing hormonal teenagers and alcohol was a recipe for disaster but the damage that could be made from Peter’s self-destructive state could be even bigger.

As much as you knew how badly things could turn out with Josh in the complex, you knew you couldn’t let Peter’s actions affect what went on in your academic life and at the end of the day, Josh was just a classmate.

Josh looked all around him, taking in everything from the colorful array of gadgets neatly built into the walls to the natural light coming from the sleek windows.

“ I feel so out of place- am I underdressed?” Josh asked as a few lab technicians walked past giving you and Josh an odd glance,” and how do you not get lost in a place this big.”

You pressed the elevator button and gave Josh a reassuring smile,” Trust me, they’ve seen weirder things around here. Like, way weirder things.”

When the elevator doors opened, the two of you walked in and you started pointing to the elevator buttons,” So a quick tour! We’re on the main floor which basically is used for important meetings and conferences, the second floor is for the gym and pool, the third is where some of the bedrooms are, fourth is strictly for the scientists, the fifth is the labs, and the other floors are for S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Also, the basement has all the cool gadgets I’m not allowed to play with but I’m convinced it’s just where the guys all hang out and drink.”

“ You have an indoor pool?”

“ That’s what caught your attention?” You laughed as Josh nodded enthusiastically.

“ Well yeah! Do you even use it? I vaguely remember that when you were twelve, you almost drowned in 4ft water at someone’s pool party,” Josh said as you pressed the third button.

“ It was 5ft but yes I know how to swim...my dad made me take lessons after that,” You mumbled as you remembered that experience vividly,” I tried lifeguarding last summer at that super fancy hotel near Greenwich but the training was too expensive so I just took a CPR course at the YMCA and lifeguarded there.”

“ Did you ever have to save anyone?” Josh asked curiously as the glass elevators moved up towards your floor.

You nodded as Josh’s mouth dropped,” Yup, I had to give CPR and everything. Lucky for them, saving lives runs in my family.”

As the elevator doors opened up to your floor, you made sure to carefully scan the hallway before stepping out. Peter was supposed to be up in the labs all-day so that gave you enough time to work on the project with Josh while keeping Peter at a safe distance.

As you were approaching the door to your room, the fridge door in the kitchen closed and revealed Peter with an IV pole on his left side and an apple in the other hand.

“ Peter!” You said nervously as you took a small step in front of Josh, almost as if you were covering him up from Peter’s line of vision,” What are you doing here? I thought you were up in the labs?”

Peter looked past you and eyed Josh up and down before holding up the fruit, walking towards the two of you,” Um, I needed something to eat- Who is he?”

Peter was constantly feeling some type of distress whether it was chest pains or headaches but now that he clearly caught you hiding a boy from him, the pain felt off.

You had never brought over any of your friends to the headquarters before so to Peter, this was already a red flag. Peter felt like his body was on high alert as thousands of scenarios were going through his head.

Josh stepped forward and held his hand out for Peter to shake,” Nice to meet you, Peter, I’m Josh. Y/N and I go to Manhattan Prep together.”

Peter looked down at Josh’s hand for a moment before shaking it hard. Josh winced but played off his pain as he pulled his hand away and stuffed it back into his pockets. You could feel the one-sided tension between the two as you looked over to Peter to try to ease him but his eyes were glued to Josh.

You cleared your throat as you turned to face Josh,“ Peter is a part of my dad’s internship program so he spends most of his time here at the complex. He’s pretty much a part of the family and he’s a really good friend, right Peter? ”

Peter nodded as he tried to calm his nerves down, his quick glance to Josh was almost as if he was begging his body to put his guard down. He couldn’t control his body and this was the first time the lovedust had forced him into a territorial state.

“ No kidding, that’s awesome man. My buddy from Midtown was telling me that he knew a guy who was accepted into the Stark Internship,” Josh said as Peter stood up a little straighter.

“ Oh really? Who?”

“ Flash Thompson, do you know him?” Josh asked as Peter looked over at you, almost as a warning.

While Josh was trying to be civil towards Peter, Peter couldn’t help but feel the pit in his stomach sink lower and lower with the thought of Josh even associating with someone like Flash.

“ As a matter of fact, I do know Flash,” Peter said smoothly, his speech hardly hesitating,” you sure know how to pick friends.”

You and Josh could tell that Peter was giving a dig towards him but Josh quickly let it go as he tried to ease the situation.

“ Well... it was nice to meet you Peter, any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine,” Josh said as he gave a genuine smile,” I’m sure Y/N already mentioned this to you but if you’re not busy or anything, my friend is throwing a party tomorrow and you should come out.”

Fuck.

Peter looked at you for a moment before returning a small smile to Josh,” Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

“ Um Josh, can you just wait in my room for a second?” You asked as Josh looked between the two of you and nodded.

You didn’t want to be upset at Peter for feeling hostile towards Josh because you knew he really couldn’t help himself. It was eating away at you that you were the reason Peter was acting so jealous but come on, did he really have a reason to?

Once Josh closed the door behind him, you turned back to Peter and looked down at the IV that was in his arm.

“ Is everything okay?” You asked as Peter looked down at his arm,” that looks pretty serious.”

“ Yeah… I’ve been having some problems but nothing your dad can’t fix” Peter deflected softly before looking over to your bedroom door,” so Josh...is he a friend?”

Peter knew he was walking on thin ice asking about Josh but he couldn’t bring himself to just go back in the labs and worry about the two of you all day.

“ He’s just a friend Peter, we have a school project and we’re partners,” You reassured him as Peter felt almost relieved,” and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the party, I didn’t think you would want to go but I should’ve asked.”

Peter studied your expression for a moment before looking down at his feet. It was hard to tell if you were telling the truth, maybe you didn’t want him to come. School project or not, Peter felt threatened by Josh, even if Josh was trying his best to be as nice as possible.

“ It’s okay, you’re right. Parties aren’t my thing anyway,” Peter shrugged as you bit the inside of your cheek.

You weren’t sure why you felt so guilty but whatever you were feeling, you hated how much it was stirring inside of you. You never wanted Peter to feel left out and you could easily tell that it was bothering him as much as it was bothering you.

“ Maybe if you’re not busy tonight, we can watch a movie together. I checked the kitchen this morning and there’s a ton of frozen pizzas if you’re up for it?” You suggested as Peter tapped his fingers against the side of his leg.

Peter wanted to jump at the offer, any excuse to hang out with you alone literally set Peter so close to having a cardiac arrest in the best way possible. While he was getting the hang of controlling his words around you, it felt like the more time you spent with him, the more he felt himself fall for you.

“ I’m actually going to patrol tonight,” Peter said in a low whisper as he looked back at your bedroom door,” I haven’t been on the streets in a long time and I think I feel well enough to go.”

“ Are you sure you’re ready? You’re literally hooked up to an IV bag Peter,” You said as Peter subtly pushed the IV pole behind him as if he could hide it.

“ I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll be okay. I’ll only be out for a couple of hours and we can hang out when I get back,” Peter said as you hesitantly nodded.

You understood that being a superhero meant that you couldn’t take sick days but this was an extreme circumstance. To you, Spiderman could wait but for Peter, that was a large part of his livelihood that he had put aside for too long.

You wanted to tell him not to go, better yet, if you could hide every single one of his Spiderman suits you would. It didn’t sit right with you that with everything going on with his health that he would jeopardize it but you knew it wasn’t your call.

“ Okay, but please text me updates so I know you’re safe. Things have been so crazy lately and I-”

“ Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll be okay,” Peter interrupted as he felt his heart grow heavy,” I promise I’ll keep you updated.”

You didn’t know why the thought of Peter going out was so scary but before you could think things over in your head, your feet stepped forward and you pulled Peter into a tight hug. You rested your chin against his shoulder as you inhaled deeply as if hugging Peter would calm down your nerves for the rest of your life.

Without a second thought, Peter drew his arms over your body and held you close to his chest. His heart beat even faster than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you even tighter than before.

----------

You checked your phone for what seemed like the millionth time in the last hour as you grew more and more anxious.

Peter had been gone for hours to go patrol while you and Josh were still working on the project. It was eating away at you that Peter wasn’t back yet and every time another minute passed without an update, you felt like you were closer to losing your mind.

Even before Peter made contact with the lovedust, you would still secretly pray that he got home in one piece. When everyone you knew and loved had a career that put themselves in the line of danger, thoughts of not having them around anymore plagued you whenever you had a quiet moment to yourself.

You had lost people before to freak accidents like your biological parents who had passed away when you were old enough to know how death worked. You couldn’t imagine not having Tony as your dad but some nights whenever you were filled to the brim with anxiety, you wondered what your life would’ve been like if your parents weren’t killed during that home invasion.

When you’ve lost people, it never gets easier, terror plagues you. The fear of someone you know getting hurt was by far scarier than anything Hollywood could recreate with CGI and yet, it was slowly looming over you.

Superheros were literally your life and you weren’t mentally prepared that one day, something bad could happen and you could lose them forever. With Peter, you weren’t sure if it was because of how close the two of you were now but the fear of losing him was bigger than any other scenario you had crafted in your head.

“ Is everything okay? You seem a little out of it,” Josh said as you looked away from your phone and back towards your laptop.

“ Yeah, I’m good, my body just feels so tired. I’ve read so much medical terminology within the past couple of hours and now everything is jumbling together,” You sighed as you looked down at Josh who was sprawled out onto your bedroom floor with a textbook resting against his stomach.

You never realized how comfortable your floor was but seeing Josh on your floor looking as effortless as ever was a shock to your system. When Josh caught your gaze, you turned back to your laptop and rested your cheek against your palm to try to cover the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks.

As you rested your cheek against your propped up hand, you could feel your eyelids get heavier with each passing second. Josh noticed from his spot on the ground and sat upon his hands, watching you ever so intently.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed once you closed your eyes but once you felt a blanket drape across your shoulders, you stirred quietly.

You held your breath as you waited for anything else but all you could hear was paper shuffling around. You peeked your eye out and saw Josh crouched down on your floor, carefully putting his textbooks and notes into his backpack, being careful not to wake you.

Instead of waking up to say goodbye, you pretend to be asleep as if you were too nervous to even confront Josh this late. The papers stopped shuffling and as you tried to keep your breathing patterns even, you felt Josh’s hand rub your shoulder softly before walking out of the room.

Once your bedroom door had closed, you hesitantly opened your eyes and gave a quick peek to make sure Josh was really gone.

You exhaled loudly, not even aware that you were holding it in all this time. You let the blanket fall onto the chair before walking over to your large window that pointed towards where Josh had parked.

You knew you should’ve walked him down after everything he had done for your project but the least you could do now was to make sure he left the complex in one piece. After a few minutes of patiently looking out the window, you saw Josh’s car pull out of the long driveway and headed down towards the front gate.

Your mind instantly traveled back to Peter as you checked your phone again but this time you went back to your messages and looked at all of the unread messages you had left for him.

5:12pm || Y/N: update me when you get to your post!

5:29pm || Y/N: oh don’t swing and text loser!!!!

6:01pm || Y/N: you there yet?

6:36pm || Y/N: don’t make me spam text u nerd

6:57pm || Y/N: im gonna just pretend you’re too busy to txt me back-be safe!

7:40pm || Y/N: helloooo?!?! Is everything okay

8:00pm || Y/N: i will leak your identity fool txt me back

8:40pm || Y/N: whatever idc anymore

8:44pm || Y/N: still haven’t heard back from you, you dead?

9:06pm || Y/N: ur freaking me out dude, any updates?

9:33pm || Y/N: there was a fire near the museum are you okay?!?! The news said you were there

9:35pm || Y/N: peter????

9:50pm || Y/N: call me im worried

10:02pm || Y/N: ur scaring me pls respond

You cursed under your breath as you pressed the call button and placed it to your ear. After a few rings, Peter’s voicemail came on and you didn’t even bother to listen to it all the way. You had already left so many voicemails and at this point, there was nothing you could do but wait for him.

You were filled with dread as you scooted back into your bed and refreshed the news pages on your phone.

Spiderman Stops an Armed Gunman Outside Plaza

You knew that it wasn’t healthy for you to keep scrolling online but you needed to know if Peter was safe. You hated the feeling of not being kept into the loop and Peter wasn’t the type to completely ignore text messages unless that meant he was in real trouble, what could you do to help him, you don’t have any powers you’re just a teenager-

You took a deep breath in as you shut your phone off and stared up at the ceiling to clear your head.

Peter is smart. He’s fast. He will be fine. You kept repeating it over and over again like a lullaby and with some luck, you could feel your eyelids get heavier and heavier by the second with Peter being the last thing you thought before falling into a deep sleep.

You held your hand over your mouth to try and stop the sobs that rocked your body from underneath the bed. You could hear your dad begging, pleading to spare his wife before the sound of a gunshot went off.

It was louder than you remembered almost as if the sky let out a roaring thunder that shook the whole house. You could hear your dad struggling with the gunman before another shot rang out, this time even louder.

The glowing stars that were stuck to your ceiling shook off once your bedroom door had slammed opened and you prayed silently, wanting the nightmare to end.

You did your best to be quiet as you watched his feet walk slowly to the bed, almost at a teasing pace like he knew you were underneath there. Everytime the nightmare played in your head, the attacker took on a different appearance. Sometimes it was someone you knew, other times it was just a passing face on the street.

But everytime you had this nightmare, one thing never changed. The shoes, black sneakers with white laces and depending on how terrible the nightmare decided to be, you could spot the splatter of blood against the heels.

You watched as the man walked behind your bed and you let out a scream as you felt his hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you roughly against the carpet. As you scratched at the attackers face, your sob got caught in the middle of your throat.

The attacker always took a different appearance and this time, it was Peter.

You kicked and screamed as hard as you could as he tried to pin you down, his weapon pressed into the side of your rib as you sobbed uncontrollably. You knew it was a dream and you were so used to letting it ride out or until you fell out of bed but with Peter staring at you as he dangled your life between his fingers, all you wanted to do was wake up.

All you could do was continue to fight back through your tears as he kept saying your name, taunting you.

“ Let go of me!”

“ Y/N! I got you!”

“ It’s me Peter!”

“Y/N!”

You shot up from out of your bed, almost knocking heads with another figure as you let out a choked sob. You didn’t realize your fists were still swinging until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your body, cradling you.

The memory of the attacker was still so vivid in your head and all you wanted to do was get away,“ Let me go!” You screamed as you struggled against their grip as they held you even tighter,” get off of me!”

“ Y/N! Y/N! It’s me! It’s me! You’re okay!” Peter shouted as he let his grip go before cupping his hands on either side of your face,” open your eyes! Hey! It’s me, you’re okay!”

You squirmed from his lap as you opened your eyes to see Peter in front of you, the actual Peter. As relieved as you were, you felt your chest tighten as you continued to cry and without a second thought, you leaned into Peter’s chest and buried your wet face into his t-shirt.

Peter held you tighter as he rested one hand against the back of your head and the other was snaked around your waist. He smoothed down your hair as he made soft shushing noises to try and calm you down,” It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here, I got you.”

You hadn’t felt so relieved to see anyone until now and as you tried to control your cries, you felt yourself slowly transitioning back into reality. You inhaled his scent as you dug your face into his neck and you never thought a smell could bring you so much peace.

Relief wasn’t even what you were feeling, it was more than that. You couldn’t put it into words and it was heavier than the idea of weight being lifted off of your shoulders. Release. To sob into someone’s embrace where you knew you would be safe no matter what felt heavenly and with every sob you let out, you felt yourself separate from the nightmare altogether.

Peter had to hold back his own tears as he held you and slowly rocked your body back and forth like a baby. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting you but it definitely put Peter at ease.

Just minutes ago, he had just checked on you to see if you were still awake and once he saw that you were sleeping, he went back to his room to get ready for bed. It wasn’t until he was putting on his pajamas when the hair on his arm stood up seconds before you actually let out a scream only he could sense.

Peter literally scrambled to your room and had his web-shooters ready because from what he could hear, he thought someone was attacking you. It wasn’t until he saw that you were having a nightmare that he quickly threw his web-shooters to the side and tried to wake you up.

It was one thing to be in love with someone and to go through the motions as if it was a normal occasion but this was different. Seeing you so vulnerable and completely terrified utterly broke Peter in half and he knew for sure that it wasn’t all because of the lovedust.

“ You’re safe Y/N, you’re okay.”

“ Don’t worry I got you.”

“ Just breathe for me, okay?”

For what seemed like forever, Peter cradled you and whispered into your ear to let you know that you were okay and that he was there for you. He wanted you to tell him everything about the nightmare and what had triggered it but he knew that it wasn’t just an ordinary nightmare with the occasional boogeyman.

You thought back to your nightmare one last time as you pictured a hazy Peter attacking you and it almost sent you into another panic attack. Peter could feel how tense you got and his grip loosened so he could look back at you.

Your eyes were puffy from crying so much and your cheeks were flushed red but Peter thought you were absolutely beautiful. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, there was so much to say yet so little at the same time.

“ Thank you,” You whispered ever so softly as you craned your neck up and pressed a soft kiss against Peter’s cheek.

You both knew that it wasn’t an ordinary thank you but for Peter, he didn’t need to analyze it any further. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of Peter’s heartbeat that rang throughout his body.

From pure exhaustion of crying and anxiety, you felt even more tired than before and Peter could feel you slipping back to sleep. He didn’t want to let you go, if he could, he would hold you in his arms forever if it meant keeping you safe and sound.

Once Peter heard your soft snores, he held you for a second longer before carefully laying you back down into your bed. Like second nature, Peter pulled the covers back over your body and tucked a strand of hair that was danging in the middle of your face behind your ear.

Peter ignored the sore feeling that was lingering in his back and forearms from holding you up and lightly dragged his fingers across his own cheek. He was way into deep now.

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

Hey! I just read a couple of your drabbles and I LOVE THEM!💙💙

So if you don't mind, could you please do a Harringrove drabble/ficlet based on either of the two (or a mix of both, if you can) Twenty One Pilots songs "Tear in My Heart" and/or "Smithereens"?

Because, for me, Tear in My Heart is very Billy and Smithereens is very Steve👉👈

Thank you!!💜

Ok so love this and you have an amazing mind, just so you know.

This is like a 2 in 1 fic post so :))))

So smithereens and steve work so well together, like

“I go step to a dude much bigger than me/ for you I know that I would get messed up, weigh 153/ For you I would get beat to smithereens”

Like this is just Steve's personality. He got into a fight every season and barely ever wins without intervention. And like i could see him just being so overcome with emotions that he just does what he knows, which is self destruct.

Like with his fight with Jonathan, he almost accepts that Nancy was too good for him and thinks that he might as well take other people with him.

Then with Tommy in the parking lot, it’s not really a fight, but it shows that he has a conscience and fixes his mistakes.

Then with his fight with Billy, he only tries to protect the kids, even if he’s losing miserably.

I could 100% see steve having snuck into billy’s room during the night once (before he really knew about neil), not to do anything nefarious, but just that he had a really bad nightmare, because there was a small power outage, and billy is really good at helping him sleep afterwards.

And let's just say that Billy's alarm clock (which is always set for 5:30am, half an hour before Neil wakes up just to give him peace of mind) doesn’t go off because of the power outage.

And Neil comes to wake up Billy for school because he hasn’t woken up yet, and sees Billy spooning Steve and both boys are snoring and pressing bare chest to bareback, and so deep asleep that Neil lets them sleep, letting them wake up on their own.

And they do. Billy wakes up around 8am, feeling insanely well rested. He smiles and squeezes Steve before turning to sit up from his bed to look at his alarm clock, that’s blinking on and off and reads 3:18am, but the sun’s up and… the house is quiet.

Billy feels the dread settle deep in his chest, and swears he could cry if he were .000000001% more worried.

He hears the creaking of work boots walking around the house and knows, just from the tension lingering in the air, that it’s just an angry Neil pacing in the kitchen/ dining room and waiting for Billy to wake up.

He doesn’t know whether to wake Steve up and tell him to escape out of the window and run or just let him lay there anyway, it’s obvious that Neil already saw.

He let’s Steve sleep and throws a shirt on and slowly walks out of the room into the pits of hell, seeing Neil turn to him with an angry face a brighter shade of red than a firetruck.

As slurs are screamed and Billy is thrown into the walls and has family tchotchkes launched at his face, Steve wakes up after a particularly painful shove makes the wall shake, pushing a single picture frame fall off the wall on the other side.

Steve shoots up after that loud bang and hears a wail and muffled yelling before something else hits the wall. He grabs his shirt and puts it on as he walks out the bedroom door, seeing glass shattered on the hardwood leading to the family room, but what he sees around the corner is so much worse.

Billy’s bleeding in about twenty different spots, body curled in a ball in the corner of the kitchen, Neil standing over him, but turning to Steve with a grin.

Steve feels his blood boil as dots connect and loose ends are tied up, making the connection between Billy's bad nights and the new bruises he’ll sport under his shirt. The way he tries to hide it when he flinches at loud, authoritative men who are bigger than him. Why he told Steve to never call his house and why he is the way he is.

So Steve doesn’t think for another second before launching himself at Neil, slamming him into the floor, but that’s about as much as he wins that fight, because Neil is slamming him back and beating him the same way he did his son.

And billy, let’s admit it, is probably much stronger and a better fighter than his dad, but it’s so hard to fight back against an abuser that has controlled your life for so long. Even when you know you could win and that they deserve it, neil hargrove is still his dad and he could never get it into his head to hit him back.

But Steve was trying too hard to take him down because he was doing the wrong thing and losing terribly, never having won a fight once in his damn life.

Billy’s sitting up against the wall, ribs in excruciating pain and vision blurry, but he sees Steve getting up and kicking Neil once before backing up, and Billy sees his camaro keys in the dish by the front door.

So he stands up as fast as he can, ignoring the dizziness as if that would make it go away, grabs steve’s arm and shoots to the door, grabbing the camaro keys and shooting outside

He takes the driver’s seat, despite his dizzying head, just knew that he’d have to drive for a few miles then they could reevaluate, and Steve was clumsily getting into the passenger side.

Billy had only just started the car when Neil came rushing out the door, screaming threats and slurs as if that would make them stop their escape.

The camaro backed out of the driveway and shot down cherry lane in record time, going to the center of town, the least likely place Neil would cause a scene.

It isn’t until Billy puts the car in park that he can bear to look at steve.

He’s got a bloody nose and his shirt sleeve is torn off, hair disheveled from both sleep and the fight.

But billy looks so much worse.

He’s still hunched to the left from his ribs, he’s got tons of cuts along his arms, legs, and face from, what steve suspects, the broken glass on the floor. He’s also got this wild-animal-look in his eyes. One that screams, I escaped alive, but at what cost?

“Bill-”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Why-- I’m sorry are you asking me why I attacked your dad when he was kicking you while you were, literally, on the floor?”

“Ye--no, I-- but you got hurt, why’d you do that?”

“Billy, what did you expect me to do?” a shrug is all he gets in response--”If you saw my dad doing that to me, can you honestly expect yourself to stand there and watch it happen, or walk away and let it happen?”

Billy turns to face the grocery store--Melvad’s-- that they were parked in front of.

“It’s all weaving together in my head. All the bruises, the jumpiness, how you like to control things, it all makes sense, but what doesn’t make sense is why you wouldn’t just tell me, Bill,”

“And what exactly would you have been able to do about it, huh? You gonna take care of the situation or some shit, Steve? Trust me, I’m used to it and--”

“But you shouldn’t have to be ‘used to it,’ Bill, that’s abuse, and you don’t deserve that shit, not ever,”

Their conversation is halted by a tap on the glass by Steve's window, and the boys turn to see Joyce Byers looking more motherly than ever.

Steve rolled the window down.

“The hell happened to you boys?” she asked but corrected herself with a shake of her head, “Doesn’t matter, just come in to clean up, we’ve got bandages and antiseptic, free of charge,”

Billy wiped away the tears he didn’t know had formed and nodded to her, “We’ll be out in a minute, Mrs. Byers.”

“Joyce, please,” she demanded softly.

“Joyce, of course,” Billy offered a subdued smile.

She walked off and Steve rolled the window back up.

“Thank you,” Billy spoke quietly after a moment. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you worse,”

“Billy, for you I would get beat to smithereens,”

“Well of course you would, you weigh like 100 pounds, not like you could put up much of a fight,”

“Hey! I gave him a black eye, thank you very much!”

“Oh, well, my bad, baby, then maybe you weigh 150, huh?”

Steve grumbled from the passenger seat, “153,”

Billy chuckled and grabbed Steve's hand over the console, locking eyes and smiling at each other, enjoying their small moment.

“We should probably get in there before Joyce comes out herself?” Steve sighed as he moved to take his hand out of Billy's.

“One more minute, please,”

Steve just tightened his grip on Billy's hand and moved towards the center of the car to rest his head on Billy's shoulder, Billy's head falling onto his.

Billy and Tear In My Heart thooooooooo

Like it fits him so well, again this is amazing.

I also see billy as a resident hater of america and it’s fucking government becuase, well, they have a history between his myriad of speeding tickets and, oh what was it, oh yes, the tentacle monster that impaled and possessed him.

And in California, there’s no cold weather where he lives, so there’s not exactly potholes to avoid.

The first time he drives into the cooler states and has to avoid potholes, he decides that his car deserves a vacation after this.

But the potholes become the biggest issue after he and Steve start dating.

He’s absolutely enamoured by this boy, because who wouldn’t be. He respects Billy's limits and can hold his own in arguments, and they fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle.

Steve has changed Billy, not that he’d admit it, but he’s softer now and all of his sharp edges have been baby-proofed. They’re still there and dangerous, but they’re more difficult to be stabbed by.

All the cracks in his heart have been filled with gold, like Kintsugi (a Japanese technique of repairing broken pottery with gold).

And Billy can complain and complain about Steve's clinginess, about his intrusion into his life, and his persistence to stay, but deep inside Billy's never felt more loved or cared for in his life.

But these damn potholes might just make him lose it.

Because billy is anything but a bad driver, he can control the car even when it’s going 45 over the speed limit, but now that steve falls asleep after their movie dates or when they’re coming back from barbeques with the party, Joyce, and Hopper, he’s driving the speed limit.

Which is just appalling.

But some of these potholes are so deep you could dive into them and not hit the bottom.

Like what the fuck, Indiana?

And, one time, Max is with them after a barbeque when Steve falls asleep and Billy slows the car down to what feels like snail speed, but is just the speed limit.

“Why are we going so slow?” Max asked as she leaned forward from the backseat to whisper to billy.

“Steve’s sleepin’,” he said, as if it was the obvious reason.

“You’re whipped,”

“Shut up, Shitbird,”

Max leans back into her seat with a grin on her face at the absolute mush her big, tough brother has turned into for Steve Harrington.

#harringrove #stranger things #steve x billy #billy x steve #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing #twenty one pilots #billy hargrove #steve harrington

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aforrestofstuff · 4 years

Note

What do you think the OPM characters' guilty pleasures would be? I feel like Tatsu loves soap operas and Atomic Samurai secretly loves a really popular boy band, like SMAP

Thanks for your request, anon! Sorry this took me so long to get to, you were buried in my inbox lol. But I hope this was worth the wait because oh boy this required all 3 of my brain cells.

Tornado of Terror: As you said, soap operas. She also loves candy apples in canon. But...she also is a HUGE fan of those really cheesy Cosmopolitan magazines that have all of the personality quizzes and the “which hot male celeb would date you” scenarios. She doesn’t fall for it one bit. In fact, she hate reads those fuckers in the same way that people pay to go see bad movies. It’s fun.

Silverfang: Yoga and following along to some cheesy-ass 80s workout videos. I’ve said he likes yoga in a previous headcanon, but he also likes to exercise along to some obnoxious 80s pop while some dude in a leotard instructs him on what to do from a TV screen. He wears sweatbands and legwarmers, too. The whole shebang. He only does it when he’s alone, though. Sometimes he’ll try to teach yoga to his disciples as a way to help them decompress after a long training session, but his workout tapes are his best-kept secret.

Atomic Samurai: I don’t know what a SMAP is, but he’s definitely got some questionable music choices going on considering he’s... well, the way that he is. I’d say he likes to listen to old country, like Marty Robbins and Glen Campbell. It’s really funny because you’ve got this intimidating man from Japan (or a fictional universe basically set in Japan) with a badass katana and shit but inside that empty head of his, there’s just a faint “out in the west Texas town of El Paso....”

Child Emperor: Picking at scabs. He’s often on his knees fixing shit in his lab, and he probably gets burned all the damn time from playing around with lasers so he’s undoubtedly always has a wound healing somewhere. Whenever he’s working on something, he’ll just absentmindedly pick at his scabs. It’s a bad habit and he knows it, but nothing beats the feeling of peeling off an entire patch of that shit. So satisfying.

Metal Knight: Buying books. He doesn’t even read them. He just buys bigass novels with smart-sounding names to fill up his library because he thinks it’ll make his dick grow another three inches or some shit. One of the few things he likes in this world (besides homicide) is the smell of a new book. If he’s feeling particularly pissy, he’ll go into his library and just ssssssnnnnnnnnnniififfffffffffff. He spends an outrageous amount of money on it. If he has anyone over (which is unlikely, but hypothetically speaking) and they mention his library by asking something like “have you read all of these?” It’ll be one of the few times in his life that he’ll feel shame.

King: Reading and writing fanfiction based on his favorite video game/anime series. Nobody knows he does this except his small following online, of course. And even more so, nobody online knows he’s an ultra-popular S-Class hero who’s friends with the most powerful man on earth. He’s actually a pretty decent writer, he just doesn’t take himself too seriously so the plotline to his stories tend to get a little haywire and overly self-indulgent. Let him have his fun. He just wants to be a Sailor Scout.

Zombieman: Singing. He actually used to be a good singer (he sounded like a discount Steve Perry back in the day), but constant smoking really fucked up his voice. He might as well have lungs the size of grapes because he can’t carry a note for more than 2 seconds without wheezing like an accordion with asthma. He’s never sang in front of anyone before because he thinks it’s silly thing that isn’t worth showing off. Play anything from The Eagles though, and he’ll have a hard time resisting.

Drive Knight: He likes to open up panels in his arms and legs to play with the wires (basically a robot’s version of nerve endings, I’m assuming) just so he can feel something. It’s kind of sad because he doesn’t experience pain or the cold or being tickled... (I know what y’all are thinking and you’d better STOP). So he sometimes takes it upon himself to dick around with his insides and dip his toe into what it feels like to be human, even if it’s just for a little bit. He’s super secretive about it (he’s just secretive about everything, really) because he doesn’t want anyone to know that he desires something outside of being a weapon of mass destruction justice.

Pig God: His whole schtick is basically indulging in a guilty pleasure — pigging out on delicious food with no regard whatsoever for one’s overall health. Other than that, however, he does like to collect body pillows. There, I said it. All he fucking does is eat and he’s too much of a big boi to be going out 24/7, so he’s gotta be on the internet/watching anime/playing video games/reading manga during all of that downtime between his stints of doing hero work. His bed is fucking ginormous to handle all of that big boy-ness and on it, he has his body pillow nest. He rests on a throne made for kings. A true icon.

Superalloy Darkshine: Also working out along to some cheesy 80s exercise videos. His hero outfit was inspired from what those ravishing instructors would wear on the television. Well, it was supposed to be a full leotard but it ripped every time he flexed just a tiny bit so the speedo is the only thing that’s left. He’s gotta hella rhythm and keeps up with the music using little to no effort. Although, he can’t go too hard because he’s also a big boi and he’ll literally shake the entire building if he gets too turnt up. Dance muscle boy, dance.

Watchdog Man: Eating too many dog treats lol. Sometimes while he’s stationed on his little podium thing, visitors will leave him little offerings like dog treats and other miscellaneous food items/toys. He never takes them or eats them in front of people, but he often brings everything home with him after a long day just to gobble that shit up. He’s gained a little weight since he started doing it but you can’t even notice it because his suit is hella bulky. Some of it is due in part to stress-eating because being a dog and dude at the same time is hectic, but it’s honest work.

Flashy Flash: Racing shit. Whenever he’s on his travels during, say, assassination missions or hero work, he gets hella bored really quickly. So, to help with this, he’ll often race birds or planes flying in the sky on his way to his destination to see who’s quicker (it’s always him). Sometimes he’ll even play catch with himself by throwing a pine cone or something and running to the place he guesses it’ll land before it even touches the ground. He just does a ton of weird speedster shit whenever he’s bored and he’ll deny it if anyone asks.

Genos: Purposefully putting a little bit too much oil on his joints after each upgrade so he’ll be as slick as a salamander. It’s a really funny feeling to be able to move your limbs with little to no resistance without having to worry about popping or breaking anything. It just makes him feel so agile despite being like, a hunk of actual metal. If he wasn’t so uptight, he would loosen the screws in his fingers to he can bend them almost all the way back (he’s actually thought about it a few times), but both Dr. Kuseno and his 3 remaining braincells attested to that. He just likes to tinker around with his body and see what weird shit he can do. It’s a bad habit because it’s led to a few things being broken on multiple occasions.

Metal Bat: Zenko’s shitty pop music. Whenever he drops her off at school or piano practice, he’ll immediately go home and blast that shit on full volume (because he’s practically deaf from always jumping out of falling buildings and continuously blasting music in his earbuds) while doing chores and the like. He’s one of those people that HAVE to have something going on in the background as they’re getting shit done. He’d rather be caught dead than listening to the OPM equivalent of Taylor Swift because he knows Zenko would never let him live it down.

Tanktop Master: Wearing suits around the house when he’s not even going anywhere. He’s got to wear his tanktop 24/7 whenever he’s in public to keep up The Image (which he has no problem with, he genuinely loves the tanktop ideology) but he also needs to feel fancy every once and a while. So, if he happens to have the time while in between appearances, he’ll prance around in a suit tailored just for him. Because he’s so fucking huge that he had to pay someone a large sum to custom make an outfit that actually fits. He is 7-motherfucking-feet tall. 7.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: Making Valentine’s Day cards all times of the year. Listen, it gets boring as hell in prison. Sometimes the guards will let all of the inmates have a little glitter and glue to keep themselves busy because no harm can come of a little arts and crafts, right? He likes to make cards on the daily just to let all of his lovers know how much he appreciates them. If they express even the slightest amount of disdain for his creations, he’ll spent the next week crying in the darkest corner of his cell block. He also likes origami. Origami is huge in prison because it’s hella time-consuming and guaranteed to calm a busy mind. His favorite things to make are little unicorns.

Amai Mask: Bath bombs. There have been several mishaps in which he’s used a poorly-made bath bomb and came out of the tub looking like Shrek but he’s grown and lot since then, okay? After a long day or a particularly stressful concert, he’ll sink into some hot water and drop a ball of lavender-scented goodness in there. It’s become a bit of an addiction because he’s got multiple cabinets dedicated solely to his collection, but at least he always smells divine.

Iaian: Shakespearean dramas. Kama got him hooked on theater shit and he’s since ripped through all of the most well-known plays. He thinks in iambic pentameter. It wasn’t always noticeable since he’s a quiet, well-reserved guy but his fellow disciples and Kami have recently noticed that he’s developed a bit of a dramatic flair. Even worse, he’s started calling himself a knight whenever he puts on his armor. Everyone prays it’s just a phase but seeing as how stubborn Iaian is, that seeks highly unlikely. Kami is dying inside because he can’t handle another drama nerd.

Okamaitachi: Soap operas, like Tatsumaki. Kama is the most dramatic out of all of the disciples so it’s only natural that she’d like the most dramatic genre of any show out there. She doesn’t exactly watch them religiously though. She’s the type of viewer to drop off the face of the earth for three seasons and come back without knowing what the fuck is going on (because the disciples have limited access to cable due to Kami’s dumbassery and ignorance to anything technology-related), but still cry during the finale anyway because oh no these people are so hot and one of them is deaaaaaad and the other one is that person’s long-lost sister....

Bushidrill: Taking alcohol from Atomic Samurai’s stash every so often. Bushidrill knows what the good shit is and he could buy it himself if he wanted to, but why would he when there’s a perfectly good alcoholic to steal from living right down the hall? He only takes in small doses because, believe it or not—he’s smart, but Kami isn’t gonna notice regardless of whether or not Bushi takes 1 or 5 bottles at a time because the old shit couldn’t spot a purple raccoon if it was 3 feet in front of him. There have been times where Bushi has opened bottles of Kami’s alcohol right in front of him just to play God and he always, without missing a beat, says “Oh, we have the same taste. How neat.”

Fubuki: I’ve said this before in a previous headcanon, but she has a mild obsession with Victorian aesthetic. She’s got a small collection of semi-authentic ballgowns that cost upwards of a-fuckton-of-money each, but anything’s worth it to be able to play dress-up with Lily. Fubuki’s favorite thing is making Lily feel beautiful because everyone has been an insecure teenager at one point and she knows how it feels to not be comfortable in one’s own skin. This isn’t exactly a guilty pleasure because she’s not guilty about it, but it’s almost gotten to a point where an intervention is needed. She’s got so many damn dresses and sooooo much fine china....

Saitama: Retail therapy, lol. Saitama is only good at budgeting because he has no choice given how fucking poor he is, but give this boy even a little bit of leeway and he’ll buy the ugliest clothes (to which he thinks look poppin’) and the best meats without even batting an eye. His entire manga collection is the product of him having little to no self control the moment he realizes he’s got a bit of money to spend on himself. This is also the only time he’ll experiment with cooking because now he can actually afford to fuck up, literally.

Mumen Rider: Sweets! I’ve said this in a previous hc but he has a major sweet tooth. You can substitute salt for sugar in any given recipe and he’ll see it as a major improvement because he just goes absolutely buckwild for anything sweet. His pancreas is suffering, but he believes nothing feels better than curling up under the covers on a rainy day with a heaping helping of milk chocolate. The only thing that makes him feel better after getting beat to shit is a kiss on the cheek and box of his favorite cookies (and some bananas, lol).

Sonic: Like Flash, he also likes racing things. But, in addition to that, his guilty pleasure is doing his own hair in elaborate hairstyles (when it was longer). He’s pretty much homeless so he’s got a lot of time to himself in between murders. This is when you can find him sitting in the woods somewhere braiding flowers into his hair and tying it off with a moss ribbon. He’d never admit he does this because he’s a big macho man and he’d probably cry.

Garou: Spicy chips. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he absolutely inhales his food without even tasting it half the time so it’s not even like he gets to enjoy the flavor that much. He just likes the burn because he’s a shithead. He also doesn’t fear death or a torn-up asshole, so he’ll eat an entire family-sized bag of the OPM-universe equivalent to Takis without even batting an eye. He’s been beat to shit so many times that the agony that comes with downing so much spice is lost on him. He doesn’t even need water. It’s insane. Someone stop this madman at once.

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writings-from-the-hart · 4 years

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Writebr Intro

Writeblr Intro Time!

Hiya! This is so overdue and I apologize for that lol. I’ve been meaning to write this but school seems to always be getting in the way of just that. Writing. But here I am finally writing this! And yes my username is a pun of my own last name but I just couldn’t resist.

So basically, I really want to surround myself with other writers and have stumbled across tons of writeblr’s (I think that’s what they’re called lol). Instantly I was in love and wanted more of what the community had to offer. I’ve been a self-proclaimed “author” or writer since my early years of grade school. I was that child in the back of the class with ADHD that couldn’t sit still (the cliche bouncing leg and always chewed down nails) and had what my mother called an “overactive imagination”. My notebooks in high school were often filled with wild stories about “galaxies far far away” or dystopias with cruel governments ruled by dictators. Now I’m in my second year of college swamped with classes about the Psychology of criminals (or I like to call the science of murder), and trying to find time to write a novel. So the struggle is real my dudes.

A little about Me:

Hana

She/Her

Pisces

Asexual

Forensic Psychology Major and English with a concentration in Writing Minor

Book hoarder

Dog Mom

Vintage AF

Low Key Emo Punk because I’m no average white girl!

History nerd (Love learning about the old wars and cultures)

Movie nerd (There’s an endless stack of DVDs in my house)

Fandoms:

The Mandolorian (or the ManDADolorian)

Star Trek

Star Wars

Hannibal

X-Files

King Falls Am

Welcome to Nightvale

Transformers (Obviously not the bad movies lol. Bumblebee is baby and must be protected always.)

Good Omens

Sherlock

Lord of the Rings

Marvel (There are so many shows and movies in this category we would be here all day if I tried to list them.)

Timeless (Not sure if the fandom is still alive after what the writers did to one of our ships lol)

DC (I’m a huge Batman geek and adore Wonderwoman, but I take the good with the bad when it comes to this fandom. Especially movie-wise anymore.)

And there’s probably more but my memory isn’t working currently.

Goals?. . . maybe:

Get my novel finished (This has literally been on my To-Do List for who knows how long.)

Meet more writers/new writers.

Improve my poetry (I suck at poetry so I bad I never let it see the light of day, so I need to work on it.)

Start my bullet journal.

Wips:

Okay by now you all know I have at least 1 Wip because I mentioned getting a freaking novel done, but just as a precaution as to what I mean by Wip or Wips. I get distracted quite easily, for some odd reason my brain absolutely loves to jump from one idea to another for no absolute reason. Like WTF dude we already have an idea we’re working on why do you keep bringing all these new ones to me like stray dogs. And like any good dog Mom or distracted writer, I want to keep all the ideas/stray dogs. So, when I say Wip I mean “Look at this cool idea I came up with” and I’ll make sure to specify which one is hogging most of my time.

Renegade: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

This is my baby. Most of my free time is dedicated to adjusting plotlines, character arc’s, fixing freaking plot holes, and other important stuff other than just plain writing. I’m hoping to finish this also monster of a story by 2020 and get it published. So big stuff!

“So tell me little wolf do you want to punish those who have wronged you?” An assassin known as the Crimson Ghost makes their way through the corrupt city-state of Ashton completing a job given to them by the Black Rose. What is a seemingly normal job though turns into something far more complicated when they stumble upon the fractions of an abandoned notebook from the past. A past the Republic is trying to desperately hide and bury no matter what. On the other side of the world in the Republic’s capital Eshar, plainly referred to as “The Prodigy” or “machine” by his superiors, Eric Coalwood has built a life upon the ashes of his family, striving to meet the high expectations set before him by his mentor General Wolfheart. However, his life falls out of its normal day to day routine when the unexpected is asked of him. Command a task force made up of the Republic’s most wanted or his life is over. Eric doesn’t need reasons for why he must do what he has to, all he needs are orders and the Republic is more than happy to give them. Either way the clock is ticking for both the Crimson Ghost and the Republic’s prodigy and with time running out they both have two options. Either get over their different beliefs concerning the Republic or allow the world to once again succumb to war but this time nobody is going to survive it. “Legends are slippery things. For the glory that coats them hides the pain, suffering and death that created them.”

The Trouville Files: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

Not my biggest priority but definitely one of them considering the plot of this story. I mainly use this wip as a reference for Renegade because it’s actually the prequel to it. Also, it’s great to use as writing practice when I’m plagued with writer’s block for Renegade or frustrated with a plot hole. So this is my double-edged sword that does a lot of good.

“Death in these black days is neither kind nor quick.” The year is 2153, the world we know is nothing more than a wasteland strewn with the dead and a sky being choked by their ashes, not glorious and thriving but desolate and starving. The Red Death, a pandemic with a steady progression and a gruesome countdown to the demise of those infected. No one outruns it or survives it. “United we stand, divided we fall.” The Allied Nations, a totalitarian superpower, promised a united people but all they gave this world was more death and destruction. The Red Death isn’t the only thing slowly killing humanity anymore, we are in the form of the War of Broken Pacts. The spark of revolution is lit, but if it will remain so is a question asked by everyone. Does it stand a chance against the iron-fisted government holding the people in shackles? “Rebel with a cause.” Genius Medical Officer for The People’s Republic, Cyprus Ramiro works day and night in search of a cure for the Red Death exterminating hundreds, at least before this war kills him first. But he is also a man on the run and the rebellion can only shelter him for so long. “Duty over pain.” Cunning Spy and Soldier, Orion Ultor is ordered by the Allied Nations to infiltrate and gather information on the ever-growing People’s Republic. In bold letters is Search and Destroy; make a ruin of the rebellion and ensure the Allied Nations remains as it should -- unquestionably in power. No matter the cost unless he wants to suffer the consequences again. “If we fall we shall rise from the ashes like a phoenix.” They should have never met, battlefields don't make good friends. It wasn't fate, it wasn't destiny, only war throwing people together. The Allied Nations is trying to stamp out something they fear, but can they before the Red Plague? Or will humanity find itself extinct.

Beyond his point is where I house my stray dogs/ideas

Hiraeth: Paranormal, Horror, Mystery, and Thriller.

Scooby-doo who?

Hiraeth means a homesickness for a home which you cannot return. That is how Arcane feels like she’ll never be home no matter how hard she tries to connect with her family. The closest she feels to being home is with her friends and in the worn leather seats of the van they all pitched in to buy. It all started out as a way to pass time and for all of them to escape their families because to be honest parents never understand, but it all turned sideways when a simple “ghost hunting trip” stirred something that was meant to remain buried. The truth never remains buried though, not really, somehow it will always creep back in ugly and twisted. Arcane has never felt “at home” but she’ll do whatever it takes to keep what she considers her family safe.

Sweet Dreams: Historical Fiction, Thriller, and Romance.

A literal dream turned into story plot and no I’m not kidding.

The Red String of Fate, The Lovers, and War. These are the three elements intertwined within the plot of Sweet Dreams but before anyone makes any assumptions this isn’t some chummy rom-com. There will be tears and heart strings may get yanked clean out because the angst is real. War and love never mix well, it leaves a sour taste in ones mouth and makes the mind question things it shouldn’t. Like is the woman in his dreams the same woman he sees in all his dreams? Constantly he somehow ends up spotting that same ruby red lipstick, honey golden eyes, and brunette hair laying in perfect curls. She’s everywhere except in his actual life. They say you and your soulmate share dreams, living proof of how intertwined souls are. She doesn’t believe in love or the idea of souls, not with the monsters roaming around the countryside and battlefield carrying assault rifles. Society tells her where her place is, but she disagrees and rather create her own destiny.

The Prophet: Paranormal, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

A short story I can’t seem to let go or it doesn’t want to let me go, but either way, this story has the makings for something great. It also at times seems strikingly similar to Good Omens, so don’t be surprised.

There’s no anti-christ in this story, he already has a book about himself so let’s not make another one besides there are other stories that need to be told. Such as, have you ever heard of modern day prophets and I’m not talking about those people with cardboard signs saying “the end is near!” or giant churches with people preaching about the end times. No, I’m talking about a kid with messy hair and dark circles under their eyes because sleep is no longer a choice due to migraines that plague them every night. Migraines that bring weird cryptic messages that make one question their own sanity. And what happens when strange people start asking about said migraines and messages?

Virago: Fantasy, Thriller, Historical Fiction, and Romance.

I’m not a huge fantasy reader, for some reason I can’t stay invested in them, but here I am with a fantasy story in my wips. It has mages, knights, assasination plots, and one super badass general who takes zero shit from her king. That’s right women empowerment, my dudes! I don’t really have much of a synopsis inline or a plot because this is only of those wips I let rattle around in my brain from time to time. But I will say it does give me that LOTR vibe but also Game of Thrones.

Don’t be surprised if you see my stray doggos from time to time because I will admit I love to play around with storyboards. Even if I don’t have a fully planned out plot put together for it.

And that concludes this what was supposed to be short Writeblr Intro. I hope I have peaked some of your guys’ interests because the community definitely got a hold of minee. Feel free to send me a message about anything I mentioned (even if it’s just fandom shit I don’t care) and don’t be shy. I’m a huge introvert but somehow love talking, so don’t worry it won’t be awkward and odds are I’m equally nervous about conversation lol. Also, feel free to add me to any taglist and reblog/like if you’re active and would like more Writeblr mutuals!

Happy Writing,

Writings-from-the-Hart

#writeblr #wips #writer intro #my ocs

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roadtripwarrior · 5 years

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The Two Most Important People in My Life

Heads up before you read, this is more of a vent than anything. And to anyone who usually reads my stuff this will not be my normal style. I don’t usually dissociate but this feeling in this narrative has me messed up. The events here are all true. I don’t usually write non-fiction because it feels to real, but I just need validation. I gave this a once over for proof-reading and to appease the writer in me, but it’s pretty sloppy I imagine and given it’s nature of a vent, it’s also very run-on at some points with a ton of commas. I usually to try to pretty shit up. But this is what it is. Any validation you can give would be very appreciative. My mother has an undiagnosed mental illness. What it is, I can’t say. I’m not a doctor, but if I had to take a guess, I’d say maybe it’s Borderline Personality Disorder, which would explain why she’s so hard to reach. She herself does not know where she is inside herself, nor who she is, nor if she even ever existed. I believe whatever it is that ales my mother arose when she was about four years old, when her stepfather took her into a room and did things to her I cannot fathom anyone doing to someone of that age. He molested her and probably did other things.

Here’s the worst part about that. He didn’t just do it once. He did it for nearly 5 years. No one’s sure how long. And it’s not like it was done in secret either. My grandmother knew. And she did nothing. In fact, she only grew to resent my mother. Can you imagine that? You watch you daughter get sexually abused for years, and the only thing you do is become jealous. Jealous because your husband is more interested in your daughter. So you drink, and pretend you don’t see it, then years later even after Norman, that’s his name and I believe the whole world should know it, even after Norman has left, you shame my mother when men look at her. When men look at her. Not the other way around. You call my mom a slut because of things completely out of her control. You distance yourself from her. You stop being her mother and when I was born you treat me in a similar vain. Like I’m not your grandchild. Like she’s not your child. She’s been tainted and stained.

It’s like that thing peoples say about if you touch a mother bird’s eggs, she won’t want them anymore. I guess it happens in people too.

I don’t even hate Norman. It hurts when I think about him yes, but I know that it was a pain, something great and deep, something that was barred inside him for years, decades, and it rot him until he could bare it no more and had to exact hurt upon another to dull his own. No one knows where he is anymore. He’s probably dead. And that’s a shame, because it means he took that pain, he took what he did to my mother, to his grave and never will be able to heal. The pain is inside me now. I have to bare a burden he left upon my mother, which she never dealt with either.

So now, here is my mother. A woman who will forever fear and despise men, and I am her only son. And I have been burned by her eyes that saw me as a pedophile, as a rapist, before I ever even knew what sex was. There was always distance when I was young. A certain way my mother held me, it’s like the way you hold something that smells, or that’s wet. You don’t want to get it on you. And then came puberty. And that was when things really changed. I don’t know if it’s because she could no longer to bare to be in the house with a young man, or if it was just timing, something inside her that had been growing into an evil flower, and finally came to surface just as the time of my beginning to look at woman awoke, or perhaps it was both. Either way she left.

She became a prostitute. It was probably a way for her to coping with those things that happened with her. Understanding her sexuality. I don’t really know. She told me once she had no pleasure from the job. But who knows.

It took me awhile to figure out she even was a prostitute. She would never spend much time with me, anything longer than an hour and she got fidgety, like she always had something more important to be doing.

But she would show her love through money. It was a way to love me at a distance. She could throw it at me, and not even have to look me in the eye, and I just accepted this as love. Eventually I started to question where the money came from. So much of it, so quickly, and my mom had never had a solid job so I couldn’t imagine. Then I started to realize the boots she wore when she went on “appointments.” Fishnets up the legs, a skirt so short it would make a cheerleader blush. Red, red lipstick, like a doll. And then she’d return with messy hair and six hundred dollars.

Now, it was most likely because of the relationship with my mom that I would fall in love with someone who also has BPD. And remain in love with them for six years, despite our relationship never really working out, we’d try to be friends and stuff like that, but always seemed to love each other at the end of the day. But there was a lot of hurt in both our lives that made it hard to ever really get close.

I recently had a falling out with my mom. My therapist showed me that I was basically like holding a bridge up for my mother and I to be able to connect. That I had to hid and pretend so much about me wasn’t there. And one day we were getting lunch, and as my mom began to shame me, the pain began to arise. The pain that had been there since I was Twelve, maybe even longer. And I finally said no to it. I wasn’t going to put myself in a bind just to please this woman. Yes, she’s my mother. Yes, I love her. But I don’t deserve this.

The result was fascinating, my mom went to in a panic and tried to kill us both while we were driving. She floored the car and almost drove us into someone one’s home. I hadn’t been that scared since I was a child, when she did something similar.

After that, I started to become better with woman. I stopped trying to be something around them, to prove I was worthy to a woman who wasn’t even in the room.

Anyway, I decided to reach out to Sierra, the girl I mentioned earlier with BPD. The one I’ve loved for years. We hadn’t talked in a couple months, last I saw her, we ran into each other on my college campus, neither of us were aware that we went to this school, we just happened to have a class right next to each other, walked out, and just stared at the other.

Life always brings us together like that.

We sat on a hill and talked. Another day we got a beer with a friend of mine. Then the semester ended. She asked if I wanted her number. I said I wasn’t sure yet.

Since I didn’t take her number, I had to get pretty crafty with the art of magic to deliver the message of love I wanted to send to her

Long story short, the whole thing with my mother was just a facet of a larger thing I was becoming. My therapist whom I believed to be a bit crazy at first, had showed me that there is indeed magic in this world and she awakened a being of love inside me and I’ve just been different. That’s all i can say.

Low and behold I cast a magic spell and my message gets delivered to this girl. Sierra.

She says she loves me too.

But she has a boyfriend.

I already knew that

I still love you.

So here we are. Loving each other the way we’ve always loved each other. I decided to not manipulate you the way i had once, I decided to not cling if you left. I decided to express the deepness of my love to you, and you could do what you want with it. Little did I know that it was truly an infinite well of water and it flowed from me and I believe you became afraid of me. Afraid of yourself. Afraid of the same thing my mother was always afraid of.

You still need to heal.

My mother needs to heal too, but I don’t know if she ever will honestly.

After trying to kill me she seems to think that we are “okay”

She keeps inviting me to get lunch.

I just don’t even reply anymore.

Maybe she’ll change.

But the point is she’s no longer my mother.

And it hurt. I cried in the shower that day she tried to kill us. I cried to my father after I got out of the shower. I realized maybe I never had a mom and that I never would.

It was relieving in all honesty. I no longer had to pretend.

But, losing Sierra? It’s not just about her not being in my life either, It’s that both of them have incredibly self-destructive tendencies. So its like, I just have to let these two people go kill themselves slowly with drugs and alcohol.

I know she need time and maybe she may get better too and awaken the love in her heart that she deserve.

But it scares me right now.

I haven’t heard from her in what’s felt like months, even though its only been a week.

I keep wanting to text you that I love you and I miss you, because I know with your BPD you need a bunch of validation, but I also know that right now you need your space.

And now I have to live without the two most important people to me.

The world ruined my mother, and I can live that.

One of them I could understand

Two just seemed unfair.

#dissociation #writerscreed #savage-words #mental illness #vent #rant

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miafic · 5 years

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Wait okay I have a question! So in the beginning of the story when Awsten is Depressed but before Events unfold, Otto and Alex are worried about him because they know he's somewhat Self Destructive and vaguely passively suicidal, and Alex thinks he might have ~done something~ when he goes to the lake, and Otto thinks so too I think in the one extra piece. How long have they known about that? And what was their reaction? (I feel like they're not the kind of kids to be like "big mood" "lmao same"+

+when their friend says something ~worrying~ they seem like they would have a very Serious reaction.) Also, Otto has known awsten for most of his life and awsten’s parents being terrible has kind of always been a Thing, but does it ever hit him like holy shit they’re really bad ? Also, at what point/does it ever hit awsten that the way his parents treat him isn’t right and isn’t fair? (Thanks)

Hi! This is a great question. Sorry it took so long for me to finish, but it’s 3 stories in one :)

How long have they known about that? And what was their reaction?

Alex kind of just assumes the worst. I’ve mentioned that he lives with his aunt… I’m not part of the hustlers anymore so I don’t know how much it gets talked about among the fans anymore, but back before Nothing Personal came out (I am so old), we talked about Lullabies a lot. That’s all I’m gonna say.

As for Otto - you know how a lot of the time, Awsten and Otto sleep in the bunk beds and sometimes in the same bed? They definitely stay up talking after the lights go out. I like to think at some point - maybe after a particularly bad day - Awsten kind of murmured the question. Something like, “Hey, do you ever think about dying?” And at first, Otto thinks he means, like, how they’ll inevitably die one day and why it’ll happen and where they’ll go after if they go anywhere at all, so he says something to the effect of, yeah, I hope I die in my sleep when I’m really old.

Awsten is SILENT. And not in a good way. Because Awsten will usually talk and talk and talk about ideas and theories and questions he has and play out full hypothetical situations. But he just… doesn’t.

So Otto’s like, “…Awsten?”

And Awsten says something back like, “I mean do you ever think about dying soon? Like, what if it happened before high school ends?”

Otto slowly sits up in his bed, and he’s quiet as Awsten continues.

“What if I got really sick or I got hit by a car or something?”

“That would be awful,” Otto says quietly. And then, because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, he wonders, “Why are you asking me this?”

“I don’t know. I just think about it sometimes.”

There’s quiet again, for several seconds. Otto’s just about to lie down again when Awsten asks another question.

“Do you ever think about suicide?”

And Otto knows - knows from Ms. Harrison’s presentations at assemblies and the little videos they watch in health class and the talk he had with his dad once - that what Awsten just said is something to be worried about. It’s a big red flag, waving desperately in the wind, even if it’s framed like some casual inquiry. He knows not just because of what he’s been told, but because the thought of asking something like that wouldn’t occur to Otto in a million years, because he’s never thought about killing himself, not even once.

“Um,” Otto murmurs, “I don’t know. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Otto bites his lip. “Do you? Think about it?” He can practically see Awsten shrug in the bunk underneath his. The sheets rustle as if he really had.

“Sometimes, I guess.”

Otto pushes the covers back and climbs down.

“Never mind,” Awsten says quickly, sitting up, too. “I didn’t mean it. I was just making stuff up.”

And as weird and kind of awkward as it is, he sits down at the foot of Awsten’s bed, criss-cross applesauce in his little yellow short-shorts, and looks at his best friend. “What do you think about it?”

“Dude, it’s no big deal, okay? I-”

“What do you think?” Otto repeats, and Awsten falls quiet.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles a moment later, his gaze dropping from Otto’s face down to the mattress. “It’s not important.”

“It is,” Otto insists.

Awsten fakes a laugh.

For some reason, that irritates Otto. Every time something important happens, Awsten deflects it. Bruises on his arm? Awsten feeds Otto some bullshit story about falling off his bike. Awsten nearly passes out in the hall from hunger? He was faking, being overdramatic. Awsten’s so tired that he didn’t hear a word Otto just said? He’s sorry, but he got distracted by a hot new girl; didn’t Otto see her, too? She went that way. Just turned a corner. They’ll have to keep an eye out for her.

“Tell me.”

Awsten shrugs. “I don’t know. I just think about it sometimes.”

“About killing yourself.”

“I guess, yeah.”

Carefully, Otto says, “Really? Why?”

“I don’t know, Otto,” he sighs, turning over and lying back down. “I’m fucking sorry I asked.”

“Wait,” Otto pleads. “Are you serious? Do you really want to… not be around anymore?”

Awsten’s quiet.

“Well. For the record… I would fucking hate that.”

Awsten turns his head to look at him. Hesitantly, he asks, “You would?”

“Duh.” Otto leans forward and lightly jostles what he can reach of Awsten’s leg. “You’re my best friend, dude.”

Awsten rests his head back on the pillow. “I just don’t really think anyone would care.”

The words are like an icy punch to Otto’s stomach. He’s horrified and sad and offended. How could Awsten not know how much he means to him?!

“You’re kind of the only person in the world that even likes me. Or knows me at all. And if I didn’t have you, I’d…”

“You’d what?” Otto asks darkly. When Awsten doesn’t reply, Otto says warningly, “Awsten…”

“Nothing, man. Forget it.”

“No. Listen to me. If you fucking kill yourself, I’ll… I’ll never…” Otto shakes his head, pushing the thoughts away. “I don’t even want to think about it,” he admits, and he must sound strained, because Awsten looks at him again.

“Dude.”

“What?”

“It was just a question.”

And it’s not, Otto knows it’s not, knows it with ever fiber of his being. They’re sixteen, and tons of other kids that are sixteen are suicidal, too, or already dead. Hell, a kid from Lakeview High committed suicide six or seven years ago, and all the parents and teachers went insane with pushing the anti-suicide stuff. It’s not like Awsten hasn’t sat through all of it, too. But Otto figures he did a lot more listening than Awsten did.

Otto thinks quickly. “Hey, what time is it?”

Awsten shrugs.

“I’m gonna check.” He goes back up to the top bunk and grabs his phone. He takes a second to shoot a quick message to Dad (I need to talk to you in the morning) and then comes back down, phone in hand.

Awsten looks at him expectantly.

“It’s almost one-thirty.”

“Okay. We should probably go to sleep.”

“Uh-huh.”

Awsten closes his eyes, but Otto pushes at him.

“What?” Awsten groans.

“Scoot over.”

“No, it gets too hot with you in here, too.”

“Too bad. Scoot over.”

“Fucking hate you,” Awsten grumbles as he complies.

Otto slips into the bed beside him and curls an arm around Awsten’s middle in a hug before quickly retracting it and turning to his other side so they’re back to back.

Awsten’s quiet for a moment, and then, into the darkness, he says softly, “Love you, too.”

does it ever hit [Otto] like holy shit they’re really bad ? Third grade.

“Why won’t you let me?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I said no. Look, there’s a ball. Want me to get it?”

“No, I wanna go to your house. I wanna see your room!”

Awsten doesn’t say anything.

“You always come to my house. I never get to go to yours. Not even once! I don’t even know where your house is!”

“I know. Can we talk about something else?”

“If it’s because of your parents, they’re never home anyway. That’s what you always say. I-”

“Shut up!”

Harsh words. Forbidden words. Otto shrinks back a step as if Awsten had physically harmed him in some way.

Awsten grimaces. “I’m sorry, but Otto. You really can’t come over.”

“But why? I always-”

“Because!” Awsten hisses, and he grabs Otto by the hand and pulls him away from the teachers, off toward the fence. “Look. Look!” He turns so his back is to the adults and pulls his collar way over to one side to reveal a navy blue bruise on his shoulder.

Otto gasps softly.

Awsten turns around and lifts the tail of his shirt up several inches so Otto can see the red marks coloring the skin there, too. Otto doesn’t speak, and Awsten is glad. He faces Otto again and says under his breath, “If you come over, they’ll do it to you, too.”

For the first time, Otto suddenly pictures what it would be like, coming home from school and having his parents behave like Awsten’s. Chasing him around the house, yelling and screaming and hitting… And Awsten lives that life every day, never knowing whether he’ll be completely alone, or they’ll be there, ready to hurt him.

Awsten has to survive by himself. Feed himself. Take care not to get shampoo in his eyes - if there’s shampoo at all - and then get out of the shower and wrap up in a dirty towel. No clean clothes, either. No fitting shoes. Awsten puts himself to bed with no bedtime story; Otto knows that. But for the first time, he’s realizing that Awsten can probably count all the goodnight hugs, kisses, and I love yous he’s ever received on one hand. And then, on top of all the neglect, every time they hurt him, Awsten has to treat the wounds, both physical and emotional, completely alone.

Otto’s eyes turn from concerned to pained and then to frightened, and Awsten is suddenly overcome with guilt. He’s shown Otto some of his bruises before, but they’d been five or six. Otto probably doesn’t even remember. But this…

“It’s fine,” Awsten lies hastily.

Otto shakes his head.

“It is. But don’t tell your parents, okay?”

“My mom can-”

“Please!” Awsten begs. “Those grownups will come again, and they’ll send me to a different family. A meaner family. And I’ll never see you again!”

“You can move in with my family,” Otto proposes.

Awsten shakes his head.

“What? Why not? That would fix everything!”

“Because,” Awsten mumbles, his eyes on the wood chips, “my parents might hurt your family.”

Otto swallows, nods. He knows Awsten’s telling the truth. “Do they hurt you all the time?”

Awsten hesitates and then shakes his head.

“Yes, they do.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Well…” Otto stands up a little straighter, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Awsten smiles sadly. “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Otto echoes, wanting so badly to believe him.

“Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Otto nods. He glances over and sees the blue, rubber ball Awsten had mentioned still lying abandoned by the slide. “Wanna play ball tag?”

Awsten brightens a little and replies, “Yeah!”

Also, at what point/does it ever hit awsten that the way his parents treat him isn’t right and isn’t fair? Over and over again. In different ways at different times. Here’s one of them.

“Here, honey,” Otto’s mom says as Awsten clambers messily into one of the chairs at the bar in the kitchen. “Do you want some yogurt while we wait for Otto? We have green and pink swirl or blue and purple swirl.”

“Um… blue and purple,” Awsten decides. “Please.” He gasps when she hands a cup of Trix to him with a little red spoon. “It’s the kind with the bunny on it!”

“Mm-hmm,” she smiles.

“You buy these at the store?”

“Yes.”

He pauses, something in his stomach making him hesitate. “And… and you’re letting me have one?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

But I never get the bunny kind, he plans to say. Instead, what happens is that he sniffles. He buries his face in his hands and tips his head down onto the counter.

Mrs. Wood is at his side in a flash. “Awsten, what’s wrong?”

“You gave me bunny yogurt!” he says, voice wobbling.

“Do you want something else?”

“No, I - I want the bunny yogurt!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she says, a frown finding its way onto her lips. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re so n-nice!” He looks up at her, and she seems so puzzled that he starts to cry. “You smell good every day, and you give me hugs!” he says, desperate for her to understand that she is the epitome of goodness. “We looked at rocks together! It was the best day ever!”

She nods, brushing her fingers through his hair. Earlier, while Otto had been at baseball practice, she’d walked with Awsten through the baseball park and, for several minutes, let him point out all his favorite pieces of gravel. Their fingers had been intertwined, and she’d lightly swung their hands back and forth. It had been such a little thing to her - just helping him to kill time - but he’d smiled up at her like she’d hung the moon.

“I love you!” he confesses, and a sob bursts forth.

“Honey, I love you, too,” Mrs. Wood says, and she’s whispering.

“You’re always nice - not just sometimes. You’re always here. You’re home. You’re not scary.” He looks at her, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You never scared me, never, never, never…”

“Baby, come here,” Mrs. Wood instructs, holding her arms out, and Awsten leans into them.

“I love you,” he repeats, almost frantic as he hugs her. It’s so important that she knows.

“I love you, too. Shh… Awsten, I love you, too. I love you, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

“I wish my mom was like you.”

She slowly strokes her fingertips up and down his spine. “Honey, you know - you know - you can stay here as long as you like. You can spend the night whenever you want. Otto’s dad can take you to school.”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t pull away. “I’ll get in trouble.”

“Baby, I can-” Mrs. Wood begins. She cuts herself off and says hesitantly, “What if you never had to go back home? Would that be good?”

Awsten doesn’t say anything. He’s seven now, which is old enough to know that good things just don’t happen. Otto and Mrs. Wood are the only good people in the whole entire world.

“I couldn’t promise that you could stay here, but… I can promise that you wouldn’t have to go home. At least, not for a while.”

Just the thought of what his parents would do to him if they could hear those words makes his skin crawl. And that upsets him further.

“Honey,” Mrs. Wood says soothingly. “Shh, sweetheart. I know you’re afraid, but we’d protect you. We could-”

He pulls away, grabs the yogurt, and hops down from the chair, headed quickly for the front door.

“Awsten? No, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. Where are you going? Awsten, where are you - honey, your coat!”

With tears running down his cheeks and the little cup of colorful snack in his hand, Awsten flies down the road.

“Awsten!” Mrs. Wood calls after him. “Awsten, stop!”

But he doesn’t.

He gets home, and luckily, his parents are nowhere to be found. He rushes up to his room and collapses down to sit on his bed, where he realizes that he left the red spoon on the counter. He’s too afraid to go back downstairs to get one from the kitchen drawer, so he starts shoveling the sweet, fruity yogurt into his mouth on two fingers. He’s crying as he does so, mourning as he finally lets himself see how different his mom is from Otto’s.

He doesn’t understand why, but he makes a promise to himself that he won’t go back to the Woods’ house for a while.

#extras #awsten #otto #mrs. wood #butterfly-bandaid #ask Aly #25

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dfroza · 3 years

Text

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for july 27 of 2021 with Proverbs 27 and Psalm 27, accompanied by Psalm 38 for the 38th day of Summer and Psalm 58 for day 208 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 27]

[Heed Wisdom’s Warnings]

Never brag about the plans you have for tomorrow,

for you don’t have a clue what tomorrow may bring to you.

Let someone else honor you for your accomplishments,

for self-praise is never appropriate.

It’s easier to carry a heavy boulder and a ton of sand

than to be provoked by a fool and have to carry that burden!

The rage and anger of others can be overwhelming,

but it’s nothing compared to jealousy’s fire.

It’s better to be corrected openly

if it stems from hidden love.

You can trust a friend who wounds you with his honesty,

but your enemy’s pretended flattery comes from insincerity.

When your soul is full, you turn down even the sweetest honey.

But when your soul is starving,

every bitter thing becomes sweet.

Like a bird that has fallen from its nest

is the one who is dislodged from his home.

Sweet friendships refresh the soul and awaken our hearts with joy,

for good friends are like the anointing oil

that yields the fragrant incense of God’s presence.

So never give up on a friend or abandon a friend of your father—

for in the day of your brokenness

you won’t have to run to a relative for help.

A friend nearby is better than a relative far away.

My son, when you walk in wisdom,

my heart is filled with gladness,

for the way you live is proof

that I’ve not taught you in vain.

A wise, shrewd person discerns the danger ahead

and prepares himself,

but the naïve simpleton never looks ahead

and suffers the consequences.

Cosign for one you barely know and you will pay a great price!

Anyone stupid enough to guarantee the loan of another

deserves to have his property seized in payment.

Do you think you’re blessing your neighbors

when you sing at the top of your lungs early in the morning?

Don’t be fooled—

they’ll curse you for doing it!

An endless drip, drip, drip, from a leaky faucet

and the words of a cranky, nagging wife have the same effect.

Can you stop the north wind from blowing

or grasp a handful of oil?

That’s easier than to stop her from complaining.

It takes a grinding wheel to sharpen a blade,

and so one person sharpens the character of another.

Tend an orchard and you’ll have fruit to eat.

Serve the Master’s interests

and you’ll receive honor that’s sweet.

Just as no two faces are exactly alike,

so every heart is different.

Death and destruction are never filled,

and the desires of men’s hearts are insatiable.

Fire is the way to test the purity of silver and gold,

but the character of a man is tested

by giving him a measure of fame.

You can beat a fool half to death

and still never beat the foolishness out of him.

A shepherd should pay close attention to the faces of his flock

and hold close to his heart the condition of those he cares for.

A man’s strength, power, and riches will one day fade away;

not even nations endure forever.

Take care of your responsibilities

and be diligent in your business

and you will have more than enough—

an abundance of food, clothing, and plenty for your household.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 27 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 27]

Light, space, zest—

that’s God!

So, with him on my side I’m fearless,

afraid of no one and nothing.

When vandal hordes ride down

ready to eat me alive,

Those bullies and toughs

fall flat on their faces.

When besieged,

I’m calm as a baby.

When all hell breaks loose,

I’m collected and cool.

I’m asking God for one thing,

only one thing:

To live with him in his house

my whole life long.

I’ll contemplate his beauty;

I’ll study at his feet.

That’s the only quiet, secure place

in a noisy world,

The perfect getaway,

far from the buzz of traffic.

God holds me head and shoulders

above all who try to pull me down.

I’m headed for his place to offer anthems

that will raise the roof!

Already I’m singing God-songs;

I’m making music to God.

Listen, God, I’m calling at the top of my lungs:

“Be good to me! Answer me!”

When my heart whispered, “Seek God,”

my whole being replied,

“I’m seeking him!”

Don’t hide from me now!

You’ve always been right there for me;

don’t turn your back on me now.

Don’t throw me out, don’t abandon me;

you’ve always kept the door open.

My father and mother walked out and left me,

but God took me in.

Point me down your highway, God;

direct me along a well-lighted street;

show my enemies whose side you’re on.

Don’t throw me to the dogs,

those liars who are out to get me,

filling the air with their threats.

I’m sure now I’ll see God’s goodness

in the exuberant earth.

Stay with God!

Take heart. Don’t quit.

I’ll say it again:

Stay with God.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 27 (The Message)

[Psalm 38]

Take a deep breath, God; calm down—

don’t be so hasty with your punishing rod.

Your sharp-pointed arrows of rebuke draw blood;

my backside stings from your discipline.

I’ve lost twenty pounds in two months

because of your accusation.

My bones are brittle as dry sticks

because of my sin.

I’m swamped by my bad behavior,

collapsed under an avalanche of guilt.

The cuts in my flesh stink and grow maggots

because I’ve lived so badly.

And now I’m flat on my face

feeling sorry for myself morning to night.

All my insides are on fire,

my body is a wreck.

I’m on my last legs; I’ve had it—

my life is a vomit of groans.

Lord, my longings are sitting in plain sight,

my groans an old story to you.

My heart’s about to break;

I’m a burned-out case.

Cataracts blind me to God and good;

old friends avoid me like the plague.

My cousins never visit,

my neighbors stab me in the back.

My competitors blacken my name,

devoutly they pray for my ruin.

But I’m deaf and mute to it all,

ears shut, mouth shut.

I don’t hear a word they say,

don’t speak a word in response.

What I do, God, is wait for you,

wait for my Lord, my God—you will answer!

I wait and pray so they won’t laugh me off,

won’t smugly strut off when I stumble.

I’m on the edge of losing it—

the pain in my gut keeps burning.

I’m ready to tell my story of failure,

I’m no longer smug in my sin.

My enemies are alive and in action,

a lynch mob after my neck.

I give out good and get back evil

from God-haters who can’t stand a God-lover.

Don’t dump me, God;

my God, don’t stand me up.

Hurry and help me;

I want some wide-open space in my life!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 38 (The Message)

[Psalm 58]

For the worship leader. A prayer of David to the tune “Do Not Destroy.”

Can you, panel of judges, get anything right?

When you judge people, do you tell the truth and pursue justice?

No, your real selves have been revealed. You have wickedness in your heart,

and many people have suffered by your hands.

Evildoers are naturally offensive, wayward at birth!

They were born telling lies and willfully wandering from the truth.

Their bite is painful; their venom is like the deadly poison of a snake;

they are like a cobra that closes up its ears

To escape the voice of the charmers,

no matter how enchanting the spells may be.

O God, shatter their teeth in their mouths!

Render the young lions harmless; break out their fangs, O Eternal One.

Let them run off like the waters of a flood,

and though they aim their arrows, let them fly without their heads.

Let them melt like a snail that oozes along;

may they be like a stillborn that never catches its first breath, never sees the sun.

Before your cook pots know the furious flame of a fire of thorns—

whether green or burning—He will blow the wicked away.

Cheers will rise as the right-living watch Him settle the score,

their feet washed in the blood after the onslaught of the wicked.

And it will be heard, “Those who seek justice will be rewarded.

Indeed, there is a God who brings justice to the earth!”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 58 (The Voice)

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randomthingsthatilike1 · 7 years

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Was talking with @tomas-abe about this--have you ever thought of a supergirl leverage au?

Honestly, I’ve talked so much about how Kara isn’t a horrible liar—she’s a phenomenal liar. She makes everyone think she’s a bumbling, harmless, ordinary, average human—her kindness isn’t a lie, but as we’ve seen with RedK—it is a choice. And we’ve seen her with Clark— “you really have the clumsy thing down.” But for Clark that was real. For Kara, it’s an act. She’s the heir to a house renowned throughout the galaxy for its scientists—and she was about to become the youngest person in Krypton’s history to enter the science guild. But she was told over and over and over to be ordinary, average, unremarkable—to hide herself, hide anything that marks her as alien. She’s a genius in a room full of preschoolers who are just now learning concepts that she’s understood since before she could walk—of course she’s bored with earth science.

Supergirl isn’t a lie, but it’s not quite the truth either—and neither is Kara Danvers. Both are part of her, but at the same time they’re both personas that she embodies and can step into almost at the drop of a hat—they are constructed and built. And yes, when outright confronted, she is a horrible bluff—she can’t do it. But almost everyone forgets or glosses over how much pain Kara must always be in, the anger she carries inside of her of being the very last, of being sent away, of being alone. They forget that she is not simply a human with powers but forever and always Kryptonian with powers—like how everyone thinks of Clark, like we’ve seen in Myriad how even Clark thinks of himself, Kara never thinks of herself as human. She has a different language and values and culture and religion and she fools everyone into thinking that she’s just like them(for more about this, here’s the post I made that’s a lot more comprehensive). That isn’t Kara’s stage. This kind of complicated and woven falsehood is her stage. Sound like anyone?

Kara would totally be a grifter. Especially a Kara who wasn’t found by Clark, who wasn’t found by the Danvers—this is Kara without a purpose, who sees her cousin flying over Metropolis with the house of El’s Crest on his chest and doesn’t need her. She has nothing to live for—so she wanders, constantly pretending to be someone else and she gets good at it. She has a soft spot for swindling people who violate environmental laws because it’s easier—and never goes after anyone who doesn’t deserve it. That doesn’t mean it’s necessarily legal. She’s also got a soft spot for art—it’s marvelous, in a way even Krypton never was. And grifting is something that makes her feel alive, covering up for just a little bit the gaping hole in her heart where Krypton used to be. And really, she doesn’t have very many ties, or attachments—she travels light, easily able to switch identities and leave at the drop of a hat. There’s this undercurrent of sadness in all of her identities, even with the happiest of her personas—which just makes her a mystery and all the more magnetic to the people she’s trying to con—she’s able to seem so damn genuine and sincere it’s addicting.

Not to mention someone who can easily see everyone’s tells because of advance senses, hear their heartbeat and see infinitesimal twitches and expressions that pass in a millisecond—she didn’t visibly use her powers as Cat’s assistant, but she still kept the job for 2 years before using super speed or strength—and that was because of how well she could read Cat, who went through probably hundreds of assistants before finding Kara. That would be essential for a grifter. Plus, we know that she learned English in less than a week. An entire language in just a handful of days—being able to learn regional dialect and adopt accents and

She goes by so many aliases, trying to run away from the memory of krypton. But her current alias? Kiera. Kiera Deveraux.

Kara woke up alone on Earth and saw her no longer baby cousin with their family crest on his chest doing perfectly fine—he’s grown, he doesn’t need her. How would he even know about Kara in the first place, or any of it? Kara’s been doing this since she was 13, and now she’s probably 30 something, maybe 32. We’ve had Clark even say—Kryptonians age very slowly. She still looks like she’s in her early 20’s. She doesn’t seem to age maybe that makes her even more legendary but she likes to use make up to make her look older because that truly fucks with people, although she never goes after bad people.

One thing that is truly different from Krypton, and not in a bad way, or a lesser way, is the way humans create art—she loves art. And it’s something that she bonds over with their thief.

As for who’s Nate, the alcoholic whose young son died because of corporate greed, the mastermind who thinks of every contingency and almost obsessively observes and analyzes? Why, that’s none other than Cat Grant. Cat Grant

Cat, who was a war correspondent for the Daily Planet but god that was so much danger, maybe too much when she finds out she’s pregnant with Carter—she wanted a break from them and she made a split-second decision. She’s still planning on creating CatCo, but that takes money. And she’s not asking her mother for it. Journalism doesn’t pay all that much frankly—and she gets a commission off of the things that she recovers.

But she spends every single cent she saved up for CatCo paying for medical bills for her son. She has so many regrets in her life—this isn’t one of them.

She hasn’t talked to her ex in months—M’gann as Maggie, much more adjusted, still hurting but not self-destructing and spiraling like Cat is. They met when Cat was pregnant, Carter the result of an impulsive and kind of crappy one-night stand that she has no desire to track down. This is a Cat who knows about aliens maybe, a bit more discreet. Except—M’gann maybe isn’t the most-adjusted because hospital bills are expensive, and Carter may not be biologically hers but he was still her son too and she would have done anything to help pay for those medical bills—including illegal and shady alien fight rings to help pay for medical bills, almost killing herself in the process. The week Carter died M’gann could barely even walk.

It’s why Cat never told M’gann about the experimental treatment she found. There was nothing her wife could have done.

By the time the series starts she’s definitely drinking her life away, and divorced from her ex.

So—I’m guessing it’s not much of a surprise to say that Alex is the hitter. This is Alex without growing up as Kara’s little sister, without losing her father. Without the pressure of being an older sibling to a special needs child being raised by a single mother—without the worry that if Kara was found to be special needs she would die, because if anyone other than the DEO (and trust me, intelligence agencies are notorious for being petty and not sharing information. They probably keep it to themselves) finds out about Kara she will be taken apart molecule by molecule. This is an Eliza who has Jeremiah to temper her, and a hell of a lot less stress. Alex probably has the most stable childhood and came out of it with minimal scarring.

Sure, maybe the DEO came knocking but this is the Danvers family with nothing to lose—they could threaten Alex, but the Danvers can threaten to expose the DEO. In canon, it would be mutually assured destruction with the Danvers exposing the DEO and the DEO likewise exposing Kara. Not the case here. Once the DEO came sniffing Jeremiah and Eliza enrolled Alex in a shit ton of martial arts class. And just remember, Alex was a surfer—her balance is phenomenal to start with. She has years of training in childhood to get a leg up, and she gets into competitions in college—Alex is always competitive, always a need to strive and be the best, especially since she lives a childhood without Kara. She hasn’t found out quite yet that there are more important things than being the star.

This is Alex without intense depression, guilt, anxiety, and massive responsibility on her shoulders—Alex parties sure, but not a supreme or unhealthy amount. She’s able to finish her post grad studies and med school almost faster than the time that it takes for people to get their undergrad degree, her parents supporting her decisions and hoping their daughter follows in their footsteps. But it’s not quite that simple.

Intelligence agencies frequently recruit from elite colleges. Alex changed so much when she made the decision to be Kara's protector—she’s a different person, one who maybe feels a bit purposeless, and wants to serve. It definitely causes a wedge between her and her parents. They don’t want that life for her, they want her to become a doctor and a scientist and to be safe. But Alex has never wanted to be safe, just extraordinary. It causes a falling out between them. She definitely is a field agent, and probably did some pretty shifty things. And then went to work for Damien Moreau.

Wow, did that get fucked up. She becomes the retrieval specialist/hitter.

In every world, it is Kara who brings out Alex Danvers' protective spirit. Even this version of Kara who is warier and a little less openly heroic—she sees danger or someone getting hurt around her and of course she helps, but not in the same flashy way as before. Alex looks at her and thinks "this dork needs to be protected." And in every universe Alex becomes protective of Kara, and at first it’s because Kara is so damn seemingly hesitant and gentle and clumsy, and doesn't know it's bc Kara is always trying not to hurt someone

But God later, later it's so Kara will never accidentally kill someone and then, when she finds out that Kara is this way because of her super strength, she becomes all the more protective when she finds out it’s because Kara doesn’t want to accidentally kill someone. When she learns the truth it actually makes Alex want to protect her even more. But like, emotionally. Like "this gentle thoughtful alien has to worry about being gentle always so you better not startle her you asshole"

But surprisingly out of all of them Alex probably has the least traumatizing childhood tbh. Post childhood is a different story. all that shit, she has a skillset already. Instead of acting, she’s terrorizing undergrads as a professor—she does have a PhD. She’s not Elliot, she doesn’t need food and something useful to do with her knives like he does. She has an MD and can practice medicine but she never really did a residency anywhere—plenty of field experience though. She’s been trying to the whole teaching thing for like the past year.

And when they all get together for their first job, and even after it all goes sideways Kara still doesn't really trust these people so no way was she revealing that she could probably be more effective than most hitters. So when Cat gets the crew to stay together she's like “this can be dangerous so I'm getting us a hitter,” Kara stays silent. Cat and Alex knew each other for a long time when cat was finishing her time as a war correspondent Alex was just getting her start. You know how they find Sophie at a theater? They find Alex at a lab, since she wasn't hired for that con they didn’t get a hitter they got a grifter instead—Kara.

Nate and Sophie knew each other ahead of time, but in this story? It’s Alex and Cat. Kara isn’t Sophie, she wouldn’t try and walk on the straight and narrow by being an actor—that’s not what she wants. But Alex? Alex has a PhD. Alex has been trying to teach college kids for the past year as a professor, but before that, on her very first job? Involved a run in with a certain war correspondent—Cat Grant. They kept in touch and now the gang needs a hitter unrelated to them and oh Cat has the perfect candidate.

Also, if in every universe Kara brings out Alex's protective side? in every universe, Kara would expose herself for Alex and save her plane from crashing. There was that time the plane blew up, and maybe they couldn’t stop it—Kara isn’t going to let everyone she cares about die. Not again. She reveals herself for the first time since she landed on Earth—and that’s when things start to get interesting.

And next: their thief: the one and only Lucy Lane. Her mom signs her up for both dance (primarily ballet--but really the type of dance can change depending on what’s close to the base they’re on and which dance classes the country they’re in offers)—and gymnastics from a young age. We’ve heard plenty of General Sam Lane, and we know that he’s both Lucy’s father and Lois’s—along with the fact that Lois and Lucy have an age difference, and they’re not close. But what we know absolutely nothing about? Lucy’s mother. Because I kind of hc that Lucy spent a lot of time abroad going from base to base growing up. And maybe something happening to her mother, also when she was young. Now, there’s just one question: what happened to her?

So. There are a few options. Maybe she was sick. Maybe one of her dad’s enemies happened—either one he made domestically, or internationally. You don’t get to be a general without coming out enemy free. Especially from someone like Sam Lane. This is a man who has absolutely no compunction about torturing someone, who’s xenophobic as fuck and we’ve seen with James is pretty damn racist as well (and most likely homophobic tbh)—and Jenna Dewan Tatum is Lebanese. So I def hc Lucy as Lebanese, and Lois has a different mother (and yeah, you can totally be racist if you’re married to someone who isn’t white). He very well could have done something to Lucy’s mother. Or maybe even she just left—it’s not easy being Sam Lane’s wife.

If it was her dad's fault there's a very good chance he goes weeks without talking to her and maybe that’s the first time she stole. It’s been 3 weeks forgot to leave little Lucy money for takeout or groceries and she’s all by herself, recently moved to a new country so no one knows her, Lois gone, she doesn't know how to talk to her sister, and this is before cell phones and she definitely doesn’t have an email, and esp w international communication there's no skype. In one universe she decides against it, collapses on the floor where her father finds her and has a massive freak out, internally promising to change his behavior and stop neglecting his daughter so much but in this one? This one she goes out and steals for the first time gets a taste for it.

It helps that there are so many asshole men in the military, there was that line about not wanting to work for old white men. As an adult, she doesn’t steal from anyone who can afford it, but as a kid she’s mostly just trying to get by with a neglectful father, picking victims at random but going for the ones who at least dress like they won’t miss the wallet too much. But maybe, when they’re back in the States for the first time in years, Lucy steals from the wrong person—and Archie does exist in this world as well. He takes her in, but not really--the same thing he does to Parker. He teaches Lucy, and she gets good fast.

Lucy’s 14, 15 when she leaves her father for good. It’s not the first time she runs away but it’s the first time she doesn’t come back, or the first time Sam can’t find her again. Because he’s now General Sam Lane, he has subordinates who would go and find her but this is when they're back in the US and they’re a bit more limited now. One day she just packs up a few things that she doesn’t want to leave behind and poof. Disappears. She’s not quite a master thief but damn she’s getting there. She kept up with ballet and gymnastics, Sam thinking that it would be good structure but jokes on him.

So much of the art Lucy steals was either created by old white men, or stolen by old white men. She later doesn’t feel bad about taking it. This is a Lucy who was always on her own, with so many questions, traveling from place to place and never really made friends so she doesn’t quite get people, not really.

So that just leaves the hacker: Lena. Her background would still be the same, adopted at 4, hated by Lillian, Lex a good big brother and loving and welcoming. And maybe Lena’s 12, maybe she was being teased a bit at her fancy boarding school for being too smart and pudgy and has really bad acne that won’t go away no matter how much Lillian pays dermatologists and Lillian wants her to wear contacts but she has glasses she really likes and is very publicly known to be adopted and is not at all heterosexual and is surrounded by pretty girls at school all the time, the poor baby gay.

Basically, the absolute worst things to be in middle school all in one girl. and Lex, her still darling older brother who loves his sister more than anything, tells her that she just needs to figure out how to be cool and is like you know what's cool? Motorcycles. He makes his baby sister be in full protection, but he’s just in his usual suit, not wearing even a helmet.

Lena was behind the wheel, Lex letting her drive and is right behind her. There was a crash and Lex insisted that Lena wear a helmet, but he didn’t. And Lena wakes up in the hospital, arm broken, a concussion, and her brother dead. Can you imagine how much Lillian would be on the warpath? She knows that Lillian doesn’t like her but this time she sincerely worries that Lillian will kill her for this. She’s sometimes worried about her safety but not really her life—not until now. So. She runs. Lena goes by her birth mother’s last name, not Luthor—that’s far too distinctive.

She gathers as much cash as she can. It’s not immediately, of course. It’s over a few weeks. She continually takes out slightly over average for the Luthor’s weekly allowed amount of money from her account, not too distinctive but paying in cash stops a lot of questions from ever being asked.

She’s definitely the youngest out of the bunch. But Lex taught her more than how to ride a motorcycle, he also taught her to hack until she was just as good as he was—maybe even better. That’s when she disappears. She's a kid but she knows how to hack her way into leaving hotel reservations and accounts--leaves a back door into Luthorcorp if she ever needs it. But she never uses it.

She doesn’t want to be traced or found, doesn’t want to be reminded of Lex, of what she fucked up. Lex was the golden boy who was saving the world, everyone loved Lex, Lena most of all. This isn’t the Lex who tried to kill her. Some signs of mental issues there, like not wearing any protection riding a motorcycle but nothing like trying to kill his baby sister, or xenophobia.

And damn, this is a world without Lex Luthor. Without his influence, or quite a few of his inventions, or any of his xenophobia but with so much more of Lillian’s hate and rage.

And God, she’s season one Parker level of uncomfortable when grifting. She can channel who she was expected to be as a Luthor, but that’s kind of the extent that she can do. She spent so much time alone, and she’s already awkward, to say the least, before her brother’s death. Lex was one of, if not the only, person who understood her.

Lena grew up a Luthor, and then was a hacker. She probably spent a lot of time in hotels, especially since she ran away so young, she tried her very best to avoid people but she knows how to look like she fits in to those fancy hotels thanks to years with the Luthors, she doesn’t look like a runaway but god she’s so bad with people, she tries avoiding them as much as possible and she’s so awkward looking as a kid and a teenager and it’s just when she meets the Leverage crew is she finally starting to grow into her looks—she’s not used to being hot tbh.

Also I’ve wondered, especially in later seasons, how the leverage gang got so many clients because even just word of mouth like they go all over the country and even the world—we saw that ep w Parker’s torn ACL that they go to Japan, and in the ep with the boy’s heart they were coming back from a con. There may very well be someone doing referrals. And that person here? Is Diana of Themyscira, art museum curator. After all, the leverage gang acquires so much art, they send it somewhere. And they trust Diana

It’s not just Diana, and it is a lot of word of mouth, but they probably have someone in a law office or courthouse or something who sends along cases/failed lawsuits and with Maggie? She’s always gonna be in the criminal justice system, but what if instead of a cop she became a lawyer? She sees the system fail people over and over and somehow hears about Leverage Team and starts sending people to them. And like, Maggie as a lawyer can still be kind of a daredevil! She's that lawyer that picks up hopeless cases and fights against big powerful people at the stand—think of season 1 of arrow Laurel Lance. Team Leverage has to rescue her from kidnappings and thugs sent to beat her up relatively often (except Maggie Sawyer knows how to defend herself thank you very much so they sometimes just have to do some clean-up or Lena some hacking to get back at the people threatening their friend)

And then there’s James and Winn—hello the show’s version of McSweeten and Taggert. So to start: James. Not every single major event in someone’s lives needs to be because of a world shattering story, like a sister who falls from the sky. Maybe it could be something simple, something you don’t even think about. there was a delay the day James was in metropolis, before he took that photo of Superman. Maybe there was a simple flat tire keeping him home-bound, or he stayed after a class to talk to a professor. Because that photo might be what got him a job at the Daily Planet and definitely a Pulitzer. Canon James described himself as just a kid with a camera, and let’s say Clark is like what, 22 when he debuted? Let’s make James about 4 years younger—around 18.

James double majored in both Peace and Justice alongside Photography, sold that photo of Superman for an absolute king’s ransom, and he drops out of school to be a full-time photographer. But that doesn’t happen here. Being good at looking at a scene and observing every single thing that happens is still a p good skill for an FBI agent honestly? could be something inconsequential. “An eye for detail" is what his instructor says when he's up for promotion into full-fledged agent. He’s always wanted to help people, be a guardian for others. This is how he does it. Knowing what to photograph for evidence, maybe how to case a place, or even as a cover? is a pretty good skillset for an FBI agent to have frankly.

And then there’s Winn. Consider this: if Cat doesn’t establish CatCo, then Winn wouldn’t work there. Winn is the son of the Toymaker, a child murderer. Winn wants absolutely nothing to do with his father, publicly renounces him and hasn’t ever visited him before. He joins the FBI hoping he can use the skills his father taught him to do good and to keep him on the straight and narrow and stop him from ever becoming like him. Maybe starts as a forensic computer analyst and works his way up.

This is the only pairing that I’ve decided on but James and Winn definitely get together and poor James, he’s been flirting with Winn for so long and Winn just doesn’t notice.

They’re a rag tag group of people, and the only ones of the 5 that go by their real last name are Alex and Cat. Lena doesn’t want the Luthors to find her, and Lucy doesn’t want her Lois or the General to find her—she barely remembers Lois, and what she does remember is someone who never really cared about her. And Kara wears personas like a wardrobe—she’s never told anyone her name before.

The four of them are all brought together for one con—but the con’s on them, although not for long. Mon-El (who’s human in this—guess what I do make the rules) really shouldn’t have tried to use Cat’s son. He doesn’t even know what hit him.

514 notes · View notes

49scribes-a · 7 years

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Starters From Shit Said In Gaming Streams:

Some NSFW and potentially triggering content

“Yeah sometimes those big zombies just don't take the hint and then half their bodies come after me.”

“Stop throwing up zombies. Its unsanitary.”

“Thigh highs fit for any _____.”

“BARREL ROLL.”

“Stop keeping quotes about the shit I say when I'm _________.”

“OH, RAPID FIRE. RAPID FIRE. LOOK AT THAT.”

“...whatever the fuck that shit is.”

*sarcastically* “Oh nooo... an ambush. Like, whatever will I do.”

“Y'know I would've fallen from whatever height that was and I would've gotten up.”

“OYNO. Where is it? KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT.”

“Ew it popped.”

“____lord disapproves.”

“Rocking that [name]licious scarf.”

“SHIT ITS BOY/GIRLFRIEND IS COMING.”

“Oh, shit, that's a lot.”

“Of course half of them had to live.”

“Oh did you die finally? Thanks for the money! Even if you only had ___.”

“You made people suffer enough when you were alive. Can't you, y'know, give it a rest?”

“I'm little red riding hood~”

" 'Just got [name]'d'. WOW. You really gonna go there?”

“Already went there.”

“Okay I'm bored. I'm gonna leave it. I'm gonna leave it alone.”

“Op she's vomitting zombies.”

“Deeeeaaaaaath.”

“[name]licious used Swift! Its super effective!”

“Please stop.”

“Whoa that star kinda freaked out.”

“Pop goes the zombubble.”

“Y'know whenever people say [ran him through with a sword] I think of someone like literally running and PLUNGING their sword through someone.”

“If ur sword-running game ain't as strong as Season 2 Suzaku's y'ain't doin it right.”

“We don't talk about that ending. That still hurts me.”

“OF COURSE WE DO. You know what we REALLY don't talk about?"

“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT _____.”

“The goat people!!! And the trees...”

“We've got demonic goat people, I think some frogs... yep, definitely a frog.”

“This house is on fire but it wasn't me.”

“Ooooo legendary shoulders.”

“Oh great, they explode.”

“Biiiirb. Birb birb birb birb. Caw caw motherclucker. BIIIIIRB.”

“I'm going to name this bird ______, and it will be the best ______.”

“Did you just name that ____ after [name]?”

“[name]licious and [name]. Nice(tm).”

“You could've lived if you just stayed still like a good tree.”

“Swift Game Intensifies.”

“Cat Fight!”

“Long time no dick shot.”

"[NAME] YOU ARE BANNED.”

“Holy shit that was a trip.”

“The sweet sound of projectile evisceration.”

“Anybody alive on this side? Okay good I don't need that kind of drama in my life.”

“I COULDN'T STOP PUNCHING HIM.”

“Story of my life.”

“I love how you got literally blown away.”

“Fuck your _____-- SHIT, FUCK--”

“We forgot to start a swear count.”

“Explode, explode, explode-- yyeeaaaaa.”

“I HATE LIFE WHAT IS THAT HOW DID I MISS”

“RIPPERONI SWISS CHEESE”

“Don't you give me your patronizing pats I don't need them.”

“See if I ever give you sympathy pats again.”

“I'm still keeping quotes just fyi.”

“Fucking gasp.”

“BLOWUP BLOWUP BLOWUP BLOWUP.”

“STOP TAKING QUOTES, [NAME] oh my god--”

“I need to take that guy over there with that freaking shotgun Hell nya.”

“YOINK.”

“Eeeeew he ragdolled...”

“Uuuh what did you guys see-- actually nope no I take it back I don't wanna know I don't wanna know what you guys saw.”

“2 much swear 4 utube.”

“I... read that as [do you know how many brain dead dick heads I've hung in my life] and I was like... since when did you kill people?”

“If I killed people you would know because I wouldn't be able to keep my disgusting disection pictures to my fucking self.”

"[CHECK OUT THIS ORGAN LOOK HOW WEIRD IT IS].”

“I was going to laugh if you pole-vaulted to your doom.”

“Well, no, you can swing across. Me? I'm gonna get fUCKED.”

“HIS LEG WORK.”

“I'M IN ATUAL TEARS.”

“I'm like... expecting something to blow up at this poi-- aaand there it is.”

“I don't know what you're reaching for cuz God ain't gonna help you.”

“Wouldn't it be funny if he hit the window and he just... didn't go through it. Just hit the window with a loud THUNK like a bird hitting glass.”

“That rocket launcher is gonna become my best friend.”

“YOU STILL FUCKING SURVIVED THAT SHIT? YOU TOOK IT TO THE /FACE/.”

“Fuck off, I don't want what you're selling-- I DON'T WANT WHAT YOU'RE SELLING.”

“Fuck your turret gun.”

“Fuck it.”

“YEAA-- NOOOOO.”

“How did that not just shove his nose into his skull?”

“I wouldn't have gotten back up, I would've been down. I would've probably been knocked out or... winded... and crying.”

“Yea fuck you _______ I don't like you either.”

“Her name is _____ lady and _____ lady it shall stay.”

“I can't wait to-- Oh look another fucking _______.”

“MAN, HE TWIRLLLED.”

“When I die, I want to ragdoll.”

“Why ragdoll like an Uncharted NPC when you can ragdoll like a Skyrim character leaping off the top of the Throat of the World on the back of a horse.”

“The music is so nice when you don't pay attention to the destruction around you.”

“I want to glitch through the ground, stretching for miles across the land while twitching enough to unnerve the most bad ass fucker before flipping off into space like a goddamn hyper speed rubber band.”

“You want the weirdest things...”

“But they are simple things.”

“How is her makeup still straight. Eye liner still on point.”

“HEY LOOK ITS YOU-- I'm just kidding.”

“You hurt my feelings, that IS totally me.”

“Worship me and my big blue ball.”

“Oh that werewolf fucker. Fucking closet furry.”

“Manicure my _____ nails.”

“I know, I have to fix your ass because all your shit is where its not supposed to be.”

“WELL ITS NOT FUN IF I MAKE IT EASY.”

“DO U THINK I WANT PEOPLE IN HERE TOUCHING ALL MY SECRET SHIT.”

“I GOT PORN MAGS IN HERE.”

“You know I just kinda realized how weird of a pose that is.”

“Tbh -- its taking a huge shit.”

“For some reason I forgot the water drains and thought the statue's loin cloth lifts to reveal a doorway between its legs.”

“God damn it, tired of your bullshit. Have to keep fixing your stuff. Keep fixing your ______...”

“This isn't a dagger. Its a _____. But I'd still stab someone with it.”

*Opens my chastity belt.*

“You know its actually kinda romantic down here---no its not.”

“I transcended the ban like a boss.”

“YOU'RE STILL BANNED, [NAME].”

“GET VORED BY THE STATUE.”

“WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS.”

“I really hope I get that job so I can buy that shirt that says [_______] I've been wanting.”

“No, the part with the ice caves, before you meet Furry McFuckgoat.”

“While that is a very metal fucking way to die -- it also seems extremely uncomfortable.”

“I was surprised there wasn't anything supernatural... or weird. I mean besides the exploding mummies.”

“WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THOSE GOLEM POSERS.”

“What a dick! Making me throw that grenade without meaning to!”

“You know I just shot him... a clip full... in the dick. I didn't mean to but... it happened.” ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Have a grenade.”

“Yeah you're not allowed up here. You have a ______. We don't serve your kind here.”

“New user -- who dis”

“I might regret this decision later.”

“[Name], please, stop playing peek-a-boo.”

“That dead guy just... waves goodbye as he ragdolls.”

“I HAVE REGRETS.”

“You know what, just as well. I have regrets. I didn't mean to throw that grenade.”

“PANICKING. PANICKING.”

“THINK YOU'RE FUCKING FANCY WITH YOUR ROLLING?”

“Okay that guy was defying gravity for a while there, that was kinda weird.”

“YOU'RE NOT FANCY-- Oh my god he twirled.”

“I FOUND WHAT I WANT.” *runs*

“REGRETS. Aaaah, regrets. A lot of regrets.”

“That death twitch... as seen on Twitch TV.”

“Little man, compensating much.”

“Right in the Shnoz.”

“ZIG ZAG, ZIG ZAG.”

“I DON'T THINK ZIG ZAG WORKS WITH MILITARY RPGS.”

“Make-up still on point. Hair still flawless.”

“LAMINATE YOUR FUCKING MAP. ITS RAINING. IS THAT MAP EVEN RELIABLE AT THIS POINT.”

“Where would you laminate a map in ______? What do you think there's a Kinkos around the corner?

“GOD IDK, BUT PUT IT IN SOMETHING MORE WATERPROOF THAN YOUR ASS POCKET.”

“Oh man that is the best twirl I have ever seen.”

“Fab. He practiced.”

“I just had to process Impressed because I heard it as Imp Breasts.”

“Drama queen. Fucking clutching his chest to die. Just ragdoll like everyone else.”

“Hey, what has more brains than the gunmen right now? The wall behind them.”

"[that didn't attract too much attention] YOU RAN A TRAIN THROUGH A BUILDING.”

“I am just a soggy man.”

“I have water logged fingers.”

“Yeah. YEAH. I forgot about these actually. Ah... ha ha... I forgot about these...” *cries*

“Her tits are always bigger from the side. The fuck is with that. They never the same size either. Watch. Watch them titties grow.”

“All Aboard the Pain Train.”

“Push your ass off the train-- BYE.”

“REALLY. YOU-- who has the strength of a shit ton of fucking monkeys... can't kick that through?”

“My heart just did A Thing at being called [they].”

“I never actually see the scenery on this train because I'm always dying.”

“BANE OF MY EXISTENCE RIGHT HERE. Guess my streak of Not Dying is gonna end right here.”

“AAH I ALMOST DIED-- I almost died there too.”

“SPLAT.”

“Railroaded.”

“Oh, I'm gonna have to fight a big guy. I really-- please don't make me fight a big guy.”

“Damn he thicc.”

“Here, its a present~” *throws a grenade*

“I think they want a receipt for their present so they can return it.”

“Bye-- I think that was a dick shot.”

“I love the sound of glass breaking.”

“I missed...” *tsk* “That's a problem.”

“Hey. For stress relief, fling yourself. Right there. To the left.”

“LAAAAAAAAUNCH.”

“Just fucking launch into oblivion for stress relief.”

“I just ate someone else’s half eaten burger like the trash goblin I am.”

“I am both mildly disgusted with myself and yet satisfied because it was a good burger.”

“Oblivion is to the left. Just launch into it. Embrace it. Fly like the majestic fucking eagle you are.”

*singing* “Life... hates me. I hate life.”

“Did he just die crab walking.”

“Died doing what he loved. Being a crab. Snip snap.”

“Am I the only one here who sees perfect opportunities to fling myself off a cliff and actually does it?”

*whimpers* “WELLIguessitwasallfornothingbecausenowIhavetodiebecausethisasshole--”

“That's the sound of when you get your ass shredded.”

“Good lord--”

“Shredded Wheat [name]s.”

“I hope if I ever die by gun, its to one of those. I wanna look and feel like swiss cheese.”

“You gonna one-punch fuck me like jason borne?”

“ONE PAAAUUUUUUUUNCH.”

“FUCK I got stuck in the wall...”

“HOW THICK THAT DUDES ARMS ARE.”

“STAY AWAY FROM ME I was trying to get away from you.”

“That cat is looking at me like [Why are you yelling so much?]”

“Man you eat more bullets than dogs in Resident Evil.”

“Fuck my life, Terminator.”

“That's not his liver...”

“That's totally his liver.”

“Well that's what you get for not paying for your train ticket.”

“Train stops here.”

“Guess they got... sidetracked.”

“You could say he's got a one-track mind.”

“You could say its been derailed.”

“I don't think this is the best train of thought for this situation.”

"I think I can, I think I can...”

“YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE, SNEAKING UP ON ME LIKE THAT.”

“I hope I took them out wiTH MY DEATH.”

“Fucking gave him a sliding icy nut shot.”

“Packed some powder onto those donut holes.”

“I didn't say I was coming naked to this place.”

“Just barrel roll over a fucking corpse it coo'l.”

“Where do these fuckers get grenades at like... they need to shove their grenades up their ass.”

“I don't know what the fuck you think you saw but it wasn't me.”

*Hands you voreos*

“Get out of here with your voreos.”

#RP Prompt #crack #*jazz hands*#lookit me #makin' my own RP prompts

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electriccenturypl · 7 years

Link

New interview with Mikey and David!

“Way and Debiak's synth-rock band also shares 'You Got It Wrong,' a track previously only available on limited edition CD.

Four years ago, My Chemical Romance disbanded. Since then, each of its members have pursued solo music endeavors in some capacity: Frontman Gerard Way and lead guitarist Ray Toro have unveiled solo LPs, and rhythm guitarist Frank Iero released two -- under frnkiero and the cellebration, later adopting his current moniker, Frank Iero and the Patience.

The odd man out is bassist Mikey Way (Gerard's brother), who, right after MCR’s dissolution, actually seemed to be the the most active musician. He quickly announced a new project, Electric Century, with longtime friend David Debiak (Sleep Station, New London Fire) and in Feb. 2014, released a debut single, “I Lied.” Almost as quickly as they began, things went south for the band, or so it seemed: when Way thought he was meeting his pal to finish their debut album that same month, Debiak had other plans, and drove Way to a rehab facility where he received long-needed treatment.

Electric Century’s journey has been a complicated one of personal growth, loss and addiction. They released their debut LP, For The Night to Control as a freebie in a 2016 issue of U.K. magazine Kerrang! The album will get an official release for the first time ever July 14 via New Jersey indie label Panic State Records. It's an unusual approach to introducing a new band to the world -- while Electric Century has been around since the end of My Chemical Romance, they've actually just begun.

Confused? We were too, so we asked Way (EC's multi-instrumentalist and backing vocalist) and Debiak (lead singer and also, player of several instruments) to break it down for us. Below, listen to the band’s New Order-channeling single “You Got It All Wrong” and read their first in-depth chat in years:

youtube

You guys have known each other for a long time now. How did you meet?

Mikey Way: We’ve known each other for 15, 20 years. Dave’s brother works at Eyeball Records [My Chemical Romance's label] and we immediately hit it off.

David Debiak: We shared a rehearsal space. The first conversation I ever had with Mikey, we were talking about music and I said, “Dude, want to play some bass?” He said, “Last week my brother asked me to start playing with him, so I think I’m going to give that a shot.”

The course of history could’ve changed!

Way: New Jersey, like every scene, is incestuous. A bunch of my friends who went on to start bands that are still playing asked me to play something in their band. I was always like “Me and my brother, we’ve got this plan.” There are so many instances of like, “Wow, what would’ve happened?”

When did Electric Century officially start? Was it right after My Chemical Romance called it quits?

Way: It did. I was doing a lot of soul-searching at that time. I still had a lot to say, musically. I had a lot of riffs and vocal melodies lying around. It was pretty seamless jump. There was no time between.

Debiak: We started talking about doing something together when Mikey was on the last leg of the last My Chemical Romance tour.

At that time, were you aware My Chemical Romance was breaking up?

Way: If anything, I thought we were taking break. I thought, “Now is the time because we’re taking a break.” Eventually we all decided it should be more than a break. We initially thought it was going to be a break, then we all did some soul-searching and decided, “No, this is definitely the end.”

When you started writing together, did you know that this is the sound you were going to pursue? It’s different from My Chem -- pretty goth-y, '80s, English…

Way: Yeah! Britpop, new wave. I always wanted to scratch that New Order itch. Since I was a teenager, I wanted to do my version of New Order. I was in middle school when I came up with the name Electric Century. I was in science class, I remember. I used to write band names on my notebook. I came up with Electric Century and was like, “Whoa, I like that, I’m going to remember that one!”

Did you immediately consider Electric Century a serious endeavor to pursue?

Way: Oh yeah. There was a ton of label interest. It got very serious very fast. We started getting attention that I didn’t see very often. Alternative Press had given us a cover at some point and we hadn’t ever played a show. MTV was talking to us as it was unfolding. People were excited.

“I Lied” is the first Electric Century song you released, back in Feb. 2014. That’s also when you conducted the MTV interview where Mikey told them, “I’m a drug addict, I’ve been a drug addict my whole life.” Lyrics aren’t always transparent but in that song you mention darkness, filling veins, lying -- I think lying is a dead giveaway with addiction. Was it meant to be autobiographical?

Way: When we were writing that song, Dave saw what was happening. Drug addicts are notorious liars and at the time, I was a notorious liar about my addiction, that I didn’t have a problem. I was in denial for decades. It was fitting that it was the first song anyone could listen to and that it was released while I was getting admitted into rehab. All of it was this weird cosmic joke -- art imitating life imitating art.

youtube

Electric Century spent most of that year in the dark. Later, Mikey, you revealed that it was because you went into rehab.

Way: I came home [to New Jersey in February] but I wasn’t there to record. [Dave] was going to take me to a facility. I thought we were going to finish the album. I woke up at Dave’s house, we went for coffee and I said, “When are we starting?” and he said, “You’re not here to record.”

Debiak: I lured you out here with the thought process that we were going to record and on your way out I researched what facilities were available and who had room. I drove you that day and not for a second did you put up a fight. It was more important for you to get help than for us to finish the album.

Way: It was a relief. It was something I put off for a very long time. That’s the thing about Dave, he cares about me like we’re from the same parent. You don’t run into many people like that in life.

Mikey, do you think the end of My Chemical Romance, something so tied to your identity, acted as a catalyst for your self-destructive behavior?

Way: 100 percent. The band ended, and I was going through a divorce at the same time. I do the most stressful things in clumps. The way I knew how to deal with that, through life, was to self-medicate so that’s what I did. The tail end of My Chem was so dark for me -- I was in a fog. Life caught up with me at that point, and I was getting by. I was in the ocean with the water by my lips. I was trying to stay up and I was failing. I had always self-soothed through narcotics from an early age.

When you get out of rehab, especially as much damage as I had done to myself, you’re basically starting over. You’re standing outside of this house that you built, you’re lighting it on fire and you have to start over again. You have to learn how to get back what you had without being high. For me to be me, sober, that was the true journey afterwards. When you get out of rehab, that’s when the real s--t starts.

Debiak: I came up to visit you in rehab and we did “Let You Get Away.” We borrowed someone’s old school boom box to play music on and we talked about that song a lot.

That song is the next one you shared, in 2015. Then you released a self-titled EP for Record Store Day -- it reads like you were easing back into the project post-rehab. Were you testing the waters, gauging interest, or is that how you work -- you release things when you have songs to release?

Debiak: Both. Watching Mikey come back together again -- he had to rebuild his life -- I was in no rush to make him do that faster than he needed to. As he started feeling better, we starting talking more Electric Century. There was a period were we didn’t talk at all because he was going through the pains of growing and learning how to be sober. That was more important than Electric Century.

youtube

Last year you released your debut LP, For the Night to Control, through U.K. rock publication Kerrang! It seemed like you wanted to make something temporary because it’s limited edition and only a few people would ever hear it.

Way: I was trying to emulate the excitement of when we were teenagers. Like, “Ok Computer comes out at this time, let’s go to the city and wait in front of HMV and we can buy it at midnight.” The only way to do that is to couple it with something. I wanted to give it away. The money thing isn’t a factor. I thought it was more of a statement. We’re releasing it to one part of the world. It’s still not out yet, technically. If you bought the magazine, you have a copy, but it’s not out.

Why give it an official release now?

Way: I was waiting until my life finally made sense again. I woke up one day last summer and it was like, “Yo, there he is!” I had finally gotten myself back 100 percent. Prior to that, I started to creep back into it. I did the Alternative Press Music Awards where I played bass with [Black Veil Brides’] Andy Black. Over the summer I had secretly gone out and played bass with Waterparks on their U.K. tour. I was doing things again. I was re-establishing myself with music again. We didn’t immediately jump back into the machine, which would’ve been a mistake. It’s purely for the joy of it.

What’s in store for the future?

Way: Me and Dave are working on the second Electric Century record. We’re planning two shows: one in New Jersey and one in L.A. It’s a matter of when. I think, down the line, I would love to play the U.K. and Japan with this. I could see us touring this, but I don’t want to jinx it. The project has been around so long, but it’s still new to us.

For The Night to Control is available for pre-order here. “ - Billboard

#mikey way #david debiak #electric century #press

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cosmosogler · 7 years

Text

hi guys! did you know, that if you do what a doctor tells you to do, like wear prescribed glasses, then you start to feel better? i learned that today.

i actually had horrible dreams last night. well, the first one was awful. i dreamed that eve’s leg disintegrated... tumors bubbled out from her leg and the fur and skin boiled away and then there were bones and then there was nothing. i startled awake and i must have made some sort of noise. i was laying on my back, which was weird, but also, eve was pretty much on top of my foot.

then i had dreams about normal weird things. i have no idea how to describe what transpired. it wasn’t... relentlessly grim, i guess, at least? i really can’t... it was at the mountain village. there was, like, a protest going on? or maybe it was a theater act? there was something about it that made it really clear that it was supposed to be an act, but i got the feeling they weren’t really acting.

i was supposed to be an “animal,” but when i looked in the mirror, it was just me, which was really disorienting. i could clearly feel that i had different body parts and only one eye, but my reflection was just normal. it’s not normally normal...

anyway after that i was really parched and didn’t feel like going back to sleep so i just got up the first time my alarm went off at 9. i noticed my brother was still asleep, and i wanted to swim, so i waited for him to wake up so i could invite him. at around 10:15 i got bored of waiting and got up for some breakfast. then i woke him up and he didn’t want to swim. so i just went by myself. i made sure to spray wiley with the hose before i hopped in at least. mother joined me and told me a bunch of really obvious things about eve that she seemed to think i hadn’t thought about or noticed? like that her leg is hurting her. i went inside and showered before i got sunburnt which was nice.

i put on a skirt and a nice shirt because i felt like it. then i hung out on the computer for a while. mom made the last of my soy products into a sandwich for lunch. it was either try the brand i hadn’t previously liked or have mac and cheese yet again. the quorn thing turned out ok though. then i went through my previously-liked music on youtube and either downloaded it or found out where to buy it, and found some custom album art, and updated my ipod again. i also wore my glasses which actually did help with the headache a lot. i think it made me grind my teeth unconsciously a little less too because my jaw doesn’t hurt nearly as bad.

then i went and picked up asher and we went to see wonder woman. i had a few problems with the movie but mostly it was really solid and i liked it a lot. i really appreciate that there’s finally a super hero movie starring a woman that isn’t a total mess.

i somehow acquired welts along my left arm over the course of the movie. along with the stronger than usual nausea and illness from the theater food, it made me pretty miserable for the second half of the movie. they cleared up pretty fast once we got outdoors though. on the way home dad really stepped over the line with asher. we were talking about, like, historical accuracy and weird anachronisms like wonder woman having shaved legs and armpits. that trend didn’t really start until world war 2 if asher’s history is correct. dad got super weird about it and asher mentioned that he doesn’t shave. and dad was all, “you should.” all aggressive-like. i watched asher but i really didn’t want to get in a fight with dad...

i feel like a coward. but also, with my parents i really need to pick my battles. but i should have picked that battle. what’s wrong with me? i just sat and watched while one of my friends got, well, harassed. is that the kind of person i am?

i’m so terrified of the consequences of acting on my anger toward my parents that i’ve become very passive. and, normally it’s whatever, because i just want to keep my head down and get through my financial hurdles. but... why did dad think it was necessary to start ragging on my friend about his body hair? shaving isn’t really a hygiene thing. it might make you LOOK cleaner, but it doesn’t actually make you cleaner. unless it’s like super thick beard hair with gunk stuck in it. but leg hair doesn’t... it doesn’t matter. it shouldn’t matter. am i really just going to let him attack my friends like that? am i going to be like that forever?

i need to make better choices. i know they’re not always safe choices... and it would require playing with my cards less close to my chest. right now it seems like safety is more important than doing the right thing. and that bothers me. especially considering the self destruction thing.

i’m not... afraid of physical pain. i don’t care if he or mom hits me at this point, not really. but i am very afraid of being cut off. not just financially. i could MAYBE make it work at this point by myself. but cut off as in kicked out of the family. having my computer broken. not being allowed to use the car. having lies told about me to my siblings and cousins. i wouldn’t be covered by dad’s insurance and i NEED these medications to not die.

i can’t tell if that should be more important than supporting my friends or not. how am i supposed to protect other people when i can’t protect myself?

asher and i hung out at the house for a while and played with eve and wiley and talked about art. then we piled into the car for dad to drive asher home. sometime during the drive my eyes started really hurting. like, dry and stuck. they still don’t feel better. dad and i stopped at the grocery store and i picked up some bagels. i need to head over to the grocery store again tomorrow to get some stuff to make for dinner the next few days. and also get my glasses’ endpieces tightened a bit because they keep slipping down my nose. and also drop some more stuff off at the bank.

i guess i should do some therapy stuff and also look at some physics. my classmates want to start doing voice calls. i am extremely nervous about it. i should eat something, because i didn’t really have much at the movies, but it’s almost midnight and i shouldn’t eat right before bed... i might do it anyway. i don’t want to try to sleep with my stomach totally empty. for the last six hours i just haven’t felt like eating anything. like i’ll be hungry, and then i’ll think about what i should try eating and i will immediately stop being hungry as soon as i try to look at my options.

i keep having dumb ideas. i try to put them out of my mind and they keep coming back. i just... want to share stuff with my dad or brother. my instinct is to try to be emotionally close with them. i want them to see how good steven universe is. i want them to maybe think about the choices they make while playing undertale. dad liked adventure time up until there was an episode with basically no jokes... we haven’t watched a single episode after that and that was toward the end of season 6. we had almost caught up... he never asks to watch it. he never asks to watch jojo either and he seemed to really enjoy it.

they are dumb ideas because i know they wouldn’t like steven universe or undertale or homestuck or soma. dad didn’t even talk about portal 2 after playing it. he didn’t react to the ending. my brother kind of hated the first one. i guess it didn’t have enough guns? he plays tons of first person shooters. like... slender.

i know they wouldn’t like any of these quirky/thoughtful/unique things but my instinct is still to desperately want these people to enjoy them. or... enjoy them with me, i guess. portal 2 is literally my favorite game and i just thought... it would be good to share it. but it was just kind of empty.

heh. one of my classmates in our graduate discord channel asked if my avatar was from homestuck. maybe this new community will be ok. maybe i won’t have to ask people to like things that i already like so i’ll have someone to talk to about it.

i miss my classmates at nau.

there are plenty of other things that i really like that i recognize aren’t... that good. i used to talk about those things with craig a lot. i thought he would understand. but, well, you know.

mass effect was good. it really was. i loved it. but i can’t play it any more. it was the only thing he wanted to talk about.

but the good things i love to share with people. i want them to see things they like, and find new things to like. and maybe also find new things to like that i already like so we can discuss it. and i can’t do that. i can’t share. it won’t work.

i had a good time with asher today. i’m glad he was willing to sit through a movie he’d already seen so i could see it with him. i’m so glad he wanted to talk about it afterward without shutting down the conversation with “you’re too picky” or “you’re too negative” or “why can’t you just enjoy the movie?”. or the dreaded “you’re too much.”

tomorrow... i need to sit and take a serious look at some basic physics. i need to take stock of what i remember and don’t remember. and i need to get to a point where i am slightly less severely uncomfortable with the idea of talking to someone else about it.

i guess, there’s more to it than just being socially anxious. intellectually anxious. it’s like... i’m a girl. i have physical “girl” characteristics. i know there’s more than one girl in our class but there’s not many. i’m automatically an ambassador for all women just by virtue of being uncommon. and if i’m not better than the guys, i will not be respected, and it will be a sign that they shouldn’t respect any woman’s intelligence. that’s how it works with male dominated spaces. if you’re a woman in science you can’t just be as good as the men. you have to be better. having the same credentials as a man, exactly the same, when applying for a job will give the man an automatic advantage.

and... i can’t be better. i’m just an average student. i’m not the academic dreadnought i was in goddang third grade. actually my grades really suffered in christian school. and i struggled to catch up in middle school when we moved to a new place. i understand the material but test environments get me so rattled that i really can’t show anyone how much i actually understand, and failing my tests means i have no reference for how much i understand and how well. i’m even withdrawing during standardized tests, and multiple choice questions are what i am literally best at.

at least in a school environment i have more weaknesses than strengths. but you need to be academically solid to get that first job. and also to graduate.

i choke whenever i show anyone anything. commissions were so stressful and i know my drawings then weren’t my best work. asking dad to watch the end of a game with me while i beat the last level (ten years ago), when i had beaten it multiple times, was a gauntlet of nervous mistakes. i could shoot arrows at targets just fine when the instructor wasn’t looking. but the moment he started giving us points based on performance i wavered.

and that performance issue is tangled up in a whole heap of dumb self esteem issues and subconscious locks and fears about not being able to win even when i do my best. i was... hoping i could work on that a little in therapy. i might not get to now. before i work on the test/performance anxiety i need to address the major self esteem issues. it’s not gonna help long term to treat a few symptoms and not the glaring error. just gonna burn out again.

i get a lot of mixed signals about my abilities. mom was pretty insistent on tying up my self worth with my ability to do math. to the exclusion of everything else (”you’re emotionally retarded” etc). she would say things like “you’re going to save the world” and talk to her friends/my doctors/literally everyone about what a math prodigy i was. it was never really about how hard i worked or any other skills i may have wanted to develop. and then when school got harder i didn’t get better at it to compensate. my grades are average at best. toward the end of high school my grades were not average. i barely pulled through my ib exams. at villanova my grades were not even below average. i could not understand calculus at all. i couldn’t figure out why i didn’t understand it or what kind of teaching style might suit me better. i started feeling really stupid.

and people still tell me how smart i am! but i’m not smart! the data is there!!! i am not always a fast learner, or even usually a fast learner. and now i’m too anxious to pick up much of anything...

i dunno. it’s 12:30, which is past my bedtime. i should be tired but i’m just kind of electrified. even though my eyes still hurt. i don’t really have anything else to say right now, but i don’t want nightmares...

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strength-and-other-stories · 7 years

Text

Strength, Wherever it May Lie, part 11

Trigger warning! This story deals with fetal loss, miscarriage, stillbirth and depression. Proceed with caution.

"Nooooo!!! Ollie I'm sorry!, wake up please baby wake up! Mommy loves you baby, I'm so sorry!"

I wake up to Alaina sobbing in her sleep. It happens so often now that I know not to wake her, even though I really want to. Even in my half asleep state I hate to see her hurting.

When Alaina was 35 weeks pregnant with our first child, a boy that we were going to name Oliver Bradley, she started to have pains that mimicked labor pains. We'd had a pretty difficult pregnancy. Well I should say Alaina had a pretty difficult pregnancy. From having hyperemesis during the first trimester, to having preeclampsia for the rest. The fact that Alaina made it to 35 weeks was considered a miracle.

Then the impossible happened. Something happened. We to this day still don't know how it happened, but Alaina went into an appointment after not feeling the baby move for about 6 hours. At first she thought he was sleeping. She ate and exercised and did everything that was supposed to wake him up. Nothing helped; so she went in to her OBGYN. There, they didn't find any signs of movement. They found no heartbeat. Our baby was dead. And Alaina blamed herself.

I blamed myself. If only I had rubbed her back more. Maybe if I encouraged her to take an early maternity leave she wouldn't be so stressed.

Part of me, a part that I don't ever want to own up to, blamed her. If she hadn't been so stubborn and worked overtime every week, she could rest more. If she wasn't so impatient and waited for me to come home to put together his nursery then she wouldn't have put that strain on herself, Ollie would still be here. We wouldn't have to make funeral preparations for our unborn child.

In reality, it's none of our faults. This pregnancy was high risk from the beginning. It just turns out that we didn't get our happy ending this time. I have to remind myself of that. This time.

I put my arm over Alaina's sleeping profile and pull her close. It will stop soon. These nightmares always do. Soon she'll stop shivering and fall into a more peaceful sleep. I stay awake until I know it passes. Planting soft kisses into her hair. While she's in pain I don't care that she has a wayward curl poking me in the eye. I don't care that my arm is asleep under me. She's hurting, and she needs me. That's all that matters.

The next morning when I wake up, Alaina is already gone. I check my phone and I have a message from 6:30 this morning.

Had to get some work done at the office. Lunch is in the fridge. Love you.

This is the third time this week that this has happened. It's only Wednesday.

Alaina is sublimating and I know it. But I don't know how to stop it. I think she thinks that it's not as self destructive as drinking or drugs or something but it is! She's working herself half to death and I don't think she's noticed.

She's going in early and coming home late, and I know that she's not cheating, her paychecks show that she's working a ton of overtime. Then she comes home, cooks, cleans, and works out. She works herself until she's absolutely exhausted. Then she falls into bed, and passes out until she has her nightmares. I'm scared for her. This isn't healthy.

She's lost a ton of weight. Where she was thick and curvy, she's skin and bones now. She's still beautiful, she always will be. She's just not herself.

Alaina won't talk about it. She refuses to even mention it. But there are nights where I catch her in the nursery that neither of us have the strength to take down. She'll stand by the crib, for maybe a minute, sometimes ten, just staring into the spot where our 3 month old should be laying in one of the many sleeping swaddle bag things that we bought. Kicking his legs in his little Batman pajamas with the utility belt screen printed on.

She never knows I'm there, I always leave my perch on the doorway before she turns around. She's grieving in her own way, and seeing her acknowledge that she lost a child is better than her throwing herself into everything to ignore it.

It's a Friday morning, four months after the stillbirth when I finally say something.

"Where are you going?" I ask sleepily. It's 5 am, it's still dark out, there aren't even birds chirping yet. Alaina dropped something, probably her jewelry box from the sound of the clatter and her swearing.

"Huh? Oh my bad. I didn't mean to wake you." She says stifling a yawn. I know she's exhausted, I can see it in the dark bags under her eyes that she has yet to cover with makeup.

"Yeah, no that's fine. I'm just wondering where you're going at 5 am in the morning?"

"To work." She says like it should be the most obvious thing. Like most people in middle management of corporate America aren't still in bed for two more hours. Like she hasn't been out of the house before 6:30 every flipping day this month. Like she just doesn't even care anymore.

"Alaina, you're working yourself to death. You need to take a break. Your office won't miss you." I say trying to reason with her.

"No I have deadlines and stuff that I need to meet. I gotta go"

"Ok? You can get that done in normal work hours, or even at home. Baby, you're working yourself to death."

"Oh don't be so dramatic Dejuan. I'm fine. I'm just being productive or whatever."

It's the whatever that sets me off. The nonchalance in her tone. The defeat in her stance. It makes me look at her differently, and I'm so disappointed in her. I can feel the moisture pooling behind my eyes, and I don't even bother to control my tone with my plea.

"Alaina! Will you please talk to me?!?!"

Thank you all for reading, and I apologize about the abrupt ending, I felt the chapter was getting long winded and I needed to end with something, stay tuned for chapter 12!!😘😘

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dfroza · 4 years

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Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for monday, july 27 of 2020 with Proverbs 27 and Psalm 27 accompanied by Psalm 38 for the 38th day of Summer and Psalm 59 for day 209 of the year

[Proverbs 27]

Never brag about the plans you have for tomorrow,

for you don’t have a clue what tomorrow may bring to you.

Let someone else honor you for your accomplishments,

for self-praise is never appropriate.

It’s easier to carry a heavy boulder and a ton of sand

than to be provoked by a fool and have to carry that burden!

The rage and anger of others can be overwhelming,

but it’s nothing compared to jealousy’s fire.

It’s better to be corrected openly

if it stems from hidden love.

You can trust a friend who wounds you with his honesty,

but your enemy’s pretended flattery comes from insincerity.

When your soul is full, you turn down even the sweetest honey.

But when your soul is starving,

every bitter thing becomes sweet.

Like a bird that has fallen from its nest

is the one who is dislodged from his home.

Sweet friendships refresh the soul and awaken our hearts with joy,

for good friends are like the anointing oil

that yields the fragrant incense of God’s presence.

So never give up on a friend or abandon a friend of your father—

for in the day of your brokenness

you won’t have to run to a relative for help.

A friend nearby is better than a relative far away.

My son, when you walk in wisdom,

my heart is filled with gladness,

for the way you live is proof

that I’ve not taught you in vain.

A wise, shrewd person discerns the danger ahead

and prepares himself,

but the naïve simpleton never looks ahead

and suffers the consequences.

Cosign for one you barely know and you will pay a great price!

Anyone stupid enough to guarantee the loan of another

deserves to have his property seized in payment.

Do you think you’re blessing your neighbors

when you sing at the top of your lungs early in the morning?

Don’t be fooled—

they’ll curse you for doing it!

An endless drip, drip, drip, from a leaky faucet

and the words of a cranky, nagging wife have the same effect.

Can you stop the north wind from blowing

or grasp a handful of oil?

That’s easier than to stop her from complaining.

It takes a grinding wheel to sharpen a blade,

and so one person sharpens the character of another.

Tend an orchard and you’ll have fruit to eat.

Serve the Master’s interests

and you’ll receive honor that’s sweet.

Just as no two faces are exactly alike,

so every heart is different.

Death and destruction are never filled,

and the desires of men’s hearts are insatiable.

Fire is the way to test the purity of silver and gold,

but the character of a man is tested

by giving him a measure of fame.

You can beat a fool half to death

and still never beat the foolishness out of him.

A shepherd should pay close attention to the faces of his flock

and hold close to his heart the condition of those he cares for.

A man’s strength, power, and riches will one day fade away;

not even nations endure forever.

Take care of your responsibilities

and be diligent in your business

and you will have more than enough—

an abundance of food, clothing, and plenty for your household.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 27 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 27]

A song of David.

The Eternal is my light amidst my darkness

and my rescue in times of trouble.

So whom shall I fear?

He surrounds me with a fortress of protection.

So nothing should cause me alarm.

When my enemies advanced

to devour me alive,

They tripped and fell flat on their faces into the soil.

When the armies of the enemy surround me,

I will not be afraid.

When death calls for me in the midst of war,

my soul is confident and unmoved.

I am pleading with the Eternal for this one thing,

my soul’s desire:

To live with Him all of my days—

in the shadow of His temple,

To behold His beauty and ponder His ways

in the company of His people.

His house is my shelter and secret retreat.

It is there I find peace in the midst of storm and turmoil.

Safety sits with me in the hiding place of God.

He will set me on a rock, high above the fray.

God lifts me high above those with thoughts

of death and deceit that call for my life.

I will enter His presence, offering sacrifices and praise.

In His house, I am overcome with joy

As I sing, yes, and play music for the Eternal alone.

I cannot shout any louder. Eternal One—hear my cry

and respond with Your grace.

The prodding of my heart leads me to chase after You.

I am seeking You, Eternal One—don’t retreat from me.

You have always answered my call.

Don’t hide from me now.

Don’t give up on me in anger at Your servant.

You have always been there for me.

Don’t throw me to the side and forget me,

my God and only salvation.

My father and mother have deserted me,

yet the Eternal will take me in.

O Eternal, show me Your way,

shine Your light brightly on this path, and make it level for me,

for my enemies are lurking in the recesses and ravines along the way.

They are watching—hoping to seize me.

Do not release me to their desires or surrender me to their will!

Liars are standing against me,

breathing out cruel lies hoping that I will die.

I will move past my enemies with this one, sure hope:

that with my own eyes, I will see the goodness of the Eternal

in the land of the living.

Please answer me: Don’t give up.

Wait for the Eternal in expectation, and be strong.

Again, wait for the Eternal.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 27 (The Voice)

with these lines of the 27th Psalm mirrored in The Message:

I’m asking God for one thing,

only one thing:

To live with him in his house

my whole life long.

I’ll contemplate his beauty;

I’ll study at his feet.

That’s the only quiet, secure place

in a noisy world,

The perfect getaway,

far from the buzz of traffic.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 27:4-5 (The Message)

[Psalm 38]

A David Psalm

Take a deep breath, God; calm down—

don’t be so hasty with your punishing rod.

Your sharp-pointed arrows of rebuke draw blood;

my backside smarts from your caning.

I’ve lost twenty pounds in two months

because of your accusation.

My bones are brittle as dry sticks

because of my sin.

I’m swamped by my bad behavior,

collapsed under gunnysacks of guilt.

The cuts in my flesh stink and grow maggots

because I’ve lived so badly.

And now I’m flat on my face

feeling sorry for myself morning to night.

All my insides are on fire,

my body is a wreck.

I’m on my last legs; I’ve had it—

my life is a vomit of groans.

Lord, my longings are sitting in plain sight,

my groans an old story to you.

My heart’s about to break;

I’m a burned-out case.

Cataracts blind me to God and good;

old friends avoid me like the plague.

My cousins never visit,

my neighbors stab me in the back.

My competitors blacken my name,

devoutly they pray for my ruin.

But I’m deaf and mute to it all,

ears shut, mouth shut.

I don’t hear a word they say,

don’t speak a word in response.

What I do, God, is wait for you,

wait for my Lord, my God—you will answer!

I wait and pray so they won’t laugh me off,

won’t smugly strut off when I stumble.

I’m on the edge of losing it—

the pain in my gut keeps burning.

I’m ready to tell my story of failure,

I’m no longer smug in my sin.

My enemies are alive and in action,

a lynch mob after my neck.

I give out good and get back evil

from God-haters who can’t stand a God-lover.

Don’t dump me, God;

my God, don’t stand me up.

Hurry and help me;

I want some wide-open space in my life!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 38 (The Message)

[Psalm 59]

A David Psalm, When Saul Set a Watch on David’s House in Order to Kill Him

My God! Rescue me from my enemies,

defend me from these mutineers.

Rescue me from their dirty tricks,

save me from their hit men.

Desperadoes have ganged up on me,

they’re hiding in ambush for me.

I did nothing to deserve this, God,

crossed no one, wronged no one.

All the same, they’re after me,

determined to get me.

Wake up and see for yourself! You’re God,

God-of-Angel-Armies, Israel’s God!

Get on the job and take care of these pagans,

don’t be soft on these hard cases.

They return when the sun goes down,

They howl like coyotes, ringing the city.

Then suddenly they’re all at the gate,

Snarling invective, drawn daggers in their teeth.

They think they’ll never get caught.

But you, God, break out laughing;

you treat the godless nations like jokes.

Strong God, I’m watching you do it,

I can always count on you.

God in dependable love shows up on time,

shows me my enemies in ruin.

Don’t make quick work of them, God,

lest my people forget.

Bring them down in slow motion,

take them apart piece by piece.

Let all their mean-mouthed arrogance

catch up with them,

Catch them out and bring them down

—every muttered curse

—every barefaced lie.

Finish them off in fine style!

Finish them off for good!

Then all the world will see

that God rules well in Jacob,

everywhere that God’s in charge.

They return when the sun goes down,

They howl like coyotes, ringing the city.

They scavenge for bones,

And bite the hand that feeds them.

And me? I’m singing your prowess,

shouting at cockcrow your largesse,

For you’ve been a safe place for me,

a good place to hide.

Strong God, I’m watching you do it,

I can always count on you—

God, my dependable love.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 59 (The Message)

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