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#i still have mine :) the simple 2 (two) that i ever got because jesus christ these were so expensive and they still are for some reason dfjg
recklessmoss · 2 years
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Remembering them,,,,,,,,,,,,, the Krystal War dragons,,,,,,
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These were the IT babeyy
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horansqueen · 4 years
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I got this in my mind so I'm gonna share it : being friend with Niall and he got a key from your house too. One night he want to surprise you so he just come without telling you. So when he is here he open your door slowly and close it slowly too. But you are horny that night and sure Niall is your big crush and you love him sooo you just masturbate yourself while moaning his name. Sorry but I got this in my mind ahahah how he will react? I'm so thirsty for something like that pls :(((
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i got this request twice (and apparently from 2 different persons) sooo it would have been a crime not to write this! 3.3k SMUT. i didnt proofread, you know me. but i really hope you guys enjoy this!!!
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NIALL
It was supposed to be a surprise. Whenever I went on tour and had a concert in her town or near, I'd end up texting her and asking her if I could come and visit. It was not even about sex or love, but I couldn't deny that we were close. Perhaps, we were closer than friends but I was not sure how deep our friendship was yet. Still, every time I was in town, I wouldn't reserve a hotel room simply because I always ended up spending the few free hours or days I had at her place.
This time, I hadn't called or texted because it was late and I didn't want to wake her up. She had given me a key to her place one day, telling me not to make a big deal out of it, but that it could come in handy if i ever needed somewhere to crash and she wasn't home. Back then, I hadn't seen the point to come to her place if she wasn't going to be there but at that exact moment, I was glad I had that key.
I closed the door slowly and gently, noticing all the lights were out and I had to admit I was a bit surprised to realize she was already sleeping. She normally went to bed late but I just shrugged a shoulder and decided that I could just slither under her covers and cuddle her all night. She was an affectionate person and so was I, and somehow, we both got the affection we needed with each other.
I frowned when I realized the door of her room was half opened and heard a low whimper before blinking a few times, trying to get my eyes used to the darkness. The image that draw itself in front of my eyes slowly made my heard skip a beat. I could see her shadow move on the wall and the only thing allowing was the lights from the street lamps outside and the lights of the cars passing in front of her house from time to time.
She was there, laying in bed, completely naked, her head leaned against the pillows and her legs spread wide. I told myself how lucky I was when I noticed that I had the perfect view of her inner thighs and could stare at her fingers glide easily on her slit before slipping inside her cunt, over and over again. The sight was so hot that I felt myself swell in my pants and reached down to adjust myself quickly.
I knew I should leave. I knew it was wrong to stay and watch, but it was definitely stronger than me. Her other hand ran on her breasts and I stared at her hard nipples for a few seconds, wishing I could feel them get even harder against my tongue. Seeing her naked for the very first time brought in me so much lust that It was a miracle I hadn't walked in her room just yet and without thinking, I reached for my cock again, rubbing myself slowly over my jeans.
Her hips started moving up and down and her fingers reached deeper inside of her as my cock got harder and when she started moaning, I felt slightly dizzy.
I did everything I could to just turn around and leave even if I knew perfectly I would never be able to erase those amazing images and sounds from my mind but suddenly, something else than moans escaped her lips. I thought I had imagined it but she repeated it and my heart seemed to completely stop.
"Niall... oh my god... Niall, fuck me."
My lips parted and my heart skipped a beat. I could feel my cock press hard on my jeans, making it a bit uncomfortable but I was not sure what to do. Finding out she was actually masturbating while imagining me fucking her made all these thoughts and feelings invade me but I had no idea what to do with that information.
If I walked in, it would scare her, and it would be the same if I knocked or talked. SIt was hard to concentrate on what I should do while staring at her squirming and whimpering but after a few minutes, I just grabbed my phone in my pocket to text her, hoping she'd look at it even if she was very busy.
'i really want to get down on my knees, between your legs, and find out how you taste.'
The few notes of one of my songs could be heard and I frowned a bit before opening my eyes wider. Did she really use a few seconds of one of my songs to notify her from my text messages?
"Fuck." she whispered before sitting up on the bed and reaching for her phone.
I took a step on the side to stay hidden but still stared as her jaw dropped.
"Oh my.. god." she whispered again, bringing her hand to her mouth.
I could see her facial expression perfectly because of the light of her phone and held my breath as she spread her legs a bit again, letting her hand run down her breasts and stomach to end between her thighs. She ran two fingers on her clit and my cock twitched.
She cleared her throat and quickly typed an answer, her lips pressed together. It took only a few seconds until I got it and I was suddenly glad that I had put my phone on silent.
'Niall! I think you got the wrong number! 😂'
‘I've got the right number, Y/N.' I just typed and sent before typing again. 'Would you let me run my tongue on your sweet little pussy until you cum?'
She rubbed her eyes after seeing my answer and shook her head slightly, as if she couldn't believe what she was reading. We had flirted here and there but nothing more. In fact, I never really thought anything of it but I realized that I should have. The lust invading the place at that exact moment was so strong it was a miracle neither of us had made a move before.
"Is he drunk or what?" she asked herself out loud, staring at her screen.
Quickly, I sent her a simple message that said 'No, I'm not drunk, petal.’ and after reading it, she looked up and her eyes roamed around.
"N-Niall?" she asked in a soft voice.
I felt my heart skip a beat and sent her one last message. 'Would it scare you if I said I was at your door?'
I heard my voice again coming from her phone and after reading my words, she grabbed a pillow and put it over her body before breathing in and licking her lips again.
"Do you mean the front door, or the door of my room?"
I took a step on the side to show myself, feeling the beam coming in from the window light my whole body and face before taking a step closer. We stared at each other for a while but I could see her fingers play with her phone nervously.
"How long have you been watching me?" she asked in a low tone.
"Long enough to hear you moan my name." I admitted, swallowing hard. "I'm so sorry, I really shouldn't have. You gave me a key and I wanted to surprise you... but watching you touch yourself... fuck, it made me so horny."
Her eyes roamed on my face and she bit her bottom lip, tilting her head on the side. I loved how innocent yet excited she looked and when she talked, my heart skipped an other beat.
"So now, you know my secret." she breathed out.
I blinked a few times and walked closer again, bending down and holding myself on each side of her, my palms pressing on the mattress. She moved her upper body back slightly but my lips were only a few inches away from her and I could swear I heard a whimper.
"I can trade it for my secret." I proposed in a whisper as she nodded. "I've always imagined that you felt and tasted amazing. I came here tonight hoping for something more than our usual 'hanging out'."
Slowly, I pressed my mouth against hers and as soon as I deepened the kiss, she moaned and I swallowed her whimpers. I never thought she could taste so good but I felt my dick swell even more against the pillow she was holding between us and I groaned low.
"Please, petal, let me go down on you."
Her lips parted and they brushed against mine as she murmured a 'yes' and I grabbed the pillow slowly, pulling it next to her before getting down on my knees. I spread her legs more and brought one of my hands closer to her, letting my thumb rub gently on her clit. She was already soaked due to all the time she had spent touching herself and my eyelids fluttered at her smell.
"Jesus Christ." I whispered before bending down and letting two of my fingers move down on her slit. "You make me so hard."
She didn't answer, she just whimpered as one of her legs twitched, and I placed two of my fingers on each sides of her clit, squeezing it lightly. Bringing my mouth closer, i let my lips brush on her clit as my fingers trapped it and finally, I pressed my tongue on it. She squirmed and moan but I didn't let go of her and simply sucked on it hard. Both her hands reached for my head, pushing it against hers as her fingers gripped my hair.
"Oh my.. god, Oh god Niall, I'm gonna cum."
I knew she was already close due to all the touching she had done but when she started shaking, I sucked harder on her clit and shut my eyes tight at the way she was holding me against her. I could barely breathe and when she finally let go of my head, I ran my tongue all over her pussy to taste her even more before looking up at her. Her lips were parted again and she was panting and I loved how fucked she looked. I kissed her gently so she could taste herself on my tongue and got up, taking my shirt off. Her fingers reached for my pants and she undid them fast, unzipping them and pulling on them.
"Someone's impatient."
She looked up at me and her lips curled into a smirk. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting this." she admitted in a low tone as she pulled on my boxers.
I was expecting her hands but she simply took my cock on her mouth without even using her hands. I was already rock hard but I could feel my dick throb on her tongue before she sucked it quickly, her head moving fast as my cock disappeared in her mouth, almost reaching the back of her throat. I moved my shirt up but it kept falling back down, hiding a part of her face and I finally just took it off and threw it away. Bringing both my hands on each side of her face, I moved locks of her hair behind her ears before grabbing her head and holding it in place. I slipped out of her mouth and she licked her lips, parting them again when I moved my hips back closer. My fingers gripped her head and her hair at the same time and I pushed myself as deep as I could in her mouth, making her choke a bit before taking my cock out again.
"I want to fuck you so bad." I admitted.
She moved on the bed and I followed her, getting on the mattress on my knees before sitting on my feet. I brought her closer and sat her on me, her back facing me, feeling my cock get wet between her legs as I let my hands travel on her breasts and stomach to end between her legs. I brushed my lips on her shoulders and I felt her shiver in my arms. Her skin smelled amazing... coconut, perhaps? And without thinking, I started kissing her shoulder and neck as I slipped a finger inside her.
"Niall..." she moaned, her voice mixing with the sound of her wetness as my finger moved in and out of her. "I need you."
Without waiting, I pushed gently on her back and grabbed my dick, positioning it against her pussy before grabbing her shoulders and bringing her back close to me. I felt my cock slowly enter her, inch by inch, and the way she squirmed and moaned just proved how impatient she really was.
"Fuck you're so wet, petal. I can feel you throb around me."
She held herself with her hands flat on the wall, knees on the mattress, and holding myself with one hand on the bed, I moved my hips up, watching my cock disappear inside her slowly at first but harder and faster with every thrust. She moaned louder and her head dropped on her shoulders as her long dark hair fell between us, hiding her ass and a part of my cock a bit like a curtain. The sight was so hot that I let out a groan and stopped myself, gripping all her hair and pulling her closer to suck on her neck.
"You make me want to cum, pet." I confessed in a whisper. "I want to fill your pretty little cunt with my sperm."
"I want to feel you deep inside me." she replied, making me stop all my movements.
"Yea?" I asked before she quickly nodded. "Get up."
Quickly, she did what I asked and I followed, putting myself behind her and pushing gently on her back. She bent down, her hair falling on each side of her head and her ass up, and I couldn't help but let out a curse word at the sight. I bent down to grab both her wrists and pushed the tip of my cock inside her before pulling on her arms, feeling her ass back against me as my cock went balls deep inside her.
"Mm, fuck." I whispered, remaining still for a few seconds, enjoying the way her pussy clenched around my cock. "Tell me darling, did your fingers feel as good as my cock?"
"N-No." she breathed out, making my lips curl.
"No?" I asked again, raising my eyebrows. "Is that what you were thinking about when you pretty fingers rubbing that clit and fucked that cunt? Were you thinking about my cock deep inside you like that?"
She tried to squirmed and rocked her hips a bit but I pulled on her wrists again to hold her against me.
"Please, Niall..." she whimpered low. "Please I'm so close."
Thinking about her cumming around me made me groan and I started fucking her hard, making her let out a short scream every time I was balls deep inside her. I pulled on her wrists while thrusting inside her every time to feel myself as deep as possible and watched as her body jerked hard in front of me.
"Fuck, I want to cum inside you darling, you want that don't you?"
"Yes." she moaned low. "Yes please cum inside me."
I didn't need to hear it twice, I started fucking her hard again as her walls tightened around me and I let out a few curse words as my thrusts became unsteady. I held her body close to me, pulling on her wrists maybe a bit too hard as I came inside her and after a while, I let go of her and slowly, she moved on the bed, laying down on her back. I joined her, still panting and high from my orgasm, and I brought one of my hands on her throat, holding her on the bed as my other hand reached between her legs. I slipped two fingers inside her and gathered a bit of my sperm before bringing it up and rubbing it against her clit.
"You made me cum so fucking hard, pet." I whispered, staring in her eyes as she did the same. "I want to watch you cum again. Do it, baby, cum for me."
I rubbed her clit harder and it took her only half a minute to started shaking close to me. I pressed my fingers slightly more against her neck and she moaned my name as her eyes fluttered while her orgasm spread all over her body. She looked so good I felt something stir in my stomach and I let my eyes move quickly on her face and body, trying to keep this image in my brain forever.
I let go of her and instinctively, she turned her body with a whimper and wrapped her arm around my waist. I held my breath but after a few seconds, I pulled her closer to me and kissed the top of her head. We remained silent for a long time and when she finally talked, I looked down at her.
"My secret isn't that I wanted to have sex with you, Niall."
I frowned and moved my upper body back slightly to meet her eyes. I waited for her to talk and she suddenly seemed very nervous. She licked her lips and shook her head a bit before closing her eyes as if she was gathering enough courage to tell me something important.
"Niall, I like you." she breathed out. "I mean, I like you like you. And I don't want things to be awkward between us but, basically, that's why I gave you a key to my house. I like that you come here to spend time with me, and it wasn't even sexual so I thought hey, something is happening between us... but you never made a move or anything."
I stared at her and she sighed again, pausing for a while as she tried to put her thoughts back in place. I knew her well enough to realize she was trying to find the right words and she always did.
"I know you most likely don't feel that way for me but, I really had to tell you. I've been keeping it for so long and just.. look, Niall, I have the biggest crush on you. Isn't it obvious?"
A bunch of thought tried to make their ways from my brain to my mouth but my lips parted and the only word that came out of my lips was. "Wow."
She closed her eyes again and cleared her throat. "Yea I know, oh god. Can we pretend I didn't say anything? I don't want to lose you. I mean, I wouldn't want to-"
To shut her up, I crashed my mouth against hers, pressing my lips hard on her for a few seconds before deepening the kiss slightly, letting my lips and tongue move against hers slowly. I turned my body her way and pulled her against me, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Her sweaty skin rubbed against mine and she let her fingers slip in my hair before brushing down my chest and my side.
"What if I said that I like you too?" I whispered against her mouth, my lips brushing against hers as I talked.
"Like me like me?"
I chuckled at her question and nodded, my eyes still closed. "Yes."
"Then I'd ask you to stay the night."
This time, I opened my eyes and she did too. We both smiled fondly at each other and I licked my lips before kissing her again gently.
"I didn't plan on leaving."
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catharrington · 4 years
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@harringroveweekoflove Day 1: Bed sharing
Fighting in the summer breeze.
The job wasn’t done. There was cleaning up they had to do after the battle with the mind flayer. But it isn’t always an easy job picking up the scraps. Especially if the scraps fight back. Steve and Billy can fight as hard as they want but getting outnumbered will win every time.
(3.3 k words. Simple fic of hurt/comfort. Slight blood and gore. Steve does get hurt badly. Mostly boys talking about their feelings and mutual pining.)
***
“God, stop touching it!” Steve howled with pain, his voice cracking in a way it hadn’t since he was 12, as he was carried into the motel room.
Hopper just rolled his eyes as he followed into the bedroom. “You aren’t going to die, kid!” He growled, closing the door behind them. El watched with wide worried eyes as Steve was lead over to the mattress and laid down, whimpering the whole time. Billy was holding onto his arm and helping him down into the bed, his own body not unscathed.
They had just got away from a pack of demo dogs still loose and running in the woods around Hawkins. El and Hopper were sure they would be destroyed by the portal closing but they just kept showing up like roaches when the lights turn off. There must be something still open around Hawkins that had to be cleaned up. And Billy, even though he had already proven himself as a friend by being a human shield against the mind flayer, volunteered first for the portal closing hunt.
Steve was more drafted by Hopper and the kids. You don’t get much room to not be a hero when you’ve fought these things off with a nail covered baseball bat before.
They had tracked a sighting of a starved looking feral dog to an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods. All the evidence pointed to three, maybe two, demo dogs holding up and a small portal letting them come though for hunting, but when they got there it was more like ten. They were almost over run by the numbers. Hopper did his best with his police pistol, and El took care of most, but Billy and Steve caught the brunt of the surprise.
“Don’t talk down to him!” Billy hissed as he laid Steve down sloppily on the bed, “it’s your damn fault he got hurt!”
“Watch it!” Hopper warned. “We did the best with the intel that we had! No one saw that shit coming- even El didn’t see them!”
Billy had one leg crossed over the bed and the other leg dangling down to touch the floor. He was leaned over Steve in a protective hunch that he wasn’t even aware he was doing. “You should have gotten some fucking better intel then, Hop.” Billy pushed his curly hair back from his forehead, it turned red with blood.
Interrupting the tense showdown, Steve moaned loudly as he settled into the bed. His wounded arm laid limp next to him while his left arm griped white knuckled into the remains of his sweater ripped all the way down to his stomach.
El was quietly watching from the sidelines, her eyes going to the people talking for only a moment but mostly staying locked on Steve’s bloodied wound. He had 4 huge gashes dragged over his shoulder and down his pectoral, already bruised black and blue and still bleeding.
With Steve’s bat and Billy’s axe they had stayed to the sides of the formation to catch any straggler or finish off what Hoppers gun didn’t, but that was a perfect target for a group of demo dogs sneaking out of the woods. Steve fought off most of them, skillful with his bat, and nimble in his dodging- but as he crushed one into the ground another jumped on his back and dragged those demonic claws from his chest to his shoulder.
The scream he made is something the group won’t be getting out of their head for a while.
“We did the best we could,” El spoke softly.
Hopper continued to glare daggers into Billy but focused on taking out 2 water bottles from the motels mini fridge. Collecting towels from the bathroom, he placed some under Steve’s shoulder and whispered something heroic to the boy before he flushed out the wound.
Dumping the cold water right into the flayed flesh made Steve howl. He bent his head back into the pillow and let his voice carry until it simply cracked again into a whimpering cry. His face was covered in sweat, blood and something else much darker. His shaggy hair, equally as sweaty, clung to where ever it could catch. The famous volume was mostly lost in its wetness and that broke Billy’s heart.
He brushed a strand from Steve’s ghostly pale face in an attempt to be comforting.
When Hopper dumped the second bottle Steve cried again but only what his used throat could muster. Billy watched in horror as Steve’s eyes fluttered closed and his head fell limply onto the pillow.
“Hop,” Billy gasped, he held onto Steve’s cheek and examined the boys pale face.
“Chill out, kid, he’s just unconscious.” Hopper finished with the second bottle then threw them and the stained towels into a trash can. He took more towels and laid them softly over Steve’s shoulder. The motel owner isn’t going to be happy she’s out of four nice cotton towels but it made Billy happy to see the wound finally covered in something.
Hopper took Steve’s left hand and applied it as pressure to the wound. The room became way too quiet without Steve being awake groaning in pain. The rest of the group took a breath of silence between themselves before Hopper finally moved.
“You have to stay here, watch him! We will be back soon!” He scooped up his sheriffs hat and made for the door, El loyal on his heels.
“We need to go to a hospital now,” Billy sputtered out. “These cuts need stitches- I can tell!”
“Absolutely no hospitals. They can’t be trusted. And before anything else, we have to clean up the shit show of dead dogs all over that cabin so El can close that portal for good.” Hopper rested his hat on his head and sighed. “We gotta stop these bastards or this fight will be for nothing. Harrington is tough. He will last-,”
“That’s really not something you get to decide.” Billy stood up from the bed and marched to the door. He had gotten his share of black blood on his clothing and a few scratches here and there. Most notability across his forearm one demo dog's back leg caught him and left a nasty gash, but Billy hadn't started to feel it yet. “You can’t just expect him to go all these damn rounds for no one to be in his corner. You can’t just-“
Billy’s rant was cut off before it started by a sharp intake of breath. Steve’s soft hair shook as he came awake. “Billy,” he muttered out, fluttering his eyes as he came to terms with the burning irons on his shoulder once again. “...Billy?”
“Yeah, easy Stevie, right here,” Billy rushed back to his side, leaned over the bed a little less close than before, but he wanted to be so much closer.
Hopper took this as his time to leave. “Don’t let him out of your sight. We‘ll be only a minute!” And the door was slammed behind the two.
Billy didn’t have a moment to grumble any discourse before his attention was taken again by the injured boy.
“Jesus Christ,” Steve involuntarily flexed his good hand and shoulders as he tried to sit up only making him hurt more, “Mother fucking Mary!”
“Stop,” Billy pressed his open palm down into Steve’s chest. “Do not get up, it’s gonna hurt a Hell lot more if you keep moving.” From the touch he could feel the boy’s breaths quicken under his ribs, shallow and hard. “Just take it easy, Steve.”
Steve said nothing, but did as he was told.
Working intently on steadying out his breaths, he took a look around the room to try and steady his mind. The motel was familiar, the group used it to ready up before heading into the woods to find the abandoned house, but the spaces between that was a blur. All purple and blue like a bruised spot that wouldn’t stop hurting as Steve tried to remember it.
Billy had taken his hand back from Steve’s chest, carefully keeping his distance. He moved to the very edge of the bed hunched over with his messy blond hair covering as much of his face as he could. The streaks of blood in his hair made it seem a darker shade than it was.
Out of the corner of his eyes Steve watched Billy, half to have something to focus on, and half because he hasn’t seen this boy so far gone since he was drugged unconscious on Byers’ floor. But that time his eyes were not blown wide open. Looking at him now, Billy had a face like he was sitting in the middle of a mine field and couldn’t get out.
“Is that your blood... or mine?” Steve rasped out so weak it was easy to miss. But Billy was listening for it.
“You know, I don’t know.” He balled his hands into the sheets. “I think it’s yours. I’m not really bad off. Don’t think.” Billy knew he was distracted as he replied but couldn’t help it under Steve’s half lidded stare. The gash on Billy’s arm wasn’t bleeding or painful and the darkened blood looked like demo dog guts to him.
Steve hummed and it was pretty. “My blood,” he started, “I’m sorry I-,”
“Don’t you dare!” Billy turned his eyes sharply and dug a glare into Steve. “Nothing tonight was your damn fault.”
Steve kept watching him, kept him trained with those big brown eyes. “I was gonna say, jerk, that I’m sorry you had to actually fight while I was down...,” Steve trailed off to let out a groan, “instead of just getting creamed in the end like last time.” He laughed but it was painful sounding.
“Last time?” Billy was astounded that with his shoulder ripped out and losing so much blood Steve still had the gull to be a bratty little shit. He even had the nerve to let out a small smile. “Last time I single-handedly fought back a three story tall monster made of rat AND people bones? You mean that last time?” Billy enjoyed watching that little smile on Steve getting bigger.
“Yeah, single handed, but I do remember you getting creamed?” Steve’s words were so light and easy. They were a warm breeze in the summer time, kicking up flowers, and Billy could easily be in that breeze forever without wanting to leave.
Billy laughed. “Saving El, saving you too, by getting impaled... that’s not getting creamed, pretty boy.” Running his hand over his chest Billy could feel the scar from the mind flayer right there. Always a reminder of how he fought. And a badge that said he would do it again in a heart beat. 
“Hey maybe you’ll get a wicked scar then I can’t call you pretty boy anymore.” Billy said it as a joke but Steve’s smile fell into something else, even something sadder maybe.
Steve clutched the towels over his shoulder with his hand Hopper was kind enough to place over it. His other arm, the one that was holding on with just the bones of his shoulder and not so much the flesh, he only flexed those fingers just to make sure they still worked. But he kept his arm laying down like Billy ordered him to.
Wetting his lips and fixing the other boy with another locking stare, he whispered. “Hum. I don’t know if I would want that. Not really the scar type.”
“Not the type? But you know scars get all the chicks? You’ll be a magnet. I’ll have to use that bat to fend them off.” Billy laughed at his own joke. He lifted his hands and made a goofy swinging motion. Steve gave him a scoffing laugh and Billy felt comfortable enough to laugh with him. Dropping his hands Billy inched a little more towards Steve, trying to get more of that warm breeze on his face.
Steve shook his head in a no motion very lightly so he didn’t hurt himself. It made his wet hair fan out over the pillow. “First of all, don’t use my bat.” Billy raised his eye brows. “Second, don’t really care... about being a chick magnet.”
Billy wanted to ask so many questions. He might not be the King any more but Steve still has game, he still should want to add notches to his bed post. And now that he was out of school his game should be even better. But Billy didn’t ask.
In almost a defensive mode, Billy kept his head down and chewed his inner cheek like his thoughts were getting chewed over inside of his head. But he didn’t back away from how he was leaning towards the injured boy.
Thankfully, Steve’s breathing was as normal as one could get. He only moaned a few times between breaths. Billy had the painful realization that with the scratches across his upper chest it likely hurt to have the rising and falling motion. It made Billy angry that Hopper was taking so long to come back.
“Are you tired?” Steve’s summer breeze knocked Billy out of his thoughts. “You can...,” Steve swallowed hard, shifted a little as he spoke, “You can lay down. If you are tired.”
Billy watched Steve with a hesitant eye. Yeah- his body was screaming to lay down. Yeah- he was very, very tired from fighting off a hoard of demo dogs and then carrying Steve’s limp body to this motel. Shivers ghosted up his spine as he considered it, laying down in the same bed as Steve Harrington, but he was too tired to really pay attention to the reminder of self loathing.
“You don’t care?” He asked for permission.
“It’s a big enough bed,” Steve smiled.
Billy couldn’t help but groan as he let himself lean back into the mattress. His muscles were more tired than he thought. Adrenaline and maybe shock was to thank for that. Billy laid his head down on the pillow right next to Steve’s pillow. However, he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling.
There was a softness in the air, the rhythm of steady breathing slowly syncing up together, so close but looking away. Warmth from that closeness felt like laying in the summer sun.
Steve wanted to turn his head with every fiber of his being but he was scared it might hurt. He did it anyway, turning with a light moan to look at Billy’s direction. The others long blonde hair dark with blood crunched up against the pillow and his chiseled jaw muscles taught under tanned skin was worth all the pain to look at it. Even with his eyes drilling holes into the ceiling, he was an Adonis.
Billy kept his breathing quiet and tried not to make a big deal about laying in a shitty motel bed touching his shoulder against Steve’s shoulder. Sure it was a large bed but they were growing men, and Billy wasn’t going to punish himself with not at least trying to lay enough to the side where he could touch the other. Steve’s skin was flushed under Billy’s touch. In different circumstances Billy would have been flattered. Maybe even if it was different he would have let those questions about Steve and the notches in his bed post surface. But he couldn’t do that to him now.
Instead they just laid there and breathed.
“Hey,” Steve’s voice kept waking Billy from his thoughts. It was like the boy couldn’t keep quiet. Truthfully, he wanted something to distract him from the pain. 
Billy turned his head over on his pillow and their eyes met. Big and brown, red with tears, locked into Billy’s sharp and blue, almost glowing with a protectiveness he didn’t knew he had in himself. Those eyes meeting Steve’s felt like the best pain killer.
“Thank you.” Steve smiled.
“What the fuck for?” Billy played dumb.
“Everything,” then those big brown eyes rolled, it was positively endearing. “Saving my life twice. Being here. Being... you.”
Billy felt his breath catch. He had never once been under the lock of an emotion like this. Under the watch of those brown eyes Billy felt real, that his life mattered and his existence wasn’t a burden to anyone. Sure he sacrificed himself and was heralded as a hero, but this was on another level. And to top it off he was swimming in the high of those eyes, that melodious voice, and uniquely sweet summer winds.
“Yeah well...,” Billy’s voice caught for a second so he cleared his throat. He had to pull away from these feelings before his voice left completely. He looked back up to the ceiling and continued, “I’m just me.”
Steve laughed the same condescending laugh he pulled in the drive way of the Byers’ house. The laugh that was so superior and patronizing it would have made Billy crazy back when all he cared about was fighting the mighty King Steve. Back when he needed to pull Steve down to his level, to make him feel Billy’s pain with fists and blood. But now Billy could tell he hasn’t done the pulling, it was Steve who pulled him down. Within all this monster fighting and children helping, Steve showed him there were no levels.
Only here.
Only now.
Only saving those that he cares about. And Billy really did care about Steve. From the first moment he saw him in school he knew he cared so much for this brown haired, spoiled, smug, heroic, selfless hurricane named Steve Harrington.
To make it worse, that laugh was so beautiful.
“You are really a great guy, Billy. I want you to know that.” And just as the last word left Steve’s lips the door opened to a hurried Hopper and El.
The sheriff hesitated for a second as he noticed their closeness but Hopper was in a time crunch. He collected the few things they left around then a large duffel bag to put them in while he ordered everyone for the door. “No hospitals,” he reminded, finger pointed at Billy, “but I know someone from the department who can fix him up.”
Billy was already up moving to help Steve from the bed. Steve tried to stand by himself but he didn’t have the strength. Blood was soaking into the towel making it a strawberry pink, reminding them all that Steve has lost more than was safe by this point. More groans and slight whimpers filled the air as he stood up from the bed to attempt to walk.
El was tired herself, hanging back by the door to keep her jacket sleeve on her bloodied nose. Hopper joined her with full hands by the doorway and expectant eyes telling them to hurry.
Billy looked between them for a second before he lowered his head towards Steve’s ear to whisper, “Thanks for letting me rest up. I feel loads better.” Then in a quick movement Billy scooped the back of Steve’s knees with one arm and cradled the boy around his ribs with the other. On sure and strong legs Billy lifted him off the ground.
Steve’s one good arm kept holding the towels tightly to his shoulder while the other he could only let hang limply. Blood dripped down his pale skin and rolled off his finger tips. 
Another time, different circumstances, he would have loved to brace himself on Billy’s strong arms. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t think of anything. For once, his bratty comments caught in his throat. Instead Steve let his head drop and his forehead rest so very lightly against Billy’s neck.
“Don’t pass out on me, pretty boy.” Billy teased as he carried him out the door and started into the parking lot.
“Shut up, Hargrove.” Steve hissed but it held no venom.
Billy tucked Steve into the back seat of Hopper’s sheriff Jeep and stayed as close as he could while they rode back into town.
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giftofshewbread · 3 years
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CRITICAL MESSAGE *READ*
Does God Ever Let You Down? :: By Steve Schmutzer 
Published on: February 26, 2021
Does God ever let you down?
Wait. Before you answer, I’m not interested in cliché replies. You know, “In all things, God works for the good of those who love Him,” or, “God’s plans are to give me a hope and a future.” I don’t want to hear that old standby, “He knows what’s best for me.”
Those responses ARE Biblically-based, and so they’re true when they’re properly applied with the right heart to the right situation. But in my experience, too many people say this kind of stuff when their faith has reached its limits. They are barely able to endure their pain, describe their confusion, or contain their rage.
Just because we can force certain words out of our mouth does not mean we are saying what we are truly feeling. Just because we can’t admit what’s really going on does not mean it isn’t.
Let’s be totally honest here – have you ever been mad at God? Did you ever bargain with Him in your heart and now you’re upset He didn’t keep up His end of the arrangement? Are you still “fighting the good fight,” but you’re exhausted and despaired? Did you take the high road – but you got the raw end of the deal?
Now – let’s get down to the brass tacks: Did you pour yourself into the task of raising your children the right way only to have them disappoint you with their choices?
Are you laboring long and quietly in a ministry while others with less gifting, less commitment, and less maturity are getting the reward and recognition?
Have you prayed and tried for years for a baby and one still hasn’t come? Meantime, irresponsible parents are popping out feral kids like rabbits?
Did you carefully plan for a simple and responsible retirement – only to see it all evaporate in the wake of unexpected health problems and medical bills?
Have you prayed around the clock for justice and truth to prevail, but all you see is the flourishing of evil and deceit?
Have you lost your job and now you are struggling to find work that pays the bills?
Did you find the man or woman of your dreams, but things have changed and now you wish you hadn’t?
So let me ask the question one more time: does God ever let you down? If you are feeling that way, or are tempted to – you are not alone. Even people that knew Jesus personally might have felt that way… or at least they may have felt they had reason to.
You see, we can talk all day long about our “relationship with God,” but three Biblical characters come to my mind that actually knew Him personally. I mean, they interacted with Jesus, they watched Him, listened to Him, and learned from Him. They knew who Jesus really was! Their lives are recorded in the New Testament as being part of His life, so the personal connection went both ways.
Despite that, I think it can be argued that all three of these people might have felt some disappointment with Jesus. Put another way, they might have admitted they felt let down by God.
But all three characters faced their natural reactions and chose to respond to Jesus in different ways. I think we can learn something from their examples because these are ways we still respond to Jesus Christ today.
The first of these three characters is John the Baptist. He had a key role before Jesus’ ministry. Since he and Jesus were cousins, he probably knew Jesus as they were growing up together. Maybe they even played together as children – this is not an unreasonable assumption.
John the Baptist turned out to be a rough and rugged character – unconventional, certainly. He was a strong man with equally strong convictions. He didn’t think twice about confronting the hypocritical religious leaders and calling them a “brood of vipers” (Matt. 3:7). His straight talk and no-nonsense approach attracted truth-seekers, and he had many followers and disciples.
A time came, however, when John the Baptist prepared the way for Jesus’ ministry as a “voice in the wilderness” (John 1:23). He did this because he had a right view of Jesus. John said of Him, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30), so John the Baptist grasped the proper priorities and how things needed to be.
None of this was an act. John the Baptist was a man of God who had a passion for proclaiming the truth and for living it out. His extraordinary ministry and exemplary character were affirmed when Jesus said of him that there was “…none greater” (Luke 7:28). To be sure, John the Baptist was the real deal.
It is difficult to know how much time John the Baptist actually had with Jesus Christ. There was that special occasion where John had baptized Jesus (Matt. 3:13-17), and John had felt that Jesus should have baptized him instead. But in their adult years, it seems they had little face-to-face contact.
We know John the Baptist publicly confronted Herod Antipas for the king’s sins (Matt. 14:1-13), and this had resulted in John’s arrest and imprisonment – and ultimately his beheading. This happened early in the ministry of Jesus Christ, so there was no opportunity for further contact between the two cousins after that point.
It is after John’s arrest that we learn of his doubts about Jesus Christ. In a desperate situation with his life on the line, John the Baptist faced gnawing questions. Reports of Jesus had found their way into John’s cell, and news of Jesus’ ministry had worked its way into the fabric of John’s deepest frustrations. Time had passed since that glorious baptism, and Jesus’ ministry was now thriving while John’s had abated.
John’s disciples fed him bits and pieces of information as they were able to, and it’s fair to say these reports reinforced the misgivings John had of Jesus. You see, the ministries and activities of Jesus and John were very different, and it’s not beyond reason to suggest these differences aroused John’s concerns.
John’s choices had set him apart from the crowd while Jesus’ choices had blended in. John the Baptist and his disciples fasted often, but Jesus and his disciples ate and drank with sinners (Matt. 11:18-19). John performed no signs in his earthly ministry (John 10:41), but Jesus – and his disciples – performed miracles of every kind (Matt. 9:35, 10:1). John lived reclusively, but Jesus was a very public person who was often surrounded by enormous crowds of people.
Now John was sitting in prison, captive most of all to his own disappointments. It’s not hard to imagine the questions that may have gone through his mind, such as, If Jesus was really the Messiah as he himself – John – had announced, then why wasn’t Jesus doing more? Why was Jesus not getting down to the business of establishing His kingdom and burning up the wicked with unquenchable fire? (Matt. 3:12). Was he here in prison because Jesus was powerless to do anything about the situation?
When John the Baptist could resist his own insecurities no longer, he sent some of his disciples to confront Jesus and to ask Him directly, “Are you the promised Messiah or should we be looking for someone else?” (Matt. 11:2-3). The question is a revealing one because it shows John had expectations of Jesus that were unfulfilled. It also shows that John the Baptist was unsure, doubtful, and delicate – the same way you and I have felt from time to time.
John wanted to know if he’d been misled. Was Jesus their only hope or was somebody else going to come along that was a better fit for the job? Was Jesus Christ really the Messiah, or not?
Jesus sent John’s disciples back to John with an answer, but it was hardly the one John the Baptist was seeking. Jesus challenged John to consider the evidence of His miracles, and he added, “…blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.” In other words, Jesus exhorted John to cling to the truth of Old Testament Scripture. He did not give John a simple “yes” or “no” answer, but he left him hanging a bit. Jesus responded to John’s heart instead of his mind because John’s heart was the seat of his faith.
We can say John the Baptist was wrong for the ideas he had about how Jesus needed to operate, but – honestly – we’re not much different. We expect God to work in certain ways too, and if God does not fulfill our expectations, we also get disappointed.
We may not like to admit it, but it’s easy for us to think that if our God is really the God He says He is, then we have a right to expect something different from Him. I feel it’s likely that John died with some of his questions unanswered. That doesn’t mean his faith wasn’t real. It means he was human, and because he was human, his reactions to Jesus Christ were imperfect – the same way yours and mine can be too.
A second character that probably felt let down by Jesus Christ was Judas Iscariot. What do we know of him?
As one of the original 12 disciples, Judas Iscariot basically lived with Jesus for three years. He was given assignments and divine powers by Jesus (Matt. 10:1-4), and he was the official treasurer for the group (John 12:6) – albeit a deceptive and self-serving one.
The bottom line is Judas saw Jesus perform many miracles and he heard Jesus teach many times. He learned directly from the King of kings and Lord of lords, and he had the opportunity to grow as few others did. He saw the mistakes and the actions of the other disciples, and he learned from all of this. In other words, as a disciple of Jesus Christ, Judas Iscariot had the optimal schooling in the Gospel of the kingdom.
But it’s likely that Judas Iscariot was also a Jewish zealot. Many scholars believe his surname, “Iscariot” was a form of the title Sicarii, meaning “dagger-men.” This was a group of zealots who despised the Roman oppression. They were known to carry a knife with them, so they were prepared to assassinate traitors and capitulators. The Jewish zealots were principally motivated by socio-economic and political considerations. They believed that if they turned their nation back to God and incited a war against the Romans, the Messiah would rise to lead them and establish His Kingdom.
It’s easy to see how all this may have played out in Judas’ mind. Jesus was a righteous Jew and a descendant of King David. He spoke of establishing His kingdom, and he cast out demons, produced abundant food, and controlled the weather. Surely Jesus could lead the Jews to victory over the Romans and usher in God’s Kingdom! In Judas’ activist mind, his own ideas made perfect sense.
But somewhere along the line, the situation changed. Judas became disappointed as Jesus let him down. Jesus began to talk about dying, and His descriptions of His coming Kingdom didn’t fit with Judas’ ideals. Judas began to doubt Jesus, and he began to openly chide Jesus for His choices and priorities (John 12:3-6).
We know how this turned out. Judas chose to betray Jesus for 30 pieces of silver (Luke 22:3-6; Matt. 27:3-5). Perhaps Judas had come to a point where he felt Jesus was a fake – a false Messiah, someone who was not fulfilling the expectations that Judas had of a ruler that would lead Israel into her kingdom. We don’t know for sure – but it all seems to fit the larger story.
The bigger issue is the questions that are raised by how things ultimately transpired: How could Judas live, eat, walk, and talk with Jesus Christ day in and day out for three years and still turn out as he did? How could Judas miss the Messiah when he knew him so well? How could Judas hear the Gospel so clearly and miss having the right relationship with Jesus Christ?
We are left with some element of speculation, but it’s reasonable to assume that Judas resented Jesus and felt justified in his own views (Mark 14:6-16). Ultimately, that triggered his decision to turn Jesus over to the authorities. The greater account of Judas Iscariot suggests he had some underlying anger issues with the whole situation – which may explain why “Satan entered him” (John 13:27). The Bible teaches that our anger always gives Satan an opportunity (Eph. 4:27).
In the end, Judas’ response to Jesus Christ was likely dominated by a selfish desire for political change. Judas wanted conditions that were not there. Jesus didn’t overthrow the Romans as Judas wanted Him to, and so Judas’ selfish intentions led to profound personal compromise. It fostered resentment, clouded better judgment, and it ultimately destroyed him. Judas Iscariot wanted things to work out his way – not Jesus’ way. When Jesus didn’t do what Judas most wanted Him to do, Judas was through with Him.
Today, Judas Iscariot’s name is synonymous with betrayal, treachery, and disloyalty. He’s one of the most hated figures in Scripture – so it’s not without some hesitation that I suggest his patterns are often our own.
To lessen the blow, I’ll speak for myself. It is easy for me to get focused on one or two goals in my life to the exclusion of all else God is trying to do. In this situation, I can end up ignoring the things God is doing in my life, the lessons He is teaching me, or the way He is working in the life of my church, my friends, my family, and even my country.
Because it’s natural for me to become selfish in my expectations of God, it’s not hard to start compromising here and there and doing things I once never thought I would. I believe there is a huge principle at stake here. You see, we can be surrounded by believers and ministry and still fall. We can hear the regular teaching of God’s Word and still fail. We can witness God at work and still miss the most important need to be in a right relationship with God.
If we persist in thinking about ourselves first – what we can get out of the situation, what we think the outcomes should be, or how we feel “who” should be doing “what,” then we completely miss what God most needs to accomplish in our own lives the very same way Judas missed it. At that point, resentments creep in and we say and do things we ought not to.
And here’s the third and final character: the thief on the cross. By this, I mean the “good” thief (Luke 23:39-43). We don’t even know his name. There were two thieves who died with Jesus, and while both received the penalty for their crimes, the “good” thief gave Jesus the proper respect.
I feel that – for various reasons – the “good” thief is the most remarkable man of the three individuals we have assessed. What do we know of him? Not much, I’m afraid.
We do know that when Jesus was crucified, there was a cross on either side of Him. On His left and right were two criminals. In the Greek language, they are called “kakourgos,” which has the straightforward meaning of “criminal,” “evil-doer,” or “one who commits serious crimes.”
The “good” thief was a bad man. Other gospels call him a “robber.” He could have been a bandit – someone that ambushed others, took advantage of them, and left them for dead. It’s very likely that this “good” thief had been the sort of person that Jesus had in mind when He told His parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). This “good” thief had been a burden, a blight on society – and so he was sentenced to death for his crimes.
But despite his faulty resume, this “good” thief had a right view of God! He asked the other bellicose thief, “Don’t you fear God?” He put the “bad” thief in his place by correcting the latter’s improper assumptions of Jesus Christ.
To put this remarkable situation another way, the “good” thief’s mouth revealed the condition of his heart (Luke 6:45). The Bible teaches that you are what you say, and the “good” thief said to Jesus Christ, “…remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Whoa! By ANY measure, this is an astounding statement!
Consider that by this point, all of Jesus’ disciples had fled the scene, and only John is recorded as being at the cross (John 19:26). These disciples were the men Jesus had personally trained. These were the guys who had seen supernatural evidence of Jesus’ power and authority. These were the guys who had learned from the Messiah Himself – and they were nowhere to be found!
The “good” thief, on the other hand, had had none of that training and experience. He had not spent the same time with Jesus Christ, and he had not seen all the miracles Jesus had done. He knew far less about Jesus than others did. By conventional standards, the “good” thief had missed the boat.
On top of all that, Jesus Christ was now dying. Beaten and bloodied so badly, He was now unrecognizable (Isaiah 52:14). Jesus was breathing His last right there beside the “good” thief, and by all measures of the term, Jesus Christ appeared mortal. Few people at that crucifixion scene were confident in Jesus Christ’s future kingdom.
But faith sees through the way things seem to the way they really are (Heb. 11:1), and so here the “good” thief showed more faith than many upright personalities in the Scriptures. The “good” thief saw Jesus Christ correctly. He didn’t see a dying man – he saw a living King of kings. He didn’t see someone who had failed and was unable to deliver – he saw someone who was assured of having the final victory. He didn’t see someone who was abused and humiliated by others – he saw someone who had infinite power.
In short, the “good” thief recognized Jesus Christ as the Messiah! He knew Jesus was not an imposter or someone who couldn’t deliver on His promises. The “good” thief looked beyond the limitations of that horrible situation, beyond the natural questions that saturated that awful scene, and he fully understood that Jesus Christ would still receive and set up His everlasting kingdom.
The “good” thief faced personal adversities that exceeded those challenges John the Baptist and Judas Iscariot had faced, and yet – against all human understanding! – he still believed that Jesus was exactly who He said He was. For his astounding demonstration of genuine faith, the “good” thief received way more benefit than he had bargained for.
It’s a weighty question, but I have to ask it. Which one of these three individuals are you most like right now? Are you like John the Baptist: insecure, unsure, disappointed, and needing reassurance that God is still able to be the God you most need? Are you asking God to reaffirm Himself to you so that you can be convinced of His promises and plans?
Perhaps you are like Judas Iscariot: angry, resentful, focused on what you most want and what you feel the situation needs to be. Are you taking in the regular teaching of God’s Word and participating in a ministry – but it’s having little effect on changing who you are and how you’re seeing things?
Or, are you like the “good” thief? You are in a place where the odds are stacked against you – and by all standard assessments, there is no clear evidence that God is demonstrating Himself to you the way your desperate situation most needs Him to. Do you find yourself in a tenuous spot where you cannot see the power of God in the circumstances you are facing – – – and yet your heart is still bursting with faith?
I cannot answer the tough questions of these last few paragraphs for anyone but myself. However, my prayer for all of us is that our faith rises up and shows itself in the tough and uncertain times just as the faith of the “good” thief did.
The “good” thief didn’t see Jesus Christ as someone who had let him down – he properly saw the only one who gave him hope.
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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years
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The Rescue: Danny’s Mom, Part 2
(since everyone wanted Danny’s Mom, Part 2, here you go! I give you Ryan Michaelson’ s first major protective outburst on Danny’s behalf post-rescue! CW: serious parental emotional abuse/manipulation and certain coping mechanisms common to children who spend time in foster care are referenced here in a big way. Danny’s parents/background actually feeds heavily into his difficulty in recovery. Also referenced/implied non con/abuse/torture while he was with Bram)
Tagging @spiffythespook, @special-spicy-chicken, and @bleeding-demon-teeth - ask to be tagged if you want! After this I’m going to start working on Bad Things Happen Bingo
Continued from The Rescue: Danny’s Mom, Part 1
“How could you let that happen to your face?”
There’s a half-second, in the little break room, where the only sound is the soft humming of the vending machines and the low chatter of other people speaking down the hall. Even that soft sound is nearly drowned out by the simple rhythmic rush of the blood in Danny’s veins.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Corrine murmurs, turning his head from side to side to take a better look. Danny is so good at holding still, now, for touching he doesn’t want. He is so, so good at it. He takes a deep breath as silently as he can, holds it for five counts, slowly exhales.
Her eyes trace the line of his scars, noting the way they perfectly echo the shape of the metal, the tiny pockmarked spots where the jagged edges were designed to dig in and hurt worse. Danny is a good boy, there is no lesson from Abraham he has not learned, and he holds himself still under her touch.
Hands there are always more hands
Please stop touching me
Please stop
Stop
He keeps all of it, the disobedience, the pleading, the rebellious wrong thoughts, behind his teeth. Abraham would be proud of him, he thinks, and hunches himself over just a little more, until he is nearly down to Ryan’s height, his shoulders up near his chin.
Corrine’s mouth twists, just a little, as she notes where the wounds have covered over the freckles that she once told a very young Danny, with an impish sort of smile, set him apart from the crowd. Oh, honey, don’t be ashamed of your freckles. It’s good that you look so different from us in the photos. “What did you do?”
Ryan freezes, his mouth open. Corrine’s expression isn’t new - the memories Abraham trained out of him flash past, half-glimpses and moments of a life he barely remembers living now. He’s not supposed to remember, and he tries to remember Abraham instead, but he can’t quite force Danny all the way back down.
She has always looked at him this way.  
Oh, Danny, did you get in a fight again? Well, ask yourself - what are you doing to get those boys to pick on you so much?
(now, little Red, I want you to tell me what you did to deserve what I’m about to do to you)
Your father found the stash you’ve been hiding in the treehouse, young man. Shouldn’t you be over this by now? How long exactly do you need to be out of that group home before you stop hoarding food?
(you did such a good job cooking our dinner tonight, didn’t you? oh, no, you won’t be eating it. you haven’t been good at all tonight. maybe you’ll be feeling a little more well-behaved by breakfast, hm?)
Honestly, Daniel Michaelson, what were you thinking? How could you be so stupid? It’s like we don’t even know you!
(I know you so well, sweet thing, I have cut open all your mysteries and made them mine)
Oh, Danny, of course we care deeply about you, it’s just…
(nate and I are the only ones who could ever love you now)
Clearly, this was your idea, once again. You're the bigger brother, you were supposed to be smarter than this! I swear, sometimes I regret ever adopting you-... oh, Danny, darling, I didn’t mean that, I swear… you forgive me, right?
(what a good, good boy you are for me. you’ll be my good puppy and forgive me everything)
"I don’t know what I did,” He answers, honestly. After four years, he still doesn’t know what sin he committed, what grievous error, that meant he had deserved this. “I’m so sorry."
His lips almost don’t move, air barely turns to sound. Her fingers on his face are too much like Abraham’s - the ends are cold, although her palms are warm. In one of the pulses of memory he isn’t allowed to have (there is no life before Abraham) he suddenly knows Corrine has a circulation problem, her fingers are always cold, have always been cold.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” Corrine says gently to him, with real affection and concern. “We’ll make sure no one gets any shots of this on the way out to the car.”
Ryan stares at Corrine with his mouth hanging open, his hand out to grab her by the arm to pull her back. “Jesus Christ, Mom! You think he gives a shit about that right now? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Danny’s eyes swing to Ryan, blinking away the tears that had tried to protect him from the look on Corrine’s face, and he nearly quails before the righteous anger on his little brother’s. Sometimes Nate gets angry like that, but Abraham always makes him so very sorry he ever tried to fight back.
Don't argue, Red and Daniel think simultaneously, for once the beaten puppy and Corrine Michaelson's broken son agree. It only makes it worse. Please, he likes it when they fight back at first.
(you’ve got a mouth on you. I’m going to fix that)
“What?” Corrine turns to look at her younger son and her hands finally - finally - drop from Danny’s face, but he can still feel them, still feel the imprint of fingers along his skin, the slight scratch of the long nails, the chill of her fingers. “What did I say? He won’t want anyone to see his face like this, and the last thing we need is photos out there circulating-”
“What did you… you have got to be kidding me. You are literally the only person in this room who gives a shit about whether or not some dumbass takes a cell phone shot of his fucking face. Mom. You know what you just said is shitty!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Corrine snaps back, the first hint of real temper breaking her perfectly calm, I-am-the-best-mother façade.
Danny flinches, then catches himself, balling his hands into fists until the pain of his nails digging into his palms helps him keep himself still.
Never flinch.
(good boy)
“All I did,” Corrine says, her voice suddenly dripping with exaggerated patience as two of the police walk past the breakroom door and glance in on their way, “was ask how this happened.”
“No,” Ryan says coldly. “That’s not what you said and you know it, Mother.”
Please stop fighting, please stop, please don’t argue
(what the fuck, Nate? I took him because I love you!)
B-Bram, please, d-don’t say you’re h-h-hurting him because of me-
(I did all of this for you! Isn’t this what you wanted, a real house, a real family? I forgave you for killing mine, and I gave you a new one, and this is how you thank me?)
“Oh, don’t you Mother me, Ryan Michaelson-”
“And don’t you Ryan Michaelson me! I’m twenty-four years old, Mom, go ahead and pull out the middle name, you’re about to see that that shit doesn’t work anymore.” Ryan’s voice is too loud, too full of fury. Danny cringes away from them both, taking one step back, hoping no one will be angry with him for breaking a rule, even this much.
“Patrick, be a dear and close the door,” Corrine says coldly, and her husband glances up from his phone, apparently unbothered by the familial conflict taking place right in front of him. He moves to the door, closing it until it clicks.
Danny’s breath catches.
Don’t lock me in, don’t lock me up, I’m sorry, whatever I did, I’m so sorry. I swear I won’t do it again.
“Oh, yeah, can’t let the Canadians see you being like this, can we?” Ryan rolls his eyes. “One of them might start calling American newspapers from the sheer scandal, huh? Like police officers don’t have more important shit to think about!”
“Ryan, you need to calm yourself down. I don’t know why you’re so upset with me, but look, you’re scaring your brother-” Corrine gestures towards Danny, who stares down at her hand as it moves, terrified she’ll touch him with cold fingers again. “-and it’s been four years since we’ve been together, so let’s try and make this reunion more pleasant, hm?”
“Okay, first off,” Ryan yanks a sweater and jeans out of the plastic bag he brought in with him, all but throws it on the table, and rounds on his mother. “First off, you haven’t seen him in five years, or did you forget you basically threw him out of the house when he said he wouldn’t work for the company?”
Danny’s eyebrows come together in confusion. He doesn’t remember this. Is this a true thing? Sometimes his memories aren’t real, any longer, and he loses too many of them to tell the difference. Sooner or later Abraham cuts them out again.
Corrine puts one hand up to her collarbone. “Ryan, how dare you. We never did any such thing-”
“And secondly, and no you’re not going to stop me, Mom - he didn't let anyone do anything! I can’t believe I’m explaining this, you are my mother, if anything you should be the one explaining it to me!” He moves to step in front of Danny, who steps just as quickly back and away from him, hugging the blanket around himself.
Never pull away
(never pull away from me)
But they're not you, Abraham, is it still true if they’re not you?
“Well of course that’s not what I meant,” Corrine replies, and the distantly angry chill in her voice is too much like Abraham when he disobeys, when he’s a bad dog. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Ryan.”
“Mom. It's not 'putting words in your mouth' to repeat the exact thing you just said. What the absolute one hundred percent fuck? I genuinely cannot believe you can’t find it in yourself to be nice to him for five minutes, today of all days!"
“The boy’s got a point, Corrine,” Patrick rumbles, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Danny knows he uses the phone for business - he was probably checking on a deal or something, Daniel Michaelson thinks - and knows, the same sudden way he remembered about Corrine’s hands, that Patrick was the one who told him not to come back to the house until he agreed to work for the company and stop wasting his time being anything but a Michaelson boy. “Ryan did tell us to give the poor boy some space, for God’s sake.”
Danny’s eyes flicker to his father - or as close to one as he’s ever had - and there’s sympathy in Patrick, faded and by no means guaranteed, but even the amount he sees is a surprise to the man Danny used to be.
“Stop victim-blaming my big brother, Mom!” Ryan sounds exasperated. "I just. Seriously, this is why you should have spoken to Dr. Laurent before you came in here to see him. You obviously shouldn’t-... I shouldn’t have called you." Ryan glances over his shoulder at Danny, who tries to settle his face into calm acceptance, submission, whatever Ryan wants to see.
I can be good, I’m being good, this isn’t my fault, please don’t punish me.
“I’m so sorry, Dan,” Ryan says, and there’s no anger in his voice, no hint that Danny will be in trouble for causing a fight like he usually is. “I’m sorry that they managed to turn this into an argument when you haven’t seen everyone in so long.”
"You’re the one who lost his temper, and she is not victim-blaming him." Patrick glances sidelong at Corrine with an isn’t that just like our boy? expression, and Ryan looks nearly ready to explode. "Honestly, Ryan, the dramatics."
“I’m not being-... look, can you guys just step out and talk to the cops? We need to get Danny and Mr. Vandrum out of here so they can go back with me to the hotel.” Ryan turns back to Danny, giving him a slight smile. “The room has two beds and a fold-out sofa, so there’s lots of space for everyone, okay? I told you when I saw you before that I’d bring Mr. Vandrum back with us for now, and I meant it. Okay, Danny?”
“Oh-okay,” Danny whispers, looking down as Ryan pushes a folded sweater and jeans into his arms. Somehow, Ryan manages to do it without touching him even once, and Danny feels a nearly-painful spike of gratitude. "It's Red, though."
And I sleep on the floor, puppies don’t sleep in beds unless their owners say it’s okay, and Abraham’s in a hospital, he can’t tell me it’s okay.
Maybe if Nate says it’s okay? Maybe I can sleep with him?
(nate, you have to understand how it works. I took him because I love you, because when you’re like us, you need to have someone ready and perfect until you can make them on your own)
"What?" Ryan blinks.
"My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner." Danny points at his neck before he remembers that the police took his collar away and his hand falters, drops nervously back to his side, his other arm clutching the new clothing tighter to his chest. “Thank you for new clothes. Am I allowed to wear them?”
“Yes, sure, Red, of course you are, sorry I got your name wrong, okay?” Ryan’s eyes search his, and Danny hopes whatever he finds in them is enough that he doesn’t regret that Danny is alive, doesn’t think maybe he’d have been better off dead.
Sometimes Danny thinks it might have been easier if-
“We’ll get you changed,” Ryan says gently, speaking in a low voice. His hands go out as if to take Danny by the shoulders, and when Danny steps back, Ryan’s hands drop. “S-sorry, man. I’m kind of a hugger... you remember right? I’m trying to remember not to, I just...”
“I remember you are,” Danny says. “I remember. Please don’t, though.”
(you keep saying you don’t like this but we both know you do)
No, I don’t, please, I don’t-
(good boy, you know you don’t get to choose, this body doesn’t belong to you)
“I won’t, D-... Red. I won’t, I promise.” Ryan looks over his shoulder. “Can you guys just go, maybe? Just go on. I appreciate you bringing his clothing and everything, but… but I don’t think this was a good idea.”
“Ryan, we are his parents!” Still, Corrine’s protest seems half-hearted, and the part of him that is still who he used to be thinks she looks relieved, not upset.
Danny, what is wrong with you? Taking your brother with you to see those delinquent friends of yours? Bringing him home drunk and claiming it was his idea? I don’t want to see your face right now, young man!
(show me your face, puppy. god, you’re so beautiful now. has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?)
Sweetheart, I don’t want you thinking about a career outside of the company. Don’t you think three years is enough wasted time after graduation?
(don’t worry, sweet thing, I would never let you die, I want to keep you forever. there could never be enough time for me to be finished with you)
Mrs. Verona was cleaning your room and found this. Care to explain to me why you have a backpack in the back of your closet? Are you planning to run away, young man?
(go ahead, try to run away. we’re thirty miles from the nearest anything. you won’t get far, and I’ll come for you, and you’ll regret that you ever, ever tried)
This is a family business, Daniel Michaelson, and if you want to be welcome in this house, you will be a part of it! Walk out that door and you may as well not be part of this family at all!
(this is your family now, little Red)
“... at least go talk to the trauma expert first, okay?” Ryan is still talking, and Danny tries to focus on him, the hunger in him buzzing and buzzing around his mind with the memories he’s not supposed to have. “Like I did? She said it’s going to take a while, maybe a long time, for him to feel comfortable with us again, and you-... you’re…” Ryan sighs, and Danny feels an urge to reach out and hug him, and the terror of the thought locks his muscles in place. “You’re not helping.”
“Oh, God,” Corrine whispers, and when Danny looks at her, there are tears in her eyes. “Oh, we’re not, are we? I’m sorry, Ryan. We’ll go see if Dr. Laurent can be reached to speak with us, and we’ll meet you at the hotel tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” Ryan says, visibly relieved. “Okay. Thank you.”
You’re not sorry, the snide voice in Danny whispers. You just noticed the doorknob turning and remembered someone might hear you. Can’t look bad in front of people, can we? No, we’re just a wreck in private like every other family-
Stop it, these are wrong thoughts
Stop having the wrong thoughts
Sure enough, the door swings open, but it’s not the police, or detectives.
It’s Nate.
Corrine and Patrick turn to look at him with confusion, but Danny is already moving, and Nate is only looking at him. Nate is always only looking at him.
From the moment Danny came back to himself in the truck, Nate looks at him the way a man might look when given water in the desert, and he is moving too. Danny buries himself into Nate’s side, his knees shaking, lightheaded from hunger and fear and worry, but here is something he knows, here is the man who still smells faintly of gasoline and smoke, sliding an arm around him, and Danny fits easily against him the way he always has.
“I assume,” Patrick says, with a note of confusion, “that this is Mr. Nathaniel Vandrum.”
“Th-that’s me,” Nate says, his eyes scanning Corrine and Patrick thoughtfully - his eyes are always thoughtful, calculating, analyzing. Danny tucks his head into the crook of Nate’s neck. “I’d sh-sh-shake your hand, b-but my right h-hand doesn’t work. Pleased to m-m-meet you.”
“Of course we should thank you for saving our son,” Corrine says, suddenly warm and relieved and every inch the image of the perfect mother. There’s a hint of distance even to her act, though, and Danny thinks Nate isn’t fooled.
“No n-n-need. Only wish I c-could have saved him s-s-sooner.” There’s real pain in the words, and Danny closes his eyes, his ear against Nate’s collarbone, feeling the vibration of his speech through his chest.
“I thought you said he doesn’t touch anyone now,” Corrine says, softly, to Ryan.
“Just Nate,” Ryan replies, bitterly. “Just him. Go on and ask about Dr. Laurent. I’m going to get these two changed and see if the cops’ll let us go back to the hotel for the night. I know they want us back in the morning. Dad, I’m sure you’ve got company business, just let me handle it.”
“You’re twenty-four, are you sure you’re capable-”
“Dad. I got this. Just go.” There’s a pause, but Danny doesn’t open his eyes. He listens, instead, to Nate’s heartbeat, to the sound of his breathing. He’s listened to it so many nights, crying into Nate’s shoulder praying Abraham won’t wake up at the sound, sleeping curled around him to get as far from Abraham as he can without breaking the rules on the nights he is told to get into the bed, the nights he is sick and Nate lays with him on the floor next to his mat until his fevers break.
“Just go,” Ryan says again, more heavily. “I’ll call you when they dismiss us. My room number is 218, and there’s only the one hotel so I can’t imagine you’ll struggle to find it. Mom, can you start looking for a therapist, I think he’s gonna need-”
“I’m sure he will, dear.” Corrine is quiet for a second, and then she says softly, “We’ll see you later, Danny, okay, darling?”
Why call me ‘darling’? It’s not like there are any cameras here
Shut up stop it
(no one else will ever love you now)
Joke’s on you, they didn’t love me then
“Red,” Danny mumbles against Nate, whose arm tightens just a little, warm and solid around his back. Nate is safety - Nate is certainty - Nate hasn’t ever hurt him without being forced to. “My name is Red and I belong to-”
“She knows, buddy,” Ryan says quickly. “Good night, Mom. Night, Dad. I’ll call you later.”
The door closes, and Danny feels they are gone, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He just lets himself rest against Nate, trying to remember that he is safe, that Abraham is locked to a hospital bed, tied down the way he used to tie Danny down, voiceless the way he used to make Danny voiceless.
“Th-those are your p-p-parents?” Nate asks, and Danny luxuriates in the simple safety of his low, deep voice.
“Yeah.” Ryan sighs, heavily. “I left you some clothes on the table. I don’t know how well they’ll fit, I mostly just kind of guessed, but the cops want what you were wearing when you set the fire, so… you’ll have to change. Look, I got us a hotel room. They’ll want you back tomorrow, but the last person I spoke to said it looks like you’re good to come back to the states after that.”
There’s a silence. “I d-d-don’t have anywhere t-to go,” Nate finally says, a little heavily. “M-my... everything is g-g-gone. I don’t-”
“Yeah, you do.” Danny hears the door open again, Ryan’s voice a little fainter with distance. “I’ve been living in Danny’s apartment, so he still has it.” There’s a long pause. 
When Ryan speaks again, he sounds like he’s being forced to eat something he hates. “You’re coming home with us. With... with Red and I. I don’t know what the shit happened to him, but I can already tell I can’t do this by myself and trust me, my parents will only make it worse. I don’t like it, but… you’re coming with us. Get changed. I’ll go talk to the cops.”
The door closes, and the two of them are alone. Danny enjoys the silence, this time. It’s the silence he wants. He’s so hungry, but he can tell Nate about it later and Nate will give him permission to eat. Right now he just wants to breathe, to feel Nate’s warmth, to have something he knows here with him after it’s over.
Someone who is safe to talk to, to have wrong thoughts with. Someone who has wrong thoughts, too.
“R-Red?”
“Hm?” Danny finally pulls back, just enough to stand up at his full height, looking down a little at the older man. The self-protective coldness he holds himself with is gone now that they’re alone, his jaw softened, his mouth lifted in a half-smile right where the scar cuts slightly into his top lip. Danny loves him, he is so good for him, he will always be so good for Nate.
He belongs to Nate, now - now that Abraham is not his owner any longer, it has to be Nate, who saved him.
“I don’t th-th-think your b-brother likes me very much,” Nate says dryly.
Probably because he knows I’m yours, now, instead.
(look at you, puppy, I’ve made you so perfect for my Nate)
Danny huffs a nearly-soundless laugh.
Abraham is right, he is always right, about everything.
He is so perfect, for Nate.
He is so good.
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Text
Take it on the Run - Dean Winchester part 3
Read part 2 here!
Warnings: mention of sex, fluff
Summary: After a month long, whirl-wind romance with the new guy in town (Dean), he ghosts, as if he never existed. You are devastated, eating plenty of ice cream, your friend decides to take you out for drinks and karaoke. Maybe something happens who knows  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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"You're doing what?!" I pulled the phone away from my ear as (Y/F/N)'s shrill voice came through the receiver.
"I said I'm going out with Dean tonight-"
"No, I heard you. Loud and clear. Fuzzybritches, are you hearing this crap?" A soft mew followed. Fuzzybritches was as old as I was and, as (Y/F/N) put it, as wise as a mountain. Which made as much sense as it sounded.
"You're involving Fuzzy so you must not be that mad." I said as I pulled into the diner Dean asked me to meet him at. It had become a regular meeting place before he left. It had the classic diner feel and at the same time felt like grandma's kitchen, comfortable and familiar.
"The jury is still out on Mr. Winchester." Was all they said.
"Whatever." I said, not really paying attention because I saw the Baby pull up next to me.
"Like your voice changes when you're around him. You sound in love, it's disgusting." They said, scoffing.
"I'm hanging up now." I said. Dean looked over and mouthed my friend's name. I nodded, opening and closing my hand to mimic their jabber. Dean got out, coming around to open my door for me. I decided to put it on speaker phone.
"Hey (Y/F/N)." He said, a bright and intoxicatingly handsome smile on his face.
"Dean." They said, a grumpy mew following.
"I give you my word. I won't leave like that again. I think you'd hunt me down if I tried." He said, helping me out of the car.
"He's smart. I'll give him that." They said after a short pause.
"Goodbye!" I said, hanging up the phone. "Sorry." I said, leaning back against my door.
"Awh they're fine." He said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. This slight and minut gesture made my heart race. He led me inside where we were sat down in a booth. The seats were plastic cushions that would definitely be sticking to my thighs when I try to get up later (why did I wear shorts?), so looking forward to that. Darlene, the local waitress who had a thick southern accent even though she wasn't from the south, came up to us. Her golden blonde curls bouncing.
"Hey y'all!" She said, pulling a small notebook and pen out of her apron pocket, "Been a while since I saw you two." She looked at Dean, "And don't worry, we got fresh pie waitin' fer ya."
Dean smiled, tapping his hand on the table, "Now that's what I like to hear." We ordered our drinks and food before being left to ourselves.
"So how was your day?" He asked. The simplicity of the question was strange. If what he said was true, he was a a trained gun. He has probably killed people. But he was here in this diner. With me. Enjoying the simplicity.
"Uh, good. Kinda. My coworker didn't come into work this morning. He called in sick even though we were supposed to be working on a project together. To be honest, I'm not surprised. He's kind of a flake anyway." I sighed. Trevor, the coworker in question, was a pretty unreliable when it came to group projects. It was odd because he emailed me some reports last night and didn't mention that he was sick.
"Sounds like a douche." He said, leaning back against the booth.
"What about you? What have you been up to?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning on the table. He smirked at me, his dimples making an appearance.
"Oh I've been around." He had a look in his eyes, that mischievous look that made me shiver. Because they were oh so similar to his bedroom eyes.
"What have you got planned, mister?"
He shrugged, "You'll see." Before I could say more, Darlene returned with our drinks and food, the subject temporary forgotten.
-
After pie and paying, we left the diner. Dean went ahead and opened the passenger side of the Impala for me.
"Oh what a gentleman." I pressed a hand to my chest. I sat inside, looking over the interior. He once told me that he had rebuilt this car plenty of times. Keeping a few touches that had been there forever. The army man that Sam shoved into the ashtray was a cute touch. He also said that he had shoved Legos into the vents and when you turned on the heat you could hear them rattle.
Dean got into the driver's side and twisted the key to start up the car. The purr of the engine could probably put me to sleep if I stayed long enough.
"I got a little surprise planned, just sit back and relax." He drew out the last word as he turned on the radio. The tell-tale guitar started playing, surprising me.
"Fleetwood Mac?" I asked, they were one of my favorite bands growing up. Landslide was probably my favorite song of all time.
He nodded, singing to the opening verse, "Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies..." The Chain could get anyone pumped up, it was the perfect song a trip down the road, going plenty over the speed limit.
-
"Can I open my eyes now." Dean had me blindfolded with a bandana. I was leaned up against the Impala, arms crossed because of the cold.
"Just a minute, sweetheart." He said as he shut the trunk of the Impala.
"If I didn't know any better, this is some serial killer behavior." I teased. I heard him laugh and then heard the sound of what sounded like fabric.
"Oh you'll see." He clicked his tongue, "There." There was the sound of soft grass under his boots as he walked towards me. I felt his hands pull off the bandana.
"Eyes closed." He said, "Just trust me." I sighed but complied. He took my hands in his own, leading me down a small hit and out a few feet.
"Here we are..." He moved around behind me, "And open." When I opened my eyes, I felt my cheeks getting sore from the smile on my face. He had laid out a large flannel blanket and a couple pillows. There was an open cooler in the corner, a couple beers and fruity drinks inside. There were small citronella candles flickering away. The sun was setting, giving the scene a warm glow.
"Dean...." I whispered. Not really knowing what to say. It looks like it's straight out of a Pinterest post pinned by some girl with too many y's in her name and captioned: goals. But here I was, experiencing goals.
"You said you wanted to go star gazing. And I think it will give us a chance to... Reconnect emotionally." He said as if the words were rehearsed.
"Those are Sam's words." I teased, turning to look at him. He shrugged, "He's useful sometimes."
"It's...this is amazing, Dean. Really... This is all I could have asked for. " I really couldn't describe how I felt. It was so grand and the same time it was so simple.
-
We had been lying there for hours, talking about anything that we could think of. Our lives, our families. He was still keeping secrets, but I didn't care. I was lying on my side, resting my head on a pillow. I could tell that he probably snuck them out of the motel he was staying in. The position he was in reminded me of a particularly steamy encounter.
~
My chest was heavy heavily, my hair was sticking to the sides of my face. Five times. I didn't think five times was possible. But as Dean put it, the sounds that I was making were payment enough for the incredible things that man could do. He had traced his tongue over every tattoo he could find. The falling angel, the white wing dove, the Mississippi moon, the Celtic infinity knot, and the most sensitive, the crystal on my hip. I sat up on my elbows, turning to look at the Adonis next to me and a softness filled my heart. He was lying there, his chest rising and falling steadily. One of his hands was on his stomach, the other behind his head. A smile plastered on his face, his nose (which was extremely adorable, I didn't know having an adorable nose was even possible), and his eyes were completely focused on me in a look that I could only describe as adoration. Even as I met his eyes, he didn't look away. He continued to stare. Continued to smile.
~
There he was again, staring at me now. This look had much more meaning than it did before. It was after we just had sex when all our dopamine was rushing to our brains. No, this was just being in each other presence. No need for sex, not even a kiss, just each other.
"What are you thinking?" I whispered. I wanted to reach out and touch him but I was too afraid to ruin this moment.
He grinned, the tip of his tongue poking out from underneath his teeth, "Do you remember that drive we took? Just hours and hours of driving to nowhere?"
Oh my God, oh God, oh Jesus Christ. Was he talking about what I think he's talking about? Oh God, my heart is in my throat.
"Of course." My voice was barely there, practically a whisper in the wind.
"You told me something that scared the living shit out of me." He said, there was a slight shake in his voice. Okay. Words I was not expecting. The disappointment is creeping in.
"You told me you loved me and I uh..." He paused, not meeting my gaze, "Only one other woman has ever said that to me. She ultimately got hurt because of me." Is he pushing me away? What does this mean? I would hate for my whole Pinterest goals moment to end like this.
"She got hurt because I thought it was safe, I loosened up. I wasn't at my best. Sam was gone..." He shook his head, "Gone at the hospital. He got really sick. My mind was everywhere. But that doesn't excuse that she got hurt. But when I look at you..." He reached a hand out, cupping my face, "I know that no force on heaven, earth, or hell could ever take you away from me. I...." He brought himself closer to me. I could feel his hot breath against my lips, his eye lashes batting against mine.
"I love you."
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AWWW it's happy! For now.
You can read part 4 here!
Reblogs and likes if you liked it!
Songs mentioned if you're interested:
Landslide - Fleetwood Mac
The Chain - Fleetwood Mac
Any Led Zeppelin
Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks
Black Water - The Doobie Brothers
Any Metallica
Crystal - Stevie Nicks
Taglist:
(shoot me an ask if you want to be added!)
@happy-little-marvel
@lsrgekwhtvr
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firethatgrewsolow · 5 years
Text
Swiss Time - Chapter Twenty-One
**Thanks for reading and hope you like it! The clock is closing in ... <3 PS - expect fluff :-)**
We’re off, Nattie. I suppose it’s a good thing that you didn’t want to come, considering you were near comatose when I came downstairs to say goodbye. There’s water and aspirin on your nightstand and orange juice in the refrigerator, courtesy of Christian. I would have let you suffer.
Natalie shook her head at the evil smiley face her aunt had drawn. Christ, she was definitely suffering and pretty certain that at some point her head was going to explode. She crawled out of bed and snatched up the aspirin, knocking them back with the lukewarm water. Grimacing, she returned to her nest, pulling up the covers around her as she continued to read.
We likely won’t be back for close to a week, so please take care of Duchess. Change her water every day, and make sure to wash the bowl. Her food is in the pantry, along with her brush and some of her toys. Her favorite is the little pink mouse. Make sure it’s filled with catnip at all times. And don’t forget her music. She enjoys classical, but only in the morning. In the evening, she prefers jazz.
Nat rolled her eyes. The cat got better treatment than she and Christian did. Her annoyance faded away as she heard a faint mewl next to her, and she bent over, smiling as Duchess sprang onto the bed. Running her fingers through the kitten’s soft gray fur, she turned her attention back to the note.
You should be set in terms of groceries as I had extra delivered before the party, but feel free to order more or dine at the hotel. Just charge it to Christian.
Natalie’s stomach grumbled. A good sign in the midst of the worst hangover she’d ever had. At least she could still eat. The aspirin was beginning to work, as well. Maybe she’d actually live through the day.
Okay, that covers it. You have our hotel information should you need to contact us. Have a wonderful, relaxing week, darling. Oh, and one more thing. Apparently, you spoke to Robert on the phone last night. It was a rather animated conversation. At least, what I caught of it, which unfortunately was only about half.
Nat stilled. She’d spoken to Robert? Oh, shit. She replayed the evening, what she could remember of it, racking her brain for a clue about the conversation. Did I call him? Or did he call me? Surely she’d not given in and phoned him. Oh, God. She breathed a sigh of relief as she read the next line.
In case you’re wondering, he called you. Anyway, after a rather interesting exchange, you told him to ring you at 3:00 sharp. Today. Given your state last night, I thought I’d remind you. Love to you, sweet. See you when we return.
Natalie’s eyes darted to the clock, her heart pounding. 2:58 … 2:59 … 3:00 She warily shifted her gaze to the phone on her bedside table, its silence a blaring warning of yet another broken promise. Still, she waited, hopeful. One minute ticked by, then a second, and then a third. By the fourth, the familiar pang of disappointment washed over her. By the fifth, she gave up, her eyes welling. What did you expect? He never comes through. She stood, squaring her shoulders as Duchess scampered under the bed. Fuck him. Get on with the day.
She was due to meet a group of friends at the Christmas market later that evening, but her desire to go had been vanquished. She padded to the french doors that led to the patio and pushed them open, taking in the glorious view. Even with a chill in the air, it never failed to uplift her, the sublime beauty of the nature around her like a tonic that could cure all ails. Except today. Stretching, she determined she needed another tonic - hair of the dog and a soak in the hot tub.
Natalie headed to the bathroom, shedding her clothes along the way. She brushed her teeth and pulled up her hair, splashing cold water on her face to wash away the night. Satisfied with what peered back at her, she grabbed a towel and made her way toward the porch, freezing mid-stride. She glanced toward the ceiling, certain that she’d heard something upstairs. Or someone. Wrapping the towel tightly around her, she tiptoed to the landing, tilting her head. She waited a beat, and then another. Silence. Finally convinced all was well, she whirled around, slamming into what felt like a wall. She shrieked as she realized it was human.
“Whoa! It’s just me ...” Robert trailed off as her towel hit the floor, his eyes sailing up and down her completely naked form. He barely registered her scowl and the swift smack of his shoulder as she scrambled for the wrap.
“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you, too, Nat.”
“How the hell did you get in?”
Robert gestured to the french doors that were wide open. “Nobody answered upstairs so I came around back. It was … open.” His eyes traced her frame as his mouth curled up. “Do you always traipse around so scantily clad? Aren’t you worried about your neighbors?”
“Apparently, I need to be more worried about random English miscreants. And I was about to get into the hot tub.”  Nat cocked her head. “You didn’t answer my question, by the way. What are you doing here?”
Robert chuckled. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? I told you I was coming. You didn’t really think a simple phone call would do, did you? Not after the conversation we had.” Natalie opened her mouth, only to close it, and Robert narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You do remember last night, right? Our conversation? The things you were saying?” His voice cracked on the last syllable.
“It’s, um, kind of hazy.”
“Are you bloody serious? Fucking hell, woman.”
Her eyes widened. “What all did I say?”
Robert barked a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You likely wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Was it bad?”
He expelled a breath. “No, I’d say it was rather good.” Robert nibbled his lip as she stared at him, bewildered. “Nevermind. Christ. Anyway, it seems that I’m here, I suppose unexpectedly. I can’t stomach another two hours on the train, and I’m bloody well starving so I’ll have to sort it out tomorrow. If that’s alright with you.”
The adrenaline from her initial fear had given way to that of elation. He’d come to see her. He was there in the flesh, just for her. But what was it she’d said to make him drop everything and come running? Flashes of the previous night flickered through her head as if his physical presence was jarring them, conjuring them. There had been the phone call, that she could recollect … she’d chastised him for not knowing about the fire … then she’d teased him about the article, losing her virginity, she’d joked, and then … Oh, my God. It all flooded back at once, a dam breaking in her mind. Jesus Christ. What had she been thinking talking like that? No wonder he got his ass on a plane. She fought the crimson burn that crept across her cheeks. It was true, though, every single word.
“Are you alright? I can, ah, make arrangements at the hotel if you-”
“No, no, you can stay here. Susan and Christian are in Vienna for a week. It would be nice to have company.” Nat adjusted the towel, the cool air from the porch a blessing for her tingling skin. “Maybe we could go into town for the Christmas market later.”
“I did see a big ferris wheel on the way up here.”
“It’s really pretty at night with all the colored lights. And there’s ice skating and games. It’ll be fun.”
“I’d like that.” Robert closed the gap between them, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. “I am so happy to see you. I’ve missed you.”
Her breathing hitched as he cupped her chin. And just like that, she was lost. It was as if no time had passed. His touch riveted her, cloaking her in his magic spell. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Robert grazed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re not upset that I came, are you?”
“I hoped you would,” Nat replied, a devilish smile blooming on her face. “Why do you think I said all those things?”
His mouth fell open. “You little ... tart.” She squealed as he pounced, throwing her over his shoulder and swatting her backside. “You’re a dirty little girl. And do you know what happens to dirty little girls?”
Natalie giggled as he tossed her onto the bed, dropping over her. “Bad things?”
Robert shook his head, his eyes gliding along the line of her throat. “No. Very bad things.” He nipped her chin. “Extremely bad, as a matter of fact.” He slid his lips across hers, bound for her ear. “But not until I have a bit of snap and a look at the fair. We English take Christmas very seriously.”
*          *          *
A sea of hats and heavy wool coats littered the ice, swirling around them with wild abandon. As Robert gently tugged her through the throng, Nat’s knees buckled, and she reached for his shoulders, her grin matching his as he caught her.
“Christ, Natalie, you’re a resident of Switzerland, and you can’t ice skate?”
Nat wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got candy apple in your teeth.”
“So do you,” the singer shot back, his brow lifting.
“At least I have all mine.”
“Ouch.” Robert snickered. “I suppose one can’t be perfect. But I’m not far off.” Natalie yelped, gripping him tighter as he took a wide stride backwards, parting the pool of revelers behind him. “You need a proper lesson.”
Nat snuggled into the warmth of his chest, so solid and strong. She knew very well how to maneuver on the ice. In fact, she was a crack skater and loved it. But she loved his arms wrapped around her even more. “Just keep holding me, and I’ll skate along with you.”
“Is this a ploy to keep me close to you?” Robert asked, narrowing his eyes.
She batted her lashes. “Whyever would you think that?”
“Because you’re very tricky. My tricky little-”
“I know. Minx.” She pecked his dimpled cheek. “I like being your minx.”
Robert slowed to a stop. “And my muse?”
“Your muse? I’ve never been a muse before.”
“Not even your good friend David’s?”
She studied the tip of her boot. “He’s never mentioned it.”
Robert skimmed his fingers under her chin, reclaiming her gaze. “He’s a fool, then.” He could feel her swallow through the thin leather of his glove as he drew closer, his eyes dropping to her lips. “An absolute f-”
“Attention! Attention!”
The boy’s warning rang out too late, and Natalie clung to Robert as the child careened into them, depositing them into a twisted pile on the ice. He sprang up as fast as he’d gone down, muttering an apology before sliding away to wreak havoc elsewhere. She smiled as Robert stood, offering her his hand. “At least I’m not the worst one out here.”
“Something tells me you’re far from the worst.” He looped his arm through hers, guiding her to the side of the rink. “Let’s try an activity a hair less hazardous.”
While Natalie returned their skates, Robert was dispatched to procure tickets for the ferris wheel. A light snow filled the air as the last thread of dusk faded, and the market came alive. Strolling carolers roamed the network of booths, and bawdy laughter emanated from tents and too many helpings of spiked apple cider. The scents of pine and baked delicacies wafted endlessly around the twinkling tinsel-draped trees scattered about. It was one of her favorite things, a wonderful mix of spectacle and domesticity, convivial, but community, too.
“You ready?”
She nodded. “I’ve got to warn you. I don’t love heights.”
He gave her a squeeze. “I’ll protect you, my lady.”
“That doesn’t inspire much confidence.”
With more than a whisper of trepidation, Natalie boarded the car, which creaked mightily as the wheel began to turn. She instinctively grabbed Robert’s hand, her mouth curving as their fingers entwined. “This thing sure looked better from a distance.”
“It does seem to have seen finer days.”
The clamor from the festivities below them receded as they soared higher and higher, until they reached the apex of the circle. The cabin rocked back and forth as the motion suddenly ceased, and Nat’s smile disappeared. “Why did we stop? What’s going on?” She glanced to Robert, unimpressed with his mischievous smirk. “Wait. Did you tell them to? The other riders are not going to be …” The words were lost as she inspected the cars below them, all empty. “You bought all the tickets.”
“That and a healthy, ah, contribution should allow us a bit of privacy.” Robert guided her hand to his lips, caressing the back of it. “And a big view.”
A big view it was. Lights from the villages surrounding them danced in the distance. A bright full moon had peeked out from the clouds, sending silver shimmers across Lake Geneva and illuminating the snow covered peaks that abounded. “My God, I can see forever. It’s so beautiful.”
“Ah, but you put it to shame, Natalia.” Robert slid off her glove, kissing each of her fingers one by one.
He hadn’t used her nickname since his last visit to Montreux, and Natalie savored the intimacy of the moment. He was a hopeless romantic, and by default, had temporarily made her one, too. It was easy to get lost in him, his subtle smile and gentle gaze impossible to resist. So handsome, but there was far more to it than that. He had an aura, an air, a way that connected with her like no one else. She knew better than to let it happen, but that was just it. She’d no control. None whatsoever.
Robert skimmed his lips across her wrist. “You okay?”
Nat blinked, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“What are you thinking about?”
She took a breath, hesitating. That I’m in love with you. And I’m scared to death. “Nothing much.”
Robert’s brow wrinkled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The car lurched forward, hurdling them back against the seat. And her senses back to her. She cleared her throat, summoning a smile. “I, um, thought I saw my house, that’s all.”
“Where? Point to it.���
“I was wrong. Wrong direction.” She shrugged, slipping her glove back on. “We should probably get back. I don’t want to leave Duchess alone too long.”
“Who’s Duchess?”
“Our new kitten. I would have introduced you to her, but she gets nervous around people she doesn’t know. She’s probably still under one of the beds.”
“I bet I can coax her out. I’ve a way with the ladies, you know,” Robert added with a wink.
Natalie snorted. “Highly doubtful.”
“Shall we make a formal wager?”
Her gaze snapped to his. “What are the stakes?”
Robert pursed his lips. “If I win, I get to kiss you.”
“That’s it? No conditions?”
“Just one.” A wicked grin creased Robert’s face. “I get to do it anywhere I want.”
Natalie’s heart skipped a beat as sultry heat exploded in her tummy, slowly drifting lower. The things he could do to her with only words, the need he could summon with a simple phrase. It was nearly debilitating. She finally found her voice. “And if you lose?”
His dimple deepened. “Oh, darlin’, I’m not going to lose.”
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irwnsrcses · 5 years
Text
dancing with the devil pt.3 | ashton
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requested: yes
word count: 2.7k+
synopsis: it takes two to tango, it also takes two to fuck. everything about us is messy yet fun yet something that shouldn’t have begun. but my god, dancing with the devil is so much fun. aka is there such thing as being “exclusive fuck buddies”?
warning: mentions of drug use 
a/n: sorry that it took so long! the ending is blehh but whatevers! sort of angsty? or like at least i tried to make it angsty. feedback is appreciated.
part 1 // part 2
inspired by my personal experience & the song ‘Dancing with the Devil’ - NIKI
masterlist // writing prompt list
It was just another ordinary night. I was in my bed texting Ashton with my laptop just playing a random youtube video for white noise. This routine was almost like embedded into our brains where we would just message each other for hours on end without realising it. We talked every day without even realising it. Even if it was a simple ‘good morning’ text, they would still occur every day which was one of the reasons why I couldn’t personally understand my true feelings towards Ashton.
One of the things that Ashton suddenly hated, especially after his last failing relationship, was PDA. Any sort of PDA to him, he just somehow found annoying, even if it was just a simple hand hold; he just didn’t like it at all and found it way too cheesy. So, whenever Ashton and I were in public together, any moment that I would he would be okay with just a simple touch that conveyed the message of us being more than just friends, he hated it, would instantly pull away and act as if nothing happened, which would cause me to play it off like it was an accident. Whenever he would do that, for some reason it would break my heart just a little.
Ashton is such a sweet and charismatic person that it would be weird being rejected constantly by someone in public yet in private, he would be a whole different person. He would turn into this soft hearted man and would be begging for my attention constantly. His hand would reach over and grab mine first. He would initiate the spooning and cuddling first. He will even as far as pulling me in close for a cuddle and just stare into my eyes in silence. Not saying a word, but just admiring.
Holy fuck. I hated it when he did that because it would mess with my head so much. He shouldn’t be allowed to just look at me like that and make me feel like that, like we were the last two people on earth and the only thing that mattered was us two in that moment. He would also give me the soft and sweetest smile. It wouldn’t be a huge smile, just a small one but it felt like it was made for me, especially when he leaned in and kissed me after giving me that smile. And the kisses would be different too, my god, were those kisses something else.
Saying that they gave me butterflies was a cliché and no, his kisses didn’t give me butterflies. They never did, instead they have me this gut turning feeling where my insides started to tie together like knots but I like that feeling. I like the feeling of having my stomach feeling funny and weirdly enough my heart beating so fast to the point where it would actually hurt my chest. I like the feeling of him giving me a slow and soft kiss whilst his hand caressed my cheek like my body was made out of fine china. I like the feeling he gives me and I like him… I think. 
Maybe.
‘what are you doing atm?’ his grey bubble read. 
‘nothing, just chilling in bed honestly.’ 
‘on a Friday night?’ 
‘well not everyone can party as hard as you, hun ahah.’ I sent, back, ‘speaking of which, don’t you have a bday party or something tonight?’ 
‘lols, yeah I do. I’m actually here atm.’
My eyes widen slightly at his message, realising that him and I have been texting back and forth for the last 20 minutes. I suddenly felt guilt for taking up his time when he should be having fun with his friends and not talking to a girl who isn’t even his girlfriend. Quickly sending him a text that was basically apologising for keeping him away from the fun, I finished it off by sending a quick ‘have fun, let me know when you get home.’ before locking my phone and trying to preoccupy myself with my laptop instead of his attention.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep and I have no idea how long I have been asleep for. All I know is that one minute I was watching a random cooking video on youtube and the next, I was being startled awake by my ringtone going off. Furrowing my eyebrows, I grabbed my phone from underneath my pillow and answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?” I mumbled, the sleepiness seeping through my tone of voice. 
“Oh fuck, did I wake you?” 
“No no, I was gonna get up anyways.” 
“At 2:30 in the morning?” 
“… Ashton what do you want again?”
Shifting in my bed, I turned onto my side and balanced my phone on top of my cheek so I would be able to sleep and still be on the phone with him at the same time.
“I just needed someone to talk to.” 
“How much did you have?” 
“Honestly, not that much… but I can feel myself crashing, Y/N.”
Hearing those words, I suddenly realised what kind of phone call I was going to have with Ashton right now. Letting out a quiet sigh, I felt myself suddenly more alert and awake in order to tend to the high boy’s needs.
“How many lines?” 
“Like 4 or 5.” 
“Jesus fucken Christ, Ash.”
I rubbed my face, remembering what Ashton would be like when he was on the come down of cocaine in his system. I wasn’t too sure why him and the boys dabbled in the Hollywood drug. I guess they personally didn’t care too much about the price tag affect their bank accounts or the fact that they would use the excuse of not doing it often, only here and there.
“Okay, where are you now? Are you home?” I asked, worried that the drummer was still at the house party and had no way home. I bit my lower lip in anticipation for his answer. When he mumbled that he was actually in his own bed, I let out a sigh of relief, deciding to try and take his mind off of his crash.
“How was the party? You hook up with any hot girls?” I teased. His laugh then quietly echoed through to my side of the phone call, making my heart skip a beat. His laugh. All of his different laughs made me feel the same way every single time; actual pure joy and happiness where I couldn’t help but just smile.
“The party was pretty fucked honestly. Like it was fun but so fucked. I am surprised that I even got home. I think Mitchy had to carry me and Cal into the Uber and then me and him had to carry each other up to the house.” He explained, letting out a few chuckles here and there. I rolled my eyes playfully, chuckling along with him as I could vividly imagine the tragedy it would’ve looked like with the two band members trying to help each other out up into the house.
“You guys are so fucken tragic. I am not even sure how you are even alive right now.” I laughed, shaking my head even though he wasn’t able to see it. “Any hot girls?” I teased, repeating my earlier question. I wasn’t too sure why I always asked him that question. I guess it was my own little way of verbally establishing to both him and myself that what we have and what we share is nothing but physical and that we shouldn’t limit each other to just the other. We both have no ties or actual obligations to each other. So why is it that it hurts me a bit to think of him with another girl?
“Yeah there were plenty of hot girls, one of them even came up to me and was chatting me up.” 
“Oh okays. Good for you. Make out with her?” 
“No. I couldn’t cause if I did, I would feel guilty.” 
“… oh.”
This was the first time I ever heard something even remotely close to Ashton possibly having some sort of feelings for me ever since our little arrangement started. Swallowing the lump that suddenly started to grow in my throat, I shifted slightly in my bed, trying to mentally prepare myself for a long phone call with him.
“W-Why would you feel guilty for making out with another girl? We’re not together.” 
“I know we’re not. But I feel like if I hook up with another girl, that in some way, I’m gonna be hurting you and that’s not fair on you. Like, I know we’re not together but I just feel like if I went out and hooked up with random girls and then come back to you, my guilt conscious will just eat me alive. And I just don’t want to upset you or make you cry. Like would you care if I actually ended up making out with her? Be honest.”
It was back. The massive lump in my throat. I hated it and I hated it when he would ask me questions like this. Why couldn’t he be the type of person who just wants to go to sleep during their crash of cocaine? Or just simply mellow out and chill out after it? Why did he have to be the type of people who suddenly get all emotional and deep about their thoughts, especially when it comes to relationships?
“Y/N?” 
“… y-yeah. I mean… I would care if you were to tell me that you did hook up with some random girl tonight or any other night, but like I said. We’re not together. As much as it hurts or like as much as it will annoy me that you went off and did it, I can’t get mad at you, cause I personally have no right to. Why would I get mad at you when again, you’re not my boyfriend.”
Those words started to taste more and more stale and heavy the more they naturally flowed out of my mouth. Between him and I, I was the sober one, which meant I had to be the sensible, and the logical one in this conversation. As intelligent and articulate Ashton was, he was in no mindset to be making any actual sense and then remember it in the morning, or at least once the phone call ends.
However, it made sense what I said to him and it was the truth. I would care, of course I would. Any girl who was tied to a guy like Ashton in any sort of romantic or sexual way would care if he went off to try and find something better than her. Any girl with the right mindset would care that someone she has been extremely intimate with, both physically and emotionally went off and repeated those vulnerable moments with another based on pure lust and alcohol driven thoughts. Of course, she would care… but again… Ashton isn’t mine.
And I hate that.
“Would you care if I went out and hooked up with another guy?” 
“Honestly?” 
“Yes honestly.” 
“… yeah I would.”
Hearing his answer, I thought it would make me feel better, like him and I understand each other and that we could both work on this to something greater and better than just a fling with benefits. But, it didn’t. Instead, it just created a new invisible weight, pressing down on my chest slowly as I tried to breathe. He fucks me over so much and he doesn’t even know it.
“Why would you care, though Ash?” 
“Because I do. I know it should cause like you said. We’re not together but that’s why I like you. You’re actually so smart and sensible and logical. I need that in my life. Like I feel like you will be such a good influence to me and I will just care if you make out with another guy, might get turned off a bit, but I mean… I will never get mad at you cause I can’t. Just like how you can’t get mad at me.”
Although he was venting, I couldn’t focus on anything else but the sentence of ‘that’s why I like you’. Those words just started to echo through my head as his rambling voice went in one ear and out the other. I wish he didn’t say shit like that because then he is just unknowingly building my hopes up.
‘He likes me. He just said he likes me. Holy fuck. Ashton Irwin actually likes me. What the fuck?’ were the thoughts that were running through my head.
“You know Luke asked me a question about you at the party. Earlier on.”
I snapped out of my overthinking trance, clearing my throat to try and focus all of my attention on his drunken and high words. However, it was slowly proving to be difficult especially at the fact that he just openly admitted to having feelings for me and that he would most definitely care if he were to ever see me with another man even just barely touch me, let alone kiss me the way that he does. My mind was slowly going insane as I found myself being so hung up on that tiny detail; a tiny but incredibly important detail.
“O-Oh? What did he say to you?”
“He asked me when I was gonna ask you out, cause he saw you texting me.” Before any words could come out of my mouth, Ashton continued to his little story without realising the little damage that it was going to cause to me.
“And honestly, I fucken hated it when he asked me that cause it put me on the spot and like I just hated how he expected me to ask you out. And like it wasn’t only him. The other guys came up to me during the party and was like ‘oi, where is your missus? Where is Y/N? did you not bring her?’ and it was just getting to me because I don’t want a relationship. Like… I like you and all but I don’t want anything at the moment and the fact that everyone around us is already building this expectation around us is just annoying me so much and I hate the fact that I can’t just kickback and relax. I have to apparently be in a relationship with you just because everyone else thinks we should and that’s fucked.”
Listening to Ashton’s rambling, I could feel my heart start to get heavier and heavier with each word. Aside from the fact that his words sounded as if him and I being together would be the most horrible idea ever, the tone in his voice just further emphasized it. It was like he grew ill of the thought of a possible relationship with me, which honestly made me feel like absolute crap. Ironically though, the only person who could make me feel better was him. He is the only one who can somehow push me so far down to the ground and yet just casually pick me up so effortlessly as if he wasn’t the reason why I would be crying in the corner with my knees up to my chest.
But I put up with it. 
I put up with it because I care about him. 
Both as a friend and as a “boyfriend”.
Which is why I stayed up till 4am talking to him on the phone, helping him through his emotional crash of the cocaine where he would tell me secrets that no one else knew about, including his own band mates, his biggest and darkest insecurities and worries because talking to me apparently made him feel better. But whilst it made him feel better, it just made me feel weaker because even though he seems to trust me with his entire life secrets, he still doesn’t want to be with me.
But I mean, maybe… just maybe… he will come to his senses? 
Or maybe I’ll come to mine…
But tonight is not the time to. Instead, I will just continue to lie in my bed with my phone pressed up against my ear, helping an Australian drummer try and get through the consequences of his partying decisions and making sure that he knows that he isn’t alone, especially since I am just a phone call away for him.
tagged: @nostalgia-luke @cashton-queen @cashtonspicelatte @bbylonxcal @bbycal @irwinkitten 
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kunishirou · 6 years
Text
Fandom: Marvel (Marvel Cinematic Universe/Iron Man/Captain America/The Avengers) Rating: Teen for cursing words Ship: Steve Rogers x Tony Stark Word count: 3k Other Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - No Power, Alternate Universe - Modern, Meet Cute Author’s Note: self-indulging fic since I’m still recovering from Infinity War, non-betaed so all mistakes are mine
Steve was okay with rejection.
Mostly.
Living most of his school and college life as a small, scrawny boy, people wouldn’t even look at him the second time and he was fully aware that he didn’t stand a chance for romance. A man with a skinny body like him wasn’t exactly...boyfriend material, no matter how much Bucky told him that people didn’t deserve him if they couldn’t see beyond his physical body. “If they couldn’t see your big heart and great personality, then they miss out so much, Steve,” he cheered him up one day after a ruined date. Then again, Bucky was his best friend, of course he would be biased.
And the slow growth spurt finally did a thing to Steve. He didn’t grow that extremely big or something, but he put on some weight and couldn’t exactly small or scrawny anymore. After working out together with Bucky (since his best friend insisted), people started to notice him and tried talking to him. As time went by, he was aware how people wanted to know him now because of his proper look now. To be honest, it was hurting him more than it already had, because he was sure that people began to notice because of his look now. He got a few more best friends like Bucky he could count on, sure, but not people who wanted to be a serious relationship with him.
So far, he didn’t have any luck finding someone who was interested not in his body, but to who he truly was. Until now.
Despite Bucky’s warning a few times, meeting Morgan on a dating site (he was desperate, alright?) was one of the best things ever happened to him. Steve deliberately didn’t put any of his pics on the sites, to see if Morgan was interested in his personality alone, not his body. And after a few chats and calls, maybe some pics trading as well, he decided that Morgan liked him alright, just the way he was. And he was happy, he really was.
Until, they decided to meet for the first time on a date, and he got a message from Natalie.
[ txt: Natalie R. ] is this the morgan guy you’re talking about? [ txt: Natalie R. ] you’re not gonna like it, but [ Natalie R. sent you a photo ] [ txt: S. Rogers ] what the fuck Nat? [ txt: Natalie R. ] Morgan. I’ve checked him to make sure he’s legit a person. Yes, he’s real, but he’s a douchebag as well. A playboy or sort, already got himself a few victims. Here’s a few links to Facebook you can look up to see what he’s doing. He doesn’t even bother to lock them up from public access or made it a secret. [ txt: S. Rogers ] wtf Nat why are you doing this?? I didn’t need you to spy on him like this! [ txt: S. Rogers ] you saying this guy, who wanted to go on a date with me the first time, is actually two-timing me with someone’s else right now? Is he actually lying to me? [ txt: S. Rogers ] talk about bad timing, Nat. can’t you wait until my date is over? [ txt: Natalie R. ] and let him play with your heart and break it into pieces afterward? I don’t think so
She got a point, though.
But he reassured himself that this was a misunderstanding and checked the Facebook, out of curiosity. Yet Natalie was right. A few minutes ago, Morgan posted some pictures of himself alongside a woman he never knew. After giving a few scroll, despite his brain telling him to stop torturing himself like this, Steve kept going, to the picture where they kissed like a lover, with some hashtags on the caption like #dating #girlfriend #bestgirl and a few sort of those varians. He would be lying if this didn’t already break his heart almost instantly.
[ txt: Natalie R. ] I’m sorry, Steve. I know I’m being a jerk right now. But I can’t let that guy ruined my best friend like that. [ txt: S. Rogers ] doesn’t matter. He already late for our date anyway and he looked happy enough with his girlfriend. Good for him. [ txt: Natalie R. ] how long have u been waiting now? [ txt: S. Rogers ] 3 hours at supposed to be our meeting point, I think. He didn’t read my messages or pick up the calls I made anyway. I’m gonna cancel the reservation now and go back home and moping, maybe [ txt: Natalie R. ] damn it. I will kill him for you if you wish for it, Rogers [ txt: Natalie R. ] I’m so sorry. Should I call Bucky to pick you up? I’ll call Sam to come over tonight too [ txt: S. Rogers ] no, don’t. I just want to be alone tonight [ txt: Natalie R. ] tomorrow, then. And no buts. We’ll come tomorrow to get you [ txt: S. Rogers ] ok [ txt: Natalie R. ] I’m sorry Steve, I knew you’ve been looking forward to this [ txt: S. Rogers ] it’s ok. I’ll live
There were a few more messages from his friends, but Steve didn’t bother to read them. He did send another message to Morgan, ‘lose this number’, before blocking him for good. He put his phone into silent mode and put it back into his pocket, groaning as he rested his eyes on top of his fists. Biting his lower lip so hard to prevent himself from becoming a sobbing mess in public because currently, he was in the little park near the main streets, waiting for someone who would never come.
He wasn’t going to cry this time, dammit. He knew he was out of luck with relationship and romance after all this time. Mainly because of his look before, no one even bothered to look at him when he was still scrawny. And now? People didn’t even care to get to know him at all and only after his body. And when he thought he finally could get a chance to be happy, somehow it would be ruined itself in the end before Steve ever tasted it first. For some reasons, the universe decided to give him all the assholes for his simple wish of love interest.
He didn’t want to blame his friends about this because they already warned it beforehand, but….
Steve worked so hard on this date, alright? He booked the restaurant with a front payment that cost a lot more than his few weeks overtime salary, he bought some new proper clothes to look as clean as possible, he even bothered to style his hair with Bucky’s gel that he still thought it stunk so bad. Heck, he even brought some flowers, no matter how cheesy and stupid it sounded like. He worked so hard to make the best impression, and Morgan didn’t even get a chance to see it. At all.
He was upset. He was allowed to be so upset about this.
Steve let out a shaky breath, a few tears already rolled out from his eyes and he angrily wiped them with his sleeves, but there were still coming and he hated himself for being so weak about this. He should be able to handle this kind of thing, he had been used to rejection or any other variations his whole life. But he was absolutely upset right now and he allowed himself to not care. Public attention would be damned.
He was so getting those Ben & Jerry’s big tubes once he calmed down.
* * *
That man was still there by the time the late board meeting finally finished and he blinked. Confused.
Tony had been looking—no, I’m not spying him, Jesus Christ, Pep—at the man who sat on the bench on that little park near his building. Since the meeting was on the second floor and the windows faced the said park, it was so easy to spot the blond from this room immediately.
It wasn’t his habit to observe people, to be precise, but he couldn’t help but look at the big blond down there. The man looked so nice and gorgeous with those suit, with hair neatly combed and styled, and there was a flowers bouquet sat next to the man. All the hints seemed obvious enough to him now.
Ah, waiting for a date, he thought. And whoever this man’s date was, they must be so lucky to have him.
Tony? Well, he didn’t have time or room for romance and shit, to be honest. His company needed him that much, that he didn’t bother looking for a loving partner, despite he was almost in his 40 sometime next year. He tried, a few times before, though sadly it didn’t come out as he expected.
Apparently, when you were working in the Stark Enterprise as the CEO, people would be (1) expecting you to be like what’s the media had told them about, or (2) looking many ways to get juicy gossips or his money. Been there, done that, and Tony had enough with people not looking the real him, but always licking his ego and maybe his feet sometimes to get his money and got the power they wanted inside the Stark Enterprise. And Tony wanted none of those bullshits in his beloved company he worked so hard for years.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t lonely, though. Hell, he actually craved for a committed relationship. Seeing how nervous yet genuinely happy that blond was, even though it was hard to tell since Tony was high up inside the building and his eyes weren’t as good as they were now, became a reminder that Tony probably needed that sort of thing as well.
Dating, God...he never thought about that for years now. Too busy working himself for the sake of the company. Even Rhodey said to him that he should get laid sometimes, to lighten up his boring life. But he couldn’t, not after what people usually saw him as a sort of celebrity who needed to be praised all the time in order to be on Tony’s good side.  No, he didn’t need that kind of relationship, at all.
“Mr. Stark, are you listening to me?”
“YES. Yes, I am, still listening alright. You may continue,” Tony sighed, didn’t realize that he was staring from behind the windows that long. The directors gave him the look, but decided to let it go and continued where they left. Right, meeting. Tony should focus more on this one rather than being a creep and staring at the cute blond at the park. Whoever he was, Tony wished him to have a good date, maybe a stable relationship too eventually.
Apparently, the man was still there after the meeting was over. And Tony was utterly confused. It had been, like...what? A little 2 or 3 hours since the last time he saw the blond, shouldn’t he be with his date and went somewhere else instead of sitting on that same bench? He furrowed his brows, looking from the windows to see what exactly happened properly, now that the meeting was over and people already left the room.
It was still hard to make it from here, and it was getting dark to see the blond properly. But all Tony could make it was the man seemed furiously typed with his phone for a few minutes, before he finally made some sort of motions and gestures that Tony translated mentally as...things didn’t go smoothly for him.
Hell, Tony was sure the man was actually crying right now, with those wiping motion with his sleeves. And it would be a lie that it didn’t make Tony felt bad for him.
The blond was probably looking forward to this whatever date he planned. And maybe the date stood him up? How dare. The man was fine, absolutely gorgeous to Tony’s book. Anyone who stood him up should be ashamed of their doing. Tony might just know him for a few minutes, an hour top since the last time he was being a creep and observed the man, but he was pretty sure that this blond was doing his best for the first impression. Even the flowers, man, it was so cute and didn’t think anyone would still do that these days.
So Tony didn’t understand why this man was getting stood up in the first place, and he felt sorry for him. So much that he thought of doing something so stupid just to make the man felt better. Or smile, that would be a lot better.
Sorry, Pepper, for giving you yet many paperwork and PR later on, he thought, and made a dash to outside of the building, going to the park to meet the man face to face.
* * *
He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting on the bench, while quietly sobbing like a little kid. But his eyes were getting hurt as he wiped them again roughly. Maybe he should’ve gone with the handkerchief to wipe them, and now his suit was partially wrinkled and his sleeves were wet because of his doing. Steve winced at the mess he made, but again, he could care less about that. It still didn’t make him feel any better, though, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore now.
Sighing loudly, wiping down his cheeks for good measure, Steve looked at the pathetic little flowers bouquet he brought with him and let out yet another sigh. They were all beautiful and would be such a waste if he threw them into the trash can. His late Ma would scold him for it, but it was too painful to look at the flowers now.
He picked them up and was going to throw them into the nearby trash, but stopped when a man approached him.
“Hey, darling. I’m so sorry I’m late!” the man said, looking a bit exhausted due to...what? Running? Something else? But that didn’t really matter, because Steve was too confused to begin with.
“I’m sorry, what—”
“Ooooh, you brought me flowers? Aww, you really shouldn’t have, thank you, sweetheart,” the man actually took the bouquet from Steve and carried it lovingly. Still, on the brink of confusion, Steve narrowed his eyes and the man just winked at him, mouthing something like ‘play along’.
Well, then, two could play the game.
“How could I not? You deserve all the beautiful things in the world, honey.”
The man looked like he wanted to laugh but suppressed it well. Instead, he was grinning at Steve. “Well, aren’t you such a keeper. Very smooth, darling, I already like you even more now.”
And honest to God, he just saw and met this man right now, but he sure could make Steve blushed so hard. “What can I say? I’m pretty likable,” he said sheepishly, trying to keep up with the game, and the man simply laughed.
“Aww, sure. You’re pretty, I’ll give you that. Now, come along, we already late for our dinner together,” the man said, casually taking Steve’s arm and led him away from the park and too many people around there. Just when they entered a quiet street, Steve finally spoke again.
“So, I knew that you’re not supposed to be my date for tonight. But who are you exactly and why are you doing this? Is this some kind of prank?“
The man flinched and released Steve’s arm, but kept walking on his side slowly. “No, of course not. It was just—would you be angry if I said that I couldn’t bear to see you sad like that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Right, maybe I should start from the beginning,” the man turned around to face Steve now. “Hi. My name is Tony, and apparently, I can see you from the meeting room inside my building a couple of hours ago and I got curious. Judging from your clothes and the flowers, I assumed you were supposed to be going on a date with someone, but that certain someone was somehow...did not appear in the end. And you looked so sad about that, and people looked at you funny when you were crying—hey, no, that’s okay. I didn’t mean to judge you. I, too, will cry if I were you, you know. We have our moments. But anyway, I can’t handle to see you looking so sad like that, and maybe I sort of didn’t want to make you looked embarrassing, so I guess why the heck not doing anything to cheer you up?”
Steve raised his eyebrow, “You mean, you saw me when I was waiting for my douchebag date from wherever you were before and decided to jump in and play the non-existence date for me so I wouldn’t be so embarrassed and looked sorry about my failed date?”
“...when you said it that way, somehow it sounded like a stupid idea. That wasn’t my intention—”
Called him exhausted both physically or mentally, but Steve shouldn’t be laughing this hard. What was even his life anymore? A guy somehow took a pity on him and actually played as his very late date to make him feel better about him? That was absurd. Steve knew he should feel offended by this situation, but he didn’t. And the man—Tony—sounded genuinely worried about him too, despite they just met a few minutes before.
“Okay, wow. You freaked me out now, darling. You sure you okay there?”
“No, no I’m not,” he said between his laughter, tears began to form again but at least this wasn’t because he was sad. Again, he wiped his eyes and huffed, regaining his compose. “God, this is really weird. I was planning to just come home after buying a big tub of ice cream, eating the whole thing while watching bad movies at home, but this—this was actually something that I didn’t expect at all.”
“A good kind of weird, I hope? If not, I’m really sorry for overstepping the boundaries. I know we’ve just met and we didn’t know each other, but uh...you can tell me to scram if you—”
“Tony,” Steve spoke, effectively shutting the man up and he simply smiled. “Hi, my name is Steve. And I know this is such a weird situation you apparently initiated—no, don’t try to deny it—but thank you for your...I don't know, help, I guess? I was so upset about it but now I don’t because of you. And you said something about dinner?”
Tony blinked, stayed quiet for a while before smiling widely.
“Yes, I did. How’s cheeseburgers sounded to you, Steve darling? I could eat some cheeseburgers right now. And, you know, maybe getting to know to each other, all that jazz? How’s that?”
Steve laughed, feeling more at ease as he talked to Tony.
“Sure, why not? Lead the way, honey.”
And here’s hoping this could be a start of something more beautiful for both of them.
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kat-the-dog-trainer · 7 years
Text
Counter-Conditioning in Dogs
A lot of messages and DMs I receive tend to go along the lines of “my dog is scared of [x]” - which makes sense, because anxiety is a very common issue with dog owners and tends to lead to undesirable behaviours like barking, destruction and sometimes aggression.
I also see a lot of clients who tell me “I’ve tried [counter conditioning] and it didn’t work!”
And almost always, the issue is one of two things:
1: They’re doing it in the wrong order
“I give him food and then take out the vacuum cleaner - he’s still scared of it!”
I want you to think of something you don’t like. Let’s use spiders as an example. If I give you $5 and then drop a spider in your hand (I’m Australian; I have an endless supply of them), you’re not going to go, “Oh, that’s not so bad.”
You’re going to go, “Jesus Christ dude, keep your money. in fact don’t bother ever giving me money again, you’re just going to keep throwing spiders at me afterward.”
The money will make you anxious, because you anticipate what’s coming next.
Hell, even if I give you the money and the spider at the same time, you still probably won’t touch it. Which is why owners who feed their dogs during nail clipping/grooming/vet checks tend to find that it only distracts them, at best; it doesn’t improve the fear.
If you want to think of it another way, imagine your siblings (or kids, friends, whatever). I’ve got two younger siblings. When they start acting oddly sweet toward me, my reaction isn’t “aw what angels, what do you need?” It’s, “Oh god, what? Are you going to ask for money? Did you break something of mine? What did you do?”
Why do the above scenarios not work? Because the order is backward - it’s presented as treat --> stimulus, when it should be the other way around. Remember: stimulus FOLLOWED by treat.
If you show the dog the vacuum cleaner and then give them food, they’re less likely to react adversely because the appearance of the vacuum cleaner also made food appear (rather than the other way around).
If my siblings ask for money first, and then act very sweet afterward, I’m probably more likely to help them out again next time because they were grateful. 
If I put a spider in your hand and then give you money, maybe you won’t be as freaked out next time. Maybe. There is another issue:
2: They’re expecting a quick fix
“Just counter-condition them.”
It sounds easy, doesn’t it? And it’s such a simple concept that it should be, on paper. But this takes time. 4Paws University put it fantastically in their recent post, “Could Pavlov’s dog come back to bite you?”
There's nothing simple about it. It takes a lot of time and repetition to change an emotion. How many repetitions followed by a stack of cash would it take for you to stop flinching when a bee lands on your arm? Longer if you've actually been stung before. Maybe never if a bee sting is life-threatening.
And this is the second big issue. It will take a long time for that dog to get used to the vacuum cleaner, or thunder, or grooming appointments. It will take longer depending on prior negative experience. And this is where you, as the owner, must be patient.
Think of your own fears. I don’t like porcelain dolls, for example. They’re the worst thing ever, they freak me out, we should burn them all. If you show me a doll and then hand me 5 bucks, that doesn’t cure my aversion forever. You might need to increase my distance to the doll. You might need to do several training sessions. You might need to raise the $$ reward (for a dog, this is when you bust out that roast chicken!). 
If your dog is reactive toward something, put yourself in their shoes. Dedicate training sessions to counter-condition the behaviour. Utilise your rewards AFTER the stimulus is presented. And be patient.
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donaldresslerfanfic · 7 years
Text
Home.
Rating: M
Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content. 
Word Count: 2195
Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.
Chapter: Twenty Three.
Chapter Index
Story on Wattpad
Maggie.
Turns out Don just had a debriefing meeting this morning, even though Samar hadn’t gotten off the case when Liz was taken she still needed to take care of her shot leg. They gave Don the weekend off which was great.
By lunch time we were in the airport, he was a but reluctant we take Raymond’s jet, but he offered and I couldn’t say no to free airplane tickets. We ate some lunch on the way there, to me, this was still unbelievable. I still felt giddy when I felt Don’s hand in mine.
He and I were a couple, he was my boyfriend, this is all I’ve ever wanted, and now I had it. 
I still looked at him and I couldn’t believe it. I could hold him and kiss him, hold his hand, be worried with an excuse.
He caught me looking at him dreamily, I still couldn’t believe it. He smiled at me while I dumbly grinned, he held me by the shoulders and pulled me to his chest, I hugged him by the waist and inhaled his cologne.
I had never seen Donald with casual outwear, just jeans and a shirt, a nice jacket. And I definitely hadn’t seen him be so cuddly and just sweet in general.
I didn’t remember when was the last time I had a boyfriend… Well, I actually did but I rather forget him.
The pilot turned on the seatbelt sign and I had to sit straight, away from his body heat. His hand still held mine while we landed, and as we got our luggage I warned him.
“This isn’t going to be like Talia’s birthday OK?”
“Or maybe it will, we do have to get them entertained.”
“Yeah, but they’re also in school, they have to do homework and have their little responsibilities”
“It’s Saturday”
I gave him a little smile while walking down to the cab line.
“I don’t want to interrupt with their routine. Specially since you’re here”
“We get along fine, and I think it’ll be more exciting for them now that I’m their uncle”
Jesus Christ, I just came to my sister’s place with my boyfriend. I had never introduced anyone to my sister before.
Thank god last time we visited everything was great. Don accepted my proposal to go to Talia’s birthday 2 months ago, and it only made me fall more in love with him. He played with my nieces, talked whatever with my uncles, got along really well with my sister and Ethan. He even cheered up Ella when she fell out of the bouncy castle and hit her head.
We were on the cab ride and Don had noticed I was a little absent, there was just so much going on…
He gripped my hand in support, and I gave him a smile to let him know I was OK.
We arrived and almost as if they were waiting for us Talia and Ella came running out of the house towards us.
I received them with a smile and a big hug after I left the things in the side of the walkway. Then they saw Don behind me and went over to tackle him.
I walked inside and hauled my bag with me as my sister held the door open for me.
“You made it… With Donald” she said.
“My boyfriend, Donald” I emphasized proudly. She gave me a wide eyed look and a big smile as she moved to let Donald in.
“Oh my god! Are you serious?” She questioningly looked between me and Don. He just smiled and gave a little nod while letting his own bag next to mine “OK, Donald, I don’t want to be mean, but I think you know what will happen if I hurt my sister….”
“Well, you’ll have to make a line because between myself, my coworkers and her boss I’ve received a lot of death threats” he joked, I gave a little chuckle and Maddie closed the door behind us.
Raymond threatened Don? When? I was frowning a little but I didn’t put that much thought into it… He could’ve been joking.
“OK girls… Now you have two uncles to bother, I’m going to lay down and wait for Ethan to get my ice cream. You two can take your things to the basement, we set up the couchbed.”
“That’s great” I said with not a trace of excitement in my voice.
I hated my sister’s basement. It wasn’t anything creepy, nobody died there, there wasn’t a creepy furnace making creepy noise, it was a normal basement. The thing was it had stuff, my dad’s stuff, stuff that we didn’t have the heart to sell.
Reluctantly I went down there, Don was following behind me while my nieces were as well, they were all over Don, and I could tell he was enjoying their company too.
I left out bags in the side of the couch and my eyes stubbornly landed on the corner of the basement.
I head Don saying something to my nieces and then Ethan coming into the house and down the basement to greet Don.
I was still staring at the corner of the room sadly, my arms crossed at my chest.
“You better get her out of here, she doesn’t like it in the basement” Ethan said in a low voice. I eye rolled to myself and then turned to both of them
“Yes, I don’t like it in the basement, but I’m not going to be a baby about it”
“Well, Maddie and I have to walk at least five block to see if her water brakes so, we’re off”
“Yeah, Talia and Ella wanted to go to the river walk, I thought it would be good for us to take them”
Don looked at me for confirmation while sneaking his arm around my waist, and there I was again, swooning and melting away at that simple gesture.
“Yeah, that’ll be awesome, it’s been years since I’ve been there”
Besides, the weather was amazing for us to just walk around.
We gathered the girls and went out of the house together, but my sister and Ethan strolled behind since she was carrying an extra 15 pounds…
I loved this feeling, his hand on mine, my niece’s hand in my other one, them talking about whatever, Don listening at them. I think they were overly excited to have an uncle, a young one. All of my uncles and cousing who knew them were to old or to impatient to play with them. I knew that Ethan had two other brothers, one of them was their godfather, and he usually took them out for a movie or to the park.
As we neared down the river walk we saw other people with children having a picnic, some eating posts, and those were the demise of Don’s wallet. I told him he didn’t need to buy them anything but both of them gave him puppy eyes and he couldn’t resist. He ended up buying sugar cones to the girls and I got some pop corn. We walked with them to the little kid playsite they had around and Don and I sat in the grass nearby, wathcing them play with their hands full of food.
I took my chance and sat in between his legs, he held me by the waist and pulled me to his chest, kissing my cheek.
I moved my head a little to feel his lips on mine again, I smiled against them and relaxed on his arms, then moved my eyes to look at the girls.
His lips remained on my cheek for a while, then further down my jawline. I could only smile.
“So, what is it that you don’t like about the basement?” Okay, here we go. “It’s not like haunted right, we have to sleep there tonight”
I let out a little chuckle while shaking my head.
“No, it’s not haunted” I dismissed, my smile faded while I sighed “it’s just… My dad’s stuff. There’s the piano, a little closet with some of his remaining clothes, photo albums… I act as if I’m over it, like I’ve moved past it but… When I visit my sister and especially after I go down to the basement I realized I haven’t gone past it at all… And it makes me angry”
I took a deep breath and Don hugged me closer.
“Come on Mags, you can’t just tell me to talk about it, cry about, live with the pain of loosing someone, let them go and then turn around and do the exact opposite. If your haven’t gotten him over it’s because he’s your dad, you have the right to be sad about him, to miss him”
I scoffed.
“It’s that what I sounded like? God, how annoying” he chuckled in my ear, his chest rumbled in my back, I sighed and sunk deeper into him. “Did I ever told you he was in the Navy?”
“He was?”
“Yeah, but only on a short time, there was a little ruckus one night and he got shot. They demised him, paid him a pension for services and he was back home just in time for me to be born”
“What year was it?”
“86, or 85. I don’t remember. Why?”
“Reddington must’ve been in that same serving class” he said thoughtful.
I groaned and I rolled my eyes
“You and your boyfriend Reddington, do you have to relate everything to him?”
“It’s kind of what I do, you knew it was in the package when you met me”
I smiled and looked up at him, his lips downed to mine again, and it was a sensation that I wanted to keep experiencing forever, his soft lips on mine.
We laid in the grass for a while, until my nieces grew tired of playing around in the swings and the slides.
I sent a quick text to my sister and she told me that I had to pick up something to eat tonight, and the supermarket visit was another that Don had to pay the price for, it was expensive to go out with children.
“Okay now, why don’t you leave Don alone for two seconds you’re suffocating him” I said pulling my niece from his arms and onto the floor once we were back into the house. They skipped upstairs and I gathered what we bought into it’s respective place.
Despite my sister bring riddled with constant contractions Ethan didn’t postpone his Saturday night hangout with his friends. After I fed the girls he told me he would be stealing Don for the night.
If I was pregnant and pressured to have my baby in a deadline I would kill my husband if he did anything else but take care of me, but this was my sister’s third baby and she said she didn’t mind.
The guys asked for some pizza and I settled for some tea, waiting for the water to boil and take some to my sister in her bedroom.
I felt arms going around my waist and the familiar Hugo Boss cologne involve me. I smiled and turned to receive a kiss on my lips.
“You don’t mind if I hag out with Ethan and his friends right?”
“Of course not. You deserve to hang our with the grown ups” I said, he still looked at me doubtful.
“It’s just that we came to take care of your sister and-”
“I’m going to stop you right there” I turned, still caged in his arms,  to face him. My arms rounded his neck as I looked at him “I came to take care of my sister and the girls, you came to help me, and you have, you’ve done more than what I expected anyone in this situation to do. So go, have a beer, chat, brag about your job and then come back to bed with me”
He smiled, he kissed me shortly again, hugging me tighter by the waist.
“I’d love to skip it all until going to bed with you”
“Me too” I said against his lips, and let out a tired sigh “I’m exhausted”
I leaned until my head landed on his chest, he pressed his cheek to the top of my head and I closed my eyes, I was tired, a lot had happened in these last 24 hours.
When I was getting into the dress last night I knew that Don was going out with me to check out where we stood, but I figured it would take a few more dates until he finally asked me to be his girlfriend, but no. Here I was, being held against his chest, in my sister’s place. I smiled against him and that made him kiss my head.
“Donnie” Ethan patted him in the back, making me reluctantly pull away from him “let’s take out these beers outside and the napkins, the pizza and the guys are here.”
He nodded, giving me one last kiss in the forehead before taking the six pack from the fridge and following Ethan outside.
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jtq1844 · 5 years
Text
One day into this and I’m already behind ...
Where did the day go?  So much for taking this opportunity to build in some writing discipline into my life.  I actually have a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing (Antioch University -- Los Angeles, 2017).  It started out as “an external goal” in 2015, something to try after we moved as empty-nesters up to Washington State from Santa Cruz.  The program is “low residency,” meaning it is mostly online.  I had had a few stories published already, so I had reason to think it was doable.  I like story-telling.  I like writing.  What I discovered was that, while I have some writing competency, I don’t exactly have a passion for it. 
Here is one of the CNF essays from my official portfolio to amuse you until I compose a more heartfelt and informative post for tomorrow … er, I mean, today … um.  You know what I mean.
-=-=-=-
Sister Clorina, Saint Blaise and Doubting Thomas by Jean Tschohl Quinn
    It can take years to come to an understanding about something. Alternatively, an understanding can barrel into consciousness like a grand and glorious epiphanic elephant.  Sometimes, both happens. I love paradox.  I adore the celestial AND. It is in this sort of epiphany, decades in the making, that I found Bahá'u'lláh.
    Sister Clorina hated me. No. That’s too strong. She simply did not like any girls not named Mary. She didn’t like me in particular because she had suddenly been “demoted” to second grade from fourth grade where my sister Mary was -- sweet, clever, pious and faithful.  How could I compete?  My best friend then was named Mary too.  Mary Wirhanowicz was also sweet, clever, pious and faithful. I hold no grudge against the average Mary. They’ve got the whole Blessed Virgin Mother expectation thing to deal with and had no choice in the matter because that was their collective given name. It is, apparently, a lot of pressure. There is the occasional exception of the BVM standard when there are multiple Marys in a single classroom.  Some of them get an out if they had, say, a younger sibling who called them something else and the teacher approved for clarity’s sake.  One of my grandmothers was one of those. There were several Mary’s in her one-room schoolhouse in Nova Scotia. Her younger brothers and sisters called her Mayme already and so she was dubbed in the classroom and life in general. To this day, I consider her the sanest person I’ve ever met. However, in my second grade classroom, Sister Clorina felt she had reason to suspect me as nefarious.  First, I was not named Mary.  Second, I was “philosophical.”  
     Her move down to second grade was precipitated by Sister Marie Madison’s hasty withdrawal from the convent life after only a month with our class.  We were informed that we had simply “driven her crazy.”  Mea culpa.  Mea culpa.  Mea maxima culpa. (That’s not quite accurate; it was post-Vatican-II. We didn’t actually learn any Latin.)  The girls of the class all knew the blame rested solely on the antics of Vince Wederath, Brian Doherty, and Eddie Marx. They were the bad boys. Maybe Tim Relihan too. We were sure of it. Twelve or so years after the fact, I bumped into Eddie on a bus as I headed home from college for a weekend of free laundry and food.  He was still proud of his part in the good sister’s loss of faith. We choose our triumphs; this apparently was one of Eddie’s.
    Sister Clorina emanated a stern energy.  I cannot tell you whether she was tall or short from my second-grader memory, but I do recall her immense energy.  Sometimes, she’d fill in on the organ at Mass when the ridiculously cherubic Sister Acquitaine was overwrought or under the weather.  Sister Acquitaine was the music teacher.  She felt my brother Kevin’s musical talent was extraordinary -- it is – and so she kept him in at recess for violin lessons because we already had a violin that Grampa Hanson had picked up at St. Vinnie’s for $7 in 1967.  Kevin did not like missing recess. He abandoned the violin at his earliest possible convenience. I still have and play that violin, mainly because no one else had a use for it. I have always felt that I have a right only to that which is of no use to anyone else. It’s a youngest child thing. In second grade, I even went so far as to claim my favorite color as moss green because I felt sorry for it.  
    In any case, Sister Clorina as a substitute organist kept the tempo “up” much to the consternation of the older folks. My family liked it that way; it was zippy. She would shout over her shoulder, “Hymn number 8.”  Only I thought she was saying “Hit number 8” like Casey Kasem might, so I thought we were going to sing Winchester Cathedral or Last Train to Clarksville depending on the week. I somehow knew never to expect Wild Thing.  
     I had high hopes as Sister Clorina glowered over us in the hall outside the classroom. I reached for her hand, trying to be the brown-noser I knew myself to be.  She sniffed and tucked her arm inside her surplus.  Her disdain for me was immediate.
    First grade had been a long line of substitute teachers after Mrs. Conti-Morgan left to give birth after an entirely crabby last month. She and Mrs. Lambert, a squat dynamic storyteller, in the fifth grade were the only lay teachers in the school.  Second grade looked like the beginning of a whole new world. I was finally going to be close enough to a nun to touch one.
    After Sister Marie Madison bailed on us in the second-grade, I suspect Sister Clorina took the move from her already beloved fourth grade class to our clearly evil second grade as a demotion. The smaller four and fifth grade classes would be combined with the incredible Mrs. Lambert at the helm. My sister Mary was immediately named co-chair with Mrs. Lambert of their mutual admiration society. Mary has that mysterious charm that immediately made her teacher’s pet. Every time.  
    My year with Sister Clorina should have been a good one.  She did Science. We studied the classic simple machines: lever, incline plane, screw, pulley, wedge, and wheel and axle.  She even pointed out that a screw is really just an incline plane wrapped around a pivot point. This was good stuff. We learned about meteorology and taxonomy. Why wasn’t it working?  For one thing, she had no joy once Mary Wirhanowicz got really sick and was gone for weeks.  I brought homework to Mary and back to school regularly.  Did I get any credit for helping the BVM wannabe?  No I did not. Looking for credit is always a sure way to not get any. I was dead last in the rankings of teacher’s pet, even behind Renee Kucze and she NEVER adhered to the dress code.  
    Mary eventually recovered and returned to class. My only hope was merit by association.  No luck. Christmas rolled around and the requisite study of the Nativity. We learned about the Magi, those astrologers from the East. The question was obvious, so I asked it, “If they understood how important Jesus was before He was even born, shouldn’t we be studying their Religion?”  Sister Clorina never called on me again.  
    Second grade crawled on. I was dying to ask about the blessing of the throats on Saint Blaise Day, February 3, but I couldn’t ask Sister Clorina. I thought the hubbub was kind of cool -- how we’d line up and have blest candles criss-crossed about our necks with a little prayer for health offered – but still didn’t understand it.  My mom, who was much more informed and cynical than I could have realized then, knew a little about it. One of the miracles attributed to Saint Blaise was miraculously saving someone from choking. His “day” was the day after Candlemas, February 2, when families traditionally brought in all their candles to be sanctified.  
    “While this is completely pointless in the 20th century,” she postulated, “imagine what candles meant to a family three hundred, five hundred, seven hundred years ago.”  Having them blest would be a prudent gesture to Christians throughout Old Europe and the Byzantine Empire, she hoped I would agree. In my limited comprehension, however, I continued to attempt reconciliation of all of this with Groundhog Day.  Maybe the flicker of candles cast interesting shadows on any groundhogs popping out of holes on the same day.  
    By Lent, I knew better than to ask questions. During the required Tuesday-after-school Stations of the Cross, I languished with questions.  It’s not three days between the afternoon of Good Friday and dawn of Easter Sunday.  It’s two. Much later, I learned that the Jewish day starts at sundown, so it was definitely only two days. I did not dare ask. And the renaming of Simon to Peter, the rock.  What was that about? That was a whole lot of palaver over one little verse and the power that Saul/Paul grabbed anyway. I didn’t get it and couldn’t ask.
    At Pentecost, I remember sitting amiably in the pew, gently kicking at the kneeler after the Gospel Reading, followed by a rambling homily about Doubting Thomas. He misses a visit from the post-Resurrection Christ and demands physical proof.  Christ does come to revisit and offers Thomas a chance to “probe the nail holes.”  Thomas believes even though there’s no record of him poking his fingers anywhere – seriously not in a single one of the four Gospels -- just being with Him again is sufficient.  Christ then adds “blessed are they that have not seen but still believe.”  
    Yes, I committed to myself – kick, kick, kick -- I will never be like Doubting Thomas, needing proof like that.  To this day, I have never witnessed any firsthand wowza moment. Some friends of mine have hosted these remarkable, spiritual ongoing events where miracles of joy, epiphany and synchronicity are a regular occurrence for years. Long-lost friends reunite. Extraordinary fund-raising. Mysterious healings. You name it. Whenever I show up, it’s invariably an “off night.” My friend who has witnessed it all invariably shrugs and says, “I don’t know what happened this time. Maybe it was the traffic.”  I trust their reality.  I have to, because I wasn’t there.  
    I was still mindlessly kicking the kneeler.  Why didn’t they recognize Christ as Jesus when meeting Him after the Resurrection? Seriously, they don’t recognize Him at first. Why would that be? What was the big deal about a physical resurrection anyway? The Old Testament was full of them.  I could get the importance of a spiritual one – I thought: Peter … Rock … denied Him and the hiding … rock rolled away … blah, blah, blah … Didn’t Jesus call His followers His body?  I was not about to ask questions. The symbolism worked so much better than literal story.  Don’t ask; don’t tell.  Just get through second grade.
    By the end of that year, Father Podolak, that gentle, rambling soul who would eventually preside over my wedding years later, announced that the school would be closing at June. My sister and I were devastated.  My brothers and older sisters were already going off to junior high and senior high school, mercifully saved from attending more Catholic school by the cost of tuition times six. Mary and I lay in bed with the blankets kicked off, feeling entombed by the muggy heaviness of Wisconsin in the summer bemoaning our fate, a public school education with their loose morals and strange ways.  Of this we were sure.  No potentially free music lessons from Sister Acquitaine; no exciting tales about WWI in Italy from Mrs. Lambert; no stern preparation for junior high from Sister Rhodelia whose great contribution to our family was her encouragement to my parents that my shy, nervous, older sister Jackie would achieve every regular thing, just in her own time. We were off to public school and weekly Catholic CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine.  I kid you not).
    How wrong we were! At the public school, we got free music lessons on any instrument we chose from hip young musicians; one for band instruments, the other for strings (my choice, obviously).  And Mrs. Grossman taught us singing. She really liked how Mary (either one) and I sang together.  By the following Christmas, my sister now a fifth grader and I a third grader sang in front of an audience of hundreds a harmonized duet of Mel Torme’s A Christmas Song. Afterwards Brian Doherty spoke directly to me, probably the only time he ever did, “You have guts. Double guts.” Respect. I don’t remember seeing him after that.
   We also had a regular dedicated art teacher, Miss Sanford.  She got a nose job the following summer and nobody recognized her when she returned. The best part was, my third grade teacher, Miss Nawrocki. She looked like a Barbie doll. She wore wigs of different colors and lengths. She got married halfway through the year and became Mrs. Raniewicz. Dang.  We had just conquered spelling capital-N A W R O C K I. She directed a class musical. I had lunch with her a couple of years ago.  She is still awesome, although significantly shorter than I thought. Public school was fine. Better than fine. It was great. To heck with you, Sister Clorina.
    Around ninth grade, Confirmation rolled around. It was time for me to publicly commit to God and His Church, whatever that meant. Among the somewhat arbitrary options for going through a Catholic Confirmation is taking a new name.  It has little or no intrinsic meaning within Western cultures, but the vestigial tradition hangs on.  My 15-year-old self was interested in saving the world by becoming a medical doctor – didn’t happen: boys, booze, and a reading disability derailed that vague idea during the first semester of college – so I chose the name “Blaise” as my Confirmation name.  I had mistakenly thought he was the patron saint of physicians. I was a piss-poor researcher back then too.  So many of his miracles had to do with healing, particularly having to do with throat ailments and choking. Who am I kidding?  I claimed the name Blaise because the choice was due the week after the whole Candlemas/Saint Blaise weirdness -- exactly forty days after Christmas. What was this thing with forty days anyway?  Noah in the Ark, Jesus in the desert, Buddha under the Bodi Tree, the Prophet Mohammad in a cave.  There’s Lent.  There are periods of mourning, of fasting or of thanksgiving in most belief systems.  
    In any case, my choice of Blaise, a male name, upset a fair few people, so I had to write a couple of letters to some persnickety council of some kind. The request was okayed … with reservations. The actual Confirmation was forgettable other than choir director being in a car accident on the way there, so the choir – which included my mother, my sister Mary, Mary Wirhanowicz and me – had to wing it.  
    “So why was the name Blaise so important to you?” Father Podolak asked me months later.
    “Well, if this spirituality stuff doesn’t work out, ‘Blaze’ is a good name for a stripper.” The words were out of my mouth before I ran them through my brain. I kept walking.  
    The next time I saw Fr. P, he said, “Jean, do you know how we make holy water?”
    “You bless it?” I stammered.  
     “No, you boil the Hell out of it.”  He smiled apologetically and gently clarified, “That was a joke.”  
    I chatted with a priest at a wedding I was hired to sing for a few years later, I mentioned the parish I grew up in. The priest said, “Ah!  Bill Podolak, a kind man.”
    “Yes, indeed.” I was running out of things to say.
    “… not a dynamic speaker.”
    “No, indeed.”  We laughed, all too cruelly I believe.
   In spite of my bad research skills, Saint Blaise continues to intrigue me. Having been martyred by being beaten to death with iron combs used for wool combing and carding, Saint Blaise has since been associated with any trade having to do with wool since the Middle Ages, not the healing arts. So, after all the hubbub about me picking a male saint’s name, perhaps it works for me.  After all, what is my essay-writing but glorified wool-gathering?  
    The year after my Confirmation, I lived in Tunisia through a foreign exchange program the same summer that Monty Python’s Flying Circus filmed Life of Brian a mere 100 kilometers away.  I did not find out until just after my return to the US, by watching an episode of Saturday Night Live hosted by Eric Idle.  His monologue was about the long, sad love songs Tunisians sing with such relish and the ubiquity of jasmine there. Mr. Idle’s monologue went over like a fart in church as the saying goes.  My family, however, laughed spasmodically as they recalled the similar stories from my letters home. Dad with his ever-present bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest, fell off the couch chortling. Mr. Idle’s underappreciated monologue notwithstanding, my summer in Tunisia changed my perceptions of just about everything. I had lived with a Moslem family in a Moslem neighborhood in a Moslem village. They valued education and kindness, respect and humor, the individual and the collective. The child peeking out of the doorway to see the American girl may have looked like an advertisement for C.A.R.E., but I came to know that her family loved her abundantly, fed her regularly if frugally, and had dreams and hopes for her.  Neshua, the daughter of my host family closest to my age, and I were invited to several homes. Some of those invitations were offered because I was a curiosity to the village. In most of the humbler homes, there was a carpet in the works, a large frame taking up a wall in their main living space.  A color plot hung taped to one of the loom’s posts.  I learned to knot and trim the wool according to the plot, to shift the heddle and weft shuttle, to tamp work with the kleleh to compact the threads.  We sat together, partly in fellowship, partly to contribute to the household. One little girl elbowed her way next to me knotting two to my one and announce that she would teach me the Arabic alphabet. “C’est très important” for me to learn how to read Arabic. I never did, except for “Coca-Cola” which I suspect had more to do with it being on large red billboards.
    I was quite full of myself. Eventually the lessons of that summer, about the oneness of Religion, not the Arabic alphabet, sunk in. No longer would the coat of we’re-right/they’re-wrong Christianity fit me properly.  
    Eventually, I was off to college where at some point I made out with a guy who decided to become a priest.  I think there may be something more to process about that.  Maybe not.  I ended up eventually working in Washington DC and met my future husband Mike at a Trivial Pursuit party in the apartment complex we both lived in.  We were both Arabic-speaking (although mine was pretty patchy), left-handed (which has its own complications in Middle Eastern countries), green-eyed Catholics.  It was Kismet.  Oh, and we both preferred to drink milk with pizza. Like I said, Kismet. We went through all the Catholic wedding hoops and started our family when I got pushed onto a spiritual journey by a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses.  While the JW logic never worked for me, I will forever be grateful to Betty and LaVonne for starting me on the journey.  Here I will skip chapters full of synchronicities that only Baha’is would find amusing, we attended some meetings referred to as Firesides after moving to San Jose, California a few years later.
    The speaker one evening expounded on the subject of Progressive Revelation.  In brief, Progressive Revelation encompasses the idea that Religion is unfolding over time as humanity becomes ready for a fuller understanding of the true nature of Reality. The speaker went on to offer examples of how Judaism begot Christianity and primarily affected Europe in its initial reach and development. Likewise, Hinduism begot Buddhism which moved out to Asia.  Islam is also Abrahamic but was couched in Zoroastrian customs as well. It spread into North Africa, the Middle East, Oceania.  The Baha’i Faith was revealed just as the world needed to start thinking globally, in the mid-19th century.  Any corruption of Religion has to do with mankind messing with it, not with the purity of the original Message.  This made some sense to me, but I didn’t know anything about Zoroaster. The speaker recognized my raised eyebrow-of-confusion and explained.  
    The moment the speaker explained that the primary understanding of Zoroastrianism in the West would be the Zodiac. He also mentioned that the priesthood was referred to as the Magi, as in the “astrologers from the East.” In that moment, all the disparate thoughts from the time I was seven onward coalesced in my mind’s eye like a jigsaw puzzle completing itself. I wiggled in my seat in excitement, trying not to disturb the tiny middle-aged woman of Asian descent or the black man next to me who had fallen asleep. He was snoring full out and no one was perturbed by it. His wife, a white woman at least a head taller than he was, later explained that he had had a stroke during brain surgery a few years before and often fell asleep. The oneness of God, the oneness of Humanity, the oneness of Religion all made sense to me. In that blink of an eye, I saw the interlocking of fact and legend, of the Magi and the Baby, of tradition and skepticism. I was back with Sister Clorina, Saint Blaise, and my family in Tunisia.
    It was both in an instant and over the course of my lifetime up to that point that I came to this understanding. A few weeks after that night, Mike and I together declared our Faith in Bahá'u'lláh, that is to say, became adherents to the Baha'i Faith. We have found our lives infinitely richer because of that choice, so have our children (so they tell me).  It is not easy to always keep in mind that each and every person that exists or did exist or will exist is unique and beloved by God, or that our individual Free Wills can send us in all different directions, or that "This is the changeless Faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future" as Bahá'u'lláh says. In fact, it's mostly challenging. Building Heaven on Earth is not for sissies. However, I know it is the right thing for me to pursue.
    I still do not get my faith confirmed by fantastical measures.  I’d love to see a crowd of people collectively gung their foreheads with the heels of their hands that the oneness of Humanity is a fact and the work it will take for every person to feel loved and beloved as the family we are will be worth the effort and sacrifice.  I’d love to see someone healed miraculously.  I still get the sense that I won't ever witness events like that first hand.  
    Occasionally, I do witness people who die with grace or see a smile generated from a purely motivated kindness perpetrated on an unsuspecting grump. It is things like that -- tiny, lovely indications that my spiritual path is worth toddling upon – with which I chose to be satisfied. I promised myself so long ago that it would be enough.
     Sister Clorina was only in my life for six months over fifty years ago.  She still pops into my head, usually when I am accused of being “too sensitive” about something. I’d love to prove to you that she’s not important to me now, but you’ll just have to take that on faith.
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resilientreader · 5 years
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1-98 for asks like we did a million years ago, I dare you
i knew the MOMENT i saw the notif in my inbox that it was gonna be YOU pulling this shit and i crossed my fingers when actually clicking, HOPING i wouldnt have to answer all 98, maybe you’ll be tame this time, but no! this is what you’re doing to me. and ykno what, Fine. u dare me and i Will do it. i hope u rb the asks post so i can do it to u too, tho
1. coffee mugs
2. chocolate bars
3. bubblegum
4. that smart student who always read instead of actually paying attention
5. soda from glass cups is the best
6. its hard to just Decide between all these styles so ill say which one applies to mine most, which i Gotta say has to b preppy even if i want like goth or grunge to b mixed in
7. headphones
8. good omens, fmab, castlevania, uhhhh. those are just the ones ive watched so far this summer
9. my grandparents’ home. which is kinda weird but i have a lot of summer memories there
10. i sucked at like Everything in p.e., there Was no best
11. leftovers
12. i cant choose a favorite playlist?? /some/ of them, tho, are soar my ethereal heart, neither here nor there, mountainside storms, and sync of my heartbeat. so like any of my more recent ones
13. lanyard
14. i had to google a list for this bc honestly i always eat just chocolates but i like starburst
15. fahrenheit 451 was a rly fun read. ray bradbury’s writing gave me inspo for metaphors and writing and such and it was rly nice
16. sprawled across one of those comfy armchairs where i can swing my legs over one arm n lay my head on the other one
17. my black converse
18. cool temperature and rain without storms, or a cloudy day that lets me take a nice walk
19. on my side if i can but on my back otherwise
20. on my laptop, in google docs, to be more specific
21. winnie the pooh
22. idk?? i try not to look to just one person for a source of “this is how i should be”, so i guess,,,, a mix of family members and then a couple like more famous ppl??? which would basically consist of one of my aunts, my dad, and jenna marbles, to keep my Brain Process for role model stuff simplified
23. i dunno if any of the habits i have are strange?? i bounce my right leg and my right hand kinda. like. shakes when im nervous. i cant rly think of anything else i do tho i Know i probably have other habits
24. amethyst or pyrite
25. ur really just assuming my memory is good enough for this but if i had to say, it’d be any popular song from 2009 specifically
26. hide in my room with a fan and ac
27. read with a blanket wrapped around me or smth
28. atlas: six by sleeping at last, flaws by bastille, atlas: five by sleeping at last, she by dodie, and neptune by sleeping at last. there are probably more/better ones but those are the first ones i found
29. listen. be open with me. talk with me. not to sound like that person, but sharing ur life secrets is a rly big ice breaker for me because it helps let me know i can trust u. but also idk im a really awkward person and can accidentally distance myself from ppl so when ppl notice theres smth up w me or even do the bare minimum of doing Their part to maintain a friendship, that’s always rad as shit when idk how to communicate what i need
30. my room, my high school’s auditorium, the local barnes and noble
31. black boots, black jeans, any button-up shirt that’ll match that combination OR a really cool sweatshirt
32. im a bad bitch, you cant kill me. road work ahead? uh, i sure hope it does. it is wednesday, my dudes! welcome to chili’s. i love you, bitch, and i ain’t ever gonna stop loving you, bitch.
33. probably “omg” or “oh my god”
34. sc johnson. a family company.
35. i dont even have one but on a good night like 10-11
36. the troll face memes
37. suitcases feel much more organized
38. lemonade
39. lemon cake
40. ummmmm....one time a tech/theatre kid left a paint can sitting out in the open accidentally and a person took a shit in it or smth then knocked over the can, spilled a bunch of paint, and tried to clean it up w a broom and proceeded to like snap the broom in half. then they ran away to leave the kids to clean it up the next day. i wasnt actually there for that but ive heard the story firsthand enough times to Know
41. my dad
42. jacket pockets
43. hoodie is what i wear, tho everything else is Very Good
44. lavender
45. fantasy, my dudes
46. this set of pjs i got for xmas w a soft tshirt and matching baggy flannel pants
47. colby jack
48. uhhh a banana?? i could probably give a better answer if i was more
49. i dont rly live by a quote or saying, i just Go for it
50. my sister has probably done smth before to like Break me
51. everything ever but mostly myself
52. arial
53. uhhh...kinda worn? my nails aren’t doin so good and i have a couple scratches and stuff that Still havent healed after a few weeks
54. get a move on
55. the ugly duckling
56. tradition is kinda vague but i like that it became tradition for me and my siblings to go to my grandparents’ home every summer
57. i think im still overcoming like everything ive been faced with ever
58. writing? listening, helping, giving advice. idk tbh like talents who?
59. "jesus christ, my dude”
60. a fantasy/comedy, or at least if its gonna be fantasy with death and stuff, it should be dope as fuck
61. "isn’t vulnerability the opposite of being in control?” from a webcomic called aerial magic. super simple but the entire scene leading up to it,,,,,so good
62. umm fuck! i dont kno whether favs r usually ones that i relate to or ones that i wanna b like but??? keith from voltron, jirou from bnha, chromedome and/or rewind from transformers/mtmte, sypha from castlevania, and jayfeather from warriors
63. planetary (go!) by mcr, the seed by aurora, hayloft by mother mother, the cup/halloween blues from relient k, choke by i dont know how but they found me
64. coolmath was THE shit
65. yes! two on my leg from a surgery i had to get to realign my femur, bc i snapped the bone in half
66. lavender, snowdrops, hibiscus
67. i dont really have any, mostly bc i have a hard time attaching like. That sorta meaning to just random objects, but i do still have a small teddy bear stashed safely away in my room from when i was a little babee
68. pickle-flavored pringles. disgusting. would not recommend
69. lions’ roars can be heard up to 5 miles away from the original source
70. right handed
71. horizontal stripes, i guess? there’s not much wrong with them but i just Never wear them
72. math
73. i dont usually eat /weird/ flavor combos, even tho ill eat basically anything, but i like ketchup in mac and cheese sometimes. or fries in shakes. chicken and waffles. stuff like that
74. 11
75. idek honestly, my memory is too bad
76. hashbrowns
77. i dont kno a Lot of plants off the top of my head other than the Basic ones but literally any flower in a windowsill is like bone apple teeth in my mind
78. sushi from a grocery store. publix taught me that grocery stores can, in fact, be trusted when needed
79. my school id photo
80. earth tones
81. fireflies
82. pc
83. writing
84. talk radio is nostalgic but podcasts are always more entertaining to actually listen to
84. polly pocket
85. mythology with a dash of fairytales
86. cupcakes, because of my dog’s name
87. abandonment
88. to grow unbreakable attachments with everyone i care very deeply about and grow into an old age with them, or something
89. i feel like answering this question totally honestly would hurt ppl’s feelings, but also i literally could think of like 4 people to put down for this and i’m bad at deciding, esp w smth like this, so. not to b vague but These People kno who they are
90. becoming a part of a certain website with a bad crowd and managing to pick out the good apples in such a rotten batch
91. boxes
92. lamps /and/ fairy lights
93. i dont rly have any but my parents call me hannah banana. that’s ab it, tho
94. fall/winter? it kinda is inconsistent because fall has bad weather in florida but winter is when like everything has Gone Wrong in life these past few years, but then fall has such a GOOD aesthetic and my birthday is in winter, so they’re pretty even rn
95. uhhh??? thats such a weird thing, to try and assign a “favorite” app, but the only thing i could think to say would be spotify just bc i use it so much on my phone, even if the app itself isnt the greatest
96. i havent set one, actually, bc im lazy and havent found anything that’d fit
97. 2 and a half
98. the part where fish were learning that they could walk on land
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nashta · 7 years
Text
Disclaimer: I'm not trying to complain or anything
I realize far too many people have it so much worse than I do, and I just need to put this out there or I'll cave in on myself. Also this post is a giant mess and I don't expect anyone to read it. So a few months ago, I started a new job where I'm working on Friday and Saturday until close (0300). My friend who will be moving in this week or next in place of my mom (oh yeah she's leaving the state) is my ride to and from work, and he refuses to pick me up from those two shifts because he works the next morning. Understandable, I guess, but Uber is super expensive like the first ride I had was almost $40. I can't afford that twice a week. Luckily, another friend of mine is saving me and will be my ride home until she goes to boot camp in February. Anyway, I feel lifeless. I'm not eating anything like I should and I have no energy and school is starting soon and I'm under immense amounts of stress and sacrificing more of myself than I have to sacrifice. He complained about the work thing, saying he won't pick me up from that shift, which I kind of get, but he also said he wants his 2 days off to be reliable so he knows that he'll have a day or two to look forward to where he doesn't have to drive or wake up or anything. Again, I get it, but here's the thing: you can't have both. You gotta either give up your guaranteed days off or a couple hours of sleep because I'm already not sleeping much/well, especially with school coming up. A full-time job on top of school that I'm fully responsible for? I will not be sleeping. A big-ass thing, a few months ago when he said he wouldn't pick me up from those shifts, I lashed out and said "how the fuck am I gonna eat with no job?" because yknow, anxiety, and he lashed back "don't you fucking dare try to guilt trip me." I wasn't trying to though, I was honestly just trying to express what my fears were. Literally ever since then, I refuse to tell him anything. I was often told I was a manipulative child, and maybe it's because I was "mature" for a child because manipulation, even after I learned what it was, was never my intent. But now, I can't tell him when something is wrong. I cry after a ton of shifts on the ride home almost the entire ride because honestly I have so much I need to just get OUT (hence this post) and so many things I'm afraid of and things I need him to do or at least listen to and understand. I need a hug and a cry and I need to know I'm safe and things will be fine and that someone gives a legitimate damn about me and my well-being because it really feels like no one in the world cares. Not enough, anyway. At this point now, someone just saying "I care" really isn't going to cut it. I'm not going to believe them, not really. I can consciously tell myself that, I can back it up with evidence and logic and things they've done to "prove" it, but I still won't feel it. He always wants to get home to his place, I understand, he's tired and wants to go, but I'm never okay. I'm so shot, during those times I'm crying in his car for 20 mins I literally just need a real fucking hug and I need to be allowed to cry because I don't make any sound. As soon as I get inside, I break the fuck down like I'm talking drop everything and fall to the floor audibly sobbing, and I'm exaggerating absolutely none of that. I've been afraid to post on this for so long because I know he follows it and reads shit and I'm afraid of what'll happen but honestly I just want to die and the more shit that happens, the more I break and the less I feel and the sooner I'll kill myself so maybe him getting pissed off and so upset with me is for the best. THIS IS A SUPER IMPORTANT BIT @ANYONE/FUTURE ME The reason I'm always crying is that I have things I need to express, but I can't. I'm constantly reminded of that "don't guilt me" thing, and every single thing I need to express is a guilt trip, all of it is a fucking manipulation, and I can't express that feeling because that is ALSO a guilt trip and a fucking manipulation. Telling him what I need and why and how it's fucking with me, that'll possibly make him feel bad, and telling him that I can't tell him shit might also make him feel bad, you see where I'm going with this? He also thinks I'm dramatic and overreacting to shit. My whole body is in pain and simple tasks seem to hurt more than they used to. FUTURE ME, THIS IS ALSO A SUPER IMPORTANT BIT I've expressed some of these things before and he just invalidates them. "Oh you're fine," "you just have hypothermia because you always have the A/C on," "your weight is fine." NO BITCH My temperature at one point hit 94.something. That's dangerous, and while I realize you can get hypothermia from too much A/C, I don't have any of the symptoms and I have too many symptoms of other things that are more likely. My mom is Type 1 brittle diabetic (autoimmune disease) which means being hypoglycemic isn't an out-there theory, I have a lot of symptoms, and it would explain the voodoo doll feeling. Plus hypoglycemia (from what I've read) is often a symptom itself of something else. Having Addison's Disease also isn't all that far off because it is also an autoimmune disease and it attacks internal organs (from what I've read. I'm not a doctor I don't know how likely or unlikely it is that I could have it). ALSO kidney disease (CKD) is another possibility because I have too many symptoms to be that much coincidence and that really freaks me out because if I'm ever so broke that I literally cannot afford food/water/other damn needs, my backup plan (honestly probably for college) is to sell one of my kidneys since you really only need one. And yes, I mean on the black market. Go ahead FBI fucking come for me. If I don't have 2 working kidneys, bye bye backup plan! Also to add to that stress, I don't know half of my biological family medical history. Never had a dad because he left, so I don't know what I'm at risk for from them. I have decent reason to fucking panic! MORE IMPORTANT THING FUTURE ME I KNOW YOU'VE NODDED OFF BY NOW PROBABLY GO FUCK YOURSELF I'm starving myself. Kind of. Ok look it's not in an ED sort of way. It's not like that, I'm not so fucking hungry that I'm clutching my stomach in pain and still refusing to eat. If I'm that hungry I'll try and fucking eat something. I have a small appetite because of stress and probably other things rn. There are usually only a few times I eat: 1) when I watch Shane Dawson videos (idk why he used to do a lot of food stuff and I'd usually watch them after work when I was hungry so maybe that's it but it's stuck now) 2) when I have to take my meds (before work and during work if it's been a while) 3) if my head is being stupid (if I have a massive headache because I've learned that that usually means I need food, or if my head is super foggy and I'm confused and slow and forgetful) My usual weight from a few months ago was like 115-118 lbs. I'm 4'11 so that's not bad BMI but I despised my body and frequently would punish myself for indulging or eating too much. My BMI was fine but too uncomfortably close to "overweight" for me. However, didn't hate my weight, just my body. Light for me was 112-115 lbs. My average-ish weight now is 100 lbs, and it's going down. I don't despise my body now (don't really like it still but I'm fine with it) and I don't want to gain my weight back but I'm also scared to lose more. I weighed myself earlier today and I WAS 98 LBS. THAT'S APPROXIMATELY A 20 LB DROP. That's still a healthy weight, but it wasn't lost in a healthy way and that's what fucking scares me. I sent him a photo of the scale at 99 lbs (he knows my normal weight and I expressed to him when I lost 10 lbs how worried I was because it was after like 2 weeks of accidental starvation) and YOU KNOW WHAT HE FUCKING SAID? "Your weight is nothing to be worried about." I'M NOT WORRIED ABOUT MY WEIGHT I'M WORRIED ABOUT HOW I GOT THERE GODDAMMIT HE FUCKING KNOWS I HAVEN'T BEEN EATING. WE'VE LITERALLY TALKED ABOUT HOW IT'S A FUCKING STRUGGLE FOR ME TO GET IN MORE THAN 800 CALORIES IN A FUCKING WAKE CYCLE PLUS EVERYTHING I'M EATING IS NOT GOOD FOR ME TO BE EATING LIKE THIS Jesus fucking Christ god fucking dammit I'M FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT MY WEIGHT BECAUSE THE ONLY REASON IT'S THERE IS BECAUSE I'VE NOT BEEN EATING. I'VE BEEN FUCKING STARVING MYSELF I've been fucking starving myself. I've been fucking starving myself. I've been fucking starving myself. Because of money. That's literally the reason. I picked up my medication today and had a $1 copay. I've never had a copay before. I had an anxiety attack and bought food, plus I was hungry. I woke at 1800, ate at around 2000, ate again at 1000 when I took another dose of meds before work. This prescription thing, I got back in his car (which isn't working well and he was angry so I kind of get it) at 1700ish. I ate one small soft cookie and he asked me to not eat because chewing irritates him. So I didn't eat until 0100, after a few hours of sleep. Let me timeline this for you: 1800 - wake 2 hours later - approximately 1c rice with nooch and chili powder and a little cheese to take my meds and supplement 14 hours later- 1.5 pieces of naan with hummus to take my meds 7 hours later - 1 small cookie that I then felt bad about buying and eating because it made him angry and reinforced the "you're nothing so you don't deserve to eat" thing in my head 4 hours later - fall asleep 3.5 hours later - wake 30 mins later - half a package of soft cookies with milk 5 hours later - writing this post for 1.5 - 2 hours I don't eat 95% of the time because of money. If I eat this food, then I have to spend money to replace it. I might need that money later so don't eat too much, eat only what you need, don't be a fucking pig, eat only what you need to function, don't be greedy, eat only what you need to stay alive for now, don't piss anyone off by making a mess and being lazy just don't eat if you don't absolutely need to. Don't make anyone angry at you. Make it last. You need boots that you can work in. You need your neck worked out. You want to see Motionless In White, save your money. You can't go to Kipona this year because he won't go with you and you have no one else even though you used to go with Grandbob, maybe next year or the one after that. Save your money. Maybe Muddy Run? Save your money for that. You want to go to the Ren Faire, save all you can for that. Another thing that's fucking with me He said he'd take off work and go to last month's flute circle because I really want him to experience it, but backed out because he didn't want to take off work and left me unable to attend. I rarely go, and it's the last regular experience I have to Grandbob and it absolutely fucking destroyed me to not be there. Again. I can't go to this month's because it was 2 days ago. I don't think I'll be allowed to go back for another few years, I don't think I'll be allowed to experience anything that connects me to Grandbob for another few years and by then they'll probably all be gone. I'm not allowed to cope or lash out or cry or scream or experience emotion or eat or fucking try to have some sort of connection to Grandbob because it inconveniences everyone else and I'm not allowed to have needs or try to take care of myself because it inconveniences everyone else and makes everyone else angry and every single thing I do does that. Last week I woke up at 0200 and couldn't go back to sleep even though I had to be at work at 1100 and close the shop at 2100 and work through those hours. I couldn't get back to sleep even though I tried for hours because I was having a depressive anxiety attack and crying for hours and I was literally imagining that my availability having to change and possibly not being able to work the drunk rush anymore making my boss so angry and upset that he fires me and me being as depressed and anxious and suicidal as I am, literally taking a knife and killing myself in the bathroom and my coworker (who actually got fired irl) found me and was just so apathetic and my boss literally just being like "goddammit now I have this mess to clean up and have to close early and can't make money" and me dying having zero emotional impact on either of them because I'm not a fucking person to them and all I am is a hassle. So I'm seeing that in my head and crying for hours, then I'm also seeing potential effect that that imaginary situation has on my mom and my friend and I'm crying over THAT for hours. God, I don't even fucking know. I just want to die because no one gives a fuck and I hate this country and I don't have enough money to survive and be okay in this country and politics is killing me and money and stress and I just want to fucking die because my soul is cold and nothing feels real or genuine to me anymore and I'm just a fucking obligation to everyone I'm not a fucking person I'm not important I'm just a selfish piece of shit motherfucker that needs to die alone in a hole and I'm pretty sure this whole post is a fucking guilt trip manipulation bullshit even though I don't mean it to be and I wish I never needed anything because hugs aren't feeling genuine anymore no one fucking takes my needs into consideration it doesn't matter how thin i get or how thin I'm spread it's never enough and I can't expect anyone to spread themselves the smallest bit until I'm fucking dust please just end my earthly existence Look at me Look at this fucking post I'm fucking crazy, aren't I? Isn't this the raving of a mad person? I've literally spent 2 hours typing this WHY am I this way? WHY can't I just deal with it like everyone else?
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phantomkeytapper · 5 years
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WILL YOU CHOOSE TO SAVE ME?
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WHEN I LOOK DOWN FROM HEAVEN
When I look down from Heaven and I see your tear stained face, I smile with joy now that you have found, forgiveness by God’s grace.   I thought that we would never meet, it seemed so far away. But now there’s hope and happiness, that will be yours and mine someday.
 WILL YOU CHOOSE TO SAVE ME?
Initial Writing - October, 2014
Today was a sad day for me and approximately four thousand of my friends. It hurt us all to know that we were not given a voice. I listened with excitement when the doctor mentioned RU-486 to my mother. You see God gave me understanding just as He gave John the Baptist understanding when he was still a baby resting in the comfort of his mother’s womb, and he heard the great news about Jesus. He was so happy that he leaped for joy. (Luke 1:44) When I heard RU – 486 I thought about all of the numbers that God put into His Bible and what this combination of numbers must have meant. When I heard this mentioned I was so excited because I thought that the Doctor was asking my mother a question when he said, RU. You see the numbers tell a story that had me excited enough to say that “the numbers are about me mommy; it’s about you and me!!!!”
The number four is typically used in the Bible to represent “CREATION”; and I thought to myself, that is what I am! A new creation for my Mommy and Daddy! The number eight is typically used to represent “NEW BIRTH”, and I thought about all of the love that I would show my Mommy as soon as I was born. In my inner most thoughts and dreams I could feel her nose against mine as we looked into each other’s eyes as we felt a special bond with one another.
I tried to show her that I loved her while I was in her tummy but I knew that as soon as I was born a whole new experience would evolve for me and my Mommy and Daddy. I would be just like them as a human and that is what the number six means in the Bible: “HUMAN.”
“You see Mommy and Daddy we were made in the image of God (Genesis 1:26) and we were made as humans to protect and care for one another and that is where love begins.”
“As soon as I was conceived, I knew that you would love me and I would love you even more than I do now. God knows us before we are formed. (Jeremiah 1:5 and Isaiah 44:24)”
Two weeks ago, Mommy and her friends saved some puppies that were about to be destroyed; and I am so proud of how hard she fought and argued for their right to live. That’s my Mommy; she is a real hero to a lot of people. Everyone should have a great mommy like mine. I can’t wait to grow up to be just like her!
“Mommy!”
“Something is wrong; and I am desperate for your help! I am having a very hard time breathing; and the fluids in my body are drying up. Why am I so hungry? Why am I so thirsty? Aren’t you eating enough to feed us both Mommy?”
“Mommy!”
“This is starting to hurt me! Please Mommy! I need your help! Why aren’t you helping me? Did the doctor give you the wrong medicine? Why am I starting to be born when I am so weak and the time for me to be born is not now?”
“Mommy; remember 486: Creation, New birth, Humanity. Why are you in pain mommy?”
“Why don’t I feel the natural love between us anymore?” (Romans 1:31, 2 Timothy 3:3)
“Why are you crying Mommy?”
“Mommy I can’t hold on any longer! Please do something to save me.”
“Will you fight to save me just like the puppies?”
“I love you Mommy!!!!!”
RU-486
RU-486 is a drug that produces an abortion. It is taken after the mother misses her period. It can be used up to the second month of pregnancy. It works by blocking progesterone, a crucial hormone during pregnancy. Without progesterone, the uterine lining does not provide food, fluid and oxygen to the tiny developing baby. The baby cannot survive. A second drug is then given that stimulates the uterus to contract and the baby is expelled.
Women who abort with the drug RU-486 experience nausea, severe cramping, vomiting and bleeding. But the resulting emotional distress may have even greater repercussions. Rather than being “over with” in a few minutes (as in a surgical abortion) this abortion could last for over a week. Then, when the woman finally does abort, she will expel a tiny dead human being - her baby.
 THOUGHTS FROM THE AUTHOR
I have often wondered about the long-term emotional effect that these people go through. It’s not like you can go back and change what happened. Are they tormented by the thoughts of what they had done long after the abortion process? And I wonder just what kind on counseling if any do they get prior to abortion, or even afterward for that matter? Do they think about it, ever? Are there things that happen off and on throughout their life that remind them of what they have done? How much of this are they really confronted with in discussion prior to having an abortion; any kind of an abortion?
I know very little about abortions and all of the procedures involved. Someone very dear to me shared with me years ago that they had an abortion, and they told me the immediate effects of guilt and shame that they went through. I felt very sorry for her and thought to myself, had she really known all of the facts about the later experience, would she have gone through with it? Wouldn’t she have been much happier to have had the child and lived out the consequences of her parent’s anger, or the decline in her social status among her friends and other family members or acquaintances? Was the price really worth it?
This person told me that the type of abortion that she had was a suction type, and as I said before I know very little about abortions. From what I read on the internet the actual procedure lasts about 10 – 15 minutes and then a couple of hours of recovery before the patient is released to go home. So, it sounded to me that overall in about a half a days’ time, you could go through the procedure and then be home afterward. I don’t know that the woman which I speak of ever talked about it anymore after that. Least ways I have never heard her speak about it. She told me that shortly after having the abortion that she was so eaten up with guilt that she went to the man that was the father of the child and said that she felt like they should go together and pray to God for forgiveness. I know that this all weighed heavy on the woman afterwards and I can’t help but wonder if she ever had any flashbacks about it? I sometimes think that maybe she did.
Fortunately for this woman, she got saved sometime after having done this and went on in her life to become a mother and a well-grounded woman in the faith. I am ever so thankful that God can take a broken vessel and make it into something that He can use for His glory. Only He is capable of doing that.
Later in life, the woman had graduated in death from this life into the next: and I can’t help but smile as I played with the idea in a dream to myself, what it would be like for her, if she walked across the stage of Heaven to receive her graduation diploma; that her little boy would be there to greet her, and in the flood of love and tearful emotions, they finally got to embrace and share their lives together. What a reunion that would be.
CLOSING REMARKS
Dear friend, I don’t know where you stand in all of this, and I can’t help but wonder if you may be experiencing those moments of sorrow and shame, and maybe wondering if you can do anything about it? The good news is that you can. I believe that all babies that die before the age of accountability go to Heaven immediately upon their death. And the great message for you in all of this, is that God forgives, and He is willing to forgive you and to help you heal in this matter.
The important thing for you my friend is to know that you can change your future and rectify your wrong by going to God in prayer and placing all of your faith and trust in him to forgive you and He will. He is but just one prayer away. So, if you are willing to take that step of faith, then please bow your head and say this simple prayer:
Lord, I know what sin is and I know that I am a sinner. I believe that you are the Son of God who died on a cross, was buried, and resurrected from the dead for me. I ask that you would please forgive me for every sin that I have ever committed in my life.
I am placing my full trust in you only to save me and wash away all of my sin with your blood. (Revelation 1:5) Please send your Holy Spirit into my heart to save me. Amen! (Galatians 4:6)
If you made a decision to pray and ask Christ to forgive you then we praise God for you. The bible teaches in Romans 10:13 “For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
You should write down the:
Date: _______________________
Time: __________________________
Place:___________________________________________________
of your decision. Record this information in your Bible as a record of that decision. It is part of your testimony.
Please contact us through Myerstown Baptist Church, 59 N. Ramona Road, Myerstown PA. 17067, or visit our website at http://www.myerstownbaptistchurch.com/ to let us know that you have made a decision for Christ so that we can pray for you and rejoice with you. We would like to send you some information to help you get started in your Christian walk and too answer any questions that you may have. God bless you! And may your reunion in Heaven be the most beautiful experience that you have ever had in your life. God loves you!
  THE CHALLENGE
I hope that all of my dear friends and family will take this message to heart. We have a responsibility before God to do what we can to win these poor unfortunate souls to Christ. I say unfortunate because I can’t help but believe that many of these women were pressured into aborting their baby from so many pressing influences, whether that be so called professional medical experts, family, friends and even those that were partner to the conception of the child.
The unfortunate side to all of this is that many of these women I believe were duped into thinking that the abortion will all be over and forgotten in a relatively short frame of time. So, we are left a lot of times with more than the baby being the victim.
We are talking big business here, and when it’s not their baby what do they really care? To many of them it’s the cha-ching sound of cash flow.
The real tragedy I feel, is that there are a number of people out there that have been carrying around this scar, this burden and they don’t know that they can do something about it. I’m in favor of helping as many of them as we can. Those that have already gone through the abortion process and those that are about to. We need to share the good news of the gospel and give them hope that God is the one that can heal their wounds, not time, not psychiatric help, but God! Let’s do what we can to be a part of the solution. We all have things in our lives that we are sorry for, and I’m thankful that once we are saved, God no longer condemns us for our past mistakes. Let’s help these people to see and know that.
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clichecreativity · 7 years
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Galway Girl (Set to Win)
So this is my first fic on Tumblr, long story short I listened to the entirety of Ed Sheeran’s new album at like 2 am and decided to write this. So, I hope you enjoy.
Name: Galway Girl (Set to Win)
Pairing: Albus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy (Scorbus)
Universe: Muggle/Band AU
Warnings: There’s some yelling part way though and it’s kinda bad but if you want to skip it you can, you’ll know where it is because it’s in all caps.
The first time Albus saw him he almost broke his guitar...and the others violin. It wasn’t his fault, honestly, he was just….distracted. He had an undercut (which Albus may or may not have a thing for) with the long part at the top dyed a pastel purple, that’s when he noticed his eyes, the were silver SILVER like how is that even possible, then he realised the blond (blond? Yes Albus could see the shaved hair was a brilliant white colour) was wearing makeup. Albus then questioned if this beautiful person was a girl, then he mentally slapped himself because of course guys can wear makeup too, which led to the thought that well maybe they’re neither, that’s a thing right? He swore he heard Lilly talking about it once, how some people are born the wrong gender, some don’t have a gender and that some change from one to another. It was during this ridiculous train of thought that Albus missed the other barrelling towards him, a case in their hands.
“Oof,” Albus called as they ran straight into each other, their cases knocking together and falling to the ground beside them.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” the other...boy (Albus decides to go with boy, it seems like the safest option right now) apologises as he scrambles up, grabbing his case which Albus could now see was covered in stickers like “Violinist do it better” as well as “If it’s not about music I don’t care” and other things like that.
“It’s cool,” Albus replied snatching his guitar case and getting up to stand beside the other. “I’m Albus.” He proclaimed reaching out his hand.
“Scorpius,” The boy replied warmly reaching forward and shaking the others hand. “And before you say anything about the makeup I’ll have you know, boys can wear it too.”
Albus stuttered, taken back, “Oh n-no I wasn’t gonna say anything about it, I was actually thinking, well, that it looked very nice.” Albus smiled softly at the other who ducked his head down, but Albus could see that his pale ears were stained red with a blush.
‘Thanks,” Scorpius muttered still blushing. Suddenly he looked up and exclaimed, “Oh shit! I’m sorry I have to go, I'm performing soon.” He began to make his way towards to stage. “I hope to see you later Albus Potter!” He called over his shoulder as he rushed off.
Albus started gaping at where the lavender haired boy had stood just moments before. “How did he, how did he know who I am?” Albus questioned flabbergasted.
He moved toward the stage hoping to see his lavender enigma again. The current group on stage had just finished and the crowd aground him was cheering loudly as the band exited. Two men walked on stage, one with brown hair and one with black to announce the next group performing. This particular festival was one of Albus’ favourites, it was a competition split into 2 sections, groups and solos. Today was The last day for groups with the finals that night and solos starting tomorrow, Albus had never one but he had a good feeling about this year.
“For our next group,” the brown hair man called out.
The other picked up the end of his sentence. “We proudly present!”
“Silver Snakebite!” They yelled in unison
Albus watched as they walked on stage and his breath caught in his throat as the last person walked on stage. “Scorpius has snake bites, Jesus Christ I’ve only know this boy for 10 minutes and he's already gonna and up murdering me”. He hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to the stage but somehow Albus had made it so he was standing right in front of Scorpius. Said silver eyed beauty was fiddling with his fiddle, plucking at the strings and messing with the bow before nodding toward the two girls, one sitting at the piano, the other set up with a cello. The girl, brown hair with blue streaks he noticed as he managed to tear his eyes away from Scorpius, began playing, the girl on cello, blonde with purple streaks, joining soon after while the only person Albus cared about continued to sway to the music as the brunette began to sing.
“I think I've been telling lies,
cause I've never been in love.
Everyone falls for the sunshine disguise, distracted by who they're thinking of.
I'd rather date an idea;
something I'll never find.
Sure, I'll live in the moment,
but I'm never happy here
I'm surrounded by greener looking time”
Scorpius brought up his bow and looked down at Albus, the green-eyed boy could see him breathe out as his eyes fluttered shut and he began to play.
“Am I the only one
wishing life away?
Never caught up in the moment
busy begging the past to stay
Memories painted with much brighter ink;
they tell me I loved, teach me how to think.”
Albus had forgotten how to breathe, Scorpius looked….gorgeous, no that was too simple of a word for the beauty that was the lavender boy. Pulchritudinous, yes that was perfect, he played with his whole body never ceasing his sway and never opening his eyes, he looked like he belonged somewhere magnificent and beautiful, like a far away meadow or in a fancy castle built into the mountains beside a waterfall.
“I'll take what I can get
cause I'm too damp for a spark.
Kissing sickly sweet guys
cause they say they like my eyes
but I'd only ever see them in the dark.
I'm sick of faking diary entries,
got to get it in my head; I'll never be sixteen again
I'm waiting to live, and waiting to love
oh it'll be over, and I'll still be asking when.
Am I the only one
wishing life away?
Never caught up in the moment
busy begging the past to stay
Memories painted with much brighter ink;
they tell me I loved, teach me how to think.
I'm sick of faking diary entries,
got to get it in my head; I'll never be sixteen again
I'm waiting to live, still waiting to love
oh it'll be over, and I'll still be asking when
oh it'll be over, and I'll still be asking when.”
Albus didn’t even notice when the song ended, only realising when Scorpius elegantly dropped his arm from the violin and started shyly at the astonished boy before moving to begin the next song. They all switched instruments, the blonde girl moving to a set of drums, the brunette to a guitar, and Scorpius to the piano.Scorpius began playing short staccato chords and the brunette started singing.
“We're on top of the world
We're on top of the world now darling so don't let go
Can I call you mine
So can I call you mine now darling
For a whole lot of time
My heart finally trust my mind
And I know somehow it's right”
The girl began playing the guitar, but as before all of Albus’ attention was directed toward Scorpius as he began to sing.
“And oh we got time, yeah
So darling just say you'll stay
Right by my side
And oh we got love, yeah
So darling just swear you'll stand right by my side
We're on top of the world
We're on top of the world now darling so don't let go
Hmm, I've got something to say
You're perfect in every way, I'm gonna shout it out
I'm wanna tell you now
'Cause I know somehow it's right
And oh we got time, yeah
So darling just say you'll stay right by my side
And oh we got love, yeah
Darling just swear you'll stand right by my side
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
You're my bright blue sky
You're the sun in my eyes
Oh baby you're my life
You're the reason why
We're on top of the world
We're on top of the world now darling so don't let go
(1, 2, 3, 4)
And oh, we got time
Yeah, we got love
So darling just swear you'll stay right by my side
Oh, and we got love, yeah
So darling just swear you'll stand right by my side
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Will you love me forever?
I'll love you forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever
Be my forever”
When they finished Albus was again left staring at Scorpius as if he was the most incredible thing to ever exist (which at that moment he may be) before they walked off stage and Albus snapped out of it. “Holy shit, I think I'm in love.” he whispered to himself before sprinting toward where the bands came out after performing.
He spotted the band and casually sauntered up to Scorpius (it was incredibly casually he was not freaking out and he did not almost trip when Scorpius turned and smiled when he saw him). “You were….really good,” Albus told the silver-eyed boy rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at his feet.
“Thanks,” Albus could see Scorpius digging the toe of his shoe into the ground. “Do you, uh want to go get something to eat?” HE asked nervously.
Albus looked around, realising that the sun was going down. “Sure, can we stop where I’m staying first, I need to drop my guitar off first.”
“Sure, there's a pub just around the corner if you want to go there,” Scorpius offered as they began walking.
“Sure sounds good,” Albus replied excitedly. The rest of the way to Albus’ car and to the pub was filled with never ending conversation and laughter. They were the same when inside, they found out that both their families were incredibly well off, Albus talked non-stop about his siblings for at least a half hour and found that Scorpius was an only child and his mom had died when he was 13 but his father had played mother and father so he never felt as if he was from a broken home. Albus talked about how his dad had given him a guitar for his birthday when he was seven and his mother had only let him play it during certain hours of the day so she wouldn’t go crazy. Scorpius talked about their huge music room that held more instruments than he could ever hope to play and how when he took up an interest in violin his father got him the best teacher he could find and even sent him to art school when he asked. By the end of the night, they knew each other better than anyone else and Albus couldn’t take it anymore. As they walked out into the night he stopped and stared at the stars.
“Where are you?,” Albus questioned and instead of just pointing like he had expected Scorpius moved to stand behind him, one hand on his waist, one on his wrist as he directed his hand into the sky.
“Right there,” Scorpius replied softly staring into the constellation that he was named after. Slowly Albus turned around and brought his hands to the slightly shorter boy's waist. HE started at the silver snake bites on his lips and brought his closer before pushing their mouths together. Albus could feel the cool metal as they kissed softly and sweetly before breaking apart. “I’ll see you tomorrow?,” Scorpius questioned his lips brushing against Ablus’ due to their closeness.
“Definitely,” Albus replied before breaking away and starting toward his car, song lyrics already running through his head.
When Scorpius got to their hotel from a magical night he was brought back to reality by a furious Clarity.
“WHERE WERE YOU,” the brunette girl screamed in his face as he opened the door to their hotel room.
“I was out,” he responded calmly, not wanting to deal with her when she was mad at him.
“WE HAD PRACTICE. IF YOU’RE NOT GONNA SHOW UP YOU SHOULD JUST QUICK THE BAND AND STOP BEING SUCH A FUCKING DEAD WEIGHT THAT WE HAVE TO DRAG AROUND BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WANTS TO PLAY WITH YOU AND YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO DO IT ON YOUR OWN,” she screamed again and this when he finally snapped.
“Oh, I’m a dead weight? Who writes all our music, who gets us hotels and instruments and transportation and gigs? I guess it must be you or Shannon because obviously it wasn't me doing it and I won't be anymore,” Scorpius replied with cold fury.
“What do you mean “not anymore”?! You’re nothing without us! You’ll never make it by yourself! ” She cried furiously as he walked around the room collecting his music and instruments, as well as the sound equipment he had bought for the group.
“Maybe not,” he responded calmly again. “But you can’t make it anywhere without me, not with your deadbeat dad or crack head mom.” Scorpius flipped his hair over his face and walked back to the door, holding the stuff he collected leaving a flabbergasted Clarity in his wake. “I’ll be back later with a crew to get the rest of my stuff. Oh also,” he turned back to Clarity. “Don't even think of breaking any of it, you’ll be paying.” Scorpius then turned and strutted down the hallway to go get a new room in a different hotel.
~*~
The next day Albus was exhausted, he had spent the night writing a whole new song to perform all about the boy he met yesterday. Speaking of which he could see him walking toward him now. “Hey baby girl,” Albus called when Scorpius reached him.
“Baby girl?” Scorpius questioned.
“What do you not like it,” Albus asked pulling the other by his waist toward him, noticing that he had taken out his snake bites since yesterday.
“No, I like it,” Scorpius blushed and looked down.
“Well c’mon, we have to go, I’m performing soon,” Albus told Scorpius before pulling him toward the stage. When they reached it Albus gave a quick kiss to his….boyfriend? “I’m next, meet me here after?” He asked.
“Of course and I’ll be in the front row when you play,” Scorpius reassured him.
“God, we’re already one of those disgusting couples you and your single friends make fun of,” Albus joked before jogging up the steps to the stage.
He hardly ever got really bad nerves anymore but today was different, he was performing a song he had written that night he had barely gone over it after. Albus didn’t expect to win today, today was more about showing Scorpius what he already meant to him, even after just one day. He had never clicked with someone the way he did with Scorpius. His thoughts were interrupted when he was called to go on stage, he walked up to the microphone and made sure his guitar was in tune before starting to play.
“She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man
Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance"
I met her on Grafton street right outside of the bar
She shared a cigarette with me while her brother played the guitar
She asked me what does it mean the Gaelic ink on your arm?
Said it was one of my friend's songs do you want to drink on?”
Albus looked into the crowd in front of him searching for the one he was singing for right now and when he found him he could see the most splendorous smile on his face. So Albus just kept singing.
“She took Jamie as a chaser, Jack for the fun
She got Arthur on the table, with Johnny riding as shot gun
Chatted some more, one more drink at the bar
Then put Van on the jukebox, got up to dance, you know
She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man
Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance"
With my pretty little Galway Girl
You're my pretty little Galway Girl
You know she beat me at darts and then she beat me at pool
And then she kissed me like there was nobody else in the room
As last orders were called, was when she stood on the stool
After dancing to Kaleigh, singing to trad tunes
I never heard Carrickfergus ever sung so sweet
Acapella in the bar using her feet for a beat
Oh I could have that voice playing on repeat for a week
And in this packed out room, swear she was singing to me
She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man
Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance"
My pretty little Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
Now we've outstayed our welcome and it's closing time
I was holding her hand, her hand was holding mine
Our coats both smell of smoke, whisky and wine
As we fill up our lungs with the cold air of the night
I walked her home then she took me inside
Finish some Doritos and another bottle of wine
I swear I'm going to put you in a song that I write
About a Galway girl and a perfect night
She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man
Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance"
My pretty little Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl
My my my my my my my Galway girl”
When Albus finished he realised he couldn’t see Scorpius anymore when suddenly a body slammed into his side all he saw was a quick flash of lavender hair before lips were pressed to his.
The next year the two boys returned to the festival, ready with two songs, each one about the other.
“You ready baby girl,” Albus asked his currently cotton candy blue haired boyfriend.
“As I’ll ever be,” Scorpius replied, messing with the red chunks of hair he had convinced the other to dye. Albus pulled him into a quick kiss as they heard the announcement.
“We present to you! Constellation Dreams!”
And for the first time officially, Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy walked onto that stage as a group. Set to Win.
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