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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Oh God

TimeTraveler!Son x Haikyuu!! Part 2

a/n: hehe i wouldnt put ‘x haikyuu’ if manager y/n ends up with that certain character. youll just have to,,,, wait for the end 😏

he didnt want to lie but he had to so he could survive

hinata offered his hand to help him up and natsu winced at the scratches and the slight headache as he stood on his two feet

‘you okay?’

hinata asked and natsu nodded

‘yea, just a headache’

natsu tried to play it off as cooly as he could bc this must’ve been from the car hit before and he couldnt just say he got ran over by a damn car

‘where do you live? i can go and treat your wounds there’

natsu was about to respond but he remembers hes not in tokyo anymore and he cant just spout out his address

so he did the thing his mom told him to do whenever it was necessary

he lied

‘i-um,,,’

he fumbled for an excuse but he sighed to maintain the act

‘i got kicked out’

he mumbled and hinata had to make him repeat it twice because he said it so quietly

the tangerine boy gasped and held his arms

‘what?! why?!’

natsu sniffled

‘my dad,,,, he just,,, doesnt want me’

well, that was actually true

so a true statement could equal that lie, right?

thankfully, hinata bought it and he grabbed his arm to walk forward while his other was pushing his bike

‘i hit you with my bike so the least i could do is take you to my house and treat you!’

and that was what they did

natsu’s phone was dead even though he was sure he charged it from denki’s powerbank during practice but it remained its black screen no matter how many times he hit the power button

his surroundings was also something unfamiliar

his mother only kept him in tokyo and never took him to go visit her family because she was kicked out and had to go live with her auntie when she found out about him and his father refused to help her

‘so, sendai, huh?’

he mumbled and hinata looked at him confused

‘sounds like youre not from around here. where you from?’

‘t-tokyo’

he replied and saw hinata’s eyes brighten

‘oh?! you look like youre my age so you must have been in a high school in tokyo, right? what school?’

‘yuuei’

‘hah?! yuuei?! what is that?!’

natsu rolled his eyes and shrugged

‘a school’

hinata persisted though

‘do you know other schools?! any other school friends?! like nekoma?! or fukurodani?!’

natsu shook his head and he was supposed to be happy that he got to meet, even talk, to his idol yet his younger self was much more hyper than his mellowed out behavior on tv

‘i stick to my friends from yuuei’

‘but what are you doing all the way here?’

natsu’s throat dried up and he watched his feet kick the pebbles to distract him of his urge to just whine and throw a tantrum with the confusion from this mess

‘i dont know’

he choked out and he was so tired and confused and all he wants to do is cry in his mother’s arms like he used to but she doesnt even know he exists

hinata sensed the tension and sadness from the boy beside him and tried his best to stay quiet until they get home

to say his mom was angry was an understatement

‘SHOYO, DONT YOU KNOW TO WATCH WHERE YOURE GOING?!’

‘kaa-san i was so angry and bakageyama was yelling at me and hit me and-’

‘THAT DOESNT GIVE YOU AN EXCUSE TO RUN SOMEONE OVER!’

natsu sat there on their couch awkwardly watching the black-haired woman yell at the human tangerine

he coughed in impulse and she turned away from her son and went to sit next to the h/c boy

‘dear, im so sorry for my son and his terrible biking. i didnt catch your name when you entered, what is it?’

even hinata forgot to ask his name but thats such a hinata thing to do though

natsu froze

if he was to say his mother’s last name, it would raise suspicion that he might know her in this time period and izuku has shown him enough doctor who to show him what happens when he messes up in time

again, he lied

‘kiri,,,shima,,, natsu. kirishima natsu’

he inwardly apologized to eijirou for using his last name

mrs. hinata raised a hand to her mouth with a surprised gasp

‘oh! my daughter’s name is also natsu! natsu, dear! can you come here for a second?’

natsu heard soft sounds from the stairs and she shyly walked down

‘come say hi’

she softly urged her daughter to come closer and the little girl ran to hide behind her older brother who gently smiled and held her hand

‘well, thats her. she just turned 10 a few days ago. look dear, kirishima-kun has the same name as you!’

she waved slightly and natsu felt his heart swell at the sight of the adorable little girl

his mother never really had time for relationships so he was an only child and never got to experience a sibling, only hearing the experience of having siblings from his friend, shouto

mrs. hinata placed a gentle hand on his arm to revert his attention back to her

‘shoyo told me what happened and im sorry that this is all happening to you’

he felt guilty at the sight of her sad eyes because this was all a lie but he knew if he told them the real reason, they wouldnt believe him

so he had to continue with the lie

‘everything was falling apart and i wanted to leave everything behind. so i just took the shinkansen to nowhere and ended up here’

mrs. hinata felt her heart tug because he was just a little boy and he was too young to experience this so she offered him something he shouldnt have agreed to but again, survival

‘you can stay with us in the mean time. our guest room has been collecting dust so you can live here’

‘what? no! i can’t!’

natsu instinctually turned it down because he hated people giving him charity

but the woman squeezed his arm to give him a smile

‘i will not allow a child to live in the streets because of something he couldnt help’

‘arent you worried youre inviting a total stranger in your home?’

but she gave him a knowing smile

‘im a mother. i can trust you, boy’

in exchange for board and food, he promised to get a part time job so he could pay her back and get out of their house as quickly as he could

shoyo led him to the bathroom upstairs so he could treat the wounds from the ground

natsu sat on the closed toilet seat while his literal idol was putting cream on his boo-boos

he still cant wrap his head with everything

maybe it was because he was so busy trying to come up with lies that he wasnt able to fully sit down and think about the fact that he just TRAVELED BACK IN TIME and could accidentally change it

‘shoyo, what year is it?’

he mumbled

‘2012′

he answered and natsu sighed but his head perked up

oh god

2012

thats a year away from 2013

the year he was born

that meant shoyo’s team manager was going to give birth to him next year

‘why? did you hit your head so far that you forgot?’

hinata joked but he paled when natsu didnt laugh

‘OH GOD DID YOU?!’

‘NO! AND STOP YELLING!’

natsu shouted, equally surprised

‘whew, thank god. again, im so sorry i hit you’

‘shoyo, dont worry about it, okay? im fine, i swear’

during dinner, mrs. hinata told him about his school situation

‘you can go to karasuno with shoyo. what year were you in?’

‘first’

‘perfect! shoyo is too so he could easily help you around the school!’

natsu nodded quietly, still out of it and his brain finally starting to accept this impossible reality

‘but i dont think i could help you with the entrance exams. im not the most-um-smartest, per se’

shoyo apologized but natsu already knew that

he was no extreme fanatic but he knew quite a lot about hinata shoyo, the player he watched during the 2021 olympics and the reason he started playing volleyball

natsu dreamed to join the msby jackals just like his idol did and eventually reach the national team like hinata did

it was during the olympics of 2021, he knew he wanted to be like him

this boy who sat next to him was the reason he came to love volleyball along with his other idol, oikawa tooru, from the argentina volleyball team after seeing that legendary match

when oikawa hit that service ace, natsu wanted to be able to receive that

he was merely 8 and his neighbor, midoriya inko, was babysitting him and she placed him and her son who was his friend, izuku, in front of the tv where they watched the olympics match

‘someday, ill be someone great. ill be great like him’

he promised and from then on, he worked to achieve that goal

‘natsu? hello?’

he was shaken from his thoughts as shoyo nudged him back to reality

mrs. hinata laughed

‘maybe you should head to bed early, dear. you must be tired after having a hard journey’

he nodded and was about to go and wash his dishes when she stopped him

‘no. go and sleep, ill take care of this’

‘i have to do my part in here, hinata-san. please, let me do this’

she finally agreed and he was scrubbing the plates when his mind wandered over to possible solutions on how he could go back

there was an episode that he watched with izuku that the character had to do something to go back

and he had a feeling that he would have to do the same thing

but what would that something be?

there had to be a reason he was thrown all the way in this time and it couldnt just be a coincidence that supposedly, this would be around the same time his mother would get pregnant

but who would it be?

he finished putting the plates on the drying rack and he felt really thirsty suddenly

opening the fridge, he found no water bottles and natsu had a very sensitive stomach so he couldnt drink tap water

his next favorite beverage was there and he pulled a glass from the cabinet

‘hinata-san, is it okay if i can have some milk?’

he called out and she shouted that it was okay

natsu poured the drink on his glass and started drinking it when hinata entered the kitchen and snickered at him

‘yknow, you remind me of my idiot teammate. none of my other friends drink straight milk except for him’

natsu placed the glass down and wiped his lips

‘chocolate milk make me sick and i hate the taste of flavoring in milk. but i just hate flavoring in general. except for gari gari popsicles, those are good’

natsu reasoned, watching hinata move across the room to get an apple

‘still ew. but come on! lets go to bed so i can show you around school early before practice tomorrow!’

natsu noticed his excitement by the way he bounced in place and he chuckled

it reminded him of his friends mina and denki

hinata led them both to his room so he could check his wounds again just to make sure

then something caught his eye

‘kirishima-kun you like volleyball?!’

that threw him off

partly because he wasnt used to being called by his friend’s last name

but also because of the question

‘huh? how do you know that?’

natsu asked, almost defensively

hinata shrugged

‘i saw your volleyball shoes in your bag’

hinata reasoned and excitedly pointed at them

‘you should play for us! im part of the team too! oh oh! what position do you play?!’

‘l-libero’

natsu stuttered out, slightly overwhelmed by hinata’s energy

hinata started circling him, inspecting his height and looking at him up and down

‘yanno, kirishima-kun, youre really tall. like much taller than the rest of my club. maybe not saltyshima but really!! youre so tall!!’

hinata whined in envy and natsu laughed

‘blame it on the paternal side of the family. my ma isnt really tall’

he laughs but then memories of his mother resurfaced and he suddenly felt gloomy, guilty, even, bc he doesnt know if time stopped there or it kept going and if so, shes probably worried sick

and he knew she was always one who blamed herself

hinata noticed his downcast expression and thought he probably remembers his dad and got sad since he got kicked out

so our baby sunshine freaked out and he frantically waved his hands around

‘oh no! gomen kiri-kun! gomen! i really didnt mean to make you think about him! gomen!!!’

he even bowed which surprised the h/c boy and made him stand back up

‘o-oi shoyo! dont! you didnt because i wasnt thinking about him!’

he fussed and patted hinata’s hair

‘i dont care about him. to be honest, there isnt much to think about’

he didnt think about what he said until he heard himself

natsu’s eyes widened, fearful of how hinata could take it but he flinched when the orange-haired boy’s eyes were filled with his own tears

‘OH NO!! KIRI-KUN!!!’

then launched another series of apologies and natsu had to calm him down

oh dear

it was early in the morning like 5 when hinata bursted into natsu’s room

the loud shout of shoyo made his eyes blink open and he groaned before turning to the side

‘come on, kiri-kun! we need to go to take your exam!’

‘nooooooooo’

‘yeeessssssss’

it was quite a battle for hinata to even just get natsu out of bed but he managed to bribe the latter with some milk bread from the bakery down the street

‘2′

natsu showed his two fingers and hinata sighed before nodding

‘yes. now go hurry so we can leave!’

dressed in his grey sweatpants and a yuuei sweatshirt, natsu cursed as he only has clothes good for 2 days and he didnt want to bother the hinatas so he was at a loss

mrs hinata bid the two boys good bye and natsu was yawning and dragging his body to walk while hinata was skipping over to his bike

then he finally realized the problem

he nervously looked at natsu and the taller boy didnt understand why he was looking at him that way

‘what?’

shoyo pointed at the bike and awkwardly smiled

‘uh,,, you see,,, i dont think youd,,, fit,,, at the back seat’

natsu shrugged

‘then ill bike. ive done it before’

he sauntered over to the bike and swiftly lifted his leg before testing out the brake handles

‘its good and better than mine back home’

‘a-are you-’

‘sit down, sho’

hinata gripped on to the back of natsu’s sweatshirt as he told him the directions to how to get to the school

natsu remembered watching an interview of hinata talking about his high-school life and he remembered the star player talking about his dedication to go to karasuno everyday for volleyball

and the boy couldn’t believe hes doing that right now, with his idol literally behind him, and driving to the legendary karasuno high school

from the jackals to the adlers and even some other teams like the frogs, natsu cheered for them

there was a memory of his mother sitting with him on their couch during one of her rare day offs as they rewatched the recorded copy of the olympics

it has become natsu’s favorite thing to watch

‘with great talent comes great hardships. people don’t become good overnight and i watched those people suffer through it all but look where they are now’

‘KIRISHIMA, WATCH OUT! COWS CROSSING!’

natsu was snapped out of his thoughts at hinata’s shout

then it morphed into pure and utter confusion

‘cows?’

shoyo laughed

‘since youre from the city, this must be a weird sight for you, huh? well, in the countryside, this happens a lot!’

but natsu didnt mind

in fact, he loved cows

he loved any farm animal in general

maybe it was his upbringing in the hustle and bustle of the city that he grew to love the countryside

shoto took him with his family to a trip to the country once and he remembered loving the smell of grass

they were able to do an activity in a farm where they worked in a rice farm and the peace and serenity was something he will always remember

his mother was lucky she grew up in a place like this

‘kiri-kun, ive been wanting to ask, how is your volleyball team in the city? are you a powerhouse?’

natsu felt pride bubble up in his chest

‘of course! we got second place in nationals!’

he boasted and blurted out before he could stop himself

then he felt fear

he shouldnt have said that because for all he knows, yuuei probably doesn’t exist at this time period

hinata had a different reaction and his eyes shone

‘WHAT?! WOAH! SO COOL! I HAVE TO TELL OUR CAPTAIN THAT WE’RE GETTING A POWERHOUSE STUDENT!’

‘uh-i-uh-’

natsu didnt know what to say because he had a feeling he definitely just did an oopsie

so he switched topics really quick to divert the attention away from his past

‘o-oi sho, once youre done being a pro volleyball player and stuff, we should have our own rice farm’

of course it was such a random idea but it distracted the orange boy

hinata shrugged

‘i mean,,, i have to be a pro first but i guess we can!’

‘hmm,,,, i dont think you have to worry about that’

.................................................

taglist:

@hartbeat-art @yakus-yakult @nerdyphantomlady @jollycowboysaladhero @cynicallychaotic

a/n: oh god this sat in my drafts for so long and i really dont know what im doing like i kinda have a rough outline of what im doing but im just going with the flow but i dont think the flow is quite flowy

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albapuella · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D

Day 1:

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

---

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

---

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

---

* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?

Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat

Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.

Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

---

Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS

Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience.

The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.

The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

---

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her.

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly.

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally.

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture.

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

---

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally).

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake.

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning.

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.”

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could.

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should.

He stayed where he was.

---

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too.

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals.

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

---

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them.

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him.

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

---

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic.

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time.

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

---

* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink? Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower???

#Homestuck #Humanstuck #fan fic #my fic #wip

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lukebaker-archive · 4 years

Text

Road To Hell .

Date: Saturday, January 2020 Key: TW Drug Relapse , @dallas-micheal Sober/Clean: 0 days.

Luke: Everything was still, but Luke's mind had been racing. The days and nights had melted together and no matter how fast the world was moving around him, it felt as if his body was glued to the car seat. His nose was on fire, dry, but craving for more substances to inflame his nose was all he needed. Reaching for his phone, he grunted to himself. No service, no drugs. "Fuck." Luke forced himself up, his pulse rising, the world spinning, and the only thing he could think of was his cravings. That was when the lightbulb hit him. Luke forcefully pulled up the floor liner on his passenger side, a small plastic baggie with white powder taking over his thoughts. Within the next seconds, his body went into autopilot, drawing the line and praying for some kind of comfort to avoid the withdraw.

Dallas: It was odd when his right hand didnt answer his texts. Even more odd when he wouldnt answer his calls. Dallas left a few messages for Luke, letting him know Becky was on the lookout and everyone was wondering where Degrassis resident playboy had went. He knew if Luke wanted to be found then the boy would let people know of his presence. "Im gonna head for a walk," Dallas called out into the abyss of the Torres home, knowing someone heard him before he left. Ever since the Vanessa drama, and not having Luke around to discuss and distract. He was left to his own devices, and going for a walk seemed like his best and favorite option. It had been about half an hour when Dallas decided that he should probably head back home, but as he turned the corner to go the back route home, a familiar sight caught his eye. He would've recognized that car anywhere, but why was it in this neighborhood. As he started walking towards the car, he realized someone was in the car. "Luke!" He called out as he neared the same the vehicle

Luke: He could hear his name in the distance, but Luke was too transfixed in his own mind to let himself be bothered. His body relaxed into the chair, the numbness in his body grabbing onto his body. Luke had missed this feeling. The world was quiet. The fighting in his head had finally silenced and he was safe inside his own head, but it would come at a cost. First he had images of Fiona at first to comfort him, to carry him into safer dreams, but he knew better than that. The safer dreams needed to erase Fiona, Becky, anyone who mattered for that fact to fully feel everything. All he had was darkness, that's what he wanted.

Dallas: He scrunched his brows when no one responded, he kept walking towards the car. He realized the drivers door was popped open as he got closer. "Luke," He spoke as he finally made his way towards the door. Eyes immediately training on the little baggie sat on the passengers seat. "Fuck," He spoke as he looked down at his friend, he knew all to well where the boy was in his high. He shook his head as he quickly grabbed the baggie and shoved it. He spoke quickly, trying to get eye contact with his friend. He was supposed to help this from happening, he tried to help the boy. And had done decently up until this point, or so he had thought.

Luke: The cool breeze threw Luke off as the figure was speaking out to him. He simply nodded I response to his best friend. Or at least what he believed was his best friend. Everything was bright and in focus despite the darkness of the night, but he couldn't pull his friends face or name from his mind. Only Dallas' voice was able to reach to Luke. A sniffle as he reached over to make another line. His eyes widen not being there. "Fuckin' hell. Where'd I put it," he whispered mainly to himself. "You got it right? You saw where it was?" His thoughts weren't on anything else but riding this high out. He felt his inner self screaming in the back of his mind, but the urge was too strong. "Come on, man. I just need one more bump."

Dallas: He shook his head at his friend, the boy barely knew what was happening besides his next fix. The boy was already high as a kite, "What you need is to move over so I can drive us out of this place," He stopped himself from calling the boy a fucking idiot. He knew the history, why it was his kryptonite. He understood the thrill of the drug, he was lucky to not get to the same point as Luke, at least with the ivory powder. "We'll go to my place," He didnt have his keys on him, but Luke was given a key to his place the day his mom met him. "We can chill there and Ill let you have all the bumps,"

Luke: "Just lemme get one more on the way there," Luke spoke erratically. He didn't feel in control of his body as he lifted out of the car. Instead of walking around the car, Luke forced himself into the back seat, laying on his back forcing to stare at the car roof. The drive wouldn't take long, but Luke didn't know that. He barely knew where he was right now and all he could focus on was the next line. "Lemme get just one before we get there. Just something small to keep the edge off."

Dallas: Dallas got in the car quickly starting it and pulling out, checking on Luke through the rear view, "You'll be fine, its a couple minutes. Do you know how long you been gone?" He quizzed, already assuming the boys answer. If it had been anything like how Dallas found him then he definitely didn't even know the time of day let alone day of the week. "I got some shit to tell you when we get there. As always its about Vanessa, I already know what youll say," He tried to discuss anything but the drugs, hoping it would at least distract the boy.It had been a while since he'd done anything, now Dallas was just wondering what ignited it.

Luke: Luke's face turned confused at the question. "Uh, depends? Is the dance still going on?" His brain was fuzzy with the timeline and he felt like he was forgetting something. Or someone? "Was I supposed to do something?" He hadn't thought he was gone from the Match Dance that long, but then again the amount of sunrises he had seen and forgotten made him think differently. "I always liked you and V. She smells like vanilla and made you less of a dick," Luke laughed to himself. "Your game was better too. Maybe it was the lack of V from V," he continued his laugh even distracting him from himself.

Dallas: Dallas furrowed his brows, remembering someone saying Luke left them at the dance, "Its about a week later buddy, and I think you may be right about forgetting someone. Cant remember who," He shrugged as he pulled onto his road, the familiarity hitting him immediately. Dallas couldnt help the chuckle that left his mouth, "She smells like vanilla with a hint of citrus, but only if you're close enough," He failed to mention the light leather scent she held due to the countless jackets she owned, and the lettermans she borrowed. "She always had twisted ways of getting me to focus," He chuckled lightly, before a frown over took his features, "Unfortunately, she needs time for herself," He sighed as he pulled into his driveway, parking the car. "I get it and all, but I just fucking got her back into my life,"

Luke: "A week?" Luke raised an eyebrow. The time couldn't have been passed through that much, could it have? "She needs time alone or you let her push her away?" Luke called him out. Luke didn't know much, but even in his mind he had clarity about things sober Luke didn't want to speak about. "Fi did something stupid when I let her be alone. Don't let it happen to her either. You don't wanna see her like that," he said lowly. The mention of Fiona shook Luke's head. He didn't want to think about her right now. Her face began flushing in his mind with disappointment and replaying the night before she was hospitalized. All that guilt and hurt circling back, fixating on his mind. "Fuck, gimme the baggie." Luke's voice more forceful. "I need it."

Dallas: "She just said she isn't herself and she inst that happy. She cant be with me if she doesn't know herself type of thing i guess," He turned as he heard the shift in Lukes tone. "You good? Whats going through your mind?" He could see a few different emotions crossing his face but couldn't make em all out. "Lets head inside," He got outta the car, making his way to the door to unlock it. If he got Luke inside first, it'll be a lot easier to keep him there for a bit of time. At least to try and detox him before bringing him home.

Luke: "And you just /left/? Sounds like a cry for help, but what do I know," Luke replied, chuckling. The laughter echoed in his head even though he had stopped being audible with it. He just needed a sound to get Fiona's image out of his head. "Just give me my damn drugs." Luke's voice was aggressive as he leaned up from his the backseat. Against his own mind, Luke's body followed Dallas' words only for the powder he was holding. He was hard on his feet, heavy in his steps as he made his way to the Torres' residence. The last thing he needed was a lecture from Audra so he remained quiet without being told sold. Luke's sniffling had become heavy now, "I did what you asked. Draw me a line, would'ja."

Dallas: "I didnt know what else to do Luke. The love of my life was telling me she couldnt be with me and I panicked. Shes the only girl ive ever loved and honestly more than likely will ever love," He thought about Lukes words, he knew he needed to eventually talk to her about the situation. But he also assumed she wanted her space for a little bit, and honestly he needed his too. Dallas sighed as he pulled the baggie from his pocket. "How bout I indulge with you? A little bro bonding,"

Luke: "Look, dumbass, the love of my life told me the same thing. I left her alone and next thing i knew she had drank herself to the bottom of the staircase. I'm not letting you make the same mistake," Luke spoke trying to reason. All he could see in his mind right now was Fiona in that hospital bed and it was beginning to eat at him. He wanted to forget, he needed to forget. The drug must have been wearing off because he was beginning to see clearly again. The baggie made the "Yeah, yeah man. It'll help you forget her. Help us forget them both," he spoke quickly. It was beginning to hurt and at this point he'd say whatever. "You won't think about her or any of them, just one line."

Dallas: "So that's what really happened. I knew she didn't go to Paris," He shook his head as he took the baggie out of his pocket. Opening it, he glanced at Luke noticing him looking in the opposite direction before he "accidentally" dropped the baggie all into the carpet. "Fuck!" He said loudly trying to play it off as if the bag slipped. "They need to put fucking grips on these things,"

Luke: "Call your fucking girlfriend." Luke's eyes stayed focus on the bagging until he thought he had heard footsteps. In that quick second everything had turned red. The powder was completely on the floor and he was on his knees trying to pick any trace up. The rage grew on his face as he snarled up at Dallas. "You need to get me more! I can't... I can't go back," he rambled. "You gotta help me man. You gotta get me more."

Dallas: "Im sorry it slipped!" He had never seen the amount of anger on Lukes face as he had in that moment. He knew he couldnt go get him more, let alone leave him by himself. "Sit," He spoke calmly, pointing to the spot on the opposite end of the couch. "Do you think if I call her she'll actually answer? I did leave her in the middle of the a diner, " He silently begged that he would just forget, and focus on the conversation.

Luke: He could only sink into the seat, knowing the inevitable was coming. "Ask yourself the same thing, if she called would you answer?" he replied. Luke was stubborn and impulsive, but the one thing you couldn't say about him was he didn't know how to treat people he loved, well not in this mindstate anyway. "If you're gonna make me suffer, can you at least get me a beer to try and ride this?" It was a shallow statement, only needing him away from a quick moment so he can try to save everything that was on the carpet.

Dallas: "Fair point," He looked at his phone that was sat on the edge of the table. He had stopped himself many times in the past couple days from picking it up and texting her. "You think Momma Dallas has alcohol? Funny," He chuckled, after his dad went away his mom decided that alcohol was the reason, and no more would be allowed. "I may have a bottle of vodka in my room if you wanna go check," He shrugged, " Not positive however," He grabbed the television remote, turning it on and switching the HDMI so they could use the PlayStation.

Luke: only shook his head, knowing he was going to have to find a whole new stash all on his own. His eyes just stayed focus on carpet, not even noticing Dallas turning his attention to the tv. He could feel the comedown happening, his mind leaving high alert and his body trying to avoid the mania that was coming. He leaned back into the couch, just ready tp let the suffering kick in.

#para #RTH #dallas-micheal

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years

Text

Battle Scars - Chapter Six

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: um...nope

Enjoy!!

***

You pulled your hand from Bruce’s and curled it back into a fist. “I’ve had that scar forever. Don’t even remember how I got it now.”

He arched his brows and gave you a look that said he didn’t believe a word you were saying. “You did not have that scar yesterday. Or even today when you handed Tony his coffee. Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. I’m more observant than most people give me credit for.” He slid off his glasses and tossed them onto a nearby table before crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze never wavered from you as he waited for you to speak.

Finally, you sighed and paced away from him. “I’m not trying to bullshit you, Bruce. I just wasn’t intending on telling anyone. Not for a while, at least.”

“So, you are Tony’s soulmate then?” He dropped his arms and took a step toward you.

Suddenly unable to speak, you nodded.

“Okay. And you’ve known since?”

“After he was missing. He was doing a press conference and I saw him on the television. Our bruises matched.”

He raked a hand through his already messy hair and huffed out a breath. “And you haven’t told him?”

“What do you think, Bruce?”

“All right, all right.” He gestured toward one of the chairs at his small kitchen table. You sat and he took the one across from you. “Are you planning to tell him?”

You debated for a moment whether to even the continue the conversation before deciding it was too much of a relief to have someone to talk to for you to stop now. If things got back to Tony, you’d just have to deal with it then. “That was my intention when I came here. I tried to get through to him by phone and I couldn’t so I just showed up. They assumed I was here for a job interview and here we are.”

“I don’t suppose you mentioned you were his soulmate when you tried to call?” he asked.

“It’s not like anyone would have believed me if I had. Besides, that’s the kind of news you need to deliver yourself don’t you think?” You leaned back in your seat.

He ran his fingers across the surface of the table as he thought. “All of that aside, why haven’t you told him since then? You’ve had time. He’s been looking for you for a long time.”

Hearing that Tony had wanted to find you made your heart a little lighter. It also made you feel a little guilty. “He has a girlfriend, Bruce. I’m not going to be what breaks them up.”

“Who? Pepper?”

You nodded.

He grimaced. “She’s not really his girlfriend.”

You pursed your lips thinking over everything you had seen the last few weeks. “Are they dating?”

He tilted his head from side to side. “Well, I mean, technically—”

You held up a hand to cut him off. “Technically is enough of a relationship for me. I’ll tell him when the time is right. This isn’t it.”

“How do you know that it isn’t? I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to, but you should. And the sooner the better.”

“That’s enough. I’m not going to let him drop his entire life because of me. That’s not fair to him, Bruce.”

“You dropped yours to come here for him. Shouldn’t he get the same choice?”

***

It took a while before you were convinced that Bruce wouldn’t spill your secret. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Tony. You would love nothing more than to be with him but you didn’t want him to pick you just because you were his soulmate. You wanted him to get to know you as a person first and a soulmate second. Things like that took time.

You were still deep in thought when you left Bruce’s room to head back to your floor.

“Everything sorted?”

The unexpected voice startled you and you found yourself staring at Tony with wide eyes. “Huh?” Well, that was eloquent, Y/N.

Tony straightened from where he’d been leaning in the doorway of the lab. You wondered briefly how long he’d been standing there. His gaze darted past you to Bruce’s door before settling back on you. “Did you get Bruce squared away?”

“Yeah,” you answered feeling moderately guilty for misleading him. “It’s all good.”

He stepped forward as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “What did he need anyway? You two were in there for a while.”

You lifted one brow. “We got busy talking. You know how it is.”

He hummed in what you assumed was agreement. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” With that he turned and went back into the lab.

You stood there for a moment trying to process the strange scene you’d just been part of until your phone rang. “Hello,” you answered without paying attention to who was calling.

“We need to talk,” came Fury’s deep voice and you instantly forgot about anything else. Why was the director of SHIELD calling you?

***

As soon as you were off the phone with the director, you spent the next two hours making calls, placing orders and issuing instructions. Once you were certain everything you needed done would be completed by morning, you called a meeting in the Avengers conference room.

As the team shuffled in, they fell quiet as they found you waiting for them. Tony and Bruce were the last two to file in. Tony scowled as his gaze fell on you. “I thought this was a team meeting. What are you doing here, hot stuff?”

You arched a brow at the nickname. “It is a team meeting, Tony. Fury thought I could handle this one.”

Steve’s brows shot up. “Would you mind repeating that?”

“Just sit down,” you instructed the science bros. “It’s not that kind of meeting.” You passed a thin folder to everyone at the table. “Fury is expanding the team.”

“Sam Wilson, the Maximoff twins, and James Barnes have all been approved on a probationary basis.” From the corner of your eye you saw Steve sit straighter in his chair as a grin curled his lips. “Sam will maintain his own residence. The twins will be on the floor below Nat and Clint and Bucky will be on your floor, Steve.”

Not everyone looked particularly thrilled with the news you were giving them. “The information in the folders includes what they are required to do to maintain their status on the team. Steve, Bucky requires daily therapy for the time being, would you prefer I bring someone in?”

“Yes, please,” he responded with no hesitation.

You shifted your attention to Tony who just frowned at the folder in front of him. “Tony.” You’d said his name softly but it was enough to get his attention. He looked up with wide eyes.

“Yeah?”

“The twins need therapy, too. Three times a week. And then there are the after mission sessions. Should I see about getting one on staff?”

Natasha huffed a laugh. “I’m surprised Fury didn’t offer to move one in.”

You smiled at that. “Oh, he did. I didn’t think any of you would care for a SHIELD shrink when we can hire our own. Then you don’t have to worry about them reporting back to anyone.”

“See. This is why I like her,” Clint piped up. “Always thinking.”

Tony’s lips twitched for a second before he gave in and smiled. “Hire us a shrink, sweetheart.”

***

With Jarvis’ help it didn’t take you long at all to find the perfect candidate and he was quickly hired. Anxious to share the news with Tony you were talking before he could even acknowledge your presence in the lab. You read off the man’s qualifications and talked about his references and then realized Tony wasn’t commenting on anything you said.

You looked up from you tablet to find him smiling as he looked between the device in his hand and you. It was easy to see that you amused him. Your face heated. “Sorry, I ramble when I get excited.”

“I look forward to exploring that trait of yours in more detail later, but why are you so excited about hiring a team therapist? Or should I not ask? Is he handsome? Are you impressed by the size of his PHD?”

You blinked as your brain tried to catch up with your soulmate’s teasing. He was certainly in a flirtatious mood. As you looked him over, you realized that he had stripped down to a white tank. And coming from beneath it was a bright blue glow. “Um, Tony?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

You gestured vaguely in his direction. “You’re glowing.” You tore your gaze from his chest to meet his eyes.

His brow furrowed and he glanced down. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before. It keeps me alive. Keeps shrapnel from going into my heart.”

That made your chest hurt. What if he wasn’t a genius? Would he already be dead? You sat your tablet down on the table and stepped around until you stood next to Tony, his eyes following you. “Can I see?”

He tilted his head and studied you for a long moment and you wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he emptied his hands and turned on his stool so he was facing you. In one swift movement, he took his tank off and tossed it on the table beside him. “Look all you want, sweetheart.”

You closed the small distance remaining between the two of you, your eyes glued to the device in his chest. No wonder your scar had never faded. This thing had to be inserted inside of him. It was a permanent wound. You reached your hand out to touch it before you caught yourself. “Sorry,” you said, snatching your fingers back just before you actually made contact.

Tony’s warm hand wrapped around yours and he tugged you closer. Your heart raced and you sucked in a deep breath as he laid your hand against his chest. He kept his over the top of it. “It’s called an arc reactor,” he explained. “It not only keeps me breathing, it powers the suit.”

You glanced up at the sound of his voice and swallowed past the lump in your throat as you realized just how close you were to him. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “Hurt like hell at the time. Now, not so much.” His thumb rubbed against the hand he was holding making a tremor shoot through you.

You reached your other hand up and traced one of the many scars that decorated his skin. He hissed in a breath. Your first instinct was to apologize but you resisted the urge and looked up to meet Tony’s gaze. His eyes studied your face as the corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “If you’re planning on checking out all my scars, it’s going to take a while. Not that I mind. I just think you should be prepared.”

The two of you leaned toward each other and your eyelids closed as you prepared for the kiss.

“Ms. Potts is requesting that you meet her in your apartment, Mr. Stark.” Jarvis’ voice cut through the silence in the room and you took a giant step away from Tony as you were reminded of his girlfriend.

Your face was warm and you suddenly found yourself unable to meet his gaze.

“Thank you, Jarvis. Impeccable timing,” Tony bit out.

“Of course, sir.”

You couldn’t keep yourself from glancing up. Tony gave you a smile as he put his shirt back on. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he gave instructions to the AI. “Tell Pepper I’ll meet her in her office.”

He stepped toward you, stopping when you took a step back to maintain the distance. He held up his hands and leaned against the table behind him so you knew he was giving you the space you needed right now. “Pepper is not my girlfriend.”

You bit your lip. “It’s not really my business.”

“I think it is.”

You glanced down briefly before looking back up. “Then does she know she’s not your girlfriend? Because I’m not so sure she does.”

His dark eyes studied you but he said nothing.

You cleared your throat and gestured toward the door. “I should go.”

He nodded once. “Just remember, sweetheart, we’re not even close to done here.”

Battle Scars: @i-dontwikeit @thevanishedillusion @amandamartinez3568 @clumsy-hailles @little-nonny @tonystarkismyboy @redfoxwritesstuff @lowkeyofsassguard @sherlocked-whovian-1969 @tori24rose @a--1--1--3 @youclickedthislink @beckastark @confusedhada @nuggeteater-dot-com @bluehuskey2099 @kit-kat-katie99 @sexysamsungl @staringmoony

All the Things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20 @startrekkingaroundasgard @spooookyscary @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @laneygthememequeen @collette04 @shatteredabby

#tony stark x reader #avengers #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #series #battle scars

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codezeta-liveblog-blog · 6 years

Text

Bonds 1.6 - After coffee, want to grab some pizza?

Just a FYI, my cellphone flipped the fuck out when selecting the text, so it decided to show right in my face one thing I didnt want to see: I know now that by the ending of this chapter there will be nothing within something. I'm hoping it isnt something that is going to be built through the entire thing, and just a last time development. Sorry for that.

I paced. The Demesnes text in hand, I walked from one end of the living room to the other, then walked back.

Another trip back and forth, and I stopped by the window, using the edge of the book to push the curtain back. It was dusk outside, just past sunset, day two, and some of the locals had emerged.

If I didn’t know better, I might have thought the locals were trying to put pressure on me. Men and women, some children, simply staking out the perimeter of the fence. Some of them paced like I was doing, like tigers in their cell, while others were patient, smoking or holding phones to their ears. A number of the ‘children’ were standing on the short stone wall, hands wrapped around the metal curls and spikes of the railing, eyes on the house. Some talked, others were silent.

Most were normal enough I wouldn’t have looked twice. A handful weren’t. One little boy, separate from the others, kept scratching at his head, face, neck and arms, his fingers coming away black with his own blood, or so it appeared in the gloom. I could see the gouge marks, dark lines cut into his skin, he would turn away, and they would be gone the next time I got a chance to see. There was a woman with hair, hat and coat covering much of her face, but when I did get a glimpse, I saw only vague, black smudges where her eyes and mouth should be. She held a cigarette up near her face, but never inhaled from it. The others seemed rather intent on avoiding her, giving her a wide berth as she paced.

Gore doesn't do anything for me, put scratching/itchyness is somehow more creepy. Maybe it has to do with the feeling of helplessness. Wounds, blood, missing limbs, its somehow fine, maybe manageable or expected depending on the setting. But self inflicted madness-inducing itchyness? Something you can't get OUT of you? Thats what does it for me in the creepyness scale.

A car passed down the length of the road. I tried to use the headlights to get a better look at the things, but the headlights revealed a mostly empty sidewalk, no Others but a small group of the ‘children’ that had hopped down from the fence and were simply walking as a group, heads covered by hats and hoods, hardly worthy of a glance.

My eyes had to adjust from focusing on the headlights. The Others appeared from dark spots, and stepped out from behind the pillars that framed the gate.

I let the curtain drop, then resumed the pacing. I’d read the same page five or six times.

“You’re making me nervous,” Rose said, startling me. “You’ve been pacing the entire time I’ve been gone?”

Her hair was wet. She’d left to go shower, but she still wore the same clothes as before. Apparently she had running water, on her side. That was interesting, considering there wasn’t necessarily anything for the pipes to connect to.

“I’m nervous,” I said. “I ordered pizza, but I didn’t think they’d come crawling out of the woodwork like this. There’s a good ten or so out there.”

“Why did you order pizza?” she asked.

“Because I’m hungry?” I responded. “There’s nothing more than the most basic stuff in the kitchen, I’m going to go crazy or get sick living off flour tortillas, canned beans and tuna, and since I’ve got to figure out a way to keep myself supplied, I might as well start sooner than later.”

“Pizza isn’t supplies.”

“Pizza is a way of testing the waters,” I said. “Will anyone in this town do business with me? If I can’t order a pizza, I might have trouble getting groceries delivered. If I can’t get groceries delivered, then I need to find a reliable, safe way of going outside.”

“So you put a pizza guy in the line of fire?”

“There wasn’t a line of fire when I called,” I said. I looked outside again. “It’s hard to keep track of time. My sleep schedule’s all over the place, my eating schedule’s off track, and the days are short. It’s dangerous, and it’s going to fuck me up. Need to get back in the habit of sleeping at night and eating on time. As is, I didn’t figure it would get dark so soon, and I didn’t figure they’d appear like this.”

“I know,” she said. “Except I don’t even have the physical needs to gauge by, and it’s awfully dark in here.”

I peeked outside.

Two Others had joined the group. One was very talkative, engaging with the eyeless, mouthless woman who had the cigarette, even venturing into the four or five foot bubble of personal space around her that the rest seemed to be respecting.

I reached for the phone. Mind changed.

“Bell Pizza. What can I do you for?”

“I’d like to cancel my order,” I said.

“You’ve already paid for your order. The food is made and is on its way. We can’t provide a refund.”

“It’s fine. Keep the money. Just call back the delivery guy so he doesn’t waste his time.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry. We can’t refund your pizza, because we already prepared it. It should be there in ten minutes or less.”

He was feigning ignorance, with a touch of a bad accent, but he couldn’t hide the smugness.

“You’re being intentionally dense,” I said.

The guy on the other end hung up.

“Fuck,” I said.

# I'm having weird flashbacks of RE4. But every villager is out to get you psychologically and the bosses are staring at you from the window and you cant do shit about it. Really like the alien-ness (?) Of the situation here. Never read something like thia.

“So… now what?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I doubt he’ll give me a fair hearing if I call back. I don’t really know what to expect, here. Even reading up on the basics, it doesn’t get into much depth about this.”

Rose nodded, “Essentials and Famulus were more focused on Other-practitioner relationships than general Other-human relationships.”

I could see her fidgeting. I leaned forward. “Earlier, you said you were nervous. How does that work? You don’t breathe any harder, since you don’t breathe. Does your heartbeat pick up? Does your body flood with the stress hormones, making you fidget?”

“That’s a no on every count,” she said. I turned away from the window to look at her. She elaborated, “My body’s always the same. Stable, steady, there, but not doing anything except… I dunno. Maintaining appearances?”

“But you get nervous.”

“My brain gets nervous,” she said.

“I’m not sure that makes sense, but okay,” I replied. I looked down at the page I’d been rereading for the past twenty minutes, then tossed the book down onto the coffee table.

“You’re onto Demesnes,” she observed, craning her head to peer down. “Me too.”

“It’s a fitting thing to read up on, here,” I said. “Making your own sanctuary, while we have enemies gathering at the gates. It seems like a pretty simple ritual.”

“Deceptively simple,” Rose said.

“Yeah, deceptively simple,” I agreed. “You stake out the area, the magical equivalent of drawing out your borders and planting a flag, you say a few words, and you invite anyone, everyone and everything that objects to come and challenge you. Trial by combat, riddles, placating them with deals, whatever you agree on. The bigger the area you try to claim, the bigger the invitation you broadcast. They each get to confront you the once, and the ritual ends when there are no challengers left, or when a set amount of time passes. Claim a space the size of a closet, maybe get five to ten objections. Claim a house, get fifty.”

Man did I have this backwards from the reddit. I thought it was a safe spot and that wad it. I'm glad i didn't know the full details though!

“I’m thinking that’s one of the last things we want to do,” Rose said. “When we have a familiar, and when we have an implement, so we have some ability to fight.”

“Except,” I said, “It’s a bit of a catch-22, isn’t it? The demesne gives us a steady supply of power, with bigger spaces giving us more power. It’s a sanctuary, and a place where we can bend the rules in our favor. Right? So we need a tool or a familiar to lay claim to as big a space as we can pull off.”

“Yes.”

“But we can’t infuse our tool until we have some power to infuse it with,” I said. “Except…”

“That power would ideally come from the demesne,” Rose said.

I nodded, “Or the familiar, in terms of strength and shaping how the tool functions. And we can’t start talking with Others about bringing them on board as a familiar until we have some established power already.”

“Necessitating a tool and a claim to some land,” Rose finished for me. “Each of the three things requires the two others.”

I nodded. “Or it necessitates a compromise. We pick one front, we make it easy, like you suggested, go with the bare minimum. Do one thing badly, use the leverage we gain to do the next thing in a mediocre way, and then use the two things to do really well with the last ritual.”

My pacing resumed, though I had my hands free, and I could stick them in the pockets of my wool hoodie.

Seems like the sort of thing I would never start at any point. I'm too undecisive when it comes to these things haha. I wonder if theres really no way to turn this situation over. Maybe something at the reunion will happen to make people side with him? Althought that wouldnt fir what we know on how many enemies grandma Rose has accumulated over the years. What to do what to do...

“How do the others do it?” Rose asked. “The Behaims and the Duchamps?”

“They have backup, I imagine,” I said. “A mom and dad who are willing to sit in on a meeting with a familiar and vouch for them, or maybe even have a familiar arranged from early on or before the kid is born, things ready-made, a space set aside.”

“Magical trust fund kids,” Rose said.

“Basically,” I said.

“What about the North End Sorcerer?”

“What about him?”

“I take it you didn’t read the little black book from cover to cover? Look him up.”

I shuffled through the tomes to find where I’d put the book. “I was going to read it later, after the major four were done, before the council meeting.”

“You don’t need to make excuses to me,” Rose said. She had her own copy. “Um. Page thirty-two.”

I opened the tiny book.

Johannes Lillegard, believed to be an adopted name. Practitioner. The newest arrival in Jacob’s Bell as of August thirteenth, ‘ought-nine, he arrived at the council meeting of said date. Johannes appears no older than twenty-five, but all facts suggest he claimed his demesne six or more years ago, a region spanning all of Jacob’s Bell, west and north of the hospital as well as the entire expansion north of the bridge.

I paused in my reading there, to ask, “The bridge?”

“The highway,” Rose said. “It becomes a bridge where it passes over the marshland here.”

I pictured it, then stopped short. “Wait, the commercial area north of the highway? With the train station, the shops-”

“-The condos, the mall, the prefab houses, yes.”

“As his demesne? The book talks about it in the context of rooms, of houses at the most.”

Rose didn’t reply. When I glanced her way, she was nodding, a serious look joining the general exhaustion on her face.

“There’s a catch there,” I said. “A drawback.”

“Oh, right, you’re only partway through,” Rose said. “Demesnes are like trademarks. Periodically, people are going to test them. You need to respond, but you have the home court advantage. The law’s on your side. But if you claim something that broad, and if you can’t or don’t defend it when someone else puts one foot over the line, that weakens your stance. But he’s defending it.”

Look at this guy! How many dozens do you call to attention when you try to claim something that big? I imagined the constant contest for desmenes would be a thing, like a pokemon go gym sort of competition. But good to know you have the advantage at first. Must be scary to get called out for that, the person surely must think they have the upper hand to begin with then. Meaning that they must have information that you are not aware that they have.

“How?”

She pointed back at the little black book.

I read.

In conversation with Aimon Behaim and Sandra Duchamp, we mutually agreed that Johannes must have claimed the territory prior to the expansion appearing, though we’re unsure of when this might have been, for none of us to hear the claim or be able to respond to it, nor how he was able to do this at what might have been the age of thirteen or fourteen. Mara has declined to answer any questions, being more taciturn than her usual,

Johannes seems to bear harsh wounds, no doubt tying back to his ambitious claim, with no use of one eye, one hand and one leg, though the tissues appear undamaged. He bears a set of antique pipes as his implement, and has a Gatekeeper of the Seventh Ring (ref Astral Bodies: vol 3, and Prime Movers) as his familiar, named Faysal Anwar, which takes the form of a rather large Afghan Hound.

Note: Johannes has made his second appearance at council meetings, February sixth, year two thousand and ten. Occasion to expand my notes. Arrogant, and justified in it. Enigmatic. He spends almost all of his time within his demesne, stepping outside only to defend his claim and attend occasional meetings. This makes gathering information hard. Favors manipulation of space.

Note: Touching up all of my notes, for my soon-to-be heiress. He is a manipulator, content to bait people and lure them to their doom. Fitting, given the implement of choice. He safeguards his demesne by making it a fiefdom, with neighborhoods held by Others and a handful of lesser practitioners. Stay clear, this is a threat you do not need to face down.

I looked up at Rose. “He’s powerful, then.”

She said, “He doesn’t have a family. He had nothing given to him in advance, as far as we know. But he managed something.”

“Okay,” I said. “So there are obviously other options. Approached directly, the situation is filled with contradictions and obstacles, but maybe there’s an oblique answer, like Johannes found?”

So there was NO response. Even more intriguing than him just being powerful. He exploited something, found his loophole and only then became powerful. He is the king from the visions right? I’m pretty sure he is. Wasn’t the city twisted in his "kingdom" though? Hm. He was the one that seemed the most nice towards Blake in those visions. What are his motives then? Helping Blake, befriending him or just taking over enough so that he himself has access to the ‘literal’ nukes?

“Like what I was talking about with the witch hunters,” Rose said.

That again. I shook my head.

“You’re refusing my ideas too fast,” she said, and the emotion in her voice caught me off guard. She was irritated, upset. “Have you even read up on witch hunting, Blake?”

“No,” I said. “Have you?”

“I can’t. I need you to rotate the mirror in the study. Damn it, listen, there are things we can learn to do that don’t rely on familiar, implement or demesne. Like Laird’s shamanism.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’m very on board with that.”

“But you aren’t on board with getting the protections witch hunters have? If anything’s going to get us killed, it’s a knee-jerk reactions and making stupid assumptions.”

“It’s not that I don’t like the idea of protection,” I said. “But when someone says ‘witch hunter’, it makes me think of hunting things. Fighting, instead of defense. And I think that any of those protections we might use as practitioners are going to be found in books for practitioners. It’s hard enough without overcomplicating it, sifting through all the stuff we can’t use for some tidbits we could find elsewhere. Can we compromise? Maybe focus on getting this wizardry crap down, and we’ll look at the witch huntery stuff later, as the side project it is?”

Thats the problem right there isnt it? You cant go on the defensive in this situation, Blake is still holding out to some hope. He is the outside element being thrown into a volatile situation. I already see the escalation coming from miles away.

When I looked at Rose, she was frowning, eyebrows knit. tapping her hand on some surface in front of her.

We were similar in other ways. Prone to anger. But something told me that Rose wasn’t one to actually show or exercise that anger.

Something to watch for, if she was bottling up her stress. What outlets did she have to vent it, and how would she react if she couldn’t?

“Fine,” she said, in that way that girls were so very good at. She took a deep breath, then sighed. Purely for effect, I imagined. Calmer, she said, “We shelve that idea. We can use trickery, deception, manipulation, to get our foot in the door, get one of the three major things we need.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Harder than it sounds, because Others are naturally deceptive and are probably looking out for those tricks.”

“What else? We could try marshaling forces, like he is. We need a good rapport with Others to figure out who we might pick for a familiar, right?”

“There’s a problem with that,” I said. I reached for the mirror, then stopped. “May I?”

“Yes.”

I lifted the mirror from where I’d hooked it onto the bookcase, then carried it to the window, pushing the curtains apart. I set the bottom end of the mirror on the windowsill.

There were five more Others than before. All clustered around the fence. The rest were still there. Waiting.

Rose was turned away from me, so I couldn’t see her, and she was silent, leaving me to stand there, presenting our situation.

“That’s the issue, right now. That’s the biggest complication we’re facing with the rituals, with life in general. Someone’s done the equivalent of putting a price out on our head, or they said that the usual rules for going after someone in an inhabited area are on hold, for me, or for us,” I said, my voice low. “We can’t conduct any rituals, because those guys are waiting to fuck us up.”

“That-” Rose started.

Nooo dont get interrupted. I need that knowledge. She recognized someone or something didnt she? I love how her psychology and just how she works in general is being this build-up mystery that is probably going to blow up in my face when she suddenly vanishes forever out of nowhere in a critical momment or something.

She stopped short as a car appeared, parking at the far end of the street, a sign perched on top.

This time, seeing the vehicle approach, I could see how the Others moved out of the way of the headlights. Stepping literally into shadows, or stepping to a position where they were out of sight. In the latter case, it looked like they were stepping out of my field of view, to where the fence or columns on either side of the gate were blocking my view, but I felt like they were doing it for everyone that might be looking. Finding a universal blind spot.

A guy stepped out of the car, holding the insulated bag with the pizza inside. He crossed the street, and approached the gate.

“Stop him, Blake,” Rose said.

“I want to, but how?”

“I don’t know. Shout?”

I strode to the front door, hauled it open, and bellowed, “Hey!”

Others appeared from the shadows by the gate, a ‘child’ with his back to the stone column, glancing my way. Further down the street, I could see the faceless woman with the cigarette appear behind the delivery guy.

He didn’t stop walking. When he shouted back, I couldn’t make out the words.

“Stop! I don’t want it! Go back to the car!” I hollered.

Again, I couldn’t make out his reply.

I watched as the Others closed in.

I never thought I'd read a scary pizza delivery before.

The ‘little boy’ who’d been scratching himself walked down the street, so short I could barely make him out over the stone wall which bordered the property.

He approached the delivery man head on, not moving out of the way. When it looked like they might collide, the ‘boy’ hopped up onto the short stone wall. His hand around the man’s wrist.

A moment later, so fast I couldn’t see it, the boy slammed the delivery guy’s hand down on the railing. The man screamed, dropping the pizza, hand impaled on the spiked railing that ran along the top of the short wall. He tried to pull it free, but the ‘boy’ still had a grip on his wrist.

“Hey!” I shouted. I stepped out onto the porch.

NO DONT

A girl hopped up, using the man’s knee as a foothold, grabbing the delivery man by the jaw. She was more monkey than child as she swung up onto the wall. The momentum of the swing brought his head down and forward, driving it into the top of the railing.

I could hear the sound it made on impact, which said a lot, considering how I hadn’t been able to hear his words. There was no saying how much was the upper row of teeth breaking on impact with the railing, or the sound of the jaw breaking as it was wrenched down with a sudden weight of the not-little-girl.

The girl let go, walking along the top of the railing, her arms extended to either side, pigtails swinging, the grin the only part of her I could make out beneath the winter clothes, too wide, filled with very white teeth that didn’t match each other.

I could hear his continued screams, now more strangled than they’d been.

I felt cold, paralyzed. Had I just killed a man, simply by inviting him here?

The faceless woman caught up to him. Her free hand reached into the back of his head, and I could make out the fingers reaching out the front, moving just beneath the skin, closing together into a fist over one of his eyes. She moved her hand, leaving the skin bound shut in a knot of flesh, and she closed the other eye in the same manner.

Another movement, nearer the mouth and throat, and the screams were cut off.

Knitting, molding his flesh, almost casually.

My concern was no longer that I’d killed the man. My concern was that he might live.

“Blake!” Rose’s voice, from the living room. “You have to help him!”

No he absolutely does not. Ge the fuck back inside. Dont be a hero. Call the police????(actually maybe don’t???). I mean, Timecop cant be happy his turf is being messed with by people he has not assingned.

I took a step forward, then stopped as the faceless woman continued her work. Her fingers wriggled and crawled across the man’s scalp, just beneath his skin, burying his hair, reaching down to cover his ears. Trapping him in his own skin, so his own flesh was a hood over his face.

“Blake!”

I thought back to one idle thought I’d had in the past hours.

The house was a sanctuary against Other and practitioner both.

I glanced around me, then very carefully took a step back through the door, past the threshold and into the house.

Laird had come to the front door.

“He’s dying!”

There were rules. I couldn’t know which ones still held, here, which ones the locals had called off, while I was a problem. But there were rules.

I remained where I was, watching.

She held the cigarette aloft, poised as if she might take a puff at any moment, while her other hand pulled free, then plunged into his chest cavity.

The muffled grunts and violent jerks he made in response were worse than the screams.

The talkative one kept chattering, nonstop, the ‘children’ making little sounds of amusement, laughing and cooing. The others who’d joined in seemed content to watch, standing silently on the fringes.

I watched a car appear, traveling down the street from the opposite direction the delivery guy had come. The talkative one practically leaped, taking hold of the faceless woman. His momentum turned her around, and he leaned forward, simultaneously leaning her back, so they were pressed together, their bodies covering their victim. I could see the talkative one’s face stop an inch from the smudged blur of hers.

The car passed, the headlights illuminating what the people in the car would see as two embraced lovers, kissing at the side of the street. The remainder were hidden. I watched as the car reached the end of the road, stopping at a stop sign.

“Blake, salt is a purifying material, cleansing. It can work against certain Others,” Rose said. “There’s a ton in the study, if you can’t find any in the kitchen. Go and throw it at them!”

I didn’t move.

“Blake! Please!” She sounded desperate, now.

Make a salt gun. Slingshot the salt. Do not get close. Please Rose stop being so emotional. I do want to know of Blake has a plan, its looking increasingly like he has a plan. Is this deceitful? Not actually happening? The pizza guy over the phone seemed amused by the possibility of this happebing. Maybe its just to fuck with his head and its all going to be reversed soon, memories of the pain and all for the poor delivery guy. That would make much more contextual sense.

The car turned and disappeared out of sight. The two Others broke apart, and the faceless woman clawed at the talkative one. Vicious, angry, almost feral. He gave her only laughs in response, as he ducked out of the way.

The faceless woman gave up and turned back to her victim. I could see where she’d reached through his chest to grip the railing, fixing him to the metal.

Rose was screaming, now. “Damn you, Blake! Damn you! God! Fuck!”

She hit the mirror.

The noise Rose was making seemed to get attention. The talkative one looked up at me.

I slowly shook my head. I felt physically ill, all expression and utterances choked from me by the feeling of my heart in my throat.

But there was no fucking way I was going out there.

The talkative one said something to the others.

I saw the delivery guy lurch, tearing free in a mess of blood and ripped skin. His dislocated jaw hung down his teeth a bloody ruin.

He laughed, and it wasn’t a human sound.

When he joined the ‘children’ in cavorting about, I allowed myself to believe it. He wasn’t human. He had never been.

An Other, joining the faceless woman in some psychological warfare.

I could hear them laughing, in the two or so seconds it took me to slam the door.

“It was a trick?” Rose asked, as I crossed the room to where I’d left the mirror in the window. “They-”

I saw a movement immediately before Rose shrieked. I grabbed the mirror, pulling it away from the window.

The little ‘girl’ with the toothy mouth and the pigtails peeking out from a hat that hid her eyes, hair and ears had appeared just outside the window. She now scratched at the glass with long fingernails.

“They wanted me outside,” I said. “The house is a sanctuary, the property isn’t. Staying behind the railing like they were, it was meant to mislead us. I might have fallen for it, if Laird hadn’t come all the way to the front door.”

“They’re clever.”

“The book warned us they were.”

“How sure were you?” she asked. “That he wasn’t human?”

I didn’t answer. Rose was staring at me, and I avoided her gaze.

Others were scratching and tapping on windows, now. I heard a scrabbling, as if something was on the porch overhang.

“God,” Rose said.

“This is what Molly was dealing with,” I said, quiet. My heart was still pounding, my mouth so dry I needed to try three times before I could speak again, but the fear and helplessness were disappearing. I clenched my fist. “All on her lonesome. Hearing things just outside the house, all night. Nowhere good to go for help.”

“We’re not in a great place either,” Rose said.

“No. But we have each other,” I said. “You had my back last night, with Padraic. I might not have made it home in one piece without that. Thank you, by the way, if I haven’t already said.”

“You have, twice, but it’s okay. We’re figuring this out.”

I nodded. My thoughts were going a mile a minute, but I had trouble saying just what the destinations were.

“What are you thinking?” Rose asked.

“I’m thinking…” I said, trying to sum it up. “I think we’re almost ready.”

“Ready?”

“We’ve seen what kind of games the practitioners will play. We’ve seen how the Others function, in part. We have a sense of what we need to accomplish, and an abstract sense of how. And maybe it helps a little that I’m a bit scared and a lot angry.”

“You want to awaken,” she said.

I nodded. “Before the council meeting tomorrow. Getting a familiar, the tool, and the demesne is something that can wait.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I think we should. You want to do it now, or do you need to eat first?”

“Two things, first,” I said. “Eating isn’t one of them.”

I dialed the pizza place again.

“Bell Pizza, what can I do you for?”

“Hi-”

“No,” he said. “Not doing business with you.”

“It’s about the pizza guy.”

“We never sent anyone. I asked a driver if he wanted to go, he said he wasn’t delivering to a haunted house.”

The irony being this house was maybe the least haunted locale in Jacob’s Bell.

“I say it isn’t haunted, but it’s owned by you fucks, isn’t it?”

“One of us,” I replied.

“You’re Assholes, all of you, holding all the rest of us back. You know my brother bought a place here, because this place was supposed to grow? Except you’re not selling, and it’s losing value every year, needing more repairs. You-”

These townies are both assholes and fucking stupid. You dont invest in something that is not 100% sure and then blame other people on it. Seriously, goddamn. You were a shit investor, get over it. "How could that rich fanily not sell their mansion, that money was MINE! :(" fuck off. The way these many people are interested in it, it would just end up being communism and everyone getting just a crumb of the pie.

“I just wanted to check the pizza guy wasn’t going to show,” I said, but he was talking over me.

“-off on the power, I think, bullies. Knowing you’re driving the rest of us into ruin. You want a fucking pizza?”

“I changed my mind a while ago, remember?”

“Fuck you. Fuck yourself! I already talked to the other pizza place. Don’t expect a thing, until you’ve sold that place. Fuck you.”

“Fine,” I said. “It’s just pizza.”

But he’d already hung up.

It’s just pizza, I told myself.

“Fuck,” I said, as my annoyance bubbled to the surface.

“You can’t be surprised. I mean, you knew people hated you here.”

“The woman at the coffee place was surprisingly respectful of the idea that I might be in mourning,” I said.

“Being a decent person and hating our guts isn’t mutually exclusive,” Rose said.

“Fuck,” I said again, still annoyed.

“It can’t be that big a deal, compared to what just happened outside.”

“You took a shower just a bit ago,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry to ask, but do you even get dirty, on that side?”

“No,” she said. “Pretty sure I don’t. Some dust, but I don’t sweat.”

“I’m guessing you needed to shower to enjoy a mundane comfort,” I said. “Feel a bit more human.”

“Alright,” Rose said. “Point taken. Sorry about your pizza.”

I shrugged.

“I could do with more human comforts myself,” she said.

I nodded, “Something to figure out. I’ll help any way I can. But first-”

“Awakening,” Rose said.

I nodded. “Meet you in the study.”

I took the stairs two at a time.

I’d opened the second secret door on the second floor, which made for a quicker arrival at the lower floor. The room was far darker without the sunlight from above.

I twisted the knobs of the two lamps that sat on and beside the desk, respectively. When the room was still too dark around the edges, I lit the oil lamps at the edges. Each lamp illuminated a slice of the bookcases, cabinets or shelves to either side of them. Where the lettering on books had been done in foil or a reflective material, the lamplight caught it, highlighting the scripts in a soft orange-yellow, while the books themselves remained dark.

By the time I’d finished, Rose had lit up the room on her side. The light from behind her made the edges of her clothes and hair glow.

She held a wrought-iron compass, with a spike in one end and chalk embedded in the other. I watched as she stabbed the floor, then walked in a circle, using the other arm to draw the wide circle in chalk.

She had the curved ruler that she used to measure the distance, then erased a spot. She was reaching for the compass again when she looked at me.

As the ins and outs of her existance remain a mystery, I didnt think of the possivility of her doing the ritual too. Or needing to do it in any way. Maybe we can get twice the magic power in one person, but I somehow doubt it. I think what counts for Blake counts for Rose.

“Blake?”

“You’re doing the ritual too?”

“If I can,” she said. “Aren’t you starting?”

“I said there were two things I needed to do first,” I said.

“Phoning the pizza place and…”

I crossed the room, lifting a book free of a shelf, then walked back into Rose’s field of view.

“No, Blake.”

I hefted the book. Diabolatry, R.D.T. The black cover was surprisingly flexible and soft, the lettering on the spine and cover were done in gold, catching the lamplight.

“No,” she said again, as if saying it over and over again with increasing intensity might drive it into my head.

“What was it you said?” I asked. “Stupid knee-jerk assumptions are going to get us killed?”

“I’m all for stupid knee-jerk assumptions when we’re dealing with that. Laird said they were the mystical equivalent of nuclear missiles.”

“I’m not proposing we use them. But I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

“Blake. You know that moment in the horror movies, where you’re screaming at the actors? ‘Don’t go up the stairs’, ‘don’t touch the glowing skull’? Don’t read the book.”

Would reading it be that destructive? Or does it only hold such implications of power that it draws you too much into it. Have you already read the book Rose?

I frowned.

“What are you even thinking?”

“That the things outside were horrifying, the faceless woman, the pseudo-faerie we ran into. So… why are these things so much worse? What makes them ‘nuclear’? We’re walking into that meeting, and I can’t help but think that everyone there is going to know exactly what’s going on here, and we’re going to be in the dark. We can’t afford to look weak or stupid.”

“We are weak and stupid,” Rose said. “We’re untrained, ignorant, out of the loop, and we don’t have any of the good stuff that practitioners bring to the table. No tools, no familiars, no demesnes, no tricks or any of that.

“We can’t afford to let on how badly off we are. Having one tidbit of info we can allude to, to scare the pants off them if we need it-”

“-Is liable to get us killed,” Rose finished for me. “I get it, wanting to know just what we’re sitting on, but handling the dangerous goods is not the way to find out.”

I hefted the book, feeling its weight.

“Come on,” she said, lowering her voice to be gentler, “I compromised earlier. Can you do the same?”

“Damn it,” I said.

“Is that a ‘yes’ damn it or a ‘no’ damn it?”

“Yes,” I said.

I moved to put the book on the bookshelf. A flap of paper caught on the shelf, keeping me from sliding it into place.

When I pulled the book back, the paper dropped. Fragments of dry wax and a small key danced across the floor.

Folded into thirds, it had been sealed into an envelope of sorts by wax. The key had apparently been melted into the wax, only to be freed by the impact.

“Leave it,” Rose said. “Nothing good comes of that. Sweep it under the desk, ignore it. Please?”

“I would,” I said, “But wax makes a seal, and that seal just broke.”

“That’s reaching,” Rose said.

“Okay, maybe,” I said. “But tell me you can’t imagine a drawing of something coming to life and crawling free of that page.”

“Now you’re being manipulative,” Rose said, “Playing to my paranoia.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

With the way things work in figurative ways and meanings, yes, that is very plausible, but also what a nice little fuck-up we have stumbled on.

“Yes, I can imagine it. Yes, are you happy?”

I wasn’t. I picked up the page. On the backside, there were only two words.

My heiress.

I turned it around.

My heiress,

If you’ve come this far, there must be a pressing need. You’ve been driven into a corner, or the situation is otherwise dire. I imagine time may well be paramount. Remember that haste makes waste, and you must step with utmost care from this point on.

I’ve left you something, or perhaps it is more correct to say I’ve left you someone. I refer to him as Barbatorem, making a small joke, as I tend to do, but he is an older one, bearing some status and a few stories from years past, with no name of any meaning that has survived the passage of time. You should be able to find those stories and notes on that status in Dark Names, p. 38.

You’ll find him waiting in the tower room, which you will need the key to enter. Staying outside the circle is first in your list of things to keep in mind, which I list here because there are no better places to put the warning. I should hope such obvious things don’t need to be stated.

Do we have a demon in the attic? I think we have a demon in th attic.

Cast aside all notion of manners. Do not greet him, do not ever say please or thank him. Do not ask him if he would or could do something. Give him no food or succor. There are older meanings in these things and they will either free him or give him power over you. Sometimes it is very little power, and sometimes it is all the power he needs to achieve his ends.

Put aside all metal and reflective things before entering the tower room, and ensure the space remains dark. He exists in a more abstract capacity, whatever physical forms he takes, and if his image is cast in a surface, he will exist in that surface, allowing him to step free of that surface and the confines of the circle. For these same reasons, do not ever look directly at him, even for a moment, lest he be reflected in your eyes. Rest assured, he will not ever step free once he dwells there.

So, no Rose. Cool. But also very cool concept. Having a demon in your eyes doesn't sound pleasing. Was Grandma so rude because she got too used to interacting to being like this? I think thats far-fetched, but a possible theory

He perceives the passage of time differently than we do. He’ll be content to sit in the circle I drew out until the sun grows cold. For him, the conversation is ongoing, and you’ll need to see the notes on his page in Dark Names so you can continue from where I, and each member of our line, left off. Failure to do so may confuse or irritate him. In any case, you can come and go, and he’ll see no difference in it. He does not speak, which led me to use the shorthand for gestures you’ll find on the final page of his entry. Please maintain those notes consistently, for those who come after you.

So, wait, he cant speak, so you use gestures, but you also cant look at him? I'm thinking that I'm missing something.

If you intend to deal with him, use one of the templates outlined in Dark Contracts, which I left to the right of the desk. Page 15, 17, 29 and 77 are good places to look, if you find yourself in a hurry. Do not improvise, for words must be chosen with utmost care. The final third of the book has recommended terminology with examples, which you can insert into the templates as needed. Do not trust Mr. Beasley or his firm for assistance. They are, quite naturally, unreliable on this front.

Failing all else, keep your eyes on the painted circle, stay silent, and keep to the contracts found in my books. You can consult my texts if you have any further questions. I regret that I am unable to assist you here,

R.D.T.

“What is it?” Rose asked. “The look on your face scares me.”

The look on my face? I touched my face.

“You look like someone just died.”

“No,” I said. “No.”

I moved to put the letter down on the desk, and it slid off. I picked it up again, tried to put it on the desk, and the corner of the paper caught, bouncing it out of my hand and back onto the floor.

On the third attempt, I turned it over, examining it under the light. Sky blue ink on white, barely visible, outlining a script that was reminiscent of the rune that Laird had drawn in sugar.

Holding it firmly in both hands, I set it down on the table, pressing it down in place. It stayed.

A moment later, as I turned to make sure I’d put the book away properly, I generated a brush of air that sent the letter to the floor again.

Once disturbed, apparently, it was insistent on staying disturbed.

Experimentally, I tore it, a little tear to cross the sky blue symbols. When I put it down this time, it stayed down.

“You’re scaring me, Blake.”

“She left something behind,” I said.

“Something?”

“Something Other. Fitting to her particular specialty. It’s upstairs.”

“No.” Seeing Rose, I had a sense of how I probably looked.

“I need to check,” I said.

There was no argument this time. Chances were good she was too stunned to say anything.

The black-painted key in hand, I made my way up the ladder, out the door to the top floor, and then up the staircase to the tower room.

I checked everything, then pulled off my sweatshirt, in case the tab on the zipper counted as reflective. I swept my hands over my entire body to double-check.

The key clicked in the lock. I let the door swing open. When I moved my eyes, I did so with care, keeping to the periphery of the room, then inching closer.

The round window jutted out to my right, with a cushioned bench beneath for sitting on. Once upon a time, it would have been a good spot for reading. Now, it was shuttered and locked, with old books stacked on the bench like bricks. A table sat to my left, stacked with papers that were securely weighed down.

The floor… I saw the circle, painted in white. ‘Circle’ was perhaps an understatement, given the concentric circles and lines that sprawled across the floor, burdened with embellishment, scripts and geometric shapes, as well as other smaller circles hosting more of the same.

It didn’t take long for my eyes to see it.

A pair of shears, no doubt fallen from the table, impaled a line in the innermost circle of the diagram on the floor.

Nothing stood within.

You could have asked me to theorize, but I would NOT have guessed that the empty thing by the end was to be a summoning circle. Are the shears the problem? Interrupting the symbol? Doesnt it count as reflective? Do we have a demon locked in a useless household object, that would be pretty hilarious.

I’m thankful that this wasn’t build up then, it really was a last time sort of deal. I’m starting to doubt that the meeting will be had in this Arc, unless this is one of the long ones. Maybe two, three more chapters? I just don’t expect it to be resolved in a single chapter and it would be good to end the Arc with it. I still have yet to discover if this story has Interludes, since I don’t know much about Twig in no way whatsoever and how it tells its story. Maybe the Interlude will be happening in the meeting? Getting one more of those famous “alien” perspectives Wildbow is so good at doing, from an Other, seeing everything from its eyes would be really good to have this early on, for perspective. Seeing how they think. But maybe confusing if overdone. Someone who is FRIENDS with Others or who already knows how they work might be best. Maybe the girl with the Other friend with the big smile. My speculation is that the people in the meeting will all gang up on Blake and it’ll be overwhelming, but one of two characters will show no interest in it, or feign it very well. Someone will start a conflict that will overwhelm the rest of the conversation and just unbalance everything, for our character’s luck.

NEXT TIME: I intended to post this last week, but sleep schedules, finishing up some university day-job before christmas plus getting further on an Internship selection process I REALLY didn’t expect to get further on got in the way. Then came festivities and you know the rest. I’ll be going on a trip tomorrow, but I felt that I HAD to squeeze this in somewhere. I’ll be back around the 8th, since the process will be back by then. I have NO IDEA what they’ll have me do and how I’ll manage my time then. But I’ll leave this note here for you and for myself to remind all of you: When I figure out whatever battery of tasks these maniacs will have me do in the middle of my vacation, I will schedule my next liveblog. I’ll be doing as always and bringing with me the next chapter (Bonds 1.7) with me on my cellphone, doing notes as I read it, which will be posted as soon as I either finish it or have internet (I’ll be in the middle of the woods, if everything goes right, from the 29th to the 5th). I hope you all had a VERY demon-free Christmas or any other religious or comercial festivities you partake in, and that you have the gayest new year. See you all in 2018!!!

#CodeZeta liveblogs #pact #PactArc1 #Pact1.6

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musherum · 7 years

Text

long post -/ cael talks about her new asthma medication and recent Realizations

honestly? im noticing a lot of improvement since i started the new medication. its a corticosteroid, which is a kind of drug that is exclusively for treating constrictive asthma. there are two different types of asthma, see: theres inflammatory, which responds well to treatment with ventalin, the most common inhaler which provides immediate, “emergency” relief when you have an attack of inflammatory asthma, and theres constrictive, which doesnt respond to it at all. this was the “missing link” i was looking for. i didnt know about the medication requirements for that form of asthma until a few days ago when i had a major attack of constrictive asthma.

it.... took me a lot to finally say to my mum “i need to go to a doctor. i am having a lot of trouble breathing, and i cannot function. i know this cannot be normal.” it took even more, though, to say to her that i needed to stay home that day, and miss the GED class im taking - even though the day before was the first session. my mom has screamed at me and called me a failure and an idiot before, when she caught me skipping school because of depression and fatigue. that was a very very big step for me, facing my fear of my mom yelling at me again. but i could not focus on anything, not with how laboured my breathing was. it was the frustration of not being able to sleep that finally pushed me over the edge - while i was up all night with my then untreated and untreatable asthma attack, i

i told her my symptoms, and then explained to her my, uh, “theory” that i had a form of asthma that didnt respond to ventalin. i got the name wrong (i mixed up constrictive and inflammatory), but otherwise, i got it entirely correct. i was so scared that she might brush me off, like what had happened before with so many people when i was younger. it had even happened with other doctors. but, fortunatley, she quickly agreed with me that it appears i need a corticosteroid as well as my ventalin to treat my symptoms.

i didnt know, before very recently, that ventalin is exclusively for inflammatory asthma, or that constrictive asthma requires cordicosteroids to treat. all along, i thought i was just being lazy, or dumb, or panicking, or lying, or a that i just didnt care. because people have said things like this to me. all throughout my life. i would say, “i cannot breathe,” and they would say, “take your emergency (ventalin) puffer.” so i would. and when i said i still didnt feel better, after i took my ventalin puffer in front of them, they stopped believing it could be asthma. older people, the ones who were supposed to take care of kids when theyre hurting, were the MOST dissmissive of my complaints. because they thought they knew everything about what asthma was. better than a kid who had it.

i thought that whatever it was, it couldnt be asthma, because so many older people told me so. no one ever told me that constrictory asthma needed a different additional medication. no one told me that i needed it. everyone said that asthma could just be treated with a ventalin inhaler, period, and that if i was so out of breath, i should just use mine. and i did. and itd didnt work. so i figured... i must not have asthma. because surely an adult knows better than i do, right?

as i grew up, my memories faded as memories do - but none so much as that of the visit to the doctors when i was first diagnosed. i can remember only a precious handful of details now; a diagram that depicted the inside of the lungs, shown with one having its air-tubes contracted tightly, and the other clogged up with mucus. i forgot about it because i was full of self loathing, i feel like, at least in part - its much harder to control your emotions when you dont have enough oxygen to normally power your brain, and the bullying i withstood, while not violent, was very frequent. i was very much not a “popular kid,” ill leave it there. a lot of people hated me. and a lot of people only pretended to like me, and i wasnt able to tell they were laughing at me. when you have shit like that on your mind constantly, and youre oxygen starved??? you tend to be a little, uh, distracted. im not surprised that i dont remember it well. but i wish i did. all i know for sure is that at the end of the day, i had a ventalin puffer, and that was it. i think there may have been a misunderstanding - when the doctor said that the cortisol (the most common, brand-name corticosteroid) is for long-term relief and the ventalin is for emergencies, my mom might have thought something along the lines of, “my child had an asthma attack, and it was an emergency. therefore ventalin is what we need, not cortisol.” but again, i dont know that for sure, and i dont want to throw anyone under the bus. it may have been that, or it may not have been. but i feel that my mom likely wouldnt remember if i asked her - taking ME to a doctors appointment wouldnt rank very high on her “important life moments” list, i suspect.

and so as i grew up, again, i had ventalin, but i very rarely remember having cortisol around, let alone taking it. uh, sorry i mean, corticosteroids. anyway, um... i think i was depressed then, even as a kid. my mom did not impress the importance of the medicine on me - she said it wasnt a that big a deal, that i only need to take it “sometimes.” and so when i ran out, i figured i didnt have to rush to tell her. and, of course, i didnt have the energy to take it every day - couldnt breath. in fact, because it required me to wash my mouth out through after taking it every morning and night, it was significantly more difficult to take the medicine that treated my constrictive asthma. and again, i did not have energy to let me do what i knew i was supposed to. and i did not know that just taking the corticosteroid regularly would help me get my energy back, because no one ever told me that my energy had... WENT anywhere. they didnt mention it being a part of the disease, so i assumed to was unrelated. i didnt know the science behind it back then, i was a little kid! and so it was that every time i had a flair-up, people kept telling me to use my ventalin inhaler, the one thats for “emergencies,” if i really felt so bad. and so.... i would. and the ventalin would not ease my constricted lungs, because its intended for inflammation. and when i tried to tell them it wasnt working, people would start telling me it wasnt asthma, and that it had to be something else - something that i was fucking up. and i believed them. i believed what they told me. because i thought that adults were supposed to be smart, and know more than kids, and that they were supposed to protect me when i said i was hurting. i thought they were supposed to help children when theyre hurting. and so all along, i believed them, cause why would they lie to me? they must know what theyre talking about. adults know more than kids, they never shut up about it, i probably thought. and... so i started to really internalize the idea that it was my fault. that i was always so tired, and forgetful, and weak, and exhausted, and out of breath, and bad at talking, and bad at concentrating, and bad in school, and bad at everything... because i was just a bad person. i even thought it was my fault that my hands wouldnt stop shaking - no matter how much i drew. my lines were always crooked and bent. so because i never knew that cortisol was the medicine i needed the most, i was never ABLE to stop my hands from shaking, no matter how hard i tried and how much i practiced drawing. so i assumed i was just a naturally shitty artist, and began to resign myself to a life of never being able to create something beautiful. no matter how much i practiced drawing.

all of it was because of my constrictive asthma - either because of too little air being able to penetrate my lungs and oxygenate my body and bloodstream, or because of the sharp, sudden and literally dizzying rips of air that i had to suck in just to breath at all.

all these years of hating myself have been perpetuated so needlessly, all because people assumed they knew better than a kid. even when the kid tells you “he” (really she, im talking about me as a kid after all) has a disease and that “he” (again, she) cant breathe and that “he” (SHE) has tried what you are suggesting and it does ever work. even if that kid is literally telling them, “it is my disease that is causing this.”

because people brushed me off, and put me down, even when i was telling them that i couldnt breath. even when i tried to explain to them that i felt like i was being slowly suffocated, by an invisble hand squeezing the air out of my chest. because thats what it DOES feel like.

...fuck, man. that was fucked up.

#yall better treat kids as gently and kindly as humanly possible #you better fucking believe them when they say theyre hurting. you better try to fucking help instead of judging them.#or else theyll end up all fucked up like me #im getting better. i can feel that im get better #slowly #but its only because i fought past my intense fear of being told that what i was feeling wasnt real #i dont want kids to have to go through that too. i dont want anyone to #but these things start when we're children. and it seriously damages us.#sometimes beyond the ability to repair ourselves #so please. please for the love of god dont be mean to kids when they arent hurting anything or anyone.#they are the very definition of 'innocent.'#and you can hurt them very badly without meaning to. not just their bodies but also their young minds are delicate #if they hurt something or someone it can only ever be because they didnt understand that it would be wrong. kids are inherently NOT evil #but they ARE inherently inconsiderate. because theyre still learning.#ignorance always precedes knowlege #and children are literally by definition 'new to this.'#so you must please be gentle with them. *please.*#you need to be patient and gentle and explain it to them. and listen to them when they say somethings wrong #and when you think theyve DONE something wrong?#you need to be calm and you need to be patient. do not get angry at a child for not knowing what is right yet.#they havent had a CHANCE to learn.#be the person to give them that chance.#not the person who damages them for life.

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pepperminthealing-blog · 7 years

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Day 1

I want to start this blog stating that I’m going to attempt to write everyday, and maybe even more than one a day. The events of this blog will not be in chronological order, it’s going by what is really tearing my heart apart that day, where my mind wanders.

I want to say thank you for whoever reads this, and I hope through my healing it may give you some insight in your own life, or better understanding of whatever. Or even if you’re just curious, I hope it tickles your feather I suppose.

On we go.

A month and a half ago I met someone, and we had the instant click. Whether it was because we were considerably nerdy, or because he made me feel safe during my current situations. Honestly, it was all supposed to be a joke; and thats so sickening to me knowing that I fell that low. We first met on tinder, and he would send some uh... wonderful messages. And my co-workers and I would read them and respond, then chuckle as we just kind of made fun of this guy who seemed to really be trying too hard. -Sigh- Who would of known that this guy was actually someone with a very very soft heart. We lost contact once I left my job shortly after my miscarriage and gained contact back when I returned, he was already seeing someone and I was on the line of breaking up with the person I was with at the time as well. We made rules that we wouldnt hang outside of work until we both had ended those two terms, because we wanted to be as truthful and transparent with not just one another but with them, fairness to speak. Today, I couldn’t tell you how we got to where we were that day, it was literally just a click... Maybe I was craving something that he posessed because I wasnt getting it in my own relationship? Idk. But, the first night we hung out... I knew I had to keep walking with him. He took me to Wawa at 3am, and bought me a tuna sandwich, and we drove to some dock area and talked about politcal things, hospital business and just our opinions on the world. It was freeing, connecting and intoxicating to find someone who had a like mindset as my own, that could hold an intellectual conversation on things that really mattered to me. After hours of talking, he drove me back to my car and kissed me, and it felt so tender and innocent. I think that was the moment I let my walls down, that for some stupid reason my dumb broken heart wanted to just burst and open up to someone I barely had any knowledge of. The most we talked when seperated was sexual things, and from my past expierences that was never a good sign, but WHY DID THIS FEEL DIFFERENT? Was it because he was a nurse I worked with? That I believed he didnt have the capacity to break me like anyone else could in this world? -sigh.- I slept with him that night, and the hormones our brains release during that time, started the attachment. But it also set the fear in that he would be like everyone else. I want to skip around so much because diving back into these memories have been nothing but haunting the last week, but I’m trying to remind myself that skipping details is skipping moments that could possibly heal you. As I’m writing this, I’m crying tears over this stupid guy. And calling him stupid isnt going to fix anything, because even though you guys have gotten to read down to this part, I just want to say he isnt bad at all. He didnt leave to be an asshole, he was physically ill, he had an addiction problem and I was his catnip. And asking him to stay wasnt just selfish of me, but it was deadly. I would of never forgiven myself if he relapsed because I pushed him too far. I know he cared about me, and the impression I’m giving of him already doesnt give that off, so I wanted to say that before I continued the rest of this story.

Anyways, weeks passed and James and I would have deep conversations about our lives, fantasies, dreams and things. He would care for me when I was sick, reach out and cushion the blows I would take from the break up I just endured. He would push me to take the stress of work and push through it, remind me that I’m doing it for the greater good, and that I was doing just fine. He calmed the storm in my mind for a brief period of time, while I rumbled the dark one in his. Sex and the connection we made was what he called “catnip” to him, and he tried to push me away and I pulled him right back in. Not only was I intoxicating to him, but he became just as much to me. Who wouldnt want someone who could protect them from the harsh of the world for some time?? To give them that freedom feeling that they have CRAVED to feel for years? Valentines day, he gave me 3 chokers, and they meant the absolute world to me. Not only were they ones I wanted, but they had meaning to me. They were heartfelt emotional presents, specially from him; and I felt I was flying. I think that night was the night I began the falling process, or well... I know I did. I stepped off the ledge after he told me to not move furniture into a house he was only renting. I refused to believe that, in my head I thought I could save him, that this would be different. And the signs he gave off, gave me the hope that just that was happening.

......this is the hardest part.....

The day after Valentines day, I woke up and in my stomach I felt something different. I felt like our connection was torn, I was depressed and I thought it was just maybe me. We talked all day, and everything seemed normal. But that night, when he got off his shift, he met me in the staircase at my work. The staircase where he would visit me before he left, where he told me how crazy he was for me, where we shared some of our best kisses.... The staircase I walked down to have my first in face conversation with him...I sat next to him... Him: “Hey buddy, how are you?” It always bothered me when he called me buddy, I wasnt his buddy. I was his Kitten, his baby... “I’m alright, how are you?” “Tired.” I wanted to just slump onto him and just melt. But I could feel the tension behind his words, that there was something that he wanted to say. “Are you still coming over Thursday?” “I don’t think thats going to be a good idea, buddy.” That last sentence shattered the world that he built up with me. I pressed on asking and he began to lightly tell me how what we built up was unhealthy for him, which I didn’t understand at that moment how it was unhealthy. How our relationship was bad for him, but I wasnt. His hazel eyes stared into mine, and I could feel that wall being built between us, I felt shut out. I tried clawing at that wall, pushing, hammering everything I could to get him to tell me why he was leaving. I sat on that second stair of the top while he stood below me, asking me to tell him to leave... I couldn’t. Telling him to leave was like telling myself to drown at that moment. How in such a short period of time could one person make me feel all this in a second. I didn’t grasp how we went from one moment of bliss, to.... hell. I’m still processing through this part, and it wasn’t until last night that it all made sense to me. James expressed so many times that he didn’t want to leave, but what we had was enticing his addictive nature, which could push him to relapse. And the only way to stop that, was to stop being with me. And I felt like I was so unhealthy for him at that point, no matter what he said. But it wasnt me, it was what we had. And there was no going back from that, you can’t just build up a relationship and then change it expecting it to change with you. So, you have to end it... Which is still hard on me, because I care deeply about him. And because I care deeply for him; I’ve started to let him distance from me.

I wrote him one final text last night expressing every little emotion I had for him, and apologizing for throwing his stuff out, which I regret so much now because I dont have an inch of his love in my house... just my bed still smells like him. I can’t count how many times I’ve thought about him in a day, or how I’m still picking pieces of our relationship apart to find solutions or how BADLY I fight with myself to text him, begging him to text me back. Even after we broke up, he still wanted to come take care of me... I invited a random guy over to poke at him when we broke up, and he still came over to calm the pain in my heart once the guy left. Who does that? Not only do I know that what we have was unhealthy for him, but by the way I acted when he hurt me, was how I knew I was unhealthy for not just him... but those around me.

Moral to this story, even though its not fully finished but this is as much as I want to dive into it today is that... people are lessons. And James was the one who left pain in my soul, and that pain finally opened my eyes to how dangerous I am to people, how much pain I actually feel. I’m so for healing those around me, and saving those who need it. But... I forgot about me. I forgot that I need those things too, from myself. As of right now, I havent texted him; I’ve kept my word to let him distance, and I think he’s finally removed me from snap chat so he wont look at my stories and have the craving to return.

As for me, well... this whole thing has made me realize that I need time to really heal and figure out me. I’ve been in and out of things in life, that I don’t think I’ve ever slowed down long enough to process what it is I’ve gone through.

Do I love James? I think I loved the idea of being with him, and the feelings he gave me.

Do I care about him? Yes, and because of that, I don’t want to get in the way of his recovery.

Do I hope we can ever become something? At this point I think it’s healthy to say that everyone hopes they can get back with the person who just left them . I do hope we can talk one day, i miss our conversations.

What’s next? Well, work today... I’m dreading the day we have to run into each other at work, but that day will come and when it does, I’m going to embrace it and push through.

I think thats enough for right now.

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quietlybreakingbutsmiling-blog · 4 years

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What is love anyway? The novel of my disastrous love life.

So let's just go back to the beginning when I had not a clue what love was.

That awkward girl that always hid in the back, over achieved in schools but kept her head down at all times for fear of constant embarrassment of her own existence? That was me.

Middle school was rough. For everyone I'm sure. I became close friends with the small town, military obsessed farm boy and my crush developed. He went out of the way to try to bring me out of my shell. He asked me out, I met his family, he tolerated my obnoxious friends, we hugged everyday, he sat with my friends at lunch. That was all a big deal! It all became a bit of a joke in the end if I'm honest and we broke up. My crush remained and when his friends decided freshman year, it was funny - they supposedly asked me out online on his behalf again. A

I said yes, for some odd reason. He ignored me but silently walked beside me in class for a week then texted me to tell me it was all a joke. I mean okay... skirted around the boy for the next several years. He got another girlfriend after graduation, joined the marines, married the girl, knocked her up... twice now. Who knew, hes kinda cute now! I say this in the most harmless way possible.

NEXT! Get this- I fell in love with an internet boy. Who knows if he is even who I thought he was. My best friend and I got into online roleplay on facebook. The innocent stuff, create a facebook page as a PLL character and talking to eachother. Until we discovered an entire world of this in facebook. Met a boy. Roleplay name was Darian. Real life name supposedly Damian. Shit i kid you not, that was my first true best friend and love, whether he was real or not. I was maybe 13 when we became friends. He called me silly pineapple and we called him beef coon. He was a strange one. I got my music taste from that kid though. He was 5 years older than me. It remained innocent... texting all day and night. Roleplay wasnt s thing to us, just normal talking. He was my best friend, I cannot stress that enough. He was into some odd stuff. He was pansexual and so open about it which impressed me. He was also into drugs and alcohol though. We bonded heavily over some heavy duty depression. I truly believe that boy saved my life. He disappeared from my life several times, just never responded again. I had a strange attachment,texting his number that I knew by heart in my times of need. While he usually was there, that presence faded too until random times. He randomly appeared for a few weeks while I was in my first long term relationship. It made things a bit rocky but when explains the situation, he responded simply with something along the lines of "He wont let you go, he cant. I sincerely hope nobody makes the mistake I did. I'm sure hes smart enough to realize what hed lose. " and he faded off again from there.he really only popped up to check on my happiness I think. I believe the last I heard from him, I was 19 or 20 years old. I still consider texting his number sometimes. But I'm sure his career took off and he married that model he was head over heels for. Though I do wish I knew more, I'd love just to see him truly happy.

Okay things get real now. My first kiss. My 48 hour relationship. I fell hard and fast at the thought if someone in person loving me. We talked and texted constantly, he had fairly recently gotten out of a relationship though. The interest in me seemed random but I didnt care. He did warn me before our first date he was a sex addict. I awkwardly blew it off as I was a birgin that had never even had my first kiss and wasnt gonna blow a chance at a relationship with the only guy to actually seem to want me. Date one was at his house.. featuring awkward hand holding, dancing around the kitchen, and slow dancing in the rain, and my first kiss. He asked me to be his girlfriend and his sister drove me home that night. Went over the next day and he was distant. Hell he even showed me the placed he used to bury condoms he had used with his ex and I didnt run away screaming?!? Anyway he dumped me by text that night and went back to his ex. Given I had a thing with the guy for the next year or so... flirting back and forth at lunch, teasing eachother. He signed my yearbook with "I hope you remember me everytime you go dancing in the rain."

Alright so next was a real weird one. Ready for this? I was convinced this dude in band/chorus was secretly Damian. The online love of my life. He was awkward but confident and I thought he was so cute. We kinda talked briefly because he rode my school bus but I barely remember it now. But I just went down memory lane and found messages of him telling me he had a massive crush on me during my senior year of high school ( I had a boyfriend at the time too so super weird! ) not sure where that came from but I totally told the guy he reminded me of a guy named Damian that I had been super close with. He probably thought I was a lunatic, it's cool. Conversation went quiet a day later and havent heard from him to this day! Who knows, maybe it was him!

Alright so my sophomore year I was definitely feeling myself. Starting talking to a guy online. And then all the guys in my school were flirting with me, becoming my close friends, etc. The popular jock? Check. The friendly jocks that are kinda teddy bears? Check. The nerdy guys? Check. The players? Check. The new kid? Check.

I moved forward with the online guy though. my bestie was boy crazy and made me create a page for "friends" but was really a dating app. She met so many guys on it. Somehow I matched with a guy on the opposite side of the country? Regardless, I still love that man to this day. We dated for 4 years, with some breaks in the final year. He was a year ahead of my so he took a year off after graduation to move across the country, and into my dads house to live with me. When we were long distance, he flew to visit me every other month. We talked nonstop always, he was my entire life. My real first love. My first everything. My world. We were going to get married and have a family, we even picked our kids names. After I graduated, he moved across country to live with his dad and go to college, I move to another state for college as well. Thing is... he left a few months early to get settled. His dad convinced him to leave me. He dumped me by text while I was working, on my birthday. After 2.5 years. I was shattered. My friends treated me like i was on suicide watch. He flew up a month later and we got back together. That was our pattern. We ended again when i moved on campus to my college. I hung out with a few guys. Dated a guy for a few months. But still skyped this guy 24/7... he was my best friend for years. Together or not, we relied on eachother for daily life and as a support system. We got back together after my other relationship ended. He flew to see me. It was like nothing ever ended, we picked up where we left off. Then he canceled visiting me for my birthday and I began to distance myself. Another guy expressed interest... and I left him. The day I told him I wanted to end it, he cried and begged me for hous to give him a few more months to fix it. I found out he had secretly booked a flight to see me but I was too far into this so I told him to cancel it, I didnt see any other option. This guy was my best friend. You all dont understand. That love will never fade. He joined the military, something he always wanted but I wouldnt have been willing to handle, hes married, and they are expecting a baby boy. Hes happy. Even though we dont talk, I do love to see he is happy, truly. I miss him everyday though.

Oh college... I dated a guy. Because he was sweet as can be. I was not physically attracted to him in the slightest though but was convinced as we grew closer, that attraction would grow. But when I tell you, you cant force yourself to be attracted to someone sexually no matter how bad you want to, it is awful. I mean it. My dad loved him - they were both crazy sports people which my dad couldnt use with my other boyfriends. Heres the big catch, I couldnt force myself to love him as much as he deserved. I was his first girlfriend and I couldnt love him like he loved me. I planned to end things after the holidays because he was flying to spend the holidays with my family and i. Well... in high school he had survived brain cancer so he was checked regularly. At a regular check up before flying to see my family, they found the cancer was back and gave him 6 months to live. One of the hardest, things I face in my life... for selfish reasons. I didnt want to dump him right after that, I didnt want anyone to think I left him because of the cancer, I didnt want to be that bitch. I kept asking myself if I could tolerate the relationship until he died just for him to be happy his last months and days. And I was going to do just that, fake it til you make it, right? Well when he started insisting he couldnt die a virgin and he wanted a child to carry his name after he passed, I broke down and ended it. I refused to feel forced to give myself to someone and ruin my life because they were dying and wanted sex and kids when I wasnt ready for sex with him and was in my freshman year of college. Unable to support a child on my own. He became angry. He lived a year from when they gave him only 6 months. I heard from him a few times before he died. The brain cancer made him someone he wasnt. He would go into bouts of anger, punching walls, he would call me a slut and a whore because I went back to my ex or was in a new relationship. The littlest things made him snap. I was convinced he hated me. So much so I refused to go to his funeral because I convinced myself he wouldnt have wanted me there, that he told his family he wouldnt want me there. A year after his death, his mom messaged me to tell me her son loved me, that he cherished every memory with me, that he spoke lovingly of me even minutes before he died. I think I needed to hear that and she for some reason felt compelled to tell me.

Now the guy I left my best friend and long term boyfriend for. He was my manager that was looking for a new roommate and he had accepted a new job at a different company anyway. My boyfriend at the time thought the roommate thing was a great idea. Little did he know. I went to see the apartment and make my decision, then began hanging out with him as a friend. I remember him asking my why my boyfriend never called or texted when I was over. We were in a tough patch that I couldnt really explain, other than hes too busy. It became an entire thing of I deserve someone to notice and that appreciates how smart and kind and beautiful I am. That wanted to talk to me all the time. I ended up leaving my boyfriend and a week or so later, this guy posted on Facebook he was in a relationship with me. He messaged me "Oops, I think I just told the whole world I want to be with you." His parents had already thought I was his girlfriend before this. He often got drunk and told all his friends and his mom he would marry me one day. I spent the night constantly at his place until my lease ended and I moved in... to his room though instead of the 3rd bedroom. This was 3.5 years ago. A few months later, he dumped me. Told me he couldnt be with me if he wasnt sure he wanted to be with me because I deserved someone who knew. I remember texting my ex how much of an idiot I knew I was because I gave up everything just to be hurt. PAUSE THIS STORY.

INSERT- in my tears of being dumped, I had planned to meet someone for a interview for school I needed to do. I was scheduled to meet him in an hour. I had been a grocery store cashier and he was a regular customer. One that always came to my line and even took me out for dessert on my last day at the store after my final shift. I couldnt stay in the house with the breakup so I went anyway, planning to pretend I was fine. Well he noticed within 30 seconds something was wrong so I fessed up. He had actually dumped his girlfriend the night before. I spent the next few hours crying to him in a little cafe in the city. He offered me his place to stay since he was about to be traveling for work and had a 3 bedroom apartment that would be empty anyway. I half agreed. He was in town a few more days so I spent dinnertime wit him, slept over a fer days to get used to the apartment. I slept with him which is not my best choice but there was something about this guy. I had butterflies near him, always. He always focused only on me... no phones or video games. Just me. He made dinner and meal prepped for me for the week he was gone on business. His touch was always like electricity on my skin. His kisses were just different in a good way. His voice was so sultry you couldnt tell him know on anything. He was fine with PDA which I actually enjoyed.. I enjoyed being shown off. He held doors open and was very much a gentleman. He had a job offer to move across country that he had just accepted. It was a massive promotion and pay raise. He has always told me if we had been together then, he likely would have turned the job down to keep me. He did ask me to move with him.. but I was a college student and I was set I wasnt able to go and was not wanting to do long distance again anyway. I went back to my real home, where all my belongings were.. back to where I had been dumped just a few short weeks before. The guy actually dropped me off there after picking me up at the airport as I needed to work in the morning.

RESUME. Back at the apartment, I ended up back with my former manager. Over the next 2 years, I found him sexting other girls pretty much the entire relationship. Trust is gone. He promises to go to counseling and sexaholic meetings. The one counseling meeting he scheduled, he got lost in bad traffic and gave up. The meetings, he went to maybe 3 total ever. But we are engaged now. Wedding planning is almost done and wedding is this year. My friends all know, my mom knows, my ex's know. They know the pain I've gone through and theyve had my calls when I found out over and over again. Once was while I was out of town for my grandfather's funeral that he was too busy with work to come with me to. He says he wont do it again. He hasnt that I know. But he may have just gotten better at lying and hiding it. And I'm marrying the guy. I've put out 20k for this wedding. I cant just back out now.

So here we are.

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