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#someone can mention the word compass and I’d cry on the spot
cryonme · 3 years
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𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐈𝐕
PART FOUR- “I Can’t Stop Thinking About The Way You Held Me That Night After The Boneyard And I Think I Need You To Do It Again.”
part one here
part two here
part three here
short series-- jj maybank x kook!reader
word count- 4.2k
tw- scratching, panic, description of bruises and cuts, big ol mental breakdown, swearing, self deprecation, fluff if you fuckin squint harder than you ever have in your life, mentions of blood, hints at sexual assault, mentions of wanting to throw up probably more please tell me if I missed something :( typos guaranteed
a/n- thank you for being so patient for this part! it was a busy couple days for Roxie!! again, the reader talks a lot of self deprecation, and I want to make it clear, I do not agree with her views on herself. please remember that I don't think of victims that way, I just wanted to write accurately. love you all so much!
。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆ 。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆ 。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆
You were basically a shell of a human being for the next week.
Your dad and Christine had told Shoupe that it was no surprise to them that Tyler had done this, and explained that they had kicked him out of the house and why. Tyler was apparently “nowhere to be found”, very convenient, considering the police were looking for him.
All you wanted was to go see your friends, you wanted to tell them everything. You wanted to apologize for the way you treated them and thank them for saving you.
But your dad and Christine had you practically locked up in your room.
You were afraid to even ask to leave, knowing they would get upset again. You avoided bringing up the situation at all, not wanting to see the sad looks on their faces.
So, you waited. You waited a week to see your friends just so you wouldn’t have to go through the awkward sadness.
“Dad?” You asked softly as you walked into his office, hands shoved in the back pockets of your blue jean shorts. He was writing at his desk, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He started working from home when he got the call from Christine about what had happened. You hadn’t told either of them what you know yet, you needed to know more before telling someone as powerful as your father.
“Hey, honey.” He turned in his chair and smiled, taking his glasses off, giving you a warm smile.
You and your dad had a good relationship. You weren’t best friends, you didn’t tell him everything, you didn’t hang out often. But, he loved you with everything he had, and would do, and has done, just about anything for you.
“Hey,” You started, fidgeting with your hands and the rings on your fingers. “I uh- I was wondering if- Everyone’s going to John B’s today and I really miss my friends and Pope and JJ and John B will all be there so they can protect me if anything happens and-”
“(Y/n),” Your dad started but you kept rambling.
“And I just think it’s really important for me to get out of the house especially-”
“You can go.”
“Because of what happened here and I just- wait, I can?”
Your dad nodded, standing up and placing his hand on your shoulders, looking straight into your eyes with his (y/c/e) eyes, sullen and misty.
“I agree, I think you should go.”
You smiled and wrapped your arms around your dad, squeezing extra tight. He let out a watery laugh and kissed your head.
“I’m really sorry kiddo. I can’t believe I wasn’t-” He stopped for a moment and let out a deep sigh, “I just can’t believe I let it go on for so long.” You frowned and just hugged your dad tighter. “You didn’t let anything go on, it’s my fault.”
Your dad's lip quivered and he rested his chin on your head, “It’s no one’s fault but his, let’s say that.
You nodded in agreement, “Let’s.”
After a couple more apologies and just a few more tears, you and your dad pulled away and you made your way back to your room, after stopping by Christine’s room to tell her you were leaving and promising 50 times to be so safe, and sent a text to Sarah.
*Can I hitch a ride to JB’s?*
It took about 15 seconds for her to reply.
OH THANK GOD
YES WTF
You smiled at your phone and shook your head, almost giddy with excitement to see your best friends. You knew Sarah was probably gonna pick you up in less than a couple minutes, so you stuck with the outfit you had on already, opting against a swimsuit. Your cuts and bruises had healed and faded immensely, but they were still there, and you’d rather skip the pity glances and sad looks. Your hands were still wrapped in compression wrap from the force of Tyler’s kick, along with your left knee and rib cage, your neck covered in red, ugly scratches from your panic attacks, and you had to be very careful with your movements so you wouldn’t worsen your concussion. You were already in a lot of pain, and having to deal with your emotional pain today would just be too much. You knew they came from a good place, and they were just concerned, but that’s not what you were there for today, you had a lot more problems in your future than just a couple injuries.
Once Sarah had texted you that she was waiting outside, you made your way downstairs, bidding your parents one last goodbye before walking out the front door and giving your best friend a wave as you made your way to her passenger seat.
“I’m not gonna hug you because I’m afraid I’ll squeeze you too tight and I know you’re injured.”
You giggled and leaned over the center console, giving her a quick kiss on top of her head and a big smile. “I would offer you my hand to squeeze but unfortunately my hands did not make it out unscathed.”
Sarah just nodded, taking in your appearance for a moment before clearing her throat and starting her car, blinking hard a couple times as she made her way out of your neighborhood.
“I didn’t tell anyone you’re coming, they’ll be so excited.” She forced a smile to her face and you returned it.
You knew she was having a really hard time having you in her car, forced to look at you and remember the day they found you nearly unconscious with Tyler’s hand around your throat.
You probably looked disgusting.
You pulled down the mirror to examine your face, your eye was still swollen and discolored, your lip as well. You had a yellowing bruise on your right cheekbone and a healing cut on your eyebrow right above it.
A sight to see.
“(Y/n/n)...”
“Please don’t, S.” You said softly, flipping the mirror back up in its place and turning to your blonde haired friend, giving her a weak smile. “Just making sure they’re healing okay. Forgot to check before we left.”
Sarah just nodded, not looking convinced by your untrue words.
+
The sound of Sarah’s tires rolling over the dirt road made your stomach flip, you weren’t ready yet. You didn’t want to see John B’s sad eyes, or Kiara’s quivering lip, or Pope’s lingering eyes on your bandages.
You didn’t wanna see JJ’s face, you’d turn to putty if you saw even an ounce of hurt in those pretty blue eyes.
You took a deep breath when Sarah finally rolled up to the Chateau, trying to calm your shaking hands, using one to steady the other, but it was no use since they were both unsteady. You mustered up all of your courage and confidence and opened the car door, immediately spotting your friends on John B’s wrap around porch, drinking beers and laughing.
They don’t miss you. You had told yourself, stopping in your tracks and raking your hands through your hair, suddenly wanting to cry. Look how much fun they’re having without you.
What you hadn’t seen was the pogues sitting in silence only moments before, sullen looks on their faces as they forced light conversation and jokes, before one finally made them laugh, bringing peace to the friends for just a moment.
“Hey,” Sarah stood in front of you, hands on your cheeks. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. Her eyes looking into yours with nothing but love and compassion was enough. “Come on.” She nodded encouragingly and grabbed your hand, pulling you behind her as she approached the screen door.
You wanted to throw up.
The door cracked open, it’s rusty hinges making a high pitched squeaking noise.
And there it was.
John B’s sad eyes.
Kiara’s quivering lip.
Pope’s eyes glued to your bandages.
You didn’t look at JJ.
“Fuck.” Kiara breathed out as she quickly stood up from her spot to hug you, but quickly stopped herself as she got closer and could see the damage more clearly. She stared at you a moment with teary eyes, not sure what to do.
“Just hug me, weirdo.” You said, grabbing her arm and pulling her in for a light hug.
“God, I just wanna squeeze you.” She muttered, her mouth pressed against your shoulder.
“Please don’t.” You said, only half joking.
You both giggled and pulled away, you gave her a small smile before squeezing her shoulders.
“Love you, Kie.”
“I love you way more, how are you doing?”
You just shook your head, “I’d rather not get into that, if that’s okay.”
Kie just nodded. She should’ve known better with you, of course you weren’t gonna answer that question.
“At least you’re not lying.” John B said, pulling you into a light hug much like the one you had with Kie moments before, his arms around your shoulders while your cheek rested on his chest, his chin on top of your head.
“Love you, bub. Glad you’re okay.” He said into your hair before leaving a slight kiss, pulling away to put his hand in Sarah’s, his gaze lingering on your broken down figure.
Pope just kept looking at you, obviously freaked out.
“Hey, Heyward.” You put your hand under his chin, bringing his eyes up to yours. You smiled at the boy and nodded, “I’m okay.”
Pope reached one hand up to grab yours, hot holding it too tight, but just enough to tell you how much he loves you. “I’m happy you’re here.”
JJ watched as you had a heartfelt moment with each of your friends, but wouldn’t spare a single glance in his direction. She had whispered his name in pain just a week ago, wanting him by her side, and now she won’t look at him.
She realized what a piece of shit you are.
The pogues sensed the tension, all of them standing up and heading inside the house to give you two a moment alone. You wanted to beg them to stay, or follow them inside even. Grab a bag of chips and flop yourself onto the couch with your head in Pope’s lap, giggling at John B and Sarah’s lovers quarrel in the kitchen.
But you had to face this head on, you had to face JJ head on. It was time.
“Why won’t you look at me?” JJ asked, trying to mask his anger, it wasn’t working.
“I-”
“After all this, I thought we were past the hatred, (Y/n).” He was trying to keep his cool, but he couldn’t. Keeping his cool was never one of his strong suits.
“JJ-”
“I’m not doing this anymore with you. You can-”
You cut him off. If he said one more angry word at you you wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“JJ, I know you hate me and I know I’m a bitch and I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. But, god, I can’t stop thinking about the way you held me that night after the boneyard and I think I need you to do it again.” Your voice shook as you finally whipped your head to look at him, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through your head from the sudden movement.
There was that hurt in his eyes, plain as day. His hair was disheveled and his eyes looked heavy and sad, dark circles hanging underneath them. He looked so beautiful.
JJ was wordless as he strode towards you, his arms out as he finally held you lightly in his arms.
“I need you to hold me tighter, Jayje, please.” “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“*Please.”
The blond responded by just holding you tighter against him, one hand around your waist and the other supporting the back of your head. You let out a choked sob at the feeling of him around you, this is all you ever wanted, all you ever needed. It was like air was finally rushing through your lungs.
“I’m sorry I was angry, I’m so sorry.”
You just shook your head, unable to speak words as you continued to cry, wordlessly telling him not to apologize, just pulling him impossibly closer.
JJ stumbled a little as you pulled him, “Okay, okay. Let’s sit down.” He said softly, leading you to the outside couch, careful not to loosen his grip on your frame. JJ sat down in the corner and pulled you with him, situating your body between his legs, your arms wrapped around his neck as your head fell to rest in the crook of his neck. JJ’s hand that wasn’t on your waist came to rest on your cheek, his thumb slowly stroking your cheekbone back and forth.
“I’m so scared.” Your voice squeaked through your sobs and hiccups and JJ’s heart shattered, scattering broken pieces at his feet.
“M’not gonna leave you. Promise.”
You didn’t respond as you held up your pinky, signalling for him to hook his around yours, and he did, leaving a sweet kiss on your fingers, then returning his hand to it’s spot on your cheek, holding onto you for dear life. He wanted to find Tyler and kill him himself, even if only for the way you were shaking in his arms, it scared him. He had never seen you this broken before, he didn’t think anybody had, not including Sarah or Kie, but even then the amount was few.
He didn’t want to shush you or tell you everything was okay, because it wasn’t, really. Your abusive step brother was nowhere to be found and he had nearly killed you. It wasn’t okay. So, he let you cry and he held you, letting out an involuntary whine every time your body would tremor and whispering sweet things in your ear, until eventually you fell asleep in his arms, your breathing finally normal.
John B came out the front door when he heard your crying stop, Pope trailing close behind him, and the two leaned on the railing across from JJ.
“I wanna kill him.” JJ said, not looking up from his gaze on you. “Look at her.”
JJ was holding back his own tears now, forcing out a couple coughs to try and cover up his cracking voice. “The way she just broke down, I- I’ve never seen her like this before, guys. She usually has something funny to say, a joke to pull even in the toughest situations but she’s so scared and sad. Fuck, I never want to see her like this again.”
John B and Pope were silent as JJ talked, just listening to their distraught friend.
“I’m not leaving her. Not ‘til that son of a bitch is dead or behind bars for the rest of his life.”
Pope nodded, “I think that’s smart, actually.”
The boys were interrupted when Sarah brought out your bag, holding it out to JJ.
“She needs to change her bandages, they look a mess.”
JJ grabbed the bag and placed it on the ground next him, then turned to you and gently shook you awake, stroking your hair and whispering softly.
“Hey, pretty girl, Gotta get up and change your bandages, okay? They’re all twisted.”
You nodded and stood up, immediately whimpering from losing the extra compression around your ribs and the pain in your head. JJ shot up, fawning over you, offering to carry you to the bathroom. You just shook your head and made your way inside, keeping your eyes on your feet so you wouldn’t make eye contact with Pope or John B.
You made it to the bathroom before JJ did, so you sat on the counter and waited, he must’ve been talking to the boys outside.
“You should’ve said something sooner, Sarah. This could’ve been avoided.” You heard Kie’s voice through the door.
“What? Do you know how mad she would be if I did? She’d never talk to me again.” “At least she’d be safe.” Kie spat.
“Look, I- I didn’t know that was gonna happen, okay-”
“Obviously.” Kie muttered.
“You don’t think I’ve been beating myself up about it all week?”
“You should be beating your-”
“Kie, lay off.” John B’s voice interrupted, followed by the slamming of a bedroom door, and silence.
You frowned at the conversation. This was no one’s fault, no one but Tyler. He’s the scum who did this to you, there was no one else to blame. Kie was angry and looking for someone to pin it on who wasn’t conveniently missing, but it wasn’t fair to Sarah.
JJ entered the room not a moment later, holding your bag with fresh compression wraps and bandages, a nervous smile plastered on his face.
“Let me see.” He said, setting down the bag on the counter next to you.
You had a hesitant look on your face, you knew he meant for you to take off your shirt, and you didn’t want to. After everything-
“I’m not gonna hurt you.” He whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear him. “I just wanna help you, okay? I need to see them so I can help you, baby.”
You nodded and he mirrored the action, slowly bringing his arms forward to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in just a bra and shorts. JJ didn’t bat an eye at your chest, solely focused on your injuries. He stayed silent while he carefully unwrapped the compression from your ribcage, which was now twisted from your sleeping position. He sucked in through his teeth while he looked at your ribcage, horribly discolored and red from the wrap, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your tiny heart tattoo, almost invisible from the bruising.
“Broken?” He asked.
You shrugged. You don’t pay attention when doctors talk, that was Christine’s job.
JJ didn’t acknowledge your answer, just continued his work. He pressed a kiss to each spot he unwrapped, telling you something about how it always made them heal faster.
“Kisses from a handsome man like myself make everything better.” He had said with a playful glint in his eye.
You wanted to smile and the sweetness and pureness of it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.
JJ finished and crumpled up the old wraps and bandages before tossing them in the garbage and looking back at you. He looked at you for a moment before reaching his hand out and softly running his fingers over your red scratches. You couldn’t read his expression. You still didn’t know JJ well, having hated him the entire time you’ve known him up until just over a week ago, you were seeing him in a new light, and you couldn’t tell what he was making of all of this.
You told yourself he was probably over this, annoyed that he was having to deal with the beaten down girl in front of him instead of sticking himself into the gorgeous blonde he had wrapped around him at the Boneyard.
He thinks you're ugly and pathetic. Who the fuck scratches themselves?
“These look like they hurt, baby. You gotta stop doing this to yourself.” He said, bringing his blue eyes up to meet yours. “Not that easy.” You rasped back.
JJ sighed and nodded, he of all people knew how not easy it was to quit a coping mechanism. He always hated when Pope or Kiara would try to tell him to just “Stop drinking” or “Stop getting in fights”. It isn't easy when you feel like that’s the one thing that will help you.
“You’re so beautiful.” He said seriously, his eyes full of intensity as he looked at you, the girl he felt so strongly for that he mistook the feeling for hatred.
You scoffed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
JJ sighed and looked down before settling himself between your legs, his eyebrows knit together and eyes sharp on yours. “You know.”
“What kinda girl lets this happen to herself, JJ? It’s ugly, I look ugly.” Tears started to build up again and JJ didn’t know what to say.
“Baby, you didn’t let anything happen. This is not on you.”
You shook your head as more tears fell, “You don’t get it, I’m weak.”
JJ just shook his head, “No.”
“Stop disagreeing with me!” You yelled, trying to punch his chest but crying out from the pain in your hands. “I’m weak, I’m pathetic, I’m gross, I’m ugly! He did this to me! He made me this way and now he gets away with it! He gets away-”
You were inconsolable, your words were barely coherent as snot and tears ran down your face. You wanted JJ to agree, tell you you were weak and ugly, you needed to be right. It was comfortable to be right. “I’m right, JJ! Don’t fucking tell me I’m wrong! Why are you lying to me?!”
“Baby-”
“He did this to me! I’ll never feel clean again!”
If JJ’s heart wasn’t fully broken before, it was now. He felt utterly helpless for the first time in his life, completely not knowing what to do. He always had a next move. Even when his dad was beating the shit out of him, even when a kook had him pinned down, face in the sand and barely able to breathe. But now, looking at you, body broken and bruised and lips and eyes red and puffy from crying, choking on your own sobs, JJ felt fucking useless.
“(Y/n), please, breathe, angel.”
You stopped for a second and pushed your hair out of your face, looking at him confused.
“You can let it out, just remember to breathe, okay? You’re gonna panic and scratch yourself again.” His voice was so gentle as his hand lightly squeezed the back of your neck, his other hand softly caressing your thigh.
You just nodded slowly, expecting him to yell at you for your outburst or tell you you’re being childish, but you received the opposite. You began to take deep breaths for JJ, beginning to realize you’d do just about anything to get rid of the heart broken expression on his face.
He took deep breaths with you, placing your hands on his chest and covering them with his own so you could feel the rise and fall and the patter of his heart beat. He gave you a small smile when your breathing settled, and he let you fall into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Proud of you, pretty girl. Did so good.”
You whined and pulled away from him, you wanted to see his face, to see the way he was looking at you. JJ’s hands rested on your hips and he gave them a gentle squeeze as you stared at his ocean eyes.
“I wanna kiss you.” You whispered, your hands coming up to cradle the sides of his neck.
JJ shook his head, “Soon, I promise. Okay? But not now.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He couldn’t kiss you while you were torn apart and terrified, he wanted to see the sparkle in your eyes, that striking grin on your cherry painted lips.
He doesn’t want to kiss you.
“Not like this. Not when you feel this way, okay?”
Oh.
You could’ve sworn your heart burst and melted all the way down to your toes. This was a new JJ. Even when he hated you he probably would’ve jumped at the opportunity to do anything with you, shutting up your loud mouth with his own. But now, it’s almost like he’s afraid to break you.
You nodded but stayed silent, finally letting your body rest against his. “I need to talk to the group.”
JJ nodded, helping you off of the counter. His heart squeezed when you intertwined your fingers with his, gently holding on so you wouldn’t hurt your hand further. His heart skipped a beat when you brought your free hand up to hold onto his forearm. You were gonna give him butterflies forever.
The two of you walked outside the bathroom and you saw your friends sitting and waiting for you, and you began to feel nauseous.
Once JJ got you out of the bathroom and onto the couch comfortably, you let go of his hand and he suddenly felt empty. You ran your hands up and down your thighs with anxiety before letting out a small whimper, feeling your body begin to surge with panic as you thought about what you had to tell your friends.
“You’re safe.” JJ whispered, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure what you wanted from him. You looped your arm through his and he brought his hand over to gently rest on your knee, giving you a soft kiss on your temple.
“I wanted to tell you guys this as soon as I knew, but I had to tell you in person and when I got here the emotions were just too much and-”
JJ pulled your hand down from your neck, softly shushing you to stop you from rambling. You hadn’t even realized you were scratching. You took a deep breath and looked at JJ again, waiting for his quick nod before you took the deepest breath of your life and said the words you had been dreading to say all week.
“Tyler killed my mom and sister.”
+
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oh-my-sparkle · 3 years
Text
Dream a little dream
Part 11
Reader x Hyunjin (Stray Kids), Reader x Sicheng (NCT)
[Genre] Highschool au, fluff, angst, mystery, comedy.
[Groups mentioned] Stray Kids, NCT, GOT7, Itzy, and others.
[Word count] 1.8K
[Warnings] none really. Super angst and crying maybe?
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Hyunjin was bouncing with joy…
Finally, finally, he was making progress with you. He’d finally be able to sit you down and talk to you, let you know how he felt, where he was in life, apologize for the millionth time...
Ask you to let him spend more time with you, if you’d let him. He needed the company, he really did. It wasn’t just because he liked you - he needed a friend. The past few days had been hectic for him, and painful, he still wasn’t on completely good terms with his friends and he needed someone to just give him company, listen to him, maybe comfort him; things he’d ask you in time, once the time was right.
And well, you had said yes to coffee, it was a first step.
Reaching his lunch table, he ignored his friends, well - except the three youngest ones. It had become their routine now, since Hyunjin was still very hurt by how they had lied and withheld things from him, which he considered a grave act against the solidarity that friends should have to one another. All of this could have been avoided if they’d just been honest.
So Jeongin and Seungmin were the only two who still completely remained in Hyunjin’s good graces. Things with Felix were tense, but they had spoken. It’s not really like they did anything to one another, but they were still mulling over their past behavior and what led them to where they were. He’d sit on one end of the table with the three of them as his other friends would send him apologetic glances.
The bruise on Felix’s face was fading, now yellowing with some purple specks around his eye and teardrop and even the bridge of his nose. It made him look surprisingly scary despite his delicate features - it also didn't help that it hurt him to make any sort of expression and so kept his face in a blank stare at all times.
“Why are you suddenly so happy?” Felix asks as Hyunjin sits beside him, noticing sudden perk in his demeanor which had been generally sullen in the past week.
“Nothing, nothing.” Hyunjin coyly dismisses. Except he makes eye contact with Felix a little too long and it’s as if the boy can read his mind.
“Don’t you think it’s too soon to be going after her?” Felix finally asks with that stoic expression of his.
Hyunjin thinks it over. No, it’s not too soon. It feels right.
Why would Felix ask that? Was it too soon?
Was he being too emotional and impulsive again? 
Was it too soon?
“We’re just going to hang out after school.” Hyunjin finally says.
“Mmm.” Felix thinks for a moment. “You do know that she made news all over school last week… and now she’s going to ‘hang out’ with one of the most popular guys in school, who most people aren’t aware happens to have broken up with his girlfriend.”
“And what does that have to do with anything? It’s no one’s business.” Hyunjin asks defensively.
“True… but that won’t stop them from gossiping about how you’re going on dates with one girl while your girlfriend is suspended.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but only like, a handful of people know that.”
“And it’s not a date - unless she wants it to be… I don’t see what’s wrong with that.” Hyunjin starts snapping back at Felix, who is obviously touching on a delicate spot.
“There’s nothing wrong with it… I’m just saying, she’s already gotten wrapped up in stuff because of you. Maybe, for her benefit, and to make things easier for you, you should be a little more considerate and slow down.”
What Felix says to Hyunjin makes him second guess everything he’s been doing so far. Did you think he was coming on too strong? Were you comfortable with him acting the way he did?
It’s not like he had told you how he felt yet…
Ok, maybe he should slow down.
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Hyunjin was tense all afternoon, worrying about what to do and what not to do on your outing. He wanted it to be perfect, no, good. Casual, simple, unproblematic.
He needed to slow down, for your sake, despite him thriving with emotion and knowing his intentions.
The weather was nice once he stepped out towards the front gate, crisp and sunny, and he just stood there watching people and cars pass by as he waited for you to arrive, trying to calm his nerves.
And suddenly, he hears his name called out. Except, it isn't your voice.
It was hers.
“Hyunjin?” She calls again and he turns to face her.
“Emmy.” She wasn’t aware that the tone in his voice could be so cold… so unemotional. She expected he’d reach out to her by now, asking to get back together. The things he said to her that day had been harsh, but she was sure he’d get over them soon enough.
“I’m here picking up my little brother.” She says walking up to him, looking up with wide eyes and batting lashes. Hyunjin used to melt when she did things like this, and it’s funny how now the only thing he can associate her with is the feeling of repulsion.
“Mmh.”
“Mind if I wait here with you?”
“I’m waiting for someone, I’ll be gone soon.” And at this Hyunjin begins to look around for you, hoping you can show up so he can leave.
He tried to ignore Emmy’s words at first. They went on from being ‘how are you’ to ‘I really miss you’ and the ‘I’m sorry about everything’. Lies, lies, lies, all lies. But then she starts crying.
“Hyunjin please, you don’t understand how sorry I am, I mean it.”
“It’s fine Emmy, we’ll both move on from it.” He says with the slightest bit of compassion, but when he notices her hopeful expression he corrects himself. “We’ll both move on from it, separately.”
“Hyunjin…” And then she lunges at him, but she’s small, Hyunjin doesn’t even flinch, all she wants is his reaction after all, “I know I’ve done some really bad things Hyunjin, but I want to change! And I need you!”
“You don’t need me… and I don’t want you.” He says calmly, looking away from her and her snakey hands.
“I do! Look at me Hyunjin,” She begs, “You are a good person, you are the only nice and genuine person who has given me a chance in ages, and I took that for granted. I regret it, I know I did bad things, but I think I deserve another chance, Hyunjin, and I honestly think you’re the only person who can show me how to be better.”
Hyunjin grabs her wrists, and gently pulls her hands to rest between them, holding her in a gentle manner to sort of calm her buzzing.
“Emmy… that’s on you. And it’s your problem to solve.” He sighs, and says the following words as softly as he can despite the stab that Emmy will feel when he says them. “Had I known you, the real you, I wouldn’t have ever even spoken to you. I feel ashamed for getting so wrapped up in you, and stupid too. You regret what you did, I regret what I did because of you. And now I’m going to ask for my second chance from the person I should have stayed by all along.”
Every bit of the facade fell from Emmy’s face, and for once Hyunjin could appreciate just how ugly she truly was.
“I really do hope you become better.” He concludes.
Emmy didn’t wait for her brother. He didn’t notice when she stormed off because he was busy looking back into the school grounds for you.
And he waited, and waited, and it started to make him itch. He decided to message you.
Hyunjin:
Hey!
I don’t see you anywhere
Is everything ok?
No response, but he could see that you read his messages. Twenty minutes later he starts to loose hope as the amount of students that come out of the school decreases further.
… 
I’m still here if you still want to get coffee <3
Was the heart too much?
Did something happen?
Damn it, did you see Emmy?
Can we talk?
Eventually you reply and he almost faints from the shock.
You: 
I was there.
I saw you were busy with your girlfriend.
I didn’t want to interrupt. Looked like you had other plans.
No, no, no, no, no, no! No, this can’t be happening. You saw him with his ex girlfriend, he was just having a conversation with her! He didn’t do anything, in fact, he did: he told her what he should have told her a long time ago. But he knows it must have not made sense from your perspective. He can’t let this ruin things. He won’t!
Hyunjin doesn’t type back, not now. He goes home and cries from the stress, feeling like some dumb coward. He feels like a blindsided idiot all over again, clueless. Why can’t he just get things to go the right way even once?
He thinks about what to say for an hour. He thinks about his feelings, about your feelings. He thinks about what Felix said. Damn it! He has no one to ask for advice, no one to turn too. His mother is asking him why he’s been crying and clinging to Kkami and there’s no way he’ll open up to her. He can’t.
He finally, finally, comes up with something that he hopes won’t cause another landslide.
Hyunjin:
I’m sorry.
I was waiting for you and ran into her. She’s not my girlfriend, I haven’t lied to you about that, I promise. And I don’t plan on being in any kind of relationship with her either. It’s not what I want.
What I wanted was to spend time with you, and talk to you. There were a few things I wanted to tell you, and I always seem to miss the right moment, and the right words, to say.
But I also realize that this is all too soon, and maybe you haven’t even forgiven me yet, or you might not feel the same way about me as I feel about you.
But I really like you and I could easily say more than that, but since this is also about you I don’t want to push anything on you. I know I’ve hurt your feelings and I don’t want to hurt them anymore.
So whenever you want to, or if you ever want to, I’d really like to talk to you, if you let me.
I’ll respect that it should be your decision, so I’m in your hands.
Hyunjin checks his phone every five minutes. You don’t answer, you don’t even read his messages.
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magicalforcesau · 3 years
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Letters (part 1)
The written correspondence between Obi-Wan and Satine throughout their Hogwarts career. In this part, we see the early stages of their friendship leading up to where we find ourselves in the beginning of “Dancing with Ghosts in Your Garden”.
ao3 link
First Year- Winter
Dear Obi-Wan,
I distinctly recall requesting that we continue correspondence over the course of our winter holiday and yet, here we are nearing the halfway point without any trace of a letter. It is to my understanding that you are intrinsically hardwired to automate politeness, but such pleasantries are meaningless if you do not intend on following through. Here I was thinking that despite our many differences, that we were becoming acquaintances. 
Before you go off developing delusions of grandeur thinking I am lonely or desperate for your reciprocated communication, I am quite well off either way. I am just miffed that I was not afforded the opportunity to practice writing in Mando’a more this break and my owl, Copikla, needed the exercise. 
Should this letter find you well, I must emphasize that I am not crying out for a response. Your silence will be loud enough on your intentions regarding any pursuit of a potential friendship. Do not write back out of pity, either, because that would be as insulting as it would be foolish.
Sincerely,
Satine Kryze
Dear Satine,
Please understand that I am deeply apologetic for not writing sooner. It was not out of intentional callousness nor more damningly, indifference. Cody had written to me as well asking in regard to my whereabouts. Though it is not an excuse for my silence, I’ve mentioned before that my parents are very specific in what they expect of me, and unfortunately, I did not meet their hopes for the term. As a result, I've resolved to cleaning every square inch of the house. While this might seem like a simple set of chores, I promise you my house has many inches to clean.
Even in writing this letter I had to perform with haste. Mother has, of course, enlisted my assistance for the New Year’s party as she had for the Christmas party. I beg of you to ignore the fact that this is written on a napkin. All of my parchment is upstairs.
My semester at Hogwarts could have been completely dreadful had it not been for Cody and your combined efforts in preventing me from wallowing in my own self-pity. I am beginning to see the positives in starting fresh in Ravenclaw house and hope that one day, I will be capable of showing my parents the potential as well. Only time will tell, but I cannot wait to return to Hogwarts and that is because of the both of you.
I truly hope I can return some of the happiness you’ve given me and I say that not out of obligation, but from the depths of my heart.
Sincerely,
Obi-Wan Kenobi
 Second Year- Summer
Dear Obi-Wan,
I know we just parted not but a few hours ago (don’t let it go to your head), but I couldn't help but look up what we were discussing earlier on the train. The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was formed due to the many witch and wizard (mostly witch- sexism and all that) burnings that were taking place all across the globe. Witches and wizards did not feel safe especially for their young, who could not control their magic as easily. However, as I suspected, there was opposition to maintaining secrecy and it was from none other than the pureblood sectors of magic.
That’s interesting, right? Especially when you consider our present political climate where it is the opposite. The purebloods preferred the melding of the two worlds, because they enjoyed coming and going as they pleased as well as associating with the upper class muggles of the time. 
I hope you are not chained to your bedpost for the entire summer considering Ravenclaw claimed the House Cup in part to your miraculous save at the end of the match. You certainly deserve to see a little sunlight and that’s coming from someone as pale as myself.
Do actually write back this time if you’re allotted a quill and parchment. You’ll be insulted to know I am using a mechanical pen as we speak. There are some aspects of the wizarding culture that I will never understand, and the lack of simple innovation is one of them.
Sincerely,
Satine
 Dear Satine,
What is truly a wonder is that someone is tackling the summer reading assignments even before I’ve managed to touch them! If you aren’t careful, everyone is going to start calling you the nerd behind your back. They’d be utterly daft to say it to your face, of course. I do not want to hear any nonsense about you finishing your homework before me, because simply using a standard pen is giving you a significant advantage to your arsenal. Before you retaliate with some droll rebuttal about how I’ve had countless advantages in being bred with wizarding history all around me, I think you need to reconsider my sources and how often I have to sift through half-truths to find reality.
For instance, the very piece of history you’re speaking of is told entirely differently in our textbooks than it has been my whole life. My family has always given off the impression that purebloods wanted to spare the less fortunate wizards from the muggle world and that it was those of lower status who did not understand the dangers of the world and got themselves twisted with dangerous muggles. It’s a little frightening how perspective changes the course of history.
The witch burnings were truly a terrible incident altogether, which is something all sources seem to agree upon. I do wonder though if they were more like martyrs for the ISS to begin. I’m sure muggle history has its ugly spots as well in regards to this era. When you finish your assignments and inevitably grow bored enough to write to me again, I’d be interested to hear the muggle perspective on historical incidents such as these. I’m sure as someone who has gone to muggle primary school, you were afforded a different and more rounded perspective on the matter. 
Sincerely,
Obi-Wan
 Third Year- Summer
Dear Ben,
I don’t understand how you can even REMOTELY believe that an institute that enslaves LIVING BEINGS of any kind is anywhere near acceptable. How do you go a full two years of knowing a person and never come across that key factoid? While I do often find myself trying to be considerate of the environment you grew up in, this is a basic core belief that is incredibly black and white. Either you believe that slavery is a reasonable option, or you do not. It is not a subject in which someone can have no opinion, because in doing so would only support those that believe in its merit. It’s how oppression thrives, not in its believers, but in those unwilling to say anything at all. 
House Elves were not enslaved because it was the very reason they were created, but they were enslaved and then brainwashed into believing that their life’s purpose was to serve. The very ideal of their desires being infringed upon with the abolitionist movement was a narrative that was bred by slaveowners. A while back, when we spoke of witch burnings and of skewed narratives, you mentioned that you have been raised under the belief that historical moments happened a certain way. You then had to question your beliefs because your textbook said differently.
Allow me to be your textbook: wizards are not entitled to house elves. The institution that thrives off of the economic convenience of house elves was built on the backs of slavery. Cruelty. So, pardon me for feeling no remorse in the economic lapse taken when your ancestors were forced by wizarding statute to relinquish their slaves. In fact, I am doubling down on that apathy in how your family treats their paid servants. 
Sincerely,
Satine
Dear Satine,
I never said owning a house elf was okay nor did I say I agreed with it. For Pete’s sake, do you always have to dig into controversy the moment we enter the borders of London? I swear you get pleasure out of catching me with my foot in my mouth with the excuse to go on some form of a tirade. How silly of me to ever dare to assume that I had the last word on the train.
House Elves were slaves and it was and always will be wrong. You’ll have no arguments from me in that regard and I’ve always believed that, with or without your infinite wisdom. I wish it was never a facet of our society, but it was. I’ve been honest with you in reference to how poorly my parents treat their servants and that they are not paid a typical wage, but out of indentured servitude. I was merely stating before that I have no pull nor say in ending this “contract”, not that I agree with its existence. While I’ll be honest, I never truly considered the injustice of it all until more recently, I never envied him and always showed compassion. I’ve been compassionate not to lessen my burden of guilt, but because it’s the right way to be.
I do not appreciate your comments in reference to my upbringing, as though that somehow makes me a lesser person simply because I come from bias. Everyone has bias and everyone must learn to differentiate from them. 
My primary argument was from an economic standpoint only and in trying to raise the important question of how to repair that without relying on servitude. To this day, former elves struggle as some of the very elves who participated in the revolution are still alive and without a set purpose in this economy. Though they deserved to be free, the manner at which is was done was nearly as horrible as keeping them chained forever. Most fall back into stride of serving former masters. It raises the question of if they were ever really free and if we require such practices in order to thrive, are we really free? That doesn’t say much about us, now does it?
Now that I had more than exactly three seconds to articulate my point, does that satisfy you? Or would you rather return to your soapbox?
Sincerely,
Obi-Wan
P.S.: I hope your newfound abhorrence to my character does not prevent you from continuing to write this summer.
 Third Year- Winter
Dear Satine,
Perhaps it’s near damnation for me to be physically documenting this moment, but I simply had to tell somebody. That impulse alone is a very frightening character change that I did not see coming. I’ve always thought I liked keeping to myself, but now I wonder if that was mere acceptance rather than preference. Regardless, I need you to know that I released Jar Jar, our humble and bumbling servant, from his contract this evening. 
They were going to hurt him. 
It wasn’t my parents’ decision, by my grandfather’s, who if you ever believed my parents were strict and traditional, you’ve never seen him in action. Practically senile, my grandfather loathes not only muggles and muggleborns, but halfbloods and low-ranking purebloods as well. My mother swears he was not as blunt and fiery in his youth, but I cannot be so sure.
Jar Jar has gotten a bit clumsier in his growing age as well. We have a whole lot of ‘loyal’ butlers and maids, of course, but Jar Jar has been with my family the longest, dating back shortly after the house elf revolution. He made the unfortunate mistake of spilling a glass of milk on my grandfather’s lap and his punishment was decided. It was to be done later that night in the backyard like he was a rabid animal.
I did not realize such practices even existed, nor that it was impossible for Jar Jar to simply run, since he still owes a significant monetary debt to my family on behalf of his ancestors. He would have died if he’d done so, because unbeknownst to myself, an unbreakable vow had been committed. 
My Father was quite upset too, saying he’d grown to care for him and all the work he’s done since he was a child. It was the closest my father and I have ever come to sharing an emotional moment. Of course, now I can’t seem to hear anything they say regarding the matter without your words ringing through my head, so it was a bit muddled by the fact that he was more focused on losing out on Jar Jar’s service than on Jar Jar. He was also quite sloshed.
I could stand it no longer and I could simply not allow this sort of act to occur. They could have killed him if I’d heard correctly the sort of punishment method they were going to implement. I’ll spare you the details, but they were quite gruesome. 
So, I crept upstairs, grabbed the savings I’d been holding onto beneath my bed,  and I handed it over through a door that was merely cracked open enough to fit my hand through. I’m not even sure if Jar Jar knew it was me. All I knew was that Jar Jar was gone when they opened it later to retrieve him and we were all surprised.
Again, writing this down and admitting to it might be foolish, but while I might have committed a grand piece of treason from the shadows, I have never felt more relieved.
Best,
Obi-Wan
 Dear Ben,
Yes, recording the very stunt you are trying to maintain a secret is not the most logical way to keep it under wraps, but I am ever elated to hear that you did it anyway. I’m sorry to hear that Jar Jar was to be harmed at all- let alone for something so mundane and that he didn’t get to achieve freedom until late in life. Who’s to say if he’s truly free right now anyway, as you have pointed out before. However, I will say, he is certainly better off being far away from your grandfather, who cannot harm him anymore.
That does not, of course, take away from the bravery of your actions. I find myself apologizing not once, but twice in this letter, because I do owe you one for ever insinuating that you would be actively in support of cruelty. It is not your way and I should know that by now. Sometimes, I’m a bit too rigid for my own good and I’ll admit to that firsthand. I worry that your need to confirm this with me was simply because you feel as though I think ill of you.
This is not the case. I know I was brash and reactive the first time we discussed this, but while I try to empathize, you must do the same to me. I grew up in a world where this sort of nonsense only existed in history books rather than being an ongoing debate. What concerns me most about the wizarding world is that it refuses to evolve. Not only technologically speaking, but on a humanitarian level.
As always, please keep me updated. I fear not only for the safety of this recently liberated indentured servant, but for you, because I understand you stuck your neck out for him and I admire you for it.
Best regards,
Satine
  Fourth Year- Summer
Dear Satine,
I can already tell that summer is going to be brutal around here. While the climate has been tolerable, my father insists on around the clock quidditch practice. It seems my ‘lucky’ catch in second year was not enough to fully establish their faith in me. I can’t say I blame them. I’m indisputably the worst player on the team. Ever since Ventress caught the snitch for Slytherin and took the cup this year, it’s just about all they can talk about.
I actually don’t mind playing quidditch with my father. He’s very passionate about the sport or moreover, being the best at it. My father was captains of the Slytherin team his 6th and 7th year at Hogwarts. Evidently, he was an unstoppable force. I know they’ve always wished that for me, for that feeling of pure satisfaction at one’s job well done, but I am not the athlete he used to be.
Speaking of Ventress, they keep bringing her around more often than not. She’s still as pleasant as ever, if you’re wondering, and actually mentioned you the other day. She’s still cross about your beating her in wizard’s chess. She hasn’t said as much, but I can tell. I’ve got plenty of practice with deciphering young women that project their annoyance onto me. I can thank you for honing that special skill of mine.
How is your family? It’s to my understanding that your sister is not participating in summer camp this year. I know you saw her at Christmas, but you mentioned that you hadn’t truly spoken due to being so distracted from festivities. I know that you do not enjoy talking about it so if you do not want to, please do not feel obligated. I understand better than many the complications of the families we have to love. It makes us question our sanity sometimes.
Best,
Obi-Wan
 Dear Ben,
You must truly be miserable to be writing to me first this summer. Usually, I have to pry letters from your hands if I want to hear about the whereabouts of your family. Now that you’ve turned the tables on me, I can understand why you are less than forthcoming.
Bo being around certainly is odd when it never used to be. I’ve only been at Hogwarts for almost four years. Why does that feel like a millennium? She’s taken great care to be away every summer in its entirety for camp, but this year the camp had been closed. My mother says she’s furious, but I suspect that’s because she doesn’t have an entirely different setting to run off to. I suppose I can’t judge too heavily, but I usually do enjoy my time at home. Seeing my mother and my brother is always refreshing and warm. I don’t want to set the impression that I don’t love my sister, because I do. She’s just… difficult. She doesn’t understand or like the concept of magic. Where my mum and my brother see an amazing new opportunity for me, Bo sees absurdity and refuses to open her mind.
If I can be honest with you, and you’ve certainly proved thus far that I can, I suspect she may be a little jealous. It would not be out of character for her to project her own disdain towards me. 
Explaining any more deeply than that would be migraine-inducing for the both of us. I assure you my familial drama does not run as deep as yours, try as you might to downplay your situation. Before you object, I know you care for your family and wish for them to be happy. Of course I respect that. Maybe because I would give just about anything for Bo to be happy too. Within reason. She’s a bit fixated on these violent video games and I assure you I would not be leaning into that lifestyle for the happiness of a twelve year old.
As for your playdates with Ventress, do try and put some distance between yourselves. I wouldn’t want you to catch anything contagious. You tend to sit awful close to Cody and I at lunch.
Best of Luck,
Satine
 Fourth Year- Winter
Dear Ben,
I can’t believe we are officially halfway through our time at Hogwarts. It’s silly to think about when we’ve got so much ahead of us, but for some reason this evening, shortly after I got off the train, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Now, here I am, losing sleep like an imbecile despite the fact that I’ve got plenty of time to consider the future. It doesn’t help that they’re already priming us for OWLS and eventually NEWTS shortly thereafter. It feels like just yesterday I’d held a wand for the first time. I’ve never been the same since, of course, but I also don’t feel all that different at the very core.
Well, I certainly don’t despise you anymore and that’s a difference. You’re going to tease me for being soft, but it’s 2 in the morning and the only part of me that is working to quell my anxieties is the realization that the passing of time has only strengthened my knowledge, resolve, and friendships. Not to mention my overall strength in general. At the end of this year, they’ll be announcing who the incoming prefects will be. Naturally, you’ll be amongst them by status and grades alone. I hope to be among that lot. You can’t possibly run the careful ecosystem of law enforcement without me. You’re far too nice.
Maybe you won’t be teasing me for going soft then…
I kid. You’re brilliant and Hogwarts would be lucky to have you. Your family is lucky to have you. I’m (And Cody, of course) very lucky as well. Do not make me say it again, but I will if I must. Sometimes, you need to be reminded of your positive light in people’s lives more than once and I suppose that's what friends are for.
I wish I had a more intellectual debate to pick your brain for at this moment, but in reality, I just wanted you to know that as we stand at the halfway point of our Hogwarts careers, I wouldn’t change a second of it.
Yours,
Satine
 Dear Satine,
I’m missing the part where I was supposed to be making fun of you. I do wonder what brought this on, but then again, I find myself in a panic over the passage of time more often than not lately. I truly need to start learning to live rather than survive, because otherwise, I’m going to miss a lot of valuable moments. That’s what Professor Qui-Gon says anyway. I will not miss this one, though, because I am going to save and highlight the portion where you called me brilliant. Just for reference.
I would tac it to the wall, but that might draw some unwanted questioning.
I simultaneously can and cannot believe we are at the midway point of being in school. Look at how far we’ve come! I mean this in the most gracious way possible, but I feel as though I’ve known you all of my life. I don't even want to imagine what I would have been like if you hadn’t shoved all that dessert in my face during first year. Most likely a lot skinnier, which yes, I know that’s still saying a whole lot considering Tarkin refuses to call me anything other than “broomstick”. I’d be more insulted if he wasn’t going gray at 16. It’s quite a pity.
But truly, you’re the reason I didn’t starve and I’ll never forget that.
Ease your thoughts, my friend, because the future for you is bright and limitless. You’ll rise beyond Hogwarts in whichever world you so choose- muggle, magic or both. I believe I speak for Cody as well when I say we have great faith in you.
Truly,
Obi-Wan
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Mid-2021 Blog Update
Hey guys.
So... It’s been a while. Quite a while... and I want to lay some things out as to why I’ve been gone and the blog has practically been dead in the water for half a year, if not for a whole year. 
I want you to know that what I’m going to say will be in heavy detail. I’m comfortable speaking on it, and what information doesn’t just include me will be using either public details that I know I can share or will be put in a short and sweet manner.
This is your trigger warning: If you need to click off or scroll past due to the mention of extremely bad mental health, toxic relationships and households, the mention of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, please do so now.
. . .
First off, I’ve lessened the amount of time I’ve been online due to my mental health. I was put on antidepressants as well as told to take anti-anxiety gummies in November and will be weaned off of those starting this October. A lot of my family and relationship drama on top of the world practically shutting down and going into chaos thanks to COVID-19 just took a major toll on me. With so much on my shoulders, stress from living with said things on my shoulders, unsupportive family members, and an emotionally distant partner, I was at one of the lowest points in the life. I’d never had to be on mood-related medication in my life until last November. I’d always been able to handle what was thrown at me, but mid- to late-2020 was what knocked me down that low for the first time in my life. Suicidal thoughts came and went (they weren’t often, only when I couldn’t bottle my emotions up any longer but didn’t have a way to express them either), but even when they did, I knew that it was just in my head. I never once chose to act on them, because to me, that is not a way to solve a problem or escape your inner demons. All it does it put your personal suffering onto those around you -- your friends, family, and those who cared about you even when you don’t see it -- and it doesn’t do anyone any good. When my doctor asked me about suicide, that’s the very explanation I gave her. Yes, they happened, but I’d never act on them; it’s not a way out and it puts your pain onto others and only worsens the situation for the long-term.
Aside from that, though... I move on to other personal reasons for my absence that helped trigger what was mentioned above. Mid-August of 2019, my then fiancé's mother was murdered by two 17yr old boys of whom she and their family knew. Going off the information that was made public, one boy had mixed meth with marijuana prior to the killing. He claimed that my fiancé’s mother mouthed off and made a derogatory comment about his deceased mother, thus sparking the incident. While he claims to have only stabbed her once, the autopsy report shows that her head/face and upper torso were “hacked, slashed, and chopped” repeatedly with “various sharp, bladed objects”. Not only did they murder her, the two individuals also set the grass around her body on fire along with her home. When we found out about this having happened, I had no idea how bad it would have turned my relationship upside-down. My now ex-fiancé didn’t come from a great childhood, there was abuse and CPS, among other things. But he had managed and was a good person. He could make me laugh and tear up at his jokes, sang beautifully, and did everything to make those around him happy. When he lost his mom, it broke him. It shattered his very being, because not only did he know the two who caused it to happen, he also was unable to reconcile and make amends with his mother for what he went through as a child. He was robbed of being able to forgive and be on good terms with her, and it broke him. He stopped communicating with family, he took bereavement after being pulled from work by family the day it was confirmed to be his mother only to to fired 3 months down the line when he tried to go back (fuck Walmart for that btw), and was slowly becoming a hypochondriac. He stopped talking to me, he would cry in his sleep, and grief made him lash out as was expected. But as the days dragged on, his motivation and care towards finding a new job dwindled. He and my mother would fight endlessly and I was caught in the middle of it, as we all were in one household. There were times in which I would keep my phone on my leg and record for my own personal documentation should I need it due to how bad my own mother would belittle me, belittle my ex behind his back, and just scream and go off. When I’d turn to my ex for comfort, he wasn’t much help due to his own deteriorating mental health. He took to discord, specifically the Vampire the Masquerade community, as his escape from reality. He eventually would hardly talk to me at all, show no compassion, and at times I tried to speak with him about getting a new job or suggesting part-time ones that I felt would be easy and as stress-free as possible for him, I would be shooed away without a word; if I tried to further my attempt to have the conversation, he eventually got an attitude and would just say “Bye!” over and over again while shooing with his hand to get me to leave. There were many days where I’d get off work and sit in the bathroom for an hour and cry because of my frustration and how I felt stuck between two people I cared about deeply (ie. my ex and my mother).
My ex has since moved out and no longer lived with us. He and I are no longer together, and he has cut off all communication to me along with his family. He isn’t living in California anymore, really. He met up with discord friends and is in another state. That’s the last I heard from him. That’s the last his family heard. He doesn’t talk to us or attempt to reach out or respond when his family reaches out. I still very much care about him and want him to get better, but if he has to do so by being away from everyone, then so be it.
While I was letting - or shutting out, rather - the emotions I was feeling once he officially moved out, I relapsed with my anxiety tick; with my trichotillomania. I have a good number of smaller, thinned out spots in my hair from unconsciously pulling out strands of hair when my emotions didn’t know how to regulate. I’m still fighting to get this under control, as I do still catch myself doing it and so does my mother. It currently is not as bad as when my ex first moved out and I had to adjust back into sleeping alone and without someone next to me, but I do still pull. I am looking into trying to get my sister to order me a HabbitAware bracelet for me this Christmas in order to help get my tick back under control. I know its something I will live with forever and go in and out of doing, as there is no cure or medication to curb trichotillomania, but its something to help me be more aware of how often I do pull and to train it to no longer be a muscle memory response.
Most recently, I’ve had to stop taking melatonin. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since my ex left, and eventually I took enough melatonin to not only build an immunity to it but also a slight dependence. I was taking more than I should have been, and I noticed the signs of it and have stopped taking melatonin altogether. Due to this, I have switched to hempseed oil gummies. I take 2 before bed and they have helped wonderfully. But, due to how easy it was for me to become dependent on melatonin, I do plan to take brief breaks from the gummies to avoid a similar situation. I also do not plan on seeking an insomnia medication due to the same reasons. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I knew i was becoming addicted, and due to this I do not wish to risk it happening with a prescription sleep medication. I will deal with my bouts of insomnia as they come.
I also am conquering my insecurities towards others knowing I am a fan of Michael Jackson; a moonwalker. In elementary school (5th grade, 2009), I went through a heavy obsessive phase when he passed. I’d never heard of him, and when I listened to his music that firs time I was instantly hooked. I was ridiculed at school after I performed “Thriller” during a talent show; I had classmates going as far as saying that I must want him to kidnap and r*pe me if I enjoyed his music so much. I didn’t understand the gravity of those comments back then the way that I do now that I’m 23, but I still knew to an extent that what they were saying was in now way a good thing. I shut out his music from mid-6th grade all the way until this year. I hadn’t listened to a single song aside from hearing “Thriller” on the radio during October. For my birthday this year, I had a friend take me out of town and get away for a day. The entire time, she surprised me by playing hours of his music when in the car with her. It has since reopened that connection to his music and I’ve been listening to his songs with a fresh take, with the mind of an adult who can comprehend his words and understand finally what he’s saying for each song. As such, I’ve become more comfortable with others knowing I’m a moonwalker. You can have your opininos of the man, you can choose to believe the tabloids and junk media or make your own conclusions after assessing the details and documents of his life, but I will enjoy the same freedom of opinion.
I know this is getting pretty long, but I wanted to fill those who still might be checking up on this blog for any sort of update or spec of life coming from it in on what’s practically killed the blogs for a good chunk of time.
I do plan to slowly start doing stuff again after Halloween. I have a video made that I plan to post for Halloween and I look forward to letting Kikumi and the others be open for asks again. Until then, may the wind guide you all. I hope everyone can have a safe and wonderful rest of August. I will see you in October.
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eternalstann · 4 years
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Birthday Deja Vu
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Smut..yktv
Summary: You surprise your best friend Tom for his birthday and things go even better than expected :)
Tom never forgot the day he first met you. It was three years ago, and they were about to wrap up filming Spiderman homecoming. They were all going to Zendaya’s house to celebrate. She’d told them she’d invited one of her childhood friends from when she was growing up in Oakland. The moment she introduced all of you, you all blended together like you’d been with them the entire time they’d known each other. Your magnetic energy is what made Tom so in awe of you; everyone there was dying to talk to you. Laura and Zendaya had been glued to your sides the whole night, And Jacob was constantly trying to make you laugh. You were just that amazing.
He’d been in the kitchen getting another wine cooler when you walked in, a vibrant smile on your face. Tom felt his self grow nervous, and tried his best to shake off the nerves only you made him feel. “You know you’re not supposed to be drinking in America, you’re only 20 Thomas!” You scold, wagging your finger at him jokingly before cracking open your own drink. “If I’m not supposed to be drinking then you’re definitely not supposed to be. How old are you again; 19?” He laughed, raising an eyebrow at you. “I guess it’ll have to be our little secret then” you smirked, holding your bottle up for a cheers.
“Our little secret!” you both say in unison before clinking the cold drinks in each of your hands together.
———
The group of you hung out often, laughing so hard your stomachs hurt and talking about life. Tom remembered everything you’d ever told him. How you were in college studying be a dental hygienist, the way you teased him for calling college ‘Uni’. How you and Zendaya complained about having to do your hair every morning if you’d slept over. “Sometimes I wish I were a man so I could just cut it all off” you exclaimed, and Tom rolled his eyes at your dramatics. The way you and Jacob play fought; much to his dismay. He didn’t like how close the two of you got. It didn’t dawn on him until later on why it bothered him so much. He remembered the car rides, Harrison driving and the rest of you piled in screaming Chris Brown lyrics at the top of your lungs.
As time went on the amount of time you all spent together dwindled. Zendaya busy with her Tommy Hilfiger line, Tom shooting and you with school. All of you made it known how much you missed each other, texting your group chat often. But after a while even that died down, and Tom hated it. Some nights he’d scroll through your old texts, the silly pictures and wild links to random shit you wanted to share.
Today was one of those days. Tom was bored, even though Jacob and Harrison were with him. Only one person could hold his interest right now and that was you.
“Do you guys remember that time Y/N fell down the stairs but made sure to save the cupcake in her hand?” Tom asked, a fond look on his face. Jacob and Harrison looked at each other and shook their heads. “Bro, this is like the fifth time you’ve brought up Y/N today, you miss her or something?” Jacob stared at him and Tom sat up. “Of course I miss her, she’s our friend and we haven’t seen her in a while, I miss her the same way I’d miss either of you guys. Is it weird to miss my friend?” Tom shot back, locking his phone to make sure they didn’t see the picture of you he’d been staring at.
“No need to get so defensive Tom!” Harrison chuckled, “why don’t you just FaceTime her or something if you miss her so bad?” He suggested and Tom thought for a moment. “I...I don’t know actually” he answered. “Yeah I FaceTime Y/N all the time” Jacob spoke and Tom couldn’t stop the sour look that came across his face. “What?” Tom asked in disbelief, what did they talk about? “She was just telling me about how her car broke down while she was on her way to graduation”
“Graduation?!” Tom felt like a real dickhead now. You’d graduated from college and he hadn’t even known. “When was this?” he pressed, scrolling to your contact name. He was going to call you. “It was four days ago, and don’t call her now she’s on vacation with her family!” Harrison told him and Tom ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe it. Time truly had flown by, and he couldn’t help but worry that maybe too much time had gone by.
——
You had just walked back into your room when your phone began to ring, a FaceTime from Harrison. You smiled, grabbing the device and answering. “Hey Haz” you chirp, looking at the screen.
“Y/N!” He cheered and you noticed Jacob was with him. “Aww, you guys are together? I wish I could be with you, I miss you guys!” you cooed and they beamed at you. “Tom was with us too earlier, and we miss you too. That’s why we’re calling actually” Harrison replied. You felt your heart flutter at just the mention of Toms name. You raise your eyebrows and wait for them to continue. “We were thinking, in honor of you graduating, and Tom’s Birthday coming up that we all need to get together. Toms been missing you like crazy and it’s getting annoying” they both pretend to gag and you laugh. “Oh my god we totally should!” You tell them excitedly. The three of you don’t stop grinning the whole time you’re planning the little get together.
——
You cursed to yourself when you finally pulled into the parking spot in front of Tom’s house.. Fuck google maps. The place he was renting in L.A was beautiful, and you remembered that he’s a millionaire movie star in multiple block buster movies.
Suddenly your 2009 Jeep Compass looked really shitty. You debated on brining up your suitcase now but decided against it. You were going to stay for the weekend, today was Friday and Toms birthday was tomorrow. You walk up to the door, with your phone and keys in hand. You look down at your outfit; light blue jeans, white tank top and fluffy slides. You began to regret choosing to dress comfortable for the drive instead of actually looking cute. You shake your head and knock on the door. Not even thirty seconds go by before Zendaya pulls it open. “Daya!” You cry out as soon as you see her and she shrieks in response. “AH! I fucking missed you!” She yells jumping into your arms. You laugh and do your best to close the door with the extremely tall girl hanging on to you.
Toms head whipped to the door as soon as he heard your voice. He hadn’t known you were coming, but he’d never been happier to see anyone in his life. He watched as you spun Zendaya around, immediately noticing how long your hair had gotten, it was almost to your waist now. But it was when you finally put Zendaya down that he really got a chance to look at you. Once he did he felt his breathe hitch in his throat. “Holy shit” he heard Jacob murmur from beside him and he knew he saw all the same things he did.
The pair of light wash jeans you were wearing fit perfectly, accentuating your thighs, hips and of course your ass. Tom took a couple of deep breathes before he let his eyes travel upwards. Your midriff was bare, the white tank top you wore was cropped to show off your stomach. The skin there looked so smooth, and you’d pierced your belly button. The little diamond stud made Tom gulp. “Were her boobs always that big?” Jacob asked and Tom punched his arm. But he was asking himself the same thing in his head. He took in every inch of you. He studied your shoulders, only covered by the spaghetti straps of you shirt - no bra.
He shook himself from his lust filled trance. He was a grown man, acting like a teenage boy. You were one of his closest friends and here he was treating you like an object.
“Y/N...wow” Tom spoke breathily, standing up and walking over to hug you. It felt so good to hold you in his arms, and he relished in the giggle you let out when he squeezed you even tighter. You pulled back way too soon for Toms liking to look at him. “You look amazing, almost birthday boy” - your voice was so smooth, he could listen to you talk all day. “Look at your arms, my little Tommy is ripped!” You laughed and Tom hated how hot he felt from your words. “Look at you! Your hair, you look stunning. I missed you.” He rambled before hugging you again. he breathed in your scent, Of course you smelled amazing.
“Jeez Tom- we wanna hug her too!” Harrison exclaimed, yanking Tom away from you before pulling you in for hug. Tom wanted to punch his best friend but instead he sat down on the couch, leaving a spot for you so you could sit between him and Zendaya. After you’d greeted everyone you sat down. You turned your gaze to Zendaya, you could feel her eyes burning holes into you. “What?” You asked the girl with a mischievous smile curled across her lips.
“Um...last time I saw you we were almost the same bra size aka our tits were nonexistent. Now you have those things out here defying gravity” she smirked, poking the top of your cleavage and you pushed her hand away. “Oh my god, girl shut up!” You rolled your eyes. “No seriously, your boobs look amazing. I fucking wish” Harrison’s girlfriend chimed in and you felt bad, you’d already forgotten her name but you could tell that you were going to like her. “Did you get them done?” Jacob whispered loudly.
“You’re a clown Jacob, and I can barely afford to keep my car on the road, the last thing on my budget list is a boob job” you quipped. “I know I’m just kidding Y/N- What ended up happening with that by the way?” Jacob asks and you feel self conscience talking about your financial woes in front of your wealthy friends. “It’s cool- I got it fixed. My transmission was blown” you explain, hoping they would drop the subject.
“I’m glad you got it fixed! Someone ran into my car the other day” Zendaya added before going on talking about her accident. “Z, you just can’t drive” Tom snarked, earning a round of laughter.
The night went on with all of you laughing and talking, it wasn’t until four a.m any of you even thought about sleep. “You guys we have a whole day of plans set up for tomorrow, maybe we should go to sleep” Harrison suggests which surprises all of you. “I call sleeping with Y/N!” Zendaya shouts grabbing your hand but Jacob disagrees. “No way! Zendaya you go with Roxy, no one wants to hear her and Harrison fuck all night. Y/N should go with Tom and Harrison and I can share.” You try to hide how both nervous and excited you are about sharing a room with Tom. He makes you feel like a kid again. You all nod at the arrangements, except Harrison who is grumbling to himself as everyone says their good nights.
You walk into the kitchen, smiling to yourself when you feel a presence behind you. “You following me Thomas?” You ask, opening the door to the fridge and pulling out two wine coolers. “Yeah, I’m never letting you out of my sight again” Tom whispered and you feel butterflies in your stomach. You turn around to face him and hand him the drink, deja vu washing over you. “Let’s never go this long with out seeing each other again okay?” You croak, and you hate how needy you sound. “Trust me, you’re gonna want to block my number Y/N” he replied, taking a sip. The two of you drink in a comfortable silence, staring at each other.
“Let’s go upstairs” Tom murmurs, taking your hand in his and leading you to his bedroom. You feel like your floating. The buzz from your beverage and from being so near the man you were slowly coming to realize you were in love with. “Fuck! I left my suitcase in the car, my pajamas!” You hissed. “Y/N calm down, you can wear something of mine” the brown haired boy assured you. You nod at him and he looks at you warmly, “Downstairs I had the craziest feeling of Deja Vu. It reminded me of the night we first met” Tom confesses. You bite your lip, “I felt the same thing, it’s so crazy how time has flown by” you reminisce.
Tom hums, tossing you a T-shirt of his to sleep in. He strips down to his boxers, and climbs on the bed, he wriggled his eyebrows at you and motions for you to join him. “You’re sleeping in underwear, I will too” you shrug, tugging your jeans off and making your way beside him. “I mean...I’m not going to object” he chided. You lay down and face your friend, fixing a pillow under your head so you’re eye to eye. “Y/N I just want you to know how proud I am of you for graduating. You’re so incredible, I think you’re the smartest person I know. Congratulations” you can feel how genuine his words are. And the sincere expression on his face only convinced you further. You felt like crying. “I hope you know how proud I am of you too, movie-star” you giggle because you know how much he hates being called that. “Go to sleep, I love you” Tom confesses, his heart about to burst through his rib cage
“I love you too”
——-
Tom woke up first, and he has to do a double take at the sight of you splayed out in his bed in only your underwear. He groans and palms himself through his boxers. Of all mornings for him to wake up hard. He stares down at you. Your tank top had shifted so he could see your nipple, and the overwhelming urge to touch you coursed through him. It took every bit of his strength to tear his eyes away from your angelic form. He trudged his way to the bathroom and ran himself the coldest shower water he could stand.
When he comes back into the room, with his towel wrapped around his waist you’re awake. “Happy Birthday!” You scream, running to him and hugging his wet frame. “Thank you, thank you” He grins. “You smell nice” You note, before plopping back down on his bed. “Thank you..again. You can use my shower by the way” he points to the bathroom.
You were going to thank him when his door burst open. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DICKHEAD” Harrison screams, followed the rest of your friends. Zendaya’s holding a cake, and Jacob your suitcase. They sing him an obnoxious rendition of happy birthday before they all disappear to get dressed. “I brought your suitcase up Y/N” Jacob tells you before he leaves.
Just like it always does when you’re with them, time flies by. You all go to lunch with his brothers Sam and Harry and spend the rest of day goofing off. Tom decided he wanted to go clubbing, much to Daya’s dismay - if it were up to her she’d never leave her house. But she agreed since it was his birthday. She had done your makeup for you, and had posted way too many pictures on her instagram story for your liking. She was still raving on about how good you looked as you slid into your heels.
“Let’s gooo” You sing-song and Zendaya follows you to the car. You two and Roxy decided to ride together so the boys could do whatever it is boys do.
-
Tom watched you walk into the club, and he knew he wasn’t the only one either. Zendaya and Roxy were beautiful- but you? He couldn’t even put it into words. He wanted to go over and wrap you in his arms, show everyone you were his. But you weren’t. You waved to him from across the room and he took a deep breathe before waving back, and walking over to you. “Let’s get fucked up!” You cheered grabbing his hand and leading him to the bar. “Two shots of patron on ice please” you smiled at the bartender and Tom balled up his fist at the way the man stared at you. “You got it gorgeous” he smirked, but you weren’t paying attention.
“Tom...TOM!” You call out to him, and he whips his head around to face you, pulling himself from his thoughts of strangling the bartender. This was going to be a long night.
Way too many shots and three hours later Tom was watching you and Roxy dancing, Zendaya recording and hyping the two of you up. “Aye!!! Go best friend, that’s my best friend!” She screamed. Harrison was laughing, a drink in his hand. Jacob was shitfaced, and you motioned for him to come over. He began dancing with the two of you, grinding together. Tom knew you were just having fun but he couldn’t help but feel jealous. “Oh shit! Get it Jacob” Zendaya yelled and Tom had to excuse himself to the bathroom. He was ready to go. He wished he was laying in bed with just the two of you, talking about about whatever you wanted. He stares at himself in the mirror. “Get it together Tom” he murmurs to himself.
When he comes back out the bathroom, you’re no longer on the dance floor. You’re sitting alone at the bar. Your head was resting in one of your hands, your other hand typing on your phone. “Hey” Tom spoke, and look up at him. “I was just about to text you!” You grin. You stand to hug him, pulling him close to you. “How was your birthday?” You whisper in his ear, arms wrapped around his neck. Tom shudders at the feeling of your breathe fanning against the shell of his ear. He places his own hands on your waist. “It was amazing, thank you Y/N” he kisses you on the forehead and you can feel yourself heating up. Everything he did was heightened due to your drunken state. You watched as he yawned and couldn’t help but frown. “You tired?” You ask, and he nods sheepishly. “Tommy can’t hang” you tease, “lets get out of here then” you smile. “Something tells me they’re not ready to leave” he laughs, shrugging towards the dance floor where Zendaya and Harrison were hitting the woah in sync.
“Let them stay then, we can just go” You offer, and Tom loves the sound of that. He nods, pulling up the Uber app off his phone and going to let the the rest of your friends know you were leaving. You stand, bobbing your head to the music while you wait. “Excuse me?” You hear a voice call out to you. You turn and recognize the bartender. “Yeah” you reply, still swaying to the rhythm. “I think you’re gorgeous and I was just wondering if I could get your phone number..” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. You’re surprised at how nervous he seemed, and you bite your lip before nodding yes.
When Tom turns around to see you typing into some guys phone his heart drops into his stomach. “Y/N” he spoke walking behind you and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Who’s your friend?” Tom asks and you’d never wanted to be swallowed up by the ground more than that moment. Before you can speak, the bartender pipes up- “I’m Tyler, you are?” “Tom” he answers curtly, and you hear an edge in his voice you’d never heard before. “Nice to meet you Tom” “Yup you too” Tom quickly replies before pulling you towards the door. “Our Uber’s here” he informs you while you try you best to wave goodbye to Tyler.
“Jeez Tom” you exhale, once you’re inside the car. You stare at him but he stares at the back of the drivers head the whole car ride.
“Why’re you in such a hurry?” you giggle, poking his cheek, just before you step into the door. “You liked that dickhead?” He questions, shifting slightly on his feet. He regret asking you the moment the words left his mouth. What if he got an answer he didn’t like? “I mean he was cute, and nice” you shrug, not thinking much of it. “He was staring at you like you were his last meal the whole night!” Tom exclaims and your eyes widen.
“I’m a big girl Tom, you don’t need to worry about me” you reply. “I’m always worried about you! All I do is think about you all day long. I wonder what you’re doing or what you’re feeling. Because I love you, and not just in a friends type of way - I mean I love you like that too but-“ you cut him off and smash your lips to his. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you had to kiss him. And when you did, there were no words to describe it. A satisfaction and warmth like no other. You hum at the feeling of his lips against yours.
“Tom, baby, lets go upstairs” you whine, running your hands down his chest. He nods, leading you to his bedroom. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re drunk - we shouldn’t” he groans and you roll your eyes. “So are you” You quip, and you watch a look of deep thought cross over his face. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks and you nod, a sweet smile on your lips. “I’m gonna need words baby” he whispers grabbing your hair in his hand and pulling your head backwards. “Yes, Tom! I want this, I want you!” You answer back, you were willing to beg if that’s what it took to get him inside of you. “Shit, okay baby I got you” he groans, he pulls off his shirt, and you’re making quick work of his jeans. “You don’t need to rush, we’ve got all the time in the world Y/N. I’ve wanted this for so long, I wanna take my time with you” He tells you. You feel your heart swell and your pussy throb. You stare up at him, letting your eyes take in all of him. His hair was disheveled, face tinted pink. To you, he’s never looked better.
You stand, sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders. Tom watches in awe as it drops to the floor. You can’t help but to giggle at the look in his face. “Tom, as good as you look standing there, I really need you to fuck me now” you murmur, taking a step towards him closing the space between the two of you.
“Y/N I love you” he breathes burying his face into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you as close as he could. “I love you too” you gasp when he places a wet kiss to your neck. You push him backwards and drop to your knees, and Tom is shaking his head at the sight of you. He’d never been more worked up in his life. “Happy Birthday Tommy” you smile, taking his length in your hand and pumping it slowly. You watch his face scrunch up in pleasure and you hope this night never ends. You use your hand to guide him into your mouth and the sound he makes has you dripping. You bob your head, suctioning your cheeks to suck him properly. “Fuckkkk” Tom groans, placing a hand on the back of your head. Picking up your pace, you reach down to play with his balls and he’s falling apart at your ministrations.
You look up at him, head tilted back and mouth open. You use your other hand to scrape your nails down his stomach, and you feel the muscles tensing up beneath your touch. “Y/N I’m gonna cum baby” he warns you and you go even faster. You can’t wait to taste him. You use your hand to pump what you can’t fit in your mouth and seconds later he’s shooting his load down your throat. He’s calling your name while you swallow every drop.
He picks you up and places you on the bed, on your back. The way he’s staring down at you makes you squirm. “Fuck, I cant believe this is happening” he whispers to himself. “Spread your legs, let me return the favor” he demands and you oblige. He gets down between your open knees and you shiver when his fingers stroke over your wet core. You sit up on your elbows to watch him, and you feel yourself ready to burst at the first lick of his tongue against your pussy. “Tastes heavenly” he mumbles against your skin, and you’re heaving. His tongue licks up and down your slit, pushing between your folds and dipping inside of you. “Fuck Tom” you moan and you know you’re close. His tongue moves up to focus on your clit and your through, legs shaking and fingers twisted in the sheets.
“Need to get inside you baby” his voice is rough with sex and all you can do is nod at him. You open your eyes to look up at him when he climbs on top of you and his gaze is already on your face. “I really love you” he reminds you and you love hearing it but you’re so ready for him, “I love you too Tom, but pleaseeeee fuck me” you beg. He leans down to kiss you, soft lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back with every ounce of you.
“Okay, okay- I’m sorry darling” he laughs breathily, before sliding into you. He feels so good inside of you, you had to be made for each other. “Shit Y/N, you’re perfect” he’s thrusting into you like his life depends on it, and you can only hold on for the ride. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper. You wanted him like this forever. “Tom!” His name fell from your lips over and over as drove you both to your peaks. He grabs your left leg, pushing it back to your chest and speeds up even more. His other hand goes to your throat, squeezing while he slides in and out of you. “Cum for my Y/N” his voice washes over you as you orgasm, him moments after.
His eyes never leave your frame; in awe as your back arches off the bed, pleasure etched all over your face. He lays down beside you, and you snuggle into his side.
“I think it’s safe to say this has been my best birthday yet”
________________
hey beautiful, wonderful people. I love just imagining Tom hanging with friends, I know he’s THE most fun person ever. Anyways I hope y’all like this. I really liked the beginning but the smut just ain’t it for me I almost wanted to cut it out🥴
I love y’all, message me w ideas!!
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queenofheaven82 · 3 years
Text
PART IV --  Dance Parties and Broken Hearts
Thanksgiving came a few days later. It slipped up so quickly Lacey nearly forgot about the holiday until the day before, when her mom suddenly yelled, "It's snowing! Finally! And for Thanksgiving!"
Thanksgiving had never been a particularly big holiday for the Primmers. Her mom usually ordered a turkey and fixings from a nearby grocery store in lieu of cooking, and mostly they sat in front of the TV watching football with Stuart as they ate. But this year, Darlene seemed to have something different on her mind.
"I found some autumn china at the Dollar Tree -- can you believe it?! -- and that's what we're using this year. At the table. With my old goblets I got at my wedding shower when I married your dad."
Lacey swallowed. Why didn't Mom know by now that mentioning her dad around her was a huge mistake? She reached up under her hair to finger a small strand, willing herself not to pull.
So Thursday came, and as snow came down in sheets outside the townhouse window, Lacey's mom spread out a tablecloth at their rarely-used dinner table and worked on some very well-done place settings. Stuart's usual cheerful personality was dampered slightly by the fact that it was Davy's mom's turn to have him over the holiday, but Lacey could tell he was trying for the sake of everyone else to keep his spirits up.
Her mom also went through the trouble to put the takeout in serving dishes, so Lacey almost felt like she was having Thanksgiving at a totally different house. But it was nice.
Just as they were sitting down to eat, however, the doorbell rang. Ariel, ever nosy, jumped up first and made a dash for the door.
Stuart's brow furrowed. "Who could that be?"
A moment later, they found out. Max followed Ariel, who rolled her eyes at Lacey, into the dining room.
"Hey! What's doin'?" he inquired enthusiastically, coming over and giving Lacey a forehead kiss. "My old man's in a mood, so I thought I'd just come over here. That okay?" He took off his scarf and coat and draped them across the back of Lacey's chair.
Lacey was speechless. Max rarely liked coming to her house. To what did she owe this?
Her mom looked none too happy. "Well... come on in, then." She stood up and grabbed a paper plate, evidently short on the dollar tree china, and pulled over a stool from the corner of the kitchen.
"Thanks Ms. P." Max wedged himself between Lacey and Halen. "So how's it goin?"
Stuart could always be counted upon to be polite. "Ah, very well! Nice to have fresh snow on Thanksgiving, isn't it?"
Max loaded his plate up, and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I think the same thing happened last year."
Lacey wanted to melt into the floor.
"So I hear you played a good game against Eden Hall a couple weeks ago, scored quite a few goals. Congratulations," Stuart passed the yeast rolls.
"Banks was taken out, so that helped alot." Max ate a fork full of green beans.
"Adam Banks? I'd bet. He's a tough one to go up against, isn't he? Davy says hardly anyone stands a chance."
"Yeah, well," Max smirked. "I think he's losing his edge. Orion benched him halfway through the game because he was skating like a forty-year-old. Maybe he's preoccupied with girl problems."
"Watch it," Darlene remarked. "I'm getting there, Max."
"Girl problems?" Ariel asked, smiling.
Darlene gave her a look. "No, smartypants. Forty."
But Lacey had zoned out of the banter. She wanted to say something, she just wasn't sure what yet. However, her mom afforded her the opportunity.
"That boy is probably just like his dad. Full of ego. Maybe being benched will take him down a knotch or two," Darlene muttered.
Lacey set her fork down gingerly. "I don't think Adam should be blamed for what his dad's like, you guys. And maybe something's genuinely wrong with him that caused him to not be at his best. We really don't know that much about him."
Max stared at her a moment. "Well, you apparently know enough to call him 'Adam.' What's with that? He's always been 'Banks' to everybody else."
Lacey felt her blood pressure rise slightly. "Well, his name is Adam. And I'm pretty sure he's a human being before he's a hockey player and Phil Banks's son."
The table went quiet. Everyone stared at her in disbelief except for Stuart, who ducked his head down, continuing to eat.
"I'm... just saying, I guess, that if he was benched, something might really be wrong. So we could show a little compassion." She looked at Max as she said this.
Max turned wordlessly back to his food and began to eat again, but more slowly this time. Lacey fidgeted with her napkin and slid to the edge of her chair, wondering why she'd bothered to say anything if it was going to disrupt the entire dinner. She squeezed the napkin hard.
After a few minutes of silence, Stuart stood up and left the room. Lacey wondered for a moment if she'd upset him, too, even though to her memory he'd never said one bad word about Banks.
But the reason he left became clear after a moment. "Hey. I think I hear something," she heard him call from the living room. "It's coming closer. Anybody else hear it?"
Ariel and Halen paused their eating and looked up at Lacey, who couldn't suppress her own smile.
"Oh God, not now, Stuart," her mom rolled her eyes. But it was too late.
Suddenly the dramatic intro chords of Poison Arrow by ABC sounded throughout the house.
"Alright, Girls! Let's see some dancing!" Stuart called in.
Quick as lightning, the twins jumped up, giggling, and ran into the living room, followed by Lacey. Stuart's dance parties and the girls' enthusiasm over them were infectious.
"What the--?" She heard Max questioning behind her.
Stuart grabbed Lacey's hands as soon as she entered the living room and began twirling her to the beat of the synth pop. She laughed. "This isn't a twirl song, Stuart!"
Ariel and Halen were leaning in, singing into one another's faces:
"Who broke my heart? You did! You did!
You think you're smart? Stupid! Stupid!
Shoot that poison arrow to my heeeeart!"
They danced around in no specific style, jumping up onto the couch and grabbing remote controls and the cordless phone to use as microphones. Lacey couldn't help laughing at their antics while dancing with Stuart.
She happened at one point to spot Max in the doorway staring at them all with a furrowed brow as though he couldn't understand what the big deal was.
"Stuart's British dance parties," Lacey laughed breathlessly after it was all over. "He springs them on us sometimes."
"Ugh, I feel like I'm gonna hurl," Ariel winced.
"I guess you do!" Lacey's mom called from the kitchen. "Dancing in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner..."
Stuart's actions blessedly lightened up the tone of the rest of the meal, but Max remained quiet despite having filled his plate twice more. After the pumpkin pie her mom had bought frozen from Publix, Max stood. "Thanks Ms. P, that was awesome. Lacey, walk out with me?"
Lacey stood, sensing something in Max's tone she wasn't sure of. She put on her scarf and coat, pulling the fur-lined hood up over her head before heading outside.
"Babe..." Max took a deep breath. "I don't know what's been into you lately, but it's weird. You just haven't been yourself. And, I mean, I don't know what to make of you taking up for Banks all of a sudden after the way his dad has treated your mom. How is it you know him? Seriously?"
Lacey felt her ire rising. "I don't, Max, good grief! He came into the cat shelter earlier in the week to bring in kittens, and just... we talked some. He's not the jerk you say he is. But it's not like we're best buddies or anything."
"Oh, okay," Max quipped. "He brought in cats, so now he's suddenly this standup guy. You're obsessed with damn cats, so no wonder."
"So what if he was a standup guy? How does that threaten you? I have as much right to think him decent from our conversation at the Cat's Cradle as you do to think he's a jackass just because he's a better hockey player than you."
The moment she said it, she knew she'd made a mistake. Max tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes.
"Okay. I don't get what's with you, but you know who you've been reminding me of lately?" Max leaned in. "Loosey Lacey from middle school."
Lacey's mouth went dry and she felt her insides tremble with rage. For a moment, she couldn't speak.
When she finally did, she knew she couldn't take it back.
"Go. Just go. And Max? Don't come back."
Max's expression changed to one of surprise.
"It's been coming for awhile now, so let's just end this, okay?" Lacey turned to go back inside.
"Oh. Alright," Max threw his hands up. "I tell you the truth about yourself and you wig out and decide to throw the whole thing in the trash can."
"It's not just what you said, Max," she whirled around. "It's about your ego. Everything is always about you. It's about you pushing me to have sex. It's about you wanting to tool around at State while expecting me to sit here waiting for you. I just... I want something different."
Max stared at her for a long while. "Okay. If that's what you want, it's over. But with all your issues, Lacey? Good luck finding anybody else. Unless you want to give Banks a go. You seem pretty taken with him."
Lacey shook her head slowly. "If anybody's obsessed with Banks, it's you, Max. You can't stand to have any competition, can you?"
With that, she turned and went back into the house, wiping angry tears. She made her way back into the dining room, trying to look nonplussed, but everyone was quiet as she took her seat again and she sat staring down at her plate.
"Lacey?" Stuart spoke gently. "Did it not go well?"
"It's done," Lacey finally spoke.
Awkward silence perpetuated until she heard the sound of chair legs scraping linoleum as Stuart got up and came around to put his hands on her shoulders. With that, she began to cry again..
It wasn't so much that she was devastated at losing Max, but the fact that he called her someone she believed she no longer was -- someone she hoped she would never be again. It hurt down to her bones to remember that frightened girl, and why she had become that. Worse yet, she worried Max was right: that girl never left.
Lacey stood up and fell into Stuart's arms, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.
"He's a falling leaf, Lass. They're a dime a dozen. You'll recover and find an even better lad, I just know it."
She held onto Stuart tightly -- the only man she'd dared to consider a father, and the only man who had ever thought her to be good enough just like she was.
************************************
Adam had done Thanksgiving with his parents, plus Travis, who was in from Chicago. He and his brother had never been particularly close, so he knew it probably wouldn't bother him for Adam to return to Eden Hall that evening instead of spending the night at his house. Several of the Ducks did the same, feeling in many ways closer to their team members than they even did their biological families. And some, like Mendoza and Portman, had too far to travel and had just stayed. So they'd all planned to meet back at the dorm after family activities, except for Julie, who had opted to spend the night at Connie's.
"Red hair," Portman stretched out on the couch in the day room. "You get a woman with red hair and green eyes, you know she's gonna have that sassy edge. So make it that, for me. Red hair, green cat eyes and a sweet a-- oh wait, can't say that word. It would hurt Kenny's pure ears."
The guys laughed and Kenny Wu turned red, rolling his eyes.
"Banksie, your turn."
They all looked over at Adam, who had known this question would come around to him eventually. "Let's see." He looked at the ceiling. "I don't really care what color it is, but long hair for sure. And brown eyes."
"Brown?" Charlie turned around to him, interested. "Let's think who has brown eyes. Maybe we'll finally narrow down who Adam's got a radar for," he smiled at his friend.
Adam shook his head. "No, I guess I was just thinking..." he reached over for the bag of Frito's. "Shipley's girlfriend has big brown eyes, and they're kind of... hooded in the outer corners. Reminds me a little of chocolate drops," he added, thoughtfully.
He should have counted on the whole room cracking up the minute he said the last part.
"Oooh, 'chocolate drops.'" Tyler tossed his dirty overshirt at Adam. "Banksie's a romantic, you guys. Come on, we always knew it!"
Adam caught the shirt, smirking as he threw it back.
"Whoa, whoa. You got your eye on Shipley's girl?" Luis's eyes went wide. "That the latest play you've got against the Rockets?"
"Well here's the question, when did you ever see Shipley's girl up close?" Goldberg inquired.
Adam shrugged. "She volunteers at a cat shelter. I had to take a couple of them over there after they were left at my dad's rental property on Green Street. I just recognized her."
"You been talking to Max Shipley's girlfriend?" Fulton was incredulous.
"No! I just said she has nice eyes. Jeez," Adam replied, feeling mildly defensive for some reason. "And by the way, her name's Lacey."
Averman whistled. "Classy."
"She is pretty," Guy remarked. "Can't deny it, even if she is a Rocket groupie."
"Yeah, we'll be sure to tell Connie you said so," Portman chuckled. "But nah, nah, I hear you. Nice full lips, too. Like, just enough."
"Alright, alright," Adam smirked again, trying to ignore that last part. "Averman? Let's hear yours."
Not that Adam didn't legitimately want to hear what kind of girl Averman might like -- it was bound to be entertaining -- but his thoughts turned inward. Obviously he wouldn't make a play for Lacey, but even just thinking about it for a minute was a little disconcerting.
And this was why Adam didn't date or allow himself to even think very seriously about it. Everything he had was going toward being good enough for the NHL draft.  And that meant no distractions. Plus, what Travis had always told him might be right, even though he hated hearing it:  when it came to girls, Adam was a little shy. He wouldn't know exactly how to go about pursuing one. Charlie had done a much better job of this with Linda, and he'd felt a little envious at the time.
But no reason to think about all that right now. Lacey Primmer was just another pretty face, and not his. Meanwhile, it was time for bed... and the IcyHot he'd filched from his mom's medicine cabinet. She didn't use it anymore, so he didn't feel too guilty.
He had been out of Percocets for days, even though he'd tried hard to ration them. The next few days, he'd have to do whatever it took to roll out of bed and move normally, despite the constant, agonizing pain that had overtaken his entire body like a cancer.
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grump-the-deer · 4 years
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stuff about HDM ep 8 + overall season thoughts
in other words.....
FINALE TIME BITCHES
this episode was INCREDIBLE. A+++, perfection.
this is what I expected from the get-go, and what I got a lot of the time.
we got some great exposition + bonding double time with Asriel, some excellent portrayal of Asriel and Marisa’s relationship, plenty of dæmons being cool and adorable respectively (Pan and Salcilia running around playing anyone???), some STUNNING visuals, an epic little fight scene with the fire-hurlers and the zeppelins, some great culmination for Iorek and Lyra’s relationship, good ol’ Thorold development, some more Lyra & Roger development (ESPECIALLY the tent and end scenes - Roger’s death KILLED ME OH MY GOD) - just the perfect fuckin meal.
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this was exceptional. round of applause for HDM.
(except the Will being 15 thing. what? why is he so old? he could pass for a tall 13- or 14-year-old. that makes it a little weird. I hope Lyra is supposed to be like 13 now then, idk. that’s still a pretty big difference at that age.)
I really have to wonder though - if they show they can do the above stuff perfectly, why didn’t they do it before???
the Bolvangar episode still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. this episode proves that they can make intercision horrific and emotional, and make it mean something with the dæmons interacting. Salcilia and Roger had good reactions - hell, Lyra reacting to remembering almost being separated from Pan was more emotional than the actual scene itself!! Roger’s death was HEARTBREAKING, thanks to his and his dæmon’s reactions!
they put the dæmons in enough, especially in speaking roles, that even when they weren’t around you didn’t really forget about them. I could always do with more background dæmons, but I can absolutely understand budget restraints - so long as you put them in enough. we need to feel they have an emotional impact on the characters. we need to feel like they ARE characters. not accessories.
Pan was a character in this episode. the things he says and do make an impact on the story. he was not a character in the Bolvangar episode, despite the fact that that was the MOST IMPORTANT episode for him to be around and active in.
they can do it right, but they didn’t. this series would be wonderful if they cut out that episode and reshot it and replaced it with a better take. hell, even just the intercision scene. it wouldn’t be perfect, but it would work.
so, overall:
HDM season 1 was a spectacular ride. the dæmons and bears look fantastic (when they’re actually in the shots), the voices are spot-on, the actors do a phenomenal job, and the writers actually added some interesting extra material and development.
some highlights for me are:
- Iorek and Lyra’s relationship. they got it absolutely perfect, if not better than the original. Iorek is perfectly stoic and bearlike and resolute, but Lyra earns his respect and even adoration, as best a bear can. it feels organic and has plenty of development scenes. just heartwarming.
- Lord Asriel all around. really awesome take on him, James MacAvoy loves him to pieces I can tell. he’s way better than the original, and that’s saying something. he’s got a lot more heart and I feel more connected to him despite him being a complete mad genius.
- Mrs. Coulter, for the most part. she’s got a bit of shaky characterization with Lyra towards the end - I’m not really certain of her motivations at the end - but generally she’s fascinating to watch on screen and absolutely horrible. I love her and I love Ruth Wilson as her. she’s positively uhinged. they did some really bold stuff with her character and her relationship with Lyra and I enjoyed every minute of it.
- Farder Coram ended up being great. he and Lyra are always a pleasure to watch interact. he really grew on me as soon as he started getting characterization, particularly with Serafina and the story of his son.
- the cinematography, lighting, set design, and graphics. I couldn’t ask for anything more. they went above and beyond and the framing and this world and its creatures look AMAZING. 10/10. hats off to the animation team in particular, of course.
- the acting. the acting is absolutely brilliant. particular standouts include Dafne Keen as Lyra, of course, James MacAvoy as Lord Asriel, Ruth Wilson as Mrs. Coulter, the voice of Iofur Raknison, and Farder Coram. honorable mention for Will, because he gets the character down so incredibly well.
- the respect for the source material. we’ve seen it blow up once with the Golden Compass movie, but this production obviously has every ounce of loyalty to the original. well, almost every ounce. the stuff they added ended up working very well and feeling organic to the original, and the stuff they kept, especially the verbatim lines, was delivered exceptionally. it’s clear they really care about the story they’re giving us.
- the opening credits are the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. a beautiful tribute to the magic of this series’ themes and world.
and some notably bad stuff, a couple that almost come close to ruining it for me:
- Lee Scoresby. an absolute mess. one moment he’s true to the original character and being sarcastic and selfish, and the next he’s stealing pocketwatches for funsies, yelling out his dangerous motivations in the middle of a town infested with armed Magisterium soldiers, and cooing over Lyra like she’s his flesh and blood and he got injected with Mother Hen Juice. he’s genuinely stupid. his characterization is all over the place. his “development” with Lyra is either nonexistent or rushed, and the only thing he actually does for the plot is fly the damn balloon for about 5 minutes tops. Hester is his only saving grace, and even she can’t do it all. I’m sorry Lin, I really love your work in Hamilton, but this was really disappointing. and I have to blame the writing mainly. they wouldn’t let Lin act a character, they had to shape the character around him. and the whole thing suffered for it.
- the intercision, and dæmon relationships. the Bolvangar episode wasn’t terrible overall, but it did not build up well to the intercision scene, and the episodes around it didn’t help either - especially the previous one. Billy’s death was not sad for me, because the middle of the show did not utilize dæmon relationships with their humans and dæmons as actual characters. we didn’t see them interacting enough with their people to matter consistently to us. the first couple of episodes did this bonding beautifully, even with budget restraints to how many dæmons could be in a shot, and how frequently they could come up. they showed us just enough for us to care about them and what they mean to their humans, particularly Pan and Lyra, and conveniently kept them out of frame when they weren’t necessary to the dialogue between humans.
they can do it properly, but they chose to let it fall by the wayside towards the middle, and it really shot the show in the foot. almost irreparably, I’d wager. Bolvangar, for all its masterful horror trope usage and suspense, was not nearly horrific enough nor emotional at all, thanks to the lack of buildup. we did not care about dæmons and their humans beyond knowing the humans are basically dead without them. there was no feeling behind the threat of Lyra and Pan getting split apart, other than Lyra becoming a shell. the focus was on Lyra and Mrs. Coulter’s relationship, which I don’t have a problem with - but not at the cost of Lyra and her dæmon. you know, the very FIRST line of the books? the main theme of the entire book? arguably the whole SERIES? dæmons as souls, as a person’s sense of free will and consciousness? kind of important to develop an emotional attachment to, don’t you think?
- the Gyptian leads (sans Farder Coram). Ma Costa was passable. she did a lot of crying and a lot of being desperate and pining for her son, and not a lot of kicking ass, proportionally. she didn’t come off as a strong boat mother at the center of her family with sway in her community. she came off as a wiry and lost soul who is somewhat capable but more interested in being depressed and worried. she did get to shine when she killed the Bolvangar doctor, but that wasn’t enough for me.
John Faa was boring. he was a hardass and only every so often came across as the original jovial, caring, but no-nonsense King of the Gyptians. most of the time he was just telling someone not to do something or insisting someone do something. no real personality other than being serious.
Billy Costa had no real character. a waste, considering we’re supposed to care about his death.
Tony Costa was alright. he was kind of a loser, which I guess is okay. I liked capable Tony and his gobbler-fightin’ gang from the books better though. he had a couple good moments with Lyra, and Benjamin was a good addition.
- the themes of belonging. I don’t like how they changed the message about Lyra belonging in different groups. the point isn’t that she can “be anyone she wants to be” - that’s not how real life works, or should work. she can live with the gyptians and like them, but Ma Costa in the books asserts that she can’t be a gyptian, because she’s not part of their ethnic group. a similar message was overlooked with the bears - Iorek gave her the name Silvertongue because of his deep respect for her and what she had done for him, not because she was “one of us bears” now. she isn’t a bear, she’s a human.
the point is that she doesn’t have to be something to find an emotional home with the people themselves. it’s about what she builds, surpassing what she is - which is a product of two twisted, misguided people - taking what’s given to her and making it into something beautiful of her own volition. it’s a very nuanced theme and it’s basically thrown aside in this adaptation in favor of pseudo-colorblindness theory that origins don’t matter and you can stuff yourself anywhere you please. it’s not a deal-breaking point and most people probably won’t pay attention to it, but it’s worth mentioning anyway.
-
so overall, the show was really really spectacular. a ton of fun, beautifully crafted, with a few hiccups and one major major issue. the dæmon thing gouged out a good chunk of the enjoyment for me, and the integrity of the actual story too. a huge huge blunder on Jack Thorne’s part. I’d like to say they recovered from it, because they did do a pretty great job wrapping things up, but it still lingers in the back of my mind as a big blemish on an otherwise incredible work.
I have high hopes for the future seasons though, when dæmons aren’t around as frequently and less characters are on screen, so there will be more time and budget available to be devoted to them, particularly Pan as a character. they’ve shown they can handle this material skillfully, and I have a good amount of faith in them. I can’t wait to see what else they do with the concepts I’ve come to adore so much.
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solesurvivorkat · 5 years
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FAR CRY 5 WEEK, DAY 1: HOPE COUNTY
...Short little blurb I wrote for FC5 Week, Day 1. Hasn't been thoroughly edited due to a severe lack of time, so my apologies for any shortcomings in my writing!
Day 1 (Sept. 22): Hope County
(The Angel’s Grave/Horned Serpent Cave)
“You’re thinking about her again.” A statement, more than a question.
“Do you honestly expect me not to?” 
“...It wasn’t your fault.” 
“Doesn’t make me feel better.” 
~~~~~~~
They'd climbed the stone steps, only to be greeted by a metal barred, jail-like door at the cave entrance (which, of course, had been locked). So much for that. Time being a factor, their best best had been to grapple up to the top of the rocks and hope that there was another way inside. 
Following the trail after reaching the top, they'd been careful to avoid detection by the Project truck that casually drove past. It was imperative that John not be seen in the Henbane River area, after all... especially since he was uninvited, sneaking around, and with the Deputy 'that started it all' to boot. Needless to say, it certainly wouldn't have looked good. He was already on somewhat-thin ice with Joseph, and he was sure his 'dear, sweet sister' would've just loved an opportunity to knock John down a peg and further ingratiate herself into Joseph's good graces.
His jaw tightened, back teeth grinding together a bit. 'The things I do for.....'
'...For what??' a voice in his head snapped back. He inhaled sharply through his nostrils, still not quite sure how to answer that.
"You can still turn around and head back. Remember, I was going to do this without you. I'll understand."
Her voice grabbed his attention and he glanced over at her, almost irritated by the softness in her tone, the look of understanding and perhaps even sympathy in her expression. 
"You're doing this for one of my followers," he countered, "even knowing the risks involved. I... admire your compassion. And besides - I can talk my way out of this, if need be. If you were to attempt this without me and fail... well... let's just say it would be tough to determine which would be worse for you - dying because of the cave, or your fate being left in Faith's hands."
The small shudder that rippled through her was not lost on him, and he cast one last look around before moving around the boulder they'd ducked behind for cover.
~~~~~~~
Fucking Nancy. She got everyone in the Sheriff's department to trust her, see her as one of their own, and betrayed them all to Joseph when they needed her the most. Had she lost any sleep that night, knowing that she could've been an accomplice in people's deaths - people that she'd worked beside for several months before Sarah had even arrived there? Did it bother her in the slightest that every single person in that helicopter (except for Joseph) could've been laying there, still strapped to their leather seats, slowly roasting in the helicopter's flames?
When Peter's mother Rebecca had approached Sarah, asked her to disprove some disturbing rumors she'd heard from people in Faith's region, expressed concern for a woman she considered a friend, Sarah had wanted to tell her just what she thought of the idea. But seeing the expression on the woman's face - the worry, the uncertainty, the desperation for someone to help her... Sarah just couldn't turn her down. And when John had weaseled the mission out of her (damn that silver tongue of his) and insisted on accompanying her... well... it had been an odd day so far, at any rate.
She was kind of used to searching for prepper stashes in the odd location, some that were quite dangerous (she still needed to clobber Sharky for the one that had her shaking like a leaf as she tried not to fall off of a log several hundred feet above the ground)... but avoiding toxic water in Horned Serpent Cave with a Herald she couldn't quite define her relationship with - that was a new one. 
At least he'd forewarned her of what to expect from the inner conditions of the cave, from the very little he'd heard about it in passing during one of the Seeds' group conversations. What he hadn't mentioned to her - and judging from his reaction (which was very subtle, but there), he hadn't known about it himself - was the view that awaited them in the crevasse leading down to the alternate cave entrance.
Dead angels. Skeletons. Random bones, all scattered like some kind of macabre confetti at the bottom of the crevasse. It had knocked the wind out Sarah for a minute or two... however long it had been, until she felt John's firm hand upon her shoulder. 
"...Sarah-"
"I'm fine," she clipped back a little too quickly, not turning her head to meet his eyes. "Let's just hurry up and do what we came here to do so we can get the hell out of here."
Without waiting for a response or looking back at him, she quickly lowered herself down towards the mouth of the cavern, determined to get through this as fast as she possibly could. It would've been... mildly easier (maybe) if there'd only been a couple bodies lying around - but upon first glance, there were definitely at least six angel corpses left to rot in the open air. The stench of putrefying flesh was almost too much for her, and once her feet were on solid rock she closed her eyes, teeth clenching as she fought to ground herself.
'Just do it. Check the faces, see if she's here, then get the fuck out.'
Taking a deep breath (and working hard not to gag it back out), her eyes quickly surveyed the angels in front of her. Several pairs of soulless, empty eyes stared back into nothingness. It certainly didn't help that each scalp had been shaved clean, surgical masks covering their mouths, all of them in the same dirty cream-colored Peggie outfit. Some men, some women, some older-looking... God...
The first two people she gave a once-over to were men, and the third was a woman with a different body type... the former dispatch had had a slightly heavier build. 
Sarah was beginning to feel an odd, small sense of relief that she may not find what she was looking for here (mixed with a bit of pity for the other people that hadn't been as fortunate), but something caught her eye - a glint of silver to her left. Usually angels weren't permitted to keep any jewelry or small artifacts upon them, but... Faith's followers might have overlooked the simple silver band that sat upon the ring finger of the woman's body Sarah stepped towards - perhaps in their haste to quickly dispose of another failed angel.
As she stared down at the woman that was almost identical to the other dead around her, she became aware of John's approaching bootsteps behind her. Neither said anything for what felt like the longest, stillest of moments.
"...So."
".....Yeah."
A slow intake of breath.
"Sarah... we need to get going. I'm... sorry. We don't have much time before another supply truck is sure to come passing by. If we're spotted-'
"Yeah." A beat. "I know."
Sarah felt a firm hand upon her shoulder again and gritted her teeth. "John... I need you to promise me something." She whirled around to finally face him, his brows raising a bit at whatever expression she was showing him. "Don't let me end up this way," she demanded. "If I finally piss one too many people off and Joseph demands me dead, I'd rather you get to me first. Just... make it quick. Don't let me become an angel. And if it happens anyway - don't let me hurt the people I care about. Just finish me and be done with it... okay? Please?"
John opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. She didn't wait for a further answer, instead stepping past him to climb back up and out of the crevasse, not looking back at the angels once she reached the top.
'...Fuckin' Nancy... just look where your 'loyalty', your devotion to your 'Father' got you...'
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avengerscompound · 5 years
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Finding Home - Chapter 14
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Finding Home: A Captain America Fanfic
Masterlist Previous //
Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x OFC (Daisy Adams)
Word Count:  1983
Warnings:  Angst, mentions of torture, violence, major character death, mentions of sexual abuse/rape, pregnancy, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex, pregnancy sex, Bisexual MMF threesome)
Synopsis:  Daisy Adams has abilities. She can read minds. Force her thoughts onto others. As a child, she is taken by Hydra and raised as a weapon. Daisy finds another and speaks to him in his dreams. He has been taken too. He wants to return to the man he loves. Can she get them back together? Will she even want to once she realizes that she’s falling in love?
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Chapter 14
Steve’s pain overwhelmed him. I felt like an intruder experiencing his grief second hand like I was. I tried to shut it out. Let him have it for himself. The way he would have wanted. Doing so caused me to have such severe migraines that all I could do was focus on that, and not be there to comfort him. When the nosebleeds started I felt forced to drop the walls and have his pain consume me.
My thoughts became selfish to the point that I was glad I was the telepath and not him. I wanted to run. I hated being around him while he grieved so strongly. Not only was it making me grieve for a person I didn’t actually know. It made me grieve for him losing this person he loved and held so dearly. The feeling I was carrying that I hated most of all was petty, fucking jealousy. I was jealous of this woman. Jealous that Steve loved her so much. Jealous that he would never love me the same way because I had met him in this past life where he’d lost so much and carried around such large a burden. I’d always had this feeling of being his second choice. Now, with this loss, I realized I wasn’t even that. If he could have found some way he could have had her and that life, he would have taken it.
He kept the compass with her photo with him constantly. I was in his pocket all the time. He’d put his hand onto it and just hold it like it was a protective amulet. He would take it out and hold it to his heart, or to his lips. Any time he did it reminded me how I wasn’t good enough for him and I never would be.
Despite wanting to run I didn’t. I stayed by his side. I pretended I couldn’t hear his thoughts. I held him when he needed it. I gave him space when he needed that too. I listened when he wanted to talk about her. I gave him distractions when he wanted them. I held back my tears as much as I could, though to be honest, that wasn’t much. Sometimes I felt like I was crying his tears on his behalf because he didn’t want to crack and show everyone how much he hurt.
Peggy’s funeral was the day of the accords. Steve, Sam and I flew to London to attend. We brought Jamie. Poor Jamie was miserable but he had no idea why. He just sat with his bottom lip poking out. I kept having to block his attempts to sooth Steve. He got so frustrated with me doing that he actually hit me at one point. It’s hard to have discussions with toddlers about when it’s okay to use their psychic abilities. Especially when you’re not too sure what the social rules governing mental manipulation are yourself.
Steve was acting as one of the Pallbearers, and we were milling around outside the cathedral. I was holding James as he pressed his miserable little face against me patting my neck. Steve was close to completely falling apart again and I clung to his hand and let his misery press down on me.
I felt my mind being occupied. Bucky’s consciousness pressed down on me. My head started to swim and I handed James to Sam.
“I just have to …” I said but didn’t finish my thought before dashing off. I just managed to make it to a spot by the church that wasn’t swarming with people when Bucky spoke.
- DAISY? WHAT’S HAPPENING? IS STEVE HURT. -
I leaned against the wall, sliding to the ground. My mind fell again. Everything went black and then I opened my eyes I was sitting at a table in a grimy apartment.
- BUCKY? - I asked.
- YES. IS STEVE OKAY? - He replied
- WHERE ARE YOU? - I tried looking around the room, to glean some information about where we were. He had too much control of the situation though, and he just stared straight ahead at the wall.
- JUST ANSWER ME. PLEASE. DAISY. IS STEVE OKAY? - He felt terrified. It hurt my heart.
- IT’S PEGGY. - I didn’t know how to say it. I assumed he knew what Peggy meant to Steve. He probably met her too.
- WHAT ABOUT HER? - He asked.
- SHE DIED. I’M SORRY, BUCKY. -
There was a pause and I felt all these different emotions flicker through him. I tried to look inward, see what he was thinking, but he was too good at stopping me from doing that now.
-  I’M IN  BUCHAREST. -
I was stunned. I faltered not knowing what to do. - WHAT? -
Bucky cut me off and I fell again. I opened my eyes and I was lying on the ground, gravel digging into my cheek. I sat up and blood fell from my face in a stream. I dug in my purse hoping I’d put something in there to stop the bleeding.
There was the sound of a throat clearing and I looked up, only now aware that someone else was even there. Sam stood in front of me holding James, in one hand and offered me a handkerchief.
“Why do you even have that?” I asked, holding it to my nose.
He laughed. “I guess Cap’s rubbing off on me.”
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“Pretty damn bad, Daze. Did you get that scan Steve wanted you to have?”
I shook my head and Sam offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet. I wobbled a little when I stood. “They can’t. I’m pregnant, Sam.”
Sam looked at me, eyes wide. “Since when?”
“Since three months ago.”
“Does Steve know?” He asked narrowing his eyes at me. Always protective of Steve.
“Yes,” I answered. I nearly laced that yes with sarcasm, but then I remembered I had actually kept that from Steve for so long that maybe Sam had a point. “Thanks for looking out for him.”
“You should go get cleaned up. If Steve sees you like this it might just break him.” Sam said.
“Okay. I’ll see you inside. Are you okay with Jamie for a bit longer?” I asked.
“Of course. Me and James are buddies aren’t we?” Sam said. He held his fist up and James pressed a chubby little fist to it.
I started to leave and Sam grabbed my arm. “You’re not going to tell me what happened?” He asked.
“It was Bucky,” I said quietly. “He’s in Bucharest.”
Sam kept holding my arm looking troubled. “Wait until after. Let him grieve. He can’t just jump from this to that.”
I swallowed and nodded very slightly. “I know.”
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I crept into the church after the funeral had already begun. I sat myself down between Steve and Sam, and Steve gave me a look of pure hurt. He needed me to be here and instead, I’d been cleaning blood off my clothes. All I could do is take his hand and hope he’d forgive me. Through the funeral, it felt like my heart was being torn out because it felt like Steve’s heart was being torn out.
After the service was over Steve asked us to leave him alone. He wanted to say a last goodbye to Peggy. So Sam and I took Jamie back to the hotel we were staying at and waited for him in the restaurant.
When he returned he had a blond woman with him. Sharon. Peggy’s niece. The one that gave the eulogy. They sat down at the table with us, and Steve took James from me.
“Daisy, this is Sharon,” Steve said in way of introduction. “She used to spy on me.”
“I used to do my job,” Sharon said, prickling at Steve’s words.
“You worked for SHIELD,” I said, suddenly recognizing her. “You were the one that stood up to Rumlow.”
“Yes, that was me. I know who you are of course.” She said offering me her hand. I shook it and smiled.
“When you were ‘doing your job’ did Peggy know?” Steve asked.
Sharon shook her head. “She had to keep so many secrets. I couldn’t ask her to keep that one. Not from you.”
A sense of relief washed over Steve. The idea that Peggy could have possibly lied to him about that had been filling him with dread.
The five of us sat an ate lunch. Not long after he’d finished eating, James drifted off to sleep in Steve’s arms. He looked so natural like that. Talking with Sharon about Peggy, reminiscing with her with Jamie curled up against his chest. I was glad Sharon was there. I had no experience truly losing a loved one before and I didn’t know Peggy. Most people I would assume could reminisce with friends and family of all their shared experiences with the person they had just lost. Steve didn’t have that. All the people who shared that part of his life were gone. At least he felt he could talk to Sharon.
“Where were you during the funeral, Daisy?” Steve said, turning to me.
I looked from Sharon to Sam to Steve. Sam nodded at me. I could see in his head that he thought she could be trusted. I quickly scanned her. She was a good person. Stubborn and fearless, but she believed in Steve.
“Bucky pushed himself on me, and then dragged me into his mind,” I said. I didn’t want to look at Steve, so I just looked down at Jamie. He was sleeping soundly on Steve. He felt safe and at home in his arms.
“Tell him,” Sam said, shoving me with his elbow.
I opened my mouth and then closed it again. I wanted to go to Bucky right now, bring him home. I was scared it was too soon after the funeral though. That Steve needed more time to process that before he could properly process this.
Sharon’s phone chirped and she pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. “There was an explosion at the UN.” She said. “They’re saying it was James Barnes. I have to go to work.” She stood up, nodded at us and left.
Steve was suddenly terrified again. “We should go.” He said getting to his feet.
I took Steve’s hand. “It wasn’t Bucky.”
“How can you possibly know that?” He asked.
I gave him an incredulous look.
“Right, sorry.” He said, squeezing my hand.
“He’s in Bucharest. We need to get him before they do. He didn’t do this, and if they come for him, he’ll run and people will get hurt.” I said.
“How long have you known where he was?” Steve asked. He was hurt. He thought I’d been hiding it from him.
“He told me at the funeral. That’s where I was. He pulled me into him because he was worried about you. He told me where he was when I told him about Peggy.” I explained.
“Then we’ll go to Bucharest and find him,” Steve said, he looked down at both Sam and I gravely. “I can go alone if I need to. But if we do this, we’ll be breaking the law. If we’re caught, we’ll be arrested.”
“Hey, I go where you go,” Sam said.
“Just slower,” Steve added, and they both laughed.
“Daisy, I want you to come, but after you’ve located him, you need to stay out of it. No one can know you were involved with this. We can’t leave Jamie with no one.”
I nodded getting to my feet. “Steve … How can we convince everyone that he’s innocent? He can’t get locked up for this. We – we need him.”
Steve ran his hand over my jaw and pulled me to him, kissing me softly on the mouth. “I know. Don’t worry. We’ll bring him home.”
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// NEXT
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repentingrph · 5 years
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Creating Atypical/Original Characters
In my personal experience, it shocks me how many times I go into an RPG and see a vat-full of sarcastic "too-cool-for-school" type characters. One or two is more than enough to fill that quota, but the last RPG I was in, I'd say about 80% of the group were just that. I get it, though! We all secretly want to embody that vibe. The cool vibe of IDGAF, where you can say anything you want and be praised for it. Let me tell you, though, if those are the only characters around, you're going to wind up with annoyed players because there's always going to be that one person that's going to compete for the top-dog spot of the MOST sarcastic and MOST IDGAF character of all time. It's not cool.
So! I introduce you to alternative ideas or at least the process to your own alternative ideas!
Me? In spite of what I just said, I love those sarcastic bastards with all my heart and I have a few of my own. However, if you really love that brand, give them depth! Do NOT make them be a one-note. With that said, the go-to is adding in a tragic past like someone died. When I say depth, I mean in terms of personality, not just backstory alone. This is where we are going to start with creating our atypical/original character.
PERSONALITY
1. Find your dominant personality trait, and then sprinkle in some undertones.
Let's say you're going for someone who's outgoing. Are they going to be bubbly sunshine or talks just way too much, making inadvertent awkward conversation? Just because you choose one path does not mean there is only one way to travel down it. You can have someone who is outgoing but also terrible with social cues. They could have a good heart but they also make people cringe when they see them coming their way, and I find that beautiful. Mix it up! Sometimes throw in contradictions that shouldn't work, but somehow do. Why do you think anti-heroes are a thing?
2. Set a moral compass.
This is something I always think about when I'm creating my characters. On a scale of Ted Bundy to Mother Theresa, where do they fit? Sometimes it's not even as clear cut as that either. I have one character who is an absolute monster, a total sadist and manipulator, but he has an odd sense of civil justice. Characters, like people, will probably have a gray area somewhere in their moral compass. Tap into that, explore it. It can definitely shape their personality. Why do they think that way? What are their boundaries? How do they justify what they do? Are they a hypocrite? If you're creating a murderer, are they really executing it personally or dictating that someone should be killed? Would they have the moral backbone to do it themselves?
3. The Scales.
Humanity boils down to a few scales, in my opinion. You have intelligence, sexual/romantic prowess, class/manners, and temperament/stablity. For example, I have one character who is very book smart. He is mediocre in common sense. He is asexual with repulsion towards it, but he's an awkward romantic. He is highly well-mannered in a Victorian-esque way. Temperament-wise, he can be irritated but usually cowardly.
Some of these may sound as though they overlap, so think of it like this:
Intelligence is self-explanatory (and if you break it down to three sub-sections of book-smarts, street smarts, and common sense, it helps even more)
Sexual/Romantic Prowess is more or less like the sex-drive or the kind of forwardness they would have. Think of it as a scale from a prude to a professional and experienced escort. Even if your character is asexual, are they still flirty or are they reserved?
Class/Manners is related to how they present themselves. Are they crude or are they refined? You can have someone with a filthy mind actually be incredibly cultured, charming you right into their pants. On the flip-side, you can have someone super reserved with the crudest sense, cursing under their breath with words that'd curl your hair or eating with their unwashed hands. Uhg.
Temperament/Stability is more of an anger test. A good litmus test would be having your character stub their toe. Do they wince but move on after a moment? Does it bother them at all? Or do they fucking flip the goddamn table and yell at it for just existing? Think about how volatile they are or how utterly zen-like they are. Just like I mentioned before, you can have someone that is super crude be really chill. You can also have someone with fantastic class be ready to blow your head off. It's just all in how you play them to show that.
Remember, if you think of more scale-types, go ahead and add them! The more you expand, the more unique they will become! The ones I've listed are just the main ones I immediately go to.
BACKSTORY
I think all of us (and I am particularly guilty of this) tend to favor a dark backstory for their characters, and it usually revolves around some kind of deep, personal loss. There is nothing wrong with that, but it can be repetitive if it's something that frequently pops up in your character portfolio.
1. Try not to kill anyone.
Killing NPCs off is so damn easy. Having a hard time thinking of their family? Kill them off when they're too young to really remember them. Boom. Problem solved, right? Yeah, but then what? Now, I love a good orphan, self-made character. Love them to *bits* (especially since I have one of my own), but let's try something different if you've already done that. Why I say this is not only to deviate from the typical but also to put something away for the future. When you lose your muse, hit up that little bank of family ties. Once you've killed them off, there is no taking that shit back unless you have an elaborate plot about them faking their death. Maybe keep them around instead. Give them a strained relationship. Keep only one in the picture. How about an overbearing relationship, where they just love them way too much and still cry whenever they call them up? Are they an only child? The favorite child? Did they find another mom/dad replacement as years went by?
2. Create a different bad experience.
I can't help it. I'm a sucker for dark backstories, but we're going to keep going with the first suggestion and not kill anyone. Instead, we're going to focus on other solutions. Could be criminal, or personal, or even stupid but with meaning to your character. I don't know if anyone remembers Courage the Cowardly Dog, but there was an episode of a whale that was so hell-bent on revenge, and do you know what he wanted revenge for? For some guy cheating him out of his favorite accordion in a poker game. That shit blew my goddamn mind as a child, and as you can tell, it still blows my goddamn mind today. That's the kind of backstory shit I can get behind and make me want to learn more.
3. Look on the bright side.
So, enough about those bad memories. Maybe your character had a charmed life! Oh, how I hate that nice characters somehow equal boring characters to people, and this would be the same to backstories. Nice backstories don't have to be boring. Your character could have won the fucking lottery. They could have been class president by releasing an unhinged scandal against their opponent without remorse. They could be just lucky, which means that luck can definitely change when you play them. Also, as a bonus, how would they even handle a downfall when they've never experienced it before? What kind of dramatic fucking character arc could they fall into? Sign me the fuck up.
GENERAL ADVICE/FINAL NOTES
1. Every character should be forged from a part of your soul. Forget about the term self-insert because if you don't feel a personal connection to your character, that character has no life. End of story. You're playing an asshole? Don't tell me you've never had a terrible thought in your mind before, just funnel all of that into them. Any aspect of yourself that catches even you off guard is something to tap into and run with.
2. Look back at those that you've already created and see what you're missing. I do this all the time. I usually oscillate my moral compass between the wretched and the innocent just to keep myself in balance. I try to find something I haven't tried before and then build on it. If you have a ton of bubbly characters, try someone emo. If you have a ton of moody shits, go for the flower child.
3. Everyone creates their character from a different building block. Some will start off with an FC. I start with personality usually. On occasion, I will also start with a profession. This is especially true when I see an RPG I love and try to find my little niche to settle into. Go through masterlists like [x] or [x] that can help mold your muse into something that has your own spin on it.
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amarabliss · 5 years
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Fusion - 3 (Arthur Curry/Reader)
Part One  Part Two
A terrible accident has interesting consequences when Arthur gives you blood…
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Questions. So many questions. Nothing was like it was before and still more questions just piled up higher and higher and higher.
Vulko had found that you had a direct line to the late king of the Hidden Kingdom. When you asked for more information, he told you he’d dig up what he could find. Which, two weeks later, ended up not being as much as you hoped.
“I don’t understand it.” You looked up from the garden bench you were sitting on as you tried to zoom on the fancy tablet Vulko had given you to look at, “How is the history of an entire section of people, who you all know existed…just…reduced to a family tree and just a few effigies?”
The off put sigh next you ripped the device from your hands and zoomed in for you before handing it back. His blue eyes stared at you exasperated, “You act like this is something uncommon in the world?”
You stared at Orm as he went back to his book. After that first meeting, you’d somehow managed to continue to see him. He wasn’t quite the prisoner that Arthur had painted him out to be. He was arrogant, stubborn, and seemingly self-righteous. However, there was the genuine character that came through every once in a while.
Your cheeks flushed as you stared at Orm. You hadn’t anticipated meeting him today…let alone ever. Arthur had always depicted him in a rough manner, and someone he needed to watch out for. You understood…he looked angelic…but his previous actions of almost attacking the surface certainly were not that characteristic.
“Well?” He waited for you to answer him, “Are you going to answer my question?”
Swallowing down the dryness in your throat, was that even a possibility when you were breathing water? “If you’re referring to not what I expected, no you’re not. I anticipated someone…shorter…”
The surprise irritation that fell on his features was enough to get you to smile for a moment, “But if you’re referring to how I am here…there was an incident…I took a harpoon in the chest for Arthur…things escalated quickly and now I’m here because apparently I’m actually related to someone from the Hidden Kingdom and the blood Arthur gave me to save my life did something to active my true nature…”
He stared you his mouth falling open slightly as he watched you begin shift uncomfortably, “…so…you’re having a rough day?”
You felt you nose tickle like you were crying, “I…yeah…it’s a lot.”
“I was going to read…” He shifted the book behind him after you both had been silent for a moment, “But…if you’d like to walk…I could show you the best hiding spots in the garden to think.”
“…Your majesty…” You looked at him seeing curiosity fill his strict eyes, “I wouldn’t want to take you away from anything…”
“You wouldn’t be.” He spoke quietly as he shifted away, “Truth be told…I’m really the only one who comes out here anymore…and I…you… you look like you could use a safe haven.”
You couldn’t be sure, but you think he meant to say, and I could use a friend because ever since he’d some how found a way to find you and Arthur every day. He was at least curious of you, something Arthur wasn’t sure he cared for. He warned you to be careful.
“Arthur, you’re always telling me how you want Orm to understand humans…and he’s at least interested in what I am. Almost as much as I am, and he is a wealth of knowledge. Maybe we can benefit each other.” You told him as you poked the food on your plate.
You looked up seeing Arthur chewing on his thumb, “I know what you’re doing.”
“What? I don’t know what it is…” You made a face glancing your food.
“Y/N…I know what you’re doing…” He repeated leaning forward reaching for your hand, “I won’t make you go home…but…you should talk to them. Orm isn’t going to help you with confronting your parents about who you are.”
Of course, Arthur was right…damn him…he became so wise since becoming king. If only he’d use that wise-ness to commit to some of his kingly duties, then he’d be here with you and Orm and not stuck in council meetings all day.
“What do you mean?” You started to push everything around on the screen hearing him sigh once more, but you could tell he enjoyed talking to you.
“Civilizations have come and gone since the beginning of time. There are entire tribes on the surface that you’ve never heard of, but evidence of their existence is there, is it not? Stone hedge, tessellated pavement…not to mention the hundreds of thousands of civilizations humans have abandoned over the coast lines that have just drifted further and further into the deep…” He turned the page of his book not looking up to you.
“Yes…but this is a civilization you interacted with only a couple of millennia ago…” You frowned a little, “I just want to know who I am…I thought I had already figured that out…”
“You’re a direct descendent to the Lost Kingdom…”
“Vulko said it was the Hidden-”
“It is referred to as both.” Orm shut his book and turned to you, “It’s name is irrelevant. You, however, are a daughter of the sea and no doubt their princess. You have royal blood and it is your birthright to lead a nation. It really is not that hard to see who you are…”
“You know it’s not that simple.” You looked away from him, “I wasn’t raised here…my identity…”
“Your false identity from the surface has always led you here. You said so yourself.” He stood up setting his book on the bench, “Humans couldn’t stop your innate nature of belonging to the sea. Their suffocating nature didn’t stop you from pursuing a career in exploration of your true home, but it’s beneath you. You are meant to be here.”
Every one of his words left a stinging sensation in your chest. You stood up with the tablet in your hand, “Thank you for that enlightening experience into your perspective.”
“Where are you going?” He asked his tone still holding that high and mighty tone.
“Away from you.” You snapped at him as you glided toward the exit of the garden.
“You’re angry with me?” He moved quickly to block your way, “I only spoke the truth.”
“Truth?” Your eyes widened before you shook your head, “Your truth, as you put it, is flawed. Those humans you detest so much raised me. Two very strong, smart, and talented individuals. They are the ones who held me when I was scared, loved me when I hated them, and kept me safe against the tides of the world.”
“My father is a Naval officer. He taught me right from wrong and my love of water comes from him. Most of my childhood he wasn’t home because he was fighting a war to keep people safe. Not even necessarily our home…and I was raised by a teacher, which is why I want to educate people. Not because it’s all I could find, not because I couldn’t reach higher.” You looked away from him, “So believe me when say I’d rather be suffocated all over again, then to have been raised by pompous, ignorant people like you.”
You pushed passed him leaving him to think. You raged as you swam through the halls of the palace. How could he even think that way? After everything Arthur had done for him. He didn’t throw him in a prison, he didn’t lock him in some tower. He allowed Orm to have his freedom within reason. Arthur chose compassion, something he learned from his father. His human father.
You turned the corner halting yourself when you saw Arthur coming out of the throne room. He was dressed in his Atlantean armor. You’d only seen him in it one other time. It made you smile, for more then one reason. Of course, the obvious, it clung to him like a well-made glove. The other was how it made him regal in ways you could never imagine. He’d always been a grunge dude. Leather, tanks, and tats, none of which you minded. This was just another side of him.
Another side that you enjoyed.
He was talking with a council member who didn’t seem satisfied by what Arthur was giving him. You waited a moment longer before you felt it was safe to approach hearing the tail end of the council man, “…if there are others like her it is our duty to find them. Who knows how many other highborn are on the surface unknowing of where they belong?”
“It is a matter to discuss, Jerik.” Arthur told him, “But we can’t just uproot people when they’ve lived a life only the surface. Y/N, she is an exception because she knew me. I assure you I do intend to reach out to someone I know can look into it, and I will have Vulko accompany me to ensure Atlantis’ interest are being held in respect.”
Jerik seemed took accept that for the moment and looked over to you as you slowed down. “Your majesty…”
“Oh…uh…no…” You shook your head as he began to bow, “Please…I don’t really feel comfortable…”
Jerik glanced between you to Arthur, “I apologize…if you’ll excuse me.”
“Thank you Jerik.” Arthur gave him a smile and a small nod as he moved away from the pair. Once he was gone, Arthur turned to you, “Hello.”
“Hey.” You smiled at him before giving him a poke in the bicep, “This…is a good look for you.”
“You think?” He smirked a little before crossing his arms, “I have to admit, it’s not bad.”
“Not bad at all.” You agreed quickly getting him to grin, “Are you done for the day?”
“Yes, I was going to come find you and ask if you’d like to grab something to eat. All these meetings get me hangry.” He relaxed his arms as if he was trying to shake of the idea of being a king.
“Uh, yeah I could eat…burgers?” You quirked an eyebrow.
“Surface food? Feeling homesick?” He began to move down the hall with you.
“I think so…I just…” You took in a deep breath before letting out a huff, “I was talking to Orm…”
“Oh…here we go…that’s where you went wrong.” Arthur told you rolling his eyes slightly, “Whatever he said about humans and surface dwellers…don’t listen. He’s still stuck here. He’s never experienced it and doesn’t understand it. Mom tried to explain, I’ve explained…hell even Mera tried to explain…he just won’t accept it.”
“I knew that it would be different with him…I just…the way he talked about how everything I’ve done up to this point is so unimportant to what I am now.” You frowned as you turned the corner with him, “I already have doubts…”
“Hey…” Arthur took your hand in his, “Listen…what you are now is not who you are.”
He reached up with his other hand cupping your cheek before he continued, “Your blood says you’re Atlantean, but you are the girl raised in Iowa dreaming of escape from grass oceans to rolling seas. A woman who worked at a bar to pay for college and lived on ramen noodles while working on her grad program. You’re a teacher who inspires her students to explore the depths of this world knowing that they could never reach what you already know is there.”
“You are a daughter, a best friend…” You smiled when he said that, “and someone I love deeply. Don’t let some blonde dick tell you differently.”
You put your hand over his leaning into his palm, “Arthur…you know we should probably talk…things kind of moved really fast since the beach and I-I want to explain how I reacted…”
His face fell a little, “It’s okay…but if you really want to…it’s a long ride home.”
You nodded slowly, “I think we should.”
“Okay.” He nodded before he smirked point to your face, “But…I want you to know first that it has been insanely incredible having you here and I wouldn’t change anything that’ve said or done for you.”
He took your arm in his as he started to lead you down the hall again. You smiled feeling comfortable in his presence, “It has been just incredible being here…and I too have no regrets.”
You watched him relax a little as his smile spread to his eyes, “Good…”
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certifiedskywalker · 6 years
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Stay With Me - Tyrion Lannister
dannydevitodevoted said:
Would you be willing to write something with Tyrion or Sandor where the reader is betrothed to some awful Southern man and they carry out a secret relationship?
Being the daughter of a proud house in the Westerlands, you had a duty to expand your family’s reach across Westeros. However, the idea of moving South to marry a man you despised was a duty you wanted to ignore. Luckily for you, Tyrion Lannister has a way of making you forget about your problems.
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Warnings : Drinking (duh it’s Tyrion) and implied sex
As you gazed across the crowd, you found yourself needing a good long drink. The pressures of a visit to King’s Landing was enough, but knowing that you were to be wed here made your stomach twist into knots. You felt like a prized mare being doomed to abuse at an auction, and that was no way to live. Still fairly young, the idea of being anchored to one spot, by one person exhausted you. Especially now that you knew your betrothed.
“Lady Y/N Westerling, the last heiress of House Westerling, how strange it is to see a girl like you frowning during her engagement celebration.” You turned to find Tyrion Lannister, a long time friend, grinning up at you.
“I find there is hardly a thing to celebrate,” you sighed honestly, which caught Tyrion off guard. Ever since you were children he knew your sense of humor matched his; sardonic and sarcastic. It alarmed him you weren’t making light jokes out of this situation.
“Has Lord Dalt hurt you….touched you in anyway that-”
“Gods no, Tyrion,” you interrupted, “and he is my betrothed anyway. Soon he can do whatever he wants to me, like a mindless cow.” Tyrion frowned at your tone and reached up to brush his hand against yours.
“You’re better than a cow, Y/N,” he said sincerely, “at most you’re a sow.” You gasped in mock offense, but giggled nonetheless. It was always Tyrion that cheered you up when you needed it.
“Thank you, my Lord, that means ever so much,” you said mockingly. Tyrion grinned and bowed dramatically.
“At least in the South you’ll be in the sunshine, my dear, where you truly belong.” After Tyrion spoke, you noticed how he took a long drink of an Arbor Red you didn’t see him holding.
“Ah yes, House Dalt’s keep is perfectly constructed to where I can see the lemon groves each day break and again at night fall. Not to mention the company, I mean look at him!” You gestured across the crowd at your future husband. He was finely dressed, being a notable Lord, but he gawked at other women as they passed by. Drunkenly, he swayed from foot to foot, so much so that his surrounding guard stood close to keep him steady.
“That is what you’re marrying?” Tyrion asked, only half-joking this time. You nodded solemnly and glanced down at your feet.
“Indeed it is,” you said, not daring to look at your friend. Tyrion couldn’t help but look at you. You were dressed in a warm toned dress with purple detailing to represent House Dalt’s banner of lemons against a dark purple field. He longed to see you in red, or any other color that did not signify another man’s claim to you. Tyrion admired you for your free spirit and seeing you so gloomy and tied down hurt his heart deeply.
“House Westerling has been a loyal vassal to House Lannister for centuries,” Tyrion started, “I’m sure my father would be willing to organize a different match. One more suitable to your beauty, Y/N.”
“Tyrion,” you said softly, blushing at his words, “I-I…” You met his gaze and lost all words. His hazel eyes were full of a hope you had never seen before.
“I can help you, Y/N, let me help you,” he clasped your hand now and you wished you could tell him ‘yes’; but your family needed this. The mines in the Westerlands were running dry and your house, the Westerlings, needed something to reinvigorate it. Your marriage to a wealthier Lord fit the bill perfectly.
“It would have to be a far more rich Lord than Dalt to get my father to agree, Tyrion. There are not many who have deep pockets that are not bad, or worse, than Lord Dalt is now.”
“I’m far more wealthy than Lord Dalt,” Tyrion pointed out, “and I’d like to think I’m better than Lord Dalt even when I’m drunk. I can at least walk without aid.”
You let out a soft, almost bittersweet laugh, “you want me to marry you? Is that what you’re suggesting?”
“Would it be so awful?” Tyrion asked honestly. You smiled down at him and shook your head. His hazel eyes brightened when he saw you lips turn upwards.
“No,” you said truthfully, “I would imagine it being rather fun.” Tyrion chuckled and nodded.
“I would be happy to go through with this plan if it meant you can stay here, in King’s Landing,” Tyrion said cheerfully, “with me of course.”
“And I would be happy if I could get something to drink,” you said, trying to change the subject. It wasn’t that the idea of being with Tyrion made you uncomfortable, it was entirely the opposite. You couldn’t remember a time where you didn’t have some semblance of feeling for your Lannister friend. Even as children you were quite taken by his intelligence and his true compassion. It pained you to watch as Tywin’s abuse towards him took its toll. Sleeping with whore left and right, drinking his days away alone.
Despite all the rumors about him, your loyalty and affections remained for Tyrion Lannister. He was the one person that could make you laugh whenever you needed to. The idea of moving South pained you, not because you would be leaving your blood family; it hurt you because the idea of leaving Tyrion alone to the snakes terrified you.
Sensing that you had grown lost in your own thoughts, Tyrion gave your hand a quick squeeze. You glanced at him once more and saw true concern in his eyes.
“I’ll get you that drink, come with me,” Tyrion said. You nodded and followed, hoping that a copious amount of liquor would let you forget your entanglement of feelings.
“Can you imagine it?! My wedding cake will taste like one big, sour lemon cake!” You held your forehead in one hand as you shouted and a glass of fine wine in the other. After the party had died out, Tyrion thought the best idea was to sneak you drinks from his own private collection. After three drinks of Westeros’ strongest wines, you were intoxicated.
“Lemon cakes aren’t bad,” Tyrion said, “it rests upon who makes them!” You shook your head and set down your glass for a moment.
“It’s not the taste I’m angry about, it’s the lack of choice. On my own wedding day I will have no control over the cake, even my dress is of Dalt style. Thank the Gods they didn’t put lemons on that!” Tyrion let out a chuckle and leaned closer to you, the space on his couch closing between you ever so slightly.
“What flavor would you like to have, my dear?” His drawl soothed your fried nerves and you allowed yourself to give into a fantasy of cake choosing.
“Maybe a honey cake, with candied plums and raspberries,” you said dreamily.
“I’ll note that for our wedding,” Tyrion said, but you couldn’t fully tell if he was joking. Granted, he was just as drunk as you were, so it was hard to tell if this wasn’t all some fevered dream.
“Do you know what else I would like? I would like to wear my mother’s wedding dress, not this Dornish style overcoat my lovely betrothed hand picked.” Tyrion nodded, listening to every word as if he were never going to hear your voice again.
“What else do you want, my dear? Say it and I can make it happen,” Tyrion said, encouraging more fake wedding planning; but as you thought, your mind grew dark.
“I want a husband that isn’t so bloody awful! Someone who cares about me, will let me walk alone if I wish, someone who isn’t Lord Dalt!” You felt tears stinging at your eyes now, but you couldn’t stop the words from pouring out your mouth. “I want a man who will let me speak, someone who, someone who loves me!”
You weren’t sobbing in that moment, but your heart ached so much you felt like you could have burst into a river of tears. If it wasn’t for the soft hand that reached your cheek, those tears would have rolled over. Through your eyelashes you saw Tyrion, his hand on the side of your face, looking at you with all the worry and care in the world.
“You can have that, my dear, you can have that with me,” his voice was so soothing and his hand was so warm. You closed your eyes and took a long breath.
“You’re a Lannister…” you whispered softly.
“That is only a name, just as yours is Westerling.” “You would be marrying down, Tyrion, that would never work with your father being the way that he is.”
“We wouldn’t need my father, I’ve gotten along quite well without him for many, many years.” He moved his hand to brush some hair out of your face. “Please Y/N, stay here with me and we can work this through together.”
“Then tell me what I need to hear,” you whispered, staring Tyrion in the eyes with an intensity you had never felt before. Tyrion smiled softly, knowing exactly what you needed.
“I have never been more in love with anyone as I am with you. Even in this drunk, crying state you’re in now, I’ve never loved someone more. I love you, Y/N.”
On the last syllable, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to Tyrion’s with such raw emotion it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs. In your hazy state you could remember his lips everywhere; on your lips, cheeks, neck, and collarbones. Energy buzzed through your whole body as his hands left trails of fire down your skin.
“I love you too, Tyrion,” you groaned out, “I always have.” Your words sparked a force within him as he moved impossibly closer to you. The last thing you remember was his lips and body-trembling pleasure.
When you opened your eyes, your head was pounding just as loudly as your heart. Images of what occurred last night drifted in from your memory as you woke up beside Tyrion Lannister. All of the words, all of the tears and kisses became clear for you the instant Tyrion’s drowsy gaze met your own.
“Good morning,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. The mere sound sent chills down your spine. “So what wedding plans should we make today?” You hit his chest lightly at the joke and he let out a soft hearted chuckle.
“You’re not funny,” you teased as you sat up to look for your dress.
“I think I’m quite funny,” Tyrion said as he watched you get dressed in your loose fitting under gown, “hilarious even.”
“Mmhmm,” you said, laying back down on his bed for a moment longer. You propped your head up and look down into his eyes softly. You reached towards him, brushing some messy hair away from his face.
“You’re not going to wed him, right?” Tyrion asked seriously, his eyes searching yours for the truth he wanted and not the one he felt was true.
“It’s two days until the wedding,” you murmured, “it’s...complicated.” Tyrion nodded and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips.
“I’m not going to be selfish and tell you to stay with me, even though I’ve made it clear I want you with me. All I ask is do what your heart tells you, not what your father decides.”
“It’s not that simple, Tyrion, you know that.” He let out a long sigh.
“Whenever you want,” he said softly, “we can run away. We can have that wedding you want so badly with honey cakes and your mother’s dress. I will always be that someone who will love you. Always, Y/N.” You felt tears stinging at your eyes again as he finished speaking. Rolling forward on your arms, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“I will always love you, Tyrion,” you whispered, pulling away only slightly.
“And, I’ll have you know, Lady Westerling, I would not mind being your little secret.” You laughed, pressing one more kiss to his lips.
“I might have to take you up on that, Lord Lannister.” Tyrion smiled brightly and, for the first time since your betrothal, you felt truly happy.
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blackwatchbastard · 6 years
Text
e.v.p.
(experimental thing i wrote forever ago that i dug up a few days back for a friend and realized i still kinda like........? figured i’d toss it up here. there’s some supernatural and soulmate vibes to it but i really can’t explain the aim of it fully you just have to... read it, i guess. warnings for: mentions of gore, suicide, and death. general self-loathing related angst. hopeful ending.)
It sounds like static. Like just noise, hissing through the speakers. But it's not. He knows it's not because he's heard it before. There's patterns in the buzz, violently obvious the second someone points them out.
let them do this
left me
LEFT ME
Jack closes his eyes and listens. Tries to remember the voice it used to be. He'd listen all night but Ana reaches out and rips the ear buds out when he starts to nod off.
“Stop torturing yourself, Jack.” she says.
it hurts
He blinks, hard, and asks, “What did you say?”
“You'll hurt yourself.” she says, brows knitted.
He goes to sleep in the same spot he has for a while. It's strange, sleeping in the same location after moving for so long. Travel, stay active, don't be noticed. There's no point not being noticed now. He wants to be noticed. Wants to be found.
jack
He sits up from a dead sleep with a start. Fumbles in the dark for his light. When he shines it around the room he finds nothing. Flops back on his pillow heavily, exhaling into the darkness.
His dreams are always violent. He's gutted on the concrete, bleeding out. He's blacking out, choking for air with the heel of a boot dug into his windpipe. He's burning, smoke in his lungs and fire on his skin.
God, my God. He deserves to burn.
shut up
you don't know what you're asking for
it fucking hurts
He just wants to fall asleep listening to the radio like he did when he was younger. Click over to some numbers station and listen to the monotone voice lull him off. It used to drive Gabriel crazy—he couldn't sleep with more noise than Jack's snoring in the room—so he took to wearing ear buds. So-long as he didn't toss in his sleep he didn't have to worry about them coming out or tangling around him.
He misses the days he didn't toss in his sleep. Misses the days he could sleep soundly, calmly.
He also misses listening to the radio and not hearing that hiss.
come here
jack
Ana thinks he's lucky, knowing just where to find Gabriel every time. She thinks it's some compass in his chest or his gut or something that leads him to the wraith every time. But it's not that poetic. It's so much more chaotic than that.
'where are you?'
i'm waiting
Jack's eyes lull shut, eyelids heavy. He rests his chin on his fist and listens. The coordinates that follow are simple. Precise. He writes them down on scrap paper without even cracking an eye open.
It's not a trap. He thought it was, the first time, but it's not. It's a request. A polite one, at that.
He tells Ana where they're going in the morning. She accepts it this time like it is normal. Because it's become normal by now. They track him to an abandoned warehouse, corner him in the darkness of the metal building. This is the third time this month. He looks almost panicked when he turns and sees them.
“Nothing better to be doing?” he hisses, trying to sound bold. Confident. It's just not there. He sinks back a step when Jack moves toward him. Looks like a cornered animal.
'just end it for me.'
Gabriel jerks backwards like he's been struck. Tucks in on himself and lets off wisps of smoke so thick they seem almost solid.
“What did you say?” he asks.
“Don't go.” Jack says.
But he does. He always does. Just slips through their grasp like water and leaves them in the empty building. Ana kicks a rock across the room and it bounces off the metal wall, echoing so loudly it rings in Jack's ears for moments after. In the ringing, he almost thinks he can hear the voice again.
i'm sorry
'yes, you are.'
That night for a solid minute all he hears on the white noise is wailing. Loud, angry crying. It's not the first time and it won't be the last at this rate. He powers through, eyelids heavy, and waits. Slowly, words form.
come find me
jack
please
He writes the coordinates again. This time, it's closer rather than further. Sloppy.
Ana slept before him so there's no one to stop him when he lays down, ear buds still in. Listens to the soft words mumbled over the static.
please
i'm sorry
help
One almost sounds like love. It isn't, he tells himself. But it's a nice thought. As he drifts off, he thinks the word back. As if it could actually travel. As if it could actually be heard.
'love you.'
He falls asleep with the ear buds in but, by morning, they've fallen out and off the side of his bed.
* * * *
Somewhere, miles away, Gabriel wakes up kicking and screaming. Claws his throat till he could almost be bleeding again, if his heart still beat right. Wails and wails until he can't make anymore noise. He'd scream himself to death if it were possible.
He uses few words that anyone could pick out. But they're there, if one listens. The same two over and over and over until he can't say anything else.
get out. Get out. Get Out. GET OUT.
If he could rip that part of his soul from his body, he would. But it won't go. It won't go away.
'love you.'
It rings in his ears for days and days. Until it's all he can hear. How dare he? How dare he still think something like that?
get out of my fucking head
Jack keeps finding him. He's in his head, he's somewhere in his fucking head. He has to get him out. Has to bust his head against a brick wall so it cracks and seeps smoke and whatever remains of Jack Morrison are left in it. So he can be rid of it, rid of this. Somehow.
He doesn't have the fucking guts to. Because it still hurts, even if it doesn't kill.
i'm fucking disgusting
'yes, you are.'
His version of Jack is vicious. It's not the one he dreams about. But it's the one he thinks he deserves. So he lets it be.
He doesn't deserve the one he hears in his dreams. In the soft white noise of the humming TV static next to his bed.
can't sleep without it now
you were my white noise
hah
get it
'and you say my humor is shit.'
There he is. Gabriel's eyelids flicker but do not open. He's peaceful. Content like this. He rolls on his side and listens to the static.
come find me
He does not think this on purpose. It just happens. He realizes that, perhaps, he's been doing that the whole time.
'where?'
here
He drifts off before he can know whether or not he told him. He knows by morning, when he moves to his next stop and finds two ghosts waiting on him.
Together, they'd make quite the haunted house.
“You ready to come home yet?”
He wants to scream himself to pieces. Claw his face and break his own ribs apart. Yank his heart out of his own chest and throw it at Jack, just to be rid of it. Just to get rid of this. Please, please take it away.
'love you.'
stop
please
it hurts
He feels like he's going to fall apart. Dissipate into thin air. Never to reappear, never to form again. Jack steps toward him, one hand stretched out to him, and he chokes on a broken noise in his chest.
GET OUT
But Jack can't leave any more easily than Gabriel could remove him. So he just smiles sadly, hand lowering, and shakes his head.
'just end me. give me what i deserve.'
But it's not the person Gabriel wants dead anymore. Just the idea. The ache. Take the pain away and the person won't mean anything anymore. Just a husk. Just a sad old man.
GET
OUT
PLEASE
Jack's gaze finds his, impossibly easily given everything in their way. He holds it for a solid moment before he, very slowly, shakes his head.
The fucker knows what's happening. He knows they both hear this. He knows they can't help it.
'not till you do.'
“What did you say?” Gabriel asks. His voice shakes. He doesn't care.
“There's always time, Gabe.” he repeats, “I'm patient.”
When he gets away from them he throws himself onto the dirty alley and wails. Screams. Digs his claws at his chest and finds no purchase, nothing to rip or pry from inside. He can't even get in at this rate, let alone take anything out.
PLEASE. LEAVE.
But he won't. He can't. No more than Gabriel can.
It's just the hand they've been dealt.
* * * *
He's never actually tried to find Gabriel. Gabriel found him, hissing thoughts through the airwaves. But tonight he needs it. Needs to hear that garbled voice again. In his drunken haze, bottle long empty, he flicks the station over to static and shoves in his ear buds.
'gabe. come here.'
no
i can't
The answer is so immediate it startles him slightly sober. Jack sits up, shoving his fingers against the ear buds, and listens as hard as he can. The voice is so quiet this time.
'i miss you. i miss you so fucking much.'
can't
It sounds like crying. But it's not what he's used to. This is soft, broken. No venom or howling in it. Jack leans closer to the radio, like it matters.
'gabe...'
FIND ME
That noise rises above the static, threatening his already depreciated hearing, and Jack cringes. Closes his eyes and digs for a scrap of paper at the same time. He has to scribble frantically to get the location down. At the end, out of habit, he goes to take the ear buds out again. The voice catches him.
don't leave
please
A phrase he can't hear. Starts with l, ends with l. Jack frowns and hopes it repeats. It does not.
'i'll stay.'
He falls asleep listening to something like breathing.
* * * *
Gabriel wakes up sobbing. Hysterical, breath refusing to catch. He flails around in bed for a solid minute before he can get in a proper inhale. Sits up shaking and coughing, tears rolling down his face.
Something inside him has been ripped or broken or stabbed. He feels a weight in his chest, heavy and solid and painful. When he grabs at it there's nothing. He chokes back another sob.
This isn't the easiest way to figure out he doesn't hate Jack.
This is definitely not the easiest way for him to realize he's also not alone.
“Jack?”
Jack Morrison's voice is barely a whisper in the darkness in and around him.
“Found you.”
How he got there without Gabriel noticing, waking, is a mystery. Further still is the mystery of why he waited. Calmly sat there while he slept, woke, panicked, and fought for air. He continues to simply wait, watching Gabriel.
It's maddening. How dare he be so calm when Gabriel decidedly is not? He still can't breathe properly and here Jack-fucking-Morrison is, calm and collected as ever.
GET OUT.
The voice he actually summons is much smaller.
“Leave me alone.”
“You asked me to come here.” Jack says.
The tears return, eyes burning, and Gabriel throws an arm up at him. Tries to move across the room but his own body fails him. Leaves him stranded as Jack gets to his feet and steps closer.
“I changed my mind.”
PLEASE.
“What did you tell me last night?”
love you still
i'm weak
Jack blinks hard. Looks at him, really looks, and leans forward. He's too close. Too close.
LEAVE
Gabriel realizes he's speaking to himself, not Jack. His own mind screams at him. He needs to go, needs to stop. Needs to just quit all this and pull away. Jack steps closer still. He doesn't move.
'love you.'
He's wailing again. Ugly, unholy sounds ripping from his throat. He shakes his head.
STOP
why
Jack reaches out and takes his face in his hands. Cradles it like a precious gem or tiny infant. Like something fragile. Something valuable.
“Talk to me, Gabe.”
Gabriel looks at him, tears clouding his vision, and struggles to breath. Hiccups and tries to contain himself somehow.
“Please, don't leave.”
Jack nods.
“I'll stay.”
And for the first time in years, the static dies out.
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montanababe7 · 3 years
Text
This is my go ministries international story: > The audio version of my go ministries international story will be shared soon. > > But, this is what I remembered when I asked Jesus to remind me of the things my brain blacked out for many years.  *Warning ⚠️. What happened in 2008 was intense. What you are about to read isn’t for the faint of heart or younger readers. Please be advised. > > One memory I just now remembered was the Christmas production  in 2008. we put on at lwcc, in that drama I was the emo/goth girl who was a cutter. Somehow, they had chosen to mock me even if they didn’t know I was suicidal for months and had fought the desire to slit my wrists. > >  *Why did you decide to join go. > As long as I can remember, I always wanted to pray for and minister to others. I wanted to show them Jesus. To show them His heart. When I saw that go ministries international  they had a youth program; I wanted to learn everything I could, bless others back. So many precious young people are hurting and they just need someone to care. To reach out to them. To let them know they are never alone. To show them Jesus. > > 2. What were your first thoughts once you were an intern? > > The day before go started, I was with my family at living word Christian center. The core leadership seemed to care about me. They were so kind and seemed to be loving. Other people had a different thought. They told me, “Jessica, are these fake faces or faith faces.” At that point, I honestly did not know. I had wanted to believe the best in them. Little did I know, how truly wrong I would be the next day. >    My parents and family, had already dropped me off and were driving away. I assumed everything would remain happy.  Seconds later, the leadership started screaming for all of us interns to get to the front lawn. I didn’t know why I felt complete terror. All I knew and could feel at that moment, was this: my hands went completely numb. I felt like throwing up as we were screamed at to start doing up downs and sit-ups, push-ups, the bear crawl, running back and forth. Many on my left and on my right were throwing up and passing out. The leaders didn’t care. They screamed at them to get back up. >    Next, we were told to fit as much or little into a duffle bag. The next thing we were told was to file into the vans silently. We were not allowed to talk to anyone. We were told to keep our eyes straight not looking in any direction. The bus ride to Wisconsin was several hours long. When we arrived that night, it was already dark out. They screamed at us to file into formation. For years, the memories have seemed like a bad dream. The distant memories blurred into dreams. > >   3. What were your most vivid memories of go. Good, and bad. How did it affect you? > >   Alright, as soon as we all were on the line. They began spray painting numbers onto a T-shirt. I can’t remember what my number was. But, during that week; that number was my name. The week, I was no longer Jessica. I was nothing more than a number. We were told that we had to carry our bible, water battle, a stick, and an egg. We were forced to run far past the point of what seemed normal human endurance. At one point, I thought my heart and lungs would give out from all the running. I was told by one of the leaders that I had to keep running until they said to stop. >    The next thing I remember, was doing military style exercises that involved balancing on a small metal string, I slipped and the metal string slapped into my leg, it had cut my leg deeply into the bone. The bone was exposed. Blood was gushing everywhere. I couldn’t limp, let along walk. But, we were told that the word can’t wasn’t allowed. So, despite the deep pain-the leaders didn’t show me any levels of compassion or mercy. I had to run with blood gushing down my leg. I couldn’t stop crying. After that we were forced to run up and down slippery stairs for 2 to three hours at least nonstop. After that, we were told that we had to carry a hundred pound cross up and down the stairs. >    The other memory that I can’t forget: being awoken out of sound sleep with a blow horn to my heart and being told to clean a building from top to bottom in the middle of the night. The nights turned into days. And the days turned into nights. The mere idea of food or even eating became unneeded to my weary and tired brain at that point. I didn’t want to throw up. Thankfully, I never did. But the feeling was horrible eating and being forced to eat everything on your plate. Then, you had to run. For hours. Or whenever they decided for us to stop running. > I remember we had rock experiences, where we had to pick up huge boulders that were so sharp. The rocks began to cut my wrists and my arms. I was forced to wear long sleeves for weeks; because the leaders didn’t want people assuming that I’d cut my wrists. >    The next memory is very painful. They called it judgement day. We all had to line up once again and wait our turn. When my name was called, I had to recite from memory Ephesians 6:10-12 from the message or amplified version. But, if we forgot the verse at all-we would be pushed off the dock. Mind you, it was nighttime and freezing out. I was pushed off > The dock twice, I walked back to my spot in line. I was freezing cold and I worried that I’d die of hyperthermia. I couldn’t stop shaking. No one asked me if I was alright. No one asked me how weak I felt or how numb my body had become. They simply screamed at me. They called me a failure. >    That night, I had to sleep in freezing, wet clothes. We weren’t allowed to shower they week. We were their slaves and how they treated us-we were nothing. They even took our cell phones away. Gee, wonder why. >    The next memory was the communist game. We were awoken once again out of sound sleep with a blow horn to our ears. It’s a miracle I didn’t go deaf or lose any hearing. We were told we were being arrested for being Believers in Jesus. And we had to find the hidden tracks before the other communists found them. We had to run in the freezing rain. I ran to a hiding spot. Somewhere deep in the forest. It was pelting rain. I huddled onto the grass and bawled my eyes out-laying in a fetal position. Telling myself that somehow I’d survive this. I asked Jesus to take me home that night. I wanted to find a rock or anything sharp and end it all. I was done. >    The next second, someone grabbed my arms and told me I was going with them. They brought us to a building where we had to sit completely still. No movement. Zero movement was allowed. We had been up for over 24 to 48 hours without sleep. Anyone who started to doze off had a blow horn to their ears. I kept slapping my cheek just to stay awake. >    We get back to the ranch in mora, Minnesota. We are told that daily we’ll have pt. Every morning at 5 or 5:30 sharp. Meet outside of the house. If we were late. We would have to write down Luke 16:10 100 times. If we failed, they’d add on another hundred more. That was only the beginning of the nightmare. >   One of the days of pt, I heard my back snap when we were doing up downs. I told one of the leaders that I couldn’t run anymore and she screamed at me. Threatening to punish me even worse for simply saying, “I can’t.” > Fast forward to a month or two later, my confidence was already shot. Not to mention, I had lost 10-15 pounds at bootcamp. My ankles, legs, and feet were so swollen that I couldn’t even put socks on and my pants wouldn’t even fit.  The physical breaking was terrible. But the emotional breaking nearly destroyed and almost killed me. >   I was told that I would be put on ministry probation. They prevented me from praying for anyone. I couldn’t speak to anyone unless they addressed me first. >    Only few of the people there showed me one ounce of kindness. I snuck showers, because I was so depressed that I want to slit my wrists. I had a plan to bleed out in the shower. So no one would know. Those thoughts went through my mind for those four to five months I was there. >    One night, the female leadership told us that we had to strip down to our bras and underwear. But, if any of the boys found out; we’d be writing sentences till our hands fell off. We were told to shower with other girls. I never did. I snuck showers. > > 4. When did you leave and when did you realize they were toxic? > >    How go affected me. My dad said hi to me one Sunday. I didn’t call him as dad. I called him, sir. My dad broke down and cried. He looked at me, and said, “Jessica, I’m your father. Not sir. What did they do to you?” >   My mom pulled me into the church bathroom one night and said, “we’ve had enough of them treating you this way. We’re taking you back home to Hutchinson tonight. Lie if you have to. But, you’re not going back to go. We’ll leave your stuff there.”  I lied to one of my leaders. I felt terrible. I cried the whole way home. >   When I got home. I called friends and they didn’t even recognize me. I didn’t act the same.  I had nightmares and my room was blood red. Go gave me ptsd. I was in multiple inner counseling sessions. I’ve had many panic attacks. Flash backs. Different times where I would hyperventilate. >    The signs of go being a cult are obvious: > *They tell you-that they are your family. > *zero contact with the outside world. > *they took our cell phones away. > *they shut the water off. > *they stopped communication with me after I left. > I was told that I lacked faith. Reality: I ran out of money. > But. Jesus has been healing my heart. I’ve forgiven the leadership. I pray what I have shared with you all today is a warning and an alert to the youth who might consider go ministries international. I’m sharing my story so you never have to attend or experience what myself or others have seen and heard. I want to spare you from this pain. And hold the hearts of the ones who are still suffering because of go or the ones who are stuck in go and don’t know how to get out. Know that I’m praying for you. I’m praying for the complete healing of your heart. That there is so much love in your heart. Never forget who you are. That’s what go wants. But, Jesus wants you happy and whole. I want my life to seen as someone who helps others escape from the trenches and hold you close. You each have giftings and talents. Don’t allow go ministries international to ever steal your purpose or your identity. You are not a mistake. God loves you. He has never stopped loving you. I pray that you can feel Jesus heart even in my message. > -Jessica
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theunderdogwrites · 3 years
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Ten "Suggestions" For A New World
I was raised in the Roman Catholic faith. Went to church every Sunday with my family from the time I was four until the age of 19. I was baptized, received my first communion and attended CCD classes (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine). And just for fun and out of curiosity, I've read the bible (New Testament) three times. [I want to quickly share with you the meaning of the word "confraternity": 'a lay brotherhood devoted to some purpose, especially to religious or charitable service'. Already its clear women are not really welcome.]
Once I was free to make my own choices, I stopped going to church. To be honest with you, I couldn't hear myself think over the constant propaganda being served to me by an elderly ornery priest wearing a $2500 robe and asking me to kneel at a $10,000 marble alter while attempting to guilt me into giving the church money to help feed the poor. I've never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but I knew something wasn't quite right with this religion. A friend of mine introduced me to the term "recovering Catholic" and I've adopted it as my own.
Do I believe in God? What... a terribly complicated question. In short, yes. In length, I believe in something I can't put my finger on and it has a name. I know I talk to this Universe character a great deal, maybe that’s it? Anyway, the God I believe in... that something with a name I can't accurately put my finger on - is about kindness and compassion, respect, acceptance, tolerance and love. And I mean, for real. Not just because it sounds good in your mouth.
Have you ever looked up the meaning of TOLERANCE?
‘allow the existence, occurrence, or practice of (something that one does not necessarily like or agree with) without interference’
The fact I’ve not yet killed anyone, means I am a highly tolerant being. Ego stroke.
You may have your own opinions and beliefs; in fact, I encourage you to form your own opinions and sift through what you do and don't believe. But let other people find their own way. Be who they are to be and if it's a different path than yours... don't tell them they're going to Hell. All that does is stress Satan right the fuck out.
I was taught to pray from an early age. Kneel down beside the bed at night, make the sign of the cross and talk to God. Ask him to bless the people you love, show compassion for those who wronged you and be thankful for everything you've been given. End with the sign of the cross. Although I no longer kneel at the side of my bed or make the sign of the cross, I do still pray. I've never had an issue with prayer. It's a form of communication and communication is king. Even if you believe no one is listening, it truly does help to just have raw dialogue with yourself.
Have I ever used prayer to help me out of a tough spot? Absolutely.
Have I ever prayed for something and promised something else I knew I most likely wouldn't follow through with? Yes. Have I ever prayed then become angry when things didn't go my way? Definitely.
Have I asked for forgiveness, mercy and wisdom? Yes.
 I'm not ashamed of any of those admissions. But I'm not going to print them on a t-shirt and strut around either. I don't feel I am any different than anyone else when it comes to prayer. Evidence of this are the religious contestants on Survivor who ask God for assistance in winning a million dollars so they may do good with all that money.
Currently, for me, prayer is an open-ended conversation that takes place in my soul. There's yelling and screaming. Blame. Crying and swearing. The launching of projectiles and ever so often... peace, laughter, approval and cookies. There's chaos and harmony and somehow, I manage to cultivate enough intelligence to string together a bunch of words to make a half decent sentences from time to time.
This brings me to: The Ten Commandments. Take a quick gander at this so you can get your bearings:
https://www.bibleinfo.com/en/topics/ten-commandments-list
In a nutshell, these are "God's standards" which he wants you to live by.
Going to confession was the worst. Especially as a typical 15-year-old girl. "I am not telling you shit" was pretty much my life's motto so to expect me to open up to an old priest and share my sins and secret thoughts so he may shame me with a mini lecture and an act of contrition, was insanity.
Every time I went to confession, I used the same three "sins":
I disobeyed my Mother and Father                                  
I took the Lord`s name in vain
I lied
I figured this to be believable for a girl my age. If you look at the commandments, I wasn't going to covet my neighbor`s wife or his ox and I certainly wasn't going to get myself another God to worship considering I already couldn't figure out the one I'd been given. And murder? I probably didn't even know what that meant. I mean, until the guidance counselor at my school pointed out to me what suicide was, I had no idea it was even possible to do that to yourself. I wasn't stupid, but rather innocent. And isn't it funny that it took a person of "authority" whose intentions were being governed by a higher power, to bring those kinds of ideas into my brain where they once didn't exist? Something to ponder.
Let's be honest, the Ten Commandments... as they stand right now in current society... a little outdated, right? Technology is rapidly changing how we communicate and behave. And it's time to modernize in order to keep up. I'm not proposing we abolish the original document. I'm not trying to offend anyone or stamp out their beliefs. I know the Ten Commandments is a sacred collection of words that many believe is straight from the mouth of God. Attempting to rip up or shit on something with that much power over so many people... is suicide. (Look Ms. Foster! I learned another way one can harm themselves other than dragging a razor over one's wrists! Your job wasn't meaningless after all!)
I'm merely proposing that someone (ME ME ME) take a stab at writing up a new set of standards which people (YOU YOU YOU) should SERIOUSLY consider following if they wish to achieve a pleasant after life. And the only person you must believe in - yourself.
The first thing I want to do is change the word "commandments" to "suggestions". It's less aggressive and more light-hearted, even though you're still expected to comply. No one wants to be told what to do, not really, and by "commanding" them in a preachy way to curb behavior... well, you're just asking for trouble. Imagine the success rate if Moses had come down from the mountain and said:
“Hey... hi everyone, look, God spoke to me and mentioned something about these ten suggestions He'd like us to seriously consider if we want to get into Heaven. He was pretty adamant that we pay attention and do our best to not ignore this list. I think He spent a lot of time coming up with this stuff... so we really do owe it to Him to try and give this all we got. Ok, thanks everyone... back to not raping women and making false idols out of gold".
I just feel that by changing the wording and therefore tone of this document - you're not alienating the more cantankerous, free-spirited or stubborn people of the world with a menu of demands you expect them to blindly obey.
The second thing I want to do is provide a brief explanation for each "suggestion". There is nothing worse than treating people as though they don't deserve further information when you'd like them to do something that wasn't their idea. Communication is comforting and reflects respect. You can't say: "Because I told you so" or "Just do it" and expect to be well received. All this is going to get you are responses such as: "You're not the boss of me" and "Go fuck yourself".
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So, without further ado, I give to you:
The Ten "Suggestions" For A New World
 Please do not update your Facebook status message more than once a day:  This is a sign of vanity, a deadly sin. And it's really annoying to the point where people secretly want to kill you for repeatedly mugging their news feeds with updates in increments of 32 minutes, on the broad details of your existence. No one actually cares here, on planet Self Absorption.
Please do not kill: This is the only original "commandment" included on this new list because it has stood and always will stand the test of time. There are loads of shitty, stupid, selfish & servile individuals in the world and relieving them of the burden of breathing seems like an all-around great idea, but it's actually a terrible idea. Why? Well, for starters... it's not your place to end a human life. It's just not. Life is special. You - not so much. Plus, it causes debilitating pain for a great many people. When you take someone's life away you create a hole inside the people who love them. This hole can never be filled. It will never get smaller. These people will never heal. They might be able to carry on... eat food again one day, maybe buy a new couch, laugh at a joke - but they will never heal. They will walk around, unhealed and with a hole in their heart till their dying day. Don't make holes in other people.
Please resist from being a complete douche bag: (Traditionally the term 'douche bag' is     usually gender specific and applies to men, but for this  "suggestion" it also applies to women, because women can be douche     bags as well. This does not apply to cats. The lives of cats are based upon douche-baggery, but it's cute and therefore exempt)  Being a total jerk is in your bloodline. Eve was a jerk to Adam. Adam was a jerk to God. The snake was a jerk to Eve. God was a jerk to the dinosaurs. And the dinosaurs were jerks to everyone. So... this  "suggestion" is going to be a difficult one not to fail at from time to time. The idea here isn't to be perfect, because that isn't unachievable. But rather, genuinely compassionate and generous when you see someone who wouldn't benefit from you running your truck into their fence and then driving off like a douche bag coward. And the state of being a douche bag isn't always limited to actions befitting a little scamp, no it can also be in the way you dress (Underwear above the pants line? Come on!) Or how you tell uninterested parties about your drunken antics and the loss of your favorite pair of really expensive shoes. Or  tweeting/texting the person next to you while you're in a group setting. Now you can see why pretty much everyone will be unsuccessful at this "suggestion". We're douche bags.
If  you open a bottle of wine - please finish it: This really shouldn't require much explanation. Drinking two-day old wine is the equivalent of sucking on week old doughnuts. Even hobos understand this concept. If you save your wine, you're stealing food out of the mouth of a grape stomping child. Is that what you want? No. Drink your damn wine already.
Please flush the toilet after you poop / wipe the seat off if you urinate on it: No  list of "suggestions" would be complete without a mentioning of bathroom etiquette because so many people are unable to recognize and execute proper manners in this area. I reckon 74% of the population does not want to see your excrements. And the other 26% need to seek out some counseling. Immediately. Leaving your shit in the toilet for others to    view does not make you regal, it makes you a filthy barnyard animal. And it's not funny or clever. Neither is urine on the seat. And this applies to both men and women. Take ten seconds, grab some toilet paper and WIPE THE SEAT OFF. Your pee is not liquid gold. No one wants to bottle it to sell on eBay or Etsy.
Please do not use social media to draw attention to your drama: This     is a tough one, I know. We all suffer from drama and when we feel severely slighted by the Universe, a person or even a business... we just want to share our pain in hopes of others being able to relate to us and provide some words of comfort. And what better way to reach your 472 "friends" than screaming out on Twitter or rapidly posting about your discomfort on Facebook. But the problem is... you're not actually connecting to anyone. Not really. You can't see their expressions. You can't hear the tone in their voice. And you definitely cannot count on their sincerity if they don't contact you privately and not in an open forum for all to witness. And, it's awkward. Once people see your drama, they can't un-see it. Even if you delete it, you don't get to delete it from their minds. And as a sub-section to this "suggestion" - also try to avoid saying stuff on social media that you wouldn't say to a person's face. This is just a fancier version of talking behind someone's back while doing it in front of their face without them actually realizing that it's being done.
Please do not text and drive: If you own a car you probably spend a     decent amount of time in that car, driving. Probably so much time that it     feels automatic, like blinking.  And because it's automatic you will rarely think about what you're actually doing - operating a 4000-pound killing machine. What is more important than taking your eyes off the road to check in on your game of choice? Or answering that text about where     you're going on your vacation? Your life. The lives of others. (please see "suggestion" number two) Chances are you're already deeply distracted by your real life, there is no reason to add to that list fumbling around with a cellphone so you can tell someone what you thought about last night's episode of Spring Baking Championship (is that just me?).
Please leave your ego at the door: People love confidence; they hate     arrogance. Arrogance is phony. Intimidation and strutting around like an erect penis OR vagina won’t hide the truth - that you’re afraid and maybe a little underwhelming in your own mind.  There is nothing wrong with     having flaws... accepting those flaws... flaunting those flaws. It builds     character. But if you must insist on being an arrogant tool, then you must  also accept that you're not only unhealthy to yourself, you're toxic to     others.
Please do not give others false hope: If someone has posted an ad on     Kijiji or Craigslist - don't express interest and give them a date and time of when you're going to show up to purchase the item if you have no intention of making an appearance. Forget about it being rude and full of    atrocious manners; it's downright cruel to let someone believe they've     just sold their dining room table when in fact - they haven't. (Yes, I’ve been scarred).
Please remember, you're not always right: Unless you're me. And even then, you’d only be operating at a success rate of about 32%.... so, just be yourself.
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joqatana · 6 years
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Oftentimes when we’ve been hurt, all we want is acknowledgement and care from the person who hurt us. So what do we do with the people who never seem to say, “I’m sorry”? If you’re familiar with the four styles of communication, I’ll be talking about them as they relate to the styles of non-apologies that I’ve experienced. I use three of the four styles of communication as a way to identify patterns in the people we deal with, and also to differentiate them from more malicious responses when confronting harm-done. If you’re looking for what the fourth style — an assertive apology — looks like, you can read the first post in this series, “Owning Our Part.” This post contains some heavy stuff and descriptions that may be triggering, so take a break or stop reading if and when you need to. PASSIVE RESPONSES Passive responses often sound like apologies. In my experience, compassionate passive-communicators will appear to be (and usually are) genuinely distressed that you’ve been hurt… but when it comes time to take responsibility for their actions, the way they frame their responses makes it seem like the hurt just sort of happened. They will always have an explanation for their actions, and they tend to believe that if they are not being forgiven that it is because they are not being understood. Commonly, there seems to be a lack of awareness that explanations and justifications are not apologies. They will often say sorry, but won’t name the ways they contributed, or own the actions they took. When confronted they will divert blame. These types of communicators often have good intentions, but can be oblivious to the ways they’re skirting around the tough, uncomfortable aspects of an apology. Passive responses look like: - Shrinking when confronted — becoming small, quiet, sagging posture - Collapsing inward a fit of anxiety, self-pity or self-denigration — inconsolable about the situation or accusations against them - Solving problems by soothing your feelings rather than changing their behavior. - “I feel horrible that you think that about me.” — delivered with genuine sadness - “I’m sorry if you were hurt.” - “I’m so sorry you took it that way.” - “I was just trying to _____.” - “I just…” - “I’d really like to apologize,” but never actually names their hurtful actions or says “I’m sorry.” When respectfully confronted about their lack of direct accountability they might: - Justify their reaction. - Mention or demonstrate that they feel attacked; get defensive. - React with distress and confusion if you don’t accept their non-apology or “explanation” - Be reluctant or unwilling to leave emotional conflict unresolved, especially if you haven’t “forgiven” them or you remain upset. Seek to avoid sitting with uncomfortable feelings or interpersonal discord in favor of smoothing things over. - “Why are you being so difficult/aggressive?” - “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” - “I’m just trying to explain.” - “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” - “I’m just…” AGGRESSIVE RESPONSES Aggressive non-apologies are often easier to spot given their overt nature. Aggressive doesn’t always have to mean yelling and physical violence. Aggressive non-apologies often don’t feature “I’m sorry,” but they can. People who react this way may blow up at you, sheepishly apologize for blowing up, and then “forget” to circle back to the original issue. In my experience, they’ll blow up first, then move into other kinds of responses, often passive-aggression. Aggressive responses look like: Yelling the apology Expanded posture — standing when you’re sitting, leaning forward, getting in your personal space, stomping, fist clenching, large sudden gestures Interrogating your version of events and nit-picking details Demanding evidence and explanations for the accusations, including details of their own actions — time, place, exact sequences of what was said or done Extending or amplifying the argument unnecessarily to be more serious or broader in scope than it is Giving up when there are small snags in the flow of the conversation, like miscommunication or mishearing Extreme impatience with you, your word choice, or your understanding Extreme impatience with themselves, their ability to communicate clearly, their understanding of the issue “I’M SORRY. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?” “I’m sorry but that’s just the way I am.” When respectfully confronted about their aggression they might: Yell louder Blame you for their reaction Simmer, and continue to make excuses longterm Blame their reaction on their pride or how seriously they take things (including how strongly they care about you) Disengage, become passive or passive-aggressive PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE RESPONSES Passive-Aggressive responses can be challenging to identify. At first glance, the wording of passive-aggressive responses will often look right, but the “apology” will be delivered in an edged tone, or bookended by underhanded or disingenuous comments.. People using this communication style will appear disingenuous or cold, and will covertly be angling for something other than addressing your feelings or taking responsibility — for example, getting out of trouble or getting back at you for confronting their behaviour. Sometimes passive-aggressive reactions can appear more passive than aggressive. I find this particular version of passive-aggression to be especially difficult to parse; by all accounts they appear to shrink at the thought of hurting you, but are hiding (intentionally or not) their anger and jabs incredibly well. These particular patterns are built on the understanding that passivity and meekness can get people to back off a confrontation; as such, the passive-aggressive person’s shrinking or appearing hurt will be disproportionate to the conflict. Passive-Aggressive responses look like: Removing themselves from the situation without explanation, radio silence Closed posture — arms folded, looking away Eye-rolling Categorizing all the ways that they help you or did things right in that situation or other situations “Oh so I’m just a terrible person now.” This is an attempt to twist the intentions and derail your confrontation so that you feel guilted into “correcting” their assumptions with compliments or qualifying statements such as, “No no no, you’re not a terrible person! You’re great. I didn’t mean it like that.” “I’m sorry you feel that way.” — snapping tone, lacking compassion or softness “I’m sorry I can’t live up to your standards.” “I can’t believe you would think of me like that.” “After everything I’ve done…” “Fine.” “Whatever.” When respectfully confronted about their passive-aggression they might: Deny it or attempt to blame you for their reaction Walk away or refuse to engage “You’re not perfect either, last week you…” “I can’t do anything right.” “I’m trying to apologize and you’re attacking me.” TOXIC MANIPULATIVE RESPONSES Trust your gut. If you feel that someone is intentionally trying to mislead you about their motives or behaviour, then take action. You don’t owe anyone the benefit of the doubt, and you’re allowed to set boundaries and respectfully keep your distance if someone gives you the wiggins or leaves you feeling unsafe or exploited. For example, you may want to consider that a person is not operating with good intentions if after conflict you routinely feel that you: are losing sight of your wants and needs, are a different person around them — less confident, more sad or angry, are unsure of the boundaries or expectations of the relationship, and attempts at clarification leave you feeling increasingly confused, are confused by the events during, or leading up to a conflict, are drawn to them but something feels “off” don’t know what to say and are increasingly careful about your words and actions in a way that feels anxious or aimless. When it comes to apologies, manipulation can run the gamut of passive, passive-aggressive, and aggressive behaviour. Some people are very good at seeming proactive while they intentionally try to erode your trust in yourself. Tactics for Manipulative Non-Apologies include: Redirecting blame by steering the conversation away from their hurtful actions and onto yours instead Twisting your words or overblowing statements, including things that are not being discussed Framing any choice other than forgiving them as intentional cruelty on your part Love-bombing. Diverting your attention and avoiding responsibility by pouring energy into soothing your feelings, making you feel better, doting on you, etc. -Maligning your feelings to suggest that you’re being manipulative by expressing yourself “Crying is emotional blackmail.” -Routinely collapsing in on themselves when confronted: routinely threatening to harm themselves when you raise a grievance routinely harming themselves when you raise a grievance, and pinning their self-harm on your decision to address a concern — crying so long and so intensely that they cannot carry on a conversation, never returning to the topic when they are calm, and only reacting this way when confronted - Flattery: highlighting your compassion and understanding emphasizing your love for them, or their love for you. highlighting how long you’ve been their child/friend/coworker/partner/ “You’re so kind. I knew you’d never throw me away.” -Trying to rewrite your version of events or calling into question your memory of them (gaslighting) Telling you you’re too sensitive/can’t handle anything “Shh it’s okay. You’re just not remembering right.” “Are you sure that didn’t happen with someone else? Cause that wasn’t me.” “We both know your memory is terrible.” -Placing consequences for their actions in your hands: Intentionally highlighting what will happen to them if you don’t forgive them or if you speak about the harm they caused “You have the power to destroy my [reputation/career/long term relationship etc].” -Blaming your lack of forgiveness for negative consequences, rather than their actions: “Our relationship will never be the same if you don’t forgive me.” (It was never going to be the same anyway.) “This will make it difficult to work together.” (They made it difficult to work together.) “One of us will never see our friends.” (Invitations go two ways.) “Where will I go for the holidays?” (Wherever else they want.) When confronted, toxic manipulators will switch tactics. They may move from overblowing to flattery, or from flattery to collapsing. Each shift will be an attempt to hook you back in so they can continue to manipulate you, save their reputation, feel powerful, avoid consequences, or simply get away with doing what they want. If someone’s behaviour is malicious or unacceptable to you, you are allowed and encouraged to take action to distance yourself. HOW DO WE RESOLVE THIS? Non-apologies in all their forms can be challenging to recognize, let alone confront. Sometimes — maybe most times — it isn’t worth our energy to forcibly eek out accountability from people who are struggling with it, and that’s okay. We may be tired of the emotional heavy-lifting required to give the benefit of the doubt. It’s nice to think that everyone is trying their best, but sometimes their best still hurts us, and that’s okay too. Accepting that we might not get closure might be difficult, but sometimes it’s necessary; at such times, self-soothing and seeking care from someone outside the situation can help. Remember: other people’s reactions are not our problem to solve, and taking on their struggle as our own won’t inspire them to do the work for themselves. Pointing out their lack of accountability and then letting it be is a totally valid course of action. If you wish to do more, then strong, direct boundaries and expressing clear, actionable needs can help us find resolution, and make it clear whether things are improving or not.
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