#'i know what it is to be tempted to a life of poverty by a pretty young thing'

[fictionadventurer]

For anyone interested, the script to this version seems to be available on Kindle Unlimited.

This is the wrong season to be talking about it, but literally no adaptation of Christmas Carol will ever top this one stage adaptation I saw in 2018, and it’s 100% because of the first scene of the play

Almost every Christmas Carol starts with the same scene: Christmas Eve, the day before Scrooge is visited by the three ghosts. This is the same scene that the rest of the audience - including myself - is expecting to see

The house lights go out. The stage is dark

A boy is singing: “God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay…”

The sound of wind whistles through the dark of the theater.

“Remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas day, to save us all from Satan’s power…”

The boy pauses. The wind picks up. Somewhere in the audience, a child sounds upset

“…When we had gone astray. Oh tidings…”

The boy’s voice fades away. The wind howls

A church bell rings

The stage lights come on. Fog is floating across the stage. A deacon, two gentlemen, and Scrooge stand in the fog like islands in a sea

Between them is a coffin

The wind howls. It makes the word, “Ebenezer,” in a voice that shakes the floor

The deacon says: “Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God to take unto himself the soul of our departed Jacob Marley…”

“Ebenezer,” says the wind

Scrooge whips around at the sound. Fog coils around his feet

Nobody else on stage hears his name

“…We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth-”

“Earth,” says the wind

“-ashes to ashes-”

“Ashes,” says the wind

“-and dust to dust”

“Dust” says the wind

“In the certain hope of eternal life through our Lord Christ; who shall change-”

“Change” says the wind

“-our vile body-”

“Change” says the wind

“-that it may be like unto His glorious body-”

“Change” says the wind

A church bell rings. Children are crying in the audience

One by one, the parishioners exit the stage. Scrooge is left alone with the coffin

He says a few words - laughs at his mishearing voices on the wind - and turns to leave

A church bell rings

Scrooge pauses - and turns to look at the coffin

Lights flash. The coffin lid slams open, and the ghost of Jacob Marley, horrible, pale, and screeching, leaps out of the coffin, hands reaching out to Scrooge and howling - 

“SAVE YOURSELF!”

Lights flash and the stage goes dark. Children are screaming. Parents are screaming. I’m screaming

The rest of the production was gorgeous, but I still maintain that the first scene was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen attached to any adaptation of Christmas Carol

[lucysarah-c]

I would like you very much to talk about the girlfriend effect on Levi's fashion

The man has zero sense on it it's actually hurt

The way I squealed when I read this ask. I was like that TikTok sound of “OH MY GOODNESSI LOVE THIS QUESTION! I THINK..!”

*Deep sigh* Anon, you're absolutely right; it's time we face the truth about Levi's sense of style – it's hideous. Have you witnessed those panels of him in the Uprising arc with a T-shirt on top of a long-sleeve shirt? I mean, seriously, it's like, "You're lucky I adore you, Levi…"

Now, let's establish some basics. We can't delve into the "girlfriend effect" without first acknowledging Levi's life as a man. I hate to break it to many of us, but Levi is, indeed, a man – raised by Kenny, no less. Levi values cleanliness and practicality. To sum up Levi's approach to broad topics: cheap, pragmatic, and straightforward. The only exceptions to this rule are tea and cleaning. Levi grew up in poverty, so he won't waste a single penny on face cream, even if you harass him. As an example, there's a "game" that was only available, I believe, in Japan, that had side stories, and Levi literally told Erwin he wasted too much money on "pointless" stuff like hair pomade…

Levi doesn't buy much furniture, treats for his body, clothes – anything, really. I'd even venture to say he might get some of his clothes from donations. He saves his money for tea… and tea sets.

And here's where the girlfriend comes into the picture. It starts subtly; she spends a night in his personal chambers and suggests bringing in new pillows, curtains, furniture, scented candles, and bathroom appliances for her stuff. Then the full transformation happens.

Levi, pale as ever, refuses to wear sunscreen like any man would. “I'm trying to look after you!" she would insist while running her hand through his face; he's not pleased. He hates the sticky feeling, but it's just the beginning. He pretends to dislike it, but he falls asleep so easily when his face is on her legs, and she's giving him a face massage with a full face glam, mask, and gua sha.

"You have to use it like this, against the hair movement, to create volume so your hair doesn't stick to your scalp," she says, applying molding wax to his hair to give it more volume. Skincare routine? Check. Lip balms? Check. Hairstyles? Check. Personal chambers now looking comfy and homey? Double-check.

And finally, the clothes. He's against it at first, always in uniform, so why bother? But she explains how proportions and colors can make him look taller, and he's tempted to tell her he doesn't care. However, her puppy eyes beg him to wear what she chose.

The result? Levi, who once dressed like a pre-teen from the 2000s, transforms into a model. The LOOKS? He goes out with the vets for a few beers on a day off, and MPs are turning around; even Erwin is surprised. He's supposed to be the high maintenance of the group, not Levi! This transformation becomes the main giveaway that Levi is dating. Glowing skin, glass-like complexion, perfectly cut and smooth hair with ideal volume.

The cherry on top? Suddenly, he's taking days off, going out more, and knows a lot about which restaurants are "not that bad," all while dressing like a Vogue cover.

The only disadvantage? Now he has his pockets full of lip glosses, napkins, hand cream, etc. Women's clothes don't have pockets. How is he supposed to explain to the MPs when they ask for a pen, and he pulls out a pink, glittery lip gloss from his pocket? Not everything is an upside.

I ADORED this question! I hope the answer is somehow what you had in mind! Thank you so so much for sending this.

I hope you and your loved ones are doing great today and stay safe!

Lots of love!

Tags!: @nmlkys @jimoonbeau @fictiondrunk @notgoodforlife @nube55 @justkon @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82 @thoreeo @quillinhand @humanitys-strongest-bamf Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[utilitycaster]

Sean's general self-loathing is well established, but I think the exact nature of it is something I haven't talked about at length or seen discussed in full elsewhere.

At first glance it may seem as though "just fighting squid dogs until I'm dead" and Sean's willingness to go down swinging, throwing himself at most threats, stem from him wishing for a heroic death, but I don't think this is the case. He'd like it - it would give Bee a good thing to tell his mother, for whatever that's worth - but the truth is something he says elsewhere: "No shit. I'm a monster too."

Sean is not terribly worried about harm to himself. It is tempting to assume that his decision to throw the gun down the drain is about wishing to stop himself from using it for suicidal impulses; but I don't think it is. He's worried about using it on others. He throws it away immediately after he envisions the letter in which his mother accuses him of killing innocents and flashes back; later, he acknowledges that had he had a gun, he might have shot Lucas: "I'm not holding a weapon right now, so when my right index finger twitches, nothing happens."

It's helpful to understand Sean in terms of two of the people who come closest to understanding him: Bee and Nathaniel.

Bee, on the surface, has a lot in common with him: both lost their entire family, one way or another, other than each other, Marion, and Peggy (who they did, in a way, lose) and their homes in the war. Bee understands Sean's past - him as a boy, before all of this - in a way no one else can, since Marion was also himself quite young. The difference, however, is that Bee wants to return to that past - and, to be honest, that would fix the majority of her problems. Were Bee's husband to still be alive? Were she to have her home again? That's what she wants! That would be life-changing! And so she thinks about happier times, and urges Sean to go back to a more innocent time, and blames Nathaniel as a figurehead for the war that took this from them.

The problem is that Sean's problem, in the end, is that he went to war and found out he was the kind of person who'd kill things that look like children. He doesn't think they were real children, maybe, but some days he's not sure. His worst fear is that his mother would know precisely what he did with NoMAD, in Ghost company, and he believes she'd hate him for it. If Sean had an apartment? If Sean's mother were out and living in her tenement? Hell, if his brothers were alive? This would not change. It certainly doesn't help, that there's immense loss and poverty on top of all that, but in the end, Sean does not trust himself to make choices, believes it to be only a matter of time before he hurts someone again (to the point that I wonder if this is why he's avoiding his mother, or if it's because that if he spends more time with her she might realize who he is now), and now sees himself, in a way, as, well, kind of like a squid dog - can be tasked to be a protector, but corruptible, easy to turn, and liable to bite those on the same side.

Sean explicitly equates death as freedom from having to make decisions - because he believes he will make wrong ones.

Nathaniel, on the other hand, is much more ignorant of Sean's material losses - he is unaware Sean is living at the chapter house nor does he know about his mother - but what Nathaniel does share, and Bee does not, is that sense of identity shaped by a specific action (or in Nathaniel's case, inaction). Nathaniel thinks himself a coward because he did not save his older brother from drowning; it defines him perhaps even more profoundly than the war (though his response to his officer's pistol indicates the war left plenty of marks on him as well).

Nathaniel might not know the details of Sean's connection to baseball in the same way Bee does (though, notably, they are the only two to engage with it; Jean and Marion haven't). It's not clear if Nathaniel knows quite what happened in Ghost Company either - it's not even stated if Sean came to Echo Company before, or after, though it really only makes sense after. However, he does understand someone who doesn't think they will make the correct choices; he understands guilt and self-loathing in a way Bee does not. He understands being the surviving child and believing your parents got the worse deal out of that. And so it's Nathaniel who understands the importance of giving Sean orders, and the (temporary and false) absolution even an imperfect institution and the identities it confers provides.

Nathaniel's issues with himself are not on the same level as Sean's - he seems to have come to a place of "I'm a coward, and would prefer not to be, but at least I'm attempting to use what skills I have" [ignore whether or not he's actually a coward, that doesn't ultimately matter in this discussion, the same way that it doesn't matter that Sean bought his sick brother a hat with his paltry spending money] whereas Sean is actively opposing any indication that he isn't a monster, or at best a weapon. But he does understand that Sean's issues come from a similar place and how to live with them - which is something Sean does not yet see as a possibility.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

could you continue on the story you had for the poor hero x millionaire villain?

pt. 1

The villain sat down reluctantly. Although their concern and regret seemed to be genuine, the hero wasn’t able to accept this.

“I appreciate it. I do.” They reached for a second cup and watched as the water started to boil. “But it’s fine. I wouldn’t even accept a cent from you. It’s not personal. It’s not to torture you.”

“Well, you are torturing me,” the villain said.

“I don’t mean to.”

“But you are.” The hero turned around and looked at their nemesis.

“Black coffee?” they asked gently, ignoring how the villain scrutinised them tragically. The villain went with a hand through their hair, sighing in defeat. They nodded. “Turkish?”

“Yes.”

“I know you’re trying to manipulate me. You’re trying to make me feel bad for not taking the money,” the hero said softly as they poured the steaming hot water into the cups. Their eyes were drawn to the little bubbles that formed on top of the water’s surface.

“Do you think what you’re doing is heroic? Deciding to suffer in poverty when you have the chance to get out of it? Do you think people will admire you for that?” the villain asked. Still focused on the coffee, the hero took both cups and turned around, scared to burn themselves. They walked over to the table, placing one cup in front of the villain, the other in front of themselves. At last, they put a spoon into the villain’s cup.

“I think you could give that money to someone who needs it more than I do,” they said as they sat down. The old chair sighed under their weight, more a result of the chair’s age than the hero’s physical condition.

“Well, I don’t like anyone beside you.” And that was the problem, wasn’t it? The hero took in a deep breath, debating if these feelings were coming from their side, too.

“That’s a little sad,” they whispered. They looked around the small kitchen and truly, they couldn’t remember when they had accepted this kind of life. Saving people was their priority and despite the negative aspects, they enjoyed it. The poverty was a sad side effect and they had just accepted it. It wasn’t optimal, they knew that. But they could be doing a lot worse.

At least they had something. Right?

They’d always thought it didn’t affect them that much, that they could live with it easily.

“And a little intimate. You feel guilty because you fancy me.”

The villain stirred the coffee with the spoon and didn’t answer for a long time. However, the hero saw the soft blush on their cheeks.

“Fancy is a big word.” They put the spoon into the hero’s cup.

And the hero didn’t quite know what to do with that. Sharing this one spoon, this one thing, despite their disagreements on absolutely everything made them long for more of it. More of drinking coffee together, more of talking, more of sharing a spoon. It was silly, but the hero hadn’t realised how isolated they were.

They hadn’t touched anyone in months, except for getting punched a few times. Talking to someone was just as rare as money.

People had turned away from them once this had become normal. Friends, family, colleagues…some had offered money too and then judged them for not taking it.

And the hero had just made their peace with it. God, they were such a fool for thinking poverty wouldn’t make them miserable.

“I’m gonna say this one last time.” The villain had to blow on the coffee before they took a sip. It was still too hot, so they grimaced. “Take the money. Or you won’t get me out of your hair.”

“No,” the hero said. “Give it to someone else. You can’t force me.”

“Oh, I can, little hero. I can.” The villain leaned back casually, studying the hero’s face. “That coffee is shit.”

“What? Are you gonna kidnap me?”

“Tempting. But no. I will buy this house, turn it into a fucking palace and fill your fridge up to the brim every day.”

“I hate you,” the hero said, giving up on protesting. They felt defeated, they were tired of fighting and maybe, maybe they were tired of living like this.

“You wish you did.”

[joannerowling]

thoughts on The Casual Vacancy?

I love The Casual Vacancy, though i haven't read it in a long time! One of my strongest memories of it is reading the ending while on holiday at the beach and running to hide in my small camping tent because i didn't want people to see me crying 🤣

It's a book that stands on its own, but my favourite way to read it (and i don't know how JKR would feel about this; hopefully not too bad!) is as a continuity of HP's themes. You often see criticism these days about how, at the end of Harry Potter, "nothing has changed". Voldemort is gone, but the structure of the world is the same: there's the Ministry, there's the school with all its four houses. The fight against corruption at the Ministry and to change mentalities about the Muggle born is implied, but not clearly stated, and the way to get there is skipped over. This is an ending fit for children, but as an adult (and Harry Potter is narratively constructed to accompany the child in their journey towards adulthood; you are meant to finish Deathly Hallows in a significantly different state of mind than you did when you started Sorcerer's Stone), you would be tempted to ask, "but is it that simple though? Is the evil truly vainquished?"

Well imo The Casual Vacancy addresses that question full on, and brutally. It's like Jo was like, "alright, now you are all adults. Here's how shit happens in real life."

The story starts by killing the hero off in a cruel and undignified way. Barry Fairbrother is obviously a cheeky nod at Harry, but beyond that, he is almost stereotypically "heroic" with JKR's standards in mind: physically, he has the ginger hair - JKR is very fond of redheads -, the small unassuming but still athletic stature, simple clothing and "kind" face; socially, he comes from poverty - lived in a caravan at some point with his siblings and only his mother in the picture - but thanks to a combinaison of good support and social policies, managed to escape it and now gives back to the community by being politically involved. He's also a good husband and father, can relate with teenagers, has a sense of humour that puts people at ease, etc. He's basically the Lily Potter / Margot Bamborough of TCV, but unlike them, he isn't assassinated, his death is all natural. In TCV, life is just unfair like that. The evil can't be killed because it's not a person, it's intangible and yet very real. It's the greed of the Pagford inhabitants, the fear of the other, the violence of poverty. The characters who have been dealt a bad hand don't get to escape just because you like them.

In Harry Potter we mostly follow the story from a unique perspective. In TCV, everyone gets their share of the narrative, which means all the private frustrations, all the ugliness which were previously only implied in HP are fully disclosed. Wives are disatisfied with their husbands and secretly fantasise about teenage boys band members, husbands cheat with neighbours or colleagues, kids ressent their parents for fair or unfair reasons, self-harm or harm others in retaliation. Everyone is acting for selfish reasons far more than for the common good, even in the camp of those trying to do good. There's rape and drug addiction and racism and child abuse. It's all very, very raw and bleak.

What's to be taken from this is, i think, that JKR is not a person who believes in systems or would rely entirely on them to guarantee fairness in society. The novel is in a very real sense a plea for socialism, and the policies Barry Fairbrother fights for are good and just and work, but he is also fatally alone in his dedication, and when he dies it all falls apart. Of the novel, JKR said:

"This is a book about responsibility. In the minor sense—how responsible we are for our own personal happiness, and where we find ourselves in life—but in the macro sense also, of course: how responsible we are for the poor, the disadvantaged, other people’s misery."

And indeed in the story, most characters don't want to take on the responsibility Barry was shouldering, or they want it out of greed. And that is a very adult topic, isn't it? That is in fact the definition of accomplished adulthood: being responsible for your actions, taking charge of things when they must be done. Anyway, i really like that contrast with HP (as the quintessential "growing up" series) and that connection between the two.

[noxexistant]

multi-fold questions (jack edition):

• do you view jack and the delanceys as a sort of foil for each other? they’ve both been through physical trauma but have made different choices through that. or do you view them, alternately, as somewhat alike?

• how do you think jack’s trauma surfaces in everyday situations? (headcanons about specific things he’s gone through that contribute to this?)

• what does jack gain from being in a relationship with katherine that he can’t otherwise get from anyone else, any other girl? (i love the way you write jatherine omg)

• is jack closer to davey or to crutchie? and why?

my favourite kind of question!! my favourite guy!!! thank you so much for asking!!!!

ultimately, i do absolutely view the delanceys and jack as character foils — i firmly believe it’s how they were intended — but i also think that they’re alike. it’s what makes all three of them so incredibly compelling to me, and why i’m so obsessed with the dynamics there.

at their cores, they have such deeply similar traumas, physical and emotional; dead mothers, much less than perfect fathers, raising themselves against a brutal backdrop of poverty and violence. but, not only did they make vastly different decisions about how to deal with that and keep moving, they also had different surroundings while it was (and is) all going on.

the delanceys were alone for miles around on a farm with only their abusers — meanwhile jack, according to michael ahomka-lindsay’s backstory for him which i follow, was in overcrowded tenements within a community of other immigrants, people to lean on even after his mother passed and father was arrested, though he could never allow himself to do so with too much vulnerability. there’s still a comfort to having someone there — and there’s a dread to it too, influencing this incredibly complex persona jack has got. this balance of friendliness and faux openness and an absolute guardedness that always exists underneath.

the delanceys took to their solitude, and jack took to the people around him. he’s charming and kind and personable despite everything he’s been through, and that must’ve taken so much effort — and not only did the delanceys not put in that effort, they didn’t necessarily have the building blocks to do so. they had nobody to reach out to, and by the time they do, they’ve decided it’s too late. a decision jack is constantly tempted by, but ultimately never makes.

of the two, jack is undoubtedly a reflection of oscar. each an older brother with a younger brother they’d risked their lives to protect, though jack had failed. they have the same violence thrumming under their skin, the same clawing restlessness to destroy what is unfair, though oscar sees only what is unfair to him and jack sees only what is unfair to others.

jack’s trauma is incredibly complex. straight up c-ptsd, and i strongly believe it influences every single part of his life, constantly. changed his very brain chemistry the way c-ptsd does, and thus shifted all of his personhood into misaligned piles. i think he has an incredibly hard time trusting people with his own vulnerability, as he’s shaped himself into the figure of what he needed, someone brave and bold and always grinning — the cowboy — and he frequently loses sight of who he is underneath that. he doesn’t know if he’s jack kelly or francis sullivan, doesn’t know if either of those people exist.

he flinches when men raise their voices. carriage wheels make him nauseous sometimes, when his eyes catch in the spin of their spokes and he gets sucked in like he’s drowning, thinking of michael being caught in that motion over and over again. he has nightmares near every night, but rarely the types where he wakes up screaming — he wakes up holding his breath, drenched in sweat, silent. fireplaces make him uneasy, always thinking of the one in snyder’s office. the texture of rattan is enough to make him vomit, and he’s never once explained why he always stands instead of sits in the pulitzerses’ beautiful orangery with all the beautiful rattan furniture.

and katherine doesn’t understand. she couldn’t possibly. and maybe that’s why he loves her so dearly, why she’s so important to him, because she never sends him pitying looks or treads on eggshells the way others do when they know it’s rough, it’s sore. frequently, she doesn’t get it at all, and she pushes too far, and though it aches, it’s like stretching a stiff muscle — like jack’s bad shoulder. he adores her. she’s intelligent and levelheaded, and when he does want to talk about it, she’ll talk. she won’t shy away from the horrors, she’ll ask questions, she’ll want to understand. when he locks up, she’ll pry, and when they fight she will always be the first to come back to him, because she knows he thinks every fight is the last. thinks it would only take one wrong word to make her throw him away.

davey is also a deeply important relationship to jack, an indispensable friend that he Loves, but jack is undoubtedly closer to crutchie. jack and crutchie have part of their souls entwined. they have seen each others’ absolute worst and held each other through it. they have fought viciously and detested each other and still loved each other in that same breath, complex and disgusting and raw and as beautiful as love can ever be. something beside brotherhood, but too worn and gnarled at its edges to fit quite into the box.

if there’s one person on the planet that jack could truly bare his soul to, it’s crutchie, and crutchie will bare his soul to jack too in fury and exhaustion and tears.

maybe someday, jack thinks, he’ll be able to do the same thing with davey. but it’s a similar thought process as to with katherine — that he’s only one wrong move away from losing him forever.

[idontplaytrack]

Live and die this way?

Capri Donahue x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, angst, mentions of poverty, reader has a bad home life, Capri & reader fight

Capri’s got your back, she’s protective of you. But nothing can block out the sound of other people’s opinions. Though it was the consequence of your decision after all…

“What the fuck’s been going on with you?”

“What the fuck’s been going on with me? Trust me, Capri. You don’t wanna know.”

“Okay, well— I don’t want to be snapped at for every little thing. For asking how your day was, what you wanna do this weekend, what you want to have for dinner tonight.” Capri scoffs.

“Fuck.” You cursed.

“Fuck’d be right. I don’t know what has gotten into you, it’s like you have gotten my attitude all of a sudden these few weeks.” She spat, words harsh and laced with anger.

“I’m going home.” You hastily picked your backpack up from where you’d tossed it and slung it over your shoulder.

“Fine, leave. That’s all you’ve been doing these days, avoiding stuff.”

You stopped moving, heart sinking to your stomach as tears pricked at your eyes. You took a deep breath and left anyway, she didn’t stop you.

PDA was fine, so great. People knew you belonged to her and you were now basically untouchable. But as good as that was, that to you, also meant that shit was serious. So, you got scared. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell her that while she lived in a literal mansion with her family, you lived in an apartment with yours. A two-bedroom that barely fit the five of you. Tensions were always high, your parents were always yelling at you for things that were your younger siblings’ mistakes. Sometimes, for nothing at all. You hated spending time at home. You absolutely could not get one moment of peace at home.

So, you took a detour and went to a bodega, debating between a drink for your thirst or a snack. You chose the latter, paid for it and continued your walk to the park where you stayed for the next two hours, doing your homework. Then, it was time for a change of scenery. You went to the library and soon found an open table. Setting your things down, you looked through shelf after shelf, picking out a few books to read so you could pass time till the place closed for the day.

“Have you eaten anything yet today?” You heard a familiar voice ask you quietly. You looked up from the book, meeting the librarian’s gaze. “At school.” You nodded.

“We just restocked the pantry. Help yourself to something if you’d like. And before you go home.”

“Thanks, Margaret.” You nod. She flashes you a kind smile before leaving you alone again.

Eyeing your phone on the short stack of books, you were tempted to grab it and see if Capri had texted you— you’d turned on Do Not Disturb on your phone when you left her house. But, her calls were set to still come in if she did call you. And your phone didn’t ring, so you knew for a fact that she didn’t call you.

At the end of the day, no matter how bad shit got, you still just wanted someone there to love you. But you’ve fucked things up over and over again with Capri lately, it was a wonder she didn’t get mad immediately. You knew it wouldn’t be easy to get things back to how they were with her. This was your fault. You’ve built a wall around your heart over the years, going through things where you could not share for fear of being judged or misunderstood. You were poor— your family struggled to pay bills, your Dad lived like beer bottles were his best friend while your Mom could not muster up the courage to leave.

Halfway through a book, you got up to use the restroom, passing by the pantry on your way. While walking back to your table, you stopped outside the pantry and peeled inside, deciding to step inside to take a look. You grabbed a mini bag of Goldfish crackers and a water before settling back down at your table. Margaret saw you, nodded and smiled— relieved that you had gotten yourself a bite to eat.

————

“We’re closing up, dearie.” You felt a tap on your shoulder and your eyes snap open.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry about it, y/n. It’s not much, but we got you something for dinner at least.” She assured, “Here. Have a safe trip home.”

You quickly packed up and grabbed the brown paper bag from her, “Thank you, Margaret. Good night.”

“Of course, honey. You too.”

You left, stepping out into the chilly fall night. The cold air pierced your skin as your finger tips cling onto the hem of your sweatshirt. The paper bag was held between your fingertips as you walked home. But, it wasn’t long before your curiosity took over and you peeked into the bag. Unwrapping the hot dog, you took a bite. Right then, you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. And buzzing. And buzzing. It was a call.

You saw who it was from, you just didn’t feel like you should pick up her call. Tossing the wrapper and paper bag in the trash, you focus was now fully on your phone screen. She was texting you. Repeatedly. Still, you ignored it in an attempt to empty your racing mind. Until…you couldn’t. Capri pulls up, right next to you. You froze, paralysed with fear when you heard her calling your name.

“Get in.”

“No.”

“Get in the car, y/n. I’m not kidding— it’s not safe.”

Your apartment building was right ahead, but Capri was right beside you. Was she telling the truth? How did she know?

“Baby, get in the car.” Capri repeated herself, “Please. Get in. I want you to be safe.”

You bit the bullet and heeded her advice. Or warning. Whichever it was, you were now in the girl’s car. “How’d you find me?”

“Why is this what you’re worried about?” She asks quietly.

“How’d you find me, Capri?” You insisted.

“No one’s seen you all afternoon. I got worried and asked around. Darby told me—”

You sniffled. “I’m not— I’m good enough for you, come on. We come from different worlds, Capri.”

She kept quiet, but she thought that was a load of bull. She simply loved you, she didn't care how different you were from her. That was actually what she fell in love with— she was extroverted, life of the party. But you, were an introvert, always confident in your own little world. You didn't know everything about her like the rest of the school did...Capri found you mysterious.

"You didn't have to come look for me you know. My life's just...like that. Always have, and always will."

"It doesn't have to be." She says while shutting the front door. "Sit down, let's talk."

You sigh, chewing on your lower lips and picking at your nails nervously. "Sit down." She says with a hand on your shoulder. You finally obliged. "I don't want you to carry everything yourself. Please, talk to me, sweetheart."

Silence fell between you and Capri, the air was heavy and tense. You were still stuck on whether or not to tell her. You swallowed harshly, fiddling with your thumbs as you stared at your feet, "There's no point. I still have to go home, face my Dad who drinks like his life depends on it, my Mom calling me all sorts of shit and accusing me for not doing the chores, protecting my sisters from them."

"You can stay here."

"Oh, and leave my sisters alone? Do my parents need more things to get mad at me about?" You huffed, "It was already selfish of me to turn away and get in your car." "Baby, it's not selfish to put yourself first. You've done a lot for your family. More than enough, it's not solely your responsibility." "You're just saying that." You sniffed, exhaling shakily.

“y/n, listen to me. You need to take care of yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying!” You replied through gritted teeth. “You love me and that scares me, I have never known love to be what you give me. For as long I can remember, love meant doing chores before being asked to, mediating my sisters’ fights and squabbles, obeying my parents even though I know in my heart that what they’re saying to me, calling me, is wrong and hurtful and it sucks but I had to do everything so that there was peace in the house, peace for me, so that I didn’t have to get screamed at. I don’t know what to do with myself when it turns out that love was calm, and sweet and it makes me happy. But I just feel like it shouldn’t be this way, I don’t deserve it. So I’ve been pushing you away but you just keep getting closer and closer and I just— I feel like I have to run away.”

You feel Capri put her hand on your shoulder again, you fought the urge to shrug it off. “I’m so sorry, Capri. You shouldn’t have to deal with me being so mean to you, you are the last person I should be lashing out at.”

“y/n, I know you are sorry but you don’t need to be, because I get it. It’s not fair, life isn’t fair but I am so glad you don’t have to shoulder it alone. I’m so glad you trust me enough to let out your feelings like that with me. I am not going to let you live and die this way. You deserve to live your best life, getting to enjoy your life, unafraid.”

You choked on a sob and repeatedly apologised to her despite what she said. “Can I hug you?” She asks, voice cracking. Instantly, you turned around and wrapped your arms around her before she could even process what you just did. But instinctively, you feel her rubbing your back while your tears seeped into her shirt. “It’s okay, you’re alright. I promise. I’ll do everything I can to make sure no one hurts you anymore.” She whispers, “I got you, baby.”

“Thank you.” You cried, “I— I’m sorry, I need some time to just calm down and stop— stop crying.”

“I can leave the room for a bit if you want me to.”

“Is it okay if I take a shower?” You asked, barely coherent.

“Of course.” She held out a hand for you to grab and pulled you up when you held on.

————

“Wait, wait. One second. I bought a body wash for you because the fragrance in mine made your skin itch when you used it.” She held onto your wrist. Capri opens up a cabinet behind the sink mirror and handed a bottle of Method body wash to you. “Had dinner yet, sweetheart?”

“I had a hot dog.”

“Do you want anything else?”

“I’m not hungry, Capri. It’s okay.”

“Bloated?” She asks knowingly.

“I’ll make you some tea, hm?”

You smiled lightly, taking the bottle along with clothes and towel before shutting the door behind yourself, “Alright.”

She leaves as soon as the door closes— you hear the footsteps departing. You start to take some deep breaths to regulate your breathing, empty and calm your mind. Turning the tap on, you feel the water start to hit your bare back. It relaxes you gradually, allowing your eyes to shut. Once your body felt okay, you started to actually shower. When you were done, you got dressed and went back out back into Capri’s bedroom. A mug of tea was waiting for you on the nightstand. You sat down, and right at that moment, Capri walked in.

“I know you said you didn’t want to eat anything, but I still brought some cookies up here if you wanted them later.” She sat right by you, “Do you feel better?”

Silently, you gave her a nod then put your legs under her duvet to keep warm. Capri strokes your cheek with her thumb, “That’s good.” Next, you took the mug and took slow sips of the beverage, just staring into space as you drank. Enjoying the silence, the peace…Capri’s company. You looked at her, then you simply couldn’t look away. You thought she looked so beautiful and your heart just skipped a beat. Smiling to yourself, she caught you looking. Capri chuckles, “Hi, you.”

You blushed, quickly looking away.

Her hand finds your thigh, caressing your skin tenderly. “Do you wanna watch TV?”

“Mm, no.” You told her, “Kinda just…wanna finish this drink and get some sleep.”

“That’s alright. Of course.” She said back, “Also, if anyone dares to say anything to you at school or anywhere…let me know and I’ll give them a piece of my mind. No one talks shit about my love and gets away with it. They need to know that they’re messing with the wrong person and be put in their place because our business isn't their business. It’s our relationship.”

“Maybe we dial back on the PDA a little?”

“That too, sure. As long as you feel comfortable, that’s all that matters. Because no matter what, you…are my girl. If you know it, and I know it. Who else needs to know? Not their business anyway.” She scooted closer to you, winding a careful arm around you.

“I really appreciate all of this, Capri. And you. Thank you.”

“You’ve said that enough, baby. I hear you, I know you are grateful. You don’t have to keep saying it. I’m just doing what I should do as a partner to help you. Keep you safe. So that we get to keep sharing our lives together.”

After a bit, you both got ready for bed and got under the covers. You habitually slept near the edge but quickly feel Capri pull you away from there and closer to herself. “Good night, my love.” She says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade, “Sleep tight.”

“Good night, Capri.” You replied, “I love you.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[myemuisemo]

Are we to get the story of the treasure in part 11 of The Sign of the Four in Letters from Watson? For a fleeting moment, it seems we shall.

Our English miscreant, Jonathan Small, is immediately made sympathetic, with "not an unpleasing" face and "keen, twinkling eyes." Small promptly blames the murder of the second Sholto twin on his Andaman Islands companion, Tonga, acting against Small's wishes. @penig was so, so right in commenting last time: "The native is ever an enigma to the colonizer, because the colonizer chooses that it be so."

In any case, we now have a metal box, which Watson refers to as "iron," but also as "Benares metal-work." In real life, the box would more likely be brass, with elaborate inscribed ornamentation of feathers, flowers, or even people, like this 19th century Benares brass casket.

However, Doyle is quite determined that the box is iron, "two-thirds of an inch thick." It has "a thick and broad hasp, wrought in the image of a sitting Buddha." That last gave me pause to look up concentrations of different religions in Varanasi (the modern romanization of the place's name).

Varanasi is 70% Hindu. Its history is also an irresistible rabbit hole that makes me want Middle Ages high fantasy stories set there -- it was the Paris of its region. While I was puzzling over whether using a Buddha meant something deliberate, versus just being exoticism all mixed up together, I scrolled down far enough to discover that Varanasi is a center of Buddhist pilgrimage, as Gautama Buddha first taught the dharma at nearby Sarnath.

I may have gasped "WTF?" when Watson got that chest open.

“The treasure is lost,” said Miss Morstan, calmly.

And that's why writing advice to eliminate adverbs is off-base. That "calmly" at the end is a delightful little whiplash against any reader expectations of Miss Morstan's emotions. Calmly. She's just been denied her golden ticket out of genteel poverty, and she's deadpan. She's fine with it. Admittedly, a life in which her only gold is the "dull metallic sparkle" of her blonde hair is also a life in which she can be loved for herself... but the forthrightness in her spirit to not be even a little tempted by money is impressive.

I adore this woman and hope that my cinnamon roll Dr. Watson treats her well as a wife. He will benefit from her common sense and firmness of spine.

And we still don't know what the story of the treasure is. Oh well.

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | ix

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

masterlist | taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader

Word Count: 21k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, morning sex, oral (m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, dom/sub, praise, degradation, pet names, name calling, multiple orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, nipple play, biting, brief mention of ownership and free use kink, abusive/toxic romantic relationships, mental illness/heavy descriptions/behaviour of borderline personality disorder, mentions of previous OD, heavy descriptions of addictions/addicts/addict behavior, heavy mentions of drug use (stimulants/narcotics), heavy mentions of relapsing, trauma bonds, descriptions of toxic/abusive parents, death of family members, PTSD/CPTSD behaviors/reactions/explanations, dissociation, trauma, triggered trauma responses, mentions of death/dying, absent parents, death of a parent, parents with active addictions, missing persons, police stations/reports, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, crying, mentions of blood/bleeding, mentions of self harm/self destructive behaviors, mentions of cheating, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, fighting, yelling, drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, sorry if I miss any 🤍

As always, please feel free to reach out to me if you need an ear, and know that you are not alone in whatever troubles you are facing. I’ve also included a list of helplines and resources for anyone who may be in need of them. I love you all so dearly.

Emergency substance abuse hotline (US): 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

Canadian Mental Health and Addictions Phone Line: 1-833-553-6983 | NEW: 9-8-8 for immediate crisis intervention

Virtual NA meetings and support (worldwide)

Canada’s complete comprehensive list of addiction helplines, inpatient/outpatient programs, and family support per province | UNITED STATES

Canada’s comprehensive list of domestic and family violence helplines and resources | UNITED STATES HOTLINE

Canada’s guide to mental health help and crisis intervention | UNITED STATES

If you are struggling with addiction or know someone who is, remember to inquire about Nalaxone kits at your nearest pharmacy, as many in Canada are active participants of the program. At participating locations and clinics, Naloxone kits are free of charge and accessible without a prescription or healthcare card. It is a fantastic and life saving tool to have on hand while waiting for EMS. There is also free online courses for Naloxone training to anyone who is interested.

Remember, no matter what is portrayed in fiction or media, the safest course of action for anyone suffering from an overdose (accidental or intentional) is to call 911.

If you are struggling with an abusive relationship or domestic violence, know and understand that you are not alone. You are heard, you are seen, and you are loved. We believe you, and we hear you.

Hi everyone 🤍 I love you all. A little bit of happiness after the rain. Thanks for sticking with me through this story. It means more to me than you know. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

And a very special thank you to @jakeyt. You have no idea how thankful I am for you and everything you do for me 🤍

July 26th, 2022 - 2:13 PM

The blanket below you was soft against your bare legs, the smell of the wildflowers potent around your head as the wind tousled the long grass behind you. The lake in front of you had small ripples over the surface, the blue water becoming more tempting the longer the sun beat down on the top of your head. Daniel was beside you, shirtless and only in his still-damp swim trunks from his earlier escapades. Ever so gently, the sweet melody of a Neil Young song reached your ears over the sound of nature surrounding you. The birds chirping in the sky rang like they were singing along.

The world was evil most of the time, but right now you could not refute the fact that it was the most beautiful it had ever been.

Your skin was warm, pink even despite the sunscreen slathered on it. The taste of strawberries on the tip of your tongue, about to be washed down with a grape picked from the container beside your leg. Danny had insisted on packing lunch before you left, firm on the fact that your healing process would only continue if you took the extra time to take care of yourself.

You had never been particularly good at doing that, but since he came around, he did an awful good job at picking up your slack.

Leaving when the morning chill was still in the air, you digested breakfast as you drove down the highway, hand in hand as the world passed you by. Still trying to process all that happened in the past few days, you had committed to finding happiness, even if you feared it was fleeting. Realizing that you needn’t look any further so long as he was beside you, it made the journey much less treacherous.

He hadn’t let you leave his sight since the day he thought he would lose you for good, and you couldn’t find a single complaint about the arrangement. The longer you spent with him, the more you understood that it was the only place in the entire world that you truly wanted to be.

Tired of missing out on the sun and laying in bed, you suggested going to the beach, which was something you never cared much for in the past. After an entire morning and early afternoon of sandy skin and uncomfortable heat, you knew exactly why you had made the sudden switch. Seeing Daniel, dripping wet with his hair stuck to his skin, the sun beating down on him and framing him in the most ethereal way, made the entire experience that much better.

“What are you thinking about?” Danny asked, the vibration of the strings slowing to a stop. As a person who typically hated disruption, you could not deny that the sound of his voice was a forever welcome distraction.

“I d’know.” You shrugged, feeling your skin sting as the sunburn continued to worsen. Still, you did not dare disrupt the serenity that you found yourself in, knowing that any ailment was worth an extra moment alone with him. “You, I guess.” You confessed, growing more comfortable with honesty and openness the more the days dragged on.

“What about me?” You noticed the corner of his lips pull upward, the crinkles by his eyes showing the longer he thought of it. Occupying your mind was his most favorite thing, and hearing about it only made it better.

“God, you’re pushy.” You chuckled, placing the container of grapes back on the blanket below as you reached into the neon yellow bag beside it, the plastic crinkling as you pulled out a wrapped candy. “Just… us. How peaceful this is.” Your words were limited, but the impact was not. His heart softened, the teasing tone dropping from his features in an instant. Vulnerability was steadily increasing, and he could tell that you were trusting him more by the minute.

That, he could not properly express his thankfulness for.

“You know, you never really told me why you always have these.” Danny said, noting the bag you were rummaging through. “Never really questioned it either, I guess.” He added, realizing he was at fault just the same.

That was something you loved most about him: his lack of hesitation to call himself out.

Sometimes, he did so when no fault was his, which frustrated you. Still, you couldn’t help but appreciate a man who was willing to confess to his own mistakes, rather than force them on you to evade the blame.

“Never woulda’ told you anyway.” You chuckled, placing the tarte candy against your tongue. Closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling, you felt the stress roll from your shoulders, allowing for a single second of relief. “Learned the trick a long time ago… can’t really remember how, but it did stick with me. Sometimes, when I’m craving something really badly, the thought gets stuck in my head… consumes me and everything, and I can’t move on from it. Can show up out of nowhere, even when I’m having a great day and I’m happy. Our brains are weird, and they work in weird ways. When I eat one of these—“ you pointed to the bag, swishing the now sweet candy around your mouth. “It like… completely rewires things up there. Least for a few seconds, anyway.”

“I see.” He hummed, studying you as you spoke. Typically, you wanted to shy away when someone’s eyes were on you for too long, but when it was him staring, you never wanted him to look away.

“Gives me a chance to think about it logically, instead of irrationally. When you want something that bad, the choice doesn’t really seem like it’s a choice at all. Sometimes, it feels like I’m going to die if I don’t use. I know that’s not true, but it really does feel like that. When I don’t have these, or something to distract myself with, it’s a bit… dangerous, I guess. Only realize it’s wrong after I made the mistake.”

“I don’t get it, but I can understand what you mean.” He replied. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

“What?” You laughed, your eyes darting from him to the sparkling surface of the lake, suddenly finding his attention overwhelming as the dreaded phrase left his lips. You hated anyone being proud of you for a few reasons, but the main one was the pressure that came along with it. When there’s no expectations, there’s nobody to let down. Letting him down had become one of your biggest fears, and him expressing his prideful feelings only made it worse.

“You don’t see how hard you’re trying, and that’s okay. I’m just glad I’m here to see it for you, now.” He continued, absentmindedly plucking at the strings again. “This week has been rough, and I know it’s taking a toll on you, but you just keep getting up and trying again. You don’t need to be hard on yourself for falling, Utah, s’long as you don’t stop trying to get up. Wish you could see it like I do.” There were plenty of things Danny wished you could see from his perspective, but being oblivious to your own triumphs had always been your biggest fault. Or, one of, at least.

Most of the time, it felt impossible to pat yourself on the back for anything. You never felt like you were doing anything right, that you were ever worthy of celebrating. In your head, it could always be better, you could always do better, and your past mistakes left you with little patience or kindness for yourself. You believed until you settled that score, until you made up for all of the bad, none of the good mattered.

It was a relentless pursuit for something you knew would never truly change. It did not matter how happy you were, how much charity and help you dished out, if you stayed sober for the rest of your life; your self worth would always be equated to the terrible person you had been so long ago, and the only thing that could alter that was fixing your perception of yourself, recognizing that humans can be good and bad all the same, that there was no keeping score.

It was really difficult to know the answers, to address and recognize the problems, but never have the tools or time to relate the two.

“Shut up, Michigan.” You forced a smile on your face, forcing the proclamation of love back down your throat as it threatened to break free. As you looked out at the rippling water, your eyes glazed over with wetness, you hoped it did not translate to your tone.

Your emotions had been all over the place lately, your highs better than ever before, but your lows detrimental and leaving you feeling like it would never ease up. The numbness was coming and going in waves, and it didn’t take much for any of those things to switch without a moment's notice. Your eyes were never dry and your heart was always heavy, but it was not always for bad like it was before. The surplus of love and the weight of your sadness was a deadly combination, but you were beginning to believe the kindness he extended and the care he exuded was the very thing helping you keep your head above water.

“You know I can’t do that.” He argued, a glimmer of light in his eye you had only ever seen him wear. It was unlike anyone or anything else, like the small flicker was actually the ignition of hope in your chest reflecting on his iris. “Someone has to tell you you’re doing a good job, and we both know that it won’t be you.”

“Didn’t you want to swim?” You laughed, shifting under the weight of his accusation. “Isn’t that why we came here? Didn’t think the plans called for you to call me on my shit all day.”

“Is there ever a plan, Utah?” He spoke gently, easing your overactive mind and assuring you it was not as serious as it felt. “And when there is, do we ever stick to it?” At that, both of you shared a smile, a moment of clarity amidst the heartfelt confessions and heaviness.

“Never. Not even once.” You agreed, the apples of your cheeks burning from your feelings for him, the sun irritating it even further.

The picturesque summer day, capturing the two of you in yet another moment that was seared straight into your heartstrings, made you wonder why it took so long. Why did you wait twenty four years, suffer through all of the horrible things that you feared you would not survive, to finally stumble across the very thing you had wished for so long? If you had met him long ago, would things have been different? If you had known him, that love could be so sweet and kind and forgiving, would living have felt like suffering the whole time?

Worst of all, if he had known you sooner, would you have gotten to love him at all, or would it have been another tragic tale to be added to the ever-growing list in your life?

You wanted to believe that everything happened for a reason, that divine timing was real and that your life was happening the way it was supposed to, but every angle of the theory was painful. Believing anything else seemed to hurt more. To heal, finding something bigger, something meaningful, was imperative. At the same time, it felt impossible to do so, because it all seemed unfair.

Having shit parents led to an addiction, an addiction led to you betraying yourself and everyone you loved, the betrayal caused you to lose your humanity, which left you on the ground outside of a hospital with nobody around to help you through it. That brought you to a treatment centre that gave you more debt than it ever gave help, which put you on a bus to New York. A job at a diner seemed to be your big break, your second chance, until you fell into Vincent’s trap. Rocky sobriety and being treated poorly caused you to run into Danny’s arms, which finally let you begin to heal.

If all the things that happened to you were meant to happen, planned meticulously by a higher power and predestined from your very first breath, why was it so cruel? Did a past life paint you as a monster that deserved repentance in the next? And if things happened the way they did for no reason at all, was it you that caused the problems? Were you so horrible and your judgement so poor that you caused your own suffering and inevitable demise?

The biggest stressor in your life was the endless stream of questions, the constant pondering of theories and ideas you knew you would never get an answer for. You found it difficult to enjoy the moment because you were so inquisitive about the past, and due to your constant fear of catastrophe (because it was the only thing you had ever known), happy always seemed to pass you by without you ever getting to appreciate it. You didn’t want to do that with Daniel, you wanted to appreciate him for all he was and all that he gave you, but even as you sat on the blanket on the warm summer day, you were still stuck in your head, hurting and relenting over things that mattered very little in the long run.

The sound of the guitar felt like an ode to your misery, an anthem for the hurt, fitting too perfectly yet oddly obscure all the same. You felt different, inhuman and without empathy. You were stuck in a box, feeling the outward forces of the world but not actively participating in them. Your wrist continued to move, writing words down on your journal page, but your mind was elsewhere. The functions were automatic, prompted from deep within your subconscious. It was all you knew how to do, and you could do it even with your mind elsewhere, but where your mind was you weren’t even sure.

It felt like you were making progress, every day pushing you further from the pain, but it hurt in a different way now. A longing, aching sensation deep in your chest to go back. You had been stuck in the horror for so long you did not know how to live without it, how to continue moving forward without the claws of the past stuck in your skin. You didn’t know how to be happy, how to feel anything other than indifference towards your every day routine. You felt like you missed it, even if you were eager to leave it all behind.

Worse than that, you could feel yourself healing. Your heart was mending with every tender moment you spent with Daniel, and the sensation was agony. Taking the right steps, doing the right things, remembering and forgetting and piecing it all together into one big puzzle so you could move on, hurt.

Your whole life, you listened to ranting and raving about healing—how it’s our job, our responsibility and duty to ourselves to make a better future for us and everyone around us, and you agreed. You knew it was best, and you still do. At the same time, you often wondered why it was your job to mend the parts of you that others broke, to clean up the mess someone else made. Everyone talks about healing, but nobody talks about accountability.

How are you supposed to heal if you never get apologies, or even just acknowledgements from the ones who did the things that broke you?

You knew you fucked up, there were things you did wrong and mistakes you made, reactions to others wrongdoings you wish you could take back and rewrite. You weren’t innocent, but you never lied about that. You never once pretended that you were. You didn’t think you were a good person, nor did you blame your actions on everyone else.

If healing is so important, then why did it seem like you were the only one who had to take on those burdens?

As you looked out at the water, your head ached as the thoughts pounded against your skull. It was just another tale you would never live to see the end of, a story that would forever remain unfinished. Closing your eyes and tapping back into the peacefulness that Daniel carried with him wherever he went, you found one last question crossing your mind.

Why does everyone talk about having to heal and the importance of it, but never seem to address how fucking difficult it is to do so?

“Danny?” You hummed out his name, placing your journal and pen on the ground beside you. Leaning forward and wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your chin rest on your knees as he once again slowed his fingers to a stop.

“Yeah?”

I love you.

“I…” you gulped down a breath, feeling a wave of fear wash over you. “I’m really lucky to have you.” As he caught your eye, you couldn’t help but feel a deep rooted sense of shame at your inability to confess your feelings. Still, in the chocolate colour of his irises, you could sense his heart. Although unspoken from both sides, he knew what you truly meant, and he felt the same.

“I’m lucky to have you.” He smiled, so soft and sweet that for a moment, nothing else existed. “I never thought that I would have this, either.” He confessed, his palm still muting the barely-there hum of the copper coated strings.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your fingers ruffling the edges of the plastic wrapper of the candy bag.

“You remember that night in the hotel in Jersey? We were a little drunk and too high?”

“F’course I do.” You nodded, pulling your legs to your chest and resting your cheek on your knees. As he spoke, you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his face. “I think about that night all of the time. Think that’s when things finally changed for me. I stopped being so scared and started opening up.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” He agreed, his tone laced with a soft lull in the middle of his statement, like the thought of it caught him in a moment of high emotion. “You told me you’ve never had anything like this, or like us.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding slightly as he spoke. You studied the sparkle in his eye as he recalled the racing of his heart and flutter of his stomach he felt when hearing such confessions, finding your body stuck in the same reaction as his way back then.

You wondered for a single second how it was possible for him to love you so deeply, even when you had no idea who he loved. Your sense of self was ever-changing, your perception of the world flipping on a dime and reflecting within yourself, starting in one direction and ending up miles from your intended destination. You loved him without ever having intent to love at all, let alone honing the capabilities to do so. You had cycled through a million versions of yourself in the short time you had known him, never staying stationary or even really moving.

Yet, despite your unknowns and uncertainty, he loved you the same, treating you with caution and knowing exactly what you needed, whether it was help to steady yourself or to encourage reform.

You were so grateful for his existence, and felt undeserving of his kindness. Still, you tried your very hardest to show him how much you truly appreciated it, even if you felt like it wasn’t enough sometimes (or, all of the time).

“I’ve never had anything like this, either. Thought I did a couple times, but it wasn’t… it was nothing like this. I started to think I never would, and then I met you.”

Embarrassed at your racing heart and blushed cheeks, you held back a small smile as you listened to his words, wondering how he never felt loved before you, how he never felt heard or cared about. You thought it was blasphemous that anyone could have the opportunity to love Daniel and then let it slip through their fingers, to not fight until their dying breath to keep him. At the same time, you were grateful for the fact, because that gave you the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Sometimes, I get the impression that you think you aren’t important, or that you aren’t important to me. Utah, I wonder if you’ll ever know that you’re everything to me. I’ll spend forever trying to prove it, but I worry that you’ll never believe me.”

“I think I’m starting to see it.” You whispered, the serenity of the scene around you touching your soul in ways you never thought you would experience before. “I definitely have a way of making things harder than they need to be, but I’m trying not to do that any more.” You paused, listening to the wind and the rippling water hit the shoreline. “Apple juice.”

“Apple juice.” He confirmed, a smile beginning to turn the corners of his lips.

“I think I’m healing, Michigan.” The words whirred past your lips in a flash, the air of your lungs chilling the skin as the proclamation barely reached his ears. Even you were surprised at the confidence that exuded from you, but it felt right.

His head cocked to the side ever so slightly, his lips parted as he breathed in the warmth of your statement. “I never thought I’d say that… and I know I still have a long way to go, but I finally feel… I don’t know, like I’m taking the right steps, that there’s hope, that it doesn’t have to be like this forever.”

“There is hope, Utah.” He agreed. “It doesn’t have to be this way forever, and you are taking the right steps. However long it takes, I’m here and I want to help. We're in this together, and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, even if you hate it when I say that.” His smile, infectious and awe-inspiring, struck one on your lips too.

“I’m starting to hate it a lot less, actually.” You whispered, sheepish but proud to admit it. “Guess that’s part of the whole healing thing.”

“I guess so.” He agreed, reaching across the distance and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Lifting your head slightly, you felt his palm cup your cheek, the peacefulness that came from his touch almost too much to comprehend. With the sun shining down on you, it was just another moment that passed you by, but a memory that you longed to live within forever.

𓇢𓆸

July 26th, 2022 - 4:58 PM

“No, Utah—“ a defeated sigh left Sam’s lips, the smell of sauce cooking on the stove surrounding the two of you as his head fell back on his shoulders. “That’s too—too, agh!” He exclaimed, so beside himself with grief he couldn’t even articulate his words.

“What, Sam?” You laughed, the blade of the knife resting on the wooden cutting board as you turned to look at him. “What’s wrong now?”

Yours and Sam’s adventures in cooking often prompted the same results every time. You, trying your best to follow his instructions with very little experience (especially for the strange but delicious recipes he often followed), and Sam appreciating the effort but always having something to say about it. Still, it was lighthearted and fun, and never once did you take it personally. From what you had grown to know about Sam, it was that he was odd and particular about certain things, and cooking so happened to be one of them.

“It’s just, you’re doing good, they just need to be a little… thinner. Just a smidge, okay?” He held up his thumb and forefinger, pinching them together to give a physical demonstration along with his words.

“Does it really matter that much?” You knew it was a stupid question, because to Sam—

“It always matters.”

“Okay.” You picked up the knife, bringing it back to the eggplant and adjusting it to the size he wanted. Carefully, you sliced another piece off, looking at him for approval as it toppled over onto the wood below.

“Perfect.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze along with a reassuring smile. “See, Utah? You’re learning.”

“Don’t really have any other choice.” You chuckled quietly. “Feels like you’re running Hell’s Kitchen, sometimes.”

“Oh, shut up.” You could hear the eye roll in his words despite not looking in his direction, your attention occupied with cutting the eggplant perfectly to avoid another one of his mini-meltdowns. Turning back to tend to the sauce, he didn’t offer any more conversation, which you were fine with.

Danny was off to the store to buy a few missing ingredients for dinner, and Sam insisted on you staying behind to help him with the rest of it. Although you were a bit put out that you weren’t going with Daniel, spending time with Sam had never been a problem for you. Plus, even if you would never admit it, cooking with him was giving you a surplus of helpful life skills that your parents seriously missed the mark on.

“So,” you could hear the ladle tapping on the side of the sauce pan, the noise faint as Sam began to speak again. “How are you feeling?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine.” You dismissed his question, a slight tremble in your fingers as you continued to work away at the eggplant. You hated being put on the spot, but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of the simple question.

“Yeah, right.” You could hear him opening a can of something behind you, but you did not turn to look. “Come on, Y/N. I know you better than that.”

“Seriously, Sam. M’okay.” You tried again, now finished cutting and moving on to placing the eggplant slices on a paper towel to let them dry as Sam instructed. “I mean, all things considered, I’m alright.” You shrugged, knowing deep in your heart he wouldn’t dare let it go so quickly.

“Well… what about the things not considered?”

“What?” You laughed, caught off guard and finding his nuances comedic.

“You know,” he shrugged too, trying to pass off his prying nature as something lighthearted. “What are the things not considered, Utah?” His brown eyes stared straight through you, causing you to shift on your feet and your throat to tighten.

“How do you do that?” You broke, your cool and calm facade fading in an instant.

“Do… what?” He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his face as he saw the clear emotion in your eyes.

“Fuck off, Sam.” You smiled, a huff of air passing your lips as you leaned against the countertop. “I guess there’s a lot that isn’t considered.”

“Go on.” He gave a slow nod, prompting you to keep talking.

“Like… this crushing guilt. The responsibility.”

“What do you mean?”

“I played a part too, yaknow? And I’m painting him as this monster when I—“ he held up his hand, silencing you before you could continue, giving his head a slight shake.

“No, Utah.” He spoke softly now, almost sad as he said it. “Whatever you’re feeling, yes it’s valid, but it doesn’t make it true.” Your gaze averting to the floor, you felt the same heaviness in your chest that plagued you off and on for the last few days. It was new, more visceral and definitely more intense than before. You began to wonder if you would ever be fully free from it, or if it was just another thing you would have to learn to live with. “Whatever you did or didn’t do, has nothing to do with what he did. I don’t know the guy, but I know enough about him to tell you that. He’s probably been working hard for a long time to make you think all of this is your fault, but it isn’t. What he did was horrible, but it would have happened no matter if you fought back or not, even if not that night. Hell, Utah, if it didn’t happen to you, it would have happened to someone else. Even though you were in the equation, you weren’t even a variable.”

For some reason, hearing Sam say such things hit you with an intensity never quite felt before. You heard the same things, the same ideas, but you never really believed it. When he said it, you understood.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cut you off, or whatever… just don’t want you thinking that it’s your fault. You have no reason to feel guilty, and you have no need to feel responsible. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. The wrong girl with the wrong guy. The right heart in the wrong hands.” He listed, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “And I hope now that you’re being loved by someone else, with that heart in the right hands, you can see that too. If not now, then at least someday.”

“I love you, Sam.” The phrase slipped out as smooth as silk and as soft as a foot can fall. You didn’t blink twice, nor truly register the extent of the statement until it hung heavy in the air for a moment, even Sam stunned by your unapologetic boldness. Shocking to you too, you didn’t feel panicked as the dreaded word danced around your head. For the first time ever, it was comfortable. Loving people and being loved wasn’t war. It was safe.

“I love you, Utah.” He replied, just as relaxed as he professed the fact. “What else is beating around up there?”

“I dunno,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “Guess it’s just hard. I mean, sleeping together and feelings aside, he was a huge part of my life. We did everything together—him, Dylan and I… we were partners in crime. I always knew he wasn’t the best, but having to come to terms with him being a horrible person and grieving the loss of the routine is hard. I don’t feel right talking to Danny about it, ‘cause I don’t wanna give him the wrong idea. I hope you get what I mean.”

“I do.” He assured you, giving the sauce in the pot a slight stir. “Utah, it’s hard to lose anyone. Someone with that much history… of course I get it. It’s just important to me that you deal with that healthily, and you continue to remember why you have to stay away. If you don’t wanna talk to Daniel about it, that’s okay. You can always talk to me, about anything, anytime. I know you’re weird with that stuff, but it doesn’t change that.”

“I know, and I’m trying to not be so weird about it. Guess I just… When you grow up being punished for talking about your feelings, it makes it hard to do it as an adult. Actually, it made a lot of things hard as an adult.” You explained, sprinkling the tops of the eggplant with salt before placing another paper towel atop of them to dry them out a bit.

“And I’m sorry that I don’t understand that part, but I promise I can try my best to. That's what friends do, after all.” He gave you a small smile and a sideways glance, nudging you with his elbow ever so slightly. A small giggle falling from your lips, you finally began to feel the safeness of the home to its fullest extent. Danny and Sam were unlike anything you had ever experienced, so kind and understanding, so patient and so loving. Whatever family they felt within each other, you knew you were undoubtedly a part of it, and it warmed a piece of your heart that you never thought could be touched again.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, Sam.” You assured him, scraping the vegetable scraps into the garbage can and placing the cutting board and knife into the sink.

“How is that empty feeling? Still sticking around, or has it gotten better?” He pulled a glass baking dish from one of the cupboards and carefully sat it on the table as he spoke, the gentle clanging breaking up the heaviness of his question.

“The same, I guess.” You felt defeat sink your shoulders as you thought about it, knowing that the heavy and the empty was a forever type of thing. “It never really goes away, honestly. It’s just easier to ignore when I’m around other people.” You washed your hands, taking a moment longer than necessary to let the hot water scald your skin, almost liking the pain that it brought with it.

You never wanted to believe you had a knack for self harm or punishment, but every single one of your actions and decisions proved otherwise. Even if it was mindless or unintentional, you always seemed to lead yourself down a path that would end in pain. For a long time, you never understood why. As you grew older, you started to accredit it to the burgeoning emptiness in question. When you’re numb, even pain is preferable to nothing.

“Has it gotten worse?” You weren’t really sure how to answer that.

What level of nothing is worse than the last?

You supposed that it was possible for it to be worse, and it was. At the same time, it wasn’t constant. It was a hard emotion to explain because there wasn’t really any emotion behind it. That, and you never had to try to explain it before.

“Uh, yes and no?” You gave a dry laugh, mostly to yourself, embarrassed over your inability to properly express yourself at the age of twenty-four.

“You don’t seem so sure of yourself.” He laughed too, keeping it lighthearted in hopes of keeping you comfortable.

“I guess not.” You grinned, drying your hands on the kitchen towel. “It isn’t constant, but when it comes, it gets pretty bad.” Just as you finished, you heard the familiar sound of wheels on pavement outside, and not long after, Rose’s bark of warning. “But it’s okay. I’ll be okay.” You concluded, feeling your chest tighten at the thought of explaining the feeling to Danny, too. Sam understood your desire to shut the conversation down, respecting your desire to tell him on your own time, and busied himself at the stove.

“How about we go for a walk in the morning? Get some fresh air, some sun… just you and me… and Rose, of course.” He offered, knowing there was still many things you wanted to get off your chest. “Can talk a little more, get you out of the house with no other obligations.” Although he didn’t specify, you understood and appreciated what he meant.

“Yeah… that sounds really nice, actually.” You replied, an unfamiliar feeling ravaging your brain. It was unexplainable, so nice to be seen, to be heard, and for someone to want to for no other reason than want itself and the desire to know. You were still getting used to it from Sam, and even Daniel, though you had a bit more time to grow accustomed to Daniel’s keen ear.

“It’s a date then.” He grinned, finishing just as Daniel stepped through the front door with a bag of groceries. With a smack on Sam’s arm and a sheepish wave to Danny, you couldn’t help but feel you were exactly where you needed to be.

July 27th, 2022 - 7:02 AM

In the soft summer breeze drifting through the cracked window, the curls laying atop Danny’s shoulders fluttered and brushed your arm, tickling the skin and warming your heart. Waking up next to Daniel was and always had been the best and most beautiful part of your day. Turning on your side, finding yourself settled between his arm and his chest, you had never felt more at peace than when your head laid to rest on him. He was awake, you knew as much, but just as groggy and intent to enjoy the moment. Instead of speaking, greeting you verbally, his large hand curled around your back and pulled you closer to him, his fingers making home on your ass as the tips brushed the hem of your underwear on your hip.

Every time you found yourself in the position, you couldn’t help but notice how perfectly the two of you fit together, and more importantly, how nothing else had ever felt so right in your entire life. You draped your arm across him, only managing half the task as your hand settled on his stomach just above the band of his boxers.

You started the mornings this way most often, never intending for anything more yet always finding yourself in search of it.

You felt his head shift on the pillow, turning inwards towards your head as he placed a kiss to the top of it. You barely hummed a noise of content, but he could feel the rattle of your chest as you tried to melt into him further. The sticky summer air made home in the room, the morning dew long gone from the grass as the sun beat down on the ground. Leaving the window open always left you in the same spot, yet you could never find the energy to close it before your eyes forced themselves to sleep at night, your hearts too heavy with love and your mind at ease.

As his fingers traced the elastic band of your underwear, innocent and mindless, yours did the same to him. Your eyes were heavy again, threatening sleep, but your rapid heart wouldn’t allow you to return to the state so long as it had any say in the matter. Lazily, you pressed your lips to the body you laid atop of, a quiet show of affection in hopes of expressing how much he meant to you. In your ear, you could feel the thump of his own heart against his breastbone, quickening as your lips grazed his skin and giving him away entirely.

Absentmindedly, your hand drifted downward, still not intending to start anything but certainly not opposed to the idea. Again, you noticed his body react to your miniscule movements, especially as your hand met his dick, already hard and anticipating your next move.

Your mornings with Daniel were special just because you woke up next to him, but mostly because this was how you started nearly every day.

As your fingers closed around him over the thin fabric, little force behind the movements, you felt his hips raise to meet your touch. With a small smirk forming on your lips, you decided to let him suffer for a single moment. As you remained still, he took the opportunity to slip his hand under your underwear, his palm landing flat against your ass as his fingers tightened around the flesh. The feeling produced a sensation deep in the pit of your stomach, making you understand for a moment what you were doing to him.

Underneath your shirt (which, as always, belonged to him), you felt your nipples harden. You were sure he felt it too, the thin fabric doing little to conceal you as your body was pressed against his. The earliest hours of the morning, still stuck in a dreamlike state, always left your senses heightened and your body reactive.

Though, as you’d come to know, it was mostly credited to him. He had the ability to elicit a reaction just by looking your way, and he often used it to his advantage.

Fully flush against him, you took the time to appreciate the security the position granted you, the safety and the comfort it provided. When you were with him, the whole world felt still, like nothing could touch you and hurt could not know you. You wished you could exist within the bubble of comfort forever, to love him without interruption and enjoy him without any distraction. In all truth, when you focused on his company enough, you began to think you already were existing within it constantly.

Reaching across with his free hand, you were a mess of limbs as his other palm cupped your breast, the scratchy cotton of the t-shirt and the pressure from his hand against your nipple causing your thighs to squeeze together. A growing ache between your legs began to pester you, but you didn’t worry too much about it—in due time, he would ensure that was taken care of.

With little care, he enjoyed every second of touching you, feeling so incredibly lucky he was the one who got to experience every morning with you.

Letting his thumb drift over your nipple, feeling the tense of your body underneath his hands, made him remorseful that he could not see the beauty of your face. You felt all of the same things, and as if you read his mind, tilted your head upwards to catch a glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. The morning light flickering through the window casted a golden glow over his features, the shadow of his nose falling over his sun kissed skin. The days spent outside darkened the freckles dusted over the bridge of it, speckled on his cheeks in constellations you were desperate to be an expert on.

“Good morning, beautiful.” His morning rasp was like music to your ears, just sweet enough to keep the tempo but gruff enough to further the feeling blossoming in the pit of your stomach. “Sleep well?”

“Always, cause I’m sleepin’ next to you.” You smiled, noticing the curl of his eyelashes against his under eye as you blinked, wondering if anyone ever loved him so much that they studied all the intricacies like you did. It was a conflicting thought, because although Daniel was impossible not to love thoroughly and completely, you also did not believe anyone loved anyone as much as you loved him.

“Funny, ‘cause I was about to say the same thing.” He said, applying a little more pressure to his thumb. Your breath caught in your throat, your thighs giving another pathetic squeeze and barely satiating the ache.

“That is funny,” you agreed, your tone breathy as he mindlessly worked at you, barely realizing the extent of the effect he had on you. Your hand, still on his clothed cock, did nothing to aid your swarm of thoughts all pertaining to the same thing.

“Something wrong?” He smiled, cheeky as he asked the question he already knew the answer to. You managed a small shake of your head, your eyes silently pleading with him to take care of the issue he already knew you were having. “Hmm?” He pressed further, his love of torment not even leaving him in the mornings, when the love was the most soft and tender.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, only half-annoyed with his words. “Or, put your mouth to better use.” You offered the alternative, not expecting much of a response from him. Still, you felt him tense ever so slightly, thrilled at the thought of it but not jumping to action.

“Expect to get but not give?” The hand on your ass tightened, easily forcing your hips into his as he spoke. “Selfish, no?”

Instead of a verbal response, you leaned forward, your lips ghosting over the toned muscles in his abdomen. A labored breath took him by surprise, not expecting you to be so willing without at least a bit of a fight. You eased your hold on him, instead curling your fingers around the elastic of his boxers and freeing him from them. Pushing the thin cotton sheet away from him, there was nothing standing in between you and him any longer.

You inched your upper half lower, your chest settled on his hip as you wasted little time bringing your mouth to the tip of his cock. Carefully, you let your tongue trace over it, your eyes fluttering closed as the saltiness of his pre-cum filled your senses. Flattening your tongue against him, you heard a low groan rattle his chest, causing your thighs to rub together now, desperation quickly filling the room. You pulled back for just long enough to let a trail of spit fall, then returned to him as if you had never left at all.

Taking him into your mouth, you settled your tongue on the topside of his cock as you bobbed your head a bit lower, feeling him throb against you as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

If only he knew how happy you would be to do only this for the rest of your life, he never would have challenged you at all. If only you were brave enough to tell him, you wouldn’t have had to worry about it at all.

One hand still on your ass, kneading the flesh gently as his other raised to your hair, brushing it from your face and balling it in his fist as you continued to work at him. Now, familiar with the feeling, you took him further into your mouth. As you relaxed your jaw and took him all the way, you felt his hips jut forward as his tip glided down the back of your throat. You let out a low hum, the vibration sending him crazy as his fist tightened in your hair.

Letting him lead the way, he used your hair as leverage to set a pace, moving your head while still being mindful of your comfort and breathing. Although his actions made it seem like he was in control, you knew that it was always you who held the reins.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, quiet and gentle as his head fell back on the pillow below him. Your eyes were closed, a picture of his bliss filled expression clear in the blackness of your mind and making you envious that you could not see it. At the same time, you were grateful to be doing what you were, considering yourself more than lucky to be the one who got to do it with him. “Such a sweet little thing—always so good to me.” The praise felt like lead in the pit of your stomach, half-tempting you to reach between your legs and relieve some of the pressure that was worsening by the minute. Instead, you balled the comforter up in your fist, trying your best to distract yourself from the urge and focus on pleasing him.

The feeling of him in your mouth was enough to get you off, knowing how good you were making him feel enough to drive you insane. The dull ache in your jaw reminded you that you were doing a good job, and the sweet noises falling from his lips kept you going. On every upstroke of your head, you took a moment to trace your tongue over his tip, living for the slight tremble of his legs and the catch of his breath in his chest.

Just as you felt him the back of your throat again, a knock on the door sent your eyes wide open and your movements to halt. Danny, with his hand still in your hair, did not push you even if he wanted to.

“S’okay, baby, he’ll go away.” He assured you, keeping a hushed whisper so the man on the other side of the door could not hear you. Giving a gentle nod, you continued on with your earlier pace, not willing to stop when you had just begun.

As you grew comfortable with the sensation again, another knock sounded on the door, but this time, Daniel continued to guide your head so you did not stop.

You hated to admit it, but it only seemed to turn you on further.

“What’s up?” He called out, the lull in his voice could easily be accredited to being groggy from waking up. He was doing relatively well to remain composed, and you had little worry that Sam knew what was happening behind the closed door.

“Got a date with Utah, remember? Hand her over.” He joked through the door, clearly not knowing exactly what he was interrupting (or, nearly interrupting). “She up yet?”

“No,” Danny lied easily, his eyes flickering to the back of your head as a smirk formed on his lips. As your head came down on him, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet the time of your action, inhaling deeply through his nose to calm his nerves. “She didn’t sleep well last night—I’ll wake her up in a little bit, but not yet.”

“Okay,” you could hear the hesitancy in his voice, like he was only agreeing because of the circumstances. “But not too long, you know—“

“Sam.” Danny cut him short, no different than he would any other day. When it came to your wellbeing, he was unwilling to debate it, even if it was as miniscule as an extra half an hour of sleep. You knew that although he was saying it as a cover, his frustration with Sam disregarding your comfort was very real.

“Sorry, yeah.” He conceded. “Whenever she wakes up is cool with me.” With that, you heard his footsteps fade away to the kitchen, leaving the two of you to finish what you started.

Sloppy and careless, you let him fall from your lips and ran your tongue down the length of him, feeling him shudder ever so slightly as you came back up and took him back in. A strangled cry left his lips, muffled as he tried to silence himself so he did not give the two of you away.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, feeling your throat close around him as you swallowed him down. You could feel his need, radiating from him as he continued to hold your head in place and fuck your mouth. You had come to realize that being used by him was one of your most favorite pastimes. “God, you take it so fucking well.” At the sound of his words, you were sure your arousal had soaked straight through your panties and began to make a mess of your inner thighs. His hand still on your ass, warm and strong as he held you, the feeling more encouraging than anything else in the universe.

You tried to steady your breathing, to blink away the tears stinging your eyes as he used you as he wished, wanting to make the most of his pleasure and give him what he needed. The rise of a gag in your throat was more pressing with every upward thrust of his hips, but you swallowed it back and inhaled through your nose, trying your best to focus on the intoxicating taste of him on your tongue and the beautiful noises falling from his lips, hushed and whispered so you knew how good you made him feel.

Comfortable with the thought of him finishing in your mouth, you were almost hopeful he would, just so you could try to begin to thank him for all he had done for you in the last few weeks. When you felt him twitch on your tongue, a telltale sign, you felt your heart thrum in your chest with excitement. Then, not long after you bargained with the feeling, he was pulling you off of him by your hair, letting out a long sigh to calm himself down.

Catching your breath, you raised the back of your hand to your face to swipe away the lingering spit on your skin, your stomach twisted in a knot as he used his hand to guide you back on the mattress. As he twisted onto his side, his sleepy eyes staring down at your face, he noticed the disappointment lingering in your features. He raised a hand to your cheek, a gentle thumb swiping over your blushed skin as he gave you a smile. “Don’t want all of the fun to end before I get to fuck you.” He reminded, his voice low and gravelly as he dropped his hand to your chest. Slowly, he let his fingers graze over your nipple again, causing a flood of pleasure to fill you yet again.

As his hand reached the hem of your shirt, your mouth was dry and your throat was tight, so thrilled at the thought of him touching you that your entire body was in shock. His rough fingertips scratched the soft skin just above your panty line, leaving you shuddering below his touch. His hand drifted further down, grazing the arousal soaking through the fabric. Gently, he settled his touch just over your clit, the miniscule friction causing you to squirm. Your hips raised ever so slightly, desperate for more and unafraid to show it. The need you felt for him was primal, and sometimes you feared you would succumb to it.

“All this just for me?” He asked, leaning down and letting his lips graze your neck. The soft tickle forced your eyes closed, sending your hand out in search of him as a dire need to touch him took hold.

“It’s all for you.” You confirmed, your tone breathy as you felt his tongue trace the pulse point of your neck.

“You’re too good to me, baby.” He hummed, the taste of you arguably the sweetest thing he had ever experienced. The smallest huff left your lips as he applied a touch more pressure, his lips suctioned to your neck as he left pink marks on your skin, desperate for you to remember the shared morning long after it passed.

He loved to take his time with you, feel how your body reacted to every slight touch and whispered word, how your eyes clouded and your breathing quickened when he did something that you loved. His favorite pastime was you, dedicating himself to learning you better than anyone ever had, becoming an expert on the one thing that made him want to fall to his knees. Every sound that fell from your lips, the hitch of your breath in your throat, the pull of your body forcing him closer—it was all worse than any drug he could think of, his addiction pertaining to the only thing in the world that could actually give back.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked, his fingertip slick with your arousal without even actually touching you yet. You felt a whine rise in your chest, beside yourself knowing that you had any effect on him at all. “Every day, every fucking night, you are the only thing I can think of.” His lips were hovering over your ear, his words loud despite being spoken so softly. As his sentence drew to a close, he pushed the fabric aside and finally let himself feel the mess he knew he was responsible for. The tip of his middle finger settled over your entrance, the slickness of your skin causing his brain to short circuit for a moment before he trailed the wetness all the way up to your clit.

You squirmed under the touch, the sensation immediately overwhelming and invigorating. The simple action seemed to set your soul on fire, the sensation turning you to ash from the inside out. You had spent your entire night dreaming of him, picturesque images of him doing these exact things, whispering the same words. The parallels made you wonder if you were still dreaming or if everything truly was this perfect for the first time in your whole life.

Tracing slow circles, his head raised from the crook of your neck just enough to catch a glimpse of your face. His eyes burned into you, blackened with lust and sheen with desire as he watched every shift in your expression. The way your hair framed the beauty of you, tickling your cheeks that were stained red. The part of your lips, pink and tempting him every time he paid too much attention to them. Catching himself struggling with holding back, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours, the taste of you intoxicating and to him, completely irresistible.

By the time he drew back, his middle and index finger had fallen back to your entrance, slowly pushing into you as he settled his thumb over your clit. The combination of the two feelings caused your eyes to roll back for a moment, your body melting into the mattress and his touch, leaving you a mess below him. He was leaned against you, not willing to miss out on a single second of closeness as he worked you up to an orgasm.

“God, Danny.” You breathed, catching his eye for just long enough to show him how good you were feeling. He let out a deep hum, the vibration of his chest running straight through you to your heart.

“Does that feel good, honey?” He asked, a touch of a snide twang in his tone, cocky and already knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“F-feels so good.” You nodded, feeling his head return to its earlier resting place and his tongue trace over your skin once again, just to add to the feeling.

“You know I’d do anything to make you feel good, Angel.” He continued, the precision of his thumb and the curl of his fingers already pushing you near the edge. “But you’d take anything, hmm? Whatever I want to do to you, you’d like it, and you’d let me.” As the sharp words reached your ears, the tips of his fingers brushed your g-spot, curling your toes and arching your back. He could feel you shift underneath you, smiling at the reaction as he awaited your response.

“F-fuck, yes.” You hissed, your fingers curled around his bicep tightening as your nails scratched against his skin. You could feel the muscle flex involuntarily, only forcing your mind to even filthier places.

“Why is that, honey?” He asked, his voice sickly sweet as he whispered the words into your ear. Feeling you clench around him, pulling him in further only worsened his tyranny, his head swimming with nothing but vulgarity and obscenity. “Want to hear you say it.” You followed up his statement with a muffled, hushed whimper, your teeth holding your bottom lip hostage as you tried your best to keep yourself quiet.

“Cause I’m yours,” you gasped, the sound taking you by surprise when you freed your lip to speak. He chuckled, the gentle roll of his shoulders bringing you back to reality for a moment.

“That’s it, baby.” He encouraged, keeping his thumb and fingers in time as he sped his pace. “‘Cause you belong to me. You’re mine.” He reiterated the point, making sure you could never forget it. Possessiveness was not his forte anywhere aside from the bedroom, but he made sure to always take the opportunity to let you know when the two of you found yourselves in such a position. You never found the ability to express it quite the way you wanted to, but being his was the best thing you had ever been.

The euphoria that came along with the claim worsened the pressure in the pit of your stomach and forced a moan straight from your chest. The minute it left your lips, you tried to swallow it back, but it bounced off the walls and made a home in the wood. You hoped it did not extend beyond the door, because both of you were wishing to keep Sam in the dark about what was happening in the room. Your cheeks burned red, embarrassed at your sudden outburst, but Danny did not seem phased at all. Instead, he spoke so quietly and carefully, kindness exuding from him as his lips brushed your skin again.

“Shh, baby.” Danny cooed, his lips so close to your ear that it sounded like he was inside your head. His voice was soft, gentle, but it was driving you crazy. The warmth of his breath sent your hair raising on the back of your neck, goosebumps littering your skin as you raised your hips from the bed to meet the time of his hand. His thumb, drifting over your clit with unwavering focus as his fingers curled inside you, brushing the sensitive spot he’d grown to know so well. “Wouldn’t want Sam to hear you, hmm?”

He was hovering over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress ever so slightly, something that would normally feel so constricting suddenly feeling like home. The thud of your heart against his own froze the two of you in time, your eyes locked on his face as your teeth bit down on the inside of your lip. Your stomach was twisted into knots, the need pulsing under your skin and driving you to the brink of insanity.

“That’s it, baby.” He hummed, his pace never slowing and his movements calculated and driven. He could feel the flutter of your walls, pulling him in even further and tempting you with eternity. For the briefest moment, you believed you could survive solely off his praise alone so long as you were nestled under the strength of his arms until the world burned away below you. “That’s my girl—being so good for me.”

“O-oh, fuck.” You gasped, feeling a particularly sharp pull of pleasure in the pit of your stomach. The words followed by a whine from deep in your chest, pushing through your throat and getting stuck in your teeth as you tried to swallow it back.

Catching on to the fact you were having trouble containing yourself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing down the sounds with little hesitation the taste of him on your lips only worsened the intensity of the moment, and as his tongue tied with yours, he essentially doused the raging fire with a new wave of gasoline.

As he kissed you, you felt the million secrets that once existed between you dissolve into nothing; your soul, bared and open for the taking, was all his. Everything you ever were, everything you would ever be, was tangled with his name and tainted with his touch. Once, long ago, you believed it would be a bad thing for one person to exist on so many plains, to be embedded in every aspect of your life, but as time continued on, you understood that there was no other way to live. From the moment he walked into your life, you only ever wanted to be his, and every intimate moment only further cemented the notion in your mind.

You were his girl, and it was the best feeling in the entire world.

It was overwhelming, all-consuming, ethereal and beautiful just as much as it was concupiscent and vulgar, sinful and immoral. What you felt for him was something you never knew existed, a feeling often spoken about in fiction and poetry, yet never felt on the mortal level and certainly never reciprocated. The yearning that constantly held your heart in chains would send you straight to the pits of hell, and you would suffer every second for eternity because experiencing him once was worth it all.

You wanted to cry his name, to tell him of all the love you held for him in your body, but he ensured not a single sound could slip past your swollen and spit-slicked lips. Your lungs burned, aching for a breath as he poured his heart into you and bled himself dry all for your sake. You could feel him against your thigh, the strain of his boxers as he continued to torment you in the most fantastic ways. You felt greedy, gluttonous to want more and need more, but when it came to him, you never knew when to stop. The erratic rhythm of his heart against his chest, every tick in time with your own as his scorching skin laid atop yours. With every flex of his arm, stretch of his torso, the friction against your already hard and sensitive nipples sent a rush of energy straight to your core, forcing you closer to the steep edge.

“Come on, beautiful. Show me how good it feels.” He encouraged, the pattern of his movements never changing. You shuddered at the idea of him wanting it more than you did, overwhelmed by the fact he cared so deeply about you. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and with every pump of his fingers you were nearing closer and closer. “Don't be shy, baby.” He continued, the sound of his voice always the driving force behind every orgasm.

The permissive statement sent you spiraling, your legs trembling as a wave of pleasure took hold and washed over every nerve in your body. You held him tightly, keeping yourself grounded as you fought back the noises begging to escape. In hopes of silencing yourself, you turned your head to the side and buried your head in his neck, your lips pressing to his skin as your throat ached to cry out. Not once did he slow, ensuring to keep his time so he could work you through the feeling as much as he could.

“There you go, Angel.” He whispered. “Such a good girl.” You felt your hips lock, your stomach burn as the sweet praise filled your ears. Your skin was tingling, your lungs burning as you denied them any breath in hopes of silencing yourself further.

Only when you relaxed against the bed did he remove his hands from you, but not because he was finished with you. Instead, he rose to his knees, moving one of your legs to the side so he could slip between them. Still high off the orgasm, you barely noticed the shift in position until he was towering over you.

When you came-to and the blur of your eyes settled, you saw the flicking summer sun illuminating his face and chest as he stared down at you. Your mouth ran dry, the beauty of the sight almost debilitating for a brief moment. Then, as if he was trying to make it even worse for you to keep your composure, he raised his middle and index finger to his mouth, parting his lips just enough to settle the digits on his tongue. His eyes fluttered closed in bliss as the taste of you filled his senses, and as he pulled his fingers from his mouth, a low groan rattled his chest.

“If I could have you just like this for the rest of my life, I’d never need anything else.” He confessed, his hands ghosting over your thighs as he pushed your legs towards your stomach. Smitten and at a loss for words, you watched as he anchored his hands around the front of your legs and pulled you down towards him. The curve of your ass fit perfectly against him, his cock resting against your cunt as he positioned you to his liking.

Slowly, he ran himself through you, gathering all of your arousal on him before he lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed his hips forward slightly, just his tip pushing into you. Even that feeling was euphoric, and you knew what was to come would only be better. With your knees nearly to your chest, every time he moved, no matter how miniscule, you felt it with heightened intensity.

“I just can’t get enough of you.” He confessed, finally pushing his hips forward all of the way. The feeling of fullness was otherworldly, the position he had you in causing the tip of his cock to brush your cervix. Slowly, he began to move, wanting to make sure you were comfortable before anything else.

Biting down on the tip of your tongue, you still found it difficult to stay quiet. Him being inside you was the most pleasant feeling in the entire world, more intoxicating the longer it lasted. Your head was still swimming from your previous climax, your body sensitive and still craving more as he slowly withdrew and pushed himself back inside of you. The ethereal light that shined over him stole the breath straight from your lungs, forcing you to wonder how you got so lucky. Since the very beginning, you had never felt like you deserved him, and as time dragged on and you continued to subject him to your mess of a life, the thought only pestered you more.

He was the most beautiful thing the world had to offer, and you were just thankful to be able to love him, no matter if it was just for a moment or if it turned into forever.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” He sighed, his thrusts not fast but forceful, the power behind his hips bordering painful as he slammed back into you, yet you couldn’t get enough. “Just like you were fucking made for me, baby.” At that, you felt a flood of emotion straight to your core, your body loosening up for him a little more with each word that fell from his lips. The tiniest moan fell from your lips, quiet enough that you both knew nobody heard it, yet enough to catch his attention. “Does that feel good, beautiful? This is what you wanted?”

“Fuck, yes.” You muttered, your hands in search of his head as your fingers tangled in the locks of his hair. He leaned down a little further, allowing you to hold him with ease as he continued to fuck into you. His fingers on your hips were driving you crazy, holding you tight enough that you could feel the sting over the blinding pleasure. When the day turned into night again, you knew finger shaped bruises would decorate the skin, a perfect replica of the hand of the man you loved so dearly. The thought of them fading away brought an air of sadness to your heart despite them never having graced your skin yet.

You could feel the pressure building in your belly again, the warmth beginning to take over and begging you to let go. You never had much resistance to him, never a desire to hold back and never the ability to do so anyway. Losing your sanity little by little, the looseness of your lips increased and the silence ceased. Every so often, a sigh or a muffled cry would tear from your chest, and as much as Daniel didn’t want to get caught, the sound of your enjoyment was much more important to him.

Still, as he noticed your lack of poise, to spare you the embarrassment from the relentless teasing Sam would dish out, he raised one of his hands to your mouth, his large palm fitting nicely over your lips as his hips continued to move. You weren’t sure why the small action was so attractive to you, but the power he held over you in the moment. The pressure of his hand on your jaw mixed with the pulsing sensation that seemed to radiate through your entire body was nearly unbearable, and without and warning, your second orgasm washed over you and left you a mess beneath him, which was exactly what he wanted.

“There you go, sweet girl.” He whispered, his eyes squeezing shut to block out the sight of your blissful expression. He knew the longer he focused on it, the easier it would be to let go, and he wasn’t ready to end the moment just yet. “God, you take it so fucking well.” He complimented you as he continued to fuck you, the bed frame rocking and scratching against the expensive wood panelling below. There were marks all over the Airbnb, all over the small community on the outskirts of New York that would remain for eternity, reminders and memories of the love the two of you shared, haunting and beautiful all the same.

Not a single thing the two of you touched was left unscarred, seared with your heart and emboldened by your soul. Everywhere you looked, a trail of love was left behind, and you were sure even long after he left you would still be able to see the light he once brought to your life. Whether you were with him in Nashville or stuck by yourself in New York, the world was forever changed by his presence. You used to think it was for the worst, but now you knew how fantastic it was to have living reminders of the joy he brought to your life.

You would never regret loving him, and you would never forget what it felt like to do so. What he had done for you, the love he gave you and the warmth he casted upon you had permanently altered your brain and the world around you. It changed your life, the way you looked at yourself, and the way you looked at everyone else. It had given you the confidence to stand up for yourself, to learn and place boundaries, and to heal. You did the hard work, but having him there to hold your hand was the greatest gift you had ever received, the biggest motivation you had ever encountered.

Just knowing he existed made it so easy for you to want the best for you and him, whether that be together or apart. Knowing he existed gave you the strength to do the work you had been avoiding.

Being loved by him made it so much easier to stick to it, and to stand back up when you fell down rather than lay and wait for the worst to come.

You owed it not just to him, but to yourself, to continue to get better and be better. A better future was within reach, and you could almost taste the freedom that came along with it. You no longer wanted to stay dormant to protect the little peace you had left. You did not want to turn a blind eye to help or hope. You wanted to put in the effort, to hurt for reason instead of for nothing. You knew it would be hard work, but this time the struggle was worth it.

As you stared up at his face, overwhelmed with pleasure, you understood that you were completely, helplessly, utterly and irrevocably in love with the man before you. For the first time ever, you understood that there was no other way around it, and nothing else you wanted to be. Being his, loving him like so, spending your days with him, all seemed to be key to the life you had always craved.

“Can you cum one last time? For me?” He huffed out a breath, his tanned skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat as he continued to work at you. The summer sun and humidity pooling in through the open windows did not help your situation, but you had to admit it made him look even more ethereal than usual.

You managed a slight nod against the weight of his hand over your mouth, the desperation in your eyes sending him closer to the edge as his pace faltered for a moment. You couldn’t understand how it always felt so phenomenal, no matter what he did. Everything was all the more special when he was there with you, sharing the experience.

To help you get there, he slipped his free hand between your legs, the pad of his thumb settling over your clit as he traced circles into the sensitive bud. The feeling sent your abdomen tensing and your legs vibrating. As if you were addicted to him, to the euphoria of his touch, you craved it so desperately that it nearly made you sick to your stomach, feeling like you needed it to survive despite the fact it would be the very thing that would kill you.

The rawness of your throat as you cried out stung, but it barely phased you. The sounds slipping through your teeth and lips were muffled and silenced by the palm of his hand, the most noise in the room was the sound of skin on skin and his laboured breaths. The grating, irritating pleasure was invading every one of your senses, turning every thought to nothingness. As he looked down at you, fearful of missing a single second of your fucked out expression, you began to notice his own lack of composure, only holding on to get one last orgasm out of you before he allowed himself the opportunity, too.

“Come on, baby.” He urged, his warm brown eyes staring straight past any facade you tried to show the world, looking directly into your soul as he spoke. “Let go, make a fucking mess for me.” At the vulgarity of his statement, you felt your stomach lurch and goosebumps riddle your skin once more. A particularly loud noise escaped your lips, not even the palm of his hand able to lessen the intensity. You felt the pressure increase over your mouth as he faltered ever so slightly. You knew how badly he wanted to hear you, how he would cling to every sound and revel in every moment, but he knew better. “Be good for me, beautiful. Don't want anyone else to hear those slutty noises. They’re all for me.”

That seemed to be all you needed, your third and last orgasm leaving you a shell of yourself as it took over. Your body ached with pleasure, so painful yet enjoyable all the same. Your skin was aflame, your heart hurting as it pounded against your chest. Your mind was far away and when the feeling continued to burn, you almost believed you would ascend straight through the roof of not for his hands holding you close to him. Too worn out to even utter another word, your eyes fluttered closed as his hand remained on your mouth.

He wasn’t far behind you, the strength of his hold slackening immediately as you relaxed into the mattress. The warmth of his body comforted you as he spilled his release inside of you, a low groan followed by a long string of curses fell from his lips, filling all of your senses and making home in your bones. The rattle of his chest against your skin was addicting, intoxicating as he rested his weight on you to keep himself upright.

For a single moment, nothing else in the world existed aside from the beating of your hearts in time, connecting the two of you as one. Even if the moment would not last forever, the feeling would, the otherworldly sense of belonging that you had never experienced before him. You wondered how it was possible for him to show up out of the blue and change everything without even intending to do it, how it was possible for another person to mean so much to you without even knowing it.

You could feel the word dancing on the tip of your tongue, remembering how heavy and bitter it used to be when now it was nothing but sweet and tender.

You wanted to speak it, but you didn’t have enough breath in your lungs. Opting for the easier option, you leaned forward ever so slightly and placed a kiss to his nose, hoping yet again that the actions could speak louder than your words, hoping that he understood why you had such a hard time saying it, hoping he knew that you loved him more than everything and anything, even if you stayed silent more than you ever tried to speak out.

When a smile crossed his face and the softness of his lips landed on your cheek, peppering you with kisses until he eventually landed on your own lips, you knew without a doubt he understood exactly how you felt without you needing to say a word at all.

𓇢𓆸

July 27th, 2022 - 8:34 AM

Freshly showered and sporting one of Daniel’s cut-offs, you were far too focused on the way your shorts were sticking to your skin in the summer heat. Noticing a slight soreness in your hips as you adjusted the hem of them on your thighs, a pink blush dusted your cheeks. The sports bra under the skimpy shirt scratched against your skin, igniting every nerve in your body and leaving you on edge. You weren’t sure why or where it came from, but the urge to jump out of your own skin and run away was overwhelming.

Danny, always seeming to notice your bouts of anxiety and uncomfortableness, placed his hand on your knee as he took a bite of the breakfast Sam had made for everyone. Even the mere scrape of forks on plates as you all finished your meal made your stomach churn and your chest ache, making you wonder if this wellness walk was truly how you wanted to start your morning. Still, Daniel’s touch eased the rapidly growing feeling just enough for you to hold back your desire to cancel.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go on a walk with Sam, but simply the fact you knew you would be talking about a lot of things you’d prefer to keep quiet about. Opening up had gotten easier since you first met them, but it still wasn’t easy. There were a lot of things you hated speaking aloud, a lot of feelings you barely understood yourself, let alone expected another person to understand. You knew the two often said there was no judgement, but you couldn’t help but worry that they still would.

They didn’t know your life, they did not experience the things you did, and because of that, you knew they would never fully get it. They could try their best, listen to you for hours on end, and even cry alongside you, but it wasn’t the same. A sober heart trying to understand an addict's mind was a difficult and daunting challenge—you knew that no matter how understanding they were, there were always preconceived notions and ideas, even if they remained unspoken.

But, then again, he didn’t have to get it to love you, and he didn’t have to live it to know how it hurts and haunts you.

You were being a bit too harsh for someone who’s only ever tried to understand you.

All of the fears you had about Daniel knowing the truth, the conclusions he’d draw and the things he would think of you, never came to fruition because it was never even a possibility. You had made yourself believe some ludicrous and absurd assumptions simply because you could not comprehend loving yourself, but that did not mean that others were also lacking in that capability.

Since April, the two boys had only ever loved you, even when you could not figure out why. You could trust them, and you could rely on them. You could bare your soul to them and they would treat every secret with care and caution.

Fear had no place in this home, and you knew that for fact.

“You ready to head out, Utah?” Your eyes snapped up to the speaker, seeing Sam no longer sitting next to you, but across the island and placing his dirty plate in the sink. Blinking hard, you looked beside you to see Daniel was also finished eating and your plate was also empty.

Where did you go?

Your heart gave a dramatic thud against your chest, catching your breath and freezing it in your throat as you tried to exhale. Your palms were clammy, your cheeks red and the tips of your ears burning.

The emptiness sometimes grew so fast and so large that you didn’t even realize you were gone. You tunnelled so far down in your brain, caught on the jagged edges of worries and fears for so long that you couldn’t even feel the stab, nor did you notice the time that passed. It was a blunt and brutal switch back to reality, having to digest the fact that precious moments had passed you by without you even realizing it, and embarrassing to know you lost yourself so entirely.

Sometimes you wondered how much time you had lost throughout your life, stuck in an unearthly world that you couldn’t even quite categorize as hell. It was barren, empty, and echoing with all of your failures and losses, but it wasn’t suffering. It was bearable, comfortable and familiar. It was a place you went to when things became too much, whether for good or for bad. When you were there, the rest of the world was quiet, separate from you like you weren’t living amongst it at all.

“Yeah.” You nodded, quickly cutting off your train of thought so as not to get lost in it once again. “Yeah, let’s go.” You repeated yourself, seemingly trying to convince yourself to stand up straight and put one foot in front of the other. You were so willing to agree to his invitation the day prior, and you were angry with yourself for not harnessing that same courage now.

You hated the thought of them seeing you as an indecisive, skittish person who was scared of committing. Although you had been that way your entire life, you were desperate to prove you could conquer those fears and feelings, especially since meeting the two boys. You didn’t want to show those characteristics to them, for your faults to bear their teeth every time they got too close, but your entire life you had been a slave to the cycle, never able to change enough for it to matter. Back then, you didn’t care enough, but now you wanted everything to matter. You wanted to celebrate the small victories, because victories had never before been yours. No matter how small or ridiculous it seemed to be joyous for, you didn’t care.

As you stepped outside with Sam and Rose in tow, you understood that change was hurtling towards you at full force, and it was your choice whether to accept it or not.

Walking down the street, feeling the solid asphalt underneath the soles of your worn converse, you took a moment to reflect on your life, to find out what you truly wanted to tell Sam. As you did, you watched your surroundings as they passed you by, the bountiful green leaves on the trees, the birds chirping overhead, and the faded dead end sign that was on your right. There were few houses on the road, presumably other Airbnb’s as you considered their vacant driveways and dim interiors. Rose was just as busy sniffing the dandelions and the long grass bordering the road, also making the most out of your morning escape.

You placed the orange filter of a cigarette between your lips, lighting the end as you inhaled. Feeling your skin tingle and your stomach lurch, the morning activities no longer felt so dreadful. Closing your eyes and focusing on your feet moving forward, you began to wonder if there was a single thing in your life that you weren’t addicted to. Sometimes, even the sadness felt like a deadly desire, like if you were happy for too long you would die if you did not feel the weight on your chest again.

You were a strange person with odd ways of thinking that oftentimes got you into trouble and aided your poor decision making. You wondered if you would ever figure yourself out, if one day it would finally make sense and you could intervene before the habits took hold again. You believed that went hand in hand with your lack of self awareness, making it easy to revert to your usual way of living because you didn’t know yourself well enough to begin to recognize the issue or where it began.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this morning.” Sam noted, the sound of your footsteps echoing around you, louder than normal as you exhaled a cloud of grey smoke.

“Just… thinking.” You concluded, figuring it was the best way to explain your mental absence. “Trying to decide what to talk about.”

“Well, whatever feels right.” He shrugged, holding Rose’s leash a little tighter as she tried to run forward. “I’ve got all day.”

What felt right?

To you, nothing did.

Still, you figured the truth was long overdue, and you trusted Sam enough to let him know you completely. Keeping secrets got you nowhere, and after this long, it seemed obvious that he wasn’t looking for excuses to abandon you.

So, you believed it was time to rip the bandaid off.

As you looked over at him, noticing the softness of his features and the kindness in his eyes, the words got stuck in your throat and your eyes widened as you tried to choke them out.

Looking straight ahead, you felt your chest burn with embarrassment, wondering why it was always so hard to let people in.

Rip off the bandaid, Y/N.

“I’m an addict.” You blurted out, catching him off guard and causing him to look your way. It was not the words that mattered to him, but the fact that it felt like a confession rather than a conversation.

“Okay…?” He responded, a bit more quizzical than Daniel was, but still seemingly unphased.

“Recovering, obviously… but, yeah.” You wheezed, your chest tight and your head aching already. You always felt like you were physically ill when you experienced a surplus of heavy emotion. Sometimes, it got so bad you truly believed you might die from the sickness, even if logically you knew it wasn’t true.

“Can I ask you a question?” He spoke again, almost as if he barely acknowledged your words at all.

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, feeling your hand tremble as you raised your cigarette to your lips once more.

“Do you think we’re blind?” Instead of answering, you watched him with wide, shining eyes, waiting for him to continue. “The keytags are enough to tell us that, but your habits, Utah… your quirks. We know. We always have, and we never cared.”

One thing you always appreciated about Sam was his unapologetic attitude and his blunt nature.

Funny how he and Daniel had the same reaction, yet somehow it felt different. With Daniel, you felt loved—truly and genuinely, wholeheartedly and unconditionally for the first time in your entire life. With Sam, you felt seen. You weren’t just a person in his home, not an extension of his best friend who he had to interact with because he felt forced to. You were his friend, his family, someone he cared about enough to notice and cared about enough to not care at all.

You spend your entire life begging to be loved, and it hit you all at once in a million different forms.

Instead of running from it, feeling undeserving of it, you were living within it, surviving off it. You didn’t want to run and you did not want to forget—you wanted it to last forever, until the end of time and so abundantly that you never remembered what it felt like to never have it at all.

Their love wasn’t conditional, it had no expiration date, and it had no value to them aside from love itself. You could hurt and feel and be safe doing it. You could be a real person, with flaws and faults and trouble and they would still choose to stand by your side. You weren’t there just to serve them and their needs—they truly and undoubtedly wanted you there. More than that, they wanted to serve you in the same ways you did for them.

As fantastic as it felt, you could not deny how badly it hurt to feel such things for the first time, because it made you wonder why so little effort it took to care was always blasphemous to other people.

You knew deep down that it was because the ones that came before them were the wrong kind of people to bare your soul to, but it sucked even more to admit that.

You didn’t want to live a life constantly choosing the wrong things, constantly putting faith in people who would only let you down. You wanted to love Sam and Daniel the way they loved you, properly, but you had no idea how. You hated that the ones who wronged you left you unable to love the ones who deserved it, because standing beside a man you could confidently say was the best friend you ever had, all you wanted to do was love.

“It’s funny, you know.” You cleared your throat, the scratch of smoke bringing tears to your eyes (at least, that’s what you wanted to blame them on). “Spent my whole life with that burden, feeling like it made me this… unlovable monster. That nobody would ever want me around, that it made me lesser than everyone else. I wondered if the only friends I would ever have would also be addicts, because nobody else in the world wanted to try and understand… then you guys come along, and you just don’t care.” You almost laughed as you spoke the thought aloud, a sad smile stuck on your lips as your vision blurred. It felt like all you had done in the last few weeks was cry, but you felt lighter than ever. You felt free. All of the shit you were holding on to, that you had kept under lock and key for so long, was finally coming out all at once.

You used to dread the thought of it, but now that you were living it, you knew it was never as scary as you made it out to be.

“Don’t say it like that, Utah.” He chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “We care, just not the way you think we do.”

“No, it’s a good thing, Sam.” You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt tears drip down your face. “My whole life, I’ve always been too much. Too troublesome, too broken, too… whatever. To you guys, I’m just a person. Maybe one who made some mistakes, but just a person, just like everyone else. Do you know how good it feels to be just that? Not an addict, not bad, not anything?”

“You are something, though.” He shot back, cool and calm as a small smile crossed his lips. “You’re my friend. You’re his girlfriend. You’re more than just something, Utah. To some people, you’re everything.” He continued, the two of you now treading towards the walking trail that began when the road came to an end. “It’s not a bad thing to be something to someone.”

“It always has been before, so I guess it’s hard to let that go.” You shrugged, watching your step as you avoided stray rocks and twigs in the ground.

“Well you have us.” He replied, curt and short as he got his point across. “And your brothers. I’m sure you mean a hell of a lot more than just something to them.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” You mumbled, noticing the tickle of long grass on your ankles. It was a freeing feeling, giving you the sense that you belonged to the earth rather than being enslaved by it. “Think I was always a headache to them more than anything else. Spent their whole lives taking care of me, running after me to try and keep me out of trouble, cleaning up all of the messes I made. Instead of thanking them I went out and did it again. I feel that sometimes they thought of me as an obligation, like they had to help me because nobody else would.”

“Y/N,” Sam sighed, wishing he could help you see things the way the rest of the world did. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this lifetime, it’s that nobody is obligated to do anything. You can tell the difference between love and resentment, and it’s not a hard line to draw.”

“I guess I’ve always been afraid of them hating me for what I put them through. I’m afraid of that with anyone, but especially them. I think since moving here, it’s gotten so hard to draw any lines because I never see them and I barely speak to them. The longer I stay away, the easier it is to think that I mean less to them than I actually do, you know?” At that, he seemed to freeze in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his lips dipped downwards in a frown. “What?”

“Can you… explain that again? I just want to make sure that I understand what you mean.” You swallowed thickly, your skin prickling with fear as you realized he really didn’t know what you meant or how you felt. The thought of being isolated, alienated, for a feeling you believed to be normal, made your stomach twist in knots and the hairs on the back of your neck raise.

You spent your whole life wanting to fit in, and it hurt catastrophically to think that you were just different. That no matter how hard you tried, your wires were crossed and the people around you would never truly know how it felt to be you. You knew Sam had no malicious intent, no desire to make you feel inferior, but you hated talking about your feelings for that exact reason; you never felt right, you never felt whole. No matter how understanding or how open the one listening was, it always reminded you of the very things you desperately wanted to forget.

“I-it’s okay, I—“

“Utah, I just want to know. It’s okay for us to not understand each other. It’s okay to tell me.” He cut you off, already seeing where the conversation would leave the two of you if he did not.

“Yeah.” You breathed, giving a curt nod to try and convince yourself that. “I-I guess, it just… when I’m away from people I love, or have a relationship with, no matter how good things were where we left it, it’s so easy to forget that. Like as soon as they’re out of sight, so is that love. It’s hard to believe they care or love me if they’re not right beside me, or if I can’t see it or feel it. Even if I know logically it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t matter—I need that reassurance, the validation, or it’s just… gone. I thought everyone felt that way.” Your voice was solemn as you concluded your statement, staring off into the distance as you watched a squirrel scale a tree. The world seemed so simple sometimes, like there were still places where hurt had not touched, lives that it had not changed. You wished so badly to be in one of those places someday, surrounded by serenity and forgetting the bitter taste of memories and the constant ache.

“No, not everyone feels that way, but that’s okay. I can tell you for sure that you’re not the only one who feels that way.” He replied, slowing so Rose could sniff the bloomed wildflowers.

“Yeah,” you hummed, watching the toes of your converse stick into the loose dirt below. “I guess I just don’t know what it is or why I feel this way.” He stayed silent for a moment, his lips pursed ever so slightly as he thought of a proper response.

“I can’t tell you why, but I think it is fixable.” He eventually spoke, soft and gentle like he wanted to ensure you believed him. “You’re a smart girl… you probably know what object permanence is, right?”

“Like, for babies? When they don’t know an object exists if they can’t see it?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded, resuming his earlier pace when Rose picked up hers. “‘Cept it’s not just for babies. It’s a super common problem for people with ADHD. Put your keys down in a certain spot so it reminds you to run an errand, go in your bedroom to get changed, get distracted by a notification on your phone, it reminds you that you have to call your mom, and by the time you hang up, the keys don’t even exist in your mind anymore and neither does the errand.” He explained, motioning with his hand as he spoke. You have a small chuckle, always finding Sam and his quirks endearing.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, there’s ways to help that. Maybe not necessarily cure it, but make it easier to deal with.” You hummed in agreement, giving permission for him to keep talking. “Just like objects, there’s this thing called relationship permanence. To me, it sounds like you struggle with it.”

“So, like the same thing but with people?” You had never heard the term before, mostly because you never realized it was a problem that needed fixing. You thought it was just you.

“Exactly.” He smiled. “And that is something that you can fix. Object permanence is a little bit more complicated, but relationship permanence has a lot to do with trust and communication and commitment. I know you struggle with those, but it’s not a dead end. Those are things you can work on, in therapy or even on your own time.”

“How would I even begin to work on that?” You asked, knowing he didn’t have all of the answers but so badly wishing he did. You wanted to change, to get better and to heal, to move forward, but most of the time you had no idea where to start. It was the most discouraging element of all, and it seemed impossible to overcome. Every time you started to improve on something, you uncovered a million more things that needed to be tended to. It seemed like it would never end.

“Well, I think a good place to start is your emotional regulation. You talked to me a few times about how hard it is for you to stay stationary. Your emotions cycle so fast you don’t have much of a chance to process it, and it affects the way you see everything around you. I think when you finally feel stable and get used to it, that will help a lot, too.”

“So basically it won’t get better until I heal from all of the other shit?” You laughed, your discouraged eyes tipping him off and giving him a bit more insight to your inner thoughts.

“Not necessarily, Utah.” He soothed the worry, sending a soft smile over his shoulder so you knew you did not have to face this alone. “In my opinion, you’ve already done a hell of a lot better with it. At least with Daniel, and I hope with me, too.”

“You really think so?” You weren’t sure why he thought so, because all you could ever focus on was the things you were doing wrong, the stuff you wished to do better with. Not once had you really acknowledged how far you had come with your ability to trust and your ability to love openly.

“Absolutely.” He laughed to himself, reminiscing on the version of you he met so long ago. Looking at the woman that stood next to him now, the difference was irrefutable. “The girl I knew in the spring, the one I sat with at the park, she’s long gone I think. She was nervous and defensive, she liked us but she certainly didn’t trust us. She didn’t want anyone around, but she needed someone.” Your heart hurt as he spoke, all of his observations so truthful that it made your head spin. At the same time, it amazed you to know that even back then both of them cared enough to see you, to hear you, and most importantly, to know you. “I don’t see that girl anymore, Y/N, and when I do, it’s not the same.”

“I still feel like her.” You confessed, searching your pockets for your lighter as you placed another cigarette between your lips. “How is it possible for us to come so far yet never be able to see the progress we’ve made? I always feel like the same version of myself stuck in a new body. A little older, not much wiser, but a lot more tired.”

“It’s the human curse.” He shrugged, knowing exactly how you felt even if he could not relate to the same things. “That’s why friends are so important. We’re here to remind you of how far you’ve come, and we’re here to help you back up if you fall down again.”

“I always feel so guilty when you say stuff like that. It’s unfair for me to lean on you, it’s not your responsibility—“

“It’s not our responsibility, no.” Sam cut you off again, seemingly unable to endure your rants and ravings about being undeserving. “Loving people is not the same as obligation, Utah. And I know, without a doubt, you would do that and more for both of us. Do you know what is unfair, though?”

“Hmm?” You hummed the response, knowing the answer he would give would not sit right with you, but he was bound to say it anyway.

“You, loving people with everything you’ve got, but never getting anything back. You, loving people no matter if they deserve it or not, no matter how poorly they treat you, yet still believing you’re the one who doesn’t deserve it.” Your stomach gave a nervous twist when you thought too long about his words. Having spent so long ignoring the many people who refused to return the effort that you poured into them, the ones who threw your kindness back in your face, hearing it now and having no choice but to acknowledge it made your heart hurt.

“S’pose it is a bit unfair.” You whispered, your eyes glued to the ground as you continued to walk down the trail.

“You’re doing so good, Y/N. You’ve come so far. Don't let what happened at that diner set you back again. Vincent is… he does not speak for your character.” He cut himself off, a stony expression on his face as he tried to speak cautiously. “He does not stand for the truth. He only cares about what fits his narrative. You are so much more than you think you are, and you always have been. Utah, it never mattered to us who you were or what you’ve done. We can see who you’re trying to be, who you really are, and she is fucking fantastic.”

“Sam,” your stomach gave another anxious lurch, your eyes blurred with tears once more.

“No, Utah.” He shook his head. “I’m tired of you never letting us tell you how much you mean to us. Maybe, if someone had the courage to tell you a long time ago, you would be able to see it too. I’m not scared of it, and neither is he. We love you, and we want you around. We want to help you, and we don’t care how long it takes. You’re worth the effort, and you’re worth the time. These things you struggle with, they don’t make you a bad person, and you can heal from them. It seems impossible sometimes, or too hard or not worth it, but you don’t have to do it alone. It makes it all the more easier when you have someone to lean on.”

Silence filled the air, neither of you making a peep aside from your occasional sniffle and Rose’s half-hearted barks at the birds in the sky and rustling leaves. Your footsteps were heavy, in time with your heart and pounding in your ears as his words bounced against your skull. You wanted to believe him so badly, to take all of his thoughtful statements and impactful comments and use it as motivation, but in some strange way, it seemed to deter you from the desired goal.

Disappointment.

It was your biggest fear, your largest enemy. Before Sam and Danny came along, nobody loved you enough for you to have to care, but now? Letting them down haunted you. Knowing it would be so easy to do, almost without a second thought. Fucking up and making the wrong decisions had become your specialty, but it never mattered. Thus far, the only person you had to disappoint was yourself (and your brothers, but with them being so far away, they did not have to witness you destroying your own life any longer). Now, knowing two of the best people you had ever met were counting on you, rooting for you, cheering you on, it all seemed so much more serious. Having the freedom to mess up was something you cherished, because you did it so often. Now, you were constantly scared of losing them, terrified that the wrong thing would make them change their minds and run away.

For someone who had specialized in running, you were awfully afraid of someone else doing the same thing to you.

Finally, karma seemed to come back and bite you in the ass.

“We’re not going anywhere, Y/N.” Almost as if he could read your mind, he eased your racing heart and screaming mind with just a single sentence.

“I really hope not.” You gave a sad smile, hoping he understood how badly you wanted them to stick around. You had been afraid of forever your entire life, but with them by your side, it didn’t seem so bad. “I love you guys, more than I ever thought I was capable of loving another person. In my head, that’s not always a good thing, ‘cause it means you have this power over me, and it scares the shit out of me. You can leave whenever you want, you can say or do whatever you want… and I just have to accept it. I’m not used to people being this close.”

“You are, though.” He disagreed with your words, but not rudely. You were certain that nothing he could do would ever be considered rude or offensive. “Vincent had that power over you, but you don’t see it as the same thing because he always used it for bad anyway. Not even in the worst case scenario, not even in a million years would we ever do that to you, Utah. Not even close to it.”

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it that way before, but he was right. Power meant little when used correctly, and the only reason it scared you so was because you were used to people abusing it. Knowing the two boys, even in the little time you had spent together, you knew for certain they would never do such things.

“I love you, Sam.” For the second time in two days, the words that you spent most of your life avoiding slid out with little thought or effort. You seemed to be able to tell Sam with no issue, and you hoped that you soon would be able to say the same things to Danny with the same relaxed nature.

“I love you, Y/N.” He replied, smiling to himself as he understood he finally made the difference. The whole time he had known you, he and Danny both just wanted to say something that would help, do a single thing that might change your perspective even just for a moment, but as you walked down the trail he knew it was never as simple as a single instance. What you needed was consistency, not grand gestures. You responded best to routine, to familiarity—all they had to do was stick around for long enough that it felt most normal to be with them.

It was never you that was the problem, but everyone else that came before the two boys. They had hurt you so badly that you couldn’t believe anyone else wouldn’t want to do the same. Now that you had spent enough time with them, you could finally see that what they were telling you was the truth.

“You feel better?” He asked, his voice barely cutting through nature's ambience.

“Yeah, I do.” Honesty was not hard in this instance, and although you hit a lot of topics that normally made you want to hide from the world, you did feel better just from addressing them. You knew there was a lot of talking still to be done, but it didn’t seem as hard anymore. You knew when the time came it might feel a little different, but right now you wanted to enjoy the feeling while it lasted. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Didn’t do a whole lot.” He brushed off the thanks and continued on his path, both of you watching as Rose picked up a stick from the ground to bring along with her.

“You do way more than you know.” You replied, not willing to back down on the matter. With that, he slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a side-hug that satiated the near constant ache in your chest for a moment. “I’m really happy I met you guys.”

“We feel the same way.” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze before pulling away, happy to have made some kind of impact on you. “And just so you know, I come out here every morning, so if you ever need a minute away from the real world…” he trailed off, extending the invitation as relaxed as possible. You gave a small giggle, watching as the leaves swayed in the blowing wind.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” With that, another bout of silence took hold, but it was neither uncomfortable nor painful. Existing alongside Sam was a fantastic way to waste your time, and you already knew you wouldn’t mind tagging along with him whenever he was willing.

“Actually, while I have you out here, I have one more thing I wanted to say.” Sam cut through the silence, looking in your direction with an unfamiliar gleam in his eye.

“Floors all yours, Sammy boy.” You gave him the invitation to continue, only slightly nervous for what he might confess. With that, he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small card and looking over the glossy finish. Then, he extended his arm towards you, offering you the opportunity to take a look at it too. Carefully, you grabbed it out of his fingers, unsure of what exactly you were looking at until you read the words twice over.

Dr. Amanda Collins | Psychologist

8150 19 E 44th St, 15th Floor, New York, NY 10017, US

Below her name and address, there was a phone number to contact. On the top of the card, there was a circled date and time, written in Sam’s familiar scrawl that could not be mistaken. “August 3rd at 10AM?” You asked, your fingers shaking ever so slightly as you held the card up to read it again. “What’s this for?”

“Well, it’s for you.”

“Sam, absolutely not.” You shook your head, the motion violent, scattering your already rapid thoughts across your brain. “I can’t afford that. I appreciate the thought, but I can’t.”

“You can.” He reasoned, ignoring you as you tried to give him back the business card. “You don’t have to worry about money—it’s already covered. I just want you to go and try it out, see if it’s something that would help. If not, we can look for something or someone else, but it’s a good place to start.” You were sure your heart shattered into a million pieces, each sharp point and jagged edge stabbing you as you breathed in his kindness. It was an utterly selfless and unbelievably beautiful gesture, but it hurt so badly you thought you might die from it.

“I-I can’t let you do this for me, Sam. It’s so kind of you, but it’s to much. I-I just can’t.” You stressed, your palms clammy and your stomach sick.

“You can.” He repeated, unwilling to discuss it any further. “It’s already paid for and the appointment is set—you might as well go and check it out. Non-refundability and whatnot.” You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the erratic beat of your heart nearly knock you off your feet.

Never in your entire life had someone cared so deeply. He cared so much that he would spend the money to get you help, that he would carry whatever burden came along with you, without struggle and without complaint. It was astounding, nearly debilitating to have a friend that loved you as much as you loved them.

“Seriously, Utah. It’s no big deal. Don’t do your thing and get all… whatever. Just go next week and tell me what you think. That’s enough thanks for me.” Staring over at him, still in awe at his unwavering love and determination to see you heal, you gave a gentle nod, slipping the card in your pocket for safe keeping.

“Yeah, alright.” You swallowed back the surplus of arguments and rebuttals trying to make their way to the surface, opting to listen to his words and take them at face value. If he was willing to to through all of this to help, you at least owed it to him to be receptive.

“If you want me to take you, I can… or Daniel, or both of us. Hell, if you want to go by yourself I’ll find you a way there and back, but I want you to go. And don’t do that deflection thing either, or make it seem like it’s not as bad as it really is. She doesn’t know you and she’s literally paid to help you. Use it to your advantage, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, gaining your footing with reality once more. If he thought it would help, you wanted to give it a shot. His opinion mattered greatly to you, and you trusted his judgment way more than you ever trusted your own, which in itself brought you to your next question. “How do you know so much about this stuff?” At that, he chuckled, knowing it would be brought up eventually.

“My brothers have ADHD, so I grew up and was always very committed to figuring out their brains. I have my own problems, too. We all do, Utah, even if some people try to hide it or do a better job at keeping it quiet. There’s no shame in needing help.”

There’s no shame in needing help.

God, you wished someone had told you that a long time ago.

“You’re right.” You breathed, still feeling your skin tingle with the after effects of his kindness. “I’ll give it a shot. Can’t do any harm, right?”

“Right.” He agreed, happy that you drew the same conclusion.

The conversation died down again, both of you left with lots of things to ponder on before you convened for the next morning walk. As the silence began to consume you yet again, you couldn’t help but notice that for once, the ever present and growing sense of emptiness had fled for a moment, not returning even when the conversation was laid to rest. For the first time in your entire life, you felt perfectly right and well, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be, doing exactly what you needed to do. Looking at the boy walking beside you, you knew that you never would have felt such divine rightness and comfortability without him or his best friend.

That fateful day at the Foxhole, hiding behind a wall and sneaking glances at two boys you never thought you would meet, you never once imagined you would be where you were then. Not once did you think better was in the cards, let alone so close.

And as if it were a day meant for firsts, you looked back on the things that led you there, finally able to take the tainted glasses off and view it with gratitude rather than resentment. You could see all of the gained confidence, the strength and the power your struggles had given you, and you finally had a chance to utilize them, rather than curse the events that gave you useless tools.

Finally, after twenty four years, the sun was shining again—instead of hiding from it, you were willingly and happily living to feel it, wanting to appreciate the warmth instead of run from it, to enjoy the moment while it lasted instead of being angry that it was fleeting.

Finally, the world was turning, and instead of it leaving you still and behind, you were turning with it.

TAGLIST: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco @aintthatapity @dont-go-home-without-me @dyslexicchild13 @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama

[sunset-of-the-void]

okay ive been trying to organize my thoughts forever and its not exactly working so. i'm just gonna launch things in as short and concise as i can make it so i dont ramble incoherantly forever (/lh)

so,, i'll start with my perception of norton, because by god i think i should think about him more,,,

i'm not gonna touch on his mom because i have no clue what the fuck happened to her honestly, but i think norton's dad has always been kind of. accidentally distant? like in a way you could tell he cared for his son, but there was probably always an air of stress/tiredness about him (similar to norton as he aged) that got worse from the black lung and aging, and also the way that they were never guarenteed to have necessities all the time was something that occupied his mind a lot. (i imagine personally that while the two were never close, norton could understand the reasons why hence choosing to stay by his side once he fell bedridden)

also, while norton probably didn't work in the mines for his entire life, he'd probably do small jobs on the side to help out with funds, especially considering his lack of an (official? authentic?? i cant recall the word im looking for) education in canon, so you know. he's been aware of the concept of money and status for a while i'd assume, even moreso when he starts working in the mines as a teenager (which i'd assume is when his father's illness starts worsening as well) and people there are just. ruthless i'd imagine. considering in his trailer he looks (debatably?) younger than the other men it's probably from both a mix of him being a newer worker and possibly being worse off than them as well plus the stress on him having to be the only provider for two people, one of which is ill as well, as a teenager proobably doesnt help much with the situation either...... i've not much to add other than this, though touching on his personality in the manor, despite being reserved and a liittle grumpy he is very sweet once you get past the walls he put up! he's the type of person to help someone who needs it (albeit he may make a show of being reluctant about it) but he does know what its like to struggle and how much a helping hand could mean to someone. he's still very empathetic in my mind :]

very very briefly onto andrew because if i dont limit myself this will be soo much longer. but i'll try not to get too excited and i'll cut out most of his life (pretty much all of it up to about laz cemetary)

so basically andrew also had similar situations being born in poverty, while norton managed to gain financial security as he became a prospector (i think?) andrew didnt really. get that at all. even when working with laz (if he did, there wouldnt be a reason to be tempted by grave robbing, right???) and i personally assume people would price gouge him for the sake of him being "impure" or whatever, so even with the pay from mikhail/percy it never really lasted quite long enough,,,,

andrew only left after getting caught by marshall, and fled immediately after the (accidental) murder. (to summarize it shortly andrew panicked and stabbed him a few times with the shovel and then accidentally buried him while he was still alive in a nearby patch of dirt) and he showed up to the manor with. practically nothing. he had a change of clothes, his shovel, and some trinkets that were dear to him, and to me he kind of traveled on foot the nearly whole time to the manor (using the funds he had left from the final deal of the "slabs" to take a train as far as he could with the money)

so now like.. the actual current important thing (sorry dhsjdjfj......)

once andrew shows up to the manor he's in ah. generally pretty bad shape. and people kind of have one of two reactions of either "wow this guys one of the stranger ones" or "this guy needs. a lot of help" (depending on how you look at it) and norton kind of realizes almost immediately from andrew's general anxious demeanour and gaunt figure that he has nothing going for him, so why would he make that worse?? plus in the manor norton kind of gravitates away from nobility/aristocracy i believe and andrew is very. noticably not either of those, andrew is just grateful that norton's not reacting negatively to his very presence and he puts a lot of trust in norton. (like, norton gets a fuck ton of life stories that luca and emil dont hear about) im working on a fic of their first technical interaction and im not sure if i'll ever finish it since ive been stewing it since like.. april but they're cute to me

Hello! Very excited to read through this

To be honest i dont think norton's mom is mentioned like ever. At least in nothing i personally have read. I do agree that hia family would have been distant. They were in living in poverty and it puts a strain on anyone much less a family. To me it aids in norton's cutthroat nature of just having a life of anything but the suffering of poverty.

I would love to read the fic once you finish it! I really like andrew and norton getting each other as they have both been ostracized from society for being poor and then for Andrew being albino! I was going to have a lot more to say but i dont think it would have added much to this. I will be marinating on thoughts for this thank you so much for the ramble friend!

[henke-penke]

Me: Damn this project is taking much longer than I thought it was. Taking a detour to play epic mickey didn't help. At least, I'll have some time after my fall exams.

Life: (breaks my fence)

Me: Goddammit fucking damn it

Sigh... Unfortunately, I keep getting sent curve balls my way, but I promise you I will finish this, it just might take a little while.

In other news: HOLY SHIT! Chappy 15! Gotta say, I thought we'd see Noah poverty, but the fact we don't makes it's SO interesting! Like damn someone, please go make sure he's still alive. After reading this chappy and relisting to Achilles Come Down, I can so totally see what you were talking about with Owen and Eva (if I had to say specifics, maybe verse 2, the pre-chorus, and the bridge, though I'd love to hear your thoughts). Like how did I miss that? Now prepare for some rambling.

Speaking of the bridge, I'd like to raise a thought I had about it: So in the bridge, it's presented as two contrasting voices talking to Achilles while he's on the roof, each either encouraging or discouraging him to jump. With the fic in mind, I can see Owen as the positive voice trying to tell Noah to get off the (metaphorical) roof. While at first, the straightforward thought would be for Eva as the negative voice, that didn't feel right since Eva, while justified in her reaction with the knowledge she knows, does feel bad about actually physically hurting Noah. Then, I had a different idea: the negative voice could be seen as the rest of the cast in how they feel about Noah (again metaphorically since I'd imagine they would actually want him dead. I think)

Anyways, as you can tell, I really like this fic, and I can't wait to finally post my project on here(if ya really wanna know, it's an animatic ;] ). I do have a Tumblr, I'm just a little nervous to send asks outside of anonymous (thanks a lot anxiety).

Until then!

-✒️🌙

That's alright ! Art takes time and honestly, just knowing that you're making an animatic for my fic (holy shit) is making me really fucking happy. However long it takes doesn't matter, I know it's going to be awesome !

Some day I'm not going to become so ridiculously and childishly giddy whenever someone says they like my fics, but that day is not today AAAAAA <3<3<3

I was really tempted to add a quick Noah pov, but the chapter ultimately works better if he remains unseen. Something to be kept in the back of the reader's mind and which subtly changes how the unfolding story is perceived.

Those are EXACTLY the parts I was thinking of !!

oooooo I love that ! Especially since Owen was actively trying to reach out to Noah. And yeah, it's easy to say Eva is the negative voice, but it makes more sense for it to be the rest of the cast while Eva remains a silent observer. Angry at Noah but not really siding with the people who are against him, instead going to Owen to be there for him and to hopefully make sense of her own thoughts.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Forbidden. By Beverly Jenkins. Avon, 2016.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Old West #1

Summary: Rhine Fontaine is building the successful life he's always dreamed of—one that depends upon him passing for White. But for the first time in years, he wishes he could step out from behind the façade. The reason: Eddy Carmichael, the young woman he rescued in the desert. Outspoken, defiant, and beautiful, Eddy tempts Rhine in ways that could cost him everything . . . and the price seems worth paying.

Eddy owes her life to Rhine, but she won't risk her heart for him. As soon as she's saved enough money from her cooking, she'll leave this Nevada town and move to California. No matter how handsome he is, no matter how fiery the heat between them, Rhine will never be hers. Giving in for just one night might quench this longing. Or it might ignite an affair as reckless and irresistible as it is forbidden...

***Full review below.***

Content Warnings: rape threat, explicit sexual content, racism (including the n-word), allusions to slavery, violence

Overview: I wanted to read more Beverly Jenkins after completing Something Like Love, so I picked up Forbidden because it had an interesting premise. Overall, a lot of the things I liked and disliked were similar to those I liked and disliked about my previous read. While I appreciate the stories Jenkins is trying to tell and I adore her heroines, I just don't think her writing style is for me. Thus, I'm rating this book only 3 stars.

Writing: My main criticism of the prose in this book is similar to the points I made for Something Like Love. While I don't think Jenkins's writing is atypical for the romance genre, it also just wasn't to my personal tastes. I felt that Jenkins told more than showed, and pacing felt fairly uniform.

Plot: The plot of this book follows Eddy Carmichael, a skilled cook who dreams of starting her own restaurant in California. Eddy has just enough money saved when tragedy strikes at the beginning if the book: she is robbed, and so, she is forced to rely on the kindness of strangers to make it from Colorado to San Francisco in post-Civil War America.

What I liked about this plot was the way Jenkins used the setting to explore racial dynamics and Rhine's identity. Rhine isn't directly subjected to racism in Virginia City because he passes, but he does get a nasty peek at what white people say to one another. There is also plenty of discussion about colorism, and I appreciated these topics being tackled head-on in a romance novel.

Unfortunately, she is tricked by some strangers and is left penniless and wandering in the desert. Luckily, she is rescued by Rhine Fontaine and his business partner. Rhine is mixed race and passes as White, and he uses that privilege to make a life for himself and free Black folks in the multicultural town of Virginia City, Nevada. He helps Eddy land a job cooking for a boarding house in Virginia City while she saves up enough money to venture west again, and during that time, the two find themselves attracted to one another. Things are further complicated because Rhine has a rich white fiancée who doesn't know about his parentage, and Eddy is being courted by the local Black carpenter/architect. Shenanigans ensue.

That being said, I didn't quite feel like I was reading a tightly-plotted narrative. Most of the time, I felt like I was reading about the day to day lives of our characters, and while some events are interesting, I didn't get the sense that plot points were building on one another to create a story. Maybe this ambling pace will appeal to some readers, but personally, I wanted a bit more.

Character: Eddy, our heroine, is easy to root for in that she has a definite goal and works extremely hard to meet it. I liked that her arc was about her burgeoning independence, and it felt like she truly was being appreciated after living in near poverty for so long. I also liked that she was readily embraced by the Black community in the town, and I liked watching her find her home.

Rhine, our hero, is also interesting in that he faces numerous dilemmas regarding his identity. I appreciated the moments in which he had to weigh his personal happiness against his privilege, and I liked that his motivations came from a place of wanting freedom and power. I also liked that he was an honorable man and despite his past, he wasn't so angsty that he was bogged down. He seemed to be always looking forward, and that was nice.

Side characters were also nice in that they created something of a found family for Eddy. Sylvie, her employer, is truly a good friend and supports Eddy without judgment. Vera the seamstress is also bright and fun, and the residents of the orphanage are endearing. Even Zeke, the rival for Eddy's feelings, is hard to dislike since he is so genuinely interested in Eddy, and he is incredibly kind and generous.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it's the White antagonists that are the most irritating. I'm not going to sit here and complain that some white people are portrayed as awful bigots - they served their purpose in the story, so I think it was appropriate. I do think, though, that some of the racism was just kind of "fly by," so I couldn't quite determine if responding to oppression was supposed to be a major theme or inserted to make the setting a bit more "textured." The unhinged ending with Natalie kind of illustrates my point; without spoiling anything, I will say that the ending made isn't seem like white rage was just kind of something to brush off and even when it was threatening, it didn't quite matter. Maybe I'm not the best person to speak on this, though, and maybe anything more serious would affect the tone Jenkins was going for. I don't know.

Romance: The romance between Eddy and Rhine was... OK. My main issues were not that they were ill-suited, but that Jenkins uses a couple of tropes that I personally dislike. First, there's a love triangle, and while I liked that no one was made out to be the villain, I couldn't help but feel really bad for Zeke. There was litterally nothing wrong with him except that he didn't excite passion in Eddy, and I am not 100% sure it was right for her to start seeing him. Second, Eddy is an incredibly naive virgin who doesn't even know what an orgasm is (or that male orgasms can lead to pregnancy?) before meeting Rhine. I personally sont care for virginal heroines because it makes them seem a bit sheltered, but I also understand that a virginal heroine might be working against the hypersexual Black woman trope here.

TL;DR: Forbidden has an interesting premise, taking a white-passing hero and an ambitious Black woman and seeing how their goals are jeopardized by attraction. While I didn't quite vibe with the writing style or the way the plot unfolded, I do think Jenkins creates captivating settings and characters that are easy to root for.

[warriorsparked]

Mun vs Muse

Similarities:

We are both natural born learners, despite having grown up in poverty and unfortunate circumstances. This, I suppose, is something both Megatron and I are proud of, because we've gone against the odds of backgrounds that were out of our control and have managed to rise from nothing through years of exceptionally hard work. I think the both of us also never forget where we've come from, as it's important to have those roots, and allow it to humble us. Beyond that, as leaders, we are not afraid to get things done and to make the difficult decisions to improve and better the whole picture. We prefer to see long term goals than short term.

Trauma and abuse survivors. Now, I won't claim my life was worse than Megatron's, because it in no way was, however, that doesn't mean the both of us haven't gone through some shit in our times. The both of us are highly uncomfortable about seeking help and appearing vulnerable, though. The both of us had to rely on ourselves to overcome these obstacles, because we had no one else to help us. It means that both Megatron and I struggle to open up. Not always because we don't trust, but because we both know that no one else CAN help us, or that's the way we believe things to be. As I've gotten older, and unloaded some of this, I, however, do attempt to be very upfront and honest with my past traumas, as a way to teach others that it's okay to come to terms with these things and ask for help (altho I know how hypocritical that makes me since I don't seek it myself lol). Megatron and I have both gotten used to dealing and coping with these things alone.

We are both creative when it comes to art and writing. We've both been writing since we were young, and my Megatron also draws (which I do too--when I have time lol). My Megatron also plays the piano, and although I am a beginner and no way NEAR as good as Megs is, it is something that I've taken from myself and put into him, my love for playing. I guess in that aspect, I aspire to be like him when it comes to playing, but time and all of that nonsense lol.

We both like horror movies.

We both grew up around alcoholics and drug addicts.

We're both very passionate about the rights of the oppressed and those who legitimately just want to live their lives without being punished for what they are.

Both of us have had some traumatic experiences with religion, and both of us have... complex and complicated relationships with it all (but we also differ greatly which I'll mention below).

We can both be INCREDIBLY stubborn, although Megatron is definitely far more stubborn than me. I am stubborn in the fact that when I believe or know something to be true, I will not alter it. Unlike Megatron, I can admit when I've been wrong, and I can learn from it. Megatron can and does also, but it takes more time...

I believe that we are both... "old souls" in a sense.

Where Megatron wanted to be a medic, I work in healthcare myself. While Megatron doesn't actively work in healthcare, I still consider the fact that he wanted to help people and heal, and that's myself as well.

Differences:

Well this is a given but... I've never killed anyone LOL. I've never been arrested, etc. I've been pulled over for a breath test and that's it (which I don't drink lol). Safe to say we've very different in that aspect.

While I grew up surrounded by alcohol and drugs, I, myself, have never been tempted by them, while Megatron has used them as a crutch.

I'm a metal head, and while Megatron is fond of music, it's not always the heavier stuff.

I have severe aspergers, Megatron does not. In fact, despite many of his quirks, I do consider him to be neurotypical, behavioural issues caused by both mental and physical trauma (his processor was damaged when he was created and further issues arose from life happenings, but it was a physical impairment--does that makes sense? I feel I'm wording that incorrectly... but what I mean is, he has no learning disabilities and is neurotypical).

Uhhh... I'm not a giant kick arse robot with a fusion canon that can turn into a cool arse tank? lol. XD I'm a lame squishy human, which is a shame tbh.

So about the religious one, we both have complicated views, however, Megatron's still very much in a negative space with it, I've come out. I grew up Roman Catholic, although with my crappy life, I turned to very much hating God (same deal as Megs tbh). However, I considered myself agnostic for a very long time because I just didn't know, and didn't have the power to say so, and now I'm very Buddhist leaning. I won't claim that I AM Buddhist, because I don't feel I have the right to claim such, but I absolutely follow many of their guidelines and beliefs. I believe in growth, and sharing knowledge, I believe in karma, and many more things. My exploration with this was actually due to a Buddhist colleague of mine who told me I sounded Buddhist in my beliefs when they asked, and coincidentally enough, I've always been surrounded by it from a young age no thanks to my dad, so yeah. It's something that I very much do believe and like to better myself and follow, but it's also something I'm not going to force. I'm content with just... being me atm. But I very much support it with my whole heart. :)

I am... like... hella ace lol. Megatron is not. But yeah. I don't like touch, thank you :'D Pls don't touch me.

Tagged: @aircommndr Tagging: You!

[mari9-abbys]

10 Mistakes Most Young People Make & Regret Later in Life

If anything is too exciting, you can suspect something is probably wrong about it.

Adolescent and early adulthood is just too exciting, no wonder most of us make several

mistakes at a time like that.

In this article we will be sharing with you 10 mistakes most young people make and regret

later in their life If you’re still young, you’ll have opportunity

to correct some of these mistakes.

If you’re already 75, well, we’re sorry.

Hahahaha….

Mistake No. 1 Young People Spend money on trivial things

Most young people want to have fun; they want to enjoy their life and feel among.

They look at others and want to be like them, buy what they buy and live the way they do.

Young people are more likely to run after fashion, style, fun and many more.

There’s nothing bad in being fashionable and buying latest iPhones except it’s making

you poorer.

As a young person, your primary assignment should be to build a solid financial foundation

for your life.

To do this, you have to have the habit of saving and learn about investing.

You can buy everything and anything your heart desires but that’s after you have built

wealth.

I know, that’s an ugly advice for anyone at 20s, until you’re 50 and know what it

means to be broke at such age.

Mistake No. 2.

Young people think Schooling is enough to get rich

Maybe this isn’t their fault actually.

Maybe we should blame the society for this.

You see, your education actually truly starts the day you leave school.

You may not like to hear this but it’s the truth.

The real world is very different from the four walls of the classroom.

Truly successful people are people who learn daily, even two decades after they’ve left

school.

Unfortunately, most people of the world stop learning the day they leave school and that’s

a big mistake that leads to poverty and unfulfilled life.

Read good books.

Listen to good audio program.

School doesn’t teach you much things as you’ll like to believe.

Mistake No. 3

Young people tend to give up easily It is so easy to just quit when something

feels too hard.

The idea of giving up what you’re doing to just try something else, can be the easier

option sometimes.

It might be that you don’t like what you are doing.

But the biggest mistake you can make sometimes is to give up.

Pushing through the hard times is what makes a stronger and well-rounded person.

When things start getting a little tough, don’t take the easy way out.

Keep on pushing through and you just might surprise yourself.

When you work through something tough and come out the other side, there is no better

feeling.

Don’t give up.

Keep on fighting!

Mistake No. 4 Young People Do Accept Whatever they Hear

and Believe anything.

Young people are people with great minds, full of opinion, but they will rarely challenge

what they hear from older people.

Youth should be a time of learning, but also questioning what you are told and even get

deeper into your own best thoughts and points of view.

Experience may lead you to discover that issues that seem black and white are actually many

shades of gray.

Age doesn’t necessarily come wisdom, and many young people too easily accept what they

hear from older generations.

Following your instincts can take you a long way, if you know how to follow it well.

Mistake No. 5 Young People Invest Without Research

Reading and hearing stories of people who have made millions investing on the stock

market can make it very tempting to give it a go yourself but don’t do that.

Investing can be a very rewarding thing but it’s not as easy as just throwing your money

away on random shares.

As a young person, you need to do some research.

If you invest wrongly, it can mean you lose a lot more than you put in.

If you truly want to master investing, the best way to go about it is to study some really

good books on that subject.

Taking time to read 10 good books about stock market or real estate can save you from unnecessary

headache that comes with losing your hard earn investment.

Mistake No. 6

Young people always want instant gratification Maybe this is the biggest mistakes young people

make.

Young people today are under great pressure to establish a successful career as soon as

possible, to find the perfect partner at the earliest opportunity and most importantly,

to enjoy themselves right here and NOW.

They always want everything NOW and that usually lead them into unnecessary short cuts, debt

and unhappy future.

Mistake No. 7 Most young people don't save money.

A recent survey of 1,003 people from Bank rate found that 69% of those ages 18 to 29

had no retirement savings at all.

Your retirement may seem far off, but you're doing yourself a major disservice if you don't

recognize the importance of saving as soon as possible

It’s not only retirement you should save for.

You should save for investment and also for emergencies.

It’s hard to save when all your mates are buying new stuff but if you think you have

a better future than theirs, you’ll be disciplined enough to save.

Mistake No. 8 Young people think that love alone is enough to sustain a relationship Love is undoubtedly a key ingredient in making a relationship work.

However, it is not sufficient.

It is possible to be very much in love with someone yet realize that the two of you are

fundamentally incompatible.

The best relationships are based not on romantic love but on shared values, dreams and goals.

Communication skills and the ability to argue without hurting one another for the sake of

it are also vital.

Since choosing a life partner is an important decision you’ll have to make at your 20s,

knowing this truth will help you.

Long lasting relationship is about love, but not just that.

Your partner must share a significant part of your values, goals and aspirations or else

you won’t last together.

No. 9 Young people try to please everyone.

When you're starting out as a teenager in your early career, it can seem natural to

want to be on friendly terms with your boss, clients, and all of your school mates.

It may be disappointing when you found out that some of them simply don't like you and

you’ll start bending to fit in to their expectations.

This is a big mistakes because there’s no formula that guarantees that everyone will

like you.

You must learn how to deal with haters, very important.

Mistake No. 10 Young people Blame Their Parents for their misfortune We’re very sorry, your parents own you nothing.

They invited you to this world, yes.

But they probably have done the best they know how to do.

If you think their best is not good enough, guy, get out and fix your life.

It’s your life and you’re the only one who is responsible.

Your failure or success is yours and not your parents’

Okay, just before you go, here is the summary of what we’ve shared with you so far;

Delay gratification.

Don’t buy things because everyone is doing so

Learn how to save for investment and retirement purpose

Don’t believe everything.

Ask questions and challenge status quo Don’t fall in love because of love alone.

Think about values and compatibility Don’t think you’re educated because you

have degrees.

Learn every day Try things and don’t give up easily

Don’t blame your parents or government for your failure.

Take responsibility.

You enjoy this article, don’t you?

We’ll like to give you another interesting article for you to enjoy next but before then,

our team will be very happy if you can like this article and share it with your friends

on social media.

For more content kindly follow this link.https://maryblogs2.blogspot.com?m=1

[ramshacklefey]

Exmormon here.

This is absolutely true. These kids believe in what they're doing so strongly that they take two years out of their lives to live an absolutely ascetic life in poverty and with no privacy.

While they're on their missions, their lives are totally controlled by the church: when they eat, when they sleep, what they can do with their time (almost nothing). They genuinely think they're saving lives. They've been told their whole lives that going on a mission is a sacred duty and that it's incredibly dangerous. They're inundated with stories of missionaries whose lives were threatened, who barely had enough to eat, etc, but they are always saved by God at the last moment. And they're given special powers to bring blessings to other people.

Additionally, a man who doesn't go on a mission is ostracized from their culture. Women are schooled their whole lives not to even date a guy who hasn't been on a mission. I once got into a fight with a girl because my brothers both joined the military after high school instead of serving missions. She was saying anyone who did that wasn't worthy of a place in the church.

Behind the scenes, a lot of them deal with bullying and abuse from the other missionaries or the church leaders who are put in charge of them. This is either framed as being their fault or for their own good. They've been conditioned to believe that church leaders cannot do anything that isn't for their own good.

So if you come across them, tell them politely but firmly that you aren't interested. If you feel up to debating them, hear them out first. They're so deep in their cult and the misinformation they've been fed that even debating them will come across as frightening. You have to get them to trust you first. And do your research. Mormon dogma is wacky af, and if you want to debate it, you need to know some of the ins and outs, otherwise it's real easy for them to write you off as an agent of the devil. Especially since one of the things they've been fed is that they always need to be hypervigilant because literal agents of Satan are waiting around every corner to tempt them away from the church.

Be gentle with them. They really are just kids. They should be college freshmen or just starting their first job. And offer them food. The church has billions of dollars sitting in funds, and it sends these kids out with so few resources that a lot of them live in abject poverty, while being told it's a blessing.

[rael-f-wae]

I wonder much on life, for I there am, and it is as mysterious as death; you may know a man by th'ring he wears, or else by the bare knuckle, that he bears, so let my ring be this, this hammered here, this that I write, be it as chrystall clear and ringing, or dull like lead; a lump pressed about my finger in a clump of rough metall; let it be base or fine, for I will wear what form it takes, 'tis mine, in sickness and in health; in povertie and wealth, I will not tempted from it be, nor will I say, I did not chuse: I chose, if through this ring grow thrissils, or a rose.