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feeling-weirdy · 4 years ago

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Here's a more serious prompt. Before the fallout of Team Captain A and Team Iron Man. Every citizen is saved from a tragic natural disaster... all but a 2 year-old child. Vision is the only one who can reach her, to recover her body. It effects him deeply because it is the first time in his short life that he has held a young life snuffed-out in his arms. Wanda notices the difference in his demeanor afterwards as he processes. Comfort and lesson on mortality and heroism even in "failures."

Vision had noticed the distinct difference in the number of disasters that had occurred over the past couple of months. Ever since the fall of Ultron and his subsidiaries, ne’er-do-wells were becoming more brazen than ever before. While he may not have been “alive” per say before Ultron, the data spoke for itself. The rise of villainy had increased by at least 23%. That number did not sit well with him.

Every outing, he pushed himself like never before. Not allowing himself to do anything less than his maximum output. He was fully aware at the stark difference in capabilities between himself and the other Avengers. His power was far greater than theirs at an exponential rate, only growing stronger with time. Vision’s strength and abilities were unmatched, making him the perfect sythezoid for the job to scan for survivors inside the building as it began its descent.

The very memory of everything that had transpired earlier that very day still shook him, unable to fully describe the odd feeling that rushed through him.

Vision had done everything in his power to ensure that everyone in the building had escaped, but upon searching the rubble after the building had fallen, the team had discovered one small body. Not everyone had been saved.

A heavy weight sat upon his shoulders as they made their way back to the compound. No amount of thanks from those he had been able to get to a safe distance had been enough to shake the image from his mind. Her small, lifeless body hiding beneath the debris. Somehow, his programming had missed her. The density of that realization crushed his very being, constricting his insides as he tried to focus on the task at hand: discovering the source of his malfunction.

The other members of the team had kept their distance, clearly sensing the unnatural aura that surrounded him as he remained in deep thought. They kept to themselves on the other side of the plane, happy to give him space. Their partnership had still been so new and Vision hardly blamed them for staying back. Vision couldn’t help but notice his colleagues who taken it upon themselves to start celebrating in the back of the cabin, something that seemed frivolous after what just happened.

Wanda was the first that came up to him, awkwardly sitting in the chair in front of him. She was quiet for a moment, silently searching his features before speaking up.

“Hey...you alright?” Her voice was soft and comforting, a small smile twitching the corners of her mouth.

“I'm conflicted...” Vision rolled his head from side to side, hoping to fully understand himself and these strange feelings that kept him from finding the answers.

“Oh?”

“I am well aware that my capabilities allow me to do exponentially more than some of the others on board this very plane. But, I...clearly have some faults in my programming as I was unable to locate everyone before evacuation took place.” Vision tried to go through what had happened methodically, unable to fully discern why he had missed her. A blind spot had to have been the culprit, but any internal scan he performed on himself turned up nothing amiss.

“Vis...” Wanda drew out his name, chiding him softly.

Holding his hand up, he stopped her. “I do not make errors.” His voice hardened as his throat hitched. He had been created as this perfect being, a fact he had slowly begun to doubt little by little as the days passed. And now, he believed that to be completely false. He should have been able to locate the girl as well.

Vision remained quiet, anger and frustration welling up inside him. He had never felt so many complex emotions at once and feared the process would overwork his circuitry if he continued down this path.

“It was just a mistake," Wanda said softly.

“A mistake that cost a child her life.”

A silence grew between the two. He watched as Wanda grimaced, obviously unsure whether she was doing more harm than good by talking with him. Loss and grief were factors he never understood, but he was uncertain whether those were the proper terms for what he was feeling at this moment. He knew nothing of this girl, but the responsibility that he had to her and the failures that followed were beyond what his algorithm was able to bear.

“I know...I’m not exactly the best role model when it comes to this type of thing. I mean hell, you talked to me about the same thing not that long ago.” Wanda chuckled softly, running a shaky hand through her hair, playing with the tips as she reached the end.

“This is quite different than your predicament. That girl’s life sits on my shoulders. I have failed. Perhaps...” Vision paused. “My programming needs a more thorough scan once we return to the compound. Sufficient measures should be put into place so that my mistakes do not take another life. A full reboot may be in order.”

"Oh, Vis...You can’t think of it like that...” A panicky look washed over her as she moved to the edge of her seat. It was necessary for the Avengers to make sure that he was operational, should a reboot become necessary it seemed only logical. Adjustments had to be made so these bugs do not repeat themselves.

“And how should I think of it?”

Wanda sighed softly, leaning back in her chair. Her eyes scanned the floor, mulling over her words carefully before she spoke her mind.

“Same way you told me. Focus on those you saved and do better.” She looked down for a moment, glancing out the window at the clouds that passed them. While part of her words had indeed been from him the day Pietro died, Captain Rogers words had been added. Do better. The very words resonated with his core, only seeming to confuse him even further. “Because of you, we saved a lot of people, Vis. More than we would have had you not been there. I don’t think that was a failure.”

“Wanda,” he started, a hint of sadness still present in his voice. “You misunderstand the point.”

“No, you misunderstand,” Wanda snapped, looking back at him with sharp eyes. “You’re more human than you realize...Mistakes happen. We learn from our mistakes and save more people the next chance we get. That’s it.”

Vision never expected this sort of outburst, a fascinating human trait that took even the being who said it completely off guard. Words meant wholeheartedly, but perhaps not meant to be said. A fact made evident as Wanda’s eyes widened at the realization of what she just said. She bit her bottom lip, regret crossing her features as she curled her legs into her chest.

He knew perfectly well that he wasn’t human, but they both knew that wasn’t what she meant.

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, okay? You won’t miss anyone next time,” Wanda admitted in his place. “I know you won’t. You’ll do better.” Vision nodded, not entirely sure the confusion and worry had been erased from his mind, but the wholeheartedness of Wanda’s words gave him hope that maybe she was right. Next time, he’ll find a way to do better.

Check out my other drabbles here or feel free to request some!

#scarletvision #wandavision #the vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #rini drabbles #AoU to CW #not sure this was exactly what you were going for but hopefully it turned out okay XD

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gffa · 5 years ago

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Tagged by @generallkenobi Rules: name ten favorite characters from ten things, then tag ten people. 1. Star Wars - Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker - mmffffmmmfffff, no, you can’t make me choose! I know it seems like I’m probably a bigger fan of Obi-Wan’s, but honestly as much time as I spend thinking about and yelling about Anakin Skywalker, I’m pretty sure they’re tied. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, sobs. I love Obi-Wan because he’s what I aspire to be, someone who is reserved but shows a depth of feeling at the same time, who has his shit together even when the worst happens, he still finds a way to keep getting back up, and still is kind to the galaxy, finds the good in people. Meanwhile, Anakin Skywalker is someone I see so much of myself in, all that messy noise in my head, the anxiety and depression that I read into his character, the fear of rejection that I’ve experienced on a bone-deep level, the disastrous choices he makes are ones that I feel come from a place where I understand what led him to them, and the fear of how hard it is to look within myself and really face myself, that I avoided it for a lot of years because it was too terrifying. I trash talk him a lot and I yell about the shitty choices he made, but it’s never without the understanding that I feel I understand why he made them and why they resonate so powerfully with me. 2. Sailor Moon - Tsukino Usagi - My forever girl! Usagi’s journey, especially in the manga, as someone who was emotionally fragile and would rather die than live without her special people, to someone who stands up and says, no, this time I’ll be the one to save them! That her journey being told, from that fragile person to that strong person, was worth the telling, that her starting point was worthwhile, not something to be derided, that the journey itself, the back and forth progress of it, that it wasn’t just a straight line, is one that has incredible meaning to me, as someone who has struggled with similar things. 3. Tolkien’s Legendarium - Thranduil - I was totally won over by Lee Pace’s portrayal in the movies, despite my frustration with the way he was written. Part of it is that I’ve always loved the Elves (let me yell about how much I love Thingol, it’s ridiculous) and I love the connections he has to my favorite groups (I love the Sindarin Elves so muuuuuuch, I cry, even as I love the Noldor and Vanyar, too, like, I will fight a man for Finrod, okay, oh, and Fingolfin deserves the world!! and my problematic fave Maedhros ;__;) and I love his relationship with Legolas (or the potential of it that fandom runs with much better than the movies did), but mostly it’s that he’s a king who loves his people and chose them and they loved him in return for it. 4. Bleach - Inoue Orihime - I have a weakness for characters who doubt themselves, but find a core of strength in being kind and loving. That Orihime has this tremendous power, that she could have been the most OP of the entire cast, but thoroughly rejected the idea of using it for violence, and instead only for healing, for kindness, cemented her as one of my forever loves. She can be so silly and loopy and ridiculous, she can be “weak” in the way she cries and reaches out for people, she has trouble letting other people see the truth of her sometimes, but when it counted, she refused to break and instead chose to be kind. I love her so very much. 5. Marvel - Thor - Thor is one of my favorites because the galaxy dumped a whole lot of shit on him and he refused to let it make him be less than he was. Well, at least until Endgame, but we don’t talk about that movie. (And even then it wasn’t that he stumbled, it was how they treated his depression, as one long joke, that makes me RRrrhhhaaggghh about it.) He grieved for everything he lost, including his brother, but he also refused to let Loki walk all over him, that he missed his brother, wished he could trust him, but wouldn’t let Loki’s pain rewrite what actually happened. The conversation on the skiff in Svartalfheim alone is why The Dark World is a movie I will always defend, “Who put me there [in the cell]!?” "You damn well know who!” YOU TELL HIM, THOR. That care + refusing to be budged on what was right, yes, that’s my guy right there. 6. Gravitation - Yuki Eiri - As dumb as this show was (and the manga even more so, but I enjoy the show more), as much as it was a silly BL show, I loved this character for being there for me when I needed him. Someone who had all this anger and hurt inside him, this depression that constantly ate at him, that he pushed people away because he couldn’t stand to let go of it, and it didn’t matter that there were people who loved him who wanted to help him, that a simple hug didn’t fix him, that it could help, but it couldn’t make him magically better--that was something I really needed when I watched the show. That depression and the rage it could cause wasn’t something a hug could fix. That he had to be willing to start opening up to people again, to risking more hurt, and that it wouldn’t be easy--I really, really needed that message at the time I got it, and I will always be thankful to that dumb show for giving it to me. 7. Steven Universe - Pink Diamond - Did you know that one of my favorite things in the world is hot mess lady characters? I love them sooooooo much, like, you give me a lady who did questionable things but we’re still meant to find her sympathetic and her story worth telling? I AM THERE. And Pink just slammed her way into my heart with everything she’d faced, the terrible things the other Diamonds put her through, that she had to change on her own, that she never had a Steven there to help her, she had to realize everything by herself, and that she wasn’t perfect at it, that she hurt people in the way she stumbled forward, yet there was a person there who loved and cared deeply? I love her forever. 8. Adventure Time - Princess Bubblegum - Nerdy science princess who is the sole possessor of a single braincell on the show and yet is just as batshit as the rest of them? The one character who looked at all the wild shit that happened in Ooo and said, sometimes you gotta prepare for the worst or do things that aren’t nice because otherwise we’ll all die? But never stopped caring about her people or the rest of the world and listened to others and tried her best to help? And had this complicated, fraught relationship with Marceline which is one of the best “f/f doesn’t always have to be nice” relationships that I’ve gotten to consume? I LOVE HERRRRR. 9. Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed - Lan Wangji - I am weak to his character type, okay! Reserved, talented, driven up the wall by the genius brat that bugs the shit out of him but also he loves them the most in the world, and utterly devoted to them? YEAH THAT SOUNDS LIKE MY TYPE. Also, Wang Yibo is so good-looking in the drama, oh my god. 10. Fruits Basket - Honda Tohru - Another character who refused to let the crap piled on her make her any less kind to the world. She goes through so much and yet never stops loving people and finding sympathy for them, she never stops reaching out her hand. While she’s never expected to do this, she’s never obligated to do so, there are plenty of characters in the series that are understandably angry and closed off that aren’t judged for being that way, that Tohru chooses to be open and loving, no matter how much she’s hurt for it, is a wonderful counterbalance. And I am forever grateful that she got the family she wanted, she got the guy she wanted to fall in love with, she got to meet all these people she cared about and they cared about her in return, and she was stronger in her love than any of them were in their fear, anger, or hate. I LOVE HER FOREVER. Tagging: DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE sobs

#lumi.txt

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pcttrailsidereader · 4 years ago

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To Measure a Mile

By Howard Shapiro

Yet another documentary of a PCT thru hike has come to my attention. This one ‘To Measure a Mile’ describes a 2018 trek by Chris Carter. There are many things to recommend about this film. First there is the photography. The quality is a real stand out. Carter captures images that transported me back to those same places with a renewed sense of wonder and delight. He intersperses his film with what appears to be a carefully curated selection of music. None of it overpowers the images or the particular locations featured.

Carter and his friend Andrew ‘Bugs’ Eichenlaub along with a college friend of Carter’s, get a late start from Campo. The trio begin their journey on May 19th well after a majority of the thru hike crowd has headed north. The temperatures in the desert have warmed considerably and the water caches are not as prevalent. Despite this they set out with strong determination. After a seemingly reasonable break-in period of a couple of weeks of 10 mile days, injuries slow their progress. The three hikers go off the trail and are taken in by several trail angels they meet through the course of their hike.

After a short stay Carter and Eichenlaub decide to press on while their friend Beau continues to recuperate. They know that time is their enemy if they are to reach the northern terminus before the cold winds and deep snow of late fall in the North Cascades stop them from reaching their ultimate goal.

Carter shares his reflections throughout the film and I found them very relatable. Words like ��pilgrimage’ and ‘dream’ are part of the narrative. He appears honest with his emotions describing the various ups and downs that come with the journey. These guys are pushing themselves, there is no doubt.

Crushing miles at 30-35 mile clips. Personally, I found this both impressive and out of my league. These fellows are younger than I am and as we come to find out very fit so their ambitious pace suits them for the most part. They do experience that their rapid pace has some downsides. Andrew is plagued by blood blisters while Chris suffers from shin splints. They decide to take time off the trail to recuperate a little. A trail angel gets word of their situation and takes them in for a bit of rest and recovery in Palm Springs.

North of Palm Springs the two hikers find that they are dialing in their bodies and minds for the challenges of their thru hike. They loosely join two other hikers for a spell and find their morale rising. Establishing what they refer to as a ‘siesta schedule’ helps them work around the heat of the day by taking advantage of the cooler temperatures of the night. Being later in the season water caches are drying up and they encounter stretches as long as 40 miles between reliable water sources.

They complete the 700 miles of desert in their first month happily arriving at Kennedy Meadows.The joy they experience entering the Sierras is distinct. The access to reliable water is supremely up lifting. Unfortunately injury finds them again near Mount Whitney where Eichenlaub leaves to recover in Lone Pine while Carter presses on with the idea of meeting up again in the Yosemite Valley.

Carter walks alone and speaks of that experience in an open fashion relating the loneliness, doubt, and fear of pushing on. The demise of his partners leave him wondering if their fate will be his. Eventually he hooks up with ‘Griz’ who will accompany him for this and future stretches. This proves to be a valuable trail friendship. Acknowledging the power of relationships really sets this documentary apart from so many others.

When Carter arrives in the Yosemite Valley he re-connects with his partner Eichenlaub to take a few days off trail to do some rock climbing. This interlude is interesting in terms of broadening our understanding of these two young men’s interests and friendship beyond hiking. It also adds to the sense of their personal styles and approaches to thru hiking the PCT. As a viewer I didn’t expect this to be a part of their story.

Carter pushes on without his friend who is still suffering the effects of shin splints. His newer found friend ‘Griz’ continues on with him north. It is at this stage of their trip that the pressure to walk farther and faster really comes to light. The film flies through those sections north of Yosemite and on to the Oregon border. This sets up for the hiker’s attempt at the Oregon Challenge where hikers push themselves to get through the Oregon PCT as quick as they can. Along the way they up the ante with a 24 hour challenge between Mount Jefferson and Timberline Lodge. I was struck by the drive of these guys.

The attention the film maker gives to his surroundings, from the vast expanses to the smallest flowing stream, make this film visually quite stunning. I am sorry he leaves out, what to me are some important parts of the trail. After setting up the story with the hard miles through the desert and capping it with the beauty found north of Kennedy Meadows he literally speeds through Oregon and a great deal of Washington. I know he is trying to beat the weather in the North Cascades but I would have rather seen more of those miles than the time climbing in Yosemite. He does pays homage to both Oregon and Washington in his wonderful verbal descriptions but doesn’t devote a lot of our viewing time to those portions.

Carter keeps pushing further north on his journey. It is not without increased challenge. The seasons have definitely changed and as I watched I wanted to put on another layer as it looked really cold and miserable. By the closing minutes of the film it is early October and snow is flying and temperatures are dropping.

Chris Carter’s film honors the PCT in more ways than it doesn’t. There are a few times when I felt that the hikers in the film baffled me. At one point Carter states, “slowing down is enriching" while in what seems like the next breath he is giving way to the need for speed. These fellows could be deeply reflective, honest, and engaging and then show their boyish sides. I appreciate, boys can be boys. On the other hand, is it me or are their more ways to appear in a close up other than channeling Gene Simmons from Kiss and letting your tongue hang down to your chin? I grew a little weary of this.

These are small criticisms for a really nicely put to together and professionally done PCT documentary. In our CLIF bar rating system, I would give ‘To Measure a Mile’ a solid 8 CLIF bars (out of 10). I encourage you to give it a look and see how it resonates. As Carter says, “There are more ways to measure a mile...” I would strongly agree.

#Thru hiking #Chris Carter #Yosemite Valley #Oregon Challenge #North Cascades

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the-silentium · 5 years ago

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Wait for me to come home Pt. 7

Masterlist Part 6

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Reader, Venom x Reader

Warning: Angst, fluff

Words: 5160 Words

It can be really cruel how the unconscious plays with someone's mind. It takes your worst fear and turns it against you in a horrible nightmare or takes the thing you want the most in the world and gives it to you in an illusory dream. You enjoy that so realistic dream so much and lose yourself in it. But then the unavoidable moment to wake up finally strikes. All the fantasies crumble down and reality hits you with a harsh slap across your face. You were imagining what never happened. Your reality is so full of shit.

That's what happened to you. Your brother did almost die by your boyfriend's hand. You did call Sebastian for assistance after expelling Venom out of your apartment. You did sleep next to your brother and wake up next to him. But your brother accepting the fact that your boyfriend is the host of an alien definitely didn't happen. In fact, he doesn't even know. Your call to Eddie that day to try to find a solution didn't happen, so is your intimate moment with the symbiote. All the good moments and all the progress were in the end just a bunch of bullshit your mind made up to make you last another day.

The accident occurred 7 days ago. Aiden returned home the day after the event still unable to talk. He asked you to go with him but you refused. You had to argue with him for almost an hour before he finally gave up. He wrapped a scarf around his neck to hide the blue yellowish skin and drove home safely. No need to tell that you got a frantic call this same evening. Aiden's wife, Sarah, was so scared that Venom would come back for you and finish the job that she begged you to come to their house for some time. It took a lot of talking but you got to stay in your home with the promise to call them every evening. Now all you have to do is think about what to do next. And change your door.

Because Venom exploded your door handle. Again. Plus, the door frame has a hole where the latch bolt should go, so the door didn't stay closed. Not feeling like fixing it at the moment, you bought 3 door locks and put them on. It wasn't the best option but you couldn't care less. Your dad would definitely laugh at your crappy work and take the matter in his hands but he wasn't here, so crappy work it is.

You tried to call Eddie, but you always end on voicemail. You knew that you didn't do anything wrong, but you couldn't help yourself but feel guilty. You didn't know why you just know that the feeling kept weighing on your mind. You didn't get much sleep because your brain wouldn't let you a second off. It was weird. You had so many thoughts at the same time, but you felt so empty.

————————————————————

The air conditioning hit you square in the face at the second the automatic door opens. You make your way in, waving at the security guard before getting in the elevator. You press the 15th-floor button without hesitation and close your eyes to muster up your strength to survive the day. Your only hope is that you will not see him at all. It hurts, even more, when you both glance at each other and he clearly goes out of his way to avoid you. You tried to corner him but you are no match with aliens supersense. He hears you coming from the other end of the building and disappears in a rush.

Signing when the doors open, you put a smile on your face and starts the day with force. You wave at Kayla and goes for your office. You quickly send your last pictures to Sam and take in your new list. Easy ones. Yay. You fill some paperwork before grabbing your jacket and your camera. You double-check that your spare batteries are in the case before returning to the streets and hunt down your subjects.

Few hours pass and your head is far away from your daily problems. You met some amazing people through your photoshoots and you return to the journal with new numbers in your contact list. On your way back, you meet Kayla and you both start to make plans for the week. You were both really excited for the new Lion King movie so you planned a movie night tomorrow night. What better than a Disney movie to return in your childhood and forget all about your adult worries?

Back at your office, a note is neatly written and lies on top of your keyboard. You immediately know who is the author because of the origami swan that keeps company to the little square of paper. Are you in for a little gala in my company? I would love to hear from you darling. We didn't see each other as much lately. I'll wait for your answer in my office. -Kyle

You smile at the offer and immediately you want to say yes. Galas with Kyle are always interesting and enjoyable. What makes you hesitate though is that you have to pass Eddie's office to reach Kyle's. You breathe deeply, grab the little swan and reach the elevator. You smile to the people already in and press the 19th-floor button before trying to make yourself as little as possible. Your finger jump on your hips. Wow, the 4 floors that separate your two departments feel like an eternity today.

Someone gets out at the 17th floor. Another one at the 18th. When the door on the 19th finally opens, you are tempted to stay in and enjoy the ride to the differents floors but people eye you like they know that this is your destination. You slowly step out and take in the calm atmosphere of the journalists area. People are typing at their computer, some are silently chatting in the break room while some others exchange opinions on an article.

Your eyes are attracted towards a certain investigative reporter cubicle. Your heart skips a beat when you take in his tilted head. He looks too concentrated to notice your presence. Before tears drown your eyes you reach Kyle's office. You don't have time to knock that the door opens and his smiley face greets you.

"Y/N! You are radiant as always dear!" He takes a step on the side to let you in.

"Hi, Kyle. Thank you. You are pretty handsome yourself." You get in and take a seat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. He sits in the other and faces you, letting the door open. "So, we are going to a gala?"

His hands join together in a satisfied motion. "So will you be my other half for tonight?"

Short notice. Again. Journalism sucks sometimes but hey, you got to pass your time with the most gentleman being that ever existed. "You know I love this kind of event." You put your elbows on your knees and smile mockingly at him. "So, details?"

Kyle reaches for a file on his desk. A very primitive part of you feels eyes on your neck. You get a bit uncomfortable and shift in your seat. You have a good idea of who's watching you but you can't help but scratch your neck in discomfort. The feeling passes soon after that and you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"The gala is organized by…"

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Eddie tuned out his friend. His right finger is taping uncontrollably on the desk while his eyes glare at the screen without seeing it. To hell his article. He already had a hard time concentrating when you weren't there, now that you are, his guilt resurfaced. With it is now mixed jealousy.

You are once again paired with Kyle for a dressed-up event. You will dress for him and not them. You will dance with him, not them. He will be able to see you smile, but not them. Oh, how they miss it. How much they want to hold you in their arms again. How much they want to feel your lips on theirs. Your absence really weights on the symbiote and his host.

Sure, Eddie refused your calls at first. His guilt was eating him alive and he was so scared that all you wanted to do was scream at them and ultimately end your relationship. It was understandable. He hurt you by hurting your brother and the fear in your eyes when Venom reached for you... it still haunted the symbiote.

They didn't get much sleep the first day. They were too worried to rest or eat. It was a first. Venom didn't bug his host for food for a whole day. The second day has been really hard though. They were both lacking sleep and food. The cocktail resulted in a dozen of missing robbers, muggers and assholes. At the end of the night, when they felt like they drained all their frustration, they stealthily went to your window and watched you sleep for some time. Your brother must have returned home because he was nowhere to be seen and his sent was faint. You whimpered in your sleep causing Venom to unlock and open your window slightly. He wanted to comfort you like he always did but Eddie stopped him. You were better without them he said. They would only bring problems to you. Reluctantly, the alien took a step back and returned amongst the shadows. It broke him to let you behind but his host was most experienced than him in these situations.

Venom knew he did something bad to you and all he wanted was to apologize. Every time Eddie calls him a parasite, things go back to normal when he apologizes, so this situation is no different, right? Error, apology, back to normal. Easy really. But Eddie's stubbornness to stay away from you is complicating Venom's plan and is seriously starting to weight on his nerves. He misses you and his host won't do anything to repair the situation.

Right now, the journalist can't help himself. He stares at your form and feels the symbiote move beneath his skin. It reassures him to know that the symbiote was still watching and not lurking in the pit of his body. They both fell in a quiet routine since Eddie burst Venom's bubble about their probably ended relationship with you.

"I'll pick you up at 7." Kyle's voice forces Eddie back to reality. He doesn't have to turn his head to know that the male has an arm on the small of your back. The low hiss resonating in him tells him all he has to know.

Ours. Venom low growl makes Eddie clench his jaw.

Not anymore.

You don't know for sure. You avoided her like a pussy.

Shut up. Us falling apart… It's the natural way of things after what we've done.

That's stupid.

That's the truth.

"Perfect." Your melodic voice gives goosebump to the brunette. "I'll be ready. See you tonight Kyle." The smile in your voice makes Venom's jealousy reach a peak.

Eddie has to grab his desk with both hands to keep the symbiote in check. His knuckles had turned white by the time you reached the elevator and your smell disappeared with you. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was keeping and Venom settles a bit.

We have a bad feeling about this gala, Eddie.

You are just jealous because she's not going with us.

Eddie fells a low rumble shake his body. It is not jealousy. It is something more.

Humming, Eddie tried to concentrate on his article again. Not to avail. The Venom's feeling was perturbing him too. He really wished that it was jealousy and nothing else.

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19:08. Venom couldn't stay in place and has been chanting hungry hungry hungry for the past 20 minutes. Finally giving up, Eddie let his other take control but he had to promise to not approach the neighborhood of the gala. Grunting, Venom still engulfs his host and gets out of the apartment by the window. The fresh air of the evening invigorates the black alien. He swings through the air from building to building and stops only when your apartment building come to view. He stops on a nearby rooftop and pays attention to what's happening. Your lights are off, windows closed and your camera isn't on its usual spot.

Disappointed, Venom returns to a more troublesome neighborhood with a goal in mind. Fill his stomach while keeping an eye out for you. The feeling in his gut keeps him on edge and every little sound catches his attention.

It doesn't take long for him to find his first meal. A scream brings him to an alley where two men cornered a woman and forced themselves on her. Protectiveness flood through Venom making him barge in the scene like fire was surrounding him. He makes a quick job of biting the head off the first guy and proceeds to pass his anger on the second. He starts to beat the shit out of him, throwing him on the brick walls, crushing his leg under his own foot and terrorizing him with his toothy maw. When an unpleasant smell of urine reaches Venom's nostrils, he decides that the game is over. He finishes quickly in two bites and takes a moment to calm himself down when a hand touches his forearm. His head shot toward the source, baring his fangs, ready to attack.

The woman flinches, fear all over her face. The feeling of déjà-vu freezes the symbiote. At her place, he sees you standing there, scared of him. He immediately hides his fangs and retrieves his taloned hands from near you. He even takes a step backward before the woman speaks up.

"Th-thank you for saving me." She shakes a little but stands her ground. Her hands move to grab the opposite upper arm in a self hug manner.

Venom relax a little and crouch a bit, wanting to be a little less intimidating. The woman takes it as an invitation perhaps, because she moves forward and delicately touches his right cheek. It triggers a feeling the symbiote has been experiencing in the past days. He didn't like it one bit. The silent ache in his heart whenever something reminds him of you. The missing warmth on his skin every time you would merely brush at him.

For days Venom wondered what caused the emptiness in him. He knew for sure that there was no physical hole, he searched for one 3 times. He tried to ask Eddie about it but only got silence as an answer. He tried searching on his host's computer. The thing always seemed to have all the answers to Eddie's questions. Only, the symbiote was met with a vocabulary he didn't understand one bit. Human emotions.

Tonight, though, he finally understood what was wrong. The little spark in his chest was gone. Your spark. He always thought that you were the one who put it there and it made him feel special. Eddie had one too, of course, but now that Venom thinks about it, both of them are missing.

His heartbeat skyrockets when panic takes him over. You took your sparks back? Was it too late to apologize and make things better? The delicate touch on his cheek was now burning him causing him to take a few steps back. No one can touch him like that. Only you. He only wants your spark, no one else's.

He turns on his heels and climbs the building next to him. You. He needs to see you and make things better. He ran from building to building at first and change to web-slinging when he decided that it wasn't fast enough. Now. He needs you now.

Eddie is confused in the black armor that is the symbiote. One moment, he felt guilty and then hell break loose. A tornado of emotions consumed him and his heartbeat is uncontrollable. He tried to talk to the symbiote, tried to calm him down, asked what was wrong, but never get an answer. He could only stay in the backseat and watch.

Again, the bad feeling they both felt when Kyle invited you to the gala plague their minds. Something was wrong. It wasn't jealousy. It was instinct. A 600 million years advanced instinct that told them to hurry their asses.

Venom pushes himself harder when his destination appears in his line of vision. He lands heavily on a rooftop adjacent and jumps to the edge. His eyes widen when he takes in the scene taking place in front of them. Multiple police cars block the entry of the building, agents rushing to evacuate the street, 4 ambulances on standby waiting for injured and the SWAT team preparing themselves for an assault.

This couldn't be happening. They promised to protect their little one. They failed. Twice. They need to get you out of there because they need you. And they need you now.

Just wait a second budy. We need info.

No we don’t.

Yes we do. You can’t just barge in like that. There may be a bomb or somethin’ and a lot of people can die if we don’t do it correctly. The black alien lets out a huff and gets down of his hiding place. He stays in the shadows and concentrates on hearing the briefing of the SWAT.

"-round 200 hostages on the 37th floor. We know for sure that there are 5 kidnappers, but there may be more. The first contact allowed us to know that there are wounded, but no deaths so far." A weight lifted from Eddie. No death. They still have a chance to get you out of there. "They are organized and have no desire to surrender. As soon as they find what they are looking for, they’ll go out in a bloodbath, so we have to neutralize them before-"

A guttural roar escapes the symbiote and he lounges forward, scaring the shit out of the tactical team. He gets a hold of the thin brick portion of the building and starts climbing at a fast rhythm. Counting as fast as he could, Eddie prevents his other went he needs to slow his pace. Surprisingly, the SWAT didn’t open fire on them like Eddie had thought they are merely shouting orders to accelerate the assault. It’s the next floor. Stay hidden.

Following his host’s instructions, Venom slowly gets near the edge of the window and analyze the situation. 1,2,3..7 kidnappers. All equipped with automatic rifle, kevlar vest, and tactical masks. No explosives insight. The hostages are all scattered around the room on their knees, head low and most of them are shaking. The wounded are crowded in the far corner of the room, near the entrance. Venom passes all their face in check and is relieved to see that you are not one of them.

Deciding that now is the best moment to eat heads, Venom shoots a web over the top edge of the window, jump backward and use gravity to enter the room in an explosion of glass shards. Many people scream and rush away from him. Cautious to not hurt any civilian, Venom force his passage by pushing the slower out of his way and get to the nearer bad guy. He only has time to scream and shoot one bullet at him that his head is already missing and his body falls limp on the floor. More screams reach the alien’s ears joined with multiple impacts of bullets. Venom quickly jumps toward another attacker and throw him across the room on another bad guy. They both fly together for a few feets before hitting the ground et meeting a horrible toothy jaw seconds later. 3 down, 4 to go.

Unfortunately, the 4 others prepared themselves. Each one of them got a civilian in front of them with their rifle aimed for the head. You are one of them. Eddie’s blood runs cold and Venom freezes. Your peachy dress is covered in blood on almost all its entirety, tears run down your face and your right ankle is swollen.

"Don’t move or their brains will redo the deco."

A low growl erupted from his chest when his eyes shrink to thin lines. The man is too far for him to neutralize. If he makes a move, you’ll be dead before he reaches you. They can’t think of a way to get you out of here alive and it rises their distress. Your eyes met his and you try to smile at them. It brokes them even further. You look like you accepted your fate already and you are saying your goodbyes. God bless Venom’s sharp sight, the subtle movement behind the man threatening your life catches his attention. A dark-haired man slowly gets on his feet in a crouched position and nod to someone on his right. In his peripheral vision, Venom sees 3 other men doing the same and approaching slowly the kidnappers.

Idiots. Braves. They both think at the same time. The black-haired man silently lifts his hand and show his palm to the others in a waiting motion. Then, he points the alien and Eddie is quick to catch his intentions. They need a distraction. And one they will get. He waits for the good samaritans to watch for his move and then he breathes deeply and makes the biggest roar he ever made. Just when they jump in surprise do the 4 civilians jump for the rifles and fight for it. In a millisecond, your captor loses his head and the other 3 receives the same treatment.

Panting from the mix of fear and action, Venom takes a second to compose himself and turns to where you should be. The room is completely silent, no one sob, no one scream, no one cry. Everyone is watching him closely, waiting for his next move. You are on the floor, the dark-haired man checking you over. Now that Venom concentrates on him, he realizes that your good samaritan is Kyle.

When the journalist sees your sight fixed on something behind his back, he turns around and puts himself between you and the symbiote. Eddie is relieved that you have a friend who would fight for you as much as he would do. Without being your boyfriend. That's his job.

All Venom can think of at the moment is push Kyle aside, scoop you in his arms and return home to cuddle your body all night. That's when he remembers the blood covering you. Refraining his urge to just follow his plan, he tilts his head to meet your gaze.

"Are you alright?"

You nod and tighten your grip on what Eddie thinks is Kyle's jacket.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving us." Your voice is shaking a bit, but the sincerity on your face tell them that you really are okay. Kyle's strong arms wrap around your shoulders while he moves to be at your side and his eyes meet Venom's.

"Thank you for saving us." His strong tone travels around the room and soon enough, a choral of "thank you" flood the symbiote and his host's ears. Never before did they receive such a big positive reaction to what they do.

The moment abruptly comes to an end when the SWAT team barges in the room. Giving a glance at your form one last time, Venom turns on his heels and quickly make his exit by the broken window he came from. Policemen were still running the street and shouts could be heard when some of them spotted the symbiote.

They didn't even try to follow him, concentrating their forces on the task at hand. Venom find a dark alley and returns back into his host. Still feeling the adrenaline in his vein, the brunette starts a sprint toward the scene and stops at the police barrier. They didn't evacuate the hostages yet.

The journalist analyzes the barrier for a weak spot he could use to break in and meet you when you get out. Not too far from him is an abstracted policeman who is more interested in his phone than his job. Perfect. He approaches stealthily and waits for your appearance.

1 minute later, the first hostages start to get out of the building. 5 more minutes and Eddie can see you being carried bridal style by the dark-haired journalist. Quickly, Eddie passes under the yellow tape, jumps the wooden barrier and avoid the policeman who finally got off his phone. He runs as fast as he could, helped by his symbiote.

Your gaze found theirs and you talk to your friend. He puts you down a second before Eddie reaches you and hugs you tightly. His head finds the crook of your neck when yours meet his chest. Venom is undulating under Eddie's skin, restraining himself to wrap you in his black tendrils. You start sobbing, making their heart clench. He releases his grip on you and analyzes your body for some injury.

"I-I'm f-fine Ed. Just my ankle." You manage to say between your sobs.

Sure enough, your ankle is swollen and a shade of deep blue started forming.

"The blood is from someone else." Came the voice of your friend. "Darling here saved someone's life." He pats your shoulder and smile at them. He looks terribly tired.

Eddie looks down and sees the same tiredness in your eyes. He takes you bridal style, your arms wrap themselves around his neck and your head find the side of his neck.

"I'll get you checked on by a paramedic and we can go home, okay?"

"I'm fine, really." The event really took its toll on you, because your voice becomes heavy with sleep.

"I'll feel better if you get checked on." He can feel your nod on his skin and carry you near an ambulance. 40 minutes later, you are now on your way home after dropping Kyle at his first. The cab comes to a stop in front of Eddie's apartment building.

"C-Can I stay at your place?" You ask him with a little shaky voice. "My door isn't the best description of safe at the moment."

Eddie pays the driver, gets out and take you out of the car in his arms without effort.

"Your place wasn't even an option. You stay with us." Now that nobody was around, thin black lines start to form around your form and keep you steady against your boyfriend.

"I'm sorry." They almost didn't hear you whisper in their neck.

"Sorry for what?" He frowns, trying to fit the key in the keyhole, but give up and let the symbiote do the job.

"For what happened in my apartment." If it wasn't for Venom's head snuggling yours, they wouldn't have heard you.

"Nothing is your fault little one." His head stops moving against yours and holds your gaze. "We should have analyzed the situation before jumping to conclusion." He licks your left cheek.

You smile at him and the symbiote starts purring. Eddie finally enters the apartment and takes all of you in the bathroom. He puts you down on the closed lid of the toilet and starts running a hot bath.

"Wait here." He quickly moves to the kitchen, takes a bag of ice from the freezer and get back to you. Your eyes are closed and your breathing is even. You look asleep, but your eyes open when you hear them. Eddie crouches and cautiously takes your bad foot in his hands. You wince but keep silent. He applies the ice on your ankle and you sigh.

When the bath is almost full, he stops the water and helps you undress before you get in. They stay at your side and both symbiote and host start to wash your body. They are sure that you fell asleep, but your voice breaks the silence.

"Venom, I'm sorry for burning you." Opening your eyes seems difficult, but you manage. The symbiote licks your cheek while tendrils start massaging your back.

"We forgive you little one. We understand why you did it."

Tears start to run down your cheeks. Your hands slowly lift to cradle Venom's right cheek and Eddie's left cheek.

"I love you both."

Eddie's lips meet yours and moves in sync. You stay there for as long as you could before your need for oxygen make you pull back.

"We love you too," Eddie whispers against your lips.

When you started to feel too tired for the bath, they both take you out, dry you with towels and carry you to bed. There, you snuggle to Eddie's chest, black goo wrapping your form almost completely.

"Are we your boyfriends again?" He sounded nervous.

"Did we stopped being in a relationship?" You genuinely ask.

"Eddie said that us falling apart was the natural way of things after what we did."

You snort. "That's just stupid."

"That's what I said!" Now, he sounds so satisfied with himself. He puts his head on the crook of your neck.

"Hey, I felt guilty for what happened."

He heard that your brother was okay. No permanent damage. He felt better, but still, shame and guilt plagued his heart.

"My brother is fine, I'm fine, so there is nothing to worry about. You know, we could have talked about this instead of ignoring each other."

More shame. Damn, he was such an idiot. At the thought, Venom starts purring.

"Yes you are."

Not helping dude. You laugh at their silent exchange and pet the symbiote.

"Oh, Venom." You start. Said symbiote lift his head to meet your gaze. "You really improved your roar. I'm sure the other end of San Francisco heard it." You chuckle.

Pride fills the alien and a huge smile forms on his face.

"Thanks for being my hero." You say before taking his head in both hands and kiss his mouth.

Venom is stunned at first, his eyes widening. Then he regains control of himself and starts to move what would be his lips with yours. If possible, his purr loudens and his black mass starts to wriggle.

You laugh and pull away. His head, without support, fell on your chest and seems to melt a little. Eddie chuckles and pulls you in for a kiss.

Venom didn't sleep that night. He was too occupied enjoying the feeling of your body against his and replay your kiss in his head. He loved how you called him your hero. But most of all, he enjoyed the feeling of the little spark in his and his host's chest.

Tag list: @slither-in-a-half @a-frozen-bag-of-corn @noshi-chan

#venom #venom x reader #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #venom (movie)#venom being a hero

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jotarokujowithfattits · 6 years ago

Text

Survivor (Scar Yautja x Reader) Part 2/2

Part 1

...

The next day, you didn’t see Scar for most of the time. He was in the ship almost constantly, not even coming out to eat at his usual times. This struck you as odd, because without his extra large steak portion he acted like a pouty child and bugged you constantly.

You were fine with it until he failed to turn up for the nightly episode of the Walking Dead; at that point, you were both worried and frustrated to the point that you decided to pay him a little visit (even though the ship freaked you out more than you’d want to admit). So you stomped over to the large entrance and banged on the metal.

“Where the hell are you?! Is everything okay?”

There was a clattering heard inside, and a moment later the door opened slightly, with Scar’s head poking out. “Hello, (Y/N).”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Don’t ‘hello’ me. You haven’t shown up the entire day! What’s going on?”

He thought for a moment, looking at you, before disappearing back inside. After a moment, the door opened fully, coming to a rest at your feet.

“Come inside, (Y/N).”

You hesitated, peering into the dark opening. Scar obviously trusted you enough to let you inside, but you felt uncertain; you knew nothing about their technology, so what if you messed something? Or worse, what if you did something so idiotic that Scar ended up injured?

You were snapped out of your trance by said alien extending his hand towards you to lead you inside. Taking a deep breath, you decided to trust his judgment, and let yourself be pulled inside.

The air inside felt different, heavier somehow. You looked around; the interior was made up of a dark, gleaming metal, and red light glowed from panels on the walls and floor. You had never seen anything like it before - the ship itself seemed to be filled with elegance and power.

Scar led you along what you assumed was the main corridor, into the control room of the ship. You were awed and didn’t dare utter a single word, silently looking around. After a while of taking in your surroundings you turned back to Scar.

“Holy shit, Scar! This is amazing! How… what…”

He clicked in return, laughing. “Take a moment, ooman. You can’t speak very well right now.”

You huffed, although a smile played at your lips. Taking a deep breath you started again.

“I love this place, it’s stunning. But why would you bring me in here?”

He stood up straighter and pointed at the panels at the front of the ship, presumably the controls. “I repaired all of it, it works perfectly.”

You squealed excitedly, running up and crushing him in a hug. “Yes! All our hard work has paid off! I’m so happy for you!”

He chuckled and returned the hug, purring deeply. “Yes, you were a great help and a magnificent host. My elders had sent a message to me earlier, they gave me coordinates and instructions.” He grinned happily at you. “I’ll be gone by tomorrow morning!”

Your elated smile vanished as you pulled away from the hug, looking up at him, heart pounding. “Wait… gone? You’re… you’re leaving me?”

He nodded, still not noticing your shocked expression. “Yes, I bet you’ll be glad to have your life back.” He laughed. “And don’t worry, you won’t have to interact with my line again. Doesn’t that relieve you?”

“What- no! No it doesn’t!” You pulled away from him abruptly, tears already pressing into your eyes. “Who said I wanted you to go?”

He stopped, looking down at you in surprise. “But I’ve disrupted your life and overused my stay. Why wouldn’t you want me gone?”

You stared at him open mouthed, your hands trembling. “Because you’re a part of my life now, and I’m at the point where I can’t imagine you not being here!” Your voice rose as you clenched your fists, anger beginning to overtake you. “And what the hell?! You didn’t say a single word to me the entire day, I was out of my mind worrying and now you’re just like ‘oh yeah, I’m leaving tomorrow, be happy’. Don’t you think you should’ve told me this earlier?!”

He frowned down at you, his tusks twitching as he let out a low growl. “I shouldn’t be telling you at all, ooman, so you should appreciate this. And it’s for the best! Our... ‘friendship’ was doomed from the beginning, it’s best that I’m gone as soon as possible.”

You felt the familiar pang of heartbreak hit your chest at his words, the tears you were holding in now spilling down your cheeks as your lip trembled. “I. Don’t. Want. You. Gone! Yeah you disrupted my life, but I like it! And… and you’ve made me feel…” you took a deep breath, the words sticking in your throat.

He cocked his head to the side as he approached you again, looking worried. “What are you saying, (Y/N)? I thought you wanted your old life back…”

His hands wrapped themselves around you gently, his purring quiet to comfort you, not realising it drove you crazy.

You felt a rush of desperation shoot through you amidst your anger. ‘Screw it’, you thought. ‘Now or never, he’s not going to be here ever again.’

You surged forward, pulling him down by the thin threads of his (fishnet?) armour and pressing your mouth to his, your eyes shut in fear of seeing his disgust. Your idea now seemed stupid - how could an intergalactic warrior ever have feelings for a mere human - and you braced yourself to be pushed away by Scar.

But… that never happened. After a second of hesitation, you felt his strong arms wrap tightly around you and you could feel your brain melting.

The kiss was… indescribable. You had never felt anything like this before, and as weird as it was (the, uh, anatomy of the alien considered), it was causing thrills to shoot through you and your legs felt like giving out from emotion. You poured all your love, your desperation, your pain into this moment, hoping that the Yautja will understand what you’re wordlessly telling him. In that moment, you knew that the fate of your future was decided for you; no matter how much you tried to forget, you could never let Scar go. In the end, he’d return to his own world, and you’d be left here, with an empty void in place of your heart.

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt Scar’s clawed finger gently wiping across your cheek. You opened your eyes and pulled away from him, though still staying in his arms.

Scar tilted his head, his thumb still caressing your cheek. A sob tore itself out of your throat and you placed your head on his chest, muffling your cries.

“Please… don’t go… don’t leave me here… I-I can’t…”

Scar clicked softly, one hand rubbing your back in a comforting manner. “I’m here, (Y/N).”

You shook your head, trying to calm your breathing. “You have to go back and-”

“Shh”, the Yautja soothed, purring. “I’ll stay, then. I’ll stay with you, as long as I can.”

He didn’t speak after, but you could feel the waves of sadness rolling off of him.

But for now, you would pretend everything was fine.

That night, heading into bed, you stopped Scar from taking the guest room, pulling him into your own room instead. You didn’t care about anything anymore, you just wanted to feel him for as long as you could. You wanted him to be yours, screw the consequences.

You fell asleep to the comfort of his arms gripping you and his heartbeat sounding below your ear.

…

You woke up the next morning draped over Scar’s body, and his soft breathing told you he was still asleep. You looked up and smiled softly; he looked so much more peaceful when asleep. Beautiful. The sadness you felt last night was now a dull ache at the back of your mind, and you wanted to cherish your time with the Yautja. Placing your head back on his chest, a soft sigh escaped you and you pressed a kiss to his skin.

You felt Scar shift below you, his deep purr resonating a second later. You felt his hand go to your hair and stroke it gently, which made you smile.

“Morning”, you mumbled, receiving a few clicks in return. Ah, yes, he had removed his earpiece last night.

You stayed on top of him as he reached over to the bedside table to retrieve said device. After a minute, you heard his voice.

“Good morning, (Y/N).”

You made a soft sound as you reached up to press a kiss to his jaw, making him purr. You giggled, Scar’s hand in your hair pausing a second at this. You felt better than you had in a long, long time, your heart full and bursting with love, love that was reflected in the Yautja’s eyes.

…

The whole day you felt like you were flying. You couldn’t get much done, as your mind was in an entirely different place, and you were even more distracted as your (boyfriend?) kept sneaking up behind you to gather you into his arms. You didn’t know if the Yautja really craved physical contact this much, but you figured that he’s doing it because he can see it makes you happy, and it was working. You felt almost ethereal and you walked around humming silly love songs the entire time. You were pretty sure you’d make Scar watch Dirty Dancing with you at the end of the day, too.

The thoughts of him leaving were pushed to the back of your mind and you managed not to focus on them at all. Instead, every free moment you had you spent with him. He also seemed to be procrastinating the ship repairs, and you felt your heart leap at the thought that it was for you.

You were standing in the back doorway watching him with his back to you, and a devilish idea crossed your mind. You began to sneak up on him, a smirk on your face the entire time, stepping on the grass as softly as possible. Scar seemed unaware of your presence and you planned to use that the best way possible.

With a mighty roar, you leaped up on to his back, laughing as your hands went to his neck, attempting to tickle him. His startled squawk made you laugh even harder as you continued with your assault, but soon you gasped as you felt him lean forward and literally throw you over his back, catching you in his hands and holding you tightly, your feet not even reaching the ground. His growling voice sounded right beside your ear.

“You want to play like this? It’s on.”

You swallowed hard, the sound of his voice making heat pool deep in your belly. He laughed at you, his hands going to your sides and mimicking the tickling motions that you had done to him. You shrieked with laughter and tried to push him off.

“N-NO- AHAHAH- STOP!!”

Turning in his arms, you pushed at him, making the both of you stumble onto the ground with you on top. You used that to your advantage and with a triumphant yell you resumed the tickle fight. This, however, didn’t seem to affect Scar as much as you hope and soon enough, you found yourself on your back with him lying on you, gripping your arms to stop you from moving. He grinned and purred, “I win.”

You struggled for a moment, laughing, before finally giving up and putting your arms slack to the ground. It was only then that you realised your position, and heat rushed to your cheeks as you bit your lip. “O-okay, you win.”

Scar seemed pleased, then tilted his head as he observed your reaction. Slowly, he pressed his hips into yours and you whimpered in response, staring up at him wide eyed. His right hand left your arm and began travelling up your side towards your chest, and you felt arousal shoot through you, your breathing much heavier than before.

Scar purred, enjoying the reactions he was pulling from your body. Your sweet scent was driving him crazy, and he doubted he could hold back much longer.

As you looked up at him, you felt all your worries melt away slowly. The whole situation should’ve weirded you out, but honestly, you were past all of that. All you knew now was that the future was unpredictable and frightening, but now you had someone to venture into the unknown with.

And by god, were you excited to see what your future with Scar will be like. After all, you were both survivors, you could get through anything together.

Together. You liked the sound of that.

...

I hope all of you enjoyed this little story! I’d also like to write headcanons and answer any ask prompts so please send them in, whatever they may be! :)

I’m probably going to be writing more often now too, not taking year long hiatuses XD

Tagging: @the-moon-is-my-butt

@turtlov

@tsundere-kawaii-shark

@galaxyuniverse118

@theyautjafiles

@krisssten

@opheliadawnwalker3

@wthtorke

@purplekitten30

#yautja imagines #yautja x human #yautja #yautja x reader #predator x reader #predator x human #predator #monster boyfriend #terato love #scar #scar predator #alien #alien vs predator #xeno #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #Tori writes

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mishahanyou · 5 years ago

Text

Leftovers from a DnD Oneshot

A little backstory: It was a murder mystery and my char, Rhys, was the widow. This takes place after they discovered the killer was the lover who had intended to share all the dirty secrets they’d learned during the night. It would have hurt people she cared about so she manipulated the warforge servant of her late husband to kill the widow and ensure silence.

The temperature of the room seemed to drop, which was a bit funny considering the bright and warm temperatures outside. Her gaze settled first on Egan's body; still and slumped over the counter, reminiscent of the many times he'd passed out with his brandy before. To her own surprise she did feel grief, but she couldn't truly ascertain what she felt she'd lost. Was it for Egan? Or was it the realization of just who she truly was to him in their ten years together.

Sparing a look for Blue Shield, though an automaton, there was an obvious sadness about him. For Merc's sake, she had no intention to abandon him here, but she suspected it would also serve to assuage her own guilt for using him as an escape.

As much as she desired, she didn't dare glance at Jaryax. There would be disappointment in his eyes that she couldn't deal with right now, there were more pressing matters. "Merc, we have a small estate here that should have been prepared for us, come with me darling." The boy seemed lost in his own thoughts and followed her without complaint. Honestly, she couldn’t blame him; he’d lost much in a short time and now that list extended to Blue Shield. A pang resonated in her chest; deep and resonate, as if the pit of her soul was speaking. ‘Not now,’ she thought; there was much to do and none of it allowed her time for an emotional breakdown. “Isn’t that always the case lately.”

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until she noticed Merc’s glance from her side. “I-Isn’t what the case… Aunt Rhys?”

With a smile and a shake of her head she replied simply, “Just the inner musings of a war veteran.”

As they stepped through the bustling town of Fairhaven, Rhys felt like all eyes were on her. Like bugs crawling beneath her tan skin, scratching and biting to see what was underneath. It was, of course, her imagination; it was impossible for news to spread that quickly. Though it would spread soon, and they didn’t have much time to be ready for it. ‘A Twilight Murder on the Orion’, she could see the headlines now.

A glance at Merc showed the young boy was lost in his own thoughts; she could only imagine what he felt at present. Losing a parent, no matter how terrible they were or how well you knew them, it was sure to leave you with a scar of some sort. Though they didn't know each other well, he reminded her of her sister in the best ways and it caused her to wonder why the two had become estranged in the first place. She couldn't remember; nowadays, anything in her life prior to the war seemed like a hazy memory. A dream of happier and simpler times she would have given anything to return to.

Either their walk had not been far, or her musings had consumed her; but whatever the case, they soon arrived at the manor. Ornate, yet smaller than the Bakker family home, the manor still stood two stories high and was surrounded by a seemingly polished brick wall. Two manservants stood at the ornate black iron gate to great them, and bowed deeply upon their arrival. “My lady,” a half elven male gave her a nod before turning to Merc and providing the same. “The young heir, I presume… and, um… will the master be arriving later?”

“He… well… Father, um…” Rhys looked at the boy as he struggled with his words.

“Please just escort us in; we’ve had a long journey and wouldn’t like to be kept waiting out on the streets.” Her tone was firm and it seemed to jolt them to attention.

“Y-yes, right, of course. Right this way, please.” The human servant on the left took Merc’s bag while the half elven man she was speaking with took her own. Following them swiftly through the gate, they were lead through a garden filled with flowers she had chosen. Tulips, chrysanthemums, peonies; a melody of colors to replicate a wildflower garden but still consisting of some of her personal favorites. The path leading to the manor door was shrouded with low hanging trees whose branches were grown in the shape of an arch. The flowers lined either side of the stone path and split around a manticore fountain in the center. A tad overboard for her tastes, but in retrospect it highlighted how much control she’d never had.

Despite how long it had been since she and Egan had rested here, the manor didn’t smell stale, nor was it covered in the dust following disuse. Just as Egan would have liked, it was spotless and warm, as if they’d only been gone a few hours. “Vahn darling, could you-” Her words died in her throat when a glance to her empty side reminded her of their circumstances. “R-right… well, you, what is your name?” The human holding Merc’s bag seemed to jump when addressed but quickly smoothed the motion into a slight bow.

“Edward, my lady. I only started working here a fortnight ago.” The boy seemed maybe fourteen, and like he’d only ever encountered nobles like Egan. The knuckles gripping Merc’s luggage were white with fear and his posture was rigid. This boy was prepared to be screamed at and belittled for more things than he held control over.

“Edward, please be a dear and take Merc to the upstairs guest room and help him with whatever he needs. Darling, I’ll come find you in a bit, just relax for now.” Soon everyone would be clamoring to talk to him; about his father, his inheritance, and likely whether he would continue the ‘family business’. Rhys wanted to give him as much of a break as possible while she was able. He gave her a seemingly concerned gaze, likely wondering her angle or if she planned to go back to the guards without him. "Don't worry dear, I'm just going to update the housekeep on our journey, we'll visit him together." Merc still seemed unsure, but nodded anyway and followed Edward to go find his room.

Rhys wasn’t sure how long they needed to be here or how long they could afford to be here. The Bakker estate would be in an uproar once the news traveled, and House Cannith would be sending an emissary to speak to Merc. To say the least, the vultures would be out in full force, clamoring for a chance to influence the young heir.

The older half-elven gentleman, whose name she recalled to be Marquis, gave her a worried look and Rhys could only sigh. “Well, sit down, though I suspect a woeful response isn’t what I’ll get from you.” Seated in the manor sitting room, she recounted the basic details of their train ride in. As she spoke, she watched as his face remained impassive, but his eyes relayed the truth. There was no sadness in receiving this news, if anything the man seemed to revel in the news. As the widow, she felt that some part of her should be angry, enraged at the relief emanating from Marquis… but she couldn’t. Recalling the moment she’d first laid eyes on Egan’s body, the same faraway look and feeling of relief had enveloped her as well. Followed closely by the guilt, shame, and sadness, of course.

After she finished, she watched his face as he slowly processed the information. The wheels were turning, and she wondered if he was imagining how best to either curry his favor with her or Merc. She’d never been rude to any of their staff, but she’d never gone out of her way to protect any of them except Vahn. “Well,” Marquis finally said, “I am very sorry for your loss my lady. I know you and the master have been together for quite some time. Whatever you may need of us in this difficult time, we are readily at your service.”

Rhys smiled and nodded at the man before standing. “Thank you for such kind words, should I need anything, I will call. For now, please continue as normal. Merc and I will be leaving for a short while, but we will return in time for dinner.”

Marquis bowed deeply as he stood with her before offering to escort her to her room. She declined of course; right now she wanted a moment to herself… something she hadn’t truly had in a long time. Rhys slowly made her way up the stairs to the grand bedroom she and Egan once shared. An ornate gold and red design lined the walls with a mahogany border. A large canopy bed with deep red velvet curtains sat against the right wall in the middle of the room. A large window sat on the far wall across from the bed, and underneath it a plush window seat that already held a few books upon it. Against the left wall at the foot of the bed sat a writing desk, clear of any previous work save some blank paper, ink, and a quill.

Memories bombarded her as she stood there in the doorway; she’d spent too much time in rooms similar to these in the last ten years. In pure Egan fashion, they were all outfitted in various shades of red… which she hated. Red… an intense color, the color of passion… the color of blood. Many times she’d tried to reason with him, explain all of the hard times it reminded her of. Many times she’d tried and every single time he’d been too selfish to listen. A sudden fit of rage filled her, and without warning her feet brought her to the canopy as her fingers gripped the fabric and pulled until it tore.

Over and over; piece by piece, she ripped and clawed at the fabric until the entire outer covering of the bed was shredded. Heaving from the sudden exhaustion, Rhys simply let herself collapse onto the heap of fabric. Her very soul felt heavy and tears welled in her eyes; all the thoughts and feelings that consumed her made standing at the moment seem impossible. The elven woman sat alone in her room and simply wept.

She cried for a young woman who had loved a man so fiercely, though it was clear he’d never loved her in return. She cried for the people whose lives were ruined and sometimes ended, as she sat idly by and pretended not to notice. She cried for a boy she knew had longed for a good loving father, and all he found was a scoundrel and a cheat. And lastly, she cried for Jaryax, for a love that could have been, a peace she could have found, that had now surely been ruined.

Rhys didn’t know how long she sat weeping on her own, but there was something freeing in the loneliness and the silence. Her time in the war hadn’t afforded her this; feeling anything for more than a moment could have been fatal. Never had the phrase ‘war changed people’ sounded more true. A once young girl with dreams of justice and beliefs had turned hard and cold; her heart filled with hatred and jealousy. Now that she had the freedom to sit and think, she wondered how long it had been since she’d been happy. When she’d first met Egan, her love for him had overflowed. But it was this same love that caused her to turn a blind eye to his dark dealings and torturous games. She had been content to love him, but lying

to herself about his engagements pained her. Though it wasn’t actually her fault, the lives he’d ruined weighed on her, and she was sure that what she knew only barely scratched the surface.

Finally standing after what seemed like an hour, but was likely only 20 minutes or so, she stood and moved to stand in front of the floor length mirror. Her eyes were puffy and her makeup looked god-awful, but a strange weight had been lifted. The last time she’d cried like this had probably been her first encounter with death during the war. It didn’t fix everything, or anything really, but it was a start.

Using some of the ripped and discarded cloth, she wiped her face and tried to clean up the best she could. A quick change was in order, and without much effort she changed into some high waisted black slacks with a dark purple shirt that bared her midriff. Lastly she tugged on a black vest and leather ankle boots. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, the young elven woman hastily attempted to cover up her blemishes and took a few deep breaths before heading down the hall to Merc’s room.

She rapped softly on the door with her knuckles and waited for his affirmation before entering. Even though it was a guest room, it was just as ornate and over the top as her own bedroom, but she could see that Merc had already begun to put his own touches on it. A few used tools lay on the desk while an open bag sat just beneath it. Some wooden carvings lay on the bed in various states of completion. All of it was foreign to her, but it was a comfortable sight to see the boy quietly tinkering at his desk. “How are you feeling, darling?”

He hadn’t looked at her since she entered and she didn’t want to invade his space. So she quietly leaned against the door frame while he spoke. “Well… I’m not really sure. Conflicted, I guess?”

His response surprised her, but only because of the simplicity and honesty of it. “I must confess, for all my kicking and screaming I feel much of the same. Do you… mind if I sit?”

“Oh… please. I-I’m sorry about the mess. I needed to calm down and focus on something.” He glanced at her sheepishly before turning back to his work at the desk.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she chuckled lightly, “yes… I think your method of focus is a bit healthier than mine. I tend to become a bit… destructive, it seems.” He glanced at her then and she smiled, having no intention of explaining her recent behaviors. Instead she simply watched and studied him. The easiest feature to connect him to Egan was his hair color, striking and uncommon as it was. But his eyes were explicitly his mother’s… Morrigan’s… the reverse of her very own. Her heart ached to see them but warmed at the same time. “There is so much of you that is so much like her… more so than I think that you know.” There was silence again as she watched him before finally she glanced down and smiled. “You are only like him through blood and blood alone.”

Silence etched around them and Rhys wondered if she’d overstepped her bounds. “Thank you? To be honest, on the surface that sounds like a compliment… but at the same time it doesn’t feel like one. That man… Egan… he was still my father. There are… so many things that have to happen, and I’m left with more questions than before. I'm not really sure what to do.”

Rhys wasn’t sure what to say at first… or if there even was anything to say. She watched the boy quietly for a moment before her mind settled on a response. “We’ve only recently met Merc, but we are family and I care for you a great deal. If you’d like me to, I will do everything in my power to protect and help you. Especially cutting people; I’m very good at that.”

Still a bit apprehensive, Merc nodded to her wordlessly. “Less cutting, please. I’d like it if my remaining family weren’t operating around the law as well.”

Rhys smiled and chuckled a bit, “Fine fine. Just putting the offer on the table, you know. It’s what I’m good at, after all.” She stood and walked to the door, “I’m ready to go see about Blue Shield whenever you are. If you aren’t up to it, I can go now and you can just go visit him later.”

The boy stood up immediately and grabbed his cloak that was draped on the chair. “No, I have been itching to go since we left.”

Grabbing her own cloak, together they left the manor and retraced their steps in silence. Unlike earlier, she couldn’t be sure, but Rhys felt it was more comfortable than before. She felt Merc’s trust in her, however small, and had no intention to let him down. Remaining passive had never been something she was good at, but she knew her tongue could put them in a bad way if she wasn’t careful.

Reaching the guard house wasn’t difficult and it looked like information hadn’t spread too terribly yet. She noticed some stares from people who had seen her around from her previous visits with Egan, but thankfully no one seemed to be burning holes into Merc. Stepping inside made them no less invisible, but she was sure to cut a stern look at any wandering eyes before closing the door behind them.

One of the guards she’d met on the train luckily seemed to be leaving a side room as they entered. She opened her mouth, but he held a hand to silence her before the words were uttered. “Mrs Bakker, yes, I know what you’re here for. Please follow me.” His tone annoyed her, and unconsciously her hand went to a dagger she’d slipped into her belt. Merc noticed and grabbed her hand before she could reach it, forcing her attention on him. Thankful for his intervention, Rhys took a deep breath before following the guard further into the building.

She hadn’t intended to wage war with a guard, but she was annoyed and nervous and bladed weapons gave her a sense of calm and control. A crutch she wanted to rid herself of, but it would be a trying process and this was only the beginning. Without Merc’s light grip on her hand, she likely would have walked into his back as he stood in front of a door. It was solid metal with two bars across the front and she wondered if they’d confused Blue Shield with a wild animal. “It’s in here. It hasn’t resisted, but these are the types of rooms we hold all constructs in.” Rhys couldn’t see how this room was special outside of the door, but that likely meant there was magic involved.

He opened the door for them and they both stepped inside. The room was barren and dark, but there was enough artificial light for them to make out the figure sitting in the darkest corner. Merc walked with quick steps and she followed even as the guilt welled up and turned her feet into lead.

“Blue Shield! See, we came back to get you, just like we promised.” Rhys stood back and let Merc do the talking, but stayed close enough in case things went awry. She didn’t think that he would hurt her or the boy, but something within him seemed to break when he realized Egan was dead and even more after he killed Garen.

“I failed. I was supposed to protect Mr Bakker… but I failed.” The voice that always seemed so childish and chipper was now broken and hollow.

“That isn’t true! This isn’t your fault… a-and you avenged him. He would be happy to know you still fought for his justice. Right Aunt Rhys?” Merc looked at her with pleading eyes and she could only swallow the lump in her throat and move forward.

“T-that’s right. Blue Shield, this isn’t your fault. You’ve always done such a great job at protecting Egan… even me. And you know who could really used your protection now? Merc. Now that Egan’s gone, he’s the only living blood connection to him, and that will make people want to hurt him. I think Egan would have wanted you to protect his legacy, don’t you?” The automaton looked at her as if he were slowly turning her words over in his head. Honestly she had no idea if this angle would work, as far as she knew these beings only ever hold one master. Then again, she didn’t know much. Merc would probably be the expert in the room.

Blue Shield turned his attention to Merc and settled his gaze there as if thinking, torn between his original orders and the fact that his master was dead. “You are in danger Merc?”

“W-well, I don’t know. But there are things that I’ll likely have to do in place of father… and well, it could be dangerous.”

The warforged looked between the two of them at the door and then to Rhys. “Miss Rhys… will they let me out? They said I was out of control... that I’m dangerous.”

“I will see to it! I’ll make sure you come home with us, I promise.” It was the least she could do since she was half the reason he was here. Letting him rot in the cell would slowly drive her mad and likely a wedge between her and Merc. She turned her attention to the boy, “You’ll be alright here? There is a guard outside, and I won’t be far.” He gave her a nod and with a lingering look she left the cell. She told the guard outside that she was prepared to plead Blue Shield’s case, and it wasn’t long before they had her in a different room recounting the events. She told them everything, save information on Vahn and the ice queen, lest they become curious. Much to her dismay, they did ask about the cargo bay, but she claimed the acid had been knocked loose while they were searching for clues. It was believable enough, and they didn’t seem to be staring as if they suspected her lies.

“Okay Ms Bakker, since the only person left here seems to be Jaryax, I’ll just have his corroborate this story before we can confirm if it’s safe or fair to send that construct with you. Do be advised, even if this is ruled a case of defense, he will be under heavy watch and is not allowed to be left alone. Is that understood?” She nodded eagerly and waited until his back was turned as he was leaving before she flipped him off.

A short wait later the door opened and she felt her breath quicken as she and Jaryax made eye contact. Suddenly embarrassed and compounding her guilt, she looked away first as he was seated across from her. They took the barest hints of her explanation and gave it to the orc to embellish upon; which he did so without flinching. Rhys did her best to avoid his gaze, but every so often she would slip and find him watching her carefully.

She frowned at herself; what was she some blushing schoolgirl? Folding her arms, she leaned back in her chair and met his gaze with confidence she didn’t feel. His gaze was level and strong and it took everything within her not to flinch under the weight of it. “Alright.” The guard’s voice broke her trance and she jumped a little in her chair. “I’ll take this information back and we’ll let you know when something’s been decided.”

Rhys gave a nod but made no motion to move and instead let her eyes follow as the guard left the room. For a pregnant moment she avoided the orc’s gaze, expecting him to leave as well, but the lack of movement made her lose her will. His dark orbs bore into her as he sat with his arms folded obviously waiting for something. “Darling, if you’re waiting for them to bring us drinks, I’m sorry to tell you that kind of hospitality isn’t given here.”

As his eyes roamed over her she could feel him reading her soul… and she didn’t like it. “Actually, I am waiting for you to say what you actually wish to instead of whatever this is.”

Her eyebrows rose in response before she let out a bit of a chuckle and sat back down. “And just when did you decide you knew me so well?”

“Eh, somewhere between hour two and three.” Though she expected a smirk, his expression was steadfast as he surveyed her. “This is new, you running from something instead of speaking your mind.”

“Yes, well… a lot has happened in the last day. I’m… well I’m not quite sure what I’m doing, actually.” Rhys rested her forehead on the back of her hand a moment before glancing at Jaryax. “I’ve really screwed things up between us, haven’t I?”

The silence pressed on for longer than a minute and she turned her gaze away from him. Together they sat, but both were lost in their own turmoil. Finally the orc unfolded his arms and leaned forward to rest them on the table. “T’would be unfair of me to judge you too harshly. We both have things we feel guilty about.”

“Did you tell them?” Rhys didn’t explain but she looked at him and saw through the guilt on his face that he understood her question.

“No… I was torn. After the choice you made, I felt it… a waste? It isn’t like I want to lose all I’ve gained, I just want to do what’s right.” His voice grew softer towards the end and Rhys could tell he was still trying to convince himself that he’d made the better choice.

“I meant what I said before… starting over with you. But I think signing your life away for a reason like that is a waste. You’re better off without the stains… the faces. Everything you want to forget, and the fear that never shakes you.” A haunted look came across her face as the memories assailed her. Friends dying before her eyes, enemies appearing while they slept. She was covered in so many scars inside and out and filled with an unease she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. “I don’t look down on you for your choice, in fact I think you were quite brave to make it.”

He chuckled a bit and finally smiled in her direction, making her stomach flutter a bit. “Brave, huh? Well, I suppose that is nice way of putting it. So what now? You are free woman, with the boy around, what will you do?”

She scoffed playfully, “I’m always free, darling. Cages aren’t really my style. Though, you can tie my hands if you’d like.” She winked before seriously considering his question. “Merc is… I’m all he has left. And for my sister, I’d like to do right by him. I can’t leave him to the wolves Egan has left behind, so I’ll stay as long as he wants me to. However,” her voice took on a sultry tone as she moved from her seat to stand before him. “I’m sure he won’t mind if I take a train ride every once and awhile, yeah?”

Jarayx laughed and turned to her, glancing up with a smile as he rested his hands on her hips. “So, how far from the beginning were you wanting to start? My friends were never so forward.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders and took on a more serious tone. “I like you, Jaryax. I like the way you… well, conduct, for lack of a better term. I like your honesty and values and I want to pick some of it up for myself. Most importantly, I don’t feel like I need to be so afraid with you… like I can graduate from only carrying one blade instead of two.”

His smile softened then, but Rhys could still see there was something else on his mind still. Before she could even think about what to say, her ears perked up at the sound of footsteps. It would be best if they weren’t seen in such an intimate situation, so she removed herself from his grip and took her seat once more. It seemed like he misunderstood for a moment, but the door soon opened and his expression returned to an impassive one.

Their conversation wasn’t over by a long shot, but she surmised the rest was better had in private for a number of reasons. As the guard prepared to tell them the verdict, Rhys couldn’t help but think of how much there would be to sort through in the coming months. It would be a lot, and it would be incredibly difficult, but for some reason she felt it would be a step in the right direction.

#d&d #d&d original character #writing #writblr

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bettycooperthefirst · 5 years ago

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So, a couple of months ago, i decided to cut my dad out of my life. TLDR; narcissist who abused me and gaslit me. I wrote a letter to him that i’m never going to send, and i thought maybe I’d post it here. In case anyone else is thinking about doing something like this. Or anyone has felt the feelings i’ve felt. It’s been really fucking hard. It’s mourning someone you didn’t like but who was a significant part of your life. and it’s scary too. The reason I’m able to do this without completely being in danger is that I moved in April and he doesn’t know my new address. If you feel like reading this and even an ounce of it resonates with you, or if you’ve been through something similar, or are thinking about it, I would lovelovelove to talk about it. i hope you’re all having a good day. The letter is below the cut.

Dear Dad,

I don’t remember the first time you said it. The word bitch, or the word go to hell.

I work with five year olds. They are concerned with their favorite color, whether its purple or pink, and the great debate of whether or not bugs are scary. And I know eight year olds too, who are thinking about their first crushes but not really acting on them. I was eight years old once, writing about a boy in my diary and talking about him to my friends. And I learned how to do multiplication. I know eleven year olds, and they are terrified to start middle school. They are scared that people will talk about them behind their backs- and they’re right. They are worried that they are too thin, too fat, their hair is too curly, too straight, the shoes they love so much aren’t cool anymore, the boy they like won’t like them back. I know eleven year olds. I know eight year olds. I know five year olds.

I was eleven and eight and five once. When my biggest concern was whether or not I liked pink or purple, you told me I was a piece of shit. When I was trying to decide if bugs were scary and if certain construction paper tasted better than others, you were there telling me that I was a bitch. While I had my first crush, I was realizing that men can’t be trusted. I was writing in my diary about a boy who’s smile I liked and I was learning firsthand that a man can smile in front of people and push you to the ground when no one is looking. I learned addition, multiplication, division, fractions and all the while you were making me question if I knew anything at all. I was afraid of being too fat, afraid that the boys thought I was ugly, afraid that I was worthless and you told me that I was. I was afraid that my friends would talk behind my back and that my shoes weren’t cool and that my hair was too messy and that you’d raise your voice loud enough to somehow break my bones.

I d e c i d e d b u g s w e r e n ‘ t a s s c a r y a s m y f a t h e r

I keep picturing myself in the front lawn. Let me paint you this picture. I’m standing there, maybe seven years old. Let’s go with that. I’m wearing beat up tennis shoes. There’s dried mud caking the bottom of them. I’m wearing some shorts and a huge t shirt with Kiara on it from the Lion King 2- I had so many of those shirts, she was my favorite princess. My hair is messy, frizzy, with a couple of butterfly clips in it. I’m bent over in the front lawn near the gravel driveway and I have a purple bucket. I swear that this specific purple bucket existed. And in the bucket I have mud where I am putting worms. I’m picking them up from the ground and giving them a home in this bucket.

To you, I was needy and never happy and always unreasonable. But I was so happy playing with worms in a stupid bucket. If you had just supplied me with chalk forever and taken me to the library I would have been set. It was you who wanted me to do all these other things, fishing, wood working, photography, dog training. I wanted to read The Babysitter’s Club and draw hearts on the road in pink chalk. But when I wasn’t good at those things or I didn’t like those things, I was the problem.

My feelings not being the way you wanted them was the problem.

Even though my feelings weren’t unreasonable- it was a matter of like and dislike. To you that was unreasonable, because you wanted me to like what you wanted me to like. You wanted me to do certain things a certain way and I was supposed to follow the script and like those things because those were the ones you’d chosen for me. You chose the emotion of happy there. So you couldn’t deal with the fact that you don’t get to decide how another person is feeling.

If I want to sit in the mud and put worms in a bucket then I fucking will.

How unreasonable and selfish of me.

I ‘ d r a t h e r s p e n d t i m e w i t h w o r m s

t h a n w i t h y o u

I’ll give you this. I’m not as scared anymore. I don’t fear men on the street as much because there was a man to fear in my own house. In my safe space.

My fiercest protector is me.

I have to keep reminding myself that I am an adult and that I am okay. I have to keep telling myself that the people around me aren’t going to explode and I’m safe.

I have a man in my life. I have for six months. And he came out of nowhere and I tried not to expect too much and suddenly he’s trying everything in his power to be good for me, enough for me. Dad, I have a boy who holds me when I’m shaking and he knows about you. He goes out of his way to make me laugh, he tells me in quiet moments the little things he loves about me. He makes me feel safe when my breaths are short. He makes me feel safe when my breaths are even. Dad, he’s funny and he’s smart and - he knows about you. But you’ll never know anything more about him. Except this. I have a boy who holds me when I’m shaking and he loathes you. He goes out of his way to make me laugh and he knows about all the ways you’ve made me cry and rather than tell me I’m a bitch or to go to hell or any number of things, he turns his anger away from me and doesn’t let it hit me. He helps me feel safe from you. He’s funny and he’s smart and I love him more than I have ever loved you.

I have friends in my life. Fierce friends who understand how I feel about you. And they don’t think you’re worthy of me. And they would hold me back from you and some of them would pummel you into the floor

and all of these people understand that I am perfectly capable of handling it all myself, but they don’t want me to have to.

It’s been weighing on me. My reality. What’s true and what’s false. What’s true is this: when I was five, and eight and eleven, you made me feel weak. You made me feel like I could be crushed in a single moment, like I had no control over anything in my life. And I made myself be strong and I tried to put up walls so you couldn’t get to me, but they were flimsy. I locked the door so you couldn’t get in, but I left it with a window so you could still see me, and I only had the strength to put a few locks on it to keep you out. And over the last few weeks, I took the door down. I see now that that’s what I did. I took it down completely and let all my emotions flow out. All the fear, all the sadness, all the hatred, all the confusion and worry and even guilt. And now I’m putting a new door up. And I have fresh locks. And there are more of them, because I didn’t get all of them myself. I have a lock made of my own strength, reinforced now. I have a lock that reminds me that I am an adult and you don’t know where I am and you have no way of finding out. I have a lock that is tight but can slide out quickly to let out the monster that is the people who love me in a rage onto you. I have a lock that is this man who I’m so deeply in love with that he helped me make. I have a lock my mom gave me a long time ago that’s going right back where it has always been, given more power by the locks around it. You can’t get in. I have the keys. I have all the keys.

The keys to my safety and my strength and my courage are all tucked away where you’ll never find them. The key to getting into my heart and mind and soul, the key that lets you sneak in the front door and break me down is missing. There’s a key for the boy, there’s a key for the people I trust, there’s a key for my mom, but there’s no key for you. I didn’t make one this time. You didn’t earn it. You never did. You had one that was handed to you by the court when I was three years old and couldn’t make my own keys myself. But I changed the locks.

I c h a n g e d t h e l o c k s s p e c i f i c a l l y s o t h a t y o u c o u l d n ’ t g e t i n .

So goodbye. I’m not going to say it to your face. Or on your voicemail. Or anywhere that you actually hear it.

There were a lot of things in my life that you said to me that I didn’t deserve to hear. Bitch. Go to hell. I don’t remember the first time you said them. So I’ve decided that you don’t deserve to hear my goodbye. I don’t remember the last thing I said to you. You probably don’t either. You didn’t know it would be the last. You don’t know if you’ll hear from me again. You don’t know what’s going on. The same way I didn’t know what was going on when you screamed at me. The same way I didn’t know what to expect- kindness or animosity. You don’t know what to expect now. I grew up questioning a lot of things- Is my hair too wavy? Does that boy like me back? Does my father really love me? Is he going to throw that at me? Is he going to grab me? Does he mean what he’s saying? Why is he being so nice to me? Why is he being so mean? Now you get to question things.

Did you forget the golden rule? Treat others how you want to be treated. I learned that when I was five. I reminded myself of it when I was eight. I cried about it when I was eleven. I wrote it on my classroom chalk board when I was 25.

Maybe if you had followed it, we wouldn’t be here now. But that doesn’t matter. Because you didn’t follow it.

When I was eleven, I was afraid of being ugly, that the boys wouldn’t like me, that the girls would laugh at me. And they didn’t like me, and they laughed at me and I felt ugly, and my mom held me while I cried. You just made me cry more.

When I was eight, I learned multiplication. Now I contain multitudes of strength and intelligence and power over my own life that you forgot i’d get some day. You cared so much about my grades. Are you glad my self worth has multiplied now? That you’ve become a fraction of my life, getting smaller every day that we don’t speak?

When I was five, I was deciding if bugs were scary. I’ll give you an update: Don’t be afraid of bugs. They’re not scary. Be afraid of everything I’ve become instead.

The door’s locked. Good luck. Bitch.

#tw: abuse #parents #mental health #personal #narcissism #allisons stream of consicousness

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lilacmoon83 · 6 years ago

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A Darker Curse

Summary: Mr. Gold serves Kathryn with David’s divorce papers, August thinks about his ill feelings toward Geppetto, and Regina makes a very bold move in her quest to take Cora down and save her family.

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 7: Just Desserts

Mr. Gold entered the bank that afternoon with a pleased expression on his face. Though a pleased look on his face to everyone else usually looked to them like he was ready to eat someone alive. His expression today was similar as it was when he collected rent from the various residents in town and it was no secret that he enjoyed being feared. If one didn't know Mr. Gold's reputation, they might question why the people fear this man that walked with a limp and used a cane to get around. But the fear he invoked was not a physical fear, no it was far worse. Mr. Gold seemingly had endless financial resources and could hire any muscle he needed. He was a man that could make anything happen and if you wanted something, you only needed to go to him. Of course, that required making a deal with him and that usually came at some kind of great personal cost.

But once in a while, in his considerable years, he had the opportunity to make a deal where what he got out of it would be nothing more than smug satisfaction.

David Nolan had come into his shop and made a deal with him. The man had no money, not a shred of self confidence left, and was as desperate as he had seen anyone in a long time. Almost as desperate as his aging wife that he did not remember. If he wanted to, he could have made them both owe him a great deal and it was tempting. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to how far this Snow White would go to get her husband back. This was a woman that had pined and suffered without the man she loved for twenty years, only to find out that her one comfort that he was at least safe was false.

And then there was David. Some would say he was damaged beyond repair; a shadow of his former self. But he knew better. He had been a victim of abuse and knew that despite that, a person could come back from that. He himself had turned to the darkness to do so. But David was stronger than he was. He would be repressed if he did not admit that they were once not so different. Both born into poverty, though David at least had the grace of a loving mother, it had left them both with a darker impression of the world around them. But unlike him, David had not turned to darkness, though he knew that meeting Snow and being thrust into the role of a Prince had helped that. He was definitely a man that believed in true love; he had banked on this particular true love, after all. But he had never put much belief in its staying power. Love was fleeting, but somehow this love had endured more hardship than any love should be required to. He knew many would think that there was no way to even repair this relationship. Even if David remembered, surely too much had happened to them for them to actually find their way back to each other. But Mr. Gold not only knew this pair would, he was also banking on it again. So that's why, as he delivered these papers, he was already collecting in the form of satisfaction. And it would be a satisfaction that would keep on giving. The look on Kathryn Nolan's face would be a start, but the real satisfaction would come when Cora realized that her perfect curse was going to crumble and there was nary a thing she could do about it. Sure, he knew she'd employ dastardly tactics and stop at nothing to keep Snow and David apart. But it wouldn't work. She had screwed up there and he couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she realized it.

She could have cursed David into a happy marriage and possibly managed to succeed in keeping them apart for a time in that way. But all she had done was created an abused, desperate man that was finally ready to fight, because he had the right person in his corner now. And it was about to blow up in her face. He felt mild sympathy for Kathryn Nolan though. The person that Cora had cursed her to be was going to have lasting psychological effects on her as well when she remembered. Princess Abigail would be horrified by all that she had done to David over the years and the fall out from Cora's curse was going to be something akin to ruin. He couldn't wait. When the curse broke, he would find Bae and if the town wanted to burn Cora at the stake, he'd gladly provide the fireball to light her up at no charge.

"Mr. Gold...can I help you with something today?" Kathryn Nolan questioned, as she came out of her corner office, upon spotting him come into the bank.

"No...I'm just here to deliver this to you," he said, as he handed her the folded document. He watched gleefully, as she unfolded the parchment and her face went red with anger.

"Is this a joke?" she spat.

"Oh, I assure you it is quite valid and quite real," he replied pleasantly.

"You've been served, Mrs. Nolan," he added, as she looked up at him sharply.

"David has no money. Do you really expect me to believe that he hired you as his attorney?" she growled.

"Believe what you want, Mrs. Nolan, for David is my client. Let's just say I'm doing this one pro-bono and with a great amount of satisfaction, might I add," he replied.

"I'll fight this...if David thinks I'm letting him take half of everything, then he really is an idiot," she spat. He smirked.

"You can try to fight it, but David isn't asking for anything except to not be married to you any longer. You can have the house and everything else. He just wants to be divorced from you as fast as possible and the law will grant him what he wants, despite any protest on your part," Gold replied.

"Oh, but I would caution you in fighting this too hard...unless you'd like all those skeletons in your closet to be aired to the entire town, Mrs. Nolan, for if you choose to play dirty...then so will I," he warned threateningly and she shrank back a bit and watched him go in disbelief. Everyone around her stared at her, for Mr. Gold had made it a point to make sure he served her the papers in the most embarrassing and public place he could pick. Furiously, she grabbed her coat and stormed out of the bank.

~*~

August reluctantly arrived at Marco's shop to pick up the Bug for his sister. He had argued with her on why he had to be the one to pick up her car and she made an excuse. But he knew what she was really trying to do. She was trying to push him to talk to Marco, even if the man didn't remember that he was that right now. Emma and his mother had good intentions, but August didn't want to reconcile with this man. It was too painful, especially with all that he knew now. When they had arrived to find out that Emma's father and the man that his mother would eternally love had been trapped in such an abusive situation, it had been the final straw for him.

Snow had raised him and he knew she loved him, just as much as she loved Emma. But it still didn't change the fact that it was Geppetto that had indirectly caused David's predicament and exacerbated the pain his mother was feeling. He hated when she was in pain. His mother was the strongest woman he knew, but he was still really protective of her. And this man's lies had hurt her deeply. Blue let it happen, so he had a lot of anger for her as well. Over the years, he had a lot of time to examine things. At first, he thought he should have been grateful to her for giving him life as a human. But then, the older he got, the more he realized that Blue had placed unfair conditions on her spell. He had to be selfless, brave, and true. And the more life threw at him, the more he realized how truly fucked up that was. No person was selfless, brave, and true all the time. It was an impossible feat. It was setting him up for instant failure.

Thankfully, Snow had come through the wardrobe behind him, her belly still round with child, her face broken from having to say goodbye to the man she loved. And still, even in her anger at Blue and Geppetto, she had taken him in her arms and loved him as her own. Without her, he didn't want to think about how he might have turned out. He had a good life and grew up to be kind, caring, and a good person. But it was because of Snow, a woman wronged by Geppetto and a fairy that lied to her. They implored him to never lie and yet they had no qualms about doing so themselves. He was angry and it wasn't going away, but he could compose himself long enough to pick up Emma's car from this man's shop. But that was it. He wanted nothing to do with him, even when he did get his memories back. His mother, Emma, and little David were his family. And soon, the man that his nephew was named after would be a part of their family. As far as he was concerned, there was no room for Geppetto, as harsh as it sounded, but that was how he felt.

"Mr. Swan...here for the bug?" Marco called, as he spotted him approaching.

"Yeah...just picking it up for my sister," he answered stiffly.

"You are a good big brother," Marco commented, as he handed him the keys and August paid him for the repairs.

"Your mother...she is very lucky to blessed with such loving children," the old man mentioned. August could sense the wistfulness and envy in his voice, but he didn't care. His anger had long overwhelmed any empathy for this man.

"We're the lucky ones. My Mom is amazing...and she gave up everything for us. But it's my turn to take care of her and make sure no one can ever hurt her again," August said. His cryptic response was a bit confusing to the old man right now, but August hoped his words would instantly resonate with him once his memories returned.

"Have a good night," Marco offered awkwardly, as the young man took the keys and left wordlessly. He felt no remorse in walking away from this man. He wasn't family anymore and he doubted he ever would be again. None of that mattered though, he had a family and now he was off to help them. He had spoken with Regina earlier and done what she had asked of him. She had a surprise to drop on her mother and Kathryn, which would be essential in fighting them, for he was sure by now that they were both learning that David had filed for divorce. And they would be on the warpath, which meant his next destination was the diner so he could be there to support his family in the strife that was to come.

~*~

David was absorbed by watching Mary with her grandson, as they sat in the diner and ate dinner together. It had been the most wonderful evening that David could remember having. And something in his heart tugged at him, somehow telling him that this was how things were supposed to be.

"You're Nana's sweet boy, aren't you…" Mary cooed to little David, as she spooned another bite of his baby food into his open mouth. Little David cooed and grinned at her in response. David had always wanted kids, as long as he could remember. But that had never come up as a topic of discussion with him and Kathryn. But then their courtship had not been an ordinary one. It all seemed like a blur in his mind. Essentially, from what he remembered, his mother died when he was still a teenager and he had then been adopted by her boyfriend, the District Attorney, Albert Spencer. But that had not been a blessing and rather a curse, so to speak. David had wanted to go to Veterinary school, but those dreams were quickly squashed by Spencer when he learned that Lewis Dior, owner of the bank and any real estate in town that wasn't owned by Mr. Gold, was looking for a suitable husband for his daughter, David had been offered up. Lewis wasn't fond of David's humble beginnings as the son of farmers, but Albert Spencer's adoption of him garnered him definite consideration. After all, the owner of the bank allied with the town's district attorney was a union that had benefits to both sides. David was against it from the beginning, as he had always dreamed of finding true love. But George had threatened him that if he blew this opportunity that he'd pay for it with his life.

Kathryn had been drawn in by his good looks and how sweet and genuinely nice he was. At first, he thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but now he knew that his naivete was one reason she had seen him as her perfect victim. He was kind, sweet, and naive, so she knew keeping him under thumb would be easy. He was a good person, which made her manipulation of him easier and he was handsome, which made him the perfect arm candy to show off to her social circle.

Looking back, he realized now that Albert Spencer had offered him up to Kathryn's family like a piece of property and the district attorney had been paid handsomely for him. It had made David feel dirty from day one and he had never entertained the possibility that he could ever be free, until he met Mary. She had made him realize that he had courage he thought that had been stripped from him long ago. But he proved that to be wrong when he filed for divorce earlier that day. Of course, he knew this was just the beginning and so when Kathryn stormed into the diner and slammed the door behind her, he felt a shiver course down his spine. The look she was giving him was the same one she had a few nights ago, when she had made marks on his body...when she had belittled and controlled him...when she had raped him. He felt Mary reach for his hand under the table and squeeze it gently, somehow willing courage to him in a way he was was sure he had never known.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Kathryn growled, as she approached the table. Little David whimpered from his high chair and Emma plucked him up, holding him.

"It seems you know if you were served the papers," David managed to say boldly. Kathryn looked stunned, as if she couldn't understand where he was getting the courage to defy her.

"This is ridiculous, David! Get your coat and get in the car. We're going home," she demanded of him. He fought the urge to shrink away from her and Mary squeezed his hand again.

"No," he said in defiance.

"Excuse me?" she questioned dangerously.

"You heard me. I said no and that's not my home anymore. I'm divorcing you," he replied, loudly enough so that everyone in the diner heard. And it caused instant gossip to ripple through the masses.

"If you go down this path...I'll make sure you regret it," Kathryn warned.

"No...you won't," Snow snapped, as the blonde looked at the raven haired beauty and smirked.

"What? You have Grandma protecting you?" she hissed.

"She's my friend," David snapped. Kathryn rolled her eyes.

"Please...I know a cougar when I see one," she accused, but it didn't phase Snow at all.

"Better to be a cougar than a leach, because I think everyone knows that all you've ever done is suck the life out of him," she retorted, which really riled up everyone that was enthralled by the spectacle.

"I'm not someone you want to cross, Ms. Swan. You have a beautiful family...I'd hate for something to happen to them," Kathryn warned, making David's eyes widened.

"Oh, if you do anything to my family, I'll grind you to dust," Snow warned back.

"And if she doesn't...I will," Regina interjected, as she arrived with August.

"Deputy Mayor," Kathryn greeted, seemingly un-threatened by the Mayor's daughter. Regina smirked.

"For now...but soon I'll be the Mayor," she retorted. Kathryn laughed.

"You really think you can beat your mother out for her seat?" she asked incredulously, but Regina kept smirking.

"Oh, I think the people of this town are more than ready for a real leader and not the tyrant that is my mother. Things are changing in Storybrooke and I'm here to give you a very direct warning, Mrs. Nolan," she explained. .

"I encourage you not to fight this divorce or make any kind of move on David or the Swan family," she continued. Kathryn snorted derisively.

"And if I don't heed your warning?" she challenged. Regina's smirk widened.

"Then I publish this article I wrote this afternoon," August stated, as he held up a document.

"It airs all your dirty laundry...and your family's. All your father's dealings in this town, including certain deals he made with people like the Mayor and District Attorney Spencer. I assure you that it will ruin your entire world," he warned. She huffed.

"Sidney Glass is a friend. He would never agree to publish your trash," she contested. But Regina kept smirking.

"Except that I just bought the Storybrooke Mirror today and fired Sidney Glass," Regina informed, shocking them all. Kathryn frowned deeply.

"August is going to run it for me and will be head writer and editor now," she added, as Kathryn finally looked truly worried.

"Now run along and lick your wounds or go cry to my mother," Regina added, as the blonde stormed out in a frenzy. There were claps and cheers, as she did and Snow saw the people looking to her sister as if they had just found a new leader. What she had said was true. Things were changing in Storybrooke and as she felt David squeeze her hand in return, looking like the weight of the entire world had been lifted from his shoulders, she knew these changes were going to be for the better...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Emma Swan #August W Booth #Regina Mills #Cora cast the curse #AU #feat rumplestiltskin #Mr. Gold #warning #mentions of abuse #and eluding to male rape #nothing graphic #a darker curse

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thehiddenlawyer · 7 years ago

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At Last-- the Light!

(This is going to be REALLY full of split personalities and slightly manic…tones so y’know, you’ve been warned.

And everything I say below is my own life experience, and it does not claim to be objective or the truth. Just me. It’s also frantic and disjointed so forgive me. I’ll try to be more articulate later.)

You, darling Patrick, have your lizard, your cigarettes and your drink, I have my words since I don’t keep alcohol in the house and refuse to get more cigarettes.

Oh my darling man, my darling Patrick, don’t let me down. Don’t let yourself down…just hang on a bit longer. It gets better, I swear. Just hold on tight.

A few months ago when the trailers came out, the people closest to me saw what a terrifying impact the trailers by themselves had on me. With no exaggeration I tell you that I cried 48 hours straight when the trailer was released that had the bits of Some Hope in it, where he says he wants to break out into the real world. I told my sister that I had a breakdown, I told my Johnny and my other best friend that I was reacting like this, predictably I told @sobeautifullyobsessed (hereafter SBO) that I wasn’t handling it well at all. SBO reassured me, as she always does in her loving way. My sister and two best friends were so concerned that they were insisting that I just walk away from Patrick Melrose altogether, basically just burn the books, burn the memory of the TV shows existence, just ignore it completely.

I know a few of you lovelies here did that and I completely understand.

But there’s always been something about me that likes looking at things that terrify me. Like I’m arachnophobic and willingly walked into the tarantula exhibit at the zoo once, just to face my own terror (I didn’t last long and ran out of there hyperventilating and literally crashing into the walls). I don’t do well with crowds and always need to see my exit (massive agoraphobia that kept me away from the Infinity War premiere in LA) so a few weeks ago when I in an overcrowded pub, I kept looking behind me to feel the helplessness of being trapped.

So I refused to not watch Patrick Melrose.

Hell, I’ve been waiting for this adaptation for lifetimes it seems, so why the actual fudge would I not watch it?

And me, being me, didn’t want to admit this was happening to my therapist. I was somehow convinced that she would certify me as a loon and tell me I’m beyond help. Like I had this actual fear that my reaction to Patrick Melrose was a sign of completely mental instability, not just mental illness. I felt like if I admitted to my therapist that I cried for 48 hours straight because of that trailer, or that I consumed every atom of information about the TV adaptation that I could even though it made me physically sick to see Patrick, she was going to call the hospital and have me locked away.

I was convinced.

But I told her, because I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

And she looked at me the way all therapists look at their patients, as if they know we’re waiting for them to tell us we’re hopeless, and she asked me to articulate why I loved this character so much. I outlined it the way I have for you guys, the way I have for Mr. C. in a hapless letter I sent along for him a bit ago, and she blew me away. She told me she saw the parallels, definitely understood why I was so taken with this character and why I was reacting so…viciously to it all.

Then she asked me the most simple question—she asked “how does his story end?”

And I very clearly remember sitting in my therapist’s cramped office and weeping when I remembered At Last, weeping because I remembered the way he picked himself up, the way he shed all that darkness and embraced this new and beautiful life with his wife and children. He rendered the venom useless, he was finally victorious.

But again, me being me, and Patrick being my Patrick, I was doing a book-by-book comparison with my life. I had this running list in my head:

Book 1- Never Mind- Patrick, aged 5. It begins, he escapes into the gecko. Me, aged 5. It began, I escaped into creating characters in my head to escape.

Book 2- Bad News- Patrick, early 20’s. Addictions galore. Ishtar, early 20’s. Addictions galore.

Book 3- Some Hope- Patrick- late 20’s. Law school. Wants to stop existing and start living, tired of hating. Ishtar- late 20’s….well, I’m late 20’s right now. Law school, want to live, tired of hating.

Book 4 and Book 5— early 40’s Patrick……..But I’m still 28.

So I saw the last two books as like a prediction to how I’ll end. Slipping and sliding through sobriety, failing at being a mother and wife, at being a daughter and sister, failing at being me because I haven’t been able to let go.

In my previous post about Mother’s Milk I talked about my inability to connect to the book but the 5th resonated with me.

Mother’s Milk Patrick, I’m starting to understand, hurt me deeply. He let me down.

He was this example for me. Like I got to Some Hope and I was like “okay. Good. Good! This is REALLY good. This means I’m going to be okay. This means I’m going to live through all these memories and nightmares and all my failures.”

In the beginning of Mother’s Milk I had the sense of “okay! He’s married! He has a family! He’s having babies! Good! That means that by the time I’m his age, since everything else has held true….then I’m going to have a family of my own too.”

And then he slipped. And he broke my heart.

Darling please don’t drink, for us.

He led me down. He led me down big time, because if Patrick slipped and fell, then that was my inventible fate…Weird thinking ain’t it?

But that’s the way it is.

Don’t give up. Hold on a little longer. It gets better.

It has too.

The last book was…weird for me in A LOT of ways.

I don’t deal with death very easily or at all. I know most people don’t but…I’ll explain in a bit.

I’ve told people that I thought I could trust and gotten a horrendous response to my confession.

I’ve been obsessed with sex, understanding sex, understanding the difference between sex and intimacy in my own life, failing, and finding myself disgusted with the simplest touches.

And the tv adaptation caught something that I really appreciate—the resistance to touch. I’ve never verbally talked to anyone except my therapist about my past, I’ve mentioned it in passing to my sister and friends. But even if I’m just thinking about what happened, I can’t stand the idea of being touched. I hate being touched, I really do. If you ever meet me in real life, do not be offended that I don’t like being touched. Like, even if I’m sitting on the couch with someone I adore, and their thigh is touching mine just because we’re squished together, I will contort my body so that we’re not touching.

I can’t stand it.

And I like that the TV showed it, when he’s with Mary and telling her about his rage.

Death—

I’ve emphasized this a few times but I want to again—I have a great relationship with my parents. I don’t tell them everything but I confide most things in them. I worship the ground they walk on but they are human, and like all parents, they gave me some baggage.

As an adult, as someone both paranoid and curious about why I am the way I am, I’ve come to recognize that I had massive anxiety as a child. This anxiety in children usually manifests itself in the child’s inability to let go. I get teased, to this day, about the fact that I would cry if mom had to throw away an old pair of shoes or an old, broken tie. The concept of good-bye, of being deprived of someone/something was unbearable. I remember sitting in the spider infested attic alone in Iran one time, weeping, because I knew my parents had thrown away a pair of shoes that were completely useless. We also lived with my grandparents back then, and they were in their 80’s when I was born—beautiful, inspiring souls, I adored them. But my grandma would inadvertently say things that all the old women in my culture and most Middle Eastern cultures say, asking me what if I’d weep for her when she died, if I’d be sad. She wasn’t being malicious, she was just asking her youngest and favorite granddaughter about her reaction.

Instead of understanding from my parents, I got rolled eyes from them. They’d tuck me into bed between them, usually little spoon to mom’s big spoon, with dad’s lips pressed in a sleepy, mustachioed kiss to my forehead. They’d murmur sleepily that I shouldn’t worry about it, that I should just say my prayers, that it was all going to be okay. I’d fall asleep nestled between these two human beings that I love more than anything else, so secure in their love and comfort, and just have panic attacks about losing them someday.

Those grandparents passed away, out of my visual sight, in Iran a few years ago.

My other grandma, however, is a death that cut me very deeply.

I’ve always been this weird source of strength for my family and I have no idea why. I’m both my parents’ confidant, I always have been. If something’s bugging them, I’m the first person they turn to. So when my other grandma got extremely sick and slipped into a coma, my mom turned to me, and asked me if they should sign the DNR order.

I was 22.

I carried my family through that ordeal, making funeral arrangements…all the business of death because I didn’t want mom to go through it.

But that horrible, horrible anxiety tripled and quadrupled and I stay awake nights thinking about death. About the death of my loved ones, about death of my enemies, about my own death.

With everything happening these past few weeks, I’m going to admit that I have been suicidal in the past. When Patrick in At Last talks about being on the motorway or being in a tall building and wondering if the fall would be fatal…I’ve done that and I have bad days when I do that. It’s with…shame and terror at my own thinking that I admit the first thing I thought of when I moved to San Francisco was that I’m by the ocean, I live by a cliff, there are three bridges in my vicinity, the university is six stories tall, and even my own flat is high enough.

And the only reason I haven’t taken advantage of a tall building is I can’t do that to my mom and dad.

My best friend and I have weird sense of humor- my Jonny that I always go on about. Just like Patrick and his Johnny, we joke about death all the time. But sometimes I wonder if he realizes I’m not completely kidding…

So, I live, and I kept the promise to myself and I’ve found the light.

It flickers, but it’s there.

Just hang on darling, one more night. The sun’s going to shine again tomorrow, I promise. I swear.

Don’t give up.

So imagine my reaction when Patrick ends up in the suicide ward…There was a sense of “hmm, maybe I’m ahead of schedule?” and “shit! I’m gonna end up there too!”

As far as suicide, I’m ahead of schedule, I promise.

But how the fuck do you deal with death???

The Confessions

One of the most…nightmarish things I read in the book was Patrick’s confession to Eleanor that he’d been raped, and her response of “me too.”

Like what the fuck.

Christ this is gonna be a long post if I have to go into it….

I can’t forgive Eleanor, as much as I can’t ever forgive David.

Eleanor was raped and abused too, but she wasn’t a helpless 5-year-old kid.

I can’t accept any excuses for her. Patrick may have forgiven her but I really can’t.

When my need for verbal vomit and endless confessions started, I had this weird mental list of people I’d tell.

Jonny, by default. And everyone else kinda started popping up randomly, and I mean these people from my real life. My sister was a last minute surprise, so was my other best friend.

My other sister…she’s being proven a disaster…As some of you know, I’m getting a Patrick Melrose tattoo in a few weeks time and I’ve been having fun trying to figure out how I’ll justify it to people—especially my parents. But this unknowing sister of mine is going to be the one that protests the most, and I don’t know what to tell her. Do I just ask her to read the books again so I can gauge her reaction? Or do I just say “never mind” and walk away?

There are two other people that I’ve told that left me….bleeding, and so disappointed.

One is a cousin that’s more like a sister and my best friend. She’s pretty close to me in age but older. We’ve told each other pretty much everything since we were kids. We’re partners in crime. If I find a way to get into trouble, she’s always along for the ride. Everyone in the family just thinks of us as being joined at the hip. So during the verbal vomit, I went to her house because she’s a BC addict too and we used to have marathons (you’ll see in a moment why I’ve retracted from this great love of mine). She was in the kitchen, and this is a week after I started therapy, and she studies psychology by the way. We were chattering and gossiping nonstop like we always do, and I felt the words, the confession bubble through me in an unstoppable force. She would be the second person I was going to tell…and I basically just blurted it out, and told her why I was so angry when I found out they’d invited all three of my rapists to her wedding. She didn’t really say anything, just raged for a bit and we dropped the subject. When the craziness with Patrick Melrose started though, I ran to her first, and I told her that I was reacting this passionately and it was scary and could she please just listen to me.

You know what she said?

“Just stop thinking about it. Bad things happen to everyone. Just stop thinking about it.”

She shut me down, and I don’t know if she’s realized that I’ve completely shut her out too.

I share my joys with her, and she still turns to me when she needs an ear to chew but I haven’t had a real conversation with her ever since that day. I can’t trust her anymore, it still stings to get shut down like that.

I like the basic principal, I would LOVE to stop thinking about it but...it’s not that easy.

The other disappoint was another friend, a former lover who has become a friend anyway. I emailed her my story, and she responded with an email that was more about her than me. But I forced sympathy between the lines and took it for myself, even though it wasn’t there. But she did reassure me that she would be there for me, no matter what, always and forever.

And when I couldn’t help being overcome by what has been happening as I heal…I sent her a text in a manic, panicked state, begging for a kind word, for some love, for some sympathy because I was trapped, and she was the only lifeline…

I got the most generic response from her “Oh, I’m so sorry” and that was it.

I had to shut her away too.

Hold me, love me, kiss me, hug me. never let go but darling I can’t stand your touch right now. Go away but stay…make it stop.

I have friends in this community now that I can turn to, that have made me swear to text them if I needed them and they are…beautiful, amazing life savers. And I dunno what I’d do without you guys, especially SBO and @stlgeekgirl. Like you two? Muh fuckin’ lifesavers, straight up.

I also have my bestie. I wasn’t sure how she’d react. She teases me endlessly about my love for Cumberbatch (although her nickname for him is not at all flattering or worth repeating. She replaces the A with an I…) so I felt compelled to explain to her. Now she’s the one that I run to and she’s always there, waiting with open arms.

A few days ago (holy shit, yesterday—Friday), I woke up with a memory, that there is a picture out there of the day it started happening. I was convinced that the picture was real, taken at some family function, the day I was raped for the first time…and I found it. And I sent it to her, crying with my hands shaking and she lamented the fact that I looked distraught in the picture and my mom looked like she was trying to soothe me.

And she talked to me, and she talked me through it, and she made sure I was talked out before getting me to talk about the tattoo.

When Edward St. Aubyn talked about his mother’s reaction, and when it was brought to life on screen…I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for ESA to hear that from his mother. To have years of torture be so brazenly acknowledged and dismissed in a single breath. What happened to me wasn’t as horrendous as his experience, but I felt the pain, I’ve felt the dismissal. There’s a sense of betrayal. You can physically feel your heart breaking with disappointment.

Confession is not a light or easy thing.

I don’t skip around and just tell everyone I was raped by my cousins as a child. That’s not how it works.

When I want to tell someone about it, a family member or a friend, it’s a piece of trust in that person that is…beyond this world. It’s the hardest thing I can do. So to have that kind of reaction be your solace?

I can’t forgive ESA’s mother nor Eleanor.

Sex—

For those who have read my writing it might come as a shock that I’m a bit of a prude in real life when it comes to sex. Well, sex with men…we’ll leave the other half unspoken of for now.

Being touched and getting touched…I can have the love of my life on top of me, telling me he wants me, that he loves me, and I’ll suddenly be frozen with fear and need him to back off and let me catch my breath. For me, for my brain, that’s how it happens.

Just imagine how terrible it is though—you crave someone’s touch, their body, the very air in their lungs, the beating of their heart in their chest, the heat of their bodies, the salt of his skin…you lay awake nights, your legs sawing beneath your blankets, imagining his breath in your ear

And when he’s actually there?

You need to push him away.

That’s me.

I’ll sit somewhere, I’ll chat up whoever (my love life is long and complicated so let’s not go into all of that right now) and I’ll imagine having sex with them with the same clarity and determination as Patrick. But when push comes to shove, I can’t handle being touched.

Will I ever tell the love of my life why I need him to physically stay away from me after months and months of separation?

I don’t know.

I’ve been on a murder mystery docuseries kick lately after filling my head with the Bar…I watched The Keepers on Netflix (Don’t watch unless you have a strong stomach!) and one of the women who was talking about her abuse was talking about how she was deprived, by her abuser, of her mother’s confidence and trust in her mother’s ability to keep her safe.

That struck me and I’ve been wrestling with it and trying to figure out if I have any blame that I might be parceling out to my parents, that they somehow let this happen.

But I can’t find it there, and for that, at least, I’m grateful.

Patrick Melrose has been a revelation.

I’ve always been really good with words and expressing myself bur he gave me a starting point, multiple starting points, to start conversations that needed to be had.

It’s the strangest feeling to be able to send someone a clip of the show and be like “I do that! I literally do that all the time. I feel like that, all the time! Remember that one time I nearly pushed so-so off the chair cuz they tried to touch me? Yeah! See?”

But what At Last did for me was serve as a reminder that if I’m meant to parallel Patrick’s life forever, then I’ll find my peace eventually too.

One thing that REALLY struck me was an interview with Benedict Cumberbatch a few days ago where he says he hopes the show will remind people that “it’s gonna be alright, it’s gonna be ok” and started reciting the lyrics of the song “come on come on come on get through this”.

I don’t think BC knows how much that meant to me.

I hope he finds out some day.

SO GUESS WHAT

I WATCHED THE EPISODE

I WEPT

FOR TWO HOURS STRAIGHT

THEN I WENT OUT AND RAN

I HOPED IT WOULD RAIN TO HIDE MY TEARS

BUT THERE’S NO HIDING NOW BABY

THERE’S NO HIDING NOW

LIVE IN THE SUNSHINE

STEP OUT INTO IT

DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE PAST

DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE DARKNESS

I STAND HERE AS A REMINDER THAT IT’S GOING TO BE OKAY

THAT YOU’RE GOING TO BE OKAY

THERE IS LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

I GUARANTEE IT

I’VE SEEN THE LIGHT

I’VE FELT ITS WARMTH

I’VE TASTED ITS JOY

HANG ON

IT’S GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.

AND WHEN THE DARKNESS GETS TOO MUCH, I’M HERE FOR YOU.

JUST LIKE MY FRIENDS HAVE BEEN THERE FOR ME.

PATRICK MELROSE HAS GIVEN ME A TONGUE, A PLATFORM, A LANGUAGE, A STRENGTH TO KEEP TELLING MY STORY AND ENCOURAGING OTHERS TO SHARE THERES.

YOU’RE NOT ALONE.

DON’T EVER THINK YOU ARE.

I might add to this because none of this makes any goddamn sense, but you know what?

I just took a deep breath.

#patrick melrose #survivor stories #at last #benedict cumberbatch #thank you Benedict Cumberbatch #Thank you BC #Edward St. Aubyn #Thank you Edward St. Aubyn #my story #my voice #my truth #all my love #ish loves you #verbal vomit #narrative exhaustion

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silveryink · 7 years ago

Text

Of Love And Trust

This is it! What I’ve spent like, a month(?) writing! This is a series that’ll be maybe 5 parts? I’m not sure yet. It’s based on headcannons by @scrabblesense that can be found here.

Genres: Romance (it’s only my third time writing romance and first time actually establishing a relationship so bare with me) angst, hurt/comfort

Tag list: @adaydreaminganon @psycho-b1tch @goshdarnitthatsalongname @indecipherably-insane @coololdsoulpoetlove @brookethefryingpansexual146 @letsteenagetrashstudent @spilledkauffie

Masterlist

The moon blazed bright, illuminating the cold night. It reflected off the steel bars and hit the words on the strong door: ‘Nightline Brothers’ Travelling Carnival of Freaks, Mystery and Tricks!’ Crowds gathered around, hollering and jeering at the frightened creature inside the trailer.

It looked like a man, with massive grey wings poking over their shoulders. Cocoa coloured curls fell in matted clumps over soft, pain filled eyes. They shivered violently and a few star-specked feathers fell to the floor. “Ladies and gentlemen! Behold, our very own angel fallen from God himself, the The Freak of the Skies!” ropes fastened around the creature’s wings yanked them open harshly, it let out an unearthly scream that made your flesh rise and your bones melt into your shoes. There was a loud crack and the creature howled in agony and one of his wings hung on a funny angle. The crowd cheered and cried out encouragement. Your stomach turned violently and bile rose in your throat before it snaked its way back down. Absentmindedly you touched the faded scars defiling your collarbone.

“STOP!” The jeers stopped. The only sounds where the whistling wind and the creature’s feeble sobs. “How can you do this? How can you hurt such a beautiful creature and sleep at night thinking God approves of what you do?”

“Run back to your brothel whore.” One of the men cried out.

“Miss this creature was struck down from God, he was cast out to live in humiliation.” Spoke the ringmaster: his loud voice resonated through the night, shaking the stars where they shone. He turned once more to the onslaught of people before him, “and live in humiliation he shall!” They cheers seemed less enthusiastic this time; a few people looked uncomfortable, but unwilling to say anything. The creature looked at you with sorrowful brown eyes that made your heart splinter.

“I will buy him! Name your price.”

He laughed, “name my price? You have no idea how to bargain do you? A freak such as this will cost much more than a pretty little thing like you could afford.” You scowled and reached behind your neck to unclasp a golden chain, three gold rings dangled from it. One ring was thinner and had a large ruby in its centre, surrounded by tiny diamonds, the others were plain gold bands.

“This enough?” The ringmaster stared at the jewels, his eyes wide he practically slavered over it, reaching out his bony fingers. Quick as a flash you pulled them back, “free them first.” He scowled and pulled a large ring of keys from his coat pocket, finding the right one he inserted it in the lock and opened the door. The creature huddled in the corner, scarred hands shackled behind it’s back, cuffs rubbing the raw skin. “You poor thing.” He looked up at you with widened eyes, as if he expected you to hurt him.

“Where are the keys for his shackles?”

“The smallest one.” Quickly you unlocked the shackles and, with the creature’s permission, slipped an arm around him to help him stand. Leaning on you heavily, he limped out of the trailer, his wings dragging on the ground behind him. You led him past the stares, until you could no longer hear them. You walked until the screams of the ‘freaks’ could no longer be heard over the rustle of the grass in the cool breeze and the crunch crunch crunch of your feet on gravel.

The moon was dipping low in the sky as you neared your small cottage. Moonshadows painted the stone roof silver and the cluster of trees around the cottage black. The door groaned as it opened to reveal the small cluster of furniture. A small table and a straw mattress. A loft was placed above a large stack of firewood. Your mother sat facing the fire, rocking your baby in his small cradle gently. She turned at the sound of the door opening, stared bug-eyed at the sight before her. Quick steps and she was by your side, questions rapidfire as her gaze flickered to Lafayette. “Mama, this is Lafayette. He needs medical attention, he was part of the freak show.” Lafayette shifted, his good wing trembling as your mother took a step closer, her eyes pierced his own. She took in his ragged appearance, eyeing up the multiple cuts and bruises that littered his skinny frame.

“Well then, you know where the bandages are, go get them.” She turned to Lafayette, her eyes softening, “I will go get you some food.” And with that she marched over to the kitchen, head held high.

You led him to sit on your mattress. “I’m going to boil some water and you can wash yourself, the cuts need to be cleaned before they can be dressed.” He nodded, head hanging as he refused to meet your eyes. You longed to place your arms around his scrawny frame and hold him there, stroke his dark curls until his fears went away. Instead you offered a small smile and stroked the air above his cheek, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Your voice barely rose above a whisper yet it filled every nook and cranny. He nodded stiffly, clearly not believing a word you said. He attempted to move his injured wing, only to whine in pain. “Shh don’t move it, I’m going to make a splint and try put it in a sling. Do you know how long it will take to heal?”

“About a week or so.” His voice was gravely and was quiet, powerful but deeply afraid. “I heal much faster than humans.” You nodded, noticing the bruises around his wrists where those God awful chains had shackled him were already faded to a blotchy yellow. You quickly nodded and hurried to get a washcloth and a tub.

One washed and dried his wings showed to be a soft white, slowly turning grey at the ends. Thick scars marred his back, some old and others just starting to form scabs. There were patches of feathers missing, and his skin was red and lumpy, like it had been burnt many times.

You offered a tub of sticky yellow salve to him before smearing some on your fingers and gently rubbing it on a particularly large gash above his right wing. He tensed as your fingers ghosted over his dark flesh. “Is this okay?”

He turned to meet your eyes for the first time since he’d been chained. “I-I don’t know. Please,” His voice cracked and he hung his head, eyes fixed firmly at the dirt floor. “Just don’t hurt me.” You dropped to you knees in front of him tears pooled in your eyes and you reached for his hand, tenderly grasping his fingers, leaving him room to slip them out if he wished; to your surprise he didn’t.

“I swear on my baby’s life, I will not hurt you. Had I wanted to see you hurt I would have left you in the freak show.” He gave a small nod and started applying the salve to the raw wounds around his wrists and ankles.

Your mother came in with a steaming bowl of bowl of broth full of carrots and chunks of mutton alongside a large chunk of bread smeared lavishly with butter. Lafayette’s eyes widened and his too-small stomach growled in anticipation.

“This is, for me?” He stared at the food in front of him, unwilling to believe it was for him.

“Sit down here dear, yes it’s for you. You need food, you’re far too skinny. When was the last time you were feed at that awful place?” He sat opposite you both, His wings closed together tightly, one in it’s makeshift sling.

“We-we don’t get food much, every few days maybe. The...the children slip us food sometimes.” He ate ravenously, barely stopping to breathe. Usually if someone ate like this in front of your mother, she would scold them for their eating habits; but she only frowned a little, a far away look in her eyes and went to fetch him a cup of water.

“You can sleep in the loft tonight Lafayette” You said as you cleared away his empty bowl, “I’ll bring you some blankets.”

“Thank you.” You turned, and for the first time since you freed him he looked you straight in the eye. “For what you did, I can never thank you enough mistress.” Your throat caught at the word ‘mistress’ and you hurried back to him, near flinging yourself at his feet you latched onto his hands, pressing a soft kiss to his bandaged knuckles.

“I am not your mistress. I bought you because you were suffering, what they did to you was wrong. I-I, please know you are free. You are free to leave whenever you choose.” Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes, “you may come and go, we will not stop you.” Lafayette gently pulled his hands from yours and brushed away a tear with his thumb. Tears streamed down his own beautiful face as he thanked you again and again. Eventually you both composed yourself, and you brought in a thick woolen blanket.

“Goodnight y/n.”

Goodnight Lafayette.” You blew out the remaining candles and the house plunged into darkness.

#Harmony Writes #lafayette x reader #angel!lafayette #hamilton reader insert #hamilton #hamilton imagine #alexander hamilton #scrabblesense

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tgr489 · 4 years ago

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A dancer, a developer, a socialist and a claustrophobe

How do you prepare for a lockdown? How long was it gonna it be? The government were saying 3 weeks, developments in other countries were telling a different story. How bad could it get? I’ve seen that movie Contagion, an eerily prophetic flick when viewed again post curfew one night.

As February ticked along we scrutinised our work plans, built our team and laid the foundations for a 3-month run. We had a couple of weeks downtime while we waited for details of our test group and preferred creative direction(s) we would be pursuing. Those weeks at the beginning of March were spent sliding forwards and back along the anxiety scale. The lockdown posed the possibility of being locked up in my apartment for an extended period and was troubling, actually deeply concerning. Squirrel and Lexi had been coming and going to mine as they pleased, sometimes together, often separately. We have a strange functional/recreational arrangement going on. It works for all of us, no one is under any pressure and we have fun. My fear was when told to isolate would they fuck off back to their respective nests, leaving me to fly solo in my own personal hells. The other area of consideration was that of work; it would likely be frozen for the duration! No work, no friends and nothing to do was/is one of my nightmares. I talked this out one night with Nic on FaceTime, who advised me to just pack up come home to New York, or leave for somewhere remote. We discussed possible remote locations over virtual whisky and bangers, planed our vast island retreats and who would be there rah-rah. Was fun talking bullshit with her, I miss her. I thought on it after the call, staring out of the window to Old Street and witching hour traffic, watching the last few stragglers stumbling their way home. I gazed around my place; it’s pretty big, so feeling confined isn’t much of an issue, no outside space to speak of, just a small balcony overlooking the courtyard, but there are a few small parks close by for any extended alfresco demands. It wouldn’t be so bad to stay here. If work got canned and the girls weren’t here what would I do? I can occupy my time well, but if I have months of it I’m really not sure how bad I would get. With hardly any of my effects here, I would be limited. Maybe Nic was right. After a restless night, I’d formulated the scenarios I was dealing with and went to my favourite local greasy spoon, the Shepherdess, for some artery-clogging sustenance. I sent out messages and put my fate in the hands of my friends. With a full builders breakfast in my belly, I went and lazed in the park with a cloud of smoke and waited for replies. it was a happy way to kill the time.

My invitation for the girls and Zac to move into mine were accepted, with thanks, and a caveat from Zac, his girlfriend had to come too. There were numerous reasons why, which I won’t bore you with, but fear and jealousy played the leads. We planned for the impending lockdown which was, by that time, inevitable. The mood was positive as we talked food, navigating each others’ preferences, likes, dislikes and allergies. The drink was a huge consideration point. How much do you drink? Be honest. Do you drink every day? Will circumstances in your life make you drink every day? Our drinks bill outdid food by 50%. Everyone thought I’d over-ordered, I wasn’t so sure. What remains now is like the back row of my parent's liquor cabinet and the random shit they bought for one person at a party which no-one else drinks. It won’t last long. I can’t see it go to waste and even though it may taste like shit, it’ll do the required job.

It was all smiles and laughter at the beginning. We cooked, ate meals together, played cards, danced, cried, talked and talked about anything and everything. An initial abundance of work saw us through the first week or so, which was nicely topped off by one of my neighbours getting carted off by paramedics because of Covid. That was a wakeup call to the seriousness of the circumstances. I was suddenly a leper among friends. I’d been close and spoken to the guy quite a bit the weekend everyone moved in, so my flatmates were understandably nervous. Fearing the worst we waited to see if any of us would develop symptoms. The claustrophobia of the situation started to gnaw away at each of us, culminating in Mel losing the plot one night over dinner, screaming in a panic her worst fears which we all resonated with, but hadn’t voiced. She fled to her bedroom with Zac in pursuit, leaving the three of us to eat in deathly silence. We cuddled up on the couch and watched the fading light through the windows, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted as we aired those fears. With some wine and bangers to relax us, we got to that happy place, and when our couple returned sheepishly to the proceedings we were all cool, glad that worries had been aired and shared.

None of us got the bug so we relaxed, resuming our daily hour of outdoor activity. TBH I didn’t really care at that time whether I got it or not. My reasoning was if I did get it I would develop antibodies so I’d be OK going forward. I was also busy enough the time passed quickly. We’d agreed we would front-load the work and capitalise on our forced enclosure. I think in the first week I’d worked 80 hours, the second even more. With nothing else to do (as in go nowhere), it seemed like the best thing. Zac took the same approach, although Mel was in two minds… while she didn’t want him working so much, she was enjoying the praise she was receiving for her project running ahead of schedule. At the end of our self-imposed isolation, and as a celebration of not being infected, we hit the town for a night out. With everything closed no decisions had to be made for a venue, so we stuffed our backpacks with goodies and walked into Soho. The streets were void of everything, save a few people enticed by the emptiness, even those sad bikes left behind because of lost keys or stolen wheels appeared to have been removed. We dropped Fairy’s and/or Special K, smoked up and drank leisurely as we roamed the streets reminiscing over the venues we passed. Retelling past escapades at certain locations as we slowly ascended the summit of alternative reality. As the evening progressed I felt more like we were in some lab experiment and were mice trying to find the piece of cheese. I had a moment of terror when I started imagining too much, about a huge hand coming across the sky to pick us up. It was short-lived and the only truly wobbly moment of the night. Soho became China Town, then Mayfair, Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, Mayfair, Regent’s Park, Primrose Hill, Hampstead, Finsbury Park, Highbury and home. We were separated for a while, I have no idea how long, or if that actually happened but I remember it being just me and Lexi. Could’ve been 10 mins or an hour, I was oblivious, I just remember the others not being around and trying to locate them. I don’t even remember finding them, but realised they were back with us as we were climbing the fence to the Heath. We took the last of our gear on top of Parliament Hill (apparent highest point in London) admiring our contagion town as the sun came up. The last bottle of red was cracked and we swigged and toasted the morning. Once the sun cleared the horizon we were off again, this time with the purpose for home and recharged with the last of the goodies. It was by far the longest leg of the journey, on weary legs, our reserves depleting rapidly. By the time we hit Finsbury Park the drugs had worn. Conversation was reduced to simple questions, nods and grunts. There were people around, mainly runners and dog walkers, but a dedicated bunch was loitering around the Lidl (supermarket) as we exited the park. From there to home there was no talk whatsoever, it was just survival mode and everyone dealt with it solitarily. At home I made the best cup of tea I think I’ve ever had, strong and loaded with sugar, not something I usually take, but it helped. I showered for an age, cleansing the grime off my body, the sins of the night draining down the plug. No one was around so I took myself off to the park in the baking heat, passed out, the sun’s rays purging the remaining toxins from my body. I slept nearly the whole day. A night like that, wandering the empty streets of London may never happen again and I’m so happy we did it.

Weeks turned into a month. The project came to a natural break. market research, evaluation and QA blah-di-blah blah. The monotony still hadn’t set in, yet, and with the new freedom of no work we set about having some fun and enjoying the time on our hands.

Eating and drinking can take up a substantial part of the day, especially when you’re making elaborate feasts for every sitting. No sooner is breakfast finished and it’s time to start making lunch, always a 2-course affair of either entree-main, main-dessert, entree-dessert or if you were feeling really piggy, go fo all three. We all took turns to make our favourite meals, our signature dishes and ingenious ways to not waste any food. A month of this and I started seeing the signs of the reduced activity (when you can see it in the mirror, it’s already gone too far), so engaged myself in some cardio fitness routines and yoga with squirrel to keep the extra weight in check, I also began a running regime on the empty city streets. My neighbour recovered and returned, his gaunt grey face told a story of horror and had me reconsider my previous hope of contracting the virus. We sent them up a care package of some squash risotto and chablis. They were thankful, we made friends, they allowed us access to their roof terrace. Nice! This provided valuable additional space to hang out in because despite it’s cavernous open plan lounge/diner/kitchen/study, the walls in my place appeared just a tad closer each day. Our neighbours above, Shirley and Raymond, were/are a lovely couple, who fawned over us a little whenever we were on the terrace together. Inquisitive of our lives they asked lots of questions, posed some interesting ones for us and generally provided a good sounding board on the navigation of life. I would say they’re 50/60-ish, he’s in ‘finance’, she’s in the charitable sector (i.e. works for free to offset her fella’s evil deeds). Regardless of their ethical/non-ethical careers they are great neighbours and we are forever thankful for the use of their roof for the fresh air and sunbaking, the latter in full swing as the heat dialled up.

When the first wave of food ran out we ran sortie’s to the local Waitrose and Tesco for a re-stock, no alcohol at this pit-stop. Queuing for shop entry was a novel thing at first, it then became a ball-ache, now it’s non-existent, but I prefer this over the crowded aisles and stress-fueled shoppers. With the paranoid in society stockpiling essentials, we had to think on our feet a little more and buy basically anything which may constitute collaborative ingredients for a meal. The killer missing item for me was bread. I need a loaf in my kitchen at all times, it's my go-to snack with PB, and I generally try to keep a freezer-loaf as a back-up. But all that was left on the shelves of my local supermarkets were nasty paste-y white bread. Don’t get me wrong I will eat white bread, usually wrapped around a fried egg, some sausages and dripping with ketchup and Tabasco, but I can’t eat it every day, and we shouldn’t either. I found a local baker in Hoxton and bought a 20kg bag of flour and a tub of yeast with a plan to bake bread every day. This was a therapeutic, enjoyable start to the day, I felt so fucking righteous and wholesome. A week later I bought a bread maker off eBay, it made way more sense. I woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread every morning! The drawback here, it was small, so we had to make 2, sometimes 3 loaves, but one was generally enough to see out breakfast.

Work came back for a week-long sprint, I thrashed my side of this out in three 15 hour stints. Zac paced it out for the week, keeping in sync with his missus. We were all starting to disappear into ourselves a little each day. FaceTime, Zoom and Hang-outs became my good friends, bringing mates to me through the ether. I spent hours buried in my laptop, with a compulsion to connect with those in my life from afar. Nic and Luce were not doing so well, from an emotional perspective, and Kashie had fucked off back to Slavwegia as events were unfolding, and left them to it. Neither could get home or out of town and things were getting scary in New York. The landlord has frozen the rent ‘until a time which is convenient for regular payments to resume’, which was a very nice gesture indeed. That has taken the sting out of the situation for them. Harv had gone upstate, as had Jase and co. and remained living in a sense of normality. Friends in Asia were seeing a clearing through the trees, coming out the other side, there was hope. I even messaged my ex, just to make sure she was OK, which she's not, and she started to blame me for it. I took a few of her cutting remarks without reply because there's a bit of guilt with me so I felt I deserved it, but her continued little digs at me through our chat just pissed me off so I ended the call politely abrupt, wishing I'd never bothered. I spent the rest of the night stewing about her in moody silence, pretending to read while my flatmates played Monotony. My thoughts took me to the mystery girl of my past. Where was she, who was she, was she OK? why do I think and dream about her so much? it's doing my fucking head in. I find myself scanning for her whenever I'm out, which is harder now that face masks are in use, and plausibly a good thing to dissuade me from the madness of it.

Katje busied herself by running dance/yoga/cardio classes from our dining room via zoom, which seemed to take up a large chunk of her day. Sometimes Lexi would join in but mostly she was reading or binge-watching something. The fitness instalments provided a pleasant distraction from work, watching the girls in their ever-smaller clothing getting sweaty and flushed. I upped my running game as the effort reduced, pushing myself to pace a little more each day, capitalising on the time and solitude it afforded me. I also used the runs to meet up somewhere central with friends across town, have a distanced chat before continuing home. It was on one of these runs, as I finished at the river and stretched out in front of that Tate, I had a spark of an idea for a great campaign. I ran home through the deserted city streets, thinking, and the further I got the more I knew my idea was a winner, runners runners everywhere. I pitched it to a friend who‘s in marketing at Adidas and he liked the idea but needed something more visual to float it around their team. There would be legwork to do, excuse the pun, but with a fresh idea, I was game for it. I tapped up some of my new links on Strava then looked at the flybys on my longer runs into town to see who I’d been passing, looking for people who liked to run long and came from outta town into the contagion zone. Once I’d identified an array of potentials I roughed out a storyboard, sent it off and sat back to wait. The reply wasn’t long in coming, it was a yes!! At least it was something to take my mind off the real work.

I connected with all of my candidates then sent them each a message asking if they were interested in my proposal and if they were could we speak. I had 19 candidates, including me, and after my calls, it went down to 16. It was simple, run into central London and plan to run every street from the middle out, over however many runs we did through lockdown, tag the runs and post them on social. The first weeks running would give me the basics for a teaser video that would attract more runners and build a following, then a challenge posted on Strava for anyone to partake in. Each km run would attract a donation from Adidas to a charity. Running gear would be fronted to the challenge team so the brand would be visible in all shots, and their generosity extended to 2 pairs of runners, 3 pairs each of leggings, shorts, long and short-sleeve tops, masks and a phone pouch arm-band thingy. The first run was planned so we all met in Golden Square late morning, not too early to start and close enough to lunch so we could give everyone a drink and snack. It was without a doubt one of the weirdest lunches I’ve had when straight, all strangers, apart from me and the 2 girls, swapping our stories over energy drinks and bars for about an hour or so. We bid farewell and made our journey’s back to our respective pods. The girls provided some assistance throughout the project duration, which was about 5 weeks; choosing photos, involving themselves in some of the video editing and compiling all the routes from the trackers so we knew what roads had and hadn’t been covered.

The girls also got a crash course in digital marketing and how some of it works, which they were astounded by. Lexi understood but Katje was in disbelief, even with Zac and Mel chipping in, so I made her watch the Unexplained Truth on Netflix, that Cambridge Analytica doco thing. Explained what I know of facebook and how I’ve used it, Adwords, insta, blah blah blah, pointed her to a myriad of resources and explained how everything you see is targeted. Everything. She’s now a little paranoid, maybe too much, but it’ll subside. She’s all over facebook and insta for work reasons so kinda knows what goes on, but not to the depths the 3 of us were telling her. She said we were evil. On that note, I will pull on my cloak of darkness and bid you farewell.

Later Gators

#lockdown #lockdownlife #lockdown london #project #fitness #running #baking bread #bang to rights #strava #marketing #evil marketing #propaganda #Summer #my london life #self isolation #isolated #life of riley

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buzzykrueger · 4 years ago

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Here I go, talking a lot again in a language which I am not fluent but Killugon surfaces the most bilingual I could get, and because none of my friends watched HxH yet thank you anon that could’ve be me : Yeah, definitely Killua is seeking more for answers and proper realizations than an apology. Apologies are just the starting point of a healing journey, and not even the most difficult part. We’re sure Gon apologized, because Killua mentions it before departing. But with the short span of time and with Killua showing some hints that differ SO MUCH of his behavior during the CAA... I mean, how can you go from “I want to always be by your side”, the “shinjuu” thing and the “did you said as a friend or teammate pls love me back”, in the hospital, to “sorry, next time”, letting Gon thank him and refusing to fulfill his wish to introduce him to Ging, in such little time?

.. I don’t think they had a proper conversation.

What happened at the time between these lines was their tragedy. And it was FAST. The invasion in the Ants catle lasted a NIGHT. I don’t think that were reasons enough for Killua to truly change his mind on the first ones in such a short span. You can’t go from one to another in a snap, and since he kept the first from Gon, still carrying the same sad face, it resonates, for me, that he’s deeply hurt and confused and not okay with HAVING to leave. Killua said, “this time I’ll won’t let it slide, you have to apologize” and I don’t think this refers to something as “I am sorry”, only. He still seems to be in deep thoughts and wishing to hear if he’s a nakama or a best friend, if he’s worth meeting Ging, if its okay to be by Gon’s side (but this time, for different reasons than the ones Bisky pointed out like co-dependency and fear of rejection).

Also, can’t say it for sure, but seems the time between Ging leaving the note and him actually waiting for Gon in the top of the tree must’ve been really short too (I mean, Ging would’ve left if it wasn’t), and the big question mark above their little gay heads can only be clarified with proper time, reflection and hard-work on their thoughts and feelings.

For me, they both updated their wishes. As Tele said, the two shooting starts panels indicates that Killua’s wish got updated to a “forever” tone - and we know he didn’t fulfilled because it was after Gon pushed him away (and they’re both alive, thankfully).

Just as Gon knows his journey with Killua hasn’t ended, since they didn’t do everything they wanted together, everything he did was only possible because Killua was with him, (and if we took the chapter 219 into matter, he might’ve wanted to say to Killua to wait for their after), they both got very attached and they were visibly sad, not to mention Gon did not introduced him to Ging - which is a part of his wish that remained broken.

So my headcannon is that, before Killua, his goal was only to find his dad, but then it grew, with the first thing he wanted was to introduce Killua. Placing both of them as the most important, but for different reasons since Ging feed Gon’s self-destructive patterns due to abandonment issues and

Their paths are already detoured, he even literally made a detour back there going to the Zoldyck’s house, showing how much he cares, and Killua came back to the place he hates the most just to retrieve Alluka and Nanika in order to heal Gon. Everything is leading to them to meet again. The detour speech, Ging saying he’s pursuing something he doesn’t have, but he know he needs, their sad faces with the almost zero words spoken... I don’t think Killua would let down on meeting Ging if he was 100% sure of how Gon feels about him, he knows how important it was.

And, as said early, you don’t go from “I’ll sacrifice everything for this bug brain green boy” to “hmm nope sorry” so soon without bottling up feelings, so I think its not only about apologizing for the right thing, but to seek the roots of your mistakes and really do the difference. They both need to take this time to rethink.

I always thought that Gon didn’t apologize for the right thing. When he talked to Leorio, he talked about “the horrible things he said” and that’s not the apology Killua wanted at all(? Maybe I’m just overthinking and Gon apologized properly but Idk cuz even if I see how they interacted later, I can clearly see Killua forgiving him even if he didn’t apologize the right way.

honestly you”re right, he probably apologized for the wrong thing. Killua wanted him to “apologize” (quotation marks here because killua didnt really want an apology imo) for not letting him share his burden and always being reckless with his life, while Gon thought he hurt Killua with his words.

There are so many scenarios of what could’ve gone wrong during their apology, but there’s definitely been some kind of miscommunication or unspoken feelings thrown in there.

killua did forgive gon !! he was never mad at him. i honestly think he’s just sad bc he got pushed away over and over again, while gon probably believes killua wants a proper apology.

miscommunication hellfest yayyyy

#brainrot #am i even working or just crying #killugon #hxh #hunter x hunter #they both gay #good for them

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c-valentino · 8 years ago

Text

Lighter Next To Your Coffee Mug XIII

Something about moving around, about not staying in one place, could ease Neil’s anxiety sometimes like nothing else. It was a remnant of his past, of the time he had been on the run with his mother. Sitting in the passenger’s seat of the black Maserati while the city rushed by outside of the window calmed his fried nerves, got rid of the twitchy movements and the crawling feeling under his skin. It made breathing an unconsciously performed body function again, instead of one that required constant thought.

The leather seat felt cool to the touch, and Andrew didn’t ask before he turned on the heat that started to lure him in and made him relax until he was slumped backwards, his head lolling sideways, eyes taking in the scenery outside. Coming down from a panic attack was always rough, but doing it while still recovering from his illness had wiped Neil out. He hadn’t moved an inch in the last ten minutes, and he started to get this strange feeling in his extremities, that fake detachment that came with complete muscle relaxation, confusing the brain about the actual positioning.

Andrew seemed to understand that he was in no condition for any kind of conversation right now, and Neil was grateful for that. The only sound was that of the car, and that one was a deeply satisfying one. It was the sound of power and speed resonating in his chest. Andrew didn’t ask where he wanted to go, and Neil would have no answer for him anyway. He had no destination in mind. Going for a drive was all he needed. Not having a destination was such a familiar feeling to him that he didn’t question it anymore.

The view outside became more desolate, and he realized that they had reached the outskirts of the city. His eyelids felt heavy when he blinked and turned his head to the other side, looking at Andrew. He did not mind being alone with the man in his vulnerable state. That was strange, normally it would have worried him, would have made him at least at bit nervous. He was in no shape to fight or escape Andrew right now. When did I start trusting him? He didn’t know. Fact was he didn’t completely trust Andrew Minyard. He trusted him as a client, and even that was bizarre in some way since Andrew was potentially dangerous. It was the moment when Andrew had admitted to being violent that Neil started feeling safer nonetheless. But this right now was something else.

Andrew’s eyes were on the road, his posture relaxed, and his expression thoughtful, no doubt thinking of the nervous breakdown he had just witnessed. Neil felt a little ashamed because of it. He wanted to talk to Andrew to distract them both from what had just happened, but his tongue didn’t comply, wouldn’t move, and his brain came up with no interesting topics. He felt beyond tired. Grimacing a little he rubbed his eyes and blinked a couple of times, trying to focus more. His arms and legs felt heavy.

“You can put the seat back,” Andrew said quietly. He leaned a bit forward to have a better view at a busy crossing, but never looked at Neil.

“It’s okay. I don’t want to fall asleep,” Neil answered groggily.

“I’m not gonna kidnap you,” Andrew mocked. There was no edge behind those words, but they hit home anyway.

“I just…” He searched for words. “It’s not you. I just can’t sleep with someone around. Old habits, I guess,” he added apologetically. Andrew shrugged, unoffended. Neil coughed, making his raw throat scream in protest at him. He tried clearing it, but his body thought it was about time to do something for his oxygen intake by getting rid of the mucus in his bronchi. “Damn,” he grumbled hoarsely when his coughing fit subsided. Andrew didn’t comment, just reached beside himself and threw something small at Neil. The young man barely managed to catch it, and it turned out to be candy. He looked down at it and felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips when Andrew Minyard and sweet tooth crossed his mind. So unexpectedly cute, it still got to him. “Thanks,” he said, his voice a raspy mess.

They left the city and as the dark road in front of them cleared, Andrew floored the gas pedal. The Maserati purred and Neil enjoyed the feeling of being pressed back into his seat. It gave him goosebumps and the smile overtook his lips in earnest now, bordering on a full-fledged grin, showing teeth and all. Andrew saw it, answering with one of his crooked ones. The goalkeeper shifted gears and the car obeyed him like a stallion given free rein. Neil let his eyes slide close and purred low in the back of his throat. If he didn’t feel like crap right now, the combination of Andrew and this obscenely fast black car could give him a hard-on. He looked down when Andrew took his hand and placed it on the gearshift with his own on top.

“Very subtle,” he joked, but he liked it and grabbed the gearshift harder, Andrew’s fingers interlacing with his.

“You wanna drive?” He blinked, thought he must have misheard the Exy player. Andrew’s eyes were on the road again.

“Are you kidding?” He must be. Who would hand their Maserati car keys to their hooker –as Andrew never failed to call him. He’s also calling you Neil now. That still felt strange.

“You can drive?” Andrew made sure. There were cars not far in front of them now, and Andrew’s foot eased off the gas again.

“I can,” Neil nodded, letting Andrew grab his hand tighter as he shifted gears. Neil had learned to drive very early in his life, even before it had been legal for him to do so. He had never gotten behind the wheel of a sports car like this one though. It was a little intimidating.

“So?” Andrew didn’t seem to mind. It was tempting.

“Ask me again when I don’t have trouble keeping my eyes open, and I won’t say no.” He would never forgive himself if he would get them into an accident. Andrew shrugged.

“Then don’t,” he said. Neil didn’t quite follow.

“Hm?”

“Keep them open,” the goalkeeper elaborated.

“I told you I don’t want to sleep.”

“Like this?” Andrew shifted gears again, his hand warm on Neil’s. “Could you?” Fair point. Neil grumbled an unintelligible reply, like a kid who had just lost an argument, and sunk a little deeper into his seat. The moment he closed his eyes he knew he didn’t want to open them again any time soon. Don’t let go, he wanted to say but knew how childish that would sound. Don’t let me sleep. He concentrated on the sound of the car.

“Say something,” he asked Andrew. “Anything.”

“Anything,” Andrew replied. Neil smirked a little.

“Why are you so nice all of the sudden?” It felt so different from how it had been this evening between them. He feared asking Andrew would ruin the mood again, but he really wanted to know.

“You complain about the strangest things.”

“I’m not complaining. Just wondering.”

“Who knows,” Andrew said vaguely and Neil let it go.

He didn’t fall asleep, but Neil wasn’t awake either after a few minutes. It was strangely comfortable driving through the night like this, no destiny in mind, Andrew’s hand gripping his. Every time the goalkeeper needed to shift gears Neil’s mind came back to the present, before slipping down again, his mind dreaming up curious scenes with Andrew and his imaginary Andrew. Two of them… But then his brain came up with some kind of nonsensical explanation, calling them twins, since yeah, there were Minyard twins out there. He didn’t mind at all.

Andrew glanced sideways at Neil next to him. The man looked awful. Still gorgeous, but in an awful way. That panic attack must have wiped him out completely; he hadn’t moved in the last twenty minutes, and his head had lolled to the side again. Andrew felt a little pleased that Neil had broken another rule. How many were left, he wondered.

This guy was a piece of work –Allison had gotten that right. He still tried to find a convincing explanation for all of it, but Andrew didn’t like to fool himself. The problem was that he had gotten attached to this man and now he had to suffer the consequences. Where did he find you, he wondered. None of it made sense right now. He was sure this man was messing with him, but someone was after him, and he could take an educated guess who that might be. He didn’t like it one bit. What does he have on you?

Andrew’s mind came back to the question that bugged him the most: Why me? All these years he had escaped any kind of unwanted attention while the others had not been so lucky. Why now? It made no sense. Maybe it’s not me after all. That thought stung the most. Him being the means to an end. Nice… yeah, not going to happen. Better men had tried. Andrew liked to think that he had learned patience over the years, but he had to admit that this was just stalling on his part and time was running out for them.

He gave the man next to him another side-glance. Neil would not be pleased if he knew how completely he had let his guard down right now. Oh no, Neil would be pissed, at himself and at Andrew for talking him into it. He thought about slowly letting go of Neil’s hand, so the guy could sleep a little longer. He wanted him rested for what was coming. There was no fun in it if the man was half-dead on his feet. Neil was a runner, he had told him that. Well, it would be interesting to see if he could catch a rabbit with bare hands. Get better, little rabbit…

Andrew clicked his tongue in annoyance as some asshole saw his car in the rearview mirror and decided to thwart him at the last minute. The goalkeeper slammed his foot on the break, startling Neil awake with a terrified gasp, his hand clutching at the seatbelt that was pressing uncomfortably into his chest. Neil stared wide-eyed between the car in front and the man next to him, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Yeah…,” Andrew agreed a bit lamely when he seemed to figure it out and settled back into his seat. They passed the guy who couldn’t keep his jealousy in check, and Andrew felt like meeting him face-to-face right now. Giving him the finger was not an option with the mirrored windows.

Neil looked around to figure out where they were. Pretty much in the middle of nowhere right now. Andrew had taken his car for a few drives over the years. It was pretty much his replacement for the trips to Columbia. He usually did this alone, only Kevin had kept him company once, but his friend talked too much for these drives. Kevin was also a messy sleeper, slack-jawed, drooling all over himself, mumbling… He was even worse when he was drunk, which was another good reason to keep him sober. Maybe he would have to spend some more time with Kevin in the near future, to keep an eye on him. Maybe.

Next to him, Neil rubbed his eyes and tried to keep them open, catching a look at a sign as they drove past. It seemed to ease his mind a bit.

“Still not going to kidnap you.”

“Hm? I was just wondering how far we made it.” He shivered hard enough that he couldn’t hide it by moving around in his seat.

“We didn’t make it far. You were out for maybe twenty minutes.” He reached over and put the back of his hand against Neil’s forehead. “But maybe it’s time I turn around.”

“Do we have to?” Neil asked miserably.

“You better sleep that fever off.”

“I’m not getting much sleep these days,” the dark haired man sighed and looked out of the window again.

“Why, pray tell?” He could guess after all.

“I don’t know,” Neil mumbled, elbow resting against the door, chin in hand.

“Creative lies, I said. You are not even trying anymore.” The young man glared sideways at him. “You owe me an answer.”

“I don’t. I forfeit all further questions. Game over.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptible at that. Neil had made the wrong move, even if he didn’t know it just yet. He drove them back into the city. His passenger wasn’t happy about it, but that was alright. They spent the remaining drive in silence.

As he stopped in front of the young man’s apartment Andrew turned around and faced him.

“Stop seeing other people.”

“No. No deal. We talked about this.” Yeah, they had, but things changed. Neil had changed, and it was becoming more and more obvious. Something was going on with him and Andrew couldn’t ignore it any longer. Someone was messing with his– His what, exactly? He didn't know for sure anymore, but in his mind Neil was definitely his something. This was his last chance. It was also a test.

“I’ll let you meet Kevin.” That got him the reaction he was looking for. Some might have missed it, but Andrew had always been an excellent observer, and he always noticed the small but sudden pauses this name would cause. He didn't quite get it yet though. He understood the fanboy part alright. Neil was just like Kevin, another Exy junky, and Kevin was one of his idols. But there was something else to it, something dark, something that wouldn't fit in. A jagged piece in the puzzle that was Neil –and he couldn't place it –didn’t want to place it, because that option was far worse.

“On the court,” he added. There was a look in Neil’s eyes he had never seen before. Andrew wasn’t sure if he had ever seen this version of Neil before. He got the sudden sense of danger, of violence. This went way beyond Neil’s obsession with Exy. It took only a moment for the man to wipe that expression off his face. It had not been fast enough. This wasn’t good. “You want that?”

Neil narrowed his eyes. He seemed conflicted. What was going on behind those blue eyes?

“No,” he lied. How much did that cost him, Andrew wondered.

“I told you, your blanket has too many holes.”

“You don’t have to share it with me.” And just like that, Neil made the decision for him.

<<Chapter 12 Chapter 14>>

#lntycm #tfc fanfic #aftg fanfic #cval madness #andreil #andrew minyard #kevin day #neil josten

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